When size matters …

Size queens, rejoice! Honey, I got chills, and they’re multiplying! Yes, it’s August. Yes, it’s venomously hot.

Yes, everybody’s vacationing (at least those who are not, unfortunately, stuck back in school already are vacationing). And, yes, everybody has exactly the same question on their minds: Where in the world can I find one last big summertime dick to play with?

Well, bois, as crooned so sultrily, in the chords of our recently lost ONJ, “Have you never been mellow? Have you never tried?”

Well alrighty, Howard here has some statistics for you on losing all control: Simply Google “international penis size comparisons.” Instantly, you’ll land upon WorldData.info, whereupon (to the shock of absolutely nobody) you’ll discover that the single most-asked question is, “What is the average erect size of a male genital?”

Believe it or not, of all the countries on planet Earth, erections in the United States are but the median-average standard bearer, pulling up at 13.58 centimeters or, rather, 5.38 inches.

“That’s it?” you ask. “Gurl, wha?”

Yes, in fact, global-wide, the U.S. ranks way down at number 60, slap-dab in the middle-range area — just one middling rung above Japan at number 61 (13.56 cm) and an infinitesimal rung beneath number 59, Israel (13.60 cm). Earth’s largest man-cocks, at 17.61 centimeters (6.93 inches) may be enjoyed in Ecuador, and the smallest are found in Cambodia, 10.04 centimeters (3.95 inches).

So guys, if it’s an abundance of big cocks around which you’re planning to build that Labor Day vacay flight schedule, then your top 10 list of destination countries goes, internationally, as follows: 1. Ecuador, 2. Cameroon, 3. Bolivia, 4. Sudan, 5. Haiti, 6. Senegal, 7. Gambia, 8. Netherlands, 9. Cuba and 10. Zambia.
Uhm, yeah. Everybody caught up on all their yellow fever and meningococcal immunizations, I trust?

Now, everyone’s girth experiences versus expectations are personal, of course. But I know for a fact that should somebody in Gayville boast they’re packin’ a whopping 7 inches of Ecuadorian trouser snake (biggest in the world!), they’d be laughed plumb off Grindr. Everybody knows that 7 inches is the starting point of gay measurements, not the end game.

I mean, Lordy-mercy, ain’t nobody in Gayville gonna ever admit to some 7-inch baby dick! Like, what fantasy island does the world think we’re living on?

Everyone’s in a persnickety mood, lately. Everyone’s slangin’ ‘tude. Everyone’s short-tempered, long-exhausted and deciphers no candlelight at the end of this perpetual heat tunnel — rather, this pyroclastic tube.

Everyone hears similar shades of greenly-pale perplexment: “Now, I’ve been through plenty Texas summers in my lifetime, but I just don’t never remember nothin’ like this.” It’s the vehemently unspoken that has starting turning everybody, one by one, a lighter shade of moribund. You can read it in the invisible thought balloons above their heads: “The end days, they’re here! We’re living in them now!”

But, then again, doesn’t every cicada season, with its dog-days’ heat, create these same sentiments? On the dashboard inside my car last week, a piece of tissue paper burst into flames; witnessed it with my own eyes, standing there in the Tom Thumb parking lot! Just lemme grab my portable fan and let’s get paper-fryin’ right to it: Deep . . . deeper . . . DEEPEST!

Dear Howard: This is a serious question, dude. I’m not making it up. My landlord lets me live rent-free if I fuck him every week. Last weekend, I had to go to the emergency room because my sphincter sucked up a butt plug he insisted I ride. I tried for over three hours to get the thing out on my own, but it just kept going in deeper and deeper. Do you know anybody else this ever happened to? I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. My hospital bill after the deductible was nearly five grand! If I hired a lawyer, do you think he could get the butt plug manufacturer to pay for it? — Italian Sausage

Dear Wienershnitzel: Your living arrangement wouldn’t exactly be the first time a college bro agreed to sample some expired salami for a roof over his head; however, the downside to being treated like the exhaust pipe of a junkyard Ferrari is that one’s sexual tale of lament must at least be somewhat sordidly believable.

This is the best you could come up with? Yet one more lame, lost in the Grand Canyon scenario? Why not just claim rape? Where’s your originality, Hot Dog?

If you’re going to try to sucker Howard, you need to start by being inventive. Gurl, this one is so unoriginal, it’s not even worth pretending sympathy over, say nothing of horror. Next time, at the very least give me gore.

I don’t mind fake questions, but I do mind drama-free ones.

Dear Howard: I’m over 40, an entrepreneur with two failed businesses behind me. Recently, I fell in love for the first time ever. He’s 26 and thinks he can conquer the world. But he wants to open a mobile pet grooming business. He thinks it’s a market with “unexploited” potential.

I’ve tried my best, but Uri won’t listen to reason or to me. He’s about to invest his entire inheritance from his grandparents into this cockamamie dream. I’ve used every argument I can think of to deter him, but it’s like he’s gone mad. He “knows” it will work. Hell, to my knowledge, he doesn’t even like pets! Howard, help me drive some sense into this kid. You’re my last hope. He’s a complete amateur. — Anonymously Concerned

Dear AC: What in a Texas whorehouse is wrong with you here? Amphetamines? Autism? An addiction Abercrombie’s August sale? Am I missing something, or does not everyone in this world always start out as a complete amateur? Were you, alone, born as an already fully-formed/twice-failed 40-year-old businessman?

AC, you act as though your 26-year-old twerks for nickels as a side hustle. Economics 101 couldn’t state the truth more bluntly: Amateurs built the Ark; professionals built the Titanic. I think this “kid” needs to drive some sense into you. Merely because you failed (twice!) doesn’t mean Uri won’t succeed. Never fear going for broke. After all, is there any other way to go? Even Hallmark concurs, “Leap and the net will appear!”

And, men, that’s August for you! Oh, and FYI, for those of you who are further curious: It’s only a five-and-a-half-hour flight from DFW to Quito, the capital city of Ecuador — hope you find a big one, bois! “You’re the one that I want/Oo, oo, oo!”

—Howard Lewis Russell

Have a sizzling hot question for Howard? Just send it to AskHoward@dallasvoice.com. Sizzle is Howard’s specialty!