A LIKELY STORY

In the years before the computer age few of us could have imagined how it would change our lives. I myself for instance had no idea that one day kitten pictures, pornography, and real-time food photos would be at my fingertips, all a mere click away.

I am especially grateful for the kitten pictures.
Technological progress is beautiful.

The food photography not so much. Seeing as I have an extensive collection of cookbooks. Food is serious business. As for the pornography, I miss the liquor store on Broadway in its previous iteration, when it was fondly referred to locally as the 'DBS'.


DIRTY BOOK STORE

Beer, bourbon, cigarettes, cigars, candy bars, chewing gum, and serious smut. One would perhaps go there for a sixpack and a pack of cowboy cigarettes, then get distracted by the multitude of dusty paperbacks with straightforward promises of nastiness and filth. Magic.

[Yes, indeed there was also photographic fornicativia. The usual magazines, and unusual one-ofs. A limited colour palette, shot through vaseline-coated camera lenses.
The great American bald spread-eagle.]

Titles like 'Hardhat Chicken', 'Strawperry Pie', 'Saigon War Orphan's Torment', 'Spanking Miss Daisy', or 'Strapping Young Lads'.
Hours of reading fun, no illustrations.

Eventually all of these paperback novels will be uploaded to the internet so that scholars can research our past peccadilloes and write in-depth analyses of our primitive perversions. We will occasionally re-visit the dusty nastiness now passed, and our browsers will keep track of our searches, much like Amazon and Youtube, then suggest likely other things we might be interested in.

Cookie-functionality is built in. No real cookies.


"Honey, why does your computer want me to visit "Chicken Pot Pie" and "The Leather Underground""?

"Nothing, dear, just market research I did for work."


You will understand, of course, that the ONLY reason I ever went into the DBS was to purchase a Kitkat bar. Because I have always been very clean-minded, and just not interested in lovely poinky nipples, perky bottoms, or curvy thighs. But the fact that one could find out all about such things seemed a great and delicious freedom, and plain brown wrappers consequently suggested mind-expanding reading.
It was a kinder, gentler age.


In the present day, the old DBS is a boring place, and has fresh fruit available late at night instead of licentious literary exploration.


I still have a trench-coat, but I never wear it any more.
Modern twenty-somethings are cleanminded.
They lack the adventurous spirit.
Illiterates!




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