Somehow my mother and I wound up sitting in her living room last night watching part of a Veteran’s Day NCIS marathon. Personally, I’ve seen the show a couple of times over the years, but have never really gotten into it. It was on. It was mildly entertaining. We watched an episode or two.
One scene in particular featured a male corpse lying exposed on an autopsy table – at least, he would have been exposed, had he had any sort of genitalia whatsoever. (And no, a missing schlong was not a part of the storyline.) For whatever reason, the producers of NCIS elected to skip doing anything so mundane as covering the body with a sheet in favor of shining a terrifically bright light directly on to his crotchicular region. I suppose the thought process here was that by over-lighting the area in question, an observer’s eyes would be drawn elsewhere, creating a sort of soft-focus effect. That way, they could lose the sheet, lending authenticity to their dead body.
Of course, their silly little parlor tricks don’t work on me. On a good day, my mind resides somewhere quite south of the gutter anyway, so I couldn’t seem to look anywhere *but* at the location where his family jewels should have been.
As I sat there squinting at the television, wondering what had possessed the producers to use a life-sized Ken doll for their dead body, my mother blurts out, “Um…why doesn’t that guy have a dick?”