Some critical news about my ding dong.
Just kidding! Hi, man. Thanks for dropping by old Ray's blog for some news that is definitely not about my ding dong. I mean, unless you want to write in and ask me what's the latest haps with that little sucker. I ain't at all shy about that stuff—I think it's ridiculous to act like this one thing that all dudes have is like completely weird and different between each guy and needs to be hidden, both mentally and physically. Who's Wes Craven, again? A guy's ding dong would be, like, if Wes Craven [I think it's Wes Craven] made a movie about a man who had this terrible secret and always wore a lead codpiece and at the end, during the heartbreaking final scene where he is on stage and a famous doctor removes the codpiece to show what made the man so insane all these years, the audience would see his ding dong and go "ah, so that's what it was. A blasted ding dong!" You know? The people could be like turn-of-the-century English.
I'm real glad we got silly words like ding dong and ding-a-ling to sort of take the seriousness out of the subject. I mean really, people, why all the fuss? You'd think the little thing could glow and pass laws, everyone's so up in arms about the peter all the time.
That actually reminds me of some news about my ding dong. The other day after I got out the pool I noticed a grain of sand on my ding dong, and I tried to scrape it off but the shit wouldn't move. I was immediately all like, "aw crud, a herpe! What did I ever do?!" but then I remembered that herpes are concave and so after a little more examinin' and some time spent pressing my bozack into the Google search field, I discovered it was just a little old ingrown hair. Tweeze, tweeze! No more "fool's herpe" for Ray.
[dramatically pulls burgundy velvet cape back across self, hiding ding dong] AND THAT...IS ALL FOR THIS WEEK!