A Schwarzenegger Shrine, astronomically valued. A bell went off as I read the shrine’s description and I immediately went to the seller’s name, thinking, “Who is this, selling this stuff?” When I saw the answer, a big guffaw escaped me. Jack Fritscher! In pervy smut writer/leather circles, Jack’s a respected and honored individual. Now, an ebay entrepeneur to boot.
(An aside: Time to check the edition of my old Conan the Barbarian script, methinks.)
If you happened to live in one of those “family values” voids, here’s the Sunday Doonesbury strip that — gasp! — mentioned masturbation. Of course, the interaction between the good reverend and Boopsie is really the topic at hand, not the M-word so to some degree, those editors who decided not to run the strip prove Trudeau’s point entirely.
Some recidivism, I like. Especially when it’s comes from the “save the gays” circle. I suppose if you don’t keep a scorecard of “moral fallings,” you couldn’t do much better than this article to see who fell off the wagon.
No pun intended, but I’ve been sitting on this Salon article about vulvodynia. It’s worth reading not just for the sufferer’s point of view but for the incredible lack of awareness in the medical community. So are the letters. And as I write this entry, I’m thinking of one of my friends who’s currently making arrangements for the surgery. Forget sex — she’d simply like to be able to sit without pain.
Tomorrow: Well, we are know what tomorrow is. In remembrance, I’ve decided to do something for others. For the first time in ages, I’m going to donate blood.
