Finally, I decided to write aboutsomething other than my penis . . .

While I hate to disappoint my loyal readers, who enjoy nothing so much as a TMI discussion of the Speedo Monster, the Alabama Hammer, otherwise known affectionately as "Ralph," there comes a point at which this subject begins to bore even me.

However, if my fellow bloggers and journalists don't stop yakking about their packages -- this means you, too, David Harsanyi! -- it will be time to pass the torch to a new generation, as they say, and I'll allow my teenage son to start guest-blogging on the topic, "Some Traits Are Hereditary (Including Arrogance)." Don't say you haven't been warned.

Meanwhile, we move on, to discuss a subject of endless fascination, why July 19, 1969 was the defining moment in the career of Sen. Edward M. Kennedy (D-Chappaquiddick).

Read the whole thing, because you wouldn't want to read more about something else, would you?

UPDATE: It's as if Little Miss Atilla were daring me to whip it out. And, quite frankly, I'm beginning to wonder if Cynthia Yockey hates the penis as much as a lesbian should. A reminder, ladies, I do have a digital camera. IYKWIMAITYD.

UPDATE II: Continuing to distract from the tragic finale of tragic finale of OediPOTUS Wrecks -- Smitty's magnum opus of Hope-us -- now some damned Wisconsonian jumps into the foreskin forensics, as does Fisherville Mike. And trust me, there is nothing on earth about which I want to think less than Ed Morrissey's equipment. Still, you've got to love Ed's oblique shot at Sully:

Let me try to explain this in small words for people who like to give “awards” for hysteria but still demand to see Sarah Palin’s gynecological records. . . .

Brilliant, Ed. Not as brilliant as OediPOTUS Wrecks, but nonetheless brilliant.