Monday, April 23, 2012

Bridges of Madison County

Bridges of Madison County

By Richard E. Noble

It seemed for a short period every woman in America was fantasizing over “The Bridges of Madison County.” I felt that any book that could stimulate the libido of the American female so drastically must, of necessity, reveal same penetrating insights. So I read the book.

It seems that a rather boring, unimaginative woman, who has lost contact with her loyal, faithful, dutiful husband, decides to have a fling with a traveling salesman while her poor husband is off to the 4-H Club fair with the kids.

So she bangs this traveling salesman (who is posing as a photographer for National Geographic – yeah, National Inquirer, most likely; or more than likely unemployed) upstairs, in the bed of her and her loyal, faithful husband while he and THEIR children are out of sight for ONE damn day.

Well, obviously being a woman of very, very low sexual enthusiasm and appetite, and IMAGINATION this one afternoon fling with some bozo walking by with a knapsack on his back satisfies her for the rest of her life. Not only does it satisfy her for the rest of her life, she fantasizes over the event, to such a neurotic extent that she even writes a letter to her children detailing the episode, for them to read after “she’s gone.”

In the letter she explains to her children (probably while the old man is sitting on the trunk in the attic next to his kids) that she banged this traveling salesman in the same bed where they were conceived, because their Daddy (the man who bought the bed and was paying the mortgage on the building where the bed was being violated), the same man who had taught them to whittle a stick, catch a ball and spit, was so boring and such a total drag in the bedroom that one hump with a strange hobo has made it possible for her to endure the rest of her entire life with their lump of a father.

They actually made a movie of this book starring Clint Eastward, and some female adulterous impersonator.

I can‘t believe it!

For myself, I’ll take Anna Karenina any day.
At least she gets run over by a damn bus!

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