The International Writers Magazine: Comment
Now that Canada’s Supreme Court has struck down all that country’s prostitution laws, it is only a matter of time before a phone app appears where you can dial up a piece of ass to be delivered to you on the run, like a Montreal smoked meat sandwich from Ben’s Delicatessen. I have always loved Canada, not least for its indulgence of creature pleasures, and which mainly centered on Quebec, although Rob Ford’s voluminous girth has largely exploded the frontier of hedonism to engulf Toronto The Good, and not to forget the cannabis plantations of British Columbia’s Kootenay Valley.
Canadians have always held a barnyard attitude to animal rutting going back at least as far as the 1960’s Quebec movie “Deux Femmes en Or”, which followed the wife-swapping misadventures of Montreal’s snowbound suburbs. Back in the 1970’s I used to frequent the Yakkety Yak Club in the basement of the La Salle Hotel on Drummond Street. The Yakkety Yak was just a rock bar, but just opposite its basement space was a sex club called “Ecume des Nuits”, where wholesale copulating carried on to the extent that on the weekends the dance floor was piled high with naked bodies stacked like cordwood behind the family farm. The place was regularly raided from time to time in adherence to Mayor Jean Drapeau’s insistence on family values, (the mayor insisted on construction of a subway system to be built without lavatories, to avoid the temptation of a little cinq à sept between train transfers), and the customers would be loaded into police wagons in various states of inebriated disarray, only to show up the following evening for another round of flagrante delicto.
Nobody thought much of it, including Montreal’s accommodating police, who were busy pursuing a running game of whackamole against the city’s burgeoning industry of robbing banks. This was during an era that predated the consolidation of Montreal island into one urban community, when the agglomeration was composed of 28 separate municipalities, each with its own radio frequency; meaning that you could rob a bank in Westmount and walk across Atwater Street to Montreal, and the cops in Montreal would not even know about it until the next day or the next week.
||Knowing Canada’s laissez-faire attitude toward public morality, and given the suppression of its prostitution laws, I am predicting a wholesale stampede toward sexual commercialism that will eclipse the Dominican Republic and Thailand as destinations for sexual tourism. Canadians are enterprising people, and well-versed in advanced marketing techniques. The women are beautiful and not averse to picking up a few loonies either as an avenue for career advancement or as a sideline to subsidize their university studies.
Don’t be surprised at anything, including a sexual theme park opening up just opposite the entrance to the Granby Zoo, where papi can drop off the kids while he indulges in whatever-floats-his-boat while they ride around taking photos of the flora and fauna.
The likeliest objection is likely to come from those mercenary “respectable” women who have heretofore leveraged veto power over the men’s libidos in a closed market to ensure their own financial liquidity.
© Dean Borok January 2014
New York Promises
New York has a long history of decimating politicians with humor, going back to Thomas Nast’s caricatures of Mayor William Tweed in the 1870’s.