SAN FRANCISCO FORESKINS IN THE FOG

Yesterday afternoon at the cigar store I got into a conversation about penises.
It had nothing to do with the purported resemblance of smoking equipment to the male organ, however.
The person with whom I was speaking was upset that San Francisco was going to make his pantsnake illegal. Outraged, in fact. The nerve!

This à propos the proposition on the ballot for this coming November to outlaw circumcision in the city.

Yes, you read that right: San Franciscans will be voting about praeputia.
Penises are VERY important to the good people of San Francisco.
It seems we’re passionate about the subject.

My acquaintance at the cigar store was under the misapprehension that if circumcision was made illegal, it would apply to the actual members present.
And he, like most normal people, is a trimmed man.
I endeavored to set his mind at ease. No, a ban on circumcision will not make your Johnson a scoff-law. You will not be forced to wear a little fringe. Nor will you be required to expose yourself to the authorities. It does not apply to you!
Stop shouting.

I should know better than to talk about penises with my fellow San Franciscans.

Did I already indicate that the subject arouses passion?

Not for me, personally – the only masculine gonads that I feel strongly about are my own – but gonads in general are capable of arousing both interest and ire in this town.


JUVENILE SEXUAL ISSUES AND TRAUMA – GET HELP

For most of my life I too have been at least mildly piqued by such things, particularly feminine organs of regeneration.
Fascinating in their own way, and rather attractive. I can understand their appeal. They have a certain fey charm.
But it is only in San Francisco that people are truly obsessed, and cannot stop talking about the naughty bits.
Half the people of this town have pudenda muliebra permanently on the brain.
Or at the tip of their tongues.

San Franciscans are fixated.

Years ago, when I mentioned that I smoked cigars to someone, he informed me in all seriousness that cigars were a phallic symbol, and that men who smoked cigars were obviously still in a juvenile psychological phase, and hadn’t really grown up. It was, he opined, a distinct likelihood that such men had sexual issues, or some deeply hidden sex-related trauma. In any case psychotherapy would be helpful, and if they ever wanted to quit the habit several sessions with a shrink might be essential.

After explaining to him that my cigars (cigarillos) were only three and a quarter inches long, and only a third of an inch thick, he called me a freak and stomped away.
It’s probably a good thing that I didn’t mention the pipes.
I own over a hundred briars. What you might call a veritable harem of smoking equipment.

I suspect that the people who will vote for the proposition to outlaw circumcision this coming November probably have sexual issues, even deep-seated sex-related traumas. Psychotherapy would be helpful, and if they ever want to get over their neuroses, seeing a shrink might be essential. They haven’t really grown up.

And given that a penis is, in more ways than I care to imagine, reminiscent of cigars and other smoking equipment, they could probably get over their feelings of inadequacy and penile resentment by taking up the habit.
Double coronas, perhaps, or panatelas if it’s a length thing.
Churchills are also good.
With sincere application and appreciation, they will eventually be cured of their fixation.

Especially once they learn how to use a cigar-cutter to surgically remove the end cap.
It’s VERY therapeutic.
Trust me.
Snip snip.


==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================