I am Dr Manhattan and the offensive exaggeration of my manhood is why the new Watchmen TV series is a massive flop

For although there are countless aspects of my character that are truly fascinating – immortality, telekinesis, clairvoyance, transmogrification, the ability to teleport to any part of the universe and perceive all past, present, and future – it says everything about humanity’s stunted adolescence that it’s still my penis that fascinates you all. Don’t you already have enough massive wallopers dominating your headlines?

Long and the short of it

As you might know, my penis is legendary in pop culture. In 2009, it was the first-ever male appendage seen in a superhero movie. And now, 15 years later, it is again a major talking point in the new TV reiteration of Watchmen. Admittedly, HBO are usually reliable creators of entertainment, but have certainly dropped the ball – indeed, both of them – on this occasion.

You see, in this new series, my penis is represented as a monstrously oversized artificial phallus wielded by an ex-girlfriend. It’s a blue, glowing aberration of nature that vibrates when the detachable testicles – doubling as a battery compartment – are attached.

Amusing as this may seem to a primordial parasitical virus such as yourselves, such an exaggerated depiction of my genitals is actually rather offensive. And also quite revealing, for it displays a deep misunderstanding of my character and the original source material. Those of you with knowledge of Watchmen will know my consciousness created this new body to host it when my human form was torn apart in a nasty “intrinsic field generator” incident.

And because shame or fashion do not trouble demigods with panoramic cosmic awareness, I decided to eschew clothes and be naked. Which makes it obvious to anyone with eyes that I actually possess a tiny willy – quite deliberately designed that way in tribute to the ancient Greek style. Subtle, diminutive and indistinct.

So tell me. Why is it that every time I reappear in popular culture – whether in Zack Snyder’s 2009 movie or the new TV series – I now have an elephantine, pendulum-like appendage? I believe we can all learn from the next 600 words exploring this ongoing misrepresentation.

Size does matter

ALTHOUGH many men would find such a gross exaggeration of penis size flattering, it is deeply frustrating to a superhero such as I – because it instantly renders the credibility of any new depiction of me redundant and void.

My newly-gargantuan penis is almost as bad a franchise misstep as letting Rian Johnson write The Last Jedi, a soul-destroying farce where Luke Skywalker – the incorruptible messianic symbol of goodness and purity in George Lucas’ original Star Wars trilogy – draws his lightsaber with the intent of slicing up his young nephew as he sleeps. Remember, this is supposed to be the guy who could see good in Darth Vader.

As we know, shock at this sickening decimation of his creation caused Lucas’ beard and magnificent barnet to fall out, leaving his head resembling an Ayrshire tattie.

Johnson had essentially thrust a lightsaber through the heart of every fan who had invested something of themselves in these characters. 

Clearly, we simply cannot trust any writer who is not an original creator of the source material. And certainly, David Lindenhof enlarging my genitals to such ridiculous proportions proves conclusively that he doesn’t actually “get” me as a character at all.

My original small penis quite deliberately symbolised my limitlessly overpowered body’s impotence in the face of the all-mighty universal forces of nature to which we all ultimately must succumb. This should have been obvious to both Snyder and Lindenhof.

On several occasions in the original graphic novel, it was clearly shown as a purely decorational and redundant organ – unimportant and insignificant to my existence. The whole point of my character was that I had gained a newly ethereal perception of reality beyond such animalistic mundanities as mating. I thought my preference for a small penis was a rather obvious metaphor for what I had become – beyond flesh, beyond desire, beyond reach of humans. And certainly beyond a reach-around.

Not so casual sex

SO, you can understand my confusion when I saw an that outrageously over-sized artifical pleasure tool in the new series had been allegedly inspired by my penis. It seems Lindenhof hasn't paid attention to the original Watchmen graphic novel, where readers got a glimpse of me as a lover – a scene where it was made quite clear that my organ served no practical function.

Fans will recall that I caressed Silk Spectre with multiple arms that sprouted out of my torso and also cloned my body several times so she could enjoy a rather awkward orgy, with each of my clones’ fingertips discharging pleasurable zaps of electricity across her skin.

Yet, despite displaying such serious playa skills, you never once saw any attempt at penetration. Intercourse was never implied or shown. Although I used my abilities to please someone I cared about, I was personally beyond desire. Indeed, you’ll recall that I made another clone to do a few scientific experiments in the study while the rest performed in the bedroom.

So no wonder cinemagoers were aghast at the first sight of my penis on film in 2009. And it wasn’t just the big screen that made it look so pendulous and potent – this was a deliberate shock tactic from director Zack Snyder, instigating a cheap talking point which he hoped would sell the film on controversy alone. Yet, it proved to be the film’s undoing, displaying a deep misunderstanding of my genitals’ importance.

And now, another walloper, David Lindenhof, has repeated the same mistake – again, undermining everything my small penis was trying convey about the human condition and how the universe’s inescapable entropy will cause every star to eventually burn out and leave only eternal darkness, rendering all existence ultimately meaningless.

If my penis could talk, it would simply say this – that no matter how powerful someone might seem, they remain limp and impotent in the face of the universal laws of nature to which we all must adhere. Even me.

It should be obvious that me even having a penis in the first place is simply a symbolic memento of my former humanity – there to remind me of my flesh and blood past and stop me growing too alienated and detached in my newly godlike state. Having it portrayed as some sort of oversized tool of pleasure simply shows the writers up as useless wallopers themselves.

And finally ...

IT’S not just me who favours a small penis. We are all aware of the modest nature of phalluses that feature in Greek classical sculptures of gods, emperors, and other elites from Zeus to ancient Olympian athletes.

Like me, their small members seem at contrary odds with their muscular bodies and legendary virility. But, again like myself, the ancient Greeks had their reasons for this seemingly counterintuitive aesthetic choice.

To the ancient Greeks, a flaccid penis represented zen-like restraint and a universal oneness with all things. And who is more self-controlled than an all-seeing, transdimensional god who could cure the planet of the parasitical homosapien plague in an instant, yet chooses not to?

The truth is, large penises were actually not considered desirable, nor were they a sign of power or strength. In his play The Clouds, famed Greek writer Aristophanes assessed the traits of perfect masculinty as “a gleaming chest, bright skin, broad shoulders, strong buttocks. And a little p***k”. And he wasn’t talking about Batman and Robin.