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6 February 2006
Rasputin's Knob Ė The Greatest Penis Of Them All?
by Paul A.

Weíve all seen porn. Weíve all heard rumors about Erol Flynn and Liam Neeson. Grace Slick wonít shut up about Jim Morrisonís show-stopping custard-chucker. There are some truly famous tallywhackers out there. But itís worth asking - if only just for the hell of it - whoís was the greatest dick of all? Was it John Holmes? John Dillinger? Mini-Me? If it was simply a matter of size, we could just crack open the Guinness Book of Records... actually donít bother. I just did and itís not in there. Can you believe that? They have the longest appendix but not the longest appendage. Unbelievable.

But we donít need to check the record book to know there are guys out there who canít wear shorts above the knee. Itís a statistical inevitability. Penis size follows a bell curve distribution. Itís been estimated that the standard deviation for penis size is about 0.75 of an inch. That means if the average size is 6 inches, one guy in fifty is 7.5 inches. You want to find a 9-incher? Odds are youíre going to have to go through 5,000 first. Ten-inchers are one in a half-a-million. And so it goes. There are 3 billion guys out there, so thereís got to be a few fellas causing more shrieks of terror than pleasure. The largest verified measurement is 13.5 inches while David Reuben in Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex mentions one of 14 inches.

But it seems to me that the Greatest Dick of Them All shouldnít only be a matter of dimensions. The possessor should be someone of note, or notoriety. There should be a story behind it. And if these are indeed the criteria, then thereís really no contest. The greatest dick of them all, the undisputed king of dickdom, belonged to none other than Russiaís infamous love machine, Rasputin.

I donít have the space here to go into the whole sordid story of Grigori Rasputin, the monk thing, the lover of the Russian queen thing, the single handedly causing the Russian Revolution thing. As far as this discussion goes, the only thing thatís germane is Rasputinís bacon bazooka, and as legend has it, it was something to behold. A whopping 13 inches erect and 11 inches flaccid. And if you maintain that ďsize doesnít matter,Ē you may change your mind after learning that Rasputin was the toast of St. Petersburg well before he was popping up in Alexandraís bed chamber. Wilt Chamberlain had nothing on this guy. Now, if 13 inches seems extreme, it is. A womanís vagina is highly expandable but there are limits. The vagina is attached to the uterus and ovaries. And for a woman of average height 13 inches is just touching the sternum. Weíre into the lungs here for Godís sake! So, was the 13 inch estimate an exaggeration? Well, the pictures tell the story.

How do we know its Rasputinís dick? Well thatís the claim. Itís currently on display at the Museum of Erotica in St. Petersburg and itís obviously a monster. According to the museumís curator itís 11 inches, but even more impressive than the length is the girth. Towards the base itís as thick a forearm. When erect it would have been a formidable sight. Was it thirteen inches, though? Iím guessing theyíre overshooting by an inch or two, but hey, itís still a remarkable womb-broom. The real question is whether or not itís Rasputinís penis. To learn the answer weíll need to dip into history a bit.

Rasputin was a semi-religious peasant pilgrim who supposedly possessed mysterious healing powers among his other, ahem, attributes. He reputedly stopped the bleeding of the Tsarís hemophilic heir and won the trust of the Tsarina Alexandra. He ultimately became an important advisor to the Romanovs, and in so doing earned the jealously and wrath of members of the nobility who had a natural dislike for uppity peasants with foot long schlongs and a taste for married aristocratic women. But especially galling to them was the fact that he was really fucking things up. Russia was at war and losing badly. Peasants were starving. The whole country was staggering toward catastrophe. Big dick or no, he had to go. And so, a small cabal formed with the intent of seeing him gone for good.

To carry out their nefarious plan, the conspirators invited Rasputin to the home of Prince Felix Yusupov. He was first poisoned with wine then with pastries, but when he was still in a party mood an hour later, the conspirators patience ran out and they shot him, point blank. Rasputin dropped like a sack of potatoes but he wasnít down for the count. When they went to move the body, he sprang to life, attacked the Prince, and then took off like a bat out of hell.

His assassins followed him out, shot him in the back, then in the head, and then for good measure, smashed his skull in with a barbell. But Rasputin refused to die and kept crawling away. Fearing discovery, they pulled him back inside where he finally lost consciousness. Then, driven by anger, sexual depravity (the Prince was himself supposedly a lover of Rasputin) or perhaps just an honest desire to preserve something genuinely magnificent, the Prince hacked off Rasputinís penis and reportedly flung it across the room. Now you will note that the above dick in the jar was not cavalierly sliced off, Bobbit style. The whole scrotum was removed. This seems like way too much work, but as is evident from the specimen, somebody was willing to put in the time, so why not Prince Felix? This was after all, an evening defined by excess. The conspirators then tied the body with ropes, wrapped it in a carpet and dumped it in the half-frozen river. Rasputinís body was discovered three days later.

His wedding tackle, on the other hand, was discovered the next day by the cleaning maid. Accounts begin to diverge at this point but it seems that the dick then fell into the hands of a group of Russian women living in Paris who kept it in a wooden box and worshipped it as some kind of holy relic. According to one account, Rasputin's daughter, Marie, caught wind of this and demanded Dadís dick back. It remained in her possession until she died in California in 1977. It then fell into the hands of an antique dealer named Mike Augustine, who bought it as part of a job lot that included some of Mariaís papers. Amongst the oddments, he found a desiccated chunk of flesh resembling the uncircumsized glans (head) of a large penis with a note identifying it as Rasputinís penis. Mike consigned the dried-up dick to Bonhamís auction house that tested it and discovered that it was...well... a sea cucumber. Somewhere down the line somebody got duped. If Mike is on the up and up, logic would suggest it was either Maria or the girls of Paris, but at any rate, this particular trail turns out to be a dead end.

That was in1994. Now from out of the blue the great dick resurfaces in a jar of formaldehyde in a privately-run Russian Erotica museum. Igor Knyazkin, a urologist who runs the museum as part of his St. Petersburg clinic, claims that he bought it from a French antiquarian for $8,000. The fact that heís French suggests a possible connection with the girls of Paris, but itís all just idle speculation. Knyazkin has not been forthcoming about the antiquarianís name and this has led to reasonable suspicion of fraud. Some, following the nautical motif, have claimed that the penis is actually some kind of clam. Iíve seen the clam. Itís not. Itís definitely a dick but is it a human dick? There have been suggestions that itís a horse penis. But horse penises are contained in large sheaths. No such sheath or the signs of its removal are evident in the photo. It does look human. The only way to tell of course would be DNA testing and so far Knyazkin has not bothered with such trifling matters. Maybe he doesnít want to know. Why risk exposing it as a fake even if itís not?

Another consideration is the fact that the penis in the jar lacks a foreskin. While itís true that circumcision was becoming common in Britain and America around the time of Rasputinís birth, is it probable that such an operation would have been performed on a non-Jewish Russian peasant?

Where do I fall on this? Iím undecided. Iíll admit the better part of me wants to believe itís the real deal, if only because it would be so cool if it was. The legendary dick of a legendary man, sitting in a glass jar for the whole world to gawk at. I suspect Iím not alone in this regard, which is why - despite lingering doubts about its provenance - so many people have flocked to see it. We want to believe, and whether itís Santa, Hitlerís diaries or the Shroud of Turin, weíre a little disappointed when we learn the truth. Someday the truth will come out. But until then... holy shit man... thatís The Greatest Penis Of Them All Ė Rasputinís!




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