I find the term “victimless crime” to generally be inaccurate. It most often comes up during discussions about prostitution (a topic frequently on my mind), but I suppose it could also be applied to something like clever accounting to skim a few pennies off the corporate books, or stealing a t-shirt from Walmart; illegal, yes, but without any physical injury or personal suffering.
Sticking with prostitution (as I told my career counsellor), I can’t bring myself to agree that it is “victimless”. The justification for its lack of victim is probably that a) the prostitute doesn’t have to approach the car, lean in, and ask if the driver wants to “go for a ride”, which a friend tells me is the usual lingo, and b) that once business is concluded, both parties go their separate ways: one with a fee paid for services rendered, and the other with sexual gratification only at the expense of a pre-determined cost and perhaps a slight twinge of depression.
This reasoning however seems very live-in-the-moment to me. It doesn’t take into account the idea that the prostitute may be a victim held essentially in sexual slavery by a--more often than not--abusive, domineering and manipulative pimp who controls nearly every aspect of their life from where they go to how much money they receive. With that in mind, the victim is clearly the prostitute with the “Neil” “John” being at least an enabler to the entire situation, if not practically complicit with the pimp.
In my view, therefore, the only truly victimless crime has to be necrophilia.
This isn’t a unique view. In fact, for full disclosure, the perspective was presented to me recently through an amazing and hilarious YouTube series called, “David Mitchell’s Soapbox”, but it seems absolutely right. The premise is basically that once you’re dead, why should you care what happens to your body? We don’t mind being buried in the ground. We’ve got nothing against being torched in an oven. Even being tossed into the ocean to be eaten by sharks is fair game. So why not make your corpse available to pass on some pleasure to a (admittedly, highly unbalanced) living person? You’re not around anymore, so what’s the big deal about having someone put their dick in your dead ass?
It was this line of thinking coupled with my enjoyment of a beloved hobby that led me to wonder if I could ever do pornographic live webcam shows.
Now to be clear, I’m not at all suggesting I could, or would, agree to a webcam show with someone else. I have no interest in being sodomized (that ship sailed many years ago), and neither am I interested in putting my dismally awkward and overwhelmingly pathetic love-making skills on display to the entire world (except countries ruled by oppressive regimes [and perhaps the U.S. if this SOPA shit goes through]). But solo on a webcam, well, we might have something there.
It may seem like a fairly substantial leap to go from being, more-or-less okay with someone having sex with my dead body to consider doing pornographic webcam shows, but it’s really not because in both scenarios there’s an intrinsic attitude of Result without Consequence. When If I did a solo webcam show it would be a positive experience for both sides wherein the viewer receives whatever gratification they’re looking for and I get paid (at an exorbitant rate, I’m told) without having to do anything that I don’t want to do. I perform whatever acts I’m comfortable with. And even better, the webcams aren’t two-way. I don’t need to see the svelte, buff, youthful monument to physical perfection that I understand characterizes the usual webcam porno consumer. I can partake in any visual stimuli I wish to while pleasing the viewer without sacrificing any of my personal boundaries or predilections.
On the other hand, it’s still difficult to get past the idea of it all seeming a bit icky. After all, the internet is forever. Just ask Rebecca Black. Once a few of my “performance pieces” are out there, they’re out there for long after I’m gone to the great Wankdom in the sky. And if I ever spawn whelps, do I want them to accidentally stumble across Daddy in flagrante delicto in 1080p definition? Obviously not, but the chance is certainly there that they may. And, perhaps even more importantly, how will I feel 50 years from now as I gaze out at dawn to the rapidly rising sun of my 75th birthday and turn to the internet, chance upon my old reel and am confronted by the realty that no longer am I the virile specimen of masculinity I once was and instead have decayed and rotted like everyone else into a weak, hollow man, numbed and broken from decades of heavy liquor use destined to die and leave behind no mourners, no memories, no legacy except $5 per minute clips of exhibitionism and 12 hungry cats.
Still, five bucks a minute!
- Neil
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