Posts Tagged ‘porn’

There has been a lot of hoo-hah in Australia in recent days over an Elle McPherson Intimates catalogue that shows a woman in what some women argue is a demeaning position. The photo in question is here:

Elle McPherson shot creates uproar

The assumption is that the woman on the floor has been the subject of domestic violence, although some have also wondered if she was doing a “line” of coke or simply trying to get a stain off the carpet.

The furore reminded me of this billboard from a couple of years ago:

Voodoo Men Dogs

At the time, a complaint against the billboard (one of some 60 received) was dismissed because the powers that be regarded it as a “satirical comment on a patriarchal society”.

Which I frankly call “bullsh*t”. The billboard is clearly sexist, and in our view fighting fire with fire only results in, er, bigger fires.

For what it’s worth, I think the McPherson pic is yet another example of “Dom-Sub chic” neo-porn, which given the runaway success of a book (I use the word cautiously) like Fifty Shades of Grey seems hardly a surprising tactic, and which is popping up everywhere.

Fashion? Porn? Erotica? How do you tell? Does it matter?

Fashion? Porn? Erotica? Just great photography? How do you tell? And does it matter? Why?

The recent story from the fire brigade bemoaning how many times they’re called on to free people from handcuffs where they’ve left the key out of reach would seem to imply that what might once have been considered extreme has become more mainstream, albeit somewhat incompetently.

Heigh ho, Whatever gets you through the night.

What is clearly impossible to ascribe to any such image, of course, is any sense or understanding of “consent”, or otherwise. Because a woman (or man) assumed to be adopting a consensual submissive role might be acceptable, whereas a depiction of a rape or other anti-personal violence clearly would not. (Well, not in our opinion, anyhow.) But how does one know from a still image?

How on earth the reader or viewer is intended to work out the difference, sometimes, is quite beyond our ken.

Any thoughts or suggestions?

This is Olga. She’s 20 years old, and apparently having great difficulty finding a nice man to marry in Russia. She is especially keen, I am told, to meet with a good mannered 50+ near-broke writer in Australia for ze making of the babies.

I was watching TV the other day – the inestimable “QI” with Stephen Fry, surely the most charming and funny show on TV – and he asked the contestants what the commonest use of the internet was for. Predictably, they answered “Porn” and “Email” and “Facebook”.

In fact, the answer was “spam”. Yes, that occasionally hilarious and mystifying mass of unwanted emails, which apparently accounts for some 80% of all internet traffic. Staggering, really.

Which is fascinatingly, I suppose, as I am sure most of us never look at it.

Internet filters are so effective now that it all just piles up un-seen and un-loved in our spam inbox, and is then automatically deleted after it has festered there awhile. Or at least, most of it must be, but I suppose enough of it gets through that someone looks at it, and even clicks on it, otherwise why keep sending it?

Anyhow, it nudged me to have a look at my own spam – 396 messages in the last day, as at just before I started writing.

If one takes spam as some sort of commentary on where I have clicked over ten years on the worldwide web then clearly I am a very peculiar person indeed.

First up, someone wants to sell me on the idea of hiring a private jet rather than buying a plane ticket. Er, from my quiet suburban block in Melbourne I must sadly inform you, ain’t gonna happen.

An astonishing number of people seem to think I need an immediate combination of tranquilisers, vitamins, erection medication and a penis extension. I am not complimented. Someone has been talking, and I suspect I know who.

Apparently the world is also full of sexy single girls who are literally slavering at the mouth for me to click on them, flirt with them, and generally pay them attention? Who knew? A sizeable proportion of them appear to be Russian and Ukrainian. All of them are winsome blonde 115 lb beauties with tits straining against unbuttoned cotton shirts like watermelons, legs that project their torso into a low earth orbit, and a deep desire to marry strangers. Zdravstvujtye, girls. Sorry, but I don’t think my back is up to it.

Apparently I have also won about nine multi-million lotteries that I was automatically entered for in the last 24 hours. All they need is my bank account details. May have to re-think the private jet.

AT&T want to give me a smartphone for 1¢, someone wants me to become an Ultrasound Tech, head RIGHT NOW to their handbag and jewellery story, (pardon?), some very worried Christians are insistently concerned about the destination of my soul – I didn’t go near the Russians, OK, guys? Give me a break! – and I apparently also have the choice of dating a millionaire or a sexy over 50s single.

It doesn’t specify whether dating a millionaire over 50s single is an option. I am very worried that if a millionaire can’t get laid without resorting to a website then he (or in the unlikely event, she) is probably an MBA, too. Married But Available. Sorry, no thanks.

Banks want to triple my first deposit – casinos even more so. The University of Phoenix is very determined to get me there to study for my undergraduate degree, apparently unfazed by the fact that I am (a) 55, (b) already have two undergraduate degrees, (c) live quite contentedly in Australia, and (d) can’t think of anywhere else I rather live less than Arizona. (Nothing against the place, really, just too damn hot by a factor of 10.)

Similarly, I only have to CLICK HERE NOW to start an exciting and fulfilling new career in law enforcement. Really? I mean, really? What are you going to do, use me to block the alley while you chase the crims down it? Coz I would be hard pressed following them at a decent lick down the sidewalk. Maybe you want me for my forensic brain? Please explain.

Cards, Coffee, Canadian Pharmacies, Car Loans, Christian Singles, Crazy Vegas, Cell Phones, Credit Check, Cougar Dating, Cash by the bucketload and above all Credit, Credit, Credit.

And that’s just the Cs.

Somewhat annoyingly, there were no minor Nigerian royalty or grieving widows wanting me to unload their $90 million in lost inheritance money into my Australian bank account for them, which quite disappointed me. Prince Onabogo Abungo has been a friendly correspondent for so long. Lift your game, Nigeria.

I got quite excited when I saw I had won – not exactly sure how – a $100 gift voucher to a lobster restaurant. Shame it’ll cost me $1495 to get there and use it.

So much nonsense. And I think spam gives Spam a bad name. You know, the real Spam. In a can with that sunny little windy can key un-doing thingy that was always guaranteed to break off with the can only one-quarter open.

SPAM

An early SPAM tin. See the key? Guaranteed to leave you with lacerated fingers. Oh. How we laughed, back in the day.

Yes, I remember the original Spam fondly. That strange, frighteningly pink, salt-engorged tinned “spiced ham” that was always kept in the cupboard for a rainy day, so good sliced with home-made chips and a fried egg, or slathered in HP sauce in a sandwich, or, battered and frittered as finger food on cold winter nights for those who never could spell c-h-o-l-e-s-t-e-r-o-l, or simply couldn’t be bothered.

Salr-reduced SPAM

Salt-reduced SPAM. Scandalous. I mean, really, what IS the point? Bloody nanny state.

They still sell it in the supermarket up the road. Sometimes I sneak a tin into the trolley, but I never quite summon up the courage to open it. Clearly Spam needs a PR makeover. Like below.

Spam Sushi

Sushi made with SPAM? Someone else recognises its gourmet potential. Oh, those crazy wacky Japanese.

It sits there in the larder, presumably with about 900 years of useful shelf life ahead of it through the action of the preservatives and additives that make a list a mile long in tiny type on its label, usually pushed shamefacedly to the back behind the pasta sauces, but occasionally surfacing like a cork bobbing on some grocery ocean, reminding me of my baser, younger self, of a time when I didn’t watch what I ate, let alone what I did. The inexorable, unstoppable youth who wasn’t paying attention and suddenly got old.

Come to think of it, maybe spam and Spam aren’t that dis-similar after all. I’ve outgrown them both. How sad.

What’s your best or worst spam of recent days? Do share.

I do love the internet. Well, I’m fascinated by it, anyhow.

One of the great things about WordPress is it lets you see which Google searches (or other search engines) have led to people dropping in on your blog. I always give it a glance, to see whether my tagging of the 100 articles I have now written and image descriptions and so on is actually doing any good.

Anyhow, here is a brief selection of ways that people found my writing the last two days.

  • the biggest naked tits in the world
  • big breast touch
  • snooki
  • hot teen naked tits
  • short naked teen with big tits
  • big tits naked
  • who has the biggest tits
  • tits actress Italian
  • nude beach big bobs
  • bigtitted readheads
  • tits

You’ve gotta love that last one, haven’t you?

Just “tits”.

Now there’s someone who knows exactly what he wants Google to deliver him. (Well, “Him”, presumably. But maybe not.) I just had to have a go. And you know what? Hopefully seaching on simply “tits” brings up 645 MILLION hits on Google.

So, if you could click on one link a second, which you can’t, that’s over 20 days of wall-to-wall mammary glands of all shapes and sizes. Why oh why doesn’t WordPress let me know who used that search term? I want to ring them and just ask, you know, wtf?

And a little way down the list was someone with a website called “Two Tits Per Hour”, which looked, on a cursory glance, like someone, somewhere could be bothered to post a photo of, yes, a girl with two tits, every hour. For, seemingly, ever. 24/7. Anonymously, for no apparent economic gain. I mean, hello?

Interestingly, Googling images of tits with “safe search off” revealed only 177 MILLION hits, so writing about tits is clearly more than three and a half times more common than photographing them. Who’d of thought, eh?

There was a slight pause in writing this article while I perused the Google images result. Research, dear reader, research. Within a very short space of time I had found my way to a website asking the question “Which celebrity has the best tits?” Apparently the answer is Jennifer Love Hewitt closely followed by Katy Perry. Discuss. No, better still, don’t.

Why my website has become such a magnet for tit searchers is because I wrote a serious (well, moderately serious) article about popular culture that actually included a discussion on popular TV’s obsession with, er, tits – and someone called Snooki from the show “Jersey Shore” in particular.

It’s far and away consistently the most popular article on my blog, and I actually am happy with it; I think it’s a fun read. Sadly, I am sure most of the people accessing it aren’t thoughtfully considering my erudite take on popular culture. They’re just accidentally rocking up there because about day 14 of their twenty day tit-fest I come up on Google. They will be sadly disappointed, and I apologise to them. You can read the original article here, and it’s worth it:

https://wellthisiswhatithink.wordpress.com/2011/09/03/on-snookie-chelsea-the-borgias-big-tits/

Meanwhile, I am delighted with all the attention my blog is getting, as some of the great unwashed will also be happening upon articles about politics, economics, culture, art, iPhones, and Lord knows what else. I think I am onto something here.

So: tits tits tits tits tits tits. Er, bottom. Arse. See how I did that? Targeting a whole new demographic. There ya go.

Oh yes, and some artfully shot pictures, of course to deliver satisfaction to the third or so of readers who need such things. A pair of Great Tits. Oo-er, missus.

A Great pair of Tits

Did you know the Great Tit is, like other tits, a very vocal bird, and has up to 40 types of calls and songs? Celebs: they all release an album sooner or later, right?

As I publish this, the blog is approaching 9000 hits. I confidently expect to crack 10,000 in about the next four minutes.