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Sunday Stories: The eater

We went to the theater last night. There was a message there somewhere. As could be expected, I guess, from a piece carrying like a cross the title ‘Golgotha’ (never mind the addition ‘picnic’). Anyway, we didn’t get it. Too unprepared I assume. One doesn’t go unprepared to a thing filled to the brim with biblical references and come out unpunished. That’s a pun. Well, at least pun-ish.

I peed when it was done, then smoked, then joined the after-theater. I was hungry. The thing is that I don’t cope well with alcohol, less so when I’m hungry. So now I’m in a foul mood writing this. But back to last night, I drank beer and only got my snacks during the second one. At which time I ate almost all. Conversation til then was about what it meant, the piece. And why there was so much nudity. “What makes a couple of tits and penises so essential to modern theater?”, was the second plate and actually the main meal. ‘God only could know what it meant.’, was the quick outcome of the first dish. Even if God was hated in it. Or so it seemed because on the other hand there was a large and, all things considered, long piano piece of Haydn in it. Let’s go out on a limb and posit that Haydn did hate God and move on to nudity.

One thing has to be said which wasn’t said last night and that is that those conceiving of modern theater conceive of popular culture as if it stopped developing after the invention of fast food. Probably that is because they conceive of real culture as having arrested development somewhere around the French revolution. What that means for modern theater I don’t know and was not discussed. But we were shocked, not because of the close up of a cunt (it takes 5 seconds to get to see a close-up of the inside of a cunt on a flat screen when totally alone at home), but because we felt the need to feel shocked by something that is as shocking as our mother walking in on a masturbation strip some 30 years ago. And big tits are ugly when the woman blessed or possessed by them bends over.

Still, I liked the piece. Maybe because it had a point and just refused to drive it home. Porn without coitus. The classical form of porn as it hardly takes as much time to finish masturbating as it takes to complete even the flimsiest non-story of porn. And then there is zapping, too. I mean: you know the drill. Why wait for it? Even lesbians will wind up strapping on a ding to make male heterosexuals go dong. The value of porn lies in the first 15 seconds. The industry would be safer if it just pretended there was something beyond a thirtieth second which no-one ever reaches. My idea is that it takes about 10 zaps of each 15 seconds to make a man come. Technology should focus on sparing us the minutes of time wasted between zaps looking for the next 15 seconds of shame.

But none of this was said. Too shocking I guess. What shocks me by the way is the uncomfortable feeling I get suspecting there are some who actually watch the whole clip of porn. Probably they also inflict pain on animals.

So, what was said before my snacks (scampi en gabardine, mini-spring rolls and cheese balls) arrived?

There was reminiscing of other plays we had seen featuring mostly old male actors exhibiting their shriveled privates in company of one or more young female actors undressing in Act one and assuming mostly passive poses thereafter. One memory was about such set-up featuring a rape scene. My wife said that it was a rape of a rape scene. And she was right even if I said it and she thought it but would, in keeping with her way of being, never say it out loud. In modern theater the women wind up both doing the eating and proverbially then being eaten. Without opportunity for commas. Anyway, we all hated that. Let them wear their clothes, if they prefer not to wear any, it is fine, there are career opportunities that way as well which might give us joy in the privacy of our own homes.

And whatever you do, Rodrigo or others, don’t turn things around for irony. We do not want to see penises of old exhibitionists. Granted that the state of the world is worse for them, there not being career opportunities that way (at least not a lot that don’t involve winding up in prison being loathed by fellow inmates who feel good about themselves because whatever loathsome thing they did is not so very loathsome as what old despairing exhibitionists tend to wind up doing).

On second thought then: subsidies for old men showing penises for an audience is an extremely good idea and we should maintain it. I formally ask this Garcia bloke to think about it for a while and find a modern way out without bothering young female actors with entry rites into their profession involving doing bad porn live and calling it art. Most theaters have an internet connection so it should be very possible to show old exhibitionists getting off on actual internet porn on a big screen. Failing better porn zapping technology the whole thing might wind up being educational as well. I think everybody would agree that more efficient porn zapping would be of a substantial benefit to society.

I mean that. So should you.

None of this was discussed last night though. Come to think of it, last night is just an excuse to let me rant about porn.

Finally the snacks arrived so we could close our little discussion with a dessert of personal factoids: politics is as bad as everybody says it is, big companies move slowly.

None of us had sex afterwards. Porn: maybe. Sex: nope.


October 6, 2013 - Posted by | Sunday Stories

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