In light of the Boob Manifesto from earlier this afternoon, and of objectification in general (or something), but mostly in reaction to the brand new, extremely popular TV show Hung, I present a concept for a new TV show: Dickman. Here’s an outline of the first five episodes.
We see a man fumbling with the fly of his pants. “Ugh, it won’t fit!”
“Again?” his friend asks.
“Goddamnit,” the man whispers. The camera zooms in as he tries but fails repeatedly to wedge his penis into his jeans.
“Do we need to get some bigger pants?” the friend asks, gently.
“I guess,” the man mumbles.
“OK, let’s go shopping,” the friend says, handing the man a sheet to wrap around himself.
They get in the car and drive to the store, where they shop for and buy new pants.
The friend is sitting at the breakfast table alone with a newspaper when a cry from upstairs breaks the silence. “I can’t get out of bed!”
The friend sets the paper down. “What is it?”
“I can’t lift it!”
The friend sighs and stands up. “Where’s your little wheelbarrow?”
“I don’t know!” we hear the voice call, and then trail off. “I thought it was… I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
“Should I go get a new one?”
“… If you want.”
The man sits contentedly a few feet off the ground, resting on his own coiled penis, a book in his hands.
“What’re you reading?” his friend asks.
“A book,” the man says.
“I can see that,” the friend says, rolling his eyes.
Several decades have passed, and we see the man’s friend on the phone, looking exasperated. “No, I said I needed a coffin that was regular-sized on top but extra large on the bottom. Or, if you don’t have that, then just a regular coffin with a hole bored in the middle. Yes, I’m willing to pay more. Yes, I understand. Yes, I’ll hold.”
As the friend waits for the service person to come back on the line, he walks around the house, surveying the things that won’t be used again. The slide attached to the stairwell so the man could drag his penis behind him. The tiny remote-control car with a gentle clamp on top of it so when the man needed to go to the bathroom, he could attach the tip of his penis to the car and drive it to the toilet and then up a little ramp attached to the seat. The special peg-harness that the man wore on his back so he could wind himself up before he went out. The friend’s hand lingered on the harness for a second before — “Yes, hi, I’m here. Wonderful. Now, let’s see … “
Close up on a stretch of barren earth. All is still and silent. Or is it? At first we can’t believe our eyes, but it becomes increasingly clear: the soil has begun to quiver. And the quivering increases to rumbling, and then suddenly something bursts forth from the dirt — it’s the man’s penis. Starved of fresh air, it lashes about and emits a strange wail. It swings its “face” toward the camera, and in the final shot it makes a hopeful expression, if possible.
Fade to black.