I was made uncomfortable by female sexuality, once. I like watching everything Soderbergh in theater. Having missed everything about Magic Mike's marketing, I thought it was going be to be a small film, and went to see it in the middle of the week expecting the usual light crowd. It was a gritty drama about male strippers, that doesn't draw crowds. That's when I was greeted with a completely filled theater of women; I really could not spot a single dude, but it was dark so there might have been one. I somehow managed to find a middle seat somewhere, between some nice ladies.
There was so much screaming.
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HakkekageSpace Whore Academysumma cum laudeRegistered Userregular
Someone needs to start writing really good, really healthy erotica for women. A bunch of someones.
If the market is so stagnant that 50 Shades is what passes as good fiction then the public is in desperate need of better alternatives.
I would do it myself but I lack restraint so it'd get weird fast.
Bookstores are filled with shelves and shelves of this stuff in varying quality. I would argue that the popularity of 50 shades is due to its depictions of shaky consent. People want to read about that stuff.
I think if there was a piece of porn erotica that was super popular among dudes that had some highly problematic elements regarding consent (or similar) its unlike people would place the blame on a lack of supply.
Women can have sexual fantasies that are not cool if applied to real life also.
They can!
The current issue many people have right now is that the most popular and widely distributed piece of erotica floating around has significant problems with consent in a society that already has some messed up issues with sex.
Yeah but pretty clearly the former didn't cause the latter.
Someone wrote a book. Its written like shit (I haven't read it, but I've seen enough selections to know this).
Its underlying themes reflect some fucked up attitudes regarding sex (from what I can tell from summaries). So does Lolita.
I don't think Lolita causes people to become pedophiles or pederasts. I don't think 50 Shades causes people to become rapists.
Its also kinda fucked up because the people reading 50 Shades, by and large, are women but the implied concern is that it will cause rapes. And that's only really possible if you infantilize women and their ability to determine their own understanding of their own sexual consent.
Nobody worth listening to has ever said a single piece of media causes people en masse to do terrible things either.
Seriously these are some poor statements being made here.
Yes, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't very tempted to send it to someone I know.
He's not doing it anymore. The overwhelming response, naturally, overwhelmed him.
I would send to to Eddy. Not because I hate him (entirely), but because i want his life to be FULL OF FABULOUS
Look at the weak-ass nature of that glitter though. They're like sequins or some shit. I want that microscopic stuff, that stuff where you can just toss it in your face and walk around like a fucking manic pixie dream girl
"and the morning stars I have seen
and the gengars who are guiding me" -- W.S. Merwin
The other day I went to my mom's friend's house, and hung out there for a few hours. She had a friend visiting from Maryland, along with her daughter, the former of whom I had met before. The daughter and I are the same age, a fair amount in common, and we got along well. And a year and a half ago, if she had lived nearby instead of three hours away, I would have fumbled around trying to ask if she was dating anyone and if she wanted to see a movie sometime. But these days I don't have any desire to date, so none of that happened. For the first time, though, it bothered me more concretely that starting a relationship held no appeal, and now it's all just messy and weird.
the counterargument that it might produce real harm on a social level is actually sort of compelling.
But the counter to that counterargument is free expression. Art that doesn't effect someone's thoughts is bad art. And sometimes that which is being expressed is a reflection on bad things in society.
Several decades of rap have too many examples to count of songs with much more dangerous messages (even if you discounted misogyny) with much higher stakes. And those are largely targeted at adolescents not soccer moms.
50 Shades is bad largely because its written like shit.
No one's freedom of expression is being quashed by having their work criticized.
That continues to be a terrible concept.
So long as no one is actually doing anything about art that they personally feel "might produce real harm on a social level", criticize away.
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LudiousI just wanted a sandwich A temporally dislocated QuiznosRegistered Userregular
Hey everyone, deadspin just posted this horrible depressing story in case you want to read one for some reason
It was fall of 2001, I was a senior in HS, and my girlfriend at the time was starting her freshman in college. She had a younger brother, a sophomore, we both played on the varsity baseball team. She was going to a university about two hours away, and we were dealing with a new "long-distance" relationship. It was the worst heartache I've ever experienced, and it was already a disaster: dealing with raging jealousy about what she was doing every night, staying on the phone for hours each night, AIM all day, constantly crying for both of us, etc.
Anyway, she had mentioned a new friend of hers at school, some girl in the same situation as us, with a boyfriend back home still in high school. She had received a really nice bouquet of flowers and chocolates and whatever else from him, asking her to be his homecoming date that year. Cheesy as hell, I thought, but my girlfriend thought it was the sweetest thing. So I decided I had to top it.
I started researching, asking friends for romantic ideas (this was before Google could have told me what a moron I was), and I have no idea who came up with this or where he got it from, but I thought it was brilliant. I enlisted her brother's help and was able to set it up.
I went over Saturday morning to their family's house. I had bought like six big bags of Hershey Kisses and two dozen roses from the Giant by her house. The parents were gone for the weekend, and her brother let me in to get everything ready. He drove to pick his sister up from school—her being a freshman and all she didn't have a car. This gave me four and a half hours or so to get the house ready. I started at the front door, placing dozens of Hershey kisses strategically on the floor throughout their hallway, leading through the living room, down the stairs, and into her room in the basement. I led the path of chocolate into her bathroom, where I scattered the petals from one of the bouquets all over the sink, floor, and tub, and placed the second dozen in a vase on her nightstand. I lit a bunch of Yankee candles I had picked up that I knew she loved, and placed them all over her room and bathroom, and finally on the shelf in her shower placed a cheesy lovey-dovey card that stated "Now that I've kissed the ground you walk on and showered you with flowers, will you go to Homecoming with me?" I assumed after seeing this romantic setup straight out of a Nicholas Sparks novel (so I thought, anyway) and reading the card, her panties would literally melt off her body and we would have a weekend alone of sweet, sweet lovemaking.
Now would be the time to mention that the one thing she loved more than myself, or really anything at this point in her life, was her dog, a pomeranian/poodle mix named Sparky. It was fine as far as small ankle-biters are concerned—we got along alright— but to her, that dog was like Jesus and Fergie had reincarnated into a five-pound bag of fur and annoying yelps. Her brother had put him into his little carrier cage when he left, but apparently Sparky was pretty good at pushing onto the front of the cage and popping out the locking mechanism when left alone for too long.
This is not something I was aware of.
After everything was set up, maybe an hour and a half or so after I had arrived, I took off and headed to a friend's house nearby to hang out and wait for the inevitable phone call that would lead to sweet, sweet sexy time for the foreseeable future. I had been there a few hours when I started to get worried, I hadn't heard from my girlfriend or her brother in a while, and they should have been back by now. I thought about driving by, but didn't want to ruin any of the surprise by showing up before they were back. I waited it out another 20 minutes or so: Still no contact with either. Finally, I decided to go back to their house and see if they had shown up. Maybe she hated it; maybe she didn't really like all the silly romantic stuff I had been led to believe.
I pulled up to their house and saw her brother's car in the driveway, and can still feel that sensation of exhilaration at blowing her mind with my romantic gesture combined with fear that I was about to be dumped because of the same thing. Nothing in my life could have prepared me for the horror scene that was behind the front door.
As I pushed through through the front door, the first thing I noticed what seemed like thousands of shards of silver paper scattered throughout the hallway and streaks of chocolate in the carpet. I could hear screaming and crying coming through my girlfriend's room as I walked slowly downstairs trying to comprehend what could have possibly happened. I pushed open her door and saw what looked like a crime scene. There was dog diarrhea covering pretty much what seemed like every inch of her room, on the carpet, the bed, and even on the walls. I could see blood mixed in with the severe vomiting that Sparky had been spraying throughout the room, and my girlfriend sitting on the bed squeezing her dead dog against her chest.
Apparently, she had gotten home just as he was having some sort of doggy heart attack after CRUSHING all the chocolate candies I had laid out, and was having violent seizures on her bed. I learned later from her brother that she had been screaming for him to call the vet and that the dog died in her arms. The rest of that day is still blurry. I do vaguely remember crying uncontrollably and pleading with every fiber of my being for any morsel of forgiveness, but it was over. Her brother ended up taking her to the hospital due to how understandably hysterical she was, and I did everything in my power to try and clean up this obscene mess. I did what I could, but ended up having to pay to have the carpets and bed set replaced, which destroyed my savings, meager as they were from my allowance and working that summer.
Since that day, I have never been very good around pets. I'm married with a 13-month-old son and dread the day he wants to get a puppy. I am beyond terrified of leaving any type of chocolate unattended in proximity to dogs, and still have nightmares about what happened that day.
And no, she didn't go to homecoming with me. I'm not sure she ever even read the card, and the following spring baseball season, her brother opted for lacrosse.
the counterargument that it might produce real harm on a social level is actually sort of compelling.
But the counter to that counterargument is free expression. Art that doesn't effect someone's thoughts is bad art. And sometimes that which is being expressed is a reflection on bad things in society.
Several decades of rap have too many examples to count of songs with much more dangerous messages (even if you discounted misogyny) with much higher stakes. And those are largely targeted at adolescents not soccer moms.
50 Shades is bad largely because its written like shit.
No one's freedom of expression is being quashed by having their work criticized.
That continues to be a terrible concept.
So long as no one is actually doing anything about art that they personally feel "might produce real harm on a social level", criticize away.
All to often criticize counts as doing anything because something something abloo.
Hey everyone, deadspin just posted this horrible depressing story in case you want to read one for some reason
It was fall of 2001, I was a senior in HS, and my girlfriend at the time was starting her freshman in college. She had a younger brother, a sophomore, we both played on the varsity baseball team. She was going to a university about two hours away, and we were dealing with a new "long-distance" relationship. It was the worst heartache I've ever experienced, and it was already a disaster: dealing with raging jealousy about what she was doing every night, staying on the phone for hours each night, AIM all day, constantly crying for both of us, etc.
Anyway, she had mentioned a new friend of hers at school, some girl in the same situation as us, with a boyfriend back home still in high school. She had received a really nice bouquet of flowers and chocolates and whatever else from him, asking her to be his homecoming date that year. Cheesy as hell, I thought, but my girlfriend thought it was the sweetest thing. So I decided I had to top it.
I started researching, asking friends for romantic ideas (this was before Google could have told me what a moron I was), and I have no idea who came up with this or where he got it from, but I thought it was brilliant. I enlisted her brother's help and was able to set it up.
I went over Saturday morning to their family's house. I had bought like six big bags of Hershey Kisses and two dozen roses from the Giant by her house. The parents were gone for the weekend, and her brother let me in to get everything ready. He drove to pick his sister up from school—her being a freshman and all she didn't have a car. This gave me four and a half hours or so to get the house ready. I started at the front door, placing dozens of Hershey kisses strategically on the floor throughout their hallway, leading through the living room, down the stairs, and into her room in the basement. I led the path of chocolate into her bathroom, where I scattered the petals from one of the bouquets all over the sink, floor, and tub, and placed the second dozen in a vase on her nightstand. I lit a bunch of Yankee candles I had picked up that I knew she loved, and placed them all over her room and bathroom, and finally on the shelf in her shower placed a cheesy lovey-dovey card that stated "Now that I've kissed the ground you walk on and showered you with flowers, will you go to Homecoming with me?" I assumed after seeing this romantic setup straight out of a Nicholas Sparks novel (so I thought, anyway) and reading the card, her panties would literally melt off her body and we would have a weekend alone of sweet, sweet lovemaking.
Now would be the time to mention that the one thing she loved more than myself, or really anything at this point in her life, was her dog, a pomeranian/poodle mix named Sparky. It was fine as far as small ankle-biters are concerned—we got along alright— but to her, that dog was like Jesus and Fergie had reincarnated into a five-pound bag of fur and annoying yelps. Her brother had put him into his little carrier cage when he left, but apparently Sparky was pretty good at pushing onto the front of the cage and popping out the locking mechanism when left alone for too long.
This is not something I was aware of.
After everything was set up, maybe an hour and a half or so after I had arrived, I took off and headed to a friend's house nearby to hang out and wait for the inevitable phone call that would lead to sweet, sweet sexy time for the foreseeable future. I had been there a few hours when I started to get worried, I hadn't heard from my girlfriend or her brother in a while, and they should have been back by now. I thought about driving by, but didn't want to ruin any of the surprise by showing up before they were back. I waited it out another 20 minutes or so: Still no contact with either. Finally, I decided to go back to their house and see if they had shown up. Maybe she hated it; maybe she didn't really like all the silly romantic stuff I had been led to believe.
I pulled up to their house and saw her brother's car in the driveway, and can still feel that sensation of exhilaration at blowing her mind with my romantic gesture combined with fear that I was about to be dumped because of the same thing. Nothing in my life could have prepared me for the horror scene that was behind the front door.
As I pushed through through the front door, the first thing I noticed what seemed like thousands of shards of silver paper scattered throughout the hallway and streaks of chocolate in the carpet. I could hear screaming and crying coming through my girlfriend's room as I walked slowly downstairs trying to comprehend what could have possibly happened. I pushed open her door and saw what looked like a crime scene. There was dog diarrhea covering pretty much what seemed like every inch of her room, on the carpet, the bed, and even on the walls. I could see blood mixed in with the severe vomiting that Sparky had been spraying throughout the room, and my girlfriend sitting on the bed squeezing her dead dog against her chest.
Apparently, she had gotten home just as he was having some sort of doggy heart attack after CRUSHING all the chocolate candies I had laid out, and was having violent seizures on her bed. I learned later from her brother that she had been screaming for him to call the vet and that the dog died in her arms. The rest of that day is still blurry. I do vaguely remember crying uncontrollably and pleading with every fiber of my being for any morsel of forgiveness, but it was over. Her brother ended up taking her to the hospital due to how understandably hysterical she was, and I did everything in my power to try and clean up this obscene mess. I did what I could, but ended up having to pay to have the carpets and bed set replaced, which destroyed my savings, meager as they were from my allowance and working that summer.
Since that day, I have never been very good around pets. I'm married with a 13-month-old son and dread the day he wants to get a puppy. I am beyond terrified of leaving any type of chocolate unattended in proximity to dogs, and still have nightmares about what happened that day.
And no, she didn't go to homecoming with me. I'm not sure she ever even read the card, and the following spring baseball season, her brother opted for lacrosse.
a ) post a link when you copy shit mang thats like basic internet etiquette
Nobody worth listening to has ever said a single piece of media causes people en masse to do terrible things either.
Seriously these are some poor statements being made here.
The current issue many people have right now is that the most popular and widely distributed piece of erotica floating around has significant problems with consent in a society that already has some messed up issues with sex.
So no one has an issue with it causing any behavior. So the issue is what? People thinking the wrong way? But in such a way that it will never lead to an actions?
I was made uncomfortable by female sexuality, once. I like watching everything Soderbergh in theater. Having missed everything about Magic Mike's marketing, I thought it was going be to be a small film, and went to see it in the middle of the week expecting the usual light crowd. It was a gritty drama about male strippers, that doesn't draw crowds. That's when I was greeted with a completely filled theater of women; I really could not spot a single dude, but it was dark so there might have been one. I somehow managed to find a middle seat somewhere, between some nice ladies.
Nobody worth listening to has ever said a single piece of media causes people en masse to do terrible things either.
Seriously these are some poor statements being made here.
The current issue many people have right now is that the most popular and widely distributed piece of erotica floating around has significant problems with consent in a society that already has some messed up issues with sex.
So no one has an issue with it causing any behavior. So the issue is what? People thinking the wrong way? But in such a way that it will never lead to an actions?
That doesn't mean reading that book makes a person sexually assault others.
Unless you want to contend culture never ever ever influences behavior. Which would be quite the feat.
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HakkekageSpace Whore Academysumma cum laudeRegistered Userregular
Posts
Huni, that was a thing while I was still in America...
There was so much screaming.
He's not doing it anymore. The overwhelming response, naturally, overwhelmed him.
I would send to to @Eddy. Not because I hate him (entirely), but because i want his life to be FULL OF FABULOUS
NNID: Hakkekage
That was in the news because the guy started it as a joke and ended up selling the business as a going concern for tens of thousands of dollars
On the other hand, how critically can you be reading whilst enjoying repurposed twilight fanfiction
*ponders*
Nobody worth listening to has ever said a single piece of media causes people en masse to do terrible things either.
Seriously these are some poor statements being made here.
Look at the weak-ass nature of that glitter though. They're like sequins or some shit. I want that microscopic stuff, that stuff where you can just toss it in your face and walk around like a fucking manic pixie dream girl
and the gengars who are guiding me" -- W.S. Merwin
So long as no one is actually doing anything about art that they personally feel "might produce real harm on a social level", criticize away.
he was in love with the cocoa
WHY DON'T YOU JUST SIT DOWN, TAKE THE TIME AND WRITE HIM A LETTER FULL OF GLITTER?
...kids these days.
All to often criticize counts as doing anything because something something abloo.
i'll level with you
i do not do due diligence on everything i steal from reddit
up until now no one said anything so
i still feel vindicated in not making the effort
b )
NNID: Hakkekage
QEDMF xbl: PantsB G+
typical scot
hubba hubba
a-WOOOOOGA
NNID: Hakkekage
it must have been going on that week we spent in a cave on Mars
you get a pass for being 100 years old
NNID: Hakkekage
*sips wine*
Don't trust females. They are tricksy. Like hobbits.
That doesn't mean reading that book makes a person sexually assault others.
Unless you want to contend culture never ever ever influences behavior. Which would be quite the feat.
uggghhh mooooom i would just post some glitter on his FB wall
NNID: Hakkekage
Come now. We don't know he's gay.
QEDMF xbl: PantsB G+
On average, this thread was speeding through at warp 3.7
@Echo will create the new thread
@Deebaser is backup
Passing the ball to @Deebaser