First of all, we’d like to apologize for the recent lack of posts. We’ve been on a “working” hiatus of sorts, using our time away from the infinite tubes of the world wide webs of the earth, as an opportunity to spend more time in our laboratory. In that time, we’ve read no fewer than 87 books (and written 11, btw), completed several successful experiments (all involving flightless birds, lunch meat and a spider monkey), and constructed a complex home-transit system that combines the power of the segway with the practicality of zip lines and the delicate windswept mouthfeel of Yanni’s earlier work.

The impetus for this return to glory is what I’d like to refer to as the “devirginization of our mailbox”.

re: our “Keep A Roast Beef Sandwich In Your Underpants” post, Davis, from New Zealand writes:

Foul. i am a vegetarian, broadcaster, and a man. A man with morals, and a sense of what is morally acceptable.
You should be ashamed.

To which, I respond with:

Dearest Davis,

Far be it from me to correct a man, a vegetarian, a broadcaster, a man with morals, and a man with a sense of what is morally acceptable, but couldn’t help but notice that you left a few things out in your correspondence. I figure if you’re going to textually masturbate your ego, in order to use it as some sort of qualifier, before chastising a parodic blog with three posts in it’s history, you might as well pull out all the stops.

As a man, a carnivore, a genius, a man who breeds large domestic cats (tigers, mountain lions, leopards), a man who knew everything before you knew it, a man who has never tasted the bitterness of failure or the failure of bitterness, a man who has a $1 million insurance policy on his beard, a man who once slay a bear for sport with his bare hands, a man who shaved your mother’s back when she was an amateur prostitute, a who has the gift of flight, a man who has God on speed dial (and just texted with him, like five minutes ago), and a man with a sense of knowing that parody is parody, and the failure to recognize said parody cements you in the Hall of Self-Righteous Retards, I thankfully accept your email and am beyond happy that a post that I whipped up under the influence of alcohol, in a matter of minutes, chapped your miniscule testicles enough to get you to respond. Cheers, my friend. I am not ashamed. I am proud. Glowing with pride.

And I’d like to take this opportunity to cordially invite you to fuck off very nicely at this point.

Infinitely smarter than you you,

Dr. Karl Putty

p.s.- We won’t tell anyone that you found the site by searching for “how to fuck a roast beef sandwich” on Google.

Where was I?  Ahem.  Oh yes, your penis. It’s lonely.  It spends most of it’s time buried in the dark cotton tomb that is your underpants.  When it’s not wrestling one of your hands, it’s hanging upside down like a fruit bat in a cave, patiently waiting for the day that it may see the light, fly across the barren landscape, and taste the sweet fruit it yearns for.

Now your biggest concern is probably that your penis will be out of practice after having been cooped up in your underpants for so long.  And for the first time in your life, you are correct about something.  It WILL be out of practice.  It will behave awkwardly, stutter, vomit, and/or faint.  Imagine for a moment that you (dumb, smelly) were to sneak into a party of Learned Men (strong, heroic, sharp, intelligent, confident, fit, etc.)  Since you’re not–and never will be–worthy of being in the company of Learned Men, you will never be able to function properly in a setting where you might have to be surrounded by people who are infinitely smarter than you.  The only way that you could ever possibly prepare yourself for such a scenario, would be to practice.

Now imagine that you are your penis for a moment.  Now stop.  When you come face to face with your preferred destination, do you want to behave awkwardly, stutter, vomit, and/or faint?  We’d assume not.  Do you want to stare blankly at it like it’s an unsolved Rubik’s Cube?  We don’t think so.  Which is why  we’d like to suggest that you keep a roast beef sandwich in your underpants at all times.  We believe that this is the best way to get your penis acclimated to being in close proximity to folds of meat, and truly believe that you’ll see incredible results.  

You can thank us later.

Feeling like your pants are  a maze of stinky confusing parts?  

Need a way to liberate your undercarriage?  

Yearn to find wonderment beneath your pantsuit?  

You are not alone.

Get yourself some geese teeth (available from your local Shaman or regional Gooseman).

Attach your goose tooth to your belt buckle or the waistband of your undergarments, and prepare to experience the wonderment of invigorated underwealth.  Your holes and tubes will feel light and airy, you’ll experience engorgement in your intimates, and your penstrumental festomeers will be tingling with liveliness.

Better health, through the mouth-region of geese. 

* not available in females of the species. 

We can and will change that.  

There is still hope for you. (maybe)

You’re welcome.