I have little doubt that most of the readers of this blog are disturbed by the recent output of Dr. Cox, and for good reason. So it appears as though “Big Daddy” Dickworth must restore this blog to respectability yet again.
To begin with, do not listen to the hacks that refereed my unassailable article on Cox’s homosexuality. As little Richard himself demonstrates on a weekly basis, the world of penis science is full of petty, backbiting cowards for whom peer review is merely a weapon to be wielded against those few of us who are capable of true innovation.
But of course, such unsupported and unwarranted attacks on my merits as a scientist have persisted throughout my career, always in one dubious form or another, whether it be claims of plagiarism, arrogance, or “clownish stupidity.” I was at first puzzled by this inexplicable and apparently inexhaustible hatred for me and my work as a penis scientist until Dr. Cox’s most recent article “The Man with the Small Castle: The Gorilla Penis.” Then it all came together: They are all jealous of my huge penis.
Dear reader, there is something you should know about me: I am a huge Dick fan, and I have been ever since my early twenties. Maybe my love of Dick has spilled over into my research, because I often find myself wondering, “What if…?” like in Dick’s classic alternate history novel “The Man in the High Castle”. But instead of asking, “What if the Nazi’s had won,” I ask, “What if our penises had evolved differently?”
Fortunately one doesn’t need to be a Dick to imagine the outcome such scenarios. We only have to examine the penises of our closest living evolutionary relatives, the primates, because in a sense each primate penis is an alternate history of the human penis, a window into What Could Have Been.
I’ve already touched on this idea a little in my post on the barbed penis, where I examined a study claiming proto-humans used to have magnificent barbed penises like many other primates. You might say the barbed penis is like a utopian alternative history, one where the Axis powers lose, but the States and the USSR nuke each other into oblivion, and Canada rises to supremacy, their scientists ruling the land like philosopher kings.
Then you might ask: Which penis corresponds to a dystopian alternate history, the one where the Axis powers win, the West falls to communism, and vampires take over Parliament? This would certainly have to be the gorilla penis.
It is clear that my readers have sorely missed me in my absence, and for that I apologize–my duties in the world of professional body building kept me away. I don’t build for a living anymore, but I remain a much sought after judge on the pro circuit. I love judging but there’s nothing like the forty-five minutes you spend stripping down and greasing up before getting up on that stage, ready to throw down a crushing sequence of poses that intimidates the whole room, leaving the judges in awe and the competition despondent.
I always varied my routine to keep the competition off guard, I was notoriously unpredictable. For example, in my 1997 performance which won me the Canadian national championship I started with an understated Front Abdominal-Thigh Isolation, which I deliberately held just slightly too long before transitioning slowly, almost imperceptibly into a coy Side Triceps Display, and then oozed myself into a classic Back Lat Spread and let them soak it in, nice and easy. I held that Back Lat Spread for a full thirty seconds until I could hear the spectators start to murmur nervously behind me; everyone except me was on pins and needles and so, sensing weakness, I spun decisively into the most brutal Front Double Biceps of my career. The audience gasped and I roared and started grinning like Zeus in the midst of a thunder bolt orgy. The room was mine now and I was fearless like a child in his own backyard. I decided it was time they had another Front Abdominal-Thigh Isolation, this time with gusto, so I thrust my pelvis at them forcefully again and again like a free man, and it was as though the energy of a thousand suns was rushing out of my body and washing over the entire room…
The rest is a blur. The audience had submitted to my will entirely, absorbing pose after pose after pose until, towards the end, everyone in the room was panting with exhaustion and close to tears, most of all myself. Finally I summoned the last of my strength for one last Back Lat Spread and walked firmly off the stage without even giving the crowd one final look goodbye. I collapsed as soon as I got back stage. Never have I felt a happiness so deep and complete before in my life as I did when I was lying on that floor listening to the standing ovation I was receiving outside…
I still feel a slight twinge of loss at the beginning of every competetion I judge, but it is nice seeing the next generation of great athletes go to work. This year’s victory came to the highly gifted Frank Jackinbeans. Athletes like him are truly a pleasure to watch. Indeed I hear they are starting to call him “The Bodman” now, though not when I’m around, of course.
Alas, those days are largely behind me, and it’s time to embrace this new phase of my life at PRIC. I see that Cox has kept himself busy filling the blog with personal attacks against my character and scientific ability, as well as making libelous posts questioning the authority and good judgment of PRIC. Doubtless there will be consequences for this kind of behavior, but I don’t plan on wasting another second thinking about it. No, I think it’s time to start doing science again, and I already have a very important project in mind.