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It’s official. The world has gone mad. According to a recent media report Australian men are flocking to get a new wrinkle-reducing procedure. Scrotox. Like Botox, the idea is to reduce wrinkles. But not in the face, in your balls. The place where everyone looks.
Because we all know that’s something men have always needed. ‘Trevor’s a nice bloke but his sack is a mess. It really ages him.’ Yep, what man doesn’t desire a date with his own big smooth balls? His very own shiny billiards nestling under the pool cue.
I don’t get it. I understand penis pumpers, penis enlargers and, in some rare cases, penis reductions, but wrinkle-free nuggets? I guess it would make them easier to shave or rest in egg cups if that’s the kind of thing you’re into, but I frankly can’t see the point of having the family jewels all perfect and smooth. Whom are you showing anyway? When have gorgeous gonads ever been a prerequisite for anything? For a start, it’s a ballsack. Swamp nuts. Cojones. Bollocks. They live in the underpants and lurk behind a piece of anatomy that very naturally attracts a lot more publicity. When it comes to PR it’s all about the penis. Come showtime, the ballsack sits backstage, watches the front pocket showpony from the wings. Doesn’t matter how much Botox you shoot into your balls, it’s never gonna rival the cock.
The penis is a simple structure, but impressive enough to feature on Grand Designs. There’s a reason that buildings have been modelled after the phallus instead of the nutsack. Nutsacks aren’t sexy. Nor are they architecturally sound. It’s like highrise versus a hairy yurt after a hail storm. Like Botox in the face, all expression will be removed. I mean how will we know how the poor ballsack is feeling? Happy Sack? Sad Sack?
It may come as a shock to most men, but women (I can’t speak for gay men, but I’m assuming they’re not in the ball park either) just aren’t that interested in your nuts. In fact in all my years, in my most sexually explicit conversations with girlfriends about the prowess of their new lover, I’ve never heard a single woman say, ‘My god, you should see his ballsack! It’s amazing. Not a wrinkle! He has the scrotum of a 10-year-old!’
The poor old nads have never rated a mention. I don’t mean to be cruel, but we don’t really care about your sack. I’ve never looked at my partner’s ballsack (actually I think I try not to look) and thought, if only I could iron out those wrinkles. ‘Darling get some Anusol on those things!’ And, I’ve never fantasised about a partner with a giant jewel bag.
That’s the other effect of Scrotox: it makes your balls bigger. I’m not actually sure what purpose Big Balls actually serve other than inspiring the lyrics of an AC/DC song for the amusement of adolescents in the 70s. It didn’t take a genius to work out that this wasn’t a song about a cocktail ball.
On the upside, Scrotox is purported to reduce sweating. No more sweaty ballsacks. That’s not just a selling point, that’s an ad campaign. I guess if you have a profusely sweating scrotum that somehow impedes your enjoyment of life, like you slip off bike seats or had some sort of debilitating jock-rotting condition that destroyed furniture, then maybe you might consider Scrotox.
So why Scrotox? And why now? Because Botox is big business and big business relies on expanding the market. There’s a finite supply of women’s faces to store cosmetic Botox. That’s a market that’s been very comfortably exploited.
But testicles. That’s a dark and hidden place of shame for men. Scrotox is just more market exploitation of human inadequacies and self-loathing. What man when faced with his sagging prunes wouldn’t jump at the chance of a couple of Xmas plums?
Please, blokes. Let the balls swing free. Imagine a world where nutsacks were perfect. Pert and swollen like boiled eggs in a body stocking. Where they didn’t slip out on a hot summer’s day down the left leg of Uncle Barry’s King Gees and emerge like a slowly escaping marsupial? That’s a world I just don’t want to live in. Buck the system and free-ball.
Fabiano Antoniani expressed frustration with his homeland shortly before triggering the lethal substance
A paralysed DJ ended his own life with the press of a button in Switzerland after a fruitless campaign for euthanasia in his native Italy.
Fabiano Antoniani died at a euthanasia facility in Forch after reportedly triggering the lethal substance.
The 40-year-old had campaigned for a change in the assisted suicide law in his homeland, but Italy's parliament had shelved the debate 11 times.
Former MEP and activist Marco Cappato, who travelled with Mr Antoniani to Switzerland, could face criminal charges after helping escort the musician to the facility.
Police have questioned him over the death, he said on Twitter.
Mr Antoniani was left blind and tetraplegic by car crash in 2014. The DJ dropped his phone while driving and smashed into the car in front of him as he tried to pick it up.
Also known as quadriplegia, Tetraplegia is paralysis caused by illness or injury that results in the partial or total loss of use of all four limbs and torso.
He appealed to Italy President Sergio Mattarella for the right to die, and shortly before his death, criticised the country for failing to pass laws allowing him to do so.
“Finally I am in Switzerland and, unfortunately, I got here on my own and not with the help of my country,” he said, in a message posted on social media shortly before his death.
“Fabo died at 11.40am. He decided to pass away, respecting the rules of a country which is not his own,” Mr Cappato wrote on Twitter, shortly after he died.
Roberto Saviano, an Italian journalist, who was a friend of DJ Fabo, also wrote: “We distinctly heard you ask for a dignified death. There is no possible justification for the silence that you’ve achieved in response.
“There is no possible justification for the lack of empathy, of attention, and humanity, from the European Parliament, and from the country, which by fate, you were born in.”
Euthanasia is illegal in Italy, a traditionally Catholic country, but the law upholds a patient’s right to refuse care.
A bill to clarify assisted suicide law has been postponed in Italy three times, but according to La Stampa, will be debated by the Chamber of Deputies this week.
Hundreds have travelled to Zurich to end their lives since the Dignitas organisation was set up in 1998.
The number of assisted suicides in Switzerland, according to statistics from Dignitas and Exit, stood at 416 in 2011 but 1,004 in 2015.
In the UK, a woman suffering from Crohn's disease last month said she will pay £10,000 to end her life in Switzerland because of social care cuts
Why are orgasms so intensely pleasurable? How come women can experience multiple orgasms? And does the fabled G-spot even exist?
[T]here do seem to be physical differences between women who claim to experience vaginal orgasm and those who don’t. In 2008, [Emmanuele Jannini at the University of Rome Tor Vergata ] published a study involving nine such responders, and 11 who said they’d never climaxed during penetrative sex alone. Ultrasound scans revealed a thicker area of tissue in the space between the vagina and the urethra in those that could.
“The word spot suggests a button; something that you can push to obtain an orgasm or pleasure,” [Jannini] says. “It implies a concrete structure that’s either there or it’s not. No-one has been able to clearly describe such a structure as a spot.”
Although to most people, the clitoris is just a pea-shaped bobble under the surface of the skin, recent MRI studies suggest that the clitoris is far from diminutive.
[The vagina’s] complexity may explain why it has been so difficult to prove – or disprove – the existence of the G-spot; it’s not easy to stimulate the frontal wall of the vagina in isolation. You’re also likely rubbing up against the internal portions of the clitoris and the urethra as well.
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