Good Hair and a Golden Load

One day a few weeks ago, a little red Ford Escort said beep beep in my DMs, and it was this mother fucker.

He was all, “Hey GC can I do a Q&A?”

I started to slam the DM window down and screamed “I FINISHED THOSE A MONTH AGO, GOOD DAY SIR!” But then he stopped whipped out his… credit card fast, gadget style, and paid subscribed me.

And it was a good-sized dick. Wait, what are we talking about? I got distracted by whatever SpongeBob is doing to his…

GC: “Sure, I’ll do one more.”

So, sit back, relax, and meet Darby Jones, a fairly new barely housebroken Substacker.

Small talk
I love it when small talk turns taboo because it makes your mom squirm. She shouldn’t enjoy my church sex lessons, but she secretly wants to meet me in the rectory. My wife and I are straight, monogamous, boring but I don’t discriminate. I’ll flirt with anyone or anything – women, men, trees, cartoons, whatever man. They’re jokes. One time, SpongeBob broke my neck giving me a beej. It was cool at first, just some light toelicking, but then it got weird. You can see my bulging… C-5 disc hates me and my stupid headstand. (See above photo)

Fraternal Youth
I wrote an experimental memoir with QR-video links to cultural artifacts like my dog fetching beer from the fridge (my COVID project).

Headlines of Hope
Corporate media knows that fear weighs (and pays) twice as much as anything resembling hope. So of course they sell terror 24-7. But it’s only half the story. I just finished a 5-year project curating all the good news in the world (and Far Side cartoons). It’s all tech, medical and energy breakthroughs that I believe will save us.

My Philosophy
Do what you want – just don’t be a jerk. I love to talk politics and religion at dinner if you’re not trying to “win.”

“What do you do?”
I’m a dreamer. I like to climb trees and look at the stars. I’m on a quest to find this burrito I had once at a food truck, but I can’t remember where it is. Maybe it moved on. Maybe it never existed.

Go getter, eh?

Let’s get into the interview!

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1. GC: How did you end up on Substack?

Darby: Facebook sucks balls and I was trying to hide from my mom. She found me a week later – currently my only paid subscriber. Sooooo I’m a professional writer now bitches! Boo yeah!

Thankfully, I discovered a solid Substack hack. I’ve been checking the “free subscribers only” box for posts that I don’t want my mom to see. I just need to instruct my fans never to pay for the blood, sweat and tears that I put into my writing. It’s foolproof.

GC: Does my mom follow you too?

Darby: Yes. Don’t worry about it. Next question.

2. GC: You mention in your horny-ass bio that you like to scoot across the sand with peanut butter up your ass and then have a hot MILF lick it out. Tell us more about how you discovered such a specific hobby.

Darby: My buddy, Buzz, and I were playing at a festival down south in the Gulf Shores. Between gigs, we were hanging out with our host, chilling out on her swanky beach – giant homes everywhere you looked. Several were right across the Intracoastal Waterway that we were sitting in. I only mention it to note how many potential voyeurs were watching. Out of the blue, in broad daylight, Buzz drops his drawers. I look over and the fucker’s dog-scooting across the sand, giving all the rich AirBnB’ers a nice beachfront view of his ginger ass.

My eyes must have been as wide as a pregnant woman’s areolas.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he responded reassuringly. There’s a certain thrill you get when you know people are watching, so I got naked and I won’t lie – there’s nothing like the sensation of a thousand little rocks up your bung. It’s great exfoliation for the asshole.

Then I hit a super slick spot, and it got erotic. The shallow waters were murky, so I couldn’t see what was greasing my gooch, but it lubed us up real nice and boyyyyy we were scootin’. I think it should be an Olympic event. The 100-meter Dog Scoot.

Later, it dawned on me that we hit a giant grease-ball from the oil spill in 2010. I still need to send BP a thank you note for that.

GC: God this turns me on.

Darby: Perfect! I brought rocks so we could do it together. Drop trou, girl.

3. GC: In one of your Substack stories (I’ll link it), you talk about bonding with a man in a public restroom. You had to wet his whistle or something? Tell me a little about what made you do this. Was he hot?

Darby: I did not wet anyone’s whistle but I’m happy to be gay in your wet dreams. It doesn’t sound like I have a choice.

GC: You don’t.

Darby: He was smokin’ hot baby. Anyway, he busted into the bathroom mid-whistle but stopped short to spare a couple guys at the urinal. It interrupted my morning constitution and bothered me. The melody was just hanging there and needed to come back to the tonic, so I did the reasonable thing and finished him off. I whistled the rest of the riff.

Now on the one hand, there’s bathroom etiquette, but on the other, I challenged the man to a duel. So, he continued the call and response from his stall and we traded blows. I know how it sounds. I’m doing it dirty for you darlin’. Dream on.

Anyway, we went on like this for a while, sometimes incorporating multiple orifices at once for percussive punctuation. This is a good place to stop, before it gets weird. You can see who wins at your own risk.

4. GC: OK! You have twins! I’m so jealous! Tell me your favorite and least favorite thing about having twins. And then give me your twin sperm. Thanks.

Darby: The worst twin is definitely my daughter. She’s exactly like her daddy and reminds him of it every day. She’s also perfect in every way. Wait… I read it wrong. I see. The worst thing about twins is sleep deprivation. After the first year it gets better because they play with each other all the time. At that point, parents can ignore their twins for several hours at a time before they start fussing for – I don’t know – food or… to be let out of the cage.

The best thing about our twins is that we knocked out the American dream in one fell sperm shot.

“Tie the tubes baby, we got a boy and a girl!” Our superpower now is that we can fuck like jack rabbits without worrying that we’ll ever have twins again.

Sperms in the mail baby. By the way, the older you get, the more likely you’ll have twins or triplets. If you’re still fucking past forty, then your body kicks things into high gear. Coupled with my twin sperm, you’ll likely have a whole litter of Darbledoos.

Be warned. I was a 10-pounder. Had a huuuuge head – 100th percentile. You’ll have smart kids, but their brains will stretch your vajay out. Is that ok?

GC: (files nails, checks mail, sticks vial of sperm in vagina while Darby drools) Actually don’t worry about that. This’ll be my fifth c-section.

Darby: (eyes wide) I’d like to watch this please.

5. GC: Do you have anyone you’d like to shout out here on Substack? Favorite writers?

Darby: I’m only a few months into Substack – just barely scratched the surface, so I’ve only:

Found my BFF
Wendy Parker is Eternally Irritated and goofy AF. She’s my sib from another crib! I thought she lived on the other side of the world, but a few months into our forevership, I found out she owned a farm 15 minutes away from where I grew up in Buttfuck Nowhere, Ohio. A few DMs later and we found out my dad was her weed man. No joke. Wendy and my ol’ man have one degree of puff-puff past.

Found my soul mate
She doesn’t know it yet and probably thinks I’m a stalker, but danielle (raw&feral) is a social organizer a.k.a. professional prankster. She won me over with an event she organized called Strippers for Charity: Shaking Some Ass for Change… and Change.

Found enlightenment
Andrew M. Weisse (ThePsychedelicBlog) is on my shortlist of demigods who, like Buddha, Jesus and danielle would be cool with me calling them “Bruh.” My boy Drew normalizes Psychedelics so people can cope with PTSD, be comfortable dying and kick ass like me.

GC: I’m not your soulmate? Cool. I was going to ask you to stay after for double dongs and wine but fuck you.

6. GC: Can you please look up Norwegian Torchblower on Urban Dictionary, and describe it to me in your own words?

Darby: Urban Dictionary doesn’t know shit. I basically invented the Torchblowie circa 825 AD. Look it up on Wikipedia. It was a medical procedure my people used for sterilization. Vikings didn’t need wee men for pillaging, so they boiled their balls in hot water to kill all the nerd sperm. Then for good measure (but mostly for show), they’d dip and douse. Dip-a-dong in hot wax, then douse-a-dick in sweet mead. I should be footnoting all this. Fuck it. Next, they’d spank and spark. With dicks ablaze they’d run through the woods willy nilly, chasing all the neighboring tribe’s women towards our chieftains.

Wikipedia finally confirmed what scholars long suspected – my bloodline birthed the first unicorns. Contemporary accounts suggest early “sightings” were merely weak-ass Vikings wanking in the woods. The system worked beautifully until enemies thought the nerds had divine dicks. Chieftains quickly co-opted the mythology and became gods among men.

Eventually, Catholics convinced our “gods” that eugenics was cruel. “Every sperm is sacred” kinda thing. This is my origin story. My paternal line originated from the sloppy seconds the “gods” gave to the nerds.

Long story short. I’m a fuckin’ unicorn.

Norwegian Torchblower
Right before ejaculation you cover your penis in wax and alcohol, set it on fire, and jizz in her face.

7. GC: I knew just by looking at your hair in your profile picture that you were a musician of some sort, and I’ve already had six orgasms over it. Can you play House of the Rising Sun for me?

Darby: Can. Will. Come strap that rubber dong to my knee and give it a good bounce while I play it for you. (pats knee)

GC: (Runs wildly to Darby with rubber dong and guitar)

8. GC: You wrote basically everything from the beginning of time until now, but is there anything else you want to tell us? I like you, Darby. You’re a damn cool dude. Welcome to the cool kids side of Substack. (Which is where all the misfits come to hang out because we were never cool before) Anyway, tell us whatever else we should know. Are you a grower or a shower?

Darby: I’m a glower. A Norwegian Torchglower that is.

I’d love to go balls deep, but as the great Jerry Seinfeld once said, “It’s amazing that the amount of news that happens in the world every day always just exactly fits the newspaper.”

I’d love to explain all the secret mysteries of the universe – fit it all exactly into our little interview, but my message is really quite simple. This is the real me speaking.

Doom’s overdone, so I spread hope and hard laughs. People don’t need another lecture. They need love… and beauty.

Beauty doesn’t live in the symmetry of a face or the flatness of a belly.
Beauty radiates from a leper’s hope or a victim’s resistance.
Beauty lives in the musk of sweat born from good lovin’.
Beauty is raw. Ugly. Human.
Her eyes are bloodshot from staying up all night.

True beauty holds a mirror to our mediocrity –
our hunger to blend in, to conform,
to swallow the lies stacked up at the supermarket checkout.

We starve for True Beauty because we feed ourselves with dust to fill the hole.

We gorge at the buffet table of illusion
and wonder why we never feel full,
never feel satisfied,
never feel beautiful.

Turn from the mirage and feed with me.
Put down your Us Weekly. Turn off your E!
They are the Devil’s banquet.

Yes, my delivery is extreme.
But the message is not.
The way I speak – it isn’t for everyone.
Hell, it isn’t for anyone but me.
But what I’m saying is universal.

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That’s Darby! It may be an eight-minute read, but he turns me on, and he’s gonna turn you on too. Get in line.

Bonus surprise!
He also has a book! This is where I’d normally nudge writers to support writers, but instead, I’ll let him tell you about it.

Keep it short Darbs!

Darbs: I know. Giving you a Darby-dose would be irresponsible.

Fraternal Youth Cocktail:

5 parts fatherhood fails + the absurdity of life
4 parts goofy boy-girl twins + their crazy pets
3 parts adventure (Bonnaroo, Greece, hitchhiking)
2 parts peaceful parenting + systems that work.
1 part Headlines of Hope: A 5-year hunt for good news

Fraternal Youth is available worldwide – that one link finds it at your local store, in paperback or ebook.

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I love you fuckers,

– GC