Commentary

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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Accoutrements

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Accoutrement: (n.) additional items of dress or equipment, or items carried or worn for a particular activity: the accoutrements of religious activity.

Isn’t it fascinating that the definition of accoutrements immediately goes to religion?

  • What would we do if we didn’t have little knick-knacks to set on the table for our worship experience?
  • What if there weren’t special hats?
  • What if the robes were put into mothballs?
  • What if the bread and wine were not actually symbolistic of the body and blood of Christ?
  • What if for some reason there was a shortage of candles?
  • What if pews were exchanged for bean bags?

Is it possible to have an experience of faith without having an open souvenir stand at the park of religion, where we pick up our memorabilia to confirm that “we went on a brief vacation with God?”

What if faith was really about loving one another? Do you need a cross for that?

What if belief in a Divine Creator was accentuated and exemplified by the expressions on our faces? Would that be better portrayed with sackcloth and ashes?

What if our actions were deemed just as valuable as our prayers? Would we need a kneeling rail?

If we removed all the accoutrements from the experiences of our lives, would they still be experiences–or do the doo-dads make us believe that it’s real?

  • Could we have a God without the Bible?
  • Could we have brotherhood without using a collection plate?
  • And could we feel free from our sins without being immersed in water?

Symbolism is a wonderful process–IF it is a visual confirmation of what is obviously going on in our souls.

But it is just a lousy replacement for how we really feel.