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Friday - November 12, 2004
Questions, Questions EverywhereÖNor Any Drop to Think
Letís begin with a few notes:
1. Any phone sluts with home-recording capabilities who might be interested in some work-for-hire assignments should email me ASAP. There is some risk involved which I'll explain in detail if you're interested, but itís an opportunity that may be well worth it.
2. There are two new additions to the site. One is the addition of a Reference Desk Subheading in Erotic Writings where Iíll be indexing any phone-sex related news articles I come across. The other is a list of PSD-Approved Affiliate Programs now listed in the Resources Section. These are affiliate programs that I have personally used, make money with, and feel confident providing to other phone sluts.
3. Peter is back and updating. He has been missed.
So. You know, last Tuesday happened. Iím exhausted by it, so Iím not going to rant here. Iíve ranted in other places and to other people and listened to rants and Iím just done for the moment. Whining about it just seems to fuel those who are smugly pleased with the result, so Iíll be ignoring the Elephant in the living room for as long as my denial holds out. Feel free to dive right into my own delusions the water is warm. However, I am actively looking for an mp3 of Kent Brockmanís ďIíve said it before and Iíll say it again -- democracy doesnít workĒ so if youíve got a Simpsons archive of sounds and are willing to share, pass on the love, man.
I started the Reference Desk because each time there is a phone-sex scandal, the articles come out and there are countless editorials about how cyber- and phone-sex are destroying moral relationships across the country. Phone sex sluts are the bane of society, yadda, yadda, phone-sex and porn addition is crumbling the decency of the average American, blather, blah, blah. Abandon all hope ye who wanks off here. So when I find positive articles, Iím indexing them, even if they do mention OíReilly.
Of course, the OíReilly semi-scandal reminded me of a fact that is crucial to my business: everyone has a right to their kink. Provided itís consensual, which is where Bill got in trouble. I couldnít help being curious as to whether Bill is too cheap to use a regular service. Itís a lot less dangerous and less expensive than coercing co-workers who can launch lawsuits. Unless the coercion is his drug of choice. Itís doubtful heís a cheapskate, so one wonders why he doesnít find a professional outlet for his fetish. Even power-plays can be had for the right price with the right girl. Or maybe Iím not the only one capable of repressing realities. Perhaps thereís no room for admitting to the need for nitty-gritty fun time in the ďNo-Spin Zone.Ē
There is a line in Reversal of Fortune where Ron Silver, portraying Alan Dershowitz talks about a nightmare where he is phoned by Hitler in need of a defense lawyer. Dershowitz ponders whether he would stick to his self-prescribed professional ethics and take the case, or whether heíd just kill the man himself.
Now, OíReilly is no Hitler and Iím a far cry from Alan Dershowitz and phone sex is not law. But itís interesting. Because as much as I loathe the idea of left- or right-wing nutjob mouthpieces, I really donít place any prejudice upon the people who call me, regardless of their walk of life. I have quite a few regulars who jab at me good-naturedly regarding my political views. And while we are all twisted little screws in our own rights, I canít say that elephants are any more or less kink-friendly than those who favor the ass. Would I accept a phone sex call from Mr. OíReilly? If I did, would it make me any more or less a whore considering how opposed I am to his trade and persona? Do any of those labels have any real meaning?
When I was younger I used to enjoy watching people in public places and guessing about their lives and jobs (ďÖShe said the man in the gabardine suit was a spyÖĒ). These days that has changed to guessing their sexual kinks and naughtiest secrets. Wondering which man is wearing a thong which woman has nipple clamps on beneath her blazer. Which of the perfectly normal faces has the wickedest recesses of imagination. Do I sexualize everything because Iím a sex-worker, or am I a sex-worker because I recognize that sexuality is a part of everyone and everything? Is that realization something that allows me to do my job better, to not be influenced by who my clients are or what they may do? Do I just think too much?
I have a number of modest celebrities among my callers. People whose names might not be up in lights for the population at large, but who, in the proper circumstances, are relatively well-known. They are faceless, although I know what their faces look like. They donít call me to be fawned over or harassed for the ďinside scoopĒ on their trade. Sometimes they prefer my services, other times they bond with girls other than myself. They are just like everyone else. Why do we expect that just because a person is famous and we have an idea about the image they project that we know anything about their secret sexuality?
Philosophical questions, all. Charmingly unanswerable. Worth pondering, however, at least for me.
Yep. I definitely think too much ;-)