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May 4, 2015

More Cocks in our Media Diet? Sure, Why Not.




Is that you, Jorah Mormont?


So there’s this controversy brewing (because “brewing” is what controversies enjoy doing in their leisure time) over the imbalance of nudity on cable series, with Game of Thrones cited as the worst offender. As GoT aims to surpass the late, lamented Spartacus in gratuitous tittage and female pubic zones displayed, the relative dearth of exposed man-meat grows all the more grating to some critics.

And no less a source than Jon Snow himself, Kit Harrington, has noted the need to be fair and balanced by introducing more trouser monsters (tunic trolls?) to the series, which thus far has given tubesteak aficionados little more to cheer about than one lingering shot of Theon Grayjoy’s ill-fated organ, unaccountably flaccid despite the highly qualified and naked sex worker standing right next to him, and a retina-searing glimpse of Hodor’s penis (his pet name for which is, predictably, “Hodor”). But even if you’re deep into the whole mentally-challenged-fictional-character fetish that’s sweeping the western world, this is clearly an inadequate sum total of dickage. (And Hodor’s reportedly was a prosthetic, to boot, though don’t try convincing him of that.)

One fails to glean from such criticisms one very critical point, however. Just which penis do the critics want to see? By this, I don’t mean the whole Jon Snow vs. Daario Naharis vs. Tyrion Lannister debate. I mean, which version of so-and-so’s penis. The Jekyll? Or the Hyde? The Cold Stone Creamery double-scoop? Or the Dairy Queen soft-serve? The Bruce Banner? Or the Hulk? Before going any further with this, what say we cool off by talking about tits for a while?

I’ve made this point previously on this site but it bears repeating here, if only to more quickly get me to my wordage target: The reason for the universal fascination with tits is the astonishing variation in size. Heterosexual males and lesbians love tits because we’re wired to love them; it is thus this variability factor that brings into the tit-loving tent that other half of humanity not inherently aroused by the female form and explains why an aerobically gay red-carpet reporter can’t resist honking Scarlett Johansson’s horn, whereas Melissa Rivers feels under no obligation to seize John Hamm by the hamhock.

It’s the only body part where one human (Kate Upton, say) can possess twenty times the volume of another (Kate Bosworth, say), and yet both said humans can be regarded not only as normal, but attractive. Imagine if that were true of some other random body part, such as kneecaps.

[End of self-plagiarism; thank you for not smoking.]

Or of penises, for that matter. It’s depressing enough for mere mortal like myself to occupy space in this world at the same time as Jack Napier’s cock does without having to contemplate someone wielding twenty times my volume. So, while the wonderful world of penises does have its own diversity (You don’t have to hang out all day on amateur porn sites to notice that, though it’s a fun day), the variation in mass doesn’t approach that of hooters, and thank God for small favors.

Then again, penises have a magic all their own that tits can never hope to mimic, and I’m not talking about their amazing capacity to produce a makeshift hair gel on short notice, though that is also pretty nifty if you think about it. I refer, instead, to the size variability built into each individual unit: the ability to quadruple in volume in a matter of seconds, while also changing direction, like a divining rod seeking buried moisture.

Yes, naked tits can also change in appearance owing to air temperature, arousal, etc., but Lena Dunham’s tits are still Lena Dunham’s tits in any and all circumstances; any person with a working knowledge of Lena Dunham’s tits will not fail to recognize them as such simply because the air conditioning is turned way up. Cocks, on the other hand, have this schizophrenic nature by which they can change into something that one's own mother would not recognize,* a change not only of appearance but of attitude.

If you’re a reasonably attractive young woman who owns a smartphone, then you’re probably out and about doing attractive-young-woman stuff and not reading this blog. But on the odd chance that you are an attractive young woman, a cursory glimpse at your phone messages will remind you of the way the vast majority of males like their penises displayed, and that way is full-mast, unfurled, in all its regal purplitude, proudly hailed by the dawn’s early light, and all that. Not the sad, pinkish, mild-mannered Droopy Dog version.

Presumably, cable TV actors feel the same way, and it is just that type of penis that Kit Harrington yearns to spring upon the world, such that Jon Snow would greet Ygritte beside the hot spring with, well, a hot spring. The question is, is that also the type of penis that female fans clamoring for more male nudity have in mind?

I really don’t know. Thought one of you might.






* Though, to be sure, the sudden and unexpected presence of one’s mother in a room is, for most of us, a surefire way of instantly reducing the unrecognizable penis back to its more placid and Mom-friendly state.