|
 |
|
|
Yesterday afternoon I received an e-mail containing the names and addresses of hundreds of horny MILFs right in my neighborhood, which I deleted without reading. I didn't even bother opening the one about a gorgeous teen taking it deep in her ass, and when, curious, I opened an email titled "Looking to Refinance?" a new window popped up on my desktop featuring an animated picture of an attractive blonde girl with an enormous black dildo thrusting in and out of her mouth. I rolled my eyes, clicked the mouse impatiently to close the window and sighed to myself, "Oh, come on already."
What's happening to me?
I wake up in the morning to the sounds of a lesbian in Howard Stern's studio; blindfolded, she is trying to guess which of three contestants is her girlfriend by licking their pussies. I yawn, switch from FM to AM, and try to find the weather report.
I trudge through Manhattan, oblivious to the towering billboards of near-naked models, oblivious, too, to the near-naked women around me. Two girls hurry by; their asses read Juicy. "How come," I wonder, "you can never get a goddamn cab in this city?"
I arrive home in the evening, turn on the television, and I'm met with the latest music video from the latest teenage ingénue, bent over, her barely covered ass shaking at the camera. I reach for the remote and change the channel. "There's never anything on," I sigh.
What the hell is happening to me?
Genesis 2:25 - The man and his wife were both naked and they felt no shame.
Genesis 3:6-7 - When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it; she also gave some to her husband, who ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened and they realized they were naked.
The great eleventh century French Torah commentator Rashi asks, "What does it mean that they realized they were naked? Even a blind man knows that he is
|
When Rabbi Glatzer read the verse "And Abraham knew Sarah," I pictured my busty matriarch in fishnets and high heels with a cumshot across her face.
|
naked." Rashi goes on to explain that having eaten from the Tree of Knowledge, Adam and Eve suddenly knew of good and of evil, of morality and of immorality, of sin and of virtue, and they were ashamed.
Genesis 3:11 - God busts them.
Genesis 3:14 - God curses them.
Genesis 3:24 - God chases them from Eden and bars the Gates of Paradise so that they may never return.
And what's the first thing they do? What is the very first thing that they do?
Genesis 4:1 - And Adam knew Eve.
They fucked.
The very next chapter. The very first verse.
And Adam knew Eve.
The very. First. Verse.
Pre-sin, not a single mention of fucking (aside from the somewhat clinical reference in Chapter Two to a man and woman "becoming one flesh.") Rashi doesn't mention this, but it's right there in the text: sin comes along, Adam and Eve get chased out of Paradise by a bellicose Deity, they are cursed for generations with toil and agonizing labor, the gate to their former home blocked for eternity by two belligerent Cherubim and something called The Blade of the Turning Sword, and what do they do?
They fuck.
And Adam knew Eve.
No setting up their home, no sin offerings to their Lord, no journeying to Ur, or to Goshen, or to The Land Which I Will Show You.
The moment they knew sin, they fucked.
I know how they felt.
I spent most of the first eighteen years of my life in all-male yeshivas (same thing as madrasas, only with a different book), being instructed in the wily ways of the Evil Inclination, the dangerous lure of women and of the horrible punishments for wasting seed. In the Yeshiva of Spring Valley, the girls were safely hidden away in a separate
|
Purgatory was no deterrent. If I burned for it, I yearned for it.
|
building that stood across a busy four-lane thoroughfare. At summer camp the girls had their own campus, a half-a-mile away from the boys, through a forbidding, densely wooded forest guarded by watchful camp rabbis and religious camp counselors. Even the bus that traveled from my Orthodox town into Manhattan had separate seating — men sat on the right, women on the left, and a thick woolen curtain hung down between them.
I was never hornier.
If they told me not to look at it, I wanted to touch it. If they told me not to touch it, I wanted to lick it. If they told me not to lick it, I wanted to shave it, pierce it and put things inside it.
When the rest of the class had moved on to the story of Abraham, I was still picturing orgies in Sodom. When Rabbi Glatzer read the verse "And Abraham knew Sarah," I pictured my busty matriarch in fishnets and high heels with a cumshot across her face.
"Yeah, that's it, Abraham," I thought, "know her. Know the fucking shit out of her."
As for Purgatory? Purgatory was no deterrent. If I burned for it, I yearned for it.
And Adam knew Eve.
Like Adam and Eve, once I learned of sin, there was no going back. They should have told me it was all permissible.
Permissibility is a cold shower.
I need sin.
I need transgression.
I need to violate, to desecrate, to abominate.
And so today, whether it's Howard Stern or Britney or horny MILFs in my neighborhood, whether it's the radio or the television or the internet, I yawn, and reach for the dial or the remote or the mouse pad, and I find myself wondering: Where's the sin?
It's all so . . . permissible.
Where's the violation? The desecration? The abomination?
Take me back in time — take me back and book me the Presidential Suite in the Gomorrah Hilton with Lot, all his daughters, a ten-pack of nipple clamps and a gallon of Wet Lube.
There was a time when the exposed nipple of a national sex symbol would have generated something more than derision. But what's a nipple anymore? If I check my email, I can see a dozen nipples before breakfast. If Janet Jackson wants to be naughty, provocative, sexual — if she hopes in some way to even appear to transgress — she and her choreographers are going to have to figure out a way for Justin Timberlake to "accidentally" fist her asshole while she "inadvertently" eats out her sister.
Where's the sin?
Fuck saving trees. Fuck whales and lemurs and spotted owls. Save sin. Save sex. Save fucking.
Save thongs.
What a thrill that used to be! That stolen glimpse of a woman's briefs as she bent over in the mall, or the restaurant, or the supermarket, the frenzied hope she was still there as I
|
Are you going to ruin vagina for me next?
|
circled back around the canned goods aisle to try and catch her there again. Now I can't get away from the damn things. Where's the sin? I've gone from glimpsing a woman's thong and thinking I'd like to pull those pants off and fuck her, to thinking she should just pull her fucking pants up.
Thongs are dead for me.
Thongs are dead for me, and TV and advertising and the Internet and Howard Stern and J-Lo killed them. What's next, J-Lo? Vaginas? Will that be a trend? Women just walkin' around with their vaginas sticking out because J-Lo did that on her last video? Are you going to ruin vagina for me next?
I want my sin back.
I want transgression.
I want iniquity.
I want abominations.
So here is where I find myself — a religiously irreligious, devoutly non-devout, strictly non-kosher former religion student — in a sexual position more strange than anything dreamt of on the internet: silently cheering for the self-appointed, holy-spirit-anointed morality police, for the podium-pounding religious right, for the outraged moral majority, for Bill O'Reilly and Sean Hannity, for the Mothers Against Everything, for the fist-wavers with their balsa-wood crucifixes and their typo-laden placards shouting about The Children, for the bills restricting strip clubs and prostitution, for the fire-and-brimstone L.A. County sheriffs kicking in the doors of porno production companies.
Burn it, ban it, bury it in the vaults beneath the vaults beneath the Vatican and seal it with the sign of the Seven Seals.
I'm getting hot just thinking about it. n°
| ABOUT THE AUTHOR: |
 |
Shalom Auslander is the author of Beware of God: Stories, which was a finalist for the 2005 Koret Award for Writers Under 35. His writing has appeared in The New Yorker, Esquire, The New York Times Magazine, and he is a regular contributor to Public Radio Internationalıs ³This American Life.² Foreskinıs Lament, a memoir, will be published next year by Riverhead Books. His memoir Foreskin's Lament will be published this October. |
©2005 Shalom Auslander and hooksexup.com
|
|
|
|
