Baby, I Wanna Fuck You So Bad That I'm Going To Kill You!!!

This is hardly a new song.

I've been watching a lot of AMC this week. Actually, I watch that channel a lot, period. It's mostly white noise as I'm writing. There are very few movies in their rotation that I haven't seen at least once, if not, many times. For a guy with basic cable, that and Turner Classic Movies are the best I can do.

So of course, the week leading up to Halloween is packed full of horror movies. Not a bad thing at all. I mean sure, they're going to be censored and all, but "bleeps" and dialog drops don't even phase me anymore. Trust me, I know what "fuck" sounds and looks like when somebody says it - it's my favorite fuckin' word after all...

But something occurred to me just now, and it all boils down to "fuck." In word and deed. Censorship - more to the point, what we in the United States of Advertising choose to censor and not to censor - says some pretty crazy shit about our culture. Apparently, showing the eating of entrails; shoving pencils into throats; eviscerations, guttings and decapatations is all kosher. Show some tits, or say the "f word" and our society will fall fuckin' apart at the seams.

I'm not judging horror films, or film violence in general. Hey man, I fucking LOVE film violence! Love, love, love it! Real violence, not so much - BUT THAT'S BESIDE THE GODDAM POINT, ISN'T IT???

And I love cursing.

And I adore nudity. The one thing that's great in real life, AND in film. There should be more of it. Well, except for about 90% of confirmed nudists. Those people give me the fucking creeps - and fuck is it with all the "Chili Cookoffs"??? But I digress...

Let's just agree that I'm not talking about porn here, ok? I'm not that fucking shallow. I mean I am that shallow, but I'm just not talking about porn right now.

And I am a fully functioning adult, and cinema fan, who's seen pretty much fuckin' everything when it comes to film, and managed to get through this life without imitating anything in a movie - even as a kid. Good, bad, and unholy - I feel that I'm far from unique when I can say in all sincerity, "That's just the movies."

Two thirds of the above, "questionable items," are, by and large, censored pretty much across the board in this Great Land of Ours. [Unless you pay for your tits and "fuck."] And it doesn't take a fucking media analyst to determine which two. Strides have been made in the cursing and violence departments - and don't get me wrong, I am grateful. However, nudity remains elusive.

A lot of it has to do with the FCC's decision that showing it on TV means that we endorse it as a society. The "Parenting of (Adult) America," I guess. But then it says something really fucked up about our governmental parents. If nothing else, it's pretty obvious nobody's getting laid over there. I don't know why. If current shenanigans in The House of Representatives are any barometer, I have to believe that Washington D.C. (home of the Free Communication Censors) is just fucking crawling with hookers.

I'd say "whores," but that I have a lot of friends in "the industry." II'd like to be back in myself. Do you understand how much swag one can... It's un-cool.

So, what we're to infer by these practices is that, as a society, all shades of fucked-the-fuck-up violence is cool, cursing's fine, as long as it's between midnight and four o' clock in the morning, but one nip slip and Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake have to go on an "apology tour," as if they'd just worn swastikas and read "The Communist Manifesto" while having anal sex ...on Sesame Street.

Meanwhile, in a substantial portion of the rest of the globe, most people were going "Yawn... so?"

I'm not a parent, but I think I'd be a little more upset with my kid seeing decapitations than I would them seeing full frontal nudity. At least I can explain full frontal and say, "Trust me, what you're feeling is a very, very good thing. When you're older..."

I can say that about drug usage in movies too! Not that I'd want to have that conversation as the result of my kid watching a Cheech and Chong picture, mind you. If anybody's going to expose any child of mine to either of those, it's going to be ME goddam it!

You can't fucking say that about eviscerating a co-ed, now can you?

Fuck me! Where the fuck did this paternal side come from? That must be tabled.

But then again, I was raised in a polar opposite environment. By the time I'd hit puberty, I'd seen Porky's almost as many times as I'd seen Star Wars. Stripes too. Oh man! PJ Soles full frontal in the shower! I didn't know what the hell to do with them, but I sure as fuck knew I liked girls.

And cursing! It's a talent, really. Learning to lead a double-life started early. A toe-headed, cherubic exterior, a mouth like a sailor and a contempt for pretty much everything authoritarian was practiced on the playground and embellished with "fuck" as many times as I could work it in. If the powers that be knew what I was REALLY thinking about them, they'd have put me in that special class with the kids who burn shit.

I still proofread my stuff to make sure there's just enough cursing, for the record. Now, I see it not only as a talent, but as an art form, too! It really is! That's right kids! Get a degree in Communications, and you can back any daffy shit that comes out of your fucking pie-hole with RESEARCH!

In the Vinehamner home, violence was definitely off the menu. Nudity and cursing weren't a problem when it came to comedy. But they were pretty strict about that stuff when it came to heavy adult drama. I think it had more to do with the "heavy adult drama" thing than it did with tits, ass and fuck. In word and deed.

We had the first Beta Max on our block, so my parents' friends would come over. A lot. This was when VHS movies were completely unbuyable because they cost a hundred bucks a pop. You know - the stone age. I also had to walk uphill, both ways, to and from school and my lunch was rancid meatloaf in a bucket. We used to sing for nickels in front of the local Five and Dime to earn enough money to buy combs for my sister, Marie's beautiful hair. But I lost my voice doing it. And it turned out that she had sold her hair to a wigmaker to pay for my voice lessons. O cruel fate!

...so the Beta Max was a big thing amongst my dad's friends. A lot of times, it was a whole bunch of people, kids and adults, crammed into our living room to watch bootleg copies of Star Wars and Bugsy Malone. But every so often, it was "Adults Night."

No kids to play with, just, "Go to your room," and "Because I said so, that's why!"

And it wasn't even racy shit - my parents weren't cool enough to be 70's swingers. It was usually shit like It's Alive, Alien and even One Flew Cuckoos Nest. If it wasn't for the fact that we didn't have ONE bootleg copy of a cartoon (except for Fritz the Cat) I'd say that it was because of a real understanding of what's "good" and "bad" media for kids at certain ages. As it stands, I think, with regards to violence, it was that I was so skittish with horror as a little kid, they had to stay up with me for a week after I'd watched The Mole People.

This incidentally, is how I became a big comic book reader. Pretty much the same story telling method as movies, but something  that I could read that wasn't a dreaded "words book" while banished to my room. The Star Wars wallpaper only got my imagination so far.

My brother and I would have to do GI crawls across the foyer floor, just to make it to the kitchen for water.

What the hell do you think you're doing???

Gettin' water.

Get back in your room!

But...

I'll get you your damn water!

This is about the time that the alien would burst out of John Hurt's chest or Nicholson would go on a particularly "salty" rant.

Aw goddammit!!! Room! Now!

But I guess there's fallout when anything goes when it comes to being cool with cursing and T&A, too. It's just that the fallout isn't as bad as, say, letting a media that tells your kid that violence is ok, but that sex is verbotten and unspeakable, babysit your child and wondering why the only outlet for their emotions appears to be blood and...

Wait, I got confused. You see, I was writing a letter to my local PTA and, well, shit happens.

The most that happened to me was getting sent to the Principal's office when a girl kicked me in the nads. The playground monitor came over because I was grabbing my crotch and cursing like a sailor. "You goddam bitch!!! My balls!!!" (it's a bloody good thing I hadn't discovered "cunt" or "fucktard" yet!) and so on. Forget the fact that the little sucubus had field-goal'ed my cobbles before the fuckers had even fucking dropped!!! I'd said dirty words!!! Oh the ignominy my mother most have felt during that phone call.

What happened?

Your son has quite a mouth on him, Mrs. Vinehamner. He said pretty much anything you could imagine in an R-rated movie. He seems to be fixated on girls a little too much for a kid his age, too, but we're mainly worried about the cursing.

Oh lord. Did he curse at a teacher?

Well, no. A playground monitor heard him saying things like well, "shit," and, "bitch."

Why?

A little girl kicked him in the testicles. But we're mainly worried about the cursing...

This wasn't the first time my mouth got friendly with a bar of soap. This I assure you.

I wonder what the fuck ever happened to Pe'le... I hope her trucker husband gave her syphillis and they had to amputate her labia.