Code d' Odalisque

I can only hope you dear readers have been more fortunate than myself and have never heard of these miserable dung droppings, as I will then have the pleasure to torture you with the knowledge of their existence.  I first encountered these pathetic wastes of oxygen on Collarme, and wondered why these flies were dive bombing into the soup there.  The original Frankenstein's behind this disgusting monster have long since fled the scene, presumably dying of shame after realizing what disgusting and vile filth they created. Had it died there the world would have been better off. Instead, the universe being callous and indifferent, chance saw it that other vermin too lowly to suicide saw fit to resurrect and expand upon the monster that is the Code.

Shared Blog, Different Perspectives.

Redneck Genius and I have stared a blog in which we each tackle a subject from our own angle.  It is called Points of View.  I hope to see more comments there, as that is kind of what it is all about.  Dissenting views are welcome. Please take a look when you get a chance.

Anonymity For You & Me

"What are you so ashamed of?  Do you have something to hide?" I've had more than a few sanctimonious morons ask me this because I have refused to make my face and name public on the internet.  Virtually every one of those disposable scented crotch freshener inquisitors have been American, where the Supreme court has several times explained that various amendments compound to give us the right to privacy.  This means that I also have the right to not have my vehicle or home searched without a warrant.  In the spirit of maintaining my privacy, should I be pulled over by police, I would not consent to having my vehicle searched.  I would refuse not because I had anything to hide, but on general principle.  Should they detain me, obtain a warrant, and proceed with a search, they will find nothing incriminating.  This would of course frustrate the police, as from their point of view I could have consented to the search and spared them a wild goose chase.  I doubt that it would occur to the police that had they respected my rights they would not have found themselves in such a position to begin with.

Feminists Lose Philosophy Football Match 0-10

The National Organization of Women is always a source of mild amusement to me.  I don't pay their website a great deal of attention, but on days when the Onion fails to produce its share of laughs, I sometimes turn to now.org to get a few more chuckles in.  Today was one of those days, so I decided to see what shenanigans the nations largest group of militant feminists were up to.  What I soon found there was Monty Python's Philosophy Football as performed by Special Olympics players.

Philosophy Football: Not a Sport for Feminists

What's Love Got To Do With It, Part I

Ahhh, true love.  Or I suppose to put it into the dialect favored by the weekend ass slapper, twu wuv.  For many within the greater BDSM spectrum, twu wuv is often the binding force of their relationship.

Sucking the Life Out of Horror

The Vampire as Walking Death

The walking plague.  Disease incarnate.  The Vampire.  For centuries demons lurked in the darkness, feeding on human blood.  They were the corruption of values, the scourges of life.  In essence, they were our collective fear of death and disease.  From the succubus to the werewolf, our fears were made manifest in the form of blood sucking demons.  After the horror of the atomic bombs leveling Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Japanese did the same with atomic energy by embodying it in the form of Godzilla.  We take our fears and reshape them to give them form and substance, to make them controllable.  The fears are still monstrous, but despite their enormous power, these personified fears can be overcome, if only in story. 

Myths, Memes, & Misconstrues in BDSM

If I have learned one thing in all my years of involvement in this subculture, it is that a person needs a wetsuit in order to wade through the phenomenal amount of bullshit it generates. Nothing short of religion can produce the megalithic mounds of manure that BDSM churns out. It is then not surprising that those same practitioners cling to their defecation as though it were holy doctrine handed down by the Great Ass Slapper Above. Theirs is truly a religious zeal; a cultic  reverence that shuns all illumination. Why then should I even bother in casting a light before the blind?

The 99 Percent

I have to admit that I was somewhat inoculated when I first heard about the Occupy movement. After all, I have been living in the Culture of Entitlement that is Alaska for some years now. Still, it was a bit of a shock to see a phenomenon that I had identified in Alaska rearing its ugly head on a national level.

Further Feminist Fun

I love South Park. Creators Parker & Stone gleefully defecate on hundreds of subjects in a deliciously dark, satirical style. While their humor usually carries them far over the top, they have an uncanny ability to hit the nail on the head.

A Feminist Explains BDSM

After decades of searching, I have finally found someone more clueless about BDSM than the weekend ass slappers. I know, it is hard to believe, but it really happened. About the only thing that didn't surprise me was that it came from someone in a group that is just as amusing to me as the WAS' crowd, a feminist.

Befuddled Bimbos of BDSM

These days the world of BDSM seems to be dominated by men emasculated by laundry lists of demands by self proclaimed submissives and by butt hurt bitches that somewhat rightfully equate power and authority with having a penis. While the castrated cunt clobbered cuckold caboose clappers nauseate me, they are normally too indoctrinated with BDSM dogma to even comprehend the depths to which they have sank. So instead of making these neutered wretches realize that they dwell beneath roofs of pond scum, I will turn my attention instead toward the penis envying ninnies.

Sadism 101

After several requests, I have decided to do a little in-depth writing on the nature of sadism. I have discovered over the years that the average weekend ass slapper is every bit as misinformed about the topic as is the average vanilla. I will try to shed some light on the matter here as I have done in other places in the past. I also hope that the weekend ass slappers that pretend to be sadists will understand how very offensive it is to an actual sadist to have fluffy schmucks running around claiming the title as though it is a badge of honor. Would people take offense to a jackass claiming to be handicapped because he had a muscle cramp, or claiming to be Bipolar because she had a weekend of depression when her boyfriend left her? Liking to give gentle tush slaps to someone who enjoys the sensation equals sadism just as much as liking to wrestle with another wrestler makes you a strangler, or enjoying Brokeback Mountain makes you gay. Claiming to suffer from a condition which you clearly do not have is both dishonest and highly offensive. Should one of you dishonest vermin cross paths with an actual sadist we cannot magically convey real sadism upon you. Most of us would be quite delighted to transform you into a gimp, however. Then you would qualify as handicapped should you wish to plead a condition.

The New Lepers

Minorities have had their time of oppression. When they finally began turning the tide, the oppression was shifted to the homosexuals who in turn made tremendous leaps and bounds in gaining equality. This is not to say that either group is fully free of oppression and intolerance. But both are now on the radar, and are continuing to make progress despite the loud and obnoxious vocal minority that would seek to shove them somewhere out of sight. Both groups have even managed to squeeze beneath the protective umbrella of political correctness. The PC  principle behind this being based on the concept that our language shapes our outlook and possibly even controls our thoughts, therefore modification of language allows the modifier to control and channel the thoughts of the masses, or as I prefer to call them, sheeple.

Broken Clock part 2: Enter the Dragon

About this time there came a man, if indeed one ought to call him a man. For he was one who wrought surprising feats and was a teacher of such people as accept the truth gladly. Wait, no, that is a Christian apologists insertion into Josephus' Antiquities in a childish effort to give Jesus some historical credence. So lets try again.

A Broken Clock is Right Twice a Day, or How Skepchick Made Me Anti-Feminist, part 1

Before I can get to the story, indeed before I can even get to the preface, I need to include the back story in order to make things clear. As you may already understand, words alone are never a perfect medium for conveying information. Prior to the invention of writing, and even then when most were illiterate, we communicated verbally. And with verbal communication comes body language from which we consciously or subconsciously send and draw nuances, clues, and affirmation/rejection regarding our verbal conveyance of information. These ingrained and important non verbal communications are lost to us with the written word, making it all the more imperative that we write clearly. This is one of the reasons I have always argued that one cannot redefine words willy-nilly to suit ones whims. Communication is difficult enough with rules and structure; nigh impossible without it. And as we shall eventually see, lack of information because of our inability to read one of the players body language in the eventual story will definitely play a role in the story's development and interpretation.