Dear reader, as a penis scientist of some renown I feel it is my duty to hold up the high standards of academic integrity demanded by our discipline, if only to defend ourselves from the unfair maligning our fledgling field is continually subject to. That is why I want to bring to your attention–and the attention of our administrators at PRIC HQ–that large portions my “colleague’s” last post were lifted nearly verbatim from the Preface of Fredrich Nieztsche’s Beyond Good and Evil, and nowhere in the post is there anything close to a citation. Not one footnote, parenthetical, or let alone a clumsy attempt to adhere to CSE citation standards. And thus it should be considered wholesale plagarism.
So congratulations, Brody. Your academic suicide is complete. You’ve finally slipped the noose of intellectual dishonesty around your neck, stepped off the stool of scholarly respectability, and struggled through your last breaths of scientific credibility.
Have you learned nothing from our days at U of M? Your little dissertation debacle, and subsequent expulsion? And to pull a stunt like this on my blog of all places. You had to know I would catch you again, Brody. Was it a cry for help? An admission that penis science is “too hard” and your return to the field was a mistake? Or is it just a reflection of the simple truth that everything you do is a weak facsimile cribbed from something or someone else–your “scientific” research, your building routine, the women you choose to love–how deep does it go? How deep do you go? Can one plagiarize a soul?
Clear out your spray-tan booth from the the office, Brody. The real penis scientists need to get to work.
Dr. Richard Cox, PhD.
Supposing the penis to be a woman–what then? Is the suspicion not well founded that all penis scientists, with their focus on size, shape, and physical functioning, have had little understanding of women? That the gruesome seriousness, the clumsy obtrusiveness with which they have usually approached the penis have been inept and improper means for winning a woman? Certainly she–the penis–has not let herself be won, and today every kind of penis science stands sad and discouraged. If it remains erect at all! For there are scoffers who claim that it has fallen limp, that penis science has grown hopelessly soft, more, that penis science has blown its final load.
To speak seriously, there are good grounds for hoping that all size-dogmatizing in penis science, the utter enormity of my own cock notwithstanding, may nonetheless have been no more than a noble childishness and tyronism; and the time is perhaps very close at hand when it will be grasped in case after case what has been sufficient to furnish the foundation-stone for such sublime orgasms as, for example, I have had inside of countless women.
Whence the penis scientists’ obsession with size? Certainly it does not originate in women, from whom is ever to be heard only benign talk of boats and oceans. Nor does nature give it any stamp of nobility–to the contrary, a large, elaborate penis is precisely the mark of a species of rapists and cuckolds!
To we of clear vision and free penises, has there ever been a more damaging superstition than this “size matters”? Does not the obsession with size, for all its apparent glorification of our gargantuan penises and by extension the man who possesses it, simultaneously amount to a seductive denial of our worth as men, and indeed even our massive penises as penises? In this claim, “size matters,” is not the penis in fact made into the subordinate of the vagina, its object of pleasure, its slave? Just how many venomous snakes has this “size matters” smuggled in under its silken outer cloak? Enough! The twilight of this idol has come, and we of the free penis have come to preach nightfall. And then? Perhaps the dawn and the rising of a new penis, glistening and golden–one that kisses us as it bites. Yes! We preach the coming of the Überpenis.
The penis scientist of tomorrow will create new values for the penis, hence new interpretations, hence, a new measure of “size”–no! A measure beyond size. But it behooves the penis scientist to remember that he who fights large penises should look to it that he himself does not become a large penis. And when you gaze long at the penis sometimes it gets hard and looks like it is gazing back at you.
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.
So, Brody, you want to play science with the big boys? Then that means you’ll have to submit your research for peer review. Fortunately for you, I used my clout within the penile science community to fast-track your latest article for review at the Annals of Penis Science, and I just got their response back today. Let’s have a look, shall we?
So as everyone can see, Dr. Cox has been very busy filling this supposedly scientific blog with personal attacks against my character and scientific ability. Rather than lower myself to his level, I wish to elevate myself with my own original, high quality scientific research, the likes of which has not yet appeared on this blog.
Perhaps the first question that pops into the mind of the unscientific reader of this blog is, “Why do these guys care so much about penises? Are they gay?” Luckily, this question need not be relegated to the realm of whispers and rumor, but can be given a definitive scientific answer.
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.
Brody, it’s a shame you’ve been AWOL for the last two weeks. I was hoping I could get you to sign off on this letter, make sure I didn’t forget anything. Well, no bother; I’ve already faxed it on its way. The well-lubricated wheels of PRIC HQ are in motion, and there is nothing you can do to stop them.