Thursday, December 6, 2012

the miracles of self-dillusion

I once knew someone who loved watches, really any timepiece, for no particular reason... I guess they just thought that time was all that important. So, she really loved watches and would gaze longingly at full page print ads or pop-ups murmuring on and on about how good it looked or the things each piece could do, other than tell time.

There was one particular brand that would always elicit extra commentary though. Not because there was any aspect that was ever notably 'better,' rather that it happened to be a high end brand, and stylish (my opinion there) and the most important commentary, to her, was to always note how much she loved the brand of watch but would never buy one simply because there was one particular celebrity endorsement of whom (again, for no reason she could ever actually define) she found to be the pinnacle of loathsomeness.
Naturally, my question was always, "what the fuck does it matter who is paid to pawn the damn thing to silly rich golfers and hippity-hop pop star wannabes? Is the watch (all on its own) something you like, or not?"

Somehow it was always argued that the mechanical quality and aesthetic appeal of a watch was not the point of choosing an ornamental timepiece to buy.  (hunh?)

The point was...... that this rich dude, of whom she had never met and according to the scientific objectiveness of journalistic tabloids, was a bad person cuz he had sex with morally questionable people with the knowledge and silent sanction of his wife (at the time).

There is so much insanity in this stance that I don't really know where to begin.

o.k. fuck it, 'morality' (what ever the hell that's supposed to be) and sex (not intimacy/ or making love) are two eggs that just cannot be in the same basket. Morality, as i have come to understand it, it the concept that you cannot do something just for the sake of itself, you have to consider this vague a-morphus third party's potential opinion/ feelings too. Whereas sex for the sake of sex (see, there is already an impossibility brewing here) is one of the most honest, free and natural acts, ever.

One major problem is that the act of sex has been raped by this purposely undefinable concept of morality. Sex is the one act in which the biological necessity of the act is reinforced by the unavoidable pleasure ones body is designed to experience from it (kind of like eating, but sex requires the company of at least one other), in order to encourage repetition of said act. Nothing else is required to create an enjoyable sexual encounter, other than the consent of all the individuals involved (unlike eating, where you need food as well).

Morality, however, has (by way of its non-consenting intrusion) fouled the organic purity of sex, for all of us. Morality has augured conditions and value judgements to sex and sexuality which stem not from the act itself, but rather the worst permutations of the psychology that can be (but not necessarily is) associated with it. Implications of commitment (which apply to reproduction, but not sex), or what a vague a-morphus third party may or may not think concerning this act that happened- which is actually no concern of that third party in the first place. Or, that by having just sex, that somehow re-qualifies in a negative manner one's commitment to sharing resources and emotions with another, particularly a spouse.
But again, morality is a slippery cunt as it is almost required to be attached and considered along side everything, except by those enforcing it, then there are almost always exceptions or reasons or excuses.

The fun really starts when people start doing immoral things to justify or prove their own higher morality... like fabricating realities, a.k.a. lying.

And here we are, back at the bimbo, her lust for Tag Heuer watches and her totally uninformed judgement of Tiger Woods.

When you start defining opinions and justifying personal stances with reasons designed to escape definition (borrowing from Mrs. Rand here) you won't wind up in a situation with lines, edges and points... you wind up with goo. colorless, flavorless, meaningless, self-devouring goo.

So go out there and get randy with some strange, cuz in it's fun and is nobody else's fucking business unless you make it.


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