So today I present my first-ever comedic column, followed by a few usual sub-par sub-columns. Enjoy. And remember, this is my FIRST ONE. They will get better in due time. Also, I was inspired to cover this topic while watching a penis-enlargement commercial on television. It’s a great chance for me to tap all the way into my inner silliness. I hope to produce more comedic, as well as MEANINGFUL, columns in the future. In fact, my next column topic may just be about tea party members! We shall see!
Drumroll please……………
All-Beef Anonymous (AA) – My Struggle with Shrinkage
There comes a time in every man’s life when he must admit the inevitable: his penis is rapidly losing mass. I refer it to as The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, but most men just call it shrinkage. It’s a part of life that just can’t be avoided—like those pesky Jehovah Witnesseses that refuse to stop ringing the bell, even when the lights are off, the blinds are closed, and you’re carefully positioned behind the couch, with your right hand gripped tightly over your dog’s salivating mouth, and your left hand gripped tightly over your wife’s throbbing… well, never mind.
Shrinkage usually strikes somewhere between the age of 25 and 55, but the Guinness Book of World Records speaks of a young Chinese boy whose wang (no pun intended) finished developing when he turned 13, only to immediately begin shrinking afterwards, causing it to cave in upon itself by the time he hit 18. After having failed miserably with women, he turned gay and now lives his life as a pre-op transsexual named Shiho Tai Kin Wong Hol.
Even Abraham Lincoln succumbed to shrinkage. In 1861, the year in which he took office, Lincoln’s johnson began to shrink, prompting him to compensate by purchasing his notorious, super-sized tall-hat, in the hope that it would fool interested women. It worked up until his first presidential consummation, at which point, according to long-deceased White House eyewitness Mr. Henry Todd, “The mistress bolted out his room, wildly flailing her arms and yelling about a massive conspiracy regarding the President’s tiny presidential ‘member.’” He assumed she was speaking about the midget in Lincoln’s room—he apparently had a secret fetish for having sex in front of a midget—but historians are 99.9% certain she was referring to Lincoln’s baby penis.
Sadly, Ladies and Gentleman, I myself have now come face to face with shrinkage. Despite all my attempts to prevent this calamity from occurring—penis pumps; hangin from a pullup bar with my penis; and even tying my penis to a doorknob and having my Mom slam the door shut—my penis continues to shrink. It started out at 6”, standing tall and erect like a soldier in salute. But now it droops at 4-1/2” like an old man with a cane, peeking out its helmet at the world shrinking around it, even though it itself is the only one shrinking.
What am I to do? What are we as non-black men with medium-sized shrinking penises to do? The answer is simple: penile enlargement surgery. Yes, gentlemen, we must wipe the fear off our brows, step up to the plate, lay our pee-pees on it, and let the surgeon drill, pry, cook, marinate, batter, spatter, lift, and inseminate them back to life. Only he—female surgeons specialize in circumcision surgery (no surprise there!)—has the power to turn our tiny pricks into long and sturdy rods that would make even Buffy the Body’s brother Puffy the Penis proud! It won’t be easy. In fact, it will likely be more painful than letting a morbidly obese woman ride us, but at least it’ll be better than being ridiculed at the locker room or, even worse, being forced to lick our wives’ unkempt, hairy crotches. “In my wife’s jungle, her mighty jungle, a cockroach lays an egg tonightttttt.”
However, how can we possibly afford such surgery, especially during such tumultuous times? After much thought, I have devised a plan guaranteed to work: we will each host a local circus freak show dedicated to our dwarfish stumps. I mean really, who wouldn’t pay to see such a bizarre deformity. It would be a fun and perhaps even educational experience that a whole family could participate in. Imagine little Tiger Woods Jr. asking Tiger, “Why won’t it grow, Daddy? WHY!?” *wipes a tear from eyes* Plus putting on a show would not only provide us with enough money for the surgery, it’d also allow us to stuff our pants in the meantime.
There you have it, fellas. Our dignity has been reduced to the size of our thumbnail peters, our draws are lined with hard-earned booty—I don’t mean our tight asses—and we have no other reason to live other than to confuse little children who only want to know why. It’s time now to rush to the Doctor’s office and make an appointment. Are you ready? I SURE AM! See ya’ll at the Tally Wacker Packer Institute! Be sure to tell Dr. Eugune Nuts that I said hi!
— Hope you enjoyed the last five minutes of total mediocrity! —
US-Mexico Border Fence
Some people have suggested that we build a fence across the US-Mexico border in order to prevent illegal aliens from streaming into our country. Is this really such a good idea? It would be an extremely expensive project. Just think about it. If it were to work, the fence would have to cover the ENTIRE border. If even just a millimeter were left uncovered, they WOULD find a way in. These illegals are a lot more cunning than we realize!
Not only that, but the fence would have to be at least 20m deep. Otherwise, they would just dig underneath it and pop out the other side like a groundhog. And it would have to be at least 20m high. Else they’ll just jump it.
I can just see it now: Ladies and Gentlemen, here comes Jose with his pole tightly gripped in-between his tiny brown fingers! Will he make it? Uh oh… here comes the jump! And OH MY GOD, he did it! Jose has pole-vaulted his way to freedom! I tell you guys, that has got to be the best pole vault jump by an illegal immigrant since Palestinian M'Balz Es-Hari [SNL] jumped the Israeli Security Fence in Jerusalem back in early 2010.
Busing Policy
This is a tough issue. On one hand, why should my kids (I don't actually have kids) have to bus to another school when there's already a school right down the road from us!? On the other hand, I'd quite prefer that my little Ghandi and my little Kasturba interact with more kids than just Greg, Marcia, Peter, Jan, Bobby, and Cindy. Here’s my solution: instead of bussing children from upper socioeconomic backgrounds (USB) out of their neighborhoods—which apparently harbor higher-quality schools with better teachers—how about we bus the children from lower socioeconomic backgrounds (LSB) to the USB schools? This way the USB parents can still send their kids to school down the street, but the LSB children are granted an opportunity at better-quality education. Of course, then we have crowded USB schools, and unused LSB schools. But hey, what do I know!?
LEGALIZE MARIJUANA
Do you have any idea what I go through to get hold of some of that good wacky tobacky? I dream of the day I can purchase a box of pre-rolled joints or blunts from the gas station. I’m so tired of purchasing weed off the streets. The quality isn’t always the best; there’s a chance it might be laced with another drug; and it’s hard as hell to find a reliable connect that can procure that sticky icky in a moment’s notice. LEGALIZE IT ALREADY! By the way, if Cali legalizes weed in November, I’m moving to LA! Here I come, Hollywood!
Gay Prom
People commenting on the ‘gay prom’ situation are comparing gay love to necrophilia and bestiality. Whether or not being gay is a choice is irrelevant. The bottom line is that two gay people who have sex mutually agree to their crotch-to-crotch (scissor) or winky-to-booty (anal) love. Necrophilia isn't the same because a dead body cannot consent; neither can a dog. Believe me when I say a dog's "arf arf arf (tail wag, tail wag, tail wag) is not akin to a fricken, "Yes!"
Identity Crisis
Sighs. Some men think they are women, some women think they are men, and now my dog thinks she’s a fricken cow. Even after eating a big ol’ bowl of Beneful, she MUST have her grass.
Anyway. Thanks for tuning in. I haven’t yet confirmed a topic for my next column, but I may try writing a satirical letter from a Tea Party member’s perspective. I don’t know yet, though!
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