Because You Just Can't Hear Enough About Sex...

After a detailed review of the media, I have determined that yesterday there were exactly three sources - two blogs in Uzbekistan and a weekly newspaper in Upper Volta (oops, I mean, Burkina Faso) - that didn't prominently feature detailed coverage of the Eliot Spitzer fiasco. I'm glad I wasn't bucking the trend.

Sex sells. And since it offers the possibility of boosting my readership numbers, however temporarily, I thought I'd try it again today.

The wonderful Strange Maps blog the other day had an interesting, if depressing, map: Ludacris' Rap Map of US Area Codes. Based on the "song" Area Codes by rapper Ludacris, it showed the area code map of the US telephone system, with the area codes in which Ludacris claimed in the song to have "ho's" highlighted in red. We'll ignore for a moment the fact that I think rap is to music as epileptic seizures are to ballroom dancing, and consider this comment from the Strange Maps post: "Rap music has been criticised for its content, which often consists of crude and ludicrous bragging about the rapper’s lyrical, financial, criminal, physical and sexual prowess. ‘Area Codes’ could be considered as an example of this phenomenon."

Nuff said on that score.

There was another interesting take on the Spitzer affair over at In All Things, the blog sponsored by America, the National Catholic Weekly. The post, Spitzer's Other Moral Lapse, written by Michael Sean Winters, built on this quote: "The public is generally quick to forgive sexual misdeeds. Witness Bill Clinton's continued high approval ratings throughout the Monica Lewinsky scandal. But, I wish the public would become far less forgiving of one aspect of these dreadful news conferences when sexual misdeeds are discussed. I cannot bring myself to forgive Spitzer for dragging his wife in front of the cameras today." I think this is a very cogent observation. It seems that every time some politician or other such low creature is caught in a scandal, it's mandatory for him to deliver his mea culpa speech with his wife and/or family at his side to share the shame and embarrassment of his disgrace. This is just wrong. It's designed, of course, to help deflect the questions that the subject wouldn't want to answer - even the most shameless reporter might be reluctant to heap further embarrassment on the poor family - but it's still wrong. And it reflects a cowardice on the part of the subject that he has to hide behind his innocent family. Go back and read Mr Winters's post...he makes the case much better than I can in a short summary.

Okay, I think that's enough about Eliot Spitzer, Ludacris, tawdry sex, crude music, and lousy judgment. Everyone may have the right occasionally to be stupid, but it really rankles when some so shamelessly abuse the privilege. I'd just as soon never hear about any of this again...but I will, because sex sells.

Sigh.

But it's Friday! There's a dance party tonight, the weekend beckons, and Dancing with the Stars begins its new season this coming Monday. Life is good. Enjoy it!

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo