wonderful article, Roger. But sadly enough, you post it the night my girlfriend goes out of town, and won't be back for a week (will the term "holding out" apply?). I think the special thing about making out is that you always need a partner. Orgasms you can get yourself, it's like when you talked about the difference between eating and dinning on your last post.

I suddenly feel the need for a cold shower and to take up smoking. (wink)

Those seconds of tingly anticipation preceding a first kiss - especially when you just know it's going to be a good one? One of life's greatest pleasures.

Thank you for extolling the virtues of just making out. I've made it myself, many times, but never so wonderfully.

"My own movables were subject to trespass."

I love this line. Poetic yet hilarious. I also love reading your blog, Mr. E!

Mr. Ebert,

As a 20 year old college student, I find your essay beautiful and inspirational. I happened to watch the "controversial" Baby Face (1933) with Barbara Stanwyck today. Quite a shocker in that what was seen as outrageous is very tame today. I'm glad we now live in a society where lips don't have to be sealed.

I confess to astonishment that no mention of Drive-in Theatres as a haven for carnality is to be found anywhere in this account.

Ebert: I am, too.

My grandma, a flapper in 1920's Chicago, used to offer this saying to her kids before they left on a date: "Be good. If you can't be good, be careful. If you can't be careful, name it after me."

I have always wondered how I will look back upon life-in fact it's something i obsess about. Reading your blogs especially Nil by mouth followed by this one about "making out" I realize even more that life is to a large part not just about living the moment but also forming lasting impressions about them.Something like Hannibal Lecter's mind palace and his memories.

As far as making out goes we in India are about 50 years behind USA... there is excess amount of moral police. I wonder if right to make out without being beaten up black and blue falls within the gamuut of basic human rights...for a teenager it must be as excruciatingly painful as not being able to vote/study/dance/sing..

I once participated in a debate in school where the motion was Best Things in Life are Free (a classic one for sure!) and was desperate to talk about sex but was censured very brutally by the teachers who had to approve the speech ..Its refreshing to note that our next door neighbour Nepal is positioning itself as gay tourism destination. I just wonder without prejudice if it has something to do with the fact that they were not colonised by the British thereby escaping Victorian prudery as well as not being invaded by the Islamic Mughals.I suppose India's story as far as attitudes to sex are concerned would have been quite different had been like Nepal. Kama Sutra and temples of Kahjuraho being case in point.But thankfully they were not obliterated like the Bamiyann buddhas in afganistan.Thats our fig leaf!!

Ebert: The Victorians were a case study in repression.

I've completely forgotten who the film director was (Capra?) who said there were only two things that you couldn't adequately express on film -- a person's relationship with God, and sex. I'm not sure which one James Cameron is working on at the moment.

The virtualization of relationships also brings ignorance of social desperation and numbness to emotional pain.

Bring it on, I say.

I agree Mr. Ebert, and i'm not even a child of the 60s, but in my late twenties. Some of my best memories are not of who i had sex with, but of amazing, intimate make out sessions.

There is something about meeting someone for a date, learning about them, increasingly desiring them, culminating with making out. A special sort of shared intimacy and yearning exists in it, a burning closeness and desire, that sex, especially expedited one can sometimes destroy.

That was the problem with that era- for some reason, people felt the need to suppress and shun a perfectly natural instinct, probably because of the "that's the way things are" mentality of the 50s-early 60s. Like you said in your "Pleasantville" review, there were problems beneath the surface nobody back then had the courage to address.

This reminds me of my favourite boyfriend. I did indeed meet him on the internet but the chemistry was such, even through the ether, that we had to meet in person later that day. At the end of lunch, he had boldly reached across the table at the beachside outdoor cafe and stroked my hand. He walked me to my car and in the words of The Boss, when we kissed - FI-YAH! We didn't consummate the relationship for some little while but we would literally kiss for hours. We would kiss till our lips were chaffed and our jaw muscles sore and then we would laugh our guts out together about how silly yet irresistable it all was.

I was 41. He was 48.

i never thought you would write on the subject of sex roger.
but now that you have i have to thank you for it.
i do not feel so terribly alone in my search for
sexual gratification (being 22 already)
you write with great insight on a matter which
affects me deeply.
other than movies of course.
and btw, hooking up is a term girls mostly use.
most of the guys (i know) still use the plethora
of verbiage there is to describe their sexual
conquests.
hooking up is a little too ambiguous,
it can mean a number of things.
and since i am generally a forward speaker.
i have little use for the term.
i am not a fan of the new way of social networking.
i miss the days of dates and ditching your friends for..whatever.
even though i never experienced them myself.
i feel just like ray davies.

This reminded me to some other words you once wrote:
"One of the most sublime and hazardous moments in human experience comes when two people lock eyes and realize that they are sexually attracted to one another. They may not act on the knowledge. They may file it away for future reference. They may deny it. They may never see each other again. But the moment has happened, and for an instant all other considerations are insignificant."

Revilo P Oliver? Was that a pseudonym, or did the Classics professor's parents actually give him a palindromic name? No wonder he was effed in the head.

As for what happened to Prof. Koch -- I'd like to say that it couldn't happen now. But -- remember how Surgeon General Joycelyn Elders was forced out of her job in 1994.

Ebert: Yes, a palindrome. It's explained by Wikipedia. A true American fascist.

Hi,
I'm not even from America but hail from India and I still love your article. Because Indian youth are facing the twin demons of puritanism and technology. Sex is only encouraged after marriage and thanks to internet and mobile phones, people are meeting less and less in real life. If they do meet, its in groups.

Regards,

Devesh

"culminating at a National Student Congress at the University of Minnesota in 1964 when I experienced the joy of intercourse with a female undergraduate for the first time. I was not a virgin, but those details are off-topic. I had adventures in 1965 at the University of Cape Town, but it was not until the early winter of 1966, when I was in graduate school, that I experienced intercourse with a student in Champaign-Urbana for the first time, at 22."

Alright, I think there is something wrong with that statement, unless you are trying to imply something I'm not getting.

Anyway, a great blog entry once again! I am 24 so it's really hard to imagine living under the circumstances you described. But I guess making out was even better because it felt like a sin or something. Today almost everything is permitted and that's kind of dull. Not complaining though.

What if a girl got pregnant back then? I'm guessing it would be terrible for her.

I remember at the age of 15 being depressed because I was gay. I can imagine how one must have felt in 1960.

Ebert: The crucial words are "female undergraduate." My sexual initiation was with a female non-undergraduate. That story will have to wait, maybe for a long time. :)

Great article Roger,

I'm twenty four now, but I can not recall the term 'making out' being used passed the age of fourteen or so. You know, back before the internet was a big deal. I, however, was ahead the trend and was already on the internet and not making out as I would have very much wished I was at that age.

Ebert: My YouTube clips indicate it is still in use. There is a vast trove of online videos of making out advice, all of which begin with, brush your teeth.

God, I wish I could get girls. I'm just a lonely nerd, Roger, and am already 22. I'm at the point I feel like there's really no hope for me.

Ebert: Take heart. Judging by the photo and profile on your blog, I predict that within the next 48 hours you'll hear from at least one girl at SUNY New Paltz and have at least one cup of coffee with her.

Let me know whether or not I'm right. We run a full-service blog here. When I was 22, I wish I had known someone like me.

It seems some people are not happy about anything. I remember being a teen and back then I wished for girls to be like modern-day America. Unfortunately, in Guatemala (where I live), things were pretty much like they were back in your day, Roger. I guess they've changed faster here (I'm 26), and now teens DO practice sexting and webdates.

I must ask, with a bit of self-interest, whether you might reconsider the sadness of an online date. My dearly beloved I met online, and we communicated that way through many seasons and circumstances and even different continents before that time we felt it fitting to playfully flirt.

It was also online that we realized there was more to the play, and it was on something like an online date we had that moment when suddenly air felt different, eyes filled with wonder, and it was now ridiculous to do anything with our mouths other than joyfully grin. The details of that moment would have been different in person, but I can't imagine any feeling being more wondrous.

We've met in person, multiple yet not enough times, and found perfection in time together. But circumstances (and our careers) force us, for now at least, to have most of our dates electronically, or through substitutes as finding a movie playing at the same time in both our communities and watching it together in time with the next seat filled in our imaginations.

There is sadness in not being able to actually look across the room and watch the beloved until I can't take it any longer and must walk over, and hug, and kiss; but people in earlier decades forced to live apart suffered no less from similar distances, and expressing that longing to be together can be romance enough.

Very fun and lovely post. Like another reader, I was gladdened by your line about movables. What a playful way to put it. Sad what happened to Leo Koch, though.

I went to college – the first time, which did not culminate in a degree – in the early 1980s, at Furman in Greenville, SC. We had strict curfews and separate dorms. The female dorms were on one side of campus, the male dorms on the other. Each hall in the female dorms held a kitchen, where we young women could bake cookies for our sweethearts.

The ground floor of the main female dorm building contained a huge parlor, where guys and gals could chat after curfew. I think it was open until about 2 in the morning. It had grand features: a lovely staircase, high ceilings, and tall, elegantly draped windows. One wall was almost all windows. But then, along its opposite, interior wall was a tacky row of couches, separated by dividers. When you sat on one of these couches with your honey, you couldn't see the folks next to you, and they couldn't see you, but everyone walking through the parlor had a clear view of whatever you were doing. I don't remember doing much under those circumstances. But walking past, I often saw fewer than three feet on the floor.

The boy's/men's dorm had a curfew, too. One of my favorite memories from Furman was singing Bach chorales with in the men's dorm after curfew. We were music geeks, all of us. Bruce, a kind, big baritone who loved to bake English toffee bars, played host. “O, Sacred Head Now Wounded” was my favorite, although I kept getting the name wrong, mixing head up with heart. I was a soprano. I don't know why we didn't get busted, except that we were singing about God.

My second year at Furman, my roommate, Miriam, was the RO. Or RA. Anyway, she was the boss of our hall. The enforcer. She was in the ROTC and would come back from survival weekends in army clothes, talking about killing rabbits and whatnot. I'm afraid I put her in an awkward position more than once. I fell in lust and love with Scott and got a little careless about following the rules.

Speaking of orgasms (we can really use that word on here?), Bennett S. was the first person who ever gave me one. He and I had been matched up, sort of, at freshman orientation. He was on my hall's “brother” hall. One night, we were out walking around the lake (or pond) and stopped at a picnic table. Did some nice kissing. He was lying on top of me, fully clothed, and it was so pleasurable – and oops. I told him, “Maybe we're going a little fast.” His answer was great: “I'm not going too fast. Are you going too fast?” I told him, “No.” Maybe he knew. The way I remember it, at this point I heard a noise that startled me. Turned out to be a muskrat plopping into the water a few yards away. We got up and walked back to the dorm.

Thanks for reminding me. Sorry if I went on too long.

An older gentleman once told me a story about his wedding night some time around the period you describe. He actually had to call his mother-in-law to get her to assure his new bride that he was not a sexual deviant for wanting to have normal, natural sex with his wife. Up until that point, no one had taken the time to explain the actual mechanics of intercourse to the poor girl, and when he tried to explain to her what it actually entailed, she refused to believe him. As a 27-year-old, this story still baffles me. Did all parents in the 40s, 50s and early 60s leave crucial details out of the birds-and-bees talk, or is this an especially unusual case?

My husband and I met in 1996 as freshmen at beloved UIUC, both virgins. Making out was fantastic, and we didn't indulge ourselves in the full experience until 8 months after our first date. By today's standards, that's a glacial pace. 15 years ago, it was still quite a long wait! Since neither of us had cars nor single dorm rooms, we had to be creative. The Illini Union Hotel was a familiar setting. Recently, I did get a reminder that our sexual freedom was a far cry from the days of the Three Foot Rule. We visited my in-laws who met at MacMurray College in the 60s. The usual guest room with the double bed was being renovated so my mother-in-law apologetically offered us the basement guest room with two twin beds, set up on opposite sides of the room. Trying to make her feel better in her hostessing duties, I quickly said "Don't worry, we can squeeze into one twin bed; it will be just like in college!" The look of horror on her face turned my cheeks bright red!

As great as e-mail and text messaging and social network sites are, they really do take the fun out of hooking up with a girl (and potentially making out with said girl). I've been asked out three times electronically, none in person. There's no heart in it! It's easy to get intimate with someone on your phone because you don't have to put any effort into it, you just have to write the words. I don't care what anybody says, it's no substitute for good old-fashioned human necking, the way nature intended it.

Making out can definitely be better than sex.

The restraint and boundaries can make it more effective.

The kiss in "Notorious" is way hotter than any porn I've seen.

When I started college in 1970, ten years later than you but deep within Kentucky, my dorm had signout boxes for the residents. What time leaving in the evening, where going, when to return. Also had a dorm mother. The Y chromosome people, the ones who happily conducted early fall panty raids begging for underwear to be thrown from open windows, did not have curfews. The idea was that if you control the girls' behavior it restrains the boys.

Within a year the boxes were gone. No more curfew.

We didn't have high school childcare. I can remember thinking that my top priority was to get out of high school and out of town without risking that consequence. Most of the time it was easy to keep things above the shoulders.

And, once this guy who lived up the street begged for a senior dance date when I was a sophomore living with grandparents. I figured if he didn't want to take no for an answer for a date... risk of paying a much bigger price existed. I was afraid of him. Finally told him I would not go out with him ever, not interested. He left me alone after that.

Years later, student teaching English for high school juniors and seniors. Lunchtime seniors had not done anything fun. Of the three groups of seniors these were the most remote and apathetic about Brit Lit. I staged a wedding scene in class to illustrate Ode on a Grecian Urn. This was 1986, far into sexual revolution and many babies having babies. The kids were very shy and nervously laughing. Bride and groom directed to lean into one another but not touch lips. Suddenly The Romantics made some sense for them.

This was the best teachable moment with that entire group. All of us learned something.

You have to wonder about the age of consent as a necessary evil to avoid manipulation. There are still many people past the age of consent who were not ready, never mind those who were before. I think it has to do with the puritanical streak we still nurse in our culture, this giddy pre-kiss bliss you talk about being both widespread and guilt-ridden. Still. After so many decades.

To me, peers exploring things doesn't bother me much, but I guess there are other configurations. I can think of the student-teacher affairs that splashed on the headlines, (or past the age of consent were just rumors). I never liked that sort of relationship, whether or not they were supposedly consensual, although I fantasized about a few growing up. With peers, whether it's texting or hanging out in groups or actually doing interesting things, it's still with the potential of some mutual embarrassment and discovery. When you have a 40 year old professor and an 18 year old undergrad, there's a parity problem.

What's at issue in this case isn't so much the age difference -although that can often be hard to surmount and unrewarding even if it IS surmounted- it's the difference in social roles. A teacher, I believe, is in a role of authority, of something similar to a surrogate parent, whose job it is to bring a young mind forward to its next stage.

We pretend we're magically mature at 18 or 21, but these are arbitrary ages that have relented because of the inability for police to patrol everywhere in search of fornicators and expect to deter or even stop it (would that other social problems were weighed with the same wisdom). But when the social roles are such that one is in a position of power... no matter the age of consent I think it violates this social contract. If a professor isn't YOUR professor, it's arguably OK because in that case the person doesn't have direct control over your continued growth as a human being... at least academically. If they are your professor, though-- I can't seem to justify it, no matter how much I like to pretend that a person should be able to do what they want past a certain age.

Is this a question for neuroscience to answer? When someone is truly able to handle such decisions? Or will it be forever stuck in an arbitrary age.

This may sound random, but for some reason it came up in my mind as an exception to the old saw about informed consent being the only obstacle.

I wanted to enlighten you about today's teenagers until I realized that, at 24, I'm probably already clueless. Which is terrifying. I really enjoyed high school, and it keeps getting farther and farther away.

But I'll do it anyway: you don't have to worry about teenagers living as hermits. The vast majority of them text and chat and IM like you used the phone: "to plan or recall or speculate or fantasize or gossip about what had/would/might occur in real life among physical people," as you say. The ones who don't wouldn't be going out anyway.

You are correct that young people have forgotten the art of real dating, which is funny, because it's such a near-surefire way to at least get a kiss. But trust me, they have not forgotten the art of ditching their friends to hook up with each other. All the parts and desires are still there.

As for "sexting," well, it's a trendy media panic. Yeah, it exists to an extent, but teenagers will do idiotic things whether or not cell phones exist.

Thanks for the article, though; it's a great read. The Oops! Point is hilarious.

God I love to read your blog Roger. At some point you're going to have to compile all of these reminiscing blog-posts into a book.

To comment on the last bit (as a 19 year old) the promiscuousness for us young folks is definitely a reality. Things like 'sexting' kind of just faded into my day to day without my taking note of it. At first I surmised that the lack random sex in my mental image of you baby boomers could be chalked up to the media prudishness of the time. It wasn't till recently that I realized the actual gap in sexual behavior between my generation and the last was so substantial.

I can only really speak from my own experience but I've lived in a handful of places and it all seems the same from school to school. In the span of 3-4 years of high-school (depending on if your in Canada or America) half the people I knew eventually 'hooked up' with one another. And as far as one on one dating goes, it was a rare and for the most part an unintended event. Weekends consisted of a couple of places everyone you knew would be; a house party, a music show, or on a quieter weekend just a basement and a few bottles of difficultly obtained booze. Weekdays were drenched in a lack of actual human interaction. Everyone on repeat; go to school, come home, hit a computer; for five days in a row. Even in the most social of circles a series of bright screens seem to occupy half our time.

In my more reflective moments it can feel sort of sad. I think about 'L'avventura' and what it means to me and the people I know. As you noted, "For Antonioni's idle/people, pleasure is anything that momentarily distracts them from the lethal ennui of their existence. Kael again: "The characters are active only in trying to discharge their anxiety: Sex is their sole means of contact.'' I think those themes may be all the more biting and appropriate for young people today than for the bourgeois then. Except instead of vast natural landscapes to stare into we have the endless recesses of cyberspace. And the abyss of camera phones and instant messaging is most certainly looking back.

In my senior year of high school I hooked up with a mutual friend in usual fashion. But in the moments afterwards she at random brought up an interest in film. She subsequently went on some spiel about her particular interest in the French New Wave and Godard. As a teenage wannabe cinephile the mere mention of Godard got me hot and bothered. So together we killed the day with a handful of classics.

The whole experience was bizarrely jarring to me. I was completely ignorant of her interest in movies after knowing her for 4 years. That might have been my most depressing high school moment. That realization that there is something far worse than randomly having sex with strangers for a fleeting distraction. And that was having sex with someone you spent half your time with and didn't know at all for the same feeling.

On that note, I think I'll go find some flesh and blood to anticipate making out with.

Ebert: My YouTube clips indicate it is still in use. There is a vast trove of online videos of making out advice, all of which begin with, brush your teeth.

I was making out with a new girl just last week, and after a few minutes she said, "Before we move to the bedroom, let's go brush our teeth."

I cracked up, and we brushed our teeth, and we had a fun night. I'm seeing her again on Sunday.

When I was in high school (class of 1973), the vice-principal made an announcement over the intercom: "I'd like to remind all students that it is against school policy to hold hands in the hallway."

To which, I replied: "Have you ever BEEN in the hallway? NOBODY is holding HANDS."

I agree to an extent that it's a shame the internet has become such a big part of many young people's sex lives, but it's not so black and white. As a confused bisexual 16-year-old I lost my virginity to a guy I met on the internet because, well, at that age where else was I gonna meet someone that I knew was comfortable with my orientation? I do not think the internet is a wholly positive influence on such things, but neither do I think its influence is entirely negative. I was sort of embarrassed at one point about the fact that I had lost my virginity to someone I met on the internet but in retrospect I think it was the right thing to do; I wasn't paralysed by the kind of fear I might have been if it had, for instance, been someone from school. Lots of people, particularly from small towns like myself, have atypical sexualities and the internet is a great tool in letting them know they are not alone, and, as long as they are fairly sensible and cautious, perhaps let them meet people who can sexually complement them. Of course there is a different kind of pleasure in meeting and flirting with people in day-to-day life, but then if it gets serious I have the fun task of telling them that I am bisexual, which regardless of whether they are straight and female or gay and male isn't something that always goes down too well.

That aside I thought this was a wonderful blog :)

Ah! Yes, I Remember It Well!
(From a 73 year old who finds that few minutes from that great movie more relevant every year.) I had to giggle and laugh my way through most of this article because you were dredging up so many of my own experiences from those same years.
Thank you!! You made my day a lot brighter!

Jenise

To me there is something creepily reminiscent about Huxley's "erotic play" for children from Brave New World in the culture of "hooking up."

Wasn't the idea to isolate everyone from each other so that no one could "team up" to threaten the supremacy of the state?

Our amoral capitalist culture wants everyone to have their own cocoon (earbuds or individual HD TV at home) so more people spend more and keep spending.

Our liberal culture wants everyone to rely on the state since they must have someone who knows beter than them run their life.

Oh, well.

I've completely forgotten who the film director was (Capra?) who said there were only two things that you couldn't adequately express on film -- a person's relationship with God, and sex. I'm not sure which one James Cameron is working on at the moment

The film director was actually Orson Welles.

"...when two people lock eyes and realize that they..."..RE

The nearest example of the locking of the eyes, surrender, and ocular tumescence is the rape sequence in Rashomon.

My fondest makeout memory was with my Italian-Canadian neighbor. It was exciting for all the right reasons. She later discovered she is gay. I'll tell you what..there's some lucky girl out there!

It is with some trepidation that I post this, but the blog opened up something in me that needed to be shared.

The first girl I kissed was my pretty, buxom, rosy-cheeked first cousin, who was English. She visited us when she was 15 and I was 14 (I think those were our ages; we could have been older). We were like strangers having happily met, and our silent mutual interest grew over time. I will never forget the night when she and I only remained on the back porch swing and, in the twilight shadow, I essayed to put my lips on hers. I was a boy ere then; now I was a man.

We never did "consummate" but for writhings in the wee hours in one of the girls' beds or the rollout cot placed in that flowery chamber wherein she "slept." The term "dry humping" seems ill fit for the interaction we had. Out of John Donne or Song of Solomon are my memories of what my eyes and hands found on those golden nights.

I suppose Auntie Ann, sleeping down the hall, should have appeared at the door, issued a stern "Becky!", and dragged me off her pliant daughter by the ear. As in tacit respect for some divine ordination, however, everyone around us, full knowing, let us be. To this day I am ashamed of my sisters' proximity. (Once night I was resourceful enough to get Becky on the porch but even there it was the same grappling and kissing, never copulation. I certainly had never "done it"; to this day I don't know about her.)

We're in our fifties now and a few years ago confessed to each other in a long distance call that every sexual encounter after our summer writhings had failed to match up. How is that?

I feel somewhat silly writing this, but there you have it. I learned about youth and beauty then, and the power of sex. And, despite whatever taboos may exist, and which I even respect and understand, I do cherish the memory; indeed, coming to terms with Becky has become part of my midlife campaign to resign myself to my past and get happiness.

"Going all the way" can indeed be overrated.

Thank you, Roger, for yet another sublimely provocative posting.

Paul's quote from you about locking eyes and realizing sexual attraction reminds me of the scene in Damage where Steven and Anna meet for the first time. The film has a number of fairly explicit (though not pornographic) sex scenes, but those quiet, intense moments when they look at each other (fully clothed and in a crowded room) are still the most erotic.

Note to self: schedule some make-out this week. Great stress reliever, and indeed it's own reward.

In 1978 I lived in the all-male Forbes Hall.(3rd floor, "Gross Gulch"). There was indeed some making-out, on weekends when I had a visitor. I'll stop there to be discreet.

In 1979 I moved to a co-ed dorm (4th floor Garner Hall, "Xanadu Pleasure Dome"). My mother threw a fit when I mentioned that and almost scotched the deal. Lots of pleading later, I was in. I would say that my roomate benefitted more from the co-ed arrangement than I did. But, I certainly enjoyed the view on that floor.

It's amazing how quickly new freedoms can suck all the fun out of skirting the tyranny. I'm reminded of they Hays Code: it was a form of censorship which I'm adamantly against in principle, but boy did creatively getting around it lead to some great cinema (Claude Rains' character in Casablanca and "the kiss" in Notorious for example.)

This strikes me as sad. Many teenagers today seem to live as hermits, connecting electronically

9 years ago i met a woman online on a disabled dating site; she was paralyzed 7 yrs previously in a car wreck; before the accident she was a, stripper;

our conversations were always sexually charged, her reminiscing about her days onstage; me a 29 year old virgin enjoying it all; eventually we did have cybersex; when she told me she came from our typing i felt so proud/

so rog; dont knock online romancer

Well of course you think they're the truest words you've ever written, Roger.

I got everyone beat!

I was a virgin until I was almost 27, and I didn't really make out with a woman until I was 24. I've had plenty of fun since then, and I'm even good at it. The scorecards have always been positive.

However, I must say that I spent much of my teenage time and early adulthood not chasing girls or feeling desired; I spent all those hours and days reading Ebert and holing up in my room with movies and books and music. Lots of food and coffee and cigarettes were also involved.

So basically, I blame you, Roger Ebert, for my late bloom. I blame you with affection, make no mistake, but there's a real need to pin the blame on somebody else -- and I figured, while you were already on the subject...

Hi Roger,

You write that you had sex with a student at the University in the winter of 1966, and that this was "after the Summer of Love." I wasn't born until 1970, so I'm no authority, but I was always led to believe that the official "Summer of Love" was in 1967. I'm specifically remembering a UK documentary made for Granada television in 1987 called "It Was Twenty Years Ago Today" made to commemorate the release of Sgt. Pepper. (It's quite good, BTW, should you ever have a chance to see it.) Have I been misled all these years?

Ebert: You're right! It was the Winter of Love.

In one form or another, sexual repression has continued well past the the 50's. It's not as overt, and it's taken a different form, and a lot of it is meant well, but it's there.

As a child of the 80's, I remember AIDS and HIV very very well. So Sex = Death, even today as an adult, is firmly etched in my mind. Another association that stems from sexual education class is Sex = Babies = Ruined Life. That last one is so strong that even today, at 36 and MARRIED, I find myself almost unable to have an orgasm during penetration unless by an act of will so powerful that it could part the red seas with the sheer mental effort of the thing. I'm hardly what you'd call prudish either, I've written an entire blog about how there is not ONE single part on the human body that can possibly be offensive or even shocking to anyone ever, but that damned association is there and it won't go away. Babies ruin your life and sex will kill you. I repeat it like Laurence Harvey in Manchurian Candidate.

Also, far from what you'd think, I didn't grow up in a particularly repressive place. Quebec used to have soft core porn films on TV at 11pm in the 80's and show boobs at 8pm. Nor were my parents shy about discussions of sex either. Hell, my dad always "looked the other way" when I sneeked peeks at his stash of Playboys or viewed the occasional 80's porno.

What I think did it were those well meaning, but clumsy and half-assed sex-ed classes we got in school. They were so clinical and focused on the negative side of sex that they made me sick to my stomach. Imagine going to driver's ed and all they show you for two weeks are movies and pictures of hideous car crashes and the remains of their victims. What do you think would happen when you sat behind the wheel for the first time? My parents, though open, were of no help since they came from a totally different and open era and since I knew a lot about the good side by the time I was 10, they saw no harm knowing about the bad side. Besides, they said, at least I was being taught something. Better than they ever got, right?

I dunno about that. Maybe I was just sensitive, but somehow I think that treating sex like it's no different than a bowel movement is teaching it out of context. There's love and lust and intimacy and excitement and joy and comfort and companionship in the thing as well; and almost nowhere, not in schools, not on the internet, not anywhere, do people talk about it in that way. In fact, Roger's blog is the FIRST time I've seen someone mention that there's more to sex than just sticking your genitals into someone else's genitals. Very refreshing. Wish I'd read this when I was a kid.

Wow, Roger, you've really hit a nerve with me on this one. I've been focused on the joys of "making out" for a month or more now. My memories of a certain girl in the front seat of my car in college in 1964 where we kissed for hours at a time are still very clear and sweet. Nothing more was needed.
I, too, graduated HS in 1960 and experienced the "in loco parentis" restraints of Indiana University. Amazingly, my first real experience was with a girl who was able to sneak out of her dorm simply by crawling through her window. Don't know how we were able to avoid detection. To the point, I believe that the restrictions of those days led to some really great "necking and petting" sessions.

"When I was 22, I wish I had known someone like me."

Here here! One of the most annoying things about life is that time is not fluid. Since the invention of the VCR I have been irritated that I cannot fast forward to the "good parts" or rewind. How nice would it be to have a time machine and be able to mentor yourself? I would love to meet my 18 year old me and pass on some words of wisdom. I would lead off with "you're not fat" and "enjoy your hormones while you have them" and "don't waste your time and energy on guilt and regret about being a sexual being; it's normal, it's natural, just use protection every time".

I'm 26 now, and I remember getting my first kiss at the age of 14. A few months later, I ended up losing my virginity to another girl, but for some reason, the first kiss meant so much more to me...

Dear Roger;

You write about the end of an era. I just turned 56 and believe it or not representatives from Planned Parenthood came to my public high school and taught an extensive sex education course. It was one of the best courses I ever attended. Plain. Simple. Direct. These wonderful women answered every question we had in our CO-ED group with sensitivity and understanding. They always stressed both the physical and emotional complications that sexual activity in young people could result in. But in the end they stressed safe practices that would protect us. Every time I hear people tear this fine organization down it hurts me personally. I hope that the women who spoke to me in the early '70's are well and happy.

I believe that many of us have a strong, if not fully articulated, desire for extended periods of making out. No, I am not referring to "foreplay." Making out need not be "fore" anything. It is its own reward.

I'm 28. I've been with my girlfriend for two years. I'm very much in love. We've both had plenty of past relationships. We're no prudes. But when we first got together, all we would do is roll around in bed and make out, for hours and hours, deep into the night. No sex, barely any "petting." It was deeply satisfying, physically and emotionally. It felt like we were becoming so much closer with the act of kissing, talking, giggling, cuddling, than we ever would if we had had sex the first night. (We didn't make love until WEEKS after we first kissed. Unheard of!) It was wonderful and I'm so happy to be able to look back at the beginning of our relationship with such fondness.

Not to be a stick in the mud, but if you are making out with someone new, you should use mouthwash or chew gum instead of brushing your teeth.

In my excellent sexual health counseling sessions at Virginia Commonwealth University I was told that abrasions and bleeding caused by a furious amount of pre-make-out or even pre-fellatic (I think I made that word up) brushing can be unsafe in our post-HIV/AIDS world.

So brush before a non-sexual date and chew a piece of gum or swish some Listerine before you getting busy.

Once you've got the trust, go crazy.

I also totally blipped about drive-in movies. It was a Memorably Great Thing, there and in walk-in theaters, to get your arm around the girl. It took planning and stealth and feigned casualness, and invariably your arm went to sleep. But you could feel her breathing, even through her sweater!
I'm convinced that drive-ins began fading at the same time carmakers stopped making single front seats, where the girl could slide over.

I would love to make out more often, but with this crippling insecurity, I always just assume no one even wants me in the room - much less kissing on them.

Ebert: Look at it this way. They may want to make out for their own enjoyment, not yours. You're not asking. You're offering.

After pruning grapevines all day, for the 3rd straight day, I needed a good laugh and I found one here. Grazie mille. Poor prof Koch, my mom would have approved.
I came of age a decade and a half later and small town america was still pretty innocent, but making out certainly was and still is divertenti!

I have some wonderful news for you! You aren't as old as you think that you are.

I am a 1995 graduate of a prominent Catholic university. (Hint: It begins with a G.) In my day, they allowed the sale of Playboy and Penthouse in the student-run store, but would not allow the sale of condoms.

And of course you must have heard about Tufts banning sex. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/09/29/tufts-sex-rule-tufts-univ_n_303449.html

I just want to get home to make-out with my wife now!

I think everything has moved on-line more because it is much more secretive and easy to hide from your parents.

If your 14 and having an on-line fling with an older man most people will not know. You can lie about age, you can even fake a photo. So in some psychological way it is just easier. You're parents can't embarrass you because when your date shows up because you've made plans without them even knowing it.

It might feel more comfortable for youth today to do it this way. But in the long run I think it will backfire because part of growing up and maturing is having your parents harass you about your early love life and set straight on things you as a teenager are just flat out wrong about.

In my life. My parents said nothing and did nothing and that left me stumbling around trying to put myself together sexually and it has taken some 20 plus years to do it.

Forwarding this to my husband right now. Highlighting the part about making out not being foreplay.

I'm friends with the guy in the top video, Ian. He's a good guy & a talented actor. Glad to see him get more exposure.

I read an article about one of the Jonas brothers who had recently gotten married and had sex. He said something to the effect of it not being what it was hyped up to be. And the comments for that entry sort of took him to task saying he wasn't good, and that the first time isn't good, and it's something you have to deal with and obsess about forever.

I'm a pretty heavy smoker, so I drew a lot of parallels. What made me want to start? It's not easy to develop a smoking habit. It tastes like garbage and makes you sick for the first while. But people stick with it because it means something to them, and that something is different for everyone. The same can go for drinking, I guess, and a lot of other stuff that grown ups do that, if you told a child, would make them think they were insane.

Every instance seems to involve a lot of frontloaded work, and after awhile it becomes second nature. And I completely, 100% blame parents for not trying to make it easier, which can lead to virginity lingering into your late 20s, and the older you get the harder it gets. My parents never told me about sex, shaving, smoking, drinking, drugs, or anything. And that makes you either obsess, fear, or avoid them, or any combination of those 3. Except shaving. Maybe.

I don't think it is a ethical thing, either. Or, at least, not totally. Maybe my parents were insecure about me doing cooler things or having more liberal freedoms. Or maybe not. Like in Michael Clayton, "human beings are fuckin' incomprehensible."

If you break down the mechanics of sex and look at it, it becomes a social compulsion outside of instant gratification, which you can do effectively on your own. Once you lose your virginity you're kind of signing a lifelong contract wherein you have to keep up with everything and start keeping score.

But I love sex and I love smoking so whatever.

I was in college/grad school in the '70s, when most schools maintained all-female dormitories--"virgin vaults," a term I found somehow erotic, as though they comprised a sort of harem-in-waiting, treasures stored away. I'm not sure if they accrued interest, but I certainly did!

Thanks for the trip down--here it comes--mammary lane. (Sorry.)

When I was in college (mid to late 60s) they did indeed lock up the women at 10:30 on school nights, and a little later on Friday and Saturday. Segregation by dorm, no guests of the opposite gender beyond the lobby. Things were pretty much as stated above, even a few years after Roger's tenure.

Now I am the father of a freshman daughter (an "only child of elderly parents") at a college that has not only co-ed dorms but co-ed bathrooms, bowls of free condoms on the counter at the university coffeeshops and in the dorm bathrooms, and the only restriction to in-room guests is that after 14 days you're supposed to let the housing department know about them.

In terms of the parents' involvement, I not only can't get to her grades, the only way I would know if she had dropped out or been expelled is that I wouldn't receive the following semester's bill.

Things seem to have changed. For the better, in my humble, if sometimes shocked, opinion.

Gosh, you really know how to stir up a gal who was merely trying to do a little surreptitious personal reading on office time. If I smoked, I'd be running for an ashtray right now. Am I the only perv out there turned on by this post? Clearly I'm in need of a good old makeout session... will text my husband immediately to let him know he has plans tonight...

Oh, lovely. Some of my favorite subject matter here, and as it was written up by you, Roger, it's also in some of my favorite prose.

I'm going to be pondering this entry for some time, but I shall say now that as a 41 year old woman who recently found herself madly making out with a similarly aged gentleman in the front seat of his car in the alley behind my house, I appreciate it.

Notwithstanding the germs, foreign saliva is gross.

Great article, but I must disagree with you on one point, Roger. I'm twenty-two, and for the most part my generation uses the internet to connect they way your generation used telephones, to talk about what happens when we all get together. With the rise of the internet and cell phones, my generation just happens to have more avenues of communication, so we do it even more often. The only people I keep in touch with exclusively electronically are the people who are so far away physically that it would be impossible to see them in person.

If I may share a story that's a little more related to the article... My first kiss with my first girlfriend lead instantly into making out, during a movie. I've been fond of joking that she came over that night because she hadn't seen Raiders of the Lost Ark, and by the time she left, she still hadn't. Before that night, we'd been hanging out watching movies that she "wanted to see" (translation: she wanted to see with me). She slept over and, in a testament to your idea that it's not all about sex, complimented me the next morning for being mature enough not to try to have sex with her that night.

I will close by paraphrasing Kurt Vonnegut: "Make out when you can. It's good for you."

In high school, I was an overweight and awkward girl and a boy never got within three feet of me and this remained the status quo UNTIL a boy surprised kissed me late one night. He was madly in love with me and that rush of someone having a crush on me and wanting to act on it...WOW, what a kiss! I can remember thinking on my way home, "Wow, I might actually have sex one day." Something that seemed near impossible until that point. It made me feel much better when one of my personal heros, the beautiful and incredibly talented Tina Fey admitted on a late night show she did not lose her virginity until she was 24. I loved it when she said, "I couldn't give it away".

Great article. Equal parts Roth and Rooney (Andy, not Mickey). Makes me wish I'd been alive to attend college in the 50s, so's I could stick it to the man. Or woman as it is. Makes me wish I'd attended college Period

Less seriously, though, and very much off topic, do you ever think about publishing a collection of essays/memoiries for your masses who still enjoy bookink and heft?

Hi, Roger:
Indeed a wonderful article. A number of months ago, my partner of (more or less) 8 years broke up with me. I realized it was a good thing and ran with it. Soon thereafter, I realized a perfect partner awaited me in the form of my friend, a woman 47 years old (I'm 36) of intelligence, humor, spirituality and open-mindedness. And, she digs rock-n-roll and lets me expose her to good movies. When we finally got intimate, we went something like 2 weeks before actual intercourse. But, man, did we make out (I'm using the term broadly for pretty much any pre-orgasm play). It was wonderful and exciting and electrifying and I went home satisfied every night this happened — even with no orgasm in the picture.
As usual Roger, you're a man of insight and intelligence with the superb writing skills to express it.
(For what it's worth and at the risk of sounding like a stalker — which I'm not — you're on the top of my list of celebrities I'd love to meet. You're one of my heroes, even if I don't always see eye-to-eye with your reviews. :-D)
Kristofer
Copy editor, graphic designer, writer and (hopefully) future Episcopal priest.

Hi Woger.
Just wanted to correct you on "brightly-lighted"

Ebert: I cite as precedent "A Clean Well-Lighted Place," by Ernest Hemingway.

I went to college in the mid-1980's. Of course premarital sex and homosexuality were out of the closet by then -- it was also, sadly, the beginning of the AIDs era. But there were still some efforts being made to curb fornication. I can remember our entire dorm being emptied out one night, by a "fire drill," because a girl was rumored to have a member of the opposite sex in her room after hours.

I was there for Koch and Oliver.

Hippity hoppity
Revilo Oliver
Six feet and over
This Fascism fan.

Never was nature
So uneconomical
So big a body
For so small a man.

Found written on the wall of a stall in the bathroom at Altgeld Hall.

And Roger, didn't you know about the Chief Illini Motel?

Geez.

Ebert: Jeez, wasn't that the first place the Unicops prowled?

I have everyone here beat. I'm a straight woman and a 21 year old college senior in the last semester of college and I have had sex exactly once in all my nearly four years at college. A one night stand at about the start of senior year with an older stranger I met while walking home from a night out. That's right, once in four years at college. (And before then, I was celibate (at times voluntarily, at times involuntarily) since I was 16 years old. And even then, it was only twice.)

I had a sorta boyfriend in senior year and we kissed and messed around a little (it never got to oral sex or even petting) and I messed around with a man who I knew as a friend of a friend while I was dating my boyfriend (it ended with kissing). And that's it.

I also sorta dated a guy during my freshman year and sorta dated a guy third year. And that's really it. And a bit of a flirtation in second year that amounted to nothing. And that's really it.

My problem- besides the fact that I'm pretty shy, that I'm going to the wrong school and I have a bit of a weight problem- is that I haven't found the right man yet...but I'm still waiting. Either I'm interested and they aren't or they are interested and I'm not. The latter more often than the former, actually. It's not bad, though. I'm not lonely and I'm not starving for sex or for a relationship. It'll come when it will come. Really. People don't believe me when I say this but I'm fine with things as they are.

I want to tell you a bit more about the picture titled "rockinfree" - the 5th picture down - since I am the guy in it (what a coincidence, since i've been actively following your blog for a little over a year now, and your written reviews for over 10 years). I suddenly wish the picture of me had been a better one ;-)
(if it helps to prove it really is me, here is another of the pictures we took at the same time.)

At the time it was taken, I was living in South Carolina and she was attending JMU in Virginia, so our visits were brief and separated by a few weeks between. We actually met on the internet (surprise), and I somehow had the nerve to meet her in person after a couple weeks of talking, both online and even the "old fashioned" way, by phone.

When we started visiting each other, we actually waited a few months before went 'all the way'; which was new (and nice) for me, whose sporadic sexual experiences up til that point were marked by a rather consistent streak of rushing right into things. And I mean rushing - i got a late start, as the first time I ever "made out" was when I was 21, but my first time going "all the way" was within an hour or two of that. At the time I was just glad to have gotten anyone's attentions, not so much worried about having rushed things. But I digress.

Anyway, this girl and I visited each other every 2 or 3 weeks for about 8 straight months (taking turns putting much mileage on our respective cars), when luckily my job ended up transferring me to a location closer to her, and she was adventurous enough to go ahead and move in with me.

Incidentally, almost a year ago, after a little more than a year of living together and getting along really well, I asked her to marry me:
(right at the moment)
(official engagement photo)

Thanks, Roger, for yet another insightful blog entry :)

[p.s. I still owe you big-time for introducing me to Sita Sings the Blues, of which now I'm a superfan.]

Ebert: Is this a small world, or is this a small world?

I wholeheartedly agree.

There's nothing sexier than waiting for sex.

Sex alone doesn't mean intimacy, and I'm afraid that's where my generation fails. I have so many girlfriends who mistake physical intimacy with emotional intimacy. Sex is but the bow on top of the package. It can hold the thing together--an x-mass present isn't an x-mas present without a ribbon--but hell, why tie a ribbon around a gift that under all that wrapping paper is just a toaster, presumably to burn all that milquetoast you've been sexting.

Sex should be fun. You should be able to make jokes, laugh, have a full conversation, play, hell--even feel comfortable enough to fart in front of the other.

How many guys my age (23) are okay with this?

None, my friends say.

Ok, I respond, so maybe not the farting, but you'll be pleasantly surprised if you wait for the guy who laughs at your jokes and want to nibble your neck a little before ripping off that miniskirt.

This entry makes me wish I had someone to make out with. If only I had a boyfriend...

I'm in my late teens and we always go out in large groups, nowadays. Even the couples. It's so much more impersonal and depressing.

Bah, Humbug.

I grew up in an age when my classmates were losing their virginity in 7th grade and when every depraved sexual act ever conceived of by gods or men was just a mouse click away (be it via internet pornography or hook up sites) and I say bring back celibacy. Sex must have been so much more exciting back when no one was having it.

No, I am not a prude. I've just always secretly suspected that religion was something humanity invented so they could enjoy sex more (either that or nature invented it to fool us into thinking that by procreating we were getting away with some great, forbidden, act, thus instantly making one of the most mundane things on earth way more desirable). If it wasn't for religion and its prohibitions, we would all have grown tired of the whole business ages ago and homo sapiens would have moved on to some other new mass species fad like autogamy or crochet.

I find what you've written enlightening, as usual, but this time it's also astonishing. I have no doubt at all that what you've written is true, but histories, memoirs and biographies I've read all seem to indicate that during WWII American Attitudes and openness toward sex underwent a dramatic change, and in movies throughout the 40s and 50s one can see subtle acknowledgment that pre-marital sex isn't uncommon, even among college age men and women.

"The Best Years of Our Lives" in 1946 was certainly straightforward about the fact that Dana Andrews' wife was sleeping around on him while he was gone (and after he was back) and that Teresa Wright wanted to break their marriage, and not just because she thought he was a swell guy.

I suppose the difference is that it's one thing to politely pretend something doesn't exist, and another to approve it by not objecting to a public statement about it. Poor Professor Koch.

When I was a kid (and it wasn't THAT long ago), we went to the drive-in. Those were the best movies I never saw.

I always get a hoot out of Dan Savage's Savage Love column. But damn, Roger, this is in a whole different category! Anyways...

They "go places in a group of friends." Jeez, haven't these kids ever heard of ditching your friends in order to...whatever?

My (for lack of a better term,) surrogate little brother is a high school senior. I'm kept well apprised of what goes on with and around him. While there is weighty baggage associated with the term "date" that makes them avoid its use, rest assured, they still ditch their friends for "whatever".

And damn, am I ever glad the morality police GTFO by the time I arrived at UIUC!

I left the U of I after my first semester to follow a girl to another school that might as well have been in a different country.

University of Oklahoma, circa 1968:
No co-ed housing. Women had to stay in dorms or sorority houses until age 21 or married. Men could move out sooner, but not that soon. Not sure about the number of feet on the floor -- I think it was four and the rest of the body had to be off the floor. No PDAs (public displays of affection allowed in dormatories). Strict curfews for women. Men had none that I recall.

Bars did not sell beer or liquor. You brought your own, then paid for "setups", i.e. they served you your own booze. Legal drinking age for men was 21. Women could not drink in a bar until age 23, unless they were accompanied by a man, in which case they could drink at 18. Some bars might let a man drink under age if he had somehow managed to get ahold of the booze. But no way were they going to serve the girl you were with unless you were 21.

The school did not need to impose a curfew on men under 21. The drinking laws pretty much limited their opportunities.

Motels in town did a pretty brisk business, but the rooms were largely empty past curfew.

Transferred back to U of I after a year. The girl remained in OK. I was still a virgin. So I guess it all worked out from Oklahamo's standpoint. But the world had changed by 1969, especially in U-C. Felt like I had time-traveled across the universe. I stayed for another 6 years!

If only someone wanted to make out with me. But it's been 21 years and the fish aren't biting.

Could this one be titled Nil by Moveables? I hope not.

LOVE THIS POST! You have unofficially given me permission to publish a few posts that I was hesitant about sharing because they seemed so... personal... but now I feel like "who cares?" I've talked about feeling embarrassed to get naked in the women's locker room so why worry about some frolicking in the back of a taxi? HA!

I've always been a huge fan of making out. I love kissing... so much fun and a great way to tell someone they are hot and in the moment without the walk of shame in the morning... LOL

Thanks for a great read - as usual.

As long as we're talking klassik kisses, here's a great YouTube montage of kissing scenes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ehSIuW_Wxmo

Oh, by the way - I'm nearly 39, six-three, 210, and I know these movies and their romanticism equally well. Form an orderly queue, ladies.

The best kiss I ever got was from a gay man in a bar when I was in college. DAMN, that was a great kiss! I still think about it--the perfect firmness of his lips, the softness of them, the masculinity of the whole thing. The promise of it, the eagerness it snapped to life in me to keep kissing this man, as long as he'd let me (not long enough, sighhh...) Whatever boyfreinds that guy's had in the last twenty years, they all have at least one good memory.

kissing, good kissing, doesn't get the appreciation it deserves.

Wonderful entry, Mr. Ebert.

I have to say, though, in defense of the young people (like me, I guess), that ditching your friends (her friends, in my case) in order to whatever is getting increasingly difficult with said friends being almost omnipresent through cell phones and similar devices. It is a hard time for romance indeed.

Having said that, I'm glad to be able to declare with experience about the joy that comes with trying to find a moment, if only a few seconds, to kiss in an elevator in a crowded building, or in a room of a house with your classmates the room next, the indescriptible satisfaction of giving someone a hand-written love letter and being given another one in return.

Let us hope these things make a comeback. The meaningful things.

Reading this article, my mind chose to wonder: "So then, if we humans have sex, what do ALIENS do?"

(On a tangent, why no blog post about winter when you've had one on summer and fall?)

Hi Roger,
I recently saw Floating Weeds (with your wonderful commentary). In it, you mention a Japanese phrase that roughly translates as "melancholy happiness," where one experiences happiness and melancholy at the same time. This post has produced such an effect in me: happiness, for remembering my few makeout sessions, and melancholy, for remembering how few were my makeout sessions.

Forbidden fruit is always sweeter.

I can't believe how often someone in one of the pictures you post ends up seeing and commenting on the picture (I know you're popular, but come on). Where do you get your pictures?

Ebert: Google Images, searching for things like "couples kissing."

I was tempted to use this couple:

http://www.wired.com/news/images/full/kissing_f.jpg

The latter five autobiographical paragraphs of this post certainly show that the trajectory of your literary powers remains powerfully ascendant. I suspect even today, even in the country where you happen to live, writing about this particular subject may not be as much a cake-walk as chewing gum.

"It is more erotic to wonder if you're about to be kissed than it is to be kissed."

This line made my day. It's true, you know.

Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. Not only your post, but the comments as well.

I usually cringe when your blog deviates from your movie discussions, but I delighted in reading this.

How in the hell were you inspired to write this? Were you and Chaz neckin' late last night, and all of a sudden, POOF!?

Was she bummed that you ruined the moment to go blog about it?

***Please don't post this line: Are you still able to make out? I certainly hope so.***

Roger, you have a gift for choosing incredible illustrations for your exquiste articles.

Can I just say that the first picture here is way smoking hot?

Restrained delights are indeed the most memorable...and it's delightful remembering them!

Ebert: Readers: Pat, now living in Australia, went to Urbana High School with me. Her dad was an English professor at the U of I. She was always merry. That's how I remember you, Pat, always laughing about something. But not just something silly, you know. Something funny.

IMHO you could graduate from the UHS of those days knowing about as much as a lot of four-year college graduates.

I was a late bloomer, too, but it was definitely worth the wait.

Your line about it being more erotic to wonder if you're about to be kissed than it is to be kissed reminded me of why some of the sexiest scenes in movies are the ones where people keep their clothes on, e.g., George Clooney and J-Lo in the trunk of that car in "Out of Sight" and Sean Penn and James Franco flirting and picking each other up on the subway steps in "Milk".

And yes, making out is indeed its own reward.

Thanks for this and "Nil By Mouth".

If I could just meet you Roger, I'd plant you a very disgusting, sloppy, and endlessly sincere kiss. On your mouth.

I'm still only fifteen, and my girlfriend and I have been in our own little lovers world since September. I don't like the way things are often stereotyped about our generation, like we all "sext" or 'talk' in chat rooms. In the heat of the moment, romance, making out and sex are still the same as they were in the 60s, or any other time period; we may as well just as easily stereotype the older generation as sexually lacking old farts, I don't, at least. And I'm not ashamed to say (and I hope you aren't either) that it is thanks to people like you, who aren't afraid to say that they enjoy sex whist in their sixties, destroy the bizarre old feeling that romance and sex are bad. Are they?

According to Wikipedia, which knows everything, you wasn't 22 in 1966, because you were born in 1942, unless I misurnderstood something. And this is the only thing I can comment on, because over 20, I have never kissed anybody.

My most recent and sadly most serious relationship happened back in October, and lasted for only a week. I wouldn't call it 'going out', since we didn't really go anywhere except inside my apartment before she went to work and I went to class. We fooled around, of course, but never, you know, peaked.

Needless to say, it was beyond my experience!

Me and her lasted a week, and I couldn't understand why the invisible connection between people can die so easily, especially when people can get so close physically. I've tried putting into words how I feel this ties into your own theme("making out is its own reward"), but I can't, very eloquently.

Roger, those girls you 'got to know' back in the da--I'm simply just curious, here--do you still think about them in high regards?

Ebert: Each and ever one.

In some cases, particularly those from my drinking days, in higher regard than they think of me.

I too remember the dorms, the curfews, the race back from the movies to avoid being locked out. (I never have seen the end of "Gone With the Wind") I don't remember who said it, but to paraphrase, "most of sex is between the ears" How true.

I decided to get another bachelors degree recently, so here I am, somebody who graduated college in the 60s, now in school with teenagers. I have to admit I zip my mouth when I am tempted to share my "wisdom".

I just re-read your review of "The Age of Innocence", which to my mind has some of the most erotic moments in cinema. I love the scene where Michelle Pfieffer unbuttons her glove in a carriage while in a carriage with Daniel Day-Lewis.

Thanks once again for speaking about what most of us merely think about.

Cheers

Roger, I've been reading you for years and your review of The Lovely Bones was the first I've ever had to quit reading. The film may not be good - I've read reviews elsewhere that say as much - but if it's not good, it's not not good for the reasons you cite, all of which are bigoted opinions stated as facts. "Heaven is this, heaven is not that, didn't the filmmakers stop to think there may not be a heaven at all?" What the hell were you thinking, publishing that? For one thing, obviously there IS a heaven in the story, so whether or not there is one in real life, the possibility that there isn't an afterlife, is completely irrelevant to the film. And as for likelihood (you speak of the likelihood that if there is a Heaven, it won't involve meeting a bunch of people you like in a beautiful place and hanging out there being happy forever), what? If there's a Heaven, ie an afterlife, it seems to me it's as likely to be one thing as another. If we posit it as a divine reward, it seems all the more likely to be like what you describe the movie's heaven to be.

As for your opinion (again stated as if it's a fact) that Heaven would be some kind of bizarre unimaginable no-sense, no-body, all-mind zone, what the hell are you talking about? You may have a million theologians on your side for all I care, but good sense shuts them all up at once. If there is a Heaven, ie an afterlife, and it's meant as a reward, why would everyone suddenly be whisked away into a terrifyingly unfamiliar way of being? I mean maybe for the Buddha the Heaven you posit would be fine, but for the rest of us it would be an awful disappointment. I'm with the Spanish existentialist (Catholic) philosopher Unamuno, who insisted that if there is eternal life, it has to be bodily, for many reasons, not least of which is that Christ's resurrection was bodily.

Read Tragic Sense of Life, and say sixteen hail marys. Should make up for that unconscionable review.

Ebert: Why are my opinions bigoted? Where did I state them as facts?

Capitalize "Mary," please.

Roger -
Wow, thank you for enlightening me about the Leo Koch case, never heard of it until now.
Great article. Great insight into your (also my father's) generation and the sexual/social oppression/repression that my Generation X - and certainly the next generation - have no clue of.
It is refreshing to read your recollections; for some reason or another, many men don't bother to pass along the details of their dating/courtship/"hooking up" experiences to their sons, nephews, whomever. Perhaps they feel crazy restrictions such as the Three Foot Rule are reminisces not important enough to share; perhaps they just assume we're aware through the viewing of old films and newer period pieces.
I'll close with this: I'm a 41-year-old journalist with a 21-year-old sister with brains, heart, and, unfortunately, the figure of Jane Russell in her prime. Thus, subtle guidance on dating has always been a priority. A few years ago, we had a conversation about cell phones and instant gratification. My sister was not aware, of course, of the drama that a lack of a cell phone - heck, lack of an answering machine - created. If the girl you were chasing wasn't home, you had to call back. And call back, hoping for a date tomorrow night. Perhaps Mom, or God forbid, Dad answered the phone. And sometimes, in retrospect, it was a good thing that Dad cut the conversation short (after half an hour), or Mom flicked the porch lights on and off when the car sat in the drive for too long. These classic, but sort of forgotten "obstacles" built anticipation, suspense... drama that I feel might be lacking in the encounters of some teenagers in today's high-tech, on-demand world.
I thought, I hoped my sister understood why I recollected my version of the Three Foot Rule. Or maybe she just nodded and smiled to appease a rambling old man from another world - the 80s.
"Wait a minute, you asked girls you barely knew out on a real date - like to the movies?"

Hey Roger, not to sidetrack the topic of your blog at all, but I just wanted to thank you for your review of "The Lovely Bones." You mirrored my own feelings almost exactly (I published a review to my website a few days ago, which was a bit more critical of the actors, but I, too, almost entirely fault Jackson for the movie's flaws -- felt like a true case of runaway ego to me).

I really took issue with the film and found its treatment of the subject matter offensive rather than merely boring. The schmaltzy sentimentalization of the rape and murder of an innocent young girl is frightening. My younger sister watched the film online and liked it so much that she ordered the book online; I found this disappointing, and I hope the movie is not a success. Anyway, terrific review; just wanted to say that.

You asked, "What happened to Leo Koch?" whose
innocuous comment got him fired at the UofIllinois, But you didn't tell us of his subsequent career, life events, nor even of the fact that the camp which was burned, ressurected itself; moved to New York, changed its name to Green Valley, and became one of the leaders of the Alternative Education Movement. Nor did you tell us anything of the HERALD OF FREEDOM a New York City hate sheet which circulated thousands of copies in North Carolina provoking the burning of the school which harbored Leo Koch.

As I recall, Leo became some sort of Lower Echelon Politician in New York State. But,
what DID happen???? No question but that his academic career was devastated. Incredible to read that mild statement in 2010 and to think on its consequences.

George von Hilsheimer, Ph.D., F.R.S.H.
founder and director of Summerlane and
Green Valley Schools, 1963-1974

Ebert: I'm honored to receive a message from you. In finding that information about the night raid on Summerlane, I came across your name many times.

If Google can be trusted (and it can't), Leo Koch disappeared from the map after the mid-1960s. You remember how big that case was at the time.

Today there is only one photo, of low quality, of Leo Koch to be found on the web.
There are many, many links to items about you. I'm thrilled you were a friend of Paul Goodman's. He was a hero of mine. I interviewed him once. I planned a doctoral thesis about him, Dwight Macdonald and Edmund Wilson at the University of Chicago, but was waylaid by film criticism. I own every single one of his books, and all but memorized The Community of Scholars, which was an inspiration for Summerlane.

During my search I was thrilled to find an archive of Paul Krassner's famous magazine The Realist. On the page linked below, Dr. von Hilsheimer, you discuss the addition of Prof. Leo Koch to your staff, AND mention Goodman's book. This time Google caught two fish with one hook!

http://j.mp/4qksK8

TO ALEC, THE 22 YEAR OLD VIRGIN:

Young man, there are two time periods in my life when I thought sex was off the table. Once when I was your age, and once recently, in my dotage.

Let me assure you, throughout the life-cycle, sex is the most likely of the seemingly unlikely things that will occur.

At various moments in both aforementioned epochs, my moveables nearly combusted from all that action. No lie.

And I am a HUGE nerd.

ROGER:

This sounded very funny to me:
"I knew lots of "queers," by which I meant "effeminate," but my imagination stopped more or less with them laughing about the same things."

Regards,
Rick

Roger, Roger. What a wonderful blog!!!! Takes me back....I remember making out with my boyfriend for hours till my jaws were sore, lips sore and swollen....and sure, we wanted to go past the point of no return, but just the fact that we could hold each other and still make attempts to kiss with sore lips and jaws was enough (believe it or not).

Seems to be a contest among some bloggers to confess the first time they made love. I was nineteen (I'm 53 now). At what age is too late?? No such thing. You make love when you and your longtime partner (assuming it's a longtime partner) feel you are both ready. (I'm talking common sense, which ain't so common). Making love for the first time is a huge, huge deal. Don't take it lightly; you may not remember all the rest of the times you do with whomever, but you always remember the first. You remember the date. You remember the day. You remember what the weather was like, what was on tv, what you were wearing (or not). Making out, though, is most satisfying. It's more intimate. Anticipation of what could be. And that, my dears, is more exciting than anything.

"Petting" is a funny term. Wasn't there a number in "Gold-diggers of 1933" - Pettin' in the Park? I remember each woman encased in some kind of metal outfit, and Dick Powell in dire need of a can opener. :)

I kinda agree with Jcar. My brothers' ages occupy a span of 20 years, starting with Roger's college generation, finishing up in the 80s. Being in the middle of the herd, I heard eldest brothers brag brag bragging, and youngest brothers bitching, both about the same things.

I don't know what happened in normal co-ed colleges. My best pal Shapiro and I enrolled at Skidmore College, Saratoga Springs New York, the year it went co-ed. Maybe two dozen young men in a sea of thousands of horny, curious young women.

In addition, I was a rock'n'roll musician with a hot band duded out in the heighth of nadsat fashion. I was also an athlete, currently tops in gymnastics. What a hunk I was. What a stud. A thoroughly modern and sexually enlightened young lion! The pick of the litter was always mine to be had. I engaged with oh, 5 or 6 whole women over the course of about a year. I may be exaggerating.

Shapiro was a skinny nebbish with glasses. Could hardly even play guitar. His hobby was candle making. He planned to be a marine biologist. His hero was Alfred Korzybski and he liked baseball.

One Sunday afternoon I paid Shapiro a visit. He told me he'd been depressed the night before, so he'd laid awake counting up the women he'd been to bed with in the past year here at Skidmore. One hundred twenty five, he said plaintively. With his penchant for honesty and mathematics, I knew he wasn't exaggerating.

It happened once that I bedded with a pretty young nurse with whom Shapiro had also trysted, although he'd never mentioned it. Bonnie and I had what you'd call a very nice time; she was sweet and affectionate and even a little... was that... condescension? Not sure, but it was a very nice time.

"Oh yeah, Bonnie," Shapiro began blandly. "She made me uncomfortable," he continued. "She fainted right under me before I could even finish."

Shrivel. Well, at least Shapiro became a multimillionaire while I was still kicking around living hand to mouth as a musician. That'll learn 'im.

Ebert: What does a guy like that have

"We run a full-service blog here. When I was 22, I wish I had known someone like me"

Marvellous Mr E.

Hi Roger,
No reason to feel melancholic about the current generation's use of the internet: it's just a tool like any other, and while it comes with certain benefits and drawbacks, each generation has to discover these for themselves. And the kids are doing just fine as far as that's concerned.

My perspective here may be a bit skewed because, as a gay man, the internet has long been our major mode of connectedness in the community: unlike my straight friends, I couldn't really ask a casual classmate out on a date, or give a phone number to someone in a café, without considerable risks. The internet was a comparably 'safe' mode of meeting people, and we've become pretty fluent in it (nothing half so sterile as eHarmony's attempts to find your matches 'scientifically', I assure you.)

I met a pretty great guy in an online chat room back when I was 23. I'm now 30 and happily (and legally) married to him. Don't feel sad for us!

Ah! I love reading about when you were a student at U of I. I recently graduated from there and it's nice to hear old stories. My U of I experience was certainly nothing like that. It was a goal of some to even have sex on the Alma Mater, of all things. Can't imagine that would be very comfortable.

Clearly it is very different these days. I can't imagine how it would be in the 50s/60s after seeing what students wear and do at the campus bars. Myself included in that...

Ebert: Sex on the Alma Mater? So she's finally sitting down? A virgin walked past!

As a recent UIUC graduate, this was a great read. Comparing your experience to mine is astounding - now the University, aside from being steeped in the general hook-up culture, provides a forum for the active sex education of its students, both gay and straight. Every year there is Sex Out Loud, I-SHAG (Illinois Sexual Heath Awareness & Guidance) and other fairs promoting taking responsibility for one's own sexuality. In 2008 the university hosted the Midwest Bisexual Lesbian Gay Transgender Ally College Conference. McKinley provides condoms. (12 every 2 weeks, so you get at least 2 days off, depending on how you space your sessions of course.)
On a more pervasive level, we have co-ed dorms and it's rare for students not to have their own apartments after sophomore year. Busey-Evans is certainly not so strict nowadays. And of course, there's the legend that the alma mater will sit when a virgin graduates from U of I.

The environment's still not entirely sex-positive (good luck going to McKinley and not getting judged by the nurses) but it's good to see that we've made some significant and helpful progress.

That said, there's certainly a nice portion of the young population that still appreciates a good, sensual make-out with no further expectations! Or perhaps that's just in Urbana. We all know Champaign's a different story.

I'm a "bah, humbug" from the other side, Roger. Frankly, I think making out is overrated, and if it ain't foreplay, I just don't wanna. I mean, isn't making out something you do when you're, like, a teenager, and get over once you're in your 20s or so? I'm too damn old (at a very aged 35) to spend energy on finding someone to get physical with, and then not really getting physical with them.

Maybe my no-makeouts-please-I'd-rather-have-sex attitude has something to do with being (mostly voluntarily) celibate for the past several years -- I'm in a long-distance relationship with someone I haven't seen for a long time, not good at meeting people in meatspace, don't want the hassle of explaining poly tendencies to prospective nearby friends-with benefits -- but, dammit, getting the make-out without the sex would be like getting the sizzle without the steak.

Maybe this is different if you have regular access to sex on demand, or you know it's the only thing you're gonna get, but I think having a makeout-only sex life would drive me up the wall. Further up the wall. Not that I haven't already crossed the ceiling and come down the other side, but still...

Great article. I can identify with the world you were brought up in because well....I live in it. In Egypt that's exactly how it's like. In the American University of Cairo, sex isn't refered to that often. At least not with other students. We've all heard stories about sex with prostitutes and what not but what's there to like there. It's kind of disgusting...the idea of paying for sex.

Still when we heard that so-and-so is "maftooha" translates to "open" meaning not a virgin anymore, you'd find a group of guys following her like she was a queen. All they wanted was the chance to experience sex without actually paying for it. In other words, it is very uncommon for a girl not to be a virgin in Egypt even in her early twenties. Most girls get married and are still virgins. The American University in Cairo is still an exception for making-out is very common.

Most students did it, and it would be shocking to find out that someone didn't. Relationship could go on for years without any sex. the highlights would be the making-out sessions when "the house is empty".

I consider myself lucky to have found a beautiful girl who befirended me in class. At first I had to wait a week for the first kiss (yeah I know). Then we's make-out every now and then. Eventually we just couldn't take it anymore and I was in happy land.

I think over the past two years a lot has changed here and we get a lot more "friends with benefits" but we have to know the girl too well. She has to trust us not to talk about it and then take things into the next level.

Of course all that is for the middle and upper classes, the lower class are living almost barbaric lives here. On the first night of a marriage, the husband takes advantage of a virgin. He then takes a towel and wipes the blood off her, goes to the balcony and waves it to everyone (family, friends, and strangers) to assure everyone that she was a virgin. This is followed by people cheering. (It's disgusting) If she turns out to be "maftoha" well sometimes they get killed, mostly they get beaten within an inch of their life.

I consider myself lucky to be brought up in Zamalek where all is well, and having an active sex life isn't a subject of controversy.

As much as I do love and appreciate this continuing journal, I have two picky little questions to raise, may well perhaps not at all worth even asking: Doesn't R have a proofreader? Almost every entry I notice has some glaring little spelling error. (three foot role) I myself and no doubt most of the the other thousands of devotees assembled here would gladly volunteer for the job. Also, doesn't the devirgining paragraph make no sense? First joy in '64, but not a virgin, then some kind of intercourses in '65 and then again '66. Say what now? Virginity goes when it goes, dont it now, on one glorious please God occasion, not over and over again over a span of years. Unless Ive been doing it very wrong.

Ebert: My blog doesn't ave the benefit of separate copy reading because I do it entirely myself, including inserting art and page design, etc.

I try very hard, and make all corrections as soon as errors are pointed out

Yes, the math is off, but not the chronology. The operative phrase is "female undergraduate."

Come now Roger. I always thought you were above reproach, but now I find out about this premarital petting. By the way, if (as you contend) you were getting handjobs at the Dailly Illini in the 50s, then I contend you were far more sexually advanced at that age than any awkward and overweight newshound attending the University Of Illinois in this day and age.

Oh, ho ho! Your Lovely Bones review certainly chapped the hides of a few people. For some reason they are unable to separate what you say about the film from their devoted appreciation for the novel. However, your review made me laugh inappropriately loudly at the office. You're so scathing and it's beautiful.

I've always been averse to stories that are obviously intended to tug my heart strings by piling on things that are supposed to hold us in awe, like children, brutal crimes again them, grief, the notion of a "better place" after death from which you gaze sagely but serenely down at those still living. Bleh. That subject matter does not appeal to me one whit. If I happen to be forthright about the fact that stuff like this simply isn't my bag, there are some who look askance at me as if I'm some sort of sociopath. "But... but... you're a MOM" they say. As if being a parent automatically makes you revel in the maudlin.

I see that on other blogs (Jezebel.com for instance) people are exhorting you to "Read the book!", Roger, because then you'd understand the film. I think that notion makes a great case against the film, actually.

Poor Leo Koch! And not even a Wikipedia entry for his pains. We should take up a collection for the guy or something.

Most Americans have a shared agreement about which making-out activities come earlier and which come later, such that one starts with holding hands, proceeds to kissing, goes on to petting above the waist, and so on. I read somewhere that the British also have a shared agreement but that theirs is (or used to be) different from ours, such that kissing was the most intimate act short of intercourse.

From what I read, American servicemen during WWII would try to kiss British girls that they were getting along well with, and for them, this was an early-in-the progression activity, whereas for the British girls, it was as if they'd skipped several steps and were asking to have intercourse. So some American boys were surprised to be slapped for a mere kiss and others were surprised at how eager for sex their English girl was after a few kisses.

I think my natural progression is more along the WWII British model, for all that I'm an American who was born after the war. To me, kissing is an incredibly intimate (and arousing!) activity, and I think it would actually be easier to have intercourse with a man I didn't like than to kiss him.

Making out is vastly underrated in current society; thanks for righting the balance!

And thanks also for so many years of helping my husband and me get the most of out of the movies we've seen. For years, our post-movie ritual has been to go read your review of a film and get your take on it, as a way of deepening our own understanding of whatever we just saw. And not just about "serious" movies but even about superhero movies or Jackie Chan movies or whatever. So, thanks!

Oh, and to all Egyptians out there..if you ever get caught making-out in public by the police, respond by talking in another language other than Arabic. DO NOT UTTER A WORD IN ARABIC to avoid getting arrested for "adab" (misbehaving). Trust me it works for me, sometimes I respond in English or in German (I was in a German school), and do the "i don't understand what you're saying" look. You'll be off the hook once they think you're a foreigner. Thank me later :)

HEY GIRLS! If you click on my name, it'll take you to a blogspot featuring a bunch of handmade dolls. Now, I ain't no queer, but I know "really good" when I see it. My pal Cindy in Vermont just sent this. Thought I'd pass it along.

You bet about gays being "off the radar" in those days, Rodge. In those days they were restricted to the Boy Scouts, Church and hitch hikers. Personal experience.

Why are these people bapping your piddies about "The Lovely Bones"? Count me out. Here is an eerie true story that interweaves this topic.

In 1995 I got a fan letter from a girl, who, by her handwriting, seemed to be about 12. She liked my funny songs on the Dr. Demento show. Her nickname was Daisy Mae.

Daisy Mae wrote me a recurring dream she had. She saw the ocean coming to swallow her up. The date, in big letters across the sky, was May 5, 2000. The dream was the same every time.

I looked the date up. It was one of the dates Nostradamus had predicted the world would end, according to some interpretations. I wrote that to Daisy Mae. She'd never heard of Nostradamus.

And she was about 30, married to a genuine religious nut. One day she called me and tried to talk while her hubby railed and railed at her about Jesus in the background. Eventually she escaped him and moved in with her mother.

Then one day she wrote me ecstatically that she'd met the man of her dreams on the internet (she still wrote to me by post). Oh, Kirby was this. Oh, Kirby was that. They got together a couple of days after meeting on the 'net.

The only thing wrong with Kirby, she eventually wrote me, was that whenever they'd move to a new town, Kirby would have to stop into the local police station to "register his hands." Not only was Kirby a budding movie star, he was an ex-Navy Seal, see; his hands were classified as a deadly weapon, he'd told her. Just a formality.

Uh oh. Daisy Mae? Daisy? Hello? Uh... about this Kirby... I don't know about "registering your hands as a deadly weapon," but I do know that serious sex offenders are required to sign up with the local police station.

But onward they surged on this strange honeymoon from town to town. Once Daisy Mae wrote me from a homeless shelter where they were vacationing; she was recuperating from a broken leg. A car accident. I didn't inquire whether Kirby had chopped the car to pieces with his deadly hands.

In April 2000 Daisy Mae wrote me another dream: she and Kirby had danced arm-in-arm across a pile of dead bodies and into a meadow full of beautiful flowers, as happy as happy could be.

May 5, 2000 rolled around and although I now had Daisy Mae's e-mail address, she didn't reply. I never heard from her again. Nor did I hear from her mother, whose address I had. Daisy Mae had gone dancing off into a heaven-like field of flowers in a dream and that's the last I heard from her.

So this movie sounds eerie. And pay attention to whom you think you're in love with on the other end of your computer.

Great entry, Roger. One of most flat-out entertaining ones I can remember reading.

There was a girl I used to hang out with back in the day. Both of us were kind of lacking in the experience department (especially me), but for some reason, I was the person she chose to get it from - or give it to (I mean the experience). For most guys, this would've been a dream come true - she was a very pretty girl - but for me, it was utterly terrifying. I remember the time her dad went away for a couple of days and I was supposed to sleep over her house, and she literally told me if I didn't bring condoms she wouldn't let me in the door. So I scrambled desperately to find someone over the age of twenty-one to buy alcohol for me, in hopes of getting drunk and forgetting my fears. That didn't work out, so when I went over her house that night, condoms in pocket, heart in throat, I did the one thing I thought I could pull off without completely botching: I kissed her. And thus, a make-out session to end all make-out sessions ensued. And each time it appeared to run the risk of becoming something more, I put the kibosh on that sh*t REAL quick.

All in all, though, I'm glad I was so nervous. What could've been a night only remembered for finally attaining non-virgin status was instead something a lot more fun and a lot more romantic. Over the next couple months of our relationship, that was pretty much all we did - a lot of making out and some not so "frustrating petting." I tried to tell myself it was because I was being a gentleman, but of course it was mostly because I was afraid. Regardless of my reasoning, though, I'm glad things went the way they did. Because when we finally took that leap, it actually meant quite a bit to both of us.

Awesome entry.

Shocking!! :)
Thanks for another fabulous read. This is why my favorite scene in my favorite movie is in the carriage in "The Age of Innocence" when they are finally alone and he unbuttons her glove and just touches her wrist... the power in that touch takes my breath away every single time.

Of course, nowadays, Prof. Revilo wouldn't waste his time teaching -- he'd be hosting a top-rated program on Faux News.

Roger:

I am an old friend from those early 70s days on the North Side. I’ve boasted now and then about having known someone who became as famous and influential as you have. But now I am proud to have known someone who because such a generous and perceptive person, such a wise and brave soul, and such a fine writer. God bless you, Roger.

Barbara Bernstein

Ebert: Barbara! And of course you're still into movies. Thanks for saying hi so I could see your blog.

I'm 21. English. And I'm afraid to say I'm part of that confusing new generation. I've been single for a while, and I like it that way, but I find myself bewildered by the state of "sexual" practice today amongst my age group (still in education). Not by its casual nature. Not by any part of it particularly, either. Each to their own, I say. But as a University student constantly surrounded by the concept, effect and discussion of this topic, it is still Latin to me - and I don't speak any Latin at all.

I can't work out the "rules." I can't sense any particular trend in people's politics of my age. Some of them won't sleep around, some of them do, some of them will pretend they want to and never go further than a kiss, and some people just like knowing they can do it and never bother.

It's a question of personal ethics, I know. But trying to figure it from a generational point of view?

That's not a game I don't think I can win.

Universities have come a long way. In 2009, my employer, Columbia University, passed a resolution on gender-blind housing: now, not only the dorms can be co-ed, but the rooms themselves.

Didn't raise quite the furor that Leo Koch's letter did, but (predictably) the NY Post was shocked--shocked!--to think that sex might be occuring in a college dorm:

http://www.nypost.com/p/news/local/manhattan/ivy_shack_up_shock_Py0BKAFW5FukydceNeC9YL

Even Dr Ruth disapproved, recommending special "romper rooms" where college couples could go for sex:

http://bwog.net/2009/12/07/romper-i-hardly-knew-her

Sounds about as romantic as a conjugal-visit trailer, eh?

Thanks for a wonderful column. One of my partners, 10 years older than me, graduated from Rutgers in 1960. As he tells the story, the brothers were sitting around the frat house in the small hours of Sunday morning, comparing lies about their dates, when a guy walks in and says "I think I just got laid." Between his inexperience and the state of womens' underclothing in those days, he honestly didn't know. Forty or so years later he still wasn't sure.

My partner also said that undergraduate sex in those days was like watching soccer: it was about what could happen, what might happen, what seemed urgently about to happen and what almost happened, rather than what happened. Rarely did anyone holler G-O-O-O-O-O-L!

Actually, I think the prospect of petting/touching/making love are actually something that adds a lot to life and movies.

I mean, if you watch most Indian movies, they're pretty much all build-up. The boy sees a beautiful girl, the girl resists his advances before ultimately allowing him to have a conversation with her, they hold hands, some sort of complications ensue, and then they resolve the whole messy thing by getting married. Sex is an undercurrent of their behavior, but never onscreen.

I guess in a culture where premarital sex is still pretty taboo, the movies have to reflect those tastes, while highlighting how electric the moments are when a couple is anticipating sex, but not necessarily having it.

Ebert: I love that about Indian movies. Ionce wrote about "Taal," a movie I saw in Hyderabad:

Now comes a scene of such peculiar eroticism that you will have to take my word for it -- it was sexy. At a reception, the heroine scratches her chin. The hero, across the room, scratches his chin. The heroine touches her nose. The hero touches his nose. She brushes back her hair. He brushes back his hair. What fills him with maddening desire is that she does not reveal by even a flicker of an eyelid that she notices him doing this. She is a good girl, and will not make eye contact, even though they have held hands.

Trays of soft drinks are brought around. She takes a bottle of Coke and sips through a straw. He takes a Coke and sips through a straw. "Coca-Cola is sponsoring this movie," Uma explains. Product placement is up front in India.

The hero removes the straw and drinks from the bottle with his lips. The woman does not seem to notice. He puts the bottle back on the tray, and tells the waiter to take the tray to where the heroine is standing with her girlfriends. The waiter offers her the tray. Will her lips touch the same Coke bottle as his? Or will she choose Thums Up cola (without the "b"), the other leading Indian brand? The suspense is unbearable. She rejects the tray. But then -- this is cinema at its best! -- her girl friend reaches for the same bottle, and the heroine snatches it away. She DID notice! She was looking all the time!

Now the heroine is holding the Coke bottle herself. Does she drink from it? I would like to tell you, I really would, but this is a family newspaper.

When my husband and I first met, we spent an extraordinary amount of time just talking, debating, laughing, joking. We still probably talk more than we do anything else, but I still remember the day when we finally got close enough to kiss. We were in his dorm room, after eating a meal of hamburgers and shakes, and as we talked, our faces got closer and closer together. We both knew we were about to kiss, but neither of us seemed to want to make the final move. My husband was the brave one who finally moved forward to make contact and in so doing, redefined our relationship. I don't remember the kiss so much; it was not as magical as you might expect true love's kiss to be, but the waiting was its own magic.

Right on, Roger.

Sometimes I forget this myself. The world is frequently so shitty that I forget to put aside the Adorno in my mind and make time for the ol' Marcuse. Polymorphous perversity for the win.

(Sorry, gotta go put the moves on my wife....)

In reference to your quote "It is more erotic to wonder if you're about to be kissed than it is to be kisse,"I am reminded of an interview with the costume designer for the original Star Trek. Referring, I believe, to an episode in which a Greek god tried to recruit the Enterprise crew to be his worshippers, the designer said that women's clothing were sexier not simply for what they showed but for what they MIGHT show. His tunic dress for the show covered everything it was supposed to, but didn't look safe in any kind of wind.

Roger, a fresh low for the representatives of the "American heartland" "Real America" "Core Values America" ad nauseam..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7icGyVNI3U

INDIANS TAKE NOTE.

I also know about Pat Robertson's recent comments on the earthquake in Haiti and that of Brit Hume against Buddhism.

Words fail me.

Ebert: What do you imagine Glenn Beck's mental image of India is like? Probably the way I pictured China when I was three years old and it was populated only by starving children who would be happy to eat my parsnips.

There are times I think to myself, "It's hard to imagine a world where men kissing causes a room to quiet." Then I realize it's still that world.

In any case, there are days I come home from work tired and exhausted, and all I want to do is just kiss my boyfriend until my lips hurt. I feel closer during kissing than sex sometimes.

I recently managed to get through my entire college career without romantic interaction of any kind. It's hard to tell if it was by choice or accident, but it made for some uncomfortable moments feeling so out of step with the rest of the world. It's interesting I'd still be considered a prude forty years ago. Some things transcend the ages.

Oh but I do so love your site Roger. I've been following for about a year now - and read every review you wrote of every movie I've ever seen (most disappointing was Brazil, but mostly you're dead on the money) - and now I must speak out. As someone approaching 21 I'd say that the modern era diminishes the mystery of sex, no question, but for all that is lost so much more is gained. What goes along with the mystifying of sex is the guilt and confusion that so many people even now suffer from, the sense of wrongness and unjustifiable emotions. Sex is completely natural and for all the pleasures of doubt you cite, the perils of doubt I suspect were - and are - more severe.

Once again, a HUGE fan of the site. Reading your reviews is like reading the reviews I wish I'd written.

My growing up and getting familiar with necking took place in an Eastern suburb in the 63/64 period. Lots of back seats in cars and parents' bedrooms when they were on vacation. And finally I submitted and bingo got pregnant. I am now 65 and soon to retire and I can remember that trauma like it was yesterday. Love your writing. Thank you. All best, Candace Kennedy Laws

Reminds me of several scenes in "Animal House" - set in 1962. One, where a strategy for scoring included pretending to be the grieving fiancé of the target girl's college roommate (who had just been killed in a pottery class kiln explosion.) Another where "petting" was performed on a frat boy by his girlfriend -- wearing rubber hospital gloves. I really miss Doug Kenney.

This just reminds me of my huge failures. Haven't had a girlfriend(if you can even call it that) since 7th grade.

I am now a college freshman. Even live in a co-ed dorm.

Very good article. Only reason I don't wake up my wife to make out is because she'll be mad for waking her up. . . women.

That said, I can gladly say making out is awesome and me and my wife still love to just sit at our couch and make out for a while (after 12 year together- 8 years going steady and 4 of marriage) I'd say we're doing alright :o).

Also, I think kissing is a lost art, up to some point. People like to dive in without testing the water first. Kissing is the best part of foreplay. . . and it can continue for a while after sex also. Isn't it great?

Ebert: I didn't want the entry to turn into sexology, but my observation is that with kissing, gentle and playful is best, unless the vibes are that you both feel great passion.

Of course, this is only a theory. You know, like the theory of evolution. Observation and reserch support it, but I can't prove it to Randy's satisfaction.

Ah, Roger, your open letter to Rush Limbaugh missed the mark completely. Did you listen to the whole show or were directed to his site to pick apart a comment that was taken out of context? I know he posts the transcripts to the show. I seriously doubt you ever listen to Rush other than the spin you get from Democrat Underground or Chris Matthews. I heard the the comment while listening to the WHOLE show. Rush loves tweaking knee-jerk liberals. After all, even if Rush wasn't messing around with the minds of liberals, I really wouldn't put much past Obama considering how corrupt he and his administration is.

Furthermore, Rush's comments about "light skinned and darked skinned people" is a JAB AT HARRY REID. Rush has been doing this all week. There ain't a damn thing racist about it.

Rush is just exposing the hypocrisy of the left. The left gets away with racist comments all the time.

Where are all the Democrats insisting Harry Reid resign???

Since there is no place to post a response to your letter to Rush, I'll answer it here.

You said:

"This cannot have been an accident. A day earlier, a sound bite from your show went viral, in which you said Obama would exploit the situation to please his "black followers -- both the light-skinned and the dark-skinned ones."

Sen. Harry Reid made his careless comment thoughtlessly. Yours must have came after some thought. A one-liner in code to please your listeners who enjoy hearing African-Americans discussed in racist language. Yes, racist -- as anyone living in this country must realize."

You don't listen to his show. You get sound bytes from the Huffington Post or Chris Matthews or MoveOn.org or Democrat Underground. Did you listen to the whole show? Did you here what else he said about the tragedy in Haiti? Of course not.

Furthermore, as a typical elitist liberal such as yourself, you have to impugn the tens of millions of faithful listeners by branding them as being racist. Like most elitist liberals, you must view Americans with contempt.

This comment-"black followers -- both the light-skinned and the dark-skinned ones."
is a jab at the hapless and bigoted Harry Reid. Rush likes lampooning the words of liberals. There was no racist intent from Rush at all. Rush has had fun playing with Reid's racist remarks all week long.

Jeez, how many times did the left take the opportunity to exploit the Katrina tragedy just to demean the Bush presidency???

We all know Obama (like Clinton) is an opportunist. Obama sees this tragedy in Haiti as nothing more than a photo-op. After-all, anything helps when your approval rating is plummeting.

If Trent Lott had to resign, it's only fair Harry Reid step down.

Then again, I guess it might be a mute point. Reid, like many other Democrats, will get shellacked in the fall.

Ebert: You are correct. That paragraph was out of context. I have rewritten it to say this:

===

A day earlier, a sound bite from your show went viral, in which you said "this will play right into Obama's hands. He's humanitarian, compassionate. They'll use this to burnish their, shall we say, 'credibility' with the black community -- in the both light-skinned and dark-skinned black community in this country. It's made-to-order for them."

Setting aside your riff on Harry Reid, consider what you imply. Obama will aid Haiti to please African-Americans. Haiti has lost untold thousands of lives. One third of the population has lost its homes. Countless people are still buried in the rubble. Every American president would act quickly to help our neighbor. You are so cynical and heartless as to explain Obama's action in a way that unpleasantly suggests how your mind works.

To all those in your teens and 20s thinking that somehow your lack of sexual experiences reflects your failure as a person...I'd just like to say: lighten up! Seriously, lighten up, buddy. The rate that technology is going, you, and the rest of us, will all live for a long long lonnnnnnnnng time, and you have barely crossed 2/10 of the journey, if that. It's JUST THE BEGINNING! Life is an adventure, and I assure you that you WILL have many adventures down the line, including sexual ones. But wallowing in self-pity won't help. In fact, that's probably be the ONLY thing that will FOR SURE prevent you from having those sexual adventures - let's face it, no one wants to shag someone who doesn't even think themselves shaggable (is that a word? Let's make it a word).

So, chin up, put some confidence in that swagger (and if you can't find it, earn it through life experience or therapy), and see the worth in yourself, and someone else will too.

sincerely,

Older, Wiser Soul

Off-topic. There is a phenomenon in simple physics whereby a thick mirror gives rise to multiple images and of these the second is the brightest. In movie watching, particularly good ones, I find it is the second viewing, rather than the first or third which has the maximum impact. Ofcourse does not apply to Avatar which is exhausted the first time.

I made the college mistake of having too much sex with too many people with almost no intimacy, and let me be the 714th to tell you, sex is overrated if it's not with the right person.

Making out truly is a lost art. So few people even try it, and even fewer are really, really good at it. Although making out is like pizza - even when it's bad, it's still pretty good. I still remember my first hardcore makeout session. It was exactly two years after I came out to my parents, to the day, and this boy I had been seeing took me in his room and we laid on the bed and just made out for a solid hour, with some petting being the furthest we got. And I remember that while we were making out, I wasn't bored. Think about it. Making out is a fairly repetitive activity, that honestly grows tiresome after a long while. But when it's with the right person, and there's nothing else in the world that you have to deal with, it's all you need.

I appreciated the aside in this entry about the first time you saw two men kiss, Roger. It's still a shocking sight for most people, even if they know gay men and women. Going to a gay bar with someone who's never been to one is one of my favorite things in life. It can really open up a conversation.

You might be too old for sex one day (never know until you try; we'll talk about that in a sec), but you're never too old for making out!

If the old making out disgusts you, your superficiality saddens me.

The universe is your friend to LET YOU BOUNCE off of it for your needed energy, which means you can always have a threesome!

Roger said: "What do you imagine Glenn Beck's mental image of India is like? Probably the way I pictured China when I was three years old and it was populated only by starving children who would be happy to eat my parsnips."

He made it plenty obvious what he thinks of us lowly folk. I thought to myself..alright, if that's how it is, that's how it is, quite stoic us Indians, the Chinese on the other hand are a different pot of crab and he called China, India and some other neighbouring countries of the Indian sub-continent "stupid".

My main concern is this, Fox News has often asked this question - "why does the whole world hate America?"

Here's my answer - no one hates America, every sane person hates Fox News though, they're like Al Jazeera on a chemical cocktail of crystal meth, crack and self defeating hubris Greek tragedians would have delighted in. If there is anti American sentiment in the world, it is the News Corp propaganda machine which gleefully shoulders a substantial portion of the blame for it and why shouldn't they be pleased, it is after all an enormous money spinner for them. What kind of a "journalist" calls several countries "stupid" in one go? A cantankerous cretinous self involved egotistical kind.

I, by and large, take theories of god and satan with a pinch of salt, but if there is such a thing as satan, I am certain that the Murdoch clan are his (?) spawn and News Corp is one of his (?) most bountiful nests.

I said "TAKE NOTE INDIANS" in my previous comment, because he (Murdoch not satan, although the difference is difficult to tell them apart at times) is spreading his tentacles rapidly into India also, continuing his malevolent designs of exploiting the populace and shaping the discourse in the country to fit his ends. Only last year they invested $100 mn in setting up six new regional channels. If we want, we can cause him some serious financial trouble, I mean what with the two murders of Indians in Australia within the first two weeks of 2010, over 500 violent attacks on Indian nationals in Australia last year and Murdoch being Australian and what have you, people can begin to make all sorts of unhealthy linkages, something Fox News has most excellently tutored the world in. Ouroboros can be annoying right?

In the past imperialists used to send boats, these days they send corporate executives to conquer lands far and wide.

We took our time, but eventually we convinced the largest empire in the world to leave us be, Murdoch's many vituperative insects are but a flash in the proverbial pan.

We have a saying in India, if you chuck a pebble in filth, the filth splatters back onto you, we will therefore wait for them to try and silver tongue us again and we will handle these snakes in India, on our own terms, what concerns me more is that the meaningless ministrations of News Corp to a lunatic base of sniveling snarkers such as Beck, by salacious egotists such as Beck hurts America, because other countries such as the ones the louse mentioned are neither as accommodating, nor tolerant, or half as good humoured as Indians.

We even put up for quite some time, quite patiently with sticks and stones, but there are many, to whom words themselves feel like daggers. If anyone at Fox News has any cojones, I dare them to call China "stupid" again, only this time, don't do it from the safety of an American studio, do it from Tianenmen Square. China allows journalists into their country now and even allow filming at the infamous square, although it is closely monitored by government minders. Grow a pair Beck, or if you're incapable of that, strap a pair on, I dare 'ya..

Fair and Balanced? Yes, they truly are both fair and balanced, after all when was the last time they saw someone at CNN, or CBS News, or MSNBC, call a country whom they owe over $800 bn "stupid"? Murdoch on downwards, they have been entirely fair and balanced in their distribution of cretins. In fact they are to be commended because no other news organisation, not even fake ones have ever pursued such a policy of recruiting pond scum like Beck and co., who are so singularly adept at ineptitude.

It is my thinking that the extremist fringe of the neo-con movement as championed by News Corp, was gaining momentum throughout the first decade of the noughties and with Sarah Palin joining the ranks, it seems to be approaching critical mass and from hereon in, barring an "act of god" I see nothing but a descent into political and economic entropy for not only the neo-con entity, but also more significantly for News Corp. It has been a long time in the making, but ruthlessness of this sort has been, is and forever will be self destructive and I hope that the collateral political damage to America is minimal, because political upheaval of this sort is usually followed by massive social instability, which appears ultimately, to be what they seem to wish to do.

I hope that the more sensible people within the Republican movement learn to put these mongrels on a short and tight leash, for their own good and for the good of America. It doesn't take a genius to assess what sort of damage these jackasses are capable of inflicting, both upon themselves and upon others. Most sensible people have already jumped ship, one of the most sensible Andrew Sullivan, was among them, I applaud him for it and if this somehow manages to get to you Mr. Sullivan, kindly try and speak to those closeted Republicans, who you might have been in correspondence with and try and convince them that although this assertion of their masculinity or, what is plain to see as global penis envy manifest through their caricatured personage, is unwholesome and rather contrary to the core values they seem to constantly espouse. You made clear that you thought them bigoted and well, to put it simply, foolish, if there are some who still listen to you, kindly convey to them that although people such as myself will wish to surf the Obama Tsunami of hope, for as long as we can, the rest of the world, may not have as lingering a taste for the salty delectations of the bedlamite brouhaha of the fractured Republican party, which is resulting in such unhealthy projections of internal discontent onto other nations, is neither likely to get them anywhere domestically and is likely to cause diplomatic ructions internationally.

Offended as I am by the cultural insensitivity of that rabid cur of Fox News, for having said that the Ganges "..sounds like a disease.." I am far more offended, by the imbecile who put Buddhism on a par with Christianity, no, I do not say this from any sense of cultural superiority or, misplaced sense of nationalistic/patriotic pride, but from the simple fact that to compare the most peaceful religion in the world, to one of the most violent religions in the world and then to claim that the latter trumps the former, is simply put, factually inaccurate although it is hardly surprising coming from such a dim witted pariah, this is after all an employee of the network which allowed a similar caterwauling excuse of a human being, to say that "Jews need to be perfected".

Just some thoughts from your friendly neighbourhood, "no flush" country citizen.

To lighter matters, Roger, my last encounter with parsnips was at Christmas lunch with my friend and his family in 2007, of whom his two sisters, his single mother and gay uncle were present. We ate, we drank, we laughed, argued over politics and in general indulged in a great deal of merriment. The roasted parsnips were delicious, sadly I haven't had any since, I don't eat that much, or that well these days, maybe it is from the guilt that our average per capita income only barely exceeds $1,000. Oh, the shame..If only all one billion of us could suddenly become U.S. citizens, how the mind salivates at the prospect..

I wonder if Beck could look so far back as to tell us how exactly it was that they came to enjoy such luxuries of "freedom" as they now do..hmmmm..pillaging and plundering from the natives maybe? I'd say that sounds like a plausible guess, but could such fine upstanding human beings as former slave owners be capable of such heinous acts? Couldn't be..could it?

Do not, News Corp, I repeat, DO NOT draw the ire of my kind, namely human beings, you shall regret it deeply, for there are few human beings among your staff, merely empty shells of what at some distant point in the past, could have been distinctly discerned even as creatures of some small consciousness which excluded the extreme self importance with which you regard yourself. Your days of profitable business are numbered, if you wish to accelerate your journey into the financial nether regions, be my guest. Don't say you didn't receive fair warning.

I suddenly feel lighter, it would not be an altogether unpleasant sensation, should I not be painfully aware of the method I have had to employ to express my disapproval.

My apologies if I overstepped the mark Roger and my apologies to any other sane Americans if this comment aroused any negative feelings in you, this is not my intent. Imagine yourself in my shoes and ask yourself if you wouldn't do the same, or similar, especially when one of the primary motivating factors is concern for the other.

Indian Idiot (H.W.)

P.S. I had half a mind not to post this, or anything like it, but among other things I mention at length, it was that comment on Haiti's "..deal with satan.." that also ultimately played a big part in my so doing. Please do not misjudge my words, for I love America and Americans, it is willful stupidity I have a hard time with.

On your "Lovely Bones" review:

Because you mention you have not read Alice Sebold's book, might it be premature to blame the faults of the film and/or story so prominently on Peter Jackson?

As a critic, I would be hesitant to place blame before reviewing the source material. I'm not saying your critique will change, but remember how much flack you received from your "8 minutes into the film I stopped watching it" review?

The following fact does not necessarily change any critique you might make about the film or the movie, but if you did not know this already, Alice Sebold was horrifically raped, beaten, and left bleeding (could have died) as a young woman. Her account of these events came out in her first memoir titled "Lucky" - a book about surviving and "recovering," to the degrees that is possible, after being raped.

So, your interpretation of the "moral of the story" of "The Lovely Bones" film: that after you're raped heaven will be all happiness - may be a misreading and not the film's intended emphasis (even if it is the interpretation you and many others easily make from the film). I doubt Jackson's or Sebold's intents were that simpleton.

What if the point of view of the girl narrator is adolescent? What if the point of view is not the narrator girl? What if we question the credibility of the point of view? Like we naturally question near-death subjective accounts of seeing a white light?

Spoiler alert: The book does not have a "happy ending." The killer is not caught and not brought to justice. He dies an incidental, quiet death. In other words, "happy heaven" doesn't exact "happy revenge" on him.

But one of the points of the book may be to show the goodness of the girl who was killed. And that goodness was not killed when she was killed. If she could, she would have done all the good she could. And even in death, she reaches across the barrier of Heaven and Earth to do what good she can.

@ H.W.

Spider turned out to be a non starter for me after ten minutes or so. I prefer my zombies in a more cheerful mould like Hannibal Lecter. I guess the movie is about a depth of mental sickness, which could be far more painful than any kind of physical illness, but even The Grey Zone had redeeming features built in. Life can never be 100% bleak. A living organism by definition is alive.

"We run a full-service blog here."

hilarious!

it has been a few days since i laughed out this loud and hard.

Dear Sir! Thank you very much.

Evan:

Since there is no place to post a response to your letter to Ebert, I'll answer it here.

Your statements are moronic.

"Furthermore, Rush's comments about 'light skinned and darked skinned people' is a JAB AT HARRY REID."

I miss the days when people didn't need CAPS LOCK to point out (attempted) satire. Doesn't surprise me that Rush resorts to the talk show equivalents of such idiocy, though.

Oh, and by the way -- Rush's satire? Not as clever as you seem to think it is. He's even stupider than you are. No offense. (Well, maybe some.) It's not witty. It's not subversive. It's just despicable, and in light of the tragedy, completely unforgivable. Sickening, even. Am I the only one who's tired of this blowhard drug addict's deplorable rants? (I'll never forget his cowardly digs against Michael J. Fox, for which he received fitting criticism.)

Forget politics for a moment and realize that countless thousands are either dead or fighting for their lives right now. Excuse my language, but f--k Rush Limbaugh. Really. What he's implied is monstrous.

Evan,

Just one point: There is no equivalency between what Trent Lott said and what Harry Reid said.

I believe it is correct to say that if a Republican had said what Harry Reid said, he would be taking more heat from HuffPo and other sources, but to equate support for a segregationist to an old man's poorly chosen words is silly.

Harry was obviously trying to distinguish Obama from other prominent black leaders such as the good reverends Jackson and Sharpton. He was not a glory seeker nor did he pander to the black community. However, the comments were still thoughtless.

What Trent said was either racist or incredibly stupid as he referred to his run on "States Rights" back in the day - at a time when states rights = segregation. Strom Thurmond was a racist his entuire life (and if you believe racists don't like screwing black women, you need to educate yourself) so for me persoanlly, anyone at his party was suspect to begin with.

As I admitted, if a Republican had said these things, Olbermann and HuffPo would have been all over it for a news cycle. (Olbermann may have - haven't watched the last week).

I would say Reid's comments are more on a level with O'Reilly's when he ate at that restaurant (although O'Reilly made several bad statements about that meal so probably still pulls ahead in the racist cup on that basis).

FYI to Patrick: We got our sex education from Reader's Digest.

My own 'sexual awakening' didn't occur until my late 20's. Being raised a "good boy", I spent years in frustration, playing the dating "game" and following "the rules" of civilized courtship. When I was about 28, a concerned friend sat me down and explained "You know what? Most of the time, the girl wants it just as much as you do". Say what? Girls wanted sex as much as I did? It took some time to wrap my head around that idea, but once I tested that theory, I found it to be quite accurate. Let's just say I'm not frustrated anymore.

"Let me know whether or not I'm right. We run a full-service blog here. When I was 22, I wish I had known someone like me."

I teach high school and one of my first years teaching freshmen I had a gorgeous student aide and all my 15 year old boys would rush into class so they could look at her for as long as possible. Well, after a tangential discussion of not letting fear rule you (using personal anecdotes of how my own high school experience was fraught with fear and insecurity that I didn't even hold a girl's hand until after I graduated) a young man gave my student aide a poem telling her of her beauty, his attraction, and his full realization that she would reject him but he would not not "say something." Later, after class he told me what he did and it was at that moment I decided to be the person I needed when I was in school and just talk to kids about life, theirs and mine. One of favorite discussion is during To Kill a Mockingbird and we discuss Mayella-- what motivated her to pursue Tom, her loneliness, her misguided attempts to find love, kindness, intimacy. And increasingly find that NOBODY talks to these kids about anything real--another reason I absolutely love your blog: you don't preach, you don't scream, you don't invade-- you just talk.

thank you for allowing the world to become your friend.

on a related note-- I still dream about the first time I held a girl's hand. It was an accident really. We were in my parents Lebaron with the window controls in the center console. I had the heat on (the feet) but it was getting stuffy so I reached over to crack the window and let in some cold air. Her hand was there. She thought I was going for it --so she took my hand-- so I ran with it. Ahh I'm giddy even now as I recall that moment. Thank GOD that I took that car instead of my 67 sky blue Plymouth valiant 3 speed column shift. All we did was hold hands but that moment -- oh that moment.

Thanks, Roger, for reminding everyone of how important the Leo Koch case was. I'm writing about it in my dissertation on the history of academic freedom (and if anyone knows whatever happened to Koch, please contact me at my collegefreedom.org website).

The Koch case also transformed the meaning of academic freedom in America. It sparked an internal crisis within the AAUP (American Association of University Professors): did academic freedom only protect statements in research and the classroom within a professor's expertise, or did it include "extramural utterances" such as a letter to the editor? In the end, because of the Koch case, the AAUP developed its Statement on Extramural Utterances and then modified its fundamental principles in 1970 with new "interpretive comments" to protect statements like Koch made. So the Koch case was one of the most important in the history of academic freedom.

Ebert: It seems to me one's freedom to write a letter to the editor falls under the First Amendment, regardless of your employment. What am I missing?

Here's a kicker: No university action was taken against The Daily Illini because it has always been run by its own corporation and is not owned by the University.

I understand your point, Roger, I truly do, but as soon as I read Koch's words, this part leapt off the screen at me:

"those sufficiently mature to engage in it without social consequences and without violating their own codes of morality and ethics."

As an educator who's spent the last 10 years working with both high school and college students, I feel compelled to call into question the sufficient maturity aspect. Most of the students I encounter are making poor decisions based on the actions of their peers or the influence of pop culture. These decisions are frequently detrimental, if not physically then certainly emotionally. I don't know that an "anything goes" policy has benefited the youth of America all that much. Has it truly led to "happier and longer lasting marriages"? The evidence in America's divorce rates and single-parent households surely speaks for itself.

Ebert (about my pal Shapiro, nebbish, stud, self-made multimillionaire): What does a guy like that have?

---A complete and utter lack of pretentiousness, is what I finally learned. We're still pals. If it's any consolation, he's been sick a few times. Albeit, he's fine now.

---And now, what does a guy like Roger Ebert have? I went nuts over your last essay and you've topped yourself again. This memoir of yours: if you really want to help save the world, we'll need a chapter titled "How To Do That."

S.M. Rana: I'm not sure about the physics principle in viewing a movie. Watched "Cyrano de Bergerac" with Gerard Depardieu last night for the dozenteenth time. Now here, here, is romance. Here is what I wish I were, never mind the making out or the scoring.

I do have my own personal Roxanne. How I loved her from a distance back in high school. I was afraid to say so. A couple years after graduation, by long distance letter, I confessed. I still do that to this day; we're "permanent valentines," as she put it. I so far haven't killed 100 men out of the elan of love for her. Still: despite my normal nose, I long ago realized that marriage would prob'ly have led to disaster anyhow. So this is fine.

Hey! Where's Marie Haws?

re: Rush Limbaugh: what else would one expect from a puffy fat blowhard who spent three shows haranguing his audience about how ugly a 13 year old girl was? I'm telling you again, Limbaugh's a pedophile. He's prob'ly smug that the Caribbean island he likes to visit frequently -- where you can buy presumably cuter little girls for under fifty bucks -- wasn't the one destroyed. Tho' he may visit it for a remainders and marked-down sale. Keep an eye out for a "charity" visit. Locuto est.

I always feel I come too late to the table to say anything truly intelligent, Roger, but I needed to comment anyway.

Wonderfully true column. I loved ADVENTURELAND for many reasons, but one of them was because it championed the sheer pleasure of simply "making out", without just going straight to bed. I remember my pre-marriage days fondly, with all those sessions of kissing and touching. Although I love sex and am happy to be in a relationship where I get all I want, there was something to be said for the anticipation.

I also loved your previous column on eating and its comment on candy: "Anything red, green or black is my favorite." Me, too! Do you think it's our Midwestern upbringing? Give me a bag of gumdrops with those colors only and I'm in heaven.

(Last--Thank you for that letter to Rush. What a vile man.)

Hi Roger. Thanks for being the one movie critic in America who really understands what makes a film worth seeing. Whenever a movie comes out that my teenagers think they've got to see, I always say "Let's see what Roger Ebert says about it first."

Anyway, this article you've written. I was born in 1960. Thank God that by the time I was a teenager in the 1970s, things had changed drastically in American society! As well-educated and well-read as I am, I had no idea of how bad things still were with sexuality during the early 1960s. For example, my 75-year-old mom told me last year of neighbors who lived directly behind our house in 1967-68, and how the young wife confided in my mom about her husband who had become a swinger. She was very unhappy about him pressuring her into having sex with other couples in their group. So it seems there was a rapid breakdown of the puritanic structure after the passage of Civil Rights legislation.

I have always been grateful for the amount of sexual freedom I had as a teenager -- I managed to keep my virginity until college (when I was mature enough to handle intercourse), but did most "everything else" with my boyfriends until then. However, that all took place within a society that still didn't inundate its youth with the excessive amount of sex (and violence) in the media that my kids have had to grow up with. The pendulum has swung way too far to the other side -- and I am no prude. Despite my best efforts to shield them, I've had to face the fact that one cannot protect their children from everything. So I guess I was most fortunate to go through my teenage and college years during the "transition" period -- no longer repressed, thank God, but certainly not overexposed.

"My own movables were subject to trespass."

That is surely one of the best descriptions of fooling around I've ever read. As someone who was also behind the curve among his friends, I fully agree that making out is its own reward. Heck, I'm still behind the curve; at 26, I know people who are engaged and married and I still have yet to go steady -- or even unsteady for that matter.

For a long time in the movies, making out was all that happened. Maybe that's why girls used to think that's how you got pregnant.

And we all know making out in movies can be much sexier than anything pornographic (most of the time anyway :)

Also, Roger, thanks for standing up to Rush Limbaugh. I believe keeping your elected officials in check is important, but that's not what he's doing. Asshead Limbaugh and the rest of the Fox News crowd are intellectually useless, wholly counter-productive to the spirit of democracy. Thier constant negitivity is emotionally zapping. And this is a new low. Relief organizations in Haiti need our help!

Thank you Roger

I am a Good Old Days contemporary and am here to say it wasn't just no sex. I'm afraid there also wasn't any dope and and there wasn't much rock and roll. Teendom in the 50s was a sad darn thing, I'll tell you. Don't know how we made it thru. Also, no mobile phones, no freeways, no jet travel, no In-N-Out Burger, no plastic of any kind, no FM radio, essentially no TV, no painless dentistry, no acne treatments, no xerox.... I could go on. Surely there will those who think it was a better, simpler time, but it is unlikely they were there, and I know my own children had a lot more fun and are healthier for it.

Reply to Jim T's question regarding "what if they got pregnant?" It wasn't pretty. Most often they 'disappeared' or were Sent Away.
I highly recommend this book especially to those born after reliable birth control methods became available.
http://www.thegirlswhowentaway.com/

Re: 1966

Ebert: You're right! It was the Winter of Love.

Sorry, Ebert, gotta correct you. Before the Summer of Love came the Winter of Our Discontent.

Ah Roger, you really do bring back the memories! In the early 80s I think I was the last good Catholic girl left (poor him!) After 26 years of marriage I hope that I have more than made up for it. But those make out sessions, so naughty, so exciting! Hmmmmmm., maybe there is a little time to 'go parking' tonight inbetween basketball and 4H drop off and pick ups :>)
Susan

Meeting people over the internet or using the internet as a means to meet possible dating matches is becoming more popular all the time. However, that whole "online date" thing is extremely rare.

Going out in groups is a way to meet people. Someone brings a new girl he's dating or a new girl from class he just met. She brings a few friends to meet his friends. They go see a movie, they go to a party, they all hang out at IHOP or Steak & Shake or whatever. It's a constant revolving door of people meeting people. Of course a few couples hit it off and ditch their friends on occasion. Or they will use that group time to exchange phone numbers or set up a date. I did it all the time. (the downside is that it's a very competitive atmosphere. Everyone wants the pretty girl/boy). When I go to diners, I still see the same things among the teenagers.

"and none of we bold bohemians could" shouldnt it be "None of us ...", object of the preposition and all?

Just sayin'

NICE, I'm all chubbed-up now. Thanks, Rog!

P.S. I also have an inexplicable desire to load up on Abercrombie and Fitch products.

Your (quite true) statement "it is more erotic to wonder if you're about to be kissed than it is to be kissed" reminds me a bit of the famous Hitchcock quote about suspense:

"We are now having a very innocent little chat. Let's suppose that there is a bomb underneath this table between us. Nothing happens, and then all of a sudden, 'Boom!' There is an explosion. The public is surprised, but prior to this surprise, it has seen an absolutely ordinary scene, of no special consequence. Now, let us take a suspense situation. The bomb is underneath the table and the public knows it, probably because they have seen the anarchist place it there. The public is aware the bomb is going to explode at one o'clock and there is a clock in the decor. The public can see that it is a quarter to one. In these conditions, the same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene. The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: 'You shouldn't be talking about such trivial matters. There is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!'

In the first case we have given the public fifteen seconds of surprise at the moment of the explosion. In the second we have provided them with fifteen minutes of suspense. The conclusion is that whenever possible the public must be informed. Except when the surprise is a twist, that is, when the unexpected ending is, in itself, the highlight of the story."

Funny how similar dramatic and sexual tension are in their nature.

On another note: as wonderful, amusing, and true as I found your little article to be, I am much more moved by many of the comments I've read here--specifically, those from gay or bisexual readers on the one hand, and readers currently living in more oppressive or restrictive countries on the other. (If you fall into both groups at the same time, may God have mercy on your soul!)

What strange creatures we human beings are--how our lives can be so profoundly affected by a few restrictions on the availability of sex and intimacy.

OMG - YOU'VE GOT TO CHECK THIS OUT - I LAUGHED SO HARD

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-U1uFbqO260&feature=PlayList&p=E8D28220E6CE1D83&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=10

& what's best is his surname - Butt-Ars

Bows.

Exits (no pun intended).

Indian Idiot (H.W.)

Leo Koch! What a strange story that was and is. I was working (actually playing) at WPGU (the low-wattage student radio station, for your non-Illini readers) at the time. There was Very Serious discussion on how to handle this Very Controversial story on the hourly news break. I wrote a one-minute version that managed (I think) to sympathize with Koch while not getting the station shut down by the Thought Police. My one and only Big Story in my very brief radio career.

oh well, since others have brought up the lovely bones...

i read the book about three years ago, and my recollection seems distant from the film. i don't recall anything all happy, dancy, and all that. i don't recall a great deal of text given to the investigation. my recollection says it's was more retrospective, the main character looking back at the short life she had while also watching her family to see how they were dealing with her death.

sebold did a fabulous job of putting the reader inside the mind of this poor girl. however, my one complaint, from a writing angle, was that the language and sentence structure was not at all the voice of such a young girl with a story told in first person. it was too grown up.

i won't see the movie. i don't need to. even if jackson had made the movie word for word, scene for scene with the book, it still won't come close. this book is a very personal experience. it's not something to be celebrated in a theater and watched with hundreds of others. the movie shouldn't have been made because too many people will forego the book and see the movie instead, and thus miss something special. i'm sure that sentence can apply to many books.

i was drained when i finished the book. i wanted to cry as if i needed a cathartic experience. i wanted to find my kids and hold them, watch them fall asleep. the last thing i wanted to do was walk through a lobby, look at a popcorn machine, and go out for coffee and pie.

H.W.! Glad you're back. A funny thing: my 'puter was frozen on this page and I read the bottom part of your post, not knowing who it was, and thought "who's that guy? He's really good!"

Roger just tweeted that Dennis Hopper is filing for divorce on his deathbed. Sad reason?

Apropos the subject: when my father-in-law was on his deathbed, he told his wife just how unhappy she had made him with no sex for the past 45 years. Sex, for her, was strictly for making babies, and their last baby was now 45 years old. So, for her punishment, he told her, he wouldn't let her in to see him until after he died. He lived 2 more weeks.

He'd always been a strange mix of sweet and friendly and very grumpy. We finally understood why.

Wonderful observations and reminiscer on the joys of affection; making out is an element of romance sadly being lost on much of today's culture. My only complaint: in your included videos below your post, where is Bill Plympton's fantastic "How To Kiss"?

PZ

Nearly everything that Professor Koch envisioned in his letter came true and then some. I say "nearly" because he ended his letter with a prediction.

"would ... lead to happier and longer lasting marriages among our young men and women."

Whoops! The exact opposite happened. Maybe those untold millions of people who set up thousands of different cultures all over the entire world weren't all idiots.

Despite the above observation I loved the blog entry and thanks for extolling the virtues of "making out"

Dear Mr. Ebert:

Along with these deplorable typos, you also have a smudge on the side of your nose. No, not that side, the other one. Lower. Lower. That's it. Don't use your fingers, haven't you got a Kleenex, for Christ's sakes?

As one who never has careless smudges on either side of his nose, I always appreciate the opportunity to prove out my superiority in some small way. Thank you.

@Tom Dark

Laws have exceptions. You are trailing far behind my brother-in-law who saw the Bollywood 60s hit Mughal-e Azam ( The Supreme Moghal ) ninety eight times. Strains my credibility too but it seems to be true. Anyway I intend to take your cue about Cyrano de Bergerac, because I was quite fascinated by it's Classics Illustrated version in my younger days. The most number of times for me is Lawrence of Arabia maybe four to five times.

Does anyone know of other similar cinematic feats?

I have been working at an institution of higher learning for the past 3 years here in the Pacific Northwest. When I first started working in Old Main, I was told there was an annual "sex on campus" day that took place every May on the then (female) college president's birthday. I never saw any signs of this, thankfully; we now have a male president; and I work in a location removed from campus.

I don't know what I'd do if I came across a couple in full swing, as it were. I have issues with PDAs* whether between opposite or same sex couples.

But I remember the days of vastly preferring making out, the softness of lips, the downiness of cheeks, the whisps of hair in the way, the clutching, the illicit brief fondling but nothing further.

One of the first dates with my current husband in the mid '90s was at a Santa Cruz drive-in with a 6 pack of Coors and "True Lies" on the big screen. I still don't remember what the movie was about. He was 34 and I was 42, a cougar ahead of my time.

*public display of affection

When does "making love" not mean "having sex"?

I'm 40, which means the 70's was my first decade of learning. I watched a lot of TV, and TV taught me that “making love” meant the same as “necking.” TV also taught me that sex was something that women didn’t enjoy, that men did it to women, and that it was definitely not tender and loving. Thankfully, I know better now.

How did I learn those lessons? Two ways that both started with a (frequently young) couple passionately kissing.

First Way: The scene ended right there. Cut to the next day. Someone, perhaps an inquisitive friend or a demanding parent, wants to know, “What happened last night?” The reply would be, “We made loved!” I put 2 and 2 together and got 4. It was a long time before someone told me that that I was missing a part of the equation.

Second Way: The tender scene became ugly as the man tried to get to the next base. While it (usually) was not a rape going on, there was always a lot of “No” coming from the woman’s mouth and a lot of male hands being pushed away. In a later scene, when the woman was talking about what had happened, she would say, “He wanted to have sex,” in a he’s-a-pig tone. So, I ended up with another equation.

Why did I end up with these incorrect equations? A big part of the problem — at least in my opinion — was the censorship standards for TV in the 70’s and earlier. I include earlier because I did watch shows from earlier decades. (Even though the TV was color, Lucy in B&W was still very funny.) Another part of the problem was that nobody told me any better. The “best” source of sex education at the time was my friends. And remember that we were all pre-teens.

Anyway, Roger, thanks for the article and the trip down memory lane. Although, for a person of my age, it is a trip down the memories of what I saw on TV, not what I actually experienced.

Regarding Ebert's question in response to my comment, "It seems to me one's freedom to write a letter to the editor falls under the First Amendment, regardless of your employment. What am I missing?"

For private employees, there has never been a right to have a job. For public employees, this is very much in the news in the wake of the Supreme Court's Garcetti ruling, and courts are increasingly restricting the right of public employees to write letters to the editor on issues related to their jobs (irrelevant issues such as Koch's, ironically, are more protected). In the case of Sadid v. Idaho State University, the court reasoned that “government employers need a significant degree of control over their employees’ words and actions.” The court therefore disagreed with Sadid’s assertion that because his job description did not include writing letters to the newspaper critiquing the ISU administration, he was writing as a private citizen rather than as a public employee. The court decided that the “tone” of Sadid’s letters “is that of an employee of ISU,” and added that Sadid “should understand that he has limitations of his speech that he accepted when becoming a state employee.”(http://www.aaup.org/AAUP/protectvoice/Legal/)

Ebert: I am naive. I thought freedom of speech was more broadly defined.

About the reaction to your "Lovely Bones" review...it sounds like you were morally repulsed by the premise of the movie. My wife and I must have had a similar reaction when we watched "The Hangover" last night. I was mystified, because we hated it. But but but Roger loved it, and it's at about 80% on the Tomatometer with top critics, so how could we think it was so bad? I'm not sure, because I can't go back and re-experience the movie, but I was so horrified by the baby scenes, and the pedophilia jokes, that it took me right out of the movie. I didn't think those scenes were even remotely funny. I'm not sure if I would have thought the later stuff was funny, because by then the tone was set, and the real edginess of the humor and situations left me horrified and uncomfortable, rather than laughing. I'm going to be apologizing to my wife for weeks after recommending that one based on the good reviews.

Here's an excerpt from Bill Plympton's "How To Kiss." First there's a short called "How to Quit Smoking." Plympton's always been a favorite of mine.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nVOBewHhph4

NINETY EIGHT TIMES, SM???? I'm going to look up "Mughal-e Azam" then. Lawrence of Arabia, twice for me. Probably again some day. Oh yes, DePardieu's "Cyrano" on my all-time favorite list. At least, I can guarantee to Wael that it'd be on my Top Ten.

Have been thinking about MLC's comment; indeed, who did Koch think were responsible young adults? (I haven't found whatever happened to him yet, either. I've passed a bit I've found on to John here, who's doing a paper on him.)

As for me, even at home as a teen, there was nothing my folks could have done to stop me. There was always the drainpipe to climb down in the middle of the night. So foo to them. I'm sure my "foo" added to a chorus of many millions. Catch me if you can!

But a responsible, independent young feller like me would have never. Ever. Come CLOSE to causing a baby!

On the other hand, there were, and remain, girls who thought they could tie their teenage boy down with a baby. This still goes on. It doesn't work too well, does it.

The responsibility -- or lack of it -- is in our cheap assembly-line religious ideas, and in psychology's too. There may be a natural, highly individualized order of things to romance and mating, but I expect it's among tribes of people even more remote than the Tasaday, yet undiscovered, and we'd probably just screw them up.

I've met couples who got married at 16 and stayed that way comfortably all their lives. First year in college, a little group of us do-gooders tried to talk an 18-year-old couple out of marriage: they'd known each other only a WEEK, for Pete's sake. They delayed their formal marriage, but 40 years later they're still happily married. So is one of my cousins, married at 18.

Who is to judge who is "responsible," and by what criteria? I think the high divorce rate suggests that our criteria sucks.

Your thoughtful prose has been a companion since the Daily Illini days, and it's your movie reviews I first turn to, but I've only just now noticed your Blogs. Very interesting, quite moving and reflective. Thank you... I'll look forward to many more.

Images of C-U are dominating my thoughts after this piece: trudging through rain and snow for those melt-in-your-mouth late-night Spudnuts [potato-flour donuts to the unenlightened], packing into the pool-hall/cafe on Green Street for Friday and Saturday's huge fish sandwiches and the amusingly/affectionately rude waitress's comments, and those old or foreign movies at the auditorium at the south end of the Quad -- the awe of seeing that Russian "War and Peace", 8 hours over two nights. A life of three-foot rules and long frustrated passions... those ridiculous moments of testosterone poisoning -- including such absurdities as my near-loss of virginity in a snow-bank off the Quad one winter evening.

I recall Revilo P Oliver's name being spoken of, but not the extent of his politics. Perhaps it's a miss-recollection, but I recall a friend in the Music Department saying Revilo'd requisitioned a harpsichord for his digs without permission!

Was it the Capitol Bar where they occasionally crammed musicians near the front door? I recall Charles Mingus playing in a too crowded spot along Green, just a couple of blocks east of campus. That's the only real bar I recall on Green, itself, at that time [although, later, they built a bar with rock music near the tracks].

Again, thanks for the memories... we overlapped briefly in C-U as I graduated in '68 and 'stayed another eleven years on staff. And thanks for your reflections on dining; that's the first I've heard of your health issues and your post filled me with an odd mix of pleasure in your prose and a sadness that you're beset with health problems.

Ebert: Ah, yes, the Spudnut shop. With the sign on the mirror facing the counter: "No reading."

Enjoyed how you made the heading "Making Out Is It's Own Reward" contradict the previous "Nil By Mouth." A loss followed by a celebration, in and around the mouth. Your spirit is well I presume . . .

So Roger, my first boy friend..Dan..Whoo boy the major huggin and rubbin and making out..kissing and kissing.After we broke up I would come home from dates and he would be out walking the dog and after my date said good night Dan would be over for a major makeout session.
One night I heard my Mom say"so is so and so still here?"
"And my Dad replied"nope Dan is with her now."
We confused everyone incuding ourselves.Luckily Dan met the love of his life in highschool and they were together until her death last year.At her funeral,which she planned,started with "Stair Way to Heaven"and mellowed with"Brown Eyed Girl"I saw Dan for the first time in over 20 years,We hugged and held each other for just long enough..Oh man getting old definitely not for sissies.
Thankyou for making us look into the mirror and listen to the music.

Mr. Ebert,

I'm sorry to divert from the direction of the comments so far but I'd like to bring to your attention that, after reading your GREAT MOVIES entry for "CACHE," I went to 20:39 in the movie to try and find the 'smoking gun.' Well, I couldn't find it. In fact, all that I see is a mid-pan-in shot of the little boy, Majid as he is coughing up blood. Any suggestions to help me find it? I am definitely intrigued by any mise-en-scene detail that Michael Haneke may have had "hidden" in the movie.

Ebert: That's exactly the shot. What does it mean? The accusation of TB was true? And what of the possibility it is not Majid as a boy, but Pierrot? I gotta look at it again.

Hello Tom. BIG WAVE. I'm glad to be back. I think you might have meant “..who's that guy/gal/thing?..” after all, I haven't taken the Turing Test yet :)

Also, I'm thinking the same thing, where IS Marie? I miss her. Lots.

Don't know the reason for Dennis Hopper's reasons for divorce and don't care to speculate either. His personal life is none of my business, even if he wishes to make it so, unless it involves something of spectacular interest, or potential effects on humanity, especially when he is in such poor health. He is one hell of an actor whom I admire a lot. A G-knew-wine pie-a-kneer. As for your father in law, let me guess, Catholic was he? Thank you for your generous praise, I am an undeserving but nevertheless grateful little person.

S.M. Thank you for making the effort of trying to watch “Spider”. If you insist on watching a film exclusively on your own terms, I'm afraid I can be of no help to you.

In other “news” –

Dregs Buttfeld of Coch's Mews: “..if I had the number of a good shrink, I'd give it to you..”

Suddenly, it's all so clear! Lack of appropriate psychiatric treatment is the reason behind Dupert Cur-Coch's Mews Warp insanity.

My prognosis is that upon detailed brain scanning, all these “journalists” will be found to have severe lesions, suffered no doubt from extreme head trauma, inflicted upon them by the clubs of their Neanderthal parents. Mews Warp, I refer you all owner, family and staff, to a good neurosurgeon, to perform the appropriate brain surgery and as it turns out, I happen to know of one of the best American neurosurgeons, Dr. Sanjay Gupta. I'll leave the Herculean task of ascertaining his ancestry to you, fine and able “journalists”.

We ought to show these people compassion. They are mentally disabled.

What Buttfeld should also have said – “..if I'd had a decent education, I'd try to give that to you too, sadly..”

Say no more Sewage Mouth.

SAY NO MORE.

SERIOUSLY.

JUST SHUT UP.

ALL YOU MORONS AT COCH'S MEWS.

Indian Idiot (H.W.)

Interesting.

http://publici.ucimc.org/nov2001/112001_8.htm

Universities and the 'War on Terrorism'
by Belden Fields

I first became associated with the University of Illinois in 1956, when I enrolled as a freshman at the University of Illinois in Chicago. At that time the Chicago campus occupied the northern half of Navy Pier. Needing money to help with expenses, I applied for a job at the University Bookstore. It was there that I was confronted for the first time with a concrete manifestation of the Cold War.

As an eighteen-year-old youth, I was told that in order for me to be employed by the bookstore, I would be obliged to sign a loyalty oath swearing that I was not a member of any organization which the US Attorney General had declared to be subversive. I signed the oath. After all, I considered myself a loyal American. But I did not begin to comprehend the real meaning of it all until I transferred to the Urbana campus, where I experienced a certain cognitive dissonance. On the one hand, I took courses in constitutional law and civil liberties, which taught me a deeper appreciation for both the importance and the fragility of our rights. At the same time, I learned that the Illinois state legislature had passed a law forbidding Communists from speaking on the campus.

I was also here when a biology professor named Leo Koch wrote a letter to the Daily Illini advocating looser sexual norms for consenting students. A right-wing anti-communist former missionary to China, whose daughter was a student at the university, campaigned in the state legislature and among other parents to pressure the university to fire Koch. The missionary claimed that Professor Koch was part of a communist conspiracy to destroy the morals of our youth...

(After which, Koch did form an organization called "the Sexual Freedom League" joined by Poet Alan Ginsberg and other such luminaries of the day (Ginsberg later went on be spokesman for NAMBLA, a group advocating sex between grown men and boys). The Sexual Freedom League advocated naked parties and free sex and so on. It purportedly had offices in the various major cities. I smell a movie. Any budding documentarians out there?)

Okay, let me get you to clarify on something --- Am I supposed to be looking for a SMOKING GUN--that is, a hidden image of a literal gun that is smoking in the frame--or is that just the term you use to signify a revelation about a hidden facet to Haneke's film? As for the WHO of the shot: I'm pretty sure it's Majid... But, I'm going to check again too. THIS MOVIE GETS IN MY SKIN, MAN!

Ebert: Not a real gun, A clue.

@Tom Dark

NINETY EIGHT TIMES, SM???? I'm going to look up "Mughal-e Azam" then.

At least the heroine Madhubala, a dancing girl who falls in love with the prince, is an all time legendary beauty.

It started b/w but recently was coloured with some technology, so you have a choice.

I wasn't actually recommending it, since it is pure "old Bollywood", and I don't know how you will find it. But I am planning to see it myself for old times sake, to refresh myself on this no 2 grosser all time hit after Sholay, which might be close to Yojimbo

To Jim Emerson - Adults in Scotland are drinking the equivalent of 46 bottles of vodka each in a year, - ..because, they need industrial strength fermentation to digest their "Deep Fried Mars Bars" and "Haggis Pakoras".. it's a shame because the Scots are wonderful people and it'd be lovely if they lived a lot longer than their eating and drinking habits allow.

On the other hand, I can't help thinking there might be a correlation between the Scottish mortality rate and their overall jovial outlook. I believe this addresses a question you asked yesterday..insufficiently maybe, but it is an answer, which is more than others have given you as far as I can tell..

Indian Idiot (H.W.)

I am considering going international for college and attending the University of Cape Town, and as a college-bound American youth, I must ask, how was the party life while you were there? Many opportunities for movables trespassing?

Ebert: Let me put it this way. Given its geigraphy, it's the only city in the world with hot and cold running beaches.

Not to interrupt the lovefest, but we just finished watching "Whatever Works" and I wandered over to your site before going to bed and saw your letter to Limbaugh. Allen's screed against human venality seems a lot less strident right now. We all better find someone to make out with before it's too late.

p.s. "As I walk through this wicked world, searching for light in the darkness of insanity, I ask myself, 'Is all hope lost? Is there only pain and hatred and misery?' And each time I feel like this inside there's one thing I want to know: What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding?" --Elvis C.

Tom Dark: If you were to invest time in an Indian Movie I would rather you saw the hilarious and profound Satyajit Ray movie about British India, which in my personal view is the best movie ever made in the Hindi language. If you like, you can have a look at my essay about it here.

Roger once ordered the DVD ( $10 ) on my suggestion but I am sure he never got down to viewing it.

Ebert: "The Chess Players?" I certainly did.

SM, it so happens YouTube has a lot of excerpts for "Mughal-e Azam." Have been looking them over. I haven't even seen "Lagaan" yet, which Roger recommended. I've been working my way through various Bollywood films starring Bachchan. He's got a lot of natural power and I expect it will only increase with his age. Spielberg will find parts for him I bet. I'd recommend chief investigator Vidyasagar in my friend Sriram's epic novel, which, apparently, Spielberg now has. And while the intellectual of your species do put down the formula, those dance numbers are quite cheerful. They're fun.

HW, in fact, I could tell yours was the writing of a male. It's occasionally plain in some writing, a certain cadence. My Sikh friend at the general store -- your father's age -- is pleased with your writing progress. Forgive that he still wears his turban and beard, even though we're in the southwest. He and I both would look ludicrous in cowboy hats.

If you'd like to see what this general store looks like, look up "Beer for My Horses." I think it has its actual name in the shot, "Lone Butte General Store." Owned and operated by Punjabi Sikhs, not drawling cowboys.

I've been meaning to tell another tale about my old pal Merci, 103, apropos to the topic. I just checked in, and sure enough, she's fine, sailing toward 104 as she one day said wearily she needed to do. "And don't think I can't do it," she said. She was 99 at the time.

What a thing, hearing tales of romance from another time from one who was there, in the roaring 1920s. Her bohemian friends had nicknames like "Skeets" (Skeets was a hot jazz pianist who died of syphilis).

The truth is, Merci is a lesbian. Her family as yet doesn't know. I'd still see a certain twinkle in her eye when a young woman would stop in while we were a-chat.

She married a rich man at the advice of her lover, Grace. The wedding was widely celebrated. Bo Jangles danced 2 miles at the head of the procession down 5th Avenue (at the time, Greenwich Village had cows and streams).

The gay procession, all arms waving in time to Bo Jangles, approached the church. Merci caught the look in her groom's eye, standing on the steps, thinking "who are these strange people?" and every bone in her body told her to turn and run. But social decorum said get it over with.

And so she did. Her husband turned out to be an alcoholic who'd disappear for weeks at a time -- he had a secret harem. She raised her 3 boys alone, albeit with Grace's help.

Almost 80 years later she's confessing to me that she still isn't sure she should have had any children. She means it, even while her sons are in their seventies and she's outlived one so far. She's still trying sadly to figure out her husband, who's been dead nearly 50 years.

At her knee, I learn that romance never stops, ever, even when it's long past invisible.

Sorry for being extra chatty, but someone has translated one of the Bollywood songs from "Mughal-e Azam." Now tell me how cheap Bollywood is! This approaches Rabindrath Tagore's romantic poetry (and it rhymes wonderfully in the original):

my love will not be able to hide
in all four directions he can be seen
when there is no curtain or veil from God
then why hide behind the curtain or veil from the followers
when loved then why be afraid
have loved, not stolen any thing
why hide and sigh
when loved then why be afraid

when loved then why be afraid
desire for him will stay in my heart
a lamp will continue to burn in this gathering
will live in love, will die in love
what else is there for me to do now
when loved then why be afraid

A person in this world love some one just once
lives with this pain, dies with this pain
when loved then why be afraid
have loved, not stolen any thing
why hide and sigh
when loved then why be afraid
today I will tell the story of my heart
even if the world takes my life
death is the one that the world sees
what is the point in dying by suffocating alone

There's still plenty of making out in the modern world. I've made out with a lot more girls than I've slept with: either I don't quite like them enough, or vice versa, or we talk for a bit and realize we don't like each other at all! Luckily I don't consider a night out that leads to nothing but making out a failure.

You shouldn't dismiss online dating. People you meet at bars and clubs generally have nothing in common with you and so aren't real suitable to a relationships. Friends can make good partners, but it's common for all of your friends of the appropriate gender to already be in relationships. Online dating is LESS lonely than just waiting for your friends to break up with their partners, isn't it?

Since others are commenting on The Lovely Bones, I will too.

The Lovely Bones is a uniquely American movie. It's a movie for everybody who distrusts the creepy loner, a black youth or a Muslim airline passenger. It's for everybody who can take a bat and proceed to beat the shit out of somebody based on a gut feeling and no evidence.

Based on the statistics, Susie Salmon, if she were real, was more likely to be raped by a family member or close friend of the family, not the creepy neighbor. High-profile incidents have petrified our society. They call it stranger danger, and this movie is its vindication. We are a paranoid nation and not even for the right reasons.

The heavenly sequences are equally disturbing. I wish I were raped and murdered so I could go to heaven.

"I was here for a moment, and then I was gone."

You are not here for a moment. You are here for an average of eighty years. Eighty years to make the world a better place. Eighty years to make a difference. Eighty years to make someone's life a little brighter. Eighty years to experience the joy that life offers.

It was John Lennon who said, "Imagine there's no heaven. It's easy if you try."

Imagine that we could experience heaven on Earth.

What a lovely post, Roger. I am flooded with warm summer nights at any of the many drive-ins we once had in our area, my first love who could kiss better than anyone I have ever known before or since, and the wonderful belief that a full and charmed life lay ahead. Making out was such fun, you are so right. I remember what we called “parking” which was a blast – of course, someone in the group needed to have a car either his dad’s or, if you were lucky enough to be dating such a fellow, his own. It was the mid sixties and I was a teenager. Couldn’t ask for more.

By the time I got to college, it was the fall of 1969 and I was still bitter over the fact that my parents wouldn’t let me go to that little concert in Woodstock, NY. But, at least, our dorms didn’t have curfew – we had cardkeys to get into our locked front doors. There was one “co-ed” dorm on campus but it was really segregated living, boys in one wing and girls on another. Social rules were changing dramatically during that time, though.

Now, as a mother of a couple of women in their 20s, I find myself scandalized from time to time. It took me a while before I realized what they and their friends were talking about when they dropped the term “hooking up”. We used to “hookup” at the diner then all go to Susan’s and stay over which meant we gals would meet, have a soda, secretly smoke cigarettes which we could buy without identification at the drugstore, and then go to Susan’s for a night of dancing to the latest Motown releases and doing each others’ hair. Imagine my unhappy surprise....

I reared my girls alone during their teenaged years, a task which took all the available emotional energy I had. After they went off to college then onto lives of their own, I thought that perhaps I would seek out a boyfriend. I turned to the internet and found someone who I thought was funny and who lived relatively close by (clearly, my standards have changed). Then he told me he wanted me to shave my entire body and come “al fresco” (or without underwear of any kind) to our first meeting. Call me old fashioned, but I have decided that celibacy is, indeed, a sane and sound ideal.

PS: Thank you for handing Rush Limbaugh his butt on a plate. Really, THAT MAN!

Sorry to do this, Roger, but I can't risk having this message get deleted or ignored if I go through the Answer Man channels.

I re-visited Cache again after your Great Movies essay, and am now even more puzzled. The smoking gun you speak of, at 20:39... are you referring to the obvious shot? If so, an abbreviated version of that same shot occurs at 13:24. We could debate exactly what this shot implies (if anything), but given that I can't imagine you missed the first shot, I'm led to believe you're talking about the moments immediately preceding the second shot. That is, as the camera is moving, before it reaches its target. I've been replaying those moments, looking for clues, and cannot find anything.

Help a brother get some sleep?

Oh, Roger. You always articulate so beautifully what I secretly suspect.
My boyfriend and I are both in our mid-30s. Six months ago we both weren't long out of very damaging long-term relationships when we met on the shared balcony of two of those side-by-side bedsit apartments that people move into when they're not long out of long-term relationships.
On that balcony we cultivated a gentle neighbourliness of cigarette-breaks, then shared pots of tea. This led (when it rained) to an invitation into his apartment. Here I stumbled onto his collection of DVDs - Bergmans, Roegs, Paul Morriseys, Hammer horror, a much loved copy of "Performance", more - and something forgotten throbbed in my heart.
We spent the next weeks casually meeting, we told ourselves, as friends. One Friday we went to a movie and talking over a post-show drink he leant over and brushed away a lose curl of my hair that had fallen over my eyebrow. As his hand retracted, we exchanged a gaze we both knew was the end of our relationship as friendly neighbours.
Much later, after many cups of tea on the balcony, somehow we managed to kiss one another. I swear he started it but he says it was me. It lasted hours.
We were both too damaged from recent experience to let one another see our scars too quickly; amongst many nervous mutual explanations, we decided to don pyjamas and "just sleep" in one another's arms.
This continued nightly for a week and, oh god, when we did have sex for the first time, the intimacy we'd built on kisses completely unlaced the armour of my cynical Gen-X sexual persona. He knew my body so well I felt truly naked for the first time.
What was the film that led to the drink that led to the touch that led to the gaze, that endless kiss, these thrills, the bliss I'm feeling now? Tommy Wiseau's deplorable "The Room". And us both Bergman fans. Love's funny.

This entry brought back intense memories of pleasures past. "Making out" was indeed the term we used, and conquests were measured in numbers of girls we made out with. Intercourse was never discussed, although in high school, the boys talked about a particular girl who "put out." No one admitted having taken advantage of that girl, though her supposed promiscuity was commonly assumed. It seemed to me that making out was its own reward and led to frequent masturbatory imaginings. Ah, such blissful innocence.

I'm U of I alum from the 90s (@Randy Masters: I was in Hopkins). Where on Green Street was the Capitol bar? When I was there, the older students hung out at places like Murphy's and the White Horse Inn (mostly we tried to stay away from Daniels street and other places where drinking was done exclusively from Solo cups).

Ebert: The Capitol became Murphy's.

I remember my first kiss. I was sixteen and innocent. I was sober, we had just stopped at the old ice cream bar in town, then we walked down to the pier by the river and sat watching the moonlight. It took me about ten minutes to build up the nerve to make a move--the first move I ever made. Now, at 20 years of age, I am slightly ashamed of the circumstances surrounding a make out session. It usually is preceded by the consumption of alcohol, and is usually, as you put it, a "fore" to something else. Unfortunately, going on a "date" with someone you barely know, but want to know, is considered creepy, and the girl is concerned that your intentions may not be so innocent. Thanks for the entry!

Ebert: The two of you were sober and really there in the moment. What could be better?

Tom said: “HW, in fact, I could tell yours was the writing of a male. It's occasionally plain in some writing, a certain cadence.”

You have the nose of a bloodhound and the reason of a wily fox Tom, but still, mighty certain of yourself aren't you?

Not that I am claiming to be that sophisticated (because “in reality” I am just a plain little person), but this could all be a well thought out production couldn't it? Or, suppose I am writing a thesis titled “Character assertion, reinforcement and other sundry traits of fictive web dramaturgy, a detailed study” for my third doctorate in diarist literary theory. I'm not saying that's what I'm doing, but it's possible, wouldn't you concede? For all you know, my name could be Rosalind Pinker, born and bred in Napa (or is it NAPA?), tenured professor in contemporary English literature at Stanford University.

Think about it, if you can get a Bollywood song translated so quickly, I could get some Indian students, of which there are quite a few at Stanford, to furnish me with details and translations. Or, better still, I didn't actually spend close to seven years in Europe, but did so in India “finding myself” or, as I like to put it, trying to become Indian to the best of my abilities and as far as an American audience is concerned, succeeding marvellously. Why, even another “bona fide” Indian, appears to believe that I am actually Indian. I could be, then again .. .. you see where I'm going with this?

Your tales are most charming, always, but If you intend to make me a character in them, know that I shall not be a willing participant (or, maybe that's what I want you to think I'm doing) unless you're the reincarnation of Virginia Woolf, which you might well be, how would I know otherwise? Oh, oh .. I know .. I know .. I shall look out for “the signs” ;)

Grins a very masculine grin, or, is that a vainglorious feminine smile posing as a masculine grin?

Thought for the day –

Hmmmm .. ..

Exits.

Indian Idiot (H.W.)

Anticipation...yes. I had been hanging out with a young lady for about a month and had been seeking advice from colleagues on how to make a move. I was not inexperienced, but there had been a dry spell. What to do?

On December 13, 1972, following an exam, an old movie at the Green Lantern coop in Madison, Wisconsin, and an inexplicable bout of dual double bubble gum chewing, the advance was made back at her apartment. Sticky to say the least. And deliciously exploratory. And we're still married.

Tom said: "what is the point in dying by suffocating alone"

Well, the joy of solitude to begin with and also, if one is into that sort of thing, death by auto erotic asphyxiation could be to that individual, the ultimate last hurrah ..

Ebert: Me, I focus on the next hurrah.

Roger, thanks for telling us what kind of free speech shouldn't subject the speaker to "horse-whipping," i.e., that which you agree with.

Apparently, only liberals are able to express themselves about a sitting president. I'd suggest you Google "Bush lied" or "Bush Hitler" and see how many hits you get.

And no, I don't trust the guy who spent all week buying off union cronies from SEIU and UAW for Obamacare, instead of calling heads of state and campaign donors to raise money for Haiti relief, with my money.

Ebert: "Bush Hitler," 8,960,000. "Obama Hitler," 7,560,000, but he's only been in office a year.

"Bush lies," 13,000,00. "Obama lies," 14,800,00. Again, with Obama only in office a year.

Starting fresh with these statistics, what was your point again?

The actions are the same, only the names have changed. At 38, I'm still young enough to embrace "hooking up," but too old to let go of "macking;" I can only hope I never get too old to forget how to do both.

Tom said: "what is the point in dying by suffocating alone"

HW: Well, the joy of solitude to begin with and also, if one is into that sort of thing, death by auto erotic asphyxiation could be to that individual, the ultimate last hurrah ..

Ebert: Me, I focus on the next hurrah.

No no, fellas, I didn't say that. That was a rough translation from a song in "Mughal-e Azam." The heroine was singing a love song that disturbed the Rajah and his cohorts greatly -- apparently she was sweet on the wrong man so far as they were concerned.

I am a great lover of solitude; not keen on auto erotic asphyxiation, however. Nor anal sex, felching, rubber clothing, D/s, butt plugs, silk ropes, hot wax, genital or breast clamps, dildoes, nor a host of such freedoms.

I too flinched a bit at "horsewhipping," Roger, even though, unlike your illiterate opponents, I know it's a traditional allusion. But I know you didn't mean MY horses. I do in fact have a couple of horsewhips, however; meaner expressions of disapproval have been performed on the Congress floor.

I think just a few healthy strops with one of those across sLimebaugh's fat behind might also have him reconsidering his phony position on "waterboarding" -- if not his position on how sexy 13-year-old girls need look for his enthusiastic approval.

By the way, those of you commie "conservatives" who are downplaying waterboarding don't seem to realize it was outlawed in 1948. So the entire circus-clown media debate has been fake all along. See my list above for tortures that are indeed legal, why not find the right one for you?

Seeing a few people mentioning Indian films, I thought I'd chime in. My experience with Indians in films mostly consists of having seen American movies with Indian characters in them ("Outsourced," "Bend it Like Beckham," "The Darjeeling Limited"). But recently, I got the chance to see the ridiculously entertaining "Monsoon Wedding." Everything about it felt so alive. I've never seen a portrait of a family quite like it; everyone is so warm and loving (aside from that one uncle, who was a bit of a bastard), not to mention a hundred times more appealing than the typical sweaty Italian family (no offense intended) that tends to be the norm for American movies. It felt very light on its feet, so I was surprised when it was over at how much it had affected me. Also, like someone else mentioned about Indian films, it managed to be both sensual and erotic without anything overtly sexual ever occurring. If most Indian films are like this, I find that pretty amazing, because at the moment, I can't think of ONE American movie like it.

Actually, that kind of got me thinking. Pretty much every American movie I can think of about young love, even the good ones, barely show a kiss before it's immediately on to sex. Even "Say Anything" - probably one of the best movies about teen romance out there - after the initial courtship, pretty much goes straight to getting it on. I don't know if this blase attitude towards sex is unique to Americans (that seems very possible), or if it's just the studios and filmmakers showing what they think audiences want to see, or what. Either way, I wish they'd take a few pages out of Indian cinema's book.

Ebert: Well, there's "Rachel Getting Married."

Of course I'm certain, HW; one can't live as precariously as I do and not be recklessly certain of himself. While I could tell the posting frozen on my computer was a male's, I couldn't tell it wasn't an American's writing... a highly intelligent American's at that. The World Government Conspiracy has been putting Dumb-Down juice in our ball caps. If you are a yankophile, check yours for a little tab that says "DD."

And check your initials; I think the "HW" in "Indian Idiot HW" stands for "Horace Walpole." Why you are fascinated by Horace Walpole may also need investigation.

Me, the reincarnation of Virginia Woolf! The very idea! I am the insufferably masculine reincarnation of Ambrose Bierce, sir; so prithee that when I use you for a story you fare as well as Boffer Bings. And just for that, I now declare that you used to be Gertrude Atherton. I thought so. Yes, yes, it's just like her to reincarnate as an atheist ex-Sikh. In India.

I know fake Sikhs. They have red and blonde and brown hair and beards, sound like they grew up in Cleveland, and probably admire themselves in the mirror in those dandy exotic duds. Is there a word in Sikh Scripture for "ass-hole"?

Here is a complete transcript of my first attempt to kiss a girl. We were 13 going on 14. Her name was Kathy. We went to the movies like we were supposed to. I put my arm around her like I was supposed to. The movie was "Red Line 7000". I didn't understand it, nor quite why I was supposed to put my arm around her. After awhile it started aching, but the effort of holding it there seemed more important for man-dom than either the movie or Kathy. The movie ended and I walked her home. We got to her front porch. As follows:

Me: "Close your eyes..."
Kathy: "No."
Me: "Okay. Well, see ya 'round," I said, offering a handshake.
Kathy: "Okay, bye."

It was only a couple weeks later that her brother Larry borrowed our old .22 rifle, took it hunting with a couple of unintelligent friends, and one of them accidentally shot Larry exactly square in the back with it; he didn't know the 40-year-old safety didn't work, he said. Larry died immediately after turning around with surprise on his blue face, falling to the ground. He'd had a heart condition owing to rheumatic fever. At the wake, his older sister, sobbing hysterically, nearly pulled his body out of the coffin.

It was the last time I saw Kathy.

I went on one date after that, and it was so mortifying having the young lady's Presbyterian pastor father drive us to the movies and back, I never went on a date again. I winged it from thereon.

Her name was Hope. Hope always got tremendous headaches after our teen love-and-curiosity sessions. This was my first witness that guilt causes headaches. Had they come before instead of after, she might have got along better with her mom. I wound up liking her mom better anyhow.

"Why, even another “bona fide” Indian, appears to believe that I am actually Indian"...H.W.

From the chasteness of the one line response in the Panjabi language he gave me in this column some time back, he is assuredly from the heartland of Panjab ( it sent my own humbler command of the mother tongue reeling ), unless the response was a second hand manufactured one, which cannot be. Regarding gender, no opinion. We could have a contest about it.

Tom Dark: The song is translated rather well, for song translations. Music was what made those movies of the 50s more than the cinema. Many of the Hindi films of the 1950s are masterpieces in terms of a certain never repeated flush and peak of innocence and romanticism reflecting in my long held personal opinion, the idealism and spiritual exaltation of the then recent struggle of independence ( many would think the connection far fetched ). Here is a selection. Numbers 23 through 32 are desrvedly beloved and bye words in the not so young generation.

H.W.: Finally going through with the Spider. The subject does interest me and maybe you are right. Films like A Beautiful Mind, Cuckoos Nest etc. are very much from the outside and the surface.

Ebert: "Bush Hitler," 8,960,000. "Obama Hitler," 7,560,000, but he's only been in office a year.
"Bush lies," 13,000,00. "Obama lies," 14,800,00. Again, with Obama only in office a year.
Starting fresh with these statistics, what was your point again?

Roger, those google stats are obviously flawed. How many sites with the words "Bush Lied" have gone into the internet graveyard since he left office? How many more are news sites that have changed their headlines from "Bush Lies" to "Obama Lies" and buried their stories into some compressed archives? Internet keywords aren't concerned with how long a president has been in office. Come on, fight fair.

Ebert: He only asked me to google those words for Bush. I went ahead and did it for Obama, neatly refuting, I believe, his theory that the MSM was one-sided against Bush.

The shorter a time span my Google search represents, the more the numbers make my point.

Looks like you've managed to inspire a few people to make make a Wikipedia article for Leo Koch, job well done there.

@H.W.@Spider 2002
At 98 minutes it's a gripping enough movie with more than a quorum of gore. As an insight into mental illness with or without traumatic origins, I don't think it rises much above A Beautiful Mind.Perhaps it is authentic in the sense of portraying a mind trapped into revolving eternally around a single obsession. It's unusual that he finally sees through himself--too good to be true since it virtually amounts to a cure of the incurable. In a way he is quite integrated a la Hamlet, he is not centre-less, he has a clear focus in a murder, real or imagined. It is too bleak for a movie and not bleak enough to correspond to the realities.

As Roger says, there is no growth, no transcendance. But maybe the concluding insight into his own failing is a growth, even a remarkable one, given the bleak prognosis in such cases.

Anyway thanks for sharing a film that you liked so particularly.

Roger,

You are just enough of a whipper-snapper that I can't remember whether you were trained to respond with incadescent rage to the mere uttering of the two syllable name "Clark Kerr." About the same time that Professor Koch was issuing his opinions, Clark Kerr, the President of the University of California, was issuing his once famous "Directives," forbidding the various student governments from opining on off campus issues.

It was in the stars that the two issues cross.

The Student Government at Berkeley passed a resolution deploring the Koch termination. The Chancellor of that campus, Glen Seaborg, citing the Kerr Directives, ordered the rescission of the resolution, and when the students refused to do so, Seaborg proceeded to rescind the student resolution on his own authority. He was thoughtful enough to send a letter to the President of the University of Illinois advising of his action nullifying the criticism. This, no doubt, brought great relief at the Champaign-Urbana end.

http://www.fsm-a.org/stacks/AP_files/APExComKerr.html

The whole world knows and rejoices with you for losing your virginity at the XVIIth Congress of the National Student Association, held in 1964 at the University of Minnesota. The XIIIth Congress of 1960 was also held at Minnesota and spoke very strongly of the whole Koch affair. As I best recall we condemned the University without endorsing the views of Professor Koch, since sex had nothing to do with students in their role as students.

However, this Congress gave me the anecdote I have ever since used to suggest just how much the world has changed in a mere half century. Many of the half thousand or so female delegates to that Congress were housed in a dormitory normally used by men. The University handled the situation with elegant simplicity by carefully draping sheets over all the urinals in all of the bathrooms in the building. A few of the braver girls, however, peeked.

Ebert: Readers:

The author was editor of the University of Chicago Maroon at the time of the Koch case, and he and I were much involved in the National Student Association and the U. S. Student Press Association. Both were denounced as leftist until it was revealed in 1967 that the NSA was receiving funds from the CIA. The USSPA was not subsidized, no doubt because the CIA felt politicians were more trustworthy than journalists.

I've long felt that the annual National Student Congress was instrumental in activating the late 50s and early 60s student generation as the vanguard of what we now think of as the Sixties. Neal remembers as I do, I'm sure, sitting through NSA debates with such young speakers as as Julian Bond, Tom Hayden, Stokely Carmichael, Barney Frank, Stephen Roberts, Jeff Greenfield, Lucy Komisar and Danny Boggs. If only we had known then who we were.

Wow, did this article ever bring me back! I felt as though I was in the front seat of my parent's Buick Century again, in high school, with my very sexy girlfriend. As a 30 year-old, I can honestly say that these kind of things were still happening in the '90s, and I do hope that kids today aren't missing out...

Thank you, Roger, for bringing my old memories back to the surface for me. I may have to leave work today, because I find I can no longer focus.

Roger (I apologize for being off-topic):

I wanted to thank you for getting me excited about Cormac McCarthy. You had gushed about his writing often enough in your writings, that you piqued my interest. I recently finished "The Road" and it was a wondrous, deeply disturbing novel. If the measure of an artist is the emotion he/she can invite from you, well McCarthy is a master. I infer from your writings that your favourite novel of his is "Suttree", no? I'm going to go for "Blood Meridian"....the judge character seems particularily interesting. Thanks again!!

(I know you read the submissions, and it isn't necessary to post this, I just wanted to thank you.)

I've had some nice and varied sexual experiences in my 28 years, but nothing will ever touch the summer between eighth and ninth grade, when my first boyfriend and I spent hours in our respective bedrooms, in parks, in backyards, on street corners, and anywhere else we could get a moment alone making out until we were too tired to do it anymore. And just kissing, mind you -- I didn't hit second base until junior year of high school. Half a lifetime later if I catch someone wearing the same deodorant as he did back then it all comes rushing in; it took me months in college to realize that's why I was attracted to someone else on the newspaper staff.

The night after I first read this, I was down in the basement. My daughter was playing a Kinks song on her Laptop. I asked her if she knew who that was. She answered correctly and said it was in Juno. I went off to make sure I still had the album so that we don't get in trouble with the download police.

While there I started pulling out albums in the near-alphabetical region. While listening to Buddy Holly, there was this lightning realization. All the time I had thought it was a idiomatic injection. No, thanks to your post the song has even more meaning now.

"Do you remember, baby, last September, how you held me tight each and every night? Well, oops-adaisy, how you drove me crazy. But, I guess it doesn't matter anymore."

[It Doesn't Matter Anymore by Paul Anka]

Speaking of the 1st Amendment, I just bought "Nothing But The Truth" from Blockbuster for $5. I was drawn in immediately, and flip flopped between each side throughout the entire movie then, at the end, had no idea what to think.
I wonder if the controversy surrounding Mr. Leo Kotch's article went hand in hand with McCarthyism: a simple fear of radical change. Writers such as Tucker Max (http://www.tuckermax.com/stories.phtml) portray sex as being solely "between two organs," as I believe you once said, instead of between two lovers. I admit to finding some of his accounts comical, but worry that there is a price to pay for this laugh. At what point does this type of writer cease to be a creator of crude anecdotes and turn into a role model for teens? I know I wouldn't want my pubescent children learning about sex from this man.

LOL at Tom. You're incorrigible.

My being Indian, is a consequence of the solemn oath the fates have sworn to mischief, for just as a honeybee that would much rather be a sloth, I am sort of stuck with the land I was born in, although it does not restrict the mind from embarking upon such alien flights of fantasy as to imagine global personhood and the dissolution of invisible demarcations of land and sea for the common good of all creatures of the hemispheric tennis ball we call earth. I shall argue on gender no more, for it is only a matter of time afore some gentle soul proffers that timeless interjection of that most eminent bard, hopefully marginally altered to – ..the erm doth protest too much..

As far as I am aware Sikhs left the rectal area out of scripture, I'm guessing the reasoning was “..what you do in your spare time with your nether regions..”. There are appropriate cautions against obsessive sexualisation though, which being an asexual, albeit panromantic creature, serve me well spiritually, although not so much in life, considering the lack of people who wish to love for the sake of love and not for sex, for you see the pleasures of pleasure make little demands of my person. I'm no Buddhist, but I certainly see the merits of Buddhist thinking on such matters and trust the lust of my fellow creatures to ensure the continuity of the human race sufficiently, to not have to engage in the act merely for the sake of it myself, although the assumption that long can humanity continue on its present course is perhaps a more tenuous proposition.

Also, haha, thanks for mentioning guilt, a blood relative of obstinacy.

S.M. I knew I wouldn't be able to catch you out. I'd rather not have a gender contest, as that should quite defeat the purpose of the choice of trying to remain gender neutral, regardless of predictable supposed outcomes, at any rate, I could well be just putting it on..

Sorry I was slightly miffed at you for having written off what I consider to be one of the greatest films ever made, after your only having watched ten minutes of it, whereas I am quite pleased that you are making an effort of attempting to look beyond the limitations of your ever present self. I don't think “Spider” and “A Beautiful Mind” are realistically comparable, because the latter is a dramatisation, not an altogether unconvincing one, of the descent of genius into sickness, based upon real events, which naturally follows a logically realist pattern, whereas the former is light shone through a Beckett prism onto fictional material, which if you're not familiar with Beckett and the sensibilities of the director, can possibly lead you to the colour blind conclusion that the film is about mental illness. The murder is a plot device and on the whole of little significance, and the film can be frighteningly real, depending upon which version of reality you approach it from. Yes, it is about mental illness, but not exclusively. All of Cronenberg's work is pregnant with allusive references to deep philosophical premises and with “Spider” he strikes notes with such virtuosity and muted reverent flourishes, as are apt to make gods mourn and rejoice at the paradox that is being.

He is first and foremost an artist, but of the few good film makers in the world, David Cronenberg is one of the greatest.

Indian Idiot (H.W.)

Roger said: "Me, I focus on the next hurrah."

Yes Roger, I always thought you were one to dole out penultimatums.

Mighty good of you, else little clown fish like me would have no place to fry.

Thank you awfully muchly.

Indian Idiot (H.W.)

SM, thank you for the YouTubes of favorite songs. I've been sitting here going through them -- the sound quality says they were recorded some time ago.

Naturally, I lose half the song not understanding the lyrics. But these are tremendous singers, every one of them. I wonder how they'd sound with a proper English translation. Maybe someone will do that some day, while keeping the style and subtleties intact.

There are only two songs in a foreign language that I remember were hits in the U.S. pop charts: "Volare" in Italian, and the whimsically named "Sukiyaki," a love song in Japanese. ("Volare" was also recorded in English, but the Italian version came first). It's always occurred to me that a properly poetic translation would do wonders for pop music in this country.

I think there was one heavy metal song in German that did well in America, but didn't top the charts. "Nein" by... Peter somebody...

In return, here are a few Rabindranath Tagore quotes I've just copied. I don't think there's a comment anywhere among these blogs that isn't covered here. Humbling, ain't it:

A mind all logic is like a knife all blade. It makes the hand bleed that uses it.

Age considers; youth ventures.

Beauty is truth's smile when she beholds her own face in a perfect mirror.

Bigotry tries to keep truth safe in its hand with a grip that kills it.

By plucking her petals, you do not gather the beauty of the flower.

Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.

Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come.

Depth of friendship does not depend on length of acquaintance.

Do not say, 'It is morning,' and dismiss it with a name of yesterday. See it for the first time as a newborn child that has no name.

Don't limit a child to your own learning, for he was born in another time.

Emancipation from the bondage of the soil is no freedom for the tree.

Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man.

Every difficulty slurred over will be a ghost to disturb your repose later on.

Everything comes to us that belongs to us if we create the capacity to receive it.

Facts are many, but the truth is one.

Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark.

From the solemn gloom of the temple children run out to sit in the dust, God watches them play and forgets the priest.

Gray hairs are signs of wisdom if you hold your tongue, speak and they are but hairs, as in the young.

He who is too busy doing good finds no time to be good.

I have become my own version of an optimist. If I can't make it through one door, I'll go through another door - or I'll make a door. Something terrific will come no matter how dark the present.

Rabindranath Tagore

Hi Roger, great post. It's funny that I read it today bc I just finished reading "The Last Picture Show," by Larry McMurtry. I haven't seen the movie but I assume you have. The book was great! And all about the sheer ignorance of teenage boys about what girls want and what they expect of sex and what they themselves want out of it, in Texas in the 1950s. Not to mention the ignorance of teenage girls about what sex is and what it means to teenage boys.

For me, I bloomed late, but I started seeing the fella I've been with for the last 2 years during a really rough time, and he was content to take it at my pace. Kissing is great but let me just say the magic of holding hands is also amazing. He'd come over to watch tv and I'd have butterflies in my stomach as we progressed from sitting close, to touching hands, to holding hands, to cuddling. Only after a month of that did we actually kiss. It was great. Still is! What a sweet post, I too am passing it on to my guy.

Hmm, "Rachel Getting Married." I had forgotten about the long, chaste courtship between Kym and that nice fellow she met at rehab.

Although, in terms of energy and atmosphere, I suppose the overall vibe of "Rachel Getting Married" wasn't that far off from that of "Monsoon Wedding." Come to think of it, those weren't the only similarities they shared. The multiple characters, the dark secret in the family's past. They actually make for pretty interesting companion pieces.

On a semi-related note, I read a great book by Sidney Lumet called "Making Movies." Part of the reason I picked it up was because of your endorsement on the front cover. Anyone out there looking to learn about film will get more from that than a thousand books on technique. And it's a great read.

@H.W.

My own reading remained full of gaps though I did read Godot, which retrospectively memory summarizes by the word "never". With my personal conviction ( or call it choice of belief, for it can never be proved ) in the eternity of life, there is no "never". The board at the entrance in Dante reads "Abandon Hope", which means "never".

The phrase "light shone through a Beckett prism onto fictional material" seems pregnant but less than crystal clear. I have "Crash" and "History of Violence" in the pipeline, because he is a new though much heard of director for me, and I have less time than you, age wise, to wander in the woods "deep, dark, lovely". I'm a guy on the run.

May I share with you my own wellsprings which, for me, have withstood the test of time and life.

I'm still curious about spider and looking forward to a second view. I can see it's Godot-esq-ness, or as the working of a single human mind, more than the specific events narrated.

Since gender and ethnicity are surfacial accidents, "just connecting" is the greatest problem for human beings.

Music

Day before yesterday was the twenty seventh anniversary of my day of parturition.

Life..

Sigh..

@Tom D.

Thanks for going through my friends compilation. For me they have become too overfamiliar but I find no 24 is a great one, a heart wrenching serenade which talks about the bank of Ganges ( its pronounced Ganga in Hindi, or, phonetically, GUNGA, which word recurs in the song ). It's a song about a river, about love, and about eternity. I'll do my best to translate it in this column by Sunday, as inadequately as I can.

Thanks for the compilation of Tagore. I'll paste it, though my own amiliarity with the great poet, is much below inadequate. I particularly like "Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark." and " Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come."

Mirza Ghalib ( mid nineteenth century) is the greatest poet in Urdu . He was a philosopher, romantic, boozer, henpecked, poor, and an unparalleled genius of words, nearest I can compare to is the English Bard.

I thought of compiling some of my own f