THANK YOU FOR ASKING

Just checked my Yah Heww! e-mail account.

Disturbing.

Over thirty messages telling me in no uncertain terms that my masculinity is too small.

Merde.

Rather than immediately and venomously writing an angry response stating that the organ in question is ten feet long, hard as plank, and can batter down the doors to Castle Anthrax, I started wondering.

[Castle Anthrax: see here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Castle_Anthrax]

Maybe these correspondents are telling me something. Maybe they're saying they're big as bucket and can accommodate all the bull elephants in Africa. If so, I truly feel sorry for them. Their womanhood has been wasted, and they probably smell rank and frowsty from two blocks away. Poor dears.

No sproing left at all.

I guess if you're stuck in a cat-house in Vladivostok, the only thing to do when you're bored in between visits by the fleet is to send insulting e-mails at random.

And I can really understand that; before caller i.d., when I was angry and frustrated at the world I would occasionally call strangers late at night and tell them something outrageous and unbelievable. It's the same concept.
Now that everyone has caller i.d. however, that door is closed, and one can no longer do that. Anonymous e-mails have necessarily replaced that option.

So type away, ladies. Send all the size-queen messages you can, and type faster, before the festering sores and infections make your last three fingers fall off.

Life is good.

Don't forget to use spell-check.