Pornified = Preaching

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Pornified : How Pornography Is Transforming Our Lives, Our Relationships, and Our Families
by Pamela Paul
I got this book after seeing it reviewed on Slashdot. Seemed interesting. I’m a sociology buff so this was right up my alley. A book on how porn has changed life in America. It started off not too bad… interesting facts, interesting studies, interesting stories. Research to back the claims and observations. A very interesting read. Then, I guess she ran out of content. The last two or three chapters were completely dry and “preachy” (That isn’t including the Conclusion chapter). Read on for more.

In the later chapters, she brings a story of a guy who is married and has a daughter… and a porn addiction. He started looking at porn in his early teens and when the Internet came into the home, he found that he was spending all of his free time looking at porn… going from relatively “tame” porn to very hardcore then to child porn. He stole a pair of his 14 year old daughter’s panties and took pictures of himself wearing them. He sent the photos to people on the Internet. His daughter found the picture on his computer. She freaked out (natch) and started cutting her underwear up with scissors.

The author attributes all of this behaviour to pornography. Now, I’m sorry. You don’t start wearing your daugher’s panties from watching porn alone. I’m sure there are other mental issues going on with this particular individual. I’m not a sociologist or a psychologist, but, I feel secure in saying that porn isn’t the cause of this individual’s issues. but an accelerant. If John Doe wants to sit at home for four hours a day masturbating to a woman in a leather catsuit whipping a bald, 60 year old midget on the ass, more power to him. If he goes out and starts abusing people, arrest him.

The end, like I mentioned earlier, is all preachy. Porn causes all of these problems with society, so something needs to be done. Maybe the liberal in me is saying “personal freedom” too loudly for me to hear the best for everyone. I don’t know. I do know that at the end, the book was no longer interesting, it was a serious grind.

I was glad to see that Slate thought some of the same things I did.

I’ve been trying to figure something in my head, and maybe you can help me out, yeah? When a person is insane, as you clearly are, do you know that you’re insane? Maybe you’re just sitting around, reading “Guns and Ammo”, masturbating in your own feces, do you just stop and go, “Wow! It is amazing how fucking crazy I really am!”? Yeah. Do you guys do that?
David Mills (Brad Pitt), in “Seven”

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