Male Enhancement and You.

I see all of these pills, creams and torture-device looking things that people sell to poor bastards who dream of having a bigger wiener. I think to myself that of course they don't work, and deep down everyone knows this. If any of this actually worked, and someone really had solved the riddle of how to eat something  and make your dick permanently and safely bigger, it would change the world.

For one thing, it would be bigger (hehe) than Viagra. Probably about 108% of men would consider buying it, or get a prescription for it if that is necessary. If this was sold as a prescription, what would be the required symptoms, and who would decide? I'd love to see that conversation at the doctor's office:

Doctor

What seems to be the problem?

 

Poor Bastard

Well Doc, I have a tiny dick.

 

Doctor

Ok, let's take a look.

 

(Poor bastard drops drawers)
 

Doctor

Oh my, that IS a problem. I'm writing you a prescription for self-confidence. Take only two of these a day, or the side-effects will be considerable.

Three days later the guy walks back into the doctor's office carrying his colossal dick like a newborn baby.

If one did show self-restraint when it came time to take your "prescription" your new big dick would probably still be small by comparison. It is all relative really. If everyone has a big dick, then the guys who had the original big dicks would have to start taking trips to Mexico to buy the magic pill as well. I mean, having a big dick was probably all that they had going for them to begin with, because most guys with giant schlongs don't feel the need to compensate in other areas.

So, the original big dicks would become the big dicks once more. But, they would never get laid again because now their penises are of such enormous proportion that women would risk post-coital surgery by putting it anywhere near them. In fact, very few guys would be able to show enough restraint to stop when their dick reached an enjoyable size, because then they would have a small dick again. And lets face it, it is more important to have the status of having a big dick than to give females pleasure with it. At least that is the way it was explained to me in 5th grade sex education.

World-production would be down since, as I have mentioned, everyone with a big dick (everyone) wouldn't feel the need to make a lot of money or better themselves in any other way. Unless you worked tourism in Mexico, or making underwear for enormous packages, you're probably going to lose your job you big-dick bastard.



The industry that would especially suffer is anything known to help men compensate for their minuscule members- i.e. sports cars, jet-skis, motorcycles, Rottweilers, etc.

If any of these mediums to big-dickery actually worked, the guy that invented it would be the richest man in a world with a declining world market, a steep decline in sports car sales, men stalking women like animals (more so than now even), and horribly sore vaginas all around the world.

Despite the fact that we don't live in a world like the one described, men still look at pills and creams called something like "Thor's Hammer Cock" with ambiguous "proprietary blends" and think to themselves, "But, maybe this is the one that will finally work. Just, maybe." And for only $4.95 a pill, who can blame them?

I certainly hope cancer gets cured before we see 3 Billion giant wangs being dragged across creation, because that would be disgusting (the wangs, not the cancer). 

Student Teaching: Part III (Fin)

This will be the last blog about student-teaching, and then I'm going to start blogging strictly about exotic cheeses.

 

My experience at SHS could be summed up in the following facts and figures...

I parked everyday in the small, ten space lot directly in front of the school. It is reserved for visitors only. Even the principal walks her ass from the large lot in the back, all the way to her office in the front. I was certainly not supposed to be parking there, but it was just so damned convenient. I decided I would park there until someone noticed, and then told me to park where I was supposed to. I feigned ignorance like this for 6 weeks. It took SHS administration that long to notice my truck parked twenty feet from the entrance, every day. This should give you an idea of how well the institution has its act together. It finally got back to me when one of my co-operating teachers asked if that was where I was parking. I probably could have denied it, and gotten away with parking there for another week. At least.

 

The SHS vending machines had space for about 60 different junk food options. About 12 of these were reserved for Flaming Hot Cheetos, and the rest for either candy or other salty snacks that contained the words/phrases "Jalepeno" "Extra Hot" and "Buffalo" in their descriptions. These vendors know that they're doing, because a lot of students would eat four or five bags of the above sodium-bombs for breakfast and lunch, everyday. I have even witnessed Flamin' Hot Cheetos used in courtship, with a student garnering attention from a desirable young lady by giving her his "extra bag" every day. May they have a long and fruitful relationship. This epidemic is not an SHS exclusive phenomenon though, especially in other working-class schools. A friend of mine working in Peoria Public Schools has even graded papers that were covered in the signature bright red residue of Flamin' Hot Cheetos. I guess the snack sometimes makes it into the dinner meal rotation as well. 

 

On a very important day of class, I stood and faced the flag while the school mumbled through the pledge of allegiance to start the day. I mouthed the words to the pledge, but was actually saying: "Hail Mary, full of grace..."

 

On a culminating research paper that I admit I could have taught better, one student wrote an opus entitled: "ILLEGAL IMIGANTION". You can imagine the masterful writing that followed.

Throughout the course of my student-teaching, I witnessed four or five fights (one of which included a deaf boy surprise-jumping on the back of a good-sized Hispanic tough and attacking his face; another included four Hispanic girls in a free-for-all that made it difficult for a spectator to figure out who, if anyone, was on who's side). There were also two fire-alarms pulled. Now, most schools have fire-alarms pulled as a prank. These were pulled due to fires being started in bathroom garbage cans; part of a rash of these incidents stretching back to the beginning of the school year.

Part of me feels like a sell-out who wants to chalk-up Illinois public education as a waste of time, and no fun at all. Part of me feels like I would be giving up on the all of the students that clearly need help. Yet, a bigger part of me feels that If I were to do anything I wasn't 100% sure of, would be a mistake. An even bigger still part of me wants a glass of wine, and then tell you all about it...

Student Teaching: Part II

Teenagers are animals. I am so sick of teenagers that I will need to see serious maturity levels from my own children to keep from sending them to boarding school at age 13. I am more and more disgusted by their behavior, language, motivations and priorities. I am so sick of seeing them lick each other's faces, and hearing their mindless, disrespectful conversations, that by the end of my time at SHS, I wanted to walk the halls with a cattle prod.

It makes sense to me; I know why they are the way that they are, but I still can't stand the vast majority of them. Individually each student can be great to know, and converse with. But, when as a pack in general, they are intolerable.

I know I too was once a teenager, but I could not have been nearly as bad as these teens. Yes, I drank. Yes, I smoked a cig here and there. Yes, I broke rules. But the main difference between myself and teens today lies in one word: Respect. Not to say that there were not disrespectful shithead teens that I grew up with, indeed there were. The rampant level of disrespect today is absurd though. Teens have respect for nothing: Rules, authority, property, relationships, friendships, or even themselves. When I was a teenager, I might have had angst, but I still had respect. There were teachers that I did not like, but I did not curse in their faces, and charge out of rooms. When adults working in a high school are afraid to tell students what kind of car that they drive, for fear of it being vandalized, there is a problem with the student populous. The students file into school in the morning, with their empty heads hung low. They are not 3,000 eager and willing minds, but inmates.

Part of me wants to kick every student with the cancerous attitude described out of school. Let them take their disrespectful attitudes and see where it will get them in life. I would like to see some of these students fail miserably. However, as an adult and and educator you have to act on the, "forgive them, for they know not what they do" mentality. Though some days I want to simply scream, "You're an ignorant f#%&*ng loser with no future!" into their faces, I don't. Being an educator doesn't just mean teaching young students facts and theories, but how to be a useful member of society. That starts with Respect. 

Student Teaching: The Final Product (Part 1)

Wow, I haven't blogged in ages. That is because I was impossibly busy with student teaching at Streamwood High School. Don't worry, I didn't get to enjoy the following things as well: Exercising, watching TV, sleeping, being outside, anything. The following is my first of a series of blogs that will be relating to my student teaching experience. Some will be funny, others reflective, and still others just no bullshit ranting. Enjoy.

It's funny; most people get into teaching because they hate or fail at what they thought their dream was. I on the other hand have only further realized my dream after hating/failing at teaching.

Before we go any further however, I should explain that I did not fail at student teaching. I did fail to enjoy it as much as I thought I would though, which is all that really matters. It came to the point where I would seriously feel ill walking the steps of Streamwood high school at 7am every morning. It got to the point where I, Sam Wrobel, would lose my appetite for entire days. Most importantly, it got to the point where I would be writing lesson plans and think, "I have to fill another 10 minutes with some activity," whereas a teacher should say, "I only have 50 minutes with these kids today." It wasn't that I didn't like the kids- well that isn't entirely true, there were a few that I wasn't too fond of- I just enjoyed teaching them what I wanted to teach them, and not what the state of Illinois and the backwards U-46 school district wanted me to.

During my ten weeks of student teaching (and many more weeks of observing prior to) and working at Lynfred Winery (Woot!) I began to realize that finding a fulfilling career in educating does not have to mean forcing 16 year old students reading at a third grade level to sit somewhere they don't want to be, and hate you for making them. I found much more fulfillment sharing and educating on the joys of the fermented grape to adults than I did in for former scenario. 35 students packed into a small classroom with only a blackboard and a VCR (yes, a VCR) because the district can't afford to pay teachers is fucked up. The horse shit, bullshit and dog shit that teachers have to put up with from administrators and the district bureaucracy is fucked up. The fact that no child is left behind, and they are continually passed up along the food chain to become someone else's problem is fucked up. The fact that we have a young generation of "functioning illiterates" is fucked up.

So, fuck it. I'm gonna have a glass bottle of wine and salute those that are content to be teachers. If you'd like to join me, I can be found relaxing in a sedentary position at a small number of locations. One way or another, stay tuned...