The Line is Here

I don't think it's a big shiny secret that I like porn.

For the record, I'm very picky about it...I want a plot, I prefer some actual humor, I insist the actors act. Wall-to-wall and gonzo are just boring. Stylized Andrew Blake crap with Kenny G. wannabe soundtracks are likewise snooze-worthy. Give me Ron Jeremy cracking jokes as he, well, you know. Give me Steven St. Croix doing the sorts of stories Dirk Diggler only dreamed of. I want Sky Lopez fighting for the right to be on top with a dildo light saber.

The position (*snicker*) that porn is exploitation and/or objectification of women thankfully seems to be falling by the wayside. Last I checked, the competition to become a porn star was pretty fierce, with the paychecks for the best and, er, brightest quite respectable by anyone's standards. Interviews with the stars have them speaking of their "craft" and "carrying the film." And good for them, I say.

But when I read that an Enzedd porn star wants to give birth during the filming of her next movie, I say place the child with a foster family and flog her stupid ass in the town square. When she recovers from the beating, give her a hysterectomy, on the house. Because if the bitch cares so little for the birth of her own child, how far away is she from Pretty Baby?

Porn has it's place, it has it's function. It is for adults, it should only feature adults.

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