On the internet, there's no pesky, pompous "Ethics Review Board" with their sanctimonious "regulations" or "morals." No, on the internet, we are free to capitalise on medical breakthroughs such as this without restriction.
With that in mind, I propose the following:
Select Paper Number Squares based on which can be attached to a target "choosing from high above"
Large sheet of light weight cardboard
Paper Number squares
Micropore surgical tape
Syringe with medium bore needle
Lab assistant/Nurse (or improvised)
1) Wrap the cardboard into a tube and fasten it with the surgical tape. The tube must have a diameter large enough to accommodate the colander as a 'filter'. The card tube is now known as a barrel.
2) The barrel is placed upright on the ground. The colander is inserted until it is at a point approx 66% of the barrel's length, when measured from the top (i.e. 1/3rd of the distance proximal to the ground). The colander's concave aspect should be faced (aimed) towards the muzzle of the barrel (the end distal to the ground).
3) A balloon is loaded under the colander (in the breech of the barrel), against the convex aspect. The balloon rests between the colander and the ground, and is contained by the barrel. A pinhole is to be made that allows access to the membrane of the balloon.
4) The number squares are placed in the colander.
5) The target (your genitals) are wrapped with (ADHESIVE FACING OUT) Micropore surgical tape, and positioned directly above the muzzle
The lab assistant/nurse inserts the syringe needle through the pinhole, puncturing the balloon (ballooncentesis). The balloon will violently deflate, and the escaping air will be forced through the colander. This will propel the number squares through the barrel and out the muzzle. They will impact the target and those that stick are selected.
If a lab assistant is unavailable, an improvised method for performing the ballooncentesis will need to be developed.
The suspected "fates" will drive the lucky squares onto the target
Someone should name this device. My suggestion is pneumatic genital medi-cannon (mk 1).
Fortunately, my brother works in the materials department of a nearby hospital, so it wasn't difficult to obtain the necessary equipment. Also, the local Walmart freight crew didn't mind me stealing some cardboard. These factors kept the overall cost of this experiment quite low, and still within the reserves of our previous scratch-ticket profits.
The colander was loaded with numbers. My penis was wrapped with tape. Leaning over the barrel's opening, with my adhesive dong exposed in the line of fire, I prodded the balloon with the point of an exacto knife, through a tiny slit I had carved in the barrel's side.
The balloon ruptured, but the numbers didn't move.
I attributed this to the width of the barrel, in that it offered too much room for air to escape. What I needed was a much narrower shaft to funnel the burst directly beneath the numbers and all the way to my penis. However, a narrow tube would not be able to accommodate the colander or balloon, and would likely require the use of compressed air as a propellant. Basically, I'd be shooting myself in the dick with a paper-cut rifle.
Still, I wasn't ready to abandon the experiment. I had put a lot of time into building this contraption, and I was determined to have my dong bedazzled by the fates.
Another option arose.
I kept this little fan on the balcony, where I would use it to direct smoke while barbecuing. Almost as if by design, it fit perfectly into the bottom of the barrel.
With a constant stream of air from beneath, I had converted the Pneumatic Genital Medi-Cannon into a penile cash-grab booth. I love carnivals!
To keep the numbers from leaving the chamber, I fastened a square strainer over the barrel's end, and I cut a hole for contestant entry.
The Medi-Cannon v.2 speckled my dong with data, and I'm off to the gas station!
Well, the drawing has come and gone, without a single hit, and I spent all of the scratch-ticket profit to fund our experiments. I am right where I was at the beginning of this thread, having gained nothing but the experiences we've shared, and lives we've touched with my penis.
It was foolish of me to exploit such a gift for the sake of financial gain. I only hope that the foresight of my dong has not been blinded by such folly, as the siren song of luxury is often too seductive for even the noblest of wangs. Should fates smile upon my penis, once more, I solemnly vow to wield it honorably, for the betterment of mankind, and never again squander such a precious endowment.
Dearest goons of TGD, I thank you all for your kind words, and I pass unto you the most sincere gratitude of my genitals. This thread has been a wondrous journey for me, and I'm glad to have had you along. When you leave this thread and go out into the world, take with you my dong's fondest regards, and live rich, joyful lives.
So sayeth the penis
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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