Naked Pictures? Oh Boy!

I’d like to think that, if I were someone’s prospective employer, I’d accept that he or she has, like everyone else, a life beyond the office.  That life probably includes drinking and sex.  Most lives do – with some exceptions, of course.

 One must conduct him/herself with decorum while at work, but outside of it?  Activity that isn’t dangerous or illegal is none of my concern.  As an employer, you must ensure that your employees are meeting your company’s standards.  That’s the extent of your duties. 

I’m perplexed by the warnings I’ve received pertaining to my relatively quiet and generally obscure online playgrounds – namely this blog and my Facebook account.  I’ve heard tell several rumours that potential future bosses are probably Googling my name, looking for evidence of untoward behaviour that would make me a poor candidate for a job.  I’d understand them wanting to ensure that I’m not affiliated with a White Power or Neo-Nazi organization.  If they want to make sure that I don’t operate a website dedicated to illegal sexual proclivities – child molestation, bestiality, necrophilia – I get that, too. 

However, if someone were to stumble across a picture of me sitting on someone’s lap with a drink in my hand, I’d take issue with him or her deeming me an undesirable employee.  Most people – many of whom are employed – have engaged in informal behaviour, some of it less than austere (to say the least). 

But my opinion aside, the fact remains that employers can seek out background information not present on a job candidate’s resume and make a ”to hire/not to hire” decision based on their research.  While I may think it’s unwise to screen workers using Facebook, it happens.  Since that fact is clear – and out in the open – people must guard their privacy appropriately. 

If someone is passed over for a job due to scandalous Facebook/Myspace/Livejournal, etc photos, that person cannot blame the website on which his or her pictures were discovered.  All of the websites have “Friends Only” options that hide page content from casual surfers.  If you aren’t friends with your boss on Facebook, he or she cannot see your Cancun vacation pictures.  Nor can they see the people you’ve dated or hooked-up with (not that it’s their business or concern to begin with). 

If you want to blog and share pictures with your friends, take care to manage your privacy settings accordingly.  Don’t shriek that “Stalkbook” lost you your job.  Privacy settings – bless ‘em – were invented so you could casually socialize with people you know/trust.  If you choose to make your profiles public, you’ve chosen to subject yourself to unexpected (and perhaps unwanted) scrutiny by anonymous third-parties. 

Let me reiterate – I’d hire you despite your party pictures.  In fact, I might hire you because of them.  However, I’m not hiring anyone, so my principles matter very little in the grand scheme of things. 

Now, what to do when there are nude pictures of you kicking around cyberspace?  That’s a difficult subject to contend with, as there are ethical concerns associated with it.  Is it unfair to punish someone if the pictures were originally entrusted to another person who took advantage of said trust? Is it ethical to dismiss someone’s contributions to a company over photos taken outside (hopefully) of the workplace? 

Can you no longer trust an employee to work diligently and efficiently now that you’ve seen her nipples? Is a member of your team suddenly less helpful and intelligent because you’ve witnessed his (perhaps impressive or not-so-impressive) erection?

Nude photos are (for some people) a source of great shame and embarrassment.  The fact that anyone they pass on the street may have masturbated to (or laughed uproariously at) pictures of them is punishment enough – especially if the photos were distributed without his or her knowledge or consent (which is sometimes the case).

However, there are many instances where people have freely distributed photos or videos of themselves lounging around naked or performing sexual acts. 

What’s unfortunate is that, should these materials be found, people can lose the respect of their employers and co-workers, thus requiring a change of occupation.  If society were more open-minded about sex and nudity (not simultaneously averse to and obsessed with it), perhaps a naughty picture/video could be laughed about and – eventually – forgotten. 

However, in North America, a scandalous image could bury you personally and economically.  Or make you famous.  Or infamous, rather.  Regardless, it wouldn’t be the most desirable kind of fame, for few people would take you seriously (and no one dare argue that the media takes Paris Hilton seriously, she’s one of the biggest – and yes, richest – running jokes in contemporary pop culture).  

So what’s the best way to deal with less-than-appropriate photographs? 

Think about them before you take them – because seriously, someone might find them.  In a perfect world, their discovery wouldn’t be a huge deal.  In an imperfect world, well…you know how it is. 

Me?  If I felt compelled to do something salacious and immortalize it on film, I’d do it right.  No grainy images of me bent over a guard-rail.  No unflattering angles amplifying “problem” – re: fat – areas.  No tangled hair, no smeared make-up, no unsightly expressions.  And most of all – no poor lighting.

I’d go for something deliberately artsy (so I could decry people’s ignorance of fine art and the beauty of the unclothed human body).  The pictures would have to be black and white, or perhaps sepia-toned.  I’d look like I was freeing my mind and spirit, and indulging in the joys of creating subversive material meant not to shock, but rather engage and enlighten. 

People wouldn’t say, “Wow, look at that pale whore with a cock in her mouth.”

They’d say, “Wow, look at that daring couple with great taste in decor and a genuine, tangible passion for one another.”

They’d be titillated, yet enthralled.  Scandalized, yet impressed.  Aroused, but thoughtful. 

Should the masses disapprove of my taste in erotic art, I’d call them out on their closed-mindedness.  I’d discuss the unnecessary and oppressive taboos surrounding sex and nudity – taboos that damage sexual expression rather than refine it.  I’d claim that I was re-conceptualizing pornography, and infusing it with dignity and grace.

I’m 3/4 serious, here. 

If you’re going to do it, do it right.  Do it with class, and sensual ambiance. 

A Box Free of Soap

No soap-boxing today.

That’s not to say that there’s nothing to soap box about, I just don’t feel like doing it.  It’s Christmas-time, and I don’t have any energy.  

However, this is the first Christmas I’ve actively looked forward to since, like, childhood.  The last time the idea of Christmas brought me any sort of joy was when I was in grade 8.  I don’t feel particularly high-spirited, but I’m looking forward to the break (however brief it’ll be, now that I work full-time).  My two-day vacation will break up my monotonous (scarily so, these days) schedule. 

I don’t really like my job,  however fortunate enough I am to have it (and I know I should be thankful every time my alarm doesn’t go off at 5 am on a Friday morning indicating that the Starbucks pastry case needs tending to in a half hour).  Still, eight hours of paper-pushing isn’t what I had in mind for myself when I started school four years ago.  Then again, I’d be better off if I was more of a self-motivator.  Instead of actively looking for better opportunities, I often choose to sit.

In ten years, I might be that Hispanic liquor store janitor in Superbad saying, ”fuck my life.”    

I haven’t written anything substantial since school ended.  Sometimes, when I promise myself that I’ll schedule some much needed alone-time with Oscar (my laptop), I end up re-reading old essays, stories, blog entries and personal e-mails/Facebook messages and scowling at the screen.  I think of all the ways those pieces of writing could be improved upon, but I rarely start anything new.  I feel like I can’t, and I don’t know why. 

 A year ago, I used to think that my writing was best when my mind was clear – that is, free of immediate and self-centered concerns.  I suppose I thought that a distraction-free mind was a more rational one (which is probably true, but that’s neither here nor there). 

However, looking back at things I’ve written during extreme emotional highs and lows, I realize that they’re a bit better than the pieces I wrote while free of internal ecstasy/distress.  The problem is that times of unexpected happiness and sadness rarely compel me to write.  In fact, when the pendulum is swinging too hard to the left or right, I try to spend time away from Oscar (but he understands, and loves me anyways).   

Perhaps, to be successful, I need to be in a constant state of mental mania or anguish – with my very livelihood depending on churning out articles/stories/whathaveyou, etc.  I’ll write when I need to, when the circumstances are perilous and I have no choice.  When I’m not compelled, I tend not to.  Probably because I’m lazy and devoid of passion. 

Perhaps I’d have more motivation if I didn’t have a cushy, well-paying job to support my sedentary ass.  I suppose I haven’t experienced enough character-building situations in my life.  Some people might recommend some kind of bare-bones pilgrimage to change this, but that kind of journey isn’t in the cards for someone like me.  I’m too attached to daily comforts, like hair-dryers as powerful as Lear jets and expensive moisturizers infused with luscious scented botanicals. 

Besides, I did the whole back-packing thing this past summer, and it didn’t do much to fundamentally transform me.  I’d still die if I got lost in the wilderness.

In happier news, a puppy is on his way.  He’s a two-week old West Highland Terrier, and we get to take him home at the end of January. 

Pictures are coming – make no mistake of that.

It Appears that the Devil is Talking out of Your Ass Again

I understand that it’s unwise – unacceptable, even – to make giant blanket statements about complicated social issues.  In life, there are few absolutes.  In the end, it’s all about context, theory and rhetoric.  If you can argue a point well enough, you’ll get supporters in your corner.  Someone else will get other supporters in theirs.  Then you can argue forever, which will make your life more interesting (if not exhausting).

 However, there are some arguments that cannot (and should not) ever hold H20.

 Such as the argument that God – yes, God – wants you spank the ever-living shit out of your wayward, irrational, child-like wife. 

Behold:

www.christiandomesticdiscipline.com

A site dedicated to affirming that it’s perfectly all right – desirable even – to institute an authoritative, dogmatic hierarchy in your household and allot one person (the old male person) the right to physically assault those who, like, give him dirty looks and refuse to smile when he farts at the dinner table. 

This “lifestyle” is for two types of people.

1) Kinky people

2) Abusive people

There’s no in between, make no mistake of that.  If you long to slap the naked ass of a grown woman for hours at a time, you’re either a run-of-the-mill S&M enthusiast or an asshole. 

If you’re a woman who loves the feel of a hard hand against your ass for hours on end, you’re a run-of-the-mill S&M enthusiast or a passive victim of domestic violence. 

If a woman feels that bad moods are manifestations of demonic possessions (or ungodliness) and decides that she needs the beasts expelled through a little over-the-knee “tough love”, she’s a kinky girl into submission.

Spanking is a common sexual practise (I wouldn’t even call it much of a fetish anymore).  People, generally fearful of finding themselves in humiliating and demoralizing situations (like corporal punishment), sometimes cope with their discomfort by eroticizing it.  If you like what’s being done to you, you haven’t relinquished your autonomy.  You’ve requested seemingly inhumane treatment, and therefore it’s titillating rather than mortifying.  Women are not the only people who do this, men do it too (that’s why there’s such a thing as a dominatrix). 

For most (I hope) of these spank-happy couples, their means of keeping the peace is probably more about obtaining sexual thrills – and there’s nothing wrong with that in and of itself.  What’s wrong is the pitiful, misogynistic posturing.

“God wants female subjugation, and the only way to achieve it is by instituting blatantly (but not admittedly) erotic punishments for derelict wives/girlfriends.”

I haven’t read the bible from cover to cover, but I doubt God, Moses, Matthew, Mark, Luke, John or Jesus every said any such thing. 

Religion is notoriously good that shaming its followers for having sexual desires, especially desires that stray off the rigid and narrow path of “normal.”  Though S&M (lighter aspects, of course) has become more and more popular, it’s still a fringe movement, practised in different ways by different people.  It’s not something everyone – particularly those closely associated with Christian denominations – would readily admit to dabbling in.  So how does a devout follower of a pure deity come to terms with his or her taste for painful foreplay? 

By cloaking their fetish in theological rhetoric.  They justify their kink by claiming it’s not inherently sexual, but innately spiritual.  Spanking is the best way a man and a woman can maintain the “natural” power imbalance in their marriage.  However, those intent on dominating their spouse would probably choose physical and emotional coercion over a relatively well-known sex act.  

Another argument could be that, in a case where one or both partners is not getting hard/wet at the prospect of a thorough “punishment”, the dominant partner is instituting a troublesome power imbalance sustained by genuinely painful “corrective procedures” that provide the abuser with a false sense of comfort.  If the punitive measures are approved by Christian domestic discipline enthusiasts, then they can’t be manifestations of one partner’s very real desire to threaten, frighten, and abuse the other.  So for people afraid to risk the legal/moral/philosophical/spiritual repercussions of routinely assaulting their spouse, they have some wiggle room with “consensual” anti-egalitarian power dynamics. 

Either way, there’s no pure motive for needing or wanting a defined and continuous sub/Dom relationship within a 21st century marriage.  You’re either kinky (which is cool), or you feel entitled to abusing your partner/feel you deserve abuse (not so cool, I don’t think). 

Perhaps this “lifestyle” has provided a safe haven for good Christian girls to act out desires they’ve had since adolescence without fear of social reprisal. I’ll bet a lot of them like to accidentally spray their husband with the garden hose when he’s on his way to work, and immediately blame Satan and claim they can feel him coiling up inside their pulsating nether regions when all they wanted to do was tend to their beautiful, feminine rose garden under the warm morning sunshine.  I’m sure they enjoy the warm morning sunshine beating against their bedroom windows while they promise to be “good girls” while rubbing against their godly man’s thigh. 

Their godly man no doubt likes his wife’s naked ass, or he just likes giving someone bruises.   

I hate to make a blanket statement, but there probably isn’t much in between. 

In case you think I might be mistaken, and that a desire to be closer to God is what compels couples to commit to spanking-filled marriage, check out this website:

http://lovingdd.blogspot.com

Once you sift through the user comments about the benefits of “forced” nudity, genital slaps and nipple pinches, you’ll see where I’m coming from.

“There’s a feeling I get, when I look to the west…”

That title has no real relevance to this post, I just heard Stairway to Heaven in the car today.  It’s not a song I often hear while driving, mostly because it’s old.  It’s classic, yes, but it doesn’t get a great deal of airplay.

It seems to me that current rock music, though occasionally soulful in its own right, is lacking the abstract passion of the songs of decades past.  It’s not all bad, nor is it all shallow, but it’s not as…prolific, dare I say?  It doesn’t contain as many long guitar solos and abstract allusions to metaphors you’d find in romantic era poetry. 

 I have no idea what Stairway to Heaven is about.  I don’t know what feeling I should get  when I look to the west.  I don’t know why there’s a lady standing on the road that I’m supposed to wind down on.  I don’t need to know to appreciate the song - and it’s a song I appreciate on more than an auditory level.  I’m a fan of most catchy beats, but they don’t hold any long-term fascination for me.   Stairway does, and I wasn’t even alive in the 70s. 

I suppose this entry’s title is relevant  . 

When I started this blog, I promised myself that I’d try to write once a week.  However, I’m not one to talk about my day.  Trust me, you don’t want to hear about it.  Almost every blog turns into an essay, albeit an “I” essay.  One occassionally laced with tasteful profanity – yes, profanity can be tasteful. 

One thing I’ve noticed is that most of this site’s hits come from people sifting through entries with sex tags.  I don’t judge, I do the same thing.  If I see a tag that says “anal sex”, I click – even though I’m not all that interested in rectal intercourse myself. 

So on an inappropriately sexual/mildly political/deeply controversial note, allow me talk about drunk sex - or rather sex had while a woman is drunk.

Some friends bought me The Guide to Getting it On for my birthday.  It’s a book about, yes, getting it on.  It’s long, intelligent, helpful, open-minded and appealing.  It touches on every subject associated with sexuality – kink, fetish, porn, biology, society, psychology and assault and abuse. 

Sexual assault and abuse are serious subjects.  They’ve been very real realities for an astounding number of people, male and female alike.  However, it would be unrealistic to say that adult men are at as great a risk of sexual battery and assault as adult women. 

The Guide is sympathetic towards victims, and rightfully so.  However, it declares women who have had sex under the influence of alcohol – willingly and enthusiastically – as much of victims as survivors of short and long-term sexual abuse.

That’s absurd.

If a woman consumes alcohol willingly, she’s made an adult decision.  If she chooses to leave with a man and proceed to have (or perhaps even initiate) sex with him, she’s made a choice, albeit one spurred on by imbibing potent liquids.  If her drink was drugged, or her protests to “just kiss/cuddle/sleep” etc were ignored, then yes, she was raped. 

However, if she consented to sex, she consented to sex.  Perhaps its sex she’ll regret, but her regret and embarrassment is less serious (and life-altering) than his potential imprisonment and life on a sex offender’s registry. 

Also, the book mentions that it’s a man’s – and only a man’s – responsibility to determine the extent of sexual activity when the woman has had more than one drink.  It is his duty, drunk or not, to err on the side of caution and refuse the woman’s advances.  This is a noble principle in theory.  However, in a situation where sex seems evident, it’s hard for some people (male and female, drunk and sober) to cease activity that is, in fact, consensual. 

And to be fair, some women get drunk in order to feel more comfortable initiating sex.  It’s common to consume at least a few drinks with a date/partner/fuck buddy/whathaveyou on any given evening.  Consuming some alcohol – even a lot of it – does not render most people immobile or unconscious (that said, no one has any right to initiate sex with someone who has blacked out).  It lowers ones inhibitions and leads to hasty decisions, yes, but it’s drank with those effects in mind. 

It is true that sleeping with a person far drunker than yourself could constitute you taking advantage of another’s altered state.  However, there is a difference between taking advantage of someone and brutally, maliciously assaulting them.  It’s not necessarily right and/or ethical to desire a woman simply because she’s drink and therefore more likely to engage in sexual activity.  But as long as that woman participates, willingly, in sexual intercourse, no legal recourse should follow the events of the evening. 

Yes, being used can leave one feeling vulnerable and upset, but these are feelings from which can gain some degree of wisdom.  But it’s not fair to have a man arrested for having sex with a conscious woman who said, “yes”, just as it would be unfair to prosecute a woman for having sex with an intoxicated but conscious man who said, “yes.” 

Just as you can’t blame a beer company for making you run naked through a suburban park at 2 am, you can’t blame a horny partner for your feelings of regret following a night of voluntary drinking and fucking. 

I’ve had sex while drunk.  I’ve had sex while very, very drunk.  I’ve felt compelled to do and say things during drunk sex that I might not do or say during sober sex.  However, I’d never dare accuse any of my partners of anything close to rape or sexual assault.  I’d expect actual rape/sexual assault victims to loathe me if I did.

Anyone can put down a bottle and go home at any time.  You know before you buy that drink exactly how you’re going to feel at the end of the night. 

Better to be the one experiencing a little morning-after embarrassment than two to 10 years in prison.