Spoogy-at Emptor

Somehow, I Doubt The Validity Of These "Studies"...

OK, I try to maintain a mostly PG-13 blog, and I know I've edged my way over into NC-17 territory from time to time.

So, if it's been a little bit crude, maybe a bit tasteless, I apologize.

'Cause it's about to get a whole lot worse...

See, I got this sp@m email in my inbox, one of the dozens per day selling either El Salvadoran timeshares, herbal \/!@gra, or some variety of penis pill.

In this particular specimen of the "Make your weenie/cojones bigger" variety, it has an interesting premise.

Let me quote: (I've thrown in some odd characters to squib the searchbots...)

Get multiple ()rg@sms by !ncreasing your $perm v()lume.

Studies show that a greater $perm \/olume means more pleasure for both partners. W()nderCum increases your fert!l!ty and allows you to have mult!ple ()rgasms. 1OO % natural ingredients - only minerals and herbs - will boost your $perm volume and p()tency in a safe and natural way.

Ordering W()nderCum you don't run any risk as we offer you money back guarantee. Fast shipping! 1OO% confidentiality!

OK, then... Apparently you can take this magical elixir, and you're in the fast lane to buckets of spooge. Why you'd want that, I cannot say.

I can't claim to be counted among the world's greatest trousermouse wranglers, so I might be wrong about this, but I just don't recall many women being wowed by guys who threw enough product to wallpaper the hallway. As far as I know, a greater $perm volume just means a bigger wet spot that someone has to sleep in.

I realize the Internet is full of video examples of the nekkid wimmens rolling around in orgasmic joy upon having some guy 'vent his passion' upon their faces. I always suspected that their enthusiasm was more closely tied in with the video producer's stack of $100 bills than with the prospect of a protein facial rinse.

I dunno, maybe I'm just completely out of touch with the times. Back in the day when ZZ Top sang about a Pearl Necklace, we all snickered and did the "wink, wink, nudge, nudge, Say no more, guv'ner!" routine. Still, in those days we realized the object of the game was to make the home run, not so much the champagne spritzing in the locker room afterwards...

I just can't help thinking it's related to the "Look, me make doody!" stage that all kids being potty-trained go through. A somewhat juvenile indicator of conquest or ownership. Then again, never having been the recipient of someone's crotchable largesse, for all I know I'm missing out on one of life's great pleasures.

I think I'd just as soon stay ignorant, given my druthers...

Oh, one last thing. I told myself I'd make it through this whole sordid post without mentioning the word "Jizzmopper". Ooops... Oh, well.