OK

For those alarmed by the rise of sexual violence in the U.S., this movie inadvertently exposes one of the many pathologies surrounding our country's obsession with overtly hostile, public displays of sex and the pervasive, sexaully-charged lifestyle that underlies the entire issue.  Premise: The power of Sex is irresistible, and those who wield it are dominant and (paradoxically) untouched by the outdated principles of cause and effect suffered by mere mortals.

Tangentially, it also illustrates the hyper-sexualization of nearly every aspect of daily, personal interaction due to our tacit assumption that "Things go better with sex" (apologies to Coke).  That illustration includes patterns of behavior ("doing shots" is normal), patterns of speech (women are "bitches"), clothing fashions (teen/pre-teen stripper couture), and the media offerings which contribute to the general objectification of women by normalizing porn and porn-like images.  In other words, impressionable viewers now compare their life decisions (and lives) against those made by the "characters" (in the most pejorative sense ) on "Jersey Shore" and/or "Real Narcissists of Where Ever".

It seems this fresh hell is unique to our country: where else is an annual pageant of intoxicated orgy not only glorified as a media event, but raised to the level of national tradition among the educated class?  Is this the apogee of our culture or a remake of a Felinni movie?  Or maybe a Silvio Berlusconi party.

What to do? If you have children, drop in on their next party. If it looks and sounds more like a crackhouse, get your kids out.  No, I mean it, a crackhouse.  Later, in a calmer moment (after the firestorm), talk to them about the heretofore immutable laws of cause and effect.  You might even break out the "laying down with dogs" metaphor.  Dogs seem to strike a chord with the modern lexicon.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/...

I have, before you ask, done this. It got ugly.  Apart from the parents, who were home (good thing?), supplying the booze, the conversations in their Salon were profanity-laced and sexually explicit in a way that was not designed to impart parental guidance but instead a lame effort to recapture their own delinquent adolescence. My son was combative, literally (He pitched...I caught).  Eventually he did calm down and change his perspective.  Bad news? It took two years.

Get your oar in the water now.

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