Linda Harisson and her furry bikini

Steampunk has been Steamy McSteamed

Linda Harisson and her furry bikini
Linda Harisson and her furry bikini

I can’t handle any more erotica. (O.K. that didn’t sound right.)  But honestly, does there have to be so much porn in all genre fiction? (In all fiction?) I follow over 100 people’s reviews on Goodreads.com. That may sound like a lot, but I have to follow at least that many to sample two or three reviews everyday that aren’t stinking steamy McSteams.

Et tu, Brute? And now steampunk has followed suit. I’ll be honest, it is the first sign of the end. How many of you knew that the golden Animal House days of randy co-eds were over when Porky’s came out? By Porky’s II? Now all we have left is Girls Gone Wild (which at least drops the pretense of a storyline). Then there were vampires. Don’t even get me started on vampires.

They devolved from genuinely compelling (or at least terrifying) characters to supernatural smutty McSmuts. But hey, they were only vampires, already confined mostly into young adult, paranormal garbage. A genre I have little need for or attachment to. They lined their coffins with tea-tree scented silk. Now they can lay in them.

But alas the pestilence has beset steampunk, a sub-genre nearer and dearer to my heart. I mean, we’re talking science fiction here, people! I know Sci-fi has not always worn white when it comes to its dealings with the boudoir. But who can’t get behind the planet-of-the-apes-style furry bikini or the sexy Star Trek uniform first made famous by Nichelle Nichols? These were cultural artifacts with true value. Not this steamy McSteam crap that makes me yearn for something classy to wash my brain out with, like Starship Troopers (heavy sarcasm implied).

But as the old adage goes, sex sells. Or in this case, sucks. Just as teens (and stress-addled house wives and creepy old men) have tired of vacuous vampires so they will soon of steamy McSteam. Once all the erotica reapers out there have harvested steampunk’s day in the sun (turning it to an evening under the sheets) they’ll finally move on to the next exciting sub-genre (I predict it will be Amish-based, Victorian space operas) that promises a change of background for the same tired deeds.

Good riddance. I look forward to the day when steam and punk can live safely together without fear of choosing whether they use a condom or not.

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