Dear Gunfighter Fans,
Hello there! My name is Maria and I blog over at A Daily Dose of Zen Sarcasm. I jumped at the chance to guest blog for GF while he's on vacation without me because aside from having a great blog, he's also a great guy and I hope I do a good job of this whole thing.
I am rather new to this whole guest blogging bit --in fact, this is my first time at the rodeo-- so I asked GF to give me a topic. He suggested I write about the stupidity of the American public regarding sex.
All at once I realize this is a tall order, and almost like shooting fish in a barrel. It's hard, because while people in America are very liberated about many subjects, they still flinch and/or gawk when they see a naked breast.
And yet, Americans descend from the Puritans who fled England so they could have such colorful courtship rituals
as making two young people sleep together within millimeters of one
another's faces, but whose bodies were otherwise chastely separated by
a board; they also beat homosexuals to death as a matter of course. So of course if you're
dealing with that kind of genesis, you're bound to have some issues,
right?
(That would be the fish-in-a-barrel part)
But then there is the whole thing about the idolization of porno chic (bleached anuses, Brazilian waxes and g-strings to go to the supermarket, anyone?); the avid following of the not-an-issue-anymore love "triangle" of Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston and their subsequent issue (homewrecker whore/globetrotting madonna vs. the boring one?); the fact that most people in America --and abroad-- seem to know who Lindsay Lohan is-- and perhaps, dare I say it, who Jenna Jameson is; the fact that Denise "he wasn't married when I dated him" Richards got a show, along with Pamela Anderson and, oh, that's right, Lindsay Lohan's little sister (who may or may not have fake boobs at 14); and, oh Lord, the fact that Joe Francis is allowed to smile his smarmy smile as a free man.
Quick, kids: What's Paris Hilton's sex tape named?
(Oh please: 1 Night In Paris. That's your cue to vomit.)
Ugh... see? Maybe you don't know many of these references, but you are guaranteed to know at least two of the ones I've mentioned above, and our media seem to be obsessed with bringing us the most inconsequential bits of knowledge from these people's intimate lives, as if we're going to gobble it up-- which we will, by the by. But when we're faced with examining why we're so incredibly interested in the lurid details of notorious and famous people, we realize that it's nothing but a thinly veiled excuse to judge them and to cast many a rock in their direction for being scandalous and immoral-- even as we avidly seek every new picture and detail.
In some ways, we haven't gotten past the old witch hunts, when women and men (but mostly women) who were considered a little too independent and feisty were pretty much systematically eliminated, have we?
Too bad the paparazzi weren't there to catch any "exclusives", right?
No, wait. No, not right, wrong. Right?