A man, his penis, and The Extender

June 26th, 2005

Lately, I’ve been receiving a lot of emails from a real friendly guy named Ron Black:

“Finally! I have always worried about the size of my penis. When I have sex, even though my wife says that the sex is good, I know that what she really wants is an extra inch!

3 months ago I found The Extender. I just put it on whilst I’m driving the car and when I’m sleeping. It stays hidden under my clothes and it is really surprisingly comfortable and soft.

I could tell that my penis was getting longer and heavier, but I thought that when I took it back off I would shrink back to original size. I was really surprised!

I have been 4.5″ long since adolescence. When I took off The Extender I was measuring 6.5″! After not wearing the extender for a week, I am still 6″ long!

The lengthening is permanent!

I could not believe the results of this device. I am back to wearing it again and I’m still getting larger! My wife says it is the best product I’ve ever bought, and she ALWAYS reminds me to put it on if I forget!

There’s a total guarantee with it, too. If you are not completely satisfied with your length gain and comfort you get your money back. Every penny. No-one sends them back!

The Extender correct [sic] the curve of the penis too, straightening out sharp bends as new cells grow!”

Cheery, erect exclamation points be damned—this is obviously a cry for help. So this one goes out to Ron, wherever he may be:

Dear Ron,

Let me be the first to congratulate you on your great success with The Extender. You must be on pins and needles, waiting for all of us to write back. Penile enhancement is a very personal topic, and you’ve got real cojones to talk about your sawed-off tailpipe as openly as you do. Kudos, Ronnie!

I’ve been following your endeavors for quite a while now, and it does sound like you’re getting somewhere. Very convenient, that you’re able to use The Extender whilst you are driving and whilst you are sleeping. And what a relief that The Extender stays hidden under your clothes—that would be a tough one to explain at the office, particularly to that bald guy you share a cubicle with.

Since you didn’t offer me much in the way of visuals, I took the liberty of tracking down a picture of your holy grail online. I have to say, Ron, you were on the money with your savvy use of the adverb “surprisingly.” The Extender looks neither “soft” nor “comfortable.” I for one am having some difficulty imagining my husband sleeping like a baby with that sucker strapped on (or whilst that sucker was strapped oneth him), but I guess I’m going to have to take your word for it.

Just to make sure I wasn’t missing any pertinent info, I also read the online instructions for The Extender. They mention that the contraption “comes with aditional [sic] rod extenders allowing customers to get upto [sic] 16 inches in length.”

Ron, buddy, that was the red flag for me.

Listen to me carefully, Ron: Very few things were meant to be sixteen inches long. A Google search for ’sixteen inches’ yields crash cymbals, laptop computer screens, baby dolls, and bike tires. The search does not yield ‘Ron Black’s penis.’ Try it yourself, if you don’t believe me.

Whilst I applaud your refreshingly Olde English usage of ‘whilst’, your email nonetheless has me deeply worried for you. I fear, Ron Black, that you may miss the forest for your tree.

Let me straighten out the sharp bends in your thinking, in hopes that new brain cells will grow and flourish: Believe me when I tell you that a few extra inches is not at the top of your wife’s Wish List.

You say that your wife is always begging you to put The Extender back on, and that she’s told you time and time again that The Extender is the best purchase you’ve ever made. You don’t mention anything about being able to engage in coital activity whilst wearing The Extender. From the looks of that bear trap, I’m thinking, nay. Coincidence, Ron? You be the judge.

As a woman, I will tell you a secret (one that perhaps your wife is unwilling to reveal to you, as you seem to have found such a happy hobby to occupy your time). It’s shocking, but true: Women do not spend much time thinking about penises. Not about your penis, not about your best friend’s penis, not about the mailman’s penis, not about the pizza delivery guy’s penis, not even about George Clooney’s penis or Zach Braff’s penis or Benicio Del Toro’s penis. Even writing about all of these penises, Ron, I’m still not thinking about penises.

There, I’ve said it, Ron. I’ve put it out there, on the table, so yours doesn’t have to be.

If you’re still wearing The Extender, and you’re still . . . extending, it may be time to PUT DOWN THE DEVICE, RON. Give the poor ol’ snake a breather. After a certain point, excess becomes excessive.

There’s no point in keeping up with the Boneses. You can’t, Ron. And we don’t want you to, either. We like you just the way you are. Well, I do. And chances are, your wife does too.

Is it the kids, Ron? Is that it? Perhaps you watched your wife push a few hefty pups out of her nether regions, and that experience has given you the mistaken impression that a woman’s underworld is a bigger kingdom than it actually is. The truth is, Ron, it’s more like the British Empire. Starts off a fairly modest size; expands to birth a few ungrateful, whippersnapper colonies that never write, never call; then shrinks. Say it with me, Ron: Starts small, expands, shrinks. Starts small, expands, shrinks.

This is the natural order of things, Ron, no matter what The Extender People want you to believe.

What I’m saying here, Ron, is that your wife doesn’t need or want a 16-inch Roto-Rooter. Oh, sure, maybe at one point (perhaps during spring break of her sophomore year of college) a 16-inch totem pole might have been a fleetingly intriguing concept. But I’ll give you a money-back guarantee that it wouldn’t make her Wish List now—particularly if you have a few moppets around the house, wreaking havoc whilst you’re locking yourself in an upstairs bedroom to spend more quality time with your Extender.

Have you ever asked your wife what she really wants, Ron? Give it a try tonight. Remove The Extender, place it on the nightstand, and turn to face your wife. Look soulfully into her eyes, and ask her if a massive, monster salami is truly what the doctor ordered. If your wife says yes, with a completely straight face, I will eat The Extender and broadcast my eating of the apparatus via live Webcam feed.

But if your wife laughs, Ron, you’ve hit gold. Even if she doesn’t laugh—even if she bursts into tears, or slaps you, or makes a gagging noise in the back of her throat, or calls you a pig—you’ve still hit gold. You’re talking again. It may feel very strange at first, but keep at it, Ron. Ask your wife a lot of questions, as many as you asked that first time on the toll-free Extender Helpline. And don’t forget to listen to the answers.

Trust me. It’s time to cut off the Nutri-Gro to that beanstalk, Jack. There are better uses for your cash and your time. Sure, weaning yourself may be rough. Nobody’s going to argue otherwise. You may feel the need to bind your bishop with the dog’s muzzle, or grip it very, very, very tightly for a while, when no one is looking.

And that’s okay. I have faith in you, Ron Black. I know you’ll come out on top. Unless she will. That’s between you and your wife.

Sincerely,

Jennifer Mattern

P.S. I recognize there may have been considerable financial outlay involved in your Extender purchase. Let it go. Any guy who uses ‘whilst’ in an email about penile enhancement is clever enough to come up with alternate uses for The Extender.

P.P.S. You might want to talk to a doctor about those “sharp bends.” Something ain’t right.

Entry Filed under: Uncategorized, Birds, bees. (Sex), Time-out. (General insanity), See Mommy laugh. (Favorites)