It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity.
—Albert Einstein
Einstein aside, who could argue with the benefits that advances in technology have afforded mankind? The simple wheel led to space travel, the quill led to the Xerox machine, the unwieldy iron lung begat the handy, portable inhaler. Yet the Father of Relativity makes a valid point. Perhaps, in our insatiable need to have gratification faster, better, easier, we've lost something along the way. Perhaps, with every step forward, there is a corresponding sacrifice.
According to one man, that's precisely what's going on. While shopping at a local porn mart the other day for a few sex toys to send to one of my favorite charities, Dildos for the Blind, I encountered an older gentleman having it out with the counter clerk. It was impossible not to listen in. The aging chap — dressed in stained khakis, an "I Survived Vanfest '79" t-shirt, and a crooked wig with dust mice in it — was screaming at the top of his lungs.
"You call this a porn shop?! Where the hell are ya' hiding all the tapes?"
The bored clerk told him everything was on DVD these days.
"DVD? I don't use DVD, junior! I'm a VHS man! I didn't fight in Korea to have some young punk tell me what kinda format I can or can't use to pleasure myself with!"
Wheezing spittle, the geezer stormed out. Curious, I followed him. Could there actually be someone out there still wedded to porn on tape? I caught up with him at the bus stop. After some negotiation, the fellow (who insisted on being called "Pops") agreed to an interview. To some, DVDs may seem like nothing more than the inevitable and welcome progression of technology. To him, however, the near total obsolescence of VHS tapes is an insult, a tragedy, the end of an era.
AVN:What is it you like so much about porn on VHS tapes?
Pops: You might as well ask me what I like so much about the sunset.
AVN:What do you mean?
Pops: (looks at me quizzically) Ya like to jack off, don't ya?
AVN:Sure.
Pops: Well then, you should understand the simple, honest pleasures a man gets from a good old-fashioned tape. Ain't gonna get'em from no shiny disk what looks like ya should rest a Schlitz on it!
AVN:What do you mean, exactly?
Pops: A tape's a livin' thing, my friend! Have to make it run faster or slower to do yer bidding, and you can hear it movin', by cracky! You can hear all that sweet porn spinnin' through them reels as 'ya fast forward, gettin' ya revved up, hopin' you press play at just the right moment. Well, sometimes, ya do, sometimes ya don't! But 'ya never lose yer hard-on thinkin' about what's comin' up. It's the theater of the imagination, son, that's what it is! And when ya find the scene yer lookin' for and ya finally shoot yer load, well, it's that much better! Talk about a reward! And you've worked for it — you've earned yer nut! That's something these kids today don't understand.
AVN:Gee, I never thought of it that way.
Pops: Naw, a youngster like you wouldn't know what I'm talking about. These days, what with yer new fangled DVDs, ya got it all layed out for ya! Menus, fer chrissakes! If a menu don't have cream'a mushroom soup on it, I can't use it!
AVN:But menus allow the viewer to get right to the action.
Pops: Right to the action? Bah! Who wants that? Where's the FOREPLAY?
AVN:But even with tapes you fast-forward through a lot of action.
Pops: Sure 'ya do! But you can still see everything that's happening. Plus, I get a kick outta watching all that speeded up boning — like the Keystone Kops goin' at it! Ha! (Pops laughs wildly, then coughs, spits).
AVN:But what about picture and sound quality, non-deterioration of DVDs?
Pops: How good do ya need everything to be, fer cryin' out loud? I can hear the moanin' and verbal degradation just fine on them tapes! That's what a volume knob's for! And so what if the thing wears out? Just means 'ya haven't been carin' for her well enough. Serves 'ya right. First they took the porn outta theaters, now they're tellin' me I can't have my tapes. Next thing you know, a man'll have to whack his pud watchin' folks boff on a damn cell phone!
With that, Pops' bus arrived. He nodded, spat, stepped aboard and disappeared in a haze of diesel fumes. And with him, perhaps, so did an era.
