A Box of Dicks

“It's not that I hate people. I'm just indifferent to them — or rather, they disgust me -- and they'd better keep out of my way, or I'll run them down.” (Eugène Ionesco, Rhinoceros)

In the last post I was making fun of penes. That’s the Latin plural of penis, which dropped from common usage because it was constantly mistaken for a pasta dish. I suspect this was a way for my Self to lead me to the concept of the alien in a dick, the most guarded secret of esoterica. The alien is seldom detected because it shuts off the governance from the brain, which begins to act dick-less. “I didn’t see a thing.” The anesthetic prior to the operation is just a twinge of discomfort.

If you were enrolling in, human being 101, you’d investigate why the contemporary male fertility god image is not a dick, but a bowl of ice. People who lived with the earth made god in the image of a dick, usually impractically large, as a sop to monotheists. This stone age dick was followed by a series of evolutionary steps such as gold dicks, copper dicks, and finally, electric dicks and even abstract dicks. Which brings us back to the aliens who have possessed our dicks.

Gold dick was great because it didn’t tarnish. The maids loved it. But you always worried about its being stolen if you left it lying about. This practical problem vanished with the proliferation of wooden dicks in the seventeenth century, when schooners were bringing them from the softwood plantations in Africa to ports around the world. At one time an estimated six million African artisans were carving dicks for export. These hand carved dicks were transported in wooden boxes, thus the expression, “A box of dicks.”

The practical problem was gone but the secrecy associated with golden dicks remained, and ordinary working men began to hide their dicks with their hands, or a book, and they were quick to protect even an abstracted dick aggressively if something seemed a little off. Old women would repeat stories about how dicks that never see the sunshine are vitamin d deficient. These became folk tales told round the fire, when the wagons were circled against the intolerable ambiguity of darkness.

Thus, the god image as golden dick was replaced by a head and shoulders central casting shot: a strong chin, balanced features, clear, penetrating eyes, and long hair. The god image shifted from a dick to a person who had one, but wasn’t ruled by it. This is the good, or, pre-frontal, dick, as opposed to the limbic, or, reptile dick. This evolution from Old Testament dick brought humor and a creative flowering to relational eroticism.

There are moments when the culture shifts quickly, like, after electric guitars, after the iPhone, or after the Tesla Electric Dick. Suddenly a dick didn’t have to be boring anymore. It was sentient and spoke Parisian French. Qu'est-ce que je fais ? Va te faire foutre. If the intelligence was artificial, still, it was a huge step forward for dicks. Upholstered in off white, black, or Irish, “I can’t believe it’s not skin,” TED stands 100 inches tall, sports a German WW1 Stahlhelm helmet and is powered by tech hidden in the ballsack. Inspired by the Tesla home charger that moves like a snake finding its way to the plug by scent, TED can sniff you out. Just go to bed and brace yourself.

Last, there is the evolution of the dick into the abstract, disguised as swords, knives, spears, missiles, and common garden vegetables. The abstract dick that has most penetrated our consciousness is Stephen Miller, who puts a human face on a dick by drawing a thin line for a mouth and wearing sunglasses. A future update will fix the oversharing issue.

I’m 77, and NOW I start making dick jokes? Have I regressed to 11? Like Elon and Miller? I feel … funny … like if I could just let go, just, stop fighting it … but I will not capitulate.