Filthy

Pornographic music goes way back, and when daguerreotype was invented, people made some of the earliest pornographic pictures.  But there were even photo processes before that, and I know that these people experimented with more than just images of ripened fruit.  There was early pornographic silent film, literature and sheet music.  Before the early records, photos, movies and books, there were pornographic paintings, drawings — pornographic cave etchings…

This is why some of the affectations of the so-called risqué songs and photos of today put me to sleep.  I know that this behavior had been explored since the early days of human existence, by those who couldn’t ignore their natural curiosities, even at risk of being drawn and quartered.  These early pornographic interpretations are more interesting and original, especially considering the historic context.

A Facebook buddy posted a link with an article suggesting that the filthy songs produced in the 1930s might have been the “filthiest” ever.

In the link, Lucille Bogan’s voice and the look on Harry Roy’s face somehow reminded me of syphilitic lunacy.  Lucille Bogan has an unapologetic, devilish style, and she gets right to the point.  She is in hysterics in the middle of the song with the idea of these “filthy” indulgences.  Harry Roy looks like someone about to participate in something unholy, where “utensils” may or may not be used.  I don’t know who the guy in that last picture is, but you should just take a look at him – just look at him!

Not suggesting that the excessive love of sex should bring this misery upon anyone, and certainly not saying that these musicians had syphilis.  Just saying though.  God forbid condoms, dental dams and antibiotics had never been invented, a lot of us might be just about as screwed.  Long live evolucion!

I had not heard these before – golly, they’re so much fun!

http://www.tonedeaf.com.au/features/columns/332361/the-1930s-the-dirtiest-decade-in-music.htm

Lust, Dementia and Depends

The gnarled branches of a majestic, ancient tree with veined leaves telling tales of — shit!  I wanted to say this, poetically, like Unfettered BS or Boomie Bol in their renderings – I wanted to be classy, but I just can’t do it.  I was trying not to tell you straight up and crass the tale of ancient old ass people damned near fucking at the Hebrew Home for the Aged at Riverdale.  “Look at ‘em — look!  They do this every damn day,” my ninety year old grandma said as we were leaving the TV room.  I turn around and holy shit, these two, gray bird, lovey doveys were a gnarled intertwined, unabashed hump-fest, tonguing away, arthritic hands pawing, ripping at each other from their chairs, with their walkers just inches away I tell you.

Vantastic, I say!  I told you I wanted to recruit 90 year olds for my “outer-limits” porno movie.  Well I think I found my leads.

My first installment will be called “Lust, Dementia, Decay and Depends.”

The Marquis de Sade did wha?!

When I went to my hairdresser yesterday – yes I have one – we talked about that original sadist, the Marquis de Sade from the 18^th century.  My hairdresser read his diaries a while back.  He imagined that the Marquis de Sade’s journals of sexual deviance inspired much of the fetish culture today, as well as some erotic literature. We were talking about books, which lead to erotic literature which of course lead us to the Marquis de Sade.

Forget about 50 Shades of Grey, I want to read about the original sadist!  Mr. Marquis de Sade was ‘beyond deviant’ says my hairdresser.  “He killed people!” My hairdresser kept saying.  “He was a count he could do whatever he wanted!  He killed people!” He says, raising his hands up and shaking his head.

I got that part.  But death and sex, they’re related right? Did my hairdresser say that the Marquis had sex with people at the brink of death?  Scary.  I’m in!  No, not ‘in’ for that kind of sex, I could never be into that kind of sex, please!  I meant that I’m in for reading about it.  Wink wink.

Aside from all that icky sex and death, The Marquis has been called the ‘first socialist’ and ‘free spirit’, as he was a ‘proponent of extreme freedom, unrestrained by morality, religion, or law’, according to what I read in Wikipedia.  And he was admired by surrealists!  Wow, surrealists, wowwww…