While you were enjoying your "holidays", Sweet Daddy Lovedrops was hard at work unraveling the mysteries of the female sexual response!

Let me tell you this right now: Sweet Daddy Lovedrops
hasn’t taken a day off in thirty-seven years. This isn’t
because Sweet Daddy Lovedrops is a “workaholic” who
“can’t let go” because he’s an “obsessive-compulsive nut-
job” who has “gone off his medication” ever since “Dr. Phil’s
new book became a number one bestseller”. Oh, no no no
no no no: this is all cant and balderdash. There is nowhere
Sweet Daddy Lovedrops would rather be right now than
on the deck of a long, gleaming watercraft in the Gulf of
Mexico! Marlin fishing, even! Yes, you heard me: fishing
for marlin! Sweet Daddy Lovedrops, theoretically, would
greatly enjoy the act of harpooning one of the sea’s most
impressive and rare creatures! Not in the name of sur-
vival, not because he is a finicky gourmand with a blinding
desire to feast on the flesh of the marlin, not even out of
some atavistic urge to demonstrate his complete and utter
dominance of the Natural World. Purely for recreation!
That’s all marlin-fishing is to Sweet Daddy Lovedrops, a
chance to “blow off steam” by firing a sleek metal spear
through the glistening flanks of a large, predatory fish!
Or, to be perfectly accurate, that’s all marlin-fishing would
be, since–truth be told--Sweet Daddy Lovedrops has never
gone marlin-fishing and likely never will.

You see, your neuroses never take a vacation, so how can I?
How can I? You see, I ask that question expecting a response.
It was not a rhetorical question. It was the other kind of ques-
tion. The kind of question you’re supposed to answer. The
proper name for those sorts of questions escapes me at the
moment.

So go on and answer it. Or perhaps you don’t have an answer?

You don’t, do you?

And do you know why you don’t have an answer to the
perfectly simple question of why Sweet Daddy Lovedrops
cannot go on vacation since, were he to go on vacation, the
world’s clamor for advice and simple homespun wisdom
would grow too burdensome for the universe to support?
You do know, don’t you?

Well go on and tell Sweet Daddy Lovedrops then! Don’t
be shy!

I’ll tell you then: you don’t have the answer to why Sweet
Daddy Lovedrops cannot go on vacation since, were he to go
on vacation, the tremulous, quavering voices calling out in the
dark of ignorance for the light of truth would go ignored
because you are not the ones with all the answers! Sweet
Daddy Lovedrops has all the answers. It’s as simple as that.

Now that I’ve proved my point, please be so good as to allow
me to move to the subject of the female sexual response. I’m
sure you’ll agree that it is a matter of great importance.

To be frank, the female subset of the human species is often
reluctant to search out Sweet Daddy Lovedrops for advice.
This is, I think, because they are somewhat intimidated my
learned expertise. You see, it is quite possible that I possess
more advanced degrees than any other person in the five-
state area encompassing Minnesota, North Dakota, South
Dakota, Iowa, and Wisconsin. Through correspondence and
the Intranet, I have reached levels of education and cultivation
unprecedented in the Upper Midwest. Doughty leaders of
men quail when they gaze upon my accomplishments, so it
is no wonder that the gentle womenfolk are even more re-
luctant to enter what I like to call the arena of my magni-
ficence.

But every so often I do receive a question from a lady. And
nine times out of ten, that lady’s question, delicately worded
and hesitantly expressed, is “Sweet Daddy Lovedrops, how
do I achieve multiple orgasms?”

Before I answer it, however, allow me just a moment to scold
you all for your filthy, filthy minds. Because I know–I just
know–that you thought, if only for a fleeting second, that I,
Sweet Daddy Lovedrops, would be craven enough to answer
that inquiry with a lewd joke. Perhaps you imagined Sweet
Daddy Lovedrops telling this willowy, goodhearted sunflower
something like “sit on my lap for awhile” or “saddle up for a
mustache ride” or “well, you’re in luck, li’l boo, because you’re
looking at the Chief Bootie Knocka”. I wish to be absolutely
clear: Sweet Daddy Lovedrops is not the Chief Bootie
Knocka. Nor is his sense of humor so childish and “groin-
oriented”. He has a warm wit and a sophisticated under-
standing of “the funny”, which means that such grotesque
wisecracks are miles beneath him, just as they would be
miles beneath you were you not such a tittering, repulsive,
indecent lust fiend all fired up on your Red Bull energy
drinks and your retarded sexualities.

You should be ashamed of yourselves.

But anyway.

The question was, if you recall, “Sweet Daddy Lovedrops,
how do I achieve multiple orgasms?”. The answer is very
simple:

You can’t and you never will. Get over it.

I realize that this might take a little explaining. That is why
I am willing to marshal the lessons of history, anatomy, psych-
ology and anthropology so that this disappointing, perhaps
unpalatable fact may glow for you with the unquenchable
light of Utter Truth. There comes in all our lives a time
when we must set aside childish illusions and walk as adults
into the cold and bitter world of the way things actually are.
There is sadness here, true, and there is also confusion.
There is desolation, there is hopelessness, and there is the
keening wail of a million dreams destroyed. But we must
walk there regardless. We must because we must. We
just must. Don’t ask me why. It would take me far too
long to go into here and, besides, it would take us away from
the issue at hand.

The issue at hand is the Cold War. As you might recall, this
was a nebulous and fairly dull war which pitted the forces of
Communism against the forces of Capitalism. Most of the
time, the “fighting”–such as it was–avoided the bullets-and-
bombs business seen in shorter, more flamboyant conflicts
and instead tended to take the form of fancy espionage and
suave global brinskmanship. Now, some might find this sort
of struggle a little too effete for their taste, but there’s no
arguing that the combatants found themselves embroiled in
a battle of ideology, a fierce competition to prove to the other
and the world at large that their politico-economic system
was the preferable one. Because reasonable people can
disagree about such things, dirty tricks were sometimes
employed instead of the healthy, rational debate that
Sweet Daddy Lovedrops prefers...

Part One: The Dirty Trick

In 1957, several high-ranking members of the East
German secret police (or “Stasi”) were given orders to
find a way to sow discord and confusion throughout the
West. Several schemes were conceived and then, for
one reason or another, discarded: a plot to make butter
taste much saltier than it usually does, an attempt to
colonize the moon with an army of unstoppable cyborgs,
and a plan which involved replacing the entire leadership
structure of the United States with unqualified, borderline-
illiterate oil tycoons. All of these dastardly designs, fortun-
ately enough, fizzled out in their early stages, but there was
one idea which made it much further. This was an operation
that still resonates around the world today. It was code-
named “Der Operaschtiff Multiplischaft Orgasimus”.

Those conversant with the craft of international intelli-
gence work would immediately recognize this as a classic “Double-Blind-Return-Disinformation-Dissemination” plot.
In an architecturally-unappealing building deep in the
Prenzlauer Berg neighborhood of the former East Berlin,
a team of agents quickly sketched out the outlines of their
strategy. A group of loyal scientists would assume the
guise of defectors and appeal to an enemy nation for asylum,
claiming that their life’s work was being suppressed by the
dictatorial regime. With this accomplished, they would pro-
ceed to publish their “findings” in as many scientific journals
as possible. This process would be aided by healthy bribes
and, if necessary, a few untraceable poisonings.

What would these findings be, you may ask? Well, if you are
asking that, perhaps you ought to reconsider your appraisal
of yourself as a reasonably intelligent being! Because ob-
viously you’re not! So perhaps you shouldn’t interrupt
Sweet Daddy Lovedrops when he’s telling you a story!
Did you ever think of that? Did you ever think that perhaps
Sweet Daddy Lovedrops deserves at least a sliver of respect
for unfailingly bringing you, a gibbering idiot, the knowledge
you need to live as an informed and productive member of
contemporary society?

Now I’ve forgotten what I was telling you. Where was I?

Does anybody remember?

Anybody?

Damn...

Oh, yes. The “findings”, of course, were that women–pre-
viously thought to be chaste and pleasant creatures–were
actually capable of experiencing heretofore unimaginable
levels of erotic bliss. They were carnal creatures. Given
a skilled partner or any one of a number of electronic im-
plements, anyone blessed with two “X” chromosomes could
spend inordinate amounts of time immersed in sensual joys
so spectacular and life-affirming that they would no longer
feel the slightest inclination to be vigilant against the creep-
ing Red Menace. Oh, the arguments and explanations for
this strange hogwash were presented with all the authority
and learned jargon that dissident East German scientists
could muster, but that didn’t make their claims any more
true. And, accordingly, the sober scientific community of
the Free World was skeptical of these outlandish, absurd
statements.

At least this was true until the East Germans unleashed
“Phase B” of their plot. “Phase B” involved sending forth
a small army of dedicated Party women to act as mission-
aries for the female orgasm. Acting only out of devotion for
the collected works of Marx and Lenin (and, to a lesser
extent, Engels), these women traveled through the Western
democracies, proudly boasting of the joys their genitals gave
them on a regular basis. This sort of talk, naturally enough,
excited quite a great deal of attention among the female
communities of most large cities. It wasn’t long before large
portions of the “girl demographic” in cities such as Paris,
London, and New York were asking themselves, “Well, how
come Hildegaard over there can have sixteen orgasms a
night while my husband Jerry has never given me even one?”

It does not take a genius to realize that questions like that
threaten the very foundations of a society.

Part Two: A Terrible Delusion Spreads Like A
Fearsome Plague

Psychologists are familiar with the concept of folie a deux.
This is a French term that translates, roughly, to “weird green
hat”. Imagine you see someone walking down the street wear-
ing a weird green hat. Now imagine that you witness this
person experiencing something so profoundly pleasurable
that you can hardly believe it’s happening to anyone, much
yet some goofball in a weird green hat. Through a series of
elaborate mental processes, you very well might consider
that weird green hat to be the reason for this person’s un-
usual good fortune. Because the mind is a sensitive in-
strument, you likely will not go out and buy your own
weird green hat, but instead you will believe–until you
die--that during every exceptionally good moment in your
life you have a weird green hat on. The first time you kiss
the woman you love? That incredible promotion at work?
Your daughter’s wedding? The first glimpse of your grand-
son? At all these times, your head is bare, but in your brain
you imagine yourself in that same weird green hat. Ask any
practicing clinician. They see it all the time.

Unfortunately, the weird green hat phenomenon does not
always take the form of a weird green hat. As the East
Germans have taught us, the weird green hat can also be
unrelenting, earth-shattering clitoral orgasms. By seeing
their sinister Communist spy sisters at such exalted erotic
plateaus, previously nonexistent longings were awakened
in women from Stockholm to Tokyo. “How can I seize
such tremendous joy?” they asked themselves. Because
there was already a “scientific literature” supporting the
existence of the illusion, expectations were raised to the
point that frustration would have been deadly.

It was about this time that previously-rational women the
world over started to believe that they were experiencing
orgasms. Clearly, they were not, but the repercussions
were the same as they would have been had all that gar-
bage about sex as a mutually-enjoyable, healthy human
endeavor actually been true. The West faltered and the
ideological struggle was largely abandoned as men and
women gave up promoting the Glory of Capitalism to
chase a ridiculous phantom of unholy moistened-crotch
abandon.

This is how the Communists won the Cold War. So if
you’re wondering why you have to work nineteen hours
a day in a factory and salute a statue of Stalin every
morning, there’s your answer.

Thanks, girls!

Part Three: The Elegant Truth

Understand. Sweet Daddy Lovedrops stands at risk of
being thrown into a Siberian gulag for the rest of his life.
And his life will be a long one, because he eats a balanced
diet with plenty of nuts and vegetables. So he will be in
that gulag for years, decades even. For decades he will
be unable to visit nursing homes and bring comfort to
the elderly. Decades will pass without Sweet Daddy
Lovedrops holding a seminar or singing an Elton John
number in the shower. Decades will go by without
Sweet Daddy Lovedrops once spreading a great fistful
of peanut butter into his chest hair and then inviting
his beloved tabby cat, Desiree, to come and lick it off.
But those decades will pass in the flash of the eye if I
can be confident that I have put to rest the fantasies
that are gnawing away at your quality of life.

Ladies, listen to Sweet Daddy Lovedrops: your much-
vaunted “orgasm” is a myth. It is a conspiracy brought
about by cruel Communist functionaries in order to
enslave us all and snuff out the light of liberty and
decency forever and ever. You would be better off
turning your attention to the diversions that you enjoyed
before all this nonsense got started: pressing flowers and
fishing for marlin. Weren’t you happier then? Weren’t
your pretty, pretty souls more at peace before you started
in with all this vagina what-have-you?

But Sweet Daddy Lovedrops is a compassionate man. He
knows that the most impossible dreams are the ones that
die hardest. That is why he is willing to explain exactly
why you will never achieve this form of pleasure.

Please go to your local organic co-op and purchase a head
of lettuce. Bring this lettuce to your home and slice it in half.
Take one of these halves in your hand and look closely at its
inner design. Does it remind you of anything?

Of course it does.

Now, if you have the time, grasp the lettuce firmly in one
hand and probe its interior with your other. Do it gently
or firmly, whichever you wish. Probe wherever you want
to for however long you desire. Notice, if you will, that this
probing does not create a disturbance on the outermost
layer of the lettuce, the layer you are holding. In fact, I’m
willing to bet a reasonable sum of money that your left hand
could probe for hours and your right hand would be none
the wiser. But don’t take my word for it. Probe away.
Probe to your heart’s content.

May I rest my case now?

I can hear some of you out there complaining. I can hear you
saying, “Sweet Daddy Lovedrops, you don’t know what
you’re talking about! I actually have orgasms! They’re great!”
I’m sorry, but you must allow Sweet Daddy Lovedrops to call
bullshit on that load of disagreeable-smelling material. Now,
I’m sure you have what you think is a reasonably good time.
I’m sure you even almost enjoy yourself. But–and here I ask
you to be completely honest with yourself and with Sweet
Daddy Lovedrops–are the pleasures you feel genuine bodily
sensations, or are you just amused by the ridiculous faces
your partner is making? And, without a doubt, I’m sure that
during this disgraceful process you let out all sorts of excited
utterances and exclamations. But–and, again, be absolutely
sincere–aren’t these the same sorts of sounds you make
when you see, say, a puppy in a stroller?

I thought so.

Sweet Daddy Lovedrops can hear other complaints. He can
hear them coming a mile away. These are the accusations
that Sweet Daddy Lovedrops doesn’t believe in the female
orgasm because Sweet Daddy Lovedrops is incapable of
provoking it. Well, I’m sorry, darling, but Sweet Daddy
Lovedrops is incapable of conjuring up rainbow-colored
pixie people and he doesn’t feel bad about that, either!

Oh, you’re so naughty, the way you try to hurt Sweet Daddy
Lovedrops’ feelings! What’s that you say? The only way
Sweet Daddy Lovedrops could hope to please a woman is by
going away quickly and never returning? Sweet Daddy
Lovedrops is a “cretinous lunatic”? Sweet Daddy Lovedrops
“doesn’t know dick about the female body”? Sweet Daddy
Lovedrops is “kind of creepy” and “probably some kind of
gross pervert”? He suffers from “acute paranoia” and “pro-
nounced gynophobia”, not to mention a “profound deficit in
the love-meat department”?

I think that you’ll have a hard time explaining these charges
to my attorney. So don’t even try, Mildred.