NIPPLES: WHY DO I HAVE THEE?

Nipple, nipple on my breast, why for art thou on my chest? Obviously, you serve a purpose to women. But what benefits do you give me and the rest of the men of the world? While bathing in my weekly milk bath last Tuesday, I began to play with my nipples. I pondered their existence for quite a while. They seem to have no real purpose. I thought maybe they were bolts that kept my chest from popping open. I tried to open my right nipple with a big pair of pliers, but stopped short of twisting it off. As I screamed in pain, I realized that couldn’t be their purpose. Then I thought they might be hooks for hanging clothes. After trying 135 unsuccessful times to hang a shirt on my left nipple, I finally realized this, too, was not the solution. I then remembered once hearing women's nipples being referred to as “headlights.” I thought this could be it. I started small with a 25-watt bulb, but without success. I eventually ended up trying to screw in an 8-inch florescent tube, which also proved unsuccessful. The term “knockers” crossed my mind, so I pierced my right nipple with a thick door knocker. It didn't resonate off my chest the way it should have, so I abandoned this idea as well. Jumper cables! This could be it! They are obviously there to jump-start my body! I decided to test my theory with a pair of jumper cables and my ‘76 Riviera. After I regained consciousness three days later, I changed my underwear and crossed jumper cables off my list. “Propeller props!” I exclaimed. Why didn't I see it before? They are there to mount propellers on. It took a couple hours to properly fasten two green propellers to my chest, but it was well worth it. I dashed out into the streets to prove my theory. Unfortunately, I just didn't have the proper lift that was needed to take off. I did, however, make $250 from a nice group of Hell’s Angels I met that night, so it wasn't a total loss. Still, I didn't know what the hell my wonderful nipples were for. I decided to think about it over breakfast. While eating my Cap’n Crunch, I had an epiphany: Women give milk through their nipples, so why couldn't a man? And, more importantly, why couldn't I! I might be able to cure world hunger with my succulent teats, but first a test was necessary. Where could I find a willing test subject, I pondered. After long deliberation, I chose my six-year-old pitbull, Adolf. He is a trooper, but was a little unresponsive at first. To entice him a little, I smeared butter on both of my nipples, and boy was he ready to go! An hour quickly jaunted by, but no milk to speak of. I felt defeated once again, but Adolf seemed unwilling to fall. I patted the little trooper on the head and told him to heel, but he wouldn't budge. I began to forcibly shove him away from me, but he still wouldn't move. And, much to my regret, he became quickly unsatisfied with just sucking on my nipples. After all these trials and tribulations, what did I finally decide male nipples were for? Well, at this point I dont really care, because my beloved Adolf forcibly ripped both of mine off. I think he’s actually still chewing on one of them. Thank God I didn’t try and find other uses for my penis.