“Sex is for hippies,” The Sex Pistols’ Johnny Rotten once said in full punk rock dudgeon. And compared to the bloated and cocaine-fueled rock that preceded punk’s anarchy, he seemed right. So right that the music and culture that followed in punk’s early wake heartily agreed with hard-core punk rock stalwarts Minor Threat declaring that they didn’t smoke, didn’t drink and didn’t fuck, but “at least I can fucking think.” Sure, people were still having sex … it was just low on the listed state of priorities. (…)
So even as people still watch billions of dollars’ worth of porn a year, articles about how it shrinks your brain are not laughed out of the place. And the blizzard of boobs, butts, plastic surgery-enhanced cookie-cutter secondary sex characteristics, billboards, newspapers, magazines and ads full of the same are clearly having an effect. Just maybe not the desired one.
No, people saying NO in greater numbers is probably not what the sellers of leather bustiers, motor oil and fish sticks had in mind, but here we are. Is actual SEX itself really boring? Probably not. But how many of us can really get to actual sex? Or rather, get to it through the massive and noisy attack of attempts to seduce and sensation us into buying stuff that will increase, improve, expand, amplify the experience?
