mind expanding nonsense

Poontang


Poontang. Now that’s a word you don’t hear too often, at least not in mixed company. Unless you’re over 60, you probably don’t even know what I’m talking about. But if you are a long time reader of this Blog, you have a fairly good idea as to what the subject matter is all about. Which now begs the question: How did you learn your first dirty words?

In the mid-sixties, when I was seventeen years old, I used to work at the big round red Mobile gas station in back of the Broadway Department store in what is now called the Crenshaw District of Los Angeles. I worked with a guy named Buck who must have been in his mid sixties too. All Buck would ever talk about is fornicating and licking pussy. I didn’t have a clue as to what he was talking about back then (I thought fornicating was something they did in the Bible) , but started to get a pretty good idea when he pointed out women who he wanted to fornicate with, or said something like “That would be some good fornicatin’ over there.” Licking a cat seemed gross, cause they lick their butts all the time, and I didn’t want to lick anything that smelled as bad as a butt-lickin’ cat. Dogs however inspired some Yoga positions I never seemed to master. I was no Man from Nantucket.

You may think me a dirty rotten old turd,
And Poontang a thoroughly despicable word.
You can wash my mouth out with soap
If that’ll give you any hope.
But in the end, you know your imagination I have stirred.

I learned a lot from Buck that summer, and went on to learn even more during subsequent summers. Guess he made me the man I am today! How about you? Did you too have mentor figures as a youth who guided you through the ins and outs of adult life?

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Comments on: "Poontang" (5)

  1. Geezerpuss Rex the Less Elder(ly) said:

    While I was spared exposure to lusty gas station attendants during my formative years, I ran into similar characters working behind the grill of a swanky restaurant. The cooks and barkeeper talked among themselves, rather than pontificate to the pimply dishwasher. They used colorful expressions, too cyptic for me, and silenced themselves in the presense of the beehive adorned waitresses. Desireable women were out of their league. It was safe to assume that, at the close of business, legions of big-taking, sheepish losers crawled back to loneliness measured by pints of cheap liquor and fueled by alluring pictorials in men’s mags. Those big-talking, entry-level wage slaves probably never knew passion without a pricelist. Today’s American youth just aren’t going to rub elbows with such blue-collar lotharios. Hearing talk of poontang and fornication at a summer job will be replaced by text messages, a downloaded app, or a rambling blog comment.

    • Yes the youth of today are missing out on some rich rites of passage. That’s why I’m doing this Blog; kinda as a public service. So maybe if one of these high-teck,inquisitive youths Google, Poontang, this valuable knowledge will be passed on to the next generation.

  2. I guess I was luckier than you guys. Most of my lessons in dirty words came about between the sheets…at 17 I was lucky enough to have a twice married gal for a girlfriend…and she was as horney as any teenage guy.

    Oh my…what an education…

    • Sounds like adolescent heaven to me….and wilder than any wet dreams I ever had. And oh yes: While you were getting an education, she was committing a felony.

  3. Poontang on Crenshaw! Jailbait in Appalachia! How could Facebook ever compete against that?

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