When I’m not busy stealing shit from my blogroll, I occasionally venture out all lone-wolf like into the interwebs. My tactic lately has consisted of perusing the NY Times archives. Because I am a full grown woman, the very first word entered into the search engine was “penis.”

An overwhelming number of hits turns out to be articles on health and penisenvy (yawn). But if you take the time to muck through the results, there are some gems. One of the more notable ones is the medical warning on the effects of fuckin’ after shooting coke up your dick. WHOA! It’s complete with a parable of a Gino (I’m just extrapolating here) who did as such and ended up losing his legs, nine fingers and yeah, his dick. But that article’s really all shock value.

This is what really caught my eye: What should have been a brief note on Ronald Reagan’s well being delves into a lengthy exposition of our 40th president’s “two hour urological examination.” Within the two pages of filler we learn what Reagan was wearing (1986-tabloid stylie) and his passing of a drug test (just say no!). By the last few paragraphs, they’ve already reminded us seven times that Reagan is just fine. So, of course, they end it appropriately with a pretty graphic description of the tube inserted into our Chief Executive’s urethra, you know, so the freshest thing in our minds is an image of our dear b-list actor turned AIDs-ignorant world leader who survived an assassination attempt having a camera jammed up his wiener. So much for that war on drugs. No sir, President Reagan, this is your legacy — at least in my mind.

-JESSICA CHINK

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