Momsie is a G rated blog. And she’s recommending an (almost) X rated Netflix show.

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WAIT. Just stay with me, here, Ok?

This was me about five minutes prior to posting this:

Me: NO DON’T DO IT. CRAZY SAUCE. WRITE ABOUT PUPPIES.

Y’all. I’m not gonna write about puppies.

With the help of Netflix, I’m going to get serious with you.

I meant to post about some great Netflix shows for kids and teens and other heartening options, because yes, there are many there. I have gobs and gobs of things on Netflix that I watch that warm my soul and make me smile and make my children chortle with laughter…

Today is not such a day.

Today, I am recommending this:maxresdefault.jpg

Guys. This show broke. My. Heart.

Two years ago I spoke at the Whole Women’s Conference – a gathering for women who felt broken, lost, addicted, and all of the above. There, I met Annie Lobert, an ex porn star who had found Jesus, and whose mission is to offer assistance and ministry to women stuck in this industry.

And, yes, “stuck” is the right term.

I think… I think this post is going to upset some of y’all. I am so sorry. I’m going to post it anyway.

In this era of social media, amateur porn is blowing up. Did you know, Twitter still has NO sorts of filters, so basically anyone who has a Twitter account can access porn, free and easy, whenever they like?

The minimum age for a Twitter account is 13. The average age for a person to be exposed to porn? 11.

That’s in three years, for my oldest.

Amateur porn is here, and here’s one of its spokespersons:

“Amateurs come across better on screen. Our customers feel that. Especially by women you can see it. They still feel strong pain.”

So, here’s the deal. This show does not take an easy look at this. It’s not clearly anti-porn or pro. It is fairly unbiased. And for that, I am kind of grateful. Because… the girls’ faces. They don’t need to ask the leaning questions or mess with the dialogue or twist the events or MESS WITH IT AT ALL. THE GIRLS’ FACES.

Nobody really wants this life. And yet, it’s happening.

 

The website Fight the New Drug tells us: The main job for these girls? To look young. “Teen” is one of the top keywords in porn searches.      (http://fightthenewdrug.org/10-porn-stats-that-will-blow-your-mind/)

Guys. The IWF tells us: “Child porn is one of the fastest growing online businesses.”

It. Is. Everywhere.

I’m not a fan.

Maybe… you disagree. Maybe you see it as a choice, as a part of healthy human sexuality, as a part of expression and just being plain honest with ourselves. Maybe it’s empowering.

Maybe. But. Just look at their faces, ok? And, there’s so many of them. These girls. They don’t look like victims. They’re smiling. There’s hundreds of them. Or more. So… how can they be victims if SO many of them are signing up to be a click away for someone?

Just watch Hot Girls Wanted. And, there? Just look at their faces.

I do warn you – there is nudity and all the rest of it here. The film does not show the porn in action, but yes, nudity happens.  It’s not an easy film to watch. But, I did. And I cried. And, then I asked God three things:
I have two boys, and I cannot help but wonder – what will this industry be like when they are 11?
And also,  is there any way I can help those girls? Is there any way I could just hug on them, and tell them, somehow, what they’re worth? What they are really, really worth?
And, God, there are so many. Why? Why did we let this go for so long? Why weren’t we paying attention?
Ok, finally.
I read up on the definition of “exposed.” You know, to reveal, to uncover. To leave cold.
The antonym for exposed is “protect.”
And the final definition? Waaaaaay down the page, at the bottom, where you would miss it unless you’re an English teacher like me and kept reading?
Exposed: to leave a child to die.

Where Have You Gone, Joe DiMaggio?

Linking up with Five Minute Friday today. The theme?

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Well. I don’t see the draw with this one. We certainly don’t need help, do we?

Har har har. Little bit of sarcasm there. In case you weren’t tracking. Sarcasm is my jam, y’all.

I was talking on the phone with my mom the other day. Normally our conversations go like this:

“I made coconut muffins the other day! Want to talk about them for the next twenty minutes?”

“Ooooooo! Muffins! Yes! Let’s discuss!”

And so on.

But instead, this conversation traveled into a scary place called the Great Angry Cat Box  Called the Political Arena.

Me: Mom. We are doomed. Doomed, I say.

Mom: I pray one thing, mainly, every day. I pray for Mercy for the United States. We need it.

Let’s face it. We need HELP.

Or maybe we don’t really want to face it at all. Thus, we have social media. Which doesn’t allow us to really face truth, in any way. It just gives us filtered versions and demands, “Now, WHICH SIDE ARE YOU ON?”

We need a hero. A real hero. Someone to save the day. And I don’t see Jesus coming back and then saying, “Stop! Stop all the prophecy! I mean, yes, we WILL get to that, Elijah and Moses, so just get a bottle of water and take a break. Maybe watch a little Great British Bake Off. It’s such a good show. Anyhow, FIRST, I need to fix this president thing over in the United States. Did you hear about them? They are a Great Angry Cat Box right now and I am going just head over there and clean it UP. And then, we’ll get back to Revelations, ok?”

I have no other wisdom. I can only offer this – a former student of mine said it:

“Maybe instead of watching the Republican National Convention I should spend that time praying and fasting for our country.”

Sounds good. Prayer and fasting never hurts.

When I was a girl, I always used to listen to my mom’s Simon and Garfunkel albums – one of my favorite songs by them would croon: “Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you.” But the truth? DiMaggio was no hero. We sure wanted him to be, yes. We want someone, anyone, to show up. To BE the help we need. Our heroes are being dismantled, before our eyes, on a daily basis.

Help. We need help.

We don’t just want it. We really, REALLY need it.

This is good, all this need. Somehow, I think, this is just the place we are supposed to be. Because of all this gaping, messy need, it is good. Weakness forces us to lean. Somehow, I really do think, it’s all going to be all right.

In the meantime, I guess… help others? I dunno. I think that’s what we are supposed to do with all this. Maybe. I don’t mean to get all Mother Teresa here on this but. Well yes, I do. Because when I focus on that it makes me feel less afraid. I was told once, from an editor, “Never throw Mother Teresa into your writing. Nobody needs the reminder of who they are not. She’s become kinda, well, overused.” Perhaps, but today? She helps ME. So, she’s in here. Take that, Mr. Editor. (I don’t think he reads my posts anyhow, so I’m safe. I hope.”

Or…if the Mother Teresa route makes you dizzy and you just can’t picture yourself in the white head-dress, maybe we should just stick with discussing coconut muffins with your momma.  Both are very good options.

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