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Debbie Doesn't Do Dallas
by Adam Finley
The porn industry was stymied recently when several stars were diagnosed with HIV. The industry may be in jeopardy unless it can convince the public that its well-proportioned stars aren't spreading diseases around like candy at a parade.
Tim Connelly, a publisher in the porn industry, suggested that porn stars could start wearing condoms. Other suggestions, such as government regulation, have also been proposed, but none of these will protect porn stars absolutely. Something more radical has to be done to protect these people, and to silence the atavistic will of those who wish to see such hardcore examples of free marketing and free speech eradicated once and for all.
Therefore, I am officially announcing my plan to become a porn star.
But Adam, many of you are saying, you're not ugly enough to be a porn star.
For over three decades, porn stars, to paraphrase journalist Eric Schlosser, have been little more than parodies of the masculine and feminine ideal. For women, this meant packing their bodies full of plastic and silicon, applying their make-up with paint rollers, and teasing their hair with copious amounts of hairspray, resulting in something resembling an overfilled grocery sack cinched with twine and doused in Easter egg dye. For men, looks have never been important, as long as they have an enormous penis. Essentially, the male lead in any porn movie could be played by a stalk of asparagus with a penis attached to it. As digital and plastic culture continues to eclipse our natural world, I imagine most porn movies will devolve into nothing more than a cucumber being lobbed at two soccer balls.
I could never be a part of the porn industry under such strict regulations, but I would be perfect for the newer, safer porn industry, because it would revolve around films in which no one has sex with anyone, ever.
Cable Man: I hear your cable is out.
Lonely Housewife: Why yes, it is.
Cable Man: How long have you been without cable?
Lonely Housewife: Oh, for way too long.
Cable Man: Well I got your cable right here.
Lonely Housewife: Oh my. How will I ever get that in my mouth?
Cable Man: What in the hell are you talking about? Do you know how many ohms of electricity are going into your cable box?
Lonely Housewife: Do you want to see my "cable box"?
Cable Man: Not sure what you mean, exactly. You know what sounds good right now? Cotton candy.
I imagine the first few films to come out of this new porn wave will stick to the same basic porn storylines, but with slight modifications. For example, a cheerleading squad inexplicably consisting entirely of lesbians will be unable to shower after their workout due to asbestos being removed from the locker room. As time goes on, I see porn movies becoming less about slobbering paternalistic fantasies and more about real-life situations: A group of frat boys go to a bar, ogle hot chicks all evening, and ultimately wind up back home playing Uno and drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon till 2 a.m. Also, an entire series could be created around dry humping, the cornerstone of all budding romances.
Veterans of the old porn industry would have to find work in other fields, such as carrot lubrication or pole vault swallowing. This may prove difficult, however, as I'm pretty sure neither of those are actual jobs. Another, perhaps controversial, alternative would be to have themselves melted down and turned into plastic war toys that would be handed out to poor children during the holidays.
In the end, "pornography" will become less and less appealing, forcing people to switch off their VCRs, DVD players, and file-sharing programs and venture out into the world to find actual human beings with which to have actual, average sex. In time, venereal disease will no longer be an issue for the porn industry, but instead find its way back into the general population where it truly belongs.
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