I always wondered if women really cared about, you know, size, and it turns out that they totally do! I’m not exactly the biggest guy around, so what do I do now? Paul, but Fierce
Whether it’s a big penis or big set of “projecting lateral tubercles,” the ladies are all about size, Paul. It’s what put the “selective” in “selective breeding,” like picking out the least warty cucumber that can also feed a family of four.
But that doesn’t mean your smaller penis pulls you out of the running.
Why, hello there, patient readers. Like everyone else in the DC area, I’ve been pretending to be snowed in by rain and two very wet inches of snow.
You know how they started naming winter storms this year? We called ours the Snowquester. Get it? Because people who live within 100 miles of the nation’s capitol only exist from one political event to another.
So, while I try to remember that, essentially, man is good (even when they name everything with puns based on terms from Civics class), I figured I’d answer a few letters. As always, thanks for emailing instead of licking envelopes during the cold and flu season. Continue reading →
Why, hello there, patient readers. Sorry I haven’t answered your letters recently. I’ve been busy, fighting some paternity suits from my totally unrelated chain of sperm banks and fertility clinics. Needless to say, I’ve got a lot of unhappy mothers to accuse of postpartum depression under oath. (Not sure what the legal defense is against allegedly cuckolded dads is, though.)
Anyway, it’s a new year, which means it’s time for the same old boring resolutions. So, if you haven’t quit quitting smoking yet — which odds and these Camel dollars say otherwise — then congratulations! You’ve made it over the hump: one week. Your body is no longer addicted to nicotine. Technically.
However, there’s just one minor obstacle to get over: the rest of your life. Continue reading →
Ahoy, mateys! Ship’s surgeon Dr. Snee here, reportin’ fer duty! Yarrrrr!
To celebrate Talk like a Pirate Day, I’ll be answering yer medical queries concerning all things piratical in nature. And, if ye be needin’ a second opinion, then I’ve trained me helper pigeon, Nurse Polly, to repeat everything I just said, plus several pirate insults because yer a mutinous cockswain!
Weigh anchor and hit the jump, me hearties! I promise not to let the crew cast ye into Davy Jones Locker until the cook gets yer best parts in the stew. Continue reading →
Hello there, and welcome to another round of Ask Dr. Snee. I’m pretty busy right now, training this group of interns. But I figured that since this week’s topic is getting Americans more active, I could use your letters as a training opportunity.
Speaking of, you ever notice how these “exercise more” campaigns always coincide with the Summer Olympics? That’s America’s old Cold War fever setting in again. It’s not the same as when footraces were the world’s most obvious analogy for the arms race, but China’s kind of like that rebound nemesis every superpower needs after a break-up.
So, get set for some great exercising tips (dudes) and a stiff, awkward bed-side manner (ladies). Continue reading →
Hello, and welcome to another edition of Ask Dr. Snee. I’m your doctor, Dr. Snee.
In honor of the passing of Richard Dawson, I’ve changed things up a bit today. I’m still answering your medical letters, but have also surveyed a group of comatose patients using a series of electrical shocks and ranked their responses by popularity. Also, I printed out each letter this week and kissed and politely groped them when I thought nobody was looking.
And the subject of all of today’s letters? The new AIDS … I’m gonna go wash up after fondling those emails.
It’s been a while since I’ve answered your letters, but that’s because I’ve been furiously working out for bikini season. As we say in the medical community, you get more fly with honey smeared on washboard abs than on body hair and love handles.
According to these letters I’ve been receiving, it’s the holiday season. Of course, that’s because I legally changed my name to Santa Claus back in the ’04 on a bet, so there’s Christmas letters mixed into my normal summons, past due notices and “Ask Dr. Snee” questions. Take, for instance, this letter:
Although I have been a very good girl this year and would very much like a Nintendo 3DS for Christmas, I’m writing because I’m worried about your health. Specifically, your weight. Your belly shaking like a bowl full of jelly is certainly one of the signs of holiday joy, but it is also — in this 8-year-old’s opinion — one of the telltale signs of morbid obesity. With the addition of other risk factors, such as smoking, eating cookies at every non-Jehovah’s Witness’s home and red, veiny nose indicate that you may be entering the early stages of diabetes. I know you are very busy this time of year, but please, once Christmas is over and done with, please see a physician.
Lots of love,
Now, I know what you’re thinking: You’re not really going to answer that little girl’s letter, are you, Dr. Snee? Yes, of course I am, if only because Santa deserves the benefit of a second opinion. Continue reading →
Why is it that at the slightest touch, like when I bump them into a shopping cart, does it hurt my balls excruciatingly, but when I’m pounding away during sex, they’re slapping against her and everything feels fine? Do my balls have superpowers?
– Micah C.
The testicles, which you refer to as your “balls,” are incredibly sensitive part of the anatomy that nearly all vertebrate males share. This is why, when someone tells you to “show a little backbone,” you are socially obligated to display your testes in any method of your choosing. I personally prefer “The Brain” because, like a furry misshapen Epcot Ball, it’s fun and educational.
As sensitive as testicles are, you’d assume that a kind and intelligent creator would put them in the center of the body, farthest away from harm, like your heart or uvula. But since God is dead, they dangle there, front and center with maybe a large enough penis to cover them if you’re not wearing briefs. Continue reading →