Porn and Politeness

Don't get excited. It's just that in my 35 minute commute and desperate radio channel surfing to try to find something decent to listen to in the wake of the Bob and Tom station switching formats to horrible 80's music and ripping Bob and Tom out of the Central City market I heard THREE references to pornography on THREE different stations! The first was on NPR. The story was about a recent court ruling that upheld the right to make even the most hardcore (so graphic "that we can't even explain it here". Darn.) porn. Then the folks on the "rock" station were talking about Boogie Nights and Wonderland (which is the story of a 70's porn guy and his early death, I think). Then, finally, Bob and Tom (coming in scratchy on a station far from Central City) were talking about porn and I can't even remember what they were saying. I have nothing to say about it, only that it's everywhere and it was bizarre to hear so much of it in such quick succession before 9 a.m.

The thing that put me in a foul mood was not the porn, but the song clip from some whiny, wailing bastard that they played on NPR. It was awful! Imagine the most annoying, overproduced "alternative" musical drone, a nasal, depressed singer singing in monotone, and these lyrics:

"Life in slow motion, somehow it don't feel real.
Life in slow motion, somehow it don't feel real.
Life in slow motion, somehow it don't feel reeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal."

So now that song is in my head. Pull into the parking lot at work, and some wanker has not taken my spot, but parked right beside it (there are other spaces available for this person!), keeping me from easily backing in. As I approach the building, I find that two other pedestrians are approaching and we are threatening to reach the door at about the same time. Sometimes you really want to walk alone, dig? So as I approach the door, I slow to avoid a collision, and she slows, so I slow, and she slows until I muster up a totally fakey happy little arm motion and smile encouraging her to "FREAKIN' GO ALREADY!!!"

Once inside, three people converge on the elevators. The person who pressed the button is furthest from the elevator that is opening. The lone gentleman is right beside said elevator, and I am somewhat close behind him. Doors open. Instead of just walking the two feet in, he pauses (like a nice guy, fine!) to let the button pusher on, meaning I must wait until she crosses the ENTIRE lobby, and then he waits for me even though I am standing pretty much directly behind him! I say "please--go ahead" and he pauses . . . then starts. But, during his pause, I had started, so now we're both going for it, so he stops and I fakey laugh and say "please! GET ON THE FUCKING ELEVATOR THIS IS NOT VICTORIAN FUCKING ENGLAND." And then I have to ask them to push my button, as if they hadn't pushed it enough already!

This is when I hate the Midwest. All these people are just so good and so polite--salt of the earth? You betcha!--but, really, all they want to do is watch raunchy porn.