It seems to give my, perhaps at times a bit tourettic, mind no end of cheap pleasure to say the phrase, “suck a bag of dicks” out loud and repeatedly, as some will no doubt have noticed when I recently gave the obsession an outlet in the form of a tuneful little dithyramb that I whipped up for the occasion.
I am admitting this with full disclosure that I 1) do not have a “job” (obviously) so am not frequently “at work”, and in any case when I am “at work” it is in such a place where I am usually alone (and you should just hear the things that come out of my mouth as I toil and caterwaul away like the only man on the planet!) or, if I do happen to be with people, they are unfortunately used to me saying it, AND that I 2) do not have a family and so do not have to worry about the annoyance of constant companions or the unintended mal-influencing of blood-bound youth, AND that 3) the lacking of either of the above has no doubt left me to be not much more than an aging adolescent devoid of the more sensible and comely habits of proper adult life. Oh well. Suck a bag of dicks!
So be it!
The pleasure is all the more for me with the repeating of the phrase in iterative rhythmic variations. The principal form, being the satisfying cadence of its five solid mono-syllables with its 4 sixteenth notes followed by an accented final punctuating quarter note, the rhythm of a five beat pick-up on a snare drum or a final Ta-ta-ta-ta-Da of countless songs, is a starting point of the sonic obsession. From there many horizons open up along the rhythmic landscape, better heard than discussed.
This, of course, describes just the initial, visceral, and almost tactile pleasure that the phrase gives (me) before any sense of meaning is obtained! As the phrase then settles upon you, if there is time, one has to stop then to ponder, indeed, the meaning of the phrase. To suck a bag of dicks is, for sure, a discomfitting and awkward concept to begin with. I suppose that a concept is all that it can be meant to be, for to do much more than ponder the phrase puts one in a bit of a transitive pickle! For sure, I am aware that it is no original conundrum to wonder what it must be like to…to…well, to suck a bag of dicks! For sure it has been wondered out loud before by others greater than I about how the proposed dick sucking should be carried out: i.e. one after the other in a suck-cession of single dick sucking, or an all at once super-size-me style attack best performed by, I don’t know, Carol Channing? or someone more contemporary with a giant, gaping rictus. And then, of course, what would the state of said dicks be? One wants to assume they would be severed, that is, disembodied, removed from the otherwise complicating male owners’ bodies (otherwise, how would they all be able to be in a bag?), and if so then would they be rigid, perhaps through rigor mortis? or slimey, flaccid, and well, dead? Right? Anyway, as I said, I’m not the first to wonder such things. The point is obvious that, given the incongruity of the image, not to mention (but here mentioning nevertheless) the absolutely disgusted response such an image conjures up, that it is more the power of that very disgust coupled with, as I say, the rhythm of the phrase that gives it its power and its humor, for it has, indeed, both.
I must put in here that there is the slight variation of the phrase that I find a touch more powerful, both rhythmically and emphatically, and that is to forego the final plural form of “dicks” and to prefer the synecdoche “dick”, where the singular stands in for the whole of the collection. “Suck a bag of dick“, in other words, provides a somehow more biting imperative and transits the phrase into a higher conceptual strata by now remonstrating upon the hearer with the task of sucking not just the dicks that can be contained in a bag, but, rather, to suck all the dicks that there are to be sucked, the “bag” now becoming just a metaphor for the universality or all-inclusiveness of that very concept. – It is amazing what the change of one letter can do to an insult, no?! – It is also this form of the phrase that I find more rhythmically satisfying (as at times exemplified in the above mentioned song) with its far more punctuating final definitive “k” of “dick” rather than the slippery and dismiss-able “s” of the plural. Also, the “s” on the end kind of wants to be another almost-syllable, “dick-s” , softly lingering after that hard “k” that is already sufficiently finalizing the sentiment, as well as the 5-beat rhythm. “Suck a bag of dick” , then, (better rendered as “Suck a bagga dick”) presents a far more unequivocal and rigid form upon which to build a metrical structure in addition to, one hopes, succeeding in putting someone in their place in one, grand scathing sweep!
To say “Suck a bag of dick” is to say that nothing more can be said. What has just been said or done is unworthy of more comment and could just as well be expunged from history. Or, barring that, a cutting down to size being needed, the universal dick-suck is evoked, and somehow wrongs are righted! The offender is negated and the offense relegated to the conceptual abyss. Not really, you say? Well, the universe is only physics and imagination, so I’m copping imagination on my side for this one! To continue, “Suck a bag of dick(s)” is saying to the hearer that all the words that they just said are now being shot right back, mouth-raping them like a proverbial dick-bag with rapid fire Ta-ta-ta-ta-Da scatter shot!
In a world with so much not worth listening to and so many people saying it all the friggin’ time, it is calming to have in our arsenal a shut off valve for the vomitus of it all, a magic mantra denuding the “other” of its power while bringing joy to the “self”. This is even achievable when saying it aloud with no one around to hear it, as any mantra should do. This even transcends the “if a tree falls…” Heisenberg principle; it is the quantum wavefunction itself!! Liberation in 5 beats! Mukti in a bag!!! It is in this power of providing never-ending delight that the rhythmic, mantric play gives to the sayer of “Suck a bag of dick(s)”and the scorching ability to dismiss all potential damage from the outside that places the phrase at the pinnacle of all game-point shots. It seems no other opprobrium can deliver a better coup de grâce in the face of idiocy, insult, ignorance, or fatuity. It just feels so good and can be applied not only to just one hearer as I say, but to no one or to the world at large!
So I want you to get up now. I want all of you to get up out of your chairs. I want you to get up right now and go to the window. Open it, and stick your head out, and yell…
Share and Sharon Tate!
