New Year: I Respectfully Dissent from This Celebration
2020 has deprived us of so many things, from things of heartbreaking importance like time with our friends and loved ones, to less important but still very enjoyable things like attending sporting celebration events and hearing live music.
This week, Calico found out 2020 would also be depriving her of one of her favorite recent annual traditions — an event with a history which may not reach particularly far back in time, but which offers truly timeless joy.
Not only will Calico miss hearing about the worthy nominees and award winners associated with this event, she’ll also be deprived of thanking her lucky stars that she’s not among the judges. They have a nearly impossible job, after all, sifting through thousands of pages to find shining examples of literary… well, maybe “excellence” isn’t the right word, but literary something, in any case.
What event is it that has been cancelled? What new moment of mirth has this godforsaken year deprived us of now? Why and how could other people be celebrating this deplorable development? Find out in Calico’s latest post, “I Respectfully Dissent from This Celebration.”
– Calico Rudasill, Sssh.com – A Porn Celebration of Movies For Women
Read On…
There are many things in life (and on my calendar) I’m happy to celebrate, despite having no real right, duty, or reason to celebrate them.
I’m not Christian, but throughout my life I’ve given and received Christmas gifts with zeal. I’ve never objected to a taking paid day off from work, regardless of the reason it is offered. I recently cheered my heart out while watching a weird, officially (but not actually) fan-free celebration of a championship won by a sports team in a city I’ve never even visited, and for whom I root mostly because I associate the city with a certain legendary band, because sports fandom is just weird like that.
I once even attended an after-work celebration party, exclusively with male coworkers I mostly didn’t like very much, at which the central attraction was the opportunity to watch a heavyweight boxing match (do they call them “matches”?), even though I don’t like boxing, just so I could take advantage of the free drinks and finger foods. Who won the fight, you ask? As I recall, it was the guy who didn’t bite off a piece of the other guy’s ear in a later rematch.
But It’s Not Just “Bad”; It’s Exquisitely Bad
All the above confessed, there are some things I just can’t have a celebration for, even if I understand why others do. For example, I get the sentiment behind the Vulture headline “Bad Sex in Fiction Award Canceled Because We’ve All Suffered Enough.” But, selfishly, I’m going to really miss reading samples of nightmarish paragraphs like the one quoted below, especially when conveniently curated by someone other than me, thus sparing me the undoubtedly abysmal context from which it comes.
Look, I know it’s 2020 and we all want it to JUST FUCKING END ALREADY with as little additional horror as possible, but just consider this gem from one of the 2019 honorees:
“He clung to her, crying, and then made love to her and went far inside her and she begged him to go deeper and, no longer afraid of injuring her, he went deep in mind and body, among crowded organ cavities, past the contours of her lungs and liver, and, shimmying past her heart, he felt her perfection.”
Or how about this chunk of manifest erotic genius from Scoundrels: The Hunt for Hansclapp, recognized by The Literary Review in 2017:
“Her vaginal ratchet moved in concertina-like waves, slowly chugging my organ as a boa constrictor swallows its prey.”
Her vaginal ratchet? Do they sell those at Home Depot, or is this her own, patented innovation? Either way, sounds like something handy to have around the house.
Oh Well, There’s Always Next Year’s Celebration
In announcing they’ve cancelled the awards this year, a spokesperson for the Bad Sex in Fiction judges did note there’s one silver lining to this saddest of award show clouds.
“With lockdown regulations giving rise to all manner of novel sexual practices, the judges anticipate a rash of entries next year,” the spokesperson said. “Authors are reminded that cybersex and other forms of home entertainment fall within the purview of this award. Scenes set in fields, parks or back yards, or indoors with the windows open and fewer than six people present will not be exempt from scrutiny either.”
Here’s hoping the awards make a triumphant return next year. I would hate to spend another year deprived of glorious passages like this sparkling example from 2015:
“At this, Eliza and Ezra rolled together into the one giggling snowball of full-figured copulation, screaming and shouting as they playfully bit and pulled at each other in a dangerous and clamorous rollercoaster coil of sexually violent rotation with Eliza’s breasts barrel-rolled across Ezra’s howling mouth and the pained frenzy of his bulbous salutation extenuating his excitement as it whacked and smacked its way into every muscle of Eliza’s body except for the otherwise central zone.”
A “giggling snowball of full-figured copulation” – now that’s what I call Christmasy!
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