Dirty Old (And Young) Men
It seems as if college kids have all the fun. Actually, for every person having the fun, there is probably a victim who needs to fight back. For example, John and Dave were roommates at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville. I know the place well, as a young lady and I were once apprehended there in a condition of being drunk and very disorderly by local police. But, that was years ago. Recently, Dave complained because he was always getting kicked out of their room by John. The reason was that John was one of the top dirty young men on campus. There have probably been more women on his bed than springs in his mattress.
Not having the same luck or problem, and needing to study and sleep, Dave spoke with John about some consideration. John said he was on a roll, so to speak, and the hell with his roomie. Dave enlisted the help of his friend Jim, the computer expert, and they got even.
Jim says, “We took the thin foil of an empty condom wrapper and placed it in the middle of a deck of John’s Computer class cards that he was ready to run through the machine.
“About an hour or so after he submitted his program (the cards), John got a call to report immediately to the office of the Computer Systems administrator. Leaning over his massive desk, this red-faced bureaucrat hissed at John, `It took us nearly an hour to dig this (holding up the condom foil) out of the card reader. You cost us over $500 in down time. You must think you’re pretty smart…’
`John was totally taken aback. He stammered and stuttered some kind of apology and was told, `We won’t forget this and neither will your reputation.’ John soon became known as The Condom Kid, and because of all this, girls started to shun him. Dave soon got his half of the room back again.”
This gag works both on dirty old men (DOM) *and* dirty young men (DYM).
A lot of people ask what they can do to put down the DOM supervisors who figure sexual harassment will work in a pinch during our hard economic times. One reader had an answer. She worked in state government and her slimeball boss told her it was either put out or get out. Instead, she got him put out.
“I got hold of the man’s resume through another lady who was pernoally sympathetic because she’d been down that road with him before. I made copies of the resume and sent them all over the place to other state government offices with a personal cover letter `from’ my supervisor/mark. I explained that `I’ wanted a transfer because `my’ boss was making homosexual advances towards `me.’
“You can imagine the impact when word filtered back to the mark’s boss about those letters `from’ my supervisor. My boss was shaken and shattered when his boss confronted him. No amount of explaining and denying could straighten out the ill feeling.
“Finally, I had both a male friend and another girl friend call the supervisor at home and tell him that he hadn’t seen anything yet unless he stopped his shabby, sexual harassment of women. He did.”
Don’t cross the Claw of Justice, as one reader from British Columbia calls himself. He had a dirty old man bothering a lady friend of his and the creep wouldn’t take “Get lost” for an answer. The Claw and his friend found out that all mail addressed to individuals at the DOM’s corporate office was opened by mail clerks and routed from there. The next step was obvious. They designed and had printed some disgusting letterhead and envelopes for a magazine named *Gay Bondage*. They wrote the mark, in care of his employer, telling him “We’re sorry, the women’s leather undergarments you ordered in a men’s large size have been delayed in shipment.”
Later, when it was time for the office Christmas party, our friends sent him a pair of perfumed black bikini underwear, soaked in sickening perfume, with a note that read, “you loved taking these off me when you had me on your office desk. Smell them and reconsider your desicion not to see me again…Love, Celeste.” The claw says you can also send that last one to the mark’s home for his prune-faced wife to enjoy with him during the holiday season…or whenever.