Turning Turtle

Way back in the Bible, 
Temptation always comes along
There's always somebody tempting, 
Somebody ending up
Doing what he knows is wrong.


Well they tempt you man with silver, 
And they tempt you sir with gold, 
And they tempt you with the pleasures
That the flesh does surely hold.


They say that Eve tempted Adam with an apple, 
But I ain't going with that.
I know it was her Pink Cadillac. . . .

(Bruce Springstein, "Pink Cadillac") 

I'm going to have to rethink this whole "Feminology" thing in light of the recent furor over Representative Weiner's confession of "misbehavior" on the social network.  I've been making fun of my friend Q and his adolescent addiction to Facebook, but I see that he knows something I surely don't.  I think of Facebook, though, as something invented by the police.  If you are doing anything at all, you will be ratted out on Facebook whether intentionally or not.  Probably not.  Probably innocently.

What has Anthony Weiner done?  He's caused himself a whole bunch of trouble, that's all.  Tell the truth.  It is fun.  Of course, of course, I'm worried about those young girls with whose spiritual well-being he has dallied.  We all are.  God love them, it will be a long road to recovery.  It will be hard, but I am pretty sure they will get some government money to help them with this, and a lot of Weiner's.

But that is not my point.  What makes someone do such a thing.  It is ludicrous.  And Arnold?  More "love children" as the Puritan press likes to call them.  What freakin' rabbit hole do men fall down?

I just read an article that says pornography is playing a bigger and bigger role in the break up of marriages.  And another on the resurgence of the French Feminist Movement in light of the Strauss-Kahn allegations.  Even Reese Witherspoon has had enough and has lashed out at the likes of Paris Hilton and other sex video stars.  It is making me turn turtle.

The days of thinking that right and wrong are social constructs are coming to a quick end.  All we can do now is hope to be taken back to those pre-lapsarian days before "the knowledge."

Crushed velvet seats, 
Riding in the back, 
oozing down the street, 
Waving to the girls, 
Feeling out of sight, 
Spending all my money on a Saturday night.


Honey, I just wonder,
What it feels like in the back, 
Of your Pink Cadillac.

(Jerry Lee "The Killer" Lewis version)

(rare version)