I was wondering recently what would happen if I ever ran for political office, and what might come up when people inevitably connected me to my writings. I can imagine people criticizing me for my stance as a pro-family, pro-decency politician and pointing out my own tendency to talk about sex, and particularly quoting some juicy sections from the entry I once wrote about oral sex. How hypocritical am I, criticizing Cardi B for WAP and taking about decency in media, while going on myself about the same subject? How can I claim that WAP is bad on one hand and out of the other side of my mouth whisper paragraph after paragraph about how awesome it is to go down on your girl?
And at first glance it might seem hypocritical. But I’ll give my imaginary answer right now. I stand by both my positions and both my statements absolutely. In fact to my mind one entails the other. I don’t love wet ass pussy less than the next guy. I certainly don’t love it less than Cardi B. I adore wet pussy. I absolutely worship it. I could write essays about it and compose poetry about I, build monuments to it, and I could bury myself in it personally until the end of time. Cardi B doesn’t have a monopoly on pussy-loving (or being pussy-loved). In fact I consider myself a champion of Olympic quality who has commited my life in part to securing and maintaining a devoted outlet for it. I think oral sex is fantastic. I commend it at length.
In fact, my main complaint against Cardi B is that she doesn’t hold WAP in high enough regard. She throws it around in the public space casually, as if it were some small matter. She seems to use it as a way to manipulate and punish and reward men and flatter herself in a quite mercenary fashion. She flaunts it like a hairdo. And I simply think that it’s far more important and far more powerful than she gives it credit for. It’s not the tool of a cheap lay, it’s the power and beauty and gift of a goddess. Going down on wet oussy isn’t an amusement. It’s worship. And worship isn’t something you treat casually or give out casually.
Perhaps it is the fault of the moralists that they sometimes give the impression that they simply don’t like some things, that they’re avoiding them rather than protecting them. You protect things that matter because they’re precious, powerful, or valuable. You don’t lock up your rocks at night, you lock up your diamonds. You don’t make a budget for your use of leaves, you make it for your money. You don’t put restrictions on jam jars or cereal, you put them on guns and drugs and explosive chemicals. Why? Because they’re powerful! Because they matter. In many cases because they’re awesome and have amazing potential and you don’t want to wreck them or wreck other things with them.
And sex just isn’t as cheap and basic as Cardi seems to think. Maybe I haven’t made that clear enough. Sex isn’t bad. Sex is f#%@ing amazing. It’s addictive, it’s powerful, it’s complex, it’s essential, it’s creative, it’s multi-dimensional, and it can build your life up or tear your life to pieces. And it can’t be bought or handled or tossed about as casually as she does it without some serious consequences, devaluation being the least of them.
My objection to WAP isn’t that I don’t like wet pussy, it’s that it cheapens it. It makes it tacky. It turns it into a trinket, an amusement, a folly. It makes it into something you could buy and sell at a souvenir shop for a few bucks. And taking pleasure in using your power against others, to degrade them and elevate yourself, isn’t empowerment. It doesn’t empower you to treat yourself in such a mercenary manner, advertising yourself like a breakfast cereal or a midnight jewelry sale. It isn’t empowering to treat those you’re enslaving as mere consumers or marks.
Because wet ass pussy is so sacred, because it’s so important and powerful and amazing, that is what makes us keep it behind walls of protection and licensure, making sure that those who receive it will understand its value and its price and show it the proper respect. That also means that it’s hard to make a compelling (casual) public case for it. It’s not easy to make an elevated statement that’s catchy, that you can hum. And when pussy isn’t just a trinket and its meaning can’t be so easily captured, it’s so deep and exists across so many dimensions of being, that means that the art you could use to capture your vision of it, your argument for its value, gets a little complex and hard to embody. The idea of the glory of fulfilled, bountiful, adored womanhood is so vast and complex and connects to so many other realities that it gets a bit intimidating. It requires an opera or a statue or a cathedral, or a whole life’s expression. A striptease and a fresh beat don’t quite cut it.
So far as that goes, though, I apologize. This is, perhaps, the fault of people who have failed to articulate the positive vision of what they actually stand for and what their concerns and regulations are actually protecting and defending that have failed. The whole point of sexual morality is to preserve and maintain and convey the value of wet ass pussy (among other things). If some people got the wrong idea, including some confused people on the side of moral regulation, I am sorry. It’s actually all about how awesome pussy is and ensuring that the wet pussy flows forever for everyone to the maximum amount possible, in the very best and most sustainable and productive way.
The real scandal is that we’ve been caught in a deceit. It was never all about drying up the pussies or stopping those that love them. We were never on that mission. It was always all about the pussy, and about the glorious person that possesses it, and about valuing them, and about building up and glorifying the person who loves and worships them (including that wet ass pussy). We passed ourselves off as ascetics, but we’re really the biggest pussy lovers of all. And you know what the real secret is? That’s what it was always all about.
Making Nobody Happy 