A contemplation and another digression
Where are all the bad boys and naughty girls?
Well obviously they're between the poly-cotton sheets of a run-down Travelodge on Motorway X, Y or Z, just outside some anonymous mid-sized town in the midlands; too busy conniving, conspiring and consummating to chronicle their affair let alone delve deeper and explore their respective motivations.
The internet is awash with professional and amateur porn and pornographic (rather than erotic) blogs are merely the most recent manifestation of this well established phenomenon. According to one source recent figures suggest that porn is no longer the dominant source of material on the net (or the web, whatever). Crap! All that has happened is that the porn has gone corporate. And the survey purveyors have defined corporate porn as corporate rather than porn. Lies, damned lies and statistics; and I should know. I'm an economist.
Anyway in all the sordidness out there it is all too easy to find the adventures of this rampant priapic husband or that nymphomaniac bride. A couple of women have made their fortunes out of a chronicle of their lives as high-class hookers. Unlike the former crap the latter crap is usually well written as befits someone who all too probably is the product of a middle class upbringing and a good school.
The ordinary Joe (or his female equivalent) indulges in kinky sex, his'n'hers tattoos and feeds off the thrill to an extent that so leaps off the screen as to make the kinky sex and sessions at the tattoo parlour read like fantasy.
Hmm. I'm looking for something credible - ordinary people in an ordinarily sordid extramarital adventure; preferably a husband and an unmarried mistress. Where are you? Oh, yeah ... between those poly-cotton sheets at a run-down Travelodge etc, etc.
I'm fed up having spent much of the past two days searching for enlightenment in the usual places. But in the process I stumbled across the difficulties the futurist Richard Neville has run into with a mocked-up spoof of Little Johnnie Howard's web site carrying an 'apology'. In recent days he's put up a piece of satire to the site (which happens to be hosted by Yahoo, notorious shoppers of Chinese dissidents to China's repressive state apparatus), only to have it mysteriously shut down.
Somehow in all of this the idea pops into my head that if we go too far down this path we'll be proving that Harold Holt really was spirited away from Cheviot Beach in a Chinese Sub.
All's not lost; here's a link to Richard Neville's site where you can still access the piece that has caused the problems.
Well obviously they're between the poly-cotton sheets of a run-down Travelodge on Motorway X, Y or Z, just outside some anonymous mid-sized town in the midlands; too busy conniving, conspiring and consummating to chronicle their affair let alone delve deeper and explore their respective motivations.
The internet is awash with professional and amateur porn and pornographic (rather than erotic) blogs are merely the most recent manifestation of this well established phenomenon. According to one source recent figures suggest that porn is no longer the dominant source of material on the net (or the web, whatever). Crap! All that has happened is that the porn has gone corporate. And the survey purveyors have defined corporate porn as corporate rather than porn. Lies, damned lies and statistics; and I should know. I'm an economist.
Anyway in all the sordidness out there it is all too easy to find the adventures of this rampant priapic husband or that nymphomaniac bride. A couple of women have made their fortunes out of a chronicle of their lives as high-class hookers. Unlike the former crap the latter crap is usually well written as befits someone who all too probably is the product of a middle class upbringing and a good school.
The ordinary Joe (or his female equivalent) indulges in kinky sex, his'n'hers tattoos and feeds off the thrill to an extent that so leaps off the screen as to make the kinky sex and sessions at the tattoo parlour read like fantasy.
Hmm. I'm looking for something credible - ordinary people in an ordinarily sordid extramarital adventure; preferably a husband and an unmarried mistress. Where are you? Oh, yeah ... between those poly-cotton sheets at a run-down Travelodge etc, etc.
I'm fed up having spent much of the past two days searching for enlightenment in the usual places. But in the process I stumbled across the difficulties the futurist Richard Neville has run into with a mocked-up spoof of Little Johnnie Howard's web site carrying an 'apology'. In recent days he's put up a piece of satire to the site (which happens to be hosted by Yahoo, notorious shoppers of Chinese dissidents to China's repressive state apparatus), only to have it mysteriously shut down.
Somehow in all of this the idea pops into my head that if we go too far down this path we'll be proving that Harold Holt really was spirited away from Cheviot Beach in a Chinese Sub.
All's not lost; here's a link to Richard Neville's site where you can still access the piece that has caused the problems.
posted by Enyo @ 11:03 am
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