CRS
Chandler, Arizona, United States

There's an old saying. If you don't want someone to join a crowd, you ask them, "If everyone were jumping off of a cliff, would you?" Well, I have. So my answer would be "Yes". True story.
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Sunday, February 08, 2009

this entry brought to you by the white stripes, "hello operator"


I knew this guy once. He had a shaved head, a goatee, and a large tattoo on his forearm of flames emanating from his hand, which we referred to as the "flaming fist" tattoo. Basically if there was a casting call for a movie taking place in prison, he would be one of the fellows that would get the part of a member of a white power gang.

He said he didn't ever cry at movies, and that his favorite genre was war movies. His favorite movie of all time was Deliverance, somehow had gone his entire 24 years of life without seeing Pulp Fiction, and when he eventually buckled and saw it because of our prodding, insisted that he had laughed during the rape scene. Which honestly shouldn't have been a surprise, as his favorite scene in Deliverance also had to do with rape, which he would also laugh about.

I don't remember how this came up, but at some point in time we were talking about porno. And it turned out that we both subscribed to the exact same site.

Which made me incredibly uneasy.

The thing is, I'm not trying to say that I hated this guy. He was an intimidating guy when you first met him, what with the flaming fist and all, but he was a nice enough guy, fairly easy to get along with. He was a supervisor, and as a supervisor he did things that pissed me off, but as a dude he was fine.

But I kept thinking about all the sweet faces in the pornos I'd downloaded from the site, all the delicious, pouty lips, the full, swollen, undulating breasts, pert nipples, petitely trimmed vaginas, and I kept thinking of him saying aloud to the screen, "Yeah, fucking get that bitch, fuckin' tear her up, yeah, fuck her man, fuck that stupid whore."

This is a weird phenomenon, because it's not as if I would feel uneasy if a dude with a flaming fist tattoo liked the same movies I like. I like a lot of arty films, but I also like a bunch of guy movies as well, and I wouldn't care in the slightest if he cheers "Yeeeaaaah! The bitch is back!" when Ripley blows up some aliens, or goes "Woo-hoo! Yeah! Get that fucker!" when Jack beats the hell out of Angel Faced Boy in Fight Club, even though he's probably getting things out of my favorite movies that I'm not necessarily getting, and that we're enjoying it on a different level.

But there's something about porno that made me uncomfortable when it was a shared experience. It was more personal. Like he was up in my stuff, and ruining all of it by turning it from something beautiful into mere trash. I wouldn't even mind if he saw a clip that I'd seen, it was the fact that we had collections, and that huge parts of our collections were the same, except somehow disgusting when he saw it.

On a related note, I loaned porno to an actual friend of mine, someone who doesn't have a flaming fist tattoo, someone that I actually took a disc filled with porn and gave to, telling him to copy it onto his hard drive. Even this felt weird, but it didn't feel disgusting, like it did with the guy with the flaming fist. Still, when my friend gave it back to me, he happily told me his favorite girls, and every one of them as he ticked off the small list were the girls that had the smallest breasts and had the most boyish figures. Now, I thought these girls were cute, which is why I'd kept them on the CD instead of deleting them, but they were by no means my favorite, and were by far the minority of files I had-- most of them were curvy and, you know, hot, and those were by far my preference. Individually any of the more flat-chested, thinly framed girls were cute and I thought they were together, but together being specifically pointed out as faves seemed mildly disturbing to me. It was like hearing that your friend is into all the same music as you, but all his favorite songs are the demos and live tracks that were b-sides for fans only. It's not as if there's anything wrong with it, but you wonder exactly what the fuck is wrong with your friend. You want to take it away from your friend and say "Yeah, you're not doing it right."
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with love from CRS @ 11:39 AM 

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