There are creepy people in porn, to be sure – I’m thinking of some now – and, while it is certain that their creepiness has adverse effects on, say, people attending the consumer-based adult conventions and/or award shows they run, their range is limited. It is not often that one encounters such mass-market perviness as what I saw in the Washington Post yesterday.
In a piece titled “Farewell to Arms (…and Legs and Ankles and Toes and Shoulders and Necks and…)”, Baby-Boomer Stephen Hunter laments the arrival of autumn and the disappearance of female flesh from public places.
Brother, sister, child and pet, do I mean the taut glory of the outer thigh? Do I mean the curves where it’s all streamline and suggestion, where the promise is the faintest vapor on the air? Do I mean a neck? Take it from me, brother, necks are okay. Oh, and what about that meadowlike expanse across the back, from the shoulder line down, with its muscular tides, its shallows, its occasional pools of limpid viscosity. Do I mean that?
At least if a woman were reading this in the pages of an old man’s porn mag like Nugget, that paid $10 for such eloquent masturbation fantasies, she would feel that the sentiment had found its perfect medium. But this is the paper that brought Nixon down.
Splurge of thigh
What about the way they sit, legs crossed, one foot loose, its little ersatz shoelet all a-dangle, perhaps oblivious to the message the whole construction of bone and joint and dangle and tight knee and splurge of thigh is putting out…Now they go by, the girls in their summer dresses, and we stand on the corner and watch and marvel at the liquefaction of their clothes and the glory of their flesh.
There’s a place for this sort of creepy voyeurism; it’s called Porn. (I hear Sex Z Pictures is in trouble – and they’re right down the street from Washington). In the meantime, I’m going to have to have my Washington Post delivered in a brown paper bag.
Previously: It’s hard to be a pornsaint in the city; Porn rumors and how to handle them
See also: Farewell to Arms (washingtonpost)
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