Dear HBO,
As a concerned citizen and consumer of respectable television programming, I am deeply troubled by your new television series, Hung.
At first glance, the show’s premise seems innocent enough: Ray Drecker, (played by Thomas Jane) is a divorced, down on his luck, high school basketball coach, raising two teenagers in the Midwest. After experiencing a string of bad breaks, he enrolls in a self-help/get rich seminar in an effort to address mounting financial burdens.
OK. These are indeed tough times full of additional challenges due to a tenuous economy. So it’s understandable that someone would make an earnest attempt to improve their diminishing portfolio by utilizing all their skills and assets. But after a few minutes into the first episode the unsuspecting viewer learns that Drecker’s greatest asset is his God-given over-endowment, and he soon begins to moonlight as a male escort.
I take no issue in the entrepreneurial spirit of the show’s main character. As a matter of fact, I believe that it’s this kind of picking-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps mentality that has made this country what it is today. But there is a deeper dilemma that now plagues me and an often under-recognized demographic of society.
As someone of the female persuasion, I have spent a lifetime supporting the adage that size doesn’t really matter. But now I am relegated to the role of poker-faced cheerleader since my not-so-well-endowed boyfriend’s attempts to satisfy in the boudoir have fallen short due to severe emotional trauma he has suffered resulting from this latest attempt at envelope-pushing by cable TV producers.
The months it took convincing him that size isn’t really an issue is now all for naught due to the greed of HBO execs looking to make a fast buck by exploiting the fascination of the American public when it comes to male organ size.
Is there someone I can sue for the emotional damages incurred, not to mention the pain and suffering I have endured as a result of this latest nouveau programming faux pas of sizable magnitude? How about some sort of reimbursement for the extra therapy and couples counseling me and my boyfriend will now be forced to endure due to the network’s selfishness? Can I at least get a credit on my cable bill?
And while this is just one sad saga, I suspect I am not the only one experiencing increased angst and life-altering implications at the hands of irresponsible and insensitive television producers.
Let’s face it. Not everyone is going to measure up in the penile department now that bigger being better is open for discussion. Even the most self-assured male among us may be relegated to posing age-old questions once put to rest by reassuring partners and Dr. Ruth.
I wonder what a show like this says about us as a society; one that glamorizes the haves and diminishes the have-not-enough-ofs. Will men and women, who were once presumed to reside in far away places like Mars and Venus, recoil even further into their respective intergalactic corners? Could Hung be the end of civilization as we know it?
Look, I’ve lived through a post Sex in the City world, where I finally gave up trying to get in touch with my inner Carrie, especially during these lean fiscal times, when my Manolos have been replaced by Payless. But now that there’s a new “Mr. Big” in town, where does that leave the average Joes and the women who love them?
Your Former Loyal Customer,
Jill Rachel Jacobs