In light of all the current hoo-ha regarding a certain has-been film director, and the perplexing apologias for his behavior, I’m writing this down now, so that when the time comes for this particular heart-to-heart I will have the text ready. Feel free to pity The Boy in advance for having to listen to this particular diatribe from his somewhat blunt and outspoken mother. Text is below the cut, to shield delicate eyes from repeated use of the “p-word.”
Son, as someone who has your best interests at heart, I thought that I would take a moment to remind all of you of one helpful fact:
You are in charge of your penis. Only you. No one has the ability to “make you” do stupid things with it. It’s all on you. Because last time I checked, you were a Homo Sapien and had higher brain functions that translate into being able to CONTROL YOURSELF. In other words, the penis is not interchangeable with the medulla oblongata, no matter how much you may want to believe this is so.
So if, for example, you decide to ply an underage girl with drugs and booze and then do unspeakable things to her, you do not get to flee the country, blame it on her mother, her physique, or your “needs as a man.” Your penis is not an independent actor. It does not wander the earth like Kane looking for enlightenment. It is attached to you, and while you may have trouble learning to control its tendency to become engorged at inopportune times, you are still in charge of where it goes and what it does.
Remember this. And if that doesn’t work, and you find that your penis is still giving you trouble, then I leave you with those age-old words of wisdom: think about baseball. Or geriatric nudists playing beach volleyball. Whatever works.
As I said previously, once you hit the age of 13 or so, a certain Someone demands the prerogative of assuming control of the bus anytime the fancy strikes (so to speak). This passes for most men after 40, but for some (Clinton, Foley, Polanski, JFK, FDR, Harding among others) it remains a lingering bug.