We interrupted this previously scheduled blog

to bring you a piece of on Circumcision Parties! I had a few ideas rolling around in my head for a blog post but let’s be honest, they weren’t the greatest. I would’ve made something out of them but I wasn’t like pumped to write them. I just want to give the people what they want. Content. Everything changed though when we were in the building which I can’t spell and it looked like they were setting up for a banquet. Which they were. A post-circumcision banquet. And sure, the reason I was so excited to write this blog did get tampered down a little when I learned some more information. But then I learned even more information and the excitement returned anew. With circumcision on a downward decline in the US for reasons that won’t be discussed here, well, I’m not sure where I was going with that sentence. The point is, I have no idea what happened at my circumcision. I have no idea how old I was, I imagine I was a baby. It didn’t happen in the last six months, I can tell you that much. All that matters is that I initially was said that circumcision happens between 3-7 years old. Which is old enough that you’re going to remember having some skin off your penis chopped off. It was the goat poop that really got to me though. The goat dung. The fecal matter of the goat. The fecal matter of the goat that you push your penis through and then the local barber (LOCAL BARBER!) would chop it off. Then a party is held with drinks and baked goods and dancing. Lots of dancing. I did find it a bit strange to find the reception being held in a hospital if you had to find a local barber to perform the operation. Plus, the babies they brought in who were wearing their post-circumcision outfits looked to be only about 2 and not 7. Then I found out some more information that as I said, tempered down my excitement. Apparently, children have the procedures done in hospitals now and they aren’t second graders when it happened. I mean, sure they still got a party and as far as I can remember I don’t remember having a celebration back in the day. Either way, no matter how old or young the kid was, just seeing a giant get together set for a celebration of foreskin removal was enough to make me write about it. I did learn more about the goat dung related circumcision process I mentioned earlier though. It was the local barber, but don’t worry, he cleared out a section of his shop to perform the act. I like to think he did it with a straight razor because that would really embody the barber image I have in my head. The goat dung was there yes, yes. Oh, and to distract the kid? He said “look at this corner in the wall, there’s a bird there” and slash! That’s it. No anesthesia, none of that because damn Arabians are tough as nails. They while the child cries, the women of the village, because this takes place in a village and not modern cities which now use hospitals, dance around the child and sing and proceed to sing louder in accordance with the child’s screams/wails. There were some other facts that I’m probably leaving out too. Oh wait, I remember one. They then take the foreskin in a bowl of henna to the mosque to bless it before burying it. Oh yeah! They also neuter a rooster or something as well in order to please the djinns. There’s something about leaving blood above the door the night before too in order for good blessings. Apparently there’s a lot of bleeding and blood involved. It’s brilliant. So yeah, savor this. Instead of some lame attempt at a blog post, you get my excited ramblings about babies losing parts of their privates. So it goes.

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