So we have another one. Just when I was going to write about my iPhone obsession we are literally faced with Weinergate. One more politician who lets his member do the thinking for him bites the dust.
My daughter Lucy asked me last night if all politicians did this. I told her only those who think with the their penises.
“But penises don’t think.” she said.
“Precisely. But some men let their penises think for them.”
We all know men have been using their member to make some of the tough decisions since the beginning of time. Obviously whether to have sex with someone is not the world’s toughest decision under the right circumstances — like if you’re single, out of the public eye, or only have a few days left to live.
And then of course letting your wiener do the talking was not so dangerous before Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, the Google boys and Mark Zuckerberg turned us into a global world, where the nanosecond something happens it’s blasted all over the planet.
In the olden days, the really olden ones, you needed a letter carrier with a steed to get your note or stick drawing or a stone rubbing of your penis (ouch) to the one you had the hots for — and chances were the steed or the carrier would die in a duel or of the plague before the intended received it. Thus you got the fun but not the gun (so to speak).
And then of course there was snail mail and the phone call, made from a pay phone many blocks from home. There was a time you could only be found out if you and your penis were really, really stupid — or you wanted to get caught.
But now, in the age of Facebook, Twitter, Foursquare, when talking dirty online has its very own word, sexting, it’s an entirely new game. Oops I didn’t know my Foursquare shouted out I was checking into the Ramada Inn when I told my wife I was playing golf.
Speaking of golf: oh yes, one of the great sexting penises of the last decade happens to be hanging between the legs of the world’s most famous athlete.
And then we have Eliot Spitzer. Thank heavens lame penises seems to be race and color blind, and totally partisan. In the last two weeks, we’ve had a Nazi, A French Jew, an Egyptian (attacked the maid at the Pierre), and now a Jewish Democrat. So no one can say it’s only dopey athletes who have dopey penises. All penises are dopey and they are clearly beyond persuasive.
This is what I always want to ask men who do this: why can’t you just say no to the little jerk? OK, maybe yours is a big jerk; I’m sure it is; and no, I don’t want to see a photo, but just say no. It’s not going to fall off or stop speaking to you like a petulant teenager or refuse to ever stand up straight again. If you’re lucky it might just go take a nap. But if you can’t say no and you have one of these idiotic members, I suggest sitting down, having the hard talk, and setting some strict boundaries with your Mr. Pushy:
1. Penises, like tweens, should have limited or no access to all social networking sites.
2. Penises should not allow themselves to be photographed by a device that can transmit that photo to any person or site.
3. Penises in general should take the Garbo after 40 stance, no photos please. I vant to be alone.
4. If you must let your penis do the walking, then teach it where the delete button is first.
5. If you have absolutely no control over your member’s mouth and you both must talk dirty, you should try a landline or a public telephone — if you can find one. But using your mobile to get off is for the truly certifiable penis thinkers.
6. Just because you are a penis attached to someone with a little money or big position, it does not entitle you to abuse the help. You are not better than any other penis, and all human beings should be treated with dignity. Because someone is on your payroll does not mean that they must have to have contact with your genitals.
7. If you are famous and let your penis make the stupid choices, then you should have a lawyer on retainer.
8. Remember, the stupidest smart phone is smarter than the smartest penis.
9. If, if your ding dong insists on social networking activity, get it its own Twitter or Facebook account. For instance instead of the above going out on “RepWeiner” he could have made up another one like “Cheney’sDick,” totally getting himself off the hook.
10. In the new world where technology rules, what happens anywhere goes everywhere — including Vegas— and it will all end up in the hands of your wife/boss/girlfriend or, if you are famous, on GAWKER and with Jon Stewart who will run with it even if he is your friend.
Tracey Jackson is the author of the memoir Between a Rock and a Hot Place: Why Fifty Is Not the New Thirty. A screenwriter for seventeen years, Jackson has written and sold films to all the major studios. Her most recent writing credits include “Confessions of a Shopaholic” and “Lucky Ducks,” a feature-length documentary that she also produced and directed. Visit her at traceyjacksononline.com