Monday, March 14, 2011
The best medicine
A Russian doctor has opened a clinic specialising in laughter therapy. His theory is that regular chortling is an effective treatment for a multitude of maladies ranging from high blood pressure to cancer. I can verify from personal experience that it works for constipation.
Although my current jungle diet makes my shit flow like a mudslide, I wasn’t able to follow it back in my circus days. I once got a concrete feeling in my colon after eating too many cream crackers, so I went to the bog and tried to empty my bowels by reading The Henry Root Letters. Believe me, there is nothing on Earth that feels like laughing out a turd – a mixture of agony, hilarity and relief in one big dump. My hooting and hollering caused people outside to wonder whether sadomasochist practices were going on. Fortunately they were too scared to intervene, which would have definitely resulted in an ugly incident.
Of course this doesn’t mean the clinic is bound to be a success, because there’s a big difference between gorillas and Russians. Laughter is a habit we have acquired from a carefree jungle lifestyle involving dancing, swinging and the spanking of baboons. The Russians, by contrast, have had very few opportunities for mirth in their grim and tragic history, bedevilled with notorious despots such as Ivan the Terrible and Igor the Horrible. I seriously doubt whether many of them even enjoy laughing.
When Solzenitsyn came to the West, the first thing he noticed was people smiling in the streets, which he found irksome.
“Their gossip, nonsense and vain talk belie an emptiness of the soul,” he pompously declared.
Silly old fart. Little did he realise, in his profound ignorance, that gossip, nonsense and vain talk have underpinned the greatest achievements of Western civilisation, including parliamentary democracy, the moon landings and talk radio. That’s what happens to a writer who shoots to fame as a chronicler of misery and oppression – he loses the ability to see past his nose.
Maybe the new Russia is different, though. Communism has been dead for 20 years and Boris Yeltsin could certainly act like a buffoon, albeit not a particularly funny one. Vladimir Putin still has the old KGB poker face, but the younger generation have invented some clever practical jokes, such as the mail-order bride who steals money from desperate fat men.
A very promising attempt at humour was recently made in St Petersburg by some up-and-coming artists, who drew a giant phallus on one of the city’s bridges. They called their creation “A Penis in KGB Captivity” to draw attention to heavy-handed police tactics during an international conference. There was talk of short-listing the graffiti for an art prize, but the authorities ordered the fire brigade to obliterate it with their hoses. They wouldn’t even let it stand proudly for the duration of the conference.
My question for the Russians is this: If you can’t laugh at a big willy, what can you laugh at?
Labels: laughter, penis, Russia, Solzenitsyn
Comments:
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I disagree, I've never laughed at a big willy, well mebe a smug satisfied grin, but it's always been the little ones that made me laugh.
According the scale of girth to length, that represents a short willy. And yes, they draw their share of giggles. I know. Love that lead photograph, by the way.
I've been receiving letters from random Russian ladies who want to befriend me (my name is a unisex one that gets many to think I'm a guy) Badly written letters probably translated using Google Translate, claiming that they hv found their soul mate in me'. Sometimes they also attach half naked pics of themselves.
Laughter indeed :)
Laughter indeed :)
That Russian comedian from the 80's Yakkaf Smirnoff? He wasn't funny. He wasn't even funny enough for me to look up the correct spelling of his name.
Also, I think I'd like to do some laughter therapy with those three gals at the sleepover. I think it would cure just about everything for me, except that I'd have to live with the fact that I would never have an experience that awesome for the rest of my life. But I'd get over it, and if I didn't, I'd just sign up for more laughter sleepover therapy.
Also, I think I'd like to do some laughter therapy with those three gals at the sleepover. I think it would cure just about everything for me, except that I'd have to live with the fact that I would never have an experience that awesome for the rest of my life. But I'd get over it, and if I didn't, I'd just sign up for more laughter sleepover therapy.
Didn't know laughter worked for constipation. Next time I'm overfed with chicken and beef and french fries and beer, I shall definitely try it. If atleast to relieve my gases.
Dirtycowgirl: That's because you are a woman of experience, Ms Cowgirl. The sight of a big willy has made innocent damsels cry.
Robyn: Those are very naughty puns for a Monday morning, Robyn. You deserve to start the week with a spank.
Fred: Or a wide one, depending how you look at it. Did the giggling ever make you lose your focus?
Jaya: Maybe you should send them your picture to prove you're not a desperate fat man. Who knows, they might not care that you're a woman.
Dr Ken: Wouldn't it be difficult to decide which way to look, Dr Ken? Those three might give you neck strain. I assume you wouldn't want to close your eyes.
Kyknoord: Yes, it was one big joke at the people's expense.
Runaway: You do that, Miss Runaway. Make sure the house is empty first, otherwise people will be wondering what the devil is going on in there.
Robyn: Those are very naughty puns for a Monday morning, Robyn. You deserve to start the week with a spank.
Fred: Or a wide one, depending how you look at it. Did the giggling ever make you lose your focus?
Jaya: Maybe you should send them your picture to prove you're not a desperate fat man. Who knows, they might not care that you're a woman.
Dr Ken: Wouldn't it be difficult to decide which way to look, Dr Ken? Those three might give you neck strain. I assume you wouldn't want to close your eyes.
Kyknoord: Yes, it was one big joke at the people's expense.
Runaway: You do that, Miss Runaway. Make sure the house is empty first, otherwise people will be wondering what the devil is going on in there.
Mr GB, that giant penis is smirk worthy but I don't think I'd find it worthy of a hearty chuckle. A snort at best. But those mail order brides deceiving those desperate fat men would get a good one out of me. Are there any mail-order Gorillas I wonder?
watching father ted after a little herbal refreshment does wonders for my bowel movements but i understand it does the opposite for staunch catholics.
Dumps and dicks are two of the best topics to laugh about. So is a vagina with mystery fluid leaking out of it but it's not funny enough to my stick meat kabob inside it.
“…what can you laugh at?” – Well try this one out for size then Kongy Wongy …
Try saying this six times fast, when you’ve got a banana in your mouth…without laughing;
“Big Willy, Yellow Willy”
Go on then. I dare you. An don’t cheat. Or fib!
As for the subject of ‘specialists’ in constipation and holistic cleansing – watch this space, I’ve already penned out an up and coming blog post on this very subject. I’ll lob a narna at you when I post it.
Try saying this six times fast, when you’ve got a banana in your mouth…without laughing;
“Big Willy, Yellow Willy”
Go on then. I dare you. An don’t cheat. Or fib!
As for the subject of ‘specialists’ in constipation and holistic cleansing – watch this space, I’ve already penned out an up and coming blog post on this very subject. I’ll lob a narna at you when I post it.
Steve: That's a very insulting thing to say about honest Russian citizens. You might end up in KGB captivity yourself and inherit the title of the graffiti.
Azra: I might be able to arrange a mail-order gorilla, Miss Azra. He wouldn't steal your money, but he might eat all of your fruit.
Billy: You must have some pretty good herbs. Staunch Catholics are constipated as a penance for their sins.
Kelly: Now what could that mystery vaginal fluid be? Maple syrup? Worcester sauce?
Phil: I'd like to hear you say it first with a banana up your arse. I'll read your post, but I don't believe anything you write is based on sound research.
Azra: I might be able to arrange a mail-order gorilla, Miss Azra. He wouldn't steal your money, but he might eat all of your fruit.
Billy: You must have some pretty good herbs. Staunch Catholics are constipated as a penance for their sins.
Kelly: Now what could that mystery vaginal fluid be? Maple syrup? Worcester sauce?
Phil: I'd like to hear you say it first with a banana up your arse. I'll read your post, but I don't believe anything you write is based on sound research.
gorbachev's birthmark used to crack me up, but if that, or a big willy can't get those russian's laughing, i fear they are in deep trouble.
(we are lucky in australia that we have crocodile dundee to make us all laugh)
(we are lucky in australia that we have crocodile dundee to make us all laugh)
Laughing, I am. All it does for me is make me giddy and work up the hormones, I'm afraid.
Saw your comment on my cold shower post--yeah, totally blushing...and I like it! ;)
Saw your comment on my cold shower post--yeah, totally blushing...and I like it! ;)
"there's a big difference between gorillas and russians."
WHAT?! no there's not.
at least, there certainly wasn't at that lap dancing club i worked at in toronto last summer.
stupid gorillas. selling more dances than me. what the fuck?
WHAT?! no there's not.
at least, there certainly wasn't at that lap dancing club i worked at in toronto last summer.
stupid gorillas. selling more dances than me. what the fuck?
Dear KGB (King Gorilla Bananas),
I could use a dose of laughter medicine. Would you please send me a few baboons to spank? I will be Russian to my mail box to check for their arrival.
In the meantime, I will entertain myself by drawing pictures of a giant phallus on every bridge I can find. Or maybe I can find a reasonably large genuine phallus somewhere, to bridge my gap.
I could use a dose of laughter medicine. Would you please send me a few baboons to spank? I will be Russian to my mail box to check for their arrival.
In the meantime, I will entertain myself by drawing pictures of a giant phallus on every bridge I can find. Or maybe I can find a reasonably large genuine phallus somewhere, to bridge my gap.
Dull Boy: You're spoiled for choice in Australia. If the humans stop being funny you can laugh at the funny-looking animals. Does Crocodile Dundee get more laughs than Warnie these days?
Frisky Virgin: I hope you don't have to wait too much longer, Miss Virgin. Those hormones can't be kept at bay for ever.
Kage: Gorillas would be better at pole dancing, Ms Kage. There is no pole greasy enough to stop a gorilla from climbing it.
Madam Z: You belong with us gorillas, Madame Z. We'd have you splitting your sides in no time. And the phalli would be drawn to you like snakes to eggs.
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Frisky Virgin: I hope you don't have to wait too much longer, Miss Virgin. Those hormones can't be kept at bay for ever.
Kage: Gorillas would be better at pole dancing, Ms Kage. There is no pole greasy enough to stop a gorilla from climbing it.
Madam Z: You belong with us gorillas, Madame Z. We'd have you splitting your sides in no time. And the phalli would be drawn to you like snakes to eggs.
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