One of the first things that pops up in my head when I think about art is how influential male genitalia has been throughout history in shaping it. In particular, I am referring to the absolutely breathtaking display of contemporary schlongs that some inspirational young artists have contributed throughout the year to the decor of my ever-lovelier living arrangements, the one and only Kratz 4. Yes, dear readers, even as my penis pen is writing this fine article, I have only to look over my left shoulder to observe a tasteful tool gracing my mirror.

Incredibly, these up-and-coming artisans erect these masterpieces completely without charge! Indeed, even without the slightest hint from any authority figures or co-residents, painters flock to K4 to make their voices heard in the beautiful story that is unfolding in this hallowed hall.

What’s more, these champions of character seem to be content to leave no signature or any other indication of their identity to take credit for their endeavors! They must be so selfless that they desire no recognition, but only to penetrate the dullness of routine to renew the sparkle and verve in the lives of the viewers they will never even meet. O me! O life! That these saints are here in this powerful play to contribute a verse! *

I must also praise these dry-erase artists for their perseverance. The nature of the task is very hard—due to the fragility of their medium, it is easily destroyed (on accident, I am sure). But despite being shafted in this inconsiderate manner, they suck it up, turning the tragedy into a triumph by continually adding new sketches to make a rotating sequence of beauty in what is becoming known as “the sausage cycle.”

To me, the conclusion is clear. I propose that we preserve Kratz 4 as a phallic museum so the labors of our comrades do not disappear into the shower drain of history. However, if it becomes famous, we do need to watch out—we don’t want to get too cocky.

*Walt Whitman said something similar to this, but he was talking about ovaries.