Forgive the titillating title. (Sorry. Dad joke.)
I’m not sure how I missed this controversy the first time around. I had a busy summer. I know what you’re thinking, but I honestly didn’t Google “Kate Upton’s Nipple.” At least not this time. As I prepared to draft this week’s blog, I was procrastinating on the Facebook, as I am wont to do, when I saw a headline about recasting the 50 Shades of Suck My Balls movie. I have a perverse fascination with that book, not as a work of … words on paper … but because no greater example exists of the divide between me and them. Not even Pride & Prejudice, which despite the vitriol I reserve for that inflated POS at least maintains of a modicum of craft. I wouldn’t fuck Jane Austen with your dick. But I won’t say she is a hack.
E.L. James is a hack. A hack with about sixty billion readers. Damned if I can figure it out how, but clearly she is doing something right. It may be some of the worst prose I have ever read, but I give mad props to James for tapping a market I’d love to fuck the shit out of. If I could write anything that would net that kind of readership, however maligned I may become as a result, scorned by smarmy, egotistical writers such as I, I’d fucking do it in a heartbeat. But I can’t. So, really, good for her.
I like to read the comment section re: anything to with with Suck My Balls. I guess it’s like a sociological experiment, watching how passionate people (i.e., women) get over that book. Maybe it’s more like a professional experiment, trying to glean what I can in an effort to milk and mine. In any case, that’s what I was doing Saturday afternoon, checking out the comment section when I saw an article for one of those buzzfeedy sites: “Kate Upton’s Erect Nipple Ad Banned.” And, well, at that point, I am just a man.
I love Kate Upton, and her breasts are frequently in the news. Cat Daddy. Beach Bunny. Reports of the girls finally being set free. And I’ve proven, beyond shadows of doubt, that I will use any excuse to talk about her boobs. But this isn’t a post about Kate Upton’s spectacular knockers, remarkably though they may be. It’s that in 2013, with all the shit that can be said–and shown–on TV, a major U.S. corporation would still balk over an erect nipple. That’s what happened. Apparently some suit deemed Kate’s nipple too darn perky and the ad was banned. Just seems so damned silly. Frankly, I can’t even spot the erect nipple (and in the name of research, I’ve watched this video dozens of times).
I don’t even blame MTV for not running an ad. All corporations are money-grubbing whores; they’d air two hobos fucking a rat if they thought it’d make ’em a buck. There are only two reasons an ad is getting banned: either the FCC steps in, or executives decide they are going to catch too much flack from repressed helmet-haired assholes in the Bible Belt. Who the fuck cares? It’s just the goddamn human body.
It’s the rally cry of old hippies, and you know how I feel about those dirty fuckers, so I am loath to tote the patchouli line. But, shit, man, we spend what, $150 million a day on war? Violence is all around us. Horrific, disturbing, stomach-churning violence. News. Music. Movies. TV shows. I fucking love Breaking Bad, and I am happy this isn’t the 1950s, but how is showing half a guy’s head exploding less offensive than a high beam? Christ, are we that repressed as a society? It’s a nipple! A clothed nipple. We’re not talking cock and balls. Just seems so weird to me. I mean, are we still, after all these years, that Puritanical when it comes to basic human anatomy? I’m not advocating naked genitals be on a prime time sitcom, nor am I anxious to explain sex to my young son, but it’s not something to be ashamed of either. It would appear we have some wiggle room, no? And we might. Except, of course, for … the Bible and those people.
It always comes back to them, don’t it? The prudes and the zealots, the dipshits who take the Holy Book(s) literally. Cast thee out of Eden, sodomites! Cotton Mather is back in the Hands of an Angry God. Whether it’s opposition to gay marriage, or insisting women be covered, head to toe, out in public, it’s always someone claiming to speak for god. (Never mind that their “god” created the same immoral body parts of which we are supposed to be ashamed.)
I try to steer clear from weighty topics like God, politics, and religion on this site. But, Jesus, it’s just a tit. It’s not simply a desire on my part to want to see naked women, which is easy enough to do. (Like Dr. Cox says, “If they took porn off the Internet, they’re’d only be one website left. And it’d be called ‘Bring Back the Porn.’”) And the single sexiest thing I’ve ever seen Kate Upton do was fully clothed.
I am hardly the world’s most sexually open guy, and I’m not crusading for the world to go pantless (except in one’s own home). But I resist a mindset that perpetuates sex as something shameful. Maybe that’s what I find so fucking offensive about 50 Shades (didn’t think I’d find a way to bring that bitch back, did you?). It’s safe porn. It’s boys giggling in the back of the bus. It’s secrets behind/beneath the covers. But it’s not real. And it just feels so fucking American. Which isn’t true, I know. Even the fucking French love the book. And those fuckers are all liberated and shit. So what do I know?
Maybe this is all just jealousy. Jealousy I can’t see Kate Upton’s boobies. Jealousy that I don’t have E.L. James’s sales figures. Jealousy begets frustration. Maybe Freud was right and it’s all sex and aggression. In this culture of repressed sexuality–congressmen Bible thumping with with one hand, guiding dick through glory hole with the other–it’s easy to see why we have so much violence and war.