The Home Run Syndrome Has Nearly Destroyed Mankind

Wot's this then! How can a baseball game ruin anything? Well...Home Run, as many remember, is classic adolescent male jargon for the end stage in the seduction process. The thing that happens (maybe) after bases 1, 2 and 3 are endured, for decorum mostly; then rushed past quickly. If that base, Home, is reached then...ta da... you 'do it' ! Therein the rub. No pun. This pathetic angst of callow youth has worldwide ramifications. Generation upon generation has suffered the Home Run Syndrome.

It probably began soon after the last ice age; certainly with the advent of agriculture. Humans began to settle in bigger clusters and larger tribes when the supply of food was more assured. Food, that ultimate, primary, energy source. (You thought it was oil, gas, or atoms didn't you?) The struggle switched from power over the elements, the beasts and the uncertainty of the hunt, to power over others. Back from a desert-mountain top-forest glade spiritual quest, or accidental experience, comes the recently idled, permanently underemployed, ex-hunter. Piously he announces he had," Seen things, heard things, Big Things, stuff the rest of you lot don't know squat about. So call me Mr. Shaman now and get busy. Quit laying about luxuriating. Get quickly to Home Base; then put on some clothes. Sweep out my cave and bring some food. I know stuff! "

The goal of cultures, religions and tribes over millennia has been to reduce us all to unwitting strivers for Home Base. Coital junkies, as it were. If we could be convinced that coition was as good as it gets, the only desirable goal; what obedient subjects we'd become. But to convince a species with acres of silky, bare skin, 24/7 access to love-making and now, lots more idle time, to forget all that preliminary stuff; go for the gold. Home Run! This became the main job of every shaman, priest and pol and tyrant. Don't linger about; just do it. Then get back to work, prayer, the regiment, the kitchen or city hall. It's gotten so bad nowadays that on a clothing optional beach or a naturist resort one can see the location of Home Base clearly, but the ever-present, judgmental voice says to stay on the bench. So we do. Thereby hangs a tail...oops, tale

The first to be disappointed and shortchanged were the women. It lasts to this day. The average maiden is tutored initially by the least able teacher of the amatory arts; a young male. Alas, poor maiden, our swain is under the spell of that old siren, Home Run. And this is the norm in the more 'enlightened' climes. In other parts of the world a likely couple is pretzled together by the families. Often see each other for the first time at the wedding rites and then...viola! Home Run. A burkha hides the damage.

There is likely more kissing, caressing and affection in one hour of femme to femme love-making than in a year of typical hetero wham-bam. Does it not follow that a less frantic, more sensual approach to amatory pleasures would occur with a suitable femme as tutor for young women...and young men? What are the chances of this happening? Little to none in the present situation.

The twentieth century, despite wars, plagues and financial depressions saw the greatest increase in global population in history. Improved medicine, industrial output and transportation, the so-called Green Revolution, all played a role. But our old standby, can't overlook it...Home Run, is a giant in the reproduction numbers game. And the big numbers represent lots of customers, a huge market, so what incentive is there for the focus to shift away an old faithful control mechanism such as that?

Home Run, as a metaphor, is an admittedly transparent ploy to redress a variety of human woes caused by oppression and usurpation of power. But if we seek to sort out effective devices for human control and discard violence, religiosity, and starvation; libido manipulation leaps forward. It's effective, it's cheap and once in place, devilish hard to combat because everybody's an expert. It becomes proprietary, automatic, personally defensible and survives nicely through generations.

Each of us could stop the nonsense dead in it's track. Could that is, by spending a little quality time 'doing it'. Throw out the old paradigm of wham-bam and try warming it up by cooling it.
Slow, slow, catchy monkey is very good amatory advice.