A 3D Printer Penis: The Gift That Will Have You Begging NO More!

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Well, ladies – as if your boyfriend’s “Little Buddy” doesn’t wag in your face enough, the most recent darling of modern technology has made it possible for you to receive MORE face time: The 3D printer!

This incredible machine can – within minutes – make a three-dimensional, solid object from a digital model. And just like every other ingenious invention that’s graced humankind with unlimited power to do good in a world ravaged by hunger, disease and war… I predict this invention will soon be primarily – and quite eagerly – used for human sexual gratification. All your man has to do is stifle his gleeful giggles long enough to pose goosebump-erect-naked and be scanned. The end result will be a super-realistic, silicon pornographic, exact-duplicate dingus he’ll wholeheartedly consider not only to be his life’s crowning achievement, but also the PERFECT gift for his woman.

Make ya wanna plead for a vacuum for your birthday?

I can just picture the Pearly Gates crashing open so our dearly departed, hyper-hustlin’, “As-seen-on-TV” angel Billy Mays can return to Earth just to pitch these personalized penises. It’ll be like the 70’s Pet Rock craze all over again – with women finding in their mailboxes brightly painted dongs eager as pet store puppies to spring out of “Handle with Care” packages.

Or imagine how the fad will affect the bachelor party-stripper-industry, too – with men practically brawling to be next to enter the dick-scanner while the hired tassel-tosser, bored out of her mind, commands the remote and catches the latest “Walking Dead”.

Factories will be full of jokester employees covering conveyer belt schlongs with their work gloves a la Laverne (of “Laverne and Shirley”) at Shotz Brewery.

And what will we disinterested womankind DO with all these high tech ornaments? Prop up our cell phones with the proud li’l pillars? Use as finger-ring holders? Or shoehorns???

Men’ll just never get what us girls REALLY want. Forget 3D dicks, Bub. Step out of that scanner and go put gas in my damn car! Scoop out the cat box! Save the slice of pizza loaded with the most toppings for me…

It’s really that simple. And yet, really that… hard.

Lana Hanson has no college degree, no awards, no “touring poet” accolades. She’s blessed to run a brush through multiplying grey head-hairs, to feel crows’ feet deepening grooves around her eyes. She’s finally started to admire herself. She aims to raise women and children up from poverty, oppression, doubt, and silence because she has faced all of these.
Lana was published at www.desertcompanion.com and also at www.hypertexts.com where she was the Spotlight Poet for two months. She is also a regular blogger at www.hormonesmatter.com.
Born in Flint, MI, Lana Hanson now lives in Las Vegas, NV, with her two sardonic sons, 13 and 17, three perpetually vomiting cats, one farting dog and a 72-year-old boy-toy in our Crazy Quilt House.

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