Friday, April 10, 2009

Objectification

Thursday night is a great night for television. In fact, there were so many good shows on last night that I couldn’t decide what to watch. So, I set up my DVR to record just about everything on the Cartoon Network while I laid back and flicked through the channels, looking for something interesting.

What I found was a fascinating show on BBC America (which I feel is a wasted channel because Americans aren’t really into British shows. Except for The Eastenders, which people like my mom love, for some reason,) about a certain sexual fetish that I’ve heard about before, but never really encountered. Human sexuality is an interesting and confusing thing. As a species, we pretty much run the gamut of possible fetishes.

On one hand you’ve got people (and you know who you are) who enjoy Plain Jane love-making. You know, people who consider a wild night to be five-to-ten minutes of the missionary position followed by a lovely conversation about the day’s weather. I call these the “Vanilla People” because they’re about as basic and as boring as they come. Don’t get me wrong, Vanilla People are fine, they just wouldn’t know what to do with an imagination if it sat on their faces, which is apparent when you get them between the sheets.

Then you’ve got the perverted freaks who like to dress like clowns and enjoy hammering nails into their genitals while having sex with fish. I don’t like to pass judgment on people’s fetishes, (“Hello Pot? Hi, this is Kettle”) but I do enjoy the stories about fetishists. The oddities and weirdness is very entertaining. Plus they have the best parties! If you had the choice of hanging out with a Vanilla Person, enjoying a pleasant evening of cutting coupons (or whatever it is boring people do on Friday nights) or going to a freaky sex party over at the petting zoo with Glen Quagmire, which would you choose? I think the answer’s obvious.

Anyway, the show was about women who were having relationships with inanimate objects. There are many levels of weirdness going on there. I’ve heard of people who have sex with cars and washing machines, hell I’ve seen the videos (god bless the interweb!) So while I might not understand it, I’ve at least heard of people being sexually attracted to things, (there’s a certain glory hole in the men’s room at the interstate rest stop that I have fond memories of*). But people who have relationships with objects? How does that work? What are the dates like? Who asks whom out?

Susan: I don’t feel like going out tonight. How about we make a nice dinner and just stay in and watch a movie?

Coffee Table:

At least the dates are probably cheap.

What’s weird is that the main focus of the show seemed like a pretty normal lady in other regards. She was an Olympian archer with all types of trophies and medals and shit, (which, if the Phelps Model is correct, would make her an American Hero). Of course, she felt that the reason she was winning the trophies was because she was dating her bow, whose name is Lance, (if she was a javelin thrower, would her javelin be named Bo? Wait, if she was dating her javelin, she would have died of blood loss years ago!)

I’m not entirely sure how one has sex with a bow, but that’s actually the least strange thing about the story. She and Lance had been dating for six years before she broke up with him. I’m not sure of the reason for the break up, possibly he was an alcoholic, maybe he didn’t care about her feelings. But she moved on to another, bigger object: the Eiffel Tower.

It seems that this, otherwise normal, lady loved the Eiffel Tower so much that she actually married it in a ceremony with friends and family in attendance. I shit you not. They even showed the ceremony with that crazy bitch saying vows and everything! Did the tower even have a choice in this marriage? How’d they fill out the marriage license?

But wait, it gets even stranger…The Eiffel Tower is a chick.

Look, here in America, our objects are things. And things are objects. Which means that the word “it” gets used quite often. Go to France or Italy if you want to assign genders to inanimate objects, I say! Isn’t it bad, or weird, enough to be in love with a thing? Why does gender even come into play? And can you even be gay when you’re having sex with a big ass piece of metal?

The world is a big and crazy place. Just about everybody has a story. True, some of the stories are really boring, but they’re stories none-the-less. My advice is to go out there and find somebody interesting to hang out with. Who knows, maybe that person will turn out to be a freak who gets off on licking walls with wet paint.

Embrace the strange.




*That’s a lie. It was more of a jagged tear than a hole

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