A Penetrating Look at Human Stupidity

A few months back, a Southampton man found himself in the hospital after getting his penis stuck in a metal pipe. Why he was banging said pipe remains an official mystery, but I think most of the mystery bleeds away when you really think about it. You have a dick… you see a hole… there is a part of you that wants to stick said dick into said hole. Most of the time, you don’t act on those ridiculous impulses (much as ladies don’t always shove any ol’ vaguely phallic-shaped object into their snatch), but then there’s the guy (or gal) whose curiosity overrides his commonsense. And dignity.

Anyway, the Southampton man was in a real bind (literally), as the pipe had constricted blood flow to his prick, giving him a permanent hardon. Like a Viagra-coated steel sleeve, this pipe wasn’t coming off his penis of its own volition… or his. Looks like a trip to the emergency room was in order.

So this 40-ish-year-old man hobbles into the ER, sporting a shiny new accessory attached to his nether regions. Naturally, the nurses just blink and, in a bored tone of voice, direct him to a waiting area. Because ER nurses see weird shit like this all the time. Southampton man is, by all accounts (and expectedly), “quite concerned and anxious.”

After trying all the usual routes to free the man’s penis, doctors were forced to call in the big guns. So, in come the Hampshire Fire and Rescue Service. Not just one or two, but seven firefighters show up to handle the delicate situation.

And they show up with a fucking angle grinder.

For those of you who don’t know, this beastie is an angle grinder:

And this, in case you’ve forgotten, is a human penis. Note the squishy, fleshy nature of it:

 

‘Sup?

And this is an angle grinder injury, to another fleshy, squishy bit of the human body:

Frankly, I would not be too keen on allowing something that can do that anywhere near my junk. No wonder they needed 7 firemen to take care of the job- 6 were required to hold the Southampton man down as he flailed and gibbered and tried anything to get away from the death machine coming toward his cock.

Said cock did not suffer any grievous injury, however, despite the obvious fears and the also important but less readily apparent issue of things getting too hot during the cutting. The anesthetized penis was free after 30 minutes of cutting, suffering nothing more than some bruising and swelling after the whole ordeal.

And while this whole incident seem worthy of the highest honors in the Darwin Awards… it’s not the first time something like this has happened in Southampton. Watch manager Greg Garrett from the Redbridge fire station told the Southampton daily Echo: “I’ve only come across this type of thing three or four times in my 17 years as a firefighter. It’s not a daily occurrence.”

Three or four times? Really? Good times.

This is probably why I’m not allowed to have a penis. I would be stupid enough to do something like this.

***

And now, we’ll reverse positions. Instead of having a man penetrating an object, we’ll have an object penetrating a man.

While Stumbling, I came across the delightfully named post, “Anal Penetrating Chair Kills Teen.” Now I ask you… could you resist reading that?

So here’s what supposedly happened:

Over in China, a 14-year-old was killed when the computer chair he was sitting on fucking exploded, propelling shrapnel up into his ass, causing extensive, fatal bleeding. Though the boy was alone when the chair violated him, he managed to make a phone call through the haze of pain. Not to a hospital, but to his father. What was he going to say? “I love you, daddy, and I’m sorry I was going through your porn stash again. Guess I got my comeuppance, eh?”

The father had the presence of mind to call the fucking hospital, but it took an hour to get the kid to the hospital, and he died en route.

The murderous, rapist chair was actually your average, everyday pneumatic desk chair. Highly pressurized gas is stored in a cylinder on the back of the chair, and you use this device to raise and lower the height of the chair.

 

*cue 'Jaws' theme*

So… how did this perfectly ordinary chair suddenly become an exploding death device?

“Allegedly, energy created by the seat cushion caused the explosion.”

…What? No, seriously, what does that mean? What kind of energy was created by the seat cushion? Are we talking friction, maybe? Thermonuclear energy? This is not an explanation, dammit. And, despite my best efforts, I was unable to find anything that elaborated further on the seat cushion energy question.

There were more adequate explanations given, however. Non-nitrogenous gases contaminated the cylinder of the chair. Or the cylinder might not have been airtight. Or it might have been crafted out of faulty materials. Whatever the reason, the end result was still an ass-raping deathsplosion.

But again, this was not the first time such an incident had occurred. In fact, three other incidents were reported within the same month alone. You’d think the manufacturers of these chairs would, oh, I don’t know, fix this problem. Maybe. But apparently, a few asses are the price one pays for profit.

And you thought office jobs were cushy, that your greatest risk of injury was burning your mouth on your coffee or getting a paper cut off a report. Now you know better.

This is a Slurpee of Sin

Song of the moment: My Only Friend The Magnetic Fields

I know, I know, I haven’t posted in two days. And what a strange two days they’ve been. I’ll pick up where I left off last time.

Friday

Well, after waiting at Espresso for the better part of forever for Sean to call me, I finally got too cold to remain in the coffeeshop, so I bounced over to the dorms, which also have semi-reliable wireless.

I got so bored of WoW while I was waiting for Sean that I eventually just started reading. The Art of War, in case you were wondering. I amused myself by spending the entire first chapter switching out the word “love” for the word “war.” It works wonderfully, albeit hilariously. However, while reading, the gears in my head slowly ground out an idea that unfortunately involved me looking up something in a book I didn’t have. That being said, I knew someone who used to have it. Not really expecting him to have brought it with him, I still raced up to Ben’s room to question him about the tome.

Sure enough, he’d left it at home. I was ready to leave it at that and bid him a good night, when he stopped me at that door, telling a story. Eventually, instead of just waiting to leave, I sat down and had a lively little conversation with him. He’s such a strange kid, the more I think about it. It was nice, though, because any lingering feelings there have completely burned away. And it was noticeable (to me, at least). It felt so good to know that we’re completely platonic now.

He made a sort of sweet comment that was nearly a compliment to my intellect. Nearly. I always joke that I think on rare occasion (since, let’s be frank, my silly personality often masks the fact that I am a fairly intelligent person), but when I said that to him, he just kind of gives me this probing look and says, “Sam, I know you think.” Like I said, almost a nice little compliment. Pretty much as close as you get to one from him.

Anyway, Sean didn’t get in touch with me until I left Ben’s room and our marathon talking session. He said he was really sick and had been sleeping all day and needed to go back to sleep and apologized for bitching out on me. Whatever. At that point, I was ready to just head home and enjoy a quiet night alone.

Back at the apartment, Stauff IMed me. Apparently, the kid was drunk as fuck. That led to a highly entertaining AIM conversation with him, my favorite part of which reads as follows:

2:00:35 AM Stauff: yeahs, and i htink he wants to live though my sex life too
2:00:39 AM Stauff: kid needs to stop!
2:00:51 AM Sam: he wants to live through your sex life?
2:00:57 AM Sam: and does he need to stop having sex? haha
2:01:16 AM Stauff: He needs to stop soemthin
2:01:22 AM Stauff: sex or cigs
2:01:26 AM Sam: hahaha
2:01:34 AM Sam: give him an ultimatum
2:01:43 AM Stauff:
2:01:44 AM Sam: you gotta pick one thing to go, sean: nicotine or sexing
2:02:08 AM Stauff: Kissinff people who smoke is like kissing ashtrays, buliten boards say so
2:02:19 AM Sam: i would imagine so, yes
2:02:19 AM Stauff: Stop
2:02:24 AM Sam: me?
2:02:25 AM Stauff: dont touch me there
2:02:30 AM Sam: what the fuck?
2:02:31 AM Stauff: this is my private square
2:02:36 AM Sam: hahaha
2:02:39 AM Stauff: s t o p get that thing away from me
2:02:44 AM Stauff: go rape someone else
2:02:49 AM Stauff: go rape someone else
2:03:02 AM Stauff: think that is how it goes
2:03:54 AM Sam: i can’t say i remember how that goes
2:13:02 AM Sam: sorry again
2:13:07 AM Sam: i missed anything you just said
2:13:18 AM Sam: though i think i found a new, stable wireless network’
2:13:20 AM Sam: we’ll seee
2:13:21 AM Sam: *see
2:13:22 AM Stauff: GO TO HELL
2:13:26 AM Sam: omg
2:13:30 AM Stauff: but thats not what i said hehe
2:13:33 AM Stauff: just wanted a reaction
2:13:35 AM Sam: i… i…
2:13:39 AM Sam: *cries in corner*
2:13:41 AM Stauff: oh noes
2:13:42 AM Sam: *like, a lot*
2:13:46 AM Stauff: Aw
2:13:54 AM Stauff: I like you
2:13:59 AM Stauff: Nocries

Dreamy Segue

And now, to relate the two extremely bizarre dreams I had Friday night. They were this weird blend of things I’d heard during the day and things that have happened to me in the past few months.

First dream: It was Christmas break, and apparently, I’d had to go back to Wyoming, and the return to the dreaded rectangle might just be permanent. My mother notices that I’m unhappy, and she’s offering to buy a plane ticket so I can go back. I comment that Stauff has been wanting to do a road trip, and that maybe they could road trip out to get me.

All of this takes place in my bedroom in the apartment, however. My mother leaves and Sean and Amanda come in. Amanda says she’s tired and goes to bed (there’s a fucking surprise, but for once, she doesn’t take Sean with her), and Sean gestures for me to scoot over on the bed. With anyone else, this would be taken sexually. But Sean just wanted to lay down and join me in playing WoW. Hilarious. For some reason, I then tried to convince him I was dead. He didn’t believe me, but Willow (from Buffy), who was suddenly sitting beside me, did. I had to convince her I was joking, then she suddenly leaped on me and started making out with me.

I will not lie- it was pretty hot. Still not into chicks, though. Only the odd dream (then again, when it comes to sex dreams, all mine are strange… half the time, I’m a dude).

Second dream: This one is really bizarre. So, I go back to my old high school, where I stop in to say hello to my old librarian. Turns out, she retired and a new guy had taken over. The library was very… kid friendly, and I asked him why that was the case in a high school library. He informed me that this was now the elementary library, and the high school library was located in the gym… this made perfect sense to me in the dream.

Suddenly, librarian man transformed into Al Pacino, and basically all of my friends, past and present, were at this classy party. Very old Hollywood, with a bitching jazz band playing through the whole thing. Everyone around me was drinking and partying and having a good time… and seemed blissfully unaware of the ring of mafia types around the perimeter of the party, obviously preventing anyone from leaving.

Al Pacino was holding all my friends hostage because he wanted something I had. Something that, if I gave it to him, would allow him to rule the world. But I had to give it to him willingly, he couldn’t take it- not even off my dead body. So he had had to devise a plan to get me to cave and give up whatever it was he needed.

Weirdly enough, he also seemed to be very interested in me as a woman, despite the fact that he had ladies hanging off him constantly (including Falk and Grix, who defected to the side of evil for reasons I never figured out). I was wearing this floor-length, slinky red silk dress, with a sweetheart neckline that showed a lot of cleavage. At first, I tried to play up the sex appeal thing, to change his mind. However, it just seemed to make him more resolved to get both me and the mystery item I had.

He eventually whispers in my ear that he’s going to start killing my friends if I don’t give him what he wants. I look around the room, seeing everyone I’ve ever loved. Sean was drunk and speaking in an Irish accent with Rachel, Adi,  and someone else. Chrissy was flirting with Shawn, who was drumming on the table. Ben was scamming on all the women there, including Sabrina and Melissa, though he ended up with a tranny most of the night. There they all were, all around me, and I knew Al Pacino was going to kill them. I was ready to give in.

I step out for a cigarette, and I look into the glass entryway. There, a stark naked couple is standing, holding hands, staring at me. There is a semicircle of mafia types behind them, preventing escape. Al Pacino walks up beside me and says it doesn’t have to be this way. Apparently, these nude people are my friends. And in my dream, I can feel that friendship connection. I watch, with my heart breaking, as they look at me with eyes that say, “Don’t give in. It’s not worth it. We’ll be fine.”

Then, they break into this graceful, sorrowful interpretive dance. I watch them approach the glass window and see Al Pacino raise his hand. The mafia men all raise their guns. Still dancing, the couple draws something on the glass window in large, sweeping strokes. They finish, and for a moment, we all stare at it. It’s a large heart, with a small cartoon couple at the bottom holding hands, with little speech bubbles that say “I love you” and “See you soon”. At the top, they’ve written “Don’t give up”.

And then, the mafia men all start shooting. The couple is riddled with bullets. Blood splashes onto the window, obscuring the heart. It starts to rain. Upset, I stumble back inside. I am alone again, and I start crying, sitting at the bottom of the stairs. Suddenly, I hear Al Pacino say something. I turn around and, with horror, see him leading my brother toward me. He flew Chris in from Wyoming to help break me. I smile shakily and hug Chris. I can tell that he has an inkling of what is happening and is afraid. He is led away into the party. I collapse on a sofa, feeling numb. I know I’m going to have to give Al Pacino what he wants.

A man walks up beside me and sits down. It’s supposed to be Stauff, but it doesn’t look like him at first (though, eventually, it morphs into him). Stauff explains that it’s going to be okay and that I have to be strong and come up with a plan. Al Pacino won’t kill my brother because he’s afraid of making me snap and do something rash, because then his men will be forced to kill me to protect Al, and he’ll never get what he wants. I’m slowly calming down, and we’re lounging on the couch, talking, when Al Pacino walks by again. He passes us, then turns around and casually shoots Stauff through the forehead.

And this is what breaks me. I fucking snap, going absolutely cold with rage. I storm into the large kitchen area, reach into my backpack, and pull out a beer. I crack it open and start chugging it. Al Pacino sidles up and makes a smart remark about me drinking an IPA. I turn to him, face full of hate, tell him to shut the fuck up, pull a gun from somewhere, level it at him, and…

Wake up. Damn, I wanted to know what happened. The dream was really dramatic, strangely cinematic, and completely strange.

Saturday

Well, Paul slept through his alarm (not that I blame the man, since he worked the night before), so we didn’t watch the Arsenal game. Yes, I learned who was playing. Go me. Therefore, I didn’t wander campus-way until later, just before the MSU game. I don’t really feel like talking about it. We lost. We played sloppy fucking football. I’m already bored with college ball.

After the game, we all just kept drinking and being merry. Then Abby showed up. Then everything went totally batshit. She made us play this fucked up game of truth or dare. Suffice to day, I had to make out with her and her gay friend, she gave me a fucking lapdance, and Stauff had to do a bodyshot off me. It was awkward.

I’m never drinking with Abby again. She always makes shit weird.

Anyway, Stauff managed to injure himself being a fucking dumbass and climbing on the little building attached to QD and then leaping down from it. While drunk. And spraining his ankle pretty badly and fucking up his wrist. So, Chrissy and I walked his dumb, drunk, injured ass back to his dorm.

Once I got him settled, I popped back downstairs and hung out with Paul for a bit, as he was night receping. Went home with a killer headache, drugged myself up pretty hard, and passed out for what felt like forever.

Woke up late today… so really, it’s almost been three days since you heard from me. Oh well, today doesn’t count- it was full of sleep.

WoW news: I have joined a new guild. It advertised as being about leveling and having fun, so I’m excited. Also, the GM is cool. I’m looking forward to having a good guild experience. Plus, it’s Brewfest in Azeroth, a big, drunken ceremony in the tradition of Oktoberfest. I think it’s hella funny.

Bonus link of the day: I fucking loved Pogs.