This book is life-changing. The testimonials and real-world accounts contained therein are at once eye-opening, heart-breaking, jaw-dropping, mind-blowing, and soul-stirring. The subject matter, while a sensitive issue, cannot be ignored anymore as it has in the past. This should be required reading in English literature classes all over the world. I cannot give this book enough praise. You should just buy it.
“Back in 1977, I was camping by myself in Yosemite. I used to go there for days at a time to read books, make campfires, freebase a little cocaine—just commune with nature. So one day I’m hiking along a ridge with all my gear, and I hear these screams in the distance. “Help! Help!’ Well, I drop my pack and start sprinting. My heart’s going extra hard too, because I’m still a little high. Anyway I follow these screams to “El Dedo de Maria,” a big, fingerlike rock that juts out over an 800-foot drop. There are three climbers hanging on for dear life out on the tip. I mean, hanging on by their goddamned fingernails. I run out to the end of the rock and reach out my arms. ‘Grab on, man!’ One of them reaches up and takes my hand, but the other two are slipping fast. They aren’t gonna make it. I know there’s only one option. With my free hand, I undo my zipper and throw my penis over the side. With both hands, my penis, and the unnatural strength of being high on rock cocaine, I’m able to pull all three guys to safety at once. If an average guy had been there, one or more of them would’ve been dead for sure. Today, I’m proud to say that one of those climbers is my ex-brother-in-law.”
Rev. Owen: I’ve never freebased, but one time I was so drunk I put my fist through the window of a squad car and didn’t feel it for hours.
Dr. Richard: That was quick thinking, T-Hawk, not to mention extraordinarily brave on two counts: one, the bravery of going out on that ledge to help strangers, and two, opening yourself up to ridicule by exposing your huge penis. Well done!
“ ‘Life without the possibility of parole,’ they tell me. Can you believe it? Here I am, an old man. Do I bother anybody? Does an unkind word pass these lips? And what do they do? They drag me out of my apartment like the Gestapo of old. ‘We’re charging you with sexual assault,’ they say. ‘Sexual assault?’ I say. ‘A woman in the neighborhood says you forced yourself on her,’ they say. ‘Forced myself?’ I say. I didn’t understand. Me, an old man who never so much as stepped on a cockroach. They tell me an examiner needs to take some photographs of my you-know-what. Imagine the humiliation! Have you ever heard of such a thing? So into a room they take me, and out comes my you-know-what. And all of a sudden these detectives start whispering to one another, and before you know it, they drop the charges and drive me back to Queens. So I say, ‘What was that all about?’ And they say, ‘There’s no way you could’ve been the perpetrator.’ And I say, ‘Well I know that, but how do you know that?’ And they say, ‘Gramps, if you’d stuck that thing in our victim, you’d both be in intensive care.’ I mean, can you believe it?”
Rev. Owen: I’m surprised they didn’t work you over for having a big dick. Cops are notorious hoco-haters—at least they were when I was in my twenties. I got my share of “whoops-a-daisies” back then. As in “Whoops-a-daisy, our prisoner fell down some stairs and broke his jaw.”
Dr. Richard: I’m sorry you had to go through that, but I’m glad everything worked out. It must’ve been very traumatic, especially for a man of your age.
“I’d been treading the boards for two decades, and the closest I’d ever come to having my name in lights was being named ‘Waiter of the Month’ at the Stage Deli. Sure, I’d been in plenty of choruses, but the only leads I got were in those little off-offoff Broadway fifty-seaters. I thought about giving up, getting a degree, and teaching theater at some high school. Then one day, I see this audition notice in Backstage: “MALES 20–35 for the role of JOHN HOLMES in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s John! – A new musical about porn and prejudice. Some nudity required.’ Well, I was ecstatic. OK, so I’d have to fudge my age a little, big deal. At the audition, all these actors showed up with fake moustaches and stuffed panty hose tied around their waists. When my name was called, I walked out onto that stage (with my real moustache, which I’ve had since 1983) and pulled off my track pants in one motion. I stood there naked as the day I was born and started belting ‘Memories’ like my life depended on it. When I finished, I looked out into the darkness and calmly said, ‘Mr. Lloyd Webber, you’ve found your John,” not knowing that he wasn’t there. But it didn’t matter, because I’ve traded my waiter’s apron for a job as the alternate John Holmes understudy in the European touring company of John!”
Rev. Owen: Whatever.
Dr. Richard: That’s terrific, Heyward! I had no idea this musical was even happening! What a tremendous step toward equality for OMG sufferers everywhere! Congratulations on being a part of it, even if you’re only a part of it when the two people ahead of you get sick!
“I was sailing my little skiff around Lake Michigan, and the weather was turning nasty. Time to call it a day. But on my way in, a wave sent me smashing into some jagged rocks, punching a hole in the bottom of the boat. I was taking on water fast, and with the wind blowing all over the place, I needed both hands to work the sail. I tried covering the puncture with my foot, but the water just rushed in around it. I was still a good mile from shore, and at this rate I’d sink in a matter of minutes, leaving me to swim in the freezing, turbulent waters. And I wasn’t what you’d call a strong swimmer. Then it hit me like a bolt out of the blue: Timothy! Your penis, Timothy! Of course! I took it out and stuffed it in the hole. The leaking stopped. By the time I got to the marina, the tip of my penis was blue from the cold and bore the nibble marks of several fish. But I was alive, gosh darn it.”
Rev. Owen: Nice work, Gilligan. Hey, here’s an idea. Maybe don’t go sailing on Lake Michigan by yourself if you’re not a strong swimmer.
Dr. Richard: What a great way to use your huge penis! The ingenuity of our brothers continues to amaze me, whether it’s a clever penis project, a pair of self-made wide-crotch pants, or a new method of foreskin irrigation. You go, boys!