The little toddler inches closer and closer to the pool. She waddles up to the water’s edge and looks desperately around, searching for an absent authority figure. Alas, she is alone. She leans forward, preparing to topple headfirst into her watery grave — the screen goes black.
If you’re anything like me, you begin to sob loudly, shaking your fist at the TV screen. “It’s all because you were smoking the pot! Where were you? WHERE WERE YOU? SHE’LL DROWN! STELLA!” Well, at least that’s what I used to do. Now, though, I remain calm, for I am finally aware of the true culprit of this child’s untimely death. It was not the “weed,” as I had originally believed, but rather, copious amounts of teenage masturbation and a hideous porn addiction.
That’s right. There is an epidemic sweeping our suburban bathroom, public parks and elementary school playground environs: chronic masturbation. It’s claiming the lives of thousands of Americans and their loved ones, and, if we’re not careful it could spin out of control (and sometimes does… oh! keep reading!) But fear not, my children, for there is hope. Follow me into the seedy underworld of internet pornography as I, Bradley Bailey, using the techniques outlined in the official YDN Stylebook, uncover the true nature of porno addiction and it’s potentially disturbing aftermath!
The first step in the battle against this tide of ceaseless gland-to-hand combat is to determine if you are afflicted. At No-Porn.com, there is a simple 20-question quiz to clear up whether you are a pervert or not. Some sample questions: “When you have childcare responsibilities, do you put a higher priority on masturbating or on the welfare of the child(ren) in your care?” “Do you dig through other people’s garbage to find pornography?” “Do you drive around unfamiliar neighborhoods, ‘cruising,’ hoping to find places where pornography is available?” “Do you look at pornography or masturbate while driving?” Answering “yes” to any of these means that you are addicted to dirty porno and/or the feeling of your throbbing member in your own hand.
If you said “yes,” then you, my friend, need some help. First of all, don’t complain, because No-Porn.com offers up no sympathy: “‘But it’s not fair,’ you say. ‘Why do I have this addiction?’ It isn’t fair, but diabetes isn’t fair either.” Whoa! This group claims that the only true cure for this “sickness” is to pray for limpness and put away a dollar each day you go without dishonorable discharge as encouragement! After a year you’ll have $365 to spend on whatever you want — like more depraved pornography!
In my opinion, paying for pornography is the only shameful part about porn addiction. With the veritable “pornucopia” of free samples and giveaways online, you could take Rosey Palm and her five sisters out on the town at zero cost to you! Why, on one Web site alone, I found 12 free clips, updated daily. The one problem though: each free sample ends right before the big finale. Oh well, I guess they don’t call it the “money shot” for nothing.
To “the shot,” one option is to actually pay for the new style of reality-based pornography. Yes, while MTV’s Rich Girls (Best. Show. Ever.) are cruising Madison Avenue in their Range Rovers, non-descript vans are cruising city streets, in search of unsuspecting pedestrians to become amateur actors in the newest generation of porn flicks. My two favorite sites for this type of impromptu porno are Baitbus.com (the premise: straight men are bribed into homosexual trysts for thousands of dollars) and Milfhunter.com. In a preview, I saw a mother of three leave her children in an arcade for the sole purpose of getting it on! In the back of a van! In a mall parking lot! Someone over 35 is having sex! On camera!
I realize, of course, that all these reality shows are completely staged, but do you honestly think that Mike and Coral really made up after he got all up in her grill, with his ig’nant racist remarks?
Fool, you is trippin’.
You can, however, get reality-based, personalized porn, but it doesn’t come for free. On Naughtybids.com, you can pay a particularly old, but not particularly attractive man to film himself roll the fleshy blunt, all the while, erotically moaning your name. It’s kind of like that new “Baby Baby” CD where they personalize the song lyrics to be about your child. But why should I shell out 20 dollars (and probably more with shipping!) to make myself never want to be touched again! Surely I can see naked, older men for free! I mean, for Chrissakes, this is America, isn’t it?
It was with exactly those sentiments that I logged onto Gay.com. Why pay to watch people have empty, anonymous sex when I could actually participate? For those of you who don’t know, Gay.com chat rooms are basically the seedy rest areas of the information superhighway. You pick your country, state and age range, and then the shady internet cruising begins!
Upon entering the Connecticut 18-30 room, you should immediately look for someone with “Y” or “Eli” in their username. Before I could do this however, my screen was filled with messages from lecherous old men wanting everything from phone sex to spankings. My Gay.com inbox was filled with horrifying pictures of elderly men, some naked, some with props, but all disgusting. Then, a message appeared on my screen from someone with “Yalie” in his screen name. Things were looking up. In a few short minutes, I was going to be boning on the Women’s Table with no emotional repercussions — or so I thought.
The one problem with trying to procure naked pictures of people from your area is that occasionally, you recognize the face of the person posing for the camera and it’s someone whose naked body you never, ever wanted to see. And I don’t just mean never ever; I mean that even after 11 keg stands and a handful of ecstasy, you would still pull your head out of the toilet, wipe the vomit from your chin and cry out “No! OH GOD NO! KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS!” Well, there was no alcohol or vomit involved, but when my friend’s Classics TA appeared on my computer screen, wearing nothing but his sly, 26-year old Italian smile, I screamed and fell over backward in my chair. “Classics TA! Phallus Nudus! Phallus Erectus Nudus!” After I told her, her section would never be the same, and neither would I.
And that’s the major problem with excessive porn exposure, not the money, not the time, not even the chafing — it could ruin your GPA, and by extension, your life! I dare you to concentrate on the Metamorphoses or the Pediment of the Parthenon when all you can see is grad student wang! Imagine, something so small literally ruining centuries of classical civilization!
Yes, my friends, in hindsight — or rather, “full-frontal sight” — I would have preferred never to have clicked on that sordid e-mail attachment, but I’m not sorry. It takes that degree of shock to scare someone out of their porn addiction. I may be done with chat rooms, but I’ll never be clean again. So keep that in mind next time one of those public service announcements comes on TV. No matter what the consequences of Billy lighting that joint are — drowning, accidental shooting, nuclear freaking holocaust, nothing could ever compare to seeing your friend’s TA naked. Now that’s sick.
I didn’t come. I didn’t want to see. And I certainly didn’t conquer.
Bradley Bailey ran out of euphemisms while writing this column. That, and he’ll never study in the Classics library again. The sticky chairs weird him out.