How do you recognise a big cock without seeing it?

[Ssbbw4u1974]

"Height, of course. Everything bigger in bigger people. In other words, if a guy breaks through one of the sixes, it's quite likely he breaks through the other, too."

I agree

 

[Bramblethorn]

I know non-baseball fans are unlikely to know who Randy Johnson is.

"Randy Johnson", you say?

 

[TheLobster]

"Randy Johnson", you say?

And he's 6'9", too.

 

[StillStunned]

How do you recognise a big cock when it's wearing a disguise?

 

[KittyOfSteele]

You can listen to the locker room nickname for someone.

I know non-baseball fans are unlikely to know who Randy Johnson is. He was one of the greatest baseball pitchers in history. He's 6'9" (well over 2 meters) tall, but his nickname among his teammates was Big Unit. The media picked up on calling him that and then it was funny hearing them try to explain the nickname on TV after they slipped up and used it.

He apparently doesn't care for the nickname, it started out as more teasing by teammates. There are other tall athletes, none of whom got similar nicknames. I'm willing to bet he is exceptionally endowed, although I have never seen it (nor do I have any desire to).

Randy Johnson is a name I haven't heard in years. I think he retired from baseball and now is a sports photographer.

 

[JackVettriano]

So true - if women (or gay men) could ID concealed cock size by sight alone, every guy would tape a summer sausage inside their trousers. I had a story idea where a guy does this (often), and by the time the women discover the truth in the bedroom, they are so horny that they have sex anyway.

I was working in Canada and we discussed this in the bar one night. The next night my friend and I went out clubbing with a tied sock in each other’s shorts under our trousers.
Guess what, we both got laid!

Ladies notice!

 

[nice90sguy]

How do you recognise a big cock without seeing it?


By its characteristic call, usually shortly before dawn

 

[Ianus4]

foot size

 

[EmilyMiller]

Some ladies might sometimes notice! Or it was a total coincidence.

Fixed it from a statistical POV

 

[EmilyMiller]

Fixed it from a statistical POV

From a Pure Math POV:

∃ S ⊂ {all women} : | S ∩ {women who notice / care about penis size} | ≥ 2

 

[old_prof]

Fixed it from a statistical POV

Or their added confidence (or should I say cockiness) changed the odds.

 

[PennyThompson]

To be fair, not all dino’s were feathered. And in some the adults lost them. But the melanosomes-based reconstructions are amazing.

View attachment 2598267

it's so cuddly! It's for the best that velociraptors don't exist anymore, I would definitely be mauled trying to pet one.

 

[EmilyMiller]

Or their added confidence (or should I say cockiness) changed the odds.

I always find Feynman’s thoughts on this area illuminating:

—

My wife, Arlene, was ill with tuberculosis—very ill indeed. It looked as if something might happen at any minute, so I arranged ahead of time with a friend of mine in the dormitory to borrow his car in an emergency so I could get to Albuquerque quickly. His name was Klaus Fuchs. He was the spy, and he used his automobile to take the atomic secrets away from Los Alamos down to Santa Fe. But nobody knew that. The emergency arrived. I borrowed Fuchs's car and picked up a couple of hitchhikers, in case something happened with the car on the way to Albuquerque. Sure enough, just as we were driving into Santa Fe, we got a flat tire. The two guys helped me change the tire, and just as we were leaving Santa Fe, another tire went flat. We pushed the car into a nearby gas station. The gas station guy was repairing somebody else's car, and it was going to take a while before he could help us. I didn't even think to say anything, but the two hitchhikers went over to the gas station man and told him the situation. Soon we had a new tire (but no spare—tires were hard to get during the war). About thirty miles outside Albuquerque a third tire went flat, so I left the car on the road and we hitchhiked the rest of the way. I phoned a garage to go out and get the car while I went to the hospital to see my wife. Arlene died a few hours after I got there. A nurse came in to fill out the death certificate, and went out again. I spent a little more time with my wife. Then I looked at the clock I had given her seven years before, when she had first become sick with tuberculosis. It was something which in those days was very nice: a digital clock whose numbers would change by turning around mechanically. The clock was very delicate and often stopped for one reason or another—I had to repair it from time to time—but I kept it going for all those years. Now, it had stopped once more—at 9:22, the time on the death certificate! I remembered the time I was in my fraternity house at MIT when the idea came into my head completely out of the blue that my grandmother was dead. Right after that there was a telephone call, just like that. It was for Pete Bernays—my grandmother wasn't dead. So I remembered that, in case somebody told me a story that ended the other way. I figured that such things can sometimes happen by luck—after all, my grandmother was very old—although people might think they happened by some sort of supernatural phenomenon. Arlene had kept this clock by her bedside all the time she was sick, and now it stopped the moment she died. I can understand how a person who half believes in the possibility of such things, and who hasn't got a doubting mind—especially in a circumstance like that—doesn't immediately try to figure out what happened, but instead explains that no one touched the clock, and there was no possibility of explanation by normal phenomena. The clock simply stopped. It would become a dramatic example of these fantastic phenomena. I saw that the light in the room was low, and then I remembered that the nurse had picked up the clock and turned it toward the light to see the face better. That could easily have stopped it. I went for a walk outside.

 

[PennyThompson]

I always find Feynman’s thoughts on this area illuminating:

—

My wife, Arlene, was ill with tuberculosis—very ill indeed. It looked as if something might happen at any minute, so I arranged ahead of time with a friend of mine in the dormitory to borrow his car in an emergency so I could get to Albuquerque quickly. His name was Klaus Fuchs. He was the spy, and he used his automobile to take the atomic secrets away from Los Alamos down to Santa Fe. But nobody knew that. The emergency arrived. I borrowed Fuchs's car and picked up a couple of hitchhikers, in case something happened with the car on the way to Albuquerque. Sure enough, just as we were driving into Santa Fe, we got a flat tire. The two guys helped me change the tire, and just as we were leaving Santa Fe, another tire went flat. We pushed the car into a nearby gas station. The gas station guy was repairing somebody else's car, and it was going to take a while before he could help us. I didn't even think to say anything, but the two hitchhikers went over to the gas station man and told him the situation. Soon we had a new tire (but no spare—tires were hard to get during the war). About thirty miles outside Albuquerque a third tire went flat, so I left the car on the road and we hitchhiked the rest of the way. I phoned a garage to go out and get the car while I went to the hospital to see my wife. Arlene died a few hours after I got there. A nurse came in to fill out the death certificate, and went out again. I spent a little more time with my wife. Then I looked at the clock I had given her seven years before, when she had first become sick with tuberculosis. It was something which in those days was very nice: a digital clock whose numbers would change by turning around mechanically. The clock was very delicate and often stopped for one reason or another—I had to repair it from time to time—but I kept it going for all those years. Now, it had stopped once more—at 9:22, the time on the death certificate! I remembered the time I was in my fraternity house at MIT when the idea came into my head completely out of the blue that my grandmother was dead. Right after that there was a telephone call, just like that. It was for Pete Bernays—my grandmother wasn't dead. So I remembered that, in case somebody told me a story that ended the other way. I figured that such things can sometimes happen by luck—after all, my grandmother was very old—although people might think they happened by some sort of supernatural phenomenon. Arlene had kept this clock by her bedside all the time she was sick, and now it stopped the moment she died. I can understand how a person who half believes in the possibility of such things, and who hasn't got a doubting mind—especially in a circumstance like that—doesn't immediately try to figure out what happened, but instead explains that no one touched the clock, and there was no possibility of explanation by normal phenomena. The clock simply stopped. It would become a dramatic example of these fantastic phenomena. I saw that the light in the room was low, and then I remembered that the nurse had picked up the clock and turned it toward the light to see the face better. That could easily have stopped it. I went for a walk outside.”

aaand now i'm tearing up while on my lunch break

 

[EmilyMiller]

aaand now i'm tearing up while on my lunch break

The general thought about Feynman was that he couldn’t articulate his grief around his wife’s death and so focused on these little things as a coping mechanism and to reaffirm what he thought about the Universe in the face of a traumatic bereavement.

He writes elsewhere that he shut down emotionally for a long period. Then was walking past a store and saw a dress in the window. His immediate thought was that his wife would have liked it. And at that point the dam burst and he couldn’t stop crying.

The human heart and brain is weird. Even with Nobel Laureates, perhaps particularly with Nobel Laureates.

 

[crookedletter]

Dick sizes -> dinosaurs -> theoretical physicists on grief -> ??

The Great Chain of Lit.

 

[ADirtyPerv]

Dick sizes -> dinosaurs -> theoretical physicists on grief -> ??

The Great Chain of Lit.

This is an easy top 10 thread since I've been on this forum.

 

[PennyThompson]

was walking past a store and saw a dress in the window. His immediate thought was that his wife would have liked it. And at that point the dam burst and he couldn’t stop crying.

emily you monster

 

[EmilyMiller]

emily you monster

On top of Feynman having a hardscrabble Far Rockaway personality which he clung to (perhaps to the point of caricature), and the general mental tics that often accompany scientific excellence, it’s important to recall that there was a war on as well, and he had a role to play.

 

[EmilyMiller]

October 17, 1946

D’Arline,

I adore you, sweetheart.

I know how much you like to hear that — but I don’t only write it because you like it — I write it because it makes me warm all over inside to write it to you.

It is such a terribly long time since I last wrote to you — almost two years but I know you’ll excuse me because you understand how I am, stubborn and realistic; and I thought there was no sense to writing.

But now I know my darling wife that it is right to do what I have delayed in doing, and that I have done so much in the past. I want to tell you I love you. I want to love you. I always will love you.

I find it hard to understand in my mind what it means to love you after you are dead — but I still want to comfort and take care of you — and I want you to love me and care for me. I want to have problems to discuss with you — I want to do little projects with you. I never thought until just now that we can do that. What should we do. We started to learn to make clothes together — or learn Chinese — or getting a movie projector. Can’t I do something now? No. I am alone without you and you were the “idea-woman” and general instigator of all our wild adventures.

When you were sick you worried because you could not give me something that you wanted to and thought I needed. You needn’t have worried. Just as I told you then there was no real need because I loved you in so many ways so much. And now it is clearly even more true — you can give me nothing now yet I love you so that you stand in my way of loving anyone else — but I want you to stand there. You, dead, are so much better than anyone else alive.

I know you will assure me that I am foolish and that you want me to have full happiness and don’t want to be in my way. I’ll bet you are surprised that I don’t even have a girlfriend (except you, sweetheart) after two years. But you can’t help it, darling, nor can I — I don’t understand it, for I have met many girls and very nice ones and I don’t want to remain alone — but in two or three meetings they all seem ashes. You only are left to me. You are real.

My darling wife, I do adore you.

I love my wife. My wife is dead.

Rich.

PS Please excuse my not mailing this — but I don’t know your new address.

 

[PennyThompson]

October 17, 1946

D’Arline,

I adore you, sweetheart.

I know how much you like to hear that — but I don’t only write it because you like it — I write it because it makes me warm all over inside to write it to you.

It is such a terribly long time since I last wrote to you — almost two years but I know you’ll excuse me because you understand how I am, stubborn and realistic; and I thought there was no sense to writing.

But now I know my darling wife that it is right to do what I have delayed in doing, and that I have done so much in the past. I want to tell you I love you. I want to love you. I always will love you.

I find it hard to understand in my mind what it means to love you after you are dead — but I still want to comfort and take care of you — and I want you to love me and care for me. I want to have problems to discuss with you — I want to do little projects with you. I never thought until just now that we can do that. What should we do. We started to learn to make clothes together — or learn Chinese — or getting a movie projector. Can’t I do something now? No. I am alone without you and you were the “idea-woman” and general instigator of all our wild adventures.

When you were sick you worried because you could not give me something that you wanted to and thought I needed. You needn’t have worried. Just as I told you then there was no real need because I loved you in so many ways so much. And now it is clearly even more true — you can give me nothing now yet I love you so that you stand in my way of loving anyone else — but I want you to stand there. You, dead, are so much better than anyone else alive.

I know you will assure me that I am foolish and that you want me to have full happiness and don’t want to be in my way. I’ll bet you are surprised that I don’t even have a girlfriend (except you, sweetheart) after two years. But you can’t help it, darling, nor can I — I don’t understand it, for I have met many girls and very nice ones and I don’t want to remain alone — but in two or three meetings they all seem ashes. You only are left to me. You are real.

My darling wife, I do adore you.

I love my wife. My wife is dead.

Rich.

PS Please excuse my not mailing this — but I don’t know your new address.

this would make a much better movie than Oppenheimer

 

[BeechLeaf]

In my other writing (not this site) I have a main character who lost a partner many years ago, and 'keeps herself sane' by talking to him. I wasn't specifically thinking of Feynman's talking to Arlene, but now I wonder how much it influenced me: he wasn't wrong to, so my Marina also wasn't. I do remember being strongly moved by his attempts to work it out.

 

[StillStunned]

In my other writing (not this site) I have a main character who lost a partner many years ago, and 'keeps herself sane' by talking to him. I wasn't specifically thinking of Feynman's talking to Arlene, but now I wonder how much it influenced me: he wasn't wrong to, so my Marina also wasn't. I do remember being strongly moved by his attempts to work it out.

Based on the response I got to "Muffin", I think it's quite a relatable coping mechanism.

 

[EmilyMiller]

this would make a much better movie than Oppenheimer

He obviously led a very interesting life. His biography by James Greek is worth reading.

 

[Smuttyandfun]

If you notice he's got something strapped to his leg under his pants, he's probably on the bigger side.