Pornography Is

"One of the most important lessons we can learn from pornography is about the process of commodification within capitalism.  Critics have long observed that in capitalism everything is commodified, everything is turned into something that can be bought and sold.  Pornography takes the most intimate, the most private spaces of our lives, our sexual experiences, our connections to other human beings at that most basic level, and sells them to it."


"I think we often make the mistake of thinking that pornography is just an image of people having sex.   What pornography is is it's a world view.  It is an ideology.  It is a way of understanding relationships."


"Pornography meets a real need that people have to somehow break out of their sexual loneliness, their sexual isolation, their failure to connect sexually with somebody . . . .  And as with every other basic human need that gets inappropriately dealt with, it becomes an opportunity for private enterprise to come in.  And that's what private enterprises do.  They make money off of human needs and wants and desires.  And in the process, of course, they begin to shape those needs and desires."


The Price of Pleasure (2010)
Not an easy documentary to watch, but I think porn would seem a hell of a lot less attractive to people if they did check this out.  Or maybe it would just be making the choir puke, I don't know.  Some folks have bulletproof paradigms--especially when it comes to how they mistreat other people.

O Says it Elegantly

"He was evil laughing."

I'm Not Fat

My belly is an oven

And I'm cooking cancer pie

Blackening my organs

From the in- to the outside.

The crust is rising steadily

And pressing against my abs

The pie soon will be finished

According to my labs.

My strength is ebbing daily

My vision's blurry, too,

Before too long I do believe

I shall be turning blue.

And when my lungs stop moving

And I'm resting on a slab

A knife hovering above me

As the coroner blabs

My soul it will be sailing

Way up above the clouds

And when I knock on heaven's door

I'll be knocking very loud.

When the pie is opened

And my guts begin to sing

I'll be grating on the ass

Of heaven's all gracious king.'

Saint Lucy (by Q)

Q's new best friend is St. Lucy, the Patron Saint of Eyesight   . . . which is why she is carrying a bucket of eyeballs (complete with eyelashes) in her left hand. The cactus in her right hand is just some kind of sprig-ish thing. 
I am particularly impressed by the fact that St. Lucy's head floats above her body . . . and also by the fact that, as a saint, she apparently has no need of feet.  As the spirit rises, the body begins to dissipate.  I'm sure that this would make Plato very happy.

 Oddly enough, Q's love for St. Lucy has not mitigated her hatred for former best friend Helen Keller, who is now a "mean, stupid, ugly little blind girl." Wow. Q is a straight shooter, you've got to give her that. Apparently at some point Helen K. became a hitwoman, as she seems to have gunned down a few folks . . . and I think at one point she was going for Little Bo Peep (or Peepie as I call her--when I want to get a rise out of Q). Ah, such a rich and wonderful world Atlantis is . . . way down below the ocean.

Lesson 39 of 100 Lessons--and a Plea for Audio Studio for the Reading Impaired

"People's ideas about God are the clearest projection in the world of the inside of their own heads and hearts.  When I hear somebody describe what they think God's like, I know what they think everything's like.  Visions of God come straight out of our deepest selves.  I'm an optimistic person, so I figure God's good, and that there must be some sort of plan that will explain all this.  I don't know what it is.  But not knowing the plan doesn't matter to me.  I don't need to know.  I trust Him.  I sure don't think I'm a pawn in some sort of game.  While you live, you try to be the best person you can, do the best you can for everybody around you, and when you die, you go back to wherever you were before you were born.  And it's not a burning fiery place with monsters breathing on your neck."

Heart in the Right Place

by Carolyn Jourdan

P.S.  This was the last book I read for this year's stint with Audio Studio for the Reading Impaired (P.O. Box 23043, 11403 Park Road , Anchorage, KY 40223).  Alas, it might be the last time I read for them, since they are having some serious funding problems.  It kills me, because the operating budget is only about $70,000 a year.  Not a sum to be sneezed at, obviously, but on a metro level it's sofa change.  Or, for that matter, to some of the rich folks in Louisville.  Aren't there any rich blind folks out there who would be willing to shake out the sofa for Audio Studio?  (Or 70,000 regular folk who could spare a dollar each?  Or 35,000 folk with two dollars?  17,500 with four?  8.750 with eight?  4,375 with sixteen?  2,187 1/2 with thirty-two?  1,093 3/4 with sixty-four?  546 with one-hundred and twenty-eight and one with one-hundred and twelve?  How about joining the 546 and parting with $128 for the blind and otherwise reading impaired?  That's like 36 cents a day . . . and best of all, you won't get a shit load of mail urging you to give again (which discourages me, in that it's obvious that my donation went to xeroxing papers and buying stamps).

Brother K in the Recording Booth