When did you last read or hear about peeping toms in the news or as the topic of conversation? Not lately. Not since the dawning of the 3rd millennium, when the Information Age began in earnest, the internet taking over as the chief (95% or more), if not the only, source of information, accessible and ready to satisfy all manner of curiosity, cultural, political, scientific, artistic, pornographic, or prurient as the learned may say.
Why would anybody bother to peep in somebody’s bedroom window, taking the risk of being bitten by guard dogs or caught on surveillance camera and hauled to jail, when all they have to do is open a laptop and zoom in on all imaginable close-up videos of sex scenes ad nauseam? No longer do we need to close the windows, pull down the blinds or curtains compulsively, lest somebody should watch us sexually engaged or otherwise indoors. This is emancipation from anxiety and paranoia indeed, a milestone in our march to civilization, which in turn makes us greedy for even greater wonders to come from candid video websites like an end to sex crimes or a solution to all the problems of the world, whether overtly sex-related or not. Doesn’t Fraud ID sex as the ultimate wellspring of all human motivation and endeavor?
To this end we need to pool the cutting edge knowledge and talent to produce what may be called the Bible on Sex or, for those who find the word “sex” offensive, the New Old Testament, a meticulous depiction of sexual intercourse between Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, something the Old Testament skimps, beginning with the anatomy of their genitals and proceeding to their arousal, penile erection, clitoral and labial engorgement, wet and open vulva, penetration, thrusting, orgasm, lethargy and disinterest accompanied by penile shrinkage and vulvar closure, the presentation, 2 hours or so, constituting the principal text or Gospel.
But there is an obvious need for supplementation by Epistles for targeted audiences with special issues like rape which, attributed to fantasy from ignorance, will cease, as likely rapists are made to watch the Gospel, whenever they feel horny, to masturbate and dissipate the urge. But in case it persists with some, an Epistle to the Rapists may be added calculated to impress them with the suffering they inflict on the victim as well as their own trial, conviction, imprisonment, and lifelong stigma and ostracism, enough to cool the most rampant ardor for rape.
Turning to another group, those who seek separation from their current spouse deluded by the certainty of finding a better mate, we need an Epistle on Divorce to show that even the most attractive male or female of one’s dreams is just another vapid version of Adam or Eve with a penis and vulva in the Gospel. To be persuasive the actors here should naturally be the top female and male celebrities at the time.
In the ’50’s Elizabeth Taylor kept many teenage boys with bursting gonads awake at night. I recall a high school classmate vehemently denying that she pooped, because that simply didn’t jibe with his image of her. Nevertheless, put to a national vote, Mamie Eisenhower and Dwight would have won the contest handily. That’s why they are the First Couple. Had they foreseen the Information Age and the high purpose of the New Old Testament, they would not have hesitated to perform the roles expected of them to save America from the havoc of divorce. Nor would Melania Trump and Donald J. now, nor their successors in 2014 and afterwards. This particular Epistle therefore has a succession of chapters, which is exactly what we want: the more, the better, the cumulative repellent effect on divorce amplifying to make America more stable and greater than ever. The participants need not agonize over leaving an indelible personal mark on the Epistle, either. Whatever they do will be found so uniformly dull as to snuff out all hankering after divorce.