sex with cooking utensils for the simple man
sex with cooking utensils for the simple man
Yes, that thorny old problem is back again! But why? Well, for me,the source of all this recent discussion is to be found in the 'homoeopathy syndrome'.
I'll come straight out into the open and confess that I'm a sweet old-fashioned materialist, or matter-realist if you prefer. Something of a matter-fundamentalist, even a matter-mystic. If there is something in the box, even if it is only one electron, well I'll go along with that. If there is nothing in the box then it seems to me that the box is empty! I'm a simple man.
Now homoeopathy, or to be precise, homoeopathic remedies, propose that we put something in the box, but only a very little something, and to my way of thinking, not the very little something that is necessarilly required. What is important about homoeopathic remedies is the box itself. Because the box, the context for the remedy is - belief. You have to believe in the box in order for the very little something inside the box to work. To anyone who doesn't credit the box with existence, like me, you have a very little something in a state-of-the-art packaging, because believe me, Belief is The Big One for the foreseable future. None of that messy old business of matter, just a nourishing, wholesome, comfortable Belief, a well put-together idea that doesn't touch the sides.
Obviously no-one is going to suggest a homoeopathic remedy to someone with a broken leg. Nor to control the resurgence of tuberculosis in Africa following on from the break-down of immunity systems due to Aids. And when I had severe bronchitis, my homoeopathically orientated doctor gave me antibiotics. But for a predominently middle-class, middle-aged female social group, the box of belief is at least as important as the very little something inside.
So, if you're doctor can spot you've got a broken leg, where's the harm? Let's go back to the box, the belief, the bit thats only there if you've been convinced, by whatever reason or by whatever logic.
All societies have a behavioural code related to sexual activities. The sexual activities are the very little something. And the behavioural code is the box, the packaging, the concept that goes with the very little something and which you have to believe in if you want to indulge in the very little something.
Now these codes are begining to get a bit entangled. Once upon a time they were restricted to fairly precise communities and the members of those communities believed in the box, they were convinced it was correct to behave sexually in certain ways and not correct to behave sexually in certain other ways.
But the sharing of sexual habits and information has put the emphasis on the very little something and put some doubt on the value of the box, or rather on the various community boxes. As the visionary Lenny Bruce said of sex with animals, there had to be a problem in the first place in order that some wanted to enact a law to deal with it, whether it was wives jealous of flirtatious chickens or husbands having suspicions about the neighbour's charming old labrador. In both cases a very little something existed, be it the attentive, petulant hen or the horny old rogue of a dog.
So where are we with legislation against sex with cooking utensils? Nowhere. And why? Because, at least to my knowledge, the problem doesn't exist. If there is a thriving trade in virgin saucepans or if your neighbours are indulging in steamy nights of colander swapping, it is either going on in total secrecy, or our box of codes doesn't condemn it.
Utensilophilia is such a very little something it doesn't exist.
As I said at the top, I'm a materialist. Paintings exist, the box called beauty doesn't. If you see a painting then there is a reaction, a sensation, and the sensation is what interests me. Because if the sensation is strong enough, if it is overwhelming, it can induce a state of otherness, of realisation, of healing even, that no conceptual box called beauty can get near to. And certainly more rewarding than a whole cupboard full of casserole dishes.
I'll come straight out into the open and confess that I'm a sweet old-fashioned materialist, or matter-realist if you prefer. Something of a matter-fundamentalist, even a matter-mystic. If there is something in the box, even if it is only one electron, well I'll go along with that. If there is nothing in the box then it seems to me that the box is empty! I'm a simple man.
Now homoeopathy, or to be precise, homoeopathic remedies, propose that we put something in the box, but only a very little something, and to my way of thinking, not the very little something that is necessarilly required. What is important about homoeopathic remedies is the box itself. Because the box, the context for the remedy is - belief. You have to believe in the box in order for the very little something inside the box to work. To anyone who doesn't credit the box with existence, like me, you have a very little something in a state-of-the-art packaging, because believe me, Belief is The Big One for the foreseable future. None of that messy old business of matter, just a nourishing, wholesome, comfortable Belief, a well put-together idea that doesn't touch the sides.
Obviously no-one is going to suggest a homoeopathic remedy to someone with a broken leg. Nor to control the resurgence of tuberculosis in Africa following on from the break-down of immunity systems due to Aids. And when I had severe bronchitis, my homoeopathically orientated doctor gave me antibiotics. But for a predominently middle-class, middle-aged female social group, the box of belief is at least as important as the very little something inside.
So, if you're doctor can spot you've got a broken leg, where's the harm? Let's go back to the box, the belief, the bit thats only there if you've been convinced, by whatever reason or by whatever logic.
All societies have a behavioural code related to sexual activities. The sexual activities are the very little something. And the behavioural code is the box, the packaging, the concept that goes with the very little something and which you have to believe in if you want to indulge in the very little something.
Now these codes are begining to get a bit entangled. Once upon a time they were restricted to fairly precise communities and the members of those communities believed in the box, they were convinced it was correct to behave sexually in certain ways and not correct to behave sexually in certain other ways.
But the sharing of sexual habits and information has put the emphasis on the very little something and put some doubt on the value of the box, or rather on the various community boxes. As the visionary Lenny Bruce said of sex with animals, there had to be a problem in the first place in order that some wanted to enact a law to deal with it, whether it was wives jealous of flirtatious chickens or husbands having suspicions about the neighbour's charming old labrador. In both cases a very little something existed, be it the attentive, petulant hen or the horny old rogue of a dog.
So where are we with legislation against sex with cooking utensils? Nowhere. And why? Because, at least to my knowledge, the problem doesn't exist. If there is a thriving trade in virgin saucepans or if your neighbours are indulging in steamy nights of colander swapping, it is either going on in total secrecy, or our box of codes doesn't condemn it.
Utensilophilia is such a very little something it doesn't exist.
As I said at the top, I'm a materialist. Paintings exist, the box called beauty doesn't. If you see a painting then there is a reaction, a sensation, and the sensation is what interests me. Because if the sensation is strong enough, if it is overwhelming, it can induce a state of otherness, of realisation, of healing even, that no conceptual box called beauty can get near to. And certainly more rewarding than a whole cupboard full of casserole dishes.