Keeping Up With the Johnsons

Genitals. Everyone has them...well...everyone who hasn't been the sad victim of some sort of industrial or farming accident has them. Use the clinical terms, your own cutesy lingo, or give it a proper name and identity, but there is a special bond that exists between a person and his or her happy parts. This week I'm feeling very equal-opportunistic, so both male and female fun-zones will be discussed in two seperate posts.

First, there has been something that has been bothering me as of late. A big, blue, glowing problem. Recently, I went to see Watchmen, the highly anticipated film adaptation of the graphic novel of the same name. I'm not here to critique the film in any way; there are plenty of other whiney fan-boys on the internet to do that. The only thing from the movie that I will speak about is Dr. Manhattan's portrayal. Not his acting though; his penis. In case you're not familiar with Watchmen, Doc Manhattan is a blue superhero with the ability to manipulate all matter and has grown increasingly distant from humanity. To this end, he spends most of the story as naked as the day he was born. After all, the man of the future doesn't need to wear clothes, so the reader/audience is in full view of his Übermensch dong on more than one occasion.

My issue is not with the showing of his radioactive package. If a character wants to flash a little wang-chung in a movie, I'm cool with it as long as it serves the film's overall purpose. I understand that the Doc is meant to be a superhero...but c'mon! I cannot in good taste post an image of the cerulean wonder, but I suggest you Google it and see for yourself so that I'm not discounted as some kind of raving idiot. I shudder to think if this is what women expect of my gender, or if this is the standard to which many young boys aspire. No wonder we men are so wrapped up in the never ending game of dick comparison. I'll admit to my own fits of wanker inferiority, but that swinging azure schlong made me realize that something needs to be done and clear the air of any misconceptions about the male member.

Ladies: don't expect a slithering trouser python when you meet a guy. Think about it, does the idea of a massive kielbasa pounding into your cervix sound like a good time? If it does, "a salud' to you, but for the rest of you reasonable women out there, be kind to your man's little friend. I know that there aren't as many size queens out there as we men fear, but we need to know that. Remember, it's not the size of the boat, but the motion of the ocean. To prove my point, there are some sex toys that you could hide in an easter egg (a great idea for this Easter by the way). Also, not every weiner looks the same on his off time as he does when he's on the clock. In case you haven't heard of the case of showers vs. growers, take a minute to enlighten yourself.

Now, fellas: did seeing that movie make you uncomfortable? Did it make you feel like less of a man? Well knock it the hell off! This is probably exactly what most women feel every time a big ol' set of boobies goes bouncing across the silver screen, and there is way more T&A on celluloid than there is C&B (Cock & Balls). Stop worrying about the status of your petzl, because you know what? Every guy lies about his junk. Really. Don't let the well-endowed end of the bell curve dissuade you from digging who you are as a man. After all...all he wants for you is to be happy; the least you can do is be happy with him in return.

Next time...the vajay-jay gets stripped bare.