Nipples Over Libya

    For my first daring venture into the world of blogging, I considered throwing together something topical. Maybe a ditty about Libya or the Tea Party, or something. Then I remembered an old musing I’d written a while back that reminded me of the words involved in the aforesaid political party, but had nothing to do with their politics. Enjoy…

———-

    I have a friend who is a potter–at least, I think that is the correct word. He makes things out of clay, and the existence of these objects is referred to as ‘pottery’. Perhaps potter is not the word; one who practices dentistry is not called a denter. Does this mean my friend is a potist?
    At any rate, my friend is making a teapot, and I will refrain from musing as to the title of one who makes teapots. He is making a teapot, and the lid looks remarkably like a tit. It is, to my eyes, an exact anatomical replica of a homo sapien breast–female type.
    “That looks like a tit,” I proclaim, indulging in a sip of tap water from a red plastic Dixie cup.
    My friend has a Dixie cup too, except his has smudges of brown fingerprints all over the plastic. He says to me, “I think it looks like a camel.”
    I would like for him to take a drag of a cigarette now, but he doesn’t smoke. I will have to settle for creative license.
    My friend takes a drag of his cigarette, and I ponder the oddness of how a man of clay sees a camel in a teapot, while a man of ink sees a tit.

———-

    Part of me believes this is an irrational choice for my first blog–I really cannot get over using that clunky, horrible word–yet another part of me thinks my hesitation is reason enough to post it.
    I’ll leave it at that, for now.