RERUM # 7
There’s a neat quote from the reputedly humourless Sting on Kat’s sidebar. It refers to an alleged, now notorious, claim made to Bob Geldoff to the effect that, through the good offices of tantric sexual discipline, Sting could keep going for 8 hours on the trot. And if I recall the boast in its entirety, prolonged orgasm was thrown in for good measure.
I certainly remember the reactions of a few of my male friends when the story first had currency. They were already miffed that Sting is possessed of that slightly demonic beauty that touches aggressively heterosexual men as much as it does women; that one of his several residences is a particularly lovely manor house in Wiltshire; that no matter how much you try to link his music with Phil Collins-style elevator fodder, the guy can write a tune to make you weep; that he could buy Harrods & Fortnum & Mason out of petty cash… Now the bastard is able to rise to the occasion & stay risen for hours on end! Not for him the abrupt detumescence that follows the sudden recollection of unpaid bills or the big game starting in five minutes. Not for him a demotivating case of boxer short entrapment of the ankles or an attack of cramp. If there is any evidence of a significant decline in Sting’s record sales shortly after the publicising of the tantric sex tale, it was due entirely to his losing the greater part of his male fan base.
For my part (as it were), I forgave him everything on reading his subsequent comment on the tantric boast. He said: "I think I mentioned to Bob I could make love for eight hours. What I didn't say was that this included four hours of begging and then dinner and a movie”.
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Still on the subject of sex but also sticking with humour (always a wise combination), I’m reminded of a comment made by British jazz singer, art connoisseur & bon vivant septuagenarian George Melly. After an enthusiastic & generous cross-gender sexual career, Melly observed that one of the chief consolations of old age was release from the imperatives of sexual desire. It was, he said drily, like being unchained from a wild animal.
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On that sobering note & with my own dotage very much in mind, I shall abandon sexual preoccupations & retain as my theme only humour. Bertold Brecht (who, I cannot resist noting, was a serial shagger of remarkable stamina) had an acute sense of the power of humour as a weapon in the great battle against the forces of darkness. Indeed, that awareness & his implementation of it in his greatest plays ensured both his continuing alienation from the hard-core communist zealots in the ‘30s, ‘40s & ‘50s & the enduring relevance of his plays into the 21st century. He said: "When you want to bring the man down, hit him over the head with humour".
Let’s apply this admirable Brechtian principle to those republicans beloved of all Salon residents. Try this…
While waiting for the presidential press conference to begin, the reporter approached a man standing alone in a corner.
"So," said the journalist, "have you heard the latest joke about dumbo-in-chief, President Bush?"
The man pinned him with a steely gaze, "Before you tell it, I should inform you that I am proud to work for the White House."
"Thanks for the warning," rejoined the reporter. "I'll tell it slowly and explain it afterwards for you then."
Cheap but efficient.
pics from: http://atom.smasher.org/error/gallery/
9:14:55 PM 
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