Norman Mailer was a writer who believed in the importance of art. He felt the artist must be expansive in his creative ambition and tackle life’s biggest themes and boldest ideas in forms as innovative and strange as they demand. He sometimes soared and often sank, but never flinched from seeing the world in all its beauty and horror and trying to capture it all in art.
So here’s a dick joke I wrote for him:
Norman Mailer’s penis swung for the fences. No matter how short, stubby and hairy, he never faltered in aiming for that mythic cervix he knew was just one more thrust away.
Calling himself a White Negro, he found the 50s forerunner to herbal male enhancements in appropriating black culture. Want to add imagined inches to his member? Try listening to bebop and calling a murder by a couple street thugs a boldly existential act of self-assertion more authentic than any Godard film.
Married 6 times and father of 8, Mailer’s sword was never sheathed. Nothing could interruptus his fully-felt coitus—not even responsibility.
But now your manhood, so often naked, is dead. But in your honor I’ll strive to work harder, push deeper, last longer in my own quest to write that Great American Dick Joke. And maybe I’ll even to take my penis to bold new, sophisticated places. Tonight I’ll try a gold-toed sock!
But I still hope to never get a convict released who'll immediately kill a man or stab my wife at a party.