Wednesday, March 30, 2011

A Prehensile Penis

Привет мои русские друзья ! Если вы оказались здесь , чтобы увидеть пенис слона , страницу вниз к нижней части эссе...
I think I know what I want for my birthday. A grip dick for those times when you need an extra hand.

Although the sexual advantages have not escaped my attention. Being able to commit a "come hither" gesture with the cock might make for some interesting moments.

Okay, what's the deal with the prehensile penis? I mean, aside from it being my current favorite phrase?

I'm reading "Packing For Mars" by Mary Roach. You may have read her. She has previously written books like "Stiff", "Spook", and "Bonk". She is an enjoyable and informative read the same way Bill Bryson or John McPhee is.  The book is about what is it going to take to live in space. And by live, I mean just that. Living in space, as in more than just working. Living in space, as in eating, sleeping, bathing, and also, puking, peeing, shitting, and fucking.

After reading the book, I would very much like to find the recipe for NASA synthetic space poop. Someone came up with a recipe for poop that closely resembles the item in both consistency, texture, viscosity, and color, but not smell. The eight-year-old that lives inside me desperately wants the recipe. Now, the reason the poop was developed was for the Space Shuttle's zero-G toilet, which is basically a shop vac with a butt-sized attachment. Everything that goes into space must be tested under similar conditions. Weightlessness is achieved by riding in parabolic flight in the infamous Vomit Comet. The freefall portion of the flight is only about 20 seconds, and though there are some people who can shit on command, most people have difficulty going number 2 in only twenty seconds before the plan has to climb again.

"Go! Go! Go!"

So, you come up with a poop delivery system, like a big toothpaste tube, and an appropriate delivery product, to do your test.

The space toilet requires toilet training to learn, which may sound a bit of a stultifying thing for an adult to have to undergo, but I suspect the training is preferable to shitting into a baggie. Or a brown paper bag. Both of which I have done. But those are stories for another time. If ever.

So... what's the deal with the prehensile penis?

A trip to Mars could take up to five hundred days with primitive chemical rockets. Five hundred days. Five hundred days in zero G, with cosmic rays coursing through your body, and solar flares dousing you with X- and gamma rays, means you are pretty much an prematurely aged, decrepit invalid when you are ready to touch down. No thanks.

I think we seriously need to rethink the whole point of going to Mars. I know there are some people who would go regardless of the risks. They are stupid. Honestly. If the whole point is to just plant a fucking flag, aren't there enough up there already? I'm divided on the manned space program issue, but the bottom line is this: if you don't go to with the goal of staying there (wherever) permanently, of committing ourselves to a permanent presence out there off planet, we are wasting our fucking time.

Alright. Alright. The prehensile penis. Long story short, in the chapter on space sex, a fun little scientific fact is revealed. Male dolphins have a prehensile penis. Encounter groups have had to exclude certain frisky males who have grabbed people by the ankle, and dragged them about the lagoon. Well, I'm up for recombining my DNA for that particular enhancement. Only problem is, it's not quite true. Dolphins do not have a prehensile penis the way a monkey's tail is prehensile. It cannot wrap around and grab things. The male dolphin can manipulate his penis at the base, which allows him  to pick up objects and the like. Okay, so it is no monkey's tail, but good enough. I'll take it. Considering your average human male can, with the  BC and IC muscles, waggle the little guy around in a limited range, but it's not nearly as spectacular as some other denizens of the animal kingdom.

Now, you want to see a prehensile penis? Look to the elephant, old son.

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