Top 5 WILFs

Posted by @ 1:57 pm on December 15th, 2008

A WILF is a ‘writer I’d like to fuck,’ our new enterprise conceived by contributor pr. Since I really like the idea of hypothetical fucking, I cannot contain myself and have posted a top 5 list:


That Virginia Woolf was a lesbian may explain the impractical choices in women I still have which sustained my virginity to an embarrassing point which shall not be disclosed at this juncture. That she has been dead for seventy-some years does not implicate any penchant for necrophilia — for I don’t literally want to ‘fuck’ Virginia Woolf at this point in her decomposition — I simply would have wanted to, had I been more of a man in England at the break of the twentieth century; she at the ripe age of eighteen.


That Paul Auster is a man may explain the impractical choices in women which let to the aforementioned exasperated virginity. I’m straight, but fuck that guy is gorgeous. When I think of his New York Trilogy, I think of his dong and ballsack. I went to his reading once and every woman almost had an orgasm when he spoke. I quivered a little myself, though it was probably just gas from my burrito.


Lorrie’s Moore’s heroines are always having affairs with men more ‘interesting’ than their earnest, somewhat obtuse, husbands. There aren’t any sex scenes, only the restrained disappointment of the following morning. Her sadness is our sadness: the resignation of only having someone in between you, never fully inside. Oh Lorrie, can’t I be your ‘interesting’ morning after disappointment? I promise to say the wrong things for material.


During college in some art history class, we were assigned to read Chomsky. I assumed he was a women, however erroneously, because of the feminine vowels in his name. In seminar I started referring to Noam as a ‘she,’ and my T.A., no doubt a feminist (this was Santa Cruz, California), was so impressed at my progressive gender blindness that she gave me a B despite me having misunderstood Chomsky entirely. I still like to think of ol’ Noam on the rag, goin’ menstrual about war n’ shit.


We all know Woody Allen’s joke ‘don’t knock masturbation, it’s sex with someone I love,’ so I won’t bore you with the details. I’d just like to point out that he’s the best two-minute lay that’s been published in fucking elimae, though he never calls me back.

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