What is Our Obsession with Sex? An Essay that Attempts to Explain Nothing.
May 2, 2017
— Obsession with Sex
I just got done watching Amy Schumer: Leather Special, an hour of stand up about a liberated women’s sexual antics where body fluids seemed to burst to life. I was forced to ask myself the question, “what is our obsession with sex?”
Now don’t get me wrong. I mean no disrespect to nature. Nature did some wonderful things in that department. You put a Rembrandt next to Catherine Zeta Jones pre-Micheal Douglas and ask me which one I would rather take home and it doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out. You go with the Rembrandt and sell it, invest the money and find a woman who actually loves you.
Besides, I don’t want Katherine Zeta Jones in my home. That’s Micheal Douglas old lady, not mine. Do you know how much of a sting to his ego that would be? It’s not the shotgun that I’d worry about. It’s the lawyers.
Now if they have an open relationship and Micheal Douglas is into being a cuckold. I’ll give it a shot. If he wants to watch, that’s cool. If he wants to join- then we got to lay down some ground rules. If I gotta take a dose of some Vitamin Douglas for a night of wild action with the misses. Then I will sign that waiver. But anything else comes with a downpayment. My body, my rules. It’s called individual sovereignty.
Now I could talk about my sex life all day but I don’t want to bore you with a series of stories that lead to the revelation that vaginal penetration is the best thing since anal bleaching. I could give you all the juicy details. And some day I will when I feel the time is right to reveal that information. And I feel now is not the time.
The point is this. I have no problem with comedians who talk about how they hammered everything not already screwed to the floor; or as in Amy Schumer’s case, several odes to male sex fluids. Which is fine. But what about Amy Schumer? Does she Whittle? Slip in a refined insight on some of your life experiences between fluidic gestures, please Amy, the quirks are what make us who we are. Your Trumpeting Joy only compels me to mock you because I’m jealous that your conga line strategy to comedy has made you a material success at the expense of your spiritual growth. Don’t look too deeply into that unless your Miss. Schumer herself, then maybe it’s time for a self-evaluation.
The point is this. The point I think I might be trying to make but would like to take this time for self-reassurance. Is this. There is so much more to life than sex. Curing honey for mass consumption is just one of those things. I could name a hundred more things if my life wasn’t consumed with a soul-crippling addiction to internet pornography.
When are they going to start illegalizing stupid people from having intercourse? It ‘s going to be hard because many of them have slipped into the college system. What this world needs is a population who agrees to stop this atrocity from getting any further out of hand. Start by giving smart people grants to raise children. Make them write an essay on the Behavior Trends behind the Paramount Issues of the Fundamental Principles of Sexual Morality. Those answers ought to be fun. Here are some things a stupid person might write:
Things like, “Women are sluts” and “All Men are Jerks”, with the occasional Essay titled “Sometimes No Means Yes”. All a very disturbing reflection of society, if seen from the perspective of let’s say, a Theo-Humanitarian, a thing that really existed in the Late Renaissance. A very creepy time period indeed- The Renaissance- not Today. Yeah, Renaissance time period, your plight in the name of the divine spirit that exists in all mankind when faced up against powerful tyrannical men provides no deep rich psychological insight into the world we in today- NONE. We are just that God Damn progressive as a collective whole Sixteenth Century English Polymath Sir. Thomas Moore, suck it.
Sorry, that took a weird direction like my sex life on Thursday nights. It’s like banging the same girl irresponsibility. Eventually, some things are going to go down that changes the whole course of your joke. However, I do agree that referencing Thomas Moore is a little more off the rails nowadays than drilling the same girl aimlessly during the construction references laced in sexual ambiguity.
I think that’s the point I’m trying to make. I want to get married, start a family, and live a healthy sexual life. But since I can’t have that. I just want to get laid every once in awhile. I’m tired of all the games. Either we fuck- or work together to build a relationship- no more I work all these long arduous hours plotting my seduction- only to lose to someone with a nicer car and parents who actually care. I can’t compete in that arena. I could build an arena- write the business contract- start the business- promote and sell it to franchises- and write an entire series of literature laying down the ground rules- but I don’t have time because I’m too busy failing at casual sex. When has having parents who care become an extension of your penis? That’s the third and final point I’m trying to make across.