Thursday, February 25, 2010

don't look now.

Since forever, I have struggled against my parents to prove to them that I'm a big girl and that I can handle it! But apparently the entire universe is against us and is out to tell us that we, in fact, cannot handle it! Censorship! I just don't get it. Who or what are we trying to protect with censorship. Suddenly the excitement of an impending love-making scene gets an upturned bucket of brain-numbingly, ice-cold water. One second they are kissing passionately and the next the guy is already post-coitally zipping up his pants. (Thank goodness my blog doesn't have a grammatical censor board :D) It's like even the movies, that once used to be an idealistic getaway from reality, is determined to smash our faces into the hardships of reality. Well, isn't it typical, that love ends even before it begins, like in real life?

But my grouse isn't against just the disappearing love-making scenes. It's also about the asterisks that obliterate our lives. (For the thick-headed, that was intended to sound like Astrix and Obelix). Five year olds use the word shit without the minutest quiver of disposition. Let's face it. We live in times like that. And the closer we get to shedding our snake-skins of inhibition, it seems that the secondary forces that be get all the more hell-bent on denial. Self-denial is one thing and denial is another thing altogether. Who gets to decide what we are capable of digesting and what is acceptable to us? If there are small children in the house, self-regulate. Why should my raging on-the-wrong-side-of-25 hormones pay for it? If the biggies of the censor board can have all the access to his hardcore porn, (Please. All men watch and indulge and are disgustingly addicted to porn. Why is it disgusting? Cos it's another woman you are watching and getting aroused by, dammit. How would you guys like it, if your wives/girlfriends called out Brad Pitt's or the post man's name in bed. She's only fantasizing like you guys would with your joy stick :P) Anyways this isn't a battle of the sexes post, it's about me wondering why I can't have a little extra pulp in my orange-juice romance movies, if you know what I mean.
It's precious, for us, who gave the world the Kamasutra and is having the hydrogen bomb equivalent of population explosion, to make culture-claims. So what actually got my goat? The absence of the innocuous word "shit" in a song. The words went like this "Show's that we ain't gonna stand shit. Shows that we are united", Now with the word shit going M.I.A., I’m left with "Shows that we ain't gonna stand....Shows that we are united" So from an ode to London, Adele's gorgeous song "Hometown glory", sounds like an anthem for the differently-abled.

4 comments:

$$ said...

...and in regional movies, the guy and the girl gets married, lie of the bed, table lamp gets switched off, then we see the sun rising. Back to the bed room - the girl gets up with a smile wrapped in a white bed sheet!!!!
We intelligent viewers understand everything!!!

MissAnnThrope said...

you said it, babe! with a huge smile.

Haddock said...

recently I saw Grease on TV and when ever Travolta or any of his friends put the cigi to his lips , it was blurred out.
Height of stupidity.

香蕉哥哥 said...

thx u very much, i learn a lot