And present yourself once you are ready.
There seems to be a great deal of fuss made about romance, love, and sex these days that is somewhat superfluous. Not that the subject is not delightful and horrid in equal parts, but the set of rituals that have developed around it are becoming increasingly strange.
Once it was simple. Arrive at puberty, find someone else also at that stage and contract a marriage. Gain permission to live together from whatever relatives were handy, pay a small fee to the local priest for magic words, and start living together. Some societies just did the pairing up for you – you were married to whoever the relatives or ruler said you would marry and that was the end of it.
Now you need to meet, fall in love, romance each other, inspect the goods, try the mechanism, and get a lawyer to draw up deeds specifying who gets the cat if you divorce. This is time-consuming, tedious, expensive, and no-one ever asks the cats’ opinion.
If you decide to skip the legal bit you’ll be presented with it later – and neither side will be happy with the division of anything. Dividing the cat will be the most distressing aspect, not least to the cat.
There must be an easier way. Of course fundamentalist societies revert to Plan A and then fight it out from there on. Hippy societies have no plan, and still fight it out, but with a messier result. We need the intervention of the Vulcans and their logic to solve the problems.
I propose that before the ship of eternal marriage sets sail, the local authorities inspect the lifeboats. There must be an adequate provision for alternate lovers and/or spouses before the first lot are wed. It should be simple to draw up a list of secondary and tertiary partners to whom the prospective lovers will be sent in case of a breakup. If these individuals are taken up in the meantime suitable alternatives must be inserted into their planned marriage contracts. That way there is no uncertainty about where the affections will be directed or the infections contracted.
Some years before I stopped my dental career and sold the practice I started to notice a diminished ability to see clearly. This was the ageing process at work – first there was the loss of fine focus and then the onset of floating shadows in the eyes. These are a natural thing in the body of the eyeball – frightening when you first see them but one eventually copes.
Then the increase of glare effects as cataracts started to develop. This has increased over years and will one day need to be addressed by an ophthalmic surgeon. I’m not looking forward to this, but it has been mentioned that once it’s done I may be able to dispense with eyeglasses.
I don’t know whether this is real – nor whether I think it an attractive proposition. I’ve been wearing eyeglasses since I was 8 years old in a family that also wore them. No stigma was ever attached, save that from yokels in the 8th grade – and they were not valid critics. Losing the glasses now would seem somewhat like losing a part of my personality.
I also can’t imagine the operation for cataracts being so flexible as to allow close distance focusing as well as infinity sight – I’d still have to wear spectacles for one or the other. I’d opt for glasses for close work as it is what I am used to. But the prospect of open-air infinity focus with no frames to limit my vision is a bit of a siren call. I see the world in a frame – Panoramas are taken in pieces. The thought of a sweeping vision…
PS: Don’t wring your hands for me – I can take my glasses off now when I build scale model airplanes and paint the things with infinite precision. And unlike smelly mouths, I don’t mind how close I have to peer at them to get it right.
This is apparently a good thing, and recommended by a number of religious texts. In the nature of religious texts, they are being delicate and trying to mean one thing by saying another. Generally being fruitful means having sex, getting pregnant, and giving birth. Fruit has very little to do with it. A tomato is a fruit and the thought of tomatoes and sex is a little disturbing.
Now multiplying suggests that the sex business causes a numerical increase all out of proportion to the two bits that are put into it at the start. I’m not going to explain the process, but I can assure you it takes more than two bits. For two bits you don’t get any sex at all. Try pricing flowers, dinner, and bottle of wine these days and see what sex costs. And remember that you sometimes need to do sex several times to get a result – It’s like trying to start an old computer or a used car. Press that starter and pump it with your foot…
But you cannot exist on fruit alone. You need vegetables as well. Very few passages in the religious texts deal with vegetables, which I think is a sore failure on the part of the ancients. It leaves vegans sort of out in the cold, sex wise.
I do not intend to lower the tone of this column by making zucchini jokes.
I hope to be of interest to science. Not in the path lab specimen jar sort of way, but as an interesting study in psychology. The problem that I have right now is deciding whether I wish to be a shining example or a horrible result.
Good has its attractions. You spend less time in court or on the gallows and history is kind to you. Of course, if you are skilled at doctoring history in the first place you can pretty much please yourself what you do in your spare time.
Evil is a difficult thing to present to others – they always seem so judgemental when you are a mass murderer or sell fat-free grills on the Shopping Channel. The old excuse of being mis-understood has largely gone by the board…when you explain yourself it all sounds so much worse. Best to just destroy civilisation and keep silent about it.
Science has gotten a bad rap lately with the anti-vaccination zealots and the electronic virus conspirators. Even proving mathematical formulae can lead to you being stoned in the marketplace. Don’t mention the sun or the planets…
But I still hope to be given my own place in the species charts when they re-do the scientific classification of the world. I cannot say whether it would be better to be an animal, a vegetable, or a mineral, but whichever I end up being I hope to have a cool-sounding scientific name. One that people can spell correctly.
We’ve all read that term;” sexual favours ” and thought we knew what it meant. Ditto ” sexual harassment “, ” sexual content “, etc. I put it to you that we have all been remiss in our reading – there are far more sexual phrases that need to be incorporated into our daily conversation.
a.” Sexual healing “.*
It really does have a place in medical textbooks. If you have just been through a six-month course of antibiotics, surgical drainage, and splints, you are entitled to use the term ” sexual healing “. Otherwise you are just singing a rather drippy pop song.
Don’t sit near me, if you please…just in case.
b. ” Sexual Slave “.
Well we’re really into the Mills and Boone bodice ripping here, aren’t we. Try not to slaver when you say it.
c. ” Sexual Appliance ”
If you think we are talking about something in a plain paper wrapper, let me explain. Sexual appliances are large stainless steel or white enamel machines that do dishes, bake dinners, wash laundry, and dry clothing. They are referred to as ” sexual ” because people of any sex can operate them to make the house cleaner and the dinner more nutritious.
d. ” Sexual Politics ”
Wait till you see the picture on the ” How To Vote ” card…Cor…
* “Sexual Heeling ” …now we’re getting somewhere. Is that a stiletto heel you’re wearing or are you just glad to see me…?
” I need sex. If I don’t get sex I will be a failure. I will be sick. I will be terrible…”
Hogwash. If you don’t get sex you won’t be any of those things. You’ll just be yourself with your clothes on and a good deal more spending money in your pocket. You’ll have time to do pleasant and fun things without worrying about consequences. You will be able to avoid any number of unpleasant outcomes – both physical and mental.
” But everyone else is having sex. ”
No they’re not. They might be telling you that, but a great many of them are lying. They are bragging about it in hopes of making themselves look interesting or sophisticated or exciting. They could do that by reading a book.
” But what if I’m missing out? ”
Here’s a textbook on venereal diseases. Find out what you’re missing…knock yourself out. You’ll love the chapter on herpes. It’ll stick in your mind, like the virus sticks everywhere else.
” But what if I fall in love? ”
So fall. Fall as hard and fast and wet and foolish as you want to. It has nothing whatever to do with sex, as the porn channels on the internet make perfectly clear. You can have a superb romance dressed in woollen longjohns and sensible shoes. You can do it in cold weather and look absolutely stunning against crashing sea waves.
” So sex is not as good as it is made out to be? I can do without it forever? ”
Nahh. Sex is alright. Dive right in when you find a chance. But don’t hang about the edge of real life just mooning and mooching – use your time to enjoy everything else. If it gets you, it’ll grab your crotch anyway, and if it doesn’t you can be happy doing other things.
Or refusing to be vaccinated.
Your choice – both games at the one low price. Just pay the cashier and away you go.
Next week we’re doing a special on smoking holes in the ground. Decorative, practical, and every family needs one. Installed in an instant and there’ll be room for everyone.
You know, we really can sell anything in the centre aisle dump bins at the morgue. We thought we’d reached the bottom of the barrel with the plastic meerkat skeletons, but the idea of unvaccinated schoolchildren released into the crowd of other toddlers has really been a bonanza. Our checkout staff have been worked off their feet.
I put it down to the advertising. The old point-of-death posters that warned people to get polio or flu or smallpox injections were all very well in their day, but they could only reach those who read and think. Now with the internet and social media sites we can cut out half of those qualifications – and sales of mortality have zoomed.
Of course there are naysayers – there are aways busybody physician and surgeons who try to keep people alive in spite of our efforts. You have to accept this sort of thing in every society. And modern people can be depressingly well-nourished. But with the advent of the YOLO philosophy and cheap air travel, we have hopes that it can all be countered. We’ll eventually get them with either disease or inadequate aircraft maintenance.
I took this to my therapist and she assured me that I was fine. Everyone worries about sex. Some worry that they are never going to get any and some worry that it is not going to stop. She just worries about finding her underwear later.
My own anxiety revolves around what I have been told about it. The instructions I received when I was 17 years old seem to have been changed considerably now that I am 72. I say anxiety, but really I am somewhat relieved that the etiquette and mores have been altered since 1965. I would run a mile to avoid a disco and the flared pants just get me laughed at.
Now, in the interim, I have married and fathered a daughter who is now hovering over me like a female Sikorski S-55. It is rather nice, and shows that she is a loving and caring person but it is making it darned difficult to slip out of the house and go to the hardware store. I just get to the door and I can hear the Wocka-Wocka of the blades coming up behind me with the question of what do I think I am doing…
But that interim… You woulda thought that I would have discovered the deep and meaningful message of sex in the 55 years, but I am still as confused as ever. Watching Jane Fonda movies didn’t help. I’ve watched ’em and I now know how to clear the breech on a North Vietnamese anti aircraft gun but I’ve no idea how you do the same to Jane.
There was a brief period in the middle where it all seemed to be opening up. The subject of sex, not Jane Fonda’s gun breech. Talk-dirty-to-me therapists were all the rage and there were sex shops and sex tapes and presumably trays of CWA Sex Lamingtons. I missed out on them all.
What of the future? Well Jane is no longer as exciting as she was…unless you are into political protests. I daren’t go to the pole dancing bars in case someone spots me and forces me to get up and spin round. I may have to continue writing steamy literature and let it go at that.
Before you turn your head and go Ptui consider some things about spit.
a. It is intrinsic. Unless you are person who unfortunately has had radiation to your salivary glands, they function pretty well by themselves. The radiation patients sometimes have to buy bottles of flavoured artificial saliva from the chemist to allow their mouths to function as normal, but it must be an awkward thing. They have my sympathy.
b. There is a lot of it. As soon as you perceive a tasty morsel your glands flood you out with ropey saliva…ready for the eating or drinking that the smell or sight of food has suggested.
c. It helps. Try to eat shredded wheat with no saliva and see what it feels like. Hint: it feels like trying to swallow a Brillo Pad.
d. it is inconvenient. Whenever I have my afternoon cocktail, I get a flood of saliva that has to be got rid of. It’s either swallow it or spit it at the cat. Tiddles is getting both wary and soggy…
e. It can rarely be sold at the Farmer’s Market. Bottle it how you will – hand-blown crystal decanters or country jugs – it is hard to get people to buy human spit. It is not a seller’s market.
I am intrigued with the two avenues of disposal; swallow or spit. If you do the former, what becomes of it? If the latter, does your body lose something valuable? Is this sort of thing done better in Europe, as they always seem to wish to suggest with any human activity? Is there a French Ecole du Salive that sets out rules for the use of your glands?
I am also intrigued to find out whether the practise of spitting out everything that is not actually food is of benefit to the body. The rurality of North America, Southern Europe, and most of Asia have been doing so for aeons, and I wonder how much it has contributed to the level of intelligence evident there right now.
Should we be talking to the spitter or the spit?
Australians will get that one. For North Americans and Brits, think ” blanket fort “.
All good. Wife collected yesterday from airport amongst scenes of no panic at all. Has not grown another head. All in agreement with 14 day self-isolation.
One little reporter and cameraman from a local TV channel seen at the airport looking to beat something up amongst the first arrivals of the morning. Only a few fools stopped to answer questions. Few aircraft actually scheduled to come in – the Cathay Pacific ones are cancelled, of course, and some of the other carriers are dropping services.
Less traffic on some roads, but that didn’t seem to include the ones I was on. The morning tradies raged their way to work at each other’s bumpers. Thank goodness it was a light drizzle and the roads were slippery – makes the tailgating that much more exciting. For the next two weeks I wish them all the speed they need and frequent sudden meetings.
And now it’s time to draw up a schedule of things to do within the fort. This may result in accomplishing a lot of the maintenance that has been put off for years.