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 If
my email is indicative of worldwide trends, there
are at the very least 23, 974 companies currently
offering penis extension services utilizing chemical,
organic or surgical treatments. For this many
companies to be in business simultaneously can
only mean one thing: There are one heck of a lot
of penises out there being elongated, widened
or stretched beyond all recognition.
Why
this sudden plethora of distended man meat? And
why does the appearance of this new mega-industry
coincide with the rise (no pun intended) of the
internet?
The answer, I believe, is one that flies in the
face of accepted wisdom; nevertheless, I stand
by my thesis even if it can not be proven in a
strictly evidentiary fashion. I feel that the
sudden explosion of the penis-expanding industry
is due to an unprecedented decline in sexual activity.
I, for one, never believe the self-aggrandizing
propaganda of the so-called Sexual Revolution.
My hunch is that more people were doing the wild
thang during the Victorian Period than at any
time since the advent of the pill. The difference
is, is that the Victorians never talked in public
about making the beast with two backs; they just
did it. Today, everyone blabs on and on about
sexual fulfillment this, sexual choice that. It’s
a lot of talk about sex, but that’s mostly
it, just the hot air of a multitude of frustrated
people who have been talking dirty for so long
they’ve convinced themselves they’re
the reincarnations of Harry Reems or Helen of
Troy.
Let’s face it. People lie about sex. They
always lie, they have always lied, and they will
always continue to lie about the frequency and
duration of their sexual encounters. Show me the
14-year old boy who hasn’t claimed to have
been with 367 women (including his mother’s
best friend) and I’ll sell to you at a discount
price a bridge I happen to own in Brooklyn.
So who’s getting all these penis enlargements?
Why it’s none other than your archetypal
nerd, masturbating himself into a Dionysian frenzy
while perusing porn on the web. It’s a strenuous
and lonely life day trading and launching computer
viruses on servers in Kuala Lumpur. Rub a little
of Dr. Gonzo’s Magic Wand Wax on the old
johnson and, presto, 18 inches of prime beef,
just waiting for the woman of his dreams.
But the woman of his dreams is a virtual phony,
just like the epic schwanstucker our nerd is now
convinced he possesses. It’s an elaborate
fantasy based on the notion that “virtual”
reality is a form of “real” reality.
The human interaction of sex is missing from the
equation. Phone sex isn’t sex. It’s
just a wanker with an unnatural attraction to
Ma Bell.
The deep, dark secret of swinging America is that
it isn’t. Our population continues to increase
largely because of the tremendous influx of immigrants
who seem to be taking the concepts of “life’
liberty and the pursuit of happiness” and
“be fruitful and multiply” to heart.
The joke of the penis enlargement scam is that
it’s all so unnecessary. Are there really
that many women out there who can’t get along
without a meter of manhood? Somehow over the countless
millennia men and women have been able to make
whoopee quite satisfactorily without resorting
to bodily mutilation.
So guys, save your hard earned dollars and don’t
put the family jewels at risk. A double sawbuck’ll
get you a cd of Frank Sinatra’s Greatest
Hits and a bottle of decent Merlot. Turn the lights
down low and tell her a few little lies. Your
nose may get longer, but your penis will stay
the same. It’s ok, though, and it’s
called the manly art of seduction.
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