Technique SIX: Breastfeed a Stoat

Stoat: a black-tailed weasel closely related to former British Prime Minister and American Prison Bitch Tony Blair.

Another short and simple one as promised. Wear a sombrero on a fine summer morning in Wyoming. You don't have to be in Wyoming and it doesn't have to be a fine summer morning in your offal-strewn hometown. But it does have to be a fine summer morning in Wyoming, the state where lesbian preachers show a marked sexual preference for Great Danes.

A sombrero is a Mexican hat worn by gun-toting Texans trying to lull Mexican immigrants into a false sense of security. Hey, I'm one of you...I can help...yeah that's right come closer... BANG...har har another dead wetback...God Bless America.

Stick a sombrero on your pear-shaped cretin skull. Then strip naked and clip a red clothes peg to your right nipple. The peg will hurt (all praise to the Most High) but you'll laugh through the pain in a prolonged staccato whinny.

Use a length of red twine to bind six strips of corn husk to your moth-eaten pecker. Then squat over a bowl of japanese rice wine and dip your nutsack in the fluid. Now you're ready to make two critically important phone calls.

Grab your sperm-caked cell phone and call Dial-a-Stoat. Ask for an adolescent male stoat in the prime of its weasel youth. Next, call your local nuclear power plant and ask for a gallon of heavy water tinctured with radioactive buffalo urine.

The stoat and the heavy water should arrive at your door precisely eighteen minutes after the second call. In fact, they'll make sure the stoat delivers the water in person.

Establish to your satisfaction that there's a water-bearing stoat at your door. Then jam a pair of police whistles up your nose and exhale hard with your mouth sealed shut.

When I say mouth sealed shut I mean your lips are stuck together with highly adhesive cerumen (earwax) extracted from a naked Bavarian spreadeagled on a bed of congealed hog fat.

When I say extracted I mean shaken loose with a single blow to the head delivered by a mallet-wielding Oriental midget with a startlingly formidable schlong.

The two police whistles should do the trick. You'll find the stoat in your room seconds later, a gallon jug tied to its tail. This gallon jug should contain heavy water tinctured with radioactive buffalo urine (most likely the bladder-swill of a South African cape buffalo once married to apartheid-era killer honcho Pieter Botha).

Now you're squatting naked with your nuts dipped in rice wine and your pecker cocooned in corn husk. You have a sombrero on your skull and a red clothes peg at your right nipple. There's also a black-tail weasel in your room, a young stoat bearing a gallon jug of heavy water tinctured with radioactive buffalo piss.

What does it all mean? It means you're all set for a soaring vault into the moist and inviting bosom of Instant Nirvana. It also means you're an even bigger moron than your toothless octogenarian gay lover says you are.

Grab the gallon jug and empty it in a single epic swallow. Then grab the stoat and french-kiss it into submission before fastening its weasel mouth to your left tit. Hold the pose and wait. Before you know it you'll be lactating like a sonofabitch. You'll have unpasteurized colostrum dribbling into the stoat's captive gullet.

Let the stoat suck on your tumescent man-teat for twelve seconds. Then put out a husking moan that soars to a piercing shriek. INSTANT NIRVANA WILL KICK IN THE MOMENT YOU HIT THAT HIGH NOTE.

Commentary:

The technique awakens an acupressure point located on your sternum (breastbone). The point is called Nien Tze in Chinese and Bindu Prakash in Sanskrit. It's also referred to as that dang weasel tit needle point by redneck mystics who stand neck deep in swamp water drinking gasoline and wood varnish with electric eels writhing in their born-again assholes.

The point occurs at the nexus of two Chi meridians that can be plotted on a spherical coordinate system with a quill dipped in superheated guar gum. Happy Diwali to all you desi swinging dicks out there. Remember to hump a confection of your choice with sparklers jammed up your mocha butts and rockets firing off your hooded boners.