My sister calls me the Queen of Denial - - I prefer the more zen state of "why dwell??" This blog is simply a place to keep friends and family abreast of goings on and - - hopefully, it will make a few of them smile. For those not in the know: "CMR" is short for our "COOL MID-CENTURY REMODEL." You know, just in case you were dwelling...
Monday, February 7, 2011
Smuts it all about??
Once upon a time, not so many years past, young teen boys were known to rifle through their father's stash of girlie mags to do a little "research" on all things birds-and-bees. Sure, their Dad's sat them down for "the talk" - but realistically when it came to finding the needed inspiration in trying out their new found play things, they headed to the Playboy centerfold to check out the finer attributes of Miss May. The information contained in Heather's "bio" that stated her favorite pastime was taking moonlit walks on the beach or enjoying a sloe gin fizz was a far distant second to checking out her bodacious breasts.
Fast forward a couple of decades and I speculate that the preponderance of Dads no longer have the stash of well-thumbed Playboys. Those tomes full of "interesting articles" cannot be found squirreled away in the bottom nightstand drawer or in a brown cardboard box in the garage. Nope. The new king of porn is the internet. And therein lies a BIG problem.
Dad's magazines were pure innocence compared to what is available with just a few quick clicks and some interesting search words. Grievously, my boys will not be introduced to "playtime" by using their imagination to conjure up what the aforementioned Miss May may or may not be willing to do in their world of let's-believe. No-sir-ee. They simply type in "hand job" and wait breathlessly for the search engine to work its magic. Instead of being presented with Betty Page in some deliriously fetching fishnets designed to invoke some creative motivation, they get what amounts to Marilyn Chamber's one v many escapades in Behind the Green Door. Talk about getting more than they can handle. And I said that both figuratively and literally.
From the earliest french girlie postcards - to print contributions from Flint and Hefner - - men have historically sought out visual inspiration.. Live action porn films were something you didn't get a chance to see until you went away to college and someone showed a grainy 8mm in the frat house for fun. One might argue that even at 17-18 that that's a little much, but all would agree that at 13-14 it's over the top.
It's a strange phenomenon to be a parent who is yearning for a little "A Ticket" soft-porn that would be ideal for this young teen age-group - you know - softly air-brushed photos of woman laying repose on velvet throws possessing that come-hither look. What I don't need is my boys too easy access to that "E Ticket" hardcore stuff that makes me tilt my head to the side and say "Wahuhhhh? You can do THAT with a jacuzzi full of marshmallow fluff, a muscular dwarf and a silk scarf ???" (Note: not that I have ever seen any of this stuff.... you know - - just for the record and all.)
So, I'm thinking of encouraging George the Elder to get a subscription to Playboy for about a year or so. You know - - just so there's a full 12 months medley so as not to incur boredom and the need to go elsewhere in the short run. We're going to have to make sure they know they're here, but not in such an obvious way that it doesn't take the fun out of sneaking them out of the hidey-place and replacing them before Dad knows they've been pilfered. It's likely that part of the fun is the knowledge that you pulled one over on the old man. Cause that's the problem with internet porn (at least from my teens' perspective) - - everything leaves an electronic trail. Why do you think we're having this conversation in the first place?
Hello, Playboy???
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