Ropes And Ball Gags In Heaven?
So this guilt-plagued writer for GQ is disgusted by his own pornography preferences, and feels guilty about watching it, and all that. Really, I’d forgotten that people could be so conflicted about their porn. But this guy is so worried about it, he decides to go and interview Max Hardcore, who is still in federal prison on an obscenity beef, and then write an article about how to hate yourself for watching porn. It’s an interesting read, even if it is basically an extended loop of authorial self-loathing. Here’s the writer’s description of the first time he saw a bondage movie (or maybe it was a gang-bang movie, he coyly hints but doesn’t say for sure):
God, my rabbis told me, could only grant me forgiveness for the sins I had committed against Him; sins I had committed against my fellow humans could only be forgiven by them personally. If they didn’t forgive me, my rabbis said, when I died and went to heaven, God would cause me to suffer in the exact way I had caused them to suffer.
At the time, though only 14 years of age, I had already tired of the porn magazines I found in my house and decided it was time for full-motion video. I went to Times Square, where a group of women stood outside a porn shop, protesting and carrying placards. On one placard was a picture of a naked woman tied to a bed. She had a ball gag in her mouth and clamps on her nipples. I ducked into the store, spent every dollar I’d stolen from my father’s wallet, hurried home, and hoped the videos wouldn’t work.
They worked.
Fuck.
I wondered what was wrong with me. I wondered how many gang bangs I would have to suffer in heaven. Was it like an eye for an eye—a gang bang for a gang bang—or was it some sort of eternal gang bang that never ended? Would I be anally violated? Would I be spanked? Did they have ropes and ball gags and Ron Jeremy in heaven?
