dong work for yuda*

"He said Dong was Wong,
'N Wong was Kong
'N Dong work for Yuda,
'N John was wrong"

~Frank Zappa*

Every morning I wake up and scratch myself. I'm a man, deal with it. If I am in an especially playful mood, I might even sneak in a quick squeeze or two. It helps me wake up smiling. I like my penis. I have grown quite attached to it. I take good care of it. I take it out often for some fresh air and sunlight and play with it at least once a day. I do right unto it and it does right unto me. I've been told it fits just right in certain places and curves to the left in an oh-so-cute way. This makes me smile. But as much as I love my penis, there's a limit to my adoration and infatuation. For example, I would not pull it out in a public bus and try to introduce it to the nice lady in the window seat. That would just not be cricket. Nor will I attempt idle banter with it while, let's say, I'm examining fresh cucumbers in the local grocery store. See, common sense does prevail.

The Nazca people of South America carved giant animals in the desert a thousand years ago. There is still a mystery over the origins and even today scientists cannot agree how this primitive race managed to create these huge carvings with such precision. Popular theory is that it was an attempt to communicate with extra-terrestrials. I find it fascinating and stunningly impressive. I often wonder if we will ever find the answer in our lifetime.

Modern man however has less of an inclination to aspire to such great ambitions. Give a bunch of men too much to drink and the levels of creativity become directly inverted to the proportion of alcohol consumed. An Arizona man was notified by a news crew that he had a giant penis painted on his roof. Turns out it was the work of his drunken friends.

http://www.metro.co.uk/weird/article.html?in_article_id=122423&in_page_id=2

Now granted, had I been told that I had a giant penis painted on my roof, I would have been suitably surprised, but I certainly would not have equated it this way:

'It was like a hit of coffee or something in the face. A penis on the roof. I was like, huh? Are you serious?'

Are you serious? Is that the best you could do?
See, I could've come up with a much more illustrious explanation. For example, I would've clutched at my crotch and exclaimed, "so it wasn't a dream!". I would have then elaborated on how an alien ship had landed on my lawn one night and a group of bare-breasted ET's accosted me while I slept. How they dragged me on to the roof (doing it under the shadow of Orion and all that) and proceeded to have their way with me. Bodies and limbs and appendages merged in a frenzy of mad lust. Afterwards, as we basked in the after-glow and Ursa Major shone her light upon our naked glistening bodies, the bare-breasted aliens rolled me over and proceeded to chalk my member on to the cold hard roof.

"bxtsj tht whsgfh t orught y scl fflabzbn", they chanted as they worked, giggling and jostling each other as their breasts bounced merrily in the starlight. This loosely translated as, 'the fallacy of a flaccid phallus is as false as a fflabzbn'. A Fflabzbn being a mythological creature of their planet much akin to our loved and dearly missed Dodo.

It pays to imaginative...you never know when you'll need it.