Thursday, January 23, 2003

I'M NOT USUALLY ONE TO CRITICIZE THE CHOICES OF MY FELLOW CONSUMERS: I've certainly bought enough pointless crap in my time, but who is buying porn star action figures? I don't get it. Maybe if there was a Miko Lee one....

....I could have a little version of her, he thought to himself. A little representation of her that I could keep in my room--high on top, out of reach and probably out of sight. Something that would remind me of her and all the things I've seen her do. Things, he added to himself, growing depressed, that I've never had a woman do in my presence. Not a woman who looked like that.

It would be like an icon for me, he thought, almost in a religious sense. I who have built these women up in my head to be almost goddesses, sexual deities who literally could not exist in the real world. And I am not the only member of this house of worship--these dolls are evidence of that. More like a cult, actually, he decided. Like in Roman times.

He stared into the face of the doll, printed in the glossy full-color section of the catalog, and its frozen smile, warm and inviting, skin perfectly tanned, huge boobs that had no implant scars--a bit of realism, he thought, that had eluded the doll's manufacturer. He could get a substantial discount if he ordered now, months in advance.

Welcome, he thought to himself, to more pagan times. Nervously, heart racing, he got out his checkbook. And then....

....Yes, that was metacriticism so creepy it required the firewall called fiction. There you go.

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