The Guardian, May 25, 2016 by Nell Fizzell
It’s easy to laugh at a grown man in a rubber dog suit chewing on a squeaky toy. Maybe too easy, in fact, because to laugh is to dismiss it, denigrate it – ignore the fact that many of us have found comfort and joy in pretending to be animals at some point in our lives.
Secret Life of the Human Pups is a sympathetic look at the world of pup play, a movement that grew out of the BDSM community and has exploded in the last 15 years as the internet made it easier to reach out to likeminded people. While the pup community is a broad church, human pups tend to be male, gay, have an interest in dressing in leather, wear dog-like hoods, enjoy tactile interactions like stomach rubbing or ear tickling, play with toys, eat out of bowls and are often in a relationship with their human “handlers”.
In the documentary, we see Tom, AKA Spot, take part in the Mr Puppy Europecompetition in Antwerp, a mix of beauty pageant, talent show and Crufts; David, AKA Bootbrush, talk to camera in a leather dog mask; two pups walk through London pretending to wee on lampposts to raise awareness of their identity; and lots of men jumping up for “treats”, barking and wagging their mechanical tails.
When I speak to Tom, he is keen to point out that puppy play is about more than just outfits and surface-level power games: it’s about being given licence to behave in a way that feels natural, even primal. “You’re not worrying about money, or food, or work,” says Tom, who works as an engineer in a theatre. “It’s just the chance to enjoy each other’s company on a very simple level.”
I understand they are getting a lot of hits from some Midwestern state.
15 comments:
I thought you weren't supposed to mention that unmentionable cur.
Olbermann?
A little closer to home.
Ed, I know. I did not want to say that name.
More normalization of deviancy. Please go ahead and get a front seat to the utter destruction of civilization, one demented kink at a time.
How can you sympathize with a human horror story?
Say what Sixty? I didin do nuthin!
It's all in your evil mind.
LB is into puppy play?
Sorry Leland. That is a no no.
I apologize but no direct mentions of people who we must leave alone.
Thank you.
Can we still swear? Because I'd be dadgum near speechless if they are taboo too, by golly.
Did you see that guy's sign said chinga tu madre?
That's just very rude.
But one does learn those first, if one is a boy and one has Spanish explained to them first by punks. And how else is a boy to learn? in school? Duh. You're kidding right? School is where you cart books back and forth to and from not even your books, just sort of rented, and not wondering or caring what's in them but caring very much that nobody notices your boner.
The cabbie at Puerto Vallarta, the old town, stopped long of our place, when he saw all our luggage his own plans changed, his cab was doing double duty carrying coconuts. He opened his trunk and began unloading them. The trunk was full.
Now that's just plain stupid.
My mates began helping him unload them. They unloaded directly onto the sidewalk, just to get them out of the cab, they did not consider they cannot be left there.
The cabbie said to hotel owner standing nearby in a friendly complainy voice:
Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah panoches blah blah blah blah blah.
Another of those primal punk-level first things you learn words and being reminded of those punks I laughed autonomically the cabbie glared at me with bemusement and fear.
He assumed I understood or cared about all that blah blah stuff. And now that I see his reaction to my reaction to his amusing swear I DO understand and I DO care about all that blah blah stuff. He was calling us all pussies for not helping him unload the coconuts the full job of having them stored in the hotel owners open office garage deal going on first level. We should have put the coconuts all there. What a pendejo to bring them in the first place. We're PAYING you, Stupid.
How unprofessional.
It was an example of the halo effect whereby I'm given far more credit than I'm due only because I laughed at the exact punk sweary place. He assumed I knew he was talking about us but until that point I didn't.
And all that goes to show ya ... um, something.
I had a Spanish teacher who took the time to teach us bad words and phrases in Spanish. He also taught us the difference in dialects - Castilian, Cuban, Puerto Rican, Mexican and I think that's about all.
That was close to 50 years ago, long before we ever thought we'd need to know that stuff around here.
Ok, but I still can see it happening with this type of influence.
It's like Candyman.
Oh oh. It appears as though small is relative.
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