All right, I’ll just come out and say it: In all my 124 years of life I have never had an erection. That is not to say that my three or five children were not all mine, except for the bastard H. Lucius, who I’m certain was the product of my filthy two-timing wife and the chimney sweep.
When I was in the mood for siring brats, my personal physician Dr. Wickes would quickly procure a catheter and a rubber bulb connected to a glass bottle. I’d drop my trousers, and he’d quickly jam it up the old John Thomas lickety split and start pumping away. Hurt like the dickens, but I was determined to carry on the great Zweibel pedigree.
Then the wife would be tracked down somewhere in the estate and promptly inseminated with my august issue. How she would complain so! The ungrateful trollop never did understand the magnitude of her mission.
To cure my impotence, Dr. Wickes experimented with a lot of elixirs and potions distilled from the manhood of prized Andalusian bulls. I was administered each one, but to no avail. Instead, I was beset with a rare brain fever that caused horns to sprout from my head. I had that quack Wickes drummed out of the medical establishment, and he died alone on an ice floe in Baffin Bay.
Then, just this morning, it happened. My nurse was replacing the tube of my catheter and, clumsy oaf that she is, managed to coil the tube tightly around my member while she searched about for a rubber tip. I could feel the blood rushing, and it felt as though my extremities would burst. I looked down, and the lower half of my body was a vivid crimson. The next thing I remember, I was lying naked on my back as my nurse silently gave me a sponge bath, my regular blueish tint restored.
I lay there in profound puzzlement for a while. Then it occured to me: I just had sexual relations! At the age of 133, I was a true man at last! Glory be!
Parents, I hope you will clip this column and share it with your young ones. For this is a great lesson in perseverance. Life is truly a rich pageant of wonderment. I hope that nurse will change my catheter again soon.
T. Herman Zweibel, the great grandson of Onion founder Friedrich Siegfried Zweibel, was born in 1868, became editor of The Onion at age 20, and persisted in various editorial posts until his launching into space in 2001. Zweibel’s name became synonymous with American business success in the 20th century. Many consider him the “Father Of American Journalism,” also the title of his well-known 1943 biography, written by Norman Rombauer.
