Posted 10:47 AM by ill
The allure of the porn star penis

Many men are, who am I kidding; all men are preoccupied with the size of their penis. I think it is something that comes from growing up as an adolescent boy and watching porno. The men in these films are so unbelievably hung that there is no realistic way the average man could not develop a complex after seeing one. I think that might be why they "girl on girl" porn is more appealing to men. We don't like to see some guy banging the snot out of some girl with a penis that could double as a fifth appendage.

I will say though there are two types of "penis guys" in the world and they can be summed up pretty easily. If you are one of these men that wonder if your penis is too small then you fall in to the first category. Now I hate to be the barer of bad news but if you fall into this first category and you have to ask if your penis is too small then guess what... It probably is. Let's face it. If you were looking down on ten inches of throbbing muscle and sinew your thoughts would not turn to "Is my penis too small?" No. You will find yourself more inclined to think something like "Yeah" or "Man am I hung." These are the men that fall in to the second category. Generally they end up making porno. Now this seems horribly unfair that some men end up with these giant members while the rest of us are relegated to merely the "average." But... I have found one thing to be true. Generally these men with their horse like endowments are dog ugly. Don't believe me? Rent a porno some time or for that matter just go to Google and look up Ron Jeremy. Let's face it, these men may be hung like the back axel of a 54 Ford step side truck but the only way their getting laid is if they get in to the porno business. No self-respecting woman would ever be caught dead with these greasy fellows in an off-set environment. So maybe this is God's way of saying "Sorry you're so ugly." Maybe it was a joke. Imagine giving some horrendous man a huge penis and then making him so ugly no woman would want him. Well... I guess we showed God because we created porno. Now ugly man can get laid.

So I hear you ask... What category do you fall in ill? Are you one who questions size or one who confidently puts on his pair of bike shorts and wanders the mall scaring children???

Well... Let's just say I am an ugly man...


Who unfortunately wonders if his penis is too small.....

Posted 10:40 AM by ill
A candid look at the "Old South"

Trent Lott's moronic comments have placed the "Old South" squarely in the limelight again. I've been doing a lot of reading on the subject for a few reasons. First I live in the south and have had many opinions over just how far it's progressed in the last fifty years. Secondly living in Memphis TN puts me a "stones throw" from Mississippi and this media frenzy hits awfully close to home at times. I will admit at first when this story broke I was unsure about the actual quote and what exactly took place. I am not generally a fan of the media as I have found they tend to mis-quote and blow out of proportion things that ordinarily could be taken a completely different way. So I began to look deeper and deeper into this and found a lot of both. Sure Lott made an awful comment, one that was completely inappropriate and totally inexcusable but the media filled the void by mis-quoting and jumping on him like a pack of hungry wolves. The sad part about the whole situation is that everyone is focused on Lott and his backwards thinking that they all seem to miss the bigger problem. This, despite everything "Southerners" supposedly do to claim it isn't so, is still very much the attitude towards minorities here. It doesn't reserve itself to the back woods or the hunting lodges of bored rednecks. It permeates through the cities and neighborhoods through the south and creates an overall atmosphere of tension. The interesting thing about the south though is that this attitude works both sides of the fence. I would say that one out of every five whites you meet is not exactly fond of minorities the same could be said for one out of every five black people do not like whites. This is a situation we all have created by our inability to let go of the events of the past. The "proud" southern whites won't let go of the past "glory" they felt they once had before we went and let all these people use the same bathroom. The blacks are still angry because they've spent the last fifty years fighting for equality only to be reminded by a handful of whites that they still should not be allowed to use the same bathroom. We're living in a past environment. We are either reminding everyone of the way it was or wishing it was still that way. Either way it breeds contempt on both sides of the fence that shows no signs of letting up and more importantly shows plenty of signs of exploding... violently. I think this was best represented a few years back when the City of Memphis allowed the Ku Klux Klan to hold a rally at the courthouse downtown. These grown men (and I use that term loosely) dressed in their sheets marched down the streets of downtown then spouted out their message of intolerance and idiocy so that the world could see the south had not really changed at all. Sure there were quite a few anti-Klan rallies going on during their demonstration. There were arguments and fights, which eventually opened up into a small riot in the streets of downtown that resulted in tons of property damage and a ditch in the middle of the road that could bring two people together. I watched this unfold and I thought to myself what would have happened if no one showed up to protest? What would have happened if everyone just ignored these backwards Klansman and let them have their march and their rally only to find that they hadn't reached anyone here? That their cries of racial oppression fell on deaf ears for no one was in the streets to hear it. What if they had just been ignored? But we as humans can't do that. It's very hard for us to turn around and say I won't acknowledge you because to do so shows I think about you and to think about you shows that I care for you in one way or another. When something repulsive gets in our face we feel we have no choice but to fight back. Don't get me wrong, you should always fight against injustice whenever it raises its ugly head, but what is the best way to fight it? Sometimes inactivity sends a stronger message then destroying the front window of a shop whose owner had nothing to do with the rally to begin with. Where does this cycle of violence and intolerance end in the south? The scariest part about the whole thing was that the Klansman were peaceful in their protest. They didn't riot they didn't break anything all they did was exactly what they set out to do. Stir up the crowd get them angry and then when the riots start be able to sit back and say, "See! This is what these people do! We were peaceful they destroyed property. See why we are right?" So what does this all have to do with Lott and the comments he made well I think it's all part of the same picture. The south has changed sure but not all of it and not always willingly. This "Old South" mentality still takes place whether it is an off-handed comment made on the golf course or a racist joke told in the bar and Lott is no different... except maybe a little more stupid. When I look at the south I think to myself that I have a dream too, I'm just not so sure we are really all that closer to achieving it...

Posted 9:18 AM by ill
I got a head full of ideas that are drivin' me insane

This one will start off on a somber note not intentionally and really anyone who reads this should not feel in the least bit upset for I have made my peace with the following...

My father is dying. If I wasn't painfully aware of that before, this weekend has solidified that fact in my mind. I've known this for a while and the fact that he is even still around today marvels the medical community. He was diagnosed over four years ago with terminal brain cancer and was given no more then three to six months to live. Well, my father being the stubborn bastard he's always been, is still kicking. Granted his quality of life is not always fantastic but for the most part he gets around. So with that being said when he was first diagnosed I found myself reflecting upon our past relationship. Although it was certainly full of rocky moments (as I feel any father/son relationship is want to do) I realized just how much wisdom my father had imparted on me over my formative years. Now I'm not talking about the existential "what is the sound of one hand clapping" crap but practical things. Things that on the surface may seem a bit crude or over the top (especially when told to a four year old) but once further inspection and thought is placed you realize some of these are really quite brilliant. These thoughts have shaped a lot of who I am, more then I probably ever thought about before. I refer to them as Jim-isms in honor of my father. These Jim-isms are in a book I've been working on for the last three years or so named after the boat my father never got to own. So without further ado I bring you an excerpt from...

Captain of the Master Baiter
A Collection of Jim-isms

Chapter One

The move to Memphis had taken a lot out of my family. Coming from the north to a southern city left a lot to be desired especially for my mother who's only stint in the south was a failing semester at the University of Florida. She said although she failed she never had a better tan. The job had transferred my father out here and being the provider he was, he was always kind of afraid of change and decided that moving for a stable job was far better then having to look for one in a familiar environment. So he loaded up the wife and kids and off to Memphis we went. I often wondered if this life of safe decisions took a toll on my father. If every so often he wanted to say the hell with it and live a little dangerously but I never saw that happen. I think I became brutally aware of my fathers desire to break out of the mold when I was four. We had been in town a few months and things were slowly but surely settling down. My father, returning from a hard days work, came in and plopped into his favorite chair for a nap before dinner. I sat amongst my Lego’s building structures that would later be trampled on by my half asleep father's bare feet resulting in a resounding thud to the side of my head and a string of curse words that would make a sailor blush, when my father called me over to him.

"Come here Billy. I want to talk to you for a minute."
This statement always confused me. There were not many things it could mean and generally none of them were good. My mind raced as I tried to recap the events of the day. "What had I done today?" I thought to myself. Was there a "Just wait till your father gets home" statement from my mother that I had forgotten about? Dread and curiosity filled me as I put down the colored blocks of the next parental minefield and wandered over to my father. "Yes dad" I asked? To my surprise he picked me up and placed me on his knee. For a few moments he sat there looking me in the eye. This always made me more uncomfortable for my father, when focused on something, had a condition that made one of his eyes look a little up and the other look a little down. It was this condition that kept him out of Viet Nam though he tried on several occasions to get in but was unable to focus down the end of a gun sight.

After the few moments of silent stares he leaned in and with his finger pointed out towards me said "I want you to do me favor, I want you to remember something. No matter where you go and no matter what you do. There is one person who is fucking it up for everyone else. Now go play."

And that was my first Jim-ism.