Today I was skimming messages that didn’t have obviously deleteable subject line and this phrase stood out, as it were. “36 hour erections!”
Now, as you may have caught above, I am only in possession of an imaginary penis. It is clearly believed in vehemently by my spam mail cult following, however I did not set its existence down in scripture, so I am a bit unclear on where this bit of bandied dogma rose from, if you will. I do not purport to be an expert on such appendages myself, in person or in any religious teachings I may or may not have set down.
Don’t get me wrong, they are great gizmos to have around. Quite entertaining when nothing in town is open at 3 am, and even sometimes an amusing throat lozenge of sorts.
But I have trouble imagining that even my purported imaginary penis, let alone any I have met in real life, would consider it a GOOD idea to be erect for 36 hours straight.
While the issue of my penis and the dogma surrounding it struggles with some unanswered questions of viability and extensibility, I do have my fair share of skin, and have found that no matter what it's location, it does tend to be bound by friction limits.
So this only leaves me with two possibilities in my analysis of possible positive goals derived from 36 hours of erectile bliss. The fist is a flash-back to what is possibly the most bizarre French film ever made (no small feet, that one). The Marqise, in which the main character is a man in a dog suit who is constantly conversing with his member who laments his exile to a prison cell, but none the less refuses to partake of the jailer, a man in a rat suit, who wishes to take it from behind in exchange for the dog’s (and his member’s) freedom. The member itself is in possession of a face and likes to be dressed up and inserted in the little puppet theatre the dog has fashioned for it. So there is the possibility that someone is interested in a penile performance of “The King And I” which has caused them to seek 36 hour erections in order to make it through the dress rehearsal. All of which is to say, avoid French films.
So that leaves us with the only other possibility I can conceive of, and thus must raise. It is clear then, that the purpose of such a product, to everyone but the French and their plushie penis puppet brigade, is so that you can don a leotard and tights with a hole cut out for your rock hard member and a giant P on the chest, a red cape billowing behind you, so that you can then put your hands on your hips and declare in your best superhero voice "I'M PENIS MAN! I BLUDGEON SMALL MAMMALS UNTIL THEY NO LONGER MAKE A SOUND!" and wave it about threateningly in case any squirrels nearby were plotting the downfall of the human race. It would, after all, be unmanly to declare “I AM FLACID MEMBER MAN! I ONLY BLUDGEON IF YOU APPEAL TO MY SQUIRREL FETTISH!” therefore it is important to maintain erectile fortitude throughout your manly efforts to protect the human race from the evil super-race of bo weevils, assorted squirrels and one very maniacal beaver determined to enslave us all.
And, of course, it only makes sense that PENIS MAN would have a loyal sidekick in crime fighting, RUBBER TWAT! RUBBER TWAT would of course have a disturbingly orange tinge unlike any ever seen on a human, would be slightly too translucent for comfort, would have a very tiny badly adhered patch of “hair” about the size of a quarter which serves to make you question the sanity of RUBBER TWAT being allowed anywhere near the razor that left such a strange singular patch for no apparent reason. RUBBER TWAT would be disembodied in such a way that only Jeffery Damer should find such a snatch appealing. RUBBER TWAT’s primary purpose would be to hold the small mammals still, but would also work as a stand in for squirrels when PENIS MAN wanted to partake of his morning calisthenics with his “Penises of Steel” video and the freezer had already been emptied of the last batch of rodentia.
Because this pair provides such a valuable service to mankind, mankind has developed this special serum that they might continue their quest, and that others might more convincingly cosplay them without the need of lugging about the large stack of cum stained magazines required to keep it up that long. Where would we be today without such a miraculous product! Rush out and buy some today. Unless you’re French, in which case GET OUT MORE. Ahem.