Ms. Vye does love to mock me about my aversion to sex in movies. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind doing it, and I don't even mind writing about it. I just can't get past the quintessential fromage of watching other people get busy. And so I'm often caught in cinema seats with my turtleneck hoisted over my face and my fingers laced over my eyes.

That excruciating carpet scene in Monster’s Ball went beyond turtleneck--I had my hoodie pulled up with the drawstrings yanked tight. I also distantly recall a movie starring Bruce Willis and Jane March involving handcuffs and hang-gliders soaring metaphorically in the background. If you can remember the title of this film, by all means do not refresh my memory.

But given the events of earlier this week--Maud is mad as hell--I’m folding down my sweater for the sake of a little mirth. This, from the Bookslut:

All that dirty smut business your asexual, hirsute Sunday school teacher drilled into your tender child’s mind--let’s just forget about all that stuff, shall we? Apparently, a Vatican-sanctioned sex guide is encouraging churchgoers to shag more often in an effort to offset “impotence and frigidity” and address papal concerns over declining birth rates among Italian Roman Catholics. The controversial book, It’s A Sin Not To Do It, written by two theologians, advocates for more horizontal tango (of course, within the context of marriage). With pretty, ehem, detailed details--including theological justification for divorce “post-coital masturbation” for women who fail to achieve orgasm during intercourse.

C’mon people. It’s sex, not homework. Besides, everybody knows Catholics are the biggest letches of all time. Just look at Graham Greene.