It pleases me greatly to once again address you, intimately and directly, in these virtual-fire-side chats, as has been my habit from our humble start together, I a na•ve and well-meaning advice dispensing squid new to a world he had yet never imagined, you an adoring and avid public, much hungry for some little scrap of guidance. Oh, how far we have together come! This is my first column since my inauguration as your Lord High American Presidentio and Ruler for Life— and, oh!, the busy-ness and business in which we have found ourselves ensconced! So many arrangements to be made— the proper care and feeding of the Ex-President Double-Yew Bush in his Watertight Cabinet in my new Oval Office, itself being retro-fitted to better allow my comfort. You, doubtless, could little imagine the difficulty of retro-fitting an ovular office in a 205 year-old-domicile to accept and contain 364 cubic meters of water (One for each day of your quaint solar year, less the pinch to grow the angry inch, eh? Cunning, the freely masonic architects of our Nation and its Presidential Palace, were they not?)
Please note the chart, below. This is the result of the collation of data sets from several years of casual research on my part, involving both willing and unwilling participants, and taking into account a variety of factors, both individually somatic and meteorological and astronomical (to the best I can fathom both these notions)— tidal pulls and sways, the influences of stars and moons, the travels and wanderings of orbital probes and probing orbitals, et cetera. As Febro is your traditional Month of Love and Expectations, I present it now, as a timely aid in what will no doubt be a harrowing time for all sentient beasts of rutting age throughout my Great Terra Americanum.
I would like to take this time to thank the Pfizer Cabal, and the Corporate Raiders of Lilly ICOS, both for their generous support of my recent and successful presidential campaign, and for their longtime support of this research. But for their fine pills, this project could not have been possible.
I also, at this time, would like to apologize to my lab assistant Rob, who I am sure shall heal from his unfortunate bursting and return to full virile vivacity.
Please, clip and save this handy chart, post it publicly, and use its wisdom in planning your coming days and nights in the treacherous month of Febro.
Yours in Love,
Mr. President Giant Squid
|DATE||MAX TUMESCENCE |
(as a ratio of length to breadth)
|1.||3:1||Splitting the Reed|
|5.||2.6:1||Milk & Honey|
|8.||2.8:1||The Congress of Crows|
|9.||3.1:1||Baby Elephant Dance|
|11.||3.3:1||Hail of Mary|
|12.||3.2:1||Alter Boy and Priest|
|13.||3.7:1||The Dog, His Style|
provided tumescences might be achieved
|Shame of the Ill-Performer|
(N.B. This is not a sexual posture, but rather a description of psycho-emotional state)
|15.||1:1||The Love of the Lonely Walker|
possibly no walking at all
|16.||2.1:1||Divide and Conquer|
|17.||2.1:1||Stand and Deliver|
|18.||2.1:1||Bend and Sway|
try as you like, tumescence shall you not
|24.||3.5:1||The Mathematician's Apprentice|
|26.||3.9:1||The Arch Geometer|
possible error in typography
|28.||4.2:1||Not Appliable: Rest and evade injury. Progress, and risk damage, structural and otherwise.|
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