Not Man Enough

Once I mentioned transplanting a donkey penis and my doctor scoffed saying, "Your body doesn't possess enough blood to engorge such a monster. You'd probably pass out before you had a half a Woodie."

Nick and I go back to university and he hasn't killed me yet, so I heeded his advice against such an operation, despite knowing that the greatest lie in the world is not 'the check's in the mail', but 'size doesn't matter' as the Thomas Cook Travel Agency discovered when a honeymooner on an African safari complained about feeling inadequate after witnessing a bull elephant frolicking with a female pachyderm.

I understand his pain, for according to National Geographic average length of an African elephant penis is about 2 meters and most of it is not visible. It weighs about 25 kg or 55 lbs.

It's a good thing he didn't go on a whale-watching trip.

Humpback whales are endowed with 10 foot cocks.

Worst than inadequate is 'insignificant'.

OLD BILL NEXT TO ME by Peter Nolan Smith

New York's Plaza Hotel has been a world-famous destination for decades and its 2008 reinvention as a condo-palace and demi-hotel failed to tarnish the reputation of Grand Lady on 5th Avenue.

While the newly opened Retail Plaza in the basement had been an abject failure, the Oak Bar continued to attract power brokers, celebrities, and faces from the front covers of the newspapers and magazines.

When Susan Lucci, the soap opera queen, entered our subterranean jewelry store, my young 'work wife' asked the diminutive TV actress, "Does anyone tell you that you look like Susan Lucci?"

"All the time." Her mouth expressed a sweet smirk at my blonde work-wife's innocence.

"Are you Susan Lucci?" Vanessa gasped like she had been tossed out of the Space Shuttle into zero atmosphere.

"Most of the time." Susan Lucci exuded the internal beauty beneath her botoxed skin.

"Congratulations." My work-wife stammered out her best wishes to Lucci being Lucci. Her face was a nice color red.

"Thank you." Susan wheeled a turn on her spike heels without which she would have been less than five feet tall.

We later realted this encounter with the star of ALL MY CHILDREN to the other salespeople trapped in the doomed Plaza Collection.

They laughed at my work-wife's offering 'congratulations'.

"I didn't know what else to say." Vanessa had worshipped Susan Lucci from her couch for years.

Several days later David Beckham and his wife Posh visited the hotel. The paparazzi rioted outside the entrance. Fans screamed out his name. The madhouse lasted for hours.

Celebrity has its perks, but power demanded different accommodations from the public and one February evening the Secret Service locked down the hotel for the arrival of Bill Clinton, the former president of the USA, who had a table reserved in the Oak Room.

Agents in black suits roamed the hotel. They surveilled guests and workers with suspicion. Bill had been a popular president, but men in high places retain their enemies after retirement.

The secret service agents ignored me, judging a fifty-five year old diamond salesman to be harmless. They were right. I was no assassin.

I thought about going up to the Oak Room to gawk at Clinton, but customers kept me and at the closing hour I went to washroom at the rear of the Retail Collection. The owner of Leather Spa said that the ex-president stopped for a shoeshine.

"He tipped Segundo $10."

"He wore handmade loafer from England." Segundo knew his shoes.

"A good tipper." A shine cost $4 at their stand. "Is he still in the Oak Room?"

"Far as I know."

"Maybe I'll stop up there for a drink after work."

I headed into the men's room.

There wasn't an attendant on duty, but the facilities were clean.

I stood at a stall and unzipped my fly.

Two seconds later a taller man joined me. His shoulder almost touched mine.

Male toilet manners require strangers neither touch nor talk to another man before the porcelain god, so I dropped my eyes to the floor, only to notice that my neighbor's shoes were highly buffed loafers with tassels.

I lifted my gaze.

The ex-president was peeing next to me. I checked the toilet area. There were no Secret Service agents in sight. Some things a man has to do on his own.

The former president smiled at me and I involuntarily peeked into his urinal.

Bill frowned and lowered his broad shoulder to block my view. He shook his member and then strode out of the men's room after washing his hands.

Exiting from the men's room I expected to be accosted by his security detail. The only people in the hallway were Segundo and his boss. They pointed upstairs to indicate the direction of Bill's departure. I nodded and returned to my shop.

Vanessa was ready to go.

"What took you so long?"

"I ran into Bill Clinton in the bathroom."

"Hillary's husband?" Women looked at men different from men.

"I peed next to him."

"And did you look at him?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know look at his schwanze?" Vanessa was a nice girl from Moscow, but she wanted to know. "My husband says all types of men check out him in the bathroom. Did you look at his penis?"

She was my work-wife, not my real wife, so I told her what I would have told anyone.

"No." A gentleman never talk about woman's age and other things too.

"Oh." She was disappointed. "Were you scared about being gay?"

"With the president of the United States?"

"Ex-president." Women were experts at putting men in their place.

"I don't look at men's penises."

"Liar. All men look at porno. Don't tell me there aren't any penis there?"

"That's different."

"Right." Vanessa huffed and picked up her cell. She spoke in Russian. I heard the name Clinton, then pietska. It meant penis in her language. My co-worker smiled at me. She knew the truth.

I had looked at Bill's crank.

And checking another man's schlong isn't a gay thing.

It's just something you do.

Of course my gay friends think that all men are gay.

Given the right circumstances.

Bathroom, ex-president, New York?

Not a chance.

Then again Bill's not my type and I'm certainly not his, because he never bothered to look at mine.

Hardness Factor

Men have many expressions for an erect penis; tentpole, boner, dong, love muscle, one-eyed monster, schlong, and third leg just for a few. Size is a source of pride as well as penile hardness. There is no shame in size, but judging from the spam in my email account the vast majority of American men suffer from erectile dysfunction or ED. Few men speak openly about Softitis, but billions of dollars have filled the coffers of Pfizer Drugs from the sale of Viagra in order that men of all ages can achieve a guaranteed woodie from ingesting a pill, instead of depending on this libido.

“I’m a man.” sang the Yardbirds in 1966 and several years the Journal of Sexual Medicine surveyed thousands of men to gain a consensus about the degrees of penile hardness, coming up with The Erection Hardness Score or EHS .Patients were asked to rate their hardness on a scale from 1-4. Women were also included in this survey to cast a more objective opinion.

The results were as follows;

EH Stage 1. Penis is larger but not hard (severe ED)

A classic pre-mature erection or softie.

EH Stage 2. Penis is hard, but not hard enough for penetration.

A so-so.

Most men will resort to oral sex in the vain hope they will hit critical arousal mass. It’s not a bad tactic, since ED can come from mental stress.

Like do I really want to have sex with my wife?

If I fake an orgasm, will she believe me?

Don't sweat the cashew state with your wife, gentlemen.

Viagra was invented for men with incompatible partners, especially when their eyes say they don’t want have anything to do with your Johnson.

“It might be broken.” Most men think after too much of that look.

EH Stage 3. Penis is hard enough for penetration but not completely hard (mild ED).

This isn’t a problem as long as your partner is responsive to your needs to satisfy her needs.

“Can I get some help?”

And we know what help means, for while the State of Georgia might regard sodomy ie fellatio a sin, Bill Clinton rightfully placed a BJ outside the boundaries of sex so that it is now more like a handshake between good friends.

Remember the word ‘help’, ladies, since it takes two to tango.

Finally EH Stage 4. Penis is completely hard and fully rigid (no ED).

Hard beautiful wood.

This rating system was destined to help women and men discuss the ED problems and to have men understand that an erection is a good indicator of the body’s health as ED may be a warning sign of a wide range of diseases such as diabetes, cardiovascular disease, hyperlipidemia and hypertension.

I usually wake with an erection.

Women hate sex in the morning if you wake them up, but if they rise before you and find the erection then they might give you the green light, but not always since a French girlfriend considered a morning erection an indication that you had been dreaming about another woman.

“Or you want to piss.”

Now you can see why men lose wood.

Women are cold and cruel, except when they aren't cold and cruel.

There is no schedule for those times.

None at all.