I have intentionally stayed ignorant of the blizzard of pornography available on the internet.  As a teenager, “Playboy” was relatively new on the scene.  Compared to other material that could be found at this time of my inquisitive years, it was tasteful, restrained, and despite its prurient appeal, even beautiful on occasion.  Up until recently I’d thought that “porn star” was strictly back-alley and about as applicable to the world in which I live as the term “superhero”.  Oh, was I in for a shock.

When a certain right-wing comedian and commentator used the term “slut” for a woman who argued that contraception and abortion should be a national women’s “right”, I knew what the term meant.  That appellation completely misses the mark for the women and men in today’s XXX entertainment industry.  The wonders of silicone, cosmetic surgery, and athletic conditioning have created a boom of “talent” … people who do things naked in front of cameras.  Do I really need to go on?  I hope I’m right that there is still a recognized demarcation between plain ol’ XXX and actual sadism, masochism and child involvement.  But short of that, imagination may be the only limit.  I already am aware of more than I want to be.

So, thinks I, along with these visually near-perfect people and this utopian view that if you aren’t living the life portrayed (i.e. continuous good-clean-fun sex), you are missing out, are there not some occupational hazards?  Maybe Elvis and Michael Jackson come to mind.  Medicine and pharmaceutical support came to be a big and lethal part of their lives.  Certainly it must be the same or worse for the porn artists.  What’s the duration of such a career?  What stays with you for life?  What kind of health-oriented support or testing is offered the stars?  Or are they on their own, charging the big bucks due their risk and investment?  What papers do they sign before a job?

Even if slut is about as applicable as confusing a black hole with a sand-trap, this industry appears to chase a gloss of respectability, and I am sure that some of those on camera consider that they have a professional calling and standards and goals.

But how can most of the rest of us not see that notwithstanding some kind of professional vision, the industry must wallow in superficiality, self-absorption, and instant gratification?  And that’s on top of the very real risk of long-term infections, even if managed.  Let’s add the old standby that it devalues people to objects, and pretends that there is nothing of procreation or its mystery or value that is even worth mentioning.  It takes the hazards of being a rock-n-roll star (indulgence, drugs, and casual sex) to entirely new levels.  Let’s ask, what would you rather be? (a) An NFL footballer?   (b) A Formula 1 race driver?  (c) A 1960’s rock star?  (d)  Or a porn star?  The point is that people choose risks consistent with their values.  Of those, though strongly attracted to (b), if I had to pick, then (c) looks personally to me as having the most attractive survival rate.  “Survival” means, what is the cost to the rest of your life.

There’s not much more to say.  The point is not so much to prove that pornography is bad, or to reveal actual knowledge about the health issues entailed, though they must be interesting, bordering on scary.  Clearly there must be doctors and health professionals for whom this is their specialty.  The point is that I fear there’s a chance that the porn industry just might gain that aura of respectability; that they are just another pursuit in the entertainment industry.  Look, I’m a guy.  If some sultan were providing dancing-girls for the males lounging about for dinner in his tent, I’d be appreciative.  Sex is part of life, and so is fantasy.  Just as video war games are not real, neither is the life of the porn star.  Let it stay unrespectable.  And when you find yourself wandering a moment in those back alleys of fantasy, don’t lose your bearings, and maybe you best just keep walking.

I must flame.  At this writing it’s been three days since the recent dealings with my former auto and home insurer, Country Financial.  Here’s the story, and it’s not new.  The only amazing thing about it is that it should almost be the easiest thing in the world to keep a client, but if you open the door by hugely failing in your business mission, the result should surprise no one.

We had two cars and two homes insured by the named company.  Our auto policy had just renewed in January, with the first payment due January 23.  I goofed.  I schedule my bill payments on-line through my bank.  Though it would be wonderful if the bill payment system could integrate with all account entries, it does not, and I keep a separate ledger in MS Excel.  So, when I thought I’d effected a payment on January 22, somehow I’d entered it in my ledger, but I muffed the payment via the bank.

Last week (ending Saturday, February 9), in an envelope that looked exactly like their normal statement, I received a communication from Country, and it sat on my desk until Friday evening.  Realizing my fallibility in previous errors … rare, but tremendously annoying … I believed I’d become so scrupulous in the process that it could not happen again.  Peace of mind … payment made … new statement on desk … all is right with the world.  Taking the opportunity to get a little advance work done on my Saturday AM financial homework, I opened the letter.

I don’t know how it is with you, but if my trash payment, for example, hasn’t made it through their process exactly when they expect it, I get a flagrantly green envelope with a green letter inside.  That’s the one of most recent memory, and is more notable because I actually receive the alert before the due date.  I know my utilities are similar.  Of course all of them have a grace period.

The letter from Country said my insurance had lapsed on January 23^rd.  We had been driving over two weeks without auto insurance, and there had been no attempt to warn us of the situation.  As I am near the end of my working life, if there had been an accident, I could have been wiped out with no years before me to attempt a recovery.

Though it was after seven PM on a Friday, I immediately called my agent’s office, and, not surprisingly, was connected to a central office three time zones east of me.  To the cordial woman on the phone, I explained the situation, admitting my part in it and emphasizing that we just needed to fix the problem right away.  I included that I’d been without insurance for two weeks, but the goal was to solve the problem, not assign blame at that time.  Though there was no one on hand to help then, we agreed to be in touch when the staff arrived on Saturday.  At seven AM I called them.  Guess what.  There are no agents at the central Country Financial office (weekends, anyway) who can bind a policy.  Up to this point, counterintuitive though it may seem, I granted them the right to run their business as they choose.  But there is more.

I really thought that maybe the new woman on the phone just wasn’t trying hard enough, or not contacting the right people in her office.  I let her know that the situation was unacceptable and that there must be a way that I could get coverage for the weekend.  So, I was on hold twice, listening to their recorded advertisements.  The first time she came back on the line, she had checked with her super, who likewise said, “No way”.  The most offensive thing I said was, “You mean there is no agent in your damn office on the weekend who can bind a policy?!”  By “damn” I of course meant “corporate customer service center”.  She was going to have me speak with her supervisor, but it was taking longer, and my dog wanted to go for her Saturday AM walk.  She had been most patient, and I have to live with her.

The acutely revealing thing about this is that the recorded advertisements were all about protecting their clients from the unexpected, to help us be secure.  In contrast is that the best the customer service rep could offer was, “We can take your money for the whole half-year right now, and you’ll probably be OK until Monday when someone will get the e-mail I’ll send them and re-instate you.”  This, from an insurance company?!  Holy Crapshoot, Batman!  I was incredulous.  What is it that they really think they are selling?

Well, every organization has their bad days.  Maybe this was one, and that at another time it would be different, but hopefully not worse.

I called our son, as I knew he could spare a vehicle.  After dropping him back at his house, I tried to find an open office by phone for a few insurers represented in town, but was striking out.  So I thought I’d give the lizard with the Australian accent a chance, went to their website, and keyed in the info.  Looked good.  It seemed almost by magic I was talking with an office convenient to me, who had my web-entered information right before him.  No kidding, within 20 minutes of first hitting their website, I was insured at the same level, with better terms, and had the documents in my hand off my printer.  Wow.  Weekend saved!  Met a neighbor for coffee, went to church, and then Sunday evening, visited the grandkids and went to see the ukulele whiz, Jake Shimabukuru, all brought to me by a company that had a different idea about providing insurance;  or maybe understood what insurance means.  (Thanks, Andrew.)