Anyone from the mid-eighties until the late nineties is a suspect in this investigation. I have found that large parts of everyone’s sex tapes are for sale online. Mine was. We all did it, nothing to be ashamed of.
It is only natural and I think it should come back around.
Since the media arts were discovered people have had a desire to co-opt the mysterious powers to make suggestive media. Starting with burnt sticks and smashed berries they painted scenes in caves. Mostly related to sex and drugs and stick figures on walls, some of the art included the cave address of ex-cave-ladies and candid descriptions of the lewd acts she would perform for a meal. The link between sexual tension and artful expression was formed. The renaissance brought elegance to art and successfully worked in boobs and nakedness. But the world needed a soundtrack to be inspired.
Then the world got really interesting with 8 tracks and cassette tapes. These wonderful magnetic tapes served perfectly as purveyors of propositional prose. A person could now record something original quickly and cheaply.
Enter stage left, The Sex Tape. Well, you may actually call it a mix tape. Did you think I meant the other thing; the epic career launching sex video like Paris Hilton and Kim K? What? Oh that is a sex tape. No, no I was talking about mix tapes. My bad. Let’s continue.
This era heralded the arrival of the Mix Tape. Spanish Fly for the nerdy guy.
I stole countless hours of mediocre country radio to build a story of songs that start with me being awesome, her being lonely, and then me being vulnerable yet strong before the climax of let’s do this thing. It was my Peacock mix. The ladies would swoon like hypoxic swans with vertigo.
Fail safe plan;
1) Get the attention with an undeserved audio strut
2) Lure them in.
3) Bang. Bang. (Denotes sex and not a successful serial murder)
Unfortunately, the mix ended up with a general tone more like; [Hey Girl, I’m Drunk, Sad Song, Let’s All Drink, Happy Song, We got All These Kids, I Need Jesus and My Four Wheel Drive, Whoop There It Is, Taps, Easy E feat. Another guy who died of AIDS.] Mood officially ruined. This was renamed my Cock Block Mix. A suicidal soup of sound that I passed off on my greek god looking friends to level the playing field.
The next evolution in audio courting skills was the burned CD. Thank God for the burned CD.
The chance to move songs and edit the tone, perfecting the long sought after Peacock Mix. After the Peacock mix (hopefully) got you some attention (first base) and dates moved forward (second base), the next logical step is the planned sleepover. The planned sleepover is scheduled as a talk and cuddle, lets take this slow kind of date that makes it halfway into appetizers before the shrimp alfredo is dead on the stove and you are mingling a shrimp with her salad. This was unintended. There was even a romantic mix of songs, the sex tape.
The Sex Tape (aka The Love Mix) was just supposed to be soft background music, maybe a backrub or some dancing in the moonlight. A standard CD will hold around 19 regular songs or something like 4 rock n roll love ballads. My personal love CD would have done well to be a brief intro, little bit of “Joe – I Wanna Know”, building into some rapid techno for a good 1:43 and then a soft and tender lullaby for the next three minutes while I went to sleep. I am not a totally inconsiderate guy so I filled the rest of the CD with Pink and Britney and whatever pop crap she listened too at the time.
A true romantic.
So if you have ever made a sex tape. This is for you. Not a porno you creep. Nobody has ever tried that and immediately deleted all evidence since it looked like a murder scene from “The Hill Have Eyes”. Absolutely no one ever. You’re welcome.
-Go to Underdaddy to see more of my idle mind.