Death and Birth of a Dick Pic

  • 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

Stale Flower

She wept for those hardened from their failures, her wisdom written in the eroded walls of her stale flower.

She wore her dick years with pride, her cavernous nethers decorated with the salty stalactites of lovers lost.

She smelled of moldy blackberries, a whore’s sweet scent. Sound out a warning, I’ve fallen inside.  Blown out and oblong, she sheathed me in her rotten essence. Who am I to laugh in the face of opportunity?