Tom-Wienery and other important down below issues from the day.
Taking a
leaf from the book of the
Queen of Humor, blending it with my own well earned take on the
world that has spun into
"anything goes" I have finally decided to
exercise my conclusions based on having
died four times so far, and outliving some of the
dirt that miraculously did not cling.
Long ago I learned how
delusional some chronological adults of the
"y" chromosome persuasion can be about the
"Little General."
I spent
ten physical years
married to a man who gave his
Little General a name I have never been able to figure out, but I guess my lacking a
Little General leaves me somewhat in the dark about such a vital baptism of identity.
Let's talk about
"Herman". (IS there any woman who finds the name "Herman"
the instigation of a mental drool-fest?)
The Herman I speak of, was, admittedly eight inches long and 1 and 1/2 inches in circumference. How do I know? Herman's allegedly "brighter" half could not pass any kind of a
tape measure without whipping Herm out and forcing the data be taken. (I was never sure what he hoped this constant testing would do. A part of me was very afraid if one millimeter changed we'd have to do what parents the world over do when
documenting the growth of their children...mark the progress on the door frame for one and all to see.)
I can imagine many of you are saying to yourself, "She's GOT to be
exaggerating." I will be kind and leave you with your fantasies about marking Herman's prowess. You deserve the right to keep your
breakfasts in tact.
I do not have a tablet so am limited in showing anyone what
Herman at his most prodigious looked like...except to say...well Herman was...
bent!
Seems when Herm was a wee baby thing, the doctor didn't lop off all of the part that took Herm from being a "Hide 'n' Seek"
wormy worm, into being the
"helmeted one-eyed Popeyesque" wormy worm he SHOULD have become.
A bit of attached foreskin back where that super sensitive junction exists kept
Herman from rising to his full potential.
Not being a guy, I don't think I ever fully appreciated the importance of this tiny flap of skin until later.
Many of you know Herman's "Brain-infused" other head believed his swaggering
eight was worthy of adoration's, sighs of hungering anticipation, and accolades for its absolute perfection.
Once upon a time, the Big-Brain decided to snap a black and white
Polaroid of
Herman in his swollen impressiveness,
send it, along with a letter of introduction that went something on the lines like, "I saw your picture and know you are looking for the best. Look no further."
He sent his black and white closeup of Herm in all Herm's glory to a
model in Chicago fully expecting her to drop everything , rush to his side and give herself up upon the
throne of Herman.
There was not much in the way of
humor in my marriage, but the response to this photo is one.
The picture came back along with a brief note. "NEXT TIME SEND IT IN COLOR AND HARD!"
The picture, it's true WAS in black and white...and that COULD be altered...???
Big Brain and Herm felt hugely deflated, but eventually their egos and belief in their
magnificence returned. It was not their fault the
model was too immature to recognize Herm's absolute
perfection.
However, I could not help
wondering, in the days, weeks, months that followed if
Big Brain hadn't taken some of the model's disdain to heart? I cannot tell you how many times I came home after that to find
Big Brain, in his naked glory, parading around the house, with my
Hoover Canister vacuum cleaner's hose, attached to Little Herman. (Little Herman's
rack?)
Some of you are aware that I did work with Big Brain's
Internal Affairs division resulting in
Big Brain being given the option to
resign in lieu of
prosecution for the multitude of charges against him...what I had not, until now, discussed is the conversations that sometimes take place over the
walkie-talkies during long surveillance's.
I was still, despite everything that I had gone through,
a baby about a lot of things.
This investigation didn't just nab
Big Brain, it nabbed
Numb Nuts too. Why do I give this other person THAT distinction? I cannot claim credit. In his Poconos cabin he has crossed wood beams along his ceiling. Screwed into those beams were baby jars filled with enough drugs, if they managed to get into the water supply of any city, to turn 60% of the populace into zombies. Guys who do a lot of drugs, according to those "protecting" me during this investigation, are called
NUMB NUTS.
Over the radio one of OUR guys, had to get out of his car and meet a call of nature. I swear to one and all, I had never heard this term,
"I'M GONNA STEP OUT AND SHAKE THE DEW OFF THE LIZARD!"
Being a believer in asking questions when you don't understand something, I asked. Tom and Chuck, sitting in the central command post in my living room gave each other quirky looks. They also broadcasted to Walt, who WAS shaking the dew, my query.
Walt laughed. Tom and Chuck laughed but also
turned red.
The explanation was...well
eye-opening, but they followed it with the nickname they'd given Big Brain and Herman.
Let me just say it is tough thinking someone is a threat to your life and limb when the
legal
beagles call him "DRIZZLE DICK."
And that brings me to the world of
today. Why do guys have such a confounded time keeping their Hermans
where they belong?
We have
scandal after scandal, but, and this I find really
crazy, a few years after the scandal has
slid from the
front pages, these self same Herman Wielding Big Brains, act like we should all
forget they allowed their Hermans to do the walking and talking.
I never understood the
hypocrisy of coming down like the apocalypse had been unleashed when one politician from one party let his Herman dangle on the wild side, but if the other side gets caught, a mere year or two later, we should act like the
stain on the carpet of their
integrity was not placed there by his Herman.
In my ultimate role as Dr. No Dumbass, I cannot help but
conclude the biggest threat to mankind are Hermans.
Am I wrong? Please feel free to
comment either way.
And now that I have begun, please take comfort in knowing Dr. No Dumbass will return at regular intervals to pontificate some more on the events that shape our world today.
What will I conquer next? Droopy drawers that force the world to see your butt cracks? Micro-minis when the thighs measure 35 inches or better? Or TV commercials that force us to see nose hairs being clipped?
Tune in.
