Decade of the infamous phallus

Saturating the nation in one scandal after another, the American male member takes center stage in the last decade of the millenium.

By Deanne Stillman

Feb 11, 1999 | Rarely do topics or attitudes that have come to characterize decades actually span their particular decade. The '60s -- a mind-set meaning everything from "do your own thing" to "love the one you're with" to "everyone is a star" -- did not really kick in until 1964 or so. Nor did they end in 1970. The '70s were permanently dubbed "The Me Decade" because of the proliferation of self-help groups, although these groups didn't really sprout en masse until the middle of the decade. And although "The Greed Decade" of the '80s certainly saw its fair share of freebooting -- so has every decade in American history: Why nail one 10-year span with the country's curse?

Yet this decade stands apart. One topic, and one topic only, has obsessed the entire period. The male unit. The obsession has been gathering steam since Elvis twisted his pelvis on the Ed Sullivan show in 1956 and shows no hint of getting tired. But it wasn't until the '90s that the phallic fixation exploded. Unfortunately, the endless media gangbang has rendered us comatose and barely able to notice. Gay men have not only proclaimed that they're here, they're queer, get used to it, but that the erect cock is a beautiful thing -- especially with its foreskin surgically reattached, and when it belongs to a body with flat abs -- worthy of federal funding. For the first time in non-X-rated cinematic history, a semi-turgid cock seized the spotlight, when Mark Wahlberg whipped out a 14-inch schlong in "Boogie Nights," causing so much speculation that publicists had to admit that it was a fake.

Now, as the century grinds its pelvis forward for a couple of final rounds, the Christian right in its New Testament raincoat skulks around the fun house, trying to shut it down while listening at the door for squeaky mattress springs and praying for jism-stained laundry. Yes, thanks to its enemies, pornography has gone mainstream, rendering smutmeister Larry Flynt a harmless defender of the First Amendment as he mounts an X-rated jihad financed by peddling women. Both sides have been abetted by another dirty old man in disguise: the media. Here's a scoop for you: Hiding behind that straight face of objectivity is a big, greasy leer and a mouthful of rotting yellow teeth waiting to chomp on any piece of meat it calls a story.

And for the past 10 years, as the media would have it, there's been just one. Indeed, this era has been so seamless and so unfettered by other possible thematic distractions that it's possible to survey it simply by following a trail of penile scandals. From 1990 through to the present, not counting the O.J. Simpson trial or the murder of JonBenet Ramsey (both tangentially related to this theme), the national conversation has been one endless variation on the same narrative, dominated by the following seven episodes: Erik and Lyle Menendez: Their arrest on March 11, 1990, for the murders of their parents set the tone for the decade. During their trial, a new phrase -- "the abuse excuse" -- entered the lexicon, with younger brother Erik testifying that his rich father first "massaged" Erik's penis when Erik was 6, continuing every one to three months until shortly before Erik and Lyle killed him. A week before his 16th birthday, Erik said, his father entered his bedroom and ordered Erik to get on his knees and perform oral sex.

How does the country know this? Well, we let our fingers do the surfing, and when we caught the wave of Court TV, we had a nice long ride. The Menendez drama gave Court TV a launch worthy of NASA, not to mention the career of courtside commentator Laurie Levenson, the first of hundreds to collect a paycheck for the "yardage gained" style of analysis of the decade's most sensational trials. Weirdly, the penis of Menendez père was discussed for six years, through two trials, with an early timeout in 1991 for discussion of the Clarence Thomas hearings (see next page). In 1996 the brothers were convicted of first degree murder, and presumably are now forced to play hide-the-salami behind bars.

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