The Wealthy Man: A Modern Parable
Once upon a time, there was a wealthy man who was born with an erect penis sprouting from his skull. It shot straight out like a unicorn’s horn. The doctor who delivered the wealthy man nearly suffered his second heart attack when he witnessed the wealthy man first appearing out of the vaginal canal.
What the doctor saw would stick with him for the rest of his life: an erect penis emerging from the womb of a 28-year-old sobbing retired foot model. The doctor in question, from then on, would acquire several new sexual fetishes, which his wife would kindly and enthusiastically oblige.
In all other respects, the wealthy man was in perfectly good health when he was born. Sure, there were some minor issues with blood pressure, considering that the erect penis, which was the size and girth of a full-grown adult’s, diverted a substantial amount of blood flow. For the rest of his storied life, because of this particularity, the wealthy man would possess a sort of vampiric pallor. But this was purely an aesthetic issue and the wealthy man simply had to apply a few dollops of self tanner to his face, hands, and any other part of him that was exposed, and he could look basically like everyone else. That is, of course, apart from the huge penis sticking straight out of his skull like excalibur.
As I’ve mentioned, the boner on the wealthy man’s head was perpetually erect. As a baby, it poked its mother in the eye so many times during breast feeding that she had permanent corneal damage. As an child, it knocked sparrow’s nests out of trees when he climbed them. And as a teenager, he had to put a sock on it and stick it out of the sunroof of his First Ferrari to drive.
The wealthy man came from an extremely well-off family, and throughout his career he was able turn his family’s wealth into even more wealth.
He was a cruel but shrewd business man, and, through the combination of his extreme wealth, which he wielded like a battleaxe during negotiations, his penchant for extravagance, and the penis that grew out of his head, he soon became a household name — most often invoked as the butt of jokes by college-educated members of the Democratic Party.
Soon the wealthy man, discouraged by his comical public image, decided to step into the political arena. He ran for office, specifically the presidency of the United States of America.
Throughout his presidential campaign his opposition and the media thought the penis coming out of his head was so funny that there was little else they could talk about.
For example, on one occasion, the wealthy man was caught on a security camera discussing his plans to “sterilize all the polish women” — his reasoning for this was that if one presupposes that life starts at conception, and then takes into account that Polish-born uteruses in America are not, in fact, the sovereign territory of the United States, then therefore their Polish babies should be considered illegal immigrants to this sacred land, as they did not go through the proper government immigration channels.
This troubling story, however, was usurped in the media within 24 hours by a photograph of the wealthy man’s skull penis with a condom on it, to protect it from the rain. The Daily News ran the, somewhat uncreative, headline: “DONG PONCHO!”
It was the newspaper’s best selling issue since 9/11.
This pattern repeated itself throughout his campaign.
A week before the election, the wealthy man literally told a reporter that in 1984 he had hit a man while driving drunk and left him to die, in the dark, in the Hamptons.
That story barely had time to get moving at all before a photographed appeared on the internet of his penis getting stuck momentarily in the low-hanging branches of a poplar tree on 87th street. It stole the headline.
In this way, the wealthy man was elected president.
His opponents were sure that now that the wealth man actually held the highest office in the land — surely now that he appointed a woman who didn’t think public schools should exist to run the nation’s public school system, surely now that he hired a man who thinks all muslims are terrorists to head up national security, surely now that he appointed Mel Gibson as the attorney general — surely now, of course, his opponents were positive that they would no longer think he was funny, they would no longer be distracted from their task by the genital horn sprouting out of his skull.
Sadly, they were all very wrong.
Many years later, during his 7th term in office, the wealthy man, in his best-selling ghost-written memoir entitled “Head Strong”, would describe how, on his first night in the Oval Office he looked at the desk, at the president’s official seal, at the portrait of Lincoln, and, for the first and last time in his life, the penis on his forehead suddenly, and finally, ejaculated.
The ejaculate, he noticed with mild interest, did not consist of semen, but of mucus.
Delighted, the wealthy man sat down on his democratic throne and looked at his life with satisfaction.
Then he got his secretary, whom he affectionally referred to as Susan B. Butterface, to clean the mucus off the official seal so he could commence his reign.