Monday, August 21, 2006

Samba & Sin

So, some lucky schmo at Slate got to venture to Rio de Janiero and 'report' on the lifestyles of the city. I won't hide it, that's my envy comin' out.

Whisper the country's name and, after soccer, sex is the next association. If you don't believe me, just tell your girlfriend that you are traveling to Rio for an assignment and then try to explain why it's best that you go alone.
Heh heh. I've dated some young women who would havt kilt me dedd for offering up this sacrificial lamb of an excuse. "But, sweetheart, its the job."

I mean, let's face it, if women can go to Paris and Rome for 'cultural visits', (and we all know it is for the dark, mysterious strangers rather than the art....) men can have Las Vegas and Rio de Janiero. Yes, that is in addition to College Football Saturdays - sorry ladies.

That's why "investigative reports on sex in Brazil" no matter how professionally done, will always run the risk of risque, and leave more to be desired by the reader. No matter how many hookers opine to you about politics:
she launched into a diatribe in a mixture of Portuguese and pidgin English. I couldn't follow everything she was saying, but I distinctly heard the words "Bush" and "Iraq." Forget the Zogby polls; this is how far we have fallen in the eyes of the rest of the world—even a Brazilian working girl feels the need to lecture a potential American john.
No anecdotes can make up for the single most important fact:

The author was there to see Rio, to walk in Rio, to dance in Rio - and the reader was not. All we have on such dreary Mondays in the rat race are the words of some New York reporter, our morning cups of coffee, and our imaginations drifting out of the office window.

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