Today is my 24th birthday. It’s a special day. It’s my arrival into my mid-twenties. It’s a day of celebration and reflection. That being said, I’ve found myself doing a lot of thinking as of late and I’ve come to realize a lot of things. Most importantly, I’d say, I’ve come to realize that I’m from a different time.
To put things in context, I’m from a time that wasn’t dictated by post 9/11 hysteria. A time where people made Collect calls and Jeff Hornacek was still a thing. Things were just different then. Kids could ride their bikes outside without having to worry about Casey Anthony and the there were only two “Home Alone” movies. Before everyone gets nervous, this isn’t some sort of Ted Kaczynski, anti-modern society manifesto; just a love letter. A love letter to a time I once loved with all my heart. A letter to something that once was but now is not.
For those who don’t know. It’s how we bootlegged movies before downloading and streaming. It’s how we kept records of TV shows and music videos before there was 24/7 immediate access on YouTube, Hulu and Netflix.
Most importantly, it’s were what we logged and captured our pornography in the time before the internet. Sometimes I think people forget how important these things were. They saved us from the struggles of our forefathers and afforded us freedoms and liberties that those who came before us would never get to know.
To put things in perspective, think about this. Without these, we would have had to watch our porn in crowed pornography theatres. Take a second and let that sink in. Just imagine having to sit in a theatre, next to a guy who’s pretending like he’s not jerking off, but in your heart, you know he is (you can tell because his face keeps getting more and more Asian looking as the movie goes on). And you can’t really say anything because in the back of your mind, you wanna jerk off too, but you’ll wait ‘til you get home, because you’re better than that.
Yea. The VHS tape saved us from that.
There’s a reason that I know that if you pause “Ghost Busters” at exactly the 51 minutes and 31 seconds mark, Sigourney Weaver’s nipple is visible for a split second. It’s because of the age of the VHS tape. The point that I’m making is that I’m from a time when porn wasn’t that readily available; a time where you had to put in work to see a nipple (never mind the box). Now ‘a days you just turn on the computer and the porno just falls in your lap. You get to type in all types of preferences and fetishes and midget stuff.
It’s almost too easy. There used to be a system. A nuance to the game. A certain je ne sais quoi. It was like:
Step 1: Record your porn (typically from a low budget Cinemax soft-core that was already about 5-8 years old, yet they were still airing it for some reason)
Step 2: Label your VHS tape. The key was to write the name of a regular movie on there. Never anything too poppin’ though. You’d never put the name of a movie that anybody would actually wanna watch. For example, instead of writing “Aladdin” you’d write “Aladdin and the King of Thieves”.
Step 3: Always have a good stash spot. Even though you have a good label on there, you can never be too careful. My stash was always inside of my grandmother’s ashes (Judge me).
Although it was a process to it create it; that was the easy part. Now watching it on the other hand. That was what took the real skills.
It’s not like today, where you just hit the stream button on your personal laptop and have the lotion and tissues by your side. If you were like me, there was no personal VCR in your room. Matter fact there were only 2 VCR’s in the house. Parents room and living room. You had to pick your poison (for the record if you chose your parents room you’re a sick f*ck).
You had to wait until everybody left the house and you were sure that they were gonna be gone for a minute and you would take care of your business. Every sound you would hear, you’d have to run to the window and make sure it wasn’t anybody pulling up in your driveway. You’d finish up; the only real consequence being, living with the shame of knowing you beat your sh*t in the same room your family plays Monopoly in.
Once again, this isn’t a blog, but a love letter. A letter to a time that used to be, but isn’t anymore. A reflection on a struggle that the youth of today will never know. I recently read a story about a group of kids that got suspended from a middle school for watching porn on their iPhones. The first though that came to my mind wasn’t “Wow, that’s disturbing”. It was “Must be nice”.
I say that to say this. While everything is a lot easier than it once was. We will always love and appreciate the struggle that was VHS porn. It was just a magical time for everyone who was lucky enough to be able to experience it.
In conclusion, 70’s boobs were just different.
(5.0 This Saturday y’all)