For those of you that are easily offended, I suggest you refrain from reading further. This is going to be a bit of a rant on a controversial subject.
It’s not about politics (most politicians lie or become liars to some extent and presidents as a rule aren’t omnipotent) or the latest abortion debate (as long as its not used as a form of birth control but rather to prevent several people — including the child — from a future of misery, and as long as it’s done immediately, then I feel it’s the woman’s choice to decide) but something that I personally struggle with fairly often. We live in a day of sexual freedom — days where laws are being passed or argued about in regard to same-sex marriages, where morality has hit an all-time low (have you gone a month without hearing about someone molesting someone or abusing their authority to force themselves on someone sexually?). A time when rape is rampant, and where seeing people in the tiniest bits of clothing is fully-acceptable.
Now let me say now, I am not one that can considered a prude. I’ll refrain from proving it to you — just trust me. I remember as a young person watching Jane Russell speaking on the reasons why I should buy a Playtex bra as opposed to any other and in the commercials of which censors wouldn’t allow her to actually take her shirt off to show us the item, but rather had it displayed on a headless mannequin’s bust. I remember when soap operas tried to depict a couple in the throes of passion, but had to hide their actual lips from the scene and discreetly walked into a bedroom, closing the door to do you-know-what. I remember when the only time you confused a man for a woman was from behind, and only because his hair was incredibly long and his clothing was non-descriptive.
I can only imagine how senior citizens feel (“Hell in a hand basket I tell you”) in this day and age about the changes in bathing suit styles (can you say thong or its more popular name — Butt-floss) and television topics and presentations? It’s no wonder so many of them have heart problems!
My son was about nine when he asked me what “male enhancement to improve her pleasure” meant because of a commercial he heard on the radio, and just recently my daughter wanted to see what was in the Trojan box at Walmart that she had seen blow the hair back on the couple of actors in bed together on the television commercial. (I misguided by telling her that that was the section for married people only, and if the cameras saw her messing with it we’d be kicked out of the store and then lied further, telling her I had no idea what was in there. I have to ask — and I honestly request that you respond online after this is posted on http://www.thepilotnews.com  by “commenting” — what do you tell your children? Mine surely aren’t the only ones questioning.)
We have condoms and sexual male enhancements being sold next to the lottery tickets at the counter of most gas stations. They sell sexual enhancement devices at most drug and general stock stores now, and risque commercials aren’t only on cable or pay channels anymore. Heck, the titles of some of the movies available are offensive enough I have to block them from the screen because “Debbie Does Dallas” apparently is no longer considered an explicit-enough example for the titles of “adult” movies.
No longer are magazines with scantily-clad women on them required to be stuffed in the back of the magazine rack selections and have you read the titles of the articles on the front of Cosmo lately? My gran used to get the mag when I was a kid and they talked about presidents (and not about their sexual escapades), cooking and decorating one’s home. Yes, these are the days of our lives. The days when there isn’t a clue as to whether the person you passed on the street is a man or woman and there are about six descriptives for categorizing one’s sexual preferences and literal body type.
I started on this rant because the other day when I turned on the TV to scroll through my options and a random channel was on in the background of my highlighted channel choices I saw that it was the “soapie,” Days of Our Lives, one I had to watch as a child and watched of my own directive a little when I was older (until the writers got a little too creative), and to my surprise, saw two men with only pants on, fully making out — loving, touching, squeezing AND showing tongues. I was a deer in the headlights (without the sudden fear of death mind you). I was beyond shocked.
Now, I know, and am related to homosexuals. They are not demon spawn and in fact are honest, kind, intelligent, respectable, hard-working individuals that are delightful company. What they do behind their closed doors is not my business or for me to judge. I just don’t want to watch them sharing affections and is why I don’t live in a place more liberal like Chicago or San Francisco for example, and why I don’t choose to visit those that I know in their homes. I don’t want to go to the beach and see some man’s “junk” stuffed into something the size of my headband or a woman who is showing the world what type of shaving style she prefers for her “bikini area.” If I want to see all that I know what channels, magazines, websites bars to look for. So why is it in everybody’s face? When I’m 80, will it be perfectly acceptable to walk around outside in one’s underwear? Will Ernie and Bert come out of the closet?
I’m not saying we should all live like the Amish (and NO, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with how they live — in fact — those I know are the kindest, most hard-working, honest people I’ve ever met). I just couldn’t wear all those clothes — especially in the summer. I’d lose my mind on a steamy day and run streaking down the street, tearing bits of cloth off myself screaming “I can’t breathe!” But geez. Can’t we keep what goes on in the bedrooms IN the bedrooms?