ROBBLOG #882- Make My Wishes Come True

 

There are three people in the whole, entire world who can grant wishes. They being Justin Trudeau, Santa Claus and - The Jesus.

Today Dear Readers, I will focus on the latter- not Church of the Latter- but The Jesus.

Now I am not a believer at all and if you have read my Blogs over the years, you will know that. You will also know I believe if you believe in a deity and that turns your crank and helps you get up in the morning, then more power to you. 

Today, I have a list of things I want accomplished. Just for me.

I figure that the Prime Minister is much too busy with covid and Members of Parliament- noticed I used the word "Members", who have the need to show their penises to other members of Parliament. Now I think as Canadians and the very voters who put those "members" in parliament, we should have the right to see a Member's "member" and judge for ourselves if it's a nice penis or not.

I mean changing clothes in front of a possibly "live" camera could have been an honest mistake but to pee on camera, honestly, this MP knew what he was doing- didn't he? You might want to back up and read ROBBLOG # 880 to retrace my own experiences with the sight of penises. 

Anyhoo, Justin's focus is elsewhere...

Now Santa is a busy man but being almost halfway through this year already I think he is just too busy to grant three wishes not to mention an entire list.

That brings me to the latter choice- "The Jesus".

Dear Jesus, listen to my wants and needs list and if you have some spare time please make all my wishes come true.

First item: The Jesus, I have been having a lot of paint in my neck and shoulders recently and this paint has made it way up to my head. Now, I hope I don't have cancer or a blood clot or anything but before I make an appointment with "Dr. Google" couldn't you just heal me now?

I'd be ever so grateful.

Second Item: The Jesus, I have been checked for almost a decade for glaucoma. My Grandmother had it and now it seems my Optometrist sees the beginning of it in my left eye. Yes The Jesus, I can see a specialist- an ophthalmologist, who could quite possibly give me eye drops but I have been told that that is a year and a half to two years wait.

The Jesus, just save me some wait time and heal me now. Please and thank you.

Third Item: The Jesus you already know- because you are omnipotent, that I have another specialist appointment in the near future. This "specialist" is educated in "down there" problems. I was experiencing "down there" stuff almost four months ago when Dr. Google made the appointment but the problem has gone away. I still want to see this specialist because I want his opinion. I want to ask if all this stuff is happening because I am turning 70 very soon or is it just luck of the draw.

Dear The Jesus, just to save me more stress and added worry can you just reach down and tap me with your magic "The Jesus Wand" and make it all better.

So, that's my list The Jesus. You'll notice I didn't even ask you for a million dollars as many other greedy, self-centred devotees of your religion do.

The way I see it, at this point in one's short life I have maybe 10 to 15 good years left. Good years meaning years where I don't have to wear a giant diaper or forget my name or forget where I live or even be aware of the fact that I am wearing a giant diaper.

That's not a lot of time.

Yes, I could live longer but unless some Doctor or Scientist hurries themselves up and invents a pill to keep me youngish and healthy I don't believe I have a chance in Satan's Hell!

I mean that. I really do.

It's a bleak future is it not The Jesus?

Now all kidding aside, let me be perfectly serious for a second.

If...IF you are up there in Heaven The Jesus can you please take a minute or two and make me well- if I need to be made well.

Just give me a little magic whomp anyway. 

It may be good for my soul- if I had one.

Now, The Jesus, I will leave all this and that in your capable, English-Speaking, white hands.

In the meantime, I am going to do a Google Search to find a picture of  The Member's member.

Let's see what all the fuss is about...

ROBBLOG #881- A Short Tale

 

Today for you, a short tale of a Rabbit named Rodney:

Rodney Rabbit lived alongside the stream that ran between Mr. Jones' and Mr. Smith's property.

Rodney's comfy home was in the bottom of a huge, mature oak tree that grew alongside the stream's bank. He had a main floor living level and an upstairs level where his cozy bedroom and ensuite bath were located. Bet you didn't know reader that rabbits has ensuite bathrooms.

Now you do.

Rodney loved rising early on warm summer mornings to take his mug of carrot coffee and slice of buttered carrot bread outdoors. He sat on a slatted wooden chair he has just painted sunshine yellow and placed his coffee and treat on a wooden tree stump he had fashioned into a table next to the chair. Rodney looked across the little stream and marveled- as he always did,  at the beauty of the scene laid out before him.

Bunches of wild daises grew here and there along the stream's banks. Mother Nature knew just how to place her flowers. Rodney sighed. 

"So very pretty. She's such a gardener!"

He reached for his mug with the maple lead emblazoned on the side. He took a sip.

Nothing like a good, hot carrot coffee in the morning. Life is good.

Off in the distance he could hear the Robins and Goldfinches chattering in the meadow. Both families had offspring now and he delighted in the feathered chatter. Some mornings Mrs. Robin would bring her new brood down to visit Rodney. They'd sit on the patch of bright green grass just in front of Rodney's Oak Tree home. He always kept a supply of fresh worms in a galvanized bucket inside his garden shed at the rear of the oak. He delighted in seeing the little Robins eat their fill while he and Mrs. Robin chatted about this and that and shared news from the banks of the stream or the middle of the meadow.

Just the other morning Mrs. Robin had some delightful news.

"Mr. and Mrs. Goldfinch are thinking of flying over to Derryville tomorrow. I said I'd look after her twins. They're no trouble at all."

"That's nice of you. Very nice of you."-says Rodney. "It's good to get away from time to time even though we have the loveliest stream and meadow in the county! Why even in this whole western province of British Columbia!"

Mrs. Robin tweeted her agreement. "Oh I think so too. We are so lucky- aren't we Mr. Rabbit? I mean look we could live in Ontario with that dipshit Ford as Premier or that rattlesnake Kenny.

"Truer words..."- says Rodney as he washed down a mouthful of bread with a sip of carrot coffee.

Rodney smiled as he remembered Mrs. Robin's words from a couple of mornings ago. 

What a nice lady and a Liberal Robin too sporting the loveliest of red breasts.

He took another sip of carrot coffee and a wee bite of carrot bread.

All was right with his stream, his meadow, his Oak Tree Home and life in general...

The End.

ROBBLOG #880- All About a Penis

 

Dear Readers, the blog you are bout to read is all about the Penis.

Penises to be exact.

It may be long.

It may be short.

The BLOG I mean!

Penises or "a penis" seems to pop up every now again in the news. Like sticking one's nose in someone's business somewhere along the way a guy sticks his penis somewhere and not always where it is wanted.

Some guys are proud of their appendage and want to show it off whenever possible- even to those who may not want to see it in particular or to those who never ever have any interest in seeing it- like Lesbians. Usually they will politely decline if offered the chance to view one.

That's their choice.

It's in the Constitution- I think....or is the Bible?

For me personally, I started seeing penises when I was quite young. I've seen a good many so far in my life and in fact I still see the odd one today. 

Not an odd penis- I mean it's happenchance to see a penis at all these days.

Sometimes one is sent in a greeting card. Sometimes sent from a friend- not the actual friend's penis, just a penis that belongs to someone else that a friend feels the need to share with someone like me.

I guess I saw my first penis a few years before I turned ten.

I saw it in Lake Simcoe in Ontario.

It was the penis of one of two brothers who were friends. Summer friends who visited their Nan each summer.

First I saw one friend's penis then the brother's.

They were okay to look at swimming along in the cool water looking like baby squids

Now, before I go further, let it be known that a penis is know by many other names.

For instance-

Dick,

Pee Pee,

Cock,

Sausage,

Manhood,

Baloney Pony,

Rod etc.

There are more and you may have a favourite.

So as I just said above, my first Pee Pees were seen in a lake on a hot July day in the mid-fifties.

My next penis was also seen in the summer. This Dick was attached to Larry. I can't remember his face but I do remember his penis- and his name. Larry liked to show me his Dick in his sister's playhouse.

He was quite insistent and liked to show me his willy on a hot summer day. The hotter- the better.

I never had a problem with that.

It's what young boys do in the summer.

At least I think that's what young boys do or did.

Eventually, as time passed I grew older as did the penises I saw. In high school there were penises galore in shower rooms. Some stood out amongst the crowd- like the Westmoreland Twins. Hardy farm boys who were packing monsters!

The girls tittered when they heard.

Size Queens!

The smallest penis I ever had the joy to witness was about the size of my little finger.

I was shocked quite frankly and felt a little sorry for its owner but eventually that smallish penis went on to father children.

Size doesn't matter- apparently.

Once in Nagara Falls Ontario, there was a Dick that belonged to an extremely well-built, hirsute Englishman who was about 6 foot two and played rugby. I'll give you a minute to picture this...

It's a long story as to how I ended up in Niagara Falls for a weekend one summer but needless to say I slept on this Englishman's living room couch. You see, he slept elsewhere, in his bedroom, with his wife I would imagine- who was a heavy sleeper.

Now I know what you're thinking...slut!

Look, I was on that couch sound asleep when he tip-toed out to the living room to ask me if I was comfortable. He stood a few feet from the couch where I lay, covering his nakedness with a drapery from the window. I could see all this because of the opportune positioning of a street lamp directly outside the window where I lay.

Well, what was I to do?

Say no?

I was his guest after all.

It was worth the effort to be the perfect guest- I must say!

Once a few years later, I saw another pair of penises that belonged to another pair of brothers- one I had a crush on for many summers.

Rick.

Rhymes with Dick. Did you notice?

This particular warmish summer day we were in a cabana on a beach changing into our swimwear. I thought Rick had a sturdy fellah down there but his brother Joe won the blue ribbon and there was plenty of room to pin it along the length and breadth of it.

To make matters ever more delightful, Joe swung naked from the rafters in this roomy Cabana Hut like a muscle-bound Jungle Boy.

I don't know why he did but he did as his brother and I watched.

I grinned...

A few years further along I had a couple of opportunities to see Dicks but I refused.

One was a roommate who wanted me to check out a pimple that had grown on the side of his John Thomas. I politely refused and suggested a Doctor might be a better, wiser choice. Along about the same time a flighty, little piano tuner who was decades ahead of me in years wanted desperately to show me his Howdy Doody. I steadfastly stood my ground and said no.

In return he asked me to show him mine.

Nope. 

Sorry I said, but just no.

I mean a girl has her rules...

A year or two later I moved along focusing on straight men's penises. At the time there was not a good stock of Gay Penises to be had so, you know- any cock in a storm.

What I believe was my first married, straight penis came straight out of the blue.

He asked.

I said yes.

For a couple of years he was insatiable and I mean he just didn't stop at looking.

That's a story for another blog or the book I have yet to complete.

He was what I would term "hot" even though I knew there was no future with his penis because he always went home to "the wife" but it was immensely enjoyable to see while it lasted.

In later years along came an Italian Dick, a Swimmer's Dick, A Dick that moved cargo for a major airline and a Dick that approached me in the warm Pacific waters in front of a major tropical hotel.

I know of course what you're wanting to ask me.

Well...

What is the biggest penis I ever saw alive and in person?

To this very day it is-

11 inches!

and yes I used a ruler!!

Let that sink in!!

He was a sweet man who was a clothes horse- when I saw him in them.

Keep your mind out of the gutter Ladies and Gentlemen. After all this is simply a blog about a variety of penises.

Nothing more.

Now today, a penis- a 32 year old plus penis, is in the news.

This fellah put it on display all those years ago and now more than three decades later the person who was on the receiving end of the display decided it was not appreciated. Remember too that Member of Parliament in Muskoka, Ontario did it a few years back. Didn't he text photos of his wiener to ladies?

It's bound to happen what with social media and all but still there are rules and a thing called consent.

As my Dad once said to me-

"Rob, keep your pecker in your pants!"

Words to live buy and I usually did-

most of the time...

ROBBLOG #879- So I'm Watching a Bab's Concert

 

So, I’m at this outdoor Barbra Streisand concert on Vancouver Island- not too far from where I live in Maple Bay. I think I'm dreaming. 

FACT: I am dreaming.

She- Miss Streisand, is performing an intimate concert for a few hundred friends. I scooped a ticket. I was lucky. She’s performing for a society that protects the whale and dolphins. Nice. I am standing by a large Arbutus Tree. Barbra is about 20 feet away. 

Babs- do you think I should call her Babs? Too soon? Yes. I think you are right. It’s too soon.

Hennaway, she’s singing "Evergreen"- Beautiful, when all of a sudden her eyes lock mine and she walks towards me. Me, standing at my Arbutus Tree watching Ms. Streisand sing "Evergreen". An Arbutus tree is "Evergreen".

I stand there mesmerized in a shirt with a nice collar, a leather jacket- evening breezes can be cool, shorts, flip-flops and my favourite leather man-bag flung over my right shoulder. 

She finishes the song. "Hello"- she says. 

"Hi"- I respond.

"Whattaya doing here?"- she asks.

 "I’m at a Barbra Streisand concert"- I say. 

"Hey. Whaddahya know, me too!"- She smiles that Streisand smile.

"Who woulda thought?"- I reply.

"Hey nice man-bag."- she says.

"Thanks"- says me, "it’s handmade. From London. England, I mean- not Ontario.".

"Oh... So,"- she asks with that Barbra twinkle in her eyes, "What do you do?"

"I live here on the Island."

"Get out!"- she says, "I might too. I’m thinking of buying a small place- ten, maybe twelve million. On the ocean. Nothing too garish."

Of course. I’m smitten. Garish is never good. 

"So you live on the island then."- Babs continues. Sorry. I can't help myself.

"Uh-huh."

"Do you like plants and gardens?"

"I love them!"- I scream with excitement.

"Holy shit! Me too!"- Barbra is over the top excited. "You wanna come and live with me in my non-garish mansion on the ocean with fish and dolphins and things?"

"Well…" I say trying to be polite. "I have a life."

"Never mind that!" 

Barbra pulls a mobile from her back pocket. Did I say she was wearing designer jeans and a sparkly Designer top? Nice. She dials. I'm thinking- would Barbra wear jeans? To a concert. Probably not.

"Hello James? What am I doing? I'm at a Barbra Streisand Concert."

She looks to me- "Men, eh?"

God, she sounded so Canadian at that moment.

"James"- she says into the phone. "Can ummm…what’s your name?"

"Rob"- I say.

"Oh, I’m Barbra!"

 I’m guessing Babs is out of bounds and I say- "I know..."

"James, I’m with a fellah here who might come and live with us…His name? What does that matter…It’s Rob." She takes the phone from her ear- "He says he likes guys called Rob. Getta vay,!"- she says back into the mobile- "We’ll talk." She looks at me- straight in the eye and says- "Look Rob, I've got this concert-thingy to do. We’ll have coffee after?"

"Sure."- I say.

Babs wanders away. 

The orchestra plays and she starts to sing. "People". 

One of my fav’s…