Wait, Madam! There is comedy in your purse

Spread the word! Rich wears women's underwear (No, not THAT word!) What I meant was, spread the word that this BLOG makes polio string cheese come out all of your orafices. And if it doesn't, lie to your friends and say it does. Rich is tired of sucking scrotum to get ahead, and he wants a real job, one that pays. So come on in! I have Hot Pockets in the fridge

Friday, June 16, 2006

Women got the Vagina Monologues, and I think men deserve something exactly the same or something very similar about their penises

The Vagina Monologues is an interesting play. I remember seeing a reproduction of it at my school and being asked what my vagina smelled like, and I just sat there and marveled at the audacious question. “Wow,” I said, “wow.”

Some women, mostly the loud ones, shouted out stuff like “Heaven,” or, “Him” pointing to the bewildered sap sitting right next to her with his head down. I shouted out “Snozzberries!” in a very womanly (or what I thought was womanly) voice and thought that it would go over quite nicely.

Needless to say, it didn’t, and the women of the Vagina Monologues didn’t think this was appropriate because one of them dropped the f bomb out of character in my direction. The other actresses chastised her for that little scene, and I ended up looking like Prince Valiant (with the haircut and everything). I smiled back at her while she scowled at me and I put my hand beneath my chin and twiddled my fingers like The Little Rascals. I felt like a superstar that evening.

So anyway, I think men should have a play about THEIR private parts, and I’ve already thought of a title for it: The Scrotum Soliloquies.

Each segment can be a different pun on the word penis.

Like one of them can feature an Asian guy wearing a Red Lobsters bib. I would call it: Wang’s Lament.

Another one could be Dick’s Dilemma, and so forth and so on.

I’m already taking reservations.


Blogger worsebrains said...

Seriously speaking, a friend of mine wanted to write and produce something that would be calld The Masturbation Monologues.

The problem with that I tried to tell her is that men, unlike women, the more demure of the sexes, are entirely too eager to talk about their penises. Even with liberal editing, there would still be like 27 hours of monologue.

What makes The Virgina Monolgues a draw is that even today talking openly about the female sex organ, about female sexuality in general, in an honest, frank, and straightforward manner is not encouraged. If you wanna hear people talk about dicks, however, just watch any show that is or once was on FOX.

Besides, the vagina is the more poetic genital. The metaphors alone are more aestethically pleasing than any description you'll ever hear about a cock. I mean: rosebud, lotus, orchid. Which is bound to come out on top decriptively, a budding flower or a purple headed yogurt slinger? Don't answer that. That was a rhetorical question.

In a sentence, no one wants to hear about your penis, Rich.

9:23 PM  
Blogger Raskolnicov! said...

I now have a new name for my love project/opus: Purple headed Yogurt Slinger.

10:16 PM  
Blogger Thaddeus Matthews said...

I have a poem it's called my dick. My dick is big and hard like a rock when you make that pussy pop. When I walk my cock go whop whop whop! when i stop my balls go flop. I just love my big as cock.

3:40 PM  
Blogger Raskolnicov! said...

True poetry. Shakespeare, I hope you can stop spinning in your grave for a few seconds from all the horrendous remakes of your plays to hear this modern day bard speak.

3:47 PM  

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