Every time a woman is harassed in the workplace, cat called on the street, or is told to “smile more,” a dick pic gets its wings… And thus… starts it’s journey.Once winged, the dick pic goes upwards and onwards into the cloud, to hover, mentor, and nurture younger, newer dick pics. From the moment of conception, when there’s only just the idea of a dick pic, a twinkle in the owner’s eye, a neurological phallic spark fires and the guardian dick pic swoops in and gets to work:Lighting: Is there a shadow? Does that shadow help elongate its subject like when you stand with your back to the sun? Or is it too dark? Where does the dick end and the shadow begin? ” No! Not the fluorescent light!!! Never the Fluorescent lights!” Guardian Dick Pic (GDP) screams in horror. Public restrooms, hospitals, and classrooms have fluorescent lighting and we don’t want those associated with an otherwise glorious penis!Grooming: Neat and trimmed back far enough to make the dick look bigger? Not too far back or it’s porn star territory, not too bushy because it could be covering that extra 2 centimeters of shaft that could make all the difference. Is there enough hair in that one spot to cover what might look like a herpe but really it’s just an old jerk off callous? Are the small wispy hairs on the dick visible in the shot? That’s death for a dick pic. “Use the scissors,” whispers GDP… “Not the razor…. Remember the razor…. Always remember the razor…” But is it GDP, or just the wind?Context: GDP is there to guide the premise… What do you want your dick pic to communicate to the recipient? Is this a great gift? An honor to receive? Must it look stately? Should it wear a tie? Or is this advertising? An exclamation point at the end of a persuasive argument… No… It IS the argument. It needs to say, “you need this,” or “you want this,” or a less ambitious, “this is OK, right? Please don’t show this to all of your friends and laugh.” GDP is there to help set the stage, the mise-en-scene for the fledgling dick pic. And one thing GDP will NEVER say is, “This is a bad idea. Don’t do this.”And thus, as one dick pic dies, a hundred more are born… Wherever there is a choice to be made: do something productive and kind, or send a dick pic? GDP is there. Whenever someone innocently grabs their phone to check their messages, to see how their mother handled her chemotherapy that day… GDP is there. And whatever shape, size, or disgusting disfigurement, GDP is there to wrap it in the warmth of it’s wings and tell it, “don’t worry. Everyone wants to see you. They just don’t know it yet”…
By: Jennifer Kinkade
the abandoned clock tower proved to be the perfect squat, sheltering us from the outside world. she and i took solace in our solitude, hidden away hundreds of feet above the bustling city below. no one knew we were here, and we preferred it that way. we spent our numbered days chasing the flickering flame of addiction, wasting away behind the broken clock. the irony of time stopped was not wasted on us. the giant motionless arms of what was once a great feat of engineering cast eerie shadows throughout our abode. in the sticky hours of midday summer, we would huddle in their shade. life passed slower up here, death beckoning, always one boof away.
By: Jester Pepperbottom