Let’s talk about penises.  Broken penises.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Put down your mouse for second and do not navigate away from my website.  Just stick with me on this one.  But first, I want to apologize for all of the uncomfortable shifting and potential adjustments to your boys that might happen during the reading of this article.  But it’s all based on fact.  As I sometimes do, I find an article in the current news that inspires me to write a column.  And today is such an event.

With all of that being said, I want to return to penises.  Broken penises.

So in Jamaica there are a lot of penises or to use the proper Latin plural … penii.  In addition to a lot of ding danglers, there is also a crazy dance phenomenon known as Daggering.  Apparently, Daggering is a style of dance that takes the Lambada and actually finds a way to incorporate penetration to some degree.  Daggering involves heavy grinding, acrobatic gyrations, daredevil leaping, and a one way trip to the bedroom where all of these moves are replicated … with dangerous results.

Yep, apparently a dance known as Daggering can in fact break your penis.  The sharp thrusts and merciless poking has created a spate of fractured talley wackers all over Jamaica.  It has gotten so bad that the medical groups in Jamaica are issuing warnings against Daggering … and there is even talk of legislative action to make Daggering illegal.  Those are some dedicated weenie thrusters.

I swear to God as my witness that this is all true.  You can read the actual story here from the Kingston, JA newspaper the Straits Times.

Ok, Ok, where to begin.  This is what Maverick called a Target Rich environment.  It’s like my brain has exploded and I’m frantically trying to put it back together again with … a fractured penis.  Alright, maybe that was a bit far.

Here goes:

1. How jacked up of a gutter slut do you have to be to let a dude Dagger you?  Geezuz, the name of the dance is “Daggering”?  Really?  This sounds like a smut film that Nic Cage would have watched in 8mm.  Daggering.  I just can’t get past the name.  Maybe I’m too old, maybe I’m too white, but if some chick hit me up on the dance floor during my single days and told me she wanted me to Dagger her, I may have thrown up right into my Natural Light.  Oh wait, I did that anyways.

2. What could possibly be next after Daggering?  Could this be the lowest common denominator for crazy shit or is the best still to come?  I know Battle Axing!  That way there is a perfect segue to another euphemism I’ve heard for the female bits – hatchet wound.  Can you imagine the conversation that will inevitably happen the next morning in the fraternity bathroom?  “Hell yeah, I battle axed her last night and now she’s got TWO hatchet wounds!”

3. The most important part of this – who in the hell would booty bump so hard as to fracture your penis?  Firstly, I didn’t even that you could break the twig part of the twig-berry combo by just following the natural course that was intended.  Yes, I knew that you could damage the boys.  “You got the frank below the beans!”  But a broken penis?  Is that possible?  I honestly didn’t think so until this article.  In my day, I could have used mine to hammer nails.  Into cinderblocks.

I have to think that there would be indicators that you’re reaching the dangerzone.  The point of structural stress that says, “STOP DAGGERING!”  Like the groaning of a suspension bridge before it reaches the critical moment of failure.  Maybe you’d feel it in the back of your knees.  Or maybe in the cockles, the lower cockal region perhaps.  But I’m sure you’d feel something, anything.  It’s not like your breadknife is made from candy cane and will shattered into a thousand pieces upon the first impact.  This is a weapon forged for combat, bred for battle.

I recall the line from the movie Excalibur when Merlin looks to King Arthur after he ruined the magic sword in his duel with Lancelot.  “You have broken what could not be broken.  Hope … is … broken.”

4. Can you imagine going into the doctor’s office with the confession, “Yes, I broke my penis.”  I’m not sure whether I’d feel embarrassed or … damn proud.  I can see the doctor’s face in disbelief.  The collection of disbelieving interns gathered by your bedside, bidding for the right to submit it to a medical journal, clipboards in hand, with swooning nurses praying for a speedy recover.  “It wasn’t easy.  I used a power saw, a blender, and an Earth Wind & Fire CD … but by God, I’ve done it!”

It’d be like the first time you met a guy that could one armed pull-ups … or could run a 4.2 forty yard dash … or made out with Kim Kardashian.  He has summited a mountain of manhood, entered the venerable hall of legends.  But at a price, a terrible price.

It’s the Greek tragedy of mandom.  The James Dean of sausage.  Rest now, soldier, your place in the pantheon is assured.

5. Let’s put aside the injuries of a broken penis for a second.  I’ve got another problem with the name Daggering.  I’m not big into the comparisons of my pole to a humble dagger.  Quite frankly, it’s the smallest of all blades, rivaled only by the dirk.  Put me down for Braveheart Swording.  Hell yeah!

6. As a terrible side effect, the nerd and geek community is going to adopt this convention.  Yep, the D&D world is quickly going to embrace Daggering, but with horrible repercussions.  I can see fat teenagers with pebbled faces being dropped off by their moms to Magic Card battles with cod pieces in the form of a 1d4.  Or even worse the rare geek trained in the art of the Rogue boosting the fabled 1d6.  Add in the obvious Critical Hit or Sneak Attack jokes and it becomes a gift that gives year round.  Like the Jelly of the Month club.

Holy shit.  I need a Tylenol.