My penis burns with a flaming itch.

Can’t speak for ordinary humans, since I have no experience with "ordinary," but often I talk to myself when I’m alone.

Usually it’s not an extended conversation, with me playing both roles. It won’t even be a rational rumination, like, “I think I’ll make myself some lunch,” or "Do I need a new stocking cap for the winter?" Thoughts like that stay quiet in my head.

When I talk to myself out loud, it's almost always a rerun, one of half a dozen goofy sayings I say to myself more or less constantly. The rotation includes...

• “Here’s what we’re going to do.” Which sounds like I’m about to explain something semi-complicated, but nope. And whatever we're going to do, we never do it.

• “What the holy hell?” Oh, my — have I seen something astounding? Nope. I might say that line while absent-headedly staring at the stucco pattern in the ceiling. It means nothing. Saying the words and hearing the words is mysteriously reassuring, that’s all.

• “I hate these mashed potatoes. There's a dead fly in my mashed potatoes.” I haven’t eaten mashed potatoes in years, nor a dead fly ever, but I say this line ten or twenty times a month. It’s a quote from the movie Close Encounters.

• “My penis is a living thing.” I couldn’t tell you where that line comes from, but I've been saying it since I was so young my penis didn’t do anything but pee. Of course, it is part of a living thing (me), but my penis is not an independent entity (to my knowledge) so the statement is somewhat misleading. 

• “My penis burns with a flaming itch.” That’s a symptom of syphilis, but I am proudly syphilis-free and always have been, so it’s just another nonsensical thing I say to myself.

If I was a sit-com, you could call these my catchphrases, like “Dyn-o-mite!” on Good Times, or “That’s what she said” on The Office. Those lines were funny, though. Mine are just stupid, or weird.

I never say such things when I’m out in public, and also never when I'm freshly alone, like after a day at work, or after going to the store or to the diner. The catchphrases emerge only during a day of solitude, when I’ve been alone for a long time. That's when I’ll hear myself talk about potatoes, or whatever it is we're going to do.

Maybe I say it just to remind me that I’m here. My voice pierces the silence, so I'm not a tree fallen in the forest. Perhaps there's a more complex psychological motivation.

Yes, two of my catchphrases are penis-centric, and I’m proud of you for noticing. If you suspect something Freudian, I’ll reply that Freud was wrong about a lot of things. No penis apologies from me. Guys love their dicks, and I’m a guy. I even have a song about my penis, and sing it when I'm in good spirits.

As with a lot of the stupider stuff on this site, all the above wasn’t worth writing or reading, but it’s an invitation. I am curious whether “ordinary people” — an elusive and perhaps fictional concept — have stupid lines like mine, that they say to themselves for no discernible reason.

♦ ♦ ♦

Now I'll title this post something dumb, on purpose, and look for a repulsive illustration to accompany it. Why? Because I glanced at the stats, and saw that the site's readership has ticked upward a bit. I never want to be popular, so what could help push the numbers back down again?

10/30/2021

itsdougholland.com 

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