So we saw King Kong. Where was his cock?
Not that that's what I went to the movie for, but they spend zillions of dollars on "creating life" and come up with a King Kong sans dong?! How can you represent the ultimate in primal beasts without a dick?
Women complain that men behave like beasts and are possessive and throw their feces to express domination -- it's worth mentioning that those are the exact reasons my wife married me. Oh yeah, for those of you who believed I would actually refrain from fecal references: Shit, I forgot.
So why, in a movie created by the new master of subsurface homoeroticism, aka Peter Jackson†, who has some weird inability to portray male kinship without turning it into a rainbow light show extravaganza, is there not an anatomically correct gorilla? No monkey junk. And it needed one to shove in the face of the too many vacant-expression-close-up shots of Naomi Watts. I am sure I could visit a retard ward right before nappy time and catch that same expression; in fact, I don't think King Kong was killed in the end so much as he committed suicide to get away from her blank, wet-eyed stare.
†Come on, how could you not think that after the slow-mo bed-bouncing hobbit scene at the end of the last LOTR? Christ, it was like an old perv watching curly-haired dandy fops in tickle foreplay, followed by the new king singing. WTF!
But my movie experience was not entirely without dicking. We went to the Arclight on Hollywood Blvd. Had to pay for parking. Had to pay an overinflated price to get in, as if seeing the costumes from Brokeback Mountain in display cases makes Jack Black's dramatic acting any better. Then the biggest mistake: I went to the movie hungry. I really had to bend over at the concession stand, where they tacked on about another 25 dollars.
You know what made it all better, though? A huge dildo announced the movie. A guy, usher -- let's just call him Igor with a goatee - comes in and tells us what movie we are about to see, tells us they are going to turn it on, we should not talk and turn our cell phones off, and if there is anything wrong with the picture or sound that we can tell them to fix it. Some knuckledraggers in the audience actually applauded this man. Then the lights went down and we saw -- BEFORE the coming attractions - a service announcement telling us we should not talk and should turn our cell phones off, and if there is anything wrong with the picture or sound that we can tell them to fix it.
Even without a 12-foot long gorilla dong (quick estimate based on relative size of the creature), there was still more than enough general dick, dicking around, and dicking over at the movie to compensate for Kong's shortcomings.
Well, I should end this one - all this talking around dick is starting to read like a Peter Jackson script...