Pray For The Vajayjay

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Memo to Dennis Prager: YES, I'M PILING ON.

As much as I love exposing exciting new areas of stupidity largely unremarked upon by the greater blogosphere, every once in a while, someone writes something so mind-bogglingly fucked up that I must add my two cents, even though everyone else has already chimed in. And so it is with Dennis Prager and his two-part article at Townhall.com, "When A Woman Isn't In The Mood".

I know. Normally, nothing screams sensitivity and tact more than the intersection of a right-wing religious nut, a website known for its lack of quality control, and female sexuality. But Prager goes above and beyond the call of duty here, explaining to a nation of frigid women why it is their patriotic duty to lie back and check the ceiling for cracks.

Now, if I were to offer an opinion, I'd guess that the reason Dennis Prager's wife doesn't want to have sex with Dennis Prager very often is that his head looks like a fucking Q-Tip that's had one too many fake tanning sessions. But since Prager is unwilling to do anything about his orange cotton swab of a head, he instead concocts an elaborate series of justifications explaining why he should get some anyway. He has culled these revelations from the weekly "male-female" hour of his call-in radio show, which you will have never heard due to the brain's ability to block out harmful and reality-bending stimuli. And he starts off with a doozy. ACTUAL QUOTE TIME!

"A husband knows that his wife loves him first and foremost by her willingness to give her body to him. This is rarely the case for women. Few women know their husband loves them because he gives her his body (the idea sounds almost funny). This is, therefore, usually a revelation to a woman. Many women think men's natures are similar to theirs, and this is so different from a woman's nature, that few women know this about men unless told about it."

By Prager's metric, a crack whore is the most loving person on the planet, because she's willing to give her body to a man for twenty bucks. And I love how Prager briefly enters the gravity well of self-awareness ("the idea sounds almost funny") before using that gravity well to slingshot at high speed, seeing the faces of willing, loving women in the clouds as he travels back in time to 1954, where all this female submission came with free martinis.

No argument about male sexuality would be complete without that unique mix of biological determinism and Biblical creationism that has fueled decades of "boys will be boys" and the madonna/whore complex. And Prager does not disappoint:

"Correct. Compared to most women's sexual nature, men's sexual nature is far closer to that of animals. So what? That is the way he is made. Blame God and nature. Telling your husband to control it is a fine idea. But he already does. Every man who is sexually faithful to his wife already engages in daily heroic self-control. He has married knowing he will have to deny his sexual nature's desire for variety for the rest of his life. To ask that he also regularly deny himself sex with the one woman in the world with whom he is permitted sex is asking far too much."

What more do you want, women? Dennis Prager is spending every iota of willpower he has keeping himself from hurling his middle-aged, Republican, Q-topped body over the thousands of willing, eager women he encounters every single day. In the face of that HEROIC sacrifice, how can you deny his simple desire for you to wear an Ann Coulter wig, climb in the sex swing, and talk dirty to him in your best Henry Kissinger impersonation? You must not love him as much as he loves you.

But Prager outdoes himself in Part 2, explaining the various reasons why women should submit to their husbands' sexual advances whenever they occur. He uses an analogy that is equal parts horrifying and secretly telling, and I warn you, is not for the faint of heart.

"What if your husband woke up one day and announced that he was not in the mood to go to work? If this happened a few times a year, any wife would have sympathy for her hardworking husband. But what if this happened as often as many wives announce that they are not in the mood to have sex? Most women would gradually stop respecting and therefore eventually stop loving such a man."

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, here we have proof that having sex with Dennis Prager is hard work. Not necessarily coal-mining hard, but at least as difficult as hosting a weekly call-in radio show and writing retarded pieces for Townhall on a semi-regular basis. But wait - normally a job results in compensation of some sort, and clearly there is no compensation involved with Pragerfucking. You know what we in the sane part of the universe call a job that you're forced to do with no pay, Dennis? SLAVERY. And since Prager thinks the women will be happier overall if they engage in this slavery, this proves logically that Dennis Prager is a closet Gor-ean, and implies that he lounges around the house in a cheap leather loincloth. Just following the crumbs where they lead, folks.

I suppose, if I wanted to be deep and analytical, I could mention that this whole article is just another extension of the white male privilege and sense of entitlement that has driven the conservative movement since, well, forever. But honestly, it's so much more fun to point and laugh at Prager's blatant internal contradictions, like the one where he calmly explains how "In the rest of life, not just in marital sex, it is almost always a poor idea to allow feelings or mood to determine one’s behavior. Far wiser is to use behavior to shape one’s feelings."

Um, Dennis? That constant itch you claim to have in your pants? The one your wife is supposed to set her feelings aside and scratch out of duty? That's a feeling. A feeling you're allowing to determine your behavior, rather than wisely allowing your behavior to shape your feelings. If it's true, as you claim, that constant submission to your sexual needs will eventually turn any wife into a nympho, then conversely, you leaving your wife alone and jerking off to gay Internet porn in your "home office" will eventually bring your need for sex more in line with your wife's. Not entirely, of course. I guarantee the gay porn you spank it to doesn't star guys who look like Dennis Prager, after all. But isn't a happy marriage worth a little compromise?