Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Some funny math from a mind on the brink
Fair warning: this post was made under the effects of prolonged stress compounded by the realization that the nightmare is not yet over. You have been warned.
I was listening to a little Tool this afternoon, waiting for some mainframe fun to wrap up when Salival came on. Salival was a special edition DVD/CD package Tool released prior to Lateralus hit the shelves. It is one of those items that is a fan-only compilation of live and cover tracks, with an extended "song" at the end. This final piece is something of an artistic statement on the absurd and dehumanizing nature of modern phone menus, but hidden at the very end is a track that runs to about 3 minutes known as Maynard's Dick. The lyrics go as follows:
It's all an open center
Opens up and lets the wind lift him away
It doesn't have to feel water
It's just a place that feels right with him
Kinda like the way you're breathing
I kinda like the way you keep looking away
Would you like to glide on
Slide a mile six inches at a time on Maynard's dick
There's a shyness found in reason
Apprehensive influence swallow away
You seem to feel abysmal take it
then you're careful grace for sure
Kinda like the way you're breathing
Kinda like the way you keep looking away
Would you like to climb on
Climb on my six inches and go down on Maynard's dick
Took you out in the back of the toolshed
Put it right on top of your forehead
Took you out in the back of the toolshed
Now you know what you're fuckin with...Maynard's dick!
If you're a female, think of all the sex you have or haven't had...now think of your vagina. How many miles of man meat have you put through that thing? If you're a guy, think of your girlfriend's love muffin. How many linear feet of penile piston pumping has that thing seen since it opened for business? How many miles of pleasure palace has your reel and tackle traveled? Comforting thoughts, aren't they? lol
So I began wondering, just how busy would one have to be to go 1 mile 6 inches at a time? For my purposes, I decided to count each thrust and withdrawal as a single, 0.5ft stroke, since we are not actually moving forward six inches in both directions. So, only being credited 6 inches per stroke, we're talking 2 strokes per foot travelled and a distance of 5,280 feet to cover, for a grand total of 10,560 pelvic gyrations to traverse 1 mile. Credit 12 inches(6 inches out, 6 inches back) per stroke and you're down to exactly 5,280 strokes, still a daunting number.
Of course, things get better or worse in terms of actual work needed, depending on the amount larger or smaller your penis happens to be. Then there are variables for depth of vagina, percent erection, actual depth of penetration per stroke, etc, but we're discarding all of that for the sake of theoretical science.
So then, let's say it takes 90, 6 inch strokes for the stroker or strokee to reach orgasm/climax/see God/etc. I've never actually counted, but it seems like a fairly generous number for someone who's been having regular sex for an extended period of time. Porn stars would chew up those miles much faster, but let's assume a healthy, experienced, average Joe/Jane has 90 such advances and retreats behind the cork before he/she pops. That would mean it would only take ~117 sexual encounters to get to the one mile mark. Cut that number in half if you're giving extra credit. Not too bad, if you're a 90 pump champ.
What happens if the male, or better yet the female, is a 2 pump chump/goddess, respectively? Things get a lot more demanding. Now the poor guy or the orgasmically gifted girl are looking at 5,280 sessions to hit the magic mile. If you credit each stroke as 12 inches, the poor couple is still looking at 2,640 coital encounters to get to the finishing stripe. A daunting task for any man who isn't a rock star, athlete or A-list actor and the girl would have to put in a little extra time as well.
Since masturbation does not count because the penis is effectively humping a bottomless tube (I don't do the sock thing), I'll leave you all wondering exactly how many miles I have put on the odometer. One reader might have a very good idea, but the rest of you can only wonder. I am in no way ashamed to say that my genitals have fewer miles on the clock than just about any non-virgin, 29-year old manjunk you're likely to come across. So, if any beautiful ladies are looking for a like-new, meticulously maintained male love unit and an athletic body behind it, your ship just came in baby. :D
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well, i WASN'T wondering about your mileage... UNTIL YOU SAID SOMETHING!
LOL Trust me, it's low, like, weird low. You wouldn't believe me if I told you and if I told you, I'd have to "disappear" you like a CIA rogue CIA agent. I wonder what such low mileage junk would bring on eBay. Hmm...
there isn't a number out there that could surprise me coming from you. however, since i value my life, i'm simply going to have to find a way to live with the overwhelming curiosity. LOL.
Wow. And you made fun of me for organizing my sock drawer? Actually, that's a pretty creative way to approach math. I should give my students that to try and figure out since they are struggling in their math class. Of course I'd probably get fired.
Yeah, I think it might be a bad idea to use this particular example. lol Witness what happens when a particularly strange song combines with my idle mind.