Sex is good; we should have plenty of it, three times a week. To Dad and Mom, Mother Superior and Father Confessor, to all the Rene Josef Bullecers in the world, sex is the ultimate pleasure and what a waste of time it is every time you and your church try to convince us otherwise.

Now, readers, you got there two paragraphs contradicting each other to start this article with, the better to please all of you.

Sex sells because it can be anything to anybody. In the news business, sex can be good news today and bad news tomorrow. Either way, it sells. In today’s newspaper issue, sex drives a lover to blow his girlfriend’s brains out before turning the gun on himself. Tomorrow, sex will be a drug that boosts self-esteem. Sex is about a man of the cloth molesting a minor today, and tomorrow it will be a couple’s well-kept secret to a happy marriage.

Sex was bad news a few weeks ago when surveys (or interpretations of them by some media outlets) portrayed the country’s call centers as the new Sodom and Gomorrah, complete with state-of-the-art equipment, cozy lounges, and dimly-lit smoking rooms. Call center agents were portrayed as sex-crazed youth fresh from college who scream their orgasms out in falsely accented English.

“What’s the big deal?” an exasperated friend said while listening to yet another TV report about sex in call centers. “Asa’y balita ana (Where’s the news there)?”

She’s right. Those call center agents are not kids anymore. Who are we to stop them if they want sex right this very minute and here in this little corner where they have coffee? Can we stop them if that’s how they cope with stress? Who can deny the power of sex as natural stress reliever? And would the results be different if those surveys are conducted on young people working nights as portable toilet cleaners? Who knows, young fresh-from-college portable toilet cleaners are doing it inside portable septic tanks, too.

For sure, like any respectable industry, BPOs (business process outsourcing) have sex-related company policies, which they can post in every wall space available inside the building. “Sex Not Allowed Here.” Or, “Sex Is The Only Effective Stress Reliever That Ain’t Allowed Here.” Or, “Coffee and Yosi Only – No Sex.” Or, “Sex Can Cause Blindness.” Or something like that.

BPOs can fire anybody violating this policy anytime. But give it a month or two, the same call center agent will find himself violating the same policy in another BPO agency. As you said, they’re all sex-crazed, right?

I mean, hey, we’ve all been there, done that, right? You know you don’t need to have a six-digit pay to take a hottie to bed, right? Besides, it’s not fair to our friends in the BPO industry. Call them sex-crazed if you want – and I swear I won’t have anything to do with you – but when they’re not having sex, these young people contribute big-time to the country’s economy. So, chill.

What? No, “Sodom and Gomorrah” is not an 80s band.

( By Insoy Niñal for Sun.Star Cebu )

My Boy Lollipop/Millie

“…Today a pop classic, ‘My Boy Lollipop’ is … extremely short and as lyrically profound as a traffic sign. Still, it deserves inclusion as one of our 52 creepy love songs for its coital ska beat and the alternative interpretation of the title and lyrics.

“…For all its cutesiness, ‘My Boy Lollipop’ is possibly one of the dirtiest songs to ever hit the charts. Of course, it takes a suspicious mind that sees double entendres everywhere to notice the perverted meaning to this song. Thankfully, I have a suspicious mind.

“Allow me to present my case. First, I don’t know any self-respecting guy who’d accept ‘lollipop’ as a term of endearment from his girlfriend. If that’s his real name, i.e. Lol E. Pop, then fine, we can assume he’s probably someone who had to win a lot of playground fights. But it’s more likely that ‘lollipop’ is a euphemismm one as obvious as all the rhymes in the song. Oh yeah, she looovvves her boy’s lollipop, it makes her giddy-up, it’s sweet like candy, it’s sugar dandy. Need I go on?

“Double entendres in song lyrics are not UFOs. They stand out like funnel clouds and most genres of music, be it R&B, salsa, merengue, blues, rockabily etc., have employed double-meaning lyrics. ‘My Boy Lollipop’ was originally an R&B song, a genre notorious for sexual innuendo, and when you add the humping rhythms of ska combined with the kittenish charm of Millie’s voice, you have a deliciously suggestive creepy love song.”

(Touch Me, I’m Sick, the 52 Love Creepiest Love Songs You’ve Ever Heard, by Tom Reynolds)