Dicks are fine, first of all. They have an important function. If we’re going to call it a “Man’s World,” if that’s really how it is, then we must acknowledge that the world runs on dick.
Amarillo is a version of this model. To be a woman is to live your life relative to dick. (Yes, I say dick as though it’s a wild thing running through neighborhoods eating the fruits of gardening work, like deer. That’s pretty much what dick is in Amarillo, this thing we all have to deal with. Plural of dick is used the same as deer in this case.) Being career-oriented doesn’t get you off the hook. If you’re heterosexual and not looking to find a husband or at least a hookup within the first five minutes of getting off work on a Friday night, it seemed like, people got really wary. “How dare she want to live her life for more than securing a dick’s presence!” Not many could understand me wanting to just sit and talk for the sake of going in depth about a subject. I was supposed to want to use my body in order for there to be depth in my own life, all physical depth. Metaphysical depth of any kind was hard to come by.
To be female in the Rilla and want to use that bump three feet above your ass was one thing. You run the risk of isolation, or at least the fear of that must be overcome. To be seen doing it in public was socially risky. Strap one on, ladies.
Now then. I don’t mean to offend anyone who is well-endowed here. If you are, I have nothing against you at all.
I have finally found a way to define America. There are no liberals and conservatives. There are no democrats and republicans. The dichotomy comes down to this: Big Dicks and… Good Dicks.
Listen: The world needs to understand this once and for all:
It`s not the size of the dick, it`s the quality of the dick. Can we please apply that to politics? And to foreign policy? And to everything else that affects everyone in the world?
Now to actually possess a big dick on one’s body has nothing to do with their political affiliation.
In America, we have all kinds of dicks. That’s what makes us so great and diverse. Now for all the men out there who are well endowed, that’s great. Good for you. May you have a long happy life. Then there are the people who act like big dicks to compensate for something. These are called terrorists. America has many people who have to act like big dicks to compensate for a low level of whatever.
They actually have big dicks and just want to show off to people. So they bash other countries outside of the US and the people in them. They say racist, homophobic things and think women should be inferior. These are the worst Big Dicks. These people are just dicks.
There are people on the Internet who write abusive comments in people’s blogs or at female gamers, or make too big of a deal about either being too politically correct or not politically correct enough, basically who make a big deal about stuff that isn’t all that big of a deal. This is what makes America what it is, folks. Excess. People being members of the Big Dick party. I think it’s all done in an effort to make America look superior. I really do. “This is America. We can harass people and talk shit and act like big dicks if we want to.” The American dream used to involve two cars and owning a house. Now, that’s not enough; people need an online presence. They’ve moved the space that they took up in the old American dream to a new one in cyberspace, on social media. The trolls would be the members of the Big Dick party. Whether people in the Big Dick party have big dicks or not, they act like big dicks. They say Big Dick things and are in Big Dick cliques and have Big Dick complaints and remarks about small things.
All of this is Politics in the Name of Penis. This country is mainly run by Dicks. Most of the people in power are male. There are some good apples in the bunch who make good decisions while thinking with things above the waist. Then there are the ones who have Big Dick parties and smoke cigars, and admire each other’s Big Dicks, and THIS is where the important decisions regarding the fate of our country—and the world—are made.
Oh boy, and there is election day, a.k.a. Big Dick Tuesday, where the citizens of this nation do everything they can to avoid Big Dick bad decisions, bless their hearts.
There are good dicks and there are bad dicks. Which one are you?
Good dicks are good. But bad dicks need to be put into a mason jar and kept under the sink.
So it’s because of the Big Dick party in America that we are so imperialized. Big Dicks have to have everything. They have to steal your wife, they have to beat up people for gratification, they commit rapes when they win the football game, and they beat their chests like baboons in the name of America.
I like this country. I’ve not always wild about the government, but I like this country for the people. For the most part, America has some nice people in it—people that will be nice, and people who will be nice back, and dick size isn’t an issue.
Then there will be some alpha male who wants us to think he has a Big Dick who will write abusive stuff about people in other countries in an attempt to justify why America is superior. We don’t get what we want out of life by bullying. If he really loved America, he wouldn’t need to beat his chest and be abusive and wiggle his dick (full of implants) for us all to see. Big Dicks pride themselves on being more American than anyone else, when actually they are the least so. They decimate everything this country stands for, everything this country was founded on in the first place.
Big Dicks ruin everything. They get all carried away about the Big Guns and Big Tanks and Big Foreign Policy, and the Military Industrial Big Dick Complex, and they grab their dicks.
Put that away. Or if not, be ready for anyone to wield the sword.
American culture is becoming dick-ified. It’s in style. Every year, it seems, offers a variation or a new style for the life of the dick. Social media is all about out-dicking, out-measuring, out-doing, out-lasting, marking territory, in a sense. If people everywhere could just exist without everything running on dick for a minute, it would be peaceful. To connect in a place like Amarillo on a metaphysical level was a nice idea, for me, of a dream that we should be working back toward. For men and women alike.
It’s a nice idea.
I can’t see it happening. It could happen, but it shouldn’t be depended on. Time to be weird. “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro,” as Hunter S. Thompson said. So strap one on, ladies. Might as well.