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Dan Gurewitch

Your Textbooks Rewritten As Erotic Novels

by Dan Gurewitch on



AMERICAN HISTORY: In 1864, General Sherman marched to the sea, his rifle throbbing and erect. His man-sweat smelling of gunpowder and lust, he penetrated the South… deeper… deeper still. “Scorch my earth,” moaned the South. Sherman’s loins quivered as he killed field after field of luscious, moist livestock, his body shaking with the unspeakable pleasure of destroying the civilian infrastructure.


STATISTICS: That night, Brandon went down on Juliette N times. He let NH be the number of times she climaxed, realizing that he could, for any N, consider the ratio NH/N. As N grew larger and larger, faster and faster, Brandon was able to “define” the probability Pr(H) as Juliette’s sexual “limit.” As N approached infinity in the equation Pr(H) = limN —> ∞ (NH/N), Juliette’s loins melted into his like the wax of a century-lost love candle.


BIOLOGY: Slowly, Charles began to engage in the wild, passionate dance of digestion. He placed the burger in his mouth, masticating, masticating, faster now, his teeth tearing and crushing, his stomach churning with waves of pleasure. Various chemicals (acid, bile, enzymes and water) caressed the complex molecules, their firm yet tender touch reducing them to simple structures blind with desire. His nutrients moaned, submissive slaves to osmosis. Finally, in a volcanic release that shook his naked body, Charles defecated.


PHILOSOPHY: Nietzsche thrusted deeper and deeper between the supple legs of Simone de Beauvoir, yelling “Who’s your ubermensch?” Simone lost herself in the heavenly unison of their eager bodies, moaning “Oh, God… oh, God!” as, despite her post-feminist ideology, she made herself flesh under the dominance of the Other’s gaze. “God is DEAD!” screamed Nietzsche, his fingernails digging into her existentialist buttocks as they reached the disillusioning and wholly temporary ecstasy of orgasm. Nietzsche rolled over and lit up a cigarette. “Thus poked Zarathustra,” he said.
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Dan Gurewitch

Dan Gurewitch

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Fellowship of the Bedroom

A couple of months ago my boyfriend wanted to have sex but I was tired, so I closed my legs and said, "You shall not pass." Last night at dinner my hand was moving over his leg and moved to his crotch. He grabbed my wrist and said, "One does not simply walk into Mordor." Touche, David, touche.