FOND THOUGHTS ABOUT PAMELA GELLER, NEWT GINGRICH, AND GEERT WILDERS

Over on Dovbear's blog, where the debate in favour of civilized values and building a mosque, versus darkness, stupidity, and idolatrous worship of a pit, is once again in full swing, I made a comment about wanting to buy pornography, cheap liquor, and a snack near ground zero.

Perhaps a teensy bit crass.

But in all honesty, flaming holes like Pamela Geller, Newt Gingrich, and Geert Wilders do not bring out the best in me. And their acolytes are, if possible, even more repulsive.
"Brown bag hooch, tittie glossies, and a snickers bar and I'm good to go. It's a secular religious experience."
Pamela Geller is a bigot who spent far too much time making banana comments about Obama, Newt Gingrich is a moral midget and ethical cripple, and Geert Wilders is a shameless political whore.
Please note: everything between 'Pamela Geller' and 'whore' is an opinion, and therefore constitutionally protected free-speech.

All three are rank opportunists.

If I were visiting a brothel, they would probably be splendid company. Especially if teenage sex-slaves, ambisextrous midgets, and beating parties were part of the night's programme.

So, inevitably, I must think of dildos.



LARGE REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS

Years ago I lived around the corner from a delightfully old fashioned boutique where one could browse a truly amazing selection of flexible pink rubber items. Everything from modest and discreet little poink-poinks to immense strainful-looking arm-sized knobby brutes, and several rather startling iterations in between.

I would frequently drop by to talk with the manager, who was a very intelligent academic from Russia. Perhaps because of the conversation pieces framing him, our discussions veered all over the board. It's hard to stay on subject when a humongous fright-cock made out of shocking pink elastomer is staring you straight in the face.

Occasionally we would talk about penises. Not often.
The presence of artificial dongus in so many forms tends to put a damper on any mention of Richard..... . but some exemplars were just so spectacular that they demanded to be discussed.

If it boggles the mind, just imagine what else it might boggle.

Some of them, we thought, just had to be trophies. Surely no one could fit something that monstrous?

But I was proven wrong.
A friend invited a few of us over for sketching party. At that time I still had pretensions of being a graphic artist, so someone modeling nude presented a golden opportunity. I was getting very good at shading over the muscle groups, evoking warm skin.

H struck several classical poses. He was excellent at modeling, held himself immobile for several minutes at a stretch, and the lighting was perfect.

What he did with a certain pink object defied both imagination and medical science. It disappeared entirely several times.
Discobolus, with blissed expression -- Spear-thrower, with blissed expression -- Lady Justitia, with blissed expression -- Saint Sebastian, with blissed expression -- Leda and the swan.


H passed away years ago. It was a profound loss to art and culture in SF.


I still have those sketches somewhere. I haven't shown them to anyone in the quarter of a century since.
If you knew H, you would recognize him immediately. I really worked on the face. So it just wouldn't be "diplomatic" to show the pictures.

Given H's personality, I think it would please him immensely if Pamela Geller, Newt Gingrich, and Geert Wilders were beaten to death with his twenty inch long flexible rubber monster hose.
But I suspect he was buried with it.
And that, truly, is hallowed ground.