No one ever built the roads after a Dirty Sanchez

“Angela’s Ashes” author Frank McCourt, who died last week at 78, introduced me to a term far more hopeful than a Dirty Sanchez, Cleveland Steamer, or Blumpkin: The Knee-Trembler.

It involves fucking your partner up against the wall, preferably at a bar, with the pressure on the spinal column enough to cause the legs to tremble. It was how McCourt was conceived, he said.

Despite the fact that I was there, I don’t know how I was conceived. I prefer to think of an eclipse and a hush falling over the world.

Though the citizens of Limerick have declared much of the autobiographical tale of “Angela’s Ashes” an embellishment if not a lie, one thing is certain: the Irish combine their sport sex with an honest will to procreate and populate the earth: no one gets pregnant from a Rusty Trombone.

• Buy “Angela’s Ashes“

Previously on Porn Valley Observed: “Drinking is what you do“
See also: Frank McCourt, Author Of Angela’s Ashes, Dies At 78