#1. Storytelling, Storytelling, Storytelling
We've mostly discussed the economic mechanisms that could make cellphone crotch shots bigger than a social networking site solely devoted to discussing sliced bread. But what about the aesthetic dimension? So far, the most famous dick pics are sorely lacking in any sort of narrative coherence whatsoever. This sets a lousy precedent.
For example, Soulja Boy's dick pic was devoid of character development, denouement, central conflict, props, stage lighting, programs, a big nickelodeon sign that says "BIJOU" or "PALACE" -- you name it, he forgot it.
Sure, his dick pic stands alone as an experimental piece, but there's a reason that show's not called Two and a Half Godots. Think about how much his dick pic would've been improved if it had doubled as an off-Broadway revival of the Tony Award-winning musical 1776.
A dick pic is never complete without tricorn hats.
Yes, the smartphone owner has a veritable interdimensional gateway in his pocket, but the narrative rarely goes beyond his pocket. And that's just sad. Which of these says "I love you" more: 177Dicks above, or a photo of a wang that's so murky, the Unsolved Mysteries theme song comes on whenever you look at it?
Not all crotch shots need to be set during the Revolutionary War, mind you, but it's not a bad idea. In any case, just a smidgen of attention to the most rudimentary rules of storytelling will make you seem more like the Rodgers and Hammerstein of dick pics and less like a stranger on a crosstown bus who's wearing an Arby's menu as a sarong.
And remember, crotch shots are forever (even Snapchat), so it behooves you to pay attention to production value. The moment you hit "Send," you should anticipate that future techno-archaeologists will puzzle over that shit like it was the tomb of Cheops. You don't want to embarrass yourself in front of them, do you?
"I have been waiting for your text message for 5,000 years."
Of course you don't. So there are your marching orders, dear readers. Go out there and make Earth a utopia by acting like a bunch of beautiful, starry-eyed degenerates.
You can follow Cyriaque Lamar on Twitter. Someday (i.e., next week) he will write a column not about dick pics.