Man is nothing more than a walking, talking inseminator whose only purpose is to supply the unfertilized egg with activation sauce. His short existence is centered around this reproduction ritual, which has a small shed of dos and a giant warehouse of don’ts. Awaiting these brief and infrequent encounters, the male trains daily in his youth and not so much when the decaying gait forces the man’s gaze to the ground to look for obstacles (old age). As soon as the boy learns about his personal toy, it’s off to the masturbation race to keep the tool in tip-top shape. The female sets the ground rules because they bear the brunt of the work in this life replicating ordeal. So the vast majority of these “practice runs” occur alone, and no remorse is felt; half a baby is no baby. The male’s reward is a neurological short circuit called a climax that is so satisfying, it brings him to the brink of insanity. And that is good because an ejaculation ends the frustration. The curiosity in the male brain always instills new techniques in releasing his high-powered poison out of this fleshy pistol. The hand works overtime playing that instrument of pleasure, but alas, the symphony gets old. So…. he seeks new extraction techniques, and his own mouth is attempted. Possibly less than 1% of 1% of 1% can accomplish a self performed fellacio ritual, and that is by intelligent design. Nature knew what would happen if guys could blow themselves; it would be the extinction of the Homo Sapien Species. To prevent this from occurring, nature limited the vertebrae structure to stop short of reaching Mr. Popsicle. Without this safety device, men would be sitting around all day just blowing themselves. The drawback to this scenario is that their heads are down, and all 5 of their senses are distracted. It would be very easy for a predator or rival to sneak up and smash their head or sever the spinal chord. Nature always knows best.
Torked Truth 