Groundhog versus Grassroot Conservatives

« Porn and History |Main| Wacky Sex Laws »

September 13, 2005

The Groundhog has personally fallen victim to the latest anti-pornography law to be enforced. I wondered how it might affect my work life but I never thought of how it might impact my private forays onto the web. Then I received a message from one of the online adult dating sites to which I am a member. It explained that my photos had to be removed because they were too risqué and the company had no way of verifying my age for their official records. I should be pleased if anyone could doubt that this old varmint is younger than...

The Groundhog has personally fallen victim to the latest anti-pornography law to be enforced. I wondered how it might affect my work life but I never thought of how it might impact my private forays onto the web. Then I received a message from one of the online adult dating sites to which I am a member. It explained that my photos had to be removed because they were too risqué and the company had no way of verifying my age for their official records. I should be pleased if anyone could doubt that this old varmint is younger than the three decades it has spent on this earth. Somehow I think it’s only common sense that has been called into question, while my advanced years remain obvious.

I come from an old-fashioned, ultraconservative, religious upbringing so I can relate to people wanting to protect their families from what they consider negative influences. However, back when I was a pup, my parents considered it their job to police whatever media I was seeing. Although they didn’t necessarily approve of everything on TV or in the movies, they never felt that it was somebody else’s responsibility to control what we were watching. Of course, you can argue that my mother stayed home, so she had the time to survey my every move.

However, she wasn’t always able to see everything I was doing and still I managed to maintain a sheltered and naïve life well into my late teens. Possibly because my upbringing wasn’t just about blind rules, but teaching me to believe in certain values myself with or without parental supervision. This self-indoctrination can still happen today. For example, take my nephew who is raised by my conservative Christian sister in a regime of anti-sex and anti-violence similar to my own repressive upbringing. He actually changes the channel or fast-forwards the film himself if he sees anything on screen that he knows would be offensive or contravene on his family’s value. He’s self-policed and takes pleasure in doing what he’s been taught is right.

That’s the problem with folks these days, they don’t want the moral highroad to be difficult, require any active participation or self-control on the part of individual members of our society. They want big brother to watch out for all of us and make decisions about what we can and cannot see. It used to be that the self-righteous took pride in avoiding easily accessible temptation. The challenge of being better than everyone else was relished all the more in the face of carnal desires being flouted and flogged as openly as the daily newspaper. I truly believe a morally upright person should have to work harder than me at avoiding temptation if they really want to prove they’re better than I am, it’s only fair and just that way. It should be hard to be the angel and easy to be the sinner.

I have no problem with people wanting to be morally superior or even looking down at me with pity and disgust as I roll around in filth and smut. However, let sleeping pigs wallow I say. Prudes may stand with pride and self-important indignation as high above me and my kind as they want. However, once they start trying to clean up my pen, they’d better watch out. Fighting with a pig is always messy. You’d better be ready to get down and dirty. Morals aside, there’s no such thing as a clean fight when you start trying to control other people’s freedom.

Posted by Will Peters at September 13, 2005 8:02 PM

Email

Comments

Post a comment




Remember Me?