A day or so ago, I was out walking with a friend, talking about favorite fruits. Like, if we could only have one for the rest of our lives, etc. So when I saw the documentary "The Fruit Hunters" available to stream on Netflix, I loaded it right up. Serendipity! It's about weirdo fruit obsessives who travel the globe and tear up their backyards planting all kinds of weird junk. Personally, I always get a kick out of the average Joe hobbyist type who cheerfully bids farewell to sanity in pursuit of their passion. It's cute to see some old lady that's all about hedgehogs or yarn sculptures, but I was shocked to discover the ugly, mushy, sickly sweet and grody side to the fruit world.
Simply put, these people are all dirty freaks straight out of the SNL "My Lovah" sketches. It must be part of all the sweetness and juiciness, but goofball sensuality is in full effect, and they can NOT leave the erotic metaphors alone. All of them do it, too — it doesn't matter if you're some straitlaced Honduran engineer or an aging California hippie. Get going about fruit and pretty soon you're making kissy faces at the camera and fondling imaginary mangoes. They must have left a TON of footage on the cutting room floor of these guys copping to straight-up fucking a fruit.
"Fruity" is usually used as a pejorative to describe gay men, but (for obvious reasons) I think it fits the fruit hunters much better. It's that mix of enthusiasm and happiness that's clearly harmless, but more than a bit off. You know the couples are all swingers, too. They seem fun, and it's cool to hang out and talk fruit with them, but then you accept the invitation to the big exotic fruit party. The fruit there is just off the chain, unbelievable, but then you notice how people are really digging in and the juice is running down their chins and throats, and then people start taking their clothes off and you see one guy with an Eyes Wide Shut mask, and then you're like "Oh shit, this is a god damn orgy!"