Dennis Asiimwe’s Notes
You Probably Shouldn’t Give It A Name
Disclaimer: When I am trying to jolt myself out of a writing funk like the scary one I am in, I simply sit at a keyboard and let my fingers do the walking.
The results are usually idiotic (most of my writing is anyway), but it’s also something of a relief.
And with that brief intro, I hope I have managed to explain why I came up with this bit of gibberish.
Why do men name their bits?
And by bits, I am referring to whatever we, as men, are packing. We will leave the subject of whether women struggle with the same habit (naming their bits or havens) and focus on men for now, otherwise we would be here all day.
So, why do we name our bits, our members, our (alright I will go all out and say it) penises? Or to put it a little more accurately, why did we used to name them?
Because hopefully this is something that’s in the past, right? I mean, when you first started getting laid, back when you thought you would be 18 forever, it probably seemed like a good idea.
Today, five, ten, fifteen, heck twenty years later, I am hoping that naming the old flagpole is in the past. But the question remains: why?
Why do we name them?
And let’s not have any denial here. The University of Oxford published an article in 2009 that argued that on average, 8 out of 10 men name their penises (or members, which always sounds wrong to me, because it sounds like we are referring to members of parliament, who, while they can be as dumb as the average penis, never seem to develop the sort of backbone that a penis can suddenly impress the right person with).
And the names can be as varied, and as creative as the bloody galaxy.
In 2012, Hustler Magazine’s proprietor Larry Flynt was asked to create a list of the top penis names as globally used by English speaking nations. His list included:
Junior (which seems to be pretty common in our little tropical hub, and is very annoying);
The Purple Headed Yogurt Flinger (eeew)
The King of the North (hihi…probably named after a certain TV series)
Jon Snow (again, after a certain TV series)
Mr. Happy (um)
The Skin Flute (a lovely flute player I know will prefer to strongly disagree with this one)
Excalibur (which makes a bit of English history sense)
The Godfather (Hehe)
The Lap Rocket (…)
Willy
Wiener
Armageddon
Dick (somewhat predictably)
Jupiter Rising (Well hello!)
The General
The Wand (hoping to put up a magical performance)
The Pink Panther (…)
Big Daddy
Thor
Mjolnir (if you get around to pronouncing that, then you will know it’s Thor’s hammer).
Which still brings us round to our unanswered question: why do we name them?
Two major reasons stand out (and yes, I did pick the minds of a couple lads at a drink-up at my house — the only reason they let me ask is because they were at my house).
1. Women usually do the naming: Yes, it sounds like I am pointing fingers, transferring blame, and all that, but the first person to ever name most men’s members is usually a woman. If the chap likes the name, he keeps it. Which is why about 50% of men who DO name their penises use the name Junior…because, well, women don’t get very creative when naming these things.
2. There’s a Little Boy in Every Man: Well, no surprises there really. Women have been saying this for years, and the ultimate proof is in the fact that men, grown men, men running corporations, countries, hospitals, armies even, will name their bits — because deep inside, they are just little boys at the playground, giggling at the silliness of it all. (Hint to women: Well, no surprises there really. Women have been saying this for years, and the ultimate proof is in the fact that men, grown men, men running corporations, countries, hospitals, armies even, will name their bits — because deep inside, they are just little boys at the playground, giggling at the silliness of it all. (Hint to women: Never call it Little Boy).
Now, I know what you are going to ask next. And yes, when the world was young, and I thought I would one day own and run this town, I did name my member.
His name at the time?
Sir Jeffery.
It didn’t catch on of course; it got irritating when after being introduced, the lady friend would ask ‘Wangyi? Sir who?’ Kind of killed the moment and all.
Eventually, we all out grow this silly habit of course (most of us that is; not too sure about Lucas Potus Tambiti and Richard Obonyo).
It becomes cumbersome, and unnecessary. And after all, nothing carries the same heady punch as a sultry, breathy voice saying in your ear:
“Give it to me.”
Now there’s a good name: IT.
