Push It

Thanks to Mr Cake for the last post, and there will be more to follow. For now folks, this is me. There's a lot of talk about porn at the moment. Time for me to get in on the sex act. I wonder if this page will attract as many views from Russia as the one entitled 'Whores'?

Porn is everywhere. It is the ‘new’ way for kids to learn about sex. No different to the old way in some respects. I used to find porn in the woods (such a cliché that it seems almost impossible to believe, but it really did happen, and – after taking a walk along the river recently – I can confirm that it still does) or under my uncle’s bed. Kids still find porn, but there are some key differences in the way they do it. Nowadays, they can get it online, all the time. It’s moving images as well, so that makes a difference. It’s free, and that’s also very relevant. Additionally, the sheer range of available stuff is mind blowing. Within a few clicks, it’s possible to navigate to some very dodgy areas indeed. My first introduction to acts out of the ordinary (or perversion if that’s what you want to call it) was amputee related sex. It was, needless to say, from a mag under my uncle’s bed (Whitehouse, I think) and induced shock and laughter in equal measure. At the age I was then, the very fact of sex was shocking in any case. Since then I think I have at least glimpsed most of the possible curiosities that people can indulge in. There is a disturbing prevalence of violence and rape imagery in much of the stuff online these days, and that is definitely not a good thing.

That said, I’m not one for censorship in any form (though I have paused more than once when presented with material on TV with my kids present. Most recently, their imploring me to allow them to watch The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo led to some interesting discussions, let me tell you...). Context is vital, and part of this is talking to kids about what they’re watching, and not just allowing it to enter their consciousness willy-nilly.

In answer to the latest bout of hysterical bullshit from Cameron et al - get over it! We all masturbate. Remember that documentary repeated recently about the bloke with the small cock? He said he had never had a wank in his life. Wholly remarkable and very unusual. Apart from the odd curiosity like him, everybody’s doing it, etc. If we accept this, and accept that we can’t all have a sexual partner (indeed, even if we do, sometimes a solo performance is the preferred option) at all times, then porn is a useful aid in getting us where we need to be.

So should we change it? At the risk of being ridiculed, I would align – in some ways – with Alain de Botton on the subject. If it’s there, and if it isn’t going to go away, why not make efforts to change it? Is there decent material around already? This does raise rather a lot of questions of course. How do we cover the fetish areas? Where do we draw the line in acceptability of these fetishes? I suppose that the law isn’t much fucking use, so we would need to consider some arbitrary code of morality. When I say arbitrary, I mean, for example, some of the following:

Who am I to judge someone who likes being thwacked having a good time with someone who likes giving a good thwacking? Or someone who likes to pour on others – or have poured on them – non sexual bodily fluids? For example. Not only do neither of these activities interest me at all, they actively turn me off, but - hey - if you want to do it and you’re not causing anyone any harm, then go for your life. I would suggest that as long as the activities are between consenting adult humans then it’s OK. Anything which involves minors (‘18’ – yeah right! – seems to be the suggested age of majority) animals or coercion is not allowed. But what does that mean if we consider people who appear to be underage, but are in fact over 18? What of other ‘acted out’ scenarios? Are they OK? And does their erotic power decline for the fetishist by knowing that they are acted out, leading to an underground industry producing the real thing? Even if you do ban stuff, people still have these urges. They always did and always will. In any case, isn’t the production of this kind of material in contravention of the moral code, if not any legal one?

There are no easy answers. Are there ever? I think we can only try to allow our kids a bit of freedom to make up their own minds about this very complex area of human existence, and give them a bit of credit for trying to get through it. That doesn't mean simply banning all sexual imagery, does it?

Pass the Porto

This blog will be five years old in June, and I am around 35 posts away from a total of 500, so expect a few short and potentially rubbish pieces in the coming months as I strive to keep up with my number superstitions and coincide the two.

Thanks to the rather hysterical nature of the security services in this country, which could have resulted at the very least in a Dooce, and possibly even worse, I have chickened out of a piece on Abu Qatada, which remains on draft. I will instead step on the safer ground of the Europa League, whilst studiously avoiding any mention of that C----- T----.

After an ultimately satisfactory if not entirely satisfying victory at Villa Park, thoughts must now turn to the utterly pointless and seemingly endless slog of the inferior European club competition. I don't know much about Porto, other than that they have been among the best Portuguese teams for some time, although the once great heights of clubs in that country have not been reached in recent years, so their title win - albeit by a margin of 21 points - last season (wonder if AVB wishes he had stayed on there now?) can perhaps be taken with a small pinch of sodium chloride, though they did of course win the bloody Europa Cup as well. Hulk is there to smash and they have Maicon and Danilo. It's a tough one to call, and I don't expect it to be an easy game, though it may be suited to the style of Merlin. Looks unlikely that Yaya will get a run out, which is a shame, and let's hope Mario doesn't blow it again. It's on ITV in any case, so that's got to be good.

I've started reading Notes on a Scandal by Zöe Heller and, although the style initially put me off, I'm now beginning to enjoy it. In the early chapters, Heller mentions Kit Kat by name and then goes on to refer to 'instant noodles in plastic pots'. Why couldn't she just say Pot Noodles? But there is some redemption in the use of the word 'gelid' in chapter 5, and I'm enjoying (in a purely literary way, you understand) the sexual frisson of the teacher's affair with the adolescent boy. It's made me think of myself as a 15 year old, and made me realise how very unappealing I undoubtedly would have been for any bored pottery teacher, especially one who looked like Cate Blanchett. Ah well.

Spanish Inquisition

Nobody expected that. Certainly not me, with my pre-match non-financial punt on a 1-0, 1-1... tight match. I even entered (to my shame) a 1-1 draw in the Predictions sheet I'm on with my mates. I don't count myself among them, let me make that clear, but surely not even the most fervent Blue - one of those who cannot accept any wrongdoing from Eastlands; one who sees nothing but goodness emanating from the club, despite the evidence before their eyes - would have thought that we would cream the Rags up the walls, all over the floor, and smack into the middle of next week with a 6-1 humiliation. But we did. What a fucking marvel.

'Not enough pictures of Ferguson's face' said the wonderful (even if he is a Newcastle supporter, and of course he couldn't resist tweeting a reminder that the Rags' biggest ever defeat was at the hands of the Geordies) Dolphin Hotel creator, Michael Hudson, and that pretty much summed it up for me. That, and the agonised expressions on the faces of Rio, Evra and the rest as the goals continued to rain on their sad little parade. I find it boring as hell to listen to all this 'balance of power' bullshit, and frankly don't see the point of it. Of course, with the resources at our disposal, we were sure in time to pose a threat to the existing world order, and now that morning appears to have dawned.

Amusing also for Chelsea to slip up against Barton, SWP and the rest under Neil Warnock, so things - for the moment at least - are looking up. As Bobby said, quite sensibly, though perhaps to the chagrin of some of the fans, let's keep our feet on the ground and focus on the fact that all this was about 3 points. Nothing more. Certainly not 6 - even though he must be fully aware of the psychological impact of such a convincing win.

In Balotelli, we really do have a genuine, dyed-in-the-wool, City hero. A fruitcake of the highest order, who is at last showing some of the required form on the pitch as well as fuelling the South Stand songsters with his mad antics.

But Silva is pure mercury, without doubt among the very best players in the world at the moment, and his goal was as well deserved as any that have been scored. He is the catalyst that sparks the revolution.

CTID! Come on City! Come on City!

Roscoe Lever

Well, I always intended to add something extra into these Dirty Dozen posts, so that they were not simply mini bios of the actors in the film (though some of the more famous ones would surely make interesting reading) but having reached number 3 in the Back Six now with Stuart (sometimes known as Stuart W) Cooper, who played Roscoe Lever (sentenced to 20 years in prison - note the absence of the 'hard labour' element) without an idea as to how I can avoid shoehorning (or even Shoestringing) the usual bilious guff about Man City or politics or commuting into a piece about an ageing American thespian from Hoboken, New Jersey (that is one cool place name) I'm no longer so sure.

The previous post on Alan Mancini was something of a shoo-in (or a Shoestring-in) given the perhaps too obvious connections with the great Italian saviour of a city's pride, as well as the eponymous opportunities, but Stuart is proving to be a little more problematic. What's more galling is that I have placed myself behind a fence of my own creation, with this silly idea of completing 100 posts a year - 88 to be done by December - just to continue a tradition I started a couple of years ago by posting tenuously on the twelve days of Christmas theme.

I've already made a decision to revamp this thing in the new year, but am forcing myself to finish off the current crop in the style to which my loyal followers have grown accustomed (which is, with a lot of meaningless waffle) and so am gradually painting myself into a corner. Therefore, I'll try something outside the box.

This week, I laughed with my friend Charlie about Scott Parker's obvious association with the Thunderbirds. I read a particularly amusing atack on West Ham's throbbing gristly heart in the previous week's NOTW, in which the hack ripped 'skipper' apart for being a prima donna, and I have no great love for the player in any case. So Charlie and I were imagining Scotty receiving a hand job from Lady Penelope, where the usual Thunderbird trick of using a human hand for close-ups is employed. Charlie (and he is an authority on such trivia) told me that the hand used was Sylvia Anderson's, and so we extended our fantasy by having this hand the current one on the end of Sylvia's arm, all twisted and liver spotted with age as it feverishly pumps away at Scott's knob. Charlie took things a little too far I thought by introducing Avram Grant as an interloper who proceeds to stick it in Scotty's poo while Sylvia continues her work. I pointed out (perhaps a little ungraciously) that Avram's penis would undoubtedly require string to hold it up if he did indeed plan on sodomising his midfield general.

Stuart Cooper has a long history in film and theatre, which - as far as I can tell - is still a history in the making. He appears to be directing a film called Magic Man, starring Billy Zane, although it itsn't clear if there is a release date yet. Apart from the Dirty Dozen, Stuart appeared mostly in various TV series before moving into directing (again, mostly for TV movies) and producing. He also has a few writing credits, largely within the documentary field. Unlike Al Mancini, he didn't feature hugely on the British scene.

Johnny & Benny

Thanks to blogUT for the image

Quite amusing to read that the Pope is softening on condoms. I suspect there are quite a few blokes who know exactly what he means. Well, it's progress of a sort, I guess one could say. Now all we need is an acceptance that homosexuality is not the work of the devil; that there is in fact no such thing as the devil at all; that women can participate in the ludicrous mumbo-jumbo of the religious rituals; that there is in fact no need for the silly nonsense of those rituals at all, and that it would be far better to spend a couple of hours every Sunday teaching people about science, economics, politics, literature, anything; that abortion is a valid choice for women; that paedophilia should not be hidden.

I envision a huge mass of previously downtrodden people, suddenly rising up - Pink Floyd's Sheep style - to smash their oppressors and wrest back what is rightly theirs.

Holy shit father

Thanks to We Goats for the image

Fascinating.  A comment on a Metafilter thread about the latest reports of paedophilia in the Catholic Church (as is often the case) really really made me think:
 
“I'm in agreement with those who see the Catholic orders as a refuge for homosexuals in cultures that were hostile to them. In fact, I suspect that "the calling" was, for the most part, a metaphor for homosexuality. Priests would take confession from boys who admitted to homosexual desires and recruit them into the secret brotherhood. This was a structure that worked well at perpetuating itself up until homosexuality became socially acceptable.

" One of the side effects of adult priests recruiting teen-aged boys into the fold was that it also provided a safe place for paedophiles to operate. I suspect that they formed a deeper secret cabal within or parallel to the homosexual secret society that was the backbone of the priesthood. With the reduction of the stigma against homosexuality, paedophiles became the major source of "the called," and the evidence of how the church's hierarchy has not just protected paedophiles but facilitated them leads to the conclusion that there is a strong, perhaps even dominant, paedophilic presence within that hierarchy. Benedict's homophobic pronouncements are natural from the leader of an organization that depended on homophobia in order to perpetuate itself. He is fighting the tide, but I doubt that he can see any other path. The only population that is really suited to the overt life of a priest are asexuals, and they are not common, nor are they likely to reveal themselves in confession. Neither are they likely to be racked with the guilt that is such a central component of Catholic life, and so they are entirely unsuitable.

" It strikes me that the whole structure built on concealed sexuality and secret corruption is no longer tenable in the modern world. The only possible way to rebuild the Catholic Church would be for it to honestly become what it has portrayed itself as, a spiritual cloister in a sinful world. But that is the kind of thing that will take generations to achieve, and the church probably does not have generations left to it.”

The gist of the comment, as you can see, is that the Catholic Church – historically – was at least partly a haven for homosexuals.  The celibacy provided adequate cover for the frowned-upon (to say the least!) behaviours of gay love and enabled (through the Confessional) the recruitment of younger men into its ranks.  As homosexuality has gradually become less stigmatised (though not necessarily in Oswestry) the new secret society is all about paedophilia, with the same secret structures being used to cover up this new perversion.  Now, I am a little uncomfortable with the homophobic undertones of some of the argument – especially when the Church itself has used the defence that paedos are in some ways analogous to homos – and would like to distance myself from that.

I am however, intrigued by the Derridean (no such word, I’m sure, but I like the cut of its jib) element that the evil (of the sexual abuse of children) is somehow contained within the good (of the belief in Christ) and that the one is entirely dependent on the other.  See my bold highlight of ‘Jimmy Havok’s’ comment above for clarification.

Titter

DISCLAIMER: I do not intend to belittle serious discussion around sexual behaviour, it's just that I have a puerile sense of humour. I apologise.

A small flutter on Twitter alerted me to Channel 4's sex ed programme this evening, sending me over there in a couple of clicks, needless to say.

As ever, though one could be picky, I thought C4 handled it extremely well, with relatively few slip-ups. This is, after all, where the channel comes into its own, presenting the subject in a popular yet sensible manner. Even Dr Petra was not wholly dismissive, so there's a win right from the start.

I didn't watch the whole programme (sustaining has always been an issue for me) and in fact only dipped in for a couple of minutes, but later tweets pricked my attention, when mentioning an OAP discussing blow jobs.

Much as I despise any nastiness based on prejudice, I realise that I am heading towards old age at a rather alarming speed, but I do not necessarily think I could reach the requisite level of interest by playing this particular movie in my internal (rather small - located in King's Cross before the Eurostar arrived) cinema.

Of course, this attitude cannot stand for long. I am, nobody can deny, the right side of 50, and have a family history of chronic sloth - which I am proud to uphold from my prostrate position. It will not be long before I slide clumsily into old age and stare wordlessly at the wrinkled flesh laid out so alluringly before me. And I speak only of myself. Boom boom.

Hooers

"Football and prostitutes," said Sunny, "You can't trust them." I can't speak for her experience of the latter, but I do know that her knowledge of the former is... sketchy, to say the least. My own life exposure (I swear) in regard to toms has not gone beyond gawping at shop windows in Amsterdam and (once) donating a half finished kebab (and that is not a euphemism) to a lady of the night as I sat swaying in a shop doorway after a particularly excessive Friday night.

Still - informed or not - it's certainly an interesting maxim, I'm sure you will agree. I think it attempts to sum up the doomed and futile quest for love by a desperate sad and lonely man when he visits a prossie, even though he knows and she knows that for her it's nothing more than a means of getting the next rock and can of White Ace, and that for him when he goes home (wife or not) he will feel only wretched self-loathing and be even more isolated than he was before. So much for that then.

If Man City is my whore, then something's wrong, because I'm the one getting fucked.

A Partridge in a Pear Tree

Alan.

Alan.

Or Alan.

It would seem inappropriate to close the year without a final reference to the dreaded soccer. I have shied away from this in recent weeks, and you might think it would have something to do with the fact that City are in the bottom three, with a points tally equivalent to the one in 2001, when we were relegated.

And you would be right. To a degree anyway. I haven't changed my position on Sparky (which is that he is a uselss Welsh Rag tosser) and have never been particularly impressed with his supposed managerial acumen. I still feel as well that City are currently an awful side, unbalanced in the extreme, unimaginative and lacking in goalscoring options. The first half of the recent game against the Rags was among the worst performances I have seen (and I have been to the bottom, Lord, believe me I have - Richard Edghill at Loftus Road - you know it)

But, and this is is honestly not an excuse, I am also becoming bored of footy again. This is partly the usual thing of not wanting to read about yet another loss, yet another goal that wasn't a goal, but a scuffed bobble off the post and the back of the keeper's head, and yet another barren week, but it is also endemic. I really couldn't have cared less about the result of the Arsenal/Liverpool game, and was happy to sit in the cinema watching Inkheart (which was a disappointment, I must say) in blissful ignorance of the day's events.

Merry Christmas everyone! More of this shite in the New Year, if I'm still alive.

Deleted by moderator

Let me apologise right off the bat for the blessayishness of this post.

I have had a comment deleted from a CiF message board. Hooray for me. I think it must mean you get a few extra points on your Qdos score. But maybe you have to be banned to really make it, or even have to pick another Gmail address and register as someone else? Anyway, apart from feeling quite excited about it, I am also more than a little fucked off.

Here's the deal. I have posted on here before about the general issue of censorship on CiF, and how I feel about it, but it was interesting for me to experience - personally - being censored. Said comment was in response to a piece of garbage about sex education penned by Anne Atkins. Her argument in the piece (such as it is) goes something like this:

'There's too much sex education, and that's why there are so many unwanted pregnancies. There may be a decline in sexually transmitted diseases, but this has been bought at the expense of a serious lapse in the moral fabric of the family and society. If we wish to address these issues, we should aim to teach teenagers about the value of abstaining from sex outside marriage, be more like the US in that regard, and move away from the poisonous liberalism of sex education in such moral cesspools as Holland, for example.'

I paraphrase, but feel free to read the original article if you feel like winding yourself up. I think I've precised it reasonably well.

Now, to quote from a review of the Creationist Museum, recently posted by John Scalzi:

"Imagine, if you will, a load of horseshit. And we’re not talking just your average load of horseshit; no, we’re talking colossal load of horseshit..."

There is no need to imagine. First of all, there is not too much sex education (whatever the hell that would be in any case) in our schools. As Polly Toynbee (of whom I am no fan either, don't get me wrong) pointed out in an earlier article, sex education is actually in decline in our schools, partly - though not entirely - as a result of faith schools opting out. Secondly, the incidence of STDs is on the increase, and even syphilis is making an extremely unwelcome return. Third, the policy of encouraging abstinence from sex is an unmitigated failure when it comes to preventing unwanted pregnancies, as figures comparing the rates for it in the USA and other countries illustrate. One caveat, prompted by a look at Wikipedia on the matter, is that definitions of teenage pregnancy differ in the US and the UK, and that the whole issue is a socio-political one as much as it is simply about biology. My own position is (as in so many areas) that education holds the key. Real education, not some pointless homilies about being a good Christian.
Updated (7/12/07) Research shows that US policy on abstinence as a means of contraception is an abject failure.

So. Horseshit:

"An epic load of horseshit. The kind of load of horseshit that has accreted over decades and has developed its own sort of ecosystem, from the flyblown chunks at the perimeter, down into the heated and decomposing center..."

But there's no need to go into all that. If you have ever read a CiF piece, you will know that every point of view gets aired eventually, as long as there's sufficient mileage in the original article. Every point of view that is, except for those which are edited or deleted by the moderators, as mine was. Did I mention that?

I know of Anne Atkins, sad to say. I came across her (work, fnarr fnarr) whilst flicking through Metafilter one day. You may not believe what I write, so please do click on the links to substantiate the facts. Basically, some time ago, AA created a fake teenage girl cyber personality ('Cheshakitten' - actually quite a good name, isn't it?) on Bebo in order to lure her own teenage son Ben into what he would believe to be a romantic tryst. Her intention was to see what (implied negative) effect social networking sites were having on the youth of today. An interesting project perhaps, but what a sick way of conducting the experiment, I'm sure you'll agree. At the very least, I thought, revealing this would undermine her self-appointed position as arbiter of morality on this relatively complex issue, and I was minded to point it out to the CiF community. I posted the link to the story, along with my comment and a further link to the Metafilter thread which discussed it. The comment (I'm sorry I didn't keep a copy, and have now started to do so) went like this:

"Attention! This woman is dangerous. She pretended to be a teenage girl on Bebo to try and trap her own (also teenage) son into a romantic liaison. She has no right to pass as a moral arbiter on teenage sex."

One of the things which I enjoy about online forums (fora?) is the interaction with others, so I checked back this morning to see if my post had encouraged any debate on the issue, and there it was. Or rather wasn't. My user name on the left and 'comment deleted by moderator' on the right. I wondered why. Maybe the words 'this woman is dangerous' had caused the removal? As far as I could remember, there was nothing defamatory or personal in what I had said. It was not insulting or off-topic. I felt a sense of righteous anger that someone had decided that what I had written was unacceptable, according to some standard of which I could not be aware, and emailed the Comment Is Free people to express my feelings.

At the same time, I slightly rephrased what I originally said and then re-posted. So far, it has stayed on, and has even elicited a response or two. I hope it stays that way.