‘A society of emasculated liars is easy to control’

Some of our fellow humans are hysterically celebrating  Hillary Clinton as “one of America’s most honest politicians” and a “world first” as a “transgender man gives birth to his own baby.”

Of course, Hillary is no such thing, and a female got impregnated by male sperm in the usual way. But all this lying is by design. Leftists have conditioned people to believe anything, and then tell all their friends. The goal is humiliation, because, as Theodore Dalrymple said, “A society of emasculated liars is easy to control.”

hillary_powell_bimbos

Fifty Ways to Dick Your Bimbos

“The problem is all inside your pants”, she said to me
The answer is easy if you’re emotionally
A faithless sex addict like you appear to be
There must be fifty ways to dick your bimbos

She said it really is my habit to be crude
I hope you’ll respond to me by being very lewd
And I’ll repeat myself to ensure that I get screwed
There must be fifty ways to dick your bimbos
Fifty ways to dick your bimbos

Just slip in the back, Jack
Cop a new thrill, Bill
You don’t need a sex toy, Roy
Just yank yourself free
Get on a train, Blaine
Don’t refrain or be vain
Just drop to your knees, Lee
And yank yourself free

She said it pleases me to see you in such pain
I’m glad my bimbos have made you smile again
I said Hillary appreciates that and would you procure again
You know, another fifty bimbos

She said no problem I’ll be back again tonight
And I believe that in the morning my fifty ways will be too slight
And then she untied me and I realized she probably was right
There are more than fifty ways to dick your bimbos
Fifty ways to dick your bimbos

Just slip in the back, Jack
Cop a new thrill, Bill
You don’t need a sex toy, Roy
Just yank yourself free
Get on a train, Blaine
Don’t refrain or be vain
Just drop to your knees, Lee
And yank yourself free

Why your dildo makes me nervous

I was the man in that bookstore, and this is my side of the story.

Two kids come running in, a panting woman close behind. I think nothing of it at first: “Mom can’t keep up. Been there, done that.”

When I was a kid, I trapped crabs in the Chesapeake Bay, before my family moved to Cedar Rapids. Nowadays, I take my kids fishing on the Mississippi every chance I get. It can be tough to keep up with them.

But the woman stops a few feet from the entrance and stares at me, then moves sideways in to the nearest stack of books, her eyes on me the whole time.

I’ve seen crabs that look less suspicious.

I get distracted by the package in my jacket – an anniversary present for my wife – and try to adjust it without looking uncomfortable. My kids, besides being blabbermouths who will rat me out the first chance they get, are voracious readers and they forced me to stop at this bookstore before heading home. It would be nice if I could surprise my wife just once.

My movements don’t go unnoticed. The woman comes out from behind the bookshelf. Her nervous crablike eyes swivel around the room and settle on me.

I look for the two kids she came in with. And then it hits me. “Those are her kids, right?”

She’s doing something with her purse. Rotating it around until it hangs down in front of her vagina. Then she pats her purse and gives me a knowing look, one eyebrow raised.

“What does that mean?” I think. I catch her eye and smile, hoping she’ll just go away.

But her odd behavior makes me wonder what’s in her purse and if those really are her kids. Maybe she’s stalking them. I remember that article from Utah about the female teacher with a secret life as a sexual predator. Four kids have come forward so far.

Behind her, in the historical fiction section in the corner, my kids are waving to me.

I have to walk by crab-woman to get there, and I notice she’s been standing by the display of “Fifty Shades of Grey.”

She scuttles out of the way. Her hand is in her purse, and she’s sweating. I tell myself to breathe, and inadvertently catch a whiff of her: perfume over body odor.

Things start to add up. Harried single mom, standing in the erotic book section, sweating, giving me the eye.

The dildo in her purse makes me nervous, and I want to run, to get my kids as far away from her as possible.

But I don’t, because they each have a book in their hands, and that pleading look in their eyes that says they already spent their allowance on something else.

By the time we get up to the register, the woman is gone. I pay the clerk, my kids are suitably thankful, and we walk out the door.

As we leave, I look for the woman and her kids. They’re a block down the street, walking fast, and I find myself hoping that she gets whatever it is she needs.

How he would like to be kissed

A poem by Paul Fleming, whose portrait is my public face.

How he would like to be kissed

Nowhere but on the mouth,
Then it sinks to the bottom of the heart
Not too freely, not too forced,
Not with nasty, stinking tongues.

Not too little, not too much!
Or both will be just childish things.
Not too loud, and not too quiet,
Both in measure is the right way.

Not too close, not too far.
This brings sorrow, that one woe.
Not too dry, not too moist,
Like Adonis gave to Venus.

Not too hard, not too soft.
Sometimes together, sometimes not together.
Not too slowly, not too fast.
Not without variety in place.

Half biting, half brushed.
Half lip dipped in lip.
Not without variety in time.
More alone than among people.

May everyone kiss now
As he knows, wants, should and can.
Only I and my dearest know
How we should kiss each other aright.

Big noses and the bawdy aesthetic

Perusing my collection of scholarly papers, in search of some facts about city life in the Early Modern era, I rediscovered Large Noses and Changing Meanings in Sixteenth-century German Prints, by Alison Stewart. I first found the paper almost a year ago, and it’s been sitting ever since in my digital stack of research, waiting.

Or perhaps it’s been panting, wheezing or ejaculating, because the topic of the paper is just what you might think after reading the title.

Woodcuts produced by the Nuremberg school during the early sixteenth century provide insights into the history of taste, in particular the changing nature of the bawdy aesthetic so prevalent in the art of the time. Sebald Beham’s Nose Dance of c. 1534 offers a good case in point. The print represents in the foreground a group of large-nosed men and one woman, and a fool who exposes himself (at lower right).

The scene is a popular peasant holiday of the time, Kermis, “the celebration of the anniversary of a church or of the name saint to whom the church is dedicated.” Contemporary documents indicate that the nose dance was performed routinely.

The dancer with the largest nose will be crowned king of the dance and gets the garland. Second prize is the nose mask, and third the underpants. The garland is, of course, a traditional attribute or the victor; the nose mask mirrors the shape of the nose, and may well have been worn by some of the contestants; while the underpants reminds us of the popular belief that the size of a man’s nose is indicative of the size of his penis …

The description of the woodcut is by Nuremberg poet-shoemaker Hans Sachs.

Narrated in the first person, the text relates that numerous drunk peasants can be seen at the kermis held in the town of Gumpelsbrunn: there they eat, drink and yell, a maiden sings to the accompaniment of a bagpipe, two shawm players arrive to play for the row dance, and the young men run, wrestle and throw each other down on their stomachs, many smashing their penises. Gingerbread is for sale, and a rooster dance takes place, involving wonderful tricks waddling, bowing and turning around, so that one can see up the women’s skirts. Sachs describes the rows and disputes, with two men attacking three, and even a flogging.

The entire paper is worth reading, and some passages remind me of more recent events.

While not discounting altogether the moralizing aspects of the image and text, it is important to keep in mind that although they may seem outrageous to many today, sixteenth-century audiences would have found them highly entertaining. Nuremberg was then a loud and dirty place, the behaviour found there uncouth and often violent. People talked loudly in church – and even defecated in the street: an announcement was issued to warn residents not to use the streets in this manner during the Emperor’s visit, but to avail themselves of the public Sprachhauser, or latrines.

All that’s missing today is the fornicating, the violence, the maypole, and the fool exposing himself. Oh, wait, all of that did happen during the nationwide “Occupy Wall Street” protests. Perhaps today’s society is not as evolved as we pretend.

‘I have learned from your letter of the wonderful agreement that allows you now to blow fire out of your sweet little Anna’s ass’

Lucas Friedrich Behaim was a young man recently returned to Nurnberg from four years of “bachelor journeying”. It was 1612, less than a decade before the continent would explode into thirty years of war, and Lucas wanted to get married.

His story is told in the book, Flesh and Spirit: Private Life in Early Modern Germany, by Steven Ozment. Love letters and other correspondence between family members and the betrothed take us back in time, and into the minds of the long-dead lovers.

Lucas is a passionate Lutheran, but he is also a man who has experienced the world. His youthful travels took him to Paris, Venice, Crete, Tripoli and Jerusalem, among other cities. He only missed seeing Constantinople because his ship was rerouted due to a report of plague.

His letters to his beloved, Anna Maria Pfinzig, are — as Ozment says — full of  “lust and piety”, a fact which did not much surprise me.

Dear Maiden Bride, in my solitude, I contemplate your good and faithful heart intently and I am comforted by it alone. I rejoice in it with my whole heart, and yes, I kill most of my leisure in such pleasant thoughts of you. … Therefore, I ask you very kindly, my darling, to send me a portrait of your beautiful physical form, so that I might, from time to time [by looking at it], know true consolation and singular joy when such sad thoughts arise.”

Unbeknownst to their parents, Lucas and Anna had exchanged private vows before their wedding, a fact which thankfully remained hidden from Nurnberg’s disciplinary Committee of Ten. The agreement was known to several of their family members, notably Lucas’s cousin Albrecht who wrote Lucas a letter of his own, the text of which did surprise me.

“I have learned from your letter of the wonderful agreement that allows you now to blow fire out of your sweet little Anna’s ass, something I would also dearly like to do to her myself, if only my own dear maiden would give me permission. Were she to do so, I think it could not be better done than by inserting my self-extended reed into her from the front and then blowing bravely into it, whereupon the coals and excess heat generated in her hind quarters would sail forth. If this plan of mine pleases you, perhaps you could write to my maiden [Juliana] and ask her if I may be allowed to try it. For were I to proceed without her foreknowledge, the soup would surely turn sour and kind words become dear. I am also pleased to learn that your penis is loyally standing by you, giving you your first wakeup call of each day. I shall make this happy news known to Anna Maria on Sunday, Capis Casari, when I console her and counsel fond patience [during your absence].”

Clearly, the pious Lutherans of the Early Modern age were not as pious as we sometimes believe.

Nurnberg

Nurnberg, from Civitates Orbis Terrarum, 1572

The Ring, The Whiffe and The Gulp

Writing accurately about the 1600’s has proven to be a serious challenge, especially since I’m focusing on the lives of common people.

What were the “common” attitudes about sex, alcohol, witchcraft, smoking, marriage, death, and a host of other issues?

It’s fairly easy to find out what James I thought of smoking, since he wrote his “Counterblaste to Tobacco” in 1604.

For James, smoking was “a custom loathesome to the eye, hatefull to the nose, harmfull to the braine, dangerous to the Lungs, and in the blacke stinking fume thereof, nearest resembling the horrible Stigian smoke of the pit that is bottomlesse.”

Nevertheless, the “reeking gallants” of the day displayed such fashionable tricks as “The Ring” and “The Gulp”.

Alfred Dunhill, in The Gentle Art of Smoking, notes that the first men who brought tobacco to England from Virginia in 1586 popularized the practice of “drinking” tobacco.

It’s exciting to find details which bring a story alive, and the more I look, the more I find. In a wine bar in Stralsund, one of my characters drinks tobacco and suffers in the way one might expect. The question is, should he live or die?