Sex sells. From sandpaper to steak, there is apparently nothing it can’t be utilized to advertise. The porn conventions least demanding thing to sell with sex is, obviously, sex. I went to the Grown-up Amusement Exhibition to perceive how the pornography business is pimping itself.
Sex sells. From sandpaper to steak, there is apparently nothing it can’t be utilized to advertise — save, maybe, child equation. Obviously, sex is best at selling itself, which makes the Grown-up Diversion Exhibition the same old thing; accentuation on business. A strict circle jerk for people who make their living off salacity, joined with a lil’ somethin’ for screw fans — and by “a lil’ somethin’,” I intend to actually say, “the valuable chance to take clumsily organized photos with exhausted looking ladies in sheer shirts” — oneself declared “World’s Biggest Grown-up Exchange Occasion” is a genuine buffet of muck, which can all be had at a cost.
The Grown-up Amusement Exhibition happens where occasions of its kind ought to occur: Las Vegas, otherwise known as Xanadu for mouth breathers; where the mixed drink servers are now helpfully dressed like sex objects. In the club that encompassed the exhibition (Hard Rock, natch), degenerate speculators wouldn’t gaze upward from the gaming machines they were blankly jabbing at, not even to gape at the meagerly clad women go out directly before them. Endless others, I’m certain, sat in the rooms above, staring at the television on their excursions. Vegas, child! Vegas!
Many pointlessly ridiculous, “front line” curiosities littered the splendidly lit exhibition floor: shockingly deadpan Genuine Dolls demonstrated on pornography stars, weed pipes intended to fit cozily on the edge of a dick so clients can at the same time smoke bowls and convey sensual caresses, Heeldos, “the Primary Tie On Bridle for Your Foot,” vibrators that likewise charged your cell phone, brilliantly hued practice balls with veiny phalluses connected to them, rich bears intended to invigorate your lower areas with their unnerving looking tongue stubs.
Residents and exhibitors the same meandered around the room, which was loaded up with a blend of oddities and the kind of trash you’d find at any exchange fair — overwhelmed cell phone cases, earthenware hair straighteners and so forth. The way that both existed as a lovely, unified whole stressed that this, in every practical sense, was your commonplace show. Under 100 years back, it was a government offense to send sexual entertainment through the mail. The staggering predictability with which pussy-eating teddy bears was dealt with, nonetheless, demonstrated how far we’ve developed, or declined, contingent upon who you inquire.
