was a central tenet of the hippie worldview. Free Love –
also known as mass fucking – was the logical pastime
for a new society that rejected corporate nationalism, the
Vietnam War, and most of all, the middle-class “values”
that their parents forced upon them.
oh my, did the hippies reject those things with all that Free
Love. There are patches in San Francisco’s Golden Gate
Park where the grass still won’t grow back, so scorched
is the earth from all that ‘60s lust ‘n’
thrust, aimed at sticking it to Nixon and the legions of Cleaver
families in Orange County.
the thing is, if the hippies hadn’t embraced sexual
liberation as part of their movement activism, and instead
had reacted against Vietnam and the rest with, say, a celibacy
worthy of the Carmelites and high-dollar auto-castration propaganda,
those hippies would have fucked each other’s brains
because when something exciting is going on that lasts longer
than an acid trip – a social movement like the hippies,
a political one like Che’s, or even a Division III college
football team’s 11-0 season – and you are in the
middle of it, you fuck everyone around you.
of the Getty museum in the mid-1970s, in Malibu, California
is the classic example. Oil baron J. Paul Getty dies, and
leaves his Malibu ranch and nearly a billion dollars to the
fledgling museum’s trust. Overnight it’s the richest
museum in America, and the only directive is to assemble the
finest, finest collection of antiquities and paintings in
and librarians, all fluent in Latin, Aramaic, and Sappho,
immediately abandon the pieties and social reserve that their
East Coast colleagues had spent a century cultivating –
none of that servants-of-the-rich stuff. Outrageous reports
start circulating of sky-high bidding – and taunting!
– at Sotheby’s auctions. The art dealers fly in,
treat the staff like gods, and suddenly the Getty is buying
looted masterpieces of Greek civilization for sums that dwarf
their competitors’ annual budgets. The conservators
are busy sniffing coke off the tits of the latest Aphrodite
statue, and everyone has a beach house.
the going gets fabulous, there’s no easy way to express
how intensely satisfying the whole thing is. We can’t
articulate the experience of these movements with money, and
certainly not with words. The desire, really, is to hump the
situation doggy-style, but since we can’t, we end up
penetrating every available body that’s in the middle
of this wonderful thing with us.
got fabulous at the Getty pretty quick, and the fucking was
soon to follow. It wasn’t cowardly off-site fucking
either. It couldn’t be. The excitement was tied to the
what a backdrop that place was for doing it. Better known
as “The Villa,” it was reconstructed along the
pattern of a Roman noble’s retreat discovered in Herculaneum.
No detail was spared; the totem novem gradii – bronze
cupids pissing into fountains, myrtle hedges, frescoes of
landscapes and courtly scenes, laurel trees, atria. And don’t
forget Malibu’s Med climes: 70-degree air, steady sunlight
and clear nights.
I heard from the lucky staffers at that time, the sex was
exquisite and ubiquitous, and, unlike most American workplaces,
the fucking knew no hierarchy. The fat black security guard,
Minnie, of course did it with the cleaners, but she also banged
the entire archive staff, not in the closets, but in the galleries.
The curator of French furniture gave hot meat injections to
every wife of the museum’s board members, while their
husbands watched and jacked themselves, using Plantagenet
tapestries for cum rags. Best of all, fat and old had their
way with the young and supple – these little eras get
so intense that all the sexual mores that typically create
winners and losers simply cease to exist.
went on into the mid-‘80s until the U.N. started to
make the 2,000-year-old practice of looting ancient sites
in Italy, Turkey, and Greece, subject to Interpol. The dealers
started going to jail, Getty curators got busted for buying
fakes…essentially everyone found out how much fun the
Getty was having, and stomped on its fuck parade. That was
a tight-knit community of 200, so it only took a couple months
however, numbered in the millions, and it took almost a decade
and thousands of Petri dishes for those unsexed and disgruntled
biologists at Harvard to breed herpes and Chlamydia strains
strong enough to kill off Free Love as we know it.
let that be a downer; don’t hang your head because you
missed the ‘60s or the Getty Days. Because my big point
– and you guys who don’t get to put it in her
as often as you’d like, listen up – is that these
“movements” are happening right now.
the paper, and find out where some exciting thing is going
on in America. The obvious candidates of the moment are Katrina-ravaged
New Orleans – yes, fucking is just as rampant around
tragedy – and Redwood City, California, which has turned
into the Hollywood of video games. Close runner-up is that
$200 million-dollar bridge they are building to connect 97
Eskimos to the Alaskan mainland.
your car down to one of these places, and put yourself in
the middle of it. You’ll be fuckin’ in no time.