There is a primal need to have the biggest dick--no other reason for monster trucks exists. But there are those who misuse modern technology because they don't have a large penis, or even one they can find without bright lights and a terribly misapplied telescopic camera. Behold: Nine examples of manly overcompensation that makes the WWE look like a rational pastime:
The longest limousine in the world is a true testament to making things bigger than everyone else, and if that means utterly destroying the original function then by God, we'll do it because this is America, son, and your Commie notions of "efficiency" and "not pissing resources down the vast hole of ego" won't fly here. Over 30 meters long with 12 sets of wheels, this abortion of internal combustion has one function only--to make its owner feel like a real man:
As you can see, it has its work cut out. There is not a single element of this picture that is not tragically failed overcompensation. Even the panther looks embarrassed to be near him, and that's a fucking cat wearing a necklace.
If Limo Bob was spending any more on compensation, he'd be Paul McCartney. The limo claims to have a helipad and a swimming pool (complete with diving board), but considering that the only person to land a helicopter on a moving car was Howlin' Mad Murdock (retired) and that the car is still only the width of a regularly-stupid limo, what you really have is a square of roof and a bath that someone's nailed a plank over. And most cars have roofs already.
We must admit that technically, this car almost succeeds, in that it will make people say, "Wow, whoever owns that is a huge dick."
Prince al-Walid bin Talal has told the world in no uncertain terms "Mine is bigger than yours." And when the world asked, "Our what?," he replied "Whatever, it doesn't matter. I'm building a tower a goddamn mile high."
This tower is specifically designed to kick the hell out of the still-in-progress half-mile-tall Burj Dubai tower, a country that has itself pretty much quit its day job to build ridiculous engineering projects full time. We suppose that's what happens when a country has a million men of median age 27, a $37 billion dollar GNP and only 300,000 women.
That's a difficult enough group dynamic for a free love commune, never mind an Islamic nation. The only reason the entire country of Dubai hasn't simply burned down is because they channel their frustrations into things like the largest man-made harbor in the world, the largest indoor ski resort in the world, until they finally said "Fuck it, let's just build a giant cock."
That got the attention of Talal, the Saudi billionaire who knew he couldn't stand idly by. Thus he proposed his $10 billion, mile-high project bringing him one step closer to his dream to make a building that could fuck the moon.
This gun is for men who looked at Dirty Harry and thought, "I need to have a gun bigger than his," completely missing the point that he's not manly because of his gun. He's manly because he is Dirty Goddamn Harry and the only reason he carries a gun at all is because he was suspended last time he beat a crook to death with his giant wang.
The owner lives for the day that some punk tries to mug him and he can unveil their hand cannon, but a total length of 15 inches and weighing 4 pounds, the gun takes slightly longer to draw than the Sistine Chapel. By the time Billy Beergut Redneck gets the thing clear of his crotch ("No, honestly, it's the fastest place to draw from") he'll already have been mugged.
ABOVE: The S&W .500 can be attached to a jockstrap
No, this is strictly for those who spend more time polishing their weapon than using it.
The motorbike is already the ultimate manly vehicle. Clinging desperately to an engine that honestly could not give a shit whether you live or die. It still wasn't quite lethal enough for one man, who built a jet engine into it. Presumably the store was all out of land mines to juggle.
We'll admit: This isn't so much penis extension as amplification, as anyone who can look at an F-16 and think, "I'd like to do that without the safety equipment and much, much closer to the ground," must at least have some balls to begin with. Or at least he did until he wrapped his crotch around a turbine thruster vibrating its way to Mach 1, becoming the founding member of the “Internal Combustion Castration” club.
Jets aren't usually controlled by handlebars because the only place it's safe to set one off is the sky. Attempt to redirect a reaction turbine with a motorbike tire and you'll leave a long streak of burned rubber, a shorter streak of metal-gouged furrow and a single patch of seared flesh that looks kind of like somebody caught on fire and burst while moving at a few hundred miles an hour. Exactly like that, in fact.
The Landkreuzer P 1500 Monster Tank was a 1,500 ton tank proposed during the Second World War, and to say that it was the most stupidly vast weapon ever designed would be to miss the chance to say "Makes the Death Star look like a beach ball."
The goal was to put the fear of God, Buddha and every non-visible being from Apollo to Zeus into anybody within 10 miles. Of course, being known as a mono-baller, Hitler had 50 percent more to compensate for than anyone else, an assertion that would be so much cooler if it was actually true. Sure, he might have conquered a quarter of the planet, but how can you prove you have true testicular twins? Launch a blitzkrieg assault on the press offices, jump on a table and whip off your slacks?
Nope, instead you do the sane thing: Propose a tank 30 times bigger than any that could actually be useful, with gun barrels nearly a meter wide. We're assuming the next stage was to stand on top of it, invade a country filled with Amazons and shout "Heil frauliens, get a load of my huge cannon."
The problem with building a tank with parts meant for battle cruisers is that it would be quicker to just drop a submarine on dry land and stick some wheels on it. It damn sure wouldn't be any slower than the P 1500. Any country invaded by a Landkreuzer could pretty much have ignored it, treating it like a slightly slower moving volcano. Sure, the Nazi Doom Cannon is kind of a pain, but if you're anywhere within 20 miles when the thing finally goes off you have no one to blame but yourself.
After years of failing to score with even the deadest-eyed truck stop waitress, that balding good ol' boy gets to screw every woman on the planet with his new International CXT megatruck! And all the men. And everything else that likes breathing, come to that.
Weighing 6.6 tons (which you might recognize as five sane cars welded together) the CXT is a pickup truck on steroids: freakishly large, hideously ugly, and somewhere amid all that unnecessary bulk is a very small penis.
This is for those who want the manliness of driving a 18 wheeler, without all the qualifications and success normally associated with being a trucker. With a 70 gallon fuel tank and the option for a flame paint job, this vehicle honestly couldn't be a more comical attempt to destroy the environment if Looten Plunder drove it over Captain Planet.
The CXT website allows you do customize your hideousness
The makers say "If you brought this truck to the playground, you'd be king of the dirt pile," roughly translating to "Go on Texan rednecks, pay us for this ridiculous converted dump truck while we call you stupid children to your stupid fat faces."
A solid cigar may be an icon of manliness, but one over five meters long and a foot across isn't just a stogie, that's the goddamn Freud red flag. Expect Psychoanalysis Man to transcend into the room in the Repression-mobile before you're through your first puff.
The Harnosand Cigar Factory rolled this 112 kilogram monster in 1990, hoping to promote their brand in the face of the sissy cigarettes that were seducing the world's cancer-chasers. Alas, it backfired, as people realized either that the makers were idiots prepared to waste 250 pounds of primo tobacco leaves on something no one will ever actually smoke or filled a cigar with sawdust and dog shit and thus couldn't be trusted.
Harnosand Cigars went bust in 1997.
Remember when we said the Jeddah Mile-High Tower was an attempt to "fuck the moon?" Well, if they do they'll find out she ain't a virgin no more, thanks to the USA and the Saturn V rocket.
This was the result of a dick-swinging contest between the two greatest and angriest powers the world has ever seen. Three thousand tons of spacecraft standing over 100 meters tall, the Saturn V was nothing less than a vast space-fucking prosthetic. Three quarters of a million gallons of liquid hydrogen and oxygen, enough to burn everything you have ever even SEEN, carrying our brave boys up to defeat the Evil Red Menace. It could only have been more manly if it was taking John Wayne to punch out moon gorillas.
At first we couldn't understand why anyone involved actually needed it. JFK, you might notice, didn't actually need a penis extension. He was busy banging Marilyn Fucking Monroe while leading the most powerful nation on Earth. If his penis had gotten any bigger he'd have needed an extra secret service agent just to carry it around. The astronauts didn't need any help either: These guys beat everybody else in the US Air Force to get where they were, and since that's an organization trained specifically to blow up everyone else in the world, that's pretty tough competition. They probably had to add extra rockets just account for the combined testicular mass.
But then we realized that it was America that needed it. With the soviet threat rumbling to the east, Kennedy knew there was only one way to restore our national masculinity: by building a gargantuan boner and fucking the moon.
Several of the above devices were so utterly penis-extending they defeated their own purpose--from the limo that would have to be dismantled and carried across a town, to the motorbike you can't actually start without exploding, but this takes the cake. Making your own penis look bigger at the expense of actually doing or feeling anything with it--those are lengths which no sane man will go.
We're not sure what the exact psychological effects of learning that a two dollar lump of molded plastic can satisfy your lady better than you ever could are, but we suspect they're terminal. They're also charging far more than this could cost to make, because no man can haggle over the price of a synthetic replacement for his own penis. "No, honestly, replacing my dick should only cost about $5, tops."
Though when you compare it to the price of, say, a rocket bike, the owner of this thing is getting off easy.
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