I am convinced some men buy large, expensive cars to make up for a certain lack in the groin area, or for a lack of performance in that area. (Perhaps it’s only perceived, like “ooh, I’m grossly overweight” among anorexic women.) And before the era of the automobile one of the compensations used to be horses (to the contrary, just wait till you see the picture from China below).
I mean, God forbid you rode into a Wild West town on your pony or donkey. No sirree, its gotta be one dang huge, barrel-chested stallion, jowls slavering from the heat, nostrils flaring and hooves stamping at the sight and smell of fresh filly after weeks in the literal or figurative desert. These are just different ways to symbolise or advertise maleness. For example, we had (and have) the massive, strutting boots with jingling spurs mirrored or echoed by the tight jeans stretched over the avocado-shaped zip area, thumbs hooked in the belt just above aforementioned location, both pointed upwards like cocked pistol hammers, ready to fire on command. I bonk, cowgirl: therefore I am!
Heck, we all know why high school boys kept their school rulers next to their bedside for when they wake up in the morning. Back at school I remember Colin Saunders used to boast about his fifty centimetre “morning glory” ruler. “Bullshit!” we’d all thunder back.
No matter, and I mean NO matter what the manuals on erotica and tantric settings states, when it comes to the male ego, it’s the Godzilla effect:
Size. (Booming drum roll)
Does. (Booming drum roll)
Count. (Prolonged drum roll followed by clash of cymbals)
Hence the endless need for compensations.
And we all know the myths and legends about different races with regard to length, depth of dangle and noble, stately sway of the male apparatus as he walks or vigorously scrubs himself down in the gym shower. Hence, here in China, many Westerners unfairly scorn or dismiss the Chinese prowess in this priapic domain. Unfortunately, the demeaning myth seems to be supported by the advertising. For example, this gem of a billboard near Dong Chang Road in Pudong, Shanghai. You tell me what the poor fellow is so, ahem, cockily advertising. I shit you not, just like the previous blog, I did not tinker with the photo of this, um, fashion advert.
Five CM? A measly… five? No booming drum roll here. Maybe a tinkling bell on a Noddy cap. Perhaps the chief promise or unique selling point should not always be so prominently displayed on the product’s image. Imagine this poor bastard surging out of a huge, office party birthday cake (girls only), whilst the claps, squeals and whistles fade into an embarrassed, silent anti-climax, Girls, wouldn’t you prefer he kept his G-string on? Good grief, one does wonder what the poor chap is supposed to be advertising. One hopes, at least, that it is his status before he, well, rises to the occasion. The emphasis in the picture seems to be the “before” picture in the before and after pictures of a Viagra advert. But it’s not.
Can’t say I often see advertisers only showing the entry-level product. At least, I hope that’s how it is.
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