The Importance Of Size - 2010

Judging from the number of spam emails cluttering my inbox, a sense of inadequacy about the size of the male organ is a problem superseding hair loss, obesity, and global warming. I can understand this latest anxiety since most men in the West are rabid porno addicts and these websites feature male performers with truly biblical Staffs of Moses. These seemingly impossible proportions are the goal of any men purchasing pills, pumps, and medical herbals to enhance their girth and length.

“I just want to hear one woman say, “Not with that you don’t.” offered one testimony from a size improvement website.

“Not with that you don’t.”

I don’t know why anyone would want to hear that, but is size really important to a woman?

The girls at the Welkom Inn on Soi 3 in Pattaya see a lot of action. When asked if they liked big, the most popular girl said, “I like small and fast too. Not hurt. And not take too much time.”

Another admitted, “Sometime when really horny. I like big. Good. But can’t work later. Small better.”

This doesn’t prevent them from massaging the male ego.

The fellatio expert says, “Man always love to hear he have big penis. If not big, he believe big you tell him big. Stupid kwai.”

My lifelong friend, Sherri, who performed in over two thousand XXX films, professes, “Size isn’t important. Well, if it’s a cashew, then it’s a problem, but otherwise most girls in the industry like a normal penis. Nothing too awe-inspiring. And quick too. Guys with big ones. Not many of them know how to use it, plus when a guy with a giant cock gets an erection most of the blood leaves his skull, so he devolves to a gibbering fool. Gimme a nice Irish or Jewish guy any day. Cut too.”

Sherri knows cock.

So there you have it.

Here is a list of the average male Erect Penis Lengths for 10 species
1. Humpback whale 10 ft
2. Elephant 5-6 ft
3. Bull 3 ft
4. Stallion 2 ft 6 in.
5. Rhinoceros 2 ft
6. Pig 18-20 in.
. Man 6 in.
8. Gorilla 2 in.
9. Cat 3/4 in.
10. Mosquito 1/100 in.

Stormy Daniels the XXX actress had a pas de deux with Donald Trump and described Trump’s penis as “smaller than average” but “not freakishly small”. “He knows he has an unusual penis,” Daniels writes. “It has a huge mushroom head. Like a toadstool … “I lay there, annoyed that I was getting fucked by a guy with Yeti pubes and a dick like the mushroom character in Mario Kart ... “It may have been the least impressive sex I’d ever had, but clearly, he didn’t share that opinion.”

pps I'm normal.

Trump has been mentioned in the Epstein files over a million times according to a Democratic congressman. He must have hit F for find on the download of the files. One mention ncluded an FBI tip sheet with an accusation regarding a 13 or 14-year-old girl. There are still three million emails to go. 47's gonna drop.

General Tso's Blizzard - 2010

Christmas is a time for family. Mine was on the other side of the world in Thailand. I had a ticket reserved for a January 10 departure. My sister insisted on my spending the holiday with her in Boston. She was worried about my head, since our beloved father had passed away in November. I boarded a Chinatown bus northbound to South Station. Christmas Eve was with friends and family. Christmas was strictly family. My sister missed my father and so did the rest of us. Our parents had been good people.    My plans for the weekend were fluid, until I discovered my nephew Matt on the telephone. He was calling his airline for confirmation of his flight to DC. All departures on the East Coast had been canceled for that Sunday. The US Weather Service was forecasting a major storm. 24-36 inches. Amtrak was sold out. The only out from Boston was the Chinatown bus. Matt and I packed within minutes and my sister drove us to South Station. We caught the 11AM bus. The snow was light, but the traffic was heavy. People were trying to get home before the worse. Upon our arrival in Chinatown I offered Matt a place to stay in Brooklyn.    

"I got to be in work tomorrow."    

He worked for an internet company. It was not affiliated with the CIA. At least that was his cover and I had been brought up to not ask questions about jobs in Washington. I put him on a DC-bound bus and took the F train over to Brooklyn. It was only 4PM, so I stopped in Frank's Lounge for a beer.    

Several of the regulars were in their Sunday seats at the bar. We drank several rounds before looking out the window onto a terrifying scenario. The snowstorm had been upgraded to the wintery tornado. The accumulation was already ten inches and there was no sign of let-up. None of us had anywhere to go tomorrow. The radio had announced the trains were being taken out of service.    

"We where we are and nowhere else." Homer announced in his thick Mississippi accent. He was happy to be in Frank's. It was our favorite bar, but we were hungry. He made several phone calls for take-out.     

The only response was from a Chinese restaurant up the block. I ordered the General Tso's Chicken extra chili. Homer followed suit.    

"You know General Tso's Chicken doesn't exist in China." It supposedly was invented by the Hunan-born chef T. T. Wang in 1972.     

"How the hell am I supposed to know that. I ain't ever been to no damned China." Homer traveled mostly on a straight line. Brooklyn to Philadelphia, Mississippi, his hometown. He certainly hadn't seen any snow in his youth, but plenty since he left the Delta over fifty years ago fleeing a lynch mob. He liked it back there now. Family and "The crack has gone out of some of the crackers, especially since my shotgun ain't never out of reach."    

"Well, I have." Only one time to Yunnan, Sichuan, and Tibet in 1996. "And there was no General Tso Chicken."

"I don't care about no China. I'm here in Brooklyn."    

The traffic on Fulton was extinctized by the snow. There were no pedestrians. The drifts were over a foot. We started to fear that our food wasn't going to come and we would have to survive on the stale packets of chips from behind the bar, but after a half-hour the door banged open for a delivery man covered by snow. He held two bags of food. We cheered his arrival and Homer gave him a $5 tip.    

"That's because Tipping ain't no city in China and a Chinaman will deliver your food even when the US Mail can't get through. Here's to the Chinaman."

We raised our glasses and ate like this was the last meal on Earth.    

Looking out the window that's just the way it felt.

February 20, 2026

A wet afternoon with the meteorologists forecasting a nor'easter bearing down on the East Coast for the weekend. Nothing like the Holiday blizzard of 2010, but this has been a hard winter and it ain't over yet.

Below 101 Avenue A

A winter afternoon
on Avenue A
Abbie and I sat on set
A movie set
Extras waiting to be extras
Unpaid extras
Abbie and I never met
Before today
The two of us
In the basement of 101 Avenue A__
The two of us
Nothing to hide
I tell my story
Abbie tells hers
The horror of teenage drug addiction
Hardcore
Near-death and then alive
To near-death again
More than a few times__
Me
No more young
Abbie shows a photo
On her phone
A beautiful junkie waif
"I was so bad.
But only bad to myself.
And only for four months."
She had died in a hospital
I had died too
More than once
Now___
Back to life
Now
Clean for years
I listened to Abbie's every word
Without having to say a word
Other than to prompt more
"More"_
She handed me a poem
I read her poem
To her
It was perfect
Nothingness__
Oh to be young again
In the basement
Of the old Pyramid Club
Disco lights
HIgh on everything__
The director enter
Points
To we two
We are up
Extras
Unpaid extras
I wish I was young
Abbie too
Together
Nothing to each other
Nothing__
I am so happy__

Ash Wednesday

Two days ago I tried to read TS Elliot's ASH WEDNESDAY
Until I reached God came in line 26
Praying for mercy
Once not a non-believer
TS turned believer once more
An Anglician
In his forties
He was
Unworthy of his God's love
His mercy
His forgiveness
This Ash Wednesday
I a devout atheist
Over 60 year
Up to St. Padraic Cathedral
With my young nephew Iggy
Non-baptized
I ask
"You want to be baptized?"
Any Catholic can perform the Holy Rite
Even a heretic
"I baptize thee___"
Next light a candle to Bridget of Clare
No donation
Briganti a pagan saint
A healer and poet
A saint an atheist can love__

Iggy and I line up for ashes
The ashes of Palm Sunday palms
Another forty days of Lent
Then Easter
Lent a time of repentance
The line moves fast
I seek not Elliot's God's mercy
Or that of God Almighty
I harbor no doubts
I know the truth
There is no God for me
I have been to the other side
To Nothingness
Now Faithful to nothingness
As Eliot is faithful
To the Blessed Virgin
In search of her color
Larkspur blue
His doubt disspelled
ASH WEDNESDAT
His words attest to his belief__
Me
Once a sinner
Now saved
Seeking no salvation from eternity
Now TS Eliot long gone
His words remain
Just like my lack of faith
Just like my devotion to no God
I shall
Not turn back to their God
Never
Because their God__
I cannot say why
But on this Ash Wednesday
In the Cathedral
In line up with the believers
And Iggy
Newly baptized by the heretic
Once an altar boy
Ahhhh__
The Old Faith
Waiting for my ashes
The young priest
A black right hand
"Repent."
Me
"Mea nonculpa mea non culpa Mea non culpa
The old altar boy does not repent
Because I remember
From whence I came
Not from ashes
I come from nothing___and there I shall return
But not on Ash Wednesday
Nor any time soon
And that I believe
Ad infinitum__

my tie is akilter

The word Islam in Arabic means 'submisssion'. The Sufis seek a nothingness through their chanting and dancing in order to fill that emptiness with Allah. TS Eliot's despair forced him to throw himself at the mercy of the Christian God.

“Lord, I am not worthy
Lord, I am not worthy
But speak the word only.”

“Where shall the word be found, where the Word
Resound? Noe here, there is not enough silence…
No place of grace for those who avoid the face
No time to rejoice for those who walk
Among noise and deny the voice.”

Maybe I am not worthy enough to reach that point to address their God adn I'm happy with that.
ps I wiped off the ashes as soon as I hit 5th Avenue.

War On Drugs 2020

Back in June 2020 I had been crashing at Occupy City Hall, sleeping on cardboard, joining hundreds of people protesting the cop murder of George Fflod in Missouri. My phone rang. It was a panicked call from Fenway s mom. My son was sick. I needed to wire money. I left the encampment with my bike, telling the cops to let me through, because I was a veteran.

As I made my way through the 12, an officer asked what war.

"The War on Drugs. We won." The DEA refuses to surrender.

Over the Brooklyn Bridge to Flatbush. It was dark and the bike's front tiredropped into a sewer grating stopping my progress. I supermaned over the handlebars and face-planted on my teeth. I rose from the pavement, expecting to spit out teeth like Chicelets. Nothing.

Bones strong.

Oh the beauty of Neanderthal genes.

Black lives matter.

The Lent Of No Beer

Lent is the six-week period of Catholic fasting from Ash Wednesday to Easter, allowing the faithful the chance to atone for the previous year's sins by mirroring the span of time the Messiah spend in the desert before He succumbed to the temptations not of Satan, but his own mortal flesh.

While I'm a full-blown atheist, this last Ash Wednesday I decided to give up beer for Lent.

"No beer?" Uncle Drunkey asked at the 169. "Why?"

"Just to see if I can do it?" I haven't given up anything in years.

"So you still drink wine and liquor."

"Not to mention cider," added Dakota, the lead singer of Wicked Womb, from behind the bar.

"Then here we go." I drained my last 'Gansett and ordered a Bombay Tonic.

"Gin's nasty." Uncle Drunkey like his Jamison whiskey. "You know why Hitler didn't drink Gin."

"No." I recalled hearing the joke, but not the punchline.

"Because he said it made him mean," jibbed Dakota with wry smile.

"Too soon," said another drinker.

We told him to fuck off, but it was true.

Gin makes you mean and even worse were the hangovers from the old Dutch spirit derived from juniper berries, even though the drink was initially marketed as a remedy for kidney ailments, lumbago, stomach ailments, gallstones, and gout.

"Gin tonic," I ordered from Dakota.

"Nice death wish."

"No death wish at all." I drank several glasses of gin throughout the night without succumbing the the temptation of 'Gansett' beer. I might have arrived home at a decent hour, however the next morning I woke with a hear-death hangover.

I didn't move out of my bed for the day, but remained faithful to my sell-denial.

No beer.

No stout.

No ale.

No lagers.

No exception.

Last night at the 169 Dakota suggested giving up the ghost.

"I can handle the gin," I slurred from my bar stool.

"Yes, but I can't stand the belligerence."

I wasn't in any mood to hear any drift from a long-haired guitarist and said, "What the fuck you talking about, hippie boy?"

"Enough is enough." Jimmy the bouncer had heard my comment and laid a hand on my shoulder.

"Time for you to go home."

Jimmy chucked me gently out of the bar and apologized, "Sorry, man, but you were out of line."

"It wasn't me. It was the gin."

"Then do us all a favor and switch back to beer."

"I can't until the end of Lent."

"And when is that?"

"April 2nd."

"See you then."

"You're banning me?"

"Not you. Monster Gin."

I understood and nodded my head.

I slept in the taxi over the Manhattan Bridge. The driver deposited me at the Fort Greene Observatory. I tiptoed up the stairs and fell into bed in no condition to take off my clothes.

That Sunday was a long novena of suffering.

My only positive act of the day was to change into pajamas.

I watched crappy films on Netflix and ate a hot dog cooked in my toaster oven. It was my one day off of the week.

Monday wasn't much better, although by evening I regained 30% of my power.

I came home without any alcohol in my shopping bag and called an old friend from Boston. Bishop Ray was high up in the church. He heard my confessions every ten years.

"Are you a little early?" he asked from his sacristy on Commonwealth Avenue near my old alma mater.

"This isn't about my sins."

"No?"

"No, I gave up beer for Lent."

"And everything else?"

"No, I've been drinking gin instead."

"At your age?"

Pay was no tee-totaler, but firmly believed in excess in moderation.

"Yes, your eminence, but St Padraic's Day ids coming next month and I was wondering if I broke fast, would that be bad?"

"Aren't you an atheist?"

"Yes." Proudly.

"Then by the power invested me by St. Peter and his Holy Roman Church I waive the abstinence for Lent. Of course I am required by faith to ask, if you are seeking to rejoin the Church."

"No, your eminence."

"Then go back to your heathen ways. I'm watching the last episode of THE WALKING DEAD."

"Thank you."

"and say one Our Father and Three Hail Marys."

I thought___"

"Five Hail Marys and stay away from Mother's Ruin. It's been the end of many a strong man."

Ray was right.

Gin had killed millions in London.

I hung up the phone and put on my pajamas.

I wasn't drinking tonight.

My heart wasn't in it and I had a funny feeling that tomorrow might also belong to sobriety.

It's not such a bad thing.

Especially when beer was waiting for you somewhere in the future.

The Legacy Of Europa

The night skies over Italy in 1610 were unsullied by the light overdose of the 21st Century. Galileo Galilei pointed a 20X telescope into the stars, while standing atop of rooftop at the University of Padua. The astronomer spotted a single moon orbiting Jupiter, but the next evening he divined that they were two not one and named the gas giant's sixth satellite after a lover of the God. Some modern-day religious-right star-gazers refer to Europa as Jupiter II, for in mythology Europa had been seduced and ravished by Zeus in the form of a white bull on the island of Crete. The God rewarded his victim with a javelin that never missed and later arranged the stars to create Taurus.

In Ovid's Metamorphoses, the poet portrayed the seduction in these verses; "And gradually she lost her fear, and he offered his breast for her virgin caresses, His horns for her to wind with chains of flowers until the princess dared to mount his back her pet bull's back, unwitting whom she rode. Then—slowly, slowly down the broad, dry beach — First in the shallow waves the great god set his spurious hooves, then sauntered further out 'til in the open sea he bore his prize. Fear filled her heart as, gazing back, she saw the fast receding sands. Her right hand grasped a horn, the other lent upon his back her fluttering tunic floated in the breeze."

If that's not porno what is.

Back in 2013 afternoon I received the following comment for Mangozeen:

bestiality

europeananimalsex.com/darcyelam@arcor.de

I do accept as true with all the ideas you’ve presented in your post. They’re very convincing and can definitely work. Nonetheless, the posts are too short for novices. May you please prolong them a little from next time? Thank you for the post. European animal sex has a long tradition, however Germany is considering a ban of zoophilia denying the origins of the continent. The maximum penalty for bestiality is $40,000US, while Ireland imprisons animal lovers for life. Sex with animals is legal in a number of states in the USA Alaska, DC, Guam, Hawaii, Kentucky, Montana, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Mexico, Ohio, Vermont, Virginia, Wyoming, West Virginia, Alabama and of course the cow fucking capitol of the world, Texas.

How they gonna leave the farm once they done Bessie?