I would like to share some remarkable observations made by John Peter Harrock XVI, who was not only famous due to the noticeable lack of creativity found within his family regarding the name-choosing for those ill-fated circumstantial descendants, but who also was recognised as a great proto-sexologist and philatelist. He was born circa 1889 in his home near Sedona, thanks to his parents, who had presumably copulated approximately nine months before the date of his birth, whilst others see an easy to perceive eight month pregnancy in the lead man of our veridical tale’s obsession with sex, and naturally also thanks to both his grandparents, to his mother’s pro-creators as well as to his father’s ancestors; and to be fair, also to the parents of his grandparents on both sides… (we decided to edit this enumeration because the family can be traced back to the times of Ramesses II). His mother was obviously called Ophelia Lawson MCX, and his father was, predictably, John Peter Harrock XV.
We can plausibly infer, seeing both ancestor’s names, that something more bonded them together than the love of dark cigarettes and balloon fetish activities, though we are not quite sure what that was. If you know what that is, please write to 27 Meadowbridge Road THYRU4 GNJBI45938.
At the age of sixty eight, JPH XVI finally understood, as if he had been touched by epiphanic muses, the inner alchemical relationship between the archaic and obsolete old school far-west duel and the vast universe of copulatory activities; or shall we say, all the physical and manual activities of a sexual nature, which he simply called physical love manifestations.
Given the fact that the word duel is mentioned, we have to assume it embraces only the masculine world, be that of a hateful violent nature, or a sexual one (*).
He believed that through this inspired conglomerate of ideas and intuitions that came down from the far beyond, he had, once and for all, found the missing link in the history of human sexuality; the trace that completed the circle of life and death, the scales that weighed love and hate, and the metal through which the coin of bliss and anguish has been crafted. Thus he stated in his Memoirs of a Forgetful Chap:
‘…..I was pondering about the striking similarity between those manifestations of love through our physicality and the old-fashioned and sometimes effective far west revolver duellistic confrontation (**).
‘In both cases we have a gun-weapon, albeit the materials from which the arm-gun-weapon (in both cases we shall name them ‘revolver’) is made of might somehow differ, they both possess the same essential qualities: they fire heated bullets, and they both can kill, or bestow the gift of life. In far east China, we found the same analogy within the Taoist world, with a slight difference; whereas for us it’s a revolver, for them it was (and is), a jade sword. It is yet to be seen if those ill-fated yellow ones can fire bullets from a sword.
‘The simple mathematical scope of logical intuition and chances shows us that in the above mentioned duellistic circumstance we can find one (or two, or three, or…continues ad libitum et ad arbitrium) of the following possibilities, given the appropriate conditions for a duellistic confrontation, be it of a loving nature, or of a hateful one:
- Two proper revolvers, steel made or flesh made.
- A proper steel revolver and a flesh made one.
- A proper steel revolver and a plastic toy revolver.
- Two plastic-toy revolvers.
- No revolvers at all, be they plastic toys, or steel ones or flesh ones.
- A single duel or physical manifestation of self love, that could include one or more proper steel revolvers or one or more plastic toy revolvers, or the bare self-hand fight (a flesh made revolver is a conditio sine qua non). If the circumstance requires it, two hands shall be made of use; but preferably one’s own hand/s. (0.1)
(It is worth mentioning the remarkable bravery and lack of prejudice that our champion shows, although having being raised in an oppressive and severe Catholic ambiance, by not judging in any way whatsoever the physical love expressed between members of the same gender, nor by condemning the fruitful, exemplary and ever-teaching act of masturbation). ***
‘Whatsoever the condition of the revolvers, all sizes and measures can be found:
- · Big (Monster, Enormous, Absolutely and Astonishingly Huge, Get the Fuck Out You Freak!, Third Leg, Short Barrel, Long Barrel, Thickness depending on the calibre, ad libitum ad abundantiam)
- · Small (Almost Normal, Tiny, Ungrabbable, Are You Serious? Hilarious, Ethereal, Short Barrel, Thinness depending on the calibre, ad libitum ad fundum)
‘Intriguingly, or not really given that Mother Nature knows better (1), they all possess a unique and bonding quality:
‘They can all kill.
‘The one and only necessary condition is to possess a good pulse and the almost divine skill to know:
- · When, Where, and Whom to shoot and wound or kill. (2)
- · Whether one bullet, or several bullets are worth being spent. Death can sometimes be achieved through a bullet-less encounter. Be that alone, under a Self-Love regime, or in Duel-mode. (3)
‘Therefore, I can infer that the virtuosity lies within the skill of the shooter or non-shooter, leaving the matter of size, shape, calibre and shininess to be discussed by shallow and slow witted people who know nothing of the true nature of love and death. A single name should suffice as an eternal proof of this: that of Mud Spencer, who once was a famous and handsome sheriff during those innocent times of my own childhood, (a sort of James Bond of the time) who had a really super tiny and laughable revolver; never did his many mistresses nor did the more than thousand vile men stuffed by his silver pointed bullets ever complain about his tiny detail; love and death always find their ways.
‘Giving thorough detail to the mathematical scope of possibilities that may occur when a duellistic confrontation takes place and, remembering that not all deaths are accountable on bullets, be those silver headed, platinum headed, diamond headed, king diamond, ad libitum ad honorem, or sticky-milky ones, I’ve managed to account the following possibilities:
- One dies at: the hand, both hands, the tongue, the lips, the bullet/s or bullet-less revolver, or at the foot, the feet, the elbow, ad libitum ad mortem of the other.
- The duel is deathless.
- Both die (this is hard to achieve because of the precision and practice involved). (4)
‘Also, we shall enumerate the types of shooters by the speed in which the bullet or bullets are expelled:
- Early shooter: In this case the triggering occurs whilst the revolver is still inside the holster or pants.
- Fast shooter: The bullet/s are expelled with no time to aim properly, sometimes landing or shooting itself on the leg or clothes; Shakespeare could have been one of the most celebrated artists suffering from this condition.
- Average shooter: The spit of his bullet/s might arrive a second earlier or later, but he complies with regular standards.
- Delayed shooter: Probably due to health issues or not, his bullet/s arrive way too late in order to make the proper kill.
- Shooter in absentia: Due to lack of bullet/s or so called lazy sticky milky chaps, the outcome never comes.
‘It is noted that anxiety plays a huge role in each one of the above mentioned cases.
‘On the other extreme, we find the:
- Shooter in absentia: Due to a lack of bullet/s or due to the so called sticky milky lazy bastards, the outcome never comes. Also referred to as the dry-mate. Being this the case, his or her (5) lover might die of boredom. This way of dying is sometimes preferable.’ (5.5)
Dear reader, if this cumulus nimbus of words make no sense to you, please, don’t worry. Nobody ever accepted his extroverted theories, but, for the sake of curiosity, let’s carry on unfolding his wretched mind:
‘….the curious detail is that the formal ejaculation is, for the metaphoric French speakers-writers, la petite morte, or the “little death” if you prefer. I ignore whether they see themselves as everlasting poets, or whether they actually consider the sticky milky substance to be conformed of little but very tiny men and women trying not to drown in the immense feminine ocean…. Shakespeare used to caress the page with his immortal pen (or did he use a feather pen? or could have he used a knife? Though if the path of the knife is to be taken, the verb caress should be immediately discarded due to the proper lack of information regarding the Bard’s dexterity with sharpened objects), drawing words on his creator’s canvas, inventions such as:
A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act II
‘Helena replies, being in love with Demetrius: “…To die upon the hand I know so well”.
‘This famous line clearly suggests that Helena was a transvestite, or a sort of freak of nature, or a not so common hermaphrodite. I hope at least she might have cleaned it up (the hand) before the play was over. Bipolarity should not be discarded.
Julius Caesar, Act II
“Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once”.
‘I am glad to be a coward, and so is my wife. In fact, I wouldn’t recommend being such a valiant, because the risk of death (of the lover implied) by asphyxia, inner drowning or by whatever you can imagine might occur after that obliviated gesture of expulsion, the density and quantity of which might come from a revolver that has never tasted the heat of a spit in a lifetime of not-dying. Terrifying. A sticky milky death indeed.
Hamlet, Act 3, famous monologue
“To be or not to be…. To die: to sleep”.
‘Scientific facts in a wonderful play. We all know about the sleepiness that comes after our petite morte. A new and adapted version of Hamlet has been forwarded to a renowned West End theatre. The slight variation in the world-famous monologue was:
“To die: I call her a taxi, then I shall wolf down a pepperoni pizza and then slumber shall prevail”.
Hamlet, feeling the burning effects of poison.
“O, I die, Horatio”.
‘We can perfectly infer that Horatio was a voyeur, or that Hamlet was an exhibitionist, or both; or the the Dane was fond of Horatio in something more than a regular standard male-male relationship, thus sharing the product of his dairy burst.
Henry IV, Part 2
“I should not die but in Jerusalem”.
‘What a freak. A disgusting, abominate, repulsive and blasphemous behaviour; such a man should be dispossessed by such an honorary title. Imagine the international conflict that such a statement could inspire these days.
Othello, final scene
“Killing myself, to die upon a kiss”.
‘We are all aware of the beast that rose inside Othello, instigated by the evil Iago; but under my interpretation of death, he becomes a pervert, an animal, a wretched beast. How can he perform such a reprehensible act on a death maiden?; cold against a heated stickiness that came from his Moorish curved revolver, as a reprehensible consequence of the act of self-love by the mere thought of a kiss. We have to bestow upon the ill-fated traitor some credit for being able to fire even though his lover was already dead; a tendency toward necrophilia shan’t be discarded.
‘The list could go on and on, but I don’t feel like quoting too much.
‘I will finish my brilliant article with William Shakespeare’s love lines, from his eternal Much Ado About Nothing’s final part, when Benedick (the perfect mix of Italian and English wording here makes quite a combo) (6) replies lovingly to Beatrice:
“I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in your eyes….”
‘I only hope that he at least washed Beatrice’s dress, or her legs depending on the scope and reach of the burst. As I hope that it was not his intention to watch his beloved rub the sticky milky substance inside her eyes; whereas most men want to aim or see their bullets at their lover’s mouth, apparently this chap had quite an eccentric preference.
‘But dear friends, let’s return now to our first duel anal…ogy.
‘Sorry, got a bit confused.
‘Perhaps the best option is for both lovers to see the light at the same time; to die together; to reach the highest peaks of Eros and Venus bonded in an inner flood that surrenders the Egos, dissolving the partiality into the realm of the Truth, like two raindrops becoming one with the ever-present and embracing ocean. But it takes time; practice and patience. And time.
‘Patience is of the essence, and obviously, several duellistic confrontations are needed to perfect the aiming skills and other secrets of the Arts of Love.
‘Impatience is the force that shuts down not only the few chances one might have in order to learn, but also the wind that might close the legs of your love, and the wind that dries her inner waters; also, it can be the chill that tenderises your revolver.
‘As Ali, the Lion of Islam used to say, there are three things that cannot be recovered:
- The arrow that has parted from the bow
- The word uttered unthinkingly
- The missed opportunity
‘In the same manner, beloved learner-reader, I can tell you that bullets are not eternal, nor infinite; they can, and will, be somehow wasted. Take good care of them, but nevertheless, practice. Practice dry. Practice by keeping the essence inside, both alone and with your beloved. Practice ’till you become one with the practice, when you might finally become nothing; then, you will be totally in absentia, inhabiting a realm where bullets, revolvers, dry, sticky-milky substance, are going to be just sounds, echoes of a passed experience when death and life, were separated. (7)
‘Take it out fast, and then consider whether the bullet is worth the firing; aim for consciousness in the shooting. Sometimes the circumstance is not worth the shot. It’s up to you to decide.’
John Peter Harrock XVI died in his sleep, with his ninety seven years of age caressing his soul, enjoying the company of a little burning candle, his bullet-less wrinkled revolver inside his suede made holster, empty as he came into this world, and with no Ego left to be expelled.
(*) It’s up to the reader whether he or she will apply his remarkable findings to both genders, that is, after reading the whole text.
(**) He clearly undermines the possibilities of orgiastic Duels. ‘Love is a game where false creation and death penetrate each other, a game meant to be for only One…or for two at the most’, he stated once in his diary.
(***) Thanks to this editorial observation we can discard the point in the most firm way. (*)
(0.1) Some bits of informations are missing, and we still cannot locate them, despite using four hands in the quest; though at prima facie that assertion sounds a bit too pretentious.
(1) Those probably are his first documented sings of bi-polarity.
(2) Abu Ibn Simwahhab, Saracen erudite, scholastic and mystic expert firmly thinks that such a formula links our protagonist with an unknown Texan Sufi order. The original formula is: Place, Time and People.
(3) Again the ever-present Taoist influence becomes notable.
(4) The famous film critic from the Pampas, Agustín González, implies that John McClane, the forgettable character from the blockbuster film Die Hard, could have had a chronic syndrome known as the retarded or lazy bullet. For those slow witted, he just could not cum. Which probably implies he also was always late to his meetings or rendezvous.
(5) Squirting should be regarded as the female bullet.
(5.5) If on the footnote (1) he began to show signs of bi-polarity, this is a probable sign of dementia.
(6) For those ignorant bastards who require an explanation, such a combo literally means goodcock, or goodpenis, ad libitum ad coitus interruptus.
(7) In the same manner, the film critic Agustín González noted the apologetic antagonism between this wise piece of advice, and the Hollywood propaganda that surreptitiously installs in our minds the concept that bullets are everlasting and infinite. Suffice to watch dreadful examples such as Rambo, Commando, ad libitum ad plumbum.
(No number whatsoever) It is worth noticing the striking similarity within three concepts that, at random, could be though of having nothing in common: Love, evolve and revolver. It is worth mentioning the depth of the author’s insight, and the lack of improvisation in that word he chose to describe a cornerstone of the masculine society: The revolver as the ultimate weapon of love, death and life. The giver of evolving chances, and the ultimate manifestation of love among humans.