Sunday, January 17, 2010

Light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul.


For the past three days, Alisdair and I have been hiding out at one of his family's homes, outside the American capital. You will recall that the last time we wrote you, we had just landed back in New York after enjoying several months of much-needed restorative bliss at the Kurhaus in Wiesbaden. Alas, though, all the recuperation we achieved in Germany has been completely spent by our New Year's celebrations of five nights ago (you will recall from our last post that the Julian 1 Ianuarius fell on your 14 January this year). The party we hosted was daring, outrageous, and ultimately tragic. The theme was age reversal, the goal being to put on an age as far as possible from one's true number of winters. We had geriatrics crawling around in diapers and secondary school first years hobbling about with canes and fake hunch backs. We, of course, dressed as ourselves to confuse the hell out of our guests. All was going well until one elderly guest showed up with a large bottle--ironically, a Methuselah--of Perrier Jouet, which he then proceeded to drink with very little assistance. This was entirely normal - our parties are notorious for their depravity and immoderation - except that as a consequence of this chap's overindulgence he broke the Methuselah bottle over the head of a district court judge masquerading as a five-year-old.

Although the judge's thick cranium was resilient enough to withstand the great blow without incurring serious injury, the impact must have knocked a screw loose because the formerly jovial judge proceeded to threaten us with punishments both corporeal and ethereal. As it turned out, the "elderly" reveler who assaulted the magistrate was actually no more than a lad of 14! Instead of standing to face charges of corrupting the youth, we elected to flee the state, as neither Alisdair nor I have ever cared much for hemlock flavored beverages of any type.

As you can imagine, these events have prompted much discussion between Alisdair and myself regarding age. For example, at what age is it appropriate to assault a district judge? At what age is it socially acceptable to drink large amounts of liquor and publicly insult your friends and berate your spouse? How many birthday parties must one have had before it is admissible to end the party early so one can drink alone and brood over impending death? As we took our daily constitutional, Alisdair and I meditated on these very questions, among many others. However, as our conversations inevitably do, the topic quickly turned to the fairer sex.

How young is too young? How old too old? As we watched les belles femmes taking their exercise in the park, we fiercely debated what is now known between us as the Age Question. Although we agree on many topics, this is one point on which Alisdair and I do not see eye to eye. As such, it is an issue that we wish you, dear Reader, to weigh in upon. First, let us present you with our arguments.

Unlike my Scottish chum, I am a passionate admirer of the youthful form. Pour moi, , nothing is more beautiful than a young girl in the bloom of juvenescence, strolling down a park path, attired in a lacy summer dress, parasol in hand, rosy cheeks and supple lips aglow with the natural radiance of youth. Her blond hair tangled and sun bleached, covering her shoulders and cascading down to the middle of her tanned back. Her neck, arms and legs lightly coated with a golden down - a down so soft and enticing that the gods reserved it for only the fairest of maidens. Her slim young legs, starting with her sweet lithe thighs and tapering down through her well turned calves to her delicate ankles. Her firm, budding breasts aching for the light caress of an experienced young man - one who can treat her exquisite body with all the reverence and appreciation it deserves... Pardon me. I can get quite carried away when reflecting upon these matters. The point, dear reader, is that the youthful female form is the embodiment of physical beauty and on this point I will make no concessions. So what then, is the issue? Unfortunately, the legislators and the arbiters of morality of this so-called "free country" have deemed my fascination perverse. Pursuing a girl who is younger than 18 is not only socially frowned upon, it is illegal.*

Now readers, I do not want to give you the wrong idea about old Gaspard. I know what you must be thinking "Vile man! Leave the children alone!" Worry not; I am not running around robbing unattended cradles or waiting outside of grammar schools with packages of rock candy. I am only suggesting that there is a certain sort of young girl who has much more experience, ( or desire for experience) than her demure demeanor betrays.

I remember when I was a young pup trying to break into the game - it was a maddening experience to be told that I was "far too young" by women ranging from 15 to 50. Therefore, If
I am approached by one of these eager girls, excited to make the acquaintance of a celebrated Lothario, who would I be to deny her the chance to further her carnal education? Gaspard Lerâteau has been accused of many things, but let ageism never be one of them!

I would now like to hear your thoughts on the matter, Alisdair.

*I find this law silly and hypocritical, considering the fact that founding father George Washington married Martha when she was merely a girl of eleven, while Benjamin Franklin, famed statesman and influential polygamist, had a veritable harem of child brides, none older than five and ten. However, for those interested in playing it safe, I will direct your attention here.

No comments:

Post a Comment