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Contents
Part I (The first half of the essays, plays and stories and two poems)
The Day My Daughter Died (Part I)
The Lighter Side of Rape (Part I)
Anarchy Against Ignorance: Destructuring Schools for Better Education (Part I)
Rectum the Knight (Part I)
Legalized Prostitution: Laws to Help Women (Part I)
Two Roads less Than Travelled
Amourtician
Part II (The second half of the essays, plays and stories and the rest of the poetry)
The Day My Daughter Died (Part II)
The Lighter Side of Rape (Part II)
Anarchy Against Ignorance: Destructuring Schools for Better Education (Part II)
Rectum the Knight (Part II)
Legalized Prostitution: Laws to Help Women (Part II)
A Chapter of Poetry
Part I
The Day my Daughter Died
(Part I)
She was five years old. I was trying to remember everything about the last time I was with her. The Woman Scorned only let me visit her at her daycare. I hadn’t seen her since before the christmas holidays and she was only in the daycare a few hours a week because the x put her into that stupid little miss flower festival pageant or whatever it’s called--again. It took our time together away last year and once more ‘round the sun here we go again, practically as separated as from the wife, with me spending so much time being kept from her that I continue to miss her even during my short visits with her. I don’t know how it is affecting her. I can see she misses me and that feels nice but I do not want her feelings to be as strong as mine because at that depth even nectar hardens into dark pain. So I spend a lot of time fishing and observing, trying to gather what I can about this knife I will not deny was partly of my making and if it cuts her too.
I have a picture of her, wearing lipstick that’s way too red—for a four year old at least, from the fucking pageant (fugeant…haha) last year and the only reason I can’t burn it is its one of the two pictures I have of my baby and somehow, burning a full 50% of her pictures seems wrong to me…so there it sits on my bookcase, whorish lipstick and all. But her smile shines through. It’s a very unforced smile and she should have won the fugeant because of that quality alone. Her smile, which she got from me =) blew away that damned lipstick and made her angelic again, prostitute mouth paint notwithstanding. Don’t get me wrong, I would’ve killed to kiss a pretty lady with lipstick like that, as would “The Young Bucks Who Would Come A’ Courting”—(if she had lived to reach that age); but not on a four year old! jesus on a stick!
I missed the question and answer portion. I would have loved to see it but I was starting a meat smoking business and had a sample tasting to host. I tried to buy a copy of the video but never had enough money…No, the business didn’t work out even if I missed my baby’s Q&A because of it. That was the only part of the fugeant I had any interest in watching. She was a quirky kid. I wanted to hear what she’d spit back at them when they asked her those inevitably stupid and meaningless questions. I wanted to be there to hear that innate, razor sharp childhood wisdom of the innocent strike the Emcee when he asked her some inane thing concerning her expert opinion on the dynamics of friendship. I didn’t have that luxury. I had to impress customers into paying for my meat. Thinking back, selling expensive, value-added food to try and put cheap food on my kids’ plates was too ironic to have worked out in the real world anyhow. This was one of those times I should have subverted traditional responsibility, delivered the samples and left them to gorge while I shirked entertaining and cajoling potential customers, letting the product speak for itself and its quality draw their orders to me, and sat and listened to my kid’s super sharp answers to questions read from bad copy.
Because of my class schedule and the stupid daycare visitation, coupled with its mistress, the fugeant, I only got to see her on February 13th. That was three weeks ago. There was a time the other year I didn’t see either of my kids for nine months. Now, with her in that silly coffin thing—the most expensive thing that was ever hers and she wasn’t even enjoying it-- those three weeks automatically become longer than that nine month period. The instant she died those 21 days became forever.
So help me I can’t put together a decent picture of what that last day with her was like. I came out here to the garden—actually a vegetable plot with clotheslines above it--with my glass of White Castle just to be able to think without all the x’s relatives milling around me—none of them sure what to say even after they’d said it. Words: “Oh, cj, it’s such a tragedy. But remember she is with God now. We’re so sorry; we’re here for you, ok?” Their thoughts: “god I wonder if that sounded right. He’s smart. He knows we’re being plastic…Oh good! There’s my friend…escape, escape!...” My thought: “You know damn well I hate your misguided god you dumbass! How dare you mention that fucking name at my baby’s funeral?! Go run to your friends. Leave me the hell alone. I wish none of you had come here. This is my house! Last time you were here you were packing up all my things and taking them and my children away! Fuck you and your political utterances!”
The garden didn’t bother me that way. I took a sip of whiskey to keep the tears away a little longer so I could think—think and remember. I couldn’t concentrate on the sequence of events that day. I couldn’t recapture the plot and all the wonderful moments we shared at that stupid day care center. I could remember her smiling and laughing as we played but I wanted—needed more—I needed her emotions to be inside me now…only her happiness on that day could neuter this death wish that was beginning to take root in me. We were playing with a doll. I was going to give them a rabbit each for xmas. That was all I could afford. But the person who owed me 300 never gave me the two rabbits promised nor the money; but my now ex-girlfriend (we were still together over xmas) had bought her a doll and I made a 26 hour bus trip, standing half the time, to get it—and to visit my girlfriend over xmas, and brought the doll home with me. I burned my son a game that I downloaded for free…something he was waiting for for a long time. That I stuck in her bag for her brother (I was not allowed to see him and he never took the short jeep ride to come over and visit). So, today, a million days after xmas, and with so little time to enjoy it, I gave her her doll, which was bought by my ex-girlfriend (how weird is that?) and we were trying to fix her hair. I remember brushing the doll’s long hair with her. We tried to braid it but my braid was even worse than hers (and her braid was mostly knots…She had just learned to tie a square knot and practiced on everything she could—and as Holden would say: “that just killed me.”) Then we brushed the hair smooth again and I suggested we try a simple pony tail. No success…
I gave up on the doll with my big clumsy hands and told her she could knot away. I noticed her mother had fixed her hair nicely today, well she always fixed nicely, she was good at that, but it looked especially special today so I thought she may have practice for the fugeant later. Waiting until she was preoccupied with a particularly troublesome knot I asked her, “Hey, Riva Diva! How about while you fix Dollie’s hair I fix yours?! Ya?!” and busy as she was, she forgot about her pageant, “Ya, sure dad,” and then in passing, being preoccupied with what was turning out to be a successful gift, “Don’t call me Riva Diva.” So I undid whatever her mom spent time being late for work doing that morning, took her brush out of her bag and brushed her hair over her shoulders. I hated it when her mother cut the front of her long hair off. She always looked so good with her long hair falling all over her face, like a little mountain girl—my mountain kid. But from behind I could pretend it was still long in front. So I relaxed in that thought and brushed away. I knew I was no good with fixing hair so I didn’t try to tie it up nor do anything fancy with it. I brushed 'til it was shiny and straight.
I was surprised that I hadn’t cried at all during the whole visit. I hated doing it because she always asked me why I was crying and the only honest answer I could give her was that I missed her terribly, but since I was always with her when I said I missed her I didn’t want to confuse the little thing so I hated crying in front of her.
I could cry here though. I couldn’t hold it back anymore and the whisky stopped helping, maybe because the glass was empty. I had to be content with what I had captured and it would have to last me the rest of my life, and who knows, maybe much longer. Or longer than that. So I cried and remembered her tying knots in the doll’s hair, and cried some more. Her birthday gift to me last year was a long string with maybe a hundred square knots tied in it. It looked almost like a ball of knots. I had it in my pocket and my non-drinking hand brought it out and I looked at the teardrop-shaped thing in the moonlight. I couldn’t see well enough through the tears so I held it against my face and felt on my cheek all the little knots it must’ve taken her hours to tie for me. It occurred to me that the only real knot I knew how to tie was the square knot too. More tears came.
When my unpleasurable, yet somehow fulfilling ocular piss had finished raising the level of the Balili River I wiped my face as dry as I could and went inside to refill my glass. I don’t know if I went in for the company of the few real friends I had there, to help the whisky help me forget for a while, or to look at her again, or walk in with my machete and chase out all the assholes who were there, or just to fill my glass with more White Castle.
The Lighter Side of Rape
(Part I)
Players:
A Man……A Rapist
A Woman……A Rapee
Some God……A Commentator
Some Devil……A Commentator
(Curtains open but in the dark we hear the Commentators talking.)
Some God: This is wrong. And it was very rude of you to invite me to watch this.
Some Devil: You know Pops, complaining is not something a Perfect Being should do, is it?. I took the liberty of disarming him and suppressing his violence center. As for her, I’ve suppressed her fear center. They’ll be fine; just sit back and enjoy the show.
Some God: I still don’t understand why you wanted me here to watch this. It’s sickening. You’re not right.
Some Devil: Not your best work ‘eh? It’s ok, prototypes tend to be buggy. And then there’s your attitude towards the first born. Those poor, fucking Egyptian boys…
Some God: Don’t you start—
Some Devil: Shhhh…the story begins.
(On stage is a bed with a woman in a mini skirt and bra handcuffed to it. A man stands at the foot of the bed in jeans and a plaid shirt; he has a pistol stuck in his waistband.)
Some God: You said you disarmed him! Liar!
Some Devil: The gun’s empty; let’s not have a reason for displaying yet another rainbow of apology across the sky. Keep cool.
Woman: Well?
Man: Shut up. I’m gonna look at ya for a while. I wanna see you squirm.
Woman: (blandly) But I’m not squirming.
Man: Don’t sass me bitch! (He points the gun upwards and pulls the trigger repeatedly but it just clicks emptily.)
Some God: You said you took away his violent tendencies!
Some Devil: I said I suppressed them. I can’t leave him completely defenseless against this woman.
Woman: At least I don’t have to worry about getting pregnant—you shooting blanks and all.
Man: (Tossing the gun away angrily) Piece of crap! Oh, I’ll show you what I can shoot, missy! (He opens his pants.)
Woman: Oh my God! That is such a turn off!
Man: What?
Woman: You were about to take off your pants before your shirt. Don’t you ever watch TV? Have you ever seen Robert Redford take off his pants before his shirt? If you’re gonna do this be cool about it. Shirt off first, dude.
Man: I’ll show you who’s cool…
Woman: Yeah, right. So far all you’ve done is talk shit and stand there with your fly open.
Man: (Quickly zipping up) Not true—Ow! Oh, shit! Goddammit! (As the zipper catches something)
Woman: Now you’re in real trouble.
Man: (wincing) And why is that?
Woman: Coz now that your dick is all cut up its gonna be awfully painful rapin’ me—unless I’m properly turned on first…
Man: What?
Woman: You know, moisturized and all…?
Man: I can take pain. And we’re here so I can rape you, not rock your world, lady. (He advances.)
Woman: Whatever…But I take it you’ve never fucked a totally dry, tightly unaroused pussy with a wounded dick before. Coz if you have you wouldn’t be wanting to do it again.
Man: (pauses) It can’t be that bad…
Woman: Go for it then, cowboy. But if you do I’m not gonna be the only one crying. Its gonna hurt you way more than its gonna hurt me…and you probably won’t be able to come…I bet you’ve already gone soft.
Man: I doubt I’ll cry…(looks down) Dammit. I’ve got you here and I aint goin' down for this if I’m not even gonna……That’s kinda the whole point.
Woman: So what are you gonna do?
Man: I didn’t really plan on this. Shit.
Woman: Suggestion?
Man: (shrugs) Ya, sure. Why not?
Woman: Try a little romance. And when you do undress, remember—
Man: Ya, ya. Shirt off first. I got it.
Woman: And don’t rush things either. Do a little striptease, maybe. But whatever you do, do not come into bed with your socks on.
Some God: What is wrong with that woman?
Some Devil: You mean besides free will?
(The Man starts bobbing his head.)
Woman: What are you doing?
Man: Well, I—you said striptease so I was like imagining some dance music…
Woman: Well don’t.
Anarchy Against Ignorance: Destructuring Schools for Better Education
(Part I)
There is a parable in the Christian Bibles about two men who each built a house. One built his on a solid foundation and the other did not. The house built on rock withstood the storm in the parable and that built on sand collapsed. The man-made structure that housed the nuclear society of the former man’s family was erected on a proper foundation and was thus able to weather the elements. Another construct of man, society, must then also be built on proper foundations. Education, being an indispensible foundation of society, is then logically one of the elements of the good foundation upon which a good society can be raised.
Philosophers, theorists and activists, three of whom will be discussed in this paper, namely, Karl Marx, Ivan Illich and A.S. Neill blame both individual and societal problems on poor and incorrect education supplied by a faulty educational system (Marx and Engels, 2005; Illich, 1970; Suissa, 2005). These three thinkers were chosen, as will be shown in the discussion, for their advocacy of Anarchistic forms of organization and education. Each was well respected in his accomplishments and though each had their critics, the contributions that they made have helped to shape and still continue to influence society today. All three realized the necessity of proper education in the establishment and proper functioning of a good society.
According to Marx, the masses must be educated for them to be able to realize their personal worth and their importance to the economic stability of their society. This process is necessary for the proletarian revolution that will overthrow capitalism, end oppression by the privileged classes, disestablish the social structure that propagates the rule of the minority elite and establish a rule of the majority--self-governance of the people. Without digressing into another essay topic it seems to be that Communism is much more democratic than its detractors may want us to perceive it. In fact, in Marx’s original writings, those unadulterated by others of the time who called themselves Communists and Anarchists but whose ideas differed noticeably from Marx’s, his idea of the smallest, and autonomous social unit, the commune was essentially what the ancient Greeks, the originators of democracy, and Haldane, in agreement with the idea of the Greeks in On Being the Right Size, was an example of a true democracy (Marx and Engels, 2005; Haldane, 1963; Rubel, 1973). It was the ignorance of the working class of the fact that without their labor Capitalism would collapse and education was the cure for this ignorance and the catalyst for the revolution that would establish a classless, self-governing society.
Illich used the paradigm of the educational system to argue that present hierarchical systems were at the root of the problems of society. Society as a whole needed to be disestablished so that it would not continue to improperly school its members. Rather than institutions and establishments imposing miseducation on students, Illich called for autonomous education sought out by the individual that should individualize and personalize each student’s educational and intellectual nourishment needs (Illich, 1970).
All these theories and practices are directed at the acquisition of knowledge by everyone according to their needs and, once knowledgeable about what they need to know, the desire to further their pursuit of education to their fulfillment. With the destruction of limitations on education, faulty educational traditions and institutions that hinder education—without education being controlled in and dictated by those in power in a hierarchy--comes the destruction of ignorance.
The absence of a hierarchy, established levels of leadership and authority over individuals and groups in society is an Anarchy. The very word stirs up images of terror, violence, unrest and chaos. In fact, the Encarta Encyclopedia (2007) defines it as a “chaotic situation”, “a situation in which there is a total lack of organization or control”. And when looking at the synonyms from the thesaurus, these are the words given: disorder, chaos, lawlessness, revolution, mayhem, rebellion, and its antonym is given as: order. The root word of Anarchy is archy which means government (Wiley Publishing, Inc., 2009). Simply put, an Anarchy is a society without a government. There is no lexical or logical reason to call it any of the synonyms listed above and it certainly does not mean an absence of order. Charles Darwin stated in The Origin of the Species that humans would not have evolved without some sort of self governance and sense of preservation of their species and scholars contend that this prevents an Anarchical society from descending into chaos (Suissa, 2005). Society will always have “self-control” even though there is an absence of government. It is this control that forms the foundation of a stable Anarchistic society whether it be a communist village, an Illichian educational web or the Summerhill School. The term used in this paper is Conscientious Anarchy.
Among the three people mentioned above Neill was the most active in implementing change in education. He founded the Summerhill School in 1921 as a proving ground for his educational philosophy and to test his theories of democratic (also termed “free”) education (Readhead & da Silva, 2008). He believed that the traditional structure of education founded on traditional societal values was oppressive and wrong. Summerhill has been called an Anarchistic school (Suissa, 2005; Gribble, 1998) and functions as a Conscientious Anarchy. The school calls itself a democracy and it is true that elections are held and that everyone’s vote from a four year old student to a 40 year old teacher carries equal weight (and the students outnumber the teachers by about 10:1) but even if there was a rule decided by democratic vote there is no body that enforces that rule. The majority constantly decides that there are to be classes for all students, yet many students choose not to attend class and are not expelled. Although most students, after being given time to adjust, come around and begin the learning process (Readhead & da Silva, 2008).
Critics of Summerhill say that without strictly enforced rules no student will ever study, much less graduate, however, the graduation rate of Summerhill is 84% and many of the graduates go on to university and have become doctors, lawyers, engineers and other highly successful professionals. As of the 2007 Ofsted report Summerhill satisfactorily met the U.K. government’s standards for an educational institution (McCarthy, 2007). Neill’s experiment in Anarchy is a success.
Marx, although never a part of any physical revolution, supplied the ideological basis for 19th and 20th century Communist revolutions, the most well known being the 1917 Bolshevik revolution in Russia. Part of Marx’s philosophy was that universal education was a prerequisite for the eventual revolution that would overthrow the capitalist bourgeoisie and install “the rule of the proletariat”. In his writings, including the Communist Manifesto, he advocated the control of individual and autonomous communes by their members—all together comprising a stateless society (Rubel, 1973). He advocated Conscientious Anarchy.
In Deschooling Society, Illich used the educational system as a paradigm for exposing his ideas that society as a whole needed to be disestablished so that it would not continue to improperly school its members. Rather than institutions and establishments imposing miseducation on students, Illich called for autonomous education sought out by the individual that should individualize each student’s educational needs (Illich, 1970).
What ties these three thinkers’ approaches to education together is the underlying opposition to a governing body that remotely controls and dictates the educational needs, qualifications and direction as well as the quantity and quality of each. Only Marx used universal education provided to everyone, but as a stepping stone to a collective of autonomous communes that would undertake the education of themselves and their progeny independent of any form of centralized government. Neill still functioned under the educational laws of the U.K. however he broke every conceivable convention that a British boarding school would have. Students could not be reprimanded for having sex on school grounds. They might be spoken to later by a teacher, and the teacher would advise them of teenage pregnancy and to exercise precaution by using contraception, but they would certainly not be expelled or, as was the case early last century, beaten for breaking what many consider to be a sacred law above laws of the school or state.
Ivan Illich went the furthest with his theory about destructuralization. Deschooling Society used educational institutions and the governments that ruled them as a paradigm for a much larger argument. He believed that the whole system must be desystematized.
I want to raise the general question of the mutual definition of man's nature and the nature of modern institutions which characterizes our world view and language. To do so, I have chosen the school as my paradigm, and I therefore deal only indirectly with other bureaucratic agencies of the corporate state: the consumer-family, the party, the army, the church, the media. My analysis of the hidden curriculum of school should make it evident that public education would profit from the deschooling of society, just as family life, politics, security, faith, and communication would profit from an analogous process (Illich, 1970).
The fact is our educational systems do not work. If our educational foundation was good and if it has been good for any length of time we would have built our house of society upon rock and it would be a good society. It isn’t.
Rectum the Knight
(Part I)
Characters:
Rectum Fallos……….A Knight
Gynormus Fallos……….Another Knight
Favios Fallos……….A Third Knight
Princess……….A Princess
Princess: Oh Rectum! You speak such sweet words. Your breath like a summer breeze on my cheek as you envelop me with your bouquet of love.
Rectum: And I do love you, Princess, everything about you. You are Perfection Herself. Why, should a true princess have any other name but Princess? I say not. For when you call a rose a rose, even without its presence there is its wonderful scent within your nose. Even if I spoke of the sweetest scented flower as though it were there but called it, oh, anything else, let us say, a cat, your nose would not smile but perhaps run; your eyes would water and perhaps you might even run away. You, Princess are the only true princess for me.
Princess: (looks worried) Hang on a second, so, are you calling me a rose or a cat?
Rectum: Oh, my love, from the very bottom of my heart, a rose, of course. But not any rose, the princess of roses. By the utterance of your very name even Knights from across the widest sea will be struck senseless at the mere mention of your name, Princess, a word which wafts the sweetest of the sweet and is the whole and the truth of the law of beauty.
Princess: But am I to remain a mere princess forever? Does not this story have any intentions for me?
Rectum: Oh, Princess, that is the very seed at the heart of what I speak. Now, as the princess of flowers, your beauty is mighty. And it is my only wish to bind your rose to me, pierced by the pin of my love and worn as a badge over my heart, and with that union raise your flag high 'til your Highness becomes Majesty and you are queen.
Princess: Now I blush; my cheeks are as roses. You speak of marriage, and so beautifully. Rectum, I too yearn for this. A princess who never becomes a queen becomes an old maid. And for while it is majestic to be raised in unison to majesty I also thirst to be pierced by his--your love for it is the journey up the flagpole with my true love that excites me even as much as becoming queen.
Rectum: Oh, Princess, now I blush. Though, I am always nothing but rosy cheeks when I am around you. Do I take it then that you have decided? This seems almost too good to be true.
Princess: Oh Rectum, your whisperings and murmurings make me melt. The atmosphere in your presence makes me feel lightheaded and giddy. Your winds of love pass through me with no resistance save for…
Rectum: Princess, you hesitate?
Princess: I must consider all things. You too seem to me the perfect match from among the three men that now court me. There is just one thing that prevents me from giving all of myself to you.
Rectum: Oh, Princess, tell me what it is so I may rid our lives of it, rend and rip it from the body of our love, skewer it with my sword, smite it and send it to the fiery pits of Hell which will close up behind it and seal it forever!
Princess: I will tell you Rectum because you have opened up to me and I want to be open with you. There is something I cannot pin down, something I cannot put my finger on concerning… your name.
Rectum: My name, Princess? Have I now avowed to skewer Rectum and seal it forever? But with another name how could I be the same to you? Would my wind affect you if I were not Rectum? Would my warm whispers make you giddy? They would not. For just as the sweet flower becomes malodorous when one calls it not rose but cat, I could no longer make you melt if I were no longer Rectum!
Princess: I know, I know. I feel as though cursed. I know not why my heartstrings are vibrated the wrong way by what seems to be a vile and mistuned wind. I know not the source of this tempest or why it blows so strongly on my emotional state. For what indeed is wrong with your name, after all? The mystery is as vapor it is nothing that I can see, yet it troubles me.
Rectum: Princess, though I am steadfast in my belief that names hold the very essence of our characters it is an ill wind that blows no good, and if this be the wind that twists your heartstrings and makes them quiver with anything less than delight, I will respect the omens of the Aether. Let us let the ill wind pass. I beg my leave, dear Princess. (EXIT Rectum)
Princess: Farewell my knight and let not your presence keep itself from me too long lest I swoon…It is indeed a strong name. Shame if he not marry and beget not children. It would be the end of a long and noble line. He must pass on his name and I know he shares this thought. And I would be made queen…Perfect, so perfect. His countenance is pleasing, Favios--Oh My God. But I could easily be content with Rectum's physique and features. And I do love his voice: my wind…it carries all that is most poetic to the senses. And Nana says he is almost as large as Gynormus. I wouldn't be settling but settling down happily, if not for--Oh! What in the Holiest of Holies is it about his name?! (ENTER Favios)
Favios: Good--
Princess: (Turning towards the voice) Oh, Favios, it is you. Have you come to court me? Let us not speak, let us just sit and gaze at each other. (eyes glazing over) Your face would make Helen cut off her nose.
Favios: Aw, shucks, ya make me beet red Purncess. As much as I'd like to sit here all quiet like and juz look atcha I do got (clears his throat) somethin' to say.
Princess: (Sitting down with a wan smile) I feared you might--(recovers)--have nothing to say. Oh, pray dear Favios, who renders Adonis into Hephaestus, what words of devotion have you for me this day?
Favios: (grinning) You sure look purdy today Purncess. (giggles and turns away)
Princess: Look at me! Thank you…for those kind words.
Favios: (About to avert his face again) Aw, Purn--
Princess: Nonono! Look to me. Ah, yes, there…
(They remain motionless and silent for a long time, a very long time, ENTER Gynormus, Favios looks up)
Favios: Be beggin' my leave now, Purncess. Someone I don't much like has come to see you. (Bows and leaves)
Princess: Thank you for the memories…(Turning to Gynormus and closing her eyes) Where are you my long and lonely knight?
Gynormus: I'm right here, Princess. (grasps her arms)
Princess: I mean, where are you? (reaches down)
Gynormus: Now, now, Princess, we both know that is frowned upon until after the wedding bells have stopped ringing and the contracts have been signed and we are alone at night in our bedchamber--
Princess: In the dark.
Legalized Prostitution: Laws to Help Women
(Part I)
I recently saw a question asked in an online forum concerning “The World’s Oldest Profession”. It asked, simply, “Can you think of anything else that is legal when [given] free yet illegal when paid for?” The selling of one’s services in a free market society such as ours constitutes a significant portion of the foundation of our economy. If we divided our economy into two categories, the buying and selling of goods and the buying and selling of services, in theory, services support half of our economy. The sale of one’s body whether considered a commodity, a service or a combination of both is what is being referred to in the question above. It is legal for a man and a woman (or various other combinations) to have sexual intercourse if neither pays the other. It is illegal for anyone to have sexual intercourse if they pay for it, however.
I can very easily take the easy way out and end (and win) this argument here by stating that either, as in case one: If you remunerate a prostitute with a silver necklace rather than cash it may be said that you are not paying him or her but merely gifting them and your sexual union is therefore legal, just as in case two where: If I give a woman a silver necklace instead of between 500 and 2500 Pesos, or not remunerate her all together I can be sure that I am not doing anything illegal. I like case two because it is much juicier when you consider that giving any sort of gift, or heaven forbid, money, to your significant other, whether they be a boyfriend or a girlfriend means that you are treating your love like a whore—and if you give them actual cash at any time you have just made your sexual union an illegal act for both of you; whereas if you give them nothing at all, yes, you have committed no crime, however your partner just gave you sex and has nothing to show for it. But I will take the harder path and argue the position with facts and not rhetoric alone.
The arguments for the legalization of prostitution are simple, straightforward, logical and clearly intended to provide benefit to all prostitutes that adhere to the law if their chosen profession is legalized. The most compelling argument for legalization is that since they no longer have to practice their trade furtively they can openly organize and form groups, a prostitutes union if they wish. This will guarantee them all the benefits members of other trade unions enjoy. Legalization will allow them to demand such things as medical insurance, other benefits and compensation packages such as severance pay, if not self employed, and even thirteenth month pay. This also means that they will be guaranteed the civil rights of any other type of worker whose work is legal and officers of the law will then be duty-bound to protect their rights. Legalization also benefits the government and the rest of the citizenry. Prostitute’s income can now be taxed, filling the government coffers and, in theory, benefitting the common man. Another tremendous benefit for prostitutes and the citizenry alike would be government monitored health and venereal disease checks. Ideally, any man or woman who uses the services of prostitutes and not just the male or female prostitutes themselves should carry a form of clean health card, ensuring that sexually transmitted diseases will not spread as while prostitution is illegal.
Rather than just stating the arguments for legalization, I will also state all the arguments I have found against it. This gives a voice to the opposition and makes for a less biased essay as well as an opportunity for me to destroy each of their arguments right in front of you. The following ten arguments are from the organization Coalition Against Trafficking in Women International (CATW):
1) Legalization/decriminalization of prostitution is a gift to pimps, traffickers and the sex industry.
Call it a gift if you want but it would be the same type of gift that is now available to any businessman or entrepreneur. We live in a capitalist economy where gifts of various kinds such as tax breaks and, presently, in the case of the United States, bailout funds from the federal government. This is not an argument. All it means is that pimps will become a type of entrepreneur. My original title for this essay was Legalized Prostitution: An Antioxidant for Totalitarianism and indeed a society according to writers such as, but not limited to Orwell and Zamyatin where any form of sex, whether it be free or prostitutive is illegal, is one of the signs of decay into a Totalitarian society. A free market economy means just that, a free market economy where no good or service that does not harm individuals and society should be legal. If certain prostitution dens become large enough to issue initial public offerings it would be well within the tradition of capitalism to trade shares of prostitution houses on the stock market.
POETRY (I)
Two Roads Less Than Traveled
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And wanting badly to travel both
I decided to try two parallel paths
And found that with some care I could.
Coming home one night in one of those lives
I was stopped at the doorway by one of my wives.
Who asked me why the shirt I was wearing
Smelled of perspired perfume/kippered herring.
I told my woman not to worry
And said I cared not when she smelled of curry.
She laughed and I kissed her up-tilted head
But lost her; proof wafted while naked in bed.
Coming home one night in one of those lives
I was stopped at the door by one of my wives.
Who asked me why the shirt I was wearing
Smelled of perspired perfume
and of kippered herring.
I told my love not to worry—
That I didn’t care when she smelled of curry.
She smiled and went to tidy the room.
I hurried to the bath to shower, de-fume.
Exiting the bath I could see she had gone
She left a note saying she’d been ripped to her core--
That no bathing could remove what she sensed at the door.
Perhaps of two lives I may have kept one,
And though it may smack of gloom,
If only one road, however trodden, I had loved--and then more.
Amourtician (Introduction)
He was mousy. He was dull.
Not stereotypical, just
Unromanticized.
Charm had not graced him,
Grace had not graced him.
Jesus, the luck; God damn the lack of it.
During the peak hours of death
(the off hours of its discovery)
He manned his post
In the icy
sub-
basement
Never being spoken to
nor heeded
By the wall of people
Whom he was paid to beautify
On occasion, reconstruct
Not even being
A moleman doctor,
Who may have surface relationships
With the Beautiful People
As most whose names
Do not end in DAMNED but
MD can.
Not even given license
to take over patients when
The surface dwelling dwoctors failed them.
He was just a man
With his job
But all men want
The most medical thing he did
Was drain their blood
And fill them with the
Preservative fluid.
He absorbed this
As his work absorbed him.
And it preserved him too.
But all men want.
And he was a man
Even if only in that sense
But I never spoke to him
So I cannot know
If there was more of Man in him
All I was told
By his body, face, eyes
Was that he was
Lonely
Bored
Single
Unhappy
A very Sad person, overall, of course,
And of course, exceedingly wanting.
Amourtician (Body)
How often was he not at his post?
?
But presumably…
To be sure we would have to associate with
People like him.
Become filthy—reach out and touch them.
And when we are close,
Ask that awkward question.
Do you feel you need a shower?
Take one, read on, take another.
Read more, take many more.
The call came just after his midnight lunch break.
His belly was full
But
So were his thoughts.
He unlocked the double doors and signed for it.
A package had arrived
He took charge of the body
It was now his responsibility.
Routine check: not a murder not a donor
This one was all his
The medical stuff
The makeup
Then the box.
No need for MD’s autopsy.
Lift the linen
See who it is who will not greet him today.
His jaw moved to open, mouth agape,
Nothing was all he could not say—but his mind--
This Is Beauty
His first thought
Instantly ashamed
His body ran to his regular corner
Collapsed into his seat
And his emotions took over.
But
His eyes stayed.
And continued to stare
At the face of that body
His eyes drank in what his mind could not bear
“We like!” they said gleefully as he wept in his chair
“Come see! This is Beauty! A change from white hair.”
Indeed she was the first young one to visit him there.
Having privacy aplenty
He need only wrestle
with what had kept him
from
the living women.
Christ! This one had died,
And still he was shy!
But his eyes gazed on
And soon his body came ‘round.
And he stood
Staring at that angelic face
Under the brilliant lights
Beauty! This Is Beauty!
Her face—her—
Dare He?
And finally,
For the first time in his life
His
Cotton
Balls
Kicked him in the nuts.
He drew the sheet down
And he stood
Looking upon
The full length
Of this woman’s naked,
Perfect
Body.
And this would be all that happened
Here is where this story would end
But he had to touch her
And he did
And he liked it
And that is why this story continues
because
Her body was
warm.
Amourtician (Conclusion)
He cupped her full breast in his cold hand
The flesh warm, but her nipples, already hard,
Didn’t seem to mind his cold touch--
His cool touch.
He drew warmth from her body
Through his hand, arm, and into his never-inhabited heart
He invited her to live there.
Where she would stay warm.
He pressed his untrained lips softly against her
slightly open mouth.
And kissed her
As best he could.
He wanted
so much
to please her
He kissed and caressed every inch of her body
As he had been taught
In the articles
he read.
He pleasured her with his mouth
Never caring if he was
Doing it
The right way
Or not.
Soon she was ready
Moisture collecting
Sufficient.
She entered his office
He entered her.
He was starving and unwanted.
She was warm and unresisting.
And she was Beauty.
Part II
The Day My Daughter Died
(Part II)
Sipping on a fresh glass I was talking with a friend in the kitchen. I can’t tell you what the dialogue was about because I was preoccupied with other thoughts. I remember reading this novel about this magical burial ground where you could inter your loved ones and they would come alive again. In the story one of the protagonist’s children inevitably died and he made the long journey, first to dig up the first grave to retrieve his baby boy from a deep and selfish hole that would keep his son from him forever and give it piecemeal to the maggots—fucking maggots—and then to hike past the Pet Cemetery, the communal efforts of generations of neighborhood children, to the magical Mic-Mac gravesite (where there were graves…but no remains…)
Louis knew that they never came back the same—not evil—just different, their characters and moods in life somehow magnified in this next life. But his son was a good and happy boy and his corpse was fresh. If you waited too long they might turn out like Church the cat whom Louis also buried there after a little fence-sitting—His daughter loved that cat. Church didn’t seem too happy about it though. They castrated him to keep him from crossing the dangerous road (it didn’t work) and I suppose he happily received a new pair in Pet Heaven, only to be brought back without them again. I understand now why he wasn’t the same cat. Although he kept leaving little gift animals outside the front door; maybe he still loved, or at least respected them in some way. Or maybe now he had the wisdom of the formerly dead and realized that humans didn’t give a shit if you showed your subservience by leaving them fresh meals outside their door. It just pissed them off as yet another thing to get rid of in fulfillment of The Contract to Maintain a Pristine House—another thing the stupid cat killed and wasted by not eating it. We don’t even look these gift animals in the mouth. We pick them up gingerly with a protective barrier and we waste them ourselves. So he left them dead animals to piss them off. You go, Church!
My cat used to do that before it died. But, you see I always respected what it gave me. Have I eaten the gifts then, you ask jokingly. Do you really want to know how much I respect the animal instinct?
Maybe rebirth the Mic-Mac way isn’t such a bad thing. So he reburied little Gage and little Gage came back a little evil and killed his mother and the neighbor, probably because it was he who told Louis about the Magic place. I’ve always wondered why he killed his mother though. She had nothing to do with the Mic-Mac reburial. She buried him the right and proper way.
Anyhow, feeling my glass light in my hand, its emptied contents heavy in my head, I wondered what I would do if there were a Magical piece of real estate like that around these parts. My buddy looked at me funny. I must’ve laughed out loud. I cashed in another get out of jail free coz my kid just died card and skipped explaining to him my little hiccough. I continued thinking. All the bad people in the room would probably not notice the fact that Riva was alive again; they’d probably pass the buck to their god and call it a miracle or something—but never speak to her or let their kids play with her again. But the liability they’d leave with me. In fact I’m sure that goody goody god god would get credit for the resurrection but I would be left with the blame of somehow contriving to make my daughter kill her mother. When god works in mysterious ways “It is with a goodly purpose that we cannot comprehend.” When I work in mysterious ways they seem to know all too well that I am contriving some sort of evil. So what did they comprehend? Nothing. Stupid bleating sheep. I laughed again. This time I tried to explain why to my friend but I realized pretty soon it was funnier as a private joke. It was difficult to explain properly anyway. I dropped it.
The front door opened. It was their mother. My son was with her. She had a late night at work and kept him away from me until she was off. Ask her why. I walked briskly over, and kneeling, I gave my boy a hug.
“Where’ve you been, son? I missed you.” I said into his jacket.
“Oh, I was at my dad’s house.” He said, moving out of my embrace and away to find his favorite cousin.
I looked over at that overpriced cadaver display case called a coffin. It’s called a coffin coz you have to cough up for the damn thing. I didn’t laugh. It was a stupid alcohol-sourced statement. She might have admonished her older brother for not returning Daddy’s hug but she could protect me no longer, against anything. I stood up and looked around the room. There wasn’t much to see. I turned back to the fuffin. I didn’t want to look inside. Her mother made sure she looked like she was about to attend a fugeant in Heaven or something; I didn’t want to see that—not without a smile on her face to dull the pain of the face paint.
She whimpered. I distinctly heard a sound coming from inside the box. It was like the sounds she made as a baby just before she started screaming for me at 2 a.m. I remembered I was the parent she wanted to hold and dance her when she woke in the night. That gave me some peace.
The Lighter Side of Rape
(Part II)
Man: Ok…(Pauses, then continues to strip, and not very well.)
Some Devil: You proud of your boy?
Some God: They are both my children.
Some Devil: So…You’re proud of both of them right now?
Woman: That’s it baby, work it!
Man: You like that?
Woman: Oh yeah…Mmm, mmmm…
Man: (grinning) So, you wet yet?
Woman: (looking really let down) And the doors have slammed shut.
Man: What? No! I was just askin’…Shit. (continues dancing)
Woman: Let’s just see those jeans come off, baby.
(Man finishes stripping.)
Woman: I’m ready big guy.
(Man peels his socks off and jumps onto the bed.)
Woman: Christ! What is wrong with you?
Man: What?
Woman: Who the hell takes their socks off last? (Tilts her head back and rolls her eyes.)
Man: But I took ‘em off before coming to bed like you said…
Woman: Come here. Put your hand there.
Man: Aw, shit. (Puts his head in his hands)
Some God: Kick him in the nuts! You can escape!
Some Devil: As opposed to “turn the other cheek”?
Woman: C’mon, it’s not over…You good with your mouth?
Man: (Looks up) Um, well, some girls have made noises…
Woman: Oooh, well c’mon, give it a try.
(Man assumes the position)
Woman: Yeah, you like suckin’ on that?
Some God: No…
Some Devil: (shrugs and smiles)
Man: What?
Woman: Oh, don’t stop baby…I’m almost there…(she moans as she climaxes)
Man: You liked that huh? Now you gotta be wet all up inside!
Woman: Um, actually, no.
Man: What? But, you like, came, you gotta be wet, woman.
(Some God puts his face in his hands)
Woman: Woman…that’s kind of an ambiguous term these days, but you can call me woman if you want to…
Man: (not quite getting it yet) Wait, so, what, you faked your orgasm?
Woman: Well, that depends on what I was when I was born—and how well you did. One you may find out, the other you will never know.
Man: (turning green) No. Covers his mouth. Oh God…(retches)
Woman: You don’t wanna go all the way anymore baby? I’ve got KY in my purse…
(Lights go out but spotlight on Some God and Some Devil)
Some Devil: You need a drink?
Some God: Ya…
Some Devil: Drinks on you then… (They turn and go. Curtain)
Some God: I’ll have the boy make up a batch of wine…Christ!
END
Anarchy Against Ignorance: Destructuring Schools for Better Education
(Part II)
None of the three thinkers discussed believe they do and Illich goes several steps further to say that none of the foundations of society work. In the educational paradigm alone he writes
The pupil is thereby "schooled" to confuse teaching with learning, grade advancement with education, a diploma with competence, and fluency with the ability to say something new. His imagination is "schooled" to accept service in place of value (Illich, 1970).
As for society in general, he states that what we consider health care, community improvement, safety, national security and productive work are nothing more than mistaken identities for medical treatment, social work, police protection, military strength and the rat race. “Health, learning, dignity, independence, and creative endeavor are defined as little more than the performance of the institutions which claim to serve these ends, and their improvement is made to depend on allocating more resources to the management of hospitals, schools, and other agencies in question.” (Illich, 1970)
Returning to the paradigm of education, what is being said here is that now, improvements in education follow a process that goes more or less along these steps:
1) Society makes requests, or law makers lobby for improved education
2) The political process begins, takes its time and if it ends in a positive response,
3) Budget allocations and/or laws are passed and control over this new money or power is given over to the educational institutions.
4) The quality of education remains the same.
In step one, lawmakers have their agendas which do not necessarily mean that they honestly intend to improve education and, for the most part, the leaders of society now are the products of past miseducation. Thus, from the beginning, the process is flawed. And then we have a political process following where numerous and multifarious riders are attached to bills before they are passed into laws that hardly reflect the intent of their instigators—their ideas already being flawed. Next, if a budget is allocated or if a new law is passed, the power does not go into the hands of the people but the multi-billion Peso institution that is government and the private education sector, which are businesses run for profit. And the net result is no change, or at worst, change for the worse. What will happen when the law is implemented changing the term for an undergraduate degree from four years to five? Will graduates have learned anything more, because, gauging from what they know now a 20% increase in time spent in school systems that are already proven ineffective by virtue of the fact that they need to be modified would not make a difference. And would this make them more employable, or create more jobs for them to find when they do graduate? No.
If we followed any of our three thinkers’ philosophies we may get a process that looks like this:
1) Individuals or autonomous groups decide what their educational needs are as well as what they would like to learn.
2) Individuals seek tutelage from scholars in their community and groups pass on knowledge to the generation that will take over operation of the commune, including everything learned from past experience that might change traditional methods that no longer work.
3) Unskilled or partially educated labor is exchanged for tuition.
4) A new generation of well educated students emerges who were never forced to finish their education nor wait to complete it in a certain period of time.
True, this is a simple plan and may seem like a simplistic approach. What makes it good, however is that it is not a re-hash of the approaches to “improving education” that have been implemented for decades. In the example of the institution of the general education program which fills undergraduate students’ time for almost two years, from the first batch that graduated to the batches we see graduating now how many citizens do we see with well rounded personalities, having well rounded conversations in coffee shops about well rounded topics that will help to create a better and more well rounded society? I never see any. I myself dropped out of university for ten years because of boredom with the GE curriculum. Any student motivated to learn will acquire this knowledge on their own. And if they do not then do not hire them to do work for you. There’s a simplistic approach for you.
A.S. Neill said that it was the student’s prerogative whether or not to educate himself. He opened a school where students could start learning any time they wanted—or leave without learning anything. His school has produced students who graduated with well-respected degrees. Who would have thought that your family physician, possibly someone who had a part in saving you or your child’s life spent half her years in high school, smoking, drinking and having sex in the bushes behind the school?
A student with Illichian motives will seek out education even if it is not offered on a silver platter, albeit a tarnished platter that costs much more than it is worth. And, as shown by the ancient Greeks and proven by Haldane using mathematics, a Marxist commune is one the most true and pure forms of democracy.
Ignorance needs to be destroyed if our society is to survive. The seeds of good education must be sown to make that society thrive. Oppressive governments and institutions have not succeeded. It is time to end their rule. Anarchy’s true definition must be understood and its philosophy implemented. It is freedom. It is the same freedom to shout fire in a democratic state without the fear of the jackboot in your face—but you cannot shout fire if there is none or soon society will throw you out and support you no longer just as the boy who cried wolf too many times. Animal societies, who have no government function effectively in this state of Anarchy. They are conscientious of the common good and are ruled by the consensus. Social scientists define revolution as the disassembly of the old structure. When we revolutionize the bad and replace it with the good, let us not forget to lay down that rock foundation which is Proper Education.
Rectum the Knight
(Part II)
Gynormus: Exactly, we must do things properly, follow the law.
Princess: Oh, but Gynormus, my love, I am the princess, you can do anything you want to me.
Gynormus: You call me your love but dare not look upon me. Look at me, my love. Gaze into my eyes and tell me you'll marry me now.
Princess: I will say I will marry you if you let me see. Please, pretty please, Gynie?
Gynormus: I will let you see if you open your eyes and let me kiss you on your cheek.
Princess: Yes! (Looks down and opens her eyes) O.k. ready!
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