Last week I was going through my fourth grade yearbook, as I do every Wednesday at 2 p.m., and I was reminded of a fond memory I had that fourth grade summer, that involved two friends, skateboards, Slurpees, and pictures of vaginas.  It was a magical day.  It opened my eyes to women and left me with a tender, young, but still huge boner.  It was an innocent and caring boner.  The kind of boner that if it were a person, it  would pick you up from the airport even though a cab ride would only be seven dollars.

The reason for this boner?  We had stumbled upon a stash of bum porn.  I recently told this story to a friend, and he exclaimed that his first encounter with porn had also come from someone homeless guy's stash in an alley.  At that point I realized, I was on to something!  I quickly left my parents house where I still reside, and decided to do some long overdo research in the field of bum pornography encounters.  Here are my findings:

Basically, every first encounter with bum porn roughly pans out the same way.  It's summer, you and your friends just recently visited a 7-11 and ate some Laffy Taffy or Nerds for lunch.  That's the kind of shit we used to have for lunch back in the day, candy.  You needed candy to provide you with the energy to outrun homeless people, and the one friend you have you has pubic hair that he can pull out of his nut sack and chase you around with.

After eating a pedophile-y amount of candy, eventually you stumble across a bum's nest behind the 7-11 or in a canyon.  Those are pretty much the only two options, alleys and canyons.  I guess you could get picky and say "what about hillsides, or ravines?" but when you're a kid, you don't use those words.  Everything is a canyon or an Alley.

When you realize the bum is away collecting cans, or calling a trash can a dirty Jew, or carefully weighing his shopping cart with thousands of empty Fanta cans, you and the other kids will start kicking his bags of shit around for a bit, while other kids hang out in front of the pack on their bikes or skateboards, kind of nervous, ready to get the F out of there.  Eventually one of the bum's trash cans will break open by means of a kick or multiple stick pokes, and...GLORY! Glossy boobies will suddenly appear all over the alley.  It's like a messed up pinata, or, the greatest pinata ever made.

Once you take a closer look, you realize, it's not just boobies, it's up close, hard core, penetration shots.  This fills your soul with joy and ecitement.  Everyone swarms around the pictures like a group of lions around a kill.  You feel glorious, like God or Jesus has blessed you with pure hope and happiness.  Real, tangible happiness covered in beer and piss.  You grab some good, clean enough looking pages, and ride away full of life and vigor, like a cancer patient being told his tumor is "operable."

We would use these special little magazine pages exactly the same way people use their iPhones today; Bring them along in our pockets every time we leave the house, and throughout the day, periodically take them out and look at them, and scan them, then put them back in our pockets.  They would NEVER be thrown away.  Eventually they would get wet and weathered and muddy from being hidden in different places, but somehow they'd never lose that magazine smell.

And this remained how kids born before 1985, experienced their first porn.  You post 85ers, you have no clue what kind of crap we had to go through without the internet.  We didn't sit inside with a high tech porn computer typing in exactly the kind of porn we felt like watching that day.  We had to whack off to whatever kind of porn we could find.  Sometimes you could barely make out the female genitalia, and it was just mostly a dude's weiner.  Ever try to masturbate making this face?"

Sometimes you'd have to make do with what you had.  And we definitely didn't get all cry baby waah waah frustrated when the internet connection kept on sucking and stopped downloading the video right when we were about to put the frosting on our paper towel cake.  Nope.  We weren't little momma's boys with special lotions and warm towels.  No, we had to go on Goonies-style adventures to unknown lands to get porn.  We risked physical injury that resulted from trying to hop fences or fight off dogs.

So, after pouring through all my findings, I can safely say that porn today, well, it may be more plentiful but it just isn't worth what it once was.  Inflation has weakened the porno dollar.