"Stray Tic-Tac in a wet coin purse"
I am about to start hour two of Barstool Breakfast, and the guest in the studio today has been none other than Reuben, the I-don’t-give-a-single-fuck security guard that I adored so much who quit unexpectedly 2 weeks ago after the building manager criticized him for taking too long of a smoke break. It’s been an interesting interview. We’ve been drinking Hennessy, eating donuts, and just getting to know each other. If you can’t tune in live to Channel 85, maybe hit up the replay on the SIRIUS Radio app this weekend.
Now onto the blog…
I started writing this piece last night with every intention of giving you the true background of 3 men from history that are the namesakes of terms oftened used today.
The crux of the piece was to reflect on how everyone is just so fucking cocky nowadays, and usually for no good reason. Conversely, these three fellows had every reason to be braggadocious because their ingenuity back in the day has made them household names in modern times.
As is so often the case, I could not help but interject myself into the conversation of these great men with 2 stories of my own, so all told there are 5 stories outlined below.
The reason I am introducing the blog in this way, is I thought it would be interesting to throw in one story that is 100% false and see if you, the reader, could figure it out on an early summer Friday.
Maybe it’ll entertain. Maybe it won’t. But by the end, you’ll have four engaging conversation pieces and one compelling fabrication that I hope you will swear is true going forward.
You can Google the answer all you want, but for those who don’t want to “pull a Smitty”, let’s keep the cheating to a minimum.
I am not very good at social media, but from what little I have spied, I have realized that there is no shortage of people out there whose personal perception far out kicks their personal reality. These chest-thumping cocksuckers come in all shapes and sizes, but they all have one thing in common- None of them deserve the confidence they display.
We live in a world where everyone has a fucking computer in their pockets and an unlimited stream of bullet points being pounded into their brains. As a result, we have become a nation of people that know everything, but have never been anywhere. It’s not limited to Millenials (although, they’re the fucking worst, amiright?). It appears that everyone near WEB MD is a doctor, everyone with the Cooking Channel is a chef, and everyone with pornhub is a cocksman… Myself included.
So to take a departure from what has become today’s norm, I’ll give you three names from history that were truly long, strong, and down to get the friction on.
“Only if she’s 5’3″.”
First guy is Dr Benjamin Wah. As in, the guy Ben-Wa Balls were named for.
For the uninitiated, Ben-Wa Balls are a sexual device largely believed to have originated in the Far East that consist of 2 metal balls: one filled with mercury and the other hollow. They were connected by string and designed to insert into a woman’s vagina. The physical interplay between the 2 orbs caused a vibration that drove (and continues to drive) the ladies wild.
The words “Ben” and “Wa” have no direct Mandarin translation, so it was a longstanding belief the devices were named after some Asian gent whose genitals were either malformed into the shape of 2 orbs, or maybe he was just an erotic Chinese blacksmith. But neither of these theories hold true.
The originator of Ben-Wa Balls was Dr Benjamin Wah, an Eastern European physician whose wife had long suffered from what medical science deemed “hysteria” at the turn of the century because symptoms of either depression and sometimes madness in females were traced back to their reproductive organs. To combat hysteria, doctors would often perform hysterectomies, but Dr Wah was the first to develop what would ultimately save his wife’s womb and, years later, be used as a masturbatory device to relive pressure women diagnosed with hysteria might be experiencing in their vaginal tracts. Those orbs Dr Wah had developed still closely resemble those you can see in 1,000 pornography clips today at the mere touch of a keyboard.
Even though Big Ben has been dead for almost 100 years, and never visited the Orient, he was a sex toy pioneer that had every right to confidently walk through the streets of Shanghai wearing a high-cut, semi-open kimono, and nothing else.
It’s funny where internet searches take you, because as I was looking for the etymology of Ben Wa, I was directed towards the Wiki page for Dildo Island, which is located somewhere off the coast of Newfoundland. I can only assume the women there all walk around with clear eyes, full hearts, and wet panties.
Second gent I wanna highlight is German scientist, Dr Ernst Gräfenberg, who you may know better as the guy the G-Spot is named for. I am no expert, but I know this small bundle of nerves located just beyond where the second Ben Wa Ball is placed is basically the key to the kingdom.
There is an old adage, “Happy wife/happy life”, but there’s also a more salient Chinese fortune cookie that says- “Wife no cum/you so dumb”. Getting to know just where Ernst’s namesake is located isn’t always an easy task, but it is one worth embarking on. And the ability to find it at a moments notice will make you as happy and confident as good old Dr G himself.
In 1950, when Gräfenberg claimed to have discovered a place in a woman’s body that, if reached, could bring untold sexual pleasure, the science world laughed. It was long before the raised hem lines and free-living spirit of the swinging Sixties, and his report fell largely on deaf ears.
Described as “an erotic zone located on the anterior wall of the vagina along the course of the urethra that would swell during sexual stimulation”, Gräfenberg said he had found the most important in a series of “erotogenic spots” located all over the body.
He was ridiculed for claiming there was an area that could hold the key to the most powerful female orgasm. But now it seems that Gräfenberg’s theory may have hit the spot after all, so who’s laughing now?… Well, not Ernst. He died in 1957. But maybe your wife and/or girlfriend is laughing as you fumble around her naughty bits, looking for the good doctor’s spot… Like a kid rifling through a wet coin purse for a stray Tic-Tac.
Imagine if Dr Wah and Dr G ever met in a bar?… AND that bar was on Dildo Island? Every bitch in there is getting pregnant through osmosis, and they’re gonna be happy-as-fuck about it.
Getting away from matters of the vagina, there are lesser know namesake legends like David Bernard Mulligan who also have the right to swagger after figuring out that golf just isn’t as fun when you play by the rules.
“Mulligan” is one of the only widely used sports terms to be named after an individual. It has also come to be used in politics and daily life with the word meaning “do-over.”
In the late 1920’s into the 1930’s, a Canadian amateur golfer named David Bernard Mulligan was making a name for himself in the more prominent golfing clubs of New York. He was so popular that he had a regular foursome that he would pick up and drive to the course in his classy 1920 Briscoe. As the tale is told, one day after driving to the course, Mulligan took his first shot and shanked it. Said Mulligan in 1985 during an interview,
I was so provoked with myself that, on impulse, I stooped over and put down another ball. The other three looked at me with considerable puzzlement, and one of them asked, ‘What are you doing?’ ‘I’m taking a correction shot,’ I replied.
Then, Mulligan’s playing partner asked what he called that,
“Thinking fast, I told him that I called it a ‘Mulligan.’ They laughed and let me play a second ball.”
Mulligan further explained that from then on if you were not satisfied with your first shot off of the first tee, you could “take a Mulligan”.
So Mulligan rounds out the first three stories, now here’s my 2…
I don’t want to presume that I deserve a spot up there with the legends mentioned above, but while we are on the case of namesakes, I would be remiss not to mention that I myself have had a couple of products named after me in the past.
The first was the “Large Burger” at The Ugly American restaurant down in Philly. I am not from Philladelphia, but back in 2008, a bar owner down there had reached out to me as a fan of my writings and asked to name a burger after me on his menu. I don’t think he needed my permission, but I granted it nonetheless, and I can’t for the life of me remember what I had asked him to put on it.
Here’s a cocky Large fact: I had a burger named after me in a town I am less than 2 hours away from, and yet I never took the time to go down and try it. I still regret that I never carved out the time, but I keep my namesake honor in check, because I can confidently say unlike Dr G or Ben Wah, no matter how delicious the “Large Burger” may have been, it never brought a single woman to orgasm.
And the last one I will mention is a racehorse that some fan named after me who won a race in California. Again, not a panty soaking honor, but an honor nonetheless.
So if you are one of the thousands of people out there tweaking the filter on your latest instagram post to reflect the fantasy world you live in, maybe take a step back and realize that you really ain’t shit until you have a sexual aid named after you (or a racehorse).
Take a report.
Ben Wah, Dr G, DB Mulligan, my untried Philly burger, or the photoshopped racehorse… Which is bullshit?