the3rdrock.com

Amer­ic­ans are not gen­er­ally regard­est as the bright­est bunch. Of course this state­ment implies that it refers to the col­lect­ive, which is, admit­tedly, wholly unfair. As with most places, I’ve met undeni­ably dim spe­ci­mens and impress­ively bright ones. It is regret­table though that, for most people, a country’s intel­lec­tual repu­ta­tion is largely based on the actions and words of their news­makers, namely their politi­cians. American’s repu­ta­tion is tak­ing a pound­ing at the moment, which isn’t neces­sar­ily a bad thing, so long as they end up cre­at­ing life for it…

Des­pite being rebuffed by voters in Mis­sis­sippi and Col­or­ado, pro­ponents of the “per­son­hood” move­ment are still push­ing to enact legis­la­tion in states like Ohio and Oklahoma that would give zygotes the same rights as Amer­ican cit­izens. These bills would not only crim­in­al­ize abor­tion in all cir­cum­stances, they would also out­lawcom­mon forms of con­tra­cep­tion, as well as in vitro fertilization.

To poke fun at the absurdity of the meas­ure, Oklahoma state Sen. Con­stance John­son (D), has tacked on a pro­vi­sion affirm­ing — in the words of a fam­ous Monty Python song — that every sperm is sac­red:

State Sen­ator Con­stance John­son of Oklahoma City has served Oklahoma’s 48th Sen­ate Dis­trict since 2005, but it was yesterday’s intro­duc­tion of Sen­ate Bill 1433 that really pushed her over the edge. The bill sought to define human life as begin­ning at the moment of con­cep­tion, before it’s even implanted in the womb, and offers full legal pro­tec­tion to those tiny mul­ti­celled lumps. In the words of the bill, “the unborn child at every stage of devel­op­ment (has) all the rights, priv­ileges, and immunit­ies avail­able to other per­sons, cit­izens, and res­id­ents of this state.”

John­son sub­mit­ted an amend­ment of her own to the bill, which would have added the language,

How­ever, any action in which a man ejac­u­lates or oth­er­wise depos­its semen any­where but in a woman’s vagina shall be inter­preted and con­strued as an action against an unborn child.

Among other things, Johnson’s amend­ment would essen­tially out­law oral sex, anal sex, and mas­turb­a­tion. Were it not a satir­ical bill, it would almost cer­tainly be deemed uncon­sti­tu­tional.

To prove that her amend­ment was in jest, John­son voted with her col­leagues to table it later in the day. But it does illus­trate a ser­i­ous point: only about half of fer­til­ized eggs develop into a preg­nancy. If Repub­lican law­makers are will­ing to declare every cluster of cells with the poten­tial to become a fetus a per­son, why stop at fer­til­ized eggs? Why not sperm as well?

To protest the inher­ent sex­ism of the per­son­hood bill, another Demo­cratic sen­ator attemp­ted to add an amend­ment that would require the father of the child to be fin­an­cially respons­ible for the mother’s health care, hous­ing, and other expenses while she is pregnant.

I’ve never been to Oak­lahoma, but I can only assume it’s full of bible-bashing, ichthys-toting, cross-wearing, hymn-preaching sandal-wearing, straight-laced ignora­muses. Or Jews.

Sperm in vain (or Semen in vain or Seed in vain; Hebrew: זרע לבטלה, pro­nounced: Zera Lev­atala) is a Talmudic term and concept that refers to any sexual act in which a male’s sperm is con­sciously “wasted”,^[5] whether because she is preg­nant, infer­tile, or eld­erly. This is proper for the pur­pose of ful­filling the “Onah” Mitzvah-commandment, the husband’s mar­ital obligations.

“But why all these pre­cau­tions? — Because oth­er­wise one might emit semen in vain, and R. Johanan stated: Who­so­ever emits semen in vain deserves death, for it is said in Scripture.”

—Babylon Talmud, Tract­ate Nid­dah, p. 13a

Prior to the 20th cen­tury, it was a Jew­ish term usu­ally (but not only) refer­ring to male mas­turb­a­tion. In Shulkhan Arukh, on Yoreh Deah, it is stated that wast­ing sperm is con­sidered a sin greater than any sin in the Torah.

Homo­sexual inter­course is also con­sidered an act of sperm in vain, as mas­turb­a­tion. Even mar­ital sexual acts in which the sperm does not enter the vagina are con­sidered no less an act of sperm in vain.

The Halakhic atti­tude towards female mas­turb­a­tion is found in the opin­ions of the Ben Ish Chai,^[6] who says that it is wrong because it cre­ates evil forces (Qli­photh) and brings the woman to con­nect spir­itu­ally with the evil angel Samael, and Rabbi Moshe Fein­stein,^[7] who for­bids it because it involves indul­ging in sexual fantasy about men, which falls under the pro­hib­i­tion of for­bid­den thoughts, which are for­bid­den for women as well. How­ever, it does not carry the sever­ity of male mas­turb­a­tion, because it does not involve the release of seed.

In mod­ern days, the Halakhic ques­tion on whether tak­ing male semen and sperm for the pur­pose of med­ical exam­in­a­tions or insem­in­a­tion remains in dis­pute among Jew­ish legal authorities.

If you want to live your life as a socially-inept, ignor­ant, anti­quated and intol­er­ant entity reli­ant on meta­morph­osed prin­ciples you were not around to con­trib­ute to, com­ment on or verify, go right ahead. I have no prob­lem with that or you, but tabling a bill sug­gest­ing that recre­ational sex be out­lawed is fail­ing to see the basic needs you feel, desire and require.

Any per­son pro­claim­ing a life without sexual desire or action is pos­sible is a liar.

If you think the world’s at war now, out­law recre­ational sex.

A good Friend of mine recently sent me some choice words in reply to the sub­ject of baby showers. I think they are suit­ably applic­able here too…

You can’t tell me the thought of rub­ber duck­ies and frilly baby-blue or pink baby-grows, with dimin­ut­ive gir­affes embroidered onto the front of them, crossed her mind as beads of sweat trickled their way down her tits as she gasped and moaned orgas­ming with each thrust of a veiny nine-incher?!

Per­son­hooders, go and get rogered, you uptight wank­ers.

Sources: ThinkProgress.org & Wiki­pe­dia: Juda­ism & Sexuality

The Czech Republic’s Interior Min­istry has denied EU claims that it uses phal­lo­met­ric test­ing to assess the sexual ori­ent­a­tion of asylum seekers.

This after the European Com­mis­sioner for Home Affairs Cecilia Malmström slammed the coun­try for its use. She described the pro­ced­ure as “a pure medi­eval method and a huge viol­a­tion of the individual’s rights to privacy”.

Phal­lo­met­ric test­ing is allegedly used when asylum seekers claim they will be per­se­cuted by their nat­ive coun­tries because of their sexual orientation.

It involves meas­ur­ing the swell­ing of the penis when male asylum seekers are shown gay por­no­graphy to gauge if they are being truth­ful about being gay.

The min­istry, how­ever, insisted that these types of tests have not been used since 2009.

“They were pre­vi­ously used to sup­ple­ment other sexual dia­gnostic tests, and in the future we count on just using these,” Interior Min­istry spokes­man Vladimír Øepka told Czech Position.

A Decem­ber 2010 report by the European Union Agency for Fun­da­mental Rights on homo­pho­bia, trans­pho­bia and LGBT dis­crim­in­a­tion, claimed that the Czech Repub­lic is the only nation in Europe to use phal­lo­met­ric testing.

Irish ana­lyst at the scene, Pat McGroin remarked they were unable to identify which party was more cocky, but that the entire scen­ario was one big balls-up. Ben Dover, a mas­ter Baiter from Queens­land said the ordeal had left him with a sour taste in his mouth and that he felt shaf­ted by the Czech gov­ern­ment. “I came here, for a pleas­ure­able time, but the whole thing’s just been an anti-climax.”, said Richard Head, Rear Admiral in the Reserves.

Dis­claimer: the3rdrock.com does not dis­crim­in­ate against any ori­ent­a­tion, if you had any doubts.

Source: Mam­baOn­line via MyBroadband.co.za

Law is unpli­able. It has never eas­ily adap­ted to new dilem­mas, chal­lenges and quer­ies. Like­wise, law is mon­tone whilst life makes use of the full col­our spectrum.

“Sex” is def­in­itely a full col­our subject.

Many coun­tries have marked pros­ti­tu­tion as an illegal activ­ity. The usual reas­ons include dif­fi­culty in apply­ing and retriev­ing taxes (it’s always first and fore­most about the money) and the attrac­tion of other unsa­voury related activ­it­ies, such as drugs, petty theft, abuse, etc.

The prob­lem is though, where is the mono­tone line drawn in a full col­our scenario?

Observe Wiki­pe­dia (although community-based, their defin­i­tions provide a good gen­eral base)…

Pros­ti­tu­tion is defined as the prac­tice or occu­pa­tion of enga­ging in sex with someone for payment.

In con­trast, sex is defined as sexual activ­ity, includ­ing spe­cific­ally sexual intercourse.

We can see that pros­ti­tu­tion can in fact refer to many more activ­it­ies than just the act of penetration.

Argu­ably, we can list actions like kiss­ing, grop­ing, fond­ling and the like as sexual practices.

If I, as a male, walked up to a female on the pave­ment, handed her a wad of cash and pro­ceeded to fondle her breasts, would you con­sider that an act of prostitution?

If a char­ity kiss­ing booth were set up, would that be con­strued as prostituting

If a por­no­graphic shoot were tak­ing place, out of sight in order to keep within pub­lic decency reg­u­la­tions, would that be con­sidered prostitution?

If, as with my city of abode, a sex show is staged in which live sex acts are per­formed, is that prostitution?

Estab­lish­ments offer­ing lap dances and stage shows designed to stim­u­late the gen­italia are com­mon nowadays — are they guilty of prostitution?

Loc­ally, a sex TV show is in the works. It will involve con­test­ants com­pet­ing for prize money by enga­ging in lewd pub­lic sex acts. Surely this is prostitution?

TV sta­tions broad­cast shows with sexual con­tent to mil­lions of view­ers who often pay license fees in order to obtain their ser­vice. How about this?

Money has changed hands for the pur­poses of a sexual practice.

The examples abound. In the space of a few lines I have torn most of these laws to shreds.

Is that because the impact of the law is declin­ing? Mis­dir­ec­ted? Ignored? Erroneous?

Laws are a good idea, a neces­sary force and a wel­come con­trol — but as they are writ­ten by imper­fect creatures, they are exactly that: imperfect.

This post wasn’t with a ques­tion, so I have no answer for you, but I hope it has helped your thought pro­cess somewhat.

We’re quasi-intelligent creatures — not sheep. Never for­get that…

Ana Catar­ina Bezerra, a 36-year-old Brazilian woman, suf­fers from an imbal­ance that trig­gers severe anxi­ety and hypersexuality.Ana found that the only way to relieve her anxi­ety was to masturbate.

This seems all within the realms of reason, except that she real­ised it might be prob­lem when her self-love hit the 47-times-a-day mark.

In April last year, Ana took her employer to court to be allowed to play with her­self at work and now that she’s won, she’s leg­ally entitled to watch porn with her hand up her skirt for 15 minutes every two hours dur­ing office hours.

If it’s just with her­self, does the usual title still apply?

Source: News24

A long read, but a rather enlight­en­ing one…

Lon­don — A fam­ous actor has taken out a High Court injunc­tion, pre­vent­ing details of his trans­ac­tions with a pros­ti­tute from reach­ing the pub­lic domain and, pos­sibly, the ears of his wife.

Not just any old pros­ti­tute, either, but Helen Wood, the super-tanned woman who sold the story of her liais­ons with Wayne Rooney to a tabloid.

I’m not here to debate whether or not the rich and fam­ous should be able to keep some vestiges of their lives private. But I am here to say some­thing quite controversial.

I believe that sex with a pros­ti­tute doesn’t really, in the greater scheme of things, mat­ter one jot.

Yes, of course it’s seedy, it’s exploit­at­ive, demean­ing and risky health­wise, but as far as dam­age to a rela­tion­ship goes, I believe an affair is so much worse than your hus­band sleep­ing with a pros­ti­tute. An affair means he loves someone else more than he loves you.

An affair means a man is intim­ate with another woman — and by this I don’t mean sex. They read together in bed, they share poetry, they giggle and they talk. They share memories.

I speak from bit­ter exper­i­ence. What freaked me out was not my own husband’s ran­dom phil­ander­ing, but his emo­tional affair with a woman.

He took her photo in a stolen moment on a bal­cony on hol­i­day. He sent her text mes­sages. He dressed up for her — wear­ing the spe­cial Jil Sander jumper that I had bought him. They went to res­taur­ants together. Men don’t do these things for a prostitute.

Oh, of course I would prefer it if my hus­band or boy­friend did not sleep with hook­ers, pay for lap dances, or watch por­no­graphy on the inter­net. (I put all these mis­de­mean­ours in the same grubby category.)

But I don’t believe that if a man uses the sex industry, in whatever small or big way, it is neces­sar­ily a reason to end a mar­riage or a relationship.

And while I don’t claim to speak for all women, in my view it is cer­tainly not a suf­fi­ciently big mis­de­mean­our to des­troy his mar­riage, or ruin his career, or part him from his children.

I am now going to write some­thing that will enrage fem­in­ists the world over, and pro­voke an out­raged back­lash in the columns of online fem­in­ist web­site Jezebel (which already has an entire sec­tion that mon­it­ors me, entitled Keep­ing Up With Jones).

What I have to say makes a mock­ery of all those glossy magazine fea­tures telling us how to “get that mul­tiple orgasm”. It opens a door on all those seem­ingly per­fect rela­tion­ships and shiny, happy couples.

I don’t believe women are like char­ac­ters in Sex And The City. We don’t shout and writhe and pur­sue sex as heart­ily and relent­lessly as men do. It does not occupy our every wak­ing moment.

The truth is: we don’t really enjoy sex that much. And we def­in­itely don’t want sex as often as men do. That is a cold, hard fact.

And women most def­in­itely, incon­tro­vert­ibly, do not want sex once they have chil­dren — or so my friends who have chil­dren con­fess to me. Par­tic­u­larly once their stom­achs develop a tex­ture akin to cold porridge.

The only reason we do have sex is to get a man, keep a man, steal his sperm and flat­ter ourselves that we are attractive.

Once we have a man, his chil­dren, his name on a piece of paper, his youth and his house, we no longer want to indulge in that ridicu­lous, time-consuming, hori­zontal dance.

The dec­ades of fem­in­ism, the mil­lions of dis­hon­est fea­tures in magazines like Cos­mo­pol­itan, have misled us. We are not equal to men when it comes to libido. We grow up. We have other pri­or­it­ies. Sex slips on to a back­burner, slid­ing to the bot­tom of an almost end­less list of things to do that day.

It would be easy to write here that what women want, and enjoy, is the rela­tion­ship — the love, com­pan­ion­ship and close­ness. But I don’t think even that is the whole story.

We want love and close­ness up to a point. Most of my friends find the men in their lives a mere annoy­ance to be hovered over, bossed, and moved around as we Hoover under their giant feet.

No won­der so many men stay late in the office.

When it comes to sex, men are dif­fer­ent. For men, even for the ugly ones, even for New Men, even for men who go with us to the cinema to see Black Swan, sex is as vital as breathing.

When I used to creep upstairs to sur­prise my then hus­band in his office, just so I could catch him watch­ing porn and tell him off, he explained his com­pul­sion thus: “Sex to men is like going to the lav­at­ory. We have to do it.”

Well, charm­ing. And not very romantic. But true.

And as women retreat from sex (and stat­ist­ics have revealed we do so very swiftly once embed­ded in a ser­i­ous rela­tion­ship), men by neces­sity have to look elsewhere.

I remem­ber walk­ing into the office of my (older) female boss the day after I’d dis­covered my hus­band was hav­ing an affair in 2007.

Rather than doing what all my female friends had done — the pre­dict­able, knee-jerk cries of “What a nasty b*****d! Get rid!” — she was prag­matic. “Is it ser­i­ous? Does he love her? If he doesn’t, you really must for­give him, and ignore it if it hap­pens again.”

I wish I’d listened to her.

I’d got mar­ried think­ing this was it. It was going to be per­fect: it was real love.

I would never dream of cheat­ing on a man, not even with an indis­creet text mes­sage, a thought or a day­dream. I con­sidered men who did so to be dis­gust­ing, weak, dis­loyal, dirty and disease-ridden. The truth is, they are just being men.

My hus­band admit­ted openly — in fact, wrote about it in his novel — that he had slept with a pros­ti­tute before we met.

I found his cand­our refresh­ing, and I have to say that I found his high sex drive a turn-on, at first.

Later, after a 12-hour day in the office, I found it annoy­ing; yet another chore to be ticked off along with empty­ing the dish­washer. I can’t be the only woman to feel this way, surely?

I knew we weren’t hav­ing enough sex about a year into our mar­riage, but things (work, leg hair, going to the Con­ran Shop, freshly ironed sheets I didn’t want to muss up) got in the way. I remem­ber going to some industry event on my own, just after my hus­band had set off for three months trav­el­ling in India. I con­fided in a male friend: “We haven’t had sex for nine months. Is that nor­mal for a man in his 20s?” (My hus­band was 27, I was 14 years older. I can’t even bear to do the sum.)

“No, it’s not,” he said, matter-of-factly. “He’s doing it with someone else.”

When I later found out my male friend was right, the liaison that finally ended our mar­riage, out of five or six or seven brief affairs with other women, was the one that threatened to teeter into love.

I found affec­tion­ate mes­sages on my husband’s mobile phone and in his email inbox. He wrote to her in the exact same way he used to write to me, with lots of lower case kisses.

Going through his wal­let (I became crazy once I sus­pec­ted he was fond of this one), I came across her pass­port photo. He stuck up for her, when he should have been stick­ing up for me.

I became obsessed with her. I went to her place of work in Man­hat­tan, want­ing to con­front her (luck­ily, she was on hol­i­day). I fol­lowed her on Facebook.

A couple of years later, after my divorce, I told my ex that she had got mar­ried and had a baby. “Really?” he said, sur­prised. “You’re obvi­ously more obsessed with her than I ever was.”

I think, look­ing back, that if the love signs had not been there, I could have for­given him for look­ing else­where for some­thing that I was too tired or too shy or too busy to give him. If it had just been sex — even sex with a pros­ti­tute, in fact, espe­cially if the sex had been with a pros­ti­tute — it would have been so much easier to for­give than an affair.

Truth is women have been fed a fantasy, and it is mak­ing us all unhappy.

I have a friend who works in book pub­lish­ing. After the birth of her first child, the depres­sion she had suffered on and off, since a teen­ager, returned with a ven­geance. She kept on top of work, but she failed to keep on top of her hus­band — a nerdy chap who is a teacher in a tough, inner-city school.

To everyone’s shock, she dis­covered he was vis­it­ing a lap-dancing club in Shored­itch on his way home from work. Her friends and fam­ily were out­raged by his beha­viour, and she ban­ished him from the fam­ily home. He now lives in a bedsit.

I know it’s not ideal that he wasn’t rush­ing home via Tesco Express, but haven’t we become just a little too strident?

I decided to do some more research into the sub­ject of men who stray. I asked seven of my girl­friends, all of whom are either mar­ried or liv­ing with a man, when was the last time they’d had sex.

One, a mom-of-four in her mid-40s, said she hadn’t had sex since her last child, who is now three, was born. She told me, laugh­ing, that her hus­band had asked if they could go on a tan­tric sex week­end, and she had respon­ded with a tart “**** off”.

Another said she couldn’t remem­ber when she had last done it with her hus­band. Even a woman who had just been on a romantic break with her hus­band said they hadn’t had sex all week­end because she was so exhausted.

Another said that she and her boy­friend had stopped hav­ing sex years ago, and it was only when, in tears, he threatened to leave her, that they broached the sub­ject. He told her he felt “like we are best friends, or brother and sis­ter, rather than lovers”.

She told him she felt too over­weight and unat­tract­ive to do it, and found, to her sur­prise, that he didn’t really care how she looked: he wanted, needed, to do it anyway.

Once again, here was a woman who had bought into the fic­tion that we have to look per­fect to be attract­ive to a man in bed.

Each woman I spoke to said they put their chil­dren before their hus­band. Only one told me she tried to be as nice to her hus­band as she is to her female friends.

So, what is a man to do?

Maybe, just maybe, they don’t want another rela­tion­ship, to fall in love, because they don’t want to lose us, or their chil­dren, or their home. (They prob­ably don’t want another rela­tion­ship where they are mon­itored within an inch of their lives, either.)

Yet I know women who don’t even want their men to fan­tas­ise, inside their own heads, about any­one other than them. It’s ridicu­lous. It’s a lie; our own per­fect domestic fantasy that doesn’t exist except in books and movies.

Take my par­ents’ rela­tion­ship — a mar­riage that spanned nearly 60 years. My dad, my hand­some, per­fect, upstand­ing, hard­work­ing dad, loved my mum so deeply that, in old age, not well enough to drive, he used to walk to the shops to get the gro­cer­ies, and my mum, too dis­abled to go with him, would stand at the win­dow, wait­ing to catch the first glimpse of him as he roun­ded the corner, when he would give her a jaunty salute.

As a 19-year-old, I heard, some­how, that my dad, on a busi­ness trip in Lon­don, had gone to see Deep Throat, star­ring Linda Lovelace. I was out­raged. I sent him to Cov­entry. But my mom, from a dif­fer­ent gen­er­a­tion, thought noth­ing of it.

Many years later, whenever I moaned to my mom about my husband’s affairs, her advice had been: “Be patient. Be understanding.”

I think now that we’ve become too unfor­giv­ing for our own good. — Daily Mail

Source: IOL / Liz Jones

Chuck Berry had a smash hit with the song “My Ding-A-Ling” — now nearly four dec­ades old.

If you haven’t atleast heard of the song — or that phrase — you’ve been liv­ing in an oppress­ive state some­where, you’re much younger than four dec­ades old or you’re ser­i­ously out of touch with any­thing related to the term ‘gen­er­a­tional culture’.

It’s not hard (no pun inten­ded) to make the con­nec­tion between the term ding-a-ling and penis.

Mil­lions enthu­si­ast­ic­ally sung — and still do — that song.

If, in 1972, we sung about such things, how is it then, that nearly 40 years on we as a pop­u­lous are still largely con­sidered some­what prudish?

Where does fun and lib­er­al­ism stop and overt sexual antics, cavort­ing and exhib­i­tion­ism start?

There is no doubt that we are more sexu­ally (and I’m includ­ing everything from dress­ing to hold­ing hands to kiss­ing here) free today than we have ever been before — under the cover of ‘civ­il­ized humanity’.

Today you can sit at your local cof­fee shop and watch two questionably-dressed teens hold­ing hands and peck­ing each other on the cheek, whilst next door you might see a Gay or Les­bian couple lock­ing lips. Hell, a night out on the town can have you play­ing audi­ence to an influ­enced couple fond­ling one another in clear view of all and sundry.

The fact that this is pos­sible is test­a­ment to the lib­er­al­isa­tion of the last few generations.

Of course there are many who feel is all a bit too much and should be clamped down upon. It’s not within my, yours or any­one else’s scope to decide whether such people are right or not.

The fact of the mat­ter is that every­one should be able to feel com­fort­able in asso­ci­at­ing with their partner/s of choice in pub­lic — within reason.

If het­ero­sexual Jane wants to [respect­ably] kiss her boy­friend, Tom, at the local train sta­tion, she should be able to do.

If Gay Jack and John wish to do the same, Jane and Tom should like­wise respect that. It’s the goose and gander story.

That said, it is also right­eous of each group t0 expect one another to seek a suit­able and private place to take mat­ter fur­ther. That’s not being con­ser­vat­ive — that’s being respectful.

Pub­lic acts of excess­ive ‘love’ are exhib­i­tion­ism at best and crim­inal dis­respect at worst.

That might sound harsh — so allow me to put that into a more ‘com­mon’ example for you…

If a swim­suit model pitched up in front of you and then invited another one over at which point the two of them got the groove on went at it full bore, you might feel turned on/slightly taken aback or both.

If the ugli­est creature this side of the bog turned up with a wart-ridden family-derived mat­ing part­ner, would you feel the same? I highly doubt it. Well, besides all of the other issues, you might just fit the above descrip­tion to some of those in your imme­di­ate pub­lic space. Get the picture?

Now, the law…the law does indeed cover most of this — although as per usual it is severely out of date with trends.

The law, as such, is a dis­tinctly grey tool for reg­u­lat­ing dis­tinctly fleshy tones.

What of nud­ism? Is that pub­lic inde­cency? Is it OK in privately demarc­ated areas? Do local reg­u­la­tions over­rule national/global ones in favour of local know­ledge, e.g. a local nud­ist beach known to and tol­er­ated by loc­als as it cre­ates revenue?

How about spe­cific events involving nude or sexual acts?

In recent memory my part of the world has played host to a theatre act demon­strat­ing the skills of two per­formers who use their penii for vari­ous tasks, to a nud­ist con­fer­ence and to a painter using his penis as a brush.

This morn­ing I read of another forth­com­ing sex expo’ where a com­pet­i­tion will be held amongst amongst a group of ‘final­ists’ to see who has the best sex on stage — motiv­ated by a healthy cash prize, of course.

These are not porn’ stars — they are reg­u­lar folk.

In some instances I would con­sider myself a prude. In oth­ers, not.

I’m not here to judge these folk — in fact, I couldn’t care less who they want to show their jig­gly bits to (as long as it’s not in a pub­lic spot, where I don’t act­ively choose to see them) — but I am struck by the advan­cing accept­ance of such acts and the not­able lack of exist­ing law enforce­ment upon such acts — whether they be of a private, pro­fes­sional or exhib­it­ive nature.

What’s your take on the sub­ject? I’d love to hear it. Drop a line with your comments…