esrosedotblog

Bigger is not necessarily better.

It is just bigger.

Talking about penis size here. A lifelong concern which is the subject of today's film.

Unhung Hero (2013)

I always thought that dick size was a concern mostly of gay men. It has been for me. Although I have to admit that I have never had any complaints.

I am not alone. Most men have this obsession. Minor or major. It can even hamper performance, a self fulfilling prophecy, if we think about it too much. Not something I have had. My mind fills with other things at critical times.

I do remember vividly the time in the boys locker room when George Seese made fun of my penis. It was smaller. I was a late bloomer. And even then it was not huge at all. No low hangers for me. No Dr. Long Dong.

This film of frank interviews has a great sense of humor most importantly about the auteur himself. Patrick Moote, who was told in a breakup with his girl that cock size was the main reason. He later is able to unpack this one and realize that the break up insult was the most devastating for him and she must have known that. A kill shot. To the crotch. Bitch stuff.

I enjoyed all of this as it is very well produced and has all the usual and some unusual sex-perts to help Patrick tell his story.

I would not want to see it again but once was good. A 3 out of Netflix5.

Labels: biology, films, masculinity

THE CICADAS AND ME

I lived, more or less, out of the heavy zone of these fascinating creatures.

Here Comes the Cicadas Buzz

They come out and do their thing every 17 years.

I have, of course, only seen them a few times.

But in thinking about this, I realize that the cicadas and I are very much in synch in our life cycles.

1996 was the last time they were here.

That year, was a big one for me. I feel linked.

We decided to move to California around then. We had a terrible winter and it was the last.

My mother died in the same year we moved or were getting ready to move out here. John's mom the same.

I was diagnosed with prostate cancer and took radiation treatments for 17 weeks. Was it that long? 7?

We bought the house out here but did not move until 1997. So our last year in Boston was the cicada year.

Very few bugs in the city. But I remember the time and the buzz. Our office was in the 'burbs.

1996 was the time I retired and the time we lost our huge lawsuit for our company. We gave it up for the damages.

A big year indeed.

How about the one before?That would be 1996 minus 17 or 1979.

A terrible year and also a wonderful year.

I got sober in 1979.

My life had gone off the rails. I had hit bottom.

I do not remember cicadas at all. Nor do I much remember a lot of things that happened in the first six months of that year.

I got to detox in June, got completely clean (marijuana) in October and the rest is history.

1979 less 17, would be 1962. That year I was married, had two kids and decided to quit my first job which was in Philadelphia. An awful place. We had a ranch house in a barren development and some few friends. I played an organ in a church. It was not enough.

I spent a lot of that year walking the streets in Phillie.

It was a job with little to do. I had been sent to a sensitivity training program. T-Group.

It rocked my soul. I couldn't find my self. I felt lost. I would not go back after lunch. I would go to museums. I would do anything but go back to the office. No one really noticed. I could do all my "work" without being there. Plant visits were part of it so they had no idea.

Looking back, I realize that the T-group I went to in 1962 changed my life utterly. And, for me, in a good way.

How this old fashioned, hide bound Philadelphia company had decided to send a guy like me to this kind of thing is beyond comprehension. It was cutting edge at the time. My future business and research partners were, at the same time, learning to be trainers of such groups.

Controversial and frightening to a lot of people, T-Groups were a springboard to the kind of practical influence programs we would develop and sell world wide.

I took a job with Ocean Spray Cranberries, a Production Planning Manager. Back to the Boston area to stay.

The cranberry company was in a resurgence. Juice. Other products. I had the job of balancing resources, mostly the fruit, across the country at four locations.

I was beginning to get the gist of being a manager and of observing people at work. Effectiveness. In a few years I would leave regular work to research and work with the art and science of problem solving groups.

Wow. Cicadas! I don't remember them then either.

Before that, they would have arrived in 1945, the end of WWII. I was 8 and in third grade. I had scarlet fever that year and nearly died. We were quarantined at the house. All my toys and books had to be burned.

No time for cicadas.

I think that my parents got married in 1928. A milestone that I do not remember.

Labels: biology, life

BUGGED

I am so against all the Purell hysteria. I feel sorry for the "worried well" who fear any kind of bacteria.

This should scare them. Not me. I feel secure and happy with all my little friends.

I don't know which of the three types I am but I am glad to be whatever it is.

Labels: biology, microbes

LEFT BRAIN RIGHT BRAIN FRONT BACK

The old idea of left and right brain didn't work out to be true. So we dismissed the whole thing. But right here is a new bit about the left and right. A lot more complicated but it works without our worrying about it so what the hell.

One can nudge it around and use the understanding to unlock our selves.

Labels: biology

CUT OR UNCUT?

Labels: biology, health

WHAT'S UP WITH THAT?

Here it is. Just in. Penis size by country.

So, we are shorter than Canadians? Is that the French or English speaking Canadian?

And Mexicans. There is some reason to believe this is true from local anecdotes. Nothing personal. I would assert that there is strong incentive here for more liberal immigration laws so that we can, over time, raise our average.

Look at China. What happened? Big country, small dicks.

It seems to me that releasing this kind of information without any explanation or analysis is irresponsible.

When I was a kid, I was sure that I was smaller than anyone else. This only shrunk me up further.

They don't mention here how they measured. There is such a thing as a grower, not a shower.

Put me in the latter case. Proudly average.

How does come about that any discussion of penis size comes down to the insecurities of the person reading or passing on this information.

The male is still concerned about the eternal question. Does size matter?

My experience is that the answer is "sometimes". That means that sometimes not.

Just something to think about over the weekend.

And oh, someday this will not matter for most men in the survey. Once you reach the age of 30 or so, you are invisible, no matter how heavily you might be hung. Or not.

Labels: biology, fun, geopolitics, not fun