In which I dabble in cyberterrorism

My sister collects black and white posters of little kids in formalwear giving each other roses and kissing goodbye at train stations, stickers of kittens with captions like "Purrrfectly Meow-velous!" and "What a cat-astophe!" and hanging teddybear angels.

"Fuck this shit," says teddybear angel.

I, by contrast, have two aspiring actor wasps performing post-mortem improv in my living room, 25lbs of concentrated Astrolube that I'm saving for a ladies wrestling-slash-cancer survivor party, and a "don't ask don't tell" pile of termite dust developing in the corner of my bathroom.

A typical birthday card from my sister contains festive balloon-shaped confetti. Not to be outdone, a typical birthday card from me generally contains the phrase, "I'm so thankful your dad shot you out of his pisshole."

My sister displays framed glamour portraits of her daughter, unironically.

I, however, find these portraits offensive. In an effort to communicate my feelings about these glamour shots, I convinced a fellow guest at my sister's last dinner party to drape his testicles over one of them.

Then I stole my brother-in-law's phone and took a photo.

And texted the photo to their daughter, away at college.

With a *winky face!* emoticon.

Daddy misses you sweetie! ;)

Butterflyyyy kisses, after bedtime prayer,

stickin' liiiittle white flowers, aaaaall up in her hairrrr...

Two minutes later, my sister's phone rang, and after a brief conversation with her daughter, punctuated by shushes and reassurances, she got off the phone and turned to her husband:

Sister: Do you honestly think people want to see your balls, Dave?

Dave: Interesting question, honey. I honestly don't know whether people want to see my balls or not.

Sister: Well, let me tell you exactly who wants to see your balls. NOBODY WANTS TO SEE YOUR BALLS, DAVE!! NOBODY!!

Dave: That's kind of hurtful, but alright.

Sister: Especially not your DAUGHTER!!

Dave: Well, yeah. I agree. If there were a list of people who wanted to see my balls, she would be last on that list. For sure.

Sister: So why would you send her a picture of your testicles?!

Dave: Excuse me?

Sister: You know what? Stop drinking right now! Gimme your drink. You always get weird when you drink.

Dave: Okay just stop. Listen, I've made some bad decisions in my life, and I've done some questionable things, but never in my life have I thought to myself, "Hey you know what Dave? Go ahead and take a photo of your nuts, send it to your daughter. Show her you care." Not me, babe. Not this time. Move along.

Sister: It came from your phone, Dave. Your phone.

Dave: No it didn't, because my phone is right over... here. Okay, no it isn't. Someone took my phone. Who has my phone?

Sister: She's very upset, Dave!

Dave: Well, yeah. Your dad sends you a photo of his nuts, you're going to feel bad things, that's understandable!

Sister: She thought we were all taken hostage!

Dave: Taken hostage? By whom?

Sister: I don't know, terrorists?

Dave: Scrotum-texting terrorists? Seriously. That girl watches too much Special Victims Unit.

Sister: Well, she was terrified. She felt a lot of terror.

Dave: Well, she'll be okay. I'm sure there's a support group or something.

Sister: I don't know. 9/11 survivors maybe.

***

10pm in the quiet blufftop community of Pacific Palisades, California. A wispy tendril of a cloud slinks across the face of the full moon, but it's enough to diffuse the light, creating a few seconds of complete darkness. They seize their opportunity. The armed men file noiselessly from the back of a van and within seconds, they're inside.

Moments later, the sound of dishes crashing to the ground and startled screams reverberate through the warm summer night.

:::several minutes later:::

April hath put a spirit of youth in everything. --William Shakespeare

Yes, spring certainly is revitalizing. The sun is out but there's a chill in the air, and it makes you just want to run outside to play and come back hours later smelling of dirt. Makes you feel like a kid again. Let's all take a deep breath together. Ready?

iiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnn...and ouuuuuuuttttttt. That felt good. Do you feel good? I do. I feel great. I'm glad we took that moment together. Happy spring, you guys. Thanks for sharing that with me.

Now, what was I going to write about? Oh yeah. Let's draw some dicks.

I, myself, do not recall ever attempting to draw a penis. I'm not very artistic, although I will, on occasion, admire someone else's drawing of a penis. Am I an expert? Far from it. I'm not here to instruct, but rather to explore, analyze, and hopefully...(humble face)...inspire.

The first thing you must consider when delving into the topic of dick art is how your post title will look on your blog friends' sidebars. It's hard to believe, but there are bloggers out there who might not appreciate your artistic spirit livening up their blogrolls:

Roseann's Musings, Ramblings, Ponderings, and Thoughts

Health Care Reform? Oh, brother...

Confessions of a Loling Blogger

Teh unicorns are made of win!

Getting Snarky with God

Rest in Peace, Mr. Fluffyknickers

Photos from Heaven

Raindrops dangling from flower petals, part 7

Steam Me Up, Kid

I draw dicks and balls real good

I know, you're thinking, "That penis at the bottom really spruces up the joint! I'd be honored to promote that blog post on my sidebar!" and I would second that sentiment, and that, my friendish, is why we're both here right now. Exploding fistbump.

But, out of respect, consider hiding your dick post behind a "title beard", such as a googled quote about springtime by some dead pretentious schmo. Bonus points if it includes the word "hath".

I would be remiss if I didn't give credit to Sarah P at Naked Cupcakes, who if you aren't reading yet, you should be, because she's fucking hilarious. She sent me a lovely card in the mail recently which was the inspiration for this post. She writes:

Dear Becky,

I love dicks. I draw them all day and all night. Dicks dicks dicks. Eat em up yum. Dicks on the brain. Can't get enough. But recently, I've developed doubts about my dicks. I need your help. Tell me honestly, do my balls look right? Love, Sarah P

Sarah P, I completely understand your artistic choices with regard to balls. We are all well aware that balls don't come individually wrapped in separate little cherry-like scrotums. But what choice do we have, as artists, and as women who love our men. Sometimes, the truth hurts.

What would you have us do, men??

WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE US DO??

See what I mean? You done good, Sarah. Long live cherryballs.

But you got me to thinking, Sarah. How important are balls in penis art? I believe inclusion of balls should be examined on a case-by-case basis. For example, I came upon this chalk illustration on the playground recently:

See? No balls. But what does "Happy Birthday Giant Cock Friend" (chalk on asphalt, 2009) have that most other dick drawings don't have? Friendship. And cake. How important are balls when we have friendship and cake? That's a question for the ages, my friends.

Now that we've opened the door to various media, I realize that what I said before about not having much dick drawing experience, while true, did not take into account my expertise in the Pancake Arts.

In my experience, the best thing about pancake dicks is pretending you didn't intend to fashion the pancake in the shape of a dick at all. When my friends come to visit with their kids, I serve up my giant phallic flapjacks that are so obscenely long (thank you, 20" skillet) that half the shaft hangs off the side of the plate, syrup dribbling suggestively off the tip, and their kids go YUM!! and other appreciative words that are muffled on account of their mouths being crammed with buttery testicles, and my friends make angry faces at me and I go

Me: What? What's the problem?

Friend: You know what's the problem. Stop feeding my kids dick-shaped breakfast foods.

Me: Dick-shaped? What's wrong with you? For your information, these are elephant heads, sicko.

I'm sorry, I'm still not seeing it.

Kid 1: I love elephant pancakes!!

Kid 2: Mommy, his trunk is longer than my trunk! I want a longer trunk!

Me: Oh, you know what though? Yours is thicker. That's what counts.

Friend: I think maybe Auntie Becky needs to see a special doctor.

Kid 1: Look at me! I'm a sword swallower! *dangles wangcake above mouth*

Friend: I just died a little in my heart.

Me: Your kids sure do love elephants, huh. Where's my camera?

My point is, when considering dick art, free your mind. The age of the pen-on-spiral doodling horny virgin teen has come to an end. We are entering a renaissance of dick art, with the introduction of photoshop and paint programs. But before we look ahead, we must look back, because those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it, and I think we can all agree that human civilization has endured enough of those nubby little cherubic wangs. I'm looking at you, Baroque period. Never again.

So here we go, a look back. I've worked really hard on this. It was difficult, because as you can probably guess by now I have trouble staying focused sometimes, especially when it comes to stuff like history, but I think I did a good job. I hope it's not too cerebral. I really want you to like it. So nervous!!! Squeee!!

And now, I humbly present, my blog thesis...

The Complete World History of Dicks in Art

Part 1

Early Dick Art: Stuff in Europe

The DaVinci Choad

Quick side note:

Something I won't eat because it looks like Marilyn Manson's penis.

Oh my God, this one's even worse.

It looks like a zombie rising from the grave, boner first.

Hahaha!! Epic ham fail lol!!

Intermission:

Storm Troopers riding dogs!

Conclusion: Modern Dick Art

The Birth of Photoshop

Totally brought it full circle.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, why. Why write about dick art? It's vulgar and pointless, and adds nothing to the blogosphere. And maybe you're right.

I will admit, I had my doubts too. But yesterday morning, as I sat in bed thinking about whether this topic was worth the time and effort, I received a sign from God on my closet door.

Yes, that's right. It's a pregnant woman with a giant dangly cock. Now, I'm not saying this shadow is something akin to a visit from the angel Gabriel or that I am some kind of modern-day Mary chosen by God to bring forth unto you the gift of the penii, but I do happen to be a mother of dog, and I am a virgin (airways frequent flyer) so, I mean, come on.

Or I guess it could have been the pregnant naked tranny standing over by my window when I took this photo. But I like the chosen by God thing better. Let's go with that.