First of all: fuck you NSA! I thought NSA meant ‘No Strings
Attached!’ but if I really knew that it meant ‘National Security Agency’ I
wouldn’t have tried to place the following personal ad on their website:
‘Tall glass-of-water looking to be drunk by anyone with
lips. Leather fetishists will be entertained regardless of race. Infantilization
a definite plus, though YOU must bring the adult diapers. With or without
bonnet is ok. If you can accommodate, I will appreciate.’
And then I get a call from this smug motherfucker Dustin
Diamond who used to play Samuel ‘Screech’ Powers on the hit TV show Saved by the Bell. At first I thought I had
my first bite on my personal ad and immediately ripped my pants off when he
said he worked for NSA.
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| From fucking loser to American Freedom Fighter! |
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| Powder looks so stylish in his new 'Freedom Fighter' white wig. People said the black wig didn't bring out the beadiness of his Austrian Gestapo Eyes. |
But then, after he explained why he was calling, I had to
ask, ‘What do you mean National Security Agency?’
He was giving me advance warning of how those fuckers were
trying to fuck the fucking general population by spying on their senseless,
mindless shit they spew on a daily basis via phone and internet.
I said, ‘Why would they give a flying toss about hearing how
much Stephanie liked the One Direction group on Facebook?’
Screech told me, ‘I don’t know. But I’m a patriot. I love my
country so goddamned much, I have to spread the word to the good American
people that they are being spied on.’ He then went on to relate how he and
Julian Assange were freedom fighters and compared himself to Che Guevara and
that Buddhist monk who set himself on fire.
‘I agree,’ I told him. ‘You’re an honest American, finally
spreading the word that Americans are being spied on. At least Facebook isn’t logging
our internet traffic to sell to marketing companies.’
We then got to talking about Slater – of course. Screech also
said he misses the days when his co-star Zack, played by Mark Paul Gosselling[sic...or
however you fucking spell that French-ass name], used to let him watch while he
undressed in his changing room. He then burst into tears telling me how much he
misses his ‘soulmate.’
‘Whatever, man,’ I said. ‘So you’re not into leather or
dressing up like a baby?’ After he said no, I hung up the phone waiting for a
sex fiend to call.
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| Isn't there a seriously creeping likeness between Snowden and Screech? |
But then my wife called from work. She explained that
Screech had just called her and, because she’s my wife (legally...spiritually,
I’m still attached to that robot sex-machine Vicki from Small Wonder), he had to divulge important information about the
No-Strings-Attached Website, which really isn’t about hooking up, and how he
had to do his duty to personally call all Americans and spread the word about
this unthinkable crime of spying on American’s technological footprint. She
would be tracked by the NSA because the callous bitch just wanted to share our
last name. He warned her by using me as a prime example, and how my sex ad was
being monitored by the (not really) No-Strings-Attached website and would be
used to provide relevant Google ads the next time I do another search for
leather jockstraps.
My (un)lovely wife said, ‘So........do you like doing
babies, or do you like dressing up as them?’ I had never thought about the
alternative interpretation. She was not mad, just surprised. I mean, how often
do you get a call from Screech? And she was surprised at my strange sexual
tastes.
To that end, Screech and the NSA really kind of liberated my wife and
my sexual fantasies: everything was out in the open. My wife agreed to bring
home adult diapers for me to wear after work, but only if I promised to let her
rape me with a strap-on and call her ‘Duke.’
Fair’s fair. Thank you NSA!
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