Lots of people are busy making lists of what they want for the holidays. Let me tell you what I DON’T want for the holidays:
* “Funny” movies about accidental pregnancy.
Earlier this year it was Knocked Up. This weekend it will be Juno. I don’t care if these movies are funny, quirky, or well-made. Now that our government is officially pro-marriage and anti-contraception,
anything that excuses or normalizes unplanned pregnancy is unforgivable escapism or a political crime.
Being drunk is no excuse for “accidents”; we’re ALL drunk when it comes to sex.
* Endless “male-female” advice columns.
Do women really like going down on a man? How do men really feel about anal? What’s the best way to get a woman to do it with the lights on, or the best way to get a man to shut the lights?
I’ve answered questions like this for 30 years, but for those who’ve missed it, let me say so again: Unless you’re sleeping with ALL men or ALL women, it doesn’t matter what “men” or “women” feel or want. The only people whose sexual tastes should matter to you are the people you’re with. If you want to know what someone wants or how they feel, don’t ask a columnist, don’t read a book, don’t check a blog. Ask the world’s expert—that person.
* Rights for clumps of cells.
The government of the most complex, richest democracy in the history of the world now sits around debating how many rights to give embryos, stem cells, and fertilized eggs. All of these are smaller than the period at the end of this sentence, and none of them can feel, think, or root for the Boston Red Sox.
Giving these microscopic specks rights—especially rights that change the course of actual people’s lives—is an insult to science, thought, spirituality, and common human decency. There’s a place for people obsessed with the rights of things that aren’t alive. It’s called the Dark Ages.
I love holiday gifts, but please do not empower my sperm. We currently get along just fine, and I don’t want them getting uppity.
* Treating our children like they’re psychopaths or retards
What else can we call it when politicians and “morality” groups say our kids must be protected from sexual words and images at all costs? Apparently, people like Laura Bush and the Parents Television Council believe our kids are either brain-damaged, or spring-loaded sex maniacs, who will flip out if exposed to triggers like Janet Jackson’s breast or magic syllables with the letter “k.”
The latest “problem” we apparently need to get hysterical about is kids seeing “inappropriate” things in airplane movies—you know, the already-censored almost-movies shown on tiny screens on the other side of someone’s big head. North Carolina Congressmembers Heath Shuler and Walter Jones are sponsoring the Family-Friendly Flights Act, which purports to shield impressionable eyeballs from the searing scenes shown on airplanes every day.
I wouldn’t mind this bill if the scenes it attempted to control were of tormented knees, sinuses, and stomachs, which are now standard on every flight.
So is there anything I would actually LIKE for the holidays? I’ll tell you tomorrow.
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