What’s pretty rad about living in the modern world is there’s not really any stigma attached to porn anymore, provided it’s regular porn and not 2Girls1Cup porn or 1Man1Jar porn (hadn’t heard of that one had ya? Google it! Do it now!).
This means that as long as you’re not at work and you’re a single guy or have an open-minded girlfriend, you can pretty much watch porn to your heart’s content and no one’s going to think any worse of you… except your parents. They might be a little creeped out by the copy of ‘Weapons of Ass Destruction 5’ you keep stashed under your pillow and come to think of it, so am I.
Ask any guy and they’ll probably tell you they’ve learnt a lot of valuable lessons from porn, like the perks of being a TV repair man for example or how to make light of an awkward situation like walking in on your wife and the babysitter dressed in leathers and lubing up a cucumber.
But how many guys can say that porn has saved their lives?
Well, porn saved my life. I did a solo road trip about three years ago from Joburg to Colesburg to Storms River to Cape Town then to Colesburg again and finally back to Joeys.
It was an epic trip and I had all kinds of cool adventures along the way, well at least I think I had all kinds of cool adventures because to be honest, I don’t remember much of what went down.
One minute I’m having a sokkie-jol with the locals at The Blue Moon in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, next I’m arm wrestling one pasty Brit after the next at Djembe Backpackers Lodge, next I’m dislocating my arm in a swimming pool (long story) and popping it back in myself in Kommetjie, next I’m wandering around Vortex somewhere in Paarl with a giant pink sombrero listening to a total stranger rattle on about how the entire story of Christmas evolved from people eating too many magic mushrooms in the forest and staring at reindeer.
It was a holiday so badass I needed a holiday after it just to recover and actually ended up taking two day’s sick leave when I got back because I had bronchitis and felt like hell.
Thing about the trip was that I did every leg of serious driving more hungover than the last and all I can say is never, never subject yourself to that kind of torture. It got so bad that unless I’d swallowed three packets of McNabs Energy Tabs and downed two Red Bulls before hitting the road, I was about as useful behind the wheel as a blind monkey with one arm.
Once I’d taken the edge off my hangovers all that was left to do was keep my eyes on the road, concentrate and drive. Then drive some more. Then drive some more. Then after that, you guessed it, lunch at Wimpy, yum!
Bottom line is I was dead tired for the last couple of trips I did and tried everything to stay awake – winding the windows down, playing music loud, biting my cheeks really hard, slapping my face really hard, having a conversation with myself in numerous different voices, drinking lots of orange juice, singing the theme songs of every old TV show I ever saw (‘Come and knock on our dooooooor, we’ve been waiting for yoooooouuuuu”) and eventually pulling all my nose hairs out, one every 15 minutes.
It’s all bullshit. None of it fucking worked. All that happened was I got funny looks at the petrol stations I stopped at because my hair was a bird’s nest, my face was bright red, my nose was bleeding and I kept chewing my cheeks and singing the A-Team theme song under my breath.
I knew I’d hit rock bottom when, whilst driving between Cape Town and Colesburg I looked up to see an entire family of cute little dassies crossing the road and mowed down everyone of them.
I had to find a way to stay awake, those dassies never did a damn thing to me and there I was, smearing them across the road like lumpy jam.
Suddenly God, or some kind of divine entity, parted the clouds above me and in a epiphanic moment, an infinite reel of every porn movie I’ve ever seen started playing in my head.
It was everything from the classics like “Bang Hur”, “King Dong” and “Laurence of a Labia” to modern day titles such as “Position Impossible”, “In Diana Jones And The Temple Of Poon” and “How Stella Got Her Tube Packed” (don’t ask).
I’ve never been so alert whilst driving in my entire life. My only regret is that I didn’t figure this miracle cure for drowsiness sooner!
So the next time your parents / landlord / boss / the police walk in on you appreciating some fine pornographic material and try to evict / fire / arrest you tell ‘em straight up, “Hey, do you mind! I’m fucking saving countless lives here ok?! Christ, knock next time!”
Hey presto! Problem solved