Duracell bunnies & King Kong hard-ons (Let’s talk about sex)
So, yes, let’s do it. Talk about sex, I mean.
Granted, in a world that has more babies than it can feed one would think that the last thing people needed was to hear even more about sex.
It would seem a bit like looking at Australia’s rabbit population before myxomatosis rode into town and then watching one of those annoying Duracel ads. The first thing that would spring to mind then would be something like, ‘Yes, but do the little buggers really need any more staying power?’
Still, people can be remarkably ignorant about sexual issues. From South-Africa’s president Mbeki, who thinks AIDS is a colonial fantasy to former US president Bill Clinton, who thought getting a blow-job had nothing to do with having sex: it seems we could do with some more sex education.
Consider the following statistics, for instance:
Men are to be urged to be tested for chlamydia, the commonest sexually transmitted disease.
Last year men made up only a fifth of the 150,000 people under 25 who were tested. Women are much more likely to take part in the voluntary screening, and publicity has focused on the risks chlamydia infection can pose to female fertility.
But men can also be infected, and can pass on the infection to their partners. The infection can cause pain in the testicles and there is evidence that it may also damage male fertility.
Genevieve Clark, director of communications at the Terrence Higgins Trust, said: “Our research found that one in ten men think chlamydia is a flower, so it’s no surprise that too few of them are going for a test.
Of course, many people fear that if governments and schools get into the sex education business, it would take power away from the parents. And one can sympathize with this view: it’s so hard to raise sexual bigots when others keep interfering with things like actual facts.
So, it’s much better to leave these things to the parents.
Or not:
Amy Smalley thought she was being a good parent when she taught her children about sex.
Smalley told her children, ages 11 and 15, about her own sexual experiences, explained how to perform oral sex and even showed them a sex toy she owned.
Smalley called it education. Prosecutors called it a crime.
Prosecutors in Columbia County, Wis., charged Smalley Feb. 19 with exposing children to harmful descriptions, a felony crime that carries a penalty of up to three years in prison.
Smalley’s lawyer attempted to get the case thrown out, saying that sex education was protected free speech, but a Columbia County judge disagreed and sent the case to trial.
Onwards and upwards though, like a hard-on dreaming of the Eiffel tower – or, like that old joke that I just made up goes:
‘This morning I woke up with such a huge hard-on that King Kong kept trying to climb it.’
Anyway, people do have sex and whether they know anything about it or not, they keep talking about it too.
And if they can’t get any or are too socially awkward to even talk about it, they can always become writers and fill book after book after book with their ill-adjusted and ill-informed ideas about the oldest way of keeping warm at night known to man and beast.
Some of the stuff these virgins-at-heart come up with is so charmingly ludicrous or charmlessly lubricated that the authors will receive formal recognition for these efforts.
It’s called the ‘Bad Sex Award’. it’s a prize not exactly coveted but most authors at least try to accept it with some good grace. After all, they’ve just been found out to be terrible in (even their imaginary) bed, so it wouldn’t do to appear not to have a sense of humour either.
Well, at least this year’s winner will be spared the agony of having to collect the prize and be seen smiling doing so. Norman Mailer, for once in his accident-prone & scandal-ridden life, did the diplomatic thing: he died before the jury could announce him the winner of this year’s Bad Sex Award.
And this was why the jury picked him…:
“Then she was on him. She did not know if this would resuscitate him or end him, but the same spite, sharp as a needle, that had come to her after Fanni’s death was in her again. Fanni had told her once what to do. So Klara turned head to foot, and put her most unmentionable part down on his hard-breathing nose and mouth, and took his old battering ram into her lips. Uncle was now as soft as a coil of excrement. She sucked on him nonetheless with an avidity that could come only from the Evil One - that she knew. From there, the impulse had come. So now they both had their heads at the wrong end, and the Evil One was there. He had never been so close before.
The Hound began to come to life. Right in her mouth. It surprised her. Alois had been so limp. But now he was a man again!”
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