***WARNING*** Since you may not be familiar with the British euphemism in the title for the male reproductive organ, I am giving you a heads up. Wow, that pun was totally not intended but works out just fine. Anyway, this post will contain content of a sexual nature. If that is not your bag, baby, then you should bail now. Furthermore, it will contain sexual content personally related to me and my blunderland of a body. That should be a fair enough warning to those of you who even made it this far into this paragraph. Continue at your own risk…

I’m going to put myself out there. Well, I won’t put “myself” out there literally. That would be creepy. I am going to talk about “myself” in a way most wouldn’t. I’m going to admit to something most men wouldn’t. But, I’m not doing it in the next sentence. I’m going to make some drama out of it first!

For those of you that have read the classic Lord Of The Rings books or seen the most excellent movies you might recall the scene where Gandalf the Wizard confronts the Balrog monster in the Mines of Moria and says, “You shall not pass!” before magiking the stone bridge with his staff to make it crumble and cause the Balrog to fall into the treacherous pit. Gandalf was then like, “All in a days work.” as he casually strolled away from the collapsed bridge site. BTW, if there had been any dwarves left alive who still drew breath in Moria, besides Gimli, I think they probably would have charged Gandalf several mithril coins for collateral damage. As Gandalf was sauntering away the Balrog said, “You coming with me sucka!” and flailed his whip up, catching Gandalf around the ankle and dragging him into the pit of despair.

What does any of this have to do with my John Thomas? Because I think my old liver did the same thing to him. My traitorous diseased liver was trying to take me down just like the Balrog was trying to take the Fellowship down. However, he was defeated by the magic of a liver transplant. On his way out I think he did something to my John Thomas. No, he didn’t drag him down into the pit (or wherever they throw old livers) but he did drag him DOWN!

Get where I am going with this? For those of you that have read either book in my One Byte at a Time series you already know that in my 20’s, John answered the call every time! It was no different in my 30’s. In my 40’s he started to get a little lazy and I had to “whip” him into shape every now and then, so to speak, but I could count on him for the most part. Even in my early 50’s he was up for the game better than half the time, but now? After the liver transplant? I might as well put John Thomas on a milk carton because he has gone missing!

Since Gandalf was gone and Saruman was a traitor I couldn’t trust, I consulted Radagast who was another wizard with strong connections to nature. Radagast whipped me up a magical concoction known as Afolas, which when translated into the common tongue, is Viagra. It wasn’t the first time I had taken this concoction. I had played around with it early on in life to keep John Thomas, let’s say, on the field for overtime. It worked as advertised. Now, however? Nope, nadda, nuttin, zilcho! That fucking Balrog of a liver cast some sort of evil spell on me that makes me resistant to the Afolas!

Why am I telling you all about these personal things? I know I am going to catch hell for it from some people, but I don’t have a therapist and blogging (blabbing?) to you all is the next best thing I got. So, if any of you even made it past the warning and all the way to the end, thank you for listening. Our hour is almost up so let me say one more thing. Gandalf fell into that pit and battled the Balrog, finally defeating him. It cost him his mortal life but he came back as Gandalf The White, a much more powerful wizard. Here’s hoping for the return of John Thomas The White! For now, I am still waiting in the Ent forest for him to show up.

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