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I, Lab Rat

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It was just a brief encounter. It all happened so fast. I turned the corner into Blogcritics and there she was.

“Hello,” I said, “what’s this?” She didn’t move, just smiled at my mouth. There was no flash. She was only a jpg. But I got a pop-up.

Dude I swear she wanted me — weird — like there I was, okay? I’m walking into the hippest bookstore / coffeehouse / place where I hang out and talk about what’s happening with folks from Timbuktu, coffee’s good. So I’m walking in the door… and there to greet me is Juanita. Juanita…

…was that… a flesh-colored thong… or a scar…

Juanita was the one on her right, on her knees. Juanita… It was neat to meet a Juanita, it was nice she brought her sisters, I could have done without the brother, and as my arrow sailed skyward and landed on his crotch I nearly clicked — then I came to.

Holy Jesus! I came for Mel! I just came in to see who’s blogging — clik-a-wika-WAK — WHOA!

It was then that I shuddered, a deep, spinal shudder that fluttered all the way out to my fingers–causing one of them to click. Sweet Jesus, no! Behind me, little children, anxious clusters of young mothers, old mothers big mothers all eyeing my screen — I’m whacking Esc! EscEscEsc! — back of my neck’s on fire crowd pressing closer must escape bloodrushing hiding inthecenter ofmy being waiting

for the explosion of pop-ups

that never comes. Heart resumes, triple time, narrow miss catch breath wonder why realize. It’s my conditioned response to surprise pornography.

Cause of death: heart attack.

Of course, by the time I post, the picture’ll probably be gone, but I think you get the picture. Still I’m glad the subject came up, because porn is something we should talk about, then never mention again.

I think of the internet as a tightrope over a sea of undulating porn, and as we tiptoe by on our way to elsewhere it’s hard to ignore the ululation of the siren’s sighs the size of wav.s… or that crashing burning itching feeling you get when you realize one day that there are little pornblots all over your history — your permanent record. Porn’s bad. Big too. Insidious.

And big. Bigger than we talk about. Huge. Enormous. Blackmail big. Do I sound cocky? You think this is just wordplay?

The fact is that sex makes people stupid. For proof, read any of the above. I come to Blogcritics for the higherbrow stuff. I worry that my favorite coffeehouse is going to turn into a disco. But if anyone’s seen Juanita, tell her she can reach me here.

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About CW Fisher