Danica Patrick

Jessica Alba


a definition for pornography

What is pornography?

Pornography is a form of expression, in any medium, which is both produced and consumed with the sole purpose of creating, in the consumer, a specific neurochemical reaction.

This is my definition, and as a definition is inherently arbitrary. But I think it’s a pretty good and useful one.

A few comments:

1) Note that it is all about intention. I cannot claim that, for example, Manet’s Olympia is pornography, just because I have jerked off to it. I can, however, claim that sexually explicit, 18th century Japanese wood-block prints are art. This is true even if the artist’s intention was essentially pornographic, if my interest as a viewer is not dominated by the sexual content and its effect on me.

I admit of course that the creator’s intention is more important in defining pornography, but feel that the viewer’s/reader’s intention must also be respected. It is possible for a work of 100% pornographic intention to be seen as art, by somebody somewhere.

2) Note also that my definition allows for non-sexual pornography. I would classify much of the output of Hollywood as Violence Porn, Fear Porn, Crying Porn. A straight-to-video Jean-Claude VanDamme film is not as a general rule art, nor is it trying to be.

3) I am not judging porn. Why *not* create expressive works designed to provoke (for example) sexual arousal, or visceral horror, or deep weepy sadness? My only ethical or societal concerns are about the long-term exposure to too much of some kind of emotionally manipulative entertainment: Too much violence porn *will* make people more violent. Etc. As I have mentioned elsewhere: Too much of certain kinds of porn can warp perceptions of human beings and sexuality.

Pornography: I’ve defined it.

Consume with mindfulness and moderation.


My wife knows I masturbate several times a week, if not daily. A lot of times, I lock the door and do it in private, not really out of necessity but because sometimes I just like to be alone. But she has seen me do it as well. She does it too and while she is still a little self conscious about doing it in front of me, she always makes it a point to tell me after she did with this sort of 'guess what I just did' smirk on her face. It's sexy as hell. Sometimes I think that look on her face afterward is worth more than watching her.

A dream about a coworker

Out of no where, I had a dream last night about a coworker. We were wrapping up a meeting. For some reason, we were at my dad's house and our other coworkers were getting ready to drive back home. I told her to drive safely and she said she would.

I smiled and started walking towards the back fence and she walked with me. We chatted for a few minutes and turned to go behind the garage.

It was dark but there was a small late night post office kiosk there (yeah... aren't dreams weird?) and I told the attendant I needed to turn in an old post office box key and pick a new one up, along with some mail that was sent to me in box 1510.

While she processed all this, my coworker was sitting there on the fence and I walked over to stand in front of her and talk to her. I knew I was closer than I should be, a little more than just inside her personal space.

We were both talking with that sort of shy/uncomfortable/flirtatious back and forth where you'd catch a glimpse of a smile, hold eye contact for brief seconds before looking away and pretending nothing was out of the ordinary... Not quite managing to cover up that you were nervously hoping you were not over reaching and trying to figure out if the other person was interested or trying to politely cover up being uncomfortable with the whole exchange.

My heart was racing. I don't even know what we were talking about. Work something I'm sure. My hand brushed against hers on the fence where she was steadying herself. Then hers brushed mine. I moved mine to touch her hand again and lingered just a little longer than was normal. She did not pull away and I took a deep breath and a first step over that imaginary line and moved my thumb so I was holding her hand. I moved away again just a fraction of a second later. Her hand followed mine and she held on when she found it.

It was unbelievably electric. I've jacked off to her in my head many times and although this was not erotic at all, it was... well it was nice. I woke up. I miss her. I've been thinking about her all morning now. I'll see her again in a couple days. Nothing like this will happen, of course. But it will be nice to see her face again.