The Fragile Nature Of Life... And Porn...

I passed a dead animal on the road yesterday, on the way home from work. It might have been a dog, a German Shepherd or coyote. It might have even been a shaggy deer, once. In its current state, it didn't resemble Bambi at all. But it did make me start thinking about the fragile nature of life. About death.

I came to a decision.

I went home, knowing that my wife wouldn't be home from work for at least an hour. I went straight to my most secret hiding places and pulled out all my best porn. What's that? Hiding places, you ask? Best porn, you ask? Well As most married men (or those who are housemates with their significant other) know, there are two kinds of porn: the stuff she knows you have, even though she may not necessarily like it, and the stuff she'd leave you over. You know. The stuff you won't talk about over the phone in case the government is listening. And just because she'd leave you over it, doesn't mean you won't keep it anymore.
Anyway, the vast majority of my "private reserve" was on DVD. I would've just pitched it, but--What's that, you ask? Pitched your best, most secret porn? But WHY, you ask? Cause that's the part about death that bugs me the most... As soon as you're gone, people start going through your crap to see what they want. I may be a total, irrepressible perv, totally unfit for human contact because of the horrendous amounts of porn I enjoy, but I only want to be remembered as the kind of perv that most wives, while outwardly critical, approve of. I want to be remembered as a wholesome perv, and the only way I can see to do that is to get rid of the evidence.

I briefly considered setting booby traps, some fatal, some simply set to maim, to defend my precious bounty, but that's too risky. She might find them before I die, and BOY! Then I'd have some 'splaining to do! To the emergency room... To the police... Possibly the FBI... And, if she lived, to her...

So, anyway, I would've just pitched it, but someone might find the stuff. And those special DVDs that we made on that one Valentine's day after a few bottles of Champagne (and half a roofie)--the ones I swore I'd thrown out years ago--were just too much to risk to dumpster divers. I picked one up and bent it nearly in half. DVD's are remarkably resilient. Little known fact #1: a snapping DVD is closely akin to a fragmentation grenade. It did not simply snap in half. It shattered, nearly impaling the cats, who were desperate to see what I was playing with, with shrapnel.

It took nearly 20 minutes to clean up the remnants of one explosive DVD, and I'm still not sure I found them all. One of these days my wife is going to pull a piece of our one-time intimate memento out of a cat's ass, but that's another story.
I took a piece of steel wool from the garage and went to town, insuring that no trace of my irredeemably perverse videography remained, marring the plasticky flesh to the point that no DVD repair kit could be of any benefit to the damaged disc, ever. Steel wool met laminated metal. One down.


Feverishly, I repeated the step, standing over an open trashcan, over and over again. Ten, twenty, thirty discs fell, their explicit cargo now destined to travel the seas of landfill, never to find port or haven in another DVD player. I was safe. I covered the discs with trash, tied the bag, and took out the garbage.

I went back in to wash my hands and discovered little known fact #2: when using steel wool, it is best to remove your wedding band first. Sigh... At least she won't leave me over this...

And honey... If you're reading this... I'm only joking.




Really.







Stop looking at me like that...


*Editor's note: the vast majority of this piece was written and originally appeared in my blog on Feb 13, 2006 (it was edited for spelling and select word choices.) Since then, a wonderful (fake) service has been introduced... Check it out!