donkey dick

Call me Donkey.

The little woman does.

I’m not going to tell you that I am the most well endowed gentleman you’ll ever meet. Let’s just say I get the job done, if you know what I mean.

While being known as Donkey Dick might be a burden to some, I wear the moniker as a badge of honor.

Have you ever heard anyone speculate on Bush and the hang of the Presidential Johnson? Me neither.

Has the size of Mr. Bin Laden’s undercarriage come up in your casual conversation? I didn’t think so.

The rhetorical question would be, why is it so important? The straight answer is that it is not. A brother can only lay so much pipe, but it makes a good conversation piece.

I used to work at a company that had a large water tank to test pumping equipment. One day a shop supervisor and I were standing by the tank and he said, “That water is cold.”

I responded, “Yes, and it’s deep, too.”

And, I was right, because I looked inside of the tank once when it was empty and it was a long way down. But, he didn’t have to know that.

Yeah. If you want to, you can call me Donkey Dick, too. Just don’t call me late for dinner.

Or my name isn’t Dick Clinch.