I was thinking of writing a diatribe on how I really hate it when people abuse systems set up to help people who legitimately need them; selfish fucks who insist that their accessory pets are service animals, selfish fucks who abuse work disability systems... This also brings to mind those who claim discrimination to get their way when they know it didn't happen. This horridly mocks those who actually have been discriminated against. There's a special death squad fantasy place for those folks, here in my heart.
But then, as I'm wont to do, I started thinking about porn.
My dad kept a small supply of dirty magazines in his bedroom - usually the sock or underwear drawer. When I was 11 or 12, my friend and neighbor David and I snuck one of my dad's Penthouse magazines into the small tract of woods behind my house. We sat there and looked at the lurid pictures.
I don't remember being particularly aroused by the soft focus pictures of heavily made up ladies with digits strategically placed. I think that it was really that faint thrill of flirting with the forbidden. It was knowing I wasn't supposed to be looking at the magazine, that I had snuck it from my dad's bedroom.
"What are you guys doing?" my dad yelled from the backyard.
The two of us, wide-eyed, quickly closed the magazine and rushed out of the woods. David, saying only a hurried goodbye, rushed past my dad and went back home across the street. My dad again asked what we had been doing and after making some lame excuse, he told me to take him where we had been. I began to lead him down one of the paths away from the clump of huckleberry bushes where we had left the Penthouse, but in that particular moment my father proved to be far slyer than I had given him credit for. He left my following and went directly to where we had been.
I don't remember any words he might have said, I'm sure he understood the curiosity of a prepubescent boy, I only remember him grabbing the magazine and pushing me before him out of the woods. I remember him making me clean the garage as a punishment, but I had the feeling it was more of an excuse to have someone clean the garage so he wouldn’t have to do it.
I do also remember him getting mad at David for leaving when he returned a couple hours later to play catch.
From what I understand, if donating sperm, the clinic will provide magazines such as these to get things going. I wonder how often the folks are asked if the donor can get something "a little raunchier" if the Playboy provided doesn't work out.
Because I feel that I have been remiss to dedicated readers who have asked for it... No!vember song of the day: No Depression by Uncle Tupelo.
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You know what? these days there is just no reason to buy porn anymore. Gone are the days when kids will find magazines under a bed or in a dresser. Instead, they have unlimited access to whatever they want from the provacy of the family computer. Gone are the long trips into the woods, gone are the hours spent in treehouses. Kind of a sad day for the adventure of finding a hidden magazine filled with secrets.
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