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Spanking and anal at photoshoot with a guy I just met

Well, dear readers, this sexytime post does not feature Roland! But it still deserves its place in my Diary, because it is an experience I’m having while selling virginity, and we did talk about this blog and Roland. He even offered to make a website for me so I could auction off my virginity for a much higher price. I turned him down because a) I wouldn’t necessarily get more – Rosie Reid only got £400 more than me and the girls who got loads, such as Natalie Dylan, have never been verified to have sold it; b) I have a verbal contract with Roland, c) I prefer it to be someone I like and d) it’s harder to vet bidders online and I want to be safe. And of course e) – I want a kinky person.

I’m sure that this blog post will convince you all that I do ‘put my money where my mouth is’ – in other words, that I am indeed a slut.

It certainly convinces me, because I never saw myself as doing something like this. I guess you don’t know who you are until the opportunity presents itself. A few short years ago, I would’ve despised a girl for doing this and said she was a slut, a tart. But I changed shortly after going to university because I saw no point in judging people and comparing peoples’ sex lives to other peoples’ sex lives, especially when I realised I couldn’t draw up a slut table (ie is being married to 5 men less bad than cohabiting with 5 men just because she’s married? Or even worse? Is 2 one night stands in a month better or worse than 3 in 5 weeks? If it’s with someone you know is that better than with a stranger? Having 3 casual boyfriends in 6 months better or worse than 1 one night stand?) There are no answers to these questions – at least, none that aren’t debatable and controversial and probably case-specific.

The guy has requested to be called Donny on this blog, which he will read because he thinks it’s interesting.

I don’t know what Roland’s reaction to this will be, if he sees this post.

I was waiting outside the Festival Theatre, Southbridge, Edinburgh. This was on Saturday. Donny was going to pick me up to do a photoshoot. It was a mostly fashion shoot with some lingerie and artistic nude. He was taking me to his home, which I’d agreed to because I’d seen his portfolio and knew that other models had worked with him, so he was a real photographer and not a serial killer posing as a photographer. Heh.

Anyway, Donny picked me up. He had black hair – my fave hair colour on a man – good looking, maybe late twenties (I found out later he’s 30). He drove us to his flat in a fairly affluent area of Edinburgh. Donny told me he’s a computer guy although his degree was in something totally different.

In his house, he started taking fashion shots, and a couple of implied nude shots, and I changed several times. They were all fashion poses. Donny seemed very happy with how good the photos were. He said I have a natural talent for modelling and that I photograph very well, both of which is exactly what Roland said. So god knows why I hardly ever photograph well in ordinary pics. Then, after about 45 minutes he took a few implied nude shots and told me to look shocked and like I was screaming “Nooo” and covering up. He said I did this really well. It made me giggle though, and I said it was just like my fantasies and it was weird.

He said he needed a break cos his arm was tired, and I drank the Lucozade he’d bought me at the corner shop before arriving at his flat. He went into the kitchen to smoke. Then Donny asked me what my fantasies were and I told him, very briefly – spanking, government torture, rape, etc. He wanted to know how long I’d had them, I told him they arrived fully developed when I was 9 years old. I asked if he ever had any fantasies. Donny said he had to think about it for a bit, because I’m so open-minded that he thinks nothing will shock me but he wants to shock me. Then he came back out of the kitchen and told me about a dream of going into a van full of naked ladies in it when he was 7 which made him really happy, and backl then he “didn’t even know what naked ladies were for”. Sounded like a mobile brothel (like a mobile library) to me!

 

 

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Leniency to female sex offenders harms feminism

WHAT HAPPENED

A couple of days ago, Claire Roundhill, a woman who knowingly had sex with a 15 year old and his overage brother – and supplied them with cannabis as well as sending them explicit images of herself – was spared jail: http://www.parentdish.co.uk/2012/10/10/mum-of-three-had-affairs-with-brothers-aged-15-and-17-and-became-pregnant/

She was given a 9-month prison sentence, suspended for two years, and will be on the Sex Offender’s Register for 10 years.

For a man in this situation, the defence that he didn’t know the girl was under 16 is not valid; he must have good reason to believe she was over 16. And this woman admitted to knowing the boy was underage the second time she had sex with him.

The astonishingly lenient sentence may or may not set a precedent for Forrest, though in my estimation his crime was worse as he was in a position of trust and he took Stammers abroad without her parents’ consent. But at least he loves her, instead of using the child for sex like Roundhill did.

WHY IT IS HARMFUL TO BOYS

Sentences like this hurt boys. All children deserve protection – EQUAL protection. We cannot discriminate on gender any more than we can discriminate on race or religion. Yet some commenters on the story seem to think that boys are so slutty that they cannot be abused as they’d go with anyone, or that a boy would enjoy being sexually abused. This issue is quite obvious, and I won’t dissect it here, except to quote the article on the effect Roundhill’s predating had on the boy:

The 15-year-old boy said Roundill bombarded him with hundreds of text messages and photographs every day. He said: “She would be in sexy outfits or topless. I now know she took advantage of me. I just want to put it behind me.” …there has been a victim personal statement from the boy which says he wants to put all this behind him and he is relieved that he does not have to give evidence in this case.”

The father of the two teenage boys, who cannot be named for legal reasons, has said Roundhill’s sentence was too lenient.

He said: “If it had been the other way around and this was a man having sex with a 15-year-old girl, he would have been locked up, without a shadow of a doubt. But, because she is a woman, she has walked free. She took advantage of both my sons. When my elder son dumped her, she targeted the younger. She planned it. I hope she now realises exactly what she has done. If she had gone to prison, I would have been happy but she has just got a slap on the wrist. We are disappointed. This doesn’t send out a message. Before this, he was a lovely boy and now it has changed him. He has gone off the rails. He has been in trouble with the police and this has never happened before. It was disgusting what she did. She has taken advantage of my family. If we had known what was going on, we would have put a stop to it straight away.”

Indeed, the court accepted the excuse that she was having a troubling time and a bad marriage – as if that somehow excuses child abuse!

The reporting of this case is full of the sexism that used to – and still does – categorise tabloid reports of women being raped. The headline uses the word “affair” instead of “child abuse” and the facts that the abuser is married, is a parent and that the victim had an older sibling who lawfully had sex with the abuser is totally irrelevant.

 

IT HARMS WOMEN AND FEMINISM

So far, so obvious – especially to parents of young boys. But let’s go on to the less obvious stuff, about how leniency towards female sex offenders, far from granting women superiority, actually harms feminism and women in general.

Firstly, women are harmed because female relatives, friends and carers of boys are harmed. How would a mother of 15 year old twins feel, knowing the female twin was protected but that the male twin was not protected? How does the mother of the boy in the article feel now that she has to live with the knowledge that her son was abused and violated, perhaps running all the ‘what-ifs’ and ‘if-onlys’ daily through her mind? Constantly wishing she’d realised what was going on, or talked to her son more about women and sex so he wouldn’t fall for her lies and promises, or had been there to protect her son. Similar thoughts might be racing through the minds of the boy’s older sister (if he has one) or his aunts.

Secondly, and here is the more complex bit: When female sex offending is not taken seriously and male minors can’t get justice, it perpetuates the view that only women can be hurt by sex while men – even boys – always enjoy sex or are at least immune to emotional pain from sex. So we start to see women as vulnerable and in need of protecting. We monitor daughters’ sex lives more than sons’, ‘for their own good’. Males are seen as sexually aggressive and females as sexually passive – great conditions for the sexual double standard, paternalism and male control of female sexuality to flourish. If sex is seen as dangerous to women then confusion or derision will be directed against women who do enjoy and seek sex. If sex as seen as harmful to teenage girls and young women then it justifies parental control over daughters’ sexuality.

The message of this case is that only teenage girls’ innocence (or virginity) is valued enough to be protected. Boys’ innocence is worthless (or nonexistent)? This might actually harm girls even more than boys, as this sort of thinking is full of that antifeminist social conservatism which buoys up slutshaming and the sexual double standard.

Thirdly, and this is the controversial bit: In a way, it is a good thing for women to be seen as sex predators. (To be SEEN AS, not to actually DO child abuse. I AM NOT ADVOCATING THAT WOMEN MOLEST CHILDREN IN THE NAME OF FEMINISM. And I’m talking about women who are guilty of being sex predators being seen for what they are, not innocent women being seen as sex predators.) It is a good thing because when we accept that women are sexx predators, we can offer support and counselling to their victims. Men will be more confident about reporting sexual assaults by women and recieving support from rape centres. It will no longer be acceptable to joke about men being raped, as if somehow they’re incapable of feeling as bad as women, as if somehow they can’t be violated because they’re sluts anyway, so who cares? It’s not as if dignity and bodily integrity could actually mean something to anyone with a penis, right?

Also, when we accept that women can and do commit sex crimes, the double standard will crumble to dust. The double standard is based on a conservative view of female passivity, chastity and asexuality – women want love, marriage and children while men want sex. The acceptance of the existence of female sex offending will prove that this is nonsense – anyone can be sexually aggressive, romantic, or chaste and it’s got nothing to do with either gender or biological sex.

With the fall of the double standard, stigma against lone mothers, “sluts” and (female) sex workers would also start to lift.

The culture of telling women how not to get raped, holding women responsible for rape (victim blaming) and paternalism would also fall once men realise they could become the victim of rape by a woman. And if men fear rape by women, they might be happier to accept that rape is real (step forward Todd Akin) and not oppose abortion in such cases – after all, would men really want to pay child support towards a child concieved by rape? (Claire Roundhill got pregnant, by the way. She had an abortion. But if she hadn’t and it was the 15 year old’s baby, he would be paying child support as soon as he turns 16 or gets a full-time job.)

In conclusion, this sentence was very unjust, unfair and insulting to the 15 year old victim and his family. It may set a worrying precedent about how male children are protected from exploitation and abuse. The comments below it seem to mean that male victims of female sex offenders can expect to be ridiculed and shamed as “wimps” for showing distress, or at best have their abuse dismissed as “a great experience”. Angry parents seeking justice can expect to be ridiculed as overprotective and restricting their child’s sex life. And female sex offenders will be propositioned, praised, or shamed as “slut” instead of “sex offender” – (the second one is the WORSE title, people!). The victims and their families suffer with little of the sympathy, understanding or support given to female victims – all because the kid is the wrong gender. And feminism suffers alongside them, as the message given is “Only females’ innocence is important enough for the law to protect”.

 
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Posted by on October 13, 2012 in Feminism, Media

 

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Long description of a blowjob – you know you want to read it!

Roland came back and I was all, “That was quick”. I slipped onto the floor, the heat from the fire warming my skin. I’m going to skip to the part where Roland had his thing out, which of course put me in a state of lust instantly, so that I couldn’t think properly. I really had the urge to bite it, hard, near the tip, to feel my eye-tooth go into the little hole at the end.

I reached for the sauce and squeezed a drop onto my index finger and licked it off. It was good; strawberries and cream. It would do. I squeezed it liberally all over his cock, and then used the cream as well before realising it’d have a lot of calories. But I reasoned it was OK, as I’m skinny. (Not commercial/advert skinny, I mean skinny for a normal healthy person). Roland said, “That can be your dinner.” And yeah, I was hungry just looking at it. I hadn’t had dinner, or snack. Neither had he, we’d been too busy spanking. I mean, it’d been 7 or 8 by the time we’d even started the spanking. The cream looked very appetizing and I didn’t even feel like it was a blowjob because all I could see was cream. I squirted some more sauce on top.

I leaned my head forward, and with the tip of my tongue scooped up some cream. It was warm but tasted really nice – it hadn’t gone off from not being refrigerated. I scooped out a deeper trench, still not touching dick. I carried on like this for a couple more licks, then I took the whole thing in my mouth.

It was quite big relative to my mouth and I couldn’t breathe very well, but at the same time it was easy to lick because I instinctively wanted to lick it, and licking prevented drooling. So I experimented with techniques, doing quick, little laps and hard flicks with my tongue, the aroma of vanilla all around me, the warmth of the fire on my skin. Then I intersperesed some longer reaches up the underside of his thing, and  rolled my tongue over it, then quick flicks right acroos the tip. It was lots of fun, and I knew I was doing it right because Roland sighed happily and he said I was doing good. He seemed surprised about how good I was.

I tried shooting my tongue out just below my top teeth, then tried to take more of it in my mouth.Then, unable to resist the urge any longer, I bit it, and Roland moved, and I took my mouth off and said “sorry” and he said, “No it’s okay, you can bite,” so I commened licking and biting, on the tip, shaft and towards the middle of the shaft. Most of the cream and sauce was gone now but his cock was still flavoured with it so it was still tasting great. After some more biting, licking and changing of rythms – and Roland moaning and saying it was good – I took my mouth off again and said “Pull my hair.” I knew this was not smart as my hair breaks easily, but I wanted it. Roland grabbed my hair but not hard, and I went back to my mouth excercises. After a few minutes of this, during which I asked him to pull my hair harder, Roland started thrusting into my mouth which was totally amazing! It made me REALLY want to lick and bite! He was thrusting his thing into my face, I felt totally debased, like I was being forced to do it! I was pushing myself onto his cock, and after a bit I gagged and drew back, afraid I would be sick but I wasn’t, it was just my gag reflex. Obviously I can’t do deep throat.

“Are you hating this?” asked Roland, looking into my eyes.

I told him no, it was just a gag reflex. About five seconds later, the reflex had subsided and I squirted more sauce on and went back to sucking dick. And so it went on for another 15 minutes or so.

 

 

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Cornered

I thought he would pick me up and carry me downstairs into the front room, but instead he came over to me and said that if I didn’t want to do it I could just say the safeword and we could just go into the livingroom and nothing would happen. His voice was calm and measured, like it always is. Roland has quite a pleasant voice. He also talks softly and sometimes slowly, traits I find irritating in others, but not in him. Mostly because he uses tone and expressions to give his words much more power than if he was talking loud or fast.He came closer to me and asked if I wanted to do it. Was I sure? Did I want to say the safeword, or did I want to do it? The insinuation that I couldn’t of course spurred me to tell him that I would.

“Is this something that you want?” he asked.

I thought, of course not, why would anyone even think of doing something so disgusting and unhygienic anyway, if it wasn’t for online porn? (I’ve never been diagnosed with OCD, but I am told I exhibit such tendencies).  Can you imagine how germy it would be, probably millions of bacteria and molecules of piss would be in your mouth. Honestly I think it’s revolting, though maybe not as bad as drinking piss or eating shit. But I love money so much, and I wanted to be debased and to experience what it’s like. So I said, “Yeah, I want to.”

We were talking for a bit, and I said that if I’d hidden in the bathroom he wouldn’t have found me.

“Well no, because we’ve thought of that, you see,” he said, showing how the lock could be opened from outside.

I asked why we couldn’t use a flavoured condom. He said he didn’t like them but “You can demand I wash my balls first” which I think is an amusing line/quote, so I’ve stuck it in this post. Then I followed him downstairs.

He made me sit on his lap to get the answers out of me. I was feeling sore and didn’t want to be spanked any more, so I was glad about this. Roland asked me for my favourite colour, the age at which I first masturbated, and the first time or have I ever had an orgasm; I gave him these answers instantly. He laughed and said it was no fun. Then he tried to think of two more things to ask me. I said it was fine and I’d give him a blowjob without the five questions/answers.

“You’re sure?” he said.

I was. I was tired of playing games; I wanted action.

I was lying on the sofa. Roland popped off to shower – not that I’d have cared all that much if he didn’t, because I had the sauce so all I would taste would be that. He was gone a disappointingly short time.

 

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In Roland’s house

Roland annoys me so much by constantly insinuating I’ll believe I’m in love with him. I still like him though. Sometimes when he’s less ugly, he’s halfway to being cute. And he’s so funny. I admire his independent thought, and how he doesn’t blindly go along with whatever the media or government or society bleat in his ear. He is very interesting.

He’s strong, which is another irritating thing about him; I’ve always taken my strength for granted. I was always in the top three strongest, tallest and smartest kids in the class all through school until about fifth year when the boys suddenly grew taller and got muscles. (And sometimes I actually was the strongest in the class). But Roland can move me really easily, even though I’m heavy for my height/figure. I can still arm-wrestle boys and win, though, so maybe he couldn’t beat me at that. Anyway it’s really irritating that I can’t force him onto the floor and pin him there.

In the studio, we were trying to get the handcuffs on each other; he was lying on the floor and I was sitting on him. I was using my legs and feet to push his arms down but after a few minutes of us wrestling on the floor, he finally got one of my wrists in a cuff. I quickly got it off, but I couldn’t cuff him and after a bit he cuffed my hand again, and later put the other cuff on me.  He was pleased, I could tell. Grinning like a perverted millionaire who’d just handcuffed a naked prostitute.Then he pushed me off him and I rolled onto the floor, my hands cuffed in front of me. I tried to chet and jump back on him but even that attempt ended in failure.

Afterwards we were talking about stuff and I asked him why he’d said he was 42 in reply to my Gumtree ad, when he was 4 years older, and why he’d said “I am 42 and professional but I have an interest in spanking” as if you couldn’t be professional and a spanko. He couldn’t even remember what he’d said or why he’d lied.

I found out that he’d guessed I came to the photoshoot to trial him! He guessed that after I said “ask me why I came here” as he was interrogating and spanking me after the photoshoot. How could he guess?! I could’ve just come for the spanking!! He said that, after he’d spanked me and he was saying that would I want to be spanked for money in his office or a hotel, he could tell that I wanted to but I just wanted the right price. He could tell that, he said, because “I thought you would be shocked. I thought you would say no. You said ‘maybe’, so I thought, ‘she wants to but she wants the right price.’ Your body language didn’t say no. You didn’t even seem surprised. I knew you were smart. So I thought ‘this is a smart girl, she wants a good price’.”

I was totally surprised. “How did you know I was smart? Because I had a degree?”

“Well- yeah.” He giggled. “And I knew from talking to you that you were well-read, so I thought, a well-read educated girl, she wants a good price.”

I couldn’t believe this. Usually others can’t see through my machinations.

“So, you knew I was going to ask you if you wanted to buy virginity!” I said.

“Well, no; not virginity, but I expected to hear from you later naming your price.”

Anyway, we left the studio and he told me what would’ve happened if I’d said my student debts were 12k on the drive – i.e. the same result or actually worse (it’s in the post called ‘studio bondage’).  Wegot to Roland’s house and what it is is a four-bedroom house with a big living room and kitchen, 2 bathrooms and a garage. It’s cosy, nicely decorated with a hint of the exotic – none of that modern or minimalist crap – so I liked it there. It’s not got much furniture in it. There wasn’t a swimming pool like I thought there would be and the TV was just a 42 inch, which was disappointing because ours is a 37 inch so although his is bigger, it’s not a lot bigger than ours. I had thought it would be a 50 incher or maybe cover an entire wall. I had thought he lived in a mansion. I had the printout of one of his bank statements showing over 1.6 million in my bag so I knew he was telling the truth that he was a millionaire. Roland had said, in response to me asking if his house was really big on the drive there, that it was big but not too big and just enough space that was needed, but I still had thouht it might be huge because everyone knows that rich people do not have the same definitions as everybody else. However, Ro is self-made/new money so obviously he’d be a lot more normal because he was once normal.

We were in the kitchen and I said I’d imagined his wife’s name to be Magda, for some weird reason (I thought he’d got a parcel but it was for his wife) and he said “Like Mary Magdalene” a reference I didn’t get till a minute later (his wife had been a gogo dancer and sex worker when he met her as a student).

There were kiddies’ pics all over, drawn by “Magda”‘s child’s kids (she was a lone mother when he met her) and I said “It’s a shame you don’t have a son my age; or I could do you a family deal.”

He burst out laughing. “A family deal?!”

“Yeah, then you could get a discount.”

He thought it was really funny.

He fixed me coffee – it was really good- and showed me this email on his laptop that he hadn’t seen for 12 years but he had accidentally seen just before he picked me up in Buccleuch Place – a huge coincidence, he said.He’d told me about it on the drive over; it was his interpretation of the dichotomy (in its art/literature context); an interpretation that did away with the duality of virgin and whore and introduced a third aspect.   Roland said in the email that the dichotomy is something he thought about, and divides it up into three strands, (virgin, whore and another one I can’t remember but I think it was the curious/adventurous dignified woman) not two (virgin and whore). In the email, he claimed this is his personal interpretation.I wish I could remember all of it and copy it here, but with reference to the dichotomy, I think one of the most powerful lines is a throwaway one – “I’ve been married to a dancer for […] years, amd therein lies a story” – according to the dichotomy, non-virgins (in present times, adventurous women, women who don’t want relationships/just need sex, and sex workers) are not marriage material and no man would want to marry them.  This was interesting to read but I was far more interested in the upcoming (Borat accent) SEXYTIIIIMMMEEE!!

Roland did some work stuff with the speakers on full blast with some of my favourite songs. They were the best computer speakers I ever heard; it was a very real – and loud- sound. It was a nice kitchen, too. He said he’d take me to the hotel later on and I relaxed, because I guessed I wouldn’t have to give him a blowjob until hours later in a different place, so I’d worry about it then.

Then he took me into the livingroom to spank me.

 

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Let them eat cream

I just played an RPG http://spankingadventures.webeden.co.uk, a ‘choose your own spanking story’ set in a mystical mansion outside of time where you start as a slave with the possibility of progressing to Mistress; the ultimate goal is to become Supreme Mistress, but it could be GAME OVER any time. It is a very detailed, long and varied RPG; it took me over 2 hours to get this far and I read very fast (so far I’ve reached Mistress level).

I really want to stay as Mistress in that mansion, until the end of time.

But I could not forsake my Egyptian palace for it, and my responsibilties there.

 

Now, back to the actual stuff that really happened:

Roland was lying on the floor of the studio for some reason and I was sitting on top of him, naked except for the purity ring, bangles and maybe a necklace. I don’t know how this happened – maybe he was lying next to me and I just clambered on him? I think I said that he couldn’t get up with me sitting on him. Anyway, he had clothes on which continued to irritate me, but I was equally afraid that if I took them off he would be all wobbly rolls of fat, undulating and bobbing slickly under his skin.

We were talking about some stuff and I began to thrust in a rolling sort of motion, first sitting and then with my weight equal on all four limbs; at first I was gentle, then harder and squeezing my thighs as each thrust was completed. I imagined that he was mine, to torture and to dominate at my pleasure.

“If we were in my palace right now, I could torture you,” I said. This amused him, but I can’t remember what he said.

I blindfolded him. Then I jumped off him to get the whipped cream, climbed back on and squirted the cream in his face, giggling, and then in his mouth, forcing him to eat it. “That’s for being a millionaire,” I said, rocking now, “I don’t like rich people.”

A little while later, being puzzled why he wasn’t getting hard, I asked “Why isn’t this working?”

“Because I know that’s your kink,” he replied, still eating the massive wads of cream, “And I’m not going to let you have it. And I don’t have much of a submissive side.”

“Wait – you can control it? All men can?”

“Yes, except in very few situations,” he said.

“I can’t – at all. I wonder why – but I guess women are just more sexual. We’re multiorgasmic.”

“Well, yes,” Roland said in a very educated tone, like there wasn’t a naked hooker dry-humping him on the floor of a studio, “I think that’s it.”

“But in some situations it would work, like how you can control yourself not to come but sometimes you couldn’t control that.”

“Yeah.”

“So if I wanted to, I could tie you down and do this and rape you and force you to impregnate me.”

He chuckled. I was moving backwards and forwards this whole time and it was having no effect. “Well, no, because of something called the pill.”

“Yeah, but if I wanted to get pregnant. I could force you.”

“Well, yes,” he admitted, still swallowing Kalika-cream, “you could.”

I licked the cream off his face.

 

Then he drove me to his house. On the way out of his studio and on the drive, I found out that he wasn’t disappointed that I would’ve done it for less, because he  wouldn’t have wanted me that many times if it had been for less (and neither would I; I hadn’t envisioned 8 times at all till he said it at the restaurant.)

I also found out that if I’d said my student debts were 12k he’d just want to see me more, so it would’ve been the same, as we might do more than 8 times anyway – well, actually, it would’ve been less as he’d have wanted 15 times for 12k so it wouldn’t be a k a time. So, I’m really happy about that! It was important for me to know that. I don’t think Roland realised it was important for me to know that.

He can’t grasp how much I love money.

As we neared his house, I knew which one it was, and I was correct. Sometimes I’m just slightly psychic like that. Well, actually, it’s not psychicness, but sensing certain feelings and the air.

 

 

 

 

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Adult cartoons: conservative agenda?

South Park. Family Guy. The Simpsons. They’re ultra-liberal, filled with swear-words, innuendos and sometimes sexually explicit comments. A show like Family Guy, which has the word “penis” in half its episodes and utilises phrases like “your penis would shoot right off your body”, “my daughter’s womb is not a wildfire for you to douse with your adolescent seed” and show scenes of rape, sex addiction, kinky sex, and puppy-babies concieved by bestiality is not usually thought of as furthering the agenda of the religious right. But it does. Don’t get me wrong, Family Guy is my favourite thing on TV, IloveitIloveitIloveitIloveitIloveit. All these cartoons work against the right-wing agenda and mock it in many ways. But here is how it, and other adult cartoons, do further that agenda:

In The Simpsons, Family Guy and American Dad, the mothers are all housewives with no friends.

In all the above shows as well as the Cleveland Show, the focus is on a male character

The father is irresponsible, lazy and doesn’t do housework – especially Homer Simpson and Peter Griffin. The boys – especially Bart Simpson, Eric Cartman and Rallo Tubbs- cause chaos (which is not seen as deviant), while the girls are quiet (especially Lisa Simpson and Meg Griffin) or only cause ‘trouble’ to their parents by parental fear of their sexuality (Roberta Tubbs and Meg Griffin) or political views (Hayley Smith). In contrast, the mothers care for the kids and do not pull crazy stunts of their own – an exception is Family Guy’s Lois, but her stunts (kleptomania, revealing that she was in a porn film) pale in comparison to Peter’s.

In the first episode of The Cleveland Show, the mother is depicted as unable to control her children after becoming a lone mother. Only Cleveland, acting as a father figure, can restore discipline.

This ‘discipline’ includes controlling 15 year old Roberta’s sexuality by physically intimidating her boyfriend. This patriarchal control is juxtaposed with Cleveland’s freedom to have sex with Roberta’s mother at the very moment that Roberta’s sexuality is subject to his control

In contrast, Roberta’s 5 year old brother is encouraged by Cleveland to be sexual. Cleveland teaches him to invent a reason for having to peek up girls’ skirts, a behaviour which resulted in him being expelled in the first place.

Cleveland’s assertion that the kids “need some fathering” – mothering being inadequate

Robert’s absence supposedly caused the kids to misbehave; however, as a drunk who is disinterested in his children, how could he have disciplined them when he lacks discipline himself? The message is that even a drunk dad can parent better than a working, caring, sober mom.

Roberta is portrayed as accepting her boyfriend’s decision to take her home early/not have sex. Cleveland is controlling her through her boyfriend, and likewise her boyfriend is able to control her sexuality.

In one episode, Roberta is almost forced by peer pressure and a TV camera to flash her breasts, along with many other girls, but her stepbrother saves her by pretending to be a girl and flashing his chest. This implies that it is not good to flash your breasts for a TV show and that women are exploited in the adult entertainment industry. Roberta was portrayed as a victim with no agency who had to be saved by a younger male relative. The fate of flashing was portrayed as dire.

 

In Family Guy, Peter is pathologically possessive of his daughter Meg when she dates a trainee doctor – even stalking them in disguise- and attempts to shoot him when Meg is pregnant.

In the current season, both Peter and Lois stop Meg having sex with Glenn Quagmire even though she’s already 18. Meg is portrayed as accepting this.

While Glenn and Herbert are sex predators and Peter frequently uses very sexual language, the female characters are not permitted such expression. Even when Lois is revealed to have starred in a porn film, the revelation leads to her becoming a social pariah which is the main content of the episode. However, when male characters commit rape, cheat, repeatedly attempt child molestation, commit bestiality, abduct people for sex, etc, they suffer no consequences and their actions remain secret. These actions constitute very small portions of the episodes, in contrast to Lois’ porn movie, Lois’ sexy photo, Loretta’s affair, Meg’s boyfriend/subsequent pregnancy, Bonnie’s affair or Peter’s boss Angela sexually harassing him. The mens’ actions are not portrayed as problematic or deviant. They seem to happen as a result of the mens’ libido. However, the womens’ actions are problematized by the community and the family. Their actions seem to come from problems: lack of money (Lois making the porno), unhappy marriage (Loretta and Bonnie having affairs, Lois kissing Meg’s boyfriend) being naive and/or used (Jillian-Brian, Meg-Quagmire and Cheryl Teags-Brian) and being suicidal (Angela). The men suffer no consequences for their actions except Quagmire’s friends being annoyed with him when he is caught spying on Lois, and Lois being annoyed with him for trying to sleep with Meg. By contrast the women get publically shamed on TV (Lois’ porn film), lose public office (Lois’ photo), are discovered cheating (Loretta and Bonnie), have a pregnancy scare, a forced marriage, then lose their boyfriend (Meg) go to prison for harbouring a fugitive (Meg) accidentally make out with their brother (Meg) get dumped, get obssessed, perform a kidnap and get told to wait for the right man by Quagmire, a pervert – double standard much?(Meg), attempt suicide when attraction is unreciprocated (Angela).

When Lois briefly becomes a lone mother in the episode ‘Big man on the hippocampus’, the family’s income drops ridiculously low.

In South Park, being a slut is linked to being stupid and spoiled, and in a slut contest the male slut (Mr Slave) wins over the female slut (Paris Hilton). It is not suggested that Mr Slave is stupid or spoiled. The girls of South Park then immediately stop being sluts.

The only lone mother portrayed is Eric Cartman’s mother, and her son is completely out of control. She is also portrayed as promiscuos and as not knowing who Eric’s father is.

 

 

 

 

 
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Posted by on July 30, 2012 in Feminism, Film, Media

 

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