It has been brought to our attention that far too many posts of late have involved male dangly bits.
This is not entirely our fault, as previous news reports have involved all universe (and very old) quarterback Brett Favre, whose man bits have constantly been in the news. And, sadly, we don’t mean that figuratively.
But since the topic is male Johnsons, today our journalistic training requires us to uncover a situation that involves said bits and wine (but not Root Beer or gasoline).
At least if you believe kris@prettyalltrue. The “point” of her post today — ALERT — SHE NUKED THE LINK! aRG! — is a link, hidden in her tags, that allegedly goes to a website devoted to “dipping”.
Now, to most American guys over, say, age 40, “dipping” involves Walt Garrison and snuff. As Walt used to say 100 times every NFL game, “you put a peench between your cheek and gum, and then, man, you throw up on your horse.”
But the innocent days of Walt Garrison are gone, replaced by a new era of dipping hinted at by the giggly, battery-related comments from females of the lady gender who read PrettyAllTrue (and who possibly drink cask wine with their breakfast waffles).
International Sociological Context: These lady comments would be perfectly at home in, what is accurately called in New Zealand, a hen’s night.
“Dipping” comments indicate a pastime involving men who dangle their dangly bits into various wines. We are not making this up. Nor are we ever going to that website for corroborative evidence, fearing the F.B.I. or possibly our wife might frog-march us out of bed at 3am into a very cold and dark cell.
But still, you do have to wonder.
Logistically, do these dipper boys use normal wine glasses and drop it in like a well rope? Or after their bits have, uhm, come to attention, do they sort of, for lack of a better term, bend to the occasion?
And why is wine the beverage of choice for dipping? Why not Tequila? OK, dumb question. Probably for the same reason gasoline is not recommended. Ouch.
And fizzy drinks are out, as carbonation seems to be bad. So “root” beer, which Kris and her giggly lady commentators think a natural for dipping, has been banned by former Surgeon General C. Everett Koop, a renowned dipper (you can tell by the beard and uniform).
The final question our inquiring mind wants to know — which for the record, again, will NOT be answered by a personal visit to the website in question — is “what exactly does dipping do to your popo?” We do have an idea.
We have a vague memory of a letter to a men’s magazine from, as a guess, September 7, 1972, from a chap who liked to rub shrimp paste on his dangly bits before dropping anchor into his fish bowl. It was how he fed his guppies.
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