What impresses me about the obscure German man-porn Teodor is watching is that it is apparently silent. Not only does the TV make no noise, but the increasingly corrupt young otter is capable of mistaking a film of the rawest thing of dudes for the Olympics. No way would that happen if there were a soundtrack.
The only conclusion we can draw is that this is some kind of old-fashioned stag deal such as a loop from Weimar expressionist times. Maybe it never had sound, or maybe it did and the only sensible thing was to turn it off; it took until after the war for most to realize being in a talkie did not mean you couldn't shut up, and that kind of chatter would be rude to a hard-on. The fact remains that Teodor, in his compulsion to explore his surpressed desires, has stumbled upon a diamond of history in the rough of gay porn.
He has gone from discovering how to weep the weepy-weep way to satiating the homosexual monkey on his back to enjoying a front-row seat to history. And all he can think up to excuse himself is the Man of Steel having a rough day.
Entitlement indeed.
Can'd for German expressionist porn. That may well be the single most brilliant concept ever introduced into my brain. I can just imagine the titles: "Inside the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari." "Dandy Doormen 7: The Last Laugh." Also, welcome.
What about the opposite - Olympic events with a '70s porn-groove soundtrack? We may be on to something there! You and me gonna reinvent the Olympics, dude. I just decided this.