Ice Cream Sex

I was sitting outside my front door yesterday in the early eve enjoying a Phillies cognac dipped Blunt Cigar, available for 47 cents at fine tobacconists everwhere and sipping a Bloody Mary, available at my house for good conversation if you happen to be around when I'm mixing, when a commercial for an ice cream bar began to play on my television set. I had positioned the set so that I could view it from outside and thus free the house from the lingering scents of fake cognac and cheap tobacco. Not that those are bad scents, mind you. It's just that in an enclosed space they will make your eyes bleed. Normally, when a commercial comes on, I take a moment and allow the monkeymind to leap about in search of an idle thought that may have wandered into the neighborhood. Was Mickelson on drugs Sunday or did he NOT take the drugs he usually takes that give him that zombie stare he sports when actually winning a tournament is an exmple of a thought the monkeymind might have grabbed from a nearby branch. Normally, however, I don't get to see a beautiful woman have oral sex with an ice cream bar on television. Back in the day, when cigarette commercials were second only to booze ads for generating network bucks, it was not uncommon to see the fair sex sucking hard on phallic objects, but they were consenting adults with consenting objects. What I saw from my patio yesterday was a woman doing to a frozen milk product what should only be done in the privacy of one's, ah, I'm thinking kitchen, while leaning over the sink. I mean it was messy. And it was hot! The woman was a dark eyed, dark haired, latin, twenty something beauty, slender and tall who looked right at you as she chomped down hungrily on the chocolate covered bar with white cream oozing down the sides. This was a woman who was GOOD at eating ice cream! She ate it with flair and panache, which are two of the better ways to eat anything and also regulars on Will and Grace. She wore short shorts and a blouse whose top buttons were opened to reveal just enough cleavage to capture any drippage from the bar. A nice touch that, I thought. While I sat there enjoying the ad and thinking of the erotic things I'd like to do to HaagenDaz, it occurred to me that this kind of ad is why so many fat kids are clogging up the sidewalks in the U.S. A. and coming soon to a country near you. As I've said, back in the day, we kids got our subliminal sex messages from cigarette commercials and we all grew up smoking instead of eating and sure we died of cancer at a prodigious rate, but c'mon, we died thin. Didn't take an NFL team to lift our coffins. What does all this mean? Am I advocating smoking? No, not really. Unless, of course, you know, it's cognac dipped.