In the 14 months I've been writing this world-renowned blog (26 people from Oman visited last week! Can you believe it? OMAN!), I've worried from time to time that eventually we'll cover every possible Rule there could be, and I'll run out of topics. Then I see a story like the one from Canberra, Australia, last week, and I realize I'll be able to write this blog until I die.
In case you missed it, a 70-year-old-man went to the hospital due to an accident he suffered. Well, it wasn't really an accident, exactly, since he did it on purpose, although I've read the story 14 times and I STILL don't understand what the heck he was doing. Because some impressionable young guys read this blog occasionally, I'll try to be circumspect in describing the situation: The man stuck a four-inch-long dining fork into his, uh, Canberra.
Hold on ... I'm getting a ruling from the Oman judge ... I can use the official medical term for the body part in question, so from this point on we'll call it by its Latin name: "tallywhacker."
Lest you think I'm making this up, check out the story here.
Naturally, this troubling event raises several questions, such as:
1) WHAT?!?
Come to think of it, that pretty much covers all the questions. Apparently this guy stuck a fork in his tallywhacker in an effort to give himself pleasure. First we had the guy who stuck an eel up his butt, and now this. It's only a matter of time until some guy attempts to get romantic with a shrimp on top of the hibachi grill at Kobe Japanese Steakhouse.
I don't know about you, but whenever I'm feeling romantically inclined, tableware is almost never involved. Certainly not a fork. Knives would be right out. Maybe, MAYBE I could see a spoon involved, somehow. Maybe.
The story linked above, written by Jonathan Pearlman, notes that the man went to doctors after he'd stuck the fork in himself and couldn't get it back out. The doctors could see it lodged in the tallywhacker zone via X-rays, and they could feel it in there (a moment which I'm sure they relive in their nightmares), but it wasn't visible to the naked eye.
This presents us with a whole new slew of questions:
1) WHAT?!?
Again, that's the main gist of the questions. I mean, seriously? How in the name of etiquette do you get a fork lodged so far into your wing-wang that you can't even SEE it any more? Better yet, WHY do you do this? I've tried, as much as my feeble mind will allow, to imagine a scenario in which this seems like a good idea:
"Goodness, but I'm all hot and bothered tonight. Alice won't be back from her book club until nine, and that's two whole hours away. There must be SOME way I can relieve my 70-year-old manly tension. Let's see ... watch a movie? Nah. Check out stuff on the Internet? Too much trouble. Hmm ... I know! I've been dying to see what the flatware feels like! Come here, you saucy wench!"
Fortunately, the doctors were able to extract the fork using forceps and "copious amounts" of lubrication, although I bet however much they used, it wasn't nearly enough.
So all's well that ends well, and now this lucky man has a whale of a tale to tell his grandchildren ("Grandpa, why were you in the hospital last week?"). Plus his wife is never going to allow him into the kitchen again, because Lord knows what he'll do with the gravy ladle.
Could've been worse, though ... he could have been lured into a sinful act by the siren song of his power drill.
(c) 2013 John Puckett
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