Everybody Wants to Get In On It
I no sooner put up a single post on this blog, when the a-hole next door starts complaining.
"I want a blog. It's not fair that only you get one. I got something to say too you know?"
Yeah, just what the world needs: another asshole with an opinion.
He is such a whining little bitch. Always complaining about something. If it wasn't for the Twins standing between me and him, I'd have given Sphincter-Boy what-for a long time ago.
"Nobody likes me," he says. "I got feelings too. You're so lucky. At least he plays with you every once in a while. What about me? I'd like some attention too you know?"
The only break I ever get is when the old boy we're attached to doesn't eat enough fiber. It's the only time Sphincter-Boy actually shuts up.
"You're probably only writing about yourself to tell everybody how wonderful you are. 'Look at me. I'm such a great penis. Aren't I so beautiful, so talented'." He keeps on like this for hours. "I got qualities to you know? It's just not all about you."
He's right on that count. This is not all about me. I recognize that blogs are often seen as an exercise of "ego", a public declaration that one's opinion - regardless of how well or ill-informed - deserves to be shared with the world. I recognize that I risk being seen that way, but nevertheless I write of the injustice that I see.
It's all about respect.
I don't know when or why it happened, but we penises have become the subject of ridicule and derision, for no better reason than for just being ourselves. Granted we have been ill-used on many occasions, but is that "our" fault? We have no control over the idiots that we're attached to, despite claims to the contrary. Yeah, we hog the blood supply every once in a while, but that doesn't make us bad.
Yet, look where we've come. We were once wonderfully portrayed in art and paintings with elegance and style:
.
Now, we're relegated to this:
In an age when vaginas are getting their own "monologues" to fame and acclaim, we have to settle for a little, plastic dancing phallus.
It's all about prejudice, plain and simple. I mean what else could it be? Despite our obvious differences in design and functionality, penises and vaginas are basically made with the same intention in mind. So, why all of a sudden is one derided and vilified, while the other is given its own god-damned sit-com?
Hell, we all developed from the same tissues during those early days in the womb. It's only one little chromosome that makes any god-damned difference, but does anyone remember that? Nooooooo!
So, this is not just about me. This is more than just a single phallus, rising up and raging against a cold and indifferent world. No, it's more than that. This is about revolution.
Rise up, brothers! Let's reclaim our rightful place. Stand up straight and proud and in one-unified voice say:
"We're mad as hell as we're not going to take it anymore!"
"I'm feeling kind of itchee." It's Sphincter-Boy. "I think my hemorrhoids are acting up again."
Christ, what I wouldn't give for a couple of more inches.
"I want a blog. It's not fair that only you get one. I got something to say too you know?"
Yeah, just what the world needs: another asshole with an opinion.
He is such a whining little bitch. Always complaining about something. If it wasn't for the Twins standing between me and him, I'd have given Sphincter-Boy what-for a long time ago.
"Nobody likes me," he says. "I got feelings too. You're so lucky. At least he plays with you every once in a while. What about me? I'd like some attention too you know?"
The only break I ever get is when the old boy we're attached to doesn't eat enough fiber. It's the only time Sphincter-Boy actually shuts up.
"You're probably only writing about yourself to tell everybody how wonderful you are. 'Look at me. I'm such a great penis. Aren't I so beautiful, so talented'." He keeps on like this for hours. "I got qualities to you know? It's just not all about you."
He's right on that count. This is not all about me. I recognize that blogs are often seen as an exercise of "ego", a public declaration that one's opinion - regardless of how well or ill-informed - deserves to be shared with the world. I recognize that I risk being seen that way, but nevertheless I write of the injustice that I see.
It's all about respect.
I don't know when or why it happened, but we penises have become the subject of ridicule and derision, for no better reason than for just being ourselves. Granted we have been ill-used on many occasions, but is that "our" fault? We have no control over the idiots that we're attached to, despite claims to the contrary. Yeah, we hog the blood supply every once in a while, but that doesn't make us bad.
Yet, look where we've come. We were once wonderfully portrayed in art and paintings with elegance and style:
.Now, we're relegated to this:
In an age when vaginas are getting their own "monologues" to fame and acclaim, we have to settle for a little, plastic dancing phallus.
It's all about prejudice, plain and simple. I mean what else could it be? Despite our obvious differences in design and functionality, penises and vaginas are basically made with the same intention in mind. So, why all of a sudden is one derided and vilified, while the other is given its own god-damned sit-com?
Hell, we all developed from the same tissues during those early days in the womb. It's only one little chromosome that makes any god-damned difference, but does anyone remember that? Nooooooo!
So, this is not just about me. This is more than just a single phallus, rising up and raging against a cold and indifferent world. No, it's more than that. This is about revolution.
Rise up, brothers! Let's reclaim our rightful place. Stand up straight and proud and in one-unified voice say:
"We're mad as hell as we're not going to take it anymore!"
"I'm feeling kind of itchee." It's Sphincter-Boy. "I think my hemorrhoids are acting up again."
Christ, what I wouldn't give for a couple of more inches.
posted by Angry Penis at 11:42 PM
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