The first time I saw an erect penis it was crammed down my throat before I could say “Ew.” I was a reckless kid who nobody loved, so I agreed to go behind the neighborhood bowling alley with an awful redheaded boy, hoping he would let me wear his Saint Christopher medal. His name was either Kenny or Ted; both names make me gag.

A couple of years later, still reckless, I hitchhiked everywhere, and the guys who picked me up were usually friendly, even the ones who managed to unzip their pants while driving. Suddenly, out sprang their dicks and the offer of a dollar to touch “it.” There was no way of guessing which guy might do this. Well dressed or slob, jalopy or brand new Cadillac, it was a crap shoot. No one ever stopped me from getting out. They were disgruntled, the ones with their dicks out, but they handled their disappointment pretty well.

Now, with Louis CK in mind, I have to wonder what drives men to show their dick to women who’ve expressed no interest in seeing it. In Louis CK’s case, the idea was obviously to shock or cause discomfort. But that seems like a genuine perversion. It’s hard to believe most men think of their penises this way.

But since women don’t go around forcing people to look at their genitals, I think it’s fair to call it a Man thing. What is behind this behavior? I tried thinking about it from a Freudian perspective. Maybe, when little boys first see their dad’s penis, they are overwhelmed by its size. This instills a worry about their own tiny penis. Will they ever measure up? The worry permeates their entire existence. Then once their own penis is full grown, they feel a need to say, “LOOK! ” They are proud, but still there’s that fundamental insecurity. All women represent Mommy, as we know. So he’s saying, “See, Mommy? I’m as big as Dad!”

No? Not buying that? How about a primal fear that the dick will somehow disappear. They have to keep presenting it for approval. It’s still there! Yay!

Or, is it just the physical version of mansplaining? Instead of clobbering you verbally with their superiority,  they want you to shut up and look at their dick. “Get a load of this, sister!” It’s an explanation that needs no explanation.

Having seen my share of penises, both willingly and otherwise, I think I have a healthy appreciation of them. One in particular, as I am happily married. Scrolling through Tumblr, when a dick pops up on my dashboard, I admit to feeling slightly offended. My feeling is mostly, “Go away, I didn’t ask for you.” I wonder if teenage girls are immune to images of dicks? From the sound of it, dick pics are a form of communication among our youth. Maybe when these teens grow up, the men will be less likely to use their dicks Louis CK-style, as an instrument of horror.

I believe I speak for most women when I say, Please keep your penis in your pants unless we specifically ask to see it and/or consensual sex is about to take place. Is that so hard, ahem?

Men, can you enlighten us on the mystery of your show and tell behavior? Ladies, your thoughts?

How many of you were thrilled by The Mooch’s unhinged tirade as reported by Ryan Lizza in The New Yorker? Of course we were astounded at first but really, what’s the big deal? In the Trump reality show, they have to keep upping the ante.

Now that Scaramucci has introduced cocksucking into the national dialogue, I personally could not be happier. Let’s all go nuts, okay? It won’t be long before someone in the White House calls Hillary a cunt. Should we count the days?

Meanwhile, the cocksucking.

Why won’t the Mooch try to suck his own cock? Is it because he’s so short? Does that make it harder? And why doesn’t Steve Bannon succeed in sucking his own cock? How hard has he tried? Maybe he has actually got it mastered, but the Mooch doesn’t know it?

Years ago, I came upon a portal to 1,500 photos of men sucking their own cocks. I swear to god I wasn’t looking for porn or even penises. I might have been looking at vintage photos of petticoats or something, but suddenly, boom, I hit a database of photos. I was afraid to open it. I know I talk a good game but in reality I am very squeamish. I once saw a picture of a girl with two penises in her mouth and all I could think was that she looked like a walrus.

Anyway. In the rough and tumble world of alpha men, is there shame in sucking your own cock? It seems like a feat you might take some pride in. The flexibility! The determination! The high testosterone count!

Vice has some advice on how to suck your own cock, Steve Bannon, but I’m not going to read it. Show it to the Mooch when you’re done.

Going forward, I hope Scaramucci will keep us apprised of all cocksucking in the White House. I’ll bet Melania performed her last duty in that regard many years ago. Good for her.

What about Jared? Has he tried sucking his own cock? Is he sucking someone’s else’s cock? As the season progresses, I hope to find out. In fact, I hope that all will be revealed without having to wait for next season. I’m praying the show will be cancelled just as soon as Trump gets impeached, so we can all wash out mouths out.

But I guess I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. As Winston Wolf says so eloquently in Pulp Fiction, “ let’s not start sucking each other’s dicks quite yet.”

I hadn’t heard that Justin Theroux‘s penis was an issue until I read a quote from Liv Tyler, his co-star in that awful new HBO series.

“There was this scene where he was jogging, and there was quite a large bulge in his sweatpants and it was all over.”

Now I find that Justin’s penis is not just a huge distraction but a huge distraction. There are all kinds of pictures of his crotch, especially in sweatpants. Let’s have another look.

You know what, I don’t like this penis. What is it doing? Why is it down there, did it fall? Where’s the rest of it? And why can’t he wear underwear? I’m starting to hate him.

I have vague recollections of liking Marky Mark‘s penis.

This looks more appetizing.  Renaldo and Beckham aren’t bad either.

I don’t think we girls like men for their silhouette in sweats or briefs. A man’s brain is so important when it comes to real attraction.  A hot guy who says something stupid is a waste of hotness. Justin Theroux needs to stop giving interviews so I don’t have to feel worse about him than I already do.

He needs to put up or shut up, with regard to Jennifer Aniston. He needs to stop talking about his clothes. He needs to stop hanging out with Terry Richardson and he needs to give up that whole biker charade.

Most of all, he needs to either show us his penis so we can figure out if it’s anatomically sound, or put on some fucking underpants so Live Tyler can resume whatever it is she’s trying to do.

If it looks like Anthony Weiner is about to show you his dick in this picture, it’s because he probably is. Or, he would if he could.

People are all excited that Weiner announced his run for mayor of New York City even though he was lying about his ‘redemption’ and must have known that the truth would come out. What the fuck is wrong with this guy, the pundits are wondering, and so am I.

Clearly, it’s some sort of pathology. He needs to send pictures of his dick to all takers, and he needs to talk dirty to strangers. He needs to do this despite a lust for political power, and the fact that these drives are not compatible seems to elude him.

Because I’m me, I am driven to look for the meaning of Weiner’s pathology. I am certain that his name has something to do with it. Having the name Weiner and looking like a giant nose with some incidental features surrounding it must have shaped his childhood and adolescence. Think how mean people were in school even when your name isn’t Weiner.

So there’s the childhood insecurity and humiliation, and maybe a resulting obsession with outsmarting his tormentors. He’s a small man physically, so he pushes himself in the gym. He rises to an elected office and marries an attractive power-junkie with strong ties to the Clintons.  He’s got it made, but then there’s his dick and the fact that it requires acknowledgment and/or admiration from strangers.

Couldn’t his wife admire his dick enough? Did her familiarity ruin the fun for him? Does he have an unconscious need to humiliate his wife, to transfer his own humiliation onto her? Or does he thrive on the risk of doing something that could topple his whole set-up? Something so stupid and distasteful that no one could excuse it?

His own inclination is to blame twitter: “If it wasn’t 2011 and it didn’t exist, it’s not like I would have gone out cruising bars or something like that. It was just something that technology made possible and it became possible for me to do stupid things. I mean, the thing I did, and the damage that I did, not only hadn’t it been done before, but it wasn’t possible to do it before.”

Got that? If only that damn technology didn’t exist, he wouldn’t be tempted to use it!

His wife looked pretty crazy at their joint announcement today and who can blame her. If she would just smack him in the face, we would all feel better.

Help me figure out why Weiner is nuts. What’s your analysis?

Anthony Weiner is a gift from god for people like me who are struggling with depression.   His predicament (no pun intended) is so bizarre and tawdry, and yet  Shakespearean. If character is destiny, Weiner is screwed, or as he would put it, “First I’ll make you gag on my cock before I make you cum.”

Let me say first that I was on his side, in terms of refusing to resign, until I read the text of his online chats with women he’d never met and had no intention of meeting.

It wasn’t the fact that he was a reckless horndog that provoked my disapproval. I was ready to accept the fact that the internet is an irresistible siren song to anyone with a “weakness.” Whether it’s a weakness for shopping, for social networking, for gambling or for porn, the internet makes it  perilously  convenient to indulge.

According to friends I discussed this with, “sexting” is now common among fifty percent of teenagers. It’s a Brave New World out there, where not much is considered too personal, not to mention sacred.

I will admit to chatting online in a flirtatious manner.   Years ago I was chatting with someone who suddenly suggested “Send me a picture of your C**T” and the word was not cunt. I was so stunned and horrified, I shut the chat window and felt deeply shaken. I had no idea that people spoke to strangers like this. I learned that it’s the wild west out there online.

With Weiner, I imagined his sexy chat was something along the lines of “Baby, You’re so pretty, What are you wearing?” Big deal. Maybe he’s bored when his wife is busy and he’s just having a little tame sexy banter…. I don’t feel that calls for his resigntion, since it’s his personal business and he didn’t run for the Priesthood. Better to have a politition with a sex drive than Bush or Nixon, who seemed more interested in abusing the constitution than in getting laid.

But no matter what liberal   principles you think you have, it all goes to hell once you read Weiner’s raunchy efforts at seduction.   The deal breaker for me was “Pussy Juice.” It’s just a big NO in my world.   You can’t listen to a congressman talking about jobs or taxes or healthcare once he’s said Pussy Juice.   It’s over. He is toast.

So basically, for me at least, it comes down to literary aesthetics rather than any moral judgement. Sexting online isn’t a crime that would make someone unfit to serve as a congressman or mayor. Sending pictures is pretty lame but again, no real harm. Lying about it is only natural: You would want to avoid embarrassing your family. But a man’s game does reflect his sensibility. And “Pussy Juice” cannot be condoned. If only he could have said “Are you wet?” instead.

I cannot emphasize this enough but it must be repeated: Words matter! Choose them like everyone’s looking.

Opinions or objections?

Few things are more compelling to me than a heated debate over What Constitutes Art.   A recent controversy surrounding Sarah Silverman also offers a quandary about ethics.

Ms. Silverman was invited to speak at the prestigious TED conference this year. Her “presentation” was so offensive to the man who curates the event (Chris Anderson) that he tweeted an apology for her “godawful” material and has since elected not to post her presentation online. Co-founder of AOL Steve Chase also tweeted that Silverman was an inappropriate choice for TED. Silverman came back with some tweeted insults of her own.

At issue, apparently, is Ms. Silverman’s repeated use of the word “retarded.” However, according to reports, she also sang a song about penises.

If only we could see a video of the actual performance! But since we can’t, we are left with some hypothetical questions.

First, I must admit that I fucking hate Sarah Silverman. Hate as in HATE. I don’t think it’s because she’s shocking. I think it’s her delivery, along with her face and mannerisms. I have laughed my head off to Larry David‘s comedic take on incest, racism, and the Holocaust. He has made fun of every disability I can think of, and I laughed because he’s so funny. Therefore, I can’t pretend that some subjects are sacrosanct.

Should Chris Anderson apologize to Ms. Silverman for publicly denouncing her performance? Should he post it online even if he finds it offensive? Does TED have an obligation to post it if it posts other speakers who appeared at the conference?

Should Ms. Silverman take into consideration the type of audience she is addressing, i.e. people who are gathered to hear about ideas? Or should she be applauded for daring to shock them? Is something Art because it is shocking? Is it always laudable to challenge taboos? If not, why not?

You can go here to watch Ms Silverman defend herself to Bill Maher.

I don’t know why anyone wants to hear Ms. Silverman say penis, vagina, and asshole with the smugness of a six year old who has just learned the power of swearing. If you think she’s a comic genius, you are certainly in good company. To my ears, she is nails on a chalkboard.

Here’s another question I just thought of: Would Silverman be funny if she couldn’t rely on “bad” words for effect?

Jump right in!

If you missed the Golden Globes Awards, you didn’t miss much, but here are the highlights:

Nicole Kidman wanted to show off her nipples. Why, I have no idea. She appears to have lost her mind or her bathroom mirror. Remember when she dazzled us with her fashion choices at the Academy Awards? Maybe Tom Cruise was her stylist!

Monique gave a fabulous acceptance speech that made me want to be a big Black woman. She totally rules. Did you know she does stand up comedy for woman in prison? God bless Monique.

James Cameron was King of the World again, and gave a cliche-ridden speech that fooled no one. The man is a fucking cunt, and that’s that. I don’t know how Kathryn Bigelow keeps herself from killing him.

Colin Farrell was yumminess incarnate. Daniel Day Lewis looked good, too, and so did Robert Downey Jr. Jeff Bridges has morphed into Kris Kristofferson, and Somebody Reitman looked angry all night, except for when he won something.

Chloe Sevigny was punished for wearing a ridiculous see-through dress when someone stepped on her train and ripped it! What a moment! She managed to recover after a flash of rage, but it would have been classier if she’s ripped the rest of the dress before accepting her award.

What else? Jodie Foster looked so hot, you could hear the crowd gasp in surprise. Meryl Streep brought tears to everyone’s eyes when she talked about loss and gratitude. Jennifer Aniston nearly flashed her Female Area, and her nose seemed smaller than ever.

Jessica Lange displayed her tragic facelift, while Harrison Ford had trouble moving his face. Everyone wore conspicuous little ribbons signifying Support For Haiti, which were nicely set off by the emeralds and diamonds. Ricky Gervais was a saving grace, telling the audience: “Speaking of plastic surgery, I’ve had a penis reduction. Now I have just the one.”

Did I forget anything?

I couldn’t help admiring this dress until I read the description. “Black and donkey coloured long-sleeved knit dress…”

The attached sweater thing looks kind of mauve, doesn’t it? What color is “donkey coloured,” anyway?

Many hundreds of years ago, when I was a script reader, I had to read a non-fiction book about a small town doctor who was accused of molesting several female patients. During the trial, a prim witness was asked to describe the color of the doctor’s penis. Flustered and embarrassed, she sputtered: “It was penis colored!”

Penises, donkeys, this dress is dead to me.

Morbid Anatomy is a blog about icky dead stuff.   Every time I go there, I feel slightly ashamed, as though I’ve just peered into Hollister Hovey‘s curio cabinet. But the author is clearly passionate about her subject, and I have to respect her obsession. There are some images there that are truly nauseating, like the ones of syphilitic penises, but others (like the photo above) are often weirdly beautiful.

Obit is a website about death that has a modern sophisticated look about it, kind of like the Starbucks of death blogs. They even have an advice column “for the dying and those who care about them” by someone named Judy.   What they need is a Hit List , so I guess I need to start one.   Sting will be in the top five, as will Bono.   Nominations, anyone?

Finally, sticking to my theme of All Things Icky, here is a photo from the online site of Oak NYC, a trendy clothing shop.

Looking at the boy’s tragic tattoos, I felt bad for his mother. Somewhere, a woman is heartbroken. And yet, I saw this photo again, on a fashion blog, where the comments ranged from “Rad” to “The clothes look cool and the models even cooler.”