“A magnetism that will not let go”: The Drooling Homophobe Series, Part 764

Do these people listen to what they say?

Don’t they know how obvious this “lady doth protest too much” thing is starting to get?

Pass_the_salt
Pandagon has the story of right-wing Christian extremist Dave Daubenmire of Pass the Salt Ministries, who, with his flock, has been on a crusade to disrupt the church services of gay-friendly churches. But that’s not even the best part of the story. As is so often the case, the best part of the story is in an almost offhand remark.

In a Bible-spewing homophobic rant earlier this year about a visit to the Gay Pride Parade, Daubenmire had this to say:

“The ‘meat’ on display will forever change the way you view homosexuality. Sin has no boundaries, no clutch, and no emergency brake. Once you dip your toe into the pool of sin, especially sexual sin, there is a magnetism that will not let go.” (emphasis mine)

Ummmm…

Gaypridesaopaulodrags_full
Let me put it this way. The straight guys I know who visit the Gay Pride Parade do not describe the event as having “a magnetism that will not let go.” Their reaction is more along the lines of, “Nice dress, dude.” They describe it as interesting, entertaining, touching, hilarious, kind of tedious when the “polo-shirted employees of boring corporations” contingents go by, etc. But they do not describe it as a pool of sin with a magnetism that will not let go. The straight guys I know are not forever changed by the sight of gay male “meat on display,” and they are quite capable of resisting the magnetism of homosexuality. They find the magnetic pull of homosexuality pretty gosh-darned unmagnetic. That’s kind of what makes them, you know — straight.

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So I just have to ask: Do Dave Daubenmire, and Ted Haggard, and all the rest of the right-wing Christian leering brigade, really not know what they sound like? Do they really not see that frothing at the mouth closely resembles drooling?

“A magnetism that will not let go”: The Drooling Homophobe Series, Part 764
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Perfect Porn and Other Myths: The Blowfish Blog

Please note: This piece, and the piece it links to, includes references to my personal sex life, specifically my taste in porn. Family members and others who don’t want to read about that… um, don’t.

Perfection_book
“I’ve definitely griped about porn because it either didn’t push all my erotic buttons just right, or because it grated on some of my squicks. I’ve griped when it hasn’t fallen into my perfect window: the perfect amount of artistry without sacrificing spontaneity, the perfect amount of teasing and buildup to get me worked up without getting me frustrated and bored, the perfect degree of roughness or kink to be convincingly real without being terrifyingly brutal.

“And I — along with every other porn consumer and porn critic — have to acknowledge that this really isn’t fair.”

That’s the teaser from my latest piece on the Blowfish Blog, Perfect Porn and Other Myths. In it, I meditate on an observation from spanking model Adele Haze: “To get a video that pushes all your buttons and doesn’t grate on any squicks, you have to win the lottery and produce it yourself.” To find out why I think this is important — not only for porn consumers and critics, but for porn creators as well — read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

Perfect Porn and Other Myths: The Blowfish Blog

Showtime’s “Californication”: Well, There’s Promiscuous and There’s Promiscuous

Californication
You’d think I’d be irritated by it.

You’d think that Little Miss Sex-Positive Culture Critic would be foaming at the mouth. Another goddamn pop-culture depiction of promiscuity and casual sex as a sign of immaturity and instability and low self-esteem. You’d think I’d have my boilerplate rant all ready to go.

But I’m not. I don’t. I’ve only seen one episode of “Californication” so far — but so far I love it. And I’m dying to see more.

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Quick precis, for those who haven’t seen it: “Californication” is a new series on Showtime, starring David Duchovny as Hank, a messed-up writer in Los Angeles with writer’s block, a divorce he’s unhappy about, a whole passel of emotional problems, and a good book that got turned into a lousy movie. He has a passive, bemused, almost happy-go-lucky attitude about the life that’s going down the toilet  and he deals with, or doesn’t deal with, his despair and fucked-up-edness with casual, wildly promiscuous sex.

Now, I’ve definitely had a bellyful of the “casual promiscuous sex as sign of emotional problems” trope. I’ve seen it dozens, maybe even hundreds of times, and a big part of me never wants to see it again.

But I’m cutting “Californication” a whole lot of slack. It’s smart, and it’s funny… and most importantly, it’s obviously trying to be true. And it’s obviously trying to be true, not just about life in general, but about sex in particular.

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I was pretty much sold in the first five minutes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a TV show that featured, in the first five minutes of the first scene of the premiere episode, a conversation about the clit. Where it is; where it isn’t, how to find it; what to do about men who can’t find it. That sort of thing. (Oh, they probably talked about it on “Sex in the City.” I’m guessing: I never made it through more than two episodes of that damn show. But “Californication” makes the glib, smirking fakitude of “Sex in the City” look like… well, glib, smirking fakitude. It puts it to shame.)

And I’ve definitely never seen a TV show with a conversation about the clit that was anywhere near this funny. I love the moment where Hank and the woman he’s going down on are about to be caught by her lousy-lover husband, and he says, “Well, maybe I should hide under your clit. He’ll never find me there.” (And I love even more the scene where he gives the enraged husband a lesson on female sexual anatomy.)

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It just gets better from there. I’m tempted to tell you all the good bits, all the funny and freaky and trenchant sexual moments. I’m tempted to describe all the scenes where Hank’s sexual passivity, sexual vengefulness, and honest desire for sexual pleasure and connection, come crashing together in a snarky, detached emotional mosh pit. I’m tempted to describe how he uses both his fame and his self-deprecation about his fame to get women to tumble into bed with him. I’m tempted to describe his defensive unease about his daughter’s emerging sexuality, and thus her emergence into a world full of asshole men like him.

But I don’t want to spoil it for you. I’ll leave it at this so I can move on: This is a TV show that is intelligent about sex, funny about sex, perceptive about sex… and, as far as I can tell, trying really hard to be true about sex.

Which brings me back to the whole sex-positive thing.

Californication_4
I’m not an idiot. I get that drama requires conflict, and a TV show about a casually promiscuous guy who’s overall pretty happy with his life and doesn’t have any real problems would make for some profoundly boring drama. And I’m not an idiot, Part 2: I get that sex is complicated and messy and irrational, and that people don’t always handle it very well. As much as I hate the narrow, luridly moralistic vision of sex that pop culture usually hands us, I’m not looking for sex-positive propaganda either.

Californication_5
Of course I’d like to see more genuinely positive images of sex in popular culture. But much more importantly, I’d like to see more sexual truth in popular culture. Sex-positivity isn’t about being a cheerleader for sex, all sex, all the time. Sex-positivity is about seeing sex as an essential part of human life: as diverse as the human race, as ecstatic and sad and absurd as the people who are doing it.

And that’s exactly what “Californication” does.

At least in the first episode. I can’t wait to see more.

Showtime’s “Californication”: Well, There’s Promiscuous and There’s Promiscuous

Blog Carnivals: Feminists, Liberals, and Humanists

Carnival
It’s blog carnival time!

Carnival of the Liberals #45 is up at The Greenbelt. They included my piece on the Blowfish Blog, Right Wing Hypocrisy, or Why Sex Guilt Fucks Things Up For Everyone, which makes me really happy since I think that’s one of the better pieces I’ve written of late. Carnival of the Liberals is a very selective carnival: they only include ten posts per issue, so I’m always extra-happy and honored to be included. And they illustrated the posts with cute pictures of dogs in birthday hats, so that’s a good time right there.

Carnival of the Feminists #43 is up at Femtique. They included my feminist rant on The Devil Wears Prada and its fucked-up view of professionalism in women, so thanks for that.

And The Humanist Symposium #6 is up at A Load of Bright, with its usual excellent collection of positive atheist blogging. I didn’t get a piece in this time — I’ve been Miss Negative Cranky-Pants lately when it comes to the atheist blogging — but if you want written proof that atheists have more to say about atheism than just complaining about religion, be sure to check it out. Ta!

Blog Carnivals: Feminists, Liberals, and Humanists

Ticky-Tacky, or Why Most Mainstream Het Porn Bores The Pants On To Me

This piece was originally written for Fishnet about ten years ago. A few of the details of the porn industry formulas have changed since then, but it’s somewhat unnerving to realize how apt this piece still is. FYI, the videos here used to illustrate ticky-tacky porn here are not necessarily ones that I’ve seen. If I’m mistaken and one or more of them is actually an exception to the ticky-tacky standard, please accept my apologies. (The videos illustrating concepts of good porn are all ones that I’ve seen.)

Boxes
*Little boxes, on the hillside
Little boxes, made of ticky-tacky
And they’re all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same…*
-Malvina Reynolds, “Little Boxes”

Ecstasy_in_berlin_1926
No, don’t worry. This isn’t a rant about why porn is sexist and oppressive and demeaning and generally a Bad Thing For Our Society. I like porn quite a bit. I whack off to it all the time. And I have a very squishy soft spot in my heart for video porn. Real actual people having real actual sex, right there in real life videotape in the privacy of your own living room — what could be bad?

I_dream_of_jenna
But Lordy, Lordy, am I ever tired of the formula. I am so tired of flat stomachs and big fake boobs and long ratty bleached-and-permed hair. I am super-tired of pussies shaved into the Hitler moustache. And Christ on a crutch, I am so far beyond tired of cum shots that I could just plotz.

It’s not that I could never find any of these things arousing. I’m just tired of the repetition. I’m tired of seeing the same types of bodies and the same hairstyles and the same four or five sex acts over and over and over again. And I’m tired of what this repetition, this sameness, says to me about the porn industry.

Avn
You see, it seems to me as if the folks in the mainstream het porn industry are not really trying very hard to turn people on. They seem instead to be trying desperately hard not to turn people off. The decisions about what body types and hairstyles and sexual variations get put on video seem to be based, not on creating images that customers might find arousing, but on avoiding images that customers might not want to see. The very narrowness of the erotic vision speaks to me of marketing meetings, and lowest common denominators, and fear.

Continue reading “Ticky-Tacky, or Why Most Mainstream Het Porn Bores The Pants On To Me”

Ticky-Tacky, or Why Most Mainstream Het Porn Bores The Pants On To Me

Right Wing Hypocrisy Part Two: The Scary Black Men Made Me Do It! The Blowfish Blog

Bob_allen
So the latest right-wing hypocritical sex scandal has gone from predictably boilerplate to ridiculous verging on surreal. You may have heard about it: Bob Allen, the Florida state representative/ McCain presidential campaign co-chair who got busted for offering a male cop $20 to blow him in a public bathroom, is now claiming that he did what he did because he was intimidated by the big scary black man.

I have a piece about it over at the Blowfish Blog: a follow-up to last week’s thoughtful spew on right-wing sexual hypocrisy, this one titled Right Wing Hypocrisy Part Two: The Scary Black Men Made Me Do It! Here’s an excerpt:

Right. Every guy I know, when he’s in a public place in a situation where he feels threatened, tries to get out of it by offering the purported threatener $20 to suck his cock. I mean, that’s just self-preservation. It’s not like he actually wanted to suck the guy’s cock. He was simply trying to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.

Really. You’ve done that, guys… right? You’re in an alley or a deserted park at night, you see a guy you think might be a mugger… you offer him $20 to give him a blowjob. It’s in all the police brochures on urban safety. It’s just plain common sense.

I said it about Ted Haggard, and I’ll say it again now:

Just how stupid does he think we are?

So here’s what I think is really going on.

To find out what I think is really going on, read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

Right Wing Hypocrisy Part Two: The Scary Black Men Made Me Do It! The Blowfish Blog

Playing the Race Card: Candida Royalle’s “Caribbean Heat”

This piece was originally published by Adult FriendFinder magazine in 2005.

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Playing the Race Card:
Caribbean Heat

Produced by Candida Royalle. Directed by Manuela Sabrosa. Starring Felinia, Nicole, Susan, Paola, Yinna, Sol, Max, Spider, Bruce, Danny Boy, Red Phoenix, and Adrian. 84 minutes. Femme Productions.

First, let me ask you this: Have you seen any of Candida Royalle’s movies before?

Bridal_shower
If you haven’t, let me explain real quick. Candida Royalle was the first smut producer to make movies specifically for women, and she pretty much single-handedly invented the “couples” video. Her company, Femme Productions, makes videos aimed at what women want to see in dirty movies: compared to most mainstream pornos, they feature more foreplay, a slower and more sensual pace, less focus on genitals and insertion shots, more full-body sensuality, better production values, greater variety in body types, more plot and character development, an emphasis on sex in the context of relationships and romance, greater attention to the woman’s experience and pleasure, fewer money shots, and better-looking men. Much, much better-looking men. Candida’s work has been hugely influential on the porno industry: her success made other producers realize, not only that straight couples liked to rent dirty movies, but that both women and men were hungry for passionate, labor-of-love porn with good production values and not-completely-stupid writing and acting.

Revelations
Although I usually prefer my pornos to have lots of raunchy sex and not much plot, I’ve always been fond of Candida’s movies. She does a great job of conveying the unique pleasure of sex with someone you actually love and care about, something most dirty movies don’t even get close to. And even if the sex in her videos isn’t usually my favorite type to watch, her work does a beautiful job of expressing passion and enthusiasm, getting across what the characters are feeling and why they’re enjoying it… which automatically makes it hot. (That’s often true in porn, video or written or whatever — if you get a good strong sense of the characters’ excitement, it doesn’t necessarily matter whether the kink they’re enjoying is your personal fave.) I’m always happy to watch Candida’s videos, and I’m always curious to see what she’ll do next.

Candida_head
So anyway. Candida Royalle has a new-ish video out, “Caribbean Heat.” Now, this one Candida didn’t actually direct. She produced it, and supervised the direction; but unlike every other movie Femme has made, this one was directed by someone else: a new female director, Manuela Sabrosa.

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And Candida’s absence does show. I liked “Caribbean Heat” a fair amount, but I didn’t wildly adore it, and I don’t think it’s one of Femme’s stronger efforts. It does have many of the company’s usual good points: a patient pace, a relative dearth of cum shots, attention to female pleasure in general and foreplay in particular, women who don’t look like Barbie dolls, and some seriously fine-looking men. But it has some weaknesses that are unusual for a Femme production. The editing is often awkward and choppy, with oddly abrupt jumps that skip over some nice bits and generally interrupt the erotic flow. There’s an odd lack of focus and direction; there’s no clear sense of mounting excitement and passion, and while the performers’ pleasure is visible, it’s not particularly infectious. And the format (five separate, unconnected vignettes) means that one of the things I like best about Femme videos — namely, a reasonably well-written story sustained long enough to get me caring about the characters and their sex lives — is completely absent from this one.

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More to the point, the sex didn’t really wind me up that much — although to be fair, that’s largely a matter of taste rather than actual artistic failure. The sex in “Caribbean Heat” is sweet rather than fierce, gentle rather than intense, romantic rather than passionate. This is often the case with Candida’s movies, but it’s even more so in this one. Even the “casual sex with strangers” fantasies are more romantic than they are nasty. And even the supposedly kinky scene — the master and maid one, with the leash and the cage and the riding crop — is quite gentle overall, with the actual kinky elements getting very minimal play. The pacing adds to this quality as well: instead of insistently building a driving tension towards an intense release, the sex scenes feel more like rolling hills of sensuality, with arousal rising and falling in gentle waves. I suppose that’s not necessarily a bad thing; for porn viewers who are sick of being pounded like a jackhammer by conventional smut videos, it may be a positive blessing. It’s just not my style. (As anyone who’s been regularly reading this column knows, it’s really, really not my style.)

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But “Caribbean Heat” does have something good going for it: something very special, almost unique, a trump card that all by itself makes the video worth checking out.

That trump card is race.

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Here’s the thing. Virtually all contemporary porn videos fall into one of two categories. The vast majority of them are white as the driven snow: their performers are 100% lily white, with not even a single person of color onscreen to upset the delicate sensibilities of the porn-watching public. And the ones that aren’t all-white tend to be racial fetish videos: nasty black women with big booties, fiery Latina tamales, mysterious and submissive Asian ladies, hugely hung black studs fucking dainty white women, that sort of thing. Adult videos starring people of color that treat their performers like regular people instead of stereotypes and that don’t descend into creepy fetishization of their race… those are rarer than hen’s teeth. There are some exceptions (the interracial Romeo-and-Juliet movie “West Side” leaps to mind), but there are damn few.

“Caribbean Heat” is one of them. With a vengeance.

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“Caribbean Heat” was filmed on location in Central America, and features an all-Latino cast. But unlike most adult videos with a non-white cast, this movie treats its Latino characters like… well, like characters. Like people, with their own sexual feelings and desires and experiences. They’re depicted as the subjects of their own sex lives, not the exotic hot-tamale objects of white lust; the sex is seen from their perspective, not the perspective of white people who are hot for them. To add even more to the authentic “this is how we see ourselves, not how others see us” quality, the dialogue is almost entirely in Spanish. (Subtitles are added when they’re really necessary; but of course this is porn, and not particularly chatty or plot-driven porn at that, so subtitles mostly aren’t needed. If you don’t speak Spanish, you can still get the gist.)

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The video was directed by a Latina woman, which almost certainly makes a huge difference. The box cover says that director Manuela Sabrosa “shows you what lovers in her corner of the world do,” and for once, the box cover does not lie. Sabrosa is revealing her own erotic world in this video, and she’s clearly seeing the skin and flesh of her performers, not from the outside, but from within.

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And this quality alone makes me give “Caribbean Heat” a solid thumbs-up. Racism in porn is one of the largest and most active bees in my porn-critic bonnet. And it’s not just about politics, either — it’s about pure, selfish pleasure. All-white casts don’t just seem racist to me; they seem freakishly artificial, and they add hugely to the ticky-tacky “they all look just the same” look of so many dirty movies. And the racial fetish videos just make me queasy. But “Caribbean Heat” is a delight. It’s such a sweet and rare pleasure to see a beautifully wide range of naked skin colors in a porno, without those skin colors being framed as exotic, alien, slightly bizarre fetish-objects. It’s so much fun to see non-white porn performers revel in the pleasure of their bodies, without those bodies getting slotted into someone else’s kinky pigeonholes. To some extent, all pornos display their performers as objects of other people’s lust, and I don’t usually have a huge problem with that. But when it comes to race in porn, the objectification thing gets grotesquely out of hand, to the point where it’s impossible for me to enjoy it at all. It’s a genuine treat to see a porn video that shows people of color as regular hot people who are fun to watch while they fuck.

Playing the Race Card: Candida Royalle’s “Caribbean Heat”

Silly

Please note: This post includes information about my personal sexuality. Family members and others who don’t want to read about that, please hang up now. This piece was originally published on the Blowfish Blog.

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It just seems so silly.

I mean, spanking. Please. How seriously can you take it? Yes, sure, there are thousands of psycho-socio-philosophico-political treatises on hundreds of forms of sexuality, on intercourse and bondage and sex work and masturbation and so on. But getting your bare bottom paddled? How are we supposed to ponder it and not fall into fits of the giggles?

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It makes it hard to talk about. Heck, it makes it hard to think about. It’s much easier to talk about vanilla sex: it’s “normal,” it’s safe, you’re not revealing yourself as a pervert if you show an interest in it… and because it’s so common, it’s easy to think of as important and serious. And it’s easier to talk about hard-core kink as well: there’s this gravity that comes with heavy sadomasochism, a sense of danger and power that makes people take it seriously, even if they don’t approve of it.

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But spanking is right on the border between the two. It’s just transgressive enough to make you feel like a freak — and it’s just un-transgressive enough to make you feel like a dork. You can beg your partner to beat you, or stand over them with a whip in your hand, and feel like an outlaw and a rebel. But it’s very hard to say “Please spank me” and not feel at least a little bit like a nerd. When you’re bent over someone’s lap with your pants pulled down, or caressing someone’s bare bum getting ready to give them a good smack, it can feel like a crowd of invisible vanilla people is standing alongside, cringing and saying, “Ew, gross, you’re into that?” — while a crowd of invisible sadomasochists stands next to them, rolling their eyes and saying, “Oh, puh-leez. Give me a break.” You get the silly feeling from both sides of the vanilla/pervert spectrum.

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And of course, the childishness of spanking can help make you feel like a fool as well. Spanking is so rooted in childhood, and it brings on all those childish feelings of smallness and unimportance, naivete and powerlessness. No wonder it’s hard to talk about seriously. Even thinking about it can make you feel like an embarrassed nine-year-old.

But here’s the thing about spanking. This sense of silliness, of triviality, of childish shame, is closely intertwined with its pleasure. If you can let the silliness be, and even go with it, it can actually make spanking more pleasurable.

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I’m not just talking about the potential hotness of humiliation and smallness. Sure, that’s a factor: even if you don’t get off on heavy-duty humiliation, feeling small means feeling vulnerable, which can mean feeling open and touchable, which can mean feeling hot and sexy. And of course, if you have play-acting fantasies with a childhood streak — schoolgirl or schoolboy games being the classic example — then the embarrassment and smallness of spanking can add to the immediacy of the scene.

Naughty_spanking_stories
But that’s not what I’m talking about here. What I’m talking about is the connection between silliness and playfulness. The fact that it’s hard to take spanking too seriously can create a certain freedom to simply enjoy it.

The thing is, sex — both vanilla and kinky — can often feel so very serious, all fraught and intense and laden with meaning and consequence. And while that can be lovely, it can also be a burden, adding this lead weight of self-consciousness and anxiety that really doesn’t help the proceedings.

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But when you’re doing something that’s inherently silly — whether it’s dressing like a cheerleader, playing barbarian conqueror, or getting turned over someone’s knee with your bottom in the air — it relieves some of that tension. Sex that feels trivial and dorky can also feel light and giddy and exuberant. Frivolity and playfulness can make sex feel less like a test or a drama, and more like a goofy game that you both love to play, a conspiracy of pleasure that you’re in on together.

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Sure, the silliness of spanking can make you self-conscious and anxious as well. There’s nothing like feeling dorky to make it seem like the whole world is staring at you and writing critiques. But if you can accept the dorkiness and spank anyway, if you can allow yourself to feel goofy and turned on at the same time, it can relieve some of the portentousness that can come with the intensity of sex.

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What’s more, because it is right on the border between kink and not-kink, spanking can feel like a safe doorway between the two. It makes it possible to tap into the darker world of hard kink without being overwhelmed by it. It can make you feel both a little bit wicked and fundamentally safe. And that’s a very good place to take off from. Some hard-core sadomasochists turn up their noses at spanking and other light kinky play for this very reason; I believe “tourism” is the charming terminology for it. But… well, fuck them. They’re idiots. It isn’t a competition.

Hand
And when you come right down to it, any kind of sexuality can look pretty darned silly. When you think about any type of sex too closely and imagine what it might look like to visiting space aliens, it all can seem outrageously, mortifyingly ridiculous. Now, you can deal with the absurdity of sex by simply ignoring it and not letting it get to you. And there are times when that’s the right thing to do. But there are times when it’s completely appropriate to accept the absurdity, and revel in your inner dorkiness. And when you’re whipping yourself into a sexual frenzy by spanking a bare bottom or getting your own bottom spanked, that might be a good time to start.

Silly

Right Wing Hypocrisy: The Blowfish Blog

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I have a somewhat unusual take on the recent slew of right-wing politico sex scandals — David Vitter, Bob Allen, Mark Foley, Ted Haggard, etc. etc. etc. — over at the Blowfish Blog. The piece is called Right Wing Hypocrisy, or Why Sex Guilt Fucks Things Up For Everyone, and instead of just ranting about these folks’ hypocrisy (although I do a certain amount of that as well), I ask the question:

Why are the the specific taboo sex acts they engage in so often the exact same ones they publicly campaign against?

Here’s a teaser:

Admittedly, a big part of this pattern comes from the media focus. Hypocrisy in powerful public figures is big news, and I’m sure there’s some cherry-picking in the coverage. After all, “Married Congressman caught with hookers — and he campaigned on the sanctity of marriage!” makes great headlines. “Married Congressman caught with hookers — and he voted to renew the Farm Bill!” isn’t going to make headlines anywhere but the Surrealist Times.

But even given that, there’s a precision to the match-ups between the public condemnation and the private behavior that seems like more than coincidence and media focus.

Ted_haggard
To find out what I think is behind this “preach in public against the exact things you’re doing in private” pattern — and why I find myself having a smidgen of compassion for these assholes — check out the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

Right Wing Hypocrisy: The Blowfish Blog

My First Non-Monogamous Relationship: The Blowfish Blog

Please note: This post, and the post it links to, contains references to my personal sex life — not very explicit ones this time, but family members and others who don’t want to read about that stuff at all may want to skip it.

I have a new piece up on the Blowfish Blog (where I’m doing some of my best sex blogging these days), with the rather self-explanatory title My First Non-Monogamous Relationship. It’s an unusual and (I think) interesting piece, and it begins thus:

It wasn’t the non-monogamous marriage I’m in now.

It wasn’t my first and very short-lived marriage, in which my husband-to-be and I unsuccessfully cruised in singles bars trying to pick up women.

It wasn’t even my first serious adult relationship, in which my boyfriend unilaterally decided that we should be non-monogamous, spouted non-monogamy platitudes to defend doing anything at all that he wanted including ignoring me to chase other women, and then went into a weeping rage when I wanted to sleep with one of his friends. (Thus turning me off non-monogamy for some time.)

It wasn’t any of those.

It was when I was about eight.

Like I said — a little unusual. To find out how the rest of the story goes, visit the Blowfish Blog. Enjoy!

My First Non-Monogamous Relationship: The Blowfish Blog