Has anyone noticed how boring and soul destroying modern pornography is?
When I was a young teenager nothing was more exciting than illicitly acquiring a few porn magazines. Whitehouse, Lovebirds, Fiesta, Mayfair and even those crummy little black and white contact magazines were intoxicating and became treasured possessions, to be hidden under the bed or at the bottom of a draw, away from the prying eyes of my mother.
Of course the quality was appalling and many of the models looked like they were doing it for drug money. But it was great, nonetheless. Just occasionally we would come across the real deal, a Danish porn magazine like Colour Climax and I would disappear into my bedroom for hours on end.
That soon came to an end when my mother discovered my new hobby, alerted by my bleary-eyed and tired appearance, and my prized collection disappeared. She did however leave untouched a few copies of Mayfair, perhaps wisely concluding that it was fairly harmless stuff and that I should have some outlet for my sexual frustration or else a pregnant girl might appear on the doorstep.
The problem with modern pornography is that it’s too available. The average 14 year old boy must have seen it all by now. The glamour and excitement has gone. And for the most part the porn is too soulless and explicit to be enjoyable. Every perversion is catered for and once you’ve seen it all, and there’s nothing left to show, all the mystery has gone and there’s no place left for the imagination to roam.
The moral question has always dogged pornography. Is it exploitation? I don’t think the models are exploited and many are paid well. They and the producers are the ones doing the exploiting. I have no doubt that it can mentally harm models that do it for a long time.
Anyway, the whole modern pornographic industry has become a cunt. They’ve robbed our teen boys of the innocence and excitement of the Great Porn Quest, which was a right of passage.
Nominated by: Marvellous Mechanical Cunting Machine
and seconded by: Infidelgastro
I’ll second that. Those well thumbed little books were like treasure. My brother had a few and I once showed them to some older kids in our air raid shelter. They made me leave and I had to wait outside whilst they perused them. They’d arrive in droves every day until my mum cottoned on. Then my brother copped it.
Magazines with a fully clothed woman on the front and removing an item of clothing every page. Suspenders, stockings the lot. It normally became too much before the end as it is now.
Fucking hell I miss those days and those granite erections too.
