Wednesday, February 28, 2018

Get Me Fig Leaf, Stat!

As it happens---I have no control over it--I'm more interested in looking at naked men than naked women. This concerned me back in the '70s when I thought it was important to be open to any experience, and I thought it was probably a character flaw that I didn't get the same feelings about girls that I did about boys. But after a while you grow up and realize your feelings are nothing more than your feelings, and you're better off being honest about them, and why not drink beer at ten o'clock in the morning? Ha ha! Oh wait, that's a different subject.

Anyhoo, nothing much has changed, and if I'd rather admire David Robinson from behind at the free throw line than watch an ice princess doing triple spatchcocks in flesh-colored Spandex, I've come to accept that about myself. I like the entire human lineup, basically, but I hew more to the masculine form. And not just because most men can pick me up like I'm a tortilla chip. Even so, it's not the genitals that attract me. In fact, I'm not even that interested in looking at the junk.

I mean, it's weird. You've got all this smooth muscle going on and that lovely shoulder form and taut neck and those hairy forearms and the chiseled, um, stern, and then there are all these squishy bits flopping around amidships like a tiny mutiny going on. They've got no control over it at all. Can you even imagine that? I mean, maybe half of you can. It's like there's a whole puppet show going on in your crotch. The underpants are just the curtain. The main character has a face, but it's not a poker face. Nuh-uh. The supporting cast members are bobbing up and down like Muppets in the floodlights. It's nuts! Some of it is nuts.

Well, it's entertaining, but it's goofy. I do find it interesting, and it gets more interesting the closer you examine it--I've found--but that's like turning over a compost pile. You don't know if everything's going to be inert, or if something's going to be wiggling around in there.

But it's not really, if you don't mind my saying so, handsome.

I can well appreciate that men are nervous about what other people are going to think of their sporting equipment, but they shouldn't worry. No matter the proprietor, it's all sort of silly-looking, if endearingly vulnerable. I've got nothing against any of it, at least at the moment. But it's nothing I feel like I need to see.

Which brings us, as everything else does, to the current horrifying state of the world, to situations so appalling that I, like many of you, have had to cut back on my news diet just to keep from wanting to pin myself out for the vultures. We have to walk that fine line between keeping ourselves informed and contemplating slit wrists as a cure for insomnia. It's bleak. But it can get even worse. For the second time in four administrations, we are looking at the real threat that someone, somewhere will tell the press what the President's junk looks like. Lord, have mercy. The powers that be have always wanted to keep us ignorant. Please, please, don't let them stop now.

27 comments:

  1. O god, no! It had never crossed my mind to even think about the president's "junk" until you mentioned it. Now I'll have to scrub my brain out with bleach to forget the image. *Flesh crawls*

    I know what you mean about straddling the line between being informed and wanting to kill yourself out of despair. I do this by never watching or listening to the news. I get a newspaper delivered. (Mainly because I need something to line my parrot cages.) If something in the paper looks like it will keep me up worrying at night, I don't read it. I figure the world will still muddle through (or not) whether I know about it or not. These days, that rather confines me to the comics and Dear Abby, but I'm okay with that. I figure if something I really need to know about happens, my husband (who is a news junkie) will tell me. (Honey, we have to get to a fallout shelter -- NOW!)

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    1. Don't visualize....
      Seriously, remember when they were talking about making Monica Lewinsky testify about the junk? And now porn stars. Oy.

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  2. I'm thinking it's the color of Circus Peanuts candy. Then I'm thinking of throwing up.

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  3. I just want to kick it many times over. Then bleach my foot.

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  4. Never mind the fig leaf, we need something more along the lines of a male chastity belt. Less chance of slippage.

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    1. Maybe it could cover his mouth too. I don't think it would have to be all that big.

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  5. It is issues like this that make me glad my parents are dead and gone. I'm sure that even the mere mention of the President's 'sporting goods' would have made Ma Downs' head explode...

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    1. Ah, but would it have made a Democrat out of her?

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  6. Had a blind date once who informed me that she thought that penises were funny looking. I replied that it is what it is. Penises look the way they do because of where they are supposed to fit. Have you ever seen a mallard duck's penis? Damn thing is nearly as long as the duck and has a corkscrew in it. And tortoise penises? First time my leopard tortoise had an erection, I thought he'd prolapsed his bowel. Looked like an orchid on the end of a pink stem that stretched from his tail all the way out to his chin! And that makes me wonder what the junk on a sauropod would have looked like... Damn, Murr, you're trouble!

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    1. You know, that's not the FIRST thing I'd think of talking about on a blind date. I know about ducks. Now I have to go look up tortoise penii. I'm very much enjoying thinking about a floral arrangement on a brontosaurus...hey, you're in the re-creation business. And it's soft tissue. Can't you mold anything you want?

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    2. Our daughter and son-in-law went to Iceland for their honeymoon. Cool - right? And you know those t-shirts with "...and all they brought back for me was this lousy t-shirt" on them? Well we now have a coffee mug from the Iceland Penis Museum. Yes, there really is one.

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    3. It's got one from most species from whales to humans. I wonder how they would classify Trump's junk?

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    4. I would totally go to that museum.

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    5. Hi Murr: I can sculpt just about anything I want, but my molding days are pretty much over. I learned how to make two part latex molds at the Smithsonian's Vertebrate Paleontology Preparation Lab one summer. It's tedious and takes a long time. I've paid other people to mold and cast my work, much more agreeable. I do need to sculpt a sauropod again sometime soon...

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  7. You made my day. I can't stop laughing or looking. Bahhahahahah

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  8. 90% of your post had me laughing my head off, but that last paragraph..oh no! we don NOT want to know what that junk looks like or even if he does a comb over there too.

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  9. "do NOT" not don NOT, sorry Don Knott

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  10. *same color and size as circus peanuts* --laughing uncontrollably. And devoutly wishing that the Dear Leader his own self could read these comments.

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  11. After that third paragraph, my retinas are forever burned.

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