Foreskin advocacy has reached a new low.
I have an even better idea. I've gotten great results by slamming my dick in the car door. I've got my foreskin back and then some!
This guy is the circumcised Walt Whitman.
I hate haiku and won't even write one ironically. Real men write sonnets.
If you don't know the percentage of your glans you can force skin over buy our patented glans measuring device! Only $24.95!
THE NEXT PAGE REALLY ISN'T WORKSAFE OR HOMESAFE. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
Ignore the hype. Find out how these games will likely go right or wrong.
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