Alms for the Love of Ella

                                            Alms For The Love Of Ella

By Marco M. Pardi

Note: All comments are appreciated, read, and responded to accordingly.  The comments sections for all previous articles have been opened for use.  I will certainly look forward to your comments. 

This piece is a revised version of one I published in Cheers magazine some years ago.

“On the boobs of a barmaid in Crail

Was writ the price of pale ale,

And on her behind,

For the sake of the blind,

It was also written in braille.”

George B., Scottish soldier, written while his was bogged down at the Arno in World War II, 1944.

For many people, sexual intercourse is simply masturbation by proxy. One of the most ridiculous, and degrading euphemisms in American usage is, “making love”, a reference to doing the Hokey Pokey.  In the words of the famous song, “What’s love got to do with it?”

Yet, this casual thinking underlies a broad approach to the uncritical acceptance of jingoisms, including the “you know, they say” level of such myths as “Sex sells”. Certainly, sexual imagery is used in advertizing.  But why?

Let’s take the ad for that new product you are not sure you need; the three speed reversible electric nose picker. Now, let’s include an image of a winsome wench looking out at you demurely, perhaps curling herself about an enlarged image of the picker as if it has just replaced all the other buzzing toys in her nightstand. The message here is that somehow a purchase of the product will bring you an encounter with those (typified by the wench) who value the product – or the effect. Buy the product; get the value expressed toward it by some kind of magical transference. Sorry to disappoint, but Saturday nights will be as they always were, save a different buzzing.

The five most obvious sexually marketed products have been: Tobacco, liquor, automobiles, jewelry, and women’s underwear. Cigarette ads assured us that “It’s what’s up front that counts” and that they were “round, firm, and fully packed”.  And what pubescent boy did not spend time scrutinizing the hind quarter of a camel (on Camel cigarette packs) to discern the “naked woman in there”?  The Marlboro Man was a rugged icon of masculinity, but for whom? Other cowboys?  Brokeback Mountain?  Not likely.  Smoke this and you’ll be in the saddle.

Liquor ads routinely feature women in alluring poses, just waiting for the buyer of the liquor to impair their judgment with a taste. Beer, of course, is for lightening up (an excellent example of cognitive dissonance).  Remember the “Swedish Ski Team”, not one of the bikini clad beauties being Swedish. Bottle blonde hair with breasts that appeared to have been recently serviced by a near-sighted helium vendor. Perhaps the surgical implements used to enhance their anatomies were Swedish. But this followed an era in which Americans were convinced that Swedes were sexually liberated.  Of course, it went unsaid that excessive use of alcohol often has a rather deflating effect on a man’s periscope. 

In the days of real sports cars, driving a Jaguar XKE, a four wheeled penis, was a statement against floundering potency, especially since most of the buyers were older men in need of demonstration.  It was a sad example of claim coming before capability; Viagra had not yet been invented.  In the mid 1970’s I stopped into an exotic car dealer to consider a “pre-owned” Rolls Royce Silver Dawn (actually, a Bentley Mark VI with Rolls radiator and badge). Any doubts I may have had that the car would be fun to own were allayed by the sales girl, wearing a completely transparent blouse with nothing (or a lot of something) underneath.  I wondered how she spent her day. Perhaps a second job advertizing energy absorbing bumpers.  And, going to car shows often meant watching scantily clad women trying to keep from sliding off a sloping hood.  The message?  Buy the car and the extra padding comes with it, so to speak.  But why, exactly, should a woman be attracted by a car? I suspect it was the underlying message that the man had money.  What a terrible statement about women.

Every year, around the manufactured holidays such as Valentine’s Day,  the media is glutted with ads for women’s jewelry, usually diamonds.  We remember, certainly, that “diamonds are a girl’s best friend.” A currently running ad shows a male penguin offering a plain stone to a female penguin as part of the mating ritual.  Immediately the ad cuts to a set diamond and exhorts the viewer to select the diamond as true “proof” of love.  The take away?  Bring a diamond to a rock concert and it will be raining panties. What’s a woman to do with this expensive rock, stash it away somewhere so that when she divorces you it can simply be listed during the financial settlement as hers by gift and not subject to negotiation? What would happen if a man bought diamond jewelry for himself and simply let the woman wear it once in a while?  No, women have been put on a rent-to-own level, and some seem happy to be there.

Women’s underwear ads are really head turning, though perhaps not in the way intended. While advising women to “feel pretty” or “alluring” by wearing under items that are more intricately crafted than over items, what are they saying? A glimpse at the package will make a man pay for the contents?  But if a man sees the undergarments, isn’t he already just about there?

Is it any wonder that children entering the dating scene begin to view sexual contact as an arena of barter?  If a burger gets the bra, a steak must surely get the panties. Why not just give her the money and quit wasting time?

In the first seven of my 23 years with the Centers for Disease Control & Prevention I worked in STD and HIV/AIDS epidemiology.  Throughout those years I met, interviewed, and treated a very large number of prostitutes (from dumpster divas to film “actresses”) and took part in national and international “sex worker” research studies.  I also spent many nights in various nude club “dressing” rooms. I found a remarkable common denominator; many of these women claimed, on some level, that they despised, and even hated men.  Indeed, whether “talking with a John” (performing oral sex) or undulating on someone’s lap, the primary goal was to get the desired reaction as quickly as possible.  This was not a commercial tactic in the same way a waitress “turns a table” for the next tip paying customer.  It was a statement of power over men in general, and it was more gratifying as the perceived power of the man was higher; quickly rendering the paper boy was not comparable to quickly rendering a Congressman.

So, if “sex sells”, what is really being marketed?  Access to power. Specifically, an increase in potential power over others. I’ve known several women who had silicone breast implants. Usually, they quickly said they got them only to please a former husband or boyfriend.  But, in moments of honesty they admitted to getting them for their “power”.  Power?  Putting my ear close I could not detect a thing.  But power does seem to be the common denominator. Enter a room blouse first and the room is at your command.

Speaking of power, some firearms manufacturers have been marketing handguns and even rifles in pink, one diminutive handgun titled, “Ladysmith”.  What are they thinking, Barbie packin’ heat? Of course a REAL man would never be caught…er, dead with one of those.

So whizz by in your 400hp vibrator and panties blow off down the block. Expose a bit of the underwear that would have Medieval catapult engineers scratching their heads and the corporate board room will spring to attention. But is that the ultimate product?

I am well aware that “Women’s liberation” and related movement have been trying for decades to overturn this blatantly disgusting image of women.  So I am still disturbed that more women are not vocal about these issues.  When does a little girl buy into the power trip?  And, why?

Somewhere inside this kaleidoscopic social matrix is a person seeking personal validity. The need to prove self worth to the self by demonstrating it through the reactions of others is the bottom line.  This entire complex could be obviated by enabling young people to attain a satisfactory self realization, leading to a satisfactory self image.   “I yam who I yam,” said Popeye the Sailor Man.