Apr 102017
 

Governor Robert Bentley is expected to resign this week, possibly after negotiating a plea for lesser charges than those outlined in his articles of impeachment. (UPDATE: He has done exactly that this evening. Robert Bentley is no longer governor of Alabama.)

Sadly, I expect just about anyone who makes it in Alabama politics to be a crook. Mostly, I yawn. (And I do hope there is a shining exception who will run for governor sometime soon.) But, though it is the crook aspects of this debacle that will have ultimately brought Bentley down legally, it is mostly a tale of adultery.

And you know what? The adultery itself is not even what ultimately enraged me. In the first place, all fall short of the glory of God. In the second place, he would hardly be the first old, powerful man who got an attractive woman several decades his junior to play with his pee-pee and let it confuse him into thinking stupid things.

No, what kept me furious was that he was so defiant and unapologetic. There would be no morning of clarity; no reconsideration by a sound, responsible mind of such a highly questionable course. At the end of his life, having apparently jettisoned every shred of honor and dignity he ever had, there would be no “my God, what have I done?” moment.

Instead, he would rub our noses in it—most shamefully, that of Dianne Bentley, his wife of 50 years. Who but a true monster could subject such a person to such sustained cruelty and humiliation? Who but a delusional fool could look the electorate in the eye and tell us we’re just going to have to get over it, because he’s not resigning?

Oh, Governor? You wanna bet?

Hey, next let’s make a wager on how long you hang onto your mistress when you’re just a nasty duplicitous old man and not the governor!

Get out of our house, you miserable old creep.

 Posted by at 10:13 am
Mar 282017
 

There is a thoughtful piece on Rocket City Mom about how to talk to your kids about pornography. Obviously, that’s a different discussion now than it was thirtysomething years ago when I first hit puberty.

My “pornographic” education was rather tamer. At 12 I saw the video for Don Felder’s “Bad Girls,” and just…whew. Wow. This is freakin’ great. I mean, how could it get any dirtier than this?

Sigh. Can we have the off-the-shoulder top back in style, please?

It wouldn’t be too much longer before my friend David and I would discover a few magazines in my dad’s closet—magazines whose title rhymes with Bent Mouse—which then contributed their own bits to our respective mosaics. You know, the photographs of naked women were nice, but in hindsight, they really weren’t the main takeaways. It was mostly the ridiculous letters that made their marks. We read about all kinds of goofy shit that I thought was going to be a lot more common that it turned out to be.

(Or maybe it is, and I’m still living a really sheltered life, but I kind of doubt it.)

Then there were the teen skin comedies of the ’80s, which, once captured onto VHS, were treasured possessions indeed. Your Revenge of the Nerds. Your Hardbodies. Your Goin’ All The Way!—a strange little low-budget example that HBO must have run a bit. I bought an old VHS rental of that one on eBay ten or so years ago, then digitized it so I could enjoy it on my computer screen at my leisure. As I type, it’s probably the raciest thing on my hard drive.

The first actual X-rated film I saw was Devil In Miss Jones—practically an ABC Afterschool Special compared to what kids can effortlessly punch up today.

Coda

In this post I’ve lightheartedly enjoyed remembering my first exposures to dirty pictures. Part of that is simple nostalgia, but a more sociologically important component of it is that I really did have one of the last “innocent” childhoods in this regard.

Pornography is a far graver problem now than it was in the early ’80s, when I was first coming of age. It’s a lot harder to have a “silly” exposure to it now. The exploitation is exponentially worse; the depictions and consequently warped realities of its young consumers far more serious.

If you can relate to what I’ve written above and smile, please do. But then please do go read the linked piece on Rocket City Mom.

And watch BoWilliams.com for further posts on 21st-century pornography and what we need to do about it.

 Posted by at 10:01 pm
Feb 212017
 

I would guess some people will compare Milo Yiannopoulos to Icarus. I am reminded instead of one of my stepbrother’s years-ago adventures. Long story made very short: bunch of buddies together, one had a go-kart, and oh yeah, there was some beer. Every time they refueled the kart they were using a bottle of 104 Octane […]

 Posted by at 10:38 am
Feb 142017
 

Happy Valentine’s Day, dudes and dolls! Been tough to get anything down here lately. Was a little under the weather, then had grown-up church and home improvement stuff to do all weekend. Couple all of that with an ever-dicey sleep regimen, and it’s BoWilliams.com that must suffer first. I’m not sure I have anything of […]

 Posted by at 1:23 pm

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