Peeking in

I've recently gotten a burst of stories in the INS mailbox so I hope an update will be imminent in the next couple of weeks. Also, there's been some stuff going on behind the scenes. I've been in contact with someone who is working on a new design template for the site and, unlike others who have made this offer in the past, has actually shown me stuff--and it looks good. No time frame on the implementation, though. When it does go through, also look for a host change for the blog. I've been having some issues with Blogger that have been pretty annoying, so I've been messing with WordPress and am finding it much more user friendly, plus I can import everything from here.

The Real Life has been a tad stressful of late so I've enjoyed/will be enjoying a couple of weekend getaways--I went to Boston last month to visit friends and take in Yankees/Red Sox (I left with a horrid case of "Red Sox flu" which apparently decimated half the team) and I'll celebrate Memorial Day weekend in Chicago, taking in Angels/White Sox and making a pilgrimage to Wrigley Field. I enjoy solo travel and am glad to have a husband who knows the worst thing I'll do is have a few beers and ogle young men in tight baseball uniforms, although I have a feeling the Angelina Jolie Film Festival will begin shortly after my departure. ;)

Equal opportunity bashing

Leading conservative advocacy groups have signed onto a letter that will press President Bush to reinstitute regulations that would strip federal funding for family planning groups if they refer patients to abortion doctors or share facilities with abortion providers.

With the exception of the Eagle Forum, or as I like to call it “So That’s What Happened to Phyllis Schafly,” all of these groups are—surprise!—“faith-based.” Concerned Women for America, a particularly gag-inducing group, is run by Beverly LaHaye, wife of Tim LaHaye, evangelical douchebag and co-author of quite possible the worst novels to sell a gazillion copies, the Left Behind series (as a side note, it’s not necessarily the storyline that makes them suck, but just really awful writing. I read the first one and was just staggered at the bad grammar and stereotypes, but I digress). From CWA’s website, which I won’t link here because the first thing that comes up is an annoying letter showing Beverly’s overpainted face and asking for a hand-out:

The mission of CWA is to protect and promote Biblical values among all citizens - first through prayer, then education, and finally by influencing our society - thereby reversing the decline in moral values in our nation.

How many times must I, an American, stand up and yell PLEASE GET THE FUCKING RELIGION OUT OF POLITICS? How many times must we all yell? I do not want evangelicals of any stripe deciding policy. As the saying goes, if I wanted to live in a theocracy I’d move to Iran. Yes, be a person of faith if you wish in your private life but when you are making decisions that will affect millions of people I’d rather you leave the Big Guy out of it. So-called liberals aren’t immune to this phenomenon either, as recently seen by the flap over Barack Obama’s pastor Jeremiah Wright. Religion is the great American equalizer … well, as long as the religion is some variation of Christianity, that is. And not Mormon, those people are weird.

It’s one thing to be against abortion. It’s an entirely different matter to deny aid because OMG THEY MIGHT SAY SOMETHING ABOUT ABORTION. If I am sick of religion insinuating itself into government I am even more sick of these fucktards thinking that if abortion isn’t mentioned eventually it’ll go away and women will birth them babies like they’re supposed to do without any thought whatsoever. You know, kind of how they go through life. “The Bible says …” “God says …” “Jesus says …” “Allah says …”

But oh, no, self-proclaimed pro-choicers, don’t be so smug just yet. Why? Because everyone’s favorite fundie family, the Duggars of Arkansas, have just announced the impending arrival of child number eighteen. This announcement has triggered the usual reactions—Photoshopped posters of the family with the caption “VAGINA—it’s not a clown car”; calls for either Jim-Bob or Michelle to be sterilized; speculation on life in the household; how miserable the older kids must be; how the younger ones don’t get any one-on-one time with Mom and Dad; how the family allegedly gets the benefit of tax loopholes; how the kids are being brainwashed by religion; how large families ruin the environment, yadda yadda.

I don’t have a problem with the Duggars, never have (some might remember I addressed this issue with kid number 16 or 17, I’d have to go look). Jim-Bob Duggar makes a pretty nice living from real estate, and it would be the rare person who would turn down a lucrative TV offer—and believe me, if TLC wasn’t making money from it there’d be no show. The kids look well-fed and happy, and both parents do try to get in one-on-one time with everybody. It’s not unusual for older members of large families to pitch in with the little ones, another complaint (“all (Michelle) does is sit around and be pregnant!”). I’ve often wondered if people would bitch so much about the Duggars were they not fundies. Somehow I don’t think so. In the interest of cynicism, I’ve also wondered if the Duggars would continue propagating if every new pregnancy didn’t result in them making the news and getting more TV money. Just because you’re fundie doesn’t mean you’re above attention-whoring.

In the end, ask yourself—how do the Duggars personally affect your life? Chances are not at all. If you went exploring in the third world I’d bet you’d find a lot of families like this. They’re just not white and on TV. And just because they lead a way of life alien to you doesn’t mean they’re not happy. And that goes for both sides.

What happened to "oil on canvas"?

By now everyone has heard about Aliza Shvarts, the Yale art student who freaked everyone out when she announced that her senior project consisted of (from the various articles) "a cube lined with plastic sheets with a blood-and-petroleum-jelly mixture in between, onto which she would project video footage of herself 'experiencing miscarriages in her bathroom tub.'" Pro-choicers in particular got very much up in arms about this when it emerged Thursday, and various sites and blogs were filled with the flailers claiming that the project trivialized abortion or the z/e/f didn't deserve to be desecrated, who in turn were flamed by others for not being properly pro-choice, proving that just like antis we pros can viciously turn on our own for not toeing the party line. However, in my opinion the main point was totally missed, which is this:

Is it truly art?

First, I'll get this out of my way--if Ms. Shvarts thought her way to an art degree was collecting semen, basting herself with it, swallowing some herbs and bleeding every four weeks for a better part of a year, collecting what came out and sealing it in plastic that's her perogative. Some artsy type like to suffer for their art. And pardon me if I call bullshit on her pious claims that she didn't do this for shock value; she knew exactly what she was doing and the reaction that would be created as a result. But is it art? Art is defined as "the use of skill and imagination in the creation of aesthetic objects, environments, or experiences that can be shared with others." Doesn't take skill to smear blood and Vaseline on a sheet of plastic in my opinion unless she formed a recognizable image with it instead of using it as an organic video screen.

Living near New York as I did I spent a lot of time in Greenwich Village in my twenties, which was the hub of the modern New York art scene. I saw a lot of stuff similar to Ms. Shvarts' project, all of it presented by pretentious assholes with delusions of grandeur who would earnestly explain that the slash of blue paint on a scrap of old newspaper represented "man's eternal struggle with himself." If one expressed an opinion to the contrary no matter how politely, you were immediately denounced as a bourgeois who obviously could not grasp the higher concept. By the way, that scrap of newspaper? I saw it being purchased--for five grand. "Artists" the world over are grateful that there will always be idiots with more money than sense who will believe it when they are told that something is "art" (or that the "artist's" work is in demand, therefore driving up the price).

Art is subjective, true. To me, visual art is something that moves me or makes me think. It doesn't necessarily have to be beautiful or perfectly rendered, but if it is beautiful it helps. A few years ago I went to a Monet exhibition at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts (hey, I'm a cultured bitch), and I still remember one painting of a garden--yeah, I know, he painted a lot of those--where I was struck by the vivid pink of the painted blossoms, so bright even over a hundred years later. As a child I remember crying when I saw a photo of Michelangelo's Pieta because I thought it was so beautiful and sad. I have seen modern works that have moved me even when at first glance the work seemed simplistic. I have also seen a lot of modern works that have made me go "WTF?" I hope that a picture of Ms. Shvarts' work is photographed because I'd like to see it. Maybe it will move me. Or maybe I'll relegate it to the same place I relegate slashes of paint on old newspapers or Thomas Kinkade pictures.

Hey, antis!

Do you really want to make abortion illegal? Keep kids ignorant when it comes to true sex education?

If so, get ready for a whole lot of this happening.

Hey, take your fingers out of your ears and stop yelling LA LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU GOD WILL PROVIDE, we don't buy that bullshit anymore.

INS' Sex for Beginners

Recently in both the INS mailbox and on its MySpace (YES I M THE TR3NDRZ) I’ve been getting a spate of e-mails from young girls asking me very scary questions concerning sexual things. Thanks to the Dubya regime’s policy of believing ignorance will lead to abstinence—and we all know how well that’s been working—and having reached a semi-advanced age with the requisite experience (and fuck-ups), I have decided to take it upon myself to put together a little primer for those girls out there making their first forays into the sexual world.

1. Sexual intercourse is often overrated. Making out, however, is often underrated and definitely more fun in the long run. The average teenage boy, depending on his age, wants three things—to see your boobs, to touch your boobs and to get off. Sometimes doing the second (maybe even the first) will be enough for the third for him. But kissing and fondling? Very fun.

2. Invest in a bottle of Astroglide, which you can find at Target and other such places (and no, you won’t get carded). A penis does not know the difference between a vagina and a Astroglide-slicked hand and will often enjoy the latter more. It is the rare boy—-hell, the rare man--who will object to a well-lubed hand job, particularly if he can look at your boobs while you’re doing it. However, don’t dump the entire bottle in your palm. Generally a quarter-sized dollop, sometimes even less, will do the trick. This is particularly useful if you start hearing the whines about “blue balls.” Astroglide + maybe 45 seconds of work = blessed silence and happy boy.

3. Are you masturbating? If not, please start. Despite what the romance novels say guys don’t magically know how to please you, and if you don’t know how to please yourself how are you going to show him what to do? If you have no clue get a book (look on Amazon, there’s lots of them, Betty Dodson and Lonnie Barbach’s books are particularly good). Masturbation is awesome once you get the, ahem, hang of it. And psst, I have a little secret to tell you—there’s a lot of guys out there who love to watch you play with yourself. It’s pretty hot watching them do it too. Don’t forget your Astroglide!

4. Most guys want to please you and are willing to learn how to do so. Don’t be afraid to show him what you like and make sure you give him plenty of encouragement when he’s getting it down right. You don’t have to scream like a porn actress, but lots of humming and breathing and “oh yes” will get your point across. However, if you find yourself doing all the work and him having all the orgasms and he acts like your body is a toxic landfill and not a wonderland, dump him. Life’s too short to get a selfish bastard off. There are selfish women too, lest I be accused of man-bashing.

5. Oral sex? It’s said that the number of teenagers doing this has gone up considerably, but I have a sneaking suspicion that fellatio is FAR more common than cunnilingus in this age group. If you’re clean you’re not going to smell and there’s not much of a taste, so if guys pull faces and make comments about fish, smile sweetly and refuse to blow them. Fair is fair. There are flavored lubes out there so there’s that option, but do NOT put anything like honey or chocolate syrup down there lest you set yourself up for the mother of all yeast infections. As per swallowing semen, this is a judgment call. I’ve found that a good compromise for those who don’t like to swallow are those flavored condoms, as spitting kind of makes a mess. Also if you put a drop of your friend Astroglide in the condom it’ll make it much more fun for him. (Before you ask, no, I do not own stock in Astroglide)

6. SET LIMITS. This is extremely important. If you have decided that you do not want to do something—and it’s your body, you have every right to decide what you want to do with it or have done to it—LET. HIM. KNOW. AND. STICK. TO. IT. PLEASE do not buy the “if you loved me, you’d do (x)” shit. Your answer to that should be “if you loved me you wouldn’t ask me to do (x) when I told you I didn’t want to.” Does that mean you can’t change your mind? Of course not. But do it because you want to, not because you’re afraid he’ll break up with you if you don’t. Because trust me, if you do? You’ll hate yourself and he’ll probably still break up with you.

7. It’s awful that I need to write this since I know the majority of male human beings are decent, but it needs to be said—watch what you drink if you go out and wear pants, not a skirt or dress. A passed-out-drunk girl in the middle of a gang bang or waking up with her underwear missing in a place she doesn’t remember going to isn’t pretty. As long as there is an asshole waiting to pounce on the inexperienced drunk girl flashing her thong at a party, there will be the need for us females to watch ourselves. As Metallica once said, sad but true. I have always been grateful that I had an enormous capacity for hard liquor when young. Once in college I was described as “the girl that just wouldn’t pass out.” I was proud of this until I realized that the guy doing the describing said this in a regretful voice. Then I was chilled.

8. If you do choose to have sexual intercourse, do it with someone you’ve come to trust and make sure that before the penis comes ANYWHERE near the vagina you have the “what’ll happen if I get pregnant?” talk. Do not think that because you are young and know how to use birth control that’s going to be a magic shield for you. Accidents happen, lapses in judgment happen. Do not assume that your partner will automatically go along with whatever you want. Intercourse should never be taken lightly; too much can happen both physically and emotionally. It is a Big Deal and should be treated as such—be willing to accept the responsibility that comes with it.

Class dismissed.

Ahem ...

New stories are up. Please to go read them.

Entry of substance (or what passes for substance around here) coming soon.

Everything about America I've learned from Pogo

The Internet, at least for me, is the modern-day equivalent of reading the dictionary. If one took a look at my Google search history they would likely think me schizophrenic, as the searches range from current Boston Red Sox players (hello, Josh Beckett) to seventeenth-century feminists (hello, Anne of Denmark). But just as everyone else does, I need to play. For that I go to Pogo. Sometimes a good round of Lottso! or Turbo 21 is just what's needed to calm the soul, plus being partially Scottish and therefore part of the lost tribe of Israel I need to get my gamble on without, you know, losing any money. Pogo is fairly large, having bought out a few other sites to become the gaming juggernaut it is now, and for the most part it is thoroughly American. As a rule I do not participate in chat unless I'm trying to keep track of my progress on a badge, but when I do I am reminded just how much the "women are only good for having kids" line has been sold. Depending on the game easily 70% of female screen names are derivations of "(someone's)mom/mommy," "mom/mommy of (insert trendy name here)" or "(whatever grandmothers get called these days) of (number or trendy name)." I've been recovering from yet another dental surgery--seriously, with the amount of money that's been poured into my mouth I should look like a fucking Osmond by now--so being somewhat drug-addled I've been on Pogo a lot lately. Yesterday afternoon I was playing for a badge so I had the chat on, and a conversation took place that took every bit of my will not to butt into and say, "Excuse me, but WHAT THE FUCK?!" Sad to say, I've seen it before, but I will share with you (names changed and punctuation corrected, of course):

MOM OF TRENDILY NAMED KID: (Sister) just found out she's pregnant again.
GRAMMA OF FIVE: Really?
MOTNK: She and hubby have been separated for a couple months but they went out drinking at Xmas and hooked up.
GO5: How many children do they have?
MOTNK: This will be number four.
GO5: Well, these things happen for a reason and children are always a blessing.
MOTNK: He has a girlfriend and she's pregnant too, due around the same time.
GO5: Well, maybe he can have the girlfriend give the baby to his wife and they can all be raised together and he'll see his sin and come back to his wife.
MOTNK: He was at church on Sunday and asked to be baptized but he wants to marry the girlfriend.
GO5: I will pray that he sees the error of his ways and do the right thing and keep both babies.

That's as far as I got because I literally felt like my head was going to explode.

Screw "All My Children" and "Days Of Our Lives"--if you want to see a soap opera go on any internet board that caters to the "flyover zones." And kids are ALWAYS caught in the middle. So many look at children as relationship souvenirs, complain about trying to collect child support, visitation rights. But here bearing children is seen as a duty, no other options available. You fuck, you pay. No--you fuck, the children pay. The right-wingers whine about the "erosion of the family", not realizing that they contribute just as much. It's not about abortion, not about birth control--it's about telling women "you have worth other than being someone's girlfriend/wife/baby mama. You ARE something without a man." And it's just not the barely-high-school-educated Nebraskan--it's the Ivy-League-educated New Yorker, the Sorbonne-taught Californian. Love yourself first, put yourself first, and you will be a better lover, a better partner, a better parent.

Goddammit, I just want to play blackjack, not read someone's latest ignorance-fueled tragedy. I am pro-choice, but others need to know there ARE fucking choices.