Sex sells


When you see “50 Shades of Grey” on the book shelves, you might think you are picking up a book about seniors.

However, the best seller does not appear to be a favourite of the senior set – it’s the younger ladies that are buying this novel about bondage. The book is apparently poorly written but its popularity spawned two more volumes and now the trilogy is a best seller.

In other words, sex sells.

And that brings us to the NWMO, which has been working seven or eight years to have the deep geologic repository (DGR) for low and medium level radioactive waste approved for a site near Bruce Power.

Unfortunately, after all NWMO’s efforts, a group has been formed to fight the DGR.

What’s the solution?

Simple – sex.

NWMO staff should sit down and write a few sexy novels about DGRs in general. The first of the series could be entitled, “Bondage in the Bedrock”. It could be followed with “Radioactive Sex”.

Now, I see that Kincardine is going to market Kincardine’s Scottish heritage. That makes sense because thousands already come to town each summer to see the Kincardine Scottish in action.

Again, maybe the solution is to have someone in the municipality’s employ write some steamy Scottish novels centred in Kincardine. Titles could include: “I Fell for a Caber Tosser and he Flung me Away”, “Lassies frolic in Loch Huron”, “Haggis Heart Throb”, “Sword Dancer Cuts to the Heart”, “Shortbread Sweetheart”, and “I had a Highland Fling.”

I can see a long list of best sellers that would attract thousands to the Bruce.


On the same subject, Dana and I spent a night in a Toronto hotel last week. It was a fairly good one so I was surprised when I arrived about 4 p.m. and noticed three or four young women walking around the lobby wearing tights and not much more up top.

When we returned to the bar next to the lobby for supper, the same ladies were walking in and out of the bar every few minutes in their rather revealing tights. Were they just poor dressers or ladies of the night? Then we saw a couple of hotel officials, and we figured they had the girls under surveillance.

Not so. They must have just lacked a sense of style.

Another woman, tall, good looking and dressed more appropriately, had apparently been drinking for some time at the bar. She had been on her cell phone and obviously phoned two slippery looking gentlemen. The hotel officials approached the macho looking one who was sporting a thick, gold chain around his neck.

To make a long story short, after the histrionics, “gold chain” eventually paid the bar bill.

Watching people in a bar can provide much more entertainment than television.