An anonymous source has reported some news that may soon rock the nation.
On the evening of October 5, 2018, three men and a woman met in the living room of a house in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. As the hour grew late, and as the talk swirled around the Brett Kavanaugh nomination to the Supreme Court and the sexual accusations against him, inspiration suddenly struck one of the men with the force of a lightning bolt.
On the evening of October 5, 2018, three men and a woman met in the living room of a house in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. As the hour grew late, and as the talk swirled around the Brett Kavanaugh nomination to the Supreme Court and the sexual accusations against him, inspiration suddenly struck one of the men with the force of a lightning bolt.
“We’ve had the women’s march and the pussy hats,” Stewart Pearlie said. “It’s time men marched wearing penis hats.”
For the next forty-five minutes, the men present—Morgan, who works in construction; Amis, a retired teacher; and Stewart Pearlie—discussed their ideas regarding the purpose and regalia of such a march. The woman, Lisa, contributed few comments, but spent most of the time laughing.
A name for the organization and the march was batted around. Eventually, the men settled on The Peckerheads.
(My online dictionary defines a peckerhead as an aggressive, obstinate person. The online Urban Dictionary offers an additional definition: “One who has a penis for brains, and no social skills.” My source claims this definition is not what the group had in mind, though from he knows of this threesome, they might entertain it.)
“Well, what’s our purpose?” Morgan asked.
“Mockery,” said Pearlie.
“Spoof,” added Amis. “Reminding people that walking around with a vagina on your head is abnormal.”
“What would a penis hat look like?” Lisa asked.
“An arrow pointed upwards,” Pearlie said at once. “Maybe two yarn bollocks hanging onto the forehead.”
“Arrows or spears?” Amis asked.
“Arrows or spears?
“Circumcised or uncircumcised?”
“Depends on the architecture below, I guess,” Pearlie said.
“I don’t think any of the guys I work with in construction would walk around wearing penis hats,” Morgan said.
“We have to convince them,” Pearlie said. “We’d stage the main march in DC, but cities across the country could throw their own Peckerhead marches. Look—this could be huge! We could make a statement, plus make a ton of money selling the hats.”
“Where would we get those hats?” Amis asked.
“We’ll special-order them from the Chinese. We’ll send them some pictures and find a company willing to make a million Peckerhead hats.”
“We could wear t-shirts,” Morgan said, clearly hoping to avoid the hats. “Maybe with some sort of logos?”
“We’re the Peckerheads,” said Amis. “How about Woody Woodpecker?”
“Hey, yeah,” Pearlie said. “I like that one.”
“We might run into some copyright problems,” Morgan said. “How about Woody Pecker?”
“There you go,” said Pearlie. “Perfect.”
“What about a slogan?” Amis asked.
The room was silent except for the woman laughing.
“I know,” Amis said, answering his own question. “How about ‘Bigly?’”
“Yes,” the other men agreed enthusiastically. The woman, fortunately accustomed to the effects of alcohol, sarcasm, and anger on men, redoubled her laughter.
“We also need a twitter tag,” Amis said. “Like hash tag me too.”
“What’s that?” said Pearlie.
“You know,” Amis said. “The woman’s movement. Hash tag me too.”
“No idea what that means.”
Amis wrote it on a piece of paper.
“I thought that was ‘pound me too,’” Pearlie said.
“Maybe we could be ‘hash tag us too,’” Morgan said. “We could be ourselves, but include women as who sided with their fathers, husbands, boyfriends, and sons being attacked all the time.”
“Good idea,” Pearlie said. “But the women don’t have to wear the penis hats unless they want to.”
“My friends won’t wear penis hats,” Morgan said.
“We need a grand marshal for the march in Washington,” Amis said.
“I nominate Donald Trump,” Pearlie said.
“Well, we could ask him,” Morgan said. “But he’s pretty busy giving America its lowest unemployment rate in fifty years, solving international problems, and tweeting insults to football players and Democrats.”
“How about Sarah Palin?” Pearlie suggested.
“She’s a woman,” Amis said. “We can’t have a woman leading a march with men wearing penis hats.”
Pearlie snorted. “Sarah Palin has more cojones than half the men in America.”
“If we’re picking a woman,” said Amis, “I’m going for Camille Paglia. She has more cojones than most of the men in the entire world.”
“When should we schedule these marches?” Morgan asked.
Again there was silence.
“Wait,” Amis said. “I’ve got it. Walpurgisnacht.”
“What the hell is whatever you just said?” asked Pearlie.
“April 30th. It’s the legendary night all the witches fly around Germany. It’s sort of like a second Halloween.”
“That’s stupid,” Pearlie said. “No American would even know what it means.”
“How about April First?” Morgan said. “April Fool’s Day?
“Seems appropriate,” Amis said, with a nod from Pearlie.
And so it came to pass.
Just remember: You heard it here first. The Peckerhead Movement is coming.
For the next forty-five minutes, the men present—Morgan, who works in construction; Amis, a retired teacher; and Stewart Pearlie—discussed their ideas regarding the purpose and regalia of such a march. The woman, Lisa, contributed few comments, but spent most of the time laughing.
A name for the organization and the march was batted around. Eventually, the men settled on The Peckerheads.
(My online dictionary defines a peckerhead as an aggressive, obstinate person. The online Urban Dictionary offers an additional definition: “One who has a penis for brains, and no social skills.” My source claims this definition is not what the group had in mind, though from he knows of this threesome, they might entertain it.)
“Well, what’s our purpose?” Morgan asked.
“Mockery,” said Pearlie.
“Spoof,” added Amis. “Reminding people that walking around with a vagina on your head is abnormal.”
“What would a penis hat look like?” Lisa asked.
“An arrow pointed upwards,” Pearlie said at once. “Maybe two yarn bollocks hanging onto the forehead.”
“Arrows or spears?” Amis asked.
“Arrows or spears?
“Circumcised or uncircumcised?”
“Depends on the architecture below, I guess,” Pearlie said.
“I don’t think any of the guys I work with in construction would walk around wearing penis hats,” Morgan said.
“We have to convince them,” Pearlie said. “We’d stage the main march in DC, but cities across the country could throw their own Peckerhead marches. Look—this could be huge! We could make a statement, plus make a ton of money selling the hats.”
“Where would we get those hats?” Amis asked.
“We’ll special-order them from the Chinese. We’ll send them some pictures and find a company willing to make a million Peckerhead hats.”
“We could wear t-shirts,” Morgan said, clearly hoping to avoid the hats. “Maybe with some sort of logos?”
“We’re the Peckerheads,” said Amis. “How about Woody Woodpecker?”
“Hey, yeah,” Pearlie said. “I like that one.”
“We might run into some copyright problems,” Morgan said. “How about Woody Pecker?”
“There you go,” said Pearlie. “Perfect.”
“What about a slogan?” Amis asked.
The room was silent except for the woman laughing.
“I know,” Amis said, answering his own question. “How about ‘Bigly?’”
“Yes,” the other men agreed enthusiastically. The woman, fortunately accustomed to the effects of alcohol, sarcasm, and anger on men, redoubled her laughter.
“We also need a twitter tag,” Amis said. “Like hash tag me too.”
“What’s that?” said Pearlie.
“You know,” Amis said. “The woman’s movement. Hash tag me too.”
“No idea what that means.”
Amis wrote it on a piece of paper.
“I thought that was ‘pound me too,’” Pearlie said.
“Maybe we could be ‘hash tag us too,’” Morgan said. “We could be ourselves, but include women as who sided with their fathers, husbands, boyfriends, and sons being attacked all the time.”
“Good idea,” Pearlie said. “But the women don’t have to wear the penis hats unless they want to.”
“My friends won’t wear penis hats,” Morgan said.
“We need a grand marshal for the march in Washington,” Amis said.
“I nominate Donald Trump,” Pearlie said.
“Well, we could ask him,” Morgan said. “But he’s pretty busy giving America its lowest unemployment rate in fifty years, solving international problems, and tweeting insults to football players and Democrats.”
“How about Sarah Palin?” Pearlie suggested.
“She’s a woman,” Amis said. “We can’t have a woman leading a march with men wearing penis hats.”
Pearlie snorted. “Sarah Palin has more cojones than half the men in America.”
“If we’re picking a woman,” said Amis, “I’m going for Camille Paglia. She has more cojones than most of the men in the entire world.”
“When should we schedule these marches?” Morgan asked.
Again there was silence.
“Wait,” Amis said. “I’ve got it. Walpurgisnacht.”
“What the hell is whatever you just said?” asked Pearlie.
“April 30th. It’s the legendary night all the witches fly around Germany. It’s sort of like a second Halloween.”
“That’s stupid,” Pearlie said. “No American would even know what it means.”
“How about April First?” Morgan said. “April Fool’s Day?
“Seems appropriate,” Amis said, with a nod from Pearlie.
And so it came to pass.
Just remember: You heard it here first. The Peckerhead Movement is coming.
RSS Feed