There once was a horny factotumWho had a red swollen scrotumIt startled his bossWho gave him the tossNow his gonads have no one to coat 'em
I recently read about some city that was featuring a performance of "The Vagina Monologues". Someone complained that the marquee forced her to explain to her young daughter what a vagina was. So they changed the marquee to have it read the "Hooha Monologues" but then the theatre arts folk complained and it was changed back.But really, I think it would be more confusing and traumatizing for a little girl NOT to know she has a vagina. This also reminds me of how librarians in more conservative States used to paint little underpants over Mickey's wee wee in Maurice Sendak's In the Night Kitchen. It's not so much the underpants themselves that I find amusing, but the image of a librarian going through the book and painting these little underpants on every page. I just remember loving that book as a kid, but not thinking much about his pee pee one way or another. But If someone had painted these strange underpants on him, I'm sure I would find it very very weird, and my scandalous curiousity about this little boys cock would only grow. And I would have instantly and inevitably turned gay.
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