Just Ask James: On the Love of Corpses

What’s great about James Spillane is that if you have a question about how to drunkenly punch someone in the face, start a huge bar fight, have the cops come, then make it look like the person that you punched is at fault because you are mentally handicapped, he knows the answer.

Dear Sir,

I write to you with an inquiry of a very personal and grave nature; I’ve heard of your delicate and unbiased treatment of such matters. Frankly, I have some trepidation of asking one who may not empathize and demonstrate the proper sensitivity… Nevertheless, my question is as follows: If one desires to fuck corpses, rigorously, but not to date, is he a necrophiliac? If one were to loll the idea about one’s head often in his spare time, but never actually partake — does the “necrophilia,” per say, ensue or precede the act? (I have discretely wondered about a wake or two, hand in pocket, but I doubt this is relevant). I’m sure the corollary to the question is obvious, but to make no mistake: if one is already a necrophiliac, should he not be a necrophiliac to the fullest? If one already wears the label and owns the neurosis, for what reason should he hesitate?

I await your verdict with sober (figuratively!) anticipation.

Utterly yours,

Mr. Jared Ruland

Dear Jared,

First of all, I think you are full of shit, but in the rare case that you happen to be asking an honest question on an illegal act, I will try and answer your inquiry. For starters, if you want to have sex with dead people, all you have to do is get married.

Secondly, the corpses you are thinking about, are they male or female? If they are men, then you might just be gay. To screw a gay man while not having to deal with all the hassles and drama associated with gay men might just be worth it in you twisted little mind.

Are they old? Could signify a want of a mother/father figure in your life.

Finally, when did they die? Are they fresh, like you’re a jogger running in the woods and you come across a recently deceased yet incredibly hot, (still warm) Salma Hayek-esque woman, and in your head you are thinking two things, “This woman would never have had sex with me in the real world,” and “Just how good are those CSI guys?” Now of course this is opposed to the old rotting corpse which would involve a crow bar and a gallon of lubricant.

So you ask me, if thinking about it makes you necrophiliac? [sic] and to this I say, “it’s the thought that counts.”


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