However, Venetians are obsessed with penises. Think Texts From Last Night meets Robin Williams’ apartment in The Birdcage. Consider, for example, the following ode to tasteful restraint at the bus stop outside our hotel:
Do I know what this ad is saying? No. Do I want to know? Okay…kind of, but only because I really want to know why Yoda is on this poster. I mean, does he even have…do I want to know…ok no. Nevermind, strange Italian poster, you carry on with your bad self while I scrub my brain with steel wool. These are not the droids you are looking for.
Where was I again? Ah yes: penises, Venetians’ obsession with. Consider now the tourist shops that dot the city (rather like herpes, since we’re on the subject). Looking for a little something (oy) for the art aficionado in your life? Surprise him with a pair of shorts, featuring the penis of Michelangelo’s David. Great for in depth studying of Michelangelo’s masterpiece without the pesky pedophilia rumors!
If David’s thing is not really yours, you can always pick up an adorable little glass figurine of a man playing golf with OH MY GOD WHAT IS HE USING FOR A TEE THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE (nor is it biologically possible). Er, or maybe this WHAT THE HELL THAT IS NOT A BASEBALL BAT. Yes, even the fine art of glass-blowing (don’t make me make that joke again) is not safe. In addition to a certificate of authenticity, I feel like these ornaments should come with medical records (guaranteed Chlamydia-free!).
I’m once again running low on snark, so let me just finish by saying that, in addition to everything else, some stores also sell penis-shaped pasta. In two different sizes.
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