One thing affecting blogging reach, of course, is the nature of the post. A funny or nubile might be syndicated, this post is almost certain not to be, even by those who largely agree.
This is what I call ‘a hiding to nothing’ post – it will largely be ignored, not least from embarrassment, and readers will be glad to skip over and see the next post. So be it, when has that ever stopped your humble blogger before?
There are two themes – degradation of quality, an aesthetic matter … and degradation of mores. More on mores further down.
The first is to do with going into a store and they use words such as ‘scrumptious’ and ‘buttery’, ‘traditional, ‘uncompromising quality’ and so we pay through the nose for the mince pies or whatever, only to find once we get home that they’re ‘okay’, not nearly as ‘special’ as they make out at that price.
I notice even Pringle’s crisps now have an arrow on the container, pointing out that though we’re getting less than the tin contains, they are at least being honest about it by putting the arrow – settling of contents etc.
It’s the era of being shortchanged and even if prepared to pay premium, which I am on some items, the quality is okay, maybe even excellent … but what a hullabaloo about it all, eh?
Let’s get to part two of this post – degradation of mores. Let’s look at two demographic groups – one is males 10 to 100 years of age, the other is females 12 to maybe 40.
Most males – and I was one of the most, still am in many ways – admire the unclad female form if in good condition, we also like nooky and will do much to get a guaranteed supply, even marry. It’s the nature of the beast and someone not susceptible, methinks, is telling porkies or is a saint. The reason I’ve toned down the wimmin on bikes is the lady readers, plus gentlemen of the cloth so to speak.
Johnson said, according to Boswell:
I’ll come no more behind your scenes, David, for the silk stockings and white bosoms of your actresses excite my amorous propensities.
Or as Archie Goodwin said in the interestingly named Nero Wolfe episode Motherhunt, 14:40 onwards, about a nubile who’d just walked into a restaurant:
Miss Tenzer probably aroused in many men the feelings necessary for the propagation of the species.
And quite a few times I’ve mentioned Somerset Maugham’s Rain, about a fire-and-brimstone preacher who succumbs to those feelings mentioned by Archie and tops himself as a consequence, when all he needed do was ease off and pray for forgiveness in a spirit of genuine contrition, not American tele-evangelist Swaggart-wailing style.
The reason I’ve no porn whatever on any drive or device, nor in dead tree form, is not holy – it’s to ensure that no one can get me on that one. What I’m driving at, as you know, is that your humble blogger is no saint but if he almost never looks at the stuff, it’s less the strictures of scripture and far more what is happening in society, what changes have come over it and I do not wish to aid and abet what is happening.
It comes down to the principle that whatever Them want us to do – that we should try not to do.
Two more demographics – Them and their henchmen and women, e.g. the Maxwells, Macks et al … and Millennial/post-Millennial females who are as messed up today as it’s possible to be, yet they are totally unaware that they’re messed up. Or in other words – easy meat for the former.
We ran this the other day, it’s all over Twitter, let’s run it again:
Now either you’re obtuse, innocent or you do understand that the sorts of activity spoken of there and which features, among others, porn involving that age, is quite different to 70s porn. Whichever way you slice it and dice it, these females [males too for a different market] are being groomed, the teachers are doing Allison Macks on them, what are the mores today include the full thing. If you think that’s good, then you’re also part of the problem.
It’s a quite poor excuse but what was around in the 70s, apart from your father having a special line on special brown paper packets, was largely those in the trade showing their wares. Yes there were offspring brought into the trade but by and large, it was just a moral issue of cleanliness being next to Godliness, it was not a case of a very nasty trade worth trillions which crossed continents and even the Marshall Islands, under the control of the last people on earth you’d wish to be putting money into the pockets of.
Because that’s what we have now. And far worse than that, it’s near impossible to convince anyone male that this is not a good life to aspire to. It’s openly spoken of in schools across the west, it’s considered as a career choice and that’s before the whole notion of no age restrictions on swingers clubs and the parties Blood Diamonds likes to give.
In short, it’s not just a portal, it’s a vortex sucking in a demographic which was at least partly protected by social mores in the 50s. Hypocritically of course – father had his Playboys in the cupboard and the VHSes no one spoke of – but he’d still leap in to prevent daughter going to such things. Today, he’s likely not to be around and there’s a whole wall of resistance to him coming anywhere near daughter to protect her – that’s the diabolical cleverness of it all.
It’s playing on everyone’s weaknesses, it’s a huge moneyspinner. That’s about all which needs to be said.