Commentary: (n) an expression of opinions about an event or situation

I will now offer my commentary:

I have a small penis.

I bring this up to you without apology, biological explanation or some silly sidebar like, “Had no complaints…”

What is interesting about my statement, and makes this commentary worthy of publication, is that the little fella has done some amazing things.

He ended up fathering four children, and from them–not many complaints.

He has survived being in a bedroom with a woman without ridicule.

He has also seen that particular human female leave with a pleasured smile. (Basically, it had little to do with him, and was courtesy of other digits and doo-dads, but he will still take the credit.)

I suppose at one time in my life I would have been embarrassed by the size of my “unit” (that’s what people who feel they are well-endowed call it).

Or should I refer to it as my “package?” But if it is a package, I could send mine first-class reasonably. But call me crazy, I am too overjoyed with my life to complain about my wiener.

I would not want to be around people from the “pecker patrol,” who would stare at my small friend and find him to be disgracefully inadequate.

He has been dutiful. Every time my kidneys want to urinate, he shows up–often bright and early.

He has the good sense to stay out of neighborhoods where he does not belong.

And he’s remained clean and free of disease.

He’s a rather admirable chap.

And even though some of my family would be embarrassed at me talking about him in such a fashion, I think it’s time for us to get over the idea that men and women are going to hump their way to satisfaction because of the enormous size of the male dangling participle.

Making love is like everything else in life. It demands much more conversation than it does struggle.

Thus ends my commentary.


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Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Afield: (adv.) to or at a distance: e.g. competitors from as far afield as Hong Kong.

I often think about jobs that would be much more difficult than what presently encompasses my time. I do this to manufacture a sense of gratitude in my fussy being when I find myself complacent, or even complaining, about my circumstances.

It doesn’t take me long to envision particular undertakings which would be quite distasteful to my being. Don’t mistake my meaning. I’m not saying these pursuits are not important, valuable or even admirable–just beyond my ability and willingness.

  • I would not like to dig ditches.

Even though I can see that progress is observed through the action, continually sticking a shovel in the ground to displace dirt to another location would not only exhaust me but also stimulate my claustrophobia as I found myself surrounded by an earthen prison.

  • I don’t think I’d like to work in food service.

When I go into a restaurant or fast food joint, I am so grateful for those who pursue this occupation. Yet remembering orders, scurrying about, fielding complaints and settling for a less-than-satisfying wage would probably turn me into the Grinch who massacred everyone around the Christmas tree.

You can see, I have a number of these, and at the end of my reflection I always have a spring in my step as I renew my journey and vocation. Today I will add another one to the list:

  • I would not want to be the agent for the word “afield.”

I could never muster the conviction to convince folks to be that hoity-toity in their language, nor would I even consider that such an option would be positive.

After all, what’s wrong with saying, “competitors from as far away as Hong Kong …?”

You see what I mean? When you’re trying to impress someone with verbiage that is meant to alienate others, you are stimulating the kind of stupidity that keeps us all at odds. No, I would not want to be the agent to promote the word “afield.”

I would rather dig a ditch.