MY SON IS TOO YOUNG for the internet. He knows how to use the iPad, and an old phone my wife and I connected to WiFi for him to play with; and usually finds kid-friendly things to watch, like Curious George, or youtube ‘celebrity’ videos of kids playing with Thomas The Train toys. The craziest stuff he views is mindless videos of little green goblins getting into sticky situations in unknown environments. They’re like ‘Three Stooges’ type of funny, kiddie shows with no moral message, just a bunch of things going bip, bap, boom all over the place. Good, clean, brain-numbing entertainment.
What I worry about is when he eventually finds porn, or some other way worse underground stuff online. It’s coming, and I have no idea how to prepare for it, because porn is way too accessible.
WHEN I WAS ELEVEN-years-old, we had to seriously hunt for pornography; it was a challenging task. Vaginas and penises didn’t magically land in our laps. I couldn’t be on my computer searching for the latest Mighty Morphin Power Rangers episode, and suddenly see an image of The Red Ranger getting finger banged by Wonder Woman. My Texas Instruments TI-99 (home computer) had no relationship with the internet. Instead, my friends and I were scavengers, sneaking peeks at National Geographic magazines in the grammar school library, staring at Ethiopian breasts. I don’t know why they only had Ethiopian boobs in that book. In reality, that probably wasn’t the case, but that’s the way I remember it.
Anyway, that’s how desperate we were, and to be honest with you, Ethiopian women might have the best breasts in the world; but I wouldn’t know. Because the boobs National Geographic displayed as Ethiopian ones, in the magazines we looked at… were atrocious. I’m talking about the world’s most undesirable, red-clay-dragging nipples you could possibly imagine. We were knee deep in love with those banana boobs.
Porno For Pirates
A GROUP OF FRIENDS and I used to walk home from school together. Now and then, we’d find torn pieces of porn magazines blowing in the wind. Whenever a piece of this stuff floated by us, someone in our group would say, “Oh, dude! I just saw a boob on that paper.” That single comment made everyone chase torn porn papers into the street like smack junkies, dodging cars and shit. I don’t even know how this stuff got in the road. I’m guessing it came from some demented thirty-year-old guy who still lived with his mom, in her basement. This guy tore-up porn pics while standing next to an industrial strength metal fan beside his basement window; just blasting the shit out. Then he sat back with his buddies getting high, watching mentally challenged school boys scramble like banshees trying to pick up his crap. Cause it was only little boys like me and my friends, picking this stuff up. Girls saw the same shit and were like, “That’s gross.” Then they walked away.
But when boys see it, they turn into dinosaurs, because something prehistoric happens in their f*cked up little heads. They’re thinking… I have no idea why I need to look at this. But I must see more of this! Now!
After we gathered all the porn pieces, we went to an alley, behind a row of houses and climbed on top of someone’s garage. Then, like porno pirates, we’d inspect our treasure. We’re piecing together different pic-parts to create a single boob, or vagina, or whatever. If this sounds pathetic, that’s because it was; I’m sorry to break it to you this way. Anyway, there were no hardcore, x-rated prints that we snagged back in those days. It was all softcore stuff. No body parts entered other body parts. They might wander around the outside of openings and lean against the door, but no one got in.
When I got older, it still wasn’t easy to discover the real decrepit, low-down crazy crap that kids can accidentally find online today. It’s so dangerous now. I’m not sure what long-term effects all this accessible porn will have on future adults, but it won’t be good. It’ll be bad. Endlessly accessible porn isn’t gonna make a generation of the world’s smartest, most well-adjusted citizens; it’ll create a planet of super-freaks.
A DECADE AGO, I went to a bachelor party in Buffalo, New York. It was Friday night, and my brother and I took our future brother-in-law to a string of bars around Elmwood Avenue. This was the area to go if you wanted to visit the f*cked up bars in Buffalo. There was a dive bar there called, Mulligan’s Brick Bar, and the claim to fame at this place is that it was all brick. I know what you’re thinking… being made of brick doesn’t mean shit. But this bar used to let customers throw beer bottles against a large brick wall in the back of the pub. The only rule was you had to finish your beer before you threw it. This was because no one likes getting wet from beer while bottle bombs explode in your face, showering your eyes with broken glass.
So, this is the type of bar in the area, and at that time I thought Brick Bar was great. I smashed beer bottles against the wall like it was 1999, because it was 1999. And all the while I thought… this is cool.
After Brick Bar, we stumbled into another hole-in-a-wall. A pitch black one with two stories of darkness. I don’t remember the name of the place; let’s call it Dark Dave’s.
In Dark Dave’s, there were flyers plastered on the walls, promoting different events. All the events had screwed up names. They had Sadomasochist Saturday, and Fun-f*ck Friday.
Tuesday was Midget Bondage Night.
I had no idea this was a thing.
Again, this was so long ago we had to crawl into this subterranean ‘hole-in-a-hole’ bar in Buffalo to find this weird garbage. Anyway, upstairs at Dave’s they had a massive ‘eyes wide shut’ black X, bolted into the back wall. It was about 7 x 7 feet in diameter, and had metal handcuffs dangling from the top where your wrists go, plus shackles near the bottom where your ankles strap in. And in the middle, at ‘little person’ height, there was another pair of handcuffs, for little people hands.
I don’t know how Midget-Bondage-Tuesday works, folks. It’s not my scene…
but I can imagine.
And I envision a little-guy or girl-person; let’s say, a guy. He’s zipped into a skintight German latex gimp suit. The DJ’s playing some drag me to die tune while a leather-laden mistress guides him towards the X. She’s tugging the little guy, who’s leashed to a studded black leather collar. Then they reach the X, and she shackles him into the thing. For the next three hours… everyone in the bar makes him drink water until eventually, he’s gotta leak. Then they slap him in the face and smack the sh*t out of him, punching his legs and chest while the mistress verbally abuses him, reminding him what a piece of filth he is. Afterward, she unzips the suit so he can do his thing. When he’s done, I think they make him drink it? Maybe they blend it with red bull and tequila though, to help him out? They’re not total animals. But honestly, I don’t know what happens. Regardless, that seems right.
Probably what occurs in reality, is more weird, and worse.
Honestly, if there ever were a time when ‘America was great again,’ that was it for me. When my mentally challenged friend’s and I scavenged for second-rate porn. When we stumbled upon low-down, vile bondage bars in downtown Buffalo.
I wish someone would bring those days back. And spare modern impressionable minds from accidental images of sexual watersports, fisting, and all the other abominable garbage that’s a click away from my son’s sticky little fingers.
I don’t know.
Would that make things better?