Porn Perspectives

Haven't we all wished for a product like this? ...and yet, it's not anything you'd ever EVER cop to owning.

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In more encouraging product news, the thong is officially on its way out, after a slow and steady decline. Hallelujah!

No one really gets what it is. Isabella Rossellini has written, directed, and starred in a series of one-minute short films called “Green Porno” to premiere on the Sundance channel sometime in the near future. They feature her dressed as various insects, copulating.

Yes.

I think the Onion’s The Hater encapsulates the world’s collective reaction:

Short of Leonardo Di Caprio dressing up like a slab of ore and making an educational documentary about the extraction of metallic iron, or maybe Hal Holbrook doing a video short about the post office and depression while wearing a giant envelope costume and crying, or, I don't know, Amanda Bynes dressing up like George Washington (but with a wig made of cotton candy) and starring in a commercial for a funeral home, I can't think of a weirder juxtapostition of ideas than this one.

Desperately searching for something—anything—to indicate what the hell this is all about, I came across a short interview Isabella did at Sundance.

Isabella Rosellini is hilariously matter of fact about the project, as though it were only natural she would create a series of shorts depicting herself as a male insect having sex with much larger paper mache representations of female insects.

The interviewer, who clearly is not comfortable talking about sex, at one point asks Isabella: “Is it true that the lady praying mantis eats the head of the man praying mantis after they make love?” These last words breathily eak out.

Lady praying mantis. Isabella is unfazed.

“While they make love,” she corrects. “The female eats the male’s head and the male keeps copulating even without the head.” She emphasizes this point with an index finger aimed at the now quivering interviewer, who, I kid you not, jumps back in her seat.

Charging ahead, Isabella reports that she has, in fact, portrayed this very scene: “I play the male, and the paper mache (female) eats me. And then I am seen without my head, still making love to the female cut-out.”

The clip ends with Isabella as a male spider, fingering a spider web with trepidation but clear desire.

“She is very very big, and very very aggressive,” the spider laments. “If I shake the web, she might think she caught a fly, and eat me.”

This spider could be a New Yorker contemplating pick-up lines in a bar.

Isabella directs the interview towards tech theory, discussing the “third screen” (i.e., the itouch and other personal technology devices) and how it will inspire a new art form and reach new audiences.

This is true but entirely tangential to what’s going on here. (I have a feeling Isabella is trying to downplay the sexual overtone for the comfort of advertisers.) As an aside, I will acknowledge that it is not the obligation of the artist to tell us what it means—they need just create the art. Interpretation is the job of us sniveling masses, and I cannot yet offer an assessment without seeing these films in their entirety--BUT. I have a feeling that "Green Porno" could be a strangely subversive way to get something perhaps not visually pornographic, but conceptually pornographic, on television. Perhaps Isabella means to underscore the draw of female sexuality, using the animal kingdom as allegory. These films are also completely NOT about insects, despite the claims of the press release. 

Whatever their ultimate purpose, there is some importance in the fact that a 55 year-old woman renowned for her beauty is generating these films. I have no doubt she acutely feels the effect of aging and my dearest hope is that these films represent some kind of statement (message?) from one of the great beauties in the world to the next generation.

The indomitable entrepreneurial spirit of Heidi Fleiss strikes again, and the former madame has announced plans to open a "Stud Farm" in the Nevada desert (employment opportunities available, FYI). Fleiss is convinced there is an untapped market of women willing to pay for sex.

While I applaud the concept (and Fleiss is certainly no amateur when it comes to understanding markets), I have to admit to some initial skepticism. This may appear lopsided as I predicate my entire position on pornography on the belief that women will happily pay for pornography, if it's a decent enough product.

Nonetheless, I had to work through some visceral repulsion before I could endorse Fleiss' venture. To start, huge differences separate paying for porn from paying for sex. Women are the mistresses of heterosexual intercourse (and the world might recognize this if women would claim their rightul ownership instead of cowering under insecurity and a demeaning obsession with "goodness"). Porn inhabits a totally different world. Even though most people conflate porn and sex, watching porn is not the same as having sex (which is why I can condone sexism, racism and the like when they are relegated exclusively to a space of sexual fantasy). They are qualitatively different experiences.

Since I believe in female sexual power, it was tough to swallow (so to speak) the idea of women paying men to have sex with them. We can get it whenever want, right? So how can it be ok for women to subvert this natural order, and act as though we can't?

Here's how: Thorstein Veblen. Or rather, the phenomenon he coined conspicuous consumption, which describes lavish spending on goods and services for the mere purpose of displaying wealth.  Diamond-encrusted cell phones, absurdly expensive cars, and (proving it's all relative to a given society) a second child for Chinese families are all examples.   

Following this (il)logic, in a society where women have little trouble getting laid, and are earning more than ever before, the best way to flaunt both wealth and sexuality is to pay for it. It is an interesting turn of events, since it was not so long ago that the best a woman could do was be a symbol of conspicuous consumption (see "trophy wife").

Fleiss has once again found a market where none was thought to exist. She has imagined the ultimate vacation for wealthy LA socialites--a women can grab a couple girlfriends for a weekend outside Vegas at a luxurious spa providing massages, facials (of all kinds) and endless sex with hot men. Decadence embodied, no?

I'm not going to say this exactly helps feminism, but I'm certainly not going to begrudge women a little decadence. Now the question is whether Fleiss will be able to navigate Nevada law and get this little shangri-la up and running.

Word to the wise: If you want to kill any ability to commit words to a page you plan to show the world, read yourself some of Camille Paglia's spine-tinglingly scathing book reviews (search by byline). Or perhaps read More, Now, Again, Elizabeth Wurtzel's account of how she managed to create one of the sharpest products of modern feminism, Bitch: In Praise of Difficult Women. The latter book--one of my all-time favorites--apparently required thousands of Ritalin pills, a few pounds of cocaine, and four months of treatment in Connecticut followed by intense outpatient treatment in New York.

One should read all the above regardless, but be warned.

Ripped shamelessly from Pop Feminist, who transcribes Andy Warhol quotes for fun.

"Some people can have sex and really let their minds go blank and fill up with sex; other people can never let their minds go blank and fill up with the sex, so while they're having the sex they're thinking, "Can this really be me? Am I really doing this? This is very strange. Five minutes ago I wasn't doing this. In a little while I won't be doing it. What would Mom say? How did people ever think of doing this?""

Also, consider this:

"Women are the one group that grows more radical with age." (Gloria Steinem)

I know this is an old item but in case some have missed it, I felt the need to direct readers to Chelsea Summers' enlightened pontification on the moral manwhore. As my friends have heard me tirelessly reiterate, I am all for full disclosure in dating. People need to treat each other well.

Feeling lonely this holiday? Have yourself a drink! Scientists have proven it gets you laid!

A recent study shows that people who drink significant amounts of alcohol are more likely to have multiple sex partners. The news gets better—the more one drinks, the more partners one tends to have.

The only potential downside of having multiple partners is that it makes you more likely to not have a high school diploma, be male, be black, and have sex before you’re 14. If you’re cool with the above, then have a drink and enjoy!

I’ve made little headway into Prude: How the Sex-Obsessed Culture Damages Girls (and America, Too!), and I already hate it. 

Which is tragic. I’d had high hopes for this one, what with its provocative (to me, at least) title. You see, in many circles I’d be considered a “prude.” My mother would agree, as evidenced by our somewhat overdue birds and bees sex talk when I was 18 in which she advised that I “loosen up a bit.”

My hope was that this book would be the smart feminist critique I’d been craving of drunk sorority girls, UGG boots with mini skirts, and Lindsay Lohan. I had hoped it would expand Ariel Levy’s progressive (and interestingly borderline conservative) argument in Female Chauvinist Pigs. I don’t know whether to blame the author or the publisher who I’m sure anticipate big bucks from the Christians, but there is no excuse this waste of paper. 

Prude spends the first few chapters citing example after example after example of scandalous behavior among juveniles. WE GET IT. Young girls are giving blowjobs at heretofore unforeseen levels. Yes, how terrible.

Liebau never manages to draw a more compelling conclusion beyond “girls who are sexually active too soon are proven to have higher rates of depression and suicide.” While I would hesitate to argue with such rock-solid evidence (how exactly does one quantify “too soon”?), this is BORING. The more important point here, which Liebau completely misses, is that this sort of behavior might interfere with feminist goals. Which begs the question of why young girls are flouting the feminist triumphs of previous generations. Which would lead to an interesting book. Which Prude is not.

 

As I emerged from my local California post office, triumphant after dropping off another set of six 40 lb boxes full of books in what I can only describe as potentially the most epic transcontinental sex book relocation project undertaken thus far this century, a wave of appreciation washed over me.

Why, you ask? One would think that mailing 19 boxes (so far) of books to oneself in New York would be nothing but a royal pain in the ass. While my back is unlikely to forgive me for several months, my heart is nonetheless warmed to think of the years of incarceration I would be facing should I have attempted such a feat a mere century ago. (Or, you know, in another country today.)

The Comstock Act, enacted in 1873 (and declared unconstitutional in 1936 thanks to Margaret Sanger), aimed to cleanse America of vice through a restriction on the distribution of obscene material--including information about contraception--through the mail. While the contraception ban was declared unconstitutional, the remainder of the laws restricting the distribution of obscene material remain to this day. What has changed (and what keeps changing) is the definition of "obscenity".

Despite the persistent vestiges of this ludicrous act, I am nonetheless able to send these books (which span such topics as feminist theory, histories of sexuality, analyses of sexual behavior, and so forth) with little fear of the law. And for that, I am thankful.   

It's about time I be a good sister and plug Rachel's fantastic blog Pop Feminist. Not just because I strive every day to be the best sister possible, but because it's an amazing blog.

Feminism can (and should) be FUN. If you would like to discover your inner stiletto-heeled, lipstick-wearing, martini-spilling drag queen (and believe me, she's there), then Pop Feminist can help.

Go check it out and have a dance party or two. Really. Do it.