Tonight, exhausted by days of rushed work and wanting to take a bath and fall asleep to the soothing words of Clive James (I'm reading Cultural Amnesia, which as far as I can tell is an 800 page explanation of why France was the best thing about the twentieth century), I couldn't come up with a bad idea. So I thought I'd consult my partner-in-stuff Schmutzie, because if anyone can rescue me from abject desperation, it's
Darkseid my wife.
Palinode: I don't have a bad idea.
Schmutzie: Yes you do. You told me earlier today.
Palinode: (searching brain) What idea is this?
Schmutzie: You came up with the idea about the man with the enormous... you know...
Palinode: Oh. God, no. I can't put that on the internet.
Schmutzie: You asked for my help.
Palinode: The Hills was on. My mind was wandering!
Schmutzie: Unless you come up with something better, that's all you've got.
She's right. This is a pretty classy blog for the discerning reader, but I have to go with the debased factory of my mind. I apologize in advance for today's idea about the man with the enormous taint.
I confess that the idea is a bit underdeveloped. Was he born with it? Did he send away in high school for a little booklet on taint-improvement exercises? Is he some kind of hero after all? What if he is the saviour of the world, the apostate redeemed by the signal and source of his might, which just happens to be that crazy novelty-size taint of this? How does he walk, if he can walk at all? These are questions destined to wither on the vine, or be smashed aside by an enormous taint.
Where the hell would you get a booklet on taint enlargement? Please formulate your answer in the comments.