The world is a funny place and becoming funnier—especially with relation to staunchly upright things. I’m talking totem poles. Or I think I am.
Here’s the thing. The Maltese are expecting a visit from the Pope. They’re justifiably nervous about it this visit in general, but they have a bigger problem. You see, the Maltese also have this modern “phallic” object sticking up out of the gravely soil of their tiny island country. It’s an art thing called “Colonna Mediterranea”. It is also a column, and therefore it reminds the sexually repressed of “the thing they must not think about”, namely, the phallus, or as we commoners who don’t want our web site to be censored by machines say, “the penis.” It is predominantly blue.
The Maltese want to take down and hide the column for the duration of the Pope’s visit. I’m sure this will please him. At least he won’t have to look out the windows of the Popemobile and ask the bigwigs traveling with him, “what’s that phallus doing there? Are your people orgiastic heathens? Well, they will be if they see that!”
(I wish to note here, for no particular reason, that this sexual repression of which we speak has not seemed to have dimmed the ardor of the people who work under the Pope. So the fix is: more repression. Repress until something cracks. That will help.)
This story caught my attention because I remember when I was dragged to church by my parents during one of our fishing vacations and was treated to a lively sermon in which the preacher read the riot act to his parishioners. I will never forget the eloquence (or volume) with which he delivered the holy punch line on the isolation of the faithful from the vulgarity of everyday life. “I do not want ever again to walk into McHenry’s Barber Shop and hear the cussing stop!” he bellowed, his right index finger held phallicly aloft until minutes later he paused and gripped the pulpet with both hands, presumably to let the freakishly swollen veins in his forehead return to their normal size. It was a good bet he wasn’t happy with his life.
So I’m thinkin’ there’s something quite wrongheaded about all this. I mean the repression, the Pope, everything. Malta’s ancient sexuality seems, after all, to be dominated by women. Fat women. They’re there, carved in stone. There are also pubic triangles hung like advertisements in front of “temples” (of lust?—who knows?). It was the Romans who hung depictions of erect “phalluses” over their shops for good luck.
And this repression thing is wrong too. Doesn’t anyone read Genesis any more? It’s in the Bible. God slaps his forehead and says, “I almost forgot but listen, Adam and Eve, there’s a single tree in this humongous garden I don’t want you to eat from…”
And so the first couple rush for the tree and eat. You’d expect them too, right? God the creator certainly did. Eve doesn’t say, “gee, I counted thirteen million and seventy five trees bearing deliciously ripe fruit in this amazing garden. We could easily not eat this apple thingey you know.”
Nope, the minute God drew their attention to it, they couldn’t resist. It’s the best part of being human. Somebody tells you something is impossible and the gears start turning. You have to work hard, but soon you’re sure you have an answer.
Yup, Adam and Eve become human at that moment and zounds, we’re still in the same state of “can-do” mind. Astounding, is it not? So just go with it, blue, ribbed, column drum phallus and all.
Read the inspiration for this public display of sacrilege: ‘Vulgar’ phallic sculpture should be pulled down for Pope’s Malta visit, mayor says and cuss or discuss it on our Wandering Italy Facebook Page. You should plan a trip to Malta, too. Maybe not while the Pope is there.