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Porn again: The slippery slope

Bob Morrissey

This is about porn. Be assured everything you read from here on in is based on hearsay and research. My hands are clean. I’ve never even Googled a porn site. I didn’t even realize that much of this smut is produced in Hollywood by a guy named Woody, who lives at ... no, wouldn’t be right to give out his address.

Believe me, I’m no prude. Here’s the thing: I think porn is a gift. But let’s be honest and come clean: You can’t say the word porn without mentioning its ugly sister, masturbation.

God made masturbation fun; maybe too much fun. But here’s the thing: In doing so, the old boy gave the middle finger to every person who excuses philandering because of spousal neglect, health problems, incompatibility, boredom, separation and the cute little thing next door. Basically, he’s saying: There’s another option and it’s safe. Grab it. No excuses!

Now, let’s move on to porn usage in general, and what I hear from friends and sexologists. My research has been extensive — hours of poring over important studies.

Honestly, most of it I already knew after reading Wilt Chamberlain’s biography. My wife’s solo trip to Las Vegas was also helpful, especially regarding STDs. The money I gave her was well spent.

So here’s the thing: After extensive work on your behalf, this old researcher has concluded average males and females don’t open their computers intending to visit the web’s dark side.

Here’s what I think happens: Guy opens his computer. First up: the weather channel. Better get out my umbrella. Then he checks his email. Same old, same old. Then it’s off to his favourite newspaper’s obituary section. The guy he owes money to is still alive. He makes the mistake of reading some In Memorials and gets teary-eyed. Now, he wants to plant a tree for some guy he doesn’t know.

From there he goes to CNN. All the news is bad — Covid, floods, tornados, earthquakes, crime — and the Kardashians have been renewed.

Time to visit Fox. Trump blah, blah ... Hannity blah, blah ... Tucker blah, blah ... Stormy blah, blah. But then someone else catches his eye: Melania Trump. Easy, big fellow! She’s beautiful in an amber, smoky sort of way, and her gold silk gown is regal. Did I mention her amazing cleavage?

Welcome to the slippery slope.

Mr. Computer looks at his watch. No rush, he says. But now he’s a little frisky. He’s hot. He goes to take off his sweater, but he isn’t wearing one. He won’t admit it — there’s no turning back, and why would he want to?

Now he Googles “attractive models,” and up comes cars. Not what he had in mind. Then he Googles “attractive female models.”

Much better. Checks his watch again. Still lots of time. Up next: “sexy attractive female models.” Yikes! the motherlode!

It’s been quite a journey from the weather channel — to THIS. His computer’s now taken him straight to a campsite in West Virginia where two people in a filthy camper are getting too friendly for their own good. He checks his watch again. It’s been a whole hour? Time flies when you’re having fun.


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EarlM Fowler
EarlM Fowler
Mar 30, 2021

Mais où sont les wedges d'antan?

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Jim Withers
Jim Withers
Mar 26, 2021

“I’m stranded all alone in the gas station of love, and I have to use the self-service pump.”

– Weird Al Yankovic

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EarlM Fowler
EarlM Fowler
Mar 26, 2021

My untestable and almost certainly idiotic Melania theory is that a lot of North American men of a certain age — a decade older than I, give or take — find the icy Melania look, accent and attitude (I really don't care, do you?) attractive because they came of age when the heavily made-up Gabor sisters were at their sultry peaks, dahling. They just adored a penthouse suite. But if a boy came of age in the late Sixties or early Seventies rather than the late Fifties or early Sixties, he was more likely to be attracted to the long-haired, "natural-look" denizens of West Virginia, mountain mama hippiedom. Broadly speaking, that is, and no pun or filthy camper intended. The…

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À l'Étoile où j'étais venu Pour ranimer la flamme J'entendis ému jusqu'aux larmes La voix du soldat inconnu;

...Oh, when I think of Mona / get a boner, get a boner

When I think of Peggy Sue, a boner, too

When I think of Milly / my boner is a dilly

But when I think of May, my boner just won't play

Getting bonerous is onerous, boys, I'm sad to say...

[very freely reprised, with apologies to Georges B]

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