I read about a shark attack in Brazil that has perhaps the
most chilling headline of all time. “Swimmer
DIES after shark rips off his penis”.
Granted, this headline is from The
Sun in the UK, a paper not known for their subtle headlines. However, even by The Sun’s standards, this is a real attention getter. The
story is grim. An 18 year old guy is
swimming at the beach and the lifeguards are trying to call him in. The area was deep and had signs warning of
shark attacks. But Jose Ernestor da
Silva was a daredevil! Just as the
lifeguard yelled out to Jose and his friends again, Jose was bitten. This was no regular shark bite my
friends. A hospital official was quoted
as saying the following: “The shark bite amputated his femur and penis. He lost a lot of blood and is in critical
condition.”
I have a few simple goals in regards to my penis. I am not shooting for the moon with these,
but rather keep these goals humble and grounded. One of these goals is to not have my penis amputated.
I remember being in Madrid on tour with our friend Jimmy. Jimmy was a great character that liked to
prowl the Spanish nightlife looking for action.
“I am the tiger of all of Madrid.”
I recall standing by a television that was replaying bullfight
highlights. As far as I know, Spanish TV
does only two kinds of programs. They
have man on the street interviews and bullfight shows. That’s it.
So, Jimmy and I are watching a matador get horribly gored right by the
old block and tackle. It wasn’t pretty.
Being a matador is a risky job. It’s not for everyone. Me? I
always root for the bull. I don’t really
“get” bullfighting, but it is interesting to see how it is ingrained in
traditional Spanish culture. Based on
what I saw on television and newspaper coverage, Spanish matadors get the most
beautiful women in Spain for companions.
They must steal them from F1 drivers and soccer stars. Somewhere a member of Coldplay is wondering
who the matador was that stole his girlfriend.
The top matadors are beyond rock stars there. So, I asked Jimmy, “Would you want to be a
matador if you could? Would you like
that life?”.
Jimmy thoughtfully stroked his chin. He took a big swallow of beer as he pondered. Finally, he spoke. “It would be good to be a matador yes, but
what if the bull gets you? What if you
take a horn… here?” He gestured towards
his crotch. “Then you cannot fuck. This is no good. No. I
like to fuck too much. I would not be a
matador.” The matter was decided. Jimmy and I went back to watching the poor
matador taking a horn in the testes in slow motion as we nursed our beers
waiting to play the show.
Now meanwhile Jose Ernestor da Silva was only 18. He did not get to live the life of a
matador. He just got to swim with his
friends, not pay attention to the posted signs, and then get his “penis
amputated”. That’s a tough hand of
cards. If it had been me they would have
pulled out, I would have looked down and noted my “amputated penis” and said “Guys! Guys!
Let’s just let me bleed out here, OK?
This is over.”. Where do you go
from “amputated penis”? I mean, maybe
you can get some kind of reputation as “The Oral Sex King of Jabotao de
Guararapes”, but you’re still driving on a one way street. Your life has become a little unsatisfying
shall we say…
There is a video attached to the story, because it is The Sun after all, but thankfully they
digitized out the “amputated penis” part.
There is a decent sized crowd gathered around and they are all
screaming. I know that’s what my
reaction would have been. It’s all about
taking a moment and focusing on the important things. Maybe life hasn’t been fair. Maybe things haven’t turned out the way you
would have liked. At least your penis
wasn’t amputated by a tiger shark. Ye
gods.
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