On Porn and Prejudice

When I was growing up in Plesantville in the mid '60s the only place that a Caucasian female breast might be seen was in the Playboy magazine that Dad hid out in the workshop in the garage or, if his tastes were a bit kinkier, you might stumble across something more like this:

Which may explain the success of The History Channel.

For most of us however, the only bare breasts we were likely to see were in National Geographic. For some reason the Guardians of Public Morality only deemed breasts on Caucasian women and non-Caucasian women in Eurasia and North America to be capable of corrupting young men into acts of turpitude. By the time we were fourteen most of us had memberships in the National Geographic Society, maps on the bedroom walls and subscriptions to National Geographic.

Mom expected us to grow up to be something like a cross between Indiana Jones and Hemingway.

     Meanwhile, at the same time all of us White boys were lusting after dusky womanflesh, Eldridge Cleaver was sitting in a cell writing the manuscript for Soul On Ice where he was bitching about how White blond women dominated all of the Movies and skin mags and ad campaigns to the point that young Black men preferred White blonds to the girl next door because the culture had conditioned them to the White Man's standard of beauty.

      So now 45 years later and the Great White Male in the GOP is all a-twitter because a man of mixed race is sitting in the White House. Well Bubba, it yer own damn fault. None of this would of happened if you hadn't been so uptight about lettin' us all see a naked woman once in a while. Not to mention that artificial standard of beauty that messed up poor brother Eldridge and made half the women in America anorexic or bulimic. Now have the good grace to shut up and live in the world you helped make.

    Be seeing you.