Photobucket Enjoy Every Sandwich

Tuesday, February 13, 2007


For the longest time I thought the Japanese excelled only at making cheap shit, inhuman cruelty and pornography that even made me feel dirty. I've long felt that they are perhaps the most desperately wrong people in history. If it were up to me, the nuclear assault on the Japanese home islands would have only ended last week. Reluctantly.

Well, it takes a big man to admit that he's wrong and I want you to know that I'm big. And skilled. Yet gentle, unless gentle is no longer called for. Then I can be rough, ever so erotically rough. So I'm going to bigly, skillfully, gently yet erotically roughly admit to being wrong about the Japanese. I learned yesterday that they are actually worthwhile at doing something that won't turn your stomach.

The Japanese have recently accomplished something I previously thought impossible - the achieved the trifecta of things that drive religious people insane. That trifecta is as follows; the drestruction of humban embryos, giant breasts and things that make skippy smile.

The ancestors of the Hirohito Empire have done something so wonderful and so grand that even the Chinese and Korean victims of their savagery might well reconsider their opinions of the Land of the Rising Sun. It takes a lot to make someone forget something as horrible as the Rape of Nanking. Even more for the Japanese to admit to having done it. It has to be something so full of special wonderfulness as to defy description in any language comprehensible by humans.

Well, I have give it up to the Japanese. They did just that.

What did they do that all of God's children can join hands in a 1970s Coca-Cola commercial-style moment of celebration, you ask?

They figured out a way to make stem cells do something useful. Something that could very well outweigh conservative objectives that the ressurected Christ is laying dormant in some Chattanooga feritly clinic's petri dish.

I have this theory that conservatives have been against stem-cell research because all it has thus far accomplished is to make Michael J. Fox shake with indignation and campaign for Missouri Democrats. Everyone feels badly that Muhhamad Ali has so horribly suffered from the ravages of Pakinson's Disease, but we all know that if he could, he'd be hold a press conference conscientiously objecting to the Iraq War. And he'd probably be the Greatest of All Times at that, too.

Thus far, there really hasn't been anything in stem-cell research for conservatives.

Now there is. In the very near future, stem-cells will grow big tits!

Women have grown their own breast implants through pioneering stem cell treatment, it emerged yesterday.

Scientists harvested the stem cells from the women's own fat and encouraged them to form breast tissue.

Okay, you've got me on one point. They're using the woman's own stem-cells for this miracle. But this is only because embryos don't have giant racks. Yet. Give science some time, will you?

They say the result gives a more natural look than many of the synthetic implants used by showbusiness stars like Pamela Anderson.

The Japanese teams have carried out trials on dozens of women and say they have had no problems.

As much as all right-thinking men love them, implants aren't without their problems. Firstly, they can get obnoxiously big. Yes, men love big, fake tits, but we draw the line at fucking a cartoon. Sure, we'll do it and everything, but we'll feel a great sense of shame after. Particularly if the sex was really good and we want to do it again. There are things in life that are fun because they're wrong and things that are just wrong. I'm not sure which category pushing your putz into Betty Boop falls under, but I suspect it's the latter. I'll let you know as soon as I find out.

Second, all but the very best implants come with a certain amount of disfigurement. The best implants ever of course belonged to Janine Lindemulder, but then she went up a size and ruined herself with a mess of tattoos.

And example of what saline or silicone can do to a perfectly good set of cans is pictured to the left. That, my friends, is Raylene, one of my favorite porn stars from the late-90s. When she entered the business at 19, Raylene had a rather fetching B-cup. Then she decided that she wanted to be rich and famous and went to a 35DD.

The implants themselves were very good, soft and bouncing, as opposed to the hardened basketballs you see in the chest of Pamela Anderson, among others. From the front, her knockers look fantastic. It's from the sides that issues arise. As Raylene gets randily rogered, you can see a distinct rippling on the side of the breast from the edges of the implants. It goes without saying that this is highly distracting and it takes a hellacious blowjob and all manner of assplay to overlook this. Thankfully, Raylene excelled at both and even in retirement, she remains close to my heart.

So when exactly will the girl next door be able to get her own ripple-free knockers?

They say the treatment will be routinely available from plastic surgeons within five years.

British surgeons said yesterday they were convinced by the technique and found it "appealing".

Frankly, I think it would be safe to assume that anyone with a penis would find this "appealing." Except perhaps homosexuals, who one can assume would be agnostic on the whole idea. Oh, and pedophiles, who seem to enjoy the challenge of attempting to titty-fuck an eight-year-old. But pedophiles are fucking daredevils. Everybody knows that.

Women will go to almost anything length to get a set of marvellous milkbags and men will go to any length to get the women who get them. It's the circle of life, Simba. You can deal. Or not. Whatever.

Pretty much everybody knows that science has done a piss-poor job in doing dopey shit like curing cancer. But now you can have a glorious set of tits as a consolation prize.
Eva Weller-Mithoff, a consultant at Canniesburn Hospital in Glasgow, said the technique could be particularly beneficial to cancer patients who have a mastectomy.

"The most distressing effect of radiotherapy is that the blood vessels shrivel up," she said. "Stem cells can differentiate into new blood vessels which could mean that more fat cells will survive."

Feel better? I know I do. And that's all that really matters. Your lethal disease really shouldn't be a downer for me. Quit being so selfish.

I should remind everyone that I'm not what is commonly known as a "breast man." I'm a vagina man. If you have one of those, we'll get along just fine. All I really look for in a funbag is a pleasing shape and sensitive nipples that are receptiveto either my tongue or the set of clamps that I carry with me at all times. Y'know, in case of an emergency.

I'm also a strong believer that even the most the most disappointing of hooters can be overcome with liberal amounts of anal sex and a willingness to experiment with threesomes. I have a generosity of spirit that you really can't deny.

Having established that little boobs, like Jesus, are just all right with me, you would think that I wouldn't care all that much about this story. But I do. I care about it with all of what remains of my heart. And I care for reasons that might shock and amaze you.

You might not know this about me, but I'm a firm believer that what's good for the gander is likewise good for the goose. And my understanding of the science is that if stem-cells can increase the size of one mass of body tissue, it can increase the size of others, as well.

What I'm getting at is that I think this can get me a much bigger cock.

At six and half inches in length and five in diameter approximately an inch below the head, I'm not exactly small. Indeed, I'm above average, if only slightly. None of my lady friends has complained about my size or skill, but this just might be because they are kindhearted souls who don't wish to further damage an emotional cripple with a horrifying face by telling the truth about his less than fully pleasurable putz.

My studies have indicated - and nothing fascinates me quite like my own penis - that I'm respectably sized. Another mitigating fact is that I give head just like an autistic child. But I am not endowed with the thirteen inch Weapon of Mass Destruction that my shattered ego demands. Frankly, I'm tired of knowing that somewhere out there Long Dong Silver is snickering at me, fake dick and all.

If I absolutely have to go through life uglier than Seal and worse than Hitler, then shouldn't I at least be afforded a sensational schvantz and the company of Heidi Klum to take my pain away? The OxyContin has done a creditable job, to be sure, but that eventually wears off. But a penis that makes the viliagers tremble with fear? That, teenagers, is forever.

I wasn't sure how, but I was always sure that my passion for science would pay off someday. And that day is today!

There might just be hope or me yet!

Easy Listening Recommendation of the Day: Sucker By: Peeping Tom (Featuring Norah Jones) From: Peeping Tom


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