To the previous post, a passer-by has added the comment ‘there’s more to life than just sex’. The post is about language teaching materials and contains no reference to the erotic, so the remark might as well say ‘handsome is as handsome does’ or ‘Persil washes Whiter’ for all the relevance it has.
This blog makes it plain that I like men, but it also makes it quite clear that I like music, language learning, wine and cooking, among other things. Out of sixty three posts to date, two deal directly with sex. I recently tarted up the blog with photos of people and things I consider ‘reasons to be cheerful’ and these include one photographed penis, attached to a beautiful young man. There are quite a few musicians and writers there too, for anyone who hasn't noticed. I’d add more dick, were it not for the prurience of many blog readers (lathophobic aphasia regulars of course excluded) who flag blogs that acknowledge the unremarkable fact that humans have desires and genitals, including, shock horror, desire for those who have the same genital equipment as themselves.
In my You Tube favourites I have Eric Idle performing The Penis Song in the film ‘The Meaning of Life’. Schoolboy terms for the male member are delivered in the clipped, fastidious style of Noel Coward to the glittering clientele of a top-drawer restaurant. This, and the knowledge on the part of a modern audience that Coward was a gay man kept closeted by such as those simpering over this song, is what makes the piece so funny. A Pentecostal minister added a comment to my channel: ‘The penis song in your favourites is utterly sickening’. Fair dos. I had said something less than kind about the words of a guest speaker on one of his videos, the dread Mary Catherine Baxter. (Mary Catherine says she has been to hell and back - literally.) Now, I have about 250 videos in my favourites, most of them music from India, Iran, Greece and Turkey, but didn't your man have to home in on and listen to the only one with ‘penis’ in the title, then choke me off for it. (Sorry, not the best choice of phrasal verb there, perhaps.) Well, you know what your boss said, Rev’ren, ‘if thine eye offend thee…’? You know what to do now, if penises bug you so much. The Rev'ren believes in and preaches hell fire. In his world, the suppression of the critical faculties, stifling of empathy and want of conscience required to preach such a doctrine is not sickening, and a comic song about the organ every man has between his legs is. Go figure.
In his diary, Joe Orton made a note to himself to hot up his play ‘What the Butler Saw’ when he came to redraft it. ‘More fucking’ he wrote,’ and they’ll be screaming in the aisles’. This may no longer hold in present day Britain among the general populace, but it does still seem true of some Christians. Sex is like some bright red thread that runs through the fabric of their lives, never blending in with the other colours, but constantly nagging them with its obviousness and persistence. It is to be hidden, agonised over, denigrated. Its salience to them among scores of competing stimuli is indicated by the reactions of such as my visitor and Rev'ren Whatsisname, and they must rebuke me, us, for not being as hung up as they are and actually liking the shiny red thread.
I left the visitor's comment: stet! I went to his blog to ask him why he thought it necessary to leave such a remark, but he did not choose to publish the question. It took three attempts to leave a reply on the channel of my shocked Pentecostalist as well, as he kept deleting my message. So if anyone else feels moved to leave me any further such comments, I would ask them to go here first and get a grip... sorry, I mean get some perspective.
«Un phallus dressé est un symbole de vie, une croix est un symbole de mort»
'An erect penis is a symbol of life, a cross is a symbol of death.'
Jean Daniel Cadinot