Sex Talk

Sex enhancement. Penis enlargement. A boost to the ol' scrotum. It's not uncommon to go through your day and not hear about this miracle aids. Let's face it, for as necessary as email has become in the day to day, trying to avoid the constant flow of misspelled ads is damned near pointless anymore. These hooligans peddling their snake oils have tried every trick in the book to lure you to their products. They've tried the blunt approach: "Your dick is small, but it doesn't have to be." Harsh, but it gets the point across. Some try the nice approach. With simple "Hi's" or "Hey, how are you?" in the subject lines, hoping that you might mistake that unknown email address as someone you actually know. Open her up, and you'll find a very polite form letter about your inadequate features. "Look, I know you're pencil thin and impotent, but it's okay. I still respect you for the person you are. So much so, that I'm gonna let you in on a little secret medicine that will help you clear that minuscule disaster right up." My personal favorites are the ones that offer up pointless quirks to genital enhancement. "Cum like a rocket ship!" they will claim. "Make your jizz bomb fly twelve feet upon ejaculation." Don't get me wrong, it sounds impressive, and I'm sure it's quite the spectacle to witness, but of what real benefit is it to the common man? What truly immeasurable element can a man feel like a success with when having long range sperm? "Honey, I drink too much and can't last more than two minutes in the sack, but I ejaculate like a whale, it's glorious!" It seems pointless and unnecessary, and could really only impress your palm and fingers after an intricate session of self love, but it's part of the spin. There's little one can do to avoid it.

Especially now in this day and age. What once was only regulated to emails and spam seems to have gone public. It started innocently enough with "Smilin' Bob." The figurehead for the Enzyte commercials. Yes, Smilin' Bob was a normal mediocre guy, just like all you other sacks of crap out there, until he popped a few pills. And now, he's out there skydiving, running for office, and impressing the hell out of everyone he meets. The man is living life to the fullest and finding great success, all thanks to smiling like an idiot and a supposed freakish member. Back when I first saw these hideous things, I figured there was no way this can last. And here we are years later, Watching Bob become an icon of similar caliber to Tony the Tiger or Aunt Jemima. Not that Bob's wholesome mind you, but if you passed him on the street, you'd know who he was and what he was pitching. Still, it was subtle innuendo, nothing more. It's only a thirty second commercial right? Still easy to look past it and ignore the dark underbelly that was being presented to you.

Not any more. Now they have infomercials. Yes, these crazed drug peddlers have gotten so successful, that they can now buy up a half hour of programming to talk about their wares. I've seen it with my own eyes. A late night program called "Sex Talk" that did nothing but gaily pitch the inadequate dimensions of the average man, and a solution that was guaranteed by no one to work.

It even has all the trappings of infomercialism. The coy program name that makes it sound like a legitimate regular program and not a one time deal. The hosts were mildly attractive and sounded completely unintelligent as they spoke enthusiastically about this magical product off of cue cards. Yes, it could very well be mistaken for hair trimmers or juice makers, if not for the name and the content.

And what happens to hair trimmers and juice makers? All those bad kitchen products that used to eat up an hour of cartoon time on Saturday mornings? Sure it was garbage, but it was at least wholesome garbage. That electric knife may burn out after three uses, but it wouldn't make you inadequate. Gullible maybe, but certainly not inadequate. And now, in between dehydrators and pet clippers, there is just what every man out there needs: girth.

It really doesn't concern me that these people are being successful in selling this kind of stuff. Many males have concerns about this kind of thing and need to believe that there's a cure. Totally understandable. Obviously I don't buy into it, but I'm willing to let self conscious men delude themselves into thinking this could work. What concerns me is the acceptance. That people, men and women alike, are so comfortable with this material that it's considered common place to entertain it anywhere. Ads in magazines, regular reminders on the interweb, and commercials galore. So acceptable has it become, that now a couple can spend a half hour of their lives sitting on the couch and watching plastic people talk about swelling johnsons. And now, man and wife can both seriously consider a man's infinitesimal groin size and the benefits such a product can garner. From this day forth, in every man's heart where they've been beat down with the regular stream of such information, he can always carry a small place in his heart where he can question, "Am I really not big enough?" "Do I need to be enhanced?" No matter how small that doubt may be, it will exist, eating away at the confidence and pushing one closer and closer to breaking out that credit card and hoping for the best. And day after day of hitting that medicine cabinet, concerned decent men will hope that one day they will open their eyes after a long night's sleep, and find a leviathan waiting for them.

Of course, in the grand scheme of things, this is probably nothing. Especially considering the psychological damage that advertisements have done to woman-kind, we fellas are still sitting pretty good.