“♪Isn’t it awfully nice to have a penis?♫” – Eric Idle, The Meaning of Life
I remember years ago hearing about a program at Ohio State University (originally from a Newsweek article) to put signs in the urinals on campus that would inform the men reading the signs: “You hold the power to stop rape in your hand.”
I remember back then that I thought the men’s movement was mainly about reconnecting with boyhood and blaming daddy. I do not remember the word “misandry.” I remember being a bit pissed (okay, pun intended) about that little program at that stupid university. Then I got on with the business of living, and forgot all about it. I never stopped to think about all the implications of that terrible statement.
The reason why I didn’t is because I read that news item while living and learning at a university run by a religion that told me that God Himself was not happy about my penis, either. I grew up with actual doctrine surrounding this loveable organ that was reminiscent of, and premised upon, the article found here. Based on rhetoric like that, these were essentially my church’s teachings about dicks:
You must never touch it.
You must never let anyone else touch it, unless it’s your wife.
You must only let her touch it when it is the highest expression of love, and within rather arbitrary limits.
If it is touched in any other manner, God will eventually withdraw His love.
I am not exaggerating. That was how I thought. That was what I was taught, and what I made an effort at teaching to poisoning others with. Gentlemen, it is the same as the feminist-embracing Left. It is misandric.
Feminists make headway with social conservatives when it comes to pornography (male-centered), prostitution (male-centered), and dicks (obviously male-centered – heck, they’re located in the exact center of a man’s front side!). They made headway with me, and I didn’t even realize it. They are, the feminism and the Mormonism, systems of coercion, meaning that they are death-oriented. Apparently, at least one young man has done just that, when the church made him feel bad for enjoying being a man. He was taught the above four rules, and both of us unfortunately translated those rules as follows:
You must never enjoy it.
You must never let anyone else enjoy it, unless it’s your wife.
You must only let her enjoy it when it is the highest expression of love, and within rather arbitrary limits.
If it is enjoyed in any other manner, God, the same loving Father who gave you one, complete with a sex drive, will eventually withdraw His love.
Who could handle a threat like that? You don’t want to love imperfect little me? Then I’ll just take myself out of the game right now. How do you feel about that? Suicide for that young man was, unfortunately, as childish as the teachings with which he suffered so.
Let’s acknowledge a few facts, shall we? The human race has evolved: fact. We are, in general, a hell of a lot smarter than we used to be, and not just because we learn our history lessons well (which we don’t): fact. We can now gain complete control, if we all choose to do so as individuals, over procreation: fact. Men still grow dicks: fact. Therefore, the only reason left in modern times for a man to have a penis is simply to enjoy being a man who has one. Secondarily, it is for physical and other emotional enjoyment (separate from the first reason). Thirdly, for having children if he so chooses. Lastly, for taking a piss, which, like the previous two, is permanently intertwined with the first and only reason left to have it.
Try enjoying your dick when I tell you that you have the power to stop rape and child molestation in your hand. Try just a little harder when I tell you that God is watching, and he’s rather puritanically disgusted. I know that I’ve seen many a porn movie when the “bottom,” whether male or female, has blurted out, “Yeah! Oh baby! Oh! Oh! Unh-do you realize that you have the power to stop rape deep inside me, baby?”
We are almost, almost – in the eyes of those who spout this nonsense – evil, simply by virtue of permitting one to dangle there between our thighs. This does not come from any God. This stems from one of the facts mentioned above: This is an evolutionary concern.
I suspect that volitionally composed groups of humans, long ago, were greatly worried about building future generations to carry on their legacies, and keeping those generations in line with traditions, which we embrace to this day because they give the illusion of continuity, certainty, and immortality. Men, guard your dicks. That’s where we come from. That is still what a great many of us think.
We now live in a world with such rapidly advancing knowledge, tastes, economic stability (for the most part), mobility, and cultural transformations, that keeping this old way of thinking has become quaint. It’s not so quaint to me, anymore. It’s unhealthy and counterproductive. We can control to an amazing degree where and when we will spill seed for procreative purposes. We can even reach deep in the womb to rescue, whether prematurely or to full term, the children our seed creates. We do not need dicks for this. All we need is the ability to manufacture semen, whether inside the body or, perhaps someday, even outside of it, and the ability to transfer that semen into the womb. There are many non-sexual ways to do this, if you care to use your imagination. I don’t.
All that is left is possession of a dingle, and the enjoyment of that ownership. This does not mean go out and have sex. This does not mean you can’t live a life of celibacy if you so desire. Nor does it mean that you don’t have tremendous responsibilities laid upon your manly shoulders when you volitionally spill seed to grow babies. But you will at the very least come into contact with your manhood several times a day in a nonsexual fashion. That’s why urinals should be free from stupid signs about an activity in which you are never going to engage. You should be able to enjoy a good piss in solitude, or side by side quietly with a fellow hanger, without being lectured about how naughty your boys are. Therefore, allow me to give you some new rules, based on the above facts:
You should enjoy being a man with a dick.
You should call it by whatever euphemism or pet name you choose. Refer to the song linked at the top of the article if you need ideas.
You may enjoy it with someone whose body you might also enjoy.
Any God that disapproves of any of the above enjoyment is not a god with whom you should want to spend a friggin’ eternity.
That does not need to be written on a urinal. That should be self-evident. It should also be self-evident that Ohio State’s misandristic experiment is complete bullshit. Any woman who does not love your dick does not love men; any woman who does not love men may very well worship the male form (as some gay men do), but you shouldn’t want a woman who merely worships your body. How does that worship continue when you are wheelchair bound, or become impotent? This is a question to ponder the next time you have to relieve yourself.
A woman’s genitals are rated R; a man’s genitals are, for the most part, rated X. The mere sight of one, in this culture and many others, is considered threatening. We definitely can’t let children see that!
I remember watching Bill Maher talk to Camille Paglia on his old show “Politically Incorrect.” He spoke the truth. He talked about the transformation that a man’s body has to go through in order for sex to take place, and the pressure that a man feels to perform in this manner. Therefore, your genitals are rated X, but your erections are definitely rated XXX.
Misandrist women are afraid of them; a lot of gay men want them disconnected from the rest of the man; a great many men fear their own. Probably a few of my straight brothers have already stopped reading. “Will this stupid fag ever shut up?” I will when my body and manhood get the respect they deserve.
I spent a great deal of time trying to fit in with the virginal straight boys at my college (remarkably free of urinal signs). I tried “going straight” via “reparative” therapy. Luckily, by the time I started this therapy, the church had abandoned revulsion and electroshock treatments for us freaks. I actually learned a lot about my family, and about how I viewed myself in society, through therapy. Unfortunately, the premise of the therapy was wrong, and I ended up wasting a lot of time feeling guilty for “sins” that involved the “naughty bits.”
Life goes on and things change; you can’t stop either one of those processes. (It’s natural law.) As my life went on, and as I removed myself, however reluctantly, from the miniature, virginal, straight society to which I was subjected, I became aware of a much larger world. Moving back to the East Coast awakened a great many new thoughts. Here, people have gotten on with life in a great many different combinations, from a great many other parts of the world. All of a sudden, by doing my own thing, I fit in.
Straight, “virtuous,” married sex is just one option. One of many. It was only a matter of time before I discovered the truth about my church and organized religion in general. To make this as brief as possible, I no longer wish to be straight. You heard me right.
Being gay is no better. It comes with a complete set of stainless steel challenges. But holy cow, do I love it! Far more importantly, I love being a gay guy. If reincarnation is existent, I would hope to come back once more as a gay man. That song at the top of the article is one with which I agree completely. It is awfully nice to have a penis!
My former religion always encouraged learning, but the process had boundaries all around it: “Don’t learn over there! Oh no! Over here. That’s better. Now, don’t go anywhere.” By fully embracing the way I want to be, you would not believe the things I have learned about men. Many of those things probably wouldn’t interest any but the prurient, so I’ll keep them to myself. However, I have seen vulnerability, heard secrets, kept confidences, grown closer, made friends (yeah, friends who will actually help you move), cried with, hugged, laughed with, caressed, loved, hurt with, and genuinely appreciated a great many of my brothers. It’s wonderful, what I’ve learned. I wouldn’t trade in my vast knowledge of manhood for a hundred heavens. Every single man who has taught me more about myself, and the world in which I live, has a dick. Every single one of those puppies is beautiful, including the great many I haven’t seen.
Sure, a man’s body, like fire or water, can be good or it can be horribly destructive. Nobody runs around disparaging fire and water, though. Why? Because we need them. The uses of both far outweigh the occasional havoc they wreak.
I say here and now that the uses and benefits of manhood far outweigh the few scum out there who rape and molest. I also declare quite boldly that although dicks are no longer evolutionarily necessary due to our increasingly superior intellect in the animal kingdom, the benefits of owning a pecker and associating with other owners, whether platonically or not, far outweigh the absence of that manly knowledge.
Feminists and social conservatives, arch enemies in every other way, would regulate manhood back at least a century. They all believe in using coercion. The death that flows from the initiation of coercion as I see it is as follows:
First, coercion kills volition. Consider this coercion against your erection, the first physical sign revealing the desire that has led to the plans you’re making in the sack. Dead.
Next, coercion kills relationships. Fear of legal reprisals now requires young men to use condoms and take the semen with them when they are done, so that unplanned pregnancy does not occur. In my former religion, it can actually get a young man kicked out, and if that young man has invested his entire life in the church – something that is encouraged – the end result can be devastating. A lack of trust with a sex partner is a terrible development. When trust dies, so do relationships.
After that, coercion kills wealth. Your wealth, as I explained in the STR article linked to above, is everything about your life that makes it worth living: your muscle (or lack thereof), your balding scalp, your erections, your schooling, your accomplishments, your scores, your woman, your porn collection, your car, your dog, your house, your memories, your relationships (which are already dying above, with your erections), your pain, your grief, your gout, your bad heart, your impotence, your celibacy, the injustices you suffer, your band of brothers supporting you, your kids, all of it. Wealth is a great deal more than stuff. What might you have learned if you were allowed to pursue the pleasure your dick can provide? You may not care to learn what I have learned, but Good Lord, man, have you any idea what you’re throwing away? When forces from outside prevent you from learning, say goodbye to your wealth.
When coercion goes on long enough, or is terrible enough, it kills you. I would bet just about any amount of money that a few years have been shaved off the ends of the lives of those three young men falsely accused of dick crimes at Duke University.
Your penis, circumcised or not, is just as beneficial to your life full of wealth as your eyes and ears. You hold the power to stop rape in those organs as well. You won’t see any signs put on mirrors or headphones, though. Those two body parts are rated G, and are also possessed by women. Every penis-hating misandrist out there is flat-out wrong. I can assure you I am through listening to them. If I ever chance to accidentally read one of their little men’s room reminders, my rated G ears will hear the sound of my own laughter followed by piss hitting a plastic-coated sign.
