Stupid Sex Tricks: What blooming idiot came up with this one?


According to my friend Corey, who passed this on to me:

Captured at 115th and Allisonville Rd. in Fishers, Indianapolis, Indiana.

The sign is real and was up for two hours before someone stopped and told them how to spell PEONIES!

This in turn reminds me of a poem…

There they are

drooping over the breakfast plates,


folding in their sad wing,

animal sad,

and only the night before

there they were

playing the banjo.

Once more the day’s light comes

with its immense sun,

its mother trucks,

its engines of amputation.

Whereas last night

the cock knew its way home,

as stiff as a hammer,

battering in with all

its awful power.

That theater.

Today it is tender,

a small bird,

as soft as a baby’s hand.

She is the house.

He is the steeple.

When they fuck they are God.

When they break away they are God.

When they snore they are God.

In the morning they butter the toast.

They don’t say much.

They are still God.

All the cocks of the world are God,

blooming, blooming, blooming

into the sweet blood of woman.

–Anne Sexton, “The Fury of Cocks”, 1960

But at least, with Anne Sexton, the floral metaphor was conscious and intentional.

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