Porno in disguise

Published by Wreybies in the blog Ponderings of a Pachyderm. Views: 195

As I was responding to the latest “I :love: Harry Potter” thread (they spawn like rabbits, these threads) I began to ponder why it was that while I enjoy stories like the Potter series, I don’t respect them the way I respect other works. I came to a conclusion.

It’s porn.

Now, bear with me. I have a theory that lots of media is actually porn in disguise. The fact that there is no sex, cheesy music, and horrific boob jobs/handlebar mustaches makes no difference. It is porn. I mean, do I need to really explain why the last ten years of ‘reality TV’ is actually network sanctioned porn? Really? Porn, porn, porn. “Let’s have a look into these ‘lives’ and all get our jollies and then text & twitter about it tomorrow. And just in case some of you are not getting the idea that this is sanctioned porn, we’ll throw in the occasional gratuitous boobie or wing-ding shot to make it clear.”

Porn.

Harry Potter is porn. *I can hear you all gasping and clutching your Rowling tome to your chest in indignation*

It’s porn. It is a fantasy substitute reality. It’s purpose is not to talk to us or teach us or invite us to question the human condition or paradigm. It exists to replace our dowdy lives and let us believe for a bit that we have magic powers, go to an awesome school, have amazing friends, fight the baddies, crack rye jokes that are ever so brilliant, and wait… is that a wand I see? Yeah, no symbolism there. *Wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more, say no more!*

Every HP book even gives us a preamble to get us in the mood. It pictures the protag in his dowdy, everyday, real life which is tedious to tears. And then… PING!! In pops some magic person, or car, or somethingorother to whisk him away to his ‘real life’ where he is the very fount of awesomeness, where he is ‘the chosen one.’

Porn.

For those of you who think I am ruthlessly and meanly picking on your beloved story, allow me to mention that lots of franchises are in fact porn. One of my very favorites is porn to the hilt.

Alien/s.

The Ripley story is only missing the bow-chica-wow-wow music. In the last installment in which she actually appears there is a scene where the Alien is taking her away to its love nest and is holding her like a lover. While it is carrying her she caresses it in a way that crosses some very disturbing wires. The next scene has The Winona and some random dude staring down at her as she is swallowed by a heaving, moistly glistening, pile of indeterminately numbered Alien soldiers.

I mean… Hello! Let’s be real and not pretend and call it what it was: an orgy.

And that is just the most explicit of the scenes. The creatures have a need of their human hosts that is carnal and most intimate. Porn. They want to ‘penetrate’ and impregnate their human partners. And then there is the entire, “Here is my $8, sir, that I might spend the next two hours having the crap scared out of me,” factor. Porn.

It’s porn. It doesn’t enlighten. It doesn’t make me ask questions. It artificially fulfills a need that I am not otherwise getting in a natural way in my life. It is purpose-built to titillate certain base, madula oblongota, functions/reactions.

Porn.
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