Large Fierce Mammal

Klink, klank; anti-wank! (Source: The Chirurgeon’s Apprentice)

Here’s my poem of the day to set the tone. In case I wasn’t clear enough, and to save you from any concern that your mind went there because you’re a pervert, it is about masturbation.

Nocturnal Emissions

By LFM

Winter sun, horizon meets,
Bitter winds drive snows and sleets,
Dying fire no longer heats,
Drives nodding head beneath the sheets.

Cobwebbed mind for sleep a questing,
Nether parts less prone to resting,
Idle fingers move, molesting,
Muffled moans at hand’s behesting.

Sheen of sweat belies the chill,
Muscles twitch, bereft of will,
Taste of climax, bitter pill –
There is but one to grind the mill.

There was a time before video games and rap music offered adolescent males their pale simulacra of Manhood as an alternative to the biological imperative of learning to work imagination in proper concert with Nature’s joystick. While historically there have been but two types of people – those who would admit to masturbating and those who claimed they didn’t – the thought of self-inflicted carnal pleasure was a particularly prickly one for our Victorian forebears, and kept them up nights for entirely different reasons.

Goode Reader, I will here turn you over to the Esteemed Dr. Lindsey Fitzharris of The Chirurgeon’s Apprentice – specifically Episode 3 of her highly enjoyable series, Under the Knife. While the series deals primarily with surgery in the days before anesthesia, the Goode Doctor’s subject du jour is Victorian Anti-Masturbation Devices. Enjoy, and keep your hands where she can see them.