December 18, 2005
Guest editorial by Justin McKenzie, UT class of ‘09
Mitch, you’re obviously uncomfortable right now, so let me set the record straight: you totally didn’t just walk in on me masturbating.
I know what you’re thinking. You sauntered down the hall, an ethics lecture still buzzing around your brain, wondering if the cafeteria was serving chicken cacciatore for dinner tonight, and opened the door to our dorm room to find my pants around my ankles.
Honestly, though, there is a completely reasonable explanation for all this. You see, I have a serious medical condition. Dr. Spencer—that’s my family doctor back home in Sylvania—he prescribed this salve for my penis around the time I was 13, and I have to apply it vigorously twice daily. But it’s nothing to be embarrassed about—I hear a lot of men have problems in that area. In fact, I bet some of the guys down the hall use the same topical cream. Or Jergen’s hand lotion. It’s practically the same stuff.
Which leads me to this wad of tissues. I must say, I’ve been Mr. Sniffles with this early autumn weather we’ve had lately, so my nose has been running like a gazelle. Sometimes I’m about to sneeze so hard, I don’t have time to get them out of the box, so I like to keep them right here on my desk for easy access. I’m all about hygiene. You wouldn’t want me to sneeze all over your textbooks, would you? That would just be disgusting.
There’s no need to tell any of my friends about this. Most of them already know, and I wouldn’t want them to feel uncomfortable. I mean, the thought of me, the Justinator, having a permanent physical handicap…it would change the way people treat me. I don’t need any sympathy or special treatment. All I need to do is slather my penis in this cool, soothing ointment twice a day, and rub it softly as I listen to a Barry White album. His soulful crooning always eases my nerves.
So the next time you come back from class and find my cock harder than a steel rail, know this: I’m not masturbating—I’m taking my medicine.