Sexy Cream Puffs

If I have to watch one more scene where actors who hardly know each other are humping and bumping and sweating and cooing and mooing and pretending to be excited and to want each other and love each other, I will throw up.

Am I the only one? Does anyone else see how bizarre it is that the vast majority of our movies, whether they are romances, comedies, dramas, or action, are all about sex? That the vast majority of advertising uses sex to sell pretty much everything? What does sex have to do with cars or soft drinks or shoes? Why do the mannikins in store windows have nipples? Good lord. Do they think that seeing nipples under a blouse will stimulate me to buy it? How odd.

Imagine for a moment that we take a trip to another planet where our hosts take us to a movie that is ostensibly an action story about heroism, courage, loyalty, and endurance. But running all through the action is an underlying tension about…(ahem) food.

Whenever our hero passes a bakery while chasing the bad guy, he pauses and goes into a trance-like state. The music shifts from loud and zippy to slow and sweet. Our hero inhales deeply, then slips into the bakery to buy a cream puff. There are close-ups of the whipped cream and the smooth yellow custard. The sugar sparkles in the early morning sunlight slanting through the window. Our hero nuzzles and slurps and chews and savors it with painful and exquisite joy. When he gets to the custard he moans gently and catches his breath. He slowly licks the goopy stuff off his upper lip…

Wouldn’t we conclude that those people were a little weird about food? And wouldn’t someone from another planet conclude that we are a little weird about sex? Why can’t we just appreciate, celebrate, and enjoy sex the way we appreciate, celebrate, and enjoy food? We all enjoy a yummy cream puff now and then but gorging on mountains of cream puffs in public orgies of ecstasy would suggest that our priorities were a teensy bit skewed.

Just asking.

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