Unless you've been living under a rock for the past couple of decades, you already know that hip hop has been sexually charged for quite some time. Artists ranging from Salt 'N Pepa to Nelly have been exploiting sexuality in some form in both lyrics and imagery. BET at one point even had a late-night segment, appropriately named Uncut, featuring videos with more explicitly sexual content (the Nelly video I linked was an Uncut staple). Rappers like Snoop Dogg and Lil' John have all dabbled in distributing porn videos.
In other words, sex sells music. What you may not know, is that music starting to sell sex.
Gone are the days of porn narratives accompanied by cheesy "bow chicka wah wah" guitar riffs. Nowadays, porn is being shot with soundtracks that rival a 50 Cent movie's. A growing trend in the adult film industry is packaging a bonus CD with the movie itself, featuring the songs that guide the action. You now have a way to bump the track that Flower Tucci was getting gangbanged to without fear of causing a car crash due to your playing the actual porn DVD in your car.
Side note: as a human being, you do NOT have enough hands to masturbate while operating a moving vehicle. If you need to get your rocks off while driving, find someone to give you road head (which may or may not be legal in your state). And for God's sake, don't crash the effing car.
Those two lovebirds above are Phyllis Lyon and Del Martin, who have dedicated their lives to the advocacy of gay women's rights. Yesterday, their lifelong mission, as well as their love for each other, was finally chronicled in the most significant and valid of ceremonial events: they exchanged "I do's".
The happy couple's state-sanctioned wedding was a landmark event, for several reasons. Number one, it made the government, and its constituents, recognize what Lyon and Martin had known for the past five decades (that's over twice my age!): love is beautiful wherever it exists on the sexuality diaspora. Number two, it's a step in re-affirming the civil rights of all Americans.
Side note: "gay marriage" is a stupid term. It's the same thing as straight marriage, except both partners have the same kind of gonads. Conversely, "straight marriage" is also a stupid term. They're unnecessarily redundant quantifiers for the same concept: the union of two people that love each other enough to sign binding pre-nuptial agreements.
But I digress. While I may have no problem with two guys or two girls getting married and filing joint tax returns and boring stuff like that, there are those that still have a problem with it. Something about "sanctity" or somesuch nonsense like that. One of those naysayers happens to be some dude named John McCain.
The above is the SWV video for their classic song of seduction, "Rain". Everything from the art direction to the backing beat to the vocality just screams mid-1990's R&B slow jam. I think everyone in my 5th grade class (damn I'm showing my age, or lack thereof) knew the lyrics to this song front and backwards. Which is why I was surprised when I heard it on the way back from upstate NY this weekend and I realized: goddam this song is talking about some freaky shit!
The message went way over my 11-year-old head; I just thought it sounded good at the time. But now that I've had as many years to re-analyze "Rain", I keep coming to the same single epiphany: Coko, Taj, and Lelee were totes into bukkake.
For those that aren't into freaky deaky kinky shit, stop reading now. Unless you would like to know that bukkake refers to the act of ejaculating on a willing participant, by either one or several ejaculator(s). I'm not going to guess whether or not they wanted either singular or multiple dudes raining on their parade; that's not really important. The main point here is that the song is so obviously about having dudes play "weatherman" with their dicks that I can't believe I didn't pick up on this sooner. Well played SWV, well played.
Side note: why does it seem like every successful female R&B group in the 90's have a name consisting of a 3-digit alphanumeric acronym (3LW, SWV, TLC, 702, etc.)? Sheesh, En Vogue is like the only group that comes to mind that bucked this trend. But I digress; peep the detailed lyrical breakdown after the jump. Lyrics are in black, commentaryin clockwork orange.
The flier straddling this post is one of the ads for NYC's Health Department condom initiative. It's been a while since I last saw this poster, but an article on Jezebel (and subsequent commentators) led me back to the DOH's campaign. Basically, the ads are not only visually stimulating, their flashiness and simple yet bold message are supposed to remind us all to "get some" rubbers the next time we... get some.
Of course, as another bit of marketing genius, they also released a line of "NYC condoms" stamped with the eponymous logo featured on the flier. According to the Health Department's condom page, the condom distribution initiative jumped off, appropriately enough, on February 14th of this year. Since then, the city has been sticking them everywhere and anywhere they can think of: dive bars, restaurants, movie theaters, hotels, etc. Pretty much anywhere that two people can meet up and possibly hook up once they've finished their business, the condoms have been spotted.
New York State's very own governor, Eliot Spitzer, revealed to the world today that he, in fact, thinks with his dick more often than with his brain. In what can only be described as "typical for a high-profile politician", Spitzer, accompanied on stage by (soon-to-be-ex) wife Silda, declared in a press conference that he "acted in a way that violates my obligations to my family and violates my, or any, sense of right and wrong."
What was his transgression? He got caught with his pants down, in more ways than one. He was the subject of a federal wiretap of an escort ring called Emperor's Club VIP. This was Spitzer's first mistake; He was trying to play a game way out of his league. He is not emperor of NY, he is only governor. And who knows how much longer he'll keep that job (hopefully longer than he can keep "it" up).
Have you ever noticed that when people get drunk at a house party, the
discussion will always turn to sex, relationships, and other such
topics? No matter who it is, no matter where, alcohol makes people want
to open up and chat about fucking.
Last
night's house party in Williamsburg was no exception (and yes, Elaine,
you missed out!). I had already gotten crunk with some coworkers at
this wings place near City Hall, but I was ready to knock back some
more booze and dance the night (and the calories) away. Genevieve's birthday was the perfect occasion for both.
Anyways,
a friend of hers that was at the party is pregnant (in case it's not
abundantly clear, she was NOT drinking with us). We ended up talking
about babies and how this is her second child and whatnot. Here's where
the conversation took a turn down Sex Drive (see what I did there?)...