Pure

Don't ask me where (because I don't remember -- really) but I came across the phrase "chastity belt" recently and got curious.

Were there really such things? When did they use them? Did they work? How? All simple mysteries I figured I could solve in 30 seconds using Google.

Boy was I in for a shock. I never found my answers because I got lost trying to wade through all the sites that were advertising chastity belts for sale. I had wondered if these things existed in medieval times only to learn that they exist now and that you can buy them over the Internet.

Pardon me but... WTF?

There are people in this world who, for entertainment purposes I presume, put their genitals under lock and key. For weeks and months at a time! (And, yes, I realize I'm overdoing the italics but I can't stress my disbelief enough.)

I ask again... WTF?

I did get a laugh out of one product* that couldn't promise a partner's chastity but could guarantee keeping track of her wherever her misdeeds were done.

Forget-me not panties, they're called. "Protect her privates!" its web page says. They're cotton panties equipped with a GPS tracking device! I am not making this up! It even claimed to have sensors that could track the wearer's body heat to know when she was getting worked up.

The Internet. A crazy place full of crazy people selling crazy stuff to each other. Incredible.

*The link seems to be dead. Perhaps the market wasn't as large as its sellers expected.

Tis The Season

Feeling festive this holiday? Smiling sweetly with visions of sugar plums dancing in your head? Inspired to spread the goodwill of men for peace on Earth?

No? You're not alone. Yes, kids, 'tis the season.

Suicide season.

If I were a real reporter instead of a mere blogger I would cite sources but I'm not so you'll have to follow your good sense to know that while endless repetition of Christmas fare such as It's a Wonderful Life that merely make most of us gag make some people want to hang themselves.

Seems all the bright lights and bustling commerce that mark this time of year for retailers also means booming business for psychiatrists. We're supposed to feel so lucky, so blessed and so wonderful now that if we don't whatever we feel instead feels worse.

Merry Christmas!

Phone Call Excerpt

Brother: "I had to work with the two biggest a-holes in the firm today."

Jack: "You rank them?"

Per-Verse

I was going to write something here.
I thought I had something to say.
I lost it in a moment.
It passed and went away.

The knot in my stomach is not from nerves.
Maybe it was something I ate.
Maybe it's appendicitis.
All I know is that I could stay comfortable.
For 30 seconds.
Then I'd have to shift positions.
Good for half a minute more.
I slept like a log.
A log spinning under the spikes of a log roller.
In a mountain man competition. World class.
Belly swells. Swollen sore.
Something stuck?
Finally at 7 a.m. the pain dulls enough.
I fall asleep.
It's still sore now.
Sore is a world away from what it was.
Much better.
A fart never more welcomed.
At least stuff is moving through.

No triathlons for me today.
Maybe tomorrow I write prose.