Listening to the Heart of Porn

Earlier today as I put my x-rated DVD in its slot (or is that slut) I did something I had never done before. My cock was tired and stayed small. I had bathed it in mineral oil so that it would slip around my hand like a wet bar of soap. The flickering images that my eyes gazed at were two super-sexy women in Fredericks of Hollywood outfits and a much too handsome male stud which a much too big cock. Thank God it wasn’t the portly Ron Jeremy because there would have been no room on the screen for the ladies. As one of the blondes mounted the stunt dick an image I’ve seen since thousands of times before my first fuck film 40 years ago, I noticed something new. And what was this new ingredient I have never seen, or rather heard, before…the dialogue. The cliché laden words from women and the grunts from the male prop. The script consisted of original dialogue like: Oh God, Fuck me harder, Cum on my face, Fuck me, Fuck me, oh Fuck me, Fuck me, Fuck me, Fuck me, oh Fuck me, yes Fuck me and err Fuck me.

It was like two mindless amoeba copulating and uttering grunts, groans and an occasionally deep breath to indicate there is still life in those pathetic shells of humanity. I realized that after looking at thousands of porno movies that the audio was as absent as the life and sensuality of the “actors”. There is no reality in a fuck film. There is no context. Where do these bodies come from? Are they aliens from another galaxy? Are they a new life form created in some Nazi lab? The one thing we can be certain of is that neither the act of simulated sex or simulated speaking has any relationship to real people. We are viewing a world devoid of substance and meaning.

Why didn’t the director (if there was one) insist that the cock sucking mouth of his porno queen at least quote Shakespeare? Or treat us to tidbits of fact for our self-edification? Perhaps some inspirational quotes or lessons in geography? The philosophy of Descartes, the poetry of Walt Whitman? Instead we hear the moans of the dead and the dying.

The sex is dead and pornography has become the graveyard of real sensuality, intimacy and emotion. The moral that you should take from these words is to be pragmatic about pornography, use it to release your testosterone and know it is no more authentic than the tears we see on a Broadway stage or the poppycock in our popular music. It is just helping us fight monotony and helping us make life more livable. It is a distraction with the hope that the real thing comes along. That we may actually find passion, love and meaning and the most elusive of all qualities in our life – truth.

Occasionally I will get the illusion of truth in porn when I see something raunchy like a girl choking on a cock (which I really like) but then it all comes crumbling down when I look at my male member and realize there is no chance that I can choke it anymore without some pharmaceutical help.