Victorian Discipline Rules Sooo Hard....

I don't normally do this, because frankly, most people's blogs bore the fucking crap out of me. But Wynter is a true connoisseur, and a true lover of all (most?) things kink. If you've ever been to her house, you know. So she posted a list of Victorian-era schoolroom discipline rules- meaning, a list of possible transgressions and their consequences- which makes me want to cream myself. So here it is (for anyone here who still does not read her blog- naughty, naughty!!):

Delicious.

By the way, she does have this up on her fridge, which is very funny. Also, you need to follow her right now.



xoxo.

Blue ballin it...

Forced bi guys suck

iPod...

Thank you, Chillball. Now I can listen to "Back Dat Ass Up" whenever and where ever I want!

Bono sucks so much, let me count the ways...

Hmmm... Well, I really don't have the time or interest to do that (it's a daunting task), but I will leave you with a video to watch which helps illustrate my point. The PEPFAR clause was about to be renegotiated this January, but Bono and his minions helped shut that down. Watch this video to see how little he knows about helping women of third world countries

Manufacturing Consent...

This is a video that goes along with my previous post. I know I seem to be contradicting myself here, and I also know that a lot of people dislike Noam Chomsky, etc, etc. But, if you have strong feelings about this video one way or the other, let's

BOO YA!!

I bet Arod spent all morning doing that...


Check out my new blog header! Of course, how could you miss it? I call that my 'cat who caught the canary' look.

The Yankees won last night, and I was at my favorite old man dive bar to witness it. Testify! Oh, there are few funnier things than watching geriatrics ignore their arthritis by jumping up and down and high-fiveing eachother. The Phillies were stupid for thinking Pedro Martinez could actually pull off another win (I'm a Mets fan, so I know these things). Ha ha! Phillies suck! (The Mets suck more... but go screw, naysayers!)

Speaking of baseball...

I am reading Moneyball right now, by Michael Lewis. Beside there being a ton of statistical minutia that I could care less about, there are a bunch of revealing tidbits about the culture of professional baseball and it's reliance on superstition and pseudo-science when assessing player's performance. One thing about the book that has struck me so far was that looks used to be a factor in determining whether someone should get drafted. There was (is still?) a certain kind of "face" that scouts would look for when choosing ballplayers from colleges and highschools. There was also a certain type of preferred body (ooh, the homoerotic undertones!) aside from any actual proof that it had any bearing whatsoever on how someone could play. There are a bunch of other quasi-interesting facts in the book so far (I'm halfway through), including some great arguments on why some statistics (that are still used) just shouldn't even exist, ex: errors. It is also the story of Billy Beane, the general manager of the Oakland A's who was a pro ball player in the 80's, and who did fit all of the bullshit statistical facial/body requirements, but still never had a successful career. Apparently, this stuck in his craw a little, and as an adult, he became fascinated with choosing players based solely on real statistical data- that being chiefly on-base percentage, and slugging percentage.

Jesus, I'm even boring myself talking about that crap. It would be interesting to know where the facial requirement came from, though. Lewis doesn't go into it, but I'm sure it probably has something to do with physiognomy (which I wrote a paper about in college) and other such racist hogwash.

Anyhoo... I am going to really embarrass my boyfriend right now, and tell everyone that I shaved his cock, balls, and ass last night. Ha ha! It was tremendously intimate and fun. And sooo needed. Phew!

In other news, as I was walking home last night, a lady freaked out on me because she thought I was someone famous, although she could not say who. I am going to go out on a limb and say that she probably thought I was Tina Fey... I am getting a lot of that lately (weird!). I don't know who she thought I was, because I promptly ran down into the subway. It's the glasses. I used to get a lot of, "Oh, you look like that Lisa Loeb!" when she was popular as well. Yick. This was the first time I actually had someone scream and freak out on me, though. Although now I think I should have tried to sign her tits.




xoxo.

Fuzzy kittens and rainbows...

I know I haven't written in a while... but get over it. I have too many things to write about, and make a bunch of different drafts, but can't bring myself to sit down and focus enough to edit them. Oh well, your loss. So don't get all whiny because this piece sort of goes all over the place.

Anyway.

I am often struck by how BDSM seems to have a therapeutic effect on people. Sometimes it's obvious in session, sometimes more so afterward. Fewer things are more satisfying than making someone cry- either from pain or words. Not because, oooh, I'm such a heartless sadist, arrrgh! (or pirate?) but because there is a catharsis that occurs. It's a cleansing of sorts. At the risk of sounding namby-pamby- men need to cry more. I have one client who tells me that he can't, but only comes close when he comes to see me. This gives me pause, but also a sense that even though there is no scientific evidence to back this up, there exists profound experiential proof that BDSM is beneficial. You can't tell me otherwise when I have a grown man thanking me profusely as he wakes out of subspace. On repeated occasion with many different people.

BDSM is theater. Not to say it's fake (quite the opposite), but it is a stage for people to act out the deepest innerworkings of their minds (god, that phrase is overused, but fuck it). It's a forum for someone to be exactly who they are. Without judgement. (Or with! Depending...)

It pisses me off that there is no scientific data which even explores the possibility that BDSM could be positive. It is simply shelved away in the DSM IV, a collection of activities which fall under Paraphilia. Philosophy and fiction describe it, theorize about it, but still there is no one who has said, "This is exhilarating. This reduces stress. This makes people feel sane again. Look at this, this, and this data." However, most of us who have been mucking around BDSM for awhile know it's pretty terrific, no? Most versions of it, anyway.

Most likely the result of puritanical religious attitudes (endorsed and validated by the scientific community), BDSM is conventionally seen as "dark" or "disturbing". Which is really an impediment to being open and frank. And if we can't be open and frank, how do we expect to be understood? It is a catch-22. I have made the analogy before on this blog, that we are about in the same place that the gay movement was in, I'd say, roughly about 20 years ago.

Look, I know I'm preaching to the choir here. But I just feel like this doesn't get talked about enough.


That being said, I got to use an electrified knife on one of Wynter's subjects last week. He said it felt as if he was being castrated... ha ha! I have too much fun.