Sunday, June 12, 2011

the wanker of weinergate

I wonder how any man with the last name "Weiner" could ever imagine that taking a picture of his man parts of the same name (in slanguage, anyway) would be a good idea. Weren't there enough cruel children in his past that had turned his last name into a form of torment to put his conscious in check when he had the impulse to text his tallywacker? And not just once, but multiple times. I heard the other day that the 5th Woman of Weinergate had come forward - it sounds like an unfortunate knighted title, doesn't it?

Let's get to the (man)root of Weinergate. Men are fascinated with their junk. They want to talk about it, compare it, measure it, name it, joke about it, touch it in that infamous "rearranging" gesture. There's a host of euphemisms for it, and an incessant need to find innuendo for it in the course of completely non-sexual everyday conversation. It's an obsession to the nth degree. That's why they take pictures of it - I'm looking at you, Favre - and send it to women. Although, I can't imagine a more repulsive text.

But they think it's something that you want to see. Maybe because it's what they use to think. After all, for years, they bought cigarettes because they identified with a dick-faced camel.

Why the schlong face?