once weekly,
usually on Saturdays
Let’s see what happens when your host (me) has nothing to say, and instead it’s open mike night. Step right up, speak your mind, tell a story, sing a song, whatever.
9/6/2025
Anything Goes #44
65 responses to “Anything Goes #44”
-
Orgasm Update
Ah, a very strong cuppa coffee after a glorious orgasm last night, mmm, brings a smile to my face and why is that a taboo topic to talk about? Why is the height of pleasure a forbidden thing to talk about, the shame of the body? Where did this body shame come from? Coming up a shameless hippie we had few or no rules, though even back then I don’t remember anyone announcing their amazing orgasms, wow, even too taboo for the hippies?
One of Ben Franklin’s “Rules of Civility,” or maybe it was Washington’s, was an admonition not to talk about your financial good fortune in front of someone not experiencing it, and another one might have been don’t talk about good things happening in your life around someone who’s depressed and not feeling the good times. (And why can’t I brag about, in polite company not here, one of the few things I’m good at? Albeit the secret to my success comes from drugs, a few hits of weed before the orgasm attempt, so in a sense I’m using a form of Ai? No, that would be porn, I’m manufacturing them from my imagination.)
Maybe it’s not nice to say publicly “Wow, what an orgasm!” because someone else might not be having the same level of pleasure or is flaccid, dried up, and/or beyond all tof his? Well, I still have a smile on my face fifteen hours later, here on September 6, 2025 as I write this turgid newsflash, and have been having these fantastic orgasms the last couple weeks, and months and years really, which are just wow! and I want to tell the world, but will I? (Or just you?)
Why am I hesitant or afraid to announce it and scream and cream it from the rooftops? (ie put it on my facebook page.)
(Photo: Trans art a girlfriend made of photos of me)
-
So that’s you with the boobies and no balls?
I almost never talk of such things, but do enjoy writing about selected bodily functions, like a good bowel movement. I could write five paragraphs instantly, right now, about the mountainous turd I dropped this morning — fascinating for its sheer size, its texture, its difficulty and then ease, and the location where it emerged. But I shan’t write any of that, not from respect for good taste, but because I’m sure I’ve written it already.
An orgasm is less work than a bowel movement, and in my opinion, less to be proud of. They’re all basically the same, and there’s no reason to imagine mine are much different from anyone else’s. My poops, though, are uniquely mine, and sometimes a serious accomplishment, even approaching art. When it’s finished I look behind me and admire the work.
-
-
Yup, that’s me, boobies no balls…
An orgasm has to be worked for,
a shit just happens…
Well, some day the orgasms won’t come any more
and also the shits will become elusive…
I appreciate my daily solidity,
especially after my sister, a colitis victim, confided that she hadn’t had
a solid shit since the day my mother died, Jan 15, 2021…
that must feel brutal-
I used to have a battery-operated toy that could bring orgasm with no effort from me, after flipping the switch. Even without the toy, orgasms never feel like work. Sitting on the toilet can be much, more more strenuous, but hey, maybe that’s just me.
-
-
eel paradise
-
This is a picture of your earlier comment. Why?
-
there was some issue, the photo wasn’t loading so i took a screen shot of the comment so i wouldn’t lose it, then i guess the original got on anyway
-
Well, that makes sense. I were confoosed.
-
-
-
-
this one
-
A fine likeness. That’s you, 30 years ago?
-
15 years ago, approx
now i’m gonna read your latest i printed off
about your family
glad you’re doing more writing to read
-
-
-
Here’s an interesting thing that John might like. Someone mistakenly gave an editor at Rolling Stone creative control and they published a series of interviews with people who replaced better-known people in already successful bands. The mistake was corrected and it seems the series is over:
-
That’s a cool piece of writing. I didn’t know rock’n’roll had utility infielders.
Laughed at “We had a flag system.”
-
And cripes, I really liked the Four Seasons’ “Oh What a Night” but always assumed it was Frankie Valli.
-
-
I think it’s pretty well understood in the music community that nobody lives forever and that people get sick and just worn out when they get older. ZZ Top is still touring (they just played Kansas City) and has exactly one original member. Anybody who goes to see a live performance of a band that played in the 70s and expects to see the original group has a numeracy problem. It’s not particularly a secret, and there’s lots of info on the Web about old time groups that are still touring.
Nonetheless, I rarely see a Rolling Stone, and I found the interviews fun, so thanks for the link.
John
-
One of my favorite bands, Canned Heat, is still touring. They have NO original members, although drummer Fito De La Parra did join the band in time to appear on most of the cuts of the band’s second album. You can still shout “Play Free Bird” but none of the seven members of the still-touring Lynyrd Skynyrd is an original so you might have to hum a few bars to get them started. And Blood, Sweat, and Tears has ten members still touring, NONE of whom came close to being an original member.
There are 20 or 30 big named bands out there touring with zero or one original member. And the tickets AIN’T free.
Again, granville, thanks for bringing up this topic. You got me interested, and, upon doing a little research I’m startled by the number of bands that are charging big money to cover someone else’s tunes in public. There are at least 30 more bands that I’m familiar with still touring without a single original member. Best go out and catch the Cowboy Junkies while the whole family is still alive. They’ve been touring for exactly 40 years, and, although they still play terrific music, they’re starting to look a little pee-kid.
John
-
I can vouch for sick and worn out.
Saw the Beach Boys once, circa 1980, and (I think) back then they had two different Beach Boys bands touring, one on the east coast and one on the west. Each iteration had one or two originals. Al Jardine was in our Beach Boys, and I think the rest were stenographs, but they sounded right. Add another 40 years, and any band only grows more and more stenographic.
When the New York Philharmonic plays, Ureli Corelli Hill won’t be conducting, but it’s still the Philharmonic.
-
Thanks, I thought of you when I came across it!
Big difference comes down to money. Replacement musicians for these kind of “legacy” acts are almost always hired hands, while the founders are shareholders in the corporation. (Not speaking metaphorically, I mean the literal corporation that is the band.) It’s rare for anyone who joins a band that already has a history to become an equal shareholder; for legacy acts its unheard of. When budgets start tightening up, it becomes advantageous to only have to split the pot 2 or 3 ways rather than 5, with the other 2 or 3 replacement players getting a set wage rather than a share. The replacement musician invariably makes the same wage regardless of the capacity of the house, or theater, or arena. Even many well-known bands in their prime had this arrangement. If they last long enough, they all become this way, either through attrition or firing. So they keep these outfits (which as you mention are often little more than a brand name) on the road with 1 guy getting the majority of the take from small venues or short sets at festivals or county fairs and the rest being hired hands that try to leave the tour with a month or two’s rent in the bank before they find another one.
And sometimes the last shareholder isn’t even on the road, but collects money every time the scab group performs. In one case I heard about, there isn’t even a shareholder alive: a band of hired hands goes out on the road with most of the proceeds going to the “estate” of the late singer.
Capitalism will take everything you love and have it open for a puppet show at a dinner theater in Des Moines.
-
Capitalism is not welcome to take “Poncho and Lefty” and sell Sears drills with it. Townes didn’t outlive Sears, but he outwrote them. And on good days he didn’t squeak his guitar.
John
-
To my surprise, Sears still exists and has a “store locator” function at the website, but it couldn’t locate any stores within a hundred miles of me.
-
-
I can see some logic in it. If Keith Richards died and you replaced him, you wouldn’t deserve a split of the royalties for “Paint It Black.” On tour, though, nobody would expect to hear the dead guy on guitar, so yeah, it wouldn’t take long before the arrangement would start craw-sticking.
It’s another crookedness I’d never thought about. Seems likely everything everywhere is crookedness.
-
It’s just business. Mick and the Elderlies are just taking care of business and decidedly NOT working overtime.
John
-
Let’s remember what Hunter Thompson said about the music business:
“The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There’s also a negative side.” Dr Hunter S Thompson
jtb
-
Remembering when he was alive, HST was at least 50% crap, but his other half really rocked. And cripes, I’m at least 90% crap.
-
-
If people are going to pay $90 to see a 70s band and choose not to take five minutes to check out how many of the original members have died or retired, I think it’s self-inflicted crookedness. It’s been 50 years since 1975. If a fan can’t do the basic math, he should invest in an abacus. Actually, I think Abacus is playing a small bar in Pioneer Square next month.
John
-
-
-
-
-
-
OK, that would be more accurate if the bands were playing classical music some dead Italian wrote two centuries ago. Rock has frequently been topical: CSN and CSNY wrote headline songs throughout their careers and they weren’t alone. Four dead in O-hi-o. The song, eventually became the singer in many cases. There was a war. Or two. That, in fact, is the most significant difference between classical music and Rock. They can both get our blood stirring, but one is timeless and one is –frequently– timely. That’s why classical orchestras all dress alike. And why Neil Young rarely wears a tie.
John
-
Who’s singing headline songs these days? Garfunkel and Oates, sure, and some others, but who’s singing headline songs that are allowed on the radio?
-
Doug, the Age of Rock passed while you were laboring in the porn industry in foggy San Fran. Seattle Grunge was the last gasp of the musical age that Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly and Elvis kicked off. Like a huge lightning strike, the thunder is still echoing off the hills, but the sudden daylight long ago returned to darkness.
John
-
I thought it was a fairly direct reply, but not one worth saying twice. I submitted it but once.
jtb
-
Only seeing it once.
My wondering was mostly about what you called “headline songs.” Where are they?
-
They’re being written and played by individuals and groups who are performing in today’s equivalent of coffee houses and neighborhood bars. Coffee houses have mostly vanished (screw Starbucks and their pre-burnt coffee), and, in most states, you have to sell a fair amount of food to get a liquor license for your “corner bar”.
In any case, a headline song is a song whose genesis is The News (it used to be from newspaper headlines, thus the name, but they’ve mostly gone away). So, in the 1960s, a songwriter would take a newspaper headline and write a song from it. When James Meredith was denied admission to the University of Mississippi in 1962 because he was Black, Bob Dylan wrote a song called “Oxford Town” (The U is in Oxford, MS). One verse (from memory):
Oxford Town around the bend
Come to the door, he couldn’t get in
All because of the color of his skin
What do you think about that, my friend?In answer to your question, (Where are they?), they’re mostly gone. Just as, in 1962, much of the literate nation was outraged by the de facto racism of southern states, much of today’s citizenry is running as fast as possible AWAY from “headlines”. So headline songs are confined to songwriters who specifically DON’T want a contract with a record label. And crazy people like you who collect and disperse headlines so the rest of us don’t have to expose ourselves to them directly. Thanks, by the way.
John
-
Well, you’re very welcome.
There are far fewer coffee shops than even twenty years ago, and far more Starbucks. But genuine coffee shops still exist, where poets converge once weekly and there’s music on other nights, of which I’ll wager some is headline songs. But me being an island, I’ve only gone once, and haven’t heard the music, only erse. C & P in West Seattle, if anyone out there’s wondering. Pretty good coffee, too.
I’ve heard a few 2025 headline songs on Google’s horrid YouTube, but not many and they’re not ‘hits’ like the 1960s allowed.
-
We should be clear about the word “hits”. It is an AM radio term, and refers to the number of times a particular 45 RPM song is played during the previous week. A quick Seattle flashback is reasonably representative of what happened in other cities in the USA. In 1961 plus or minus a year, Pat O’Day arrived at KJR from Eastern Washington (an AM station in Yakima, I think) via another Seattle AM Pop station (where he picked up the “O’Day). Other cities had AM stations that published the top 40 or 50 singles of the week, based on popularity.
The FBI and the FCC were starting into yet another pay for play “payola scandal” investigation and Pat was probably a sitting duck. (Sometime along here, Pat was named Program Director of KJR, and the PD had quite a bit of input into what songs were to be played.)
So Pat and KJR management arranged for two big record stores in Seattle to keep track by week of which 45s were selling how many copies. Then KJR simply merged the two lists and that became the Fab 50 for the following week (which probably cut into Pat’s income a little, but kept him away from an FBI/FCC investigation).
The other problem with “hits” is that it didn’t take album sales or FM radio play off albums into account. This didn’t matter a great deal in 1960, but between then and 1965, album sales and FM album radio play increased dramatically. That’s how the charts missed Bob Dylan, the Kingston Trio, the Chad Mitchell Trio (followed by the Mitchell Trio), Peter, Paul and Mary and the growing British music scene which was more and more album-based.
Album sales are now carefully compiled, and album play on FM stations is tracked. The very notion of “hits” is less relevant than it was two generations ago. Digital singles are certainly available, but album sales are more indicative of music trends. The hits don’t keep on comin’.
jtb
-
This is one of the first poems I fell in love with as an adolescent. I’ve never stopped loving poetry. Naming of Parts by Englishman Henry Reed was written and published in the months after the attack on Pearl Harbor and after Germany began invading the nations of Europe. War was in the air and many men and more than a few women were enlisting. Here then is Henry Reed’s poem Naming of Parts.
jtb
Naming of Parts (1942)
Today we have naming of parts. Yesterday,
We had daily cleaning. And tomorrow morning,
We shall have what to do after firing. But to-day,
Today we have naming of parts. Japonica
Glistens like coral in all of the neighbouring gardens,
And today we have naming of parts.This is the lower sling swivel. And this
Is the upper sling swivel, whose use you will see,
When you are given your slings. And this is the piling swivel,
Which in your case you have not got. The branches
Hold in the gardens their silent, eloquent gestures,
Which in our case we have not got.This is the safety-catch, which is always released
With an easy flick of the thumb. And please do not let me
See anyone using his finger. You can do it quite easy
If you have any strength in your thumb. The blossoms
Are fragile and motionless, never letting anyone see
Any of them using their finger.And this you can see is the bolt. The purpose of this
Is to open the breech, as you see. We can slide it
Rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this
Easing the spring. And rapidly backwards and forwards
The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers:
They call it easing the Spring.They call it easing the Spring: it is perfectly easy
If you have any strength in your thumb: like the bolt,
And the breech, and the cocking-piece, and the point of balance,
Which in our case we have not got; and the almond-blossom
Silent in all of the gardens and the bees going backwards and forwards,
For today we have naming of parts.-
Henry Reed’s Naming of Parts has been one of my favorites too, for many years. I first heard it as comedy, as hilarious as Carlin, and still stupidly think of it more as a stand-up routine than a poem. It’s both, obviously and of course.
-
-
Love the backstory, thanks. I’m still saddened that KJR is such a waste of airspace these days (sports talk radio) when it was once a force for good — and profitable at the same time.
What’s illegal about payola? (As always, I could research it myself, but that’s sometimes frustrating and your essays never are.) The record companies paid the radio stations to play their records, knowing it would generate sales. Sounds like advertising to me, and I wish ads were against the law but they’re not.
Is it illegal because they didn’t disclose it? Would payola be legal if KJR had run an hourly disclaimer? “This station may receive payment from record companies as compensation for playing The Archies twice hourly.”
-
Briefly, payola was paid to a disc jockey, not a radio station, and it was twice illegal: There was a federal statute against it, and nobody ever paid tax on it. They couldn’t pay tax, because they’d be admitting a felony. Life is strange and death is easy.
John
-
Why would it be illegal in the first place, I wonder. I know who’s getting hurt — the little bands that can’t pay the payola — but the big companies must’ve liked the deal so it’s surprising that there was a law against it. Different era, I guess.
-
Doug, I’m replying before you comment for spatial availability reasons.
Payola illegality was part of a government program to fight organized crime in the 1950s. A number of record labels and recording studios were owned and controlled by the mob, particularly in the early 1950s. Because of the complexity of how people and groups were paid for writing, recording, distributing, and charging others to record, the recording industry was a popular way for various parts of the American mob to launder, move and invest money. Many popular bands frequently played in mob-controlled nightclubs, especially before the days of Elvis. Money changes everything, and by the time of the Beatles, the mob had mostly moved on, but the laws to bust them stayed on the books. Payola was a dirty word.
jtb
-
Your comment is in as good a spot as any, and thanks for the answer. It makes sense. Recording was new and unregulated, so of course the mob moved in. Once again, I gain enlightenment from the professor, thank you.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Memorable Drunks
When I was sixteen I stole a couple bottles of Mateus and Boone’s Farm Apple Wine and with pockets full of bottles met my crush Lissa at one of the nearly finished houses being built in her suburban addition under the TV towers.
We drank most of it, there was some drunken making out, and I staggered toward home.
My best friend Tim met me by a small shopping center, called a strip mall today, and in my drunken exuberance I pushed a shopping cart while running, let it go, and watched it roll along the walkway where it veered left and bounced into an off-duty policeman’s car.
As I was being driven downtown I knew I had a joint in the inside pocket of my sports jacket but was so drunk I couldn’t get it together to ditch it or eat it. Tim had once said to me, “Why do you carry that joint around? Just so you can be busted at any moment?”
I was sitting in the police station, after they found the joint, and barfed copiously on the floor. My parents were called and my mother called her buddy Hugh Martz, the director of the Metropolitan Human Relations Commission, and somehow he got me out of there without charges.
“I pleaded middle class and got off,” I have been fond of saying ever since.-
White privilege can come in handy, no doubt. Must’ve been no damage to the cop’s car?
Cops often carry small quantities of drugs, so people who aren’t white and middle class can be busted at any moment.
-
-
As mentioned before, I rather enjoy the music of Dire Straits. Mark Knopfler wrote most of their music, and a lot of it was good. He was dating a woman singer in the 70s, and she dropped him flat, then talked about it in the press. She was a scumbag, and was using her relationship with Knopfler to climb in the music biz, and he should have seen it coming but didn’t.
So he wrote the song “Romeo and Juliet” which included an actual quote from the woman that was widely covered in the press. There aren’t many guitarists more accomplished than Knopfler, and in this song he’s playing a resonator, which makes the sadness palpable.
Here’s the song with the lyrics. . .
John
-
Well, that makes a good song kinda icky. I like Dire Straits and like Mark Knopfler and believe any woman’s claims of abuse unless it’s plainly disproved.
-
She made no claims of abuse. Her claims were basically that he fell for her harder than she fell for him and he was bothering her with phone calls. I agree with you, but in this case, Knopfler is clean. How he treated his band is another question. They were all men, of course, but he drove his younger brother out of the band by telling him to “shut up” every time he had a suggestion in rehearsal. He was close to a musical genius, but was a pain in the ass to work with.
John
-
Oh, sorry I misunderstood and that’s much better — a story of ordinary romantic despair. Everybody should have some romantic despair in their lives, it keeps people empathetic and leads to great songs. And anyway, there are already too many Woody Allens and Michael Jacksons et al to keep track of in my head.
As for being a pain in the ass to work with, hell, I ain’t mad at him for it. That’s ordinary too. Most co-workers suck, and I’ve been a co-worker who sucked, and most bosses suck worse, and I imagine famous and successful bosses are the very suckiest.
-
I can’t quite put quote marks around this verbal clip from a Knopfler interview, because I don’t always trust the music press, but I’m pretty sure it’s close. From Mark: Success is really fun, especially after a fair amount of failure. But fame is horrible. It nearly destroyed me.
He’s spent at least part of his older years visiting British cancer patients and raising money for cancer research. I assume he’s trying to reach Vonnegut’s famous “break-even point”.
It’s easy to forget that Dire Straits was the world’s second globally popular band. Less than a decade after the Beatles split, Dire Straits went on a two year 70-some nation world tour. They played in front of a few million people and it destroyed the band. Dire Straits and the Grateful Dead are the only bands I know of that “hopscotched” — that is, had two complete stage setups, including sets, electronics, a hundred speakers, and even some instruments, and one would be in an airplane on its way to the NEXT gig while Dire Straits were performing THIS gig. The touring got bigger than the music, and permanent jet lag is a real syndrome.
(Bigger than the Rolling Stones? — Oh, yeah, by nearly any measure except endurance.)
John
-
One more thing. The first guy Knopfler drove out of the band was his brother, who went on to have a very quiet solo career in music. I don’t know whether the brothers speak yet, and I don’t care. I know that not everybody in the music business is Ringo, but decency ought not be eclipsed by fame, although it usually is.
John
-
Welp, nope, I didn’t know Dire Staights was that big. Hopscotching — the things I’ve learned from you Sir.
Re the Knopflers, it’s a rule of life: Always assume the other guy’s an asshole, and you’ll usually be right, even if the other guy is your brother.
-
-
-
-
-
Rape?
If you think you were raped or feel you were raped or say you were raped does that mean you were raped? A woman told me this story:
“I met this guy who said he could get me a volunteer gig at the dance. We texted some and I decided to go. I got in free, did my job and it was fun. I was drinking and smoking and dancing and hungry. I looked in the kitchen and there was only a pastry or two, no real food was left. He came up to me toward the end and, with a knowing glance at his friend across the room, offered me a juicy fig. It was delicious. We danced some and he put his arm around me and told me he’d like to take me home.
“I have a boyfriend,” I said. “Then where is he?” he asked. That gave me pause and I stopped to think about that. “Well, at least could you drive me to my truck?” he asked.
I drove him a few blocks to his truck and turned off my car, I’m not sure why I did that. We sat there for a few moments and then he pulled up my blouse and licked and kissed my belly. I felt like I didn’t want this to be happening. Then he went down on me and even though I had not wanted to get involved with him he was turning me on. I was aroused but part of me, half of me, maybe more than half of me didn’t want this to be happening.
He started telling me what to do and I did what he asked. “Take off your blouse,” he said and I did.
“Take off your pants,” he said as he took off his. “Here, climb on me,” and I did and he slid inside me and I rode him in my little car. He didn’t come and asked me to finish the job. I did.
When it was over we just sat there for a few moments and then he got into his truck and drove away. “I’ll text you,” he said. I drove the three miles home and in the morning I thought “What have I done?” I went to the police and tried to charge him with rape, but I didn’t know his full name so nothing came of that.”-
> If you think you were raped or feel you were raped or say you were raped does that mean you were raped?
Yes, almost certainly, and certainly in the situation you describe.
-
Okay, let’s try this one: I let someone stay in my house while I’m gone, with just one rule: you can have visitors but when you leave, they have to leave too. The first day there she has her boyfriend overnight, the next morning she tells him he has to leave, she gets in her car and drives away, and the guy hangs out for the rest of the day doing whatever. To this day she insists she didn’t break the rule, what do you think?
-
What I think is mostly moot, in this and most situations. Sounds like she broke a rule, but people are awful and that’s why I never, *never* invite anyone over.
Well, that plus it’s against the rules where I live.
-
Sure it’s moot, though it doesn’t stop you from opining on everything, right?
me too, probably…
hey I got the first 36 copies of my book, just sold the first one, kinda fun-
Everything’s moot. Our opinions matter only to ourselves, and possibly, very slightly, to the few people who know us. But still, we have opinions and announce them, in futility.
Is it a book book, or a zine?
-
I guess it’s like a big bound hand made zine, full size, 230 pages, not a “real” book…
Costs $20 to make one and selling for $20,
I’d send you a copy but your address is probably a state secret…“But still, we have opinions and announce them, in futility.”
You say that as if you want your opinions to be adopted by others.
I think you’re myopic and believe your opinions to be the absolute truth,
maybe the word is pedantic…
I suppose I believe in my opinions but am always open to having them be refuted,
fortunately or unfortunately I don’t get out much so no one calls me on my BS,
though I always call them on theirs…
Whenever I comment here, and maybe others also, your response is always filtered through what you think, it’s always about you, hell it’s your zine, have at it!Here’s my table of contents:
Table Of Contents
Page 1 Woodrose Scenes
Page2 Train Story
Page3 Trimmer Troubles
Page3 Control Freak
Page4 Perfume
Page4 Second Opinion
Page4 The Hitchhikers
Page5 Oregon
Page6 Heading Out Of Austin
Page7 At The Border
Page7 Growing Weed 2020
Page10 Curiosity
Page11 The Purple Thong
Page11 Tall Girl
Page12 First Trip To Mexico (1971)
Page13 Kerauac Coincidence
Page14 Hallmark Holiday
Page15 The Board
Page15 Judgment Day
Page16 The Warriors
Page16 Stuck In Texas
Page17 On To Mexico
Page17 This Mexico House
Page18 My First Radio Editorial
(Virus, Satellites, Blowhards)
Page19 Paperboy
Page19 Cool Grandma
Page20 My First Time
Page21 Coffee And Yoga Pants
(I have a “me too” moment)
Page22 Gulch Secrets
Page22 One Stump Town
Page23 Tacoma Coffeeshop Scenes
Page24 Barflies
Page24 Drop City
Page24 I Am Invisible
Page25 Locked Out
Page26 Eat Hearty
Page26 Stealing A Kiss
Page28 Favorite Softball Memory
Page28 Breaker One Nine
Page28 An Afternoon With Sherman Alexie
Page29 The Intruder
Page30 Jenny
Page32 The African Shirt
Page33 Stuff And Probate
Page34 Thoughts And Prayers
Page34 Genders
Page35 A Day With Hugh Duggins
Page36 Solar Dan
Page36 Tuna Jackson
Page37 Moon, The Rainbow Girl
Page38 All Sides Now
Page39 On The Road
Page42 Apple Picking
Page43 Searching For Readers
Page43 2020 Elections Dialog
Page45 King Of Dep
Page45 Riverside Farms Paradise
Page47 Greensweep/Weed Report
Page47 Alex: The Swiss House
Page49 Flowers And Crayons
Page50 2020 Local Update
Page50 Abatement
Page51 Humility
Page51 Sinsemilla
Page52 Shitty Coffee Thoughts
Page52 It Happens Online
Page52 Conversations
Page53 Birthday Adventures
Page53 On The Road In Mexico
(Travels With Ally Through Sinaloa)
Page54 Adventures Growing Up
Page55 Make-out Party
Page55 Racism?
Page56 Social Distancing
Page56 The Simple Life: Hauling Water
Page57 Austin Regrets
Page57 Sharing The Bounty
Page58 Family Life In The Hills
Page58 Little Stories
Page58 Riverside Farms Radio
Page59 Complicated Lives
Page60 Gimme Just A Little More Time
Page61 Homeless In November
Page61 Neighbors’ Cars
Page63 What’s Happening
Page63 Mexico Justice
Page64 A Week In Mexico
Page64 Radio
Page65 Weekend In Real de Catorce
Page65 Choking
Page66 Retirement Home Encounter
Page67 Mexico Thoughts
Page67 Reiko And The River Cabin
Page68 Santa Lucia
Page71 Food
Page71 Paella Party
Page72 Paranoid In Mexico
Page72 A Visit To The Presidencia
Page73 Travels In Mexico: Potrero
Page74 Matehuala Thoughts
Page75 The Gulch Place
Page76 The Guy
Page77 More Crass Generalizations
Page77 Eating Healthy
Page77 One Day In Real de Catorce
Page81 The Caretaking Gig
Page81 Dogs By The River
Page82 The Second Season
Page82 Trim Scene Nightmare
Page83 Bad Trimmers
Page83 Letter to Trimmers
Page84 Dear KMUD Board Members
Page84 Dear KMUD Board
Page85 Travelers Then And Now
Page86 Farmer’s Market Follies
Page87 The Last Harvest
Page88 Making Doo
Page88 The Light Saga
Page89 Painting In The Rain
Page90 Moldy Marijuana
Page91 Trimmigrants And The Green Rush
Page91 For Shame!
Page92 What To Do With A Drunk Girl?
Page92 Zen Ken
Page93 Jose
Page95 Dialog: Election Season
Page96 Crashing
Page97 Diet News
Page97 Fight Time
Page98 Going Viral
Page98 First Thank Jah Rap On KMUD
Page99 Hugh Bro
Page99 When In Doubt, Eat
Page100 Mortality
Page100 We’re Going Down
Page101 This Little Town
Page102 Thank Jah Rap #2
Page103 I Accidentally Wrote A Book
Page103 Eating In Mexico
Page105 Short Sketches
Page107 Vignettes
Page109 Thank Jah Rap #3
Page110 The Accidental Harvest
Page111 Tomatoes
Page111 Ten Hugs
Page112 Avery
Page113 At The Doctor’s Office
Page115 Carl, The Accidental Saint
Page115 Buzz And The Pelton Wheel
Page116 No News Update
Page117 Listen To Your Body?
Page117 Scrabble And Running
Page119 Halter Tops And Yoga Pants
Page119 Thank Jah Rap #4
Page120 Town Square Harvest Celebration
Page121 Insomnia
Page122 Roast Owl
Page123 Misty
Page125 Ale And Peyote
Page126 Stuff
Page127 Alexandria Y Mati
Page129 A Run To Town
Page129 Jewelry Town
Page130 Dancing At The Iguana
Page131 Lion In The Park
Page132 Thank Jah Rap #5
Page133 Thank Jah Rap #6
Page134 Comedy Routine At The Grants Pass Church
Page136 Hugh One Man Show (Birthday Edition)
Page138 Whale Gulch Arrival (The Meadow Oral History Event)
Page140 Drinking
Page142 Clones
Page143 Depression
Page143 Millennials
Page144 Story Time
Page145 Messed Up Woman
Page146 Not Your Hula Girl: Hawaiian Erasure
Page146 At The Beach
Page147 Traveling
Page147 Garberville Rats
Page148 Slouching Toward Squalor
Page149 Hug
Page149 Hugs
Page149 Hugs And Kisses
Page149 At The Dentist Office
Page151 Thank Jah Rap #6
Page152 Meltdown At The Lost Frenchman
Page153 Food
Page154 Wendy
Page156 KMUD Wine Date
Page158 Spring
Page160 Out On The Town With Tanya
Page162 Snitch Radio
Page162 Thank Jah: The Making Of A Radio Rap
Page166 When Is A Lie Not A Lie?
Page166 The War Of The Sexes: Striking Out Six Times
Page167 The Fat Bats
Page168 Are You Mentally Ill? (Mr President)
Page168 Gut Check At The Wannabe Church
Page170 The Silly Season
Page172 Mexico Dentist
Page172 The Clone Ranch
Page175 Mexico Memories
Page175 Spring, The Super Muse
Page177 Sexy Business
Page178 Social Life
Page179 THE ANTI-HIPPIE PETITION OF 1969
Page180 Question
Page180 Hugh Duggins
Page183 Sara
Page184 Flaca Fired
Page185 A Walk In The Park
Page186 Mexico Election Season
Page187 Felipe
Page187 Dancing In The Plaza
Page188 Growing Weed Bi-County
Page192 Steve And Abbie
Page193 Internet Withdrawal, Day Two
Page194 2020 Year In Review: What Just Happened?
Page198 Thank Jah Rap #10
Page199 A Letter
Page201 Happy Birthday To Me, At Fifty
Page203 Adventures In Philanthropy
Page203 Moving Day (Austin To Seattle)
Page208 Hippie Life
Page209 Good Times In The Eighties: The Community Pot Patch
Page210 The Rise And Fall Of The Marijuana Industry
Page211 The Last Selling Season
Page215 Food Dialog
Page217 Eureka: A Trip To The 215 Doctor
Page218 Burris Reflections
Page221 Coke In The Eighties
Page222 The Weed Odyssey
Page223 Dirt Road Hippies
Page224 Reggae On The River Returns-
When I’m right I’m right, and when I’m wrong I try to learn something.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
The Sex Lives Of African Women (Nana Darkoa Sekyiamah, 2021)
This is a fascinating and entertaining look into the very private lives of thirty women as they tell their stories, mostly anonymous but a few not, from abuse to puberty, to full sexual beings. (Early on they learn a sensible fear of men.)
Most of them are in their thirties or forties but some also in their twenties, seventies and ages in between. There are often sexually explicit scenes in this interview project created by the author, who interviews herself at the end of the book in the same open and honest fashion.
One recurring subtext is that virtually all of the women were reared in religiously strict homes where virginity was an absolute requirement before marriage. Eventually all of the women discard their cultural mores, think for themselves, and embrace the freedom to do whatever they desire with their bodies, and with anyone they’re attracted to.
The woman are all educated and travel around Africa for jobs, sexual liaisons and relationships while living in the African diaspora, visiting, settling in, becoming educated, and often finding jobs and sex partners and relationships throughout Europe and the US, often permanently moving to the UK and Canada. (To get an idea of their social status, several mention “the help” they grew up with in their homes.)
A preponderance of the women are activists and identify as bisexual, Lesbian, pan-sexual and finding a good man is common in many stories also. A good sex life is important to all the women, sometimes the preparation includes toys, which was explained by a couple made up of seventy-something women.
These are liberated, sexually free African women who have all struggled in the patriarchal societies and by exchanging experiences with their peers they gain helpful information and inspiration about their mutual sexuality. It also is probably educational for men to read who seek to understand women better.
There is a lot of cheating going on by both men and women as they seek their best match. One trans woman is featured and one woman tells about her genital mutilation experience. (I also learned a new slang term: “tribbing.”)
Most, if not all, go through a series of bad lying men, some are still looking, and a few have found the caring and sensitive man or woman of their dreams. Often they meet as friends, stay in touch, and hook up as lovers sometimes years later.
(File this one under Not Boring.)
-
well, this is it for this essay,
ava refuses to publish such salaciousness-
They have much higher standards than me.
Wait, *all* of these thirty women discard their cultural mores, think for themselves, and become liberated women? Then it’s a political book, not scientific research. I have nothing against political, of course, sounds like I’d agree with it, but from the title I’d expected scientific.
-
Doug, how would YOU title a political book? (If you wanted to obscure the advocacy?)
jtb
-
Interesting question. I dunno. Seems to me the author/publisher would never want to disguise the advocacy. The advocacy is what sells a non-fiction book with a political perspective.
A book titled “Trump is An Asshole” is gonna sell. A book titled “Trump is An American Hero” will sell too, though nobody will actually read it. A book titled “Trump is President” seems like a much tougher sell.
Maybe “The Sex Lives of African Women” is smartly titled, for a book advocating that African women should have sex lives.
-
That book about Trump should probably be titled “The Sex Lives of African Women” to achieve full disclosure.
jtb
-
-
-
Well, don’t be mislead by my “rock ‘n roll” review, where I just wing it with whatever stands out in memory. admittedly a quick, slapdash and shallow look, if you read one of the official reviews it might seem very different
-
That’s exactly the way I review movies, and that’s what I prefer to read.
-
-
-
-
Comments with attachments or multiple links are held for manual approval.
Leave a Reply