Thursday, August 27, 2009

Humpty and Dumpty



A while ago, when I was reading the newspaper I saw the above advertisement.

Can you spot anything wrong with it?

Yeah, Nanotechnology? What the fuck kind of nanotechnology makes your boobs look bigger? Some kind of nanorobot that blows up nanoballoons in your boobies? I’ve played Metal Gear Solid and there is no such technology and MGS is considered the bleeding edge in terms of nanotechnology, it’s true Hideo Kojima said so.

On closer inspection, the lady’s boobs aren’t really that big even. They kinda look like squashed peaches.

Jesus Christ, why is there a kid in this ad!

Man, those sick advertisers thought they could slip in the kid next to the boobs and thought no one would notice? Too bad they did not consider the perspicacious eye of depraved, sex-starved adolescent boys.

Damn just look at that awkward look of confusion on the innocent little kid’s face, she looks as if she thought she was going to watch hi-5, lost her way and wandered into the wrong studio. What mother would do this to her child?


“Mummy, what’s happening? You forgot to button the top of your blouse.”

“Be quiet, Dear. Mummy is doing an advertisement for breast enhancement and they said they would pay me extra if I let them take a picture of you too, so you can actually make some money for once. I would have aborted if I knew they cost so damn much.”

“Mummy, what’s breasts?”

“Breasts are what is putting food on the table and keeping my coke coming in”

“You mean the white power you put into your nose because you are too busy to drink the ones from the can.”

“Yes, Dear.”

“Oh boy, When I grow up I wanna be a breasts just like Mummy!”

“Heh, not at that rate you won’t, you ironing board.”

“Huh, are you going to iron clothes now?”

“No, go take your beddy-bye medicine and go to your room, uhh.. Mummy has to give Uncle Fred a massage in my room because he is uhhh.. sick”

“Again?”

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Idol Thoughts

So… I was flipping through the channels on cable trying to find a show I could watch while cutting my toenails today, I stumbled upon this little show called ‘Singapore Idol’. Against my better judgment, I decided to watch that whilst performing a purely heterosexual pedicure on myself.

It turned out pretty well for me because I was struggling for a topic for an update, oh the show? Well it’s still shite. It is like the one kid in school that tried too hard to be as cool and popular and hip as the resident hunk, that punctuates his sentences with “like” and “you know” as if he was some kind of indecisive dickhead that learnt to speak English by watching American sit-coms. (and I don’t mean the good ones like Arrested Development, God Arrested Development is awesome, if you think otherwise you are a fucktard, I’m sorry but that’s how it goes, it’s scientifically proven and everything)

The show is awful and it isn’t even the kind of awful like the scene of a car crash or videos of animals doing the nasty, no, this show is just annoyingly awful like getting a paper cut right between two fingers.

Which is a shame because this season has some of the better contestants in terms of ability in singing, if they were in the American version they might even go all the way to the second round of auditions.

The most off-putting thing about the show is the judges. I suppose with the overwhelming popularity of the American version of the show, and with the judges being a big part of the attraction of the series, comparisons are inevitable. But the Singaporean trio of judges, a euphemism for penis, the birthplace of the comedy’s pilgrim and a character from street fighter, as we might have gathered from my earlier allusions, give the impression that they are trying too hard to be like their counterparts.

They seem more preoccupied with coming up with snappy one-liners than actually judging the contestants based on their performance. You can see them trying to hide their smirks whenever one of them spouts another corny one liner. They can hardly refrain themselves from high-fiving each other.

Now for the sake of the readers I am going to delve deep into the psyches of each judge and turn the tables on them and judge them based on things that have nothing to do with their performances.

Dick
“Ok, firstly what is up with the name? Is this what the kids these days are into? I don’t know. Anyway I really think you should lose that cocky, I’m-really-a-nice-guy-but-you-suck-so-bad-I-can’t-help-but-criticize-everything-about-you attitude. It is so yesterday, you know? I mean I know you were once some big shot singer, but nobody should be matching those pink jeans with that top.”

Florence
“Hmmm, mmmm, ummm I dunno about you, I like you, but …. What do you think Ken?”

Ken
You know what the problem with you is? [pause] If my mother was here she would tell you not to mumble and to speak up. I am being serious here [pause] you speak as though you are scared that you would break yourself because you were made of glass. [pause] But you know what the most important thing you are missing? [pause] It is that you have no soul.

And that’s all folks.

I’m available for company functions and birthday parties. For more information lick your left pointer finger and slowly slide it in between your two butt cheeks then sniff it until the big men in white clothes come and take you to a nice, safe place.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Non Sausages

Over the last weekend I watched this movie called ‘Up’, I’m not going to do a review for this movie because that’s not really what this blog is about. But also because all Pixar movies are kinda the same. It is like a box of chocolates you Always know what you are going to get.

You get Chocolate in a chocolate box, Tom-constipated-Hanks.



Pixar are the masters of the “Awwww” heartstring, and they have been yanking at it so much over the years it now resembles a fat woman’s thong. And I mean having to buy two plane tickets kind of fat.

Try this next time you are dragged by your girlfriend to go watch a pixar movie, tell yourself you are not going to get that feeling as if your heart just fell off a 20 storey building or have to furtively touch the corners of your eyes just to make sure you’re not tearing up. I’ll be willing to wager a stiff ramming up my arse that you’ll fail (don’t hold me to that).

Pixar has made so many insecure, muscle-bound meat heads question their sexuality, because as we all know feelings are for girls and gay people.

But this update isn’t about the movie or the ridiculous 3D glasses that seem to be made for people with hooks for noses (goddamit I didn’t pay an extra $3 so I can push the freakin glasses up every 30 seconds instead of actually watching the movie) and are really only good for that One time in the movie when they make something fly into your fucking face at 90 km/h, just because they are jerks and like to think of the audience flinching in their seats then feeling embarrassed that some other person might have seen their act of cowardice even though it is pitch dark in the theater.

No, in this update I would like to address the subject of advertisements. More specifically how they don’t make any fucking sense.
These days you don’t even know what product the advertisement is promoting until right at the very end, sometimes that doesn’t even happen. What happened to those annoyingly catchy jingles that are clandestinely implanted into your brain like some kind of alien egg thing that suddenly pop up at intermittent times, without realizing it you are whistling the tune and have a inexplicable urge to get a popsicle.

Instead, we have weird, creepy looking kids that would typically be cast as the freaky child killer in a horror movie, contort their faces in ways that would make one squirm in disgust if it didn’t look so blatantly computer generated.

Christ, the scary thing about the whole affair is that these types of advertisements are becoming more common, so logically one must assume that people are actually responsive to them. I don’t know why people would feel compelled to eat a bar of chocolate after seeing images of children going through the full spectrum of expressions of pain, but I highly suspect these people belong in big, featureless, white, cushioned rooms. Wearing straitjackets. Because they are crazy. And possibly child rapists.

It seems like all the advertisers are doing to come up with new advertisements is to force feed bits of paper with random words written on them to a puppy and then sticking said puppy into the microwave, then its simply a case of turning it on and seeing what appears pasted against the door amid the blood and guts.

With that in mind I have written my own advertisements, see if you can guess what product its supposed to be for.

The scene opens with a peaceful city, the camera zooms in to focus on a couple of smiling pedestrians, one tips his hat in greeting. Before the person can remove his hand from his hat, an ominous shadow blankets the city and the pedestrian’s face metamorphasizes into mangled mess of fear and despair.
A scream is heard coming from a woman off camera. The camera pans slowly upwards through the city skyline, while creepy music plays.
It is revealed that the shadow belongs to a giant baby!
The giant baby is rampaging through the city covering the city in its spittle and milk vomit, and leaving behind a faint hint of the smell of poo (available in smellavision) that inexplicably makes everyone sniff the air like they are looking for their old, forgotten gym socks.
Suddenly, Godzilla remerges from the ocean! It approaches the giant baby.
The Giant baby and Godzilla stare at each other in a tense few seconds, then Godzilla gives the Giant baby a Giant hug! The people of the city are overwhelmed with emotion at what they had just witnessed and a collective “Awwwwww” is heard.
The people start to sing a cheery song, while the Giant baby and Godzilla team up to destroy the city.
End scene.

So do you know what product that advertisement was for?

It was for a coffee machine that can make 27 different kinds of coffee that is powered by garbage, it also has a handy umbrella attachment for when you want to bring your coffee maker for a picnic.

Friday, August 21, 2009

WB:CO episode 2

Well, I'm feeling a little burnt out so I'm gonna post this short speech i wrote and presented as part of the attachment program i was doing for school.
I'll try to write more next week, don't want to disappoint my readers, all one of you.

IA presentation :Reflection

Just a mere six fleeting months ago, the prospects of having to work as an intern for the Industrial Attachment program, plunged me into a dark, gloomy pit of despair without a change of clean underwear. And the floor of the pit was rather damp so that was a very uncomfortable situation for me.

You see, my dearests, I have long had this little thought in my head that if I were to somehow become forced by circumstance to take up a desk job, that that would be the end of me. Of course, I did not mean that it would be the mortal end of me, but rather the intellectual, idealistic, hopeful me would most certainly slowly shrivel up like a scrotum in a cool breeze to form a singularity of depression, drugs and cheap whores.

So when the Industrial Attachment officially ended last Friday and instead of feeling joyous, emancipated, vindicated and relief, I felt the slight twinge of longing, like the pulling of heart strings I didn’t know I had, that accompanies premature goodbyes. The tinge of sourness at the base of the tongue, the lump in the throat, the heaviness in the stomach, coupled with the lilting melancholic atmosphere of John Denver’s “Leaving on a Jet Plane” and when the horns and strings kick in that’s when the bus comes to take me away and in cinematic slow motion as it pulls away, I turn to take one last look at the place I just spent working at for six months, the song builds to a crescendo. Fade to black.

[take dramatic pause]

So what caused this apostasy? Could it be because my supervisor treated me to a pizza farewell lunch? That explains the heaviness in the stomach. Could it be that my principles are worth less than a couple of slices and a few chicken wings? Could it be that I have somehow unknowingly become the company’s bitch?

Nay, if the industrial attachment taught me anything it is that everything I suspected about what some people call the ‘working world’, the ‘real world’ or the ‘rat race’, if you will, was all very and utterly right on target. Long, cold, boring days spent in a sterile environment, hopeless and gray, everything you do is in an automated, zombie like fashion.

No, those faint tuggings were not on heart strings, they were the dust and cobwebs accreted on my atrophied heart, vainly clinging on to what had become familiar.

So it was familiarity that was the cause of my embarrassingly maudlin farewell. And it was familiarity that was also what I feared the most, it is like being with crazy bondage fetishists, its all fun and games until she takes out her secret stash of razorblades, lighters and knives and you realise too late that you can’t escape because she has tied you to the bed. That was a painful lesson, I won't soon forget.

It sneaks up on you.
One day, you’re a 20-something, bright eyed, vivacious, go-getter with the world at your feet, the next moment you’re deep into your 40s, still stuck at the same job for the last 12 years, with a wife that is totally not what you expected to end up with when you said ‘til death do us part’ and four boisterous, annoying black holes of time and money your wife insists you call your children.

That is not to say that my experience in the company was a living hell, far from it. The people were nice enough, then again most people usually are. But I am thankful that I was assigned to my supervisor, he was the only one who seemed to take time out from work to check on my progress and explain various things happening in the workplace. Oh dear, is my effeminate side showing again, I do apologise. And I’m not just saying that to ingratiate myself to him, he’s not even here.

Now on to lessons. What have I learnt from the experience? The value of a dollar? How to put on the appearance of being productive? The importance of diligence? Or perhaps even *gasp* Company Secrets?
In terms of relevance to my course of study I cannot honestly say that I have learnt much of great value. Nacelles were barely even touched on in our modules. However if one insisted, on the threat of forceful kick to the groin, I suppose I could posit that I gained some insight to how a nacelle is repaired.

In summary, the Industrial Attachment program wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, although it really only served to reaffirm my suspicions about the ‘working life’.
To quote Jim Halpert, “If this was my career, I’d have to throw myself in front of a train.”

Friday, August 14, 2009

An Essay on Patriotism, war and peace

This essay is a short exposition of my thoughts on the subject of patriotism, war and peace, in case you couldn’t tell from the title, it is not laugh out loud comic piece, although one may find it mildly amusing if one has a sense of humour not unlike that of The Watchmen’s Comedian.

What triggered this urge to put down in writing my thoughts is the advertisements promoting the different aspects of the Singapore Armed Forces. I feel that it is important to be a little more reserved and try not to rant on frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog, the way I usually write my blog updates, which I admit is a lazy way of writing. But also because I feel that this subject is one of great importance that is not as much discussed as other topics and it is easier to take it seriously this way.

But anyway, back to the advertisements.

I find it odd that there is not much dialogue concerning this, seeing as how many, perhaps overprotective, parents seem to be quick to lament the glamourisation of violence and war in video games, movies, television and even music, but do not find anything deplorable with the army advertisements.
Now, I concede that the advertisements in no way depict any form of violence, it is not so much the visual content that bugs, offends or gets my panties in a bunch, but the idea behind the advertisements. I can’t see why there is even a need for such advertisements considering it is compulsory for all healthy males to serve the country.

You see, even though it is not explicitly written, vocalized or in any way made known, there is the tacit acknowledgement that for the most part the army is involved in the training of killers, although it is swept under the carpet, kept in a secret dark corner of the attic and generally ignored.

Even if the advertisements had depicted scenes of violence or even murder. One suspects that people would be more willing to accept it as harsh realism than if the advertisement was for a video game.
This is where patriotism comes in.

Patriotism is largely not an odious quality to posses and is encouraged as much as say kindness, politeness and courage. But like most things in life should be practiced in moderation. Patriotism when taken too far leads to fanatism, which could expose itself as xenophobia and laughable bigotry that serves little more than fodder for amateur internet comics and stand up comedy, or even to rouse entire countries to war, such as in the case of Germany in World War 2.
From the above examples, it can be seen that patriotism can cause reasonable people to perform hideous deeds, it is almost as if it blinds them to logic and somehow transcends morality.

One might rebuke that in Singapore’s situation, the need for an army is for the purposes of defense, due to its small size and strategic location it is vulnerable to attack and so a strong army is necessary to act a deterrent for would be attackers. This may sound exaggerated, but that is not at all dissimilar to terrorism. Terrorism works by imposing a threat of violence in order to coerce its target to meet its demands. Juxtaposed that to the Singapore Army’s threat of violence in order to prevent hostile countries from attacking and maybe the statement I made earlier would be less of a hyperbole.

What then can be done to remove the threat of violence? Have all countries agree to relinquish all military power, that would be highly naïve and improbable, however attractive an idea it may seem. For even the destruction of guns and missiles as weapons, knives, forks, rakes, hammers, sticks, rocks can still be used and even if somehow it were possible to remove the pernicious potential of such objects, we still have arms and legs. Yes, it almost seems there is no limit to the myriad methods of causing harm that can be thought up by the human mind. But it perhaps should be noted, that guns and missiles and other such implements make killing so easy that it almost makes the act seem trivial, abandonment of these tools of destruction would not solve the problem but as long as such things exist true peace , I don’t think, can be achieved.

War, however much people speak about its horrors, they do not seem to be horrible enough to turn people away from it. But sometimes war is inevitable, unavoidable to protect our way of life, such as in the case of world war 2 where it seems war is justified (if the taking of life can be said to be justifiable) in that it prevented a megalomatic dictator from taking over the world. But think, these wars all stem from the agenda of a few individuals who somehow managed to invoke patriotism and playing on people’s emotions and fears to serve their own ends. That is why patriotism is so dangerous, it clouds people’s senses, appealing to primal instincts and fears rather than logic and morality, a siren’s song luring people into their doom.

Think now what an army consists of, not the policy makers and warmongers, they are made up of the pawns, the expendable tools, a mean to an end. They consist of people who like people in other armies believe they are fighting to protect their families and the things that are dear to them. By killing them, you believe you are preserving your way of life. But you cannot see that the people you kill are also fighting for the same things and that there are alternatives to resorting to violence.

You can choose not to fight. When the warmongers can no longer invoke emotions like patriotism to gather armies, they lose their power. Let them fight their own wars.

But what if you are forced to go to war under torture or execution? What happened to being willing to die for your country? Did you really mean you were willing to kill for your country?

This, of course, is only a conceivable solution if everyone in the world could be made to realise and follow this. Which you would think would be easy considering how everyone in the world SUPPOSEDLY WANTS WORLD PEACE. Maybe the world should be governed by beauty pageant participants.

It really annoys me to no end, that one of the ad campaigns involve asking the question “What will you defend?” when it could more accurately be phrased as “How will you justify murder?”

Education would be a vital step, but there also educated bigots and educated fools too struck by lassitude to use their brain. Then there are the people who just want to watch the world burn so they can say “I told you so”.

It seems I’ve gone round in a big circle and come to no clear solution, perhaps there is none, people of far greater mental capacities have bent their thought towards it but to no avail, every year they elect a person for the nobel peace prize but it seems we are still nowhere close to a solution.

John lennon posited that the idea of countries should be abolished. Philip K. Dick showed us that even a system to predict murders before they occur would ultimately fail.

I guess in our own small way we have to do our part. As Kurt Vonnegut once wrote (well, I'm paraphrasing)
"You’re got to be kind, God damn it, you've got to be kind."

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

NDPee

Ahhh… Another year, another National Day Parade.

First off, who made Gurmit Singh the official ambassador for all things Singaporean? Did I miss a vote for something? He is EVERYWHERE.
At first it was just the TV show, you know what I’m talking about “Phua Chu Kang” and that was fun for a while. But just like slapping your friends in the nuts, you find that it loses its charm right about the time you lie writhing on the floor clutching your burning genitals.

Things got a little weird when he started rapping about hygiene measures to counter SARS, but most of us were too busy shitting our pants to worry about the reason a Eurasian looking, afro-coiffured, garishly dressed contractor who forgot to wipe his mouth after drinking bubble tea is simultaneously having a seizure and trying to tell people to cough into their tissues.

Then somehow he managed to make an appearance in the show “The Amazing Race” and so millions of viewers worldwide now have this as their impression of a typical Singaporean


Would you leave this man alone with a child?

Personally, I suspect he plans to take over Singapore and maybe JB, some even say Batam.

Excitement for these holidays seem to wan proportionate to the amount of years one spends on this floating ball of shit we call Earth.

Proof by word association
(earth -> dirt -> filth -> shit)

I am right and I will have no argument. That means you, SAM!

And maybe it’s the part of me that thinks it is House. But National Day has one of the most tenuous premise of all the holidays. Also seeing people overly excited over what I deem to be trivial really gets on my tits.
It is like me going up to a guy on the street and inviting him to have a drink with me because the guy used the urinal next to mine at a toilet once.

What exactly are we celebrating again?

National identity? Progress for our nation? Racial harmony?

God, I hate how they play up the Racial Harmony angle, as if everyone was all running on verdant, rolling fields, hand in hand forming a circle and singing songs. Apparently, that’s what racial harmony means according to almost every advert on the subject.

Racial Harmony can never be achieved in my not so humble opinion, the best we could ever hope for is racial tolerance. One can greatly disprove of one’s neighbour letting his dogs defecate outside one’s house and walking around with no shirt on, displaying their beer bellies and ‘Ride the Dragon’ tattoo. But one still forces a smile when they unfortunately happen to be airing their butt cracks and gathering the newspaper while you walk by. That is tolerance (although the example is of neighbourly tolerance, go risk your own neck writing one about race) and that is all you can hope for as long as we don’t live in teletubby land. (But we don’t have to deal with EvilLaughingBabySun Overlords so that even things out a bit)

And what about National Identity?

Is it Phua Chu Kang? A ‘Fine’ city where the oppressed population of lambs can’t even chew gum? Food?

Gluttonous Sons of Bitches.

Everybody has to eat to survive, idiots! Most of us that don’t suffer from eating disorders actually Like eating food because we are evolved to derive a sense of pleasure when eating to motivate us to continually put food into our bodies so it can function.
I like eating, but it doesn’t mean I want to be defined by it, because it suggests that there is nothing else that is worth noting about me and that is just sad.

So what then is the precious National Identity? It is simply the acknowledgment that when we spun that wheel of chance, the pointer ended up in Singapore. That’s all there is to it.

It’s a contrived sense of familiarity, it is an emotional ‘safe zone’. If a magic 'mirror' Singapore appeared that was exactly the same in every way, a typical person would still have a manufactured sense of ‘obligation’ towards the ‘original’ Singapore, “because that is where I was born”.

It is a little ironic how with the emphasis on progress and pragmatism that the ‘culture’ of Singapore is hidebound and traditionalist.
How many times have you heard your parents talk about the ‘good old days’ living in a Kampong and that we young ones are spoiled brawling little shits. So says the globs of fat stuffing their faces with Kentucky Fried Chicken and driving around in their SUVs complaining about how the traffic jam forced you to sit in your air-conditioned car listening to the radio, reduced to a panting sweaty mess whenever you climb the escalator, lamenting that the lifts don’t stop at every floor when it stops at every other.

I’m willing to wager that if given the choice between the ‘good old days’ and ‘get the @%#$^(Cantonese swear word) road, you dickhead’ present. They will choose the present.
That’s progress Baby!

Now that I have (hopefully) ruined your holiday and sense of national pride, I wish all a happy national day. Now fuck off.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Korean Drama Plot ad-libs!

All the straight male readers can roll their eyes contemptuously and go back to watching professional wrestling now because the subject of this update is …
Korean Dramas!


Translation: “will she still love me when she realises that testicular cancer has cause me to go blind?”

More specifically how they seem to follow some sort of formula. This is my attempt at writing down that formula. Create your very own Korean Drama Plot by filling in the spaces with the helping words! Enjoy.

We are introduced to the protagonist who is _______________ (suave, gentlemanly, and possesses an impeccable fashion sense to the point one might question his sexuality/ cold, aloof, thinks using words to express oneself is uncool/ bubbly, vivacious, naïve, happy-go-lucky woman/ stern, professional, uncaring bitch)

Next we have to have a love interest for the protagonist, this will be a person with qualities contrary to the protagonist. A second person should also be introduced that would form the third link in the love triangle of which your protagonist inevitably finds him/herself in. The third wheel should be someone that is more ________________(approachable/ less of an asshole) than the main love interest at first to string the audience along.

Now that all the characters are introduced, the protagonist must undergo some kind of personal tragedy, this is to make protagonist played by a gorgeously attractive young star more relatable to the audience. (see attractive people have troubles too!)
This can take the form of __________________(being diagnosed with a terminal illness/ having close relatives/friends diagnosed with a terminal illness(or die)/ getting shot in the head/ becoming poor/ developing amnesia/ realizing you were switched at birth or adopted/ sold for cash because parents couldn’t afford to raise two kids)

In the process of dealing with this personal tragedy the protagonist will fall in love with the love interest however _______________ (bigoted in-laws/ hidebound parents that don’t approve of love interest/ mixed feelings toward third wheel/ engagement to someone else(usually, third wheel)/ own insecurities about illness/wealth/memory) gets in the way.

Here one would pad out the story with a lot of back and forth, regarding protagonist’s state of personal tragedy and/or relationship with love interest.
In the process the love interest reveals his/her vulnerability and that deep down even though they may seem uncaring, they are in actuality overwhelm with emotions but their ego prevented them from expressing their feelings until somebody __________ (died/ was diagnosed with a terminal illness)

Finally, the protagonist receives an epiphany through _______________ (death of somebody close/ someone close diagnosed with terminal illness/ losing one’s wealth/ a sudden realization that love interest is actually (sibling/ long lost friend/ related to enemy/ poor/ terminally ill)/ recovery of memory)

The protagonist then overcomes all difficulties through the power of ‘true love’.

Then the protagonist and love interest _________________ (live happily ever after/ dies)

The ending depends on whether ‘true love’ was able to overcome terminal illness. It might be useful to select an unhappy ending to give your plot a sense of grit, edginess or realism.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Ahhh.. but my, what a lovely birdie

In all the red blooded, chest thumping, muscle-bound, sweaty institution that is the Singapore Armed Forces, it can be rather squeamish about homosexuality. A person, apparently, would not need to serve (or serve in a limited fashion, ie. away from the boys) in National Service if one should feel inclined to declare oneself a homosexual. The thought comes to mind, that an actually homosexual would actually want to shower in bath stalls that have no way of protecting the modesty of the people using them and participate in all the sweaty camaraderie that comes with the territory of NS. It is a little bit of a catch-22, isn’t it?

In any case, I want to talk about a more specific matter. It is this, for what purpose does the checking of a person’s genitalia serve to prove that one is fit to serve the country?



Hard to find any picture that is both inoffensive and relevant so here’s a flower instead.

Back in primary school, a dick check could be rationalised by the reason of prudence. At that age, at the cusp of puberty, many wee lads knew not much about their … wee, and considering how parents no longer had to assist in manual positioning of the wee for peeing, the lore of the crotch would be known to only a callow boy. As such a dick check to make sure all is well is quite justifiable.

But what of these men? Men that the country has to depend on at its time of need, men expected to handle complex weaponry, and keep their heads amid the tumult and chaos of war? Surely of such men one would think that they would at least know what is going on with their penises(peni?)

One would hope to think that men would have the mental facility to determine if their wangs were in working condition. Surely one should always perform regular checks as to its functionality, once a fortnight at the least.

Coming back again to phallus testing, what invaluable information can be gained from a nurse fingering your tackle?
A check for homosexuality? Doubtful, there are more accurate and less invasive technologies for that such as the gaydar.
More probable is that this is the main source of statistical data condom makers like to publish every once in a while.
Also likely is the ever present threat of a deadly penile fungal epidemic. Known to be prevalent in male teenagers due to their lower standards of hygiene, particularly in males that do not practice manscaping the discovery of such fungi is usually at the later stages of infection.

If left unchecked penile fungal infection could easily spread in a self contained environment such as an army camp, where men are forced into close contact for sustained periods of time, more than likely sticky with sweat.

An epidemic would cripple any hopes of an effective defense against any enemy, any infected would have to be subjected to a excruciatingly painful process of penile scrubbing to remove all traces of the fungus, and would take more than one session because the prick would need to heal.

That’s not the worst of it, in severe cases where infection has spread upwards of the shaft, a total amputation would be necessary. And a dickless army would do no good at all.

So I guess a poke in the balls, would not be entirely gratuitous. But it still brings questions about the psychology of a person whose job it is to fondle cocks.


For more information about genital fungus you may watch this highly informative video.



Go get your Testilogram today, It might just save your life.
It didn't save mine, but it was still a pretty enjoyable experience.