Alas, this was one of Snavely's first encounters with an ancient male notion so pervasive and powerful that it has shaped the destinies of nations, even entire continents; i.e., the idea that there are two kinds of women and two kinds only - madonnas and whores. Where did he learn it? Its name was legion. How did it arise? It seeped in the windows and under the doors. Did it improve the species' chances for survival? Did it once perhaps allow a conquering warlord to protect his own women while simultaneously having his way with the female conquerees of his latest successful campaign? The origins of the myth are shrouded in prehistory. (Evidence of its currency in Snavely's world: Elizabeth Taylor controversally won the 1960 Best Actress Oscar for playing a call-girl in "Butterfield 8," which went to great lengths to dance around the edges of the Hollywood Code.)
No sooner had he consummated one of his fondest dreams - that is, to "feel up" a bona fide female breast - than Snavely immediately began to punish himself for sullying a "decent" girl. Oh, what wonders of socialization we have wrought! Oh, efficent conditioning indeed, in which the sinner no sooner sins than he punishes himself! What economy of means! Give this boy a certificate! He's ready to join the ranks of the angry and the dull.
Mention must be made of Snavely's instant defense against his own accusation. "Your honor, I couldn't help myself, because I was so hot." This quaint notion is self-serving at best. One's urges are unfairly strong in blind service to the procreative mandate, true enough. But let us admit Exhibit A into evidence, to wit: at all times the accused wanted, yearned , and desperately desired to fondle the aforementioned mammary organ. Enough then of this prattle about being dragged unwilling across the threshhold of pleasure. One detects a note of pride in the refrain of uncontrollable sexual desire!
Snavely's about-face with poor Carol illustrates how these two opposing natures could not be allowed to coexist within the same female actual person. Madonna whore. Whore madonna. Never the twain. Is this an auspicious beginning for a lad likely someday to enter the bonds of holy matrimony? How fortunate his future bride(s)?!
Snavely, we are sure, will survive this trauma and go on to fondle other breasts. Yet the dichotomy (among many) will follow him all of his earthly days, along with millions of his brothers, unto the seventh generation, at least.
Alas, this was one of Snavely's first encounters with an ancient male notion so pervasive and powerful that it has shaped the destinies of nations, even entire continents; i.e., the idea that there are two kinds of women and two kinds only - madonnas and whores. Where did he learn it? Its name was legion. How did it arise? It seeped in the windows and under the doors. Did it improve the species' chances for survival? Did it once perhaps allow a conquering warlord to protect his own women while simultaneously having his way with the female conquerees of his latest successful campaign? The origins of the myth are shrouded in prehistory. (Evidence of its currency in Snavely's world: Elizabeth Taylor controversally won the 1960 Best Actress Oscar for playing a call-girl in "Butterfield 8," which went to great lengths to dance around the edges of the Hollywood Code.)