Reader’s note: This story is satirical in nature and published in a spoof issue.

I don’t know about you, but I really dig cock and punanie equal. Naw mean? It’s not like I’m bi, I just can’t handle the difference. One has a tiny hole, the other is a huge hole. You read that book Holes? Well, that was a great book. I love that shit. But back to peckers and poon, I’m good with it all.

Vajayjay’s are great because you can fuck them. Now I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure you can’t fuck a cock. You can, of course, fuck an asshole – but brown eyes just aren’t for me. I’d rather smell fish than poo, ‘ya know?

I have a great story to illustrate this fact. One time, I was at a club. A night club! It may or may not have been called Lulu’s Club Mardi Gras, but again, same difference to me. So I was waiting in line for the bathroom because I was drinking mad Miller High Lifes. It’s the champagne of beers. So the line is long, because the bro’s gotta go, ya dig? I finally get into the boom boom room (that’s what we called it when I was in college) and I see the line for the urinal is longer than my wife’s pubes. We got a situation so I’m all like, whatever, I’ll sit on the can and take my leak. I would have stood up, but like I says, I’m shlammered. So I’m sitting there, peeing, like a chick and I realized, I’m peeing like a chick. Penis. Vagina. Same shit to me.

And have you ever seen one of those freaky extra-long clits? You know, the kind that when it gets hard resembles your bijon frise’s red rocket while he’s humping your house guest’s leg? I mean, that’s just gross. It’s gotta be either a dick or a pussy- can’t be both, sorry. I’m not into that hermaphrodite shit. Now trannies, on the other hand- that’s another story. Sometimes I want to take a nice “lady” out to a fancy dinner, spend all the money in the world on her, show her a good time, show her off to all the other jealous guys in the restaurant. And then, when we get back to my place, I take off all “her” clothes and suck me some lady-dick! I mean, it’s just all the same to me, really.

You may say bros before hos or chicks before dicks. I don’t say any of those things. You never know what you’re going to find in the dark. That’s the kind of unpredictability that drives my life. You can climb Kilimanjaro and traverse the Serengeti. Good for you. If you can’t take a cock and give to a pussy, then what are you worth to anyone else? Me, my choice, you know where my thinking’s at.

It all started when I was a young boy, up in my childhood tree-house that my father had built for me. One sunny afternoon in April, I had two of my friends from school over – Douglaz and Clarissza. We decided to play “doctor” and, well, what happened after that lead to a lifetime of mutual appreciation for the cock and the puss.

But look, this is all here and there. There are other issues in the world that transcend my indecision about cock and cooch. Talk about poverty, talk about global warming, talk about native whaling rights in Alaska, these are all important issues. This should be the real focus of our lives. Maybe that is what really matters overall. So let’s all embrace the embraceable. None of this should matter to anyone. Dig cock, dig cooch, dig it all baby.

But most importantly, don’t judge me – and my gaping, purple, hairy, veiny hole.

The writer, a major general in the Union Army of the Potomac, is the proud owner of a luscious set of Burnsides and the source of “sideburns.” He fully supports sideburns on dudes and chicks.