Friday, October 28, 2005

Proposal: Booty Call Protocols

You'd think booty calls would be a no-brainer, wouldn't you?

I mean, the booty call is supposed to be the simplest relationship around, with both parties getting what it is they want: no-strings-attached sex.

And yet...

Okay, first things first: Keep it basic. It's a booty-call, no more no less. Ideally, this would be with someone who you find physically attractive, but personally repellent. This way, it's all about the sex, and no feelings get involved. Unfortunately, the repellent part will usually cancel the attraction, so ideals are hereby thrown out the window. (But when it works? Yow.)

Let's embrace the word "casual" instead.

Now, in this arena we have a bit more fluidity, which is both good and bad, particularly in the sense of having emotions becoming involved. This isn't exactly a danger, but power dynamics can be a bitch to wade through. Oh, we'll get to that crap in a second.

There are two booty call archetypes, and they are pretty self-explanatory: the Long Distance BC, and the Random or Platonic BC. It really doesn't matter which one you find yourself in, the rules are essentially the same.

1) This is a partnership of convenience, people. The biggest mistake you could make is to try to use the booty call to attract someone. That it's been known to happen is beside the point, you simply can not go into one of these expecting a happy ever after. A happy ending, sure...

1a) If you find yourself wanting more from the arrangement than what you're getting, pipe the fuck up. Unless, that is, you're willing to settle for less, and you're keeping protocol #1 in mind.

2) Both parties have to be completely honest, should "the talk" take place. Both parties have to accept the outcome of said talk. If the outcome is positive on both sides, great. But if one party can't reciprocate, then deal. And these are the only two outcomes, and anything else isn't kosher.

On the one hand, it isn't fair to lead the other on, in order to continue having sex. On the other, you can't keep hanging on with the hopes of sparking something, if the other just isn't there. You either keep on just having sex, or the partnership ends.

That simple, really*. Beyond this, you start getting into the grey areas...

3) If either partner has some "serious" relationship start up, in the midst of the booty callin', that person should inform the other and put an indefinite hold on the calls.

4) If either or both partners have other extra-curricular activities (be safe, for fuck's sake, literally), that should be out in the open too.

Perhaps you've noticed, but (honest and regular) communication, as with most things, is key here. Particularly, if it's a regular thing with someone you know or hang out with (beyond the bedroom). If it's something you do maybe once a month, then that might be something different. Otherwise, keeping secrets will, inevitably, kill a good time.

Let's say you've had a pretty exclusive thing going on. How would you feel walking into a group outing, and finding out that your partner has started seeing someone recently? Would you rather have known? Then give your partner that same respect.

Lastly, I want to stress something for those who find themselves on the lower end of a power situation (they're not as into a relationship as you are): Don't be a patsy. If after having "the talk" (and I repeat, this cannot be skipped), you find out they're not that into it, and you really, really want it: have some self-respect and get out. Spend a month away, two weeks, whatever. Get some perspective, and maybe try the friend route, or don't.

Just sex is great (and still a viable option after the talk), but spending any amount of time with false hopes is a waste of time, and sucks beyond comparison.

Trust me.

*And by nature of its simplicity, difficult to enact.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

What Brings You Here...

So, the free hit counter I use keeps track of some interesting data: where you came here from, what recommended your visit, what you come here to read, etc.

Now, outside of the regs who come here through the network of intertwined blog titles listed on the right hand side, there's a slew of random hits from people who are searching for a particular subject matter, and end up here because some search engine recommended this site.

Happily, there's a large number of folks who come here after looking for The Amazing Race/Miss Alli from TWoP, Heather Havrilesky, Tomato Nation/Sars, Roosevelt Franklin, what have you.

Beyond this, there are two entries guaranteed to bring folks here.

1) Craig Ehlo. What's funny about this, to me, is that the entry couldn't be more vehement about Ehlo's worthlessness as a color commentator for the Sonics. It's titled "Craig Ehlo Is A Dumbass," for fuck's sake! So, either he's been pissing other people off, or people wonder who the jackass was who got dunked on by Jordan. I'm hoping for the former.

2) "Skinemax." This one brings them in, and how. Little did I know I'd be tapping into the older perv demographic with this entry. Hello, yes, I'm in my mid-30s and used to jack off to the foot fetish scene in Private Eyes 2! Welcome, friend. Oh, wait, no, I don't have screenshots of these movies, nor do I intend to obsess over soft-core porn from the 80s all the time, so...see y--Oh, they've gone already.

Lately, though, I've been getting hits from people looking for a certain "Skot Escort." Hmmm. Mr. K, is there something you're not telling us? When did you become an international escort? Is that why you rarely write anymore? Is this the reasoning behind the whole Ethel Rosenberg thing? And if so, is your wife fair game again?

Gotta say though, you must be using an old picture, because you sure as hell don't look that young anymore.

I have a feeling I'm only cracking myself up on this one, and that's it. Ah, well.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

RIP Mrs. Parks

[TBO's note: The following was initially posted in my Buddhist Rants blog.--tbo]

And thanks for everything, ma'am. As much of a pain in the ass, I'm sure, your corns and tired body were at the time, it was from such tiny circumstances, and the denial of such a basic human need for rest, that finally awoke an entire nation to its gross injustices. Church bombings didn't do it. The lynching of Emmett Till didn't do it. (One last on Emmett Till.*)

What did it was your sitting your tired ass down at the end of an exhausting workday. And for that I salute you wholeheartedly. I'm sure you were surprised that from such a small action, so much would be made from and of it, but, usually, that's all it takes. Thanks for having the guts to not bend on that fateful day.

This society has made some progress, and there's still plenty of room for growth, but none of it would have been listened to if we didn't have something as prosaic as "let the damn woman sit the fuck down" to point to.

I, for one, will mourn your loss, and celebrate your life.

*I just recently found out about Emmett Till, and his story should be taught in classes, along with the heroics of Mrs. Parks, Dr. King, and Mr. X.--tbo

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Let me go on record...

saying that I'm not the biggest fan of these memes (I don't mind reading them, but doing them becomes an exercise in repetition). Seeing as these are essentially the same deals we've all done via email, I'm going to stick with the policy I created there: I do these once, and I don't forward it. Just the way it is, y'all.

10 years ago: Just turned 25, was probably in two Fringe Fest shows, and about to start up Not Named Bob, the short lived, audio only sketch group I formed with members of the future Lo Blo. Also, working with Stepping Stone Prod. and living with JM, one of the current goonies.

5 years ago: In pre-production hell with OCT, but having a blast with rehearsals and attempting to figure out just how in the hell we'd get a zombie attack on stage and maximizing gore-factors. Spending a chunk of my inheritance from dad on said zombie show, and looking forward to DBP's Xmas production. One of the best, most exciting times of my life.

1 year ago: In a production of Dubya 2000, my last acting gig for OCT. A project taken on by two close friends of mine, and a production I thought to be prophetic both when it came out in 2k, and particularly now, with the changes made in the interim. I got to play blackface on stage, and make SEA audiences uncomfortable. An odd show, but one I found both fun and rewarding.

(Taking a moment to comment on the fact that all of these landmarks are production based. There's a reason I needed this 6 mo. break. Man.)

5 snacks: Bagels, Trader Joe's Choco covered pretzels and peanut butter filled pretzels, buttered toast and Nutella, PBJ.

5 songs I know all the words to: any early They Might Be Giants, Sir Mix-A-Lot "Baby Got Back," Hair's "Hare Krishna," Beatles' "Good Morning," Violent Femmes "Add It Up," Art of Noise "Paranoimia"

5 things I could do with $100 million: 1) Debt, 2)New Car, 3)New House/Condo/Penthouse, 4)Help Fam out, 5)Fund indie production of my screenplays

5 things I would never wear: Cowboy anything, tie-dye anything (maybe t-shirt), puka shells, white sneakers, 'Frover.

5 favorite tv shows: Max Headroom, Freaks 'n' Geeks, Buffyverse, Firefly, Battlestar Galactica, Lost, 24, Amazing Race (though current race ain't so hot, nor amazing).

5 biggest joys: 14/48, the feeling of opening night, when you're "on" when onstage, making out, a good album/book/movie/stage production, the kaufmann.

5 favorite toys: PS2, blogs, dvd player, stereo, car.

All right, all right, PK should get one of these going on tekate.

Thursday, October 13, 2005


I guess I was waiting for my bloggiversary to write the birthday blog. Happy bday, Missives! You're a year old today. Someday we'll both figure out exactly what you're all about...

The stretch of time between May and mid-October has become littered with a handful of important-to-me dates, including today: The birth of what has become a repository for my random story ideas, goofballery, obsessions and the occasional misguided attempt at being funny.

Other dates include, the anniversary of my father's passing, my starting to chant, the birthday (or anniversary) of my attaining Gohonzon (11 yrs. on 9/24), and my own birthday, which happened a couple days ago.


Not really a big deal, in the grand scheme of things. No, that honor went to turning 33, in which, during the week prior, I spent an inordinate amount of time thinking things like "I'M ABOUT TO BE AS OLD AS JESUS WAS WHEN HE DIED! WHY DO I CARE?" (I think the answer to that last question has something to do with the five years of Catholic school I attended while young.)

But 35 has also been heady, just in a more sedate and calm fashion. For example, 35 used to be the mid-life crisis year. 35 is 15 years away from being 50. When the old man was 35, we had just moved back to the states from Germany, and we were still three years away from our cathartic fist-fight. The average Playboy Centerfold was born at around the time I was going from Jr. High to High School.

There is nothing calamitous about these thoughts (much like the thoughts I post on this blog), they just are. They appear and disappear like quick snippets of fog until the brain moves on to something else...

So, yeah, here I am. Here's hoping for another 35.

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Just taking a moment...

To give a hearty salute to JoeW (aka The Funny One), for being just as old as I am, if only hairier, the bastard.

yeah, it's not your own personal story, I'm sorry, all right? No need to get all uppity and shit.


Wednesday, October 05, 2005

TAR: FamEd Ep. 2

You know what's missing? The pressure of international travel, the random luck of native cab drivers, the wisdom of saving money v. getting a relaxing luxury item, freaking out about what flight/train/bus would take you to your destination faster.

I don't mind the maps and the driving, as that's an important element in racing, but just that? Ehh, whatever.

I mean, as soon as the Cajun family took that wrong turn, and just kept on driving the wrong direction, I knew they were toast. It would take a major league screw up by one of the other teams for it to work out. Chances for said screw up are lower when there's no language barrier, currency discrepancy or strange culture to overcome. (Though, if anyone could've screwed up with these lowered expectations, it'd be the Joisy Fam.)

And that's the thing, these random factors elevate the tension in the show, so that by the time we get to the "who's gonna come in last?" portion of the show, there's still a certain amount up in the air, and it's easier to believe the editing sequences cut so that we think there's an even chance.

The last two weeks, these sequences were quite transparent, which is a bit of a let down.

All right, by the end of the second episode two of my teams have left...Go NASCAR! But quit it with the Jesus shit.

Sunday, October 02, 2005

Beyond The Pale

by Molly Ivins*

AUSTIN, Texas -- Oh dear. I'm sure he didn't mean it. In Illinois' 6th Congressional District, long represented by Henry Hyde, Republican candidate Peter Roskam accused his Democratic opponent Tammy Duckworth of planning to "cut and run" on Iraq.

Duckworth is a former Army major and chopper pilot, who lost both legs in Iraq after her helicopter got hit by an RPG. "I just could not believe he would say that to me," said Duckworth, who walks on artificial legs and uses a cane. Every election cycle produces some wincers, but how do you apologize for that one?

The legislative equivalent of that remark is the detainee bill, now being passed by Congress. Beloveds, this is so much worse than even that pathetic deal reached last Thursday between the White House and Republican Sens. Warner, McCain and Graham. The White House has since reinserted a number of "technical fixes" that were the point of the putative "compromise." It leaves the president with the power to decide who is an enemy combatant.

This bill is not a national security issue -- this is about torturing helpless human beings without any proof they are our enemies. Perhaps this could be considered if we knew the administration would use the power with enormous care and thoughtfulness. But of the over 700 prisoners sent to Gitmo, only 10 have ever been formally charged with anything. Among other things, this bill is a CYA for torture of the innocent that has already taken place.

The first reported case of death by torture by Americans was in The New York Times in 2003 by Carlotta Gall. The military had announced the prisoner died of a heart attack, but when Gall actually saw the death certificate, written in English and issued by the military, it said the cause of death was homicide. The "heart attack" came after he had been beaten so often on this legs that they had "basically been pulpified," according to the coroner.

The story of why and how it took the Times so long to print this information is in the current edition of Columbia Journalism Review. The press in general has been late and slow in reporting torture, so very few Americans have any idea how far it has spread. As is often true in hierarchical, top-down institutions, the orders get passed on in what I call the downward communications exaggeration spiral.

For example, on a newspaper, a top editor may remark casually, "Let's give the new mayor a chance to see what he can do before we start attacking him."

This gets passed on as, "Don't touch the mayor unless he really screws up."

And it ultimately arrives at the reporter level as, "We can't say anything negative about the mayor."

The version of the detainee bill now in the Senate not only undoes much of the McCain-Warner-Graham work, but it is actually much worse than the administration's first proposal. In one change, the original compromise language said a suspect had the right to "examine and respond to" all evidence used against him. The three senators said the clause was necessary to avoid secret trials. The bill has now dropped the word "examine" and left only "respond to."

In another change, a clause said that evidence obtained outside the United States could be admitted in court even if it had been gathered without a search warrant. But the bill now drops the words "outside the United States," which means prosecutors can ignore American legal standards on warrants.

The bill also expands the definition of an unlawful enemy combatant to cover anyone who has "has purposefully and materially supported hostilities against the United States." Quick, define "purposefully and materially." One person has already been charged with aiding terrorists because he sold a satellite TV package that includes the Hezbollah network.

The bill simply removes a suspect's right to challenge his detention in court. This is a rule of law that goes back to the Magna Carta in 1215. That pretty much leaves the barn door open.

As Vladimir Bukovsky, the Soviet dissident, wrote, an intelligence service free to torture soon "degenerates into a playground for sadists." But not unbridled sadism -- you will be relieved that the compromise took out the words permitting interrogation involving "severe pain" and substituted "serious pain," which is defined as "bodily injury that involves extreme physical pain."

In July 2003, George Bush said in a speech: "The United States is committed to worldwide elimination of torture, and we are leading this fight by example. Freedom from torture is an inalienable human right. Yet torture continues to be practiced around the world by rogue regimes, whose cruel methods match their determination to crush the human spirit."

Fellow citizens, this bill throws out legal and moral restraints as the president deems it necessary -- these are fundamental principles of basic decency, as well as law.

I'd like those supporting this evil bill to spare me one affliction: Do not, please, pretend to be shocked by the consequences of this legislation. And do not pretend to be shocked when the world begins comparing us to the Nazis.

To find out more about Molly Ivins and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate web page at

*[TBO's Note: This article was cut and pasted from the original site (see link directly above). I feel weird about this, but I didn't want the link in the original post become obsolete, as I think Ms. Ivins elucidates quite clearly the problem with the piece of legislation involved. This may prove to be futile, but to ease my guilt, go see the latest Ivins piece on their site. Thanks, TBO.]

TAR: FamEd

I don't know about anyone else, but I'm overwhelmingly creeped out by the Gaghan family. The one with the kids who run the 5k. There's something very normal about them. Robot Family.

I like the NASCAR Family (dead dad), but the Jesus shit is kinda buggin. I also like the self-dubbed Cajun family. The less said about NJFam the better.

I'm sorry, the Black Family? And they're the only ethnicity we see on this season? I found it darkly humorous...ahem. Loved them as a family, though. However, they were the only team that used this as family fun time, and that was their downfall. I was crushed for the kids, who I'm sure wanted to win this pretty badly. Maybe they'll become extremely competitive after this. I am man enough to admit that it took me a few days to stop tearing up when I remembered the look on their faces when they found out they were the last team.

Fucking Robot family, fucking Joisies.

Are we looking at weeks and weeks of patriotic claptrap?