The Joy And Pain Of Porn – How Cave Paintings And Greek Pottery Inevitably Resulted In The Internet

When the first Paleolithic artist seized some charcoal from the dying embers of that new fangled fire thing, what do you think he drew? Woolly Mammoth? Sabre Toothed Tiger? Giant Elk? Of course not. He drew one of three rudimentary representations: a pair of tits, a hairy fanny or a spunky cock. Most likely a spunky cock. None of these early artworks exist because he rubbed them out before his mum got back from gathering wood. But we’ll get back to that point later.

The subject for discussion today is, of course, pornography. This emotive word was coined in the Nineteenth Century and comes from the Greek word “Pornographos” which literally means “writings of prostitutes”. What people called it before that is anybody’s guess, but the word itself says a lot about Victorian attitudes to sex. Appropriate that they used a Greek word too. The favourite  and most effective method of contraception back then was what they  called “Greek Sex”. Yes, it does hurt, but not as much as having a baby.

Porn has been around ever since we first started to express ourselves in ways other than grunting. And even before then, some of the grunting was probably loaded with sexual innuendo. Every new method of communication has been used for the purposes of porn.

We invented language, we talked about sex. We invented writing, we wrote about it. The Greeks invented sophisticated pottery decoration and guess what went on their vases. The pattern is the same throughout history: woodcuts, lithographs, photography, moving pictures, video cameras. As soon as it was available, it was used to make porn.

The Polaroid camera is the most obvious and iconic example. I mean, did anyone really use them to capture that perfect family moment and view it within minutes? Don’t be stupid. No one wants to see Little Jimmy’s first steps again that badly. Particularly as they saw them in the flesh two minutes previously for fuck’s sake. As for mobile phone cameras….. I could go on, but I think my point has been sufficiently made.

There is a huge supply of pornography out there, and there’s no point in supply without demand. This is a point that the anti porn women just don’t get ( they’re almost all women, and when they’re not, they’re usually neutered toms). Most people, normal people, like sex. They like talking about it, reading about it and looking at images of other people doing it. They don’t see sex as inherently evil and they use the word “Dirty” in the same way that some people say “wicked” when they probably mean “really good”. In short, the anti porn lobby see porn as degrading to women. This is, in turn, because they secretly think sex itself is degrading to women. Which is sexist in itself, not to mention rather naïve.

The problem is that the definition of porn is so subjective. To some people – almost exclusively men-  watching young children being systematically abused is porn. That’s not porn, that’s just a visual record of a terrible crime. To other people – again, mainly men- watching blokes nail each other’s testicles to wooden planks is porn. Hilarious as it is in a Jackass sort of way, that isn’t porn either. Stapling someone else’s scrotum to a length of lumber is just GBH, whether he has asked you to do it or not. So let’s just define porn as involving willing participants, paid or unpaid – some people just do it for the hell of it – who are over the age of majority and aren’t breaking any of the good laws that most of us actually agree with.  I know that’s a lot of subordinate clauses, but it’s a complicated subject so try to keep up.

 

Now we have established some ground rules, it’s time to return, as I promised we would, to the teenage caveboy. Or rather to a more modern equivalent. Not quite entirely up to date, but not adorning a cave with spunky cocks. He does have a cave of sorts, but he’s adorning it by painting it black and putting up posters of Samantha Fox and Linda Lusardi. And Ninjas.

He has a modest stash of girlie mags carefully concealed around his room. He’s frustrated, but he at least has something to rely on to provide a modicum of relief as he drowns in a pool of adolescent hormones. Then one day, as his mum is just “tidying up a bit”, she accidentally rifles through all his meagre possessions and throws out the offending copies of Fiesta and Razzle.

He is absolutely devastated, but it’s his mum so he can’t really say anything. He even feels guilty. Well done mum. Why not just finish the job off and send him to a Catholic Boarding School? He’ll be slamming his genitals in the doors and playing The Biscuit Game before you know it.

The thing which really gets his goat at the time is the time and effort he’s gone to in acquiring said porn : searching the recesses of his dad’s wardrobe, looking under hedges, visiting the rough kid’s house – the one with five older brothers who all have extensive porn collection- and skimming a couple of the top of their smut piles. Plus a fair few swapsies and lendsies with his mates. How’s he going to explain that to them?

Ladies, imagine you have a small and much loved chocolate bar or cake in the fridge. One so expensive that you had to pay for it in instalments. You arrive home to find that your teenage son has fed it into the waste disposal because he was concerned that it was bad for you. After you initial anger has died down and you have stopped slapping him, you realize the sense of his decision, the desire for chocolate and cake is gone and you purchase no more. Of course not. You want it twice as bad.

The irony is that it’s not beyond the realms of possibility that when these mothers throw out their boys’ porn stashes, it’s actually them who chuck the offending material under the bushes. Presumably so as not to have anyone accidentally discover copies of “Shaven Havens” and “Mammoth Melons” lurking in their suburban dustbins. The mums merely redistribute it instead of getting rid of it. If the magazines have been ripped up, the teenage grumble hunters merely incorporate it into some sort of glamour model scrap book.

Of course, all this talk of magazines and polaroid cameras is now largely redundant. The world now has a giant communal Hedge to rummage around under to find porn. The Internet. And it’s not just teenage boys’ mums sticking it under there. It’s everyone. And their definition of acceptable smut does not necessarily fit the definition I gave a few paragraphs ago.

It’s a worry. But I think we shouldn’t worry about it too much. The internet in its current form, you know with watchable pictures and stuff,  is still very young if you think about it. YouTube is only eight years old. It’s a bit like the Wild West. That was a very short period in history and ran out of steam fairly quickly. And  people in America don’t go around carrying guns and shooting each other for no good reason any more, do they?  Errmm… actually, maybe we should just ban all porn and use our imaginations instead. Probably safer all round.

© copyright Michael Grimes 2013

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

About thedailygrime

At that awkward age - too young to be a grumpy old man, but just acerbic and downtrodden enough to have an opinion. Read it here.

7 responses to “The Joy And Pain Of Porn – How Cave Paintings And Greek Pottery Inevitably Resulted In The Internet”

  1. julia Byers (@juliaByers10) says :

    Just reading the tag list made me laugh so much!! It is a stand alone piece of literature. 🙂

    • thedailygrime says :

      Yes, the tag lists make me laugh too. Though they make me laugh rather nervously at how my mental processes work. Good you enjoyed it though. Thanks for the positive comment.

      Mike x

  2. Dr. Sharkey says :

    Hahahaa, so very true mate.

    As you know I’ve always been a big fan of porn, and it’s amazing how specific everyone’s tastes have become since it is now so ubiquitous. Not that I’m into anything far out, but there’s so much of it that now that one can go “Nah, wrong colour eyes. Hmmm those shoes aren’t my thing. Next…” Not like the days of the German-US Cultural Tape.

    Can you email me ? I can’t find your address… X

    • thedailygrime says :

      Ah, the German-US cultural tape. I remember it well.It’s the never ending nature of the sea of porn that gets me. It ends up like a giant game of Mah Jong. Click click click. I get mesmerised and end up forgetting to do the business. old fashioned magazines are better.

      • Doctor Sharkey says :

        It make you right. It’s like heroin – with constant use one builds up a tolerance and then can’t get high any more.

        Ooh! A Japanese midget being gang banged by albino Maasai tribesmen in the middle of Eldon Square? Zzzz…. Next.
        Or maybe it’s just that I’m a middle aged bloke now, and the sap is rising more slowly.

  3. Barbie Herrera says :

    I shared on my FB page https://www.facebook.com/PornAddictionInAStory! Have a great day!
    Martha Emms

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: