I’m Starting To Think Many Of You Don’t Appreciate My Ugly Pe#*$ by Harvey Weinstein

ARTICLE BY GREGG MAXWELL PARKER

A lot of people aren’t talking about my penis. It’s time to change that.

Hey, there.

It’s me, Harvey Weinstein. You might know me from my companies, Miramax and The Weinstein Company, which put many of your favorite filmmakers on the map. You might also know about how I used my influence to wage a decades-long campaign of terror in which I sexually harassed and assaulted women in the industry, and how I now spend most of my time in courtrooms.

What you might not know about is how nasty my penis is. I think that’s a shame.

You see, at a recent hearing, while under oath, a woman described my member as ‘strange though, kind of fish-like, the penis, something was distorted in the testicles… lots of skin, lots of skin down there.’ Really. She said that. Look it up.

I can imagine your shock if you hadn’t heard about that before. I’m shocked as well. Not shocked that I’ve got the Shape of Water guy tucked into my briefs – I knew about that – but because it wasn’t on the front page of every newspaper in the world.

Shouldn’t this be big news? I certainly think it’s a big deal. And yet when I flip on the TV, I see almost nothing about it. Why hasn’t my demonic charred wreck of a penis gotten more attention?

Is it because audiences have become jaded by too many true crime shows, too many violent films, too much 24/7 news about the horrors of war? Is that why no one wants to talk about how one of my accusers said my disgusting knob looked like it ‘had been chopped off and sewn back on?’

For heaven’s sake, the District Attorney told everyone my balls had been taken out of my scrotum and put into my inner thighs. Do you know anyone like that? Didn’t think so!

I’m not asking a lot here. I just want the fact that my penis is the weapon of Satan to garner a little more than a brief paragraph on page 17-B. I honestly can’t believe the stuff that people are paying attention to instead of my vomit-inducing schlong.

I mean, get a load of these headlines: the World Cup? They do that every four years! You only see a frightening, scab-covered monstrosity of a penis three, four times in your life, depending on where you went to college.

Kanye and Trump eating together? Those two WISH they were as vile and sociopathic as me. I’m twice the evil bullfrog Trump is. He’s been borrowing my schtick (obesity and sexual assault) for far too long.

Priorities in this country are way out of whack. We need to restore dignity to the national political sphere, repair the family unit, and discuss the fact that between my legs is a groaning infected jackal.

Look, I’ll meet you halfway: I’ll make it even weirder if you want. I’ll add a racing stripe. Cover it in glitter. Just tell me what I can do to my penis to make it a big news story, and I’ll do it.

Ultimately, what I want is a world where we can all live in peace, and where the fact that I have a gnarled nightmare dick is more than just a blip on your newsfeed. I hope we can live in that world someday.

Your friend,
Harvey Weinstein