Sunday, February 22, 2015

Nonsense, Absolute: The Penis Virus



For some time now I have been researching the internet for a series of internet-based poems I’m working on. Notebooks are filling up with varying degrees of weirdness and horror. In case you haven’t noticed yet the internet is scary.

To be sure, the internet is also an amazing tool. A kid in Texas can play a game of chess with someone in Iraq, more and more couples are finding one another thanks to dating sites, social network sites are connecting more people than ever before and platforms like Twitter have brought celebrities down to our level. You can now tweet “U r pomposity incarnate” at Kayne West without fear of major repercussions. Think about all the things you bought online that you never would have found in the 3D world. All the communities you have become a part of that you would never have found otherwise. Information (however inaccurate it can be) is literally at our fingertips. The list of advantages that the internet has created for us is endless.

But there exists a portion of the internet—a huge portion, actually—that remains hidden unless you intentionally go looking for it. This means that Google, Yahoo, Bing and other search engines hardly scratch the surface of the whole internet. If you truly want to see how vast and uncharted the internet is you will need to download and install alternate browsers like Tor. Once you do, you will find yourself on what is called the “Deep Web.”

Deep, dark and uncharted. Sounds adventurous, doesn’t it? You might even want to try it and see if you can find that obscure R-Rated item you can’t seem to find on the clear net. But this is my warning to you.

Do Not Go On the Deep Web.

Why not? Because you could be subject to a cyber attack. 

It happened to me and it could happen to you.

You might be asking “What were you doing on the Deep Web?”

Well, as I mentioned above, I was researching. I am a writer/artist and curiosity is one of my driving forces, so I fell victim to my own stupid urges and plunged into the murky depths. 

At first things seemed to be relatively tame. I avoided any links that looked like they led to drugs or child pornography or people offering free oral. Mostly I wanted to get a feel for the environment of the Deep Web and compare it to the clear net we use in daily life. Little did I know that hackers lurk in the shadows, just waiting for an unarmed visitor like myself. I was on a site that sold ostrich crap and mailed it to your desired receiver (someone I hope deserves to get a box of crap), when it happened.

What happened, you ask. I will tell you.

Suddenly my computer froze and began to download a mystery file. Using skills the fine people of Office Depot taught me, I hit ESCAPE instead of clicking anything. I thought I had averted the issue and quickly shut down the Tor browser so I could return my beloved Firefox…or Chrome, depending on my mood. I swing back and forth. But neither knows about the other, so don’t tell them.
When I closed out the window I noticed a shortcut on my desktop that had not been there before. If I squinted my eyes it looked like a phallus.

Now I have had weird harmless viruses before. There was a teddybear virus going around in high school that did absolutely nothing but sit on your desktop. It was kind of cute. A hacker somewhere decided to send out a teddybear to everyone who opened a certain email. 

But this was a phallus. Phalluses are slightly less harmless than cute teddybears. And “problematic,” for lack of another word. The last thing I want to see next to my Grad School folder is a giant dong. According to Freud, this would be my intense penis envy wishing to castrate the invisible male whose wiener now invaded my G-Rated desktop. 

I left clicked on the phallus and tried “castrating” it from my desktop.

Alas, what happened next is the stuff of nightmares.

Before I tell you what happened I must supply you with an important tidbit about my childhood. As a preteen, first discovering the magic of the internet, my grandmother would always step into the office where I played on the computer. It was hard not to know when I was on because we had ancient dial-up service and the phone lines died when I was playing. So it was not as if she was spying on me. She probably knew because she heard the noisy dial-up machinery sounds that always made the computer and the phone line sound like they were doing the robotic equivalent of choking and gurgling.

She would  poke her head in and look over my shoulder.

“You aren’t going on anything you’re not supposed to, are you?”

“No, Mawmaw.”

“You know the internet is how a lot of little girls get raped.”

And so this fear was conceived. Being a creature of intense, vivid imagination, I connected the dots in ways that most people would not have. My nightmare was that the internet itself was a rapist, just waiting to pull its trousers down and wag its junk out at me like the hapless victim I was.
Now, almost two decades later, a hacker had found my worst childhood internet nightmare.

The phallus on my desktop enlarged. Instead of the blue screen of death that most virus crashes cause, the gigantic phallus began wobbling around, blocking all my shortcuts so that my desktop was useless. (I figure if the Ancient Romans had computers this would be what most desktops looked like, but that’s besides the point.) Wherever I would try to click, the penis would flop. 

Enraged, I discovered that my menu bars and everything else was still functional. The only problem was my desktop had been utterly dick-ified. 

Try going in public with this.

I am poor. This should come to no surprise to other writers, artists and students. The hard fact is that sometimes you can’t even afford to get your computer fixed and when you’re in a bind you might have to put up with a “harmless” but annoying virus for a while. So, feeling dirty, I tried to keep my chin up and ignore the giant dick desktop.

Problems arose when I went in public. At one of my favorite cafes I made the mistake of taking my laptop out and accidentally gave the people behind me an eyeful of my dicky desktop. 

“That is so inappropriate!” 

(Remember: half-naked people on your desktop is fine. But a lone penis. That is unacceptable!)
 
I was scolded, humiliated, shamed. I needed at least four hours of crying before I was ready to suck it up (ew!) and take the computer to a cheap place to get it fixed. GeekSquad was out of the question since they would probably charge me the remainder of my student loan refund. So I went to the handy Office Depot people.

After a long time of laughing and trying to be professional, the folks at Office Depot decided this was fixable and warned me never to go to the Deep Web again. There’s no need to tell me twice. Eventually they were able to remove the virus. Thanks to a cloud that uploads all my files it was not a great tragedy to have the computer reset (though it was annoying regardless). 

Finally my desktop was sanitized again.  Just to be sure I also physically cleaned it with Windex and keyboard cleaner. By the way, there is a site that sells keyboard cleaner as a drug you inject directly into your veins. On the Deep Web. But don’t look for it. Because penises.

Unless you want a giant, wobbling phallus on your desktop, I would suggest you stay far away from the Deep Web. It is not all seedy underground but much of it is and it is not as secure as the clear net. If you want to be freaked out there are countless sites on the clear net that are sufficiently freaky enough and probably won’t infect your computer if you have virus protection.

If you are the hacker who made the Penis Virus, fuck you. That wasn’t funny.

Have a nice day.

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Nonsense, Absolute: An Open Letter-- Let's be Happy for What's-Her-Name's 50 Shades Success

Dear Quality Book Readers/Writers,

Yesterday, on Valentine's Day, theaters premiered the much-anticipated film adaptation of E. L. James' Fifty Shades of Vanilla. Unless you live blissfully under a rock with hermit crabs that only bring you quality literature, you probably have read or at least heard of the best seller. Why has this book become the supposed love of horny housewives and the bane of serious writers' existences? Obviously, because it was financially successful without really deserving that honor.

This is simply a repeat of the successful best-seller, and then blockbuster, Sparkly Mormom Vampires series by Stephanie Meyers. Those of us who struggle to write quality, original literature that makes the reader think or at least stimulates their brains more than their groins, burn with envy that these "hacks" make millions off of something that it seems a sixth grader could write. (Though, to that sixth grader's credit, she sure understands marketing and selling a book to its highest potential.)

The difference between Twitlight and 50 Shades is the target audience. While the sparkling undead story could be found in the Young Adult section of your local Barnes & Nobles-- and therefor had the potential to hook both children and their parents-- 50 Shades is decidedly more adult in that its plot is basically around-the-clock boinking. Without the Disney Promise*-- the promise of a film/book that appeals to both kids and adults and therefor makes a millionpajillion dollars all over the fucking world-- it would seem 50 Shades would only have modest best-seller success. However, its influence has surpassed what would be expected. Especially for an erotic novel that is written so...uh...well, un-erotically.

If you have read it, you probably realize by now that it is not the end all, be all of erotic fiction. If it was your gateway drug into erotica, you have probably already discovered better written books that make it pale in comparison.

One does not simply write "vagina."

For those of you who have not read it, I recommend going over to the good ol' Youtube and typing in "Gilbert Gadfry 50 Shades" and allow yourself to be amazed by some of the least sexy erotic writing ever to become a bestseller.

For those of you who frequently read erotic fiction, you probably found it laughable. Especially in the sub-genre of BDSM, 50 Shades comes out looking like a Twilight Fanfiction. Oh, wait. It is a Twilight Fanfiction. Welp, so much for that comparison.

For those of you concerned with the state of the "romance" genre that 50 Shades has heavily influenced over the past years, bringing in more abusive assholes with whips and blindfolds, you will cite that what Christian does to Anesthesia is not romantic, but controlling and manipulative. (At which point I shall direct you to the entire history of romance novels directed towards women.)

To be clear: I am not a fan of this novel. I could not finish the first chapter without laughing and concluded that it was not for me. Though, I have known friends, avid readers, who were able to wing it and admitted it was "not very good." But none have gone out their way to protest its success. 

There is something to be said by those in the BDSM community who protest the book being considered BDSM genre. They have valid points, in that Christian does not follow the proper protocol for a sub/dom relationship. Because of Fifty Shades, some women (and men) may get the wrong idea about what BDSM is and is not. However, need we remind everyone that there are men who abuse their power in any relationship, be it BDSM or vanilla. On top of that, Christian is a fictional asshole just like Edward Collins, and assholes be assholes. If we want better romantic leads, it is time to look elsewhere or write them ourselves.

But to all this I ask for a moment of your time. Let us come together and reconsider before we bash James' success in writing a trashy romance novel with BDSM-themes in it. Writers, readers, protesters, and haters:

Here is a woman who decided one day to write a casual fan fic of Twilight. Somehow, by a divine miracle of sorts, this fan fic became its own erotic novel and gained a book deal. That book became so successful that this Twilight fan can probably live off the money she made writing. Love the book or hate it, this is one fan girl's dream come true. Whether you think this book deserves the attention it receives, you have to admit that James, like Stephanie Meyers, made it. They did what we as writers always secretly hope we can achieve one day. The ability to live off our book sales.

Let us also be forgiving. When she started this thing out, she had no idea it was going to become a national best-seller under the scrutiny of more skilled writers and readers who could easily tear it to shreds with a well-wrought critique. It is her first book series and often writers like this improve over time.

As I said before, I am not a fan. And I think the attention is misdirected while far superior erotica writers deserve it. But I also feel like if this is the fantasy women want to pay to read then that is their right and no amount of my bitching is going to change their mind. In fact, you'll find, if you bitch enough, people will avoid the things you suggest because your bitch-voice will probably be the voice they hear when they try to read your recommendations.
Hey, y'all! Read Claiming Sleeping Beauty and imagine my voice narrating it. So hawt!

Let's be happy for Elroy James and 50 Shades of Vanilla. The movie might even be kind of hawt.And the novel has brought erotica to the forefront of book sales, a kind of gateway drug to the "good shit." 

That is all. With love,
Hisses and kisses,

LB

Sunday, February 8, 2015

nonsense, absolute: Beastality and Bullshit (trigger warning: off-putting topics)



In a digital notebook on my desktop is where I store miscellaneous links to news items and other scraps of factoids and weirdness that catches my attention. A browse through my latest poetry books will reveal just how much the internet news coverage/tabloids influences the subjects of my poetry. Because “fact” is stranger than “fiction.”

Except when fact is fiction, in which case we begin to bat a story around for clarity and some semblance of truth.

Lately people have been doing this with the Bill Cosby “sex scandal.” (“Sex scandal” is in quotation marks because RAPE is not a “sex scandal” it’s a “rape scandal,” yet some tabloids refuse to call it such in their headlines. Why they do this is beyond me since “RAPE” is  a stronger word than “sex” and “sex” implies consent.) Some of the most childhood-crushing news to ever hit the internet, beloved comedian and entertainer Bill Cosby has been accused of raping multiple women. The media circus in this case seems to not know how to handle this. Ultimately, people are turning to the women and asking why they waited so long to bring these accusations up, probably not realizing that when you are a rape victim of a famous person and think you are all alone you will most probably keep your silence because of the media. The media loves a wayward woman to skewer. Every photo you ever posted on the internet will suddenly appear in tabloids all over the world, along with your name and occupation. Suddenly you’re receiving the Monica Lewinksy treatment without even having consented to sex. (At least Lewinksy got a book deal out of it.) America loves questions like “What was she doing alone with the man at night if it wasn’t sex?” because we live in an age of anti-sexism. Asking questions like that are even more interesting than family-friendly entertainer who secretly rapes dozens of women. 

"Hmmm, Cliff Huxtable as a serial rapist? I don't know there's just no story here, Jim. Let's do the Lying Tramp story again."

If you are the rape victim of a person the world adores and you don’t realize you have fellow-victims out there who also suffered at his hands, media coverage is the last thing you want. But now that so many voices are raising up, it is probably far easier to confess to what happened. You are no longer alone. In the end, Cosby will still probably be found not guilty and write about how he did not do it but if he did this is how he would have done it.

However, this is not about the Cosby story and the slow, cruel and unusual death of my childhood. It is about a story I saw on the FailBook the other day. With a title like "Mother, 20, has sex with dogs at 13, incest fantasies." How, oh, how are you not going to read that?

This is the reason I bring up the media’s love of covering evil succubus women. Unless you are tragically desensitized to outrageous depravity because of the internet, this will cause your knee-jerk “WTF” reaction to kick high. Daily Mail reported on a 20-year-old mother whoclaimed to have sex with her dogs (when she was 13) and fantasize about incest. Already in the headlines of this story  scream sensationalist news. The sad thing is, I understand. As a former newspaper writer, I understand the pressure to find stories that seize people’s attention. Nobody wants to read about something ordinary. Nobody wants unemotional, statistic-obsessed, fact-happy storytelling. News stopped being about actual news quite a long time ago. We want something wild and out there. The story essentially sums up that an unnamed man (whose identity is protected despite the woman’s name being aired to the world) who dated the accused woman for a few months only to discover, by her own admittance, that she liked sex with dogs and had fantasies about incest. Instead of finding her psychiatric help—she does have a child to raise after all—he went to the police with this juicy story of a zoophilic, nymphomaniac. She has been accused of crimes against nature. (Somehow that sounds even worse that bestiality.) The story does not mention any charges concerning her incest fantasies because thoughtcrime is a thing of the future that Big Brother has yet to enforce.No mention is made of her possessing any pornography of illegal acts. Instead the ex mentions that she retrieved images off the internet for him to see.

Why does this story reek so much of bullshit to me? 

Because I know the pressure to find sensational news stories. I know a writer’s need to embellish and deliver only the most absurd facts. And I know that exes, both male and female, can be some of the most unreliable narrators when it comes to their former partners. My debate teachers also learned me real good about critical thinking. When you see a story, especially a “he said, she said” one like this, you have to take it with a spoonful of salt. I also note the collection of selfie pictures the story decided to include of the accused woman in her bra and panties and in a kinky little outfit. One site even has a slideshow, despite the photos only proving that she is a typical 20-year-old taking selfies. Here is a woman who loves sex with anyone, according to ex. Therefor, she is also capable of dog-fucking and incest fantasies. Also, she’s 20, single and a mother already. Her father is trying to gain custody of his grandchild from her. How easy it is to cast her as the degenerate. And how fun it is. Now we have a wild story to spread around Failbook and discuss. It would be a useful gateway story into the discussion of animal rights. At least here someone is giving a damn that the dogs were sexually abused. That is certainly a plus for animal rights. But all of these elements combined into one story just feel overblown and full of plot holes, for lack of a better term, that another writer has to wonder.

Understand: I am not saying that the story is untrue. The world provides us with 100% true batshit crazy stories everyday. But in the media we use to navigate that world, nothing is ever quite what it seems. Who is the boyfriend? If he is concerned she will become a prostitute and has spoken to her father, why have they not arranged an intervention before going to the police and the media and ruining her life? Are the dogs okay? You may laugh, but animals can be as sensitive as humans to this kind of thing and I can’t help but wonder—if the story is indeed true—about their well-being. What about the child? Does a strong sexual appetite and freaky kinks truly make her a bad mother? Give us some examples of how she is an unfit mother before we turn her into a sideshow attraction. Did she suggest anything sexual in nature towards her own child? Some people have wild fetishes that are just that: fetishes. They get into roleplay with a consenting adult partner and pretend to be family members, school girls, dinosaurs or whatever the hell it is that turns them on. The most popular porn search term on the internet is “mother son.” Some food for thought. If you have a fetish for big boobs it doesn’t mean you are going to go around squeezing every nice rack you see. Practicing zoophiles, pedophiles, necrophiles and rapists are dangerous because they have no self-control and act on immoral urges. Am I suggesting that all humans are actually bubbling cauldrons of one disgusting fetish or another? Yes, I am. If someone tells you they have an incest kink it is not quite the same as someone telling you they actually want to have sex with a family member. If your partner walks in and begins showing you pictures of dead bodies and suggests where you two could rob a grave and have sexytimes with corpses, you have the right to run the other way. But if they show you weird necro-erotica that’s not quite the same as trying to plan a necro party with you. What I am trying to say through this ramble is that there is a difference between the fantasy and the action and most people are not nearly douche enough to be Ted Bundy.

Ancient zoophile porn because...why not?


If she did do what he said she said to those dogs then surely she deserves some punishment and the dogs should be properly cared for. Animals do not deserve to be used in yet another horrible way for a human’s selfish pleasure. If she really is a danger to her child, then something should be done.  But among these moral lapses that the story implies only ONE of them is illegal and that has yet to be proven:

  1. ·         She had sex with two dogs when she was a minor.
  2. ·         She stopped taking her birth control pills.
  3. ·         She refused to take the pregnancy test.
  4. ·         She has an incest fetish.
  5. ·         She takes sexy selfies.
  6. ·         She is 20 with a child.
  7. ·         She likes sex. (Ex claims she is a nymphomaniac but also claims in the same breath that their sex life had been “suffering.”)
  8. ·         She thinks she could get paid for sex because she’s good at it.
  9. ·         She might be unwed and pregnant.

What do you think? Am I off my rocker for thinking this story smells of bullshit? Or do you agree this sounds to sensational to be true?