Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Don't Piss On The Trough

The secret of male community is the trough. You fellows remember the trough, right? You used to be able to walk into a public restroom and behold what was essentially an elongated bathtub with exposed plumbing that allowed 10-12 men to urinate at one time—a kind of roundtable meeting of the penis. The problem is that the trough has gone the way of the rotary phone and Crystal Pepsi. Why is that a problem? The trough promoted unification among those who used it. When two guys were nestled side-by-side, their dicks waggling a mere foot and a half apart, all barriers normally erected by inborn male brashness immediately crumbled. Hey, we all piss in the same drain.
I am suggesting we install a trough in every restroom that could accommodate a structure of such enormous girth, and vital consequence to male civilization. We should start with the facilities in the Capitol Building. You want to halt the pointless bickering that accompanies partisan politicians? The trough is the answer. Republicans? Democrats? Independents? Whigs? There are no political agendas or corporate affiliations where there is a conga line of flaccid talleywhackers drooping like fleshy windsocks on a windless day.
What’s more, the trough promotes shame, which is not a bad thing. On Capitol Hill, the trough would serve the same function as a pledge paddle in a college fraternity, breaking down the motley contingent of Congressmen so that they may be rebuilt into a stout single-minded troupe capable of progress. When wayward drops of someone else’s urine ricochet and splash unto the hairs on your wrist, everlasting bonds are forged.
Not well endowed? There are no secrets at the trough. What politician is going to pound the podium in defiance of extending the payroll tax cuts when he knows that everyone else knows that he has a tiny dick? With shame comes modesty. Of course, if he pounds the podium anyway, everyone will know that it is BECAUSE he has a tiny dick.
Of course, the benefit of troughs in Washington DC would be just the tip of the pissberg. Do you think that the Hatfield’s and the McCoy’s would have endured such a long-waging war if the two families had leaked in the same lake? Would there have been a cold war if Reagan and Gorbachev tinkled in the same tank? What if the ‘87 Lakers and Celtics had whizzed in the same watershed?
We men need to resurrect the trough. We need to allow ourselves a dose of humility when we realize that there is always someone bigger. We need to allow ourselves the therapeutic face-to-face interaction that is disallowed by modern urinals with metal barriers that restrict the splash zones, and human bodily interaction. We need to be reminded every time we unzip—we all piss in the same drain.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

One Man Freak Show At Granite County Fairgrounds

Granite Co.- Chuck Unger, the typically reserved and grizzled dairy farmer from Tuckersville, Pa., is now officially a freak. Well, at least from August 21-27.
Organizers of the Granite County Fair, an extremely popular annual event, have decided to include a throwback exhibit as a nod to the fairs of yesteryear—a freak show.
“It’s one thing to decide to include such an event, but another thing altogether to figure out what will be on display. That’s when he learned about Mr. Unger and his crazy hand,” said one event planner.
Mr. Unger had been living a relatively quiet existence on his rural farmland when he received the call last week. He says he nearly missed the opportunity, though, as his crippled left hand struggled to grasp the receiver.
“They musta’ heard about my f***ed up hand here. Pretty, ain’t it?” the visibly proud man said as he displayed his mangled claw-like hand, which he affectionately refers to as Pappy’s meat hook. Mr. Unger’s hand became mashed in the gears of a tractor years ago, but it hasn’t been enough to keep him from his work. “Messed ‘er up good. But I still learned to run the farm okay. Milking them cows is a crapshoot sometimes. I drop the chicken feed a lot too.”
Although fair organizers would have liked a more varied freak show, no one is complaining that this simple farmer will be the only exhibit.
“We’ve erected a simple two-person camping tent in which to display Mr. Unger. For only 3 dollars, fairgoers can crawl inside and spend up to 5 minutes alone with the perverse hand.”
Mr. Unger is already relishing the attention. “People normally don’t pay me no mind. Five minutes with them is a lot of time. I got stories. I was a traveling skeet shooter in my younger days. Ever see a Polaroid of what a bunch of rabid coyotes can do to a pig?”
Fairgoers are excited too. “I’m glad they are doing something new this year. I hope his hand is the grossest thing in the whole world,” said one lady who purchased an advanced ticket.
What will Mr. Unger do when his 6 days of fame are up? “Nothing much. Just tend to the livestock and wrestle with my hounds. Despite the attention, it’s the still simple things I love.”

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Famous Fictional Literary Characters' Combat Finishing Moves

Miss Havisham- The Bene-Factor
Ebenezer Scrooge- The Scrooge Driver
Godot- The Wait’s Over
Alice- The Rabbit Halved
Tom Sawyer- The Last Adventure
Moby Dick- The Moby Dick
Moses- The Commandment Breaker
Garp- The Piledriver According to Garp
Holden Caulfield- The De-Phoni-Fier
Ponyboy Curtis- The Inside Outsider
Frederic Henry- A Farewell To Your Arms
Ralph- The Conch Shelled
Phineas- In Separate Pieces
Randle P. McMurphy- The Frontal Lobotomy
God- The Biggest Bang