So this penis walks into a bar, right? And the bartender says, “Why the fuck is there a giant walking penis in my place of business? What morbid Lovecraftian monstrosity is this, where a male sex organ has taken an anthropomorphic form and moved frictionlessly to my very own bar? What does this creature possess? Can it think? Feel? Love? Hate? What are the inner workings of this nightmarish oddity, and, more importantly, where did it come from? This is the scariest moment of my life, and I will be forever haunted by the deep psychological trauma of encountering a living, breathing, walking penis capable of conscious decision-making.”