The Lonliest Penis

The first successful penis transplant was performed in China this week.  The patient and his wife didn't like it, so the doctors removed it.

Blink.  Blink, blink.

There's so much going on with this story that I don't even know where to begin.

The most disturbing thing to me is that the patient receives all of the media attention.  What about the donor?  It's reported, almost as an afterthought, that the organ is donated by the parents of a brain dead 22 year old.  Now, by brain dead, do they mean that his body is only functioning via some sort of artificial means?  I hope that's what they mean, and the guy isn't just in a coma.  For the record, if I'm ever in that situation, please, please, dear sweet baby Jesus, please, make sure that I am definitely dead and there's not the remotest possibility that I could come back.  Also, after you've swiped my special purpose, just yank the cord on that machine on your way out, 'kay?  On the off chance that some divine power pulls a Lazarus on me, or a zombie plague forces me back from the dead, and I'm doomed to roam the planet's wasteland as a depressed, dickless monster.

Here's another issue that troubles me.  The penis of note was four inches long.  A four inch dong is definitely better than no dong.  But, since you're going to the trouble anyway, why not hold out for something a little better?  No, strike that.  Hold out for something a lot better than 4 inches!  There's plenty of brain dead guys out there who aren't seeing any action; I'm sure at least one of them has the right stuff, if you know what I mean.  (By brain dead, I mean real brain dead patients.  I'm not being funny and insinuating that some functionally retarded fraternity boy should be used as a donor.  Although, if you happen to be at a frat party, and you offer some drunk tool $100 bucks for his tool, what then happens between two consenting adults is none of my business.  This might actually qualify as performing a social service.  There's no telling where that thing has been, though, so make sure to soak it in holy water for about a week.)  Is it really that difficult to find a suitable donor?  I'm not aware of the requirements for such an operation, but I can't imagine that blood type plays into it.  It just has to be a working penis.  From a brain dead guy.  Greater than four inches in length.

The wife wanted the penis removed because she didn't like the swollen shape.

Blink.  Blink, blink, blink.

What??!!  Listen here, Missy.  If I have some poor, brain dead bastard's peepee chopped off and sewn on to my body, give me at least a few months of healing before you start to appraise the aesthetic worth of it, okay?  Can you do that one thing for me?  For Pete's sake - no pun intended - the thing is only four inches long.  Enjoy the swelling while it lasts!  I tell you, if that were me (shiver) and my life partner, my soul mate, my wife had that reaction, we would have an argument.  So what if it looks like Frankendick? The bolts on the side are contoured for your pleasure, my darling, I promise.  Please, let us keep it?  You know what?  I'd say, if you don't want to go near it, fine.  My penis and I will make do.  Because I will give up a lot of things for the woman I love.  My penis is not one of them.  The arm leaves before the penis.  Hell, an eye I would give up before the penis.  Then I could wear a cool patch.  But the penis stays!  I think someone didn't go into this procedure with very realistic expectations.  And dude, what's your deal?  You didn't have a penis.  Then you got one.  Your wife didn't like it.  You let them remove it?  You're pretty used to not having that thing, huh?  Maybe you should have had them graft on some balls first.

Sorry, I'm taking this way too personally.  I'm not being very understanding.  It's difficult when you have that first penis transplant.  What they should do is show the prospective couple a picture beforehand of what it will look like after the operation. 

"What do you think of this?"

"Oh, no, I don't like that at all."

"Next."

Find a truly needy couple.  A wife who is chewing gum, biting her nails, and compulsively tapping her foot all at the same time.

"It'll look like this after the operation."

"Fine."

"Really.  It'll have scars."

"Fine, whatever."  Pops gum.

"No, seriously, it'll -"

"Look, I don't care if it looks like Richard Nixon, you get that fucking thing on there!  Yesterday!"

Remember that article the other day about the woman who received the bionic arm?  Maybe soon we'll be able to have a bionic penis.  Think about that for a while.  There are so many wonderful jokes you could make, I won't even bother.  There's only so many hours in the day.  But I guarantee that I will be chuckling to myself later over a gin martini thinking about "we can rebuild him - make him faster, stronger than he was before . . ."

I want to end on a somber note.  The one who has been completely ignored in this whole mess is the penis.  Where does it go, now?  It can't go back to the brain dead guy.  It's homeless.  My guess is it'll end up in a jar sitting in China's warehouse of failed experiments.  Right between a rejected inverted nipple and a rejected sphincter that randomly whistles Moon River.  It's a sadder, albeit, macabre, version of the island of misfit toys.  If you're reading this, Santa?  When Christmas time comes?  DO NOT GO NEAR THAT PLACE!  Burn it!  Burn it and all its ugly mistakes to the ground.

I think I've made my point here.