Tag Archives: Morality

Another weapon in the Victimhood arsenal

Institute for dead horse floggingA message has been received from the lads down at the Bill Sticker Academy for Dead Horse Flogging (I thought they’d all retired, but there you go), about a relatively new practice called being ‘Ghosted’ or ‘Ghosting’. Actually it’s not new at all. Apparently in some journo’s lexicon to be ‘ghosted‘ is to be ‘dumped’. Specifically having a relationship truncated for reasons not made clear to the person who is being dumped and further contact denied. You know the sort of thing, ex has dumped all your emails in their spam filter, they’ve changed their telephone number and gone ex directory, changed job, moved with no forwarding address, run away to sea, joined a circus, a monastery or became a Nun.

It happens. People walk out on relationships every day and there’s nothing remarkable about it. That said, it’s no fun getting dumped with your ex refusing to talk to you any more, but there are perfectly good words for it rather than taking another word and painting it in rainbow colours for the aggrieved victimhood industry. Just for the sake of a piece of complete and utter Fark.

The rest of us understand that dumping occurs when one half of a relationship decides that enough is enough and it’s time to bail out. Whether the reasons given are good or not is always very subjective and not worth making a federal case out of. Which is probably what those claiming to have been ‘Ghosted’ want. They want a new legal tool to bloodlessly beat ex-partners into submission with even if erstwhile whatever think the ‘Ghosted’ are too much of a flaming nuisance to bother talking to any more. What the perpetually aggrieved want is a way for those of the ‘bunny boiler’ persuasion or perennially annoying (Which might be a gentle hint as to why someone got dumped in the first place) to enforce contact long after the rabbit is dead. Even though the world has turned and the ghosts have given up on whatever feeling there once was (at least for one party) and buggered off to haunt somewhere else. My advice? If whoever won’t take your calls after a week or so and has changed their number and details, move on. They’re not worth the heartache. Unless they’ve got your property or money, in which case may I advise hiring a decent lawyer.

We live in an age where language is becoming ever more of a lottery. Everyone wants to stake a claim in ‘cool’ (Whatever that is) and make a word or phrase their own. Even if it does sprain your grammar (And put a crimp in poor old Grandpa). However in this particular case I’d say they’re selling metaphorical Belgian beefburgers. It doesn’t matter how you dress it up, getting dumped is just that. A full stop in the story of a relationship. Changing the language to justify chasing after an ex is a truly bad idea because if they cared about how you felt they wouldn’t have dumped you, right? My advice? Don’t flog a dead horse. Lovers are like taxis. It may take some time and effort to flag another one down, but it will pay off with a comfortable ride, if of course you’re willing to take the necessary leap(s) of faith with your eyes wide open this time. You just have to get out more. To change metaphors, it doesn’t mean you have to ride a lot of horses until you find your My Little Pony, but there’s a lot to be said for hanging around the right (for a given value of ‘right’) paddock and just checking stuff out before making a bid.

Being ‘dumped’ therefore shouldn’t be viewed as a totally negative event. Looked at properly it’s actually a time for personal growth and new opportunities. Even if the miserable bitch / bastard in question won’t take your calls. You’re probably better off without them. No matter what words you use.

Deep misconceptions

Sensible mode engage…..Booting…..The lamestream do tend to mythologise things don’t they? But then that’s their business. Sensationalism, sex and scandal sell. That the public is presented with misrepresentation as fact, especially in the tabloids, is a scandal in itself. Take for example the headlines surrounding the creator of the Silk Road trading web site, who was recently handed a life sentence without parole. Here on Reason TV, Documentary maker and one time film comedy actor Alex Winter discusses his 2015 documentary ‘Deep Web’, samizdat copies of which are already available on YouTube and probably on every available streaming site by now.

Both the interview and documentary make interesting viewing.

Old jokes, a disambiguation

Following a little transnational cultural mistranslation in the comments of yesterdays post, I would like to offer a little clarification. Here at the Bill Sticker Institute for the preservation of old jokes, japes and facetiousness, our single becobwebbed researcher has been moved to lift his weary Jesters cap off the pages of the ‘Bumper Compendium of Auncient Fooleries‘ by Geoffrey Chaucer (1st edition). A venerable vellum tome which we alone own the copyright to, and have the last extant copy of. So there. It’s even got the one about the ‘Last goose in the shambles’. For any connoisseur of English humour, this should be a clue to it’s comprehensiveness.

One of our helpful customer service IgorsHowever, the jest in question is more recent than that, I merely mentioned that we have a copy of such a rare volume to demonstrate how seriously old jokes are taken around here. Notwithstanding, our researcher has been despatched, capering into our catacomb like archives with a jingle, a hey nonny-nonny and a blow ’bout the cheeks with his inflated pigs bladder (Which we hope is not a permanent condition). Not to find anything out, we just want him out of the way so our trusty crew of Igors can do the real work.

What they have come back with are the references to late Victorian music hall routines, where a comic actor or actress would make the statement “And my case comes up next Tuesday.” as a throwaway punchline. The focus for this line is a mockery of the various obscenity laws then being enacted, where any heretofore innocent act would reputedly result in the perpetrator being arrested and subject to trial in the various Police or Magistrates courts. Having one’s ‘Case come up’ means that one had been summonsed to appear before the magistrates on some unspecified charge of obscene conduct. The date of the appearance to be set by the teller of the joke. To wit; “My case comes up on Tuesday” is a statement that one has been accused, and a court appearance has been set for the following Tuesday. The ‘Tuesday’ is a random variable, and has no effect on the jests efficaciousness.

Therefore; “Embrace your inner Englishman.” Made as an exhortation to behave in a given fashion, would be met by;
“I did, and my case comes up on Tuesday.” To imply that embracing one’s inner Englishman, presumably in public, was a public decency offence and having a degree of obscenity sufficient for the forces of law and order to become involved. The subtext being that the exhorted would not be complying with the requested standard of behaviour.

This particular joke has largely fallen into disuse since the 1960’s and 70’s, when its last recorded use on UK nationwide Television was on the Morcambe and Wise show. Other notable users of this specific joke are Tony Hancock and the entire ‘Carry on‘ team. Researchers have also recounted how it was also a favourite of Benny Hill.

There are those of course, who will become outraged and scream like demented toddlers that such a statement is ‘anti (Insert cause here)’ because the use of said phrase implies that their chosen cause is an offence against public mores and morals, which in retrospect is probable. But these are people who take themselves and their opinions far too seriously. Therefore we should be cautious, and approach such topics only when heavily armed. Just in case.

For those of you who don’t give a fig for trendy causes, we are pleased to announce that our playlist of young ladies getting their kit off in an artistic fashion is an ongoing project, with videos being added at least once every day or two. We are happy to add that most are definitely not safe for work.

We hope the aforementioned has been of assistance.

As an appendix we would like to introduce, at least to lovers of satirical Country music; Miss Shirley Gnome.

Something in the water

Is it just me, or is there something odd going on? We’ve had over twenty odd years of increasing histrionics over what I would ordinarily term mere bagatelles while more serious issues get glossed over and sidelined. Off the cuff remarks reacted to with such vehemence you’d think someone had committed a real crime. And the thing that raises a Spock like eyebrow the most, the Police often take the complaint seriously.

It’s not just that, far too much emphasis is being given to comparatively petty matters while more serious crimes seem to get a free pass, or never seem to come to trial as speedily as possible. Someone makes an off colour remark on ‘social media’ and there are a whole heap of frothing complaints, but murder hardly makes the front pages. Does this make sense to anyone?

Not me. Anyone else? I reckon it’s something environmental, although what it is I have no idea.

Update: Ahah! By George I think I’ve got it! I had a minor flash of whatever, and went to have a look at the analysis of red meat consumption over the last few decades. Canadians in 2010 consumed only just over half the red meat they did in 1980. Could this be a factor behind the rise of PC? Diet? More fruit and nuts leads to more fruit and nut cases? There’s a Ph.D and a Nobel prize in this for someone.

Can we move on now?

Seventy years ago, the Japanese surrendered to Allied forces after they were finally convinced of annihilation if they didn’t. The Fascist regime that perpetrated so many abuses against other humans is no more, yet it is felt modern Japanese politicians should apologise for the atrocities committed by that regime. As if mere apology was enough to make amends for the ill treatment of prisoners of war which included starvation and forced labour, brutal executions made routine, experiments on live human subjects which included dissection while alive. Yet I will argue that the modern Japanese are not responsible for the actions of their forefathers. I would also argue that the A-bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki were necessary at the time and saved many more lives than they took. The alternative would have been complete annihilation of Japan because the culture of that time was to die for the Emperor. And they would have done so, in their millions. Small scale examples of this mindset were demonstrated with civilians on Saipan and Okinawa leaping to their deaths rather than ceasing resistance to the allied forces. Which some contend were forced by the Japanese military. Shinzo Abe has it right. Enough with the apologising already.

Like with 17th and 18th century slavery, the time has passed, and no matter what anyone says, Western culture alone cannot be held responsible for the actions of the slavers. Those responsible are long dead, so why is there this ‘blame culture’ prevalent in modern western society? The fact that slavery still exists in non western cultures to this day seems to be conveniently bypassed. In the 17th and early 18th century Moslem Corsairs raided South western English and even Icelandic villages and towns for slaves. A Barbary raider even sacked Baltimore in continental North America, June 20, 1631. Is the Ottoman Empire available for comment? Don’t be silly. The same as I am not responsible for the outrages committed by Medieval Crusaders on the town of Acre or the Catholic Church’s grand inquisition. We are not they. We’re not a bunch of fcuking knuckledragging hillbillies who can’t forgive or forget. Society has moved on.

What I’m driving at here is that whilst we should never forget the brutality of our (and their) ancestors, the reason for remembering things as they happened should be? Yes, I’m talking to you at the back there. Why should we never forget the horrors inflicted by people on their fellow humans? So we don’t make the same mistakes ever again. Good. Lesson learned. The idea that the sharp edges of history should be somehow smoothed over in case the fine detail ‘upsets’ the thin skinned and hypersensitive is ludicrous. Can’t handle the facts? Aww, poor diddums.

What irks me most about all these apologies for every single bad thing done by people who might, or might not be in my, or anybody else’s line of ancestors is that they are counter productive and only serve to renew the resentment. Vengeance can only be relevant when the perpetrators of the original evil are still around. If those who did the wrong are dead then vengeance cannot feasibly be justified. The principle in law being that their debts and evil die with them. Harming someone’s offspring for a wrong perpetrated by their parents simply restarts the cycle. Likewise insincere apologies. Rinse, spin, repeat, but you’ll never be rid of the blood.

Hells bells, it’s Dragon Boat weekend, and I intend to be downtown in an hour or so with my (Japanese designed with Chinese and Korean made components) Nikon Coolpix 520 camera. Watching the Canadian sponsored dragon boats, maybe joining in the fun, perhaps popping into the Bard and Banker or the Irish Times pub for a beer and chicken wings. I do not wish to be apologised to by any visiting Japanese, nor will I feel obliged to apologise to them for acts committed before either of us were born. Life is too bloody short.

Fifty shades of…. bacon

Meandering idly through the comment streams of various articles in the dear old Barclay Brothers Beano (I was bored and in need of a laugh), I came upon an article about how children see online porn. From the perspective of an upper middle class columnist, who discusses all manner of things with her children. Which didn’t shock me. Nor did the fact that 13 year olds had viewed online hardcore porn or gone “Euuww!” at some of it’s contorted gruntulations. The online stuff is no worse than what we read in the cloakrooms at school at that age, and kids are setting out on that particular voyage of discovery around then anyway, so no biggie.

What tweaked a nerve, the real perversion of the article struck in the opening paragraphs, where the author confessed to having put salad cream on their bacon sandwiches, which I thought sounded a little degenerate. In ‘big floury baps’ no less, which is in itself rather suggestive. Being a dull old traditionalist I use HP Sauce myself on flax bread with my morning bacon, but am quite tolerant of those who will add tomato ketchup, or even Tabasco to their morning pick me up protein blast. Even on their morning bacon and egg ‘banjo’ or in a burrito. But Salad Cream? Well, that’s definitely a new one on me, and I thought I was pretty damn sophisticated and unshockable.

Oh what a curdled mess we cast when first we practice breaking fast. I’m told that perverted sexual practices, like incest, run in families, so I’m not utterly stunned by these revelations of food porn by a journalistic cove. They will have picked up this preference at an early age. Possibly from a progressive parent, or not-so-distant-as-they-should-be Uncle or Aunt. Perhaps even at boarding school. Which is where a lot of upper middle class minds are first warped into thinking they know what’s best for the rest of us.

Deviant baconSo this leads us to the really big questions. Back or streaky? Smoked or not? Dry cure or not? Greasy or ‘murdered’? Fried or grilled (oh all right, ‘broiled’ then). Each have their own advantages and pleasures. What type of bacon works best with this depraved concoction? Are you a plain white person as far as bread goes, or gluten free, wholegrain, wholewheat, bun, bap, hoagie, tortilla, rye or even croissant? What does this say about you as a person? Bluff traditionalist with a side smorgasbord of sophistication, or an anything goes tie me down to the kitchen table for a good spanking matron pervert who has coleslaw in their bacon butty? Horrified shudder. Enquiring minds would like to know. Especially as we all like a good chuckle.

As for the Bacon Lettuce and Tomato deviancy, sorry, but that’s beyond the pale. BLT’s are a mere marketing ploy to give customers the minimum of bacon for the maximum price. The lettuce and tomato have no real nutritive value, belonging to the fictional ‘five a day’ fascism and can therefore be considered no more than inert filler. My take is this; if Inuit can go for months and years without lettuce or tomato, then so can I.

Update: I have sourced (or should that be ‘sauced’) the necessary ingredients. The great experiment happens tomorrow (Monday) around 8am PST (Noonish UK time)

Update on the Update: Overall, I think I’ll stick to HP sauce on my morning bacon sandwich, because while I found the Bacon with salad cream butty okay, in that I wouldn’t turn my nose up at it, I prefer the ‘traditional’ condiment. Bit of an anticlimax. Sorry pals, but there you go.

Points of evidence

Still hanging around at Mrs S’s conference. Tucked into a corner, watching, listening, observing. Picking my place so I don’t get eaten alive by the mosquitoes in this neck of the woods. Putting up with the low-everything catering. Although salt and pepper is available now. No aircon in our room so Mrs S isn’t sleeping well, which means I don’t either. Lots of being nudged awake “Are you asleep, Bill?” to which the answer always is; “I was.” Such are the delights of married life.

I’m a member of the awkward squad, but you knew that didn’t you? You charming little darlings. Both of you. One of those who tries to take a second look at whatever scare story is blared at them by the lamestream. When that evidence is available to me.Spot the blogger Most of the time I’m like the pictured gentleman, who may or may not be August Landmesser. Arms folded, not saying a lot, but pitching in when he thinks he’s got something to say. Not one of the herd.

On this topic I’ve been following the last couple of years revelations regarding the Savile case. Especially the issues highlighted over at Anna Raccoons. While he was alive, Jimmy Savile was an entertainment public figure and charity worker who had been questioned by police regarding certain accusations. There’s even a whole #ibelieveher lynch mob on twatter who automatically believe any allegations of abuse by celebrities without burden of proof.

Now having done a little bit of enforcement work, I’m a great fan of evidence. Did you know that even issuing a parking ticket (at least when I was doing it) requires seven distinct elements of proof before it can be validated? Not an uncorroborated statement repeated as though it were fact, but time and date, vehicle registration, make and model, colour, location, offence code restriction. Which have to be backed up with a photograph, before and after issue. Anything that doesn’t fit, if the issuing officer gets either the colour, registration number or location wrong that ticket can be successfully challenged and binned. So why is no such burden of proof being applied to the Savile case? Why weren’t these accusations corroborated when he was alive, or in the previous forty years since the alleged offence? Why are uncorroborated assertions being accepted as proof? Why are people so fucking gullible?

If inclined toward conspiracy theories, I’d say this was a put up job, a smokescreen to divert public opinion. News management. But I have no evidence, just suspicions. So when urged to convict or condemn by show of hands purely on the basis of one persons assertion, my arms, like the man in the picture, will remain firmly folded.

Comment of the day

“The more you help some people, the more they need to be helped.” These words drifted across the breakfast table, making me blink. Now there’s an intriguing thought was my unconscious response. Mrs S had been working online, talking about one of her clients. One of the needy ones. One of several she has to deal with in her day to day. Members of ‘the clueless’ who, no matter how many times they are shown, assisted, mailed the instructions and generally babied along, keep on asking the same questions about the same old subjects. It’s almost like their ability to remember has atrophied to the point of nothingness.

I remember thinking; ‘I must pass that one on to the Axiom testers down at the Bill Sticker Institute for word juggling and infinitive splitting.’ So I did.

One of our helpful customer service IgorsUpdate: The Axiom testers have come back with Proven. There are a lot of people in the world who fit this precise and pithy description. The lads down at the lab (See left) looked very pleased with themselves when they delivered this particular verdict. Well, I think they did. They’re mostly Igors, so it’s very hard to tell.

The good news is that these hapless members of the zombie apocalypse will probably be the first to starve to death if everything does go pear shaped. Not that it will of course. These are precisely the people that politicians buy the votes of with their endless promises of jam tomorrow and scare stories about the man-made (of course) heat death of the Universe. George Bernard Shaw called them ‘The undeserving poor‘. The rest of us, who can’t be bought or fooled so cheaply, will no doubt be the cash cows wrung out to dry so the pollies can keep their jobs.

Heavy sigh.

Don’t you just love democracy in action……

Especially when it’s not the voice of the majority, just the hypersensitive few. Trigger warningTrigger warning: Twatter, Arsebook and other like campaigners are going to be called names in this post. Offended? You will be. So stop reading now. The blog owners take no responsibility for any offence taken. Furthermore, ‘taking offence’ may lead to a complaint to the Police being laid against the offence takers. Remember, just ‘taking’ is theft and therefore wrong, no matter who does it. Very bad. Consider your wrists slapped and my admonishing finger wagged. Don’t do it again.

The hypersensitive have been running around the Interweb in the aftermath of the South Carolina church shooting in their usual aimless fashion, demanding that all objects bearing the American Civil war confederate battle flag of the 1st Army of Virginia are banned. As usual, the big online retailers, mistaking vociferousness for actual support, are now implementing their own ban on all merchandise carrying said image. Why? Because a mentally ill fruitloop murdered a bunch of nice respectable churchgoing folk in church had such a flag in his possession, having shortly before his heinous act espoused ‘white supremacist’ views. Which he had adopted for no readily apparent reason. Probably because he was mentally unstable? No-one close to him spotted this?

As an aside; being mentally out of whack doesn’t say much for any notion of ‘supremacy’ does it? To be supreme, firstly you have to be better. Which is subjective to say the least. People who are ill cannot be supreme, as illness, by its very definition means that someone is below par. Then there must also be someone to have supremacy over, and killing those considered ‘beneath’ any masters is a bit of an own goal, regardless of symbols. Even if they’re far more humane and less unhinged than you, like the murdered churchgoers. When the subgroup you consider yourself to be ‘master’ of is gone, who’s next? The slightly overweight chap wearing glasses who reads ‘too many’ books? People with ginger hair? (I think a certain Prince of the Realm might have something to say about that). Anyone cleverer than the supremacists? Which isn’t that difficult, from what I’ve seen, people who adopt such views aren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the box. I believe the Khmer Rouge tried this idea a while back. Newsflash. It doesn’t work. Sooner or later you run out of ‘others’ to persecute.

What else doesn’t work? Bans. Banning things always has a rebound effect. For example; banning certain music just makes people want to listen to it, just to see what all the fuss is about. Worked for Rock & Roll in the 50’s didn’t it? The bigger the fuss, the larger the rebound. As proof of this principle, sales of the ‘Stars and Bars’ have increased and those who see themselves as part of a loose ‘rebel alliance’ will no doubt already have said emblem prominently on display. As well as watching re-runs of ‘The Dukes of Hazzard‘ and putting Confederate Stars and bars’ back on their models of the ‘General Lee’, from which Warner Brothers are removing them. Banning a symbol which is only loosely connected with the commission of a crime never ends well. I’ll make a bet that sales of the ‘confederate’ flag will slide off eBay, Amazon etc onto Craigslist and Kijiji, to quietly resurface on Amazon and the like when the Twatterati have turned their goldfish level attention spans to something else in three days time. Dukes of Hazzard original memorabilia will shoot up in price because the ban will have automatically created a rarity premium.

Furthermore, those offended by such images are cautioned not to look at the graphic of Confederate battle flags below.
Some battle flags of the Confederate States of America Offended? Really? You can’t say you weren’t warned.

My discerning reader will have noted that at least three Confederate flags bear a striking resemblance to other non-US national symbols. The ‘Navy Jack’ for example looks a lot like the current EU flag. In a poor light, the flag of Polk’s Corps could be mistaken for the Icelandic or Norwegian flags. If I told you the emblem for Hardee’s Corps could easily be mistaken for the flag of the tiny Pacific nation of Palau, I would not be far wrong.

Nevertheless, the people campaigning for such a ban can only be described as brain dead wankers because, as usual, these ladies front bottoms are, as usual, mistaking symbol for deed. Then applying a boneheaded, top-down, one-size-fits-all philosophy. Their crippled intellects have no space for nuance in their reasoning, thus demonstrating an uncanny ability to utilise their rectums simultaneously for both vocal apparatus and cranial storage. Which in an obtuse fashion is quite a feat. A highly stupid demonstration of ventriloquism and contortion, but nonetheless impressive to watch from a safe and hygienic distance. They forget Bans are great for forming a tighter nexus around a rallying point for the people they despise, Polarising otherwise uninvolved communities and turning the unlikeliest people into political allies. The ban the campaigners want would criminalise all sorts of harmless folk, from Civil War re-enactors to collectors of memorabilia and antiques. Pushing them straight into the arms of the real racists. Bang, ow me toes! It really is very sad.

Enough now. I don’t really have a dog in this fight, but it’s just such fun watching idiots dig holes to bury them selves in. If these intellectually challenged campaigners really wanted to ‘end racism’, the easiest way would be, as Morgan Freeman once so elegantly put it, to “Stop talking about it” accept other peoples differences and get on with life.

Update: An interesting article on similar ‘Confederate Outrages’ in the National Post.

About the Male orgasm

Funny the things you talk about while driving, but it’s why my good lady wife and I enjoy such a strong relationship. We talk about stuff. She’ll put forward a point of view, I’ll put in my ten cents, and more often than not, we end up surprising each other.

I forget how the discussion started, as I was dodging dozy drivers on our way back down to Victoria. Mrs S made some remark about male orgasms not being as intense as the female variety, of which we hear so much, to which I responded; “Not always.”
“Oh come on Bill, that’s nonsense.” My other half mocked. Well thank you ‘Cosmopolitan’.
“Seriously. Sometimes an orgasm can really rip you up, head to toe.” I explained. Which has on occasion been true for me. There have been times when ‘la petit mort‘ has completely shut down my brain functions and sent a massive surge down my spine for a few ecstatically intense moments, my back arching uncontrollably, my toes clenching and the sensation washing through me like a warm tidal wave on steroids, blowing my hindbrain like some whole body tectonic marshmallow detonation which completely drains me.
“Yes, but what about men who point and shoot, then just roll over and head for the shower?” She asked.
“Well, sometimes it’s like that.” I conceded, which is true. “Male orgasms vary in intensity, and you have to really go looking for the big ones, but you really know when they hit.”
“It’s odd you know.” She said. “A female orgasm gives a deep emotional connection, fulfills an intense need for more than mere sexual satisfaction. Male orgasms by comparison seem so, well, superficial.” She enlarged on the topic, leaving me to dodge round a particularly indecisive line of three pickup trucks. While I did, I gave a little thought to the matter. Honestly, I’d never given the subject that much cogitation. Well, you don’t. Not if anyone is listening anyway. It’s about as personal as it gets, and people don’t generally like having their sex lives discussed in front of them. There’s always that sense of attempted humiliation.

“It’s not something we men generally talk about between ourselves.” I pointed out. Which is also true. Men don’t really discuss sex the way women sometimes do. An air of one upmanship almost always rears it’s tiny one eyed head. “Men don’t generally talk about their orgasms because if anyone does, it just sounds like they’re bragging and no-one believes them.” Which is also true. We males are conditioned not to discuss matters sexual because for most of us it’s a famine rather than a feast, but no-one wants to admit they’re starving because everyone else will laugh at them. Even if they themselves are just as hungry.

I thought about that point for a moment and tried to create an analogy. Eventually I ended up comparing one appetite to another and posited thus; in this age of instant gratification; sex, like food, is often gobbled or consumed hurriedly or perfunctorily, like a person with a heavy thirst downing a pint in one. And speaking as a male, I’m often thirsty. Women are choosier, more discriminating, they lack a man’s immediacy, our hard wired hunger. For us males it can be any port in a storm, now. Which kind of explains the social need for prostitution and also why we men bolt our sex hurriedly because we’re secretly afraid it’ll be the last for some time. We always feel we’re on short rations, whether this is actually true or not. Which is why the male orgasm is often such a hurried affair. We consume it like junk food, hurriedly and without savour. We rarely take our time. Too often it’s “Come on darling.” Bang. “Was I really that good?” And the immediate hunger is sated. For the time being.

Nor do we Western men know how to talk about sex the way women do. Because we’re taught from an early age it’s like discussing what your turds look like in the toilet. Peer pressure and parental embarrassment condition us to consider it weird. Outlandish even. The only person we’re likely to have that sort of discussion with is our Doctor when he’s trying to work out what that strange pain is you’ve been getting for the last six months. Which may also explain why men use porn so much. Like a graphic novel it’s exciting and occasionally informative. And if you aren’t able to attract a sexual partner, or have never worked out how to navigate the secret maze from first smile to bedroom. Well, porn is all you got.

Furthermore, most ‘formal’ sex education is done in large groups, which let’s face it, is not an ideal forum. Discussing your most intimate needs is something only to be shared with a select trusted few, not a bunch of strangers, who, human society being what it is, will often point and laugh to shut down a discussion they feel uncomfortable with. Because we’re taught in the outside world that sex is ‘dirty’, not the natural expression of a basic human appetite. The salaciousness of it all gets in the way. It’s so, well, dishonest.

Then there are people who I will simply refer to as ‘vociferous outliers’, who, in order not to feel excluded and sidelined (Which from a psychological point of view is an expression of their own innate sense of inadequacy) will promote their own version of sexual reality as the ‘new normal’. Deliberately shutting those of us whose tastes are less exotic out of any reasoned discussion. Their way is the only way “So shut up you fascist you’re oppressing poor ickle me.” Like a plague carrying fly they land on any related, vaguely sensible discussion and infect it with their own preferences, no matter that they are the minority. Like Internet trolls they want to shut down the topic thread, because they can’t simply walk on by and let the grown ups talk sensibly. They have to leap around like a toddler in a tantrum to get their ‘point’ across. Even if it is only loosely connected with the topic under discussion. Which for most other people acts as a further barrier to modestly intelligent examination of the topic, and leaves the rest of us stuck where we started, hiding behind the metaphorical bike sheds at school, sharing our ignorance.

Rather ironic isn’t it?