Question 4: Guilt Is Good
"My reaction to porno films is as follows: After the first ten minutes, I want to go home and screw. After the first twenty minutes, I never want to screw again for as long as I live." — Erica Jong
Do you ever feel guilty about consuming, producing and/or thoroughly enjoying pornography? If so, how do you reconcile your guilt with your desire? Do you think getting off to porn alone is ever a betrayal of girlfriends/wives? What kind of porn makes you feel guilty, and what's "okay"?
Okay, I'm going to do my best to stick the questions, because these are great.
No, I don't think it's wrong just to masturbate to porn, with a girlfriend or alone, whether single or married. I do think it's wrong to do it behind her back and lie, pretending they don't look at porn at all. It's wrong for someone to say, "No honey, I don't need that stuff, because you're all I need," if they don't mean it. There are people who don't want to have anything to do with porn in their lives, and bless them for that. Either they are happy enough in their relationship that they don't need any external stimuli, or they are too ashamed to admit they want it. There are a whole lot of quarter porno arcades in shops; some people go there to watch porn in private — maybe because they're afraid of what society thinks of porn.
I do think it's questionable for people to watch porn as a substitute for sex with their current significant other. Some people think that porn is way more real than it is. Too many times I've had guys write to me, assuming that I'll sleep with anyone. I feel sorry for the guys who aren't happy with their girlfriends solely because they don't want to do certain acts. They look at the girls on video and think, Wow, if only I could have a girlfriend who does that. So I suggest that men help their girlfriends feel comfortable with the things they want — or else, just get over it. Better yet, watch a video while being intimate with her, telling her that you don't want her to do anything she's not comfortable with, but since it turns you on, could she maybe be okay with letting you watch it. Any nice guy can find a great girl. Keeping her interested is the hard part.
Even I sometimes feel guilty when I watch porn. I can't watch the scenes where it's obvious the actors couldn't wait to get it over with and collect their check. I also feel guilty when I think of what "upstanding citizens" would think of me if they knew the porn I was watching, and especially the porn I was making. But if you saw me or many of the other porn employees in, say, a supermarket, you'd probably think we were just college students — anything but porn stars. I also love my sexuality, and don't have any regrets about porn — as a consumer or participant. I think that individuals should decide what types of porn are okay for them. If they're not into really nasty stuff, then by all means they shouldn't be watching it. Get a Playboy T&A thing. They're well produced and very erotic. As I've said before, porn should be something that enhances one's personal views of sex. And hopefully encourages them to become more enlightened as to a partner's sexuality. There are many people who are going to decide they don't like me without even knowing me. That's okay. I've even had people who were very good friends of mine decide that I was a horrible person they couldn't associate with once they found out about my chosen career. Again, frustrating, but okay. I'm not a better (or worse) person for being a pornographer. I enjoy what I do, and will continue to let others enjoy it also.
Matt Labash (Q4: #2 of 20)
Throughout this roundtable, it seems I've pushed a little further right then where I actually live. Appearances aside, I'm not completely immune to the appeal of watching strangers diddle each other for money. During our correspondence, for instance, I've sat transfixed while watching several panel members fellate John Stagliano. I'm not so sure getting off to porn alone is a betrayal of one's wife, any more than any extramarital unindulged lust would be (which is not to say I'd want to get caught with my pants around my ankles, even if I was the only one in the room). While I've railed against porn in contrast to the rest of you, I still regard it as little more than a pedestrian vice. We all do things that are bad for us. Some of us smoke. Some of us drink too much. Some of us prepare burnt sacrifices to Lucifer in our barbecue pits. To each his own. But what I find more harmful than porn itself (it is what it is) is the effort of so many to glamorize and ennoble it, to cloak it in significance, to contemplate and intellectualize it as if it is worthy of study, assuming that it will unveil some elusive truth about the human condition. Whenever I've tackled the subject journalistically, and I'm confronted with materials like Annie Sprinkle's "Post Porn Modernist" in which Annie performs ablutions on her partner's head or has congress with an amputee's stump (amputees need love too), it all seems pretty simple. The only thing porn reveals about the human condition is our endless capacity to debase ourselves and then, to not only rationalize it, but to elevate and even celebrate our own debasement.
I've knocked John and Tricia mercilessly throughout our discussion. And while I'd reassure them that my son-of-a-bitchiness quotient is considerably lower in real life, and that I bear them no ill will, I pull up short of apologizing. The assignment was to kick around "Men, Smut and Shame," and as our resident smut-peddlers, you were bound to come in for some abuse. (When we discuss "Men, Journalism and Shame," I'll make sure I wear a cup). Tricia, ridiculing you out of your vocation would be the greatest kindness anyone could pay you. While I don't wish to jeopardize Ian's image of me as a merciless bastard, I do have genuine compassion for your plight. And because I do, I honestly believe that if there had been a few more people who attempted to ridicule you out of your profession three years ago, you wouldn't be faced today with waking up every morning and wondering if you'd been complicit in signing your own death warrant. Likewise, I've pounded on Buttman (I can't help it, I'm attracted to slow-moving targets the way John is to heart-shaped derrieres). But there was one instance a few years ago (which I've written about in the past) where I was actually swollen with admiration for the Buttmaster General. It came during a panel discussion at the World Pornography Conference, where John was a speaker. The plenary room was chock-a-block with pud-tugging academics, deconstructing the genre advances and verité stylings of John's oeuvre (you know you're in trouble when they use words like "oeuvre" while discussing the metaphysic implications of "Buttman in Barcelona"). After some tweedy rod-walloper from Georgetown University went on an especially long exposition of the Buttman character, which he felt bore resemblance to Baudelaire's 19th-century flaneur, John hopped up to the podium in shorts and a shirt unbuttoned, Guccione-style, down to his solar plexus. Then he said something that made me want to hug him after sitting through three days of these windsocks: "All I wanted to do was make videos that really turned me on. Another idea I had was to make a video about my obsession, uhhh, with female butts." Back then, he threw cold water on their circle jerk. Now, he appears to subscribe to their hype. I'd remind you John, to paraphrase Barlett's once more, that you can put lipstick on a pig, buy it a pearl choker, slap its fanny and name it Renee (don't get excited Rufus, I know how you like pigs), but even if you take it home to meet Mom, you're still laying with swine.
Do millions of Americans purchase the wares of John and his colleagues, suggesting that they are important figures, worthy of our respect and admiration? Yes, to the first part of that question; no, to the second. Millions of Americans also buy velvet Elvises, believe Oprah's Book Club is God's gift to literature and think that Michael Bolton is soul music's standard-bearer. The only thing that proves is that millions of Americans are morons. That shouldn't serve as an excuse for the rest of us.
Ian Gittler (Q4: #3 of 20)
I hear remorse, Matt, and though it's grudging, I'll buy it.
Question for all: If porn consumption can be equated with smoking and drinking, as Matt points out — and I think it can be (although because it doesn't have physical health repercussions, its effects may be more insidious) — then isn't it worthy of the same type of analysis?
In terms of elevating the "art" aspect of porn through "criticism," there have been — maybe — ten minds in the total history of "criticism" of any medium, much less porn, who have actually done, written or thought anything that actually had the effect of elevating anything. So there's always great satisfaction in artists of all stripes taking the wind out of cultural airbags, in porn or anywhere else.
I hate this notion that hipper, more trendy or skilled porn outsiders can make a "better" porn. There are a couple of people who have come close, but for the most part a genre of photography has emerged that — because of its artistic pretensions (not success) — usually falls short of the ill-advised, go-for-broke, don't-look-back, fuck-it-all conviction necessary to produce the kind of porn that actually "works."
As for Question 4:
I have never had an issue with reconciling a knowledge of the dark side of porn with my use of it. I can't help thinking that its generally grimy surface, and all implied by that, contributes to its potency. I think men, on average, find porn that feeds their least politically/socially acceptable fantasies and impulses the most effective fuel for discharge.
While I also would like to see far less young people choosing a life with sexual bartering as its core, my sense is — and I have to admit I've taken the lead from friends with far less investment in thinking about porn — that rather than trying to sum up personal use of porn in moral or social terms, men are beginning to consider, with greater focus and an evolving vocabulary, the balance between how porn enhances their lives and detracts from them.
It's in its awkward phase, but I don't think there's a turning back. These days, no one thinks twice when individuals talk about their measured relationships with drugs and alcohol. The same kind of consideration of porn use will grow more popular. It probably isn't a great thing for the porn business, but neither is it something they need worry about. Obviously.
Except in the minds of people who view others who don't have their shit fully down pat or totally together as weak or worse, this is all a good thing.
John Stagliano (Q4: #4 of 20)
Matt, I really feel sorry for you. What kind of "art" do you enjoy? The art of looking down your nose at others? You call people who enjoy porn and Michael Bolton morons. You are judging these artists or art forms as somehow not being valid as art. Hey, let's discuss art! What do you like? Why do you like it? Have you seen Tristan Taormino's Video Guide to Anal Sex? There is a scene there between Jazmine and Nacho. This scene works as art because it is a selective recreation of an aspect of reality, an isolation of a certain thing for us to see. That thing is incredibly sensual passion. Sexual passion of the kind that few people ever experience in their lives. Matt, tell me you fuck like that all the time in your life. Tell me you've fucked once like that in your life. And, if you have, is it an experience worth remembering, recreating? That is the art of porn. Watching a great actor and actress in regular movies have a love scene could be as intense, but I've never seen one. Seeing the kind of passion and wild sexual abandon exhibited by Nacho and Jazmine is an example of what humans are capable of experiencing. Lots of us want to experience life like that, but never do. That is the Art of Porn.
Of course I don't expect you to answer any of my questions. That would be totally out of character. How do you keep a job in journalism? You never deal with the subject at hand. Your bashing me about the head has consisted of taking pot shots from a distance without ever dealing with the questions asked or with what I have said. Learn how to do your job as a journalist.
Ian, I like your analysis of how the way people talk about drugs in a rational way can be applied to porno. Anything that feels good can be abused. I sometimes watch to much sports on TV. Especially when I have a deadline to meet and I'm having a hard time finishing a project. It all turns on how the mind works. Take for example the way Matt's mind works. He persists in bashing me and Tricia (oh, I'm so hurt and embarrassed!), while avoiding responding to anything specific that I've said. Perhaps he is hung up on his perceived power of his words — he's addicted to talking down to people, not just to me, but to all consumers of modern culture. He indulges in this feel-good thing for himself at the expense of doing the real journalistic work of looking at history, scientific studies, other people's points of view and then trying to come up with a truly informed position. Just like I'd rather watch football sometimes then try to figure out a better way to edit a scene.
I'd love to hear what you have to say about this, Rufus.
Now, I feel I must review what I've asked Matt just so we're all clear on what questions Matt has failed to deal with.
Matt:
1) What kind of art do you enjoy? And very important, why?
2) Have you watched the Jazmine and Nacho scene I am talking about? If yes, what is your response to my questions about it as art? And if you haven't watched the scene, do you feel that there can be any value to someone in seeing others fuck in a much more intense and pleasurable way then you have ever experienced in your life?
John Stagliano (Q4: #5 of 20)
As for my answer to Question 4: When I masturbated as a child, with or without porno, I would feel guilty after I came. While I was sexually aroused I did not feel any guilt, but after the arousal, I would feel a let down physically and emotionally. I'm not sure if it was at all related to what the Catholic Church was trying to teach me or to what I feared my parents might think if they found me out. I honestly think I felt this guilt without even knowing what they would say. When I first started masturbating, I didn't even know what it was. I never heard anything about sex from the Church or from my family until I was about sixteen years old. I thought I was some kind of freak, and I thought my father might also be a freak because he had some porno. I instinctively knew this was something I should hide from adults. I know this kind of guilt has been discussed many times before, but I'm not up to speed on the current scientific discussion of it. It seems to me that it has some biological basis because of the way I experienced it as an eleven and twelve year old.
In any case, when I got a little older, age sixteen and seventeen, I had my first girlfriend. I was also voraciously consuming porno. I eventually started going to downtown Chicago and getting into strip shows with my older half-brother's birth certificate. I would masturbate under my coat. (Go for it Matt!) I told my girlfriend about this and shortly thereafter, we broke up. We were only into heavy petting, not sex yet. At no time did I think the petting I was doing with this girl had anything to do with my consuming porno. They both felt good, even though I only felt guilt after masturbating.
When we broke up, I felt emotionally destroyed. I thought that maybe it was because of my porn consumption that my girlfriend left me. I decided I didn't want to feel guilty about anything I ever did in my life. So, fueled by the emotional devastation of breaking up with my first girlfriend and inspired by the Ayn Rand I was reading at the time, I decided I was going to completely change my life. I threw out my extensive porno collection and vowed never to masturbate again because of the guilt I felt after doing it. I convinced myself the only way I could properly get off was with a girl. For two years I tried not to masturbate. I would go about six months at a time without doing it, then I would give in and go get off on some porno. This was especially difficult because at the time I was in my late teens, a very horny time for a male. But I was driven to do the "right thing" with my life.
Eventually I talked to some people about this and I came to the conclusion that it was okay to masturbate. I spent many long hours thinking this through. At first I felt some guilt, but by then, I was so fed up with denying my natural impulses that I worked really hard at trying to figure out what was truly right and wrong for me. I believe this experience helped me enormously to try to understand myself and others. I never totally assume I am right about something, but I also know that there is a right thing to do and I am driven to find it.
Today, I only feel guilty after masturbating if I am doing too much of it and avoiding doing more important things in my life. This does happen sometimes, just like I sometimes watch too much sports on TV.
Matt Labash (Q4: #6 of 20)
John, you seem awfully concerned with how passionately I fuck. (Is that a proposition? The answer is "No.") I know this might come as a shock to you, but just because people don't watch anal sex videos, it is not a reflection of their bedroom artistry. If I don't watch the U.S. Open on television, does that ensure that I'm less of a tennis player? (Oops, sorry, answering a question with a question. They used to call that a Socratic dialogue, but I guess you just call it inferior journalism, since I'm not marshalling studies, like say, the ones that show a connection between porn consumption and violent crime. By the way, when I commit journalism, I'm not actually supposed to answer a subject's questions, so much as ask questions of the subject. There are some venues that require you to put a check on revealing all of yourself. You might look into it, that is, if you ever tire of admiring your organ onscreen.)
Obviously I struck a nerve with my Michael Bolton comment. (As Mike sings, "How can we be lovers if we can't be friends?") I apologize if I stepped on your musical taste. Okay, I'm going to answer your question now? Ready, here we go: What kind of "art" do I enjoy, vis-a-vis Michael Bolton? The reason I disparaged him is because he puts out, in my opinion (all "art" is obviously subjective), an inferior, paler version of the real deal, which some people may be under the illusion they're getting when they listen to his over-produced treacly covers of Otis Redding or Percy Sledge. It's not to say that, technically, Michael Bolton's music isn't art — it's just bad art, compared to say, the Stax or Motown vocalists, who could sneak up on a song, whose music emanated from their soul, so that they knew when to snuggle up next to a note or peg it out of the park. It's the difference between watching Daddy Grace preach a sermon, or watching Jim Bakker give an impoverished version of a Daddy Grace sermon. It's the difference between being operated on by a surgeon skillfully wielding a scalpel, or by one giving you a swig of whiskey and telling you to sit still while he unsheathes a Bowie knife.
One of my biggest reading pet peeves is when polemicists attempt to prove something by saying "Oxford dictionary defines 'art' as . . . " So anyway, the Webster's Unabridged Dictionary defines art as "the quality, production or expression, according to aesthetic principles of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance." Of course, that's a bit constricting. But my point here would be that just because I take a doody on a silver serving tray and bring it to your drawing room doesn't mean you're enjoying high tea. Just like turning on the camera and recording whatever transpires does not automatically yield a work of art (or else we should all be worshipping at the temple of America's Funniest Home Videos). Art is not merely a reflection of reality, but it fertilizes it, refracts it, interprets it, provides context. Porn largely strips the context from the majestically complex world of sex, making a one-dimensional presentation of a multi-dimensional act. Sure, it's also padded out by some feeble story line, in your case: pervy camera operator runs into girl in front of the Eiffel Tower, asks her to fist herself on film, or whatever . . . My question would be, How does that comport with any definition of art? And if we have a lax doorman who allows it into the sanctuary, how does it differentiate itself from other bad art (say, as something more than an explicit version of other bad art like Porky's II) and become art worthy of reflection, celebration and discussion in online circle jerks such as this one.
As for the second question (for the record, I answered the last part of this question in the first part of this post), I'd like you to take a critical step back and ask yourself how ludicrous this phrase sounds in the ear of a non-porn producer: "Have you watched the Jazmine and Nacho scene I'm talking about? If yes, what is your response to my questions about it as art?"
No, I have not watched the "Jazmine and Nacho" scene. From your enthusiasm, it is evidently a transcendent work of beauty. Nacho probably says something like, "How about I pop it up your poop chute?" Jazmine probably says something like, "I want you to stick me until your schwantz looks like a chocolate-covered parfait." But there's no reason for me to labor under errant assumptions. Why don't you send me the clip? I have a friend's bachelor party coming up, and some of the guys like to get drunk, hire strippers and talk about art.
John Stagliano (Q4: #7 of 20)
No, Matt, you didn't answer the second question at all. That question was very specific, the second part of it. It talked about experiencing intense and uniquely pleasurable sex. It asked if experiencing the sight of this was of potential value to you. Also, it took twenty-two lines of meaningless drivel for you to get around to the first question. (I've had enough of you wasting my time.) Whether or not all art or most art is bad doesn't mean anything for this conversation. There has always been bad art of all kinds mixed in with the good.
Your only question, the one about whether or not it can be art if I shoot a scene picking up a girl in front of the Eiffel tower and then having her fist herself, is a good question to ask, something relevant that we can discuss. This doesn't waste my time. The way that a scene can be art, good art, by my subjective standard, is if the scene presents an image of a woman attempting to do something that's very difficult to accomplish — like getting a fist in her pussy or ass — for the purpose of experiencing the incredibly intense pleasure. I've seen it done. I consider such a thing exquisitely beautiful. Sorry if you don't. It is good art when a filmmaker presents the emotion and challenge of this act so I can appreciate the effort on the woman's part and can relate to it as something similar to the effort sometimes required to achieve something great in my life. You seem to be quite a cynic, Matt, so I really don't expect you to appreciate this, but it is exquisite art for me nonetheless.
Matt Labash (Q4: #8 of 20)
Thanks for setting me straight, John. I should have been more sensitive about wasting your time, what, with all the fistings you have to attend to. I sure would hate to be an impediment to you "achieving something great" in your life, like watching somebody stick their meathooks up their keister. In the future, I'll try to dispatch with the cynicism, and keep our dialogue very question-specific to ensure maximum enlightenment. Here's a few for starters: 1) When your friends withdraw their fists from their butts, do they usually scrub up with Lava, or a gentler aloe-based soap? 2) Do you guys usually order takeout, as I would imagine such activities aren't conducive to food preparation? 3) When you're walking down the street or sitting in traffic, and you hear someone say "Stick it up your ass," do you immediately assume you've found your next film project?
Ian Gittler (Q4: #9 of 20)
John, don't bother. Matt is bigger, tougher and must have far less to lose.
His style is an extreme example, but still, it's emblematic of so much of the mainstream press's complete resentment toward everything but the sound of its own voice. The problem for you, John: porn is the only arena in which there are absolutely no repercussions, ever, for this style of no-holds-barred whip-lambasting (or should I say lambashing?).
You're good Matt, smart and funny as hell. And maybe since this is "what you do," it is incumbent upon you to be entertaining.
But I'm still not sure why you rely so heavily on being mean. Are you mean? Maybe this fearless blurting out of what you assume everyone else must be thinking but are afraid to say makes you "honest," so it's a source of pride.
But nothing you've said about John's life says it better than John talking about it himself, especially in terms of any of us proving our own point about what we like or don't like about what we think John is or represents.
John, you've never seen — or maybe you have — such two-faced bitterness as a magazine editorial staff that puts a star on its cover and then immediately hunkers down to figure out how to cut that very same star back down to size. They quickly resort to mocking physical appearances, and go from there. Then they sit around complaining about their limited access to celebrities. Whether Michael Bolton is good or bad, I find it hard to believe that Bolton is less committed to what he does than Matt is to his own work. No one cares how either of you defines "art." Keith Richards and Britney Spears have far more in common with each other than either of them does with any critic.
Matt, you obviously write well. I looked for your book on Amazon and couldn't find it. Is one coming out? When you do publish, maybe you'll feel less of a need to define yourself by how well you slice and dice everybody else in your path.
This stinging persona of yours is very selling, that's true, but what will you tell your kids?
Back to the question: I am interested, John, in your basis for assigning "biological" as opposed to "psychological" significance to your early adolescent guilt about masturbation (question 4, response #5, paragraph 1).
John Stagliano (Q4: #10 of 20)
As a pornographic "artist," the issue of shame and guilt are often present in the forefront of my mind. As Rufus said earlier: "Guilt is an aphrodisiac." I've found that this is true in my personal life. As I said earlier in response to Question 4, I went through a period in my life of severe sexual repression. I found that the times when I "broke" and went out and consumed porno while still thinking porno was "bad" were the most arousing experiences of my life. One of the directors whose videos I sell at my company makes transsexual videos. He seems to be the best in the world at this. Last year, these videos were a big sensation in adult bookstores around the country. A transsexual experience combines the arousal of a pretty girl with the forbidden desire of a "straight" man to suck dick or get fucked in the ass. This combination of normal sexual attraction with the forbidden stuff has proved to be very powerful. It was for me, personally, at one time in my life. So this discussion of guilt and shame in relation to porno seems to me to be a very relevant and potentially illuminating one.
Guilt and shame have the ability to contribute to sexual arousal. (By the way, I was hoping some of you would pick up on my attempt to give a concrete example of this in my little tease post to Matt about the hooker on the street.) In fact, what Matt writes is filled with references that attain their value through the interface of an individual's perverse sexual desires with the conventions of society. There seems to be no end to the amount of "shame" he would like to associate with me and porno. But of more interest to me now is what the other members of this discussion can add about their personal experience with guilt and shame in relation to porno. It might be asking too much for anyone to talk about specific personal experiences of theirs, but I think these concrete references are by far the best things to talk about when trying to get an intuitive understanding of the issue at hand. We can all talk forever about the problems of other people, but when we talk about our own problems we get a much better, truer, insight into the problem.
Specifically, I would like to get a better understanding of the source of this guilt. Is it totally socially induced? Or is there some biological basis for this? Have we been "programmed" by nature to somehow not be promiscuous? And thus do we feel guilty when we are? If this is so, is this the same in all individuals? The current thought on genetically influenced behavior constantly emphasizes that each person is still unique, even though we all may have a certain tendency. Some men are just more virile and sexual than others. Does it then follow that some people are more inclined to be monogamous than others? Or that some people are more inclined to feel shame in relation to sexual arousal than others?
I strongly believe that there is some genetic basis for these things. The evidence is all over current popular literature.
But, of course, lots of shame, perhaps most of it, is socially induced. This is where being ruthlessly honest with oneself in introspection is very important.
I welcome your comments, and hope that some of you will talk personally about yourselves.
Jerry Stahl (Q4: #11 of 20)
Porn make me feel guilty? Give me a fucking break. I once stood by while a dealer I knew threw a guy down an elevator shaft 'cause he owed him twenty-five bucks for a balloon of smack. I didn't do shit about it 'cause I wanted the dope that the guy who took the header wasn't gonna get. And guess what? Twelve years later I still feel guilty about that. Still wake up in a toxic sweat remembering those days and the shit that went down in the name of survival. But feel guilty about jerking off to pictures of spread pussy? Please. If that's what got me off, I'd do it. And, from time to time it has. Not lately, and mostly when I was a kid, but who knows, maybe I'll start checking the shit out again, out of respect for Nerve.com. God knows it got me through my teens.
But maybe it's time to talk about the Council of Nicaea here. As Nick Tosches recounts in an essay on the sexual travesties of Jimmy Swaggart ("The Short-Shorts of Satan," from the new Nick Tosches Reader, Da Capo Press), Edward Gibbon's concept of the "amputation of the sinful instrument" as a means of curbing man's pesky lust problem was seized upon by early Christians as a swell way to put the kibosh on fornication and thoughts thereof. Those inspired by Jesus-love to "make themselves eunuchs for the King of Heaven's sake" were so plentiful, according to Tosches, that the Council of Nicaea, in 325, B.C., had to take the bold step of shutting self-castrated men out of the priesthood. Why do I mention this? Simple: because it's the logical end to any and all guilt over pornography? Why stop with burning the Hustlers? How 'bout chopping your damn nuts off? But no, no, that might not be enough. Cause, when you think about it, thoughts are actually in the brain. Yes, yes, that's it! A combo-effort: simultaneous castration and lobotomy — or the chemical equivalent: a brisk and refreshing Depo Provera-and-Thorazine cocktail — that oughta wipe out that pornography problem. There won't be any guilt, by God, if you don't have any balls, you don't have a brain and there's nothing to look at anyway.
In the meantime, with all due respect, all I can say is that it's damn quaint, in the world of genocide, disease and legitimized hell we seem to occupy, to sweat the evil that men do themselves in the name of masturbatory fantasy. I think pornography is the George Wallace of the arts. People used to say "Well, at least George Wallace comes out and says he's a bigot!" and, in some ass-backwards way, end up admiring the guy. Same for porn. At least it makes no bones — or no, it makes bones, or no, well, you know what I mean — at least it is what it is. Unlike, say, the much more rampant, much bigger porn disguised and sanctioned in advertising, TV shows and all the rest of it.
I mean, who the fuck's kidding who? People hate pornography — and hate themselves for loving it — for one simple, somewhat pathetic reason: it shows us all who we are, and it shows us where we came from.
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