Censorship: A Time Honoured Tradition

The ancient Greeks appreciated the human body for the gift that it is. The body was both natural and holy, a concept that didn’t translate well to the Christian world in the dark times of the Middle Ages. A succession of Popes, starting with Pope Paul IV felt that while man was an expression of God’s creation, there was no need for that expression to be anatomically correct.

Welcome to a period of prolific art desecration, a centuries long brutal and clumsy attempt at censorship. Goodbye genitalia and hello fig leaves.

Still today, the line between art and pornography is a blurry, wavy thing dictated by taste and culture. While the ethics of depicting the phallus itself change with the tides of time, phallic images have managed to escape the scourge of the censor. They pop out everywhere, impulsive and indiscrete, and often amusing. Freud was particularly fond of them but that’s a whole other post.

With phallic images, it’s not so much what you see but what you think you see.

Phallic images, like the phallus they represent, come in all shapes, sizes, and flavours.

From traditional
penis1

to whimsical
penis5

to artistic

penis3

 

Personally, I’ve always found that the space ship, Andromeda Ascendant from the television show Andromeda bears more than a vague resemblance to parts unmentionable …

penis4

or maybe that’s just me 🙂

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Google

Google is an amazing tool, everything you will ever need right there at the click of a mouse. Also everything you don’t need, will never need, and shouldn’t be wasting your time with.

Case in point: There are only so many ways to describe the human body in motion. In motion in private. In motion in private behind closed doors. Body parts in particular are a bit of a toil. If you don’t want to get into ridiculous euphemisms, and I don’t, you find yourself writing the same words over and over… and how exciting is that?

My solution is Google and its lovely gateway to synonym heaven. Google rarely fails me, but she does lead me astray. I wish I could blame Google, but the fault is mine. When faced with the siren call of her lovely connected links, I have no self-control. I wander in her never ending forest and lose myself.

It’s shameful, but I have been known to wander Google’s paths for hours. Hours spent researching a detail that I may or may not end up using in my book. What can I say? I’m a weak, weak person.

Google’s rather like the universe’s largest department store, you go in looking for one thing and come out with something else. Sometimes that something else is pretty damn funny …

penis waving

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