The Saddest News Ever
Found recently on BBC news online:
"In Britain, it is estimated that some £770m ($1.2bn) is spent on prostitution every year, more than on cinemas or many other forms of entertainment."
Basically, what that means to me? Dumb jocks have begun to rule over, and whores are getting more revenue than an older form of expression: storytelling. Perhaps not as old as agriculture, which, contrary to many reports, supercedes prostitution as the oldest "profession" (this assuming you consider prostitution a profession, as one person questioned on the website), but nevertheless older than prostitution, storytelling is more of a necessity than people realize.
Simply put, without stories, we are nothing. Without tall tales to look up to, we have no heroes or heroines. Without the wonder and relaxation accompanied by a campfire tale, we have little towards which to look forward. And, most importantly, without the art of communication, as lucid and complete as possible, we huddle around confusion and beat down the hatches of the gates, barbarians ourselves.
How can it have gone so far? I ask this simple question: how can people rather debase themselves for fifteen minutes of pleasure (an hour at best), ignoring spouses and significant others, cheating, running away from one's problems and into the loving arms of a woman after his or her own pocketbook... all quite pathetic. And then the "businesswomen" who run the show... banking on being at the helm of the barbarous and useless time-waster.
Yes, there is nothing more of a waste than having sex outside of a relationship (relationship defined: 1) willing to spend time actually talking and connecting with someone. 2) not willing to waste time that could be spent talking and connecting with someone). It is a waste of time and energy.
That said, it is a waste of energy that could be used sharpening one's skills in any more important realm of human sciences. Bluntly put, no one ever will receive the nobel prize for wandering (probably drunkenly) into a brothel. Sex can produce offspring in a species, yes... but the child of a whorehouse cannot be said to be a child in an ideal and natural environment. Nor a healthy one.
There is lost secrets of the stars to find... tales untold, even though lazy poetics hail "there are no new ideas"... have you ever heard the one about the gremlin who flew to another world? Neither have I. That tale remains untold, at least for now. And there ARE new ideas, because there are many things which have not been discovered. Nanobiology is practically salivating for someone with the patience and skill to discover new species of microscopic life. Physicists still have not found their beloved Theory of Everything, and have yet to find the "god-particle" (if it exists). There are planets and universes that are, to this day, unseen.
I'm sorry, but what you can find in a brothel, as many people try to advertise, is nothing new. This argument, usually used to justify brothels is actually more strong as a counter-argument. There is nothing new to be found in a brothel, but there is many things destroyed therein. Self-esteem... self-discipline... self-identity (how can one feel that they have a "self" when they sell the only "self" they know [their bodies]?)... and I'm sorry, the old adage that you "can't hate the player hate the game..." any game cannot be played without players. A brothel, whorehouse, bordello, stripclub, or even just a whore herself, give a cheater the option, and an easy one at that. To think, the satisfaction they could gain just by saying "no", and knowing that, at least for the time being, the person involved has not cheated, and will not cheat until he or she finds another person willing! To think, the simple time one could spend focusing on strengthening a relationship, instead of giving off one's self to a two-dollar (and if she costs more, she's charging more than she's worth) prostitute... or even a freebie whore.
The problem? Not an advocate of the complete opposite, I have to hesitantly say it is tolerance. We tolerate the prostitute, the cheater, the one who displays his or herself and gives the body away. We tolerate "Gentleman's clubs" (I was raised to call the types of people who would enter such an establishment a lot of things other than a gentleman) and we tolerate the people who put themselves through this self-debasement.
Why? Because we want to be politically correct.
You know what? I will proclaim here, unapologetically, without any fear or worry, that the same mentality that allows a brothel to run is the same mentality behind a suicide bomber: "it's just a body, man, it isn't really me." While sure, we are more than flesh and blood, we ARE our bodies... we have a spirit, sure... but our flesh is our flesh, not some car we drive around in. The way we treat our bodies cannot be said to be like treating a car. When our mileage is up, we don't take our bodies in and replace it with a new one. When our mileage is up, our mileage is up.
Sure, there might be an afterlife. There might be a resurrection. But would you drive your car through a brick wall if you were not certain you had enough cash to buy a new one? Even if you did, could you really do it? Would you really destroy your wonderful, brand new, BMW just for shits and giggles? Would you like it if every drunk jock you drove by drooled and dispelled bodily fluids all over your new smart car?
I don't know how you treat your car, but sadly, most people put their bodies through worse. So, even though the analogy of using one's body as a vehicle fuels the philosophy behind suicide bombers and whorehouses, the analogy itself isn't even good enough to support their arguments. Sure, you might allow your significant other to touch your new car, would you let a stranger (who you are incidentally attracted to) rub their selves and bodily discharges on it?
How about letting someone blow it to smithereens? Or do something that might potentially harm its "immune system"?
Thought not.
"In Britain, it is estimated that some £770m ($1.2bn) is spent on prostitution every year, more than on cinemas or many other forms of entertainment."
Basically, what that means to me? Dumb jocks have begun to rule over, and whores are getting more revenue than an older form of expression: storytelling. Perhaps not as old as agriculture, which, contrary to many reports, supercedes prostitution as the oldest "profession" (this assuming you consider prostitution a profession, as one person questioned on the website), but nevertheless older than prostitution, storytelling is more of a necessity than people realize.
Simply put, without stories, we are nothing. Without tall tales to look up to, we have no heroes or heroines. Without the wonder and relaxation accompanied by a campfire tale, we have little towards which to look forward. And, most importantly, without the art of communication, as lucid and complete as possible, we huddle around confusion and beat down the hatches of the gates, barbarians ourselves.
How can it have gone so far? I ask this simple question: how can people rather debase themselves for fifteen minutes of pleasure (an hour at best), ignoring spouses and significant others, cheating, running away from one's problems and into the loving arms of a woman after his or her own pocketbook... all quite pathetic. And then the "businesswomen" who run the show... banking on being at the helm of the barbarous and useless time-waster.
Yes, there is nothing more of a waste than having sex outside of a relationship (relationship defined: 1) willing to spend time actually talking and connecting with someone. 2) not willing to waste time that could be spent talking and connecting with someone). It is a waste of time and energy.
That said, it is a waste of energy that could be used sharpening one's skills in any more important realm of human sciences. Bluntly put, no one ever will receive the nobel prize for wandering (probably drunkenly) into a brothel. Sex can produce offspring in a species, yes... but the child of a whorehouse cannot be said to be a child in an ideal and natural environment. Nor a healthy one.
There is lost secrets of the stars to find... tales untold, even though lazy poetics hail "there are no new ideas"... have you ever heard the one about the gremlin who flew to another world? Neither have I. That tale remains untold, at least for now. And there ARE new ideas, because there are many things which have not been discovered. Nanobiology is practically salivating for someone with the patience and skill to discover new species of microscopic life. Physicists still have not found their beloved Theory of Everything, and have yet to find the "god-particle" (if it exists). There are planets and universes that are, to this day, unseen.
I'm sorry, but what you can find in a brothel, as many people try to advertise, is nothing new. This argument, usually used to justify brothels is actually more strong as a counter-argument. There is nothing new to be found in a brothel, but there is many things destroyed therein. Self-esteem... self-discipline... self-identity (how can one feel that they have a "self" when they sell the only "self" they know [their bodies]?)... and I'm sorry, the old adage that you "can't hate the player hate the game..." any game cannot be played without players. A brothel, whorehouse, bordello, stripclub, or even just a whore herself, give a cheater the option, and an easy one at that. To think, the satisfaction they could gain just by saying "no", and knowing that, at least for the time being, the person involved has not cheated, and will not cheat until he or she finds another person willing! To think, the simple time one could spend focusing on strengthening a relationship, instead of giving off one's self to a two-dollar (and if she costs more, she's charging more than she's worth) prostitute... or even a freebie whore.
The problem? Not an advocate of the complete opposite, I have to hesitantly say it is tolerance. We tolerate the prostitute, the cheater, the one who displays his or herself and gives the body away. We tolerate "Gentleman's clubs" (I was raised to call the types of people who would enter such an establishment a lot of things other than a gentleman) and we tolerate the people who put themselves through this self-debasement.
Why? Because we want to be politically correct.
You know what? I will proclaim here, unapologetically, without any fear or worry, that the same mentality that allows a brothel to run is the same mentality behind a suicide bomber: "it's just a body, man, it isn't really me." While sure, we are more than flesh and blood, we ARE our bodies... we have a spirit, sure... but our flesh is our flesh, not some car we drive around in. The way we treat our bodies cannot be said to be like treating a car. When our mileage is up, we don't take our bodies in and replace it with a new one. When our mileage is up, our mileage is up.
Sure, there might be an afterlife. There might be a resurrection. But would you drive your car through a brick wall if you were not certain you had enough cash to buy a new one? Even if you did, could you really do it? Would you really destroy your wonderful, brand new, BMW just for shits and giggles? Would you like it if every drunk jock you drove by drooled and dispelled bodily fluids all over your new smart car?
I don't know how you treat your car, but sadly, most people put their bodies through worse. So, even though the analogy of using one's body as a vehicle fuels the philosophy behind suicide bombers and whorehouses, the analogy itself isn't even good enough to support their arguments. Sure, you might allow your significant other to touch your new car, would you let a stranger (who you are incidentally attracted to) rub their selves and bodily discharges on it?
How about letting someone blow it to smithereens? Or do something that might potentially harm its "immune system"?
Thought not.
posted by Shannon | 4:57 PM
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