Spanksgiving

I spent a mindless evening last week at a fetish fest. Lots of skin, spanking and groping and not an ounce of erotic juice was flowing. My brain and my cock were completely limp. Nothing tantalized or intriguing -- not the dripping wax on the naked woman, not the tied and fettered minions, not the bumping and grinding, not the big screen porn pulsating on the screen.


The Sybian back lit behind a sheet strung up on the stage was intriguing, but only because I've seen Vice ride one and shadows on a sheet brought back pleasant memories of having that controller in my hands, but I digress. I just don't think domination makes a very good spectator sport -- whether it is Bush Doctrine American foreign policy and embedded journalists or bare ass paddling.


A large portion of the American Orgy Seems to be all about domination, as if America has to dominate the planet for every citizen to be blissfully orgasmic.  The unfortunate side of this urge to globally dominate is that rather than orgasmic, the citizens are just paddled and fucked with.


So as you sit around your Thanksgiving Day table today with your family and eat your dead turkey with blood red cranberry sauce and happily help your grade schooler gloss over the American genocide of the native population with tales of how the Indians saved the Pilgrims with corn and watch twenty two grown men run around on a field trying to physically dominate each other, recall Arthur Dimmesdale, one of the first to wield the cat-o'-nine tails in the Orgy. 

Our American Orgy is in need of some serious whipping to atone for our ongoing lust for violence.