Puny Hells = Small Minds

“So we shall walk barefoot on walnut shells
of withered worlds, and stamp out puny hells
and heavens till the spirits squeak
surrender: to build our bed as high as jack's
bold beanstalk; lie and love till sharp scythe hacks
away our rationed days and weeks.

Then jet the blue tent topple, stars rain down,
and god or void appall us till we drown
in our own tears: today we start
to pay the piper with each breath, yet love
knows not of death nor calculus above
the simple sum of heart plus heart”

~Love Is a Parallax, Sylvia Plath

Hello World.

What is it like today?

America, a country known for its embittered past with regard to race, has elected its first black president. The news programs summed it up nicely when they stated, “Americans have issued a mandate on race” after the election. We did, and it was beautiful. It is beautiful to see our country, once painfully divided, come together in the spirit of healing. On November 4th, the rest of the world noticed and cheered with us. The dark years of the Bush Presidency are nearly over. (68 days left!)

Some of scars of those dark years still remain. Who can forget the patient neglect at Walter Reed Army hospital, US attorney firings, the outing of a CIA agent, the “axis of evil”, an ill-conceived war based on lies, Osama bin Laden roaming free, Military Commissions Act (torture and the loss of habeas corpus), Hurricane Katrina, Patriot Act, warrantless wiretapping, budget deficits and greatly increased national debt, the nationalization of banks, loss of US prestige, Unilateral Executive Doctrine (presidential dictatorship), and the many attacks on women’s reproductive health?

President-Elect Obama promised swift change and Americans agreed. The election, personally, was a great relief. It’s been a long eight years. When Bush won the election in 2004, I left my parent’s house exhausted and in tears. During this election cycle, I left with tears streaming down my cheeks, exhausted, but vindicated. I walked a little taller the next day, proud of my country and our identity as a place where hopes, dreams, and opportunities are realized. Comments such as, “If could ride my bicycle to America, I would.” were heard around the four corners of the world.

Yet, in the wake of this historic election, Americans in California voted by a 52% margin to revoke a civil right already held by gays and lesbians- the right to marry. The California Supreme Court had ruled earlier that this fundamental right was to be granted to homosexuals. In response, the conservative movement in California introduced Proposition 8, an amendment designed to change the state constitution to define marriage as a bond between a man and woman only. This proposed amendment was designed to overrule the earlier California Supreme Court decision. Supporters of Prop. 8 included politicians of the “far-right” variety, and of course, most of the churches. The Mormon Church went as far as too encourage its members to do anything and everything to make sure Prop. 8 passed in church-sponsored letters/materials.




Although I was giddy as school girl when President-Elect Obama gave his acceptance speech in Grant Park, I was also deeply disappointed and angry about the Prop. 8 vote. Prop. 8 passed and on November 5th, this new amendment was added to California’s state constitution- an amendment that, I must point out, “takes away rights from others”. Readers, since when did it become acceptable to create laws that support inequality? Minority groups/oppressed groups have fought bravely and tirelessly to combat the assault on their rights for decades, and this is where we are now? So, we ask the question again,

“What is it like today?”

Today, we still battle the narrow-minded fools of yesteryear. We battle the conservative agenda which has its roots firmly entrenched in fear. Fear, which has been handily handed down from generation-to-generation in the form of hate disguised as out-worn religious values, is the enemy. The conservative movement has used religion as a shield, a reason to discriminate against and abuse others.

And readers, I’m fucking angry.

The very spiritual philosophy that these folks aspire to (treat others as you wish to be treated, love thy neighbor etc…) has been polluted by a faulty ideological prospective that requires the exact opposite. I would challenge any decent human being who voted Yes on Prop. 8 to stand in front of a gay couple and look them in the eye and tell them they deserve fewer rights than you. Tell them they are less of a human being than you. Tell them they are free to do whatever they want in the confines of their home, but to hide the rest. Show them your engagement ring, talk about your wedding plans, and the next day, go cast your vote. Check the box next to Prop. 8. Gay people aren’t worthy of the same rights as you are.

Prop. 8 received a lot of its support from churches. Unfortunately, the House of God is where these horrendous assaults against the rights of others (women’s rights/reproductive health/gay rights) are waged. This is unacceptable. This is more than unacceptable; it is hypocrisy and dark fucking shit at its finest. Spiritually, I am disgusted and disappointed with conservatives who bask in their self-righteous “light of God’s love” while demeaning and condemning others.

There are deeper issues at hand here. In places where intolerance is bred and these negative attitudes persist, it is often rationalized that I am too hard on these god-fearing conservative Christians. If they were raised with this bigotry, I am further encouraged to grant reprieve. It’s like, “Brian’s parents were such assholes. They instilled these hateful prejudices in him. Can’t you just let it go? He doesn’t know any better.”

No!

I cannot.

Brian get your shit together. You are an adult. Wake up. Are you a decent human being or not? Are you going to live under the umbrella of your parent’s/grandparents ideas forever? This intellectual and spiritual laziness coupled with an extreme lack of self-awareness create new generations who will carry the torch of fear and hate.



Recently, the Republican Party has been moaning n’ groaning about how they have no clear leader or agenda. The GOP is in serious trouble. The party, at this point, must do a significant amount of soul-searching. They have allowed the Democrats to become the party of “unity, change, and hope”, while certain small minds within the Republican Party have dominated the political arena with their puny ideas. (Ann Coulters, O’Reilys of the world, beware!) These ideas cater to and energize the politics of division, hatred, and fear all wrapped up in a neat little bow called the conservative far-right agenda.

Hopefully, in the next few years, these regressive GOP tendencies will become a thing of the past and what will emerge will be a newly transformed Republican Party- The Republican Party that Abe Lincoln belonged to- the Party that freed the slaves.

Indeed, there is a lot work to be done. But, I am confident. It is to our benefit, as citizens, to have a two-party system. With the Republican Party in such bad shape, it will be interesting to see how the Democrats use their new found status. As Rahm Emanuel said many years ago to Tony Blair, “Don’t fuck this up.”


Yours in lefty yummy equality for all,

SS

The Reality of Five Years

It was five years ago today the Bush Administration began its Shock & Awe Campaign in Iraq. That night in March of 2003, I watched from my living room as an eerie blue light descended upon central Baghdad while the sky erupted in flames. Inside, my stomach turned as I fell on my knees in front of the TV and cried.

The scene resembled a video game, so surreal, and disconnected from the average American’s life. Yet, it was not a dark scene from Grand Theft Auto or Second Life. We weren’t imagining it. Even though, the bull’s eye target on the TV screen flashing, “War on Terror” would have some of us believe otherwise.

The next morning, in Baghdad, when the hot sun burned over the piles of rubble and the cement-dusted bloodied faces, we recoiled in horror.

In the months that followed, more Americans woke up to the massive media and government-sponsored campaign to brainwash its citizenry, but, by then, the damage was done.


Five years later, the suffering and destruction continues.




Light a candle.

Pray for Peace.

Or get pissed and start a fucking riot.

~S.S.

Mergers & Acquisitions: The High Price

As I’m pounding out miles on the treadmill at 5:45 am, I often reminisce about how delicious sex is when it’s the kind I want. Yet, when I compare the scrumptious fucks to the many worthless fucks I’ve had, my strides get longer, harder, and meaner. As I clench my teeth, visions of wet bodies snapping on and off of each other carry my legs through the air. And, I ask myslef, is the sex I actually want to have an unattainable dream, or is it just different than before?

Years ago, Mr. Meathead and I would spend hours fucking in dirty post-gym clothes. We’d work ourselves into a frenzy, grab at each other with malice, and anger fuck into complete oblivion. Typical and acceptable expressions of affection between us included throwing each other into walls and slamming an open throat down on a perched cock or protruding pussy. Delicate, we most certainly were not, and, at the time, our stamina-filled sessions were satisfying.

Sex, like working out or playing sports, can be experienced as a strictly physical act. But, a simple physical act isn’t always good enough. Now, I cherish a good old fashion anger fuck as much as the next girl. But, let’s not neglect the fact, sometimes we need the stable presence of a kindred spirit- toes touching, naked bodies trembling next to each other, hearts pounding out of our chest- to create some orgasmic surrender with. Most people, unfortunately, only associate soul merging sex with a monogamous relationship. After years of cultivating a loving supportive partnership, one is finally ready for true intimacy. Or, in the absence of a secure foundation, strings are attached. When and if the soul merging occurs, the thought of losing the other after it is too overwhelming, so people get clingy. At this point, most of us, in some shape or form, “Get Owned.”

Ownership, then, is the struggle to possess the “other” when our pussy is not stuffed with their cock, or their cock is not nestled in our pussy. (Lesbian & Gay folk- stick with me.) For the ladies, after your guy cums, his cock still inside of you, have you ever wished it could stay forever? Same goes for the guys, have you ever wanted to find a long-term parking spot between her legs and rest? I’ve had the urge. In fact, I’ve told ex-lovers, “Don’t move, I want you to stay here forever”, while I basked in the glow of the merge.

Ownership, unfortunately, exacts a high price on soul expanding orgasmic fun, which is what stops a lot of us from pulling out the little black book on those lonely nights. (Hello Sleepless in Seattle!) Plus, to complicate matters further, soul mergers don’t happen on a superficial level.

I can call Bob over to stick it in, which, in the business world, is tantamount to an acquisition. He acquires my pussy, but afterwards my pussy, as a separate entity, is discarded and forgotten. A merger, in contrast, has a completely different energy attached to it. In the event of a merger, two separate entities join forces to experience each other deeply and form a more versatile stronger entity.

Personally, I find myself teetering back and forth between acquiring and merging. Simple ho-hum fucks are lovely when we’re not in the mood to think or feel- when we're in a “doing” mode. Mergers, on the other hand, introduce the world of art, creativity, and psychic connections into our sexual landscape. And, even though it pains me to admit it, there are times when I crave a soul connection. Today I can say (although tomorrow it could change!) with sincerity, I would welcome it.

I feel uneasy admitting it- like I am implying I desire a relationship. This, however, is not the case, at least not in a traditional sense. I want a soul-on-soul sex merger without any claims of ownership or control. I want the same person who fucks me lovingly to also watch strangers fuck me brutally. And, I want to move beyond the trite definitions of love we’ve all been forced to swallow into a more satisfying experience for all.

Let’s work on manifesting the dream this week. The sex we really want is just around the corner.

Yours truly, Sally.

The Economics of Ass

Businessman in Water: Chuck Carlton

“Her good looks could've sailed a ship
but her will alone could've sunk it
Funny thing about money for sex
you might get rich, but you'll die by it”
~Close Call: Rilo Kiley

Hello my little goblins, Happy Halloween. It’s been a few days since my last confession, and I’ve been very sinful. Losing one’s soul is exhausting work. And, in true Sally Slut form, my favorite holiday did not disappoint. So, even though the light in my eyes is just a flicker and my skin is still on fire, I come bearing gifts. I’m your supplier, your dope dealer, or, should I say... sex dealer. I’ll sell myself to you for practically nothing and ask for very little in return. I’m an economist’s nightmare. I’ll offer you my ass for free. I’m the girl who won’t say no.

In a capitalist society, the law of supply and demand dictates the cost and availability of scarce resources. Men demand the booty, and women supply it. However, most men have the distinct feeling booty is not bountiful. And, if they do have a chance to fuck, they often retreat because of the emotional entrenchment (i.e. drama). Women expect something for their effort, which is why sex with a woman who doesn’t charge is relatively unheard of. Even though the cute little hottie you met at the bar is probably not a paid slut, one should not assume there won’t be a price to pay. There is no free lunch. If you take hottie home and fuck her like a call girl, she will most likely demand remuneration whether it’s emotional (a new relationship!) or actual money (dinner n’ a movie- reverse courtship style.)

It’s very seldom, then, that one finds a whore, whether she’s paid or not, who will fuck you for free. It screws up the system. If you don’t believe me, analyze the failure of Regan’s “voodoo economics” (supply-side economic theory) in the 1980’s. The idea was the wealthy, who received the benefits of the tax cuts, would eventually share their bounty with the less fortunate. The benefits, thus, would “trickle-down” to average folks and we’d all revel in our richness. The crux of the failure revolved around the concept of the “Free Share.” Were the rich (booty plentiful) really going to share with the poor pathetic (men) folk out of the kindness of their hearts?

Those who have lordship over resources (the booty) have the power. Since history and economic hardship has taught women to bargain with their bodies, power is not surrendered easily. And, if it is surrendered, it almost always has a price. Demand may increase when a woman offers her body at a discount until a certain point is reached. High quality shoppers will have moved on a long time ago, and, even the low-end buyers will scratch their heads in confusion when a seller gives away their goods for free. What’s the point? Where’s the value? Is this a liquidation sale?

Essentiality, this is the power struggle men and women find themselves in. Men want the booty to be more available, while women instinctively understand demand drives price standards. Whores who willingly spread themselves out under random strangers for nothing undermine the system. Radical sluts understand the system is fucked up. They know men & women would enjoy each other a lot more if the market crashed. Yes, some stockbrokers may plummet to their death from great heights when the structure collapses, but, a new freedom will surface in its place.

We are constantly told there is a shortage of resources on this planet. We cling tightly to our treasured possessions. Whether it’s our bodies, partners, or standard of living, it’s difficult to let go of the power associated with acquiring. Yet, it’s the ability to relate to ourselves, partners, and the world at large which ultimately suffers if we do not. Sex doesn’t have to be a means to an end or another bargaining tool laid flat when we reveal our hand.

Sex can be offered freely as a healing gift to others in service.

Fuck the markets. This ain’t no exchange. ~SS

Sex, Weight, and Fuckability

Beauty and Porcelain: Drew May

“Boys are cute, but food is cuter.” – Tori A.

Heaviness plagues me. And no, I’m not talking about weight. I’m talking about responsibilities. Last night, I had plenty of work to finish and was not in the mood to play “loving parental figure.” My lover was dead set on a night with Sally even though what I craved was a night in complete silence with incense burning and music playing. Reluctantly, I agreed to see him as long as he shut his mouth and lay next to me respectfully. All the lights were already off when he entered my apartment, loudly, slamming the door.

He ran into my bedroom and leaped on the bed at full speed. Then, he rested his head on my chest like an adoring child, while he wrapped his arms and legs around my body squeezing me tightly. Had I been in a lusty mood I might’ve responded to his overtures with some enthusiasm, but alas, I was not.

Sally, for once, was not “in the mood.”

Now, for a girl with a sexual appetite the size of Texas, this was strange situation, indeed. Yet, a number of factors about this “quasi relationship” are irritating. First of all, the dude, an overly-excitable Sagittarius, has been grating on my last nerve. His incessant talking and pontificating is driving me up the wall. Secondly, stress.

For Sally,

more stress=less sex

It’s not the physical act of sex, which I enjoy immensely, but the unbelievable amount of energy (and money!) it takes to maintain one’s fuckability.

So, what exactly is fuckability?

A tight ass and slammin’ outfit on the right night?

sell it, Sally, sell it!

Apparently, Venus is not only the Goddess of Love & Beauty, but she’s also the goddess of tanning, shopping, pedicures, manicures, and waxing. There’s nothing inherently wrong with pampering, but there’s time, money, and practical matters to consider. If all of our time is allocated to increasing sexiness, what other areas of our lives suffer?

For example, on a typical Saturday, Sally rises around 9:30 or 10:00 and begins her beauty regimen. I’m off to the gym for at least a two hour work out followed by a short tanning session, eyebrow waxing, and lastly, a pedicure. Afterward, I spend considerable amount of time scouring clothing racks for an appropriate outfit. Outfit choice is crucial. One should have an idea of the theme they’re going for. Slapping on an old tee-shirt and a pair of jeans is not an option. Then, it’s back home by 6:30 for a quick costume check. Accessories and undergarments are selected, then, it’s on to shoes. Boots, flats, and heels are examined to determine the best fit. By 7:30, one can embark upon the “getting ready” process.

Shower, lotion, make-up, hair, perfume.. in that order.

By 9:00 pm, twelve hours later, Sally is finally ready to see and be seen.

Certainly, dedicating the entirety of our energy to The Pursuit of Bootie, can be exhausting. Coming from a girl who’s been in hot pursuit since 1992, it doesn’t get any easier as we get older. Our bodies’ fail (hello Viagra!), careers and/or children demand our attention, and the pressure to conform to societal tradition mounts. We need another to share the burden with, or at least to take out the trash.

Is this the reason people get married? Do we eventually tire of the sexy charade?

Relationships do have a way of eroding the sexy right out of us. Ever notice those people who work out and "primp until they can primp no more" when they aren’t in a relationship, and then, after they’ve attracted their mate, they slip into physical neglect mode? And, to add insult to injury, people are never quite as hot as they were when you first met. Intrigue wears off. Secrets are uncovered and mysteries are solved. Now, some would say, this is where “real” relationships are formed- in the boring practical reality of day-to-day activities.

We may long for the inspired enchantment of our early days, and fondly remember when our fuckability was on the rise. But surprisingly, it’s the ebb n’ flow moments in life that’ll get ya, not the heaviness of the daily grind. Each one of us has to carry water, it is expected and we are programmed for it. We may even find another to assist us (husband/wife/long-term partner), which can be a very stabilizing experience. However, change and chaos still surrounds us. Waxing and waning feelings of interest/disinterest are much more challenging than the weight (responsibilities) of everyday living

Sally wants to remind you (and herself!) this week not to crumble under the heaviness, as my one of favorite musician’s would say, “The weight is a gift.”

Let’s live it like it is.

~SS

Tis’ the Season for Sex & Death

“In the Leaves” : Carrie Bagalio

“With every opening
carving a rough history
of bedroom scenes
the plot hard to follow
the text obscured
in the fields of sheets
slowly gathering the stains
of seasons spent lying there
red and brown
like leaves fallen”
- The Slant, Ani DiFranco

The fall season feels like death. It’s partly because my health is so poor during fall due to my allergies and the harvest. The humid moldy air is quite oppressive. So, in typical cyclical fashion, The Cold of Death has descended upon me. Between the combination of allergy meds, sinus meds, sleeping pills and occasional dose of Nyquil, Sally hasn’t been feeling too sexy these days. Plus, I’ve been awfully cuddly and romantic, which has put a damper on any potential hard core Fuck Meetings.

I blame my romantic cuddly mood on the season's changing. Fall discards the frivolousness of the summer and replaces it with a serious approach. We are more prone to engage in a stable partnership during the dead of winter. Curling up by the fire place, rolling around in the sheets until 2 pm while the wind whips against the walls, or hot chocolate on the couch with a good movie, are all appealing during the winter months. By spring, we’re ready to escape the heaviness of the relationship to frolic and flirt with fresh meat.

Even so, the impending freeze is not the cause of my melancholy like it is for most people. The freeze kills the toxins in the air, spiders and the bugs. In addition, naked bodies rubbing together cause friction and heat, and, readers, that can’t be bad thing. Driving through the brightly colored foliage in the fading light of a fall evening does, however, produce feelings of sadness.

His Death Fits like a Glove

I kill.
I burn.
I wrap my arms around him till the fire is gone.

I mourn.
I forgive.
I soar with wings out stretched again.

Can you recall how the Earth looked during an intense moment of grief? What was the sky like? How did the air seem? Grief causes time to stop. I can recall exactly how the sky looked the day my best friend’s mother lost her battle with cancer. I remember the pattern the clouds formed that day and the texture of the chilly fall air. I can see, like it was yesterday, the leaves blowing across my windshield in the eerie yellow light on the day my dad died. And lastly, I remember sitting on my knees, staring out my window across the street at the red and brown trees, sobbing, when I heard my dear friend Brian had committed suicide.

“I don't know what takes hold
out there in the desert cold”
~A Sorta Fairytale~Tori Amos

Brian was a slightly depressed young man who’d fallen into a deep depression during the height of his drug use. Faced with expulsion from the university he attended and the loss of his love, he shot himself on a peaceful archway above a park we frequented. Brain’s funeral was difficult. My friends and I huddled together in a circle and cried on each other’s shoulders. No one said a word. There were no words just hugging and touching.

Later that night, I went over to my boyfriend’s house. Exhausted, I collapsed on the bed next to him. He woke up, put his arm around my waist, and whispered in my ear, “Are you ok?” Instinctively, I kissed his mouth while his hand slid under my skirt. I swung my leg around him, and got on top to undo his pants. I rode his dick hard, but it wasn’t a simple emotionless fuck. It was comfort sex, much like comfort food: rich, filling, and pleasing.

It felt good to hold him close, to feel alive, and moving. Sex is life-affirming because we release and surrender to our primitive nature. Death is the ultimate mystery, but it’s also life-affirming to go home after one has lived. In death, supposedly, we merge with the divine. During sex, we also merge to experience the “other” deeply -to step into their shoes for a moment and see their life as they see it. Through sex and death we experience the intensity, the bliss, and yes, on the opposite end, grief, all wrapped up in a ball of chaos called the human experience.

As I finished writing today, this song popped on.

Still Lost- Cowboy Junkies

Here we stand at the end of paths taken
guiding light inspiration, the slow decline
crumbling foundation, the stations, and now the cross
we're still lost, we're still lost

Settling now, once again
what was begun, will meet it's end
running now, time to hide
go inside, it's time to hide

Here we stand at the end of paths taken
guiding light inspiration, the slow decline
crumbing foundation, the stations, and now the cross
but we're still lost, we're still lost

Waiting now, dull root twinning
keeping watch, for new roots shining

Here we stand at the end of paths taken
guiding light inspiration, the slow decline
crumbling foundation, the stations, and now the cross
but we're still lost, we're still lost

There you stand at the edge of salvation
guiding light inspiration, the slow decline
crumbling foundation, the stations, and now the cross
but we're still lost, we're still lost

Beautiful song- perfect for a nice reflective walk along the river. I think I’ll go.

~Sally S.

Charity Fucking and the Search for Meaning

THE DEATH OF VENUS
1986, by CALUM COLVIN

Venus is retrograde, and don’t I know it…

$50 pedicures end with a blotched big toe

All my favorite sex toys are broken

Taking out the garbage has become a monumental task

AND

I haven’t been able to get myself off for a week now!

Can anybody relate? This is incredibly frustrating for Sally S, who NEEDS to get off at least twice a day.

whine.

Further, my fantasy life has taken a turn for the worst…nothing “GETS ME THERE” anymore. There aren’t any spaces in my head left to go. Funny, last week I was writing about female sexual dysfunction. Hey Sally… how ‘bout a dose of your own medicine?

It’s often assumed that sex writers are incredibly liberated and have Thee Best Sex Ever. This is simply not true. We all hit a brick wall from time to time. However, w hen I hit a brick wall with my partners or myself, it feels like my entire life energy has been cut off. Fucking for sport suddenly isn’t enough when we’re craving something more. Although I’m not necessary referring to being immersed in a “serious monogamous relationship”, it’d be nice to connect/merge with someone on a soul level, at least for a night or two.

Without the connection, aren’t we just charity fucking? I first heard the term “Charity Fuck” on the show, “Queer as Folk”, a few years ago. During an episode, one of the characters meets a guy who he would never consider a relationship with and was only marginally attracted to. Yet, he screws the poor fellow because he feels sorry for him and wants to help him. The charity fuck had just been dumped and was in a sad state of affairs when the charity fucker stepped in to save the day. Well, you get the idea.

Charity fucking was, for me, a way of life for a considerable amount of time. As in, “gee, you helpless little bird with a broken wing, come here and let me make it better.” And even though I know I have genuinely helped many people release their inhibitions and climb out of their shells sexually, it’d be great to live on the opposite end of the spectrum for awhile to experience some serious role reversal.

Please, by all means, teach me.

*“I have only come here seeking knowledge
Things they wouldn’t teach me of in college
I can see the destiny you sold
Turned into a shining band of gold”

All humans have a tendency to want to re- experience the primary bond they lost and give themselves over to the tender loving care of another- even the hardest of the hard. As adults, we don’t acknowledge this enough because we must project an image of self-sufficiency. Yet, we expect others to notice when we need to be held, cuddled, or…hell, rocked to sleep with cup of warm milk and fuzzy blanket.

If you need me I’ll be in my fuzzy robe on the couch eating bon-bons, drinking Diet Mountain Dew, and watching Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

But before that, I’m going shopping.

We will return to our regularly scheduled tortured ass-spanking program in the near future.

Happy Friday -SS


*Lyrics: Wrapped Around Your Finger, Sting

Sexual Dysfunction, Part I

Here at Revolution is Not a Dinner Party, your girl Sally S. spends a lot of time waxing on & on about her raging libido and late night trysts. But what about those who don’t share my enthusiasm, are they repressed? Shy? Tired? Have a headache? Haven’t hit their prime? Suffering from a bad case of the clap?

Traditional myth would have us believe women hit their sexual peak between 35-40 and men between the ages of 18 and 22. The sad fact is many women adhere to this foolishness, but the question we need to be asking is why. Why do women self-police/guard themselves against experiencing pleasure?

Because last night, a little tipsy and feeling frisky, I went to see this sexy grrl, and guess what…..she wasn’t “in the mood”. She also added, “Frankly, Sally, I’m just not as horny as you.” Well then.

I need answers, people.

First off, let’s all admit, yeah, sometimes we’re tired, cranky, stressed out and maybe aren’t feeling “it”. However, when we get stuck in pattern of orgasmic denial, it’s time to re-evaluate our priorities because the dishes can probably wait.

From a very young age, most women were taught to keep their desire in check. Maybe our mothers told us, “Little Billy will try to get to second base with you, but good girls don’t do that” while fathers slapped a condom in their son’s hand with a gruff, “Boy, be careful.” And that was that. Hell, maybe we didn’t hear a peep from either of them and instead heard the old “sluts and studs” speech in high school from our peers. Either way, for women, the prognosis didn’t look good from the start. (Hello Eve, eating the apple.)

This, of course, doesn’t even consider the damage beyond the damage. What about women who’ve been sexual abused? Or, even just those who’ve comforted friends/sisters/mothers/daughters who’ve been raped? It does kick up some anger and rage in the dust storm, does it not?

And, true, in this day n’ age, an open sexually healthy partner can be hard to come by. Let’s face it; the world still isn’t exactly a safe place for women in many ways. One can understand why these attitudes persist. The message women get is, “W-H-O-R-E, you asked for it.” Since most of us aren’t willing to stomach the judgments, emotional and/or physical harm just to achieve the Big O or venture into new sexual territory, here we are, stuck.

*“Clowns to the left of me,
Jokers to the right, here I am,
Stuck in the middle with you”

Sorry, I just had to…

Stay tuned for Part II….



*lyrics: Stealers Wheel

Souls on Parade

“It's about you and the sun
A morning run
The story of my maker
What I have and what I ache for

I`ve got a golden ear
I cut and I spear
What else is there?"--- Royksopp

I have been involved in exceedingly long drawn-out emotional conversations about nothing lately. Maybe that’s why I haven’t written anything of substance. I used to be a much better blogger when I knew nobody read this page. Now, I have no idea who see’s this, much less, who even cares about it.

And yes, lately, too, I admit I’ve been intellectually lazy. Anybody else ever feel that way? (shouting into the void!) Maybe it’s the summer heat, hell.. I don’t know anymore and I’m out of excuses.

Also, has anyone else been feeling utterly uninspired by what’s happening out there in blog land? I’ve become highly disillusioned by the internet feminists. I have never seen so much drama, hatred, and monotony spewed forth in such a methodical fashion. Blah. and Barf.

The radical feminist versus this person and that person has become a little predictable.

What else is there to say?

Also, sex.

So, you like it rough? So, you have a rubber crotch? (tribute to Sylvia Plath), so you like come fuck me boots, so you don’t like any of those things and eschew all items of that nature? What else is there?

If you’ve given away every secret in every conversation you’ve had, what else is there?

Last night, at a lovely Piano Bar in the company of my sister and three not so lovely gentlemen, my sister’s date said..

“Yeah, I agree with the War in Iraq, it’s a good thing….” or something to that effect. I honestly quit listening after the first line tho’, looked at him menacingly about three sentences into his diatribe and said, “yeah, if you don’t have a soul.”

I’m just done with it, ya know. Convincing these fuckwits that their opinions are wrong isn’t really important anymore. Once upon a time, Sally would’ve dueled verbally with this gentleman to the death, but no. Even if I could convince him to, oh, I don’t know, get a soul… “Hey, buddy, go pick up a fuckin’ soul, they’re on sale down the street!!” what difference does it make?

It doesn’t help matters that on Friday night I ran into a killing machine. Not yet, mind you. He’s not a killing machine quite yet- until he finally gets to go to Iraq and kill some people, he’s still a double-d douche bag with a small dick in the old U.S. of A.

Seriously, at a party on Fri. night I actually over heard the guy talking about how excited he was to “go kill some people.” Again, fuckwad, souls are on sale down the street. He also spoke about basic training and how his superiors degraded and humiliated him, physically, emotionally..even sexually? Straight out of the killing machine’s mouth.. he told us about how his commanding officer made him jerk off in front other men in big room. Sounds like a scene straight out of G.I. Jane to me, but nonetheless, true or false, this guy felt it necessary to recount the experience.

I found it hard to muster any compassion for this fellow. Yet, at the same time, I felt this young insecure lad probably was being or had been brainwashed by the government. Weird, huh? It was just the vibe I got. A shy self-loathing boy doesn’t turn into a killing machine overnight, you know. Or maybe they do.

Karma, 101

Everything I touch breaks.

At least today.

My car, the toilet in our community office bathroom, the toilet at the house I used to rent with my sister, the door which the cops kicked down at the old house I used to live at, and for fuck’s sake, my favorite Channel lipstick, and the end of my living room table (baby toe, meet table, AGAIN…), ect…

Eh.

Similarly, my little sister claims everything in her life rots, i.e. grows mold, from the fridge to possibly her personal life, but I’m not judging, no, of course not.

Conversely, everyone in my office is having a grand old day. So-and- so’s pathetic excuse for a son just bought a house and blah, blah, blah… suck it people!

Do I sound like a five year-old today or what? Maybe someone should just put me on a leash. After all, with my tendency to break shit and what not…..

So, why the rude smart-ass overtones? Readers, I have been feeling somewhat emotionally numb the last few days and cannot be bothered to find one iota of compassion for others in my cold dead lifeless heart.

Also, money people, that’s right, money. I’ve been spending an obscene amount of it lately and found I am somewhat disgusted with myself about it. I received a rather large inheritance over a year ago and I have basically bought a lot of shit. Needless shit. So much for that "conservative with money" accountant stereotype, you won’t find that here, no siree.

And each week it’s a game, isn’t it? We say, I’m going to change this and this and this about my life, next week, yeah, sometime next week. But that time never comes, and well, why should it? When we’re doing just the minimal amount of work in our lives to get by and keep others off our freakin’ backs, there’s not much incentive to achieve, is there?

I the problem is, I was a nose-to-the-grind stone hard core achiever for many years, and managed to make some pretty impressive strides in my life. But now, it’s just enough to get by….heh. How did it come to this, I ask myself often. And each week I make impossible promises to myself about how dedicated and service-orientated I will be and how much joy I will experience because of it, and then… fuck…. it’s pedicures, shopping, tanning, excessive gyming (is that a word?) and martinis on a Tuesday night.

Key lime pie martinis.

Who does that?

Some people my age have 2.5 kids, the house, The Job, ect, ect, ect..
Yet, I cannot be bothered with such humdrum. I’ve been catching flack from friends lately about being more “adult-like” and “stop all that partying girlfriend!” which is actually ironic, because 5 years ago with my nose held to the stone, they looked awfully frivolous in my eyes.

Well, Justin Timberlake, you just might be on to something there, what goes around does come round’. Funny, I thought I told ya.

I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend.

AND IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE ME AGAIN, I WOULD UNDERSTAND.

On Saturday night, as my back slammed against the granite on my living room floor, in the midst of a short but pleasurable threesome, I contemplated the meaning of life.

Just kidding.

Well, not really.

If I had more time for blogging these days I would post more about my nefarious sexual misadventures. But no. With the move, the strangeness of this life experiment, and the apparent increase in naughtiness, the words have been failing me. And that really is shame. So, I apologize.

I’d like to end this before I go influence young minds (not exactly, more like college-aged minds) with three weird things… (besides the hasty 4am cold hard floor orgy in my loft on Sat. night)

So, here you have it…

Weird Stuff

1) Leaving for work one morning and seeing a crowd of senior citizens with “Impeach Bush”, “Peace First”, and “War No More” signs. Their “Impeach Bush Now” van was parked in plain view across the street. I honked at the old folks, gave them a thumbs up, and was on my merry way to work- not the first thing I expected to see leaving my apartment at 8am.

2) Waking up to the sound of jack hammer inside my second story loft, eh, not exactly, but it was right outside my window on the roof. With curtains wide open, I made the trek from my bed to shut of my alarm, without one spec of clothing adorning my body. I hope the construction guys got a good look at my ass. Lord knows, they couldn’t have missed it.

3) Walking with a friend down the bike trails we came to impasse, so, we stood for a moment while we, and fellow walkers, enjoyed the view. Coldplay was blasting on my iPOD and I was feeling a little nostalgic and emotional when I looked to my right. A child, probably 4 or 5, had been restrained by a harness while his parents held him on a leash. That’s right, a fucking leash! My friend and I both happened to see the kid at the same time, as we watched the parents pull the leash back while the kid pushed forward with all his might. We immediately burst into laughter as the somber moment was replaced with disbelief. A fucking leash!!!!!

That is all.

More Weirdness to come, in the near future…

And this is the world we live in?

If you aren’t disgusted yet, you should be.

And the World Mourns

Empty prayer, empty mouths, combien reaction
Empty prayer, empty mouths, talk about the passion
Not everyone can carry the weight of the world
Not everyone can carry the weight of the world

Talk about the passion
Talk about the passion

Empty prayer, empty mouths, combien reaction
Empty prayer, empty mouths, talk about the passion
Combien, combien, combien de temps?

Not everyone can carry the weight of the world
Not everyone can carry the weight of the world
Combien, combien, combien de temps?

-Talk about the Passion, R.E.M

Unless you have no empathy for your fellow human beings, yesterday was a difficult day.

Yet, tragedy of this sort is often viewed from intellectual distance. Since the continual daily demands on our time and energy make it nearly impossible to do otherwise, many simply turn their brains off and ignore the impact of world events. A friend of mine said he couldn’t bear to watch the news coverage on Hurricane Katrina anymore because it was “too difficult to face.” This head-in-sand routine has got to stop.

But if and when the emotional impact of these tragedies creep into our respective individual landscapes it often hits hard. Our schools are supposed to be peaceful safe-havens, a place where dreams are born and realized. Many have compared the university system to the concept of the Great Mother, embracing and nurturing students during their transition into adulthood. Parents send their children to colleges expecting they will be safe and flourish accordingly. Attacks within these structures serve as an example of the psychological blue print of the current world order. A mother’s grief, the shock of a sudden loss, the proverbial cosmic rug being yanked out from under one’s feet, all manifestations of our shared reality within the system.

Whether it’s a road-side bomb exploding and killing 30 in Iraq or a gunman on a college campus killing 33, the grief is the same, and we all fester and rot in it together. We cannot afford to draw lines around a map anymore and pretend that we’re not apart of it, it’s real and it’s us. No amount of reality TV, alcohol, sex, or other avoidance tactic will distance us from it. It’s our world and we are responsible.

Giuliani or Obama?

This weekend my sister and I had an interesting discussion about the forerunners for the 2008 presidential election. It’s no secret; I’m a big Barack Obama fan. His presidental platform, “HOPE. ACTION. CHANGE.”, is an inspiring message, which we all need to embrace during this dark era in our history. In a recent campaign speech, Senator Obama said, “"We are here today because the country calls us, we are here today because history beckons us, we are here today because we face a series of challenges as significant, as daunting as any generation has faced." He then added, "There's a better future for America.” And I couldn’t agree more.

Senator Obama has consistently spoken out against the war in Iraq. In a speech in 2002 he said,

“After September 11, after witnessing the carnage and destruction, the dust and the tears, I supported this administration's pledge to hunt down and root out those who would slaughter innocents in the name of intolerance, and I would willingly take up arms myself to prevent such tragedy from happening again. I don't oppose all wars. What I am opposed to is a dumb war. What I am opposed to is a rash war. What I am opposed to is the cynical attempt by Richard Perle and Paul Wolfowitz and other armchair, weekend warriors in this administration to shove their own ideological agendas down our throats, irrespective of the costs in lives lost and in hardships borne. What I am opposed to is the attempt by political hacks like Karl Rove to distract us from a rise in the uninsured, a rise in the poverty rate, a drop in the median income, to distract us from corporate scandals and a stock market that has just gone through the worst month since the Great Depression.”

AND

“You want a fight, President Bush? Let's fight to wean ourselves off Middle East oil through an energy policy that doesn't simply serve the interests of Exxon and Mobil. Those are the battles that we need to fight. Those are the battles that we willingly join. The battles against ignorance and intolerance. Corruption and greed. Poverty and despair. The consequences of war are dire, the sacrifices immeasurable. We may have occasion in our lifetime to once again rise up in defense of our freedom, and pay the wages of war. But we ought not - we will not - travel down that hellish path blindly. Nor should we allow those who would march off and pay the ultimate sacrifice, who would prove the full measure of devotion with their blood, to make such an awful sacrifice in vain.”

Giuliani, on the other hand, at the Republican National Convention in 2004, said,

“On September 20, 2001, President Bush stood before a joint session of Congress, a still grieving and shocked nation and a confused world, and he changed the direction of our ship of state. He dedicated America, under his leadership, to destroying global terrorism. The president announced the Bush Doctrine, when he said, "Our war on terror begins with al Qaeda, but it does not end there. It will not end until every terrorist group of global reach has been found, stopped and defeated. Either you are with us or you are with the terrorists. And since September 11, President Bush has remained rock solid.It doesn't matter to him how he is demonized. It doesn't matter what the media does to ridicule him or misinterpret him or defeat him. They ridiculed Winston Churchill. They belittled Ronald Reagan. But like President Bush, they were optimists. Leaders need to be optimists. Their vision is beyond the present, and it's set on a future of real peace and security. Some call it stubbornness. I call it principled leadership. President Bush has the courage of his convictions.”

And on February 11, 2007, Giuliani made other comments about his faith in Bush as a leader. An article by Michael Finnegan, Times Staff Writer, states,

"Republican presidential hopeful Rudolph W. Giuliani praised President Bush's war leadership on Saturday and mocked supporters of a nonbinding congressional resolution condemning the U.S. troop buildup in Iraq. The former New York City mayor came to Bush's defense as he promoted his White House candidacy at a California Republican convention. Drawing parallels between Iraq and America's Civil War, Giuliani compared Bush's political troubles to Abraham Lincoln's. When the Civil War was unpopular, Giuliani said, Lincoln "kept his eye ahead." "He (Lincoln) was able to say, 'I know my people are frustrated, and I know my people are angry at me.' " But after weighing public opinion, Lincoln had "that ability that a leader has — a leader like George Bush, a leader like Ronald Reagan — to look into the future," Giuliani said. Giuliani's defense of the currently unpopular president comes as he is portraying himself as a decisive leader unafraid to buck public opinion."

Conversely, Senator Obama, stands behind his Iraq War De-Escalation Act of 2007, which provides for a time table for withdrawal from Iraq that is both practical and functional. His De-Escalation Act can be viewed here.

Rather than attacking Guiliani for decisions made in his personal life, I would instead like to focus on his “iron-fist” style of leadership. Several Guiliani insiders and analysts have pointed out his tendency to surrounded himself with “Yes, Rudy” men, isolating himself from contradictory view points and opinions. Does this sound familiar? George W. Bush part duex anyone?

Guiliani, once a lame duck mayor, saw his popularity catapult after the events of 9/11. While George Bush was hiding in a bunker on September 11th, Guiliani appeared on the news as both a confident and comforting presence which the American people desperately need at that time.

However, what America needs now is way out of a horrendous war started on the premise of a lie. Guiliani rides the wave of his “perceived 9/11 heroism” and continues to support the Bush agenda. This is just more of the same shit. I cannot see how another “iron-fisted” war-happy aggressive personality would benefit our country.

So Guiliani is pro-choice and socially moderate, I’m willing to give him that. But, so is Senator Obama, PLUS he understands how this ill-conceived war is affecting America and is taking action to put a stop to it. And that’s a dude I wouldn’t mind voting for.

Now this, my friends, is funny.

Ballot measure would require couples to have kids
By RACHEL LA CORTE Associated Press Posted February 7 2007, 11:15 AM EST

OLYMPIA, Wash. -- Proponents of same-sex marriage have introduced a ballot measure that would require heterosexual couples to have a child within three years or have their marriages annulled.

The Washington Defense of Marriage Alliance acknowledged on its Web site that the initiative was "absurd" but hoped the idea prompts "discussion about the many misguided assumptions" underlying a state Supreme Court ruling that upheld a ban on same-sex marriage.

The measure would require couples to prove they can have children to get a marriage license. Couples who do not have children within three years could have their marriages annulled.

All other marriages would be defined as "unrecognized," making those couples ineligible for marriage benefits.

The paperwork for the measure was submitted last month. Supporters must gather at least 224,800 signatures by July 6 to put it on the November ballot.

The group said the proposal was aimed at "social conservatives who have long screamed that marriage exists for the sole purpose of procreation."

Cheryl Haskins, executive director of Allies for Marriage and Children, said opponents of same-sex marriage want only to preserve marriage as the union of a man and a woman.

By RACHEL LA CORTE Associated Press Posted February 7 2007, 11:15 AM EST

Since the SD legislature just introduced a new abortion ban, I wonder if we could come up with a retaliatory measure too? Why not? I think it's definitely called for in this situation. And P.S., the guy who stands in front of Planned Parenthood praying each morning on my way to work is sooooooooo aggravating! One day I’m going to get out of my car and kick his ass! Happy Friday Y’all, Ms. Sally S.

Storm Chasers Have this Market Locked Down

In a newly manufactured home we sat with one another growing fat from the excess of dreams abandoned. Our instincts sufficiently dulled, we clung to the hope that one day we’d live outside of our square steel box. We held our children tightly, to protect them from the world and we rushed them down stairs when the wind storms came. Our homes, torn from their foundation, were scattered throughout the terrain. When we found each other, we were alone in our shells, mindlessly wandering around displaced halls. Do you remember me? We used to live here together. We ask these questions to spark a memory in our fading history. Humanity, in its inevitable isolation, is often shell-shocked from the experience of living, and reaches out for protection. But the foundation of our home, having been shook to the core, now moves freely, lifting itself from one valley to another. We embrace the storm and move with the wind, because anymore, there’s no safety in staying.

What I’m listening to: Alive- Pearl Jam

Son, she said, have I got a little story for you
who you thought was your daddy was nothing but a...
While you were sitting home alone at age thirteen
Your real daddy was dying, sorry you didn't see him, but I'm glad we talked
I'm still alive
Hey, I'm still alive

she walks slowly across a young man's room
She said I'm ready for you
I can't remember anything to this very day
except the look, the look
now I can't see, I just stare
I, I'm still alive
Hey, I'm still alive

Is something wrong, she said
Well of course there is
You're still alive, she said
Oh, and do I deserve to be
Is that the question
And if so who answers?
I'm still alive
Hey I, I'm still alive

Africa: The Long Journey Home

Last summer, I was fortunate enough to befriend a group of young men who were visiting the United States on work visas from South Africa. When I introduced them to other friends who were US citizens, my Caucasian friends were very surprised that my South African friends were white. Evidently, they did not know white people lived in Africa. There were other startling discoveries made as the friendships blossomed between me and as I called them, “my guys”.

Africa, as a continent, is fascinating. My obsession started when I considered joining the Peace Corps. after I finished my undergrad degree. I had just finished my application with every intention of committing to three years in the Peace Corps., when I decided it wasn’t the right time. However, I’ve always felt drawn to the organization in hope of being sent off to West Africa, which has always had a significant hold over me.

Recently, I met a young man from Morocco (a northwest African country) who speaks FOUR languages and is currently studying in the US. My other African friend from Tunisia, who lives and works in France, holds a prestigious job in Paris. These young men are quite ambitious and “Westernized” in their approach. Their personalities reflect “Western” world attitudes, yet influences from their countries of origin remain intact.

Even without the additions of Westernized influence, Africa is a complex continent. In some areas (particularly Eastern Africa) one would be afraid to enter these countries for fear of leaving in a body bag (Somalia, Chad, Ethiopia, Rwanda, Sudan for example) due to the increased influx of terrorist regimes that have seized power because of corruption at the executive level. However, many areas of Africa are beautiful peaceful sanctuaries from the rest of the crazy world. It continues to amaze me that both extremes exist with startling regularity on the continent. For instance, in 1994, the Hutu government of Rwanda orchestrated genocide against a minority group within its own country. The rest of the world watched as millions were brutally murdered with machetes, bullets, fire, or by any method the government found useful to “EXTERMINATE” people. Hell, Hollywood made a whole movie, Hotel Rwanda, to commemorate the event.

Hotel Rwanda was made in 2004, just 10 years after the genocide. The movie denounced the lack of US or UN involvement in helping to restore order in the country. Today, the scars from the mass killing still remain. For example, this priest was just now found guilty for crimes associated with the genocide.

A caption below his picture in an article reads, “ A Catholic priest was convicted Wednesday of participating in Rwanda's 1994 genocide by ordering militiamen to set fire to a church and then bulldoze it while 2,000 people were huddled inside.”

Meanwhile, in Sudan and Somalia similar government-led murder sprees are occurring RIGHT NOW. The spillover affect is also an issue, meaning that neighboring countries will see an influx of displaced persons as these government sponsored terror campaigns against their own people continue. The situation has escalated in the African country, Chad, as refugees from Sudan cross their border. Sudanese militia are now attacking Chadians and Sudanese people alike. Click on this link for a web-based slide show reflecting the conditions in Chad.

Westernized cultures, especially North America, have been very disconnected from the rest of the world. I’m finally just starting to understand the depths of my ignorance beyond my own borders and it’s staggering. As Americans, we need to be more aware of the world and the condition of its inhabitants. After all, we are supposed to be the leaders.

The lyrics below are fitting right now, as we prepare for our big family Holiday-inspired events. Let’s also take time to remember our extended family as in, OUR HUMAN FAMILY. The rest of the world needs us.

The Cranberries- Ode to My Family

Understand the things I say
Don’t turn away from me
Cause I spent half my life out there
You wouldn’t disagree
Do you see me, do you see
Do you like me, do you like me standing there
Do you notice, do you know
Do you see me, do you see me
Does anyone care

Unhappiness when I was young
And we didn’t give a damn
’cause we were raised
To see life as fun and take it if we can
My mother, my mother she held me
Did she hold me, when I was out there
My father, my father, he liked me
Oh he liked me, does anyone care?

Understand what I’ve become
It wasn’t my design
And people everywhere think
Something better than I am
But I miss you
’cause I liked it, I liked it
When I was out there
You did not find me, you did not find
Does anyone care?

At the Apex of Holiday Giving

Onward, Christian Soldiers!

Time to bring out those Bibles and start our conversions- I’m feeling charitable! Next time I’m at the mall I think I’ll visit the Angel Tree, as there are plenty of needy poverty-stricken children who would love a shiny new leather Bible. Yippee Mom! Look what I got! Tis’ the season of giving, so surely these sinners will be eternally grateful- especially for the rescuing of their children’s souls from the fires of hell. All praise Billy Graham!

This, fellow bloggers, is not anything new. Christian Missionaries have been playing this game for centuries. These religious zealots trick indigenous people to “convert” under the guise of providing humanitarian aid. Now, I’m not saying humanitarian aid isn’t appreciated and needed, but it comes with a price. It’s the old “nothing is for free in this world” philosophy. The problem occurs when missionaries use “aid” as a way to hook others into their beliefs. The moral issue being, aid should be provided regardless of the religious affiliation. In this situation, the tried n’ true litmus test is, oddly enough, “WWJD?” As in, HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, people, do you really think Jesus would leave someone dying on the side of the road just because they wouldn't believe what he was preaching?

If so, our beloved son of the father has some serious explaining to do, and also an entire bracelet/tee-shirt empire to salvage from the claws of hypocrisy.

After the December 26, 2004 tsunami hit eastern Asia (See Wiki entry)killing hundreds of thousands of people and uprooting many more from their homes, various humanitarian agencies from all over the world stepped in to provide aid. These people, by enlarge, were motivated by a sincere need to serve. However, there were also missionaries who, bent on spreading the good word, used every opportunity to shove a Bible down their throats.
See an article below written in January just after the Tsunami hit, which shows the outrage many “potential convertees’” must’ve felt when missionaries approached them.

Conversion Attempts in a Time of Grief
By: Shobha Warrier in Nagapattinam January 24, 2005 15:45 IST

When I entered one of the rows of temporary shelters built for tsunami victims in Pattancherry village in Nagapattinam, I witnessed a minor scuffle in a corner.
Some inmates had surrounded a Christian priest and two nuns, and a war of words was going on.

"We are Hindus and we want to live as Hindus. Why do you want to convert us?" some young men shouted at the missionaries.

The priest said, "We are not here to convert people. We were only offering prayers for your peace of mind."

But flashing some pamphlets distributed among them by the three, the inmates snorted, "What does this mean?"

The priest had no answer.

"Why do you enter our houses and pray?," they asked. "Your nuns do this when our women are alone at home. We know how to pray."

The young men were extremely furious. The priest was unruffled.
The scuffle went on till the three were forced to leave the place.

Day two:
As I was visiting the areas close to the sea that were badly affected by the tsunami waves, I saw another angry scene outside another temple in another village.
Police jeeps were seen parked outside the temple in Samandapettai. So was a van.
Villagers were complaining to the police about a missionary group to which the van belonged.

They said the group had taken away to another place their belongings and the relief they had got from nongovernmental organisations and the government, which they had kept inside the temple, because they refused to listen to its missionaries.
"They want to try their luck at some other place. Since we resisted, they took away our things. We won't allow this to happen," they said. "Why don't you arrest all of them?" the villagers asked the police.

The villagers' torrent of angry words continued. "We have lost everything to the sea. They said they would help us if we followed their religion. What logic is this? Are they here to help us or change our religion?" The police couldn't cool their tempers.

The group said it did not take away the belongings of the villagers and insisted that the contents inside the van belonged to it.

That evening, some villagers came with the news that the police had arrested the priest they had confronted the previous day.

"He shouldn't be doing this when we are grieving, when we are suffering. Everything has its time and place," a villager said.

When I wanted to talk to the panchayat president and locals of the Karakkalmedu village at Karaikkal, they called me inside the village temple. That was where they met outsiders. The temple has become the centre of activity in the village.
Before we started talking, one of them opened the door to the sanctum and pointed to a mark left by the strong tsunami waves. They told me that water stopped at the feet of their deity and then receded. "We might have suffered, but our Goddess saved us."
This belief had taken the villagers all the more closer to their deity.

"That is why it hurts us when others come and tell us that it was because of our God and our belief that we suffered. We won't let anyone exploit us when we are down," the panchayat members asserted.

Shobha Warrier in Nagapattinam January 24, 2005 15:45 IST


This is, of course, preposterous. The logic here being, “Hey, everything you love including people, possessions, cities, culture ect… has been destroyed, how about a Bible?” I may have slapped a nun or priest at that point. In the words of Dave Chapelle, “Am I gonna have to punch a bitch?” How offensive. I, myself, knowing too well how insensitive others can be during the grieving process, wouldn’t have been surprised at the missionary’s opportunist actions. Nevertheless, Christian or not, we all should at the very least have a shred of compassion for our fellow human beings. One would expect more from these saintly so called “servants of God.”

My father, a self-proclaimed “servant of God”, often used his beliefs as way to manipulate and control others. Hooking others under the guise of “saving souls” while in same breath announcing the sinners would burn. The sinners, of course, being anyone who didn’t believe what he was preaching. My sisters and I worked hard for his approval, believing our mythical charismatic father had all the answers about the universe in his hands. Children, especially, are vulnerable in the face of these unfounded religious beliefs, their young minds ready to be molded to create the values their adult lives are to be based on. Whether our parents or missionaries infect us with these poisonous beliefs, the result is the same, needless suffering and heartache with even less compassion to go around.

How about putting down the Bibles to actually help someone? How about instead of protesting in front of Planned Parenthood (which does absolutely nothing for living breathing children) we volunteer to be a big brother/big sister to a child, help out at the banquet, or even pay attention to our children when they need us- what a concept! Gees, I didn’t know it could be that easy. Silly me.

The Holiday’s are a perfect time to get off of our lazy butts, put the peanut brittle down, and do something constructive. Let’s use our time, dollars, and energy wisely. Give the gift that keeps on giving- compassion.

These days I’m loving all the feisty redheads out there, you go Bonnie Raitt!- give’em something to talk about.

Bonnie Raitt-Unnecessarily Mercenary

You’re just into looking after #1
Only thing you worry ‘bout is having your fun
First sign of trouble and it’s understood
You’ll get going while the going’s still good
You’re so very unnecessarily mercenary

You’re a secret agent got a hidden agenda
Got me in your sights, think I’m a real big spender
Stick around baby pretty soon you’ll see
I ain’t got no money but my love’s for free
You’re so very unnecessarily mercenary

You’re a gun for hire when a war breaks out
Loving on the front line ‘til the money runs out
Finger on the trigger, baby pull it and see
If your mercenary tactic’s gonna work on me

You’re so very unnecessarily mercenary
So very unnecessarily mercenary

In A Nuclear Haze

Our president can’t pronounce the world “nuclear”, yet with the advent of North Korea’s underground nuclear test, we find ourselves living with the threat of nuclear warfare.When Bush included North Korea in the “axis of evil” during a speech, he did more harm than good as relations between the US and North Korea has since deteriorated. North Korea wants to be taken seriously as a “force to reckoned with” in the international community. However, North Korea is like the delinquent child who misbehaves and causes havoc, just to get attention from the principal. The country now faces sanctions imposed by the United Nations as a result of their nuclear test. North Korea seems poised to undergo second nuclear test in the near future as well. Many argue that China is really the only country in a position to engage in meaningful dialogue with Kim Jong, the country’s “great leader” who is worshiped in almost god-like fashion.

Lack of resources and shortages exist under Kim Jong’s leadership, as many Koreans have died of famine and starvation due to economic hardship. In communist North Korea, radios must be set to pre-approved stations and most TV stations are state-sponsored. Koreans are routinely bombarded with messages about the greatness of their leader and West’s desire to destroy their way of life. When North Korean’s attempt to cross the border into China defectors are tortured and imprisoned when they are caught. Most Korean’s, upon entering China, find the Chinese have more wealth and freedom than they do. The problem with power-hungry elitists like Kim Jong is that he will sacrifice the livelihood, and in some cases the actual lives of his people to feed his monstrous ego. He will tell lies, manipulate, and coerce innocents so he can remain in power.

The article below is written by a German doctor who was allowed access to the very private inner-workings of the average North Korean’s world.

A Prison Country
A report from inside North Korea.

BY NORBERT VOLLERTSEN
Tuesday, April 17, 2001 12:01 a.m. EDT

I know North Korea. I have lived there, and have witnessed its hell and madness.
I was a doctor with a German medical group, "Cap Anamur," and entered North Korea in July 1999. I remained until my expulsion on Dec. 30, 2000, after I denounced the regime for its abuse of human rights, and its failure to distribute food aid to the people who needed it most. North Korea's starvation is not the result of natural disasters. The calamity is man-made. Only the regime's overthrow will end it.
Human rights are nonexistent. Peasants, slaves to the regime, lead lives of utter destitution. It is as if a basic right to exist--to be--is denied. Ordinary people starve and die. They are detained at the caprice of the regime. Forced labor is the basic way in which "order" is maintained.
I will recount some of my experiences. Early in my spell in North Korea I was summoned to treat a workman who had been badly burned by molten iron.
I volunteered my own skin to be grafted onto him. With a penknife, my skin was pulled from my left thigh and applied to the patient. For this, I was acclaimed by the state media--the only media--and awarded the Friendship Medal, one of only two foreigners ever to receive this honor.
I was also issued a "VIP passport" and a driver's license, which allowed me to travel to areas inaccessible to foreigners and ordinary citizens. I secretly photographed patients and their decrepit surroundings. Though I was assigned to a children's hospital in Pyongsong, 10 miles north of Pyongyang, I visited many hospitals in other provinces. In each one, I found unbelievable deprivation. Crude rubber drips were hooked to patients from old beer bottles. There were no bandages, scalpels, antibiotics or operation facilities, only broken beds on which children lay waiting to die. The children were emaciated, stunted, mute, emotionally depleted.
In the hospitals one sees kids too small for their age, with hollow eyes and skin stretched tight across their faces. They wear blue-and-white striped pajamas, like the children in Hitler's Auschwitz. They are so malnourished, so drained of resistance, that a flu can kill them. Why are there so many orphans? Where are all the parents? What passes here for family life?
In North Korea, a repressive apparatus uncoils whenever there is criticism. The suffocation, by surveillance, shadowing, wiretapping and mail interception, is total. Most patients in hospitals suffer from psychosomatic illnesses, worn out by compulsory drills, innumerable parades, "patriotic" assemblies at six in the morning and droning propaganda. They are toilworn, prostrate, at the end of their tether. Clinical depression is rampant. Alcoholism is common because of mindnumbing rigidities, regimentation and hopelessness. In patients' eyes I saw no life, only lassitude and a constant fear.
Once, I had an opportunity to visit my driver, a member of the military, who was in the hospital because of injury. The authorities were vexed that I wanted to see him, but I was able to overcome objections. As was my custom on hospital visits, I took bandages and antibiotics--basics. On this occasion, I was embarrassed to see that, unlike any other hospital I visited, this one looked as modern as any in Germany. It was equipped with the latest medical apparatus, such as magnetic resonance imaging, ultrasound, electrocardiograms and X-ray machines. There are two worlds in North Korea, one for the senior military and the elite; and a living hell for the rest.
I didn't see any improvement in the availability of food and medicine in any of the hospitals I worked in during my entire stay. One can only imagine what conditions are like in the "reform institutions," where whole families are imprisoned when any one member does or says something that offends the regime. These camps are closed to foreigners.
My initial naiveté that the starvation was the result of weather conditions disappeared when I saw that much of the food aid was being denied those who needed it most. Before Cap Anamur came to North Korea, other agencies such as Oxfam and CARE pulled out because they weren't allowed to distribute aid directly to the people. They had to turn it over to the authorities, who took complete charge of distribution. Monitoring is impossible. Nobody really knows where the aid is going, except that it is not going to the starving citizens.
If a doctor's diagnosis is that North Korea suffers from society-wide fear and depression because of the cruel system, he has to think about the right therapy and to speak out against repression. The international community, especially humanitarian groups, must demand access to the shadowy world of labor camps. They have to look for the violence that is hidden from us by the system.
The system's beneficiaries are members of the Communist Party and high-ranking military personnel. In Pyongyang, these people enjoy a comfortable lifestyle--obscene in the context--with fancy restaurants and nightclubs. In diplomatic shops, they can buy such delicacies as Argentine steak, with which they supplement their supplies of food diverted from humanitarian aid. In the countryside, starving people, bypassed by the aid intended for them, forage for food. Pyongyang is fooling the world.
As a German, I know too well the guilt of my grandparents' generation for its silence under the Nazis. I feel it is my duty to expose this satanic regime, which has deified "Dear Leader" Kim Jong Il, just as it did his late father.
Even though virtually the entire North Korean economy is geared to the military, we should help ordinary citizens. But this must be on condition that aid goes to the deserving. Foreign NGOs, journalists and diplomats must be free to travel unannounced to the provinces to ensure that aid isn't misdirected. Only pressure on North Korea can save lives. The people can't help themselves. They are brainwashed, and too afraid to be able to overthrow their rulers. That's the medical diagnosis. Only the outside world can administer the right therapy, and bring about a reformation of this depraved nation.

Dr. Vollertsen, a physician from Germany, worked in hospitals in North Korea from July 1999 to December 2000.

Kim Jong uses this “closed system” to brainwash and terrify the citizens of North Korea. I was astounded to find the references and stories of human right violations in this country. Most people don’t hear about it, as very few foreigners are allowed access to North Korea, and it’s inhabitants aren’t exactly encouraged to leave (torture and prison awaits for those who try.) Kim Jong will continue to use his “subjects” to support his militaristic state until he drives these people into total and complete desperation, if they aren’t there already.
Although the threat of nuclear warfare hangs in the air, we must also remember that this is Kim Jong’s military regime, and not the actions of the average North Korean, who is far too oppressed and brainwashed to be blamed for the actions of a very evil leader.

Kim Jong creates an atmosphere of complete deprivation to keep the people spiritually, emotionally, and physically weak. One can only hope someday his “subjects” will escape from his hellish grip. Below are the song lyrics I imagine a North Korean might use to address their corrupt government and the sorrow within.

Nuclear Daydream- Joseph Arthur

You can hold your needle
You can point your gun
You can shoot and kill me
Or you could let me run

But I won't ever cry for you anymore
The days when I would die for you are now gone

If there's a plan then tell me
If you know who you are
A princess or a mummy
A flower or a scar

So I don't have to cry for you anymore
The days when I would die for you are now gone
Are now gone

What's it like to lose control
Are you even here at all

This is a nuclear daydream
It's my atomic bomb
I already lost my passage
I already lost our home

So I won't ever cry for you anymore
The days when I would die for you are now gone

There's only dreams and numbers
And wishes left unsaid
In all the burning letters
Underneath our bed

I won't ever cry for you anymore
The days when I would die for you are now gone