Sexologist, Talk Show Host (best-known for HBO specials) and Best-Selling Author of "The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure," "The 10 Commandments of Pleasure," "Being a Woman" and "Advertising for Love." Magna Cum Laude BA degree with Distinction from Yale University. Doctor of Arts Honoris Causa from the Institute for the Advanced Study of Human Sexuality (IASHS). Master's & Philosophy PhD from PWU. Co-founder of & biannual speaker at Sex Week at Yale. College circuit speaker on the Bonobo Way: An Alternative Great Ape Paradigm for Human Sexuality, Sexual Fetishes, Sexual Fantasies, Sex and Religion and other subjects. Founder of the Dr. Susan Block Institute for the Erotic Arts & Sciences in Los Angeles. Phone: 310.568.0066 Address: 8306 Wilshire Blvd. Suite 1047
Beverly Hills, Ca. 90211
Capt’n Max had a stroke. I wish it could say that’s a joke. Or the good kind of stroke – a stroke... more Capt’n Max had a stroke. I wish it could say that’s a joke. Or the good kind of stroke – a stroke of luck, a soft caress, a pleasure stroke. But no, unfortunately, Max had a stroke of seismic – or “ischemic” – pain… which is, in a way, a very bad joke that the body plays on the brain.
The technical term is cerebrovascular accident (CVA), but everyone calls it a “stroke” – though it’s really more of a strike – less a caress than a bullet to the brain, or, in Max’s case, an unexploded bomb that forms a blood clot blocking the flow of blood as well as oxygen to the cerebrum, causing (in Max’s case) sudden and severe damage.
What a stroke of madness, immobility and immeasurable suffering for my beloved Prince Max! Though it can always be worse; he could have had a stroke in Gaza. I’m not trying to be flip; I am grateful for the life-saving medical care Max is receiving that so many other people – from bombing victims in Palestine to women in need of abortions in Texas – cannot get right now. Indeed, Max and I are *privileged* to have access to quality care.
Nevertheless, a major ischemic stroke like this takes you – body, shattered brain and soul – to what appears to be as deathly a place as you can go in life – short of death itself.
Max’s stroke almost took his life; as it is, it has rendered him almost immobile, virtually paralyzing the entire right side of his body, and splintering much of his mind. Poor Max, so strong, right-handed, with such a powerful, creative mind, broken like a spilled jigsaw puzzle missing a few key pieces.
As for me, well, since the proverbial stroke of dawn, Sunday morning, May 19th – when Max’s deep growl turning into a howl of cosmic agony shocked me awake – until now, as I write this next to his hospital bed – I’ve been by his side.
According to Max, “The goal is the journey,” and – for better or worse – this is a journey we are on together.
So, every day, all day, and into the night, I’m in the hospital, the rehab, the ambulance, holding Max’s hand(s) – both his limp, stroke-stricken right hand and his *good* rambunctious left hand – trying my imperfect best to help my lover and friend of almost 40 years to survive, recover, communicate and somehow ease his incredible agony.
There are moments of ecstasy in the agony – cute crooked smiles, big wide eyes, whispers of desire, joyous laughter, pithy phrases blurted like “spoken word” poetry, unintelligible instructions delivered with the gravity of a Mafia don, flashes of radiance, hope, healing, hugs, even eroticism, fun, flirtation, sensuous touch, precious kisses and bonobo love glowing like a fire in the darkness.
In a way, I have never felt so much love as I feel right now for Max in these awful, draining weeks –before and (now) after this show.
Ah, this show. Yes indeed, on with the show. That’s what Max would say.
In fact, that’s what Max did say just before he had the damn stroke. Even though he wasn’t feeling well, even though I begged him not to (I myself have been cutting back on broadcasting live shows, and I thought he should too), he did a show. More than just about anything – except sex – Max loves doing the show. And I know if he could talk coherently right now, he would tell me to get on that mic and broadcast the truth. As it was, he nodded when I told him it was almost showtime. His big beautiful hazel eyes widened while a cute, crooked smile broke out across his face, before he emphatically exclaimed, “okay!”
And so, I broadcast this show about Max and his stroke – what happened, how he’s doing and what it means for all of us – for Max, for me, for our guests, for everyone in Bonoboville and for Max’s family, friends and fans all over the world. Of course, it’s just the tip of this iceberg of illness that has crashed into our Good Ship Bonoboville – not to mention our marriage! – but at least I’m (partially) facing the reality of *what happened* with Max by sharing the news.
It’s also my birthday. What a lousy birthday present, huh? Though if ever there was something Max didn’t do on purpose, it’s being stricken by a stroke, and by the time my birthday rolls around, Max is unintubated (taken off the breathing tube) and seemingly out of the darkest part of the woods, meaning there’s actually something to – cautiously – celebrate and certainly support on this auspicious, musical, magical, emotional birthday show.
This is, in a way, the opposite of what our show is known for. Usually, we talk about sex, not strokes. But even stroke patients need to be stroked. Maybe especially stroke patients need to be stroked – mentally and physically – encouraged and caressed. Desire is at least as strong a motivator as fear.
Yes indeed, I always find a sex angle, even in a stroke, and after all, this stroke patient is my lover.
So, after spending all day Saturday giving Max the good kind of strokes, I gather our Bonoboville crew, a few guests and friends for my birthday and Max’s healing (thus the title) in the little Love Church of The Bonobo Way at the “Speakeasy,” our ongoing, always-evolving show where we “speak easy” about things that aren’t so easy to speak about, like sex, death and Max’s stroke.
Brimming with joy, sorrow, a nice climax, a good laugh, a good cry, two songs, self-loving tips a... more Brimming with joy, sorrow, a nice climax, a good laugh, a good cry, two songs, self-loving tips and a whole lot of bonobo peace through pleasure for a Free Palestine, I ride the rails of FDR once again with my great love and hubby of 32 years, Capt’n Max who gives me such a glowing introduction, I feel like I should rip off my headset and quit while I’m ahead.
But I stay on the Love Train, from the Capitalocene to the Bonobocene on X/Twitter and Rumble, and I begin with a big thank you to the students of America (and now the world) who have so bravely stood, sat in and camped out on dozens of college campuses, to protest their schools’ investments in genocide, despite intense attacks from Zionists (see my letter below).
These students are beacons of light in this dark tunnel through which we’re now riding, when our leaders are failing us, and we are faced with a dismal dilemma: Genocide Joe or the Orange Turd….
Speaking of that Marmalade Poop Pile, Mango Mussolini, Trumpty Dumpty, Trumpus Rumpus, Don the Con, and I could go on… check out my interview in the Mirror about the spank heard round the world – Stormy Daniels spanking tRump’s rump – in that Tahoe hotel room and now in a New York courtroom, spanking him with her fearless testimony. We recently spanked Trump at our 32nd wedding anniversary too, you may recall – it’s the parody of our times.
Stormy Daniels is such an inspiration, like the students, but different. Funny how I wrote about Stormy and the Students inspiring me back in 2018, and now they’re doing it again. Stormy’s star is brighter than ever, and the students are different, though it’s a similar idea. In 2018, they were on a “March for Our Lives” for gun control. Now they march and camp out to stop the killing halfway around the world. Stop genocide!
Masturbation not Occupation!
That’s one way to segue into the merry month of May, and a Merry Masturbation Month to you. Seasons Beatings! Give yourself a Hand.
We discuss our favorite masturbation techniques and devices with the one and only Maria Von Fiddybritch, whose preferred method is to *get head* from an adjustable shower head or jacuzzi jet blasting water on her “little man in the boat,” cause tidal waves of pleasure.
That reminds us of our Spring Showers show in 2006 where a couple of guests actually brought a full shower onto our set, and then everybody got very wet and wild. It’s one of the hundreds of amazing shows in the archives soon to play in our Midnight Theater.
Motherhood is kind of the opposite of masturbation; you don’t become a mother through masturbating, unless maybe you’re the Virgin Mary, but Mother’s Day and the M Month both fall in May, so we wish Maria – whose 27-year-old daughter is getting her doctorate in chemistry – a Happy Mother’s Day!
Maria is overflowing with love – for her daughter, for us, for my Mirror interview on Stormy Daniels, for the Palestinians (“people are dying!” she exclaims), and for music, singing us two songs, the second of which is a camp song for FREEDOM.
META Legal Strategy: Slut-Shaming & Hypocrisy And then there’s our Free Speech, which META and Mark Zuckerberg have stolen from me, deactivating, terminating and exterminating my Facebook and IG accounts.
If it’s happened to you, if you too have been a victim of META abuses – whether activated or deactivated – you know it’s unfair, unjust and a sign of our algorithmic, bot-controlled, dystopian times.
That’s why I’m taking META to arbitration. This should be my inviolable right, according to META’s own contracts. However, META lawyers are now doing their legal-beagle best to get my case kicked out before we even get to arbitration, attacking, trying to slut-shame me and hiding their hypocrisy behind Section 230.
Meanwhile Ginny Thomas, wife of our most corrupt Supreme Court Injustice Clarence Thomas, used her Facebook profile to incite Insurrection, while our show about the Insurrection got censored on YouTube, and my Facebook and IG profiles got deactivated.
Justice is more and more of a myth in a dehumanized America that is driven by bots for the benefit of the Rich (F*ck Da Rich!) – and the bots
I also briefly address the latest reports on bonobo male “aggression” that has bad, snarky journalists trying to say bonobos don’t really make love, not war. But yes, they do! Listen to the show as I explain that their aggression is never lethal nor directed towards females, making it more like pro-wrestling than war.
We’re into Freeing Your Inner Bonobo, Free Speech. Free Assange. Free Palestine. Free yourself. Be Cage-Free. Be Bonobo.
Of course, not everybody’s into what we’re into, such as Ms. Aimee Hawkes who wrote me the letter below, followed by my reply:
Dr. Block —
When did you start becoming a self-hating Jew like Larry David, Joy Behar and decades before, Woody Allen?
Your CounterPunch commentary reflects self-denial of facts, mostly one most liberal/progressives love to bury: Israel was attacked on October 7th. I won’t go into gory detail, but you might want to look up the carnage Hamas produced against young women on the concert grounds that day and ones not seen since.
As a Free Beacon journalist, I wouldn’t waste characters interviewing you regarding your hatred of Natanyahu or the actions of the IDF. Instead, should I see you on the campus of UCLA, USC with the bands of anti-American insurrectionists, only then will I approach you to explain your sordid viewpoint.
Until then, I personally hope Israel finishes the job and rids the world of Hamas, Hezbollah and every Iranian-backed proxy you defend.
Sincerely, Aimee Hawkes
xxx
My Loving Reply Dear Ms. Aimee Hawkes,
Thank you for your email. It’s always illuminating to hear from my readers, even when they troll me with nasty, lying, Zionist tirades like yours.
Your first question, “when did you start becoming a self-hating Jew?” is as rancid as week-old borscht.
It also incorrectly presumes that I am one. I’m not sure what the litmus test is for “self-hating Jew,” but I doubt I’d pass, as witnesses to my Bat Mitzvah, teen summers in Israel and Camp Ramah, Har Zion Temple wedding presided over by two Rabbis, Israeli TV show, big beautiful Purimschpiels and hot-wax Hanukkah parties can attest.
A self-questioning Jew, yes, but hating? Nah. I’ve long loved many aspects of my Jewish background, from Queen Esther to the Marx Brothers (including Karl) to the soulful prayers of Kol Nidre on Yom Kippur Eve. Polytheistic libertine that I am, I could never “hate” my Jewish roots. I do hate war, genocide, apartheid, but I don’t hate people – least of all myself.
Thirty-two years ago, my Prince Charming – Prince Maximillian Rudolph Leblovic di Lobkowiz di Fil... more Thirty-two years ago, my Prince Charming – Prince Maximillian Rudolph Leblovic di Lobkowiz di Filangieri, pioneer LA underground publisher, international artist, designer, antiwar activist, sexual freedom fighter, free speech fugitive (at one point) and bon vivant – and I entered into the kinkiest kind of human bondage there is: we got MARRIED.
The date was 4/12/1992. And now, 32 years – 384 months (for all you numerophiles) 1,700 weeks, 11,688 days, 280,512 hours, or 16,830,720 minutes later (more or less) – through thousands of shows, books, magazines, orgasms, trips, talks, arguments, adventures, imprisonments, forced separations – fabulous bacchanals, through thick and thin, and love, love and more love – we put on this show.
Gathering together a few friends, lovers and allies to the FDR radio broadcast bar at the little Love Church of the Bonobo Way in the Village of Bonoboville, we celebrate 32 Years of lawfully wedded love, pro-bonobo marriage, sexual revelation and cage-free revolution.
And what a reveling, revolving, revealing, rollicking, Rabelaisian, roller coaster we ride on our 32nd anniversary show, filled with love, sex, pleasure, pain, laughter, anger and joy, expounding, erupting, interrupting, sulking, sucking, licking, kissing, reminiscing, fantasizing, romanticizing, clashing, rehashing, telling tales, spanking tails, celebrating our love and – as always – protesting the war/s – especially the unceasing and increasingly appalling Zionist genocide.
Free Palestine!
We don’t spend the entire show beating our peace drums for the victims of Israel’s ongoing apartheid/genocide, but enough so you could call it our “32nd Wedding Anniversary for Palestine,” which I do.
I even wear a black and white keffiyeh with my wedding-white lingerie.
In a way, the keffiyeh reminds me of a Jewish tallis or prayer shawl. It’s ironic that our currently warring religions are so very similar, like Abraham’s sons, Ishmael and Isaac.
Capt’n Max, the “Captain of My Heart” (inscribed on the inside of my wedding ring), sports a Palestinian flag pin on his cap. More Palestinian flags of different sizes festoon Bonoboville.
I wonder what the two rabbis who officiated at our Har Zion temple wedding 32 years ago (many thanks to Rabbi Gerald Wolpe and Rabbi Ivan Caine, wherever they are) would think of our attire, decor and fervent opposition to the Zionist apartheid/genocide.
Much as they encouraged me while growing up, my hunch is they wouldn’t approve.
What kind of horror is this that divides Jews against Jews? The Jewish people have always been a diverse bunch, but this feels like it could be a Jewish Civil War – the Zionists against the rest of us. Max (who converted to Judaism years before we got married) and I are on the side of Jews for peace (literally) – that is already coming to blows in the streets of the Holy Land, from Tel Aviv to Brooklyn, Berlin to LA. Us anti-Zionist Jews are passionate, reasonable and, as the Talmudists say, “righteous.”
Unfortunately, the Zionists have all the guns.
Guns and bombs rule the rubble, but on the Battlefield of Public Opinion, we are winning. Israel’s genocide is supported by the powerful AIPAC (American Israel Public Affairs Committee) lobby and humungous Military-Industrial-Congressional Complex of War Criminals and Sleazebags, while we – and the peoples of the world – support peace in Palestine.
So, that’s how we’re rolling through this auspicious evening of conflict, resolution, revolution, good times, great food, fantastic old friends and a new beginning in the course of our endless journey.
It happens that one symbol of the 32nd wedding anniversary is “transportation” – whether a high-speed train, your own two legs or your imagination.
The Goal is the Journey. At least, that’s our motto (one of them) for 32 years.
The DERBY
Transportation might be the name of the 32nd anniversary game, but Max and I don’t really go anywhere.
Honestly, we tried going up the coast on a Great RV Adventure on our 31st, but didn’t make it past Ventura, and weren’t about to try that again.
Nevertheless, the 32nd is quite the wild ride – a bit bumpy at times (like every anniversary) – but mostly awesome and ultimately amazing.
Of course, we transport ourselves on every FDR show, riding that Love Train, which is also a Peace-through-Pleasure Train, into the future, from the Capitalocene to the Bonobocene, through the terrible Perma-Wars of our times.
We also transport ourselves to dinner at the Derby on the night of our actual anniversary. We know it should be good, having had a scrumptious lunch seasoned with equestrian ambiance on my 2022 birthday.
It’s our virgin ride on Rumble – our first time – and there’s a first time for everything, but th... more It’s our virgin ride on Rumble – our first time – and there’s a first time for everything, but there’s only one first time for anything; you never get to have a second *first time.*
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Such is the mystery of virginity on the air and everywhere.
Why do radio veterans like Capt’n Max and me, along with Engineer Abraham, suddenly find ourselves virgins on new platforms? Unfortunately, Callin – our home broadcast platform for the past couple of years – just shut down, leaving us radio refugees and newbies to Rumble.
We’re also on Spaces, but we’re certainly not virgins to X/Twitter, so it’s more of an FDR “Resurrection,” and that’s what we call the show.
Cage-Free Eggs & People Indeed, tis the season of resurrection, and it’s Easter Eve as we broadcast live from the Love Train’s bar car, rolling down the tracks of 2024, living the Cage-Free Life, the Bonobo Way.
Maybe you’ve painted cage-free Easter eggs… but do you lead a cage-free life?
We try to live cage-free – or relatively free of corporate shackles – here in Bonoboville.
We’re into Free Speech and a Free Press. We want to Free Assange. Free Palestine. Free yourself. Be Cage-Free. Be Bonobo.
Now’s the time to revamp, renew and resurrect our long-hibernating joie de vivre. It’s Spring!
Jesus Loved the Sex Workers Resurrection is one of the springiest themes of Spring, a theologically serious but subtly salacious subject - and not just because it phonetically contains the word “erection” - but due to Jesus rising up from the depths of Thanatos (death) to heavenly Eros (life, lust and love), thanks to the miracle of Easter Sunday Resurrection.
And then, when Jesus is “born again,” whom does He first see? His favorite Easter Bunny: Mary Magdalene.
Yes indeed, Jesus loves the sex workers.
So, it’s fitting that the first caller on our virgin show is veteran sex worker, porn star and Dr. Susan Block Institute sex therapist, Hamilton Steele aka Le-Beverley.
Hamilton continues to regale us with tales of the gigolo life, serving the tech lords, nerds, cuckolds and incels of Silicon Valley. “I’ve never seen guys so fucked up, they couldn’t get laid with a hooker.”
I wonder how much of these tech lords’ deep-seated sexual frustration is at the root of their raging censorship, specifically META Zuck-the-Cuck’s deactivation of my Facebook and IG accounts?
It’s wrong, and we are fighting back. Yes, it’s a longshot, but I’m in the right, META is oh-so wrong, and you never know, so keep up with the Power Point updates, and join us for arbitration on June 26: Time and place TBA!
Resurrection Connection Regarding the Resurrection, Hamilton is quite familiar with erections, and he believes Jesus was a “historical figure,” though he wonders, “How did Easter bunnies and chocolate eggs come out of a Jewish guy being crucified?”
Good question! And the answer, in part, is paganism. Sounds blasphemous, but here in Bonoboville, we sometimes roleplay the res-erection with our Divine Interventions “Jesus Jackhammer” dildo rising up out of Dorrie Lane’s Wondrous Vulva Puppet or perhaps a real woman’s yoni or mouth, as we sing, “Hallelujah! Jesus is in her now!”
The myth of resurrection stems from the Earth being “reborn” in spring… with the promise that we too can be reborn. Jesus dies on Good Friday, then springs back to life on Easter Sunday. Resurrection gives us hope of life after death, and it is one of the cornerstones of Christianity.
However, Jesus wasn’t the first human/God to be born again in Spring.
On our Spring Equinox show, we compare the Resurrection of Jesus to the Resurrection of Persephone, the Greek Holy Daughter returning to her Mother, the Earth, instead of the Holy Son returning to his Father in the Sky.
On this Easter Eve Resurrection show, we compare Jesus to another Greek deity, Dionysus aka Bacchus, another God of the People who is killed and brought back to life – the Resurrection of Dionysus – by his Heavenly Father Zeus, aka Jupiter, aka God.
Jesus & Dionysus Centuries before Jesus Christ is said to have lived, died and lived again, the ancient Spring Dionysia and Primavera Bacchanalia honored the resurrection of the Greek God Dionysus (Bacchus to the Romans), a “Christlike,” charismatic and bonoboësque God of Spring, one of whose consorts is Pan, the horned, horny goat God of the Wild who lends his name to Pan paniscus, the scientific classification for bonobos.
The Spring Dionysia featuring the great tragedies of Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides and the comedies of Aristophanes, and the Bacchanalia of ancient Rome included ecstatic rituals and bonoboësque orgies celebrating this extremely popular, complex deity who, in a number of intriguing ways, foreshadowed the coming – and second coming – of Jesus Christ.
How could a God of Orgies have anything to do with sweet Jesus? I’m so glad you asked! Let me count the ways…
Both Jesus and Dionysus are especially adorable as babies (as are bonobos). Both Gods never lose their youthful, androgynous good looks, also like bonobos. Both Gods have human “virgin” mothers and divine heavenly Fathers. Both Jesus and Dionysus are liberators and revolutionaries, overturning the status quo—politically in the community and emotionally (spiritually) within the individual. Both Gods treat women as equals, as bonobos do, and have passionate, prominent female followers. Both Gods treat slaves as equals. Both Gods miraculously heal the sick. Both Gods are intimately connected with wine; Dionysus is the God of Wine, and Jesus turns water into wine. Both Gods have, in a sense, their “flesh and blood” eaten and drunk by others. Both Jesus and Dionysus are charismatic “rock stars” with long hair, an entourage and adoring groupies – and both are opposed by uncool, older conservative types Both Gods preach that the Kingdom of Heaven is within you. Both Gods are Masters of Seduction, saying that “Heavenly ecstasy is yours if only you follow Me.” Both Jesus and Dionysus die terrible bloody deaths, suffering tremendously and at great length, for the sake of humanity. Both Gods are resurrected in Spring.
Hustler Orgasms Speaking of the second coming – as well as the first and third – I’m giving advice on the all-important topic of orgasms in this month’s Hustler.
Check out my tips on coming, second comings, G-spot hunting and how to resurrect your flagging erection in “Building a Better Orgasm” by Marcy Diamond.
And check out Marcy riding the Motorbunny to a rollicking holiday orgasm in “Halloween 2015 Kink Month Climax in BooNoBooVille” on DrSuzy.Tv.
Trump Bibles vs. The Bonobo Bible From resurrection to insurrection, and just in time for Holy Week, America’s Top Huckster is hawking The Trump Bible – the “God Bless the USA” Bible, here to “Make America Pray Again” at the bargain price of just $59.95 (got to cover those legal bills!) – reaching new heights of hucksterism, having violated almost all the 10 commandments and much more.
It couldn’t be any worse than Trump Vodka, Trump Steaks, Trump University… or the Trump White House - hopefully, that won’t be resurrected.
On this auspicious first Rumble show and Spaces resurrection, our oldest listener (he’s been listening to the show since I was on KFOX 93.5 FM!), Don P, aka PolyBi, calls in to express his fervent hope that Trump will lose Manhattan District Attorney’s Alvin Bragg’s 34-count felony “hush money” case against him just before the 2024 election. If found guilty, the history books will record that kink saved the country and Trumpty Dumpty was brought down by a porn star, the one and only Stormy Daniels.
Coming soon: The Bonobo Bible! Includes The 10 Commandments of Pleasure, The Bonobo Way and more!
Also coming soon: My interview with Telltale Industries about the mysterious Jonathan Taylor Spielberg (no relation to Steven, except spiritually). Check out some interview pics in the Gallery and stay tuned for this quintessential Hollywood story.
Happy Spring Equinox! All aboard the “Last Chance to Get Lucky” Love Train rolling through the fo... more Happy Spring Equinox! All aboard the “Last Chance to Get Lucky” Love Train rolling through the forest live on St. Paddy’s Eve with plenty of green Guinness, shamrock kisses, big hard shillelaghs, pinched posteriors, Smiling Irish Eyes and a St. Patrick’s message from Ireland to Irish Joe Biden to stop arming Israel’s genocide against Palestine.
Erin go Bragh and Go Bragh-less!
It’s also our last train – or one of our last – on Callin, but no, I am not being banned on yet another platform. Callin is being shut down by its corporate overlord (Rumble), making us soon-to-be radio refugees. But have no fear; FdR will keep running, Bonoboville will keep humming, and we will keep spreading the Bonobo Way.
So, its “last call” on Callin at the Speakeasy Bar for the St. Paddy’s Day Eve Gift of Gab fest, and Capt’n Max and I have a lot to gab about, much of it with one of our favorite Callin callers, Maria, who regales us with tales, questions and a lovely song, and promises to follow us to our next platform, wherever it might be.
Prince of Pegging & Missing Princess
Last FdR, as well as on my 2024 State of the Sexual Union address – broadcast live on Hartley Pleshaw’s “Active Radio” on WCAP 980 AM and now available on most major platforms where I’m not banned (as well as some where I am) – we talked about the terrible traumatic proliferation of War Porn – which is, in this sexologist’s not-so-humble opinion, far more traumatizing to victims, perpetrators and viewers than regular porn.
On this show, the topic turns to Royals Porn, that is, the British Royals having sex, though it’s not exactly porn because, while you hear lots of rumors of their sexcapades, and even plenty of rumors about the rumors, you don’t actually see much of anything, except for paparazzi snaps of furtive glances, smiling eyes (Irish or otherwise) and stiff upper lips.
It’s really more of a Royal Soap Opera with titillating tattle-tales of aristocratic cheating, bisexual adventures, the Prince of Pegging‘s alleged penchant for kinky recreational sex with his wife’s ex-friend, possible procreational sex resulting in a Comedy of Errors and Heirs, bad photoshopping, very bad lying and a curiously missing princess who was once a paparazzi exhibitionist, but hasn’t been seen since Christmas, 2023. Maybe she really is recovering from a mysterious kind of “abdominal surgery” (perhaps a hysterectomy?), or maybe she’s on strike or having her own affair – who knows? All this is, of course, going on against the bloody backdrop of the sordid history of British colonialism and imperialism and lots of violent death, including the terrible car crash that killed Princess Diana.
So… Where is Kate?
That is the question that has turned many of us who normally don’t give a crown about this rather dysfunctional family into royal voyeurs. This could be juicier than Charles the Tampon King or Harry losing his virginity in a field behind a pub…
Tune in for a deep discussion – thanks to Maria’s probing questions and Prince Max’s posterior squeamishness – on pegging – what it is and why you (and various Royals and commoners) may or may not really like it.
Boeing Booboos Usually, when we mention flying, it’s fun stuff, like joining the Mile High Club. Then again, we’ve also talked about how planes are some of modern civilization’s worst polluters.
We don’t often comment on plane engineering, but now it seems that great American jet manufacturer, Boeing, is making planes that seem designed to break. Turns out that after Boeing merged with McDonnell Douglas – and after our friend and DrSuzy.TV guest Eric John quit working as a Boeing engineer to become a porn star (a smart career move, it being way better to bang wenches than wrenches all day, plus you won’t be responsible for a packed passenger plane suddenly falling out of the sky) – the company attained the Market Dominance it always wanted. Then Boeing got lazy – playing out another tale of American greed and dysfunction, with the help of Trump’s deregulation of American transportation industries, hiring cheaper cost-cutting executives instead of better engineers.
This week’s news is that Boeing whistleblower John Barnett “committed suicide” in a parking lot, and if you believe that he punched his own ticket, then I’ve got a plane to sell you…
Persephone Rising for Spring Equinox Spring or Vernal Equinox 2024 is also upon us. Catch Spring Fever and fall in love… or rise up like a blooming spring rose.
Long before the Easter Rebirth of the Holy Son returning to His Father in Heaven, people honored the Spring Equinox Resurrection of the Holy Daughter returning to Her Mother on Earth.
As Spring unfolds, the Greek Goddess Persephone (Proserpina to the Romans) is said to rise up from the bowels of Hades (Pluto) to rejoin Her Earth Mama Demeter (Ceres) who is so ecstatic to embrace the fruit of Her loins that She showers the world in Spring (now that’s some serious squirting).
Telling the timeless story for the umpteenth time on this show, I’m happy to hear Maria’s spin on Spring and “Persephone,” the name she happened to have chosen, once upon a time, for her cat.
All religions have some way to honor and explain the coming of Spring. This year, Ramadan coincides with Spring Equinox, and some Muslims celebrate the Persian New Year or Noruz.
Check out our many fantastic, orgiastic Spring Equinox Bacchanalia with our own erotic Eleusinian Mysteries on DrSuzy.Tv.
Anti-Zionist Purim for Palestine
It’s coming up on Purim, the Semitic St. Paddy’s, Yiddishe Mardi Gras or Hebraic Halloween of masquerade, storytelling (Purim shpiels), games, pranks, music, wine and a special Spring holiday dessert called “hamantaschen.” These triangular, fruit jelly-stuffed pastries are said to represent the pirate-style hat of the Purim story’s villain, that quintessential antisemite Haman the Agagite, Biblical cousins of Bibi Netanyahu’s favorite scriptural boogeymen, the Amalekites.
It’s our first show of March, and we march – not into war – but into love – through the terrible ... more It’s our first show of March, and we march – not into war – but into love – through the terrible truth-revealing fire of U.S. Airman Aaron Bushnell, the Burning Soldier for Palestine, through the rising anti-sex religio–fascism in America and around the world, through our legal fight Against META and Zuck the Cuck’s algorithmic normalization of dehumanization and extermination (save the date for arbitration: June 26!)…
I’m always marching into love with Capt’n Max, and on this show, we march for peace and freedom of speech, arm in arm with friends and lovers, singers and swingers, protesters and porn stars, ethical hedonists and antiwar activists on F.D.R. Go Bonobos!
Fighting Fire with Fire
Burning with passion for Palestine, active-duty U.S. Airman Aaron Bushnell set himself on fire, committing suicide to protest genocide.
Make no mistake: Aaron Bushnell is not a role model. Don’t set yourself on fire! Do not emulate self-immolation. But do let it illuminate a very dark situation.
And not just any dark situation. Aaron Bushnell did not set himself on fire over the “Israel/Hamas war” as the mainstream media (MSM) tried to explain, before moving on to the weather report, nor was he experiencing a mental health episode that could have been alleviated with a pill or a call to a suicide hotline, as implied by other MSM hasbara.
“They want us to believe we are mad and this war is sane,” observed Counterpunch’s Jeffrey St. Claire.
Indeed, on his own Twitch-broadcast livestream, Aaron Bushnell sanely and calmly spelled out exactly what he was protesting as he marched to the Israeli embassy in Washington DC, wearing his U.S. military fatigues. “My name is Aaron Bushnell,” he said. “And I am an active-duty member of the United States Air Force. I will no longer be complicit in genocide. I’m about to engage in an extreme act of protest but, compared to what people have been experiencing in Palestine at the hands of their colonizers, it’s not extreme at all. This is what our ruling class has decided will be normal.”
Then he set his phone to auto-record, and he set himself on fire.
He poured the kerosene on his head, stuck his cap back on and, just before he struck the match, a disembodied voice with the banality of a store clerk inquired, “Can I help you, Sir?”
Then suddenly, the blaze erupted, and Airman Aaron Bushnell became a real-life “Burning Man,” a Burning Soldier, marching in place in what must have been searing agony, yelling, “Free Palestine!” over and over again – his voice raw with pain mixed with love for the Palestinian people, so many of whom have been and are still being burned alive by Israeli bombs, paid for by American taxpayers – until he fell to the ground in flames.
“Get on the ground! Get on the ground!” yelled someone, presumably an Israeli embassy guard. Slowly, the guard walked toward the fire, arms stretched taut, hands together, holding a gun on the Burning Soldier as he burned to death.
A gun?
Another guy, perhaps a paramedic, arrived on the scene shouting, “Yo! I don’t need guns, I need fire extinguishers.”
What a moment. A quintessential defining snapshot of humanity, as the world turns and we all burn – as we go on fighting wars, bombing civilians and shooting our neighbors – when the wisest amongst us can barely be heard above the violence, stating the obvious…
From the Capitalocene to (hopefully) the Bonobocene – with assorted horrors and hijinks in betwee... more From the Capitalocene to (hopefully) the Bonobocene – with assorted horrors and hijinks in between – the Love Train goes rolling along.
There’s blood on the tracks – the innocent blood of thousands of Gazans, bombed and starved by Benny Net Nut and his gang of Zionist thugs.
Meanwhile, two semi-senile US Presidential candidates - Genocide Joe the Net Nut-abetting War Criminal and Trumpty Dumpty the Jack-of-All-Crimes (theft, fraud, assault, defamation, election tampering, treason and war crimes), vie for control of the train.
Is that a light at the end of the tunnel or a nuclear bomb exploding?
At the moment, darkness reigns as any criticism of Zionism is being censored as “anti-Semitism” (it’s not). Meanwhile real anti-Semitism is rising, as the Zionist massacre of innocent Palestinians in Gaza as well as the West Bank gets worse and is splayed across social media for all the world to see, and yet on and on it goes.
What is this madness?
Well, it sounds like genocide, looks like genocide, and if we were there, I’m sure it would smell like genocide, so yeah, it is genocide.
But our leaders refuse to call it what it is: genocide. Why?
We know their pockets are stuffed with Zionist and U.S. weapons industry cash. Apparently, so are their ears and their mouths.
Therein lies the bloody center of this storm of madness.
Speaking of storms, Capitalogenic climate change is causing floods, fires and famines around the world, but hey, life goes on (for some of us), and so does love – and Capt’n Max and I are lucky indeed to be alive and in love! And despite our general antipathy to V-Day in all its chaste commercialism, we had a great Valentine’s Day 2024.
It was not very commercial (we didn’t even go anywhere), but it was delicious (home-cooked lobsters – yum!), not at all chaste (two orgasms just after midnight to kick it off, and three more to wind it up with el grando climaxo), Lupercalian (I wore little red Pan horns and drew a heart on my forehead like the Lupercii drew on their foreheads in goat’s blood, though I used lipstick for a less messy effect), bonoboesque (Happy World Bonobo Season! Save the Bonobos! Make Like Bonobos, Not Baboons!), slightly soused (Cheers to Absente Absinthe!), definitely aroused (we’re seniors, but not dead!) and very romantic (Max is Roman, after all).
Valentine’s Day can be stressful, as we’ve acknowledged, and there are many ways to handle it. So imagine my surprise when I came across the worst piece of V-day advice on my news feed. Dr. Laura Berman (who happened to interview me about fetishes back in 2002) advises couples to not have sex on V-day. She advocates taking sex off the Valentine’s Day table entirely. Wow. This is not only odd, but part of a disturbing, anti-sex neo-puritan trend that is poisoning healthy human sexuality in our times.
My tip for V-day or any holiday is just the opposite. If you’re an experienced couple, make love first if you want to make love last.
Just after midnight as the holiday starts is perfect. Then, you can blaze through your day in a relatively stress-free afterglow. So, if it’s a bad day, or if you eat or drink too much and can’t have sex or don’t want to, it’s no big deal and no one will get *blamed* or have to *miss out,* because you already had sex. But if it’s a good day, and you’re feeling feisty, you can end the holiday on an orgasmic note and do it again.
That’s what we try to do on holidays, and that’s what we did this V-Day, and – even for two decrepit old fogies who can barely turn around without pulling a muscle – it hit the spot like Cupid’s arrow.
Brave and brilliant Wikileaks publisher Julian Assange is still in London’s bleak Belmarsh high security prison for exposing U.S. war crimes.
Because Assange has an important court date coming up, Capt’n Max and I – as well as Abe the Engineer and very passionately pro-Assange caller Maria - spend much of this show extolling his journalistic truth-telling, drooling over his sex appeal (well, I am), denouncing the slow, harsh torture to which he has long been subjected by the Anglo-American imperial regime(s) – despite the support of the world – and calling for his immediate release.
We have supported Julian Assange since before 2010, and so do many others around the world on the Right and Left who care about free speech and freedom of the press. Assange is more than a great publisher; he is a survivor and a symbol of Freedom of the Press for all of us.
As I write this, Assange is about to mount a final plea for his right to appeal his extradition to the U.S. where his treatment will be even worse than Belmarsh, verging on deadly. We have been saying it for almost 15 years, but let us say it again: Free Assange!
META Arbitration Set for June 26!
Meanwhile, sex education and information are being censored more and more, especially by META and its overlord, Mr. Mark Zuckerberg, whom I am taking to arbitration for their crimes, as we also discuss on this show.
Why are we taking META to arbitration? For the sake of freedom of speech, for the sake of fairness, for the sake of our mental health in the face of META’s dehumanization, for the sake of sex-positivity and sex education, for the sake of our freedom to be able to love whom we want to love – including ourselves – in the privacy of our own homes.
Multiple SUZY award winner Chris G. calls in and eloquently pledges to write a letter to the arbitrator, having supported us against censorship for years, especially in Zuck the Cuck’s latest bot-driven fascist crackdown.
Save the date: June 26 for the arbitration of Dr. Susan Block vs. META and Mark Zuckerberg! Time: 10 AM PST. Location (in Los Angeles) TBA.
One of the literal high notes of this rather musical show is when Maria requests a song from Chris, and he obliges with a Leonard Bernstein-worthy rendition of West Side Story’s “Maria.”
Later Maria sings “Don’t Dream It, Be it” – substituting “Be Bonobo” for “Be It” – from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Since Susan Sarandon is one of the stars of that iconic movie, I give her a shoutout for her courageous and very bonobo activism on behalf of Palestine.
More topics on this show… My upcoming interview with a London podcast about another colorful character who passed through Bonoboville (before we called it Bonoboville), Jonathan Taylor Spielberg. Stay tuned for this unique Hollywood story. #GoBonobos for Fulton County, Georgia’s DA Fani Willis. Trump’s lawyers are trying to pin the scarlet letter because she had a consensual sexual affair with a lawyer whom she assigned to the Trump case (after they broke up). Well, she had her reasons, and none of them appear to be illegal. Maybe she’s right when she says that she’s not the one on trial; Trump and his mob are on trial for trying to “steal the election in 2020.” And she looks damn good saying it in her scarlet power dress. Another one of Trump’s lawyers, Alina Habba, who just lost her client $85 million to E. Jean Carroll and $355 million to the State of New York, once said she’d rather be pretty than smart because she can fake being smart. As in sex, so in law: it’s not so easy to “fake it.” Russian dissident Alexei Navalny was found dead in his prison cell. He was not a great guy, a bit of a fascist and certainly no Julian Assange, but they say he was poisoned by Tucker Carlson’s Bear Daddy Vlady Putin, and anything that makes Tucker blush as red as Fani Willis’ dress is okay with us.
Lots more on this rollicking and yet very serious ride. Fingers crossed (but not legs!) that the light at the end of the tunnel’s not another bomb.
Friends, Romans, Countrywomen, lend me your ears,
I cum to bury Valentine’s Day, not to praise it... more Friends, Romans, Countrywomen, lend me your ears, I cum to bury Valentine’s Day, not to praise it… Sorry to mangle Marc Antony’s classic eulogy in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, but Valentine’s Day is fake news. A sugar-coated confection of disinformation concocted by the early Catholic Church, developed by the Victorian greeting card industry, sweetened by See’s candies, polished by DaBeers diamonds and abetted by Amazon, all this overpriced Hallmark-card fakery is based upon a lovely little sexless fairy tale starring the celibate Saint Valentine. Sexless St. Valentine As the story opens in 4th century pagan Rome, mean old Emperor Claudius has made marriage illegal. In a vain effort to restore potency to his weakening imperial army, Claudius wanted fighters not lovers; after all, when you make love, you’re not so inclined to make war. Valentine, a Christian priest who married couples in secret, was arrested and, while awaiting execution, converted his jailer’s blind daughter to Christianity, whereupon she fell in love with him. Then, just after Valentine was executed, the jailer’s blind daughter found a card in his cell addressed to her from “Your Valentine.” Not only was she touched by this loving gesture, but the fact that she could now see the card meant Valentine’s saintly ophthalmological skills had cured her of her blindness. What a touching tale of chaste ideals befitting the high holiday of hopelessly romantic love, Saint Valentine’s Day! But alas and alack (a big lack), the ideal is the enemy of the real, as Capt’n Max says, and in reality, there were several Christian martyrs named “Valentine,” and no evidence that any of them healed a jailer’s blind daughter or composed a farewell card. However, the ideal is more compelling than the real – as well as more marketable – at least according to Hallmark, See’s, DeBeers and Amazon, who have worked hard over the centuries to provide the tools for a V-Day fraught with pressure – the enemy of pleasure. I’m all for relationship romance – and I’ve got the 31-year marital romance to prove it – but I’ve always felt Valentine’s Day was a bit contrived, like artificial icing on a natural succulent strawberry. The real juicy fruit is in there somewhere, but the sickly-sweet shell disguises, sanitizes and commercializes it beyond recognition. Later, I learned that deep inside the phony, saintly, sweet Valentine shell is the original, primal, heart-felt feast for all the senses, including your sense of history – with nothing saintly or celibate – about it… Lusty Lupercalia: The Original V-Day They called it “Lupercalia,” the original pagan Valentine’s Day, the holiday of the heart, a big bacchanalian celebration of communal ecstasy, collective sexuality, fertility, purification, the rush of hormones, the howl of the wolf, the crack of the whip and the coming of Spring. In contrast to the commercialism, artificial sweetness and romantic exclusivity of Valentine’s Day, Lupercalia seemed to be about a more inclusive, less expensive love—on the natural, kinky, consensual, pan-sensual, polyamorous Pan-horns of lust. The star, namesake and feminist heroine of Lupercalia is the Luper. If you don’t know a “luper” from a “leper,” the former is Latin for “she-wolf.” According to Rome’s foundation myth, Romulus and Remus, the infant twins of the War God Mars and human Queen Rhea Silvia, are tossed into the Tiber River by their jealous Great Uncle Amulius after he assumes the throne of their grandfather Numitor’s kingdom of Alba Longa. In our Lupercalian theater pieces with the Bonoboville Commedia Erotica Players, Great Uncle Amulius was usually played by Capt’n Max to dramatic effect, reenacting the throwing of Romulus and Remus into the Tiber by tossing a couple of scrunched-up balls of paper in between fluttering blue and green scarves held by lovely ladies roleplaying the waves. Miraculously, Romulus and Remus are rescued and suckled by a she-wolf – the luper, usually played by the buxom Rhiannon Aarons, topless in a wolf mask – in a cave they called the Lupercal. Yes, a wolf suckling human babies sounds pretty bizarre, but compared to other religious origin stories – such as the Christian notion of immaculate conception or the Jewish idea of creating the entire universe in six days – it’s not so farfetched. In fact, there are documented cases of children being “raised by wolves,” who apparently are more adept at parenting than some humans (such as Great Uncle Amulius). Adding another layer of meaning, the word “lupa” is Latin slang for “prostitute,” making the Luper a kind of “Sacred Whore,” the Great Primal Wolf-MILF of prehistoric Rome. This explains all the suckling. It also harkens back to a pre-patriarchal time when “sex work” was not only legal; it was honored. Nurtured on wolf’s milk, Romulus and Remus grow up strong – maybe a little too strong. They are, after all, sons of Mars and wolves – not Venus and bonobos. So, pretty much as soon as they can walk, they go off and assassinate their Great Uncle Amulius; fair enough, considering he tossed them in the Tiber, but unfortunately, the killing continues. Having assassinated Amulius and given Alba Longa back to their Granddad King Numitor, the twins go down the road a few miles to build their own city on seven hills. Life is good, until they fight over a fence – or maybe, you could call it a wall. Then, as now, such man-made barriers to movement can be huge sources of contention. So, as Romulus is doggedly building his wall – Remus jeers at his construction and even jumps over it, just to show how ineffective his brother’s great border wall is. Then, in a fit of humiliated sibling rivalry reminiscent of the Judeo-Christian Bible’s Cain killing his brother Abel (hotheaded fratricide being a recurring theme among both pagans and monotheists), Romulus kills his brother Remus. A born politician, Romulus professes to greatly “regretting” the killing of Remus, but doesn’t lose much sleep before founding the city of both of their dreams which he names Rome, after himself, conveniently forgetting his beloved bro. Otherwise, the great imperial capitol we all know as Rome would be called “Reme.” Nevertheless, the spirit of Remus lived on in a Roman college fraternity, the Luperci Fabii, as did that of Romulus in the Luperci Quintilii. Here is where mythology turns to history – or at least not-so-fake news – and wild communal celebration. Februa of Pan Every Ides of February, these two tribes or fraternities of primeval “frat boys” – the Lupercii Fabii and Quintilii – would meet within that dark, womblike cave of the Lupercal where the Luper (meaning both “she-wolf” and “whore”) once suckled their twin great-great-grandfathers. Here they would sacrifice a goat, honoring the goatherd god Lupercus, a spin-off of Faunus, the Roman name for the great Greek Lord of the Wild, that horned and horny old goat, Pan. I call Pan the “Patron Saint of the Bonobos,” since their Latin classification is Pan Paniscus, and they are the horniest apes on Earth, humanity’s closest Great Ape cousins, the Make-Love-Not-War, female-empowered, male-nurturing, sharing, caring, peace-through-pleasure-loving bonobos. Moreover, Valentine’s Day is their holiday too, and it’s called World Bonobo Day. Meanwhile, back in the Cave of the Lupercal, drinking the sacred wine, the Lupercii would shirk their togas and laugh ritualistically – as well as, I’m sure, spontaneously, considering all that sacred wine. Then they would mark each other’s foreheads with the goat’s bright red blood; talk about “blood on your hands” – and your head! Then the more sober among the Lupercii cut strips from the goatskin, making some into loincloths and others into those notorious leather whips they called februa. Yes, it’s from the same root as February, the last month of the old Roman year, a time for spring cleaning and new beginnings. According to Ovid, februa translates to “the means of purification.” Thus equipped and rather drunk, the Lupercii would leave their cave, laughing and howling like wolves as they raced through the hills and towns, wielding their “means of purification,” their sacred februa whips, gaily whacking the willing behinds of villagers and farmers, many of whom were women (also probably a little drunk), looking for luck, love and perhaps a baby. The ancient Romans believed that such gentle whacks ensured fertility, which is not as scientific as an IVF clinic, though Lupercalia probably did whip the local populace up into a sex frenzy, resulting in a November baby boom. Men would also raise their butts or put out their palms for a smack. All were welcome to receive the smack of good fortune that the gods bestowed upon the people through the lucky, lusty, laughing Lupercii. With Pan, Lord of the Wild presiding over all that whipping, laughter and purification, the Lupercalia often got rather wild, releasing steam from life’s labors - like Valentines, candy or even diamonds never do. All in all, it was a little too steamy for the early Catholic Church which squelched Lupercalian enthusiasm by not only making it illegal, but by turning poor, horned, horny Pan into the Devil. The rest is Satanic history. The Lupercalian Beauty of a Heart-Shaped Booty With Lupercalian celebrations outlawed, the early Christian fathers plunked the more chaste and Church-friendly St. Valentine’s Day down on the same date, the Ides of Februa, forbidding the whips of luck and lust, but appropriating the vivid color of goat’s blood smeared on human skin as its signature shade – red.
Another V-Day symbol that I consider to be Lupercalian in origin is the “heart,” which looks less like the cardiac organ than a set of well-whipped, “heart-shaped” buns.
It’s the Bonobo Way or the Highway – to Hell, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners!
Persona... more It’s the Bonobo Way or the Highway – to Hell, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners!
Personally, Capt’n Max and I would rather go bonobos than bonkers.
We prefer the Joys of Sex to the Horrors of War – or whatever you call Benny Net Nut Netanyahu's mad bombing fetish. The Zionists call it “self-defense,” but those of us with eyes can see it for what it is: “genocide,” war crimes, apocalyptic mass murder, mass extermination, massive madness… Hell.
Is that where this Block Party on the Love Train is headed? Can we stop this runaway train?
Sores on Don’s Palms vs. Blood on Joe’s Hands
Nostalgic for a simpler time, Capt’n Max puts a penny on the track. Better for our train to smash a penny than for Israel to keep dropping hundreds of 2000-pound bombs on helpless, bomb-less Gaza, smashing homes, hospitals, people.
Pennies on the track, quarters squeezed between hind quarters, dollars stuffed into the pockets of corrupt politicians, billions for bombs and not a nickel for the poor… money appears to be at the root of most modern evils.
Speaking of the evils of capital, it’s the 13th anniversary of Citizens United, one of the worst Supreme Court rulings ever, polluting America’s already filthy politics with wads of dirty corporate money stuffed in the pockets of our so-called “representatives” who really only represent the rich (F*ck Da Rich!) who are, unsurprisingly, getting richer, as the rest of us lose our shirts – and not in the sexy way.
Now, with this muddy money swirling through our already very dirty political laundry, our choice for that once-respected office of the U.S. Presidency comes down to Genocide Joe or Syphilis Don – a narcissistic fascistic rapist under four indictments with sores on his palms vs. a war crimes profiteer with blood on his hands.
What to do?
Better wipe off that blood, Joe, and pull the needle out of Benny Net Nut’s arm that’s mainlining U.S. bombs straight into Israel’s body politic, marked for the destruction of Gaza. Stop the genocide, and maybe you’ll wring enough votes out of America to stop the festering Syphilitic Mussolini.
Also, free Julian Assange! His only “crime” was to expose the truth of American war crimes like yours, Joe. There is no free press without freeing Julian Assange.
Raw! Raw! Raw! Maria Wins a SUZY!
What’s a Block Party without music?
With the voice of an angel, a devilish wit and a healthy appetite for the “raw cock” of the human “stallions” in her “stable,” the ruby-lipped, mellifluous Maria joins in on the Block Party festivities.
I take the opportunity to present Maria with the very prestigious 2023 SUZY award of “Best Singing Caller.”
She even sings her acceptance speech, thanking David Bowie (and us!) for “inspiration.”
We also talk about cunning linguists with talented tongues, recipes for tastier oral sex with or without condoms or condiments, “Heavy Metal” sexual fantasies, ketamine as an aphrodisiac (plus it saved my life from septic shock back in 2006), the Hollywood hypocrisy of “performative empathy,” Swinger Block Parties, Cuckold Block Parties Foot Fetish Block Parties, mental blocks and whether or not to “block” people who try to crash our Block Party.
Next stop: Valentine’s Day which is also World Bonobo Day, originally the big pagan spanking Block Party of Lupercalia.
Party like a bonobo! Share the wealth of the world. Listen to this fun show and Make Kink Not War in 2024.
Riding the Bonoboville Streamer into a brand New Year - with a Happy Nude Rear - we resolve to “G... more Riding the Bonoboville Streamer into a brand New Year - with a Happy Nude Rear - we resolve to “Go Bonobos in 2024.” Unfortunately, our Peace Train turns into a Bullet Train midway through the Tunnel of Love.
At least, we dodge the bullets, fending off the faux fighters, war-lovers, booby traps and beautiful, wily attention hogs, and we manage to come out of the tunnel making love not war in 2024.
Nevertheless, it’s a bumpy ride, perhaps portending a rough year ahead, though everyone survives to live and love another day, so maybe it’ll all turn out okay. Who knows what this new year will bring?
We could guess, and even before we start this ride, I’m reluctant to hop aboard, being a little under the weather. Plus we’re short-staffed, and everyone is still a bit holidazed, as well as shellshocked by all the war porn, wrenching images of death and destruction from the hellscape that is Gaza under Zionist bombardment.
But Capt’n Max and I have surprise guests from out of town: one of our favorite couples, seven-time “Most Bonobo Couple” SUZY award winners Danièle Watts, aka DaLove, and Brian James Lucas, aka Chef Be*Live, aka BeLove, stars of our Bonoboville Reunion, featured on Vice TV (now having surpassed 300,000 views!).
So, we put on our headsets and gather around the Speakeasy bar, speaking about the “unspeakable,” with Unscene Abe bartending the broadcast. As always, BeLove is a gracious guest, and delightful DaLove slips into her usual position of contrarian - maybe a little more contrary than usual - sweetly but firmly insisting on calling Bonoboville a “family.”
I prefer to say we’re a “community” which tends to have less baggage than a family, but DaLove wants to “unpack a little of that.”
And “unpack” that baggage she does, with her signature “poetic” flair, flinging its contents throughout the Train, practically pulling the whole baggage rack down on the other passengers. Fortunately, no one gets hit by DaLove’s flying panties or shoes, as our little Love Train braves the turbulence, even picking up a couple of other passengers along the tracks.
Porn star Hamilton Steele regales us with his torrid Tales of the Billionaire Class as seen through the eyes of a sex worker who literally “fucks da rich.” A cock-size fetishist insisted they measure each other’s manhood. One wealthy Cuckold hired Hamilton to play the Bull screwing his Hot Wife as he sat happily watching and smoking expensive cigars on sheets and towels worth more than Hamilton was being paid (Hamilton confessed to evening things out by pilfering a few towels – to which DaLove asserted she would have done the same as I voiced mild disapproval).
Then Christopher Gagliardi calls in from the snowstorms of Englewood, New Jersey to thank us for his “Most Bonobo Graduate” SUZY Award (his ninth!) and express his New Year’s resolution to share “the autistic experience” through film and spread “humanism” through our “peace through pleasure” movement. I applaud Chris’ “courage” in staying pleasure-positive in this sex-negative and quick-to-cancel culture. Chris also vows to study hard at Felician University, where he is the proud host of his own college radio show.
Several themes recur, including the quirky joys of amputee sex, about which regular Callin’er Gerbil Penis drolly comments, “my penis cannot compete with a leg stump.”
We also consider the proliferation of war porn even as regular porn is more censored, though DaLove confesses to just discovering the wholesome pleasures of Pornhub.
Trying to put the brakes on DaLove’s apparent inclination to derail the train, plus her mounting desire for more erotic action, I whip her half-Happy Nude Rear, then BeLove spanks it, wholly happy and totally nude.
It’s also the third anniversary of Trumpty Dumpty’s Insurrection, aka “Coup Anon,” if you’re tuned in live, but we’re too busy with DaLove’s attention-grabbing antics to acknowledge it.
We love DaLove and BeLove, but upon examining the “radical empathy” involved when actors like DaLove play the parts of, say, narcissists like Trump, and war criminals like Benjamin Netanyahu (aka Benny Net Nut), Max and I realize another reason why neither of us pursued acting careers.
We don’t want to empathize with Benny Net Nut!
We’re also out of time, but DaLove’s transformation into Bonoboville Devil’s Advocate goes into full swing, and she has a lot more to say, leading us all into on-air dust-ups that are entertaining (or so we hear from our engrossed audience), but uncomfortable. Max and I are passionately antiwar and want to end the show on a peace-through-pleasure note, but deliciously naughty DaLove appears to have a passionate fetish for provoking us.
Finally, we come to the end of the line – at least for this show, with a plea for the world, including ourselves, to cut through the chatter of our devices, our intellects and our negative emotions – to go bonobos into 2024.
It’s the Eve of Xmas Eve as Capt’n Max and I broadcast live, sliding down your chimney with gifts... more It’s the Eve of Xmas Eve as Capt’n Max and I broadcast live, sliding down your chimney with gifts (awards!) if you’ve been sex-positive, and coal in your stocking if you’ve been a war criminal. That’s the boobie prize—and I don’t mean Jingle Jugs.
It’s the SUZYs 2023!
Honoring excellence in broadcast artistry and exhibitionism, erotic performance, pro-sex activism, antiwar politics and Weapons of Mass Seduction, celebrating The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure in all kinds of weather, for the 12th consecutive year…
Are YOU a winner?
Well before XBIZ, the AVNs, the TEAs, the Oscars, Critics Choice, the Grammys, the Tonys, the Emmys, the BAFTAs, NAACP, XRCO, SAG and MTV awards and the Golden Globes trot out their awards, we are here to acknowledge the best and worst of 2023 with the DrSusanBlock.tv Awards, a.k.a., “The SUZYS.”
So… Merry XXXmas, Sexmas, Festivus, Happy Kwanza, Happy Pancha Ganapati, Io Saturnalia, Happy Anti-Zionist Hanukkah, Happy Whatever You Celebrate 2023, Winter Solstice Cheer AND a Happy Nude Rear! We’re looking up the ass of the past year!
Our goal, as always (besides having a cum-ton of fun), is to advance the noble cause of sex education—more important than ever, as we face draconian crackdowns on sexual speech and activity by Big Tech, Big War and our Supreme Court Injustices. We also aim to inspire peace on earth, better erotica, pro-sex work, antiwar politics and free speech activism, as well as to save the real bonobos from extinction and support a more bonoboësque, Make Love Not War/Make Kink Not War ethos in the world.
Speaking of “ethos,” our Bonoboville Ethics Committee has, since our inception, stipulated that DrSuzy.Tv and/or F.D.R. staff members, no matter how deserving, are ineligible to receive SUZY awards.
However, because we were raised in the United States of Everybody-Gets-an-Award, we do give a special “staff award” to our beloved staff, a “thank you for your service” award that winners can put on their resume, if not their mantle.
Otherwise, all award winners are selected from guest appearances, calls and mentions on the over 37 live broadcasts in 2023 F.D.R. and The Dr. Susan Block Show, including several outside interviews and Bonoboville-on-the-Road presentations on location.
As is traditional for The SUZYs, we do not invite the winners, the losers, or anyone at all to the award show, so don’t worry, you didn’t miss out! Just sit back by the yuletide fire, pour yourself a flute of champagne, smoke a doobie, relax, cheer for The Best, boooo The Worst and enjoy the SUZY awards….
And The Winners Are…
#GoBonobos “Most Bonobo” – Janelle Monáe “Most Bonobo Couple” – Danièle Watts & Chef Be*Live – aka DaLove & BeLove “Most Bonobo Primatologists” – Vanessa Woods & Brian Hare “Best Bonobo Conservation” – Lola ya Bonobo “Best Bonobo Conservation” – Bonobo Conservation Initiative “Best Bonobo-in-America Habitat” – The San Diego Zoo “Staff Award” – DrSuzy-Tv Staff Sex & Pleasure “Hottest Cougar” – Amber Lynn “Mozart of Sex” – Nina Hartley “Best Intimacy Coordinator” – Erin Tillman “Best Purse” – Lux Lives “Veteran Porn Power Couple” – Luc Wylder & Alexandra Silk “Best Bonoboville Communion” – Rhiannon Aarons “Best PG Bonoboville Communion” – Lilith Kat “Best Redcarpet Interview” – Danny Wolf, Prod: David Bertolino “Best Live Radio Interview” – Hartley Pleshaw, WCAP-980 AM Active Radio “Most Intimate Interview” – Coralyn Jewel “Best Deep Throat Confession” – Veronica Hart, aka Jane Hamilton Kink, Fetish & BDSM “Most Well-Rounded Kinkster” – Rhiannon Aarons “Most Adorable” – Amor “Baby Block” Hilton “Best Barbie” – Amor “Baby Block” Hilton “Kinkiest Mask” – Gas Mask Girl, featuring Kyla Keys “Most Congenial Kink Host” – Tom Hoffman “Most Sparkling GemDom” – Madame Margherite “Best Kinky Thespian” – John Barrymore “Best Tease” – Dita Von Teese “Best Leather” – Jux Leather “Best Spankee” – Fawnia “Most Sapiosexual Sadist” – Madame Mina De Sade-Fatale Arts, Science & Media “Best Art Party” – Abby Martin & Mike Prysner “Best Art Café” – Fairouz “Best Outdoor Art Gallery” – Little Secret, Queerspace “Most International Yalie” – Gerry Weaver “Best Live Callin Comments” – CutThePentagon, aka Fahim “Most Poetic Comments” – Stan Kent “Most Artistic Comments” – Kristen Rocks “Best Free Speech Trial Tweets” – Stephen Lemons “Social Media Support Sister” – Kacy TGirl “Best Hairdresser” – Mark Brown “Most Loyal Listener” – Don Pascal “Most Bonobo Graduate” – Chris Gagliardi “Best Rapmaster” – Ikkor the Wolf “Best Singing Caller” – Maria “Best Singing Dog” – Rufio the Dog, Manager: Brady Crow “Best Captain’s Hats” – Dragon Steele “Best Long-Term Radio Friend” – Janelle Hopkins “Best Blast from the Past” – Barry Miller “Best 50th Anniversary” – Gerard Damiano’s DEEP THROAT “Sex Positive Activism” – Soma Snakeoil “Wildest AI Art” – Robbie Martin “Worst Censor” – Mark Zuckerberg “Worst Video Censor” – YouTube “Best ‘Real Sex’ Nostalgia” – Sex on the Internet, Vice TV “Shadiest TV Producer” – Zach Shucklin, Vice TV “Most Flagrantly Obnoxious Billionaire” – Elon Musk Bonobo Politics “Bonobo Courage Award” – Palestine “Bonobo Caring Award” – Jews for Palestine – Jewish Voice for Peace “Bonobo Sharing Award” – Doctors Without Borders “Best Journalist” –Julian Assange “Best Journalism” – Counterpunch “Bravest Journalism” – Journalists of Gaza “Best Interviews on Palestine” – Abby Martin, Empire Files “Best Political Podcast” – Media Roots “War Criminal of the Year” – Benjamin Netanyahu, aka “Benny Net Nut” “War Criminal of the Century” – George W. Bush “War Criminal of the 20th Century (2nd Half)” – Henry Kissinger “Worst War Profiteers” –Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, Raytheon “War Crimes Complicit” – Joe Biden “Loser of the Year” – Israel “Loser of the Century” – Donald J. Trump “Worst Yale Grad” – Ron DeSantis “Worst Neopuritan” – S. House Speaker Mike Johnson “Miss Ammosexual” – Lauren Boebert “Miss QAnonsenical” – Marjorie Taylor Greene “Kangaroo Court of the Year” – Arcadia City Council “Worst Americans” – Supreme Court Right Wing “Best U.S. President of My Lifetime” – Jimmy Carter “Worst Ideology” – Zionism There you have it, another hot listicle of sexperts, sexpots, sex workers, politicos, artists, exhibitionists, visionaries, revolutionaries, hot babes, bitches, a few bad bastards and several war criminals who should be in prison but probably the worst that’ll happen to them is this boobie prize. All have appeared, been mentioned or parodied, immortalized, honored for greatness or exposed for evil on FDR and/or DrSuzy.Tv.
In a way, the SUZYs are the Anti-Award Awards. You may question some of our choices (so did we!), which is one reason to listen to the show. Another reason is that it’s full of sex, fun, bonobo wisdom, antiwar fervor and leftist politics, always bubbling up in our champagne as we toast the winners and pee on the losers. That’s just virtual peeing; don’t panic, you Censor-Bots! We’re not the Israeli Defense Forces – who really did pee on Palestinian prisoners, thinking that was some sort of “own” goal, when all it proved is how gross they are.
The Perfect Sexy Lefty Gift Need the perfect gift for the socialist-feminist-orgiast who has everything? Give The Bonobo Way for the holidays… or Valentine’s Day (which is also World Bonobo Day)!
Win or losing it, get under that mistletoe and make love to someone you love tonight, even if that someone is you. And if you need a helping hand or if you just need to talk, the award-winning Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute are here for you 24/7 throughout the Holy Daze and into the future. And if you haven’t got a dime, everything you can see on DrSuzy.Tv is still free.
If you need a sex toy, your SUZY award can be used as a dildo; just remove the wings! In fact, it already has its own condom, worn like a halo on our SUZY award’s head.
Peace on Earth. Pleasure for All. Amen. Awomen. And a Happy Nude Rear!
It’s the third night of Hanukkah 2023 as we broadcast live from Bonoboville, and I’m feeling ambi... more It’s the third night of Hanukkah 2023 as we broadcast live from Bonoboville, and I’m feeling ambivalent, as I do every Hanukkah; loathing its religious militaristic story while loving its gifts, games, hot wax and flickering lights. But this year, Zionist Israel’s ruthless, relentless bombardment of Gaza is far too dark for even the world’s largest menorah to brighten.
Sorry to still bewail these unsexy atrocities week after week, but Israel is still committing them—week after week.
This Hanukkah isn’t So Happy
On the day of this show, an old Catholic friend emails me, wishing Capt’n Max and me a “Happy Hanukkah… with lots of fun and good cheer.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “But sadly, this is not a ‘Happy Hanukkah’ with ‘lots of fun and good cheer,’ as Israel bombs the lights and the life out of Gaza. I’m sorry to have to respond this way to your sincere good wishes, but that’s the way it is this Hanukkah.”
Israel’s apartheid has long been brewing a toxic stew, stirring up the brutal 10/7 Hamas explosion, which—like 9/11 and Pearl Harbor—could have been prevented with a little more intelligence, as opposed to highly overrated Intelligence… or maybe a politically desperate and depraved “Bibi” Netanyahu just *let* it happen. Then came the monstrous vengeance, the slaughtering of thousands, the denial that there are any Palestinian “civilians,” not even children, the targeting of Palestinian doctors and poets in their hospitals and schools, bombing, bombing, bombing beyond war crimes (really, beyond words).
These are Zionist—not Jewish—crimes, but unfortunately, most non-Jews conflate Zionism with Judaism. This mistaken conflation, stoked by the Jewish Zionists—as well as American Christian Zionists—compels me to join my fellow “Jews for Peace” in crying “Not in Our Name!” to IDF bombing and Zionist apartheid, even though I have Zionist friends from high school days now living in Israel (who won’t follow my advice to leave), and I haven’t stopped caring about them, worried daily for their safety, as well as their sanity.
Antiochus Netanyahu
I grew up among Zionists (including these friends who “made Aliyah”), but I never felt their passion, never believed that Israel was *my* country, or even a place I wanted to live. Its gung-ho, GI-Judah, post-Six Day War military spirit was a turn-off; I just wanted to make love, not war. For years, I could ignore, but the Zionist cancer, I had to “come out” against it. Now with this so-called “war” against Hamas that is really a Palestinian massacre, it seems that Netanyahu has overtaken Antiochus, the brutal villain of the Hanukkah story.
Yes, the ancient Hanukkah story of the Jewish people under the occupation of the Syrian Greek Seleucid King Antiochus IV in 160 BC has telling parallels to the modern story of the Palestinian people under the occupation of Mad King Netanyahu (or as Max calls him, “Net Nut”) in 2023.
According to the first Book of Maccabees, Antiochus was a sadistic king, always trying to humiliate his Jewish subjects, making them bow to idols, eat pork and probably commit sexual perversities. Now we have Netanyahu’s IDF, humiliating, stripping down, blindfolding Guantanamo-style, and forcing Palestinians to kneel before the Almighty smartphones that broadcast their humiliation throughout the universe.
Even worse than Antiochus, Net Nut drops his bombs—high-tech Hanukkah gifts from his good friend, Genocide Joe—killing Palestinians en masse and individual by precious individual, even as this wanted-for-corruption, narcissistic Nut has the chutzpah to piously light the first candle of Hannukah 2023 with a paid-off Rabbi by the Western Wall.
Miracle of Peace
If I compare the Maccabees of Hanukkah to Hamas of Palestine, the Zionists would call me a self-hating Jew. I’m no fan of horrid Hamas, but Judah Maccabee and his brothers are the quintessential extremist religious fanatics, “terrorists,” in the eyes of their occupiers… kind of like Hamas.
The ancient rabbis did not classify Hanukkah as a major Jewish holiday, maybe because it’s so GI-Judah. But it’s a Winter festival, so it piggybacks on Christmas and the gift-giving angle makes it good for capitalism.
But it’s much more than gifts and war. Like all winter holidays, Hanukkah stems from the original Winter Solstice, and the miracles that test their devotees’ willingness to believe, the most basic natural miracle being that a cold, dark, half-dead Earth is now coming alive with warmth and light, and Spring. The Christmas miracle is the virgin birth of “God” in human form, and the Miracle of Hanukkah is the “everlasting light,” the sacred lamp of the Jewish Temple, which had only enough oil to burn for 24 hours; yet it lasted eight days (thus the eight candles of the menorah), giving enough time for those terrorist/hero Maccabees to get fresh oil to replenish the eternal flame.
Speaking of oil, could Netanyahu and the Zionists be after a different kind of oil—or natural gas—in or off the shore of poor little rich Gaza? Perhaps oil is a motivating factor, as it often is, but it’s not 160 BC anymore or even 1948, and the whole world is watching on their devices.
This year’s hoped-for miracle, the one that I and so many wish for—whether actively marching in the streets or more passively witnessing from those ubiquitous devices—is that the Palestinian people be free of Zionist occupation, and that Jews—wherever we live—can once again be a people of peace and wisdom.
“It’s the Bonobo Way,” I say in my email and on the air, “the way of peace through the pleasure; the pleasure of sharing love, sex, food, medicine, knowledge and resources, the peace-inducing pleasure of seeing our own humanity in the eyes of the stranger.”
Thus, I give quite the earful to my poor well-meaning Catholic friend who only wanted to wish me a “Happy Hanukkah”—as well as to our audience on this show.
Candles for Palestine
Then I light the candles, singing the Hanukkah prayers—in my own quasi-Hebraic way—for Palestine, hoping my tears don’t douse the flames, any one of which could be the everlasting light of miracles that we all need.
Blessed art thou, O God of Gods, who makes us holy through your commandments, and commands us to light the candles for Palestine.
Singing my own version of the Hanukkah prayer, I think of those Zionists who say that an anti-Zionist Jew for Palestine like me can’t or shouldn’t celebrate Hanukkah because it’s a Zionist holiday. It’s true that Hanukkah celebrates military might (which isn’t my cup of Manischewitz), but telling me I can’t honor one of the holidays of my youth because I don’t agree with your politics is downright anti-Semitic. Turns out that Israeli and Christian Zionists are some of the worst anti-Semites around these days, maybe because they don’t separate politics from religion or Church from State.
Hot-Wax Hanukkah
I have always celebrated Hanukkah in my own way, and I always will. The games are fun, and it’s a mitzvah or “good deed” to have sex with your spouse on Hanukkah, a commandment that Max and I are very happy to fulfill.
But what I really love are the lights, the fire and the hot wax.
O hot wax, how I do love thee… having played with it since I was a pyrophiliac child, scolded not to burn the house down. Little did my good parents know, they were helping to stoke a fetish for the kinky pleasures of dripping hot wax skillfully on the beautiful bodies of consenting adults. Back in sexier times, I held some fairly big bacchanalian Hot-Wax Hanukkah party shows, including Hanukkah Girls Gone Wild (2010), Massive Musical Orgy of Love, Lights & the Bill of Rights (2012), Hot Wax Chanuka in Bonoboville (2015), Xmas Eve Confessions with Hanuka Hot Wax (2016), Hot Wax Hanukkah & the Alabama Miracle (2017), Squirting Hot Wax Hanukkah (2018), FemDom Hot-Wax Hanukkah (2019) our Coronapocalyptic Hanukkah-Xmas Bedside Chat 2020, and last year’s Saturnalia-Hanukkah-Sonata, all free to see on DrSuzy.Tv.
I’m pretty sure these amazing, blazing bacchanals would get me burned at the stake by the religious Zionists who seem to prefer the bomb-fires of demolition to the pleasures of hot, dripping love, not war.
Creating Trauma in Real Time
What a tragedy—though also a time of great heroism—for Palestine. And what a shame, what a great sin, a Shanda as they say in Yiddish, for Israel. What a shame as well for America, providing bombs paid for with our taxes, supported with ghastly enthusiasm by our political representatives, the U.S. just vetoing the Security Council draft resolution for a humanitarian ceasefire. Shameful!
It seems that Hanukkah 2023 is a time of collective trauma for all thinking, caring non-Zionist Jews. It’s nothing like having your house reduced to rubble, your limbs blown off or other unspeakable horrors being visited upon Palestinians; still, it’s sad to witness the rituals and relics of my Judaic youth destroyed by Zionists. Like the Nazis ruined a perfectly beautiful Buddhist symbol of peace, turning it into the swastika of hate, now the Zionists are ruining the Star of David, turning it into a symbol of oppression.
All aboard the Gravy Train, broadcasting live mid-Thanksgiving Weekend, still digesting Turkey Da... more All aboard the Gravy Train, broadcasting live mid-Thanksgiving Weekend, still digesting Turkey Day, Feasting Day, Fat Thursday—or the Day of Mourning and Protest for the native tribal peoples of America who were slaughtered, their land stolen by the British Pilgrims and other European colonialists, as surely as the natives of Palestine are being slaughtered, their land is stolen by the Zionists of today.
The American pilgrims massacred the Natives with muskets and blankets filled with smallpox. The Zionist pilgrims use bombs (provided by American war profiteers) and light up the night sky with white phosphorus.
Thus—though Capt’n Max and I are very thankful for the deeply heartwarming and bonoboesque Israel/Hamas hostages-for-prisoners exchange taking place as I write this, and for the fabulous turkey dinner created by Chef Gideon here in Bonoboville (boy, did I get stuffed—from both ends)—we generally prefer Spanksgiving to Thanksgiving.
Slappy Spanksgiving 2023!
Season’s Beatings, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners, Pilgrims and Libertines and In-Betweens…
It’s our duty to spank booty on Spanksgiving!
Come let us play… And let us sing: Amen and Awomen. Praise be to the power and glory of spanking. Hallelujah. Praise the buns. And give ‘em a spank.
On Thanksgiving, let us give thanks, and on Spanksgiving, let us give spanks. Let us spank away the hate and the greed and the fear that divide us. And let us practice the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure… with a little spanking. Consenting adults only please. Don’t spank kids (they can’t consent).
The Bible says, “Spare the rod and spoil the child.” I say: “Spare the child and use that hot rod to spoil your (consenting adult) lover with just the kind of spanking they enjoy.”
Spanking is not to everyone’s erotic taste, but it’s a whole lot of kink-positive, recreational-not-procreational, butt-whacking fun or some. It can even, when done the right way, be therapeutic. Pilgrim Kinks
Spanksgiving is more reality-based than Thanksgiving. It’s far more likely that our Pilgrim ancestors practiced the rites of Spanksgiving than the mythical love-in with the Wampanoag Native Americans that we in willfully ignorant America have come to call Thanksgiving. Pilgrim and Puritan spankings, paddlings, whippings, floggings, “stocks and bonds,” “tar and feathering,” “public disgrace” and witch-hangings (which members of our audience find particularly distressing this episode) were, of course, totally nonconsensual atrocities delivered with sanctimonious relish, often to punish sexual transgressions, such as adultery, group sex or masturbation. The witches or belladonnas were also hung for healing the sick because when it came to matters of life, death and well-being, the all-controlling Church Fathers didn’t like competition.
Despite our abhorrence for such abusive chastisements—which are making terrible “comebacks,” like corporal punishment in schools and torture in prisons—consenting adults can share kinky healing pleasure in roleplaying such crimes of colonialism, such as we do at the Institute via phone sex therapy as well as in Spanksgiving celebrations past in Bonoboville.
Shanksgiving?
Disturbingly enough, Shanksgiving is trending on xTwitter right now—referring to the recent prison stabbing of Derek Chauvin, whom the world saw in 2020 slowly murdering George Floyd with his knee on his neck. I can’t say I’m upset about Chauvin’s plight; still, I prefer Spanks to Shanksgiving.
It’s our duty to spank booty on Spanksgiving!
Deep Throat does LA
Speaking of booty… My “Deep Throat does LA” multi-media extravaganza is now online! Join me and Bonoboville On-the-Road across town and down the hatch of history for the 50th anniversary of Gerard Damiano’s DEEP THROAT, that ‘70s Film epitomizing “Porno Chic” and, for some, the Sexual Revolution. It’s all part of Gerard Damiano, Jr. and Christar Damiano’s golden anniversary commemoration of their father’s seminal (pun intended) film, bringing a 4K-Restored Director’s Cut Print to the Laemmle Royal Theater and 910 WeHo Center (courtesy of Tom Hoffman), both LA screenings featuring Golden Age Adult Nina Hartley, Veronica Hart, Amber Lynn, Christy Canyon, Keisha, porn power couple Luc Wylder and Alexandra Silk (who are also making a film about the tour), “Naked John,” Nai’a (Golden Age porn star/director Gloria Leonard’s granddaughter), and the late great Herschel Savage (who sadly passed away a month ago) on the Red Carpet, plus Danny Wolf interviewing me about my “first time” watching Deep Throat in a big theater circa 1978. Sexperts Erin Tillman, Lux Lives, Kim Airs, Rhiannon Aarons and more joined the veteran stars at the follow-up “Talk Back” Panels, moderated by yours truly, about the history, the “communal ecstasy,” the raging controversies, the complex and tragic tale of Deep Throat star Linda Lovelace, Free Speech (then and now), the value of sexual recreation (The Bonobo Way) vs. forced procreation (the Alito way), Clarence Thomas and the Coke can, and the quirky creation of this iconic and scandalous film.
Filmed for under $25,000, Deep Throat is said to have made almost $600 million (for all you capitalists counting profits), capturing the cravings of the “Make Love Not War” generation traumatized by Vietnam and yearning for sexual healing. Prosecuted for obscenity and defended by Hollywood stars Warren Beatty, Jack Nicholson, Barry Miller (who joined us at 910 WeHo) and many others, Deep Throat drew (and still draws) a wide range of protests, from Charles Keating and the Religious Right to Catherine MacKinnon and the Anti-Porn Feminists to President Richard Nixon himself. With delectable irony, the name of the “Watergate” informant that forced Nixon to resign was “Deep Throat.” Tricky Dick Nixon tried to shut down Deep Throat, but “Deep Throat” took down Tricky Dick.
“What was Deep Throat’s effect on our world? What about it was delicious and what was tough to swallow?” I asked the Laemmle and 910 WeHo panels. “What has changed for the better and what for worse?” If you missed these stimulating screening events and panels live, don’t miss the fabulous videos and my “Deep Throat does LA” journal.
It being Thanksgiving, I give thanks to Counterpunch for posting “Deep Throat does LA: 50 Years of Sex, Cinema, Politics & Controversy” and for all their excellent coverage and analysis of the crazy world today. Thanks especially to Jeffrey St. Claire and Joshua Frank, my excellent editors who don’t really edit, but keep it all together for us. I even have a subscription and you should too.
Oral & Aural Pleasure
The Deep Throat logo is a kiss, and Callin caller Maria’s avatar is her own rubyt lips holding a fortune cookie fortune between them reading “You look happy and proud.”
Indeed, Maria is quite happy and proud of herself and her Thanksgiving 2023 that included a “Friendsgiving” and family feast with guests from Czech Republic, Tunisia and Lebanon, none of whom discussed politics, nor did they have a foursome with Maria’s sister-in-law who invited them (or so she says), even though I can’t get the image of a consensual Gravy Train Gangbang out of my mind.
Though we don’t talk directly about sex on this call—except to elicit a giggle over Spanksgiving—Maria describes her Thanksgiving cuisine with such sensuous, mellifluous, mouthwatering detail; it’s like having phone sex with a restaurant hostess reciting the menu. Well, eating is an oral pleasure. Before we close, she obliges my musical request, reprising the Beatles “Her Majesty” with royal harmony. Now that’s an aural pleasure.
Lots more on this flavorful show. Grab a bowl of leftover stuffing—or fresh cannabis—and listen...
This year marks the golden anniversary of Deep Throat—the erotic, ironic, iconic 1972 movie that,... more This year marks the golden anniversary of Deep Throat—the erotic, ironic, iconic 1972 movie that, for many, personified the Sexual Revolution in America.
Deep Throat gave the world a taste of Porno Chic with a Big Gulp of Free Speech, followed by a bubbly chaser of U.S. politics mixed with presidential scandal, spiced with make-love-not-war fervor, spliced with sex-positive feminism and diced with pungent controversies; leaving a complex aftertaste that still lingers five decades later.
It's all shaken up into a flavorful 50th anniversary tasting tour courtesy of Gerard Damiano, Jr. and Christar Damiano, devoted son and daughter of Deep Throat auteur/director Gerard Damiano. The world tour honors their father’s seminal (in every sense of the word), cinematic creation-cum-pop culture sensation that shocked and seduced the nation—not always in that order.
Director’s cut screenings have been playing throughout this golden anniversary in theaters, festivals, clubs and other venues around the globe. All of Deep Throat’s quirky scenarios, jingle-happy soundtrack and explicit, unexpurgated sex scenes in their full-on, glorious, notorious, 4K-restored clarity and color can be seen on the big screen once again.
Down the hatch!
Not that it all goes down easy or creamy. Some aspects of Deep Throat are tough to swallow.
This is, after all, the movie that launched a thousand protests—ranging from the raging Religious Right to the anti-porn feminist “Left,” from Chicago Sun-Times film critic Roger Ebert to Memphis, Tennessee’s “smut”-smiting prosecutor Larry Parrish, from “liberal” New York City Mayor John Lindsay to “conservative” U.S. President Richard M. Nixon, as well as the FBI, the NYPD, Charles Keating, the Meese Commission and many more. Over the years, a myriad of people, organizations and political movements have tried to shut down, shut up and choke off Deep Throat.
That’s one reason why the Damianos arranged post-screening “talkback” panels at every venue, featuring experts of different kinds from Golden Age adult stars to 21st century “intimacy coordinators.”
I was honored to accept their invitation to moderate the panels at the two Los Angeles venues, though moderating a discussion about something so immoderate as Deep Throat has its challenges. I brought my riding crop just in case I needed to discipline a panel member (kidding—I just brought it for fun).
Having broadcasted shows live from “The Deep Throat Sex Scandal” (the play by David Bertolino) and “Harry Reems Tribute” in 2013, and having been interviewed for the E! True Hollywood Story’s “Linda Lovelace” episode in 2000—AND having actually seen the movie in a theater circa 1978—I felt prepared. Little did I know how deeply we would go into the sometimes bizarre, controversial and culturally insurgent qualities of Deep Throat.
The first LA screening was held at the venerable, old Laemmle Royal Theater in West LA, and the second at the kink-positive, new 910 WeHo Center in West Hollywood, owned and operated by the courageous and congenial Tom Hoffman.
There was supposed to be a third venue, the Frida Cinema in Santa Ana. However, controversy reared its scandalous head as the Frida canceled its scheduled screening just over a week prior to showtime due to outrage expressed by anonymous “community” members. The reaction was so “swift and severe” that no amount of “talkback” would moderate the “pushback.” Or so said Frida Management—that is, the same person who had originally, and quite enthusiastically, scheduled the screening—as they apologetically but resolutely canceled it.
Funny how censorship, bans, deactivations, complaints and cancellations are so often based on anonymous outrage.
However, the show must go on, and on it went at the two remaining So Cal venues, with flash and panache, as befits the subject. Swinging Seventies nostalgia was in the air. Golden Age porn stars, most of whom had worked with Damiano and all of whom adored him, strutted across the red carpets, including Nina Hartley, Veronica Hart, Amber Lynn, Christy Canyon, Keisha, porn power couple Luc Wylder and Alexandra Silk (who are also making a film about the tour), “Naked John,” Golden Age porn star/director Gloria Leonard’s granddaughter Nai’a, and the legendary Herschel Savage.
Sadly, though Mr. Savage seemed ageless at this event, he passed away suddenly just four months later. Star of another classic, Debbie Does Dallas, (graphic descriptions of which helped make Ronald Reagan’s “Meese Commission” Report a best-seller), as well as the lesser-known Satisfiers of Alpha Blue, directed by Gerard Damiano, Herschel was a trained Broadway actor who studied with renowned Stanislavski “method” teachers, Uta Hagen and Stella Adler, before doing Debbie, and he went on to become one of the world’s first and biggest adult stars.
RIP Herschel Savage, née Harvey Cohen, November 25, 1952 – October 8, 2023.
However, that night a very much alive and reflective Herschel joined the rest of us to commemorate one of the most groundbreaking American films ever made… which happened to be about blowjobs.
Of course, Deep Throat was (and still is) not just *about* blowjobs. It also actually showed these blowjobs, as well as cunnilingus, doggy-style, reverse cowgirl, orgies and more—close-up!—on the big screens of major movie theaters throughout the greater U.S. of A.
Talk about a cinematic sexual revolution!
Many audiences were thrilled to partake in an adults-only group sex-watching experience that—with the right crowd—was like a rock concert, love-in and midnight screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show (to be released a few years later in 1975) combined, creating a palpable sense of “communal ecstasy”… with a hat tip to the late great Barbara Ehrenreich’s not-so-kinky concept of “collective joy.”
No, Deep Throat wasn’t as spiritual as Woodstock (1969), though you could say they were both “dirty”… in different ways.
Of course, other Deep Throat audience members (perhaps with the wrong crowd) were more shell-shocked than thrilled, wondering what in hell they were watching… genitalia as big as a house?!?
Well, a tiny house; but still, this was big-screen, wide open-to-the-public entertainment, and the public ate it up like ice cream after a tonsillectomy.
It’s our first ride on the Love Train since Capt’n Max’s 80th birthday, so we’re still celebratin... more It’s our first ride on the Love Train since Capt’n Max’s 80th birthday, so we’re still celebrating with cool callers and hot tales of this year’s erotic festivities; plus eight great decades of Max’s memories, from being born into war through a lifetime of advocating for peace, romance and great sex.
It’s also the 9th Anniversary of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure (now with over fifty five-star reviews on Amazon) which was my gift to Max for his birthday in 2014. In these dystopian days of perma war, genocide, ecocide and neo-Puritan neo-fascism, we need the Bonobo Way of conflict resolution, female empowerment, male well-being, sharing resources and peace through pleasure more than ever. Yet opportunities to release our inner bonobos seem fewer and farther between.
We even took a trip to the Zoo to see the real bonobos for a Bonobo Peace Summit a couple weeks ago, as Israel’s retributive bombardment of Gaza began, so we could learn more about how to “Be Bonobo” and possibly save the world—or at least save our sanity in our own “little” worlds.
Happy Naughty November 2023
And it’s Naughty November, appropriately enough, as birthday spankings may be given to naughty birthday boys. Max is “naughty” in the best sense, especially for an octogenarian. Since his actual day of birth (November 8) fell on a Wednesday—the Hump of the Week—we kicked it off with a little humping.
Go bonobos for senior sex! It keeps you young. Max is now 80 years young and, despite a few disabilities that have now rendered him temporarily wheelchair-bound, he’s still having and giving great orgasms. I can attest to the orgasms he is giving (to me, at least) being somehow better than ever. And he’s having some pretty good ones too, thanks to his naughty Night Nurse (that would also be me) slipping into bed with him for “treatments.”
I figure it’s best to have some kind of sex first thing to get the big birthday off to a sexy start, because you never know how the rest of your day and evening will go. The typical plan is to have sex at the end of a day of festivities, but the best laid plans may not get you laid the way you planned, so maybe it’s better to have it first. After all that celebrating, the day’s end might find you drunk, exhausted or mad at each other—and then there goes the birthday sex! Best to do it first, just in case, and then you can always do it again. We were too drunk and exhausted for round two—but at least we weren’t mad at each other this year!
Perma War Day
It's also Veterans Day 2023, so we talk about how this somber military day of salutes, cemeteries and fighter jet ballets started out as Armistice Day, which celebrated making peace after World War I, the notorious “War to End All Wars.”
However, the wars didn’t end with WWI.
On the contrary, the American War Machine just got bigger and bigger with no sign of America ever going back to a “peacetime economy.” So, our leaders turned Armistice Day, a holiday celebrating peacemakers, into Veterans Day, a holiday venerating the fallen warriors of Perma War.
Sanctions are almost as bad as war, since they tend to kill the poorest civilians, rather than the elites who wage wars and make policies that America doesn’t like. Burt Sesame calls in to ask, “Why don’t Why don’t we drop care packages instead of bombs?” His suggestion for good-will drops of food, medicine and iPads is great, and very bonobo, though it reminds me of an incident in Iraq where children confused air-dropped care packages with cluster bomblets—both bright yellow.
That’s not the main problem with Burt’s idea, however. It’s that dropping bombs makes a lot more money for the American War Machine and its political handmaids than dropping care packages.
Birthday Spankings!
We prefer celebrating Naughty November to Dead Troops of the War Machine Day.
And Capt’n Max’s hump-of-the-week birthday party took it up a notch. Since Max was rooted to his wheelchair, we couldn’t give him his own birthday spankings. Fortunately, we had two beautiful butts volunteering for the honor.
First up for Max’s birthday spanking was the fabulous Amor Hilton (no relation to Paris) who appeared to be in her birthday suit—at least from the waist down, her pale pink thong teddy matching her pale pink skin. Such a living Barbie Doll, with a purse made of white latex skeletons, it’s no wonder Amor wins the “Most Adorable” Suzy Award every year.
Admitting she was naughty and “deserved” a spanking, having missed my birthday show a few months ago, Amor subjected her pale pink ass to my rosy palm, complimenting my slaps with her squeals.
Adorable Amor also contributed a few well-placed wallops to my marathon spanking of Fawnia, our delightful, hot MILF real estate agent.
Fawnia had done nothing naughty, though some might use that adjective to describe her periodic boob-flashing throughout the party. However, she received the most spanks—80, to be exact—one for each of Max’s 80 years—with long pauses between spanks for Max to reminisce about that particular year in his long life of love and revolution.
What a good impact-play sport our Fawnia is!
Birthday Laughs & Love
Amor’s “date,” Mr. David Harris, arrived in a dapper purple suit and tie with matching fedora and purple heart-shaped sunglasses. He even led the toasts “to Max!” One toast led to another (thanks to scrumptious Barbancour Pango pineapple-flavored rum), and before we could say “birthday suit,” David had his shirt unbuttoned, and then completely off, though he kept his tie on, continually toasting “to Max!”
Fawnia and Amor showered Max with hugs and kisses (David also tried to, but Max held his boundaries). Amor even gave him her ring to wear around his neck, just like the old Elvis song (one of Max’s favorites), which Max wore through this show.
Amor gave him a flashcard that said, “I wanna spoon the fuck out of you.” “I wanna spoon the fork out of you” would be funnier, but whoever made the flashcards didn’t consult me.
What a nice gathering—just enough to call it a party, and we did party with plenty of drinking, eating, speechifying, spanking, a little dancing and carousing, and no fighting. Fighting and shooting break out in a lot of parties these days, but not in Bonoboville, at least not on Capt’n Max’s 80th birthday.
Three cheers and a bonobo beer for our great Captain!
CEASEFIRE NOW!
Alas, but it isn’t long before celebrations give way to lamentations on this show, as Bibi Netanyahu and the Zionist branch of the American War Machine continue to bomb Gaza into a deathscape of cataclysmic proportions.
Much as we—and billions of others—are screaming “Ceasefire Now!” in the streets, on our podcasts, in the offices of our representative and just about everywhere else except Genocide Joe’s own bathroom, our leaders are not listening. They are too busy raking in the cash from the Military Industrial Congressional Complex, aka the American War Machine.
It’s also the 84th anniversary of Kristallnacht, “the night of the broken glass,” one of the opening shots of the Nazi Holocaust, when Jews were killed and Jewish businesses were destroyed. Now the atrocity is practically in reverse, as Israel’s genocidal demolition of Gaza goes on, destroying schools, hospitals, humanitarian water trucks, refugee camps and all the innocent people in them.
Ceasefire Now and forever. No more killing in the Holy Land!
Maria, aka Smiley Red Herring, calls in response to our Gaza lamentations, but winds up partaking in Max’s birthday celebration, singing “Happy Birthday” with a bluesy lilt that has us applauding and cheering for more.
She’s a bit religious—or as she says, an “ecumenical” Christian with a fondness for the “digital” Gideon’s Bible—and certainly to the right of our sexy, lefty politics. Nevertheless we find ourselves in harmony on many things, from the joy of spanking (she prefers giving to receiving, and only when “in the mood”) to the pain of Palestine. She’s even watched our friend Abby Martin’s “Gaza Fights for Freedom.”
We also agree that all these religious folks murdering one another in the name of their righteous God(s) ought to follow at least one of the Big 10 Commandments: “Thou Shalt Not Kill.” How about it, believers?
Our descriptions of Max’s bacchanalian birthday also make an impression on Maria. "Ya'll are making me freakishly jealous right now,” she confesses.
There’s only one thing to do about that: mellifluous Maria is hereby invited to the next Bonoboville bacchanal!
In the meantime, she’s checking out the Christian crusading comments on our Vice TV piece, now reaching 265K views!
MAGAt Mike’s Johnson & Son
In the midst of all the celebrations and lamentations, we get a little comic relief. MAGAt Mike Johnson would be hilarious if he weren’t Speaker of the House, third in line to the highest office in the land.
Even then, he’s pretty funny. An ammosexual Christian nationalist, he blames school shootings on the teaching of evolution, claiming that if we learn that humans have evolved over billions of years from “slime,” as opposed to being crafted from dirt (it’s in the Bible) six thousand years ago by a guy in the sky, we can’t be expected to value life.
Speaking of slime, MAGAt Mike has a big porn fetish, big enough that he has used a porn-monitoring system to catch his johnson when it gets slimy, and it’s called “Covenant Eyes.” If that sounds Handmaid’s Tale-ish—as in “Under His Eye”—that’s because it is. Mike is very enthusiastic about Covenant’s “accountability software,” which he has used religiously with his porn partner—I mean, his “accountability partner”—who just happened to be his son. Yes, MAGA Mike and his then 17-year-old son monitored each other’s porn. Yikes.
Flying over Kinktober’s spooky full moon on my magic dildonic vibrating broom, I deliver my Ode t... more Flying over Kinktober’s spooky full moon on my magic dildonic vibrating broom, I deliver my Ode to Halloween to start up the scene… as well as our newest street in Bonoboville, “Poet Avenue.”
We want your poems! Don’t be afraid. Give “poetry therapy” a chance.
AND we want a ceasefire now! It’s been three weeks since “Israel’s 9/11” on October 7th, when Capt’n Max and I broadcasted live the day after attending “Gaza Fights for Freedom” filmmaker Abby Martin’s art party, only to wake up to Hamas attacking Israel, and then Israel attacking Gaza, which it is still attacking… and bombing in a frenzy of atrocity after Zionist atrocity, slaughtering thousands of Palestinians, including many children.
I’m Jewish but never Zionist; not even when I believed the poisonous pablum fed to me like toxic baby food in Hebrew School about Israel being “a land without people for a people without land.” I felt like modern Israel was a warrior state—more in tune with Joshua invading Jericho than King Solomon’s erotic Song of Songs—and I was a make-love-not-war kind of gal.
Nevertheless, I have long had Zionist friends and family, some of whom live in Israel, so it has taken me years to clearly see just how bad it is—bad for Palestine, bad for the Jews, bad for everyone—and to take a stand against Zionism, Bibi Netanyahu and the whole Israeli War Machine supported by American tax dollars, my tax dollars.
When I first saw footage of the Hamas attack, I was mortified. I still am mortified. I see images of Israelis being murdered and being kidnapped, and I see my old friends from Har Zion Hebrew School and Camp Ramah. I see myself. I can’t unsee myself in those images. But then I see the Palestinian people, and I see myself in them too. They’re not as ethnically close as my old Ramah friends, but they’re people, like me. But unlike me, they’re trapped in a concentration camp, slaughtered by Zionist bombs.
What a shame—a shondah, as they say in Yiddish—for the Jews; even for us anti-Zionist Jews, because unfortunately, most non-Jews don’t see the difference. So, I join the voices of my fellow anti-Zionist Jews protesting Israel’s bombs who cry, “No! Not in our name! Not in my name will you commit such atrocities. Ceasefire now.”
It’s heartening to hear these words of peace sung and shouted in the huge protest marches in all the big cities around the world.
The whole world is watching YOU, Israel. Even as you bomb Gaza and cut off their food, water, medicine, electricity and Internet, bombing hospitals, homes and schools, the world still sees, and now knows. Israel may be stronger, thanks to American weapons, but Israel is losing the war of world opinion.
So, my Israeli friends and family, if you’re listening: Ceasefire now! Ceasefire for Palestine! Ceasefire for the hostages you are currently killing with your bombs. Ceasefire for Israel itself. The only ones who won’t benefit from a ceasefire are Hamas, because Hamas feeds off of everyone’s outrage over Israel’s war crimes. The best thing Israel can do now is to negotiate with Hamas, to neutralize the “enemy” with peace, like bonobos. Hamas may well refuse to negotiate because that would legitimatize Israel, and delegitimize Hamas. More bombing as usual is just proving Hamas’ point—as it murders thousands of innocents.
It’s also heartening to see Israelis on the streets of Tel Aviv and other Israeli cities protesting the bombing and especially the bomber, Bibi Netanyahu who, like his counterpart Trump, belongs in prison (even more than Trump belongs in prison).
Speaking of the devil, Trumpty Dumpty deserves some of the blame for this mess, since his son-in-law Jared Kushner’s much ballyhooed “Abraham Accords” totally ignored Palestine, making Hamas feel it had nothing to lose. And that cool $2 billion that Jared picked up from the Saudis… could it have been payment for a bit of top secret info on Israel’s defense systems?
We all want peace—at least those of us who don’t profit from war. But how to make it? Who knows? Maybe our kissing cousins, the Make-Love-Not-War bonobos, know.
Watching Zionist bombs pulverize Gaza on our phones from our privileged perch here in Bonoboville LA may be physically safe, but it’s emotionally enervating. So, when Friends of Bonobos (the outreach arm of Lola ya Bonobo) invited us on a backstage tour of the bonobos (pan paniscus) at the San Diego Zoo, we jumped up and hooted like bonobos at the chance.
Guided by veteran primate specialist Kimba Livingston who I’d met way back in 2004 when I had my close encounter with bonobo Lana, we were treated to “inside” views of the orangutans, gorillas and, of course, the bonobos.
Thanks to new fences and other barriers, this was nowhere near as intimate an encounter as I’d had with Lana, or even with Lisa (in 2016’s Opera for Bonobos). But we had a great time at our “peace summit” with the quintessential peacemakers: the bonobos. Observing them made me even more certain that peace is the way, even in Palestine.
Bonobos make peace through pleasure, which often means sex. Unfortunately, the San Diego bonobos seem to have less and less sex every time I see them. I was afraid to ask Kimba if they were feeding them saltpeter, or maybe Prozac, though I had to wonder.
They did have a little bit of sex, and it was clearly a form of conflict resolution to defuse their competitive tensions and stop their fighting over food. So fascinating and edifying to see peace through pleasure in action!
My most exciting human-bonobo encounter this trip arose from playing catch, of all things. Due to my astigmatism and general lack of athletic prowess, I am usually a lousy pitcher; but when Kimba suggested I toss a walnut to Lisa the alpha female bonobo, I figured I’d give it a toss. Kimba herself wasn’t exactly Pedro Martinez, and the bonobos were missing her pitches. So, I took a deep breath, stepped back and threw the nut, and lo and behold, my old friend Lisa stretched out her big bony hand and caught it! Then I did it again and she caught it—though it bounced, but then she caught it again—and I could swear she winked at me whilst devouring the crunchy treat.
Maybe instead of bombing and shooting, the Israelis and Palestinians could play soccer or volleyball. Sounds crazy, but no crazier than massacring hundreds of humans every day.
Be Bonobo: Save the Humans. Please donate to Friends of Bonobos…
Thanks to Netanyahu’s genocidal blockade, Gazans are going hungry right now, which we “never forget.”
Nevertheless, starving ourselves wouldn’t feed Gaza. So when our San Diego Peace Mission needed to eat, we checked into a wonderful Palestinian restaurant called Fairouz (which means “turquoise” in Arabic), recommended by one of our regular Callin listeners, Fahim aka “Cut the Pentagon.”
Serving traditional Middle Eastern dishes like kebab and falafel, if I didn’t know Fairouz was a “Palestinian” restaurant, I’d think it was Israeli. Of course, Israel stole Palestinian and Lebanese cuisine, which is the least of Zionism’s crimes against the natives. This is why I grew up thinking that kebab, falafel and hummus were Israeli foods. Boy was I wrong!
Well, at least I didn’t think that hummus (mashed chickpeas) was Hamas… like Trumpty Dumpty. But just to be safe, I ordered the Baba Ghanouj (mashed eggplant).
But Fairouz is more than a restaurant; it’s an art gallery. The walls are covered with the vibrant and colorful paintings created by one of the owners, Ibrahim Al Nashashibi, also a poet. His brother Sami Al Nashashibi, who looks like Peter Sellers (star of one of my favorite films, Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 masterpiece, Dr. Strangelove), was a charming host, treating us like friends. Sami’s twinkling eyes lit up the space, and his broad smile seemed to stretch across the great divide between Palestine and Israel, Muslim and Jew; with love, art, poetry and great food.
Sami and his wife, the chef, exclaimed that I reminded them of “the famous [Lebanese] singer” Sabah. When I replied, “Thank you, I’m a little bit famous too,” a diner shouted from another table, “Yes, that’s Dr. Susan Block!” Then he pointed to Max and said “you must be Max.”
Who knew we had such gregarious fans in San Diego? Turns out the guy’s a cop. Wonder if he’s checked out our rants against police brutality. If he did, he’s probably one of the good ones.
Towards the end of the podcast, Fahim calls in to discuss more of the wonders of Fairouz, where he has been a regular diner for many years, as well as to express solidarity for Gaza and support for a ceasefire.
Fahim also regales us with tales of our mutual friend Abby Martin’s beginnings as a young artist and citizen journalist when she was an undergrad at San Diego State in 2006. So moving to hear how he almost wept with joy when Abby returned to San Diego in 2019 to show Gaza Fights for Freedom. If you haven’t already, please see that film and Abby’s interviews for background on the current horrors. After the screening, they all went to Fairouz.
We can’t wait to return! In the meantime, we are enjoying the two poetry and art books we bought there, Ibrahim Al Nashashibi’s Written with Colors, Drawn with Words, and Spirit Whispers, Heart Listens, which Ibrahim dedicated to his beloved younger brother, the warm and welcoming Sami.
Fahim’s description on this show of Abby Martin as “the next generation of Protest Mommies” is perfect. Hopefully, the “Protest Mommies” of the Left will overtake “Moms for Liberty,” and soon!
It’s our first FDR of Kink Month 2023, so we’re all set to let our kink flag fly, as well as reca... more It’s our first FDR of Kink Month 2023, so we’re all set to let our kink flag fly, as well as recap our sparkly night at the amazing Abby Martin’s art party, which we do…
But that’s not all that we do.
Indeed, hours before showtime, Hamas attacked Israel, killing hundreds of Israeli soldiers and civilians and taking dozens of hostages in what some are calling “Israel’s 9/11,” its bold and dramatic ferocity demonstrating the stronger country’s complete and embarrassing breakdown in so-called “intelligence.” In response, Israeli forces bombed Gaza, murdering hundreds of Palestinians with vengeful vows of war and more war, and we’re pretty shaken up about it, so of course, we talk about it.
There is no simple solution to this war or any war, except never to start a war, occupation or apartheid colonization in the first place, no matter how “holy” the land.
I have friends and family in Israel; they’re okay, but I tell them to get out of there (not that they listen to me). I support the Palestinian people’s right to live in peace and resist the brutal Zionist occupation, but I condemn the horrific violence of the Hamas attacks. I also condemn Israel’s retaliation which is, of course, many times worse, and just an escalation of the ongoing Zionist campaign of bombing, killing and oppressing the native Palestinians of this land we call “the Holy Land” for decades.
There is no simple solution to this war or any war, except never to start a war, occupation or apartheid colonization in the first place, no matter how “holy” the land.
Make Kink Not War! That’s the Bonobo Way, and it’s our motto every day—especially in the kink-positive month of Kinktober—though these days, raging wars of all kinds are engulfing our vulnerable little world. These wars are not kinky, at least not by my definition which involves consenting adults engaging in mutually exciting activities. In that sense, war is the opposite of kink, though many perversely get “off” on it. Thus, the horrific *war porn* flooding our media every day, and though its hard to look at, it’s even harder to look away.
There are many to blame on all sides for the carnage and terror now consuming Israel and Palestine. Hamas’ violence against civilians is reprehensible, but primary responsibility rests with the greater power which is, in this case, Israel, a nuclear armed colonizer country supported by the U.S.A.
I learned a lot about the brutal apartheid nature of the Zionist occupation of Palestine from none other than Abby Martin whose “Untold History of Israel & Palestine,” “Gaza fights for Freedom” and other Empire Files documentaries are excellent exposes of the plight of Palestinians under Zionist rule. I highly recommend these films as well as Abby’s interviews with various personalities, including Joe Rogan, to anyone trying to understand the roots of the current violence.
Abby Martin is a truly extraordinary woman whom Capt’n Max *discovered* back in 2014 on the once-great RT (Russian TV). We invited her on The Dr. Susan Block Show for a truly remarkable interview, and we’ve been her friend and fan ever since. Last year, Abby and her wonderful partner Mike Prysner interviewed me on their Dosed Show about sex, violence and the Bonobo Way, and a couple years earlier, I talked about politics and cuckolding on Media Roots with Abby’s brilliant brother Robbie Martin; yes, it’s quite an amazing family of great sexy lefty journalists. Abby and Mike also attended our erotic-verging-on-orgiastic Bonoboville Reunion, so yes, you can see them (mostly in the background) on our Vice TV piece too!
So, we were delighted to join Abby and Mike at their art show and going away party (sadly, they’re leaving LA for Oregon) at the outdoor Queerspace Little Secret in out-of-the-way DTLA.
What a fun time… for everyone but Chico, who was a naughty barker and had to wait outside while another, calmer canine ran the party which was filled with art, music, a metro train going by every hour, drinks on top of a lit-up double decker bus, dancing, singing and swinging. No, not sexual swinging (unfortunately), but a pretty cool swing on a rope by the bar.
Abby’s art was the star of the evening—gorgeous, abstract, hallucinogenic paintings you could lose yourself in, invoking fantasies, dreams and creativity of all kinds.
I was honored that Abby gave me one of her most beautiful paintings as a gift. The title, “Hell Yeah,” and its lush red lips, tongue, gleaming teeth, kinky wires, blue-shadowed eyelids, manicured fingers and shadowy nudes all seem to slide down a psychedelic Deep Throat through dreamy doors of perception.
Our gift to Abby was more modest, but she seemed to like the blingy microphone pendant we gave her to honor all the real mics and bullhorns she’s spoken on through her distinguished career. We know Mike loved his mic because he put it around his neck and wore it all night. The perfect mic for Mike!
As I flitted around from swing to bus to dance floor and back, Max hung out in his wheelchair by the bar, still recovering from his horrible case of the shingles, but happily chatting and enjoying the fashion show (especially the foot-wear) and local painkillers (tequila shots).
We met a few cool folks, including some of our own fans, like the garrulous Paul Reynolds who discovered us through Abby and now listens regularly to FDR on Callin. Paul was sweet, even though he boldly photobombed a selfie Abby and I were trying to take in front of her art. Well, fans will be fans, and we love them all.
Casual and warm in the cool of the Kinktober night, Abby’s party was a good time. It was also an aphrodisiac, at least for Max and me. Even though, thanks to Max’s shingles, we can’t touch each other’s most intimate places right now, we managed to have a little orgasmic sex right after the party and before this show.
#GoBonobos for disabled senior sex! It keeps you young and (hopefully) helps you get healthy. It’s also very risky, of course, in various ways, but all in all, sex heals a billion times more than it kills.
Great music is the soundtrack to great sex, and sweet sounds certainly played a big part in Abby’s party. Go bonobos for Max Collins of Eve 6, Mz Neon, Metal Mother, Televangel [Blue Sky Black Death] and DJs Succubus and Infernx!
Music also plays a recurring role in this FDR podcast, beginning with Max in the afterglow of our post-Abby party senior sex, warbling “I’m in the Mood for Love.”
Then it moves onto the return of musician Brady Crow calling in from Texas to sing us his new unfinished song (part of his upcoming antiwar album), “Just Say No to NATO.” It’s pretty cool, though I think it should include “Go Bonobo” somewhere in there. But the best singer of the show—and the whole weekend—is Brady’s SUZY Award-winning dog Rufio crooning to the moon, “Just Say Nooooo to NATOOOooooo.”
Maybe we should teach Chico to sing instead of just barking frantically.
Other subjects on the Love Train include Olivia Wilde, niece of Alex Cockburn – pronounced Cohburn, not cock-burn—though we have a field day with that pronunciation; coconut oil (good for cock burn); our Vice TV piece surpassing 225K views; GW Bush and the Yale Skull and Boneheads; plastic in our water; and the terrible attacks by a gang of young men on Ekolo ya Bonobo in which two male bonobos were killed. Now more than ever, Ekolo and Lola ya Bonobo need our help!
Stay tuned for the time and place of our arbitration against Zuck the META cuck making mega bucks off our exploitation and then rewarding our hard work with deactivation.
And Be Bonobo. Even if we can’t stop wars in the Middle East, Ukraine or anywhere in this war-torn world, we can at least make our voices heard… unless we’re censored, that is.
Well, we can at least “be bonobo” and make peace through pleasure in our own lives. That’s a start!
Happy Kink Month 2023! It may not seem like it for soooo many reasons, but it really is a better time than ever to… Make Kink Not War!
From Lauren Boebert’s push-up bra to John Fetterman’s hoodie, American Senators and Congress memb... more From Lauren Boebert’s push-up bra to John Fetterman’s hoodie, American Senators and Congress members are exercising their freedom of attire. How about togas—proposes Callin’er Fahim aka “Cut the Pentagon” on this sartorial show—like the Roman Senators wore. Then our U.S. Senators’ clothes might match the great Greco-Roman columns that adorn our Capitol, suggesting that we too live in a Greek-style democracy. These days, it’s more of a Roman-style empire, pampering its patricians with tax cuts, obscene wealth and burgeoning political power, giving us plebians “Bread and Circuses” while eroding all of our freedoms, except the freedom to consume hoodies, push-up bras and whatever else our maxed-out credit cards can carry.
Is freedom-to-buy the best freedom we can get?
One of our most vital freedoms that is under attack is freedom of speech. That is an ongoing topic of this rollicking ride on FDR, and that is what we are fighting for in our battle with Zuck the Cuck and META, the throbbing heart of the American Censorship Industrial Complex that is monopolizing and controlling human discourse more every day in our more and more digitized world. Since the great and powerful META unjustly terminated my Facebook and Instagram accounts a few months ago, I’ve been fighting—mostly fruitlessly—for explanations and restoration. Now I’m taking Zuck and META to arbitration.
Midway through the Tunnel of Love, our train picks up Daniele Watts (aka DaLove) and Chef Belive (now BeLove), calling from—of all places—Freedom, California. They share a fantastic tale of sharing free love in a most Bonobo Way behind a laundromat right there in Freedom.
We’re also excited to hear they are making a film, “BeDaLoveLight Wedding,” about the different kinds of love—eros, agape and philia. Oh, those amazing Epicurean Greeks! And oh, those lovely bonobo lovers, DaLove and BeLove, practicing Tantra in their car and living in Freedom, aka Freed OM (mani padme hum). Or as Capt’n Max wonders, “Are we talking about freedoms or Free Doms?”
We also continue celebrating Self-Love September (actually, we celebrate self-love all year) as well as our Vice TV piece surpassing 200,000 views, and we address the reckonings of Rupert Murdoch, Russell Brand, Jann Wenner and the poor woman sentenced to two years in Nebraska prison for helping her daughter find abortion pills. Aiding and abetting this heinous sentence is META, which turned in the mother and daughter’s “private” Facebook messages. So, not only is META the world’s biggest censor, they’re a bunch of dirty rats.
It’s Self-Love September 2023, and we’re celebrating with all our fingers and toys! According to ... more It’s Self-Love September 2023, and we’re celebrating with all our fingers and toys! According to the Internet, Self-Love September is more about affirmation than masturbation. There’s nothing wrong with affirming how great you are to your Doubting Thomas self, but seriously, if self-love doesn’t include a little quality self-pleasure time (which could include mutual masturbation, if you have a lover), you’re not fully loving yourself.
Sex with partners can be complicated—verging on treacherous—especially these days. Consent is essential, but can be difficult to discern for some. Given the post-#MeToo climate and other concerns, sex with other people comes with new dangers. Better to be safe than sorry and err on the side of caution. Nevertheless, sex is vital to mental and physical health and healing. So, what are we to do? Sacrifice our sexual health and seek safety in celibacy? Never fear! Wanking is here. Solo sex, since it only involves you, may not be the *best* sex, but it does tend to be simpler, especially since consent is 100% guaranteed.
It’s natural! Aside from grasping tree branches and smartphones, the human fingers appear to be made for stroking, strumming—and self-loving! Bonobos love to masturbate, as do other apes like us – it’s part of keeping the PEACE through Pleasure. If we were more masturbation-positive, we would probably be a less violent species.
As George Carlin said, “If God had intended us not to masturbate, he would have made our arms shorter.” Of course, there’s no reason you can’t go bonobos for self-love all year around; but Self-Love September is a great time for you self-love slackers to step up your game.
Masturbation is often denigrated as a sort of “slacker” sex since, unlike sex with someone else, it’s easy, please-y and doesn’t require hardly any work. In that slacker pleasure spirit, we say “Rest in Paradise” to the late great Jimmy Buffet.
No, he didn’t promote masturbation, though I’m sure he did it, like everybody else. But Jimmy Buffet did popularize slacker chic.
There was something bonoboesque about about Jimmy Buffet’s songs, though bonobos don’t drink margaritas—at least not in the wild—even if it’s 5 o’clock somewhere, though they would enjoy a cheeseburger in paradise.
Just as some people are ashamed of masturbation, back in the late 70s and 80s, I used to be ashamed of liking Jimmy Buffet, because his music wasn’t serious or important. But then I learned how serious and important pleasure and relaxation are, so no, I’m not a Parrothead, but I’m proud to say I like Margaritaville. It’s right next to Bonoboville.
It’s almost Fall or Autumn Equinox, another name for which is “Mabon,” after the Welsh God of the Harvest. In keeping with Self-Love September, I call it “Mabon’er” (yes, women get Lady Boners).
For the Greeks and Romans, Fall Equinox is actually a “fall,” aka the Rape of Persephone (Proserpina to the Greeks), daughter of Demeter (Ceres to the Romans), the great Earth Mother Goddess of the Harvest, Fertility and Agriculture. Like too many unfortunate maidens then and now, Persephone is sexually assaulted by her mean old Uncle Hades, or Pluto, the Lord of Hell.
As Hades sweeps her up into his chariot, Persephone literally falls through the Earth into the Underworld, taking her Mother’s joy and the Earth’s abundance down with her. Raging with grief, the Earth Mother almost destroys the Earth. Fortunately, Mama Demeter has the wherewithal to work a deal for sustainability with King Zeus, aka Jupiter, for her beloved daughter to reunite with her half the year, at which point, she blesses the Earth with the glories of Spring and Summer.
Of course, these Greek myths were created before Climate Change started wreaking havoc with our seasons. Still, they show us that no matter how bad things get or seem to get, we can usually work out a deal to make them better.
It’s also coming up on the 22nd anniversary of 9/11, that horrific yet surreally cinematic castration of America’s tallest Towers of Power, Dick I and Dick II, whose destruction served as two mega doses of Viagra for America’s Military-Industrial-Congressional Complex.
Thus G.W. Bush’s self-proclaimed Wars on Terror entered the Perma War phase of American hegemony, turning into modern “crusades” and devastating losses for everyone (except the war industries) that still harm us all to this day.
If any single country was responsible for this crazy crime, it would be Saudi Arabia, as 15 out of 19 of the 9/11 hijackers were Saudi, and there has long been evidence of Saudi funding, but we don’t bother the Kingdom—that happens to sit atop 17% of the world’s oil—because they’re our friends. With friends like that, who needs enemies? Well, we do—at least our war machine does—and so we made Iraq and Afghanistan our enemies and attacked these countries without provocation, virtually destroying these nations, gaining nothing for the American people (unless you consider American weapons makers and oil companies “people”), and paving the immoral way for Vladimir Putin to attack “Iraq – I mean Ukraine. Same thing.” Yes, that Freudian slip and accidental confession comes courtesy of our war-criminal-turned-bad-painter George W. Bush when he was attempting to condemn Putin.
Though Dubya was the Prez, he was a puppet president whose strings were pulled by the Dark Lord of Perma War, his “Vice,” Dick Cheney.
Sadly and frighteningly, the crimes of Bush and Dick carry on and expand, as Julian Assange, who exposed them, languishes in prison. It is sad that these two Chickenhawk war criminals can fly free while eagle-eyed journalists who embody the First Amendment are confined to cages. More VICE
Speaking of “Vice,” our Vice TV piece has over 180,000 views. If you’d like to see some of the fun frames from the piece, and read about my mixed feelings regarding Vice portraying my adVice and phone sex therapy practice, click here.
View-hungry Vice execs also changed the beginning of the title from “Dial ‘O’ for Orgasm” to the more salacious and neo-Puritan-triggering “Masturbating During Therapy.” It’s irritating, but it’s Self-Love September, so I might as well embrace it, and it’s true that I allow masturbating during phone therapy. It’s a good thing!
I am not the ‘thought police,’ and I believe in the therapeutic healing value of talking about what’s on your mind with someone who can help you handle it.
In honor of everything, Max smokes a joint and I munch edibles, as we discuss the impending decriminalization of magic mushrooms, psychedelics and other fine drugs in California.
Of course, legalization or decriminalization is only the first step. Uva 13 calls in to talk about the problem of corruption in the cannabis industry, as there is corruption in every American industry, including other, more respectable drugs hopelessly corrupted by Big Pharma and the doctors they bribe.
All the more reason we need a little socialism injected into the run-amok capitalism that is choking us—literally (try breathing our so-called air without coughing like you’re toking weed) and figuratively (try starting up new companies in any field without really good, well-connected lawyers).
Well, we end on a positive note with Uva: As long as the corruption doesn’t poison your pot, it’s a great aphrodisiac!
It’s also almost Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and even though I am NOT a Zionist nor a religious Jew, I’m Jewish so I wish a “L’shanah Tovah Rosh Hashanah!” to all my Lonsmen who celebrate. Also: Free Palestine!
And free Assange! Make Kink Not War. Follow The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure. Be Bonobo.
Are you urban or suburban, urbane or insane? My urban X-pedition to the Urban X Awards mid-hurriq... more Are you urban or suburban, urbane or insane? My urban X-pedition to the Urban X Awards mid-hurriquake for sex education’s sake flows through this show like a red-carpeted river of love. Praise be to the heroes and heroines of free X-pression in the center of today’s storms of repression.
Into the storm drops Trumpty Dumpty, Big Egg of the Trump Crime Family and Rico racketeering mob boss of the legal beagle Batman Villains Club, MAGAt cult leader, and leading Republican 2024 Presidential candidate, on an urban X-pedition to Atlanta’s Fulton County Jail for Indictment #4 (with a total of 91 criminal charges), and all the mug makers are putting his mean mug shot on their mugs.
The Mango Mugger mugged America once; the next time could be fatal.
Related or not, as our live broadcast begins, another horrific racist body-armored ammosexual incel mass shooter murdered multiple human beings before turning his weapon of war on himself. This time, the particular racist ammosexual sprayed a Dollar Store in Jacksonville, urban center of Ron DeStupid’s Florida where sex is censored and racism is empowered with “permitless concealed carry” gun laws.
Armed killers are on the loose through America, and some of the worst are wearing badges.
Sometimes, cop kills are obvious shots in the back. In other cases, they’re a bit more subtle.
A couples of years short of a century old, Kansas newspaperwoman and owner of the Marion County Record, Joan Meyer, died the day after an unconscionable police raid of her newspaper’s office and her home.
As the raiding cops barged through her door, the 98-year-old Meyer confronted them with remarkable courage and strength, challenging them from her walker, calling them “assholes” engaging in “Hitler tactics,” which they were, and ordering them to “get out,” but they didn’t.
The next day, she died of cardiac arrest. What a travesty, tragedy and atrocity. These Marion, Kansas police “assholes” with their “Hitler tactics” murdered this almost centenarian journalist. RIP Joan Meyer.
Censorship Industrial Complex, Anatolian Apes & Callin Calls Meanwhile, the Censorship Industrial Complex strikes again and again. Anti-imperialist website Mint Press News—friends with Frank Moore’s people (who tipped us off about this), as well as Abby Martin, Mike Prysner and Robbie Martin–has had its TikTok account deleted without warning or explanation. This comes after it was previously de-platformed from PayPal and had its money withheld.
We know the feeling, being currently censored by YouTube, Facebook, Spotify and Instagram which we are about to take into arbitration. Social media censorship is all around us, always aiming to monetize and/or silence us, with guidelines clear as polluted skies, and bots as bad as bad cops.
We take a call from Reza in Iran, which he prefers to call Persia, though he’s very picky about who or what is actually “Persian,” and he’s a little obnoxious about it, but he too is in a fight against censorship and deletion of his shows, and we support him in that. To paraphrase a paraphrase of Voltaire, though we may disagree with what you say, we defend—though probably not “to the death”—your right to say it.
Chris G calls in from New Jersey to talk about his recent Tik Tok successes (social media builds you up and takes you down, sometimes in close succession!), his mom’s podcast and his media studies at Felician college. At one point, when he is delivering one of his stirring speeches to “save this precious woman” (I believe that’s me), in support of the restoration of my terminated channels and accounts, we hear music in the background (he says it helps relax him before bed)—which is kind funny, but also makes his speech even more stirring!
Then “Hybrid Bonobo,” aka David, calls in to say he loves my 1996 interview with Harvard Anthropology Professor Richard Wrangham, but can’t get over how “different” we sound (it’s called aging, David!), and asks some challenging questions about sex, vision and genitalia. Listen up for my illuminating answers!
Speaking of human apes and the Persian region, here’s some 8 million year old breaking news: We always thought we humans and all of our ape cousins evolved in Africa, but now there are fossil findings that show that our human ape ancestors migrated from Anatolia, Turkey to Africa, and then back to Europe again. It’s all quite mind-blowing in ways I will explain at another date…
Not so mind-blowing, but worth a shoutout: Our Vice TV piece, flaws and all, has over 155,000 views. If you haven’t yet seen it, what are you waiting for? Check out what all the fuss is about.
Back to our Urban X-pedition to the Urban X Awards at the Globe Theater in Downtown LA (DTLA) in the middle of the Hurriquake! It was fun. I was nominated for “Most Popular Sex Educator.” I didn’t expect to win. Because even though the Urban X Awards is inclusive of everyone—and it really is—all colors, all sexual orientations and gender identifications, it’s still “urban.”
Originally called the Urban Spice Awards, established in 2008, the Urban X Awards “recognize achievements by performers and others in adult media, with a focus on Black, Latin and Asian achievers.” I can’t really check those boxes, although I am Jewish, which is not a race, but it’s actually very urban if you define “urban” as being “of the city.”
Jews of all races are the original urbanites. We may not have a country (Palestine is not *our* country; the Zionists are dead wrong), but we are often of the City.
Speaking of urban Jews, we take a detour to talk about our friend Luzer Twersky, raised Satmar Orthodox Jewish, now atheist, and he’s starring in a movie called Dovbush that just premiered in Ukraine in which he plays the Baal Shem Tov.
In fact, he’s now in the urban center of Kiev, Ukraine at his movie premiere under Putin’s attack, with air raid sirens blaring.
Talk about living the ultimate urban experience.
Going Downtown One definition of “urban” is “downtown,” of course, and “going downtown,” i.e., cunnilingus, is one of the yummiest sex acts. No wonder, we love the urbanities…
Capt’n Max and I reminisce about our urban days, from our HBO shows to our LAPD raids.
But we also love the other kind of “downtown” of our DTLA days, 1998 – 2013. We were DTLA arts area pioneers, urban campers camping out in abandoned factories which were rough for life, but fantastic for art and big bacchanalian events like Eros Day and Lupercalia.
Actually, DTLA and I go back even earlier to the late 1980s when the late great Scott Kelman ran the Factory Place Theater and Boyd Street Theater on Skid Row (yes, those were the days when you could run a theater on Skid Row, which at the time was just a row; now it’s 40 blocks), featuring such up and coming stars as Whoopi Goldberg just before she did “Ghost.” That’s how far back I go with DTLA. I am OG Urban.
Capt’n Max and I reminisce about our urban days, from our HBO shows to our LAPD raids. Then, thanks to the Staples arena, DTLA became too pricey and too dirty for us. And the dirt wasn’t worth the price.
So, we moved to Inglewood which was just the right mix of urban and beachy. But after a few years, thanks to the Coliseum, Inglewood also got too pricey (all these giant sporting arenas really ruin urban areas) and too dirty (the air pollution). So, we moved out to Arcadia, which is more suburban sprawl than urban life, part of what Henry Miller called “The Air-Conditioned Nightmare.” But we like it here, and everybody likes us. That is, our neighbors and our landlady do, but not the City of Arcadia inspectors who pretend to be urban, but are really the same kind of small town “assholes” whose flagrant violations of constitutional rights wind up killing upstanding citizens like Joan Myer.
They haven’t killed us, and hopefully they won’t, but they do try to trample on our rights. Could it be because we are hard to classify? Because we’re sex educators?
Which brings me back to my Urban X nomination for ‘Most Popular Sex Educator’ which I did not win. But my favorite of all my fellow nominees, the lovely Sinnamon Love, did win, and deservedly so. After all, while I am followed by just over 25,000 on the X (formerly Twitter), Sinnamon has over 495,000 followers. Now that’s “popular.”
Moreover, I love Sinnamon love. She was a guest on DrSuzy.Tv a few times during our early urban period in the 2000s. And speaking of “X,” Ms. Love was also a guest star of our Eros Day X in 2009, one of our biggest, most urban bacchanals in DTLA, our Eros Day Orgy for Obama, our 10th annual Eros Day which doubled as a wild inaugural ball for our most urban and urbane President.
Though my urban days are numbered, I still went to the show. Max didn’t; he would have gone, just to accompany me, but we both knew it wasn’t his thing, so I our new bonobo Rodrigo escorted me through the hurricane! From the weather reports and X hysteria, I thought I might have to swim Downtown. But I’m an adventurer; I climbed to the top of the Golden Gate Bridge when I was an urban San Franciscan, and I’d paddled a canoe through white water rapids in the Adirondacks.
So, I figured I could make it to DTLA in an Uber. It was pretty wet splashing out of Arcadia. I wore boots, a hat and an OG Fringe Logo Vest custom made by Dre Day of Dr. Block’s Pleasure Shop.
Capt’n Max had a stroke. I wish it could say that’s a joke. Or the good kind of stroke – a stroke... more Capt’n Max had a stroke. I wish it could say that’s a joke. Or the good kind of stroke – a stroke of luck, a soft caress, a pleasure stroke. But no, unfortunately, Max had a stroke of seismic – or “ischemic” – pain… which is, in a way, a very bad joke that the body plays on the brain.
The technical term is cerebrovascular accident (CVA), but everyone calls it a “stroke” – though it’s really more of a strike – less a caress than a bullet to the brain, or, in Max’s case, an unexploded bomb that forms a blood clot blocking the flow of blood as well as oxygen to the cerebrum, causing (in Max’s case) sudden and severe damage.
What a stroke of madness, immobility and immeasurable suffering for my beloved Prince Max! Though it can always be worse; he could have had a stroke in Gaza. I’m not trying to be flip; I am grateful for the life-saving medical care Max is receiving that so many other people – from bombing victims in Palestine to women in need of abortions in Texas – cannot get right now. Indeed, Max and I are *privileged* to have access to quality care.
Nevertheless, a major ischemic stroke like this takes you – body, shattered brain and soul – to what appears to be as deathly a place as you can go in life – short of death itself.
Max’s stroke almost took his life; as it is, it has rendered him almost immobile, virtually paralyzing the entire right side of his body, and splintering much of his mind. Poor Max, so strong, right-handed, with such a powerful, creative mind, broken like a spilled jigsaw puzzle missing a few key pieces.
As for me, well, since the proverbial stroke of dawn, Sunday morning, May 19th – when Max’s deep growl turning into a howl of cosmic agony shocked me awake – until now, as I write this next to his hospital bed – I’ve been by his side.
According to Max, “The goal is the journey,” and – for better or worse – this is a journey we are on together.
So, every day, all day, and into the night, I’m in the hospital, the rehab, the ambulance, holding Max’s hand(s) – both his limp, stroke-stricken right hand and his *good* rambunctious left hand – trying my imperfect best to help my lover and friend of almost 40 years to survive, recover, communicate and somehow ease his incredible agony.
There are moments of ecstasy in the agony – cute crooked smiles, big wide eyes, whispers of desire, joyous laughter, pithy phrases blurted like “spoken word” poetry, unintelligible instructions delivered with the gravity of a Mafia don, flashes of radiance, hope, healing, hugs, even eroticism, fun, flirtation, sensuous touch, precious kisses and bonobo love glowing like a fire in the darkness.
In a way, I have never felt so much love as I feel right now for Max in these awful, draining weeks –before and (now) after this show.
Ah, this show. Yes indeed, on with the show. That’s what Max would say.
In fact, that’s what Max did say just before he had the damn stroke. Even though he wasn’t feeling well, even though I begged him not to (I myself have been cutting back on broadcasting live shows, and I thought he should too), he did a show. More than just about anything – except sex – Max loves doing the show. And I know if he could talk coherently right now, he would tell me to get on that mic and broadcast the truth. As it was, he nodded when I told him it was almost showtime. His big beautiful hazel eyes widened while a cute, crooked smile broke out across his face, before he emphatically exclaimed, “okay!”
And so, I broadcast this show about Max and his stroke – what happened, how he’s doing and what it means for all of us – for Max, for me, for our guests, for everyone in Bonoboville and for Max’s family, friends and fans all over the world. Of course, it’s just the tip of this iceberg of illness that has crashed into our Good Ship Bonoboville – not to mention our marriage! – but at least I’m (partially) facing the reality of *what happened* with Max by sharing the news.
It’s also my birthday. What a lousy birthday present, huh? Though if ever there was something Max didn’t do on purpose, it’s being stricken by a stroke, and by the time my birthday rolls around, Max is unintubated (taken off the breathing tube) and seemingly out of the darkest part of the woods, meaning there’s actually something to – cautiously – celebrate and certainly support on this auspicious, musical, magical, emotional birthday show.
This is, in a way, the opposite of what our show is known for. Usually, we talk about sex, not strokes. But even stroke patients need to be stroked. Maybe especially stroke patients need to be stroked – mentally and physically – encouraged and caressed. Desire is at least as strong a motivator as fear.
Yes indeed, I always find a sex angle, even in a stroke, and after all, this stroke patient is my lover.
So, after spending all day Saturday giving Max the good kind of strokes, I gather our Bonoboville crew, a few guests and friends for my birthday and Max’s healing (thus the title) in the little Love Church of The Bonobo Way at the “Speakeasy,” our ongoing, always-evolving show where we “speak easy” about things that aren’t so easy to speak about, like sex, death and Max’s stroke.
Brimming with joy, sorrow, a nice climax, a good laugh, a good cry, two songs, self-loving tips a... more Brimming with joy, sorrow, a nice climax, a good laugh, a good cry, two songs, self-loving tips and a whole lot of bonobo peace through pleasure for a Free Palestine, I ride the rails of FDR once again with my great love and hubby of 32 years, Capt’n Max who gives me such a glowing introduction, I feel like I should rip off my headset and quit while I’m ahead.
But I stay on the Love Train, from the Capitalocene to the Bonobocene on X/Twitter and Rumble, and I begin with a big thank you to the students of America (and now the world) who have so bravely stood, sat in and camped out on dozens of college campuses, to protest their schools’ investments in genocide, despite intense attacks from Zionists (see my letter below).
These students are beacons of light in this dark tunnel through which we’re now riding, when our leaders are failing us, and we are faced with a dismal dilemma: Genocide Joe or the Orange Turd….
Speaking of that Marmalade Poop Pile, Mango Mussolini, Trumpty Dumpty, Trumpus Rumpus, Don the Con, and I could go on… check out my interview in the Mirror about the spank heard round the world – Stormy Daniels spanking tRump’s rump – in that Tahoe hotel room and now in a New York courtroom, spanking him with her fearless testimony. We recently spanked Trump at our 32nd wedding anniversary too, you may recall – it’s the parody of our times.
Stormy Daniels is such an inspiration, like the students, but different. Funny how I wrote about Stormy and the Students inspiring me back in 2018, and now they’re doing it again. Stormy’s star is brighter than ever, and the students are different, though it’s a similar idea. In 2018, they were on a “March for Our Lives” for gun control. Now they march and camp out to stop the killing halfway around the world. Stop genocide!
Masturbation not Occupation!
That’s one way to segue into the merry month of May, and a Merry Masturbation Month to you. Seasons Beatings! Give yourself a Hand.
We discuss our favorite masturbation techniques and devices with the one and only Maria Von Fiddybritch, whose preferred method is to *get head* from an adjustable shower head or jacuzzi jet blasting water on her “little man in the boat,” cause tidal waves of pleasure.
That reminds us of our Spring Showers show in 2006 where a couple of guests actually brought a full shower onto our set, and then everybody got very wet and wild. It’s one of the hundreds of amazing shows in the archives soon to play in our Midnight Theater.
Motherhood is kind of the opposite of masturbation; you don’t become a mother through masturbating, unless maybe you’re the Virgin Mary, but Mother’s Day and the M Month both fall in May, so we wish Maria – whose 27-year-old daughter is getting her doctorate in chemistry – a Happy Mother’s Day!
Maria is overflowing with love – for her daughter, for us, for my Mirror interview on Stormy Daniels, for the Palestinians (“people are dying!” she exclaims), and for music, singing us two songs, the second of which is a camp song for FREEDOM.
META Legal Strategy: Slut-Shaming & Hypocrisy And then there’s our Free Speech, which META and Mark Zuckerberg have stolen from me, deactivating, terminating and exterminating my Facebook and IG accounts.
If it’s happened to you, if you too have been a victim of META abuses – whether activated or deactivated – you know it’s unfair, unjust and a sign of our algorithmic, bot-controlled, dystopian times.
That’s why I’m taking META to arbitration. This should be my inviolable right, according to META’s own contracts. However, META lawyers are now doing their legal-beagle best to get my case kicked out before we even get to arbitration, attacking, trying to slut-shame me and hiding their hypocrisy behind Section 230.
Meanwhile Ginny Thomas, wife of our most corrupt Supreme Court Injustice Clarence Thomas, used her Facebook profile to incite Insurrection, while our show about the Insurrection got censored on YouTube, and my Facebook and IG profiles got deactivated.
Justice is more and more of a myth in a dehumanized America that is driven by bots for the benefit of the Rich (F*ck Da Rich!) – and the bots
I also briefly address the latest reports on bonobo male “aggression” that has bad, snarky journalists trying to say bonobos don’t really make love, not war. But yes, they do! Listen to the show as I explain that their aggression is never lethal nor directed towards females, making it more like pro-wrestling than war.
We’re into Freeing Your Inner Bonobo, Free Speech. Free Assange. Free Palestine. Free yourself. Be Cage-Free. Be Bonobo.
Of course, not everybody’s into what we’re into, such as Ms. Aimee Hawkes who wrote me the letter below, followed by my reply:
Dr. Block —
When did you start becoming a self-hating Jew like Larry David, Joy Behar and decades before, Woody Allen?
Your CounterPunch commentary reflects self-denial of facts, mostly one most liberal/progressives love to bury: Israel was attacked on October 7th. I won’t go into gory detail, but you might want to look up the carnage Hamas produced against young women on the concert grounds that day and ones not seen since.
As a Free Beacon journalist, I wouldn’t waste characters interviewing you regarding your hatred of Natanyahu or the actions of the IDF. Instead, should I see you on the campus of UCLA, USC with the bands of anti-American insurrectionists, only then will I approach you to explain your sordid viewpoint.
Until then, I personally hope Israel finishes the job and rids the world of Hamas, Hezbollah and every Iranian-backed proxy you defend.
Sincerely, Aimee Hawkes
xxx
My Loving Reply Dear Ms. Aimee Hawkes,
Thank you for your email. It’s always illuminating to hear from my readers, even when they troll me with nasty, lying, Zionist tirades like yours.
Your first question, “when did you start becoming a self-hating Jew?” is as rancid as week-old borscht.
It also incorrectly presumes that I am one. I’m not sure what the litmus test is for “self-hating Jew,” but I doubt I’d pass, as witnesses to my Bat Mitzvah, teen summers in Israel and Camp Ramah, Har Zion Temple wedding presided over by two Rabbis, Israeli TV show, big beautiful Purimschpiels and hot-wax Hanukkah parties can attest.
A self-questioning Jew, yes, but hating? Nah. I’ve long loved many aspects of my Jewish background, from Queen Esther to the Marx Brothers (including Karl) to the soulful prayers of Kol Nidre on Yom Kippur Eve. Polytheistic libertine that I am, I could never “hate” my Jewish roots. I do hate war, genocide, apartheid, but I don’t hate people – least of all myself.
Thirty-two years ago, my Prince Charming – Prince Maximillian Rudolph Leblovic di Lobkowiz di Fil... more Thirty-two years ago, my Prince Charming – Prince Maximillian Rudolph Leblovic di Lobkowiz di Filangieri, pioneer LA underground publisher, international artist, designer, antiwar activist, sexual freedom fighter, free speech fugitive (at one point) and bon vivant – and I entered into the kinkiest kind of human bondage there is: we got MARRIED.
The date was 4/12/1992. And now, 32 years – 384 months (for all you numerophiles) 1,700 weeks, 11,688 days, 280,512 hours, or 16,830,720 minutes later (more or less) – through thousands of shows, books, magazines, orgasms, trips, talks, arguments, adventures, imprisonments, forced separations – fabulous bacchanals, through thick and thin, and love, love and more love – we put on this show.
Gathering together a few friends, lovers and allies to the FDR radio broadcast bar at the little Love Church of the Bonobo Way in the Village of Bonoboville, we celebrate 32 Years of lawfully wedded love, pro-bonobo marriage, sexual revelation and cage-free revolution.
And what a reveling, revolving, revealing, rollicking, Rabelaisian, roller coaster we ride on our 32nd anniversary show, filled with love, sex, pleasure, pain, laughter, anger and joy, expounding, erupting, interrupting, sulking, sucking, licking, kissing, reminiscing, fantasizing, romanticizing, clashing, rehashing, telling tales, spanking tails, celebrating our love and – as always – protesting the war/s – especially the unceasing and increasingly appalling Zionist genocide.
Free Palestine!
We don’t spend the entire show beating our peace drums for the victims of Israel’s ongoing apartheid/genocide, but enough so you could call it our “32nd Wedding Anniversary for Palestine,” which I do.
I even wear a black and white keffiyeh with my wedding-white lingerie.
In a way, the keffiyeh reminds me of a Jewish tallis or prayer shawl. It’s ironic that our currently warring religions are so very similar, like Abraham’s sons, Ishmael and Isaac.
Capt’n Max, the “Captain of My Heart” (inscribed on the inside of my wedding ring), sports a Palestinian flag pin on his cap. More Palestinian flags of different sizes festoon Bonoboville.
I wonder what the two rabbis who officiated at our Har Zion temple wedding 32 years ago (many thanks to Rabbi Gerald Wolpe and Rabbi Ivan Caine, wherever they are) would think of our attire, decor and fervent opposition to the Zionist apartheid/genocide.
Much as they encouraged me while growing up, my hunch is they wouldn’t approve.
What kind of horror is this that divides Jews against Jews? The Jewish people have always been a diverse bunch, but this feels like it could be a Jewish Civil War – the Zionists against the rest of us. Max (who converted to Judaism years before we got married) and I are on the side of Jews for peace (literally) – that is already coming to blows in the streets of the Holy Land, from Tel Aviv to Brooklyn, Berlin to LA. Us anti-Zionist Jews are passionate, reasonable and, as the Talmudists say, “righteous.”
Unfortunately, the Zionists have all the guns.
Guns and bombs rule the rubble, but on the Battlefield of Public Opinion, we are winning. Israel’s genocide is supported by the powerful AIPAC (American Israel Public Affairs Committee) lobby and humungous Military-Industrial-Congressional Complex of War Criminals and Sleazebags, while we – and the peoples of the world – support peace in Palestine.
So, that’s how we’re rolling through this auspicious evening of conflict, resolution, revolution, good times, great food, fantastic old friends and a new beginning in the course of our endless journey.
It happens that one symbol of the 32nd wedding anniversary is “transportation” – whether a high-speed train, your own two legs or your imagination.
The Goal is the Journey. At least, that’s our motto (one of them) for 32 years.
The DERBY
Transportation might be the name of the 32nd anniversary game, but Max and I don’t really go anywhere.
Honestly, we tried going up the coast on a Great RV Adventure on our 31st, but didn’t make it past Ventura, and weren’t about to try that again.
Nevertheless, the 32nd is quite the wild ride – a bit bumpy at times (like every anniversary) – but mostly awesome and ultimately amazing.
Of course, we transport ourselves on every FDR show, riding that Love Train, which is also a Peace-through-Pleasure Train, into the future, from the Capitalocene to the Bonobocene, through the terrible Perma-Wars of our times.
We also transport ourselves to dinner at the Derby on the night of our actual anniversary. We know it should be good, having had a scrumptious lunch seasoned with equestrian ambiance on my 2022 birthday.
It’s our virgin ride on Rumble – our first time – and there’s a first time for everything, but th... more It’s our virgin ride on Rumble – our first time – and there’s a first time for everything, but there’s only one first time for anything; you never get to have a second *first time.*
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Such is the mystery of virginity on the air and everywhere.
Why do radio veterans like Capt’n Max and me, along with Engineer Abraham, suddenly find ourselves virgins on new platforms? Unfortunately, Callin – our home broadcast platform for the past couple of years – just shut down, leaving us radio refugees and newbies to Rumble.
We’re also on Spaces, but we’re certainly not virgins to X/Twitter, so it’s more of an FDR “Resurrection,” and that’s what we call the show.
Cage-Free Eggs & People Indeed, tis the season of resurrection, and it’s Easter Eve as we broadcast live from the Love Train’s bar car, rolling down the tracks of 2024, living the Cage-Free Life, the Bonobo Way.
Maybe you’ve painted cage-free Easter eggs… but do you lead a cage-free life?
We try to live cage-free – or relatively free of corporate shackles – here in Bonoboville.
We’re into Free Speech and a Free Press. We want to Free Assange. Free Palestine. Free yourself. Be Cage-Free. Be Bonobo.
Now’s the time to revamp, renew and resurrect our long-hibernating joie de vivre. It’s Spring!
Jesus Loved the Sex Workers Resurrection is one of the springiest themes of Spring, a theologically serious but subtly salacious subject - and not just because it phonetically contains the word “erection” - but due to Jesus rising up from the depths of Thanatos (death) to heavenly Eros (life, lust and love), thanks to the miracle of Easter Sunday Resurrection.
And then, when Jesus is “born again,” whom does He first see? His favorite Easter Bunny: Mary Magdalene.
Yes indeed, Jesus loves the sex workers.
So, it’s fitting that the first caller on our virgin show is veteran sex worker, porn star and Dr. Susan Block Institute sex therapist, Hamilton Steele aka Le-Beverley.
Hamilton continues to regale us with tales of the gigolo life, serving the tech lords, nerds, cuckolds and incels of Silicon Valley. “I’ve never seen guys so fucked up, they couldn’t get laid with a hooker.”
I wonder how much of these tech lords’ deep-seated sexual frustration is at the root of their raging censorship, specifically META Zuck-the-Cuck’s deactivation of my Facebook and IG accounts?
It’s wrong, and we are fighting back. Yes, it’s a longshot, but I’m in the right, META is oh-so wrong, and you never know, so keep up with the Power Point updates, and join us for arbitration on June 26: Time and place TBA!
Resurrection Connection Regarding the Resurrection, Hamilton is quite familiar with erections, and he believes Jesus was a “historical figure,” though he wonders, “How did Easter bunnies and chocolate eggs come out of a Jewish guy being crucified?”
Good question! And the answer, in part, is paganism. Sounds blasphemous, but here in Bonoboville, we sometimes roleplay the res-erection with our Divine Interventions “Jesus Jackhammer” dildo rising up out of Dorrie Lane’s Wondrous Vulva Puppet or perhaps a real woman’s yoni or mouth, as we sing, “Hallelujah! Jesus is in her now!”
The myth of resurrection stems from the Earth being “reborn” in spring… with the promise that we too can be reborn. Jesus dies on Good Friday, then springs back to life on Easter Sunday. Resurrection gives us hope of life after death, and it is one of the cornerstones of Christianity.
However, Jesus wasn’t the first human/God to be born again in Spring.
On our Spring Equinox show, we compare the Resurrection of Jesus to the Resurrection of Persephone, the Greek Holy Daughter returning to her Mother, the Earth, instead of the Holy Son returning to his Father in the Sky.
On this Easter Eve Resurrection show, we compare Jesus to another Greek deity, Dionysus aka Bacchus, another God of the People who is killed and brought back to life – the Resurrection of Dionysus – by his Heavenly Father Zeus, aka Jupiter, aka God.
Jesus & Dionysus Centuries before Jesus Christ is said to have lived, died and lived again, the ancient Spring Dionysia and Primavera Bacchanalia honored the resurrection of the Greek God Dionysus (Bacchus to the Romans), a “Christlike,” charismatic and bonoboësque God of Spring, one of whose consorts is Pan, the horned, horny goat God of the Wild who lends his name to Pan paniscus, the scientific classification for bonobos.
The Spring Dionysia featuring the great tragedies of Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides and the comedies of Aristophanes, and the Bacchanalia of ancient Rome included ecstatic rituals and bonoboësque orgies celebrating this extremely popular, complex deity who, in a number of intriguing ways, foreshadowed the coming – and second coming – of Jesus Christ.
How could a God of Orgies have anything to do with sweet Jesus? I’m so glad you asked! Let me count the ways…
Both Jesus and Dionysus are especially adorable as babies (as are bonobos). Both Gods never lose their youthful, androgynous good looks, also like bonobos. Both Gods have human “virgin” mothers and divine heavenly Fathers. Both Jesus and Dionysus are liberators and revolutionaries, overturning the status quo—politically in the community and emotionally (spiritually) within the individual. Both Gods treat women as equals, as bonobos do, and have passionate, prominent female followers. Both Gods treat slaves as equals. Both Gods miraculously heal the sick. Both Gods are intimately connected with wine; Dionysus is the God of Wine, and Jesus turns water into wine. Both Gods have, in a sense, their “flesh and blood” eaten and drunk by others. Both Jesus and Dionysus are charismatic “rock stars” with long hair, an entourage and adoring groupies – and both are opposed by uncool, older conservative types Both Gods preach that the Kingdom of Heaven is within you. Both Gods are Masters of Seduction, saying that “Heavenly ecstasy is yours if only you follow Me.” Both Jesus and Dionysus die terrible bloody deaths, suffering tremendously and at great length, for the sake of humanity. Both Gods are resurrected in Spring.
Hustler Orgasms Speaking of the second coming – as well as the first and third – I’m giving advice on the all-important topic of orgasms in this month’s Hustler.
Check out my tips on coming, second comings, G-spot hunting and how to resurrect your flagging erection in “Building a Better Orgasm” by Marcy Diamond.
And check out Marcy riding the Motorbunny to a rollicking holiday orgasm in “Halloween 2015 Kink Month Climax in BooNoBooVille” on DrSuzy.Tv.
Trump Bibles vs. The Bonobo Bible From resurrection to insurrection, and just in time for Holy Week, America’s Top Huckster is hawking The Trump Bible – the “God Bless the USA” Bible, here to “Make America Pray Again” at the bargain price of just $59.95 (got to cover those legal bills!) – reaching new heights of hucksterism, having violated almost all the 10 commandments and much more.
It couldn’t be any worse than Trump Vodka, Trump Steaks, Trump University… or the Trump White House - hopefully, that won’t be resurrected.
On this auspicious first Rumble show and Spaces resurrection, our oldest listener (he’s been listening to the show since I was on KFOX 93.5 FM!), Don P, aka PolyBi, calls in to express his fervent hope that Trump will lose Manhattan District Attorney’s Alvin Bragg’s 34-count felony “hush money” case against him just before the 2024 election. If found guilty, the history books will record that kink saved the country and Trumpty Dumpty was brought down by a porn star, the one and only Stormy Daniels.
Coming soon: The Bonobo Bible! Includes The 10 Commandments of Pleasure, The Bonobo Way and more!
Also coming soon: My interview with Telltale Industries about the mysterious Jonathan Taylor Spielberg (no relation to Steven, except spiritually). Check out some interview pics in the Gallery and stay tuned for this quintessential Hollywood story.
Happy Spring Equinox! All aboard the “Last Chance to Get Lucky” Love Train rolling through the fo... more Happy Spring Equinox! All aboard the “Last Chance to Get Lucky” Love Train rolling through the forest live on St. Paddy’s Eve with plenty of green Guinness, shamrock kisses, big hard shillelaghs, pinched posteriors, Smiling Irish Eyes and a St. Patrick’s message from Ireland to Irish Joe Biden to stop arming Israel’s genocide against Palestine.
Erin go Bragh and Go Bragh-less!
It’s also our last train – or one of our last – on Callin, but no, I am not being banned on yet another platform. Callin is being shut down by its corporate overlord (Rumble), making us soon-to-be radio refugees. But have no fear; FdR will keep running, Bonoboville will keep humming, and we will keep spreading the Bonobo Way.
So, its “last call” on Callin at the Speakeasy Bar for the St. Paddy’s Day Eve Gift of Gab fest, and Capt’n Max and I have a lot to gab about, much of it with one of our favorite Callin callers, Maria, who regales us with tales, questions and a lovely song, and promises to follow us to our next platform, wherever it might be.
Prince of Pegging & Missing Princess
Last FdR, as well as on my 2024 State of the Sexual Union address – broadcast live on Hartley Pleshaw’s “Active Radio” on WCAP 980 AM and now available on most major platforms where I’m not banned (as well as some where I am) – we talked about the terrible traumatic proliferation of War Porn – which is, in this sexologist’s not-so-humble opinion, far more traumatizing to victims, perpetrators and viewers than regular porn.
On this show, the topic turns to Royals Porn, that is, the British Royals having sex, though it’s not exactly porn because, while you hear lots of rumors of their sexcapades, and even plenty of rumors about the rumors, you don’t actually see much of anything, except for paparazzi snaps of furtive glances, smiling eyes (Irish or otherwise) and stiff upper lips.
It’s really more of a Royal Soap Opera with titillating tattle-tales of aristocratic cheating, bisexual adventures, the Prince of Pegging‘s alleged penchant for kinky recreational sex with his wife’s ex-friend, possible procreational sex resulting in a Comedy of Errors and Heirs, bad photoshopping, very bad lying and a curiously missing princess who was once a paparazzi exhibitionist, but hasn’t been seen since Christmas, 2023. Maybe she really is recovering from a mysterious kind of “abdominal surgery” (perhaps a hysterectomy?), or maybe she’s on strike or having her own affair – who knows? All this is, of course, going on against the bloody backdrop of the sordid history of British colonialism and imperialism and lots of violent death, including the terrible car crash that killed Princess Diana.
So… Where is Kate?
That is the question that has turned many of us who normally don’t give a crown about this rather dysfunctional family into royal voyeurs. This could be juicier than Charles the Tampon King or Harry losing his virginity in a field behind a pub…
Tune in for a deep discussion – thanks to Maria’s probing questions and Prince Max’s posterior squeamishness – on pegging – what it is and why you (and various Royals and commoners) may or may not really like it.
Boeing Booboos Usually, when we mention flying, it’s fun stuff, like joining the Mile High Club. Then again, we’ve also talked about how planes are some of modern civilization’s worst polluters.
We don’t often comment on plane engineering, but now it seems that great American jet manufacturer, Boeing, is making planes that seem designed to break. Turns out that after Boeing merged with McDonnell Douglas – and after our friend and DrSuzy.TV guest Eric John quit working as a Boeing engineer to become a porn star (a smart career move, it being way better to bang wenches than wrenches all day, plus you won’t be responsible for a packed passenger plane suddenly falling out of the sky) – the company attained the Market Dominance it always wanted. Then Boeing got lazy – playing out another tale of American greed and dysfunction, with the help of Trump’s deregulation of American transportation industries, hiring cheaper cost-cutting executives instead of better engineers.
This week’s news is that Boeing whistleblower John Barnett “committed suicide” in a parking lot, and if you believe that he punched his own ticket, then I’ve got a plane to sell you…
Persephone Rising for Spring Equinox Spring or Vernal Equinox 2024 is also upon us. Catch Spring Fever and fall in love… or rise up like a blooming spring rose.
Long before the Easter Rebirth of the Holy Son returning to His Father in Heaven, people honored the Spring Equinox Resurrection of the Holy Daughter returning to Her Mother on Earth.
As Spring unfolds, the Greek Goddess Persephone (Proserpina to the Romans) is said to rise up from the bowels of Hades (Pluto) to rejoin Her Earth Mama Demeter (Ceres) who is so ecstatic to embrace the fruit of Her loins that She showers the world in Spring (now that’s some serious squirting).
Telling the timeless story for the umpteenth time on this show, I’m happy to hear Maria’s spin on Spring and “Persephone,” the name she happened to have chosen, once upon a time, for her cat.
All religions have some way to honor and explain the coming of Spring. This year, Ramadan coincides with Spring Equinox, and some Muslims celebrate the Persian New Year or Noruz.
Check out our many fantastic, orgiastic Spring Equinox Bacchanalia with our own erotic Eleusinian Mysteries on DrSuzy.Tv.
Anti-Zionist Purim for Palestine
It’s coming up on Purim, the Semitic St. Paddy’s, Yiddishe Mardi Gras or Hebraic Halloween of masquerade, storytelling (Purim shpiels), games, pranks, music, wine and a special Spring holiday dessert called “hamantaschen.” These triangular, fruit jelly-stuffed pastries are said to represent the pirate-style hat of the Purim story’s villain, that quintessential antisemite Haman the Agagite, Biblical cousins of Bibi Netanyahu’s favorite scriptural boogeymen, the Amalekites.
It’s our first show of March, and we march – not into war – but into love – through the terrible ... more It’s our first show of March, and we march – not into war – but into love – through the terrible truth-revealing fire of U.S. Airman Aaron Bushnell, the Burning Soldier for Palestine, through the rising anti-sex religio–fascism in America and around the world, through our legal fight Against META and Zuck the Cuck’s algorithmic normalization of dehumanization and extermination (save the date for arbitration: June 26!)…
I’m always marching into love with Capt’n Max, and on this show, we march for peace and freedom of speech, arm in arm with friends and lovers, singers and swingers, protesters and porn stars, ethical hedonists and antiwar activists on F.D.R. Go Bonobos!
Fighting Fire with Fire
Burning with passion for Palestine, active-duty U.S. Airman Aaron Bushnell set himself on fire, committing suicide to protest genocide.
Make no mistake: Aaron Bushnell is not a role model. Don’t set yourself on fire! Do not emulate self-immolation. But do let it illuminate a very dark situation.
And not just any dark situation. Aaron Bushnell did not set himself on fire over the “Israel/Hamas war” as the mainstream media (MSM) tried to explain, before moving on to the weather report, nor was he experiencing a mental health episode that could have been alleviated with a pill or a call to a suicide hotline, as implied by other MSM hasbara.
“They want us to believe we are mad and this war is sane,” observed Counterpunch’s Jeffrey St. Claire.
Indeed, on his own Twitch-broadcast livestream, Aaron Bushnell sanely and calmly spelled out exactly what he was protesting as he marched to the Israeli embassy in Washington DC, wearing his U.S. military fatigues. “My name is Aaron Bushnell,” he said. “And I am an active-duty member of the United States Air Force. I will no longer be complicit in genocide. I’m about to engage in an extreme act of protest but, compared to what people have been experiencing in Palestine at the hands of their colonizers, it’s not extreme at all. This is what our ruling class has decided will be normal.”
Then he set his phone to auto-record, and he set himself on fire.
He poured the kerosene on his head, stuck his cap back on and, just before he struck the match, a disembodied voice with the banality of a store clerk inquired, “Can I help you, Sir?”
Then suddenly, the blaze erupted, and Airman Aaron Bushnell became a real-life “Burning Man,” a Burning Soldier, marching in place in what must have been searing agony, yelling, “Free Palestine!” over and over again – his voice raw with pain mixed with love for the Palestinian people, so many of whom have been and are still being burned alive by Israeli bombs, paid for by American taxpayers – until he fell to the ground in flames.
“Get on the ground! Get on the ground!” yelled someone, presumably an Israeli embassy guard. Slowly, the guard walked toward the fire, arms stretched taut, hands together, holding a gun on the Burning Soldier as he burned to death.
A gun?
Another guy, perhaps a paramedic, arrived on the scene shouting, “Yo! I don’t need guns, I need fire extinguishers.”
What a moment. A quintessential defining snapshot of humanity, as the world turns and we all burn – as we go on fighting wars, bombing civilians and shooting our neighbors – when the wisest amongst us can barely be heard above the violence, stating the obvious…
From the Capitalocene to (hopefully) the Bonobocene – with assorted horrors and hijinks in betwee... more From the Capitalocene to (hopefully) the Bonobocene – with assorted horrors and hijinks in between – the Love Train goes rolling along.
There’s blood on the tracks – the innocent blood of thousands of Gazans, bombed and starved by Benny Net Nut and his gang of Zionist thugs.
Meanwhile, two semi-senile US Presidential candidates - Genocide Joe the Net Nut-abetting War Criminal and Trumpty Dumpty the Jack-of-All-Crimes (theft, fraud, assault, defamation, election tampering, treason and war crimes), vie for control of the train.
Is that a light at the end of the tunnel or a nuclear bomb exploding?
At the moment, darkness reigns as any criticism of Zionism is being censored as “anti-Semitism” (it’s not). Meanwhile real anti-Semitism is rising, as the Zionist massacre of innocent Palestinians in Gaza as well as the West Bank gets worse and is splayed across social media for all the world to see, and yet on and on it goes.
What is this madness?
Well, it sounds like genocide, looks like genocide, and if we were there, I’m sure it would smell like genocide, so yeah, it is genocide.
But our leaders refuse to call it what it is: genocide. Why?
We know their pockets are stuffed with Zionist and U.S. weapons industry cash. Apparently, so are their ears and their mouths.
Therein lies the bloody center of this storm of madness.
Speaking of storms, Capitalogenic climate change is causing floods, fires and famines around the world, but hey, life goes on (for some of us), and so does love – and Capt’n Max and I are lucky indeed to be alive and in love! And despite our general antipathy to V-Day in all its chaste commercialism, we had a great Valentine’s Day 2024.
It was not very commercial (we didn’t even go anywhere), but it was delicious (home-cooked lobsters – yum!), not at all chaste (two orgasms just after midnight to kick it off, and three more to wind it up with el grando climaxo), Lupercalian (I wore little red Pan horns and drew a heart on my forehead like the Lupercii drew on their foreheads in goat’s blood, though I used lipstick for a less messy effect), bonoboesque (Happy World Bonobo Season! Save the Bonobos! Make Like Bonobos, Not Baboons!), slightly soused (Cheers to Absente Absinthe!), definitely aroused (we’re seniors, but not dead!) and very romantic (Max is Roman, after all).
Valentine’s Day can be stressful, as we’ve acknowledged, and there are many ways to handle it. So imagine my surprise when I came across the worst piece of V-day advice on my news feed. Dr. Laura Berman (who happened to interview me about fetishes back in 2002) advises couples to not have sex on V-day. She advocates taking sex off the Valentine’s Day table entirely. Wow. This is not only odd, but part of a disturbing, anti-sex neo-puritan trend that is poisoning healthy human sexuality in our times.
My tip for V-day or any holiday is just the opposite. If you’re an experienced couple, make love first if you want to make love last.
Just after midnight as the holiday starts is perfect. Then, you can blaze through your day in a relatively stress-free afterglow. So, if it’s a bad day, or if you eat or drink too much and can’t have sex or don’t want to, it’s no big deal and no one will get *blamed* or have to *miss out,* because you already had sex. But if it’s a good day, and you’re feeling feisty, you can end the holiday on an orgasmic note and do it again.
That’s what we try to do on holidays, and that’s what we did this V-Day, and – even for two decrepit old fogies who can barely turn around without pulling a muscle – it hit the spot like Cupid’s arrow.
Brave and brilliant Wikileaks publisher Julian Assange is still in London’s bleak Belmarsh high security prison for exposing U.S. war crimes.
Because Assange has an important court date coming up, Capt’n Max and I – as well as Abe the Engineer and very passionately pro-Assange caller Maria - spend much of this show extolling his journalistic truth-telling, drooling over his sex appeal (well, I am), denouncing the slow, harsh torture to which he has long been subjected by the Anglo-American imperial regime(s) – despite the support of the world – and calling for his immediate release.
We have supported Julian Assange since before 2010, and so do many others around the world on the Right and Left who care about free speech and freedom of the press. Assange is more than a great publisher; he is a survivor and a symbol of Freedom of the Press for all of us.
As I write this, Assange is about to mount a final plea for his right to appeal his extradition to the U.S. where his treatment will be even worse than Belmarsh, verging on deadly. We have been saying it for almost 15 years, but let us say it again: Free Assange!
META Arbitration Set for June 26!
Meanwhile, sex education and information are being censored more and more, especially by META and its overlord, Mr. Mark Zuckerberg, whom I am taking to arbitration for their crimes, as we also discuss on this show.
Why are we taking META to arbitration? For the sake of freedom of speech, for the sake of fairness, for the sake of our mental health in the face of META’s dehumanization, for the sake of sex-positivity and sex education, for the sake of our freedom to be able to love whom we want to love – including ourselves – in the privacy of our own homes.
Multiple SUZY award winner Chris G. calls in and eloquently pledges to write a letter to the arbitrator, having supported us against censorship for years, especially in Zuck the Cuck’s latest bot-driven fascist crackdown.
Save the date: June 26 for the arbitration of Dr. Susan Block vs. META and Mark Zuckerberg! Time: 10 AM PST. Location (in Los Angeles) TBA.
One of the literal high notes of this rather musical show is when Maria requests a song from Chris, and he obliges with a Leonard Bernstein-worthy rendition of West Side Story’s “Maria.”
Later Maria sings “Don’t Dream It, Be it” – substituting “Be Bonobo” for “Be It” – from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Since Susan Sarandon is one of the stars of that iconic movie, I give her a shoutout for her courageous and very bonobo activism on behalf of Palestine.
More topics on this show… My upcoming interview with a London podcast about another colorful character who passed through Bonoboville (before we called it Bonoboville), Jonathan Taylor Spielberg. Stay tuned for this unique Hollywood story. #GoBonobos for Fulton County, Georgia’s DA Fani Willis. Trump’s lawyers are trying to pin the scarlet letter because she had a consensual sexual affair with a lawyer whom she assigned to the Trump case (after they broke up). Well, she had her reasons, and none of them appear to be illegal. Maybe she’s right when she says that she’s not the one on trial; Trump and his mob are on trial for trying to “steal the election in 2020.” And she looks damn good saying it in her scarlet power dress. Another one of Trump’s lawyers, Alina Habba, who just lost her client $85 million to E. Jean Carroll and $355 million to the State of New York, once said she’d rather be pretty than smart because she can fake being smart. As in sex, so in law: it’s not so easy to “fake it.” Russian dissident Alexei Navalny was found dead in his prison cell. He was not a great guy, a bit of a fascist and certainly no Julian Assange, but they say he was poisoned by Tucker Carlson’s Bear Daddy Vlady Putin, and anything that makes Tucker blush as red as Fani Willis’ dress is okay with us.
Lots more on this rollicking and yet very serious ride. Fingers crossed (but not legs!) that the light at the end of the tunnel’s not another bomb.
Friends, Romans, Countrywomen, lend me your ears,
I cum to bury Valentine’s Day, not to praise it... more Friends, Romans, Countrywomen, lend me your ears, I cum to bury Valentine’s Day, not to praise it… Sorry to mangle Marc Antony’s classic eulogy in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, but Valentine’s Day is fake news. A sugar-coated confection of disinformation concocted by the early Catholic Church, developed by the Victorian greeting card industry, sweetened by See’s candies, polished by DaBeers diamonds and abetted by Amazon, all this overpriced Hallmark-card fakery is based upon a lovely little sexless fairy tale starring the celibate Saint Valentine. Sexless St. Valentine As the story opens in 4th century pagan Rome, mean old Emperor Claudius has made marriage illegal. In a vain effort to restore potency to his weakening imperial army, Claudius wanted fighters not lovers; after all, when you make love, you’re not so inclined to make war. Valentine, a Christian priest who married couples in secret, was arrested and, while awaiting execution, converted his jailer’s blind daughter to Christianity, whereupon she fell in love with him. Then, just after Valentine was executed, the jailer’s blind daughter found a card in his cell addressed to her from “Your Valentine.” Not only was she touched by this loving gesture, but the fact that she could now see the card meant Valentine’s saintly ophthalmological skills had cured her of her blindness. What a touching tale of chaste ideals befitting the high holiday of hopelessly romantic love, Saint Valentine’s Day! But alas and alack (a big lack), the ideal is the enemy of the real, as Capt’n Max says, and in reality, there were several Christian martyrs named “Valentine,” and no evidence that any of them healed a jailer’s blind daughter or composed a farewell card. However, the ideal is more compelling than the real – as well as more marketable – at least according to Hallmark, See’s, DeBeers and Amazon, who have worked hard over the centuries to provide the tools for a V-Day fraught with pressure – the enemy of pleasure. I’m all for relationship romance – and I’ve got the 31-year marital romance to prove it – but I’ve always felt Valentine’s Day was a bit contrived, like artificial icing on a natural succulent strawberry. The real juicy fruit is in there somewhere, but the sickly-sweet shell disguises, sanitizes and commercializes it beyond recognition. Later, I learned that deep inside the phony, saintly, sweet Valentine shell is the original, primal, heart-felt feast for all the senses, including your sense of history – with nothing saintly or celibate – about it… Lusty Lupercalia: The Original V-Day They called it “Lupercalia,” the original pagan Valentine’s Day, the holiday of the heart, a big bacchanalian celebration of communal ecstasy, collective sexuality, fertility, purification, the rush of hormones, the howl of the wolf, the crack of the whip and the coming of Spring. In contrast to the commercialism, artificial sweetness and romantic exclusivity of Valentine’s Day, Lupercalia seemed to be about a more inclusive, less expensive love—on the natural, kinky, consensual, pan-sensual, polyamorous Pan-horns of lust. The star, namesake and feminist heroine of Lupercalia is the Luper. If you don’t know a “luper” from a “leper,” the former is Latin for “she-wolf.” According to Rome’s foundation myth, Romulus and Remus, the infant twins of the War God Mars and human Queen Rhea Silvia, are tossed into the Tiber River by their jealous Great Uncle Amulius after he assumes the throne of their grandfather Numitor’s kingdom of Alba Longa. In our Lupercalian theater pieces with the Bonoboville Commedia Erotica Players, Great Uncle Amulius was usually played by Capt’n Max to dramatic effect, reenacting the throwing of Romulus and Remus into the Tiber by tossing a couple of scrunched-up balls of paper in between fluttering blue and green scarves held by lovely ladies roleplaying the waves. Miraculously, Romulus and Remus are rescued and suckled by a she-wolf – the luper, usually played by the buxom Rhiannon Aarons, topless in a wolf mask – in a cave they called the Lupercal. Yes, a wolf suckling human babies sounds pretty bizarre, but compared to other religious origin stories – such as the Christian notion of immaculate conception or the Jewish idea of creating the entire universe in six days – it’s not so farfetched. In fact, there are documented cases of children being “raised by wolves,” who apparently are more adept at parenting than some humans (such as Great Uncle Amulius). Adding another layer of meaning, the word “lupa” is Latin slang for “prostitute,” making the Luper a kind of “Sacred Whore,” the Great Primal Wolf-MILF of prehistoric Rome. This explains all the suckling. It also harkens back to a pre-patriarchal time when “sex work” was not only legal; it was honored. Nurtured on wolf’s milk, Romulus and Remus grow up strong – maybe a little too strong. They are, after all, sons of Mars and wolves – not Venus and bonobos. So, pretty much as soon as they can walk, they go off and assassinate their Great Uncle Amulius; fair enough, considering he tossed them in the Tiber, but unfortunately, the killing continues. Having assassinated Amulius and given Alba Longa back to their Granddad King Numitor, the twins go down the road a few miles to build their own city on seven hills. Life is good, until they fight over a fence – or maybe, you could call it a wall. Then, as now, such man-made barriers to movement can be huge sources of contention. So, as Romulus is doggedly building his wall – Remus jeers at his construction and even jumps over it, just to show how ineffective his brother’s great border wall is. Then, in a fit of humiliated sibling rivalry reminiscent of the Judeo-Christian Bible’s Cain killing his brother Abel (hotheaded fratricide being a recurring theme among both pagans and monotheists), Romulus kills his brother Remus. A born politician, Romulus professes to greatly “regretting” the killing of Remus, but doesn’t lose much sleep before founding the city of both of their dreams which he names Rome, after himself, conveniently forgetting his beloved bro. Otherwise, the great imperial capitol we all know as Rome would be called “Reme.” Nevertheless, the spirit of Remus lived on in a Roman college fraternity, the Luperci Fabii, as did that of Romulus in the Luperci Quintilii. Here is where mythology turns to history – or at least not-so-fake news – and wild communal celebration. Februa of Pan Every Ides of February, these two tribes or fraternities of primeval “frat boys” – the Lupercii Fabii and Quintilii – would meet within that dark, womblike cave of the Lupercal where the Luper (meaning both “she-wolf” and “whore”) once suckled their twin great-great-grandfathers. Here they would sacrifice a goat, honoring the goatherd god Lupercus, a spin-off of Faunus, the Roman name for the great Greek Lord of the Wild, that horned and horny old goat, Pan. I call Pan the “Patron Saint of the Bonobos,” since their Latin classification is Pan Paniscus, and they are the horniest apes on Earth, humanity’s closest Great Ape cousins, the Make-Love-Not-War, female-empowered, male-nurturing, sharing, caring, peace-through-pleasure-loving bonobos. Moreover, Valentine’s Day is their holiday too, and it’s called World Bonobo Day. Meanwhile, back in the Cave of the Lupercal, drinking the sacred wine, the Lupercii would shirk their togas and laugh ritualistically – as well as, I’m sure, spontaneously, considering all that sacred wine. Then they would mark each other’s foreheads with the goat’s bright red blood; talk about “blood on your hands” – and your head! Then the more sober among the Lupercii cut strips from the goatskin, making some into loincloths and others into those notorious leather whips they called februa. Yes, it’s from the same root as February, the last month of the old Roman year, a time for spring cleaning and new beginnings. According to Ovid, februa translates to “the means of purification.” Thus equipped and rather drunk, the Lupercii would leave their cave, laughing and howling like wolves as they raced through the hills and towns, wielding their “means of purification,” their sacred februa whips, gaily whacking the willing behinds of villagers and farmers, many of whom were women (also probably a little drunk), looking for luck, love and perhaps a baby. The ancient Romans believed that such gentle whacks ensured fertility, which is not as scientific as an IVF clinic, though Lupercalia probably did whip the local populace up into a sex frenzy, resulting in a November baby boom. Men would also raise their butts or put out their palms for a smack. All were welcome to receive the smack of good fortune that the gods bestowed upon the people through the lucky, lusty, laughing Lupercii. With Pan, Lord of the Wild presiding over all that whipping, laughter and purification, the Lupercalia often got rather wild, releasing steam from life’s labors - like Valentines, candy or even diamonds never do. All in all, it was a little too steamy for the early Catholic Church which squelched Lupercalian enthusiasm by not only making it illegal, but by turning poor, horned, horny Pan into the Devil. The rest is Satanic history. The Lupercalian Beauty of a Heart-Shaped Booty With Lupercalian celebrations outlawed, the early Christian fathers plunked the more chaste and Church-friendly St. Valentine’s Day down on the same date, the Ides of Februa, forbidding the whips of luck and lust, but appropriating the vivid color of goat’s blood smeared on human skin as its signature shade – red.
Another V-Day symbol that I consider to be Lupercalian in origin is the “heart,” which looks less like the cardiac organ than a set of well-whipped, “heart-shaped” buns.
It’s the Bonobo Way or the Highway – to Hell, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners!
Persona... more It’s the Bonobo Way or the Highway – to Hell, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners!
Personally, Capt’n Max and I would rather go bonobos than bonkers.
We prefer the Joys of Sex to the Horrors of War – or whatever you call Benny Net Nut Netanyahu's mad bombing fetish. The Zionists call it “self-defense,” but those of us with eyes can see it for what it is: “genocide,” war crimes, apocalyptic mass murder, mass extermination, massive madness… Hell.
Is that where this Block Party on the Love Train is headed? Can we stop this runaway train?
Sores on Don’s Palms vs. Blood on Joe’s Hands
Nostalgic for a simpler time, Capt’n Max puts a penny on the track. Better for our train to smash a penny than for Israel to keep dropping hundreds of 2000-pound bombs on helpless, bomb-less Gaza, smashing homes, hospitals, people.
Pennies on the track, quarters squeezed between hind quarters, dollars stuffed into the pockets of corrupt politicians, billions for bombs and not a nickel for the poor… money appears to be at the root of most modern evils.
Speaking of the evils of capital, it’s the 13th anniversary of Citizens United, one of the worst Supreme Court rulings ever, polluting America’s already filthy politics with wads of dirty corporate money stuffed in the pockets of our so-called “representatives” who really only represent the rich (F*ck Da Rich!) who are, unsurprisingly, getting richer, as the rest of us lose our shirts – and not in the sexy way.
Now, with this muddy money swirling through our already very dirty political laundry, our choice for that once-respected office of the U.S. Presidency comes down to Genocide Joe or Syphilis Don – a narcissistic fascistic rapist under four indictments with sores on his palms vs. a war crimes profiteer with blood on his hands.
What to do?
Better wipe off that blood, Joe, and pull the needle out of Benny Net Nut’s arm that’s mainlining U.S. bombs straight into Israel’s body politic, marked for the destruction of Gaza. Stop the genocide, and maybe you’ll wring enough votes out of America to stop the festering Syphilitic Mussolini.
Also, free Julian Assange! His only “crime” was to expose the truth of American war crimes like yours, Joe. There is no free press without freeing Julian Assange.
Raw! Raw! Raw! Maria Wins a SUZY!
What’s a Block Party without music?
With the voice of an angel, a devilish wit and a healthy appetite for the “raw cock” of the human “stallions” in her “stable,” the ruby-lipped, mellifluous Maria joins in on the Block Party festivities.
I take the opportunity to present Maria with the very prestigious 2023 SUZY award of “Best Singing Caller.”
She even sings her acceptance speech, thanking David Bowie (and us!) for “inspiration.”
We also talk about cunning linguists with talented tongues, recipes for tastier oral sex with or without condoms or condiments, “Heavy Metal” sexual fantasies, ketamine as an aphrodisiac (plus it saved my life from septic shock back in 2006), the Hollywood hypocrisy of “performative empathy,” Swinger Block Parties, Cuckold Block Parties Foot Fetish Block Parties, mental blocks and whether or not to “block” people who try to crash our Block Party.
Next stop: Valentine’s Day which is also World Bonobo Day, originally the big pagan spanking Block Party of Lupercalia.
Party like a bonobo! Share the wealth of the world. Listen to this fun show and Make Kink Not War in 2024.
Riding the Bonoboville Streamer into a brand New Year - with a Happy Nude Rear - we resolve to “G... more Riding the Bonoboville Streamer into a brand New Year - with a Happy Nude Rear - we resolve to “Go Bonobos in 2024.” Unfortunately, our Peace Train turns into a Bullet Train midway through the Tunnel of Love.
At least, we dodge the bullets, fending off the faux fighters, war-lovers, booby traps and beautiful, wily attention hogs, and we manage to come out of the tunnel making love not war in 2024.
Nevertheless, it’s a bumpy ride, perhaps portending a rough year ahead, though everyone survives to live and love another day, so maybe it’ll all turn out okay. Who knows what this new year will bring?
We could guess, and even before we start this ride, I’m reluctant to hop aboard, being a little under the weather. Plus we’re short-staffed, and everyone is still a bit holidazed, as well as shellshocked by all the war porn, wrenching images of death and destruction from the hellscape that is Gaza under Zionist bombardment.
But Capt’n Max and I have surprise guests from out of town: one of our favorite couples, seven-time “Most Bonobo Couple” SUZY award winners Danièle Watts, aka DaLove, and Brian James Lucas, aka Chef Be*Live, aka BeLove, stars of our Bonoboville Reunion, featured on Vice TV (now having surpassed 300,000 views!).
So, we put on our headsets and gather around the Speakeasy bar, speaking about the “unspeakable,” with Unscene Abe bartending the broadcast. As always, BeLove is a gracious guest, and delightful DaLove slips into her usual position of contrarian - maybe a little more contrary than usual - sweetly but firmly insisting on calling Bonoboville a “family.”
I prefer to say we’re a “community” which tends to have less baggage than a family, but DaLove wants to “unpack a little of that.”
And “unpack” that baggage she does, with her signature “poetic” flair, flinging its contents throughout the Train, practically pulling the whole baggage rack down on the other passengers. Fortunately, no one gets hit by DaLove’s flying panties or shoes, as our little Love Train braves the turbulence, even picking up a couple of other passengers along the tracks.
Porn star Hamilton Steele regales us with his torrid Tales of the Billionaire Class as seen through the eyes of a sex worker who literally “fucks da rich.” A cock-size fetishist insisted they measure each other’s manhood. One wealthy Cuckold hired Hamilton to play the Bull screwing his Hot Wife as he sat happily watching and smoking expensive cigars on sheets and towels worth more than Hamilton was being paid (Hamilton confessed to evening things out by pilfering a few towels – to which DaLove asserted she would have done the same as I voiced mild disapproval).
Then Christopher Gagliardi calls in from the snowstorms of Englewood, New Jersey to thank us for his “Most Bonobo Graduate” SUZY Award (his ninth!) and express his New Year’s resolution to share “the autistic experience” through film and spread “humanism” through our “peace through pleasure” movement. I applaud Chris’ “courage” in staying pleasure-positive in this sex-negative and quick-to-cancel culture. Chris also vows to study hard at Felician University, where he is the proud host of his own college radio show.
Several themes recur, including the quirky joys of amputee sex, about which regular Callin’er Gerbil Penis drolly comments, “my penis cannot compete with a leg stump.”
We also consider the proliferation of war porn even as regular porn is more censored, though DaLove confesses to just discovering the wholesome pleasures of Pornhub.
Trying to put the brakes on DaLove’s apparent inclination to derail the train, plus her mounting desire for more erotic action, I whip her half-Happy Nude Rear, then BeLove spanks it, wholly happy and totally nude.
It’s also the third anniversary of Trumpty Dumpty’s Insurrection, aka “Coup Anon,” if you’re tuned in live, but we’re too busy with DaLove’s attention-grabbing antics to acknowledge it.
We love DaLove and BeLove, but upon examining the “radical empathy” involved when actors like DaLove play the parts of, say, narcissists like Trump, and war criminals like Benjamin Netanyahu (aka Benny Net Nut), Max and I realize another reason why neither of us pursued acting careers.
We don’t want to empathize with Benny Net Nut!
We’re also out of time, but DaLove’s transformation into Bonoboville Devil’s Advocate goes into full swing, and she has a lot more to say, leading us all into on-air dust-ups that are entertaining (or so we hear from our engrossed audience), but uncomfortable. Max and I are passionately antiwar and want to end the show on a peace-through-pleasure note, but deliciously naughty DaLove appears to have a passionate fetish for provoking us.
Finally, we come to the end of the line – at least for this show, with a plea for the world, including ourselves, to cut through the chatter of our devices, our intellects and our negative emotions – to go bonobos into 2024.
It’s the Eve of Xmas Eve as Capt’n Max and I broadcast live, sliding down your chimney with gifts... more It’s the Eve of Xmas Eve as Capt’n Max and I broadcast live, sliding down your chimney with gifts (awards!) if you’ve been sex-positive, and coal in your stocking if you’ve been a war criminal. That’s the boobie prize—and I don’t mean Jingle Jugs.
It’s the SUZYs 2023!
Honoring excellence in broadcast artistry and exhibitionism, erotic performance, pro-sex activism, antiwar politics and Weapons of Mass Seduction, celebrating The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure in all kinds of weather, for the 12th consecutive year…
Are YOU a winner?
Well before XBIZ, the AVNs, the TEAs, the Oscars, Critics Choice, the Grammys, the Tonys, the Emmys, the BAFTAs, NAACP, XRCO, SAG and MTV awards and the Golden Globes trot out their awards, we are here to acknowledge the best and worst of 2023 with the DrSusanBlock.tv Awards, a.k.a., “The SUZYS.”
So… Merry XXXmas, Sexmas, Festivus, Happy Kwanza, Happy Pancha Ganapati, Io Saturnalia, Happy Anti-Zionist Hanukkah, Happy Whatever You Celebrate 2023, Winter Solstice Cheer AND a Happy Nude Rear! We’re looking up the ass of the past year!
Our goal, as always (besides having a cum-ton of fun), is to advance the noble cause of sex education—more important than ever, as we face draconian crackdowns on sexual speech and activity by Big Tech, Big War and our Supreme Court Injustices. We also aim to inspire peace on earth, better erotica, pro-sex work, antiwar politics and free speech activism, as well as to save the real bonobos from extinction and support a more bonoboësque, Make Love Not War/Make Kink Not War ethos in the world.
Speaking of “ethos,” our Bonoboville Ethics Committee has, since our inception, stipulated that DrSuzy.Tv and/or F.D.R. staff members, no matter how deserving, are ineligible to receive SUZY awards.
However, because we were raised in the United States of Everybody-Gets-an-Award, we do give a special “staff award” to our beloved staff, a “thank you for your service” award that winners can put on their resume, if not their mantle.
Otherwise, all award winners are selected from guest appearances, calls and mentions on the over 37 live broadcasts in 2023 F.D.R. and The Dr. Susan Block Show, including several outside interviews and Bonoboville-on-the-Road presentations on location.
As is traditional for The SUZYs, we do not invite the winners, the losers, or anyone at all to the award show, so don’t worry, you didn’t miss out! Just sit back by the yuletide fire, pour yourself a flute of champagne, smoke a doobie, relax, cheer for The Best, boooo The Worst and enjoy the SUZY awards….
And The Winners Are…
#GoBonobos “Most Bonobo” – Janelle Monáe “Most Bonobo Couple” – Danièle Watts & Chef Be*Live – aka DaLove & BeLove “Most Bonobo Primatologists” – Vanessa Woods & Brian Hare “Best Bonobo Conservation” – Lola ya Bonobo “Best Bonobo Conservation” – Bonobo Conservation Initiative “Best Bonobo-in-America Habitat” – The San Diego Zoo “Staff Award” – DrSuzy-Tv Staff Sex & Pleasure “Hottest Cougar” – Amber Lynn “Mozart of Sex” – Nina Hartley “Best Intimacy Coordinator” – Erin Tillman “Best Purse” – Lux Lives “Veteran Porn Power Couple” – Luc Wylder & Alexandra Silk “Best Bonoboville Communion” – Rhiannon Aarons “Best PG Bonoboville Communion” – Lilith Kat “Best Redcarpet Interview” – Danny Wolf, Prod: David Bertolino “Best Live Radio Interview” – Hartley Pleshaw, WCAP-980 AM Active Radio “Most Intimate Interview” – Coralyn Jewel “Best Deep Throat Confession” – Veronica Hart, aka Jane Hamilton Kink, Fetish & BDSM “Most Well-Rounded Kinkster” – Rhiannon Aarons “Most Adorable” – Amor “Baby Block” Hilton “Best Barbie” – Amor “Baby Block” Hilton “Kinkiest Mask” – Gas Mask Girl, featuring Kyla Keys “Most Congenial Kink Host” – Tom Hoffman “Most Sparkling GemDom” – Madame Margherite “Best Kinky Thespian” – John Barrymore “Best Tease” – Dita Von Teese “Best Leather” – Jux Leather “Best Spankee” – Fawnia “Most Sapiosexual Sadist” – Madame Mina De Sade-Fatale Arts, Science & Media “Best Art Party” – Abby Martin & Mike Prysner “Best Art Café” – Fairouz “Best Outdoor Art Gallery” – Little Secret, Queerspace “Most International Yalie” – Gerry Weaver “Best Live Callin Comments” – CutThePentagon, aka Fahim “Most Poetic Comments” – Stan Kent “Most Artistic Comments” – Kristen Rocks “Best Free Speech Trial Tweets” – Stephen Lemons “Social Media Support Sister” – Kacy TGirl “Best Hairdresser” – Mark Brown “Most Loyal Listener” – Don Pascal “Most Bonobo Graduate” – Chris Gagliardi “Best Rapmaster” – Ikkor the Wolf “Best Singing Caller” – Maria “Best Singing Dog” – Rufio the Dog, Manager: Brady Crow “Best Captain’s Hats” – Dragon Steele “Best Long-Term Radio Friend” – Janelle Hopkins “Best Blast from the Past” – Barry Miller “Best 50th Anniversary” – Gerard Damiano’s DEEP THROAT “Sex Positive Activism” – Soma Snakeoil “Wildest AI Art” – Robbie Martin “Worst Censor” – Mark Zuckerberg “Worst Video Censor” – YouTube “Best ‘Real Sex’ Nostalgia” – Sex on the Internet, Vice TV “Shadiest TV Producer” – Zach Shucklin, Vice TV “Most Flagrantly Obnoxious Billionaire” – Elon Musk Bonobo Politics “Bonobo Courage Award” – Palestine “Bonobo Caring Award” – Jews for Palestine – Jewish Voice for Peace “Bonobo Sharing Award” – Doctors Without Borders “Best Journalist” –Julian Assange “Best Journalism” – Counterpunch “Bravest Journalism” – Journalists of Gaza “Best Interviews on Palestine” – Abby Martin, Empire Files “Best Political Podcast” – Media Roots “War Criminal of the Year” – Benjamin Netanyahu, aka “Benny Net Nut” “War Criminal of the Century” – George W. Bush “War Criminal of the 20th Century (2nd Half)” – Henry Kissinger “Worst War Profiteers” –Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, Raytheon “War Crimes Complicit” – Joe Biden “Loser of the Year” – Israel “Loser of the Century” – Donald J. Trump “Worst Yale Grad” – Ron DeSantis “Worst Neopuritan” – S. House Speaker Mike Johnson “Miss Ammosexual” – Lauren Boebert “Miss QAnonsenical” – Marjorie Taylor Greene “Kangaroo Court of the Year” – Arcadia City Council “Worst Americans” – Supreme Court Right Wing “Best U.S. President of My Lifetime” – Jimmy Carter “Worst Ideology” – Zionism There you have it, another hot listicle of sexperts, sexpots, sex workers, politicos, artists, exhibitionists, visionaries, revolutionaries, hot babes, bitches, a few bad bastards and several war criminals who should be in prison but probably the worst that’ll happen to them is this boobie prize. All have appeared, been mentioned or parodied, immortalized, honored for greatness or exposed for evil on FDR and/or DrSuzy.Tv.
In a way, the SUZYs are the Anti-Award Awards. You may question some of our choices (so did we!), which is one reason to listen to the show. Another reason is that it’s full of sex, fun, bonobo wisdom, antiwar fervor and leftist politics, always bubbling up in our champagne as we toast the winners and pee on the losers. That’s just virtual peeing; don’t panic, you Censor-Bots! We’re not the Israeli Defense Forces – who really did pee on Palestinian prisoners, thinking that was some sort of “own” goal, when all it proved is how gross they are.
The Perfect Sexy Lefty Gift Need the perfect gift for the socialist-feminist-orgiast who has everything? Give The Bonobo Way for the holidays… or Valentine’s Day (which is also World Bonobo Day)!
Win or losing it, get under that mistletoe and make love to someone you love tonight, even if that someone is you. And if you need a helping hand or if you just need to talk, the award-winning Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute are here for you 24/7 throughout the Holy Daze and into the future. And if you haven’t got a dime, everything you can see on DrSuzy.Tv is still free.
If you need a sex toy, your SUZY award can be used as a dildo; just remove the wings! In fact, it already has its own condom, worn like a halo on our SUZY award’s head.
Peace on Earth. Pleasure for All. Amen. Awomen. And a Happy Nude Rear!
It’s the third night of Hanukkah 2023 as we broadcast live from Bonoboville, and I’m feeling ambi... more It’s the third night of Hanukkah 2023 as we broadcast live from Bonoboville, and I’m feeling ambivalent, as I do every Hanukkah; loathing its religious militaristic story while loving its gifts, games, hot wax and flickering lights. But this year, Zionist Israel’s ruthless, relentless bombardment of Gaza is far too dark for even the world’s largest menorah to brighten.
Sorry to still bewail these unsexy atrocities week after week, but Israel is still committing them—week after week.
This Hanukkah isn’t So Happy
On the day of this show, an old Catholic friend emails me, wishing Capt’n Max and me a “Happy Hanukkah… with lots of fun and good cheer.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “But sadly, this is not a ‘Happy Hanukkah’ with ‘lots of fun and good cheer,’ as Israel bombs the lights and the life out of Gaza. I’m sorry to have to respond this way to your sincere good wishes, but that’s the way it is this Hanukkah.”
Israel’s apartheid has long been brewing a toxic stew, stirring up the brutal 10/7 Hamas explosion, which—like 9/11 and Pearl Harbor—could have been prevented with a little more intelligence, as opposed to highly overrated Intelligence… or maybe a politically desperate and depraved “Bibi” Netanyahu just *let* it happen. Then came the monstrous vengeance, the slaughtering of thousands, the denial that there are any Palestinian “civilians,” not even children, the targeting of Palestinian doctors and poets in their hospitals and schools, bombing, bombing, bombing beyond war crimes (really, beyond words).
These are Zionist—not Jewish—crimes, but unfortunately, most non-Jews conflate Zionism with Judaism. This mistaken conflation, stoked by the Jewish Zionists—as well as American Christian Zionists—compels me to join my fellow “Jews for Peace” in crying “Not in Our Name!” to IDF bombing and Zionist apartheid, even though I have Zionist friends from high school days now living in Israel (who won’t follow my advice to leave), and I haven’t stopped caring about them, worried daily for their safety, as well as their sanity.
Antiochus Netanyahu
I grew up among Zionists (including these friends who “made Aliyah”), but I never felt their passion, never believed that Israel was *my* country, or even a place I wanted to live. Its gung-ho, GI-Judah, post-Six Day War military spirit was a turn-off; I just wanted to make love, not war. For years, I could ignore, but the Zionist cancer, I had to “come out” against it. Now with this so-called “war” against Hamas that is really a Palestinian massacre, it seems that Netanyahu has overtaken Antiochus, the brutal villain of the Hanukkah story.
Yes, the ancient Hanukkah story of the Jewish people under the occupation of the Syrian Greek Seleucid King Antiochus IV in 160 BC has telling parallels to the modern story of the Palestinian people under the occupation of Mad King Netanyahu (or as Max calls him, “Net Nut”) in 2023.
According to the first Book of Maccabees, Antiochus was a sadistic king, always trying to humiliate his Jewish subjects, making them bow to idols, eat pork and probably commit sexual perversities. Now we have Netanyahu’s IDF, humiliating, stripping down, blindfolding Guantanamo-style, and forcing Palestinians to kneel before the Almighty smartphones that broadcast their humiliation throughout the universe.
Even worse than Antiochus, Net Nut drops his bombs—high-tech Hanukkah gifts from his good friend, Genocide Joe—killing Palestinians en masse and individual by precious individual, even as this wanted-for-corruption, narcissistic Nut has the chutzpah to piously light the first candle of Hannukah 2023 with a paid-off Rabbi by the Western Wall.
Miracle of Peace
If I compare the Maccabees of Hanukkah to Hamas of Palestine, the Zionists would call me a self-hating Jew. I’m no fan of horrid Hamas, but Judah Maccabee and his brothers are the quintessential extremist religious fanatics, “terrorists,” in the eyes of their occupiers… kind of like Hamas.
The ancient rabbis did not classify Hanukkah as a major Jewish holiday, maybe because it’s so GI-Judah. But it’s a Winter festival, so it piggybacks on Christmas and the gift-giving angle makes it good for capitalism.
But it’s much more than gifts and war. Like all winter holidays, Hanukkah stems from the original Winter Solstice, and the miracles that test their devotees’ willingness to believe, the most basic natural miracle being that a cold, dark, half-dead Earth is now coming alive with warmth and light, and Spring. The Christmas miracle is the virgin birth of “God” in human form, and the Miracle of Hanukkah is the “everlasting light,” the sacred lamp of the Jewish Temple, which had only enough oil to burn for 24 hours; yet it lasted eight days (thus the eight candles of the menorah), giving enough time for those terrorist/hero Maccabees to get fresh oil to replenish the eternal flame.
Speaking of oil, could Netanyahu and the Zionists be after a different kind of oil—or natural gas—in or off the shore of poor little rich Gaza? Perhaps oil is a motivating factor, as it often is, but it’s not 160 BC anymore or even 1948, and the whole world is watching on their devices.
This year’s hoped-for miracle, the one that I and so many wish for—whether actively marching in the streets or more passively witnessing from those ubiquitous devices—is that the Palestinian people be free of Zionist occupation, and that Jews—wherever we live—can once again be a people of peace and wisdom.
“It’s the Bonobo Way,” I say in my email and on the air, “the way of peace through the pleasure; the pleasure of sharing love, sex, food, medicine, knowledge and resources, the peace-inducing pleasure of seeing our own humanity in the eyes of the stranger.”
Thus, I give quite the earful to my poor well-meaning Catholic friend who only wanted to wish me a “Happy Hanukkah”—as well as to our audience on this show.
Candles for Palestine
Then I light the candles, singing the Hanukkah prayers—in my own quasi-Hebraic way—for Palestine, hoping my tears don’t douse the flames, any one of which could be the everlasting light of miracles that we all need.
Blessed art thou, O God of Gods, who makes us holy through your commandments, and commands us to light the candles for Palestine.
Singing my own version of the Hanukkah prayer, I think of those Zionists who say that an anti-Zionist Jew for Palestine like me can’t or shouldn’t celebrate Hanukkah because it’s a Zionist holiday. It’s true that Hanukkah celebrates military might (which isn’t my cup of Manischewitz), but telling me I can’t honor one of the holidays of my youth because I don’t agree with your politics is downright anti-Semitic. Turns out that Israeli and Christian Zionists are some of the worst anti-Semites around these days, maybe because they don’t separate politics from religion or Church from State.
Hot-Wax Hanukkah
I have always celebrated Hanukkah in my own way, and I always will. The games are fun, and it’s a mitzvah or “good deed” to have sex with your spouse on Hanukkah, a commandment that Max and I are very happy to fulfill.
But what I really love are the lights, the fire and the hot wax.
O hot wax, how I do love thee… having played with it since I was a pyrophiliac child, scolded not to burn the house down. Little did my good parents know, they were helping to stoke a fetish for the kinky pleasures of dripping hot wax skillfully on the beautiful bodies of consenting adults. Back in sexier times, I held some fairly big bacchanalian Hot-Wax Hanukkah party shows, including Hanukkah Girls Gone Wild (2010), Massive Musical Orgy of Love, Lights & the Bill of Rights (2012), Hot Wax Chanuka in Bonoboville (2015), Xmas Eve Confessions with Hanuka Hot Wax (2016), Hot Wax Hanukkah & the Alabama Miracle (2017), Squirting Hot Wax Hanukkah (2018), FemDom Hot-Wax Hanukkah (2019) our Coronapocalyptic Hanukkah-Xmas Bedside Chat 2020, and last year’s Saturnalia-Hanukkah-Sonata, all free to see on DrSuzy.Tv.
I’m pretty sure these amazing, blazing bacchanals would get me burned at the stake by the religious Zionists who seem to prefer the bomb-fires of demolition to the pleasures of hot, dripping love, not war.
Creating Trauma in Real Time
What a tragedy—though also a time of great heroism—for Palestine. And what a shame, what a great sin, a Shanda as they say in Yiddish, for Israel. What a shame as well for America, providing bombs paid for with our taxes, supported with ghastly enthusiasm by our political representatives, the U.S. just vetoing the Security Council draft resolution for a humanitarian ceasefire. Shameful!
It seems that Hanukkah 2023 is a time of collective trauma for all thinking, caring non-Zionist Jews. It’s nothing like having your house reduced to rubble, your limbs blown off or other unspeakable horrors being visited upon Palestinians; still, it’s sad to witness the rituals and relics of my Judaic youth destroyed by Zionists. Like the Nazis ruined a perfectly beautiful Buddhist symbol of peace, turning it into the swastika of hate, now the Zionists are ruining the Star of David, turning it into a symbol of oppression.
All aboard the Gravy Train, broadcasting live mid-Thanksgiving Weekend, still digesting Turkey Da... more All aboard the Gravy Train, broadcasting live mid-Thanksgiving Weekend, still digesting Turkey Day, Feasting Day, Fat Thursday—or the Day of Mourning and Protest for the native tribal peoples of America who were slaughtered, their land stolen by the British Pilgrims and other European colonialists, as surely as the natives of Palestine are being slaughtered, their land is stolen by the Zionists of today.
The American pilgrims massacred the Natives with muskets and blankets filled with smallpox. The Zionist pilgrims use bombs (provided by American war profiteers) and light up the night sky with white phosphorus.
Thus—though Capt’n Max and I are very thankful for the deeply heartwarming and bonoboesque Israel/Hamas hostages-for-prisoners exchange taking place as I write this, and for the fabulous turkey dinner created by Chef Gideon here in Bonoboville (boy, did I get stuffed—from both ends)—we generally prefer Spanksgiving to Thanksgiving.
Slappy Spanksgiving 2023!
Season’s Beatings, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners, Pilgrims and Libertines and In-Betweens…
It’s our duty to spank booty on Spanksgiving!
Come let us play… And let us sing: Amen and Awomen. Praise be to the power and glory of spanking. Hallelujah. Praise the buns. And give ‘em a spank.
On Thanksgiving, let us give thanks, and on Spanksgiving, let us give spanks. Let us spank away the hate and the greed and the fear that divide us. And let us practice the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure… with a little spanking. Consenting adults only please. Don’t spank kids (they can’t consent).
The Bible says, “Spare the rod and spoil the child.” I say: “Spare the child and use that hot rod to spoil your (consenting adult) lover with just the kind of spanking they enjoy.”
Spanking is not to everyone’s erotic taste, but it’s a whole lot of kink-positive, recreational-not-procreational, butt-whacking fun or some. It can even, when done the right way, be therapeutic. Pilgrim Kinks
Spanksgiving is more reality-based than Thanksgiving. It’s far more likely that our Pilgrim ancestors practiced the rites of Spanksgiving than the mythical love-in with the Wampanoag Native Americans that we in willfully ignorant America have come to call Thanksgiving. Pilgrim and Puritan spankings, paddlings, whippings, floggings, “stocks and bonds,” “tar and feathering,” “public disgrace” and witch-hangings (which members of our audience find particularly distressing this episode) were, of course, totally nonconsensual atrocities delivered with sanctimonious relish, often to punish sexual transgressions, such as adultery, group sex or masturbation. The witches or belladonnas were also hung for healing the sick because when it came to matters of life, death and well-being, the all-controlling Church Fathers didn’t like competition.
Despite our abhorrence for such abusive chastisements—which are making terrible “comebacks,” like corporal punishment in schools and torture in prisons—consenting adults can share kinky healing pleasure in roleplaying such crimes of colonialism, such as we do at the Institute via phone sex therapy as well as in Spanksgiving celebrations past in Bonoboville.
Shanksgiving?
Disturbingly enough, Shanksgiving is trending on xTwitter right now—referring to the recent prison stabbing of Derek Chauvin, whom the world saw in 2020 slowly murdering George Floyd with his knee on his neck. I can’t say I’m upset about Chauvin’s plight; still, I prefer Spanks to Shanksgiving.
It’s our duty to spank booty on Spanksgiving!
Deep Throat does LA
Speaking of booty… My “Deep Throat does LA” multi-media extravaganza is now online! Join me and Bonoboville On-the-Road across town and down the hatch of history for the 50th anniversary of Gerard Damiano’s DEEP THROAT, that ‘70s Film epitomizing “Porno Chic” and, for some, the Sexual Revolution. It’s all part of Gerard Damiano, Jr. and Christar Damiano’s golden anniversary commemoration of their father’s seminal (pun intended) film, bringing a 4K-Restored Director’s Cut Print to the Laemmle Royal Theater and 910 WeHo Center (courtesy of Tom Hoffman), both LA screenings featuring Golden Age Adult Nina Hartley, Veronica Hart, Amber Lynn, Christy Canyon, Keisha, porn power couple Luc Wylder and Alexandra Silk (who are also making a film about the tour), “Naked John,” Nai’a (Golden Age porn star/director Gloria Leonard’s granddaughter), and the late great Herschel Savage (who sadly passed away a month ago) on the Red Carpet, plus Danny Wolf interviewing me about my “first time” watching Deep Throat in a big theater circa 1978. Sexperts Erin Tillman, Lux Lives, Kim Airs, Rhiannon Aarons and more joined the veteran stars at the follow-up “Talk Back” Panels, moderated by yours truly, about the history, the “communal ecstasy,” the raging controversies, the complex and tragic tale of Deep Throat star Linda Lovelace, Free Speech (then and now), the value of sexual recreation (The Bonobo Way) vs. forced procreation (the Alito way), Clarence Thomas and the Coke can, and the quirky creation of this iconic and scandalous film.
Filmed for under $25,000, Deep Throat is said to have made almost $600 million (for all you capitalists counting profits), capturing the cravings of the “Make Love Not War” generation traumatized by Vietnam and yearning for sexual healing. Prosecuted for obscenity and defended by Hollywood stars Warren Beatty, Jack Nicholson, Barry Miller (who joined us at 910 WeHo) and many others, Deep Throat drew (and still draws) a wide range of protests, from Charles Keating and the Religious Right to Catherine MacKinnon and the Anti-Porn Feminists to President Richard Nixon himself. With delectable irony, the name of the “Watergate” informant that forced Nixon to resign was “Deep Throat.” Tricky Dick Nixon tried to shut down Deep Throat, but “Deep Throat” took down Tricky Dick.
“What was Deep Throat’s effect on our world? What about it was delicious and what was tough to swallow?” I asked the Laemmle and 910 WeHo panels. “What has changed for the better and what for worse?” If you missed these stimulating screening events and panels live, don’t miss the fabulous videos and my “Deep Throat does LA” journal.
It being Thanksgiving, I give thanks to Counterpunch for posting “Deep Throat does LA: 50 Years of Sex, Cinema, Politics & Controversy” and for all their excellent coverage and analysis of the crazy world today. Thanks especially to Jeffrey St. Claire and Joshua Frank, my excellent editors who don’t really edit, but keep it all together for us. I even have a subscription and you should too.
Oral & Aural Pleasure
The Deep Throat logo is a kiss, and Callin caller Maria’s avatar is her own rubyt lips holding a fortune cookie fortune between them reading “You look happy and proud.”
Indeed, Maria is quite happy and proud of herself and her Thanksgiving 2023 that included a “Friendsgiving” and family feast with guests from Czech Republic, Tunisia and Lebanon, none of whom discussed politics, nor did they have a foursome with Maria’s sister-in-law who invited them (or so she says), even though I can’t get the image of a consensual Gravy Train Gangbang out of my mind.
Though we don’t talk directly about sex on this call—except to elicit a giggle over Spanksgiving—Maria describes her Thanksgiving cuisine with such sensuous, mellifluous, mouthwatering detail; it’s like having phone sex with a restaurant hostess reciting the menu. Well, eating is an oral pleasure. Before we close, she obliges my musical request, reprising the Beatles “Her Majesty” with royal harmony. Now that’s an aural pleasure.
Lots more on this flavorful show. Grab a bowl of leftover stuffing—or fresh cannabis—and listen...
This year marks the golden anniversary of Deep Throat—the erotic, ironic, iconic 1972 movie that,... more This year marks the golden anniversary of Deep Throat—the erotic, ironic, iconic 1972 movie that, for many, personified the Sexual Revolution in America.
Deep Throat gave the world a taste of Porno Chic with a Big Gulp of Free Speech, followed by a bubbly chaser of U.S. politics mixed with presidential scandal, spiced with make-love-not-war fervor, spliced with sex-positive feminism and diced with pungent controversies; leaving a complex aftertaste that still lingers five decades later.
It's all shaken up into a flavorful 50th anniversary tasting tour courtesy of Gerard Damiano, Jr. and Christar Damiano, devoted son and daughter of Deep Throat auteur/director Gerard Damiano. The world tour honors their father’s seminal (in every sense of the word), cinematic creation-cum-pop culture sensation that shocked and seduced the nation—not always in that order.
Director’s cut screenings have been playing throughout this golden anniversary in theaters, festivals, clubs and other venues around the globe. All of Deep Throat’s quirky scenarios, jingle-happy soundtrack and explicit, unexpurgated sex scenes in their full-on, glorious, notorious, 4K-restored clarity and color can be seen on the big screen once again.
Down the hatch!
Not that it all goes down easy or creamy. Some aspects of Deep Throat are tough to swallow.
This is, after all, the movie that launched a thousand protests—ranging from the raging Religious Right to the anti-porn feminist “Left,” from Chicago Sun-Times film critic Roger Ebert to Memphis, Tennessee’s “smut”-smiting prosecutor Larry Parrish, from “liberal” New York City Mayor John Lindsay to “conservative” U.S. President Richard M. Nixon, as well as the FBI, the NYPD, Charles Keating, the Meese Commission and many more. Over the years, a myriad of people, organizations and political movements have tried to shut down, shut up and choke off Deep Throat.
That’s one reason why the Damianos arranged post-screening “talkback” panels at every venue, featuring experts of different kinds from Golden Age adult stars to 21st century “intimacy coordinators.”
I was honored to accept their invitation to moderate the panels at the two Los Angeles venues, though moderating a discussion about something so immoderate as Deep Throat has its challenges. I brought my riding crop just in case I needed to discipline a panel member (kidding—I just brought it for fun).
Having broadcasted shows live from “The Deep Throat Sex Scandal” (the play by David Bertolino) and “Harry Reems Tribute” in 2013, and having been interviewed for the E! True Hollywood Story’s “Linda Lovelace” episode in 2000—AND having actually seen the movie in a theater circa 1978—I felt prepared. Little did I know how deeply we would go into the sometimes bizarre, controversial and culturally insurgent qualities of Deep Throat.
The first LA screening was held at the venerable, old Laemmle Royal Theater in West LA, and the second at the kink-positive, new 910 WeHo Center in West Hollywood, owned and operated by the courageous and congenial Tom Hoffman.
There was supposed to be a third venue, the Frida Cinema in Santa Ana. However, controversy reared its scandalous head as the Frida canceled its scheduled screening just over a week prior to showtime due to outrage expressed by anonymous “community” members. The reaction was so “swift and severe” that no amount of “talkback” would moderate the “pushback.” Or so said Frida Management—that is, the same person who had originally, and quite enthusiastically, scheduled the screening—as they apologetically but resolutely canceled it.
Funny how censorship, bans, deactivations, complaints and cancellations are so often based on anonymous outrage.
However, the show must go on, and on it went at the two remaining So Cal venues, with flash and panache, as befits the subject. Swinging Seventies nostalgia was in the air. Golden Age porn stars, most of whom had worked with Damiano and all of whom adored him, strutted across the red carpets, including Nina Hartley, Veronica Hart, Amber Lynn, Christy Canyon, Keisha, porn power couple Luc Wylder and Alexandra Silk (who are also making a film about the tour), “Naked John,” Golden Age porn star/director Gloria Leonard’s granddaughter Nai’a, and the legendary Herschel Savage.
Sadly, though Mr. Savage seemed ageless at this event, he passed away suddenly just four months later. Star of another classic, Debbie Does Dallas, (graphic descriptions of which helped make Ronald Reagan’s “Meese Commission” Report a best-seller), as well as the lesser-known Satisfiers of Alpha Blue, directed by Gerard Damiano, Herschel was a trained Broadway actor who studied with renowned Stanislavski “method” teachers, Uta Hagen and Stella Adler, before doing Debbie, and he went on to become one of the world’s first and biggest adult stars.
RIP Herschel Savage, née Harvey Cohen, November 25, 1952 – October 8, 2023.
However, that night a very much alive and reflective Herschel joined the rest of us to commemorate one of the most groundbreaking American films ever made… which happened to be about blowjobs.
Of course, Deep Throat was (and still is) not just *about* blowjobs. It also actually showed these blowjobs, as well as cunnilingus, doggy-style, reverse cowgirl, orgies and more—close-up!—on the big screens of major movie theaters throughout the greater U.S. of A.
Talk about a cinematic sexual revolution!
Many audiences were thrilled to partake in an adults-only group sex-watching experience that—with the right crowd—was like a rock concert, love-in and midnight screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show (to be released a few years later in 1975) combined, creating a palpable sense of “communal ecstasy”… with a hat tip to the late great Barbara Ehrenreich’s not-so-kinky concept of “collective joy.”
No, Deep Throat wasn’t as spiritual as Woodstock (1969), though you could say they were both “dirty”… in different ways.
Of course, other Deep Throat audience members (perhaps with the wrong crowd) were more shell-shocked than thrilled, wondering what in hell they were watching… genitalia as big as a house?!?
Well, a tiny house; but still, this was big-screen, wide open-to-the-public entertainment, and the public ate it up like ice cream after a tonsillectomy.
It’s our first ride on the Love Train since Capt’n Max’s 80th birthday, so we’re still celebratin... more It’s our first ride on the Love Train since Capt’n Max’s 80th birthday, so we’re still celebrating with cool callers and hot tales of this year’s erotic festivities; plus eight great decades of Max’s memories, from being born into war through a lifetime of advocating for peace, romance and great sex.
It’s also the 9th Anniversary of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure (now with over fifty five-star reviews on Amazon) which was my gift to Max for his birthday in 2014. In these dystopian days of perma war, genocide, ecocide and neo-Puritan neo-fascism, we need the Bonobo Way of conflict resolution, female empowerment, male well-being, sharing resources and peace through pleasure more than ever. Yet opportunities to release our inner bonobos seem fewer and farther between.
We even took a trip to the Zoo to see the real bonobos for a Bonobo Peace Summit a couple weeks ago, as Israel’s retributive bombardment of Gaza began, so we could learn more about how to “Be Bonobo” and possibly save the world—or at least save our sanity in our own “little” worlds.
Happy Naughty November 2023
And it’s Naughty November, appropriately enough, as birthday spankings may be given to naughty birthday boys. Max is “naughty” in the best sense, especially for an octogenarian. Since his actual day of birth (November 8) fell on a Wednesday—the Hump of the Week—we kicked it off with a little humping.
Go bonobos for senior sex! It keeps you young. Max is now 80 years young and, despite a few disabilities that have now rendered him temporarily wheelchair-bound, he’s still having and giving great orgasms. I can attest to the orgasms he is giving (to me, at least) being somehow better than ever. And he’s having some pretty good ones too, thanks to his naughty Night Nurse (that would also be me) slipping into bed with him for “treatments.”
I figure it’s best to have some kind of sex first thing to get the big birthday off to a sexy start, because you never know how the rest of your day and evening will go. The typical plan is to have sex at the end of a day of festivities, but the best laid plans may not get you laid the way you planned, so maybe it’s better to have it first. After all that celebrating, the day’s end might find you drunk, exhausted or mad at each other—and then there goes the birthday sex! Best to do it first, just in case, and then you can always do it again. We were too drunk and exhausted for round two—but at least we weren’t mad at each other this year!
Perma War Day
It's also Veterans Day 2023, so we talk about how this somber military day of salutes, cemeteries and fighter jet ballets started out as Armistice Day, which celebrated making peace after World War I, the notorious “War to End All Wars.”
However, the wars didn’t end with WWI.
On the contrary, the American War Machine just got bigger and bigger with no sign of America ever going back to a “peacetime economy.” So, our leaders turned Armistice Day, a holiday celebrating peacemakers, into Veterans Day, a holiday venerating the fallen warriors of Perma War.
Sanctions are almost as bad as war, since they tend to kill the poorest civilians, rather than the elites who wage wars and make policies that America doesn’t like. Burt Sesame calls in to ask, “Why don’t Why don’t we drop care packages instead of bombs?” His suggestion for good-will drops of food, medicine and iPads is great, and very bonobo, though it reminds me of an incident in Iraq where children confused air-dropped care packages with cluster bomblets—both bright yellow.
That’s not the main problem with Burt’s idea, however. It’s that dropping bombs makes a lot more money for the American War Machine and its political handmaids than dropping care packages.
Birthday Spankings!
We prefer celebrating Naughty November to Dead Troops of the War Machine Day.
And Capt’n Max’s hump-of-the-week birthday party took it up a notch. Since Max was rooted to his wheelchair, we couldn’t give him his own birthday spankings. Fortunately, we had two beautiful butts volunteering for the honor.
First up for Max’s birthday spanking was the fabulous Amor Hilton (no relation to Paris) who appeared to be in her birthday suit—at least from the waist down, her pale pink thong teddy matching her pale pink skin. Such a living Barbie Doll, with a purse made of white latex skeletons, it’s no wonder Amor wins the “Most Adorable” Suzy Award every year.
Admitting she was naughty and “deserved” a spanking, having missed my birthday show a few months ago, Amor subjected her pale pink ass to my rosy palm, complimenting my slaps with her squeals.
Adorable Amor also contributed a few well-placed wallops to my marathon spanking of Fawnia, our delightful, hot MILF real estate agent.
Fawnia had done nothing naughty, though some might use that adjective to describe her periodic boob-flashing throughout the party. However, she received the most spanks—80, to be exact—one for each of Max’s 80 years—with long pauses between spanks for Max to reminisce about that particular year in his long life of love and revolution.
What a good impact-play sport our Fawnia is!
Birthday Laughs & Love
Amor’s “date,” Mr. David Harris, arrived in a dapper purple suit and tie with matching fedora and purple heart-shaped sunglasses. He even led the toasts “to Max!” One toast led to another (thanks to scrumptious Barbancour Pango pineapple-flavored rum), and before we could say “birthday suit,” David had his shirt unbuttoned, and then completely off, though he kept his tie on, continually toasting “to Max!”
Fawnia and Amor showered Max with hugs and kisses (David also tried to, but Max held his boundaries). Amor even gave him her ring to wear around his neck, just like the old Elvis song (one of Max’s favorites), which Max wore through this show.
Amor gave him a flashcard that said, “I wanna spoon the fuck out of you.” “I wanna spoon the fork out of you” would be funnier, but whoever made the flashcards didn’t consult me.
What a nice gathering—just enough to call it a party, and we did party with plenty of drinking, eating, speechifying, spanking, a little dancing and carousing, and no fighting. Fighting and shooting break out in a lot of parties these days, but not in Bonoboville, at least not on Capt’n Max’s 80th birthday.
Three cheers and a bonobo beer for our great Captain!
CEASEFIRE NOW!
Alas, but it isn’t long before celebrations give way to lamentations on this show, as Bibi Netanyahu and the Zionist branch of the American War Machine continue to bomb Gaza into a deathscape of cataclysmic proportions.
Much as we—and billions of others—are screaming “Ceasefire Now!” in the streets, on our podcasts, in the offices of our representative and just about everywhere else except Genocide Joe’s own bathroom, our leaders are not listening. They are too busy raking in the cash from the Military Industrial Congressional Complex, aka the American War Machine.
It’s also the 84th anniversary of Kristallnacht, “the night of the broken glass,” one of the opening shots of the Nazi Holocaust, when Jews were killed and Jewish businesses were destroyed. Now the atrocity is practically in reverse, as Israel’s genocidal demolition of Gaza goes on, destroying schools, hospitals, humanitarian water trucks, refugee camps and all the innocent people in them.
Ceasefire Now and forever. No more killing in the Holy Land!
Maria, aka Smiley Red Herring, calls in response to our Gaza lamentations, but winds up partaking in Max’s birthday celebration, singing “Happy Birthday” with a bluesy lilt that has us applauding and cheering for more.
She’s a bit religious—or as she says, an “ecumenical” Christian with a fondness for the “digital” Gideon’s Bible—and certainly to the right of our sexy, lefty politics. Nevertheless we find ourselves in harmony on many things, from the joy of spanking (she prefers giving to receiving, and only when “in the mood”) to the pain of Palestine. She’s even watched our friend Abby Martin’s “Gaza Fights for Freedom.”
We also agree that all these religious folks murdering one another in the name of their righteous God(s) ought to follow at least one of the Big 10 Commandments: “Thou Shalt Not Kill.” How about it, believers?
Our descriptions of Max’s bacchanalian birthday also make an impression on Maria. "Ya'll are making me freakishly jealous right now,” she confesses.
There’s only one thing to do about that: mellifluous Maria is hereby invited to the next Bonoboville bacchanal!
In the meantime, she’s checking out the Christian crusading comments on our Vice TV piece, now reaching 265K views!
MAGAt Mike’s Johnson & Son
In the midst of all the celebrations and lamentations, we get a little comic relief. MAGAt Mike Johnson would be hilarious if he weren’t Speaker of the House, third in line to the highest office in the land.
Even then, he’s pretty funny. An ammosexual Christian nationalist, he blames school shootings on the teaching of evolution, claiming that if we learn that humans have evolved over billions of years from “slime,” as opposed to being crafted from dirt (it’s in the Bible) six thousand years ago by a guy in the sky, we can’t be expected to value life.
Speaking of slime, MAGAt Mike has a big porn fetish, big enough that he has used a porn-monitoring system to catch his johnson when it gets slimy, and it’s called “Covenant Eyes.” If that sounds Handmaid’s Tale-ish—as in “Under His Eye”—that’s because it is. Mike is very enthusiastic about Covenant’s “accountability software,” which he has used religiously with his porn partner—I mean, his “accountability partner”—who just happened to be his son. Yes, MAGA Mike and his then 17-year-old son monitored each other’s porn. Yikes.
Flying over Kinktober’s spooky full moon on my magic dildonic vibrating broom, I deliver my Ode t... more Flying over Kinktober’s spooky full moon on my magic dildonic vibrating broom, I deliver my Ode to Halloween to start up the scene… as well as our newest street in Bonoboville, “Poet Avenue.”
We want your poems! Don’t be afraid. Give “poetry therapy” a chance.
AND we want a ceasefire now! It’s been three weeks since “Israel’s 9/11” on October 7th, when Capt’n Max and I broadcasted live the day after attending “Gaza Fights for Freedom” filmmaker Abby Martin’s art party, only to wake up to Hamas attacking Israel, and then Israel attacking Gaza, which it is still attacking… and bombing in a frenzy of atrocity after Zionist atrocity, slaughtering thousands of Palestinians, including many children.
I’m Jewish but never Zionist; not even when I believed the poisonous pablum fed to me like toxic baby food in Hebrew School about Israel being “a land without people for a people without land.” I felt like modern Israel was a warrior state—more in tune with Joshua invading Jericho than King Solomon’s erotic Song of Songs—and I was a make-love-not-war kind of gal.
Nevertheless, I have long had Zionist friends and family, some of whom live in Israel, so it has taken me years to clearly see just how bad it is—bad for Palestine, bad for the Jews, bad for everyone—and to take a stand against Zionism, Bibi Netanyahu and the whole Israeli War Machine supported by American tax dollars, my tax dollars.
When I first saw footage of the Hamas attack, I was mortified. I still am mortified. I see images of Israelis being murdered and being kidnapped, and I see my old friends from Har Zion Hebrew School and Camp Ramah. I see myself. I can’t unsee myself in those images. But then I see the Palestinian people, and I see myself in them too. They’re not as ethnically close as my old Ramah friends, but they’re people, like me. But unlike me, they’re trapped in a concentration camp, slaughtered by Zionist bombs.
What a shame—a shondah, as they say in Yiddish—for the Jews; even for us anti-Zionist Jews, because unfortunately, most non-Jews don’t see the difference. So, I join the voices of my fellow anti-Zionist Jews protesting Israel’s bombs who cry, “No! Not in our name! Not in my name will you commit such atrocities. Ceasefire now.”
It’s heartening to hear these words of peace sung and shouted in the huge protest marches in all the big cities around the world.
The whole world is watching YOU, Israel. Even as you bomb Gaza and cut off their food, water, medicine, electricity and Internet, bombing hospitals, homes and schools, the world still sees, and now knows. Israel may be stronger, thanks to American weapons, but Israel is losing the war of world opinion.
So, my Israeli friends and family, if you’re listening: Ceasefire now! Ceasefire for Palestine! Ceasefire for the hostages you are currently killing with your bombs. Ceasefire for Israel itself. The only ones who won’t benefit from a ceasefire are Hamas, because Hamas feeds off of everyone’s outrage over Israel’s war crimes. The best thing Israel can do now is to negotiate with Hamas, to neutralize the “enemy” with peace, like bonobos. Hamas may well refuse to negotiate because that would legitimatize Israel, and delegitimize Hamas. More bombing as usual is just proving Hamas’ point—as it murders thousands of innocents.
It’s also heartening to see Israelis on the streets of Tel Aviv and other Israeli cities protesting the bombing and especially the bomber, Bibi Netanyahu who, like his counterpart Trump, belongs in prison (even more than Trump belongs in prison).
Speaking of the devil, Trumpty Dumpty deserves some of the blame for this mess, since his son-in-law Jared Kushner’s much ballyhooed “Abraham Accords” totally ignored Palestine, making Hamas feel it had nothing to lose. And that cool $2 billion that Jared picked up from the Saudis… could it have been payment for a bit of top secret info on Israel’s defense systems?
We all want peace—at least those of us who don’t profit from war. But how to make it? Who knows? Maybe our kissing cousins, the Make-Love-Not-War bonobos, know.
Watching Zionist bombs pulverize Gaza on our phones from our privileged perch here in Bonoboville LA may be physically safe, but it’s emotionally enervating. So, when Friends of Bonobos (the outreach arm of Lola ya Bonobo) invited us on a backstage tour of the bonobos (pan paniscus) at the San Diego Zoo, we jumped up and hooted like bonobos at the chance.
Guided by veteran primate specialist Kimba Livingston who I’d met way back in 2004 when I had my close encounter with bonobo Lana, we were treated to “inside” views of the orangutans, gorillas and, of course, the bonobos.
Thanks to new fences and other barriers, this was nowhere near as intimate an encounter as I’d had with Lana, or even with Lisa (in 2016’s Opera for Bonobos). But we had a great time at our “peace summit” with the quintessential peacemakers: the bonobos. Observing them made me even more certain that peace is the way, even in Palestine.
Bonobos make peace through pleasure, which often means sex. Unfortunately, the San Diego bonobos seem to have less and less sex every time I see them. I was afraid to ask Kimba if they were feeding them saltpeter, or maybe Prozac, though I had to wonder.
They did have a little bit of sex, and it was clearly a form of conflict resolution to defuse their competitive tensions and stop their fighting over food. So fascinating and edifying to see peace through pleasure in action!
My most exciting human-bonobo encounter this trip arose from playing catch, of all things. Due to my astigmatism and general lack of athletic prowess, I am usually a lousy pitcher; but when Kimba suggested I toss a walnut to Lisa the alpha female bonobo, I figured I’d give it a toss. Kimba herself wasn’t exactly Pedro Martinez, and the bonobos were missing her pitches. So, I took a deep breath, stepped back and threw the nut, and lo and behold, my old friend Lisa stretched out her big bony hand and caught it! Then I did it again and she caught it—though it bounced, but then she caught it again—and I could swear she winked at me whilst devouring the crunchy treat.
Maybe instead of bombing and shooting, the Israelis and Palestinians could play soccer or volleyball. Sounds crazy, but no crazier than massacring hundreds of humans every day.
Be Bonobo: Save the Humans. Please donate to Friends of Bonobos…
Thanks to Netanyahu’s genocidal blockade, Gazans are going hungry right now, which we “never forget.”
Nevertheless, starving ourselves wouldn’t feed Gaza. So when our San Diego Peace Mission needed to eat, we checked into a wonderful Palestinian restaurant called Fairouz (which means “turquoise” in Arabic), recommended by one of our regular Callin listeners, Fahim aka “Cut the Pentagon.”
Serving traditional Middle Eastern dishes like kebab and falafel, if I didn’t know Fairouz was a “Palestinian” restaurant, I’d think it was Israeli. Of course, Israel stole Palestinian and Lebanese cuisine, which is the least of Zionism’s crimes against the natives. This is why I grew up thinking that kebab, falafel and hummus were Israeli foods. Boy was I wrong!
Well, at least I didn’t think that hummus (mashed chickpeas) was Hamas… like Trumpty Dumpty. But just to be safe, I ordered the Baba Ghanouj (mashed eggplant).
But Fairouz is more than a restaurant; it’s an art gallery. The walls are covered with the vibrant and colorful paintings created by one of the owners, Ibrahim Al Nashashibi, also a poet. His brother Sami Al Nashashibi, who looks like Peter Sellers (star of one of my favorite films, Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 masterpiece, Dr. Strangelove), was a charming host, treating us like friends. Sami’s twinkling eyes lit up the space, and his broad smile seemed to stretch across the great divide between Palestine and Israel, Muslim and Jew; with love, art, poetry and great food.
Sami and his wife, the chef, exclaimed that I reminded them of “the famous [Lebanese] singer” Sabah. When I replied, “Thank you, I’m a little bit famous too,” a diner shouted from another table, “Yes, that’s Dr. Susan Block!” Then he pointed to Max and said “you must be Max.”
Who knew we had such gregarious fans in San Diego? Turns out the guy’s a cop. Wonder if he’s checked out our rants against police brutality. If he did, he’s probably one of the good ones.
Towards the end of the podcast, Fahim calls in to discuss more of the wonders of Fairouz, where he has been a regular diner for many years, as well as to express solidarity for Gaza and support for a ceasefire.
Fahim also regales us with tales of our mutual friend Abby Martin’s beginnings as a young artist and citizen journalist when she was an undergrad at San Diego State in 2006. So moving to hear how he almost wept with joy when Abby returned to San Diego in 2019 to show Gaza Fights for Freedom. If you haven’t already, please see that film and Abby’s interviews for background on the current horrors. After the screening, they all went to Fairouz.
We can’t wait to return! In the meantime, we are enjoying the two poetry and art books we bought there, Ibrahim Al Nashashibi’s Written with Colors, Drawn with Words, and Spirit Whispers, Heart Listens, which Ibrahim dedicated to his beloved younger brother, the warm and welcoming Sami.
Fahim’s description on this show of Abby Martin as “the next generation of Protest Mommies” is perfect. Hopefully, the “Protest Mommies” of the Left will overtake “Moms for Liberty,” and soon!
It’s our first FDR of Kink Month 2023, so we’re all set to let our kink flag fly, as well as reca... more It’s our first FDR of Kink Month 2023, so we’re all set to let our kink flag fly, as well as recap our sparkly night at the amazing Abby Martin’s art party, which we do…
But that’s not all that we do.
Indeed, hours before showtime, Hamas attacked Israel, killing hundreds of Israeli soldiers and civilians and taking dozens of hostages in what some are calling “Israel’s 9/11,” its bold and dramatic ferocity demonstrating the stronger country’s complete and embarrassing breakdown in so-called “intelligence.” In response, Israeli forces bombed Gaza, murdering hundreds of Palestinians with vengeful vows of war and more war, and we’re pretty shaken up about it, so of course, we talk about it.
There is no simple solution to this war or any war, except never to start a war, occupation or apartheid colonization in the first place, no matter how “holy” the land.
I have friends and family in Israel; they’re okay, but I tell them to get out of there (not that they listen to me). I support the Palestinian people’s right to live in peace and resist the brutal Zionist occupation, but I condemn the horrific violence of the Hamas attacks. I also condemn Israel’s retaliation which is, of course, many times worse, and just an escalation of the ongoing Zionist campaign of bombing, killing and oppressing the native Palestinians of this land we call “the Holy Land” for decades.
There is no simple solution to this war or any war, except never to start a war, occupation or apartheid colonization in the first place, no matter how “holy” the land.
Make Kink Not War! That’s the Bonobo Way, and it’s our motto every day—especially in the kink-positive month of Kinktober—though these days, raging wars of all kinds are engulfing our vulnerable little world. These wars are not kinky, at least not by my definition which involves consenting adults engaging in mutually exciting activities. In that sense, war is the opposite of kink, though many perversely get “off” on it. Thus, the horrific *war porn* flooding our media every day, and though its hard to look at, it’s even harder to look away.
There are many to blame on all sides for the carnage and terror now consuming Israel and Palestine. Hamas’ violence against civilians is reprehensible, but primary responsibility rests with the greater power which is, in this case, Israel, a nuclear armed colonizer country supported by the U.S.A.
I learned a lot about the brutal apartheid nature of the Zionist occupation of Palestine from none other than Abby Martin whose “Untold History of Israel & Palestine,” “Gaza fights for Freedom” and other Empire Files documentaries are excellent exposes of the plight of Palestinians under Zionist rule. I highly recommend these films as well as Abby’s interviews with various personalities, including Joe Rogan, to anyone trying to understand the roots of the current violence.
Abby Martin is a truly extraordinary woman whom Capt’n Max *discovered* back in 2014 on the once-great RT (Russian TV). We invited her on The Dr. Susan Block Show for a truly remarkable interview, and we’ve been her friend and fan ever since. Last year, Abby and her wonderful partner Mike Prysner interviewed me on their Dosed Show about sex, violence and the Bonobo Way, and a couple years earlier, I talked about politics and cuckolding on Media Roots with Abby’s brilliant brother Robbie Martin; yes, it’s quite an amazing family of great sexy lefty journalists. Abby and Mike also attended our erotic-verging-on-orgiastic Bonoboville Reunion, so yes, you can see them (mostly in the background) on our Vice TV piece too!
So, we were delighted to join Abby and Mike at their art show and going away party (sadly, they’re leaving LA for Oregon) at the outdoor Queerspace Little Secret in out-of-the-way DTLA.
What a fun time… for everyone but Chico, who was a naughty barker and had to wait outside while another, calmer canine ran the party which was filled with art, music, a metro train going by every hour, drinks on top of a lit-up double decker bus, dancing, singing and swinging. No, not sexual swinging (unfortunately), but a pretty cool swing on a rope by the bar.
Abby’s art was the star of the evening—gorgeous, abstract, hallucinogenic paintings you could lose yourself in, invoking fantasies, dreams and creativity of all kinds.
I was honored that Abby gave me one of her most beautiful paintings as a gift. The title, “Hell Yeah,” and its lush red lips, tongue, gleaming teeth, kinky wires, blue-shadowed eyelids, manicured fingers and shadowy nudes all seem to slide down a psychedelic Deep Throat through dreamy doors of perception.
Our gift to Abby was more modest, but she seemed to like the blingy microphone pendant we gave her to honor all the real mics and bullhorns she’s spoken on through her distinguished career. We know Mike loved his mic because he put it around his neck and wore it all night. The perfect mic for Mike!
As I flitted around from swing to bus to dance floor and back, Max hung out in his wheelchair by the bar, still recovering from his horrible case of the shingles, but happily chatting and enjoying the fashion show (especially the foot-wear) and local painkillers (tequila shots).
We met a few cool folks, including some of our own fans, like the garrulous Paul Reynolds who discovered us through Abby and now listens regularly to FDR on Callin. Paul was sweet, even though he boldly photobombed a selfie Abby and I were trying to take in front of her art. Well, fans will be fans, and we love them all.
Casual and warm in the cool of the Kinktober night, Abby’s party was a good time. It was also an aphrodisiac, at least for Max and me. Even though, thanks to Max’s shingles, we can’t touch each other’s most intimate places right now, we managed to have a little orgasmic sex right after the party and before this show.
#GoBonobos for disabled senior sex! It keeps you young and (hopefully) helps you get healthy. It’s also very risky, of course, in various ways, but all in all, sex heals a billion times more than it kills.
Great music is the soundtrack to great sex, and sweet sounds certainly played a big part in Abby’s party. Go bonobos for Max Collins of Eve 6, Mz Neon, Metal Mother, Televangel [Blue Sky Black Death] and DJs Succubus and Infernx!
Music also plays a recurring role in this FDR podcast, beginning with Max in the afterglow of our post-Abby party senior sex, warbling “I’m in the Mood for Love.”
Then it moves onto the return of musician Brady Crow calling in from Texas to sing us his new unfinished song (part of his upcoming antiwar album), “Just Say No to NATO.” It’s pretty cool, though I think it should include “Go Bonobo” somewhere in there. But the best singer of the show—and the whole weekend—is Brady’s SUZY Award-winning dog Rufio crooning to the moon, “Just Say Nooooo to NATOOOooooo.”
Maybe we should teach Chico to sing instead of just barking frantically.
Other subjects on the Love Train include Olivia Wilde, niece of Alex Cockburn – pronounced Cohburn, not cock-burn—though we have a field day with that pronunciation; coconut oil (good for cock burn); our Vice TV piece surpassing 225K views; GW Bush and the Yale Skull and Boneheads; plastic in our water; and the terrible attacks by a gang of young men on Ekolo ya Bonobo in which two male bonobos were killed. Now more than ever, Ekolo and Lola ya Bonobo need our help!
Stay tuned for the time and place of our arbitration against Zuck the META cuck making mega bucks off our exploitation and then rewarding our hard work with deactivation.
And Be Bonobo. Even if we can’t stop wars in the Middle East, Ukraine or anywhere in this war-torn world, we can at least make our voices heard… unless we’re censored, that is.
Well, we can at least “be bonobo” and make peace through pleasure in our own lives. That’s a start!
Happy Kink Month 2023! It may not seem like it for soooo many reasons, but it really is a better time than ever to… Make Kink Not War!
From Lauren Boebert’s push-up bra to John Fetterman’s hoodie, American Senators and Congress memb... more From Lauren Boebert’s push-up bra to John Fetterman’s hoodie, American Senators and Congress members are exercising their freedom of attire. How about togas—proposes Callin’er Fahim aka “Cut the Pentagon” on this sartorial show—like the Roman Senators wore. Then our U.S. Senators’ clothes might match the great Greco-Roman columns that adorn our Capitol, suggesting that we too live in a Greek-style democracy. These days, it’s more of a Roman-style empire, pampering its patricians with tax cuts, obscene wealth and burgeoning political power, giving us plebians “Bread and Circuses” while eroding all of our freedoms, except the freedom to consume hoodies, push-up bras and whatever else our maxed-out credit cards can carry.
Is freedom-to-buy the best freedom we can get?
One of our most vital freedoms that is under attack is freedom of speech. That is an ongoing topic of this rollicking ride on FDR, and that is what we are fighting for in our battle with Zuck the Cuck and META, the throbbing heart of the American Censorship Industrial Complex that is monopolizing and controlling human discourse more every day in our more and more digitized world. Since the great and powerful META unjustly terminated my Facebook and Instagram accounts a few months ago, I’ve been fighting—mostly fruitlessly—for explanations and restoration. Now I’m taking Zuck and META to arbitration.
Midway through the Tunnel of Love, our train picks up Daniele Watts (aka DaLove) and Chef Belive (now BeLove), calling from—of all places—Freedom, California. They share a fantastic tale of sharing free love in a most Bonobo Way behind a laundromat right there in Freedom.
We’re also excited to hear they are making a film, “BeDaLoveLight Wedding,” about the different kinds of love—eros, agape and philia. Oh, those amazing Epicurean Greeks! And oh, those lovely bonobo lovers, DaLove and BeLove, practicing Tantra in their car and living in Freedom, aka Freed OM (mani padme hum). Or as Capt’n Max wonders, “Are we talking about freedoms or Free Doms?”
We also continue celebrating Self-Love September (actually, we celebrate self-love all year) as well as our Vice TV piece surpassing 200,000 views, and we address the reckonings of Rupert Murdoch, Russell Brand, Jann Wenner and the poor woman sentenced to two years in Nebraska prison for helping her daughter find abortion pills. Aiding and abetting this heinous sentence is META, which turned in the mother and daughter’s “private” Facebook messages. So, not only is META the world’s biggest censor, they’re a bunch of dirty rats.
It’s Self-Love September 2023, and we’re celebrating with all our fingers and toys! According to ... more It’s Self-Love September 2023, and we’re celebrating with all our fingers and toys! According to the Internet, Self-Love September is more about affirmation than masturbation. There’s nothing wrong with affirming how great you are to your Doubting Thomas self, but seriously, if self-love doesn’t include a little quality self-pleasure time (which could include mutual masturbation, if you have a lover), you’re not fully loving yourself.
Sex with partners can be complicated—verging on treacherous—especially these days. Consent is essential, but can be difficult to discern for some. Given the post-#MeToo climate and other concerns, sex with other people comes with new dangers. Better to be safe than sorry and err on the side of caution. Nevertheless, sex is vital to mental and physical health and healing. So, what are we to do? Sacrifice our sexual health and seek safety in celibacy? Never fear! Wanking is here. Solo sex, since it only involves you, may not be the *best* sex, but it does tend to be simpler, especially since consent is 100% guaranteed.
It’s natural! Aside from grasping tree branches and smartphones, the human fingers appear to be made for stroking, strumming—and self-loving! Bonobos love to masturbate, as do other apes like us – it’s part of keeping the PEACE through Pleasure. If we were more masturbation-positive, we would probably be a less violent species.
As George Carlin said, “If God had intended us not to masturbate, he would have made our arms shorter.” Of course, there’s no reason you can’t go bonobos for self-love all year around; but Self-Love September is a great time for you self-love slackers to step up your game.
Masturbation is often denigrated as a sort of “slacker” sex since, unlike sex with someone else, it’s easy, please-y and doesn’t require hardly any work. In that slacker pleasure spirit, we say “Rest in Paradise” to the late great Jimmy Buffet.
No, he didn’t promote masturbation, though I’m sure he did it, like everybody else. But Jimmy Buffet did popularize slacker chic.
There was something bonoboesque about about Jimmy Buffet’s songs, though bonobos don’t drink margaritas—at least not in the wild—even if it’s 5 o’clock somewhere, though they would enjoy a cheeseburger in paradise.
Just as some people are ashamed of masturbation, back in the late 70s and 80s, I used to be ashamed of liking Jimmy Buffet, because his music wasn’t serious or important. But then I learned how serious and important pleasure and relaxation are, so no, I’m not a Parrothead, but I’m proud to say I like Margaritaville. It’s right next to Bonoboville.
It’s almost Fall or Autumn Equinox, another name for which is “Mabon,” after the Welsh God of the Harvest. In keeping with Self-Love September, I call it “Mabon’er” (yes, women get Lady Boners).
For the Greeks and Romans, Fall Equinox is actually a “fall,” aka the Rape of Persephone (Proserpina to the Greeks), daughter of Demeter (Ceres to the Romans), the great Earth Mother Goddess of the Harvest, Fertility and Agriculture. Like too many unfortunate maidens then and now, Persephone is sexually assaulted by her mean old Uncle Hades, or Pluto, the Lord of Hell.
As Hades sweeps her up into his chariot, Persephone literally falls through the Earth into the Underworld, taking her Mother’s joy and the Earth’s abundance down with her. Raging with grief, the Earth Mother almost destroys the Earth. Fortunately, Mama Demeter has the wherewithal to work a deal for sustainability with King Zeus, aka Jupiter, for her beloved daughter to reunite with her half the year, at which point, she blesses the Earth with the glories of Spring and Summer.
Of course, these Greek myths were created before Climate Change started wreaking havoc with our seasons. Still, they show us that no matter how bad things get or seem to get, we can usually work out a deal to make them better.
It’s also coming up on the 22nd anniversary of 9/11, that horrific yet surreally cinematic castration of America’s tallest Towers of Power, Dick I and Dick II, whose destruction served as two mega doses of Viagra for America’s Military-Industrial-Congressional Complex.
Thus G.W. Bush’s self-proclaimed Wars on Terror entered the Perma War phase of American hegemony, turning into modern “crusades” and devastating losses for everyone (except the war industries) that still harm us all to this day.
If any single country was responsible for this crazy crime, it would be Saudi Arabia, as 15 out of 19 of the 9/11 hijackers were Saudi, and there has long been evidence of Saudi funding, but we don’t bother the Kingdom—that happens to sit atop 17% of the world’s oil—because they’re our friends. With friends like that, who needs enemies? Well, we do—at least our war machine does—and so we made Iraq and Afghanistan our enemies and attacked these countries without provocation, virtually destroying these nations, gaining nothing for the American people (unless you consider American weapons makers and oil companies “people”), and paving the immoral way for Vladimir Putin to attack “Iraq – I mean Ukraine. Same thing.” Yes, that Freudian slip and accidental confession comes courtesy of our war-criminal-turned-bad-painter George W. Bush when he was attempting to condemn Putin.
Though Dubya was the Prez, he was a puppet president whose strings were pulled by the Dark Lord of Perma War, his “Vice,” Dick Cheney.
Sadly and frighteningly, the crimes of Bush and Dick carry on and expand, as Julian Assange, who exposed them, languishes in prison. It is sad that these two Chickenhawk war criminals can fly free while eagle-eyed journalists who embody the First Amendment are confined to cages. More VICE
Speaking of “Vice,” our Vice TV piece has over 180,000 views. If you’d like to see some of the fun frames from the piece, and read about my mixed feelings regarding Vice portraying my adVice and phone sex therapy practice, click here.
View-hungry Vice execs also changed the beginning of the title from “Dial ‘O’ for Orgasm” to the more salacious and neo-Puritan-triggering “Masturbating During Therapy.” It’s irritating, but it’s Self-Love September, so I might as well embrace it, and it’s true that I allow masturbating during phone therapy. It’s a good thing!
I am not the ‘thought police,’ and I believe in the therapeutic healing value of talking about what’s on your mind with someone who can help you handle it.
In honor of everything, Max smokes a joint and I munch edibles, as we discuss the impending decriminalization of magic mushrooms, psychedelics and other fine drugs in California.
Of course, legalization or decriminalization is only the first step. Uva 13 calls in to talk about the problem of corruption in the cannabis industry, as there is corruption in every American industry, including other, more respectable drugs hopelessly corrupted by Big Pharma and the doctors they bribe.
All the more reason we need a little socialism injected into the run-amok capitalism that is choking us—literally (try breathing our so-called air without coughing like you’re toking weed) and figuratively (try starting up new companies in any field without really good, well-connected lawyers).
Well, we end on a positive note with Uva: As long as the corruption doesn’t poison your pot, it’s a great aphrodisiac!
It’s also almost Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and even though I am NOT a Zionist nor a religious Jew, I’m Jewish so I wish a “L’shanah Tovah Rosh Hashanah!” to all my Lonsmen who celebrate. Also: Free Palestine!
And free Assange! Make Kink Not War. Follow The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure. Be Bonobo.
Are you urban or suburban, urbane or insane? My urban X-pedition to the Urban X Awards mid-hurriq... more Are you urban or suburban, urbane or insane? My urban X-pedition to the Urban X Awards mid-hurriquake for sex education’s sake flows through this show like a red-carpeted river of love. Praise be to the heroes and heroines of free X-pression in the center of today’s storms of repression.
Into the storm drops Trumpty Dumpty, Big Egg of the Trump Crime Family and Rico racketeering mob boss of the legal beagle Batman Villains Club, MAGAt cult leader, and leading Republican 2024 Presidential candidate, on an urban X-pedition to Atlanta’s Fulton County Jail for Indictment #4 (with a total of 91 criminal charges), and all the mug makers are putting his mean mug shot on their mugs.
The Mango Mugger mugged America once; the next time could be fatal.
Related or not, as our live broadcast begins, another horrific racist body-armored ammosexual incel mass shooter murdered multiple human beings before turning his weapon of war on himself. This time, the particular racist ammosexual sprayed a Dollar Store in Jacksonville, urban center of Ron DeStupid’s Florida where sex is censored and racism is empowered with “permitless concealed carry” gun laws.
Armed killers are on the loose through America, and some of the worst are wearing badges.
Sometimes, cop kills are obvious shots in the back. In other cases, they’re a bit more subtle.
A couples of years short of a century old, Kansas newspaperwoman and owner of the Marion County Record, Joan Meyer, died the day after an unconscionable police raid of her newspaper’s office and her home.
As the raiding cops barged through her door, the 98-year-old Meyer confronted them with remarkable courage and strength, challenging them from her walker, calling them “assholes” engaging in “Hitler tactics,” which they were, and ordering them to “get out,” but they didn’t.
The next day, she died of cardiac arrest. What a travesty, tragedy and atrocity. These Marion, Kansas police “assholes” with their “Hitler tactics” murdered this almost centenarian journalist. RIP Joan Meyer.
Censorship Industrial Complex, Anatolian Apes & Callin Calls Meanwhile, the Censorship Industrial Complex strikes again and again. Anti-imperialist website Mint Press News—friends with Frank Moore’s people (who tipped us off about this), as well as Abby Martin, Mike Prysner and Robbie Martin–has had its TikTok account deleted without warning or explanation. This comes after it was previously de-platformed from PayPal and had its money withheld.
We know the feeling, being currently censored by YouTube, Facebook, Spotify and Instagram which we are about to take into arbitration. Social media censorship is all around us, always aiming to monetize and/or silence us, with guidelines clear as polluted skies, and bots as bad as bad cops.
We take a call from Reza in Iran, which he prefers to call Persia, though he’s very picky about who or what is actually “Persian,” and he’s a little obnoxious about it, but he too is in a fight against censorship and deletion of his shows, and we support him in that. To paraphrase a paraphrase of Voltaire, though we may disagree with what you say, we defend—though probably not “to the death”—your right to say it.
Chris G calls in from New Jersey to talk about his recent Tik Tok successes (social media builds you up and takes you down, sometimes in close succession!), his mom’s podcast and his media studies at Felician college. At one point, when he is delivering one of his stirring speeches to “save this precious woman” (I believe that’s me), in support of the restoration of my terminated channels and accounts, we hear music in the background (he says it helps relax him before bed)—which is kind funny, but also makes his speech even more stirring!
Then “Hybrid Bonobo,” aka David, calls in to say he loves my 1996 interview with Harvard Anthropology Professor Richard Wrangham, but can’t get over how “different” we sound (it’s called aging, David!), and asks some challenging questions about sex, vision and genitalia. Listen up for my illuminating answers!
Speaking of human apes and the Persian region, here’s some 8 million year old breaking news: We always thought we humans and all of our ape cousins evolved in Africa, but now there are fossil findings that show that our human ape ancestors migrated from Anatolia, Turkey to Africa, and then back to Europe again. It’s all quite mind-blowing in ways I will explain at another date…
Not so mind-blowing, but worth a shoutout: Our Vice TV piece, flaws and all, has over 155,000 views. If you haven’t yet seen it, what are you waiting for? Check out what all the fuss is about.
Back to our Urban X-pedition to the Urban X Awards at the Globe Theater in Downtown LA (DTLA) in the middle of the Hurriquake! It was fun. I was nominated for “Most Popular Sex Educator.” I didn’t expect to win. Because even though the Urban X Awards is inclusive of everyone—and it really is—all colors, all sexual orientations and gender identifications, it’s still “urban.”
Originally called the Urban Spice Awards, established in 2008, the Urban X Awards “recognize achievements by performers and others in adult media, with a focus on Black, Latin and Asian achievers.” I can’t really check those boxes, although I am Jewish, which is not a race, but it’s actually very urban if you define “urban” as being “of the city.”
Jews of all races are the original urbanites. We may not have a country (Palestine is not *our* country; the Zionists are dead wrong), but we are often of the City.
Speaking of urban Jews, we take a detour to talk about our friend Luzer Twersky, raised Satmar Orthodox Jewish, now atheist, and he’s starring in a movie called Dovbush that just premiered in Ukraine in which he plays the Baal Shem Tov.
In fact, he’s now in the urban center of Kiev, Ukraine at his movie premiere under Putin’s attack, with air raid sirens blaring.
Talk about living the ultimate urban experience.
Going Downtown One definition of “urban” is “downtown,” of course, and “going downtown,” i.e., cunnilingus, is one of the yummiest sex acts. No wonder, we love the urbanities…
Capt’n Max and I reminisce about our urban days, from our HBO shows to our LAPD raids.
But we also love the other kind of “downtown” of our DTLA days, 1998 – 2013. We were DTLA arts area pioneers, urban campers camping out in abandoned factories which were rough for life, but fantastic for art and big bacchanalian events like Eros Day and Lupercalia.
Actually, DTLA and I go back even earlier to the late 1980s when the late great Scott Kelman ran the Factory Place Theater and Boyd Street Theater on Skid Row (yes, those were the days when you could run a theater on Skid Row, which at the time was just a row; now it’s 40 blocks), featuring such up and coming stars as Whoopi Goldberg just before she did “Ghost.” That’s how far back I go with DTLA. I am OG Urban.
Capt’n Max and I reminisce about our urban days, from our HBO shows to our LAPD raids. Then, thanks to the Staples arena, DTLA became too pricey and too dirty for us. And the dirt wasn’t worth the price.
So, we moved to Inglewood which was just the right mix of urban and beachy. But after a few years, thanks to the Coliseum, Inglewood also got too pricey (all these giant sporting arenas really ruin urban areas) and too dirty (the air pollution). So, we moved out to Arcadia, which is more suburban sprawl than urban life, part of what Henry Miller called “The Air-Conditioned Nightmare.” But we like it here, and everybody likes us. That is, our neighbors and our landlady do, but not the City of Arcadia inspectors who pretend to be urban, but are really the same kind of small town “assholes” whose flagrant violations of constitutional rights wind up killing upstanding citizens like Joan Myer.
They haven’t killed us, and hopefully they won’t, but they do try to trample on our rights. Could it be because we are hard to classify? Because we’re sex educators?
Which brings me back to my Urban X nomination for ‘Most Popular Sex Educator’ which I did not win. But my favorite of all my fellow nominees, the lovely Sinnamon Love, did win, and deservedly so. After all, while I am followed by just over 25,000 on the X (formerly Twitter), Sinnamon has over 495,000 followers. Now that’s “popular.”
Moreover, I love Sinnamon love. She was a guest on DrSuzy.Tv a few times during our early urban period in the 2000s. And speaking of “X,” Ms. Love was also a guest star of our Eros Day X in 2009, one of our biggest, most urban bacchanals in DTLA, our Eros Day Orgy for Obama, our 10th annual Eros Day which doubled as a wild inaugural ball for our most urban and urbane President.
Though my urban days are numbered, I still went to the show. Max didn’t; he would have gone, just to accompany me, but we both knew it wasn’t his thing, so I our new bonobo Rodrigo escorted me through the hurricane! From the weather reports and X hysteria, I thought I might have to swim Downtown. But I’m an adventurer; I climbed to the top of the Golden Gate Bridge when I was an urban San Franciscan, and I’d paddled a canoe through white water rapids in the Adirondacks.
So, I figured I could make it to DTLA in an Uber. It was pretty wet splashing out of Arcadia. I wore boots, a hat and an OG Fringe Logo Vest custom made by Dre Day of Dr. Block’s Pleasure Shop.
Now, more than ever, we need to “Make Kink Not War.”
Rattled by battles, wars and more wars, inc... more Now, more than ever, we need to “Make Kink Not War.”
Rattled by battles, wars and more wars, including the war on women, plus rising inequality, tyranny, misogyny, insanity, political criminality, sex-negativity, truth-relativity, hyper-religiosity, murder, mass murder, appalling apartheid, worsening climate chaos and the nuclear Doomsday Clock at 100 seconds to midnight… like so many other thinking, caring humans, I feel like I’m losing my marbles and my mind at the same time. Thus, I’ve taken this little jingle as my light in the dark, my mantra against the madness and a bit of a gag (all puns intended) in the gloom:
Make Kink Not War!
It’s the fierce yet peaceable kinkster’s *battle cry*… but what does it mean in the real world—on the battlefield, in the bedroom, the boardroom or the classroom, the dungeon, the protest march or the play party?
Making Love vs. Making Kink Everyone’s heard “Make Love Not War.” It’s one of modern humanity’s most famous sayings. Indeed, it’s a brilliant idea, an oldie but goodie that’s guided my life since I was a child accompanying my draft-age older brother to protests against the American War in Vietnam and the nukes at Three Mile Island. As I ogled the sexy, earthy hippie protesters, I fantasized about beautiful people “making love” so passionately, they would somehow stop the wars. Unfortunately, they didn’t. Though they did stop the draft (woohoo!), the wars got worse.
But “Make Kink Not War” (MKNW) could be an even better idea… especially now.
After all, many people “make war” in the name of “love.” It might be love of country, religion, race, family, heritage, “democracy,” or just one person (see Helen of Troy). Unfortunately for humanity, love can ignite all manner of murder and mayhem.
Another famous saying explains why: “Love has no rules.” Though no one’s sure who said it first, everyone knows it’s true.
Kink, on the other hand, has lots of rules. Otherwise, it’s not kink; it’s abuse.
Kink RULES!
A kink is a “twist,” as Thomas Jefferson was one of the first to use the term to describe a feeling as opposed to a bend in the bondage rope. One rule of kink is that it must be between consenting-adults when practiced in real life. SSC or “safe, sane and consensual” is the guiding imperative of kink and any kind of erotic power exchange. A step beyond SSC is RACK: Risk-Aware Consensual Kink.
This may sound like alphabet soup or seem to lack spontaneity, but kink rules when it’s based on rules.
Since Jefferson’s sexual relationship with Sally Hemings—a real slave—was not consensual, that would be abuse, not kink. Even if her shackles were made of French perfume, her reality was that she couldn’t choose to leave or say no to Master Tom.
If your kink is just fantasy, I say anything goes. Go ahead and roleplay Master Tom and “slave sally,” or Mistress Interrogator and hapless prisoner, Antifa and MAGA mud-wrestling; nothing is taboo when it’s all just playing in the movie of your mind… at least until our corporate owners start implanting us with microchipped “thought police.” It’s coming.
Meanwhile, just imagine… anything you like! Habitual fantasies of abuse might be a red flag, but even that’s *okay* if it’s only happening in your dreams. Sometimes your dreams are your only freedom.
However, if and when you move through reality, there are many rules and protocols to consenting adult kink, and following them is part of the fun.
When you adhere to these rules—which may vary, depending on your fetish—your kinky playtime is the opposite of abuse. Indeed, the best kinds of kink can help survivors of past abuse heal from their trauma.
Making “love,” on the other hand—at least in the old-fashioned, PIV (penis-in-vagina) sense of the term—is a pretty risky matter, especially these days, with America morphing into a Christofascist Gilead out of The Handmaid’s Tale, overturning abortion rights and threatening to restrict contraception, in addition to various old and new STDs going around (monkeypox anyone?) like party-crashers at a masquerade.
On the other hand, with growing awareness, practical tips and guidance available online, personal therapy, groups and workshops, “making kink” might be safer—and more fun—than ever.
#GoBonobos for Kink (Not War)!
Kink can channel natural violent energy and erotic desire into mutually agreed-upon playtime activities for the sake of physical and mental pleasure and evolution. You can even include a little consensual pain; for kinksters, that can be the best part!
Does this sound like some strange unnatural perversion? Sorry to pop your neo-Puritanical bubble, but it’s not. Kink flows through nature from the horny mountain goats to the FemDom hyenas to the pansexual dolphins frolicking kinkily in the sea. Humans are far from the only kinky creatures on the planet.
Indeed, our closest great ape cousins who share over 98% of our DNA, the female-empowered, male-nurturing, sex-positive bonobos, are very kinky in a Bonobo Sutra of ways. I call them the “Kinkiest Apes on Earth.” They’re also astoundingly peaceful and have never been seen killing each other in the wild or captivity. It’s amazing but as true as my stiletto heel is sharp: bonobos utilize various kinds of kink to make peace through pleasure… with a little pain.
Can we do it too?
I don’t know If we will (in time to save civilization!), but I do believe that we can and—considering a cataclysmic WWIII is always hovering on the horizon—we ought to try.
Let’s give kink a chance! It might well save the world… or at least, improve your love life. It’s also the basis for my presentation, “Make Kink Not War: Be Bonobo,” Version 6.0 of The Bonobo Way at DomCon LA, now playing on a platform near you.
Comic Con of Kink & Met Gala of Latex
I love DomCon LA.
It’s one of my favorite “homes away from home,” or you could say, a BDSM-focused Bonoboville away from my Bonoboville.
I call DomCon “the MetGala of Latex” and “the Comic-Con of Kink.” All that lubed-up flash, flesh and studded fashion gives it eye-candy allure for the voyeur connoisseur… for sure!
But the heart and soul of DomCon are the Dommes, Doms, subbies, Tops, bottoms, fetishists, exhibitionists, Masters, Mistresses and kinksters of all kinds—plus a few kink-positive sex therapists like me—all of us coming together (sometimes literally) to share the love, the spanks, the ideas, the accessories, the rules, the protocols and the kink, always the kink.
The Glenny Awards have announced that Dr. Susan Block, aka “Dr. Suzy,” is the winner of the 2020 ... more The Glenny Awards have announced that Dr. Susan Block, aka “Dr. Suzy,” is the winner of the 2020 “Sexologist of the Year” award. Produced by the “Sex in the Pews” podcast, the Glennys are presented annually by host Glenn Klein.
In Dr. Suzy’s award-winning 2020 “Sex in the Pews” interview, “Sex is the Essence of Life” (episode 270), she answers the question, “What happens when life gets in the way of sex?”
This is her second time winning “Sexologist of the Year,” the first having been for her premier “Sex in the Pews” interview in 2019 regarding her bonoboësque philosophy of “Ethical Hedonism” (episode #58). According to Coach Glenn, it went “viral,” scoring the most hits that year.
“I’m delighted to accept my second ‘Sexologist of the Year’ Glenny Award,” says Dr. Suzy, a sex therapist in private practice, world-renowned sexologist, host of The Dr. Susan Block Show, co-host of F.D.R. (F*ck Da Rich) and bestselling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure.
“I was ready to debate my fellow sexologists or wrestle them in the ring, see who squirts the farthest or could talk about sex the longest; whatever it took to defend my title. Thankfully, all I had to do was sit back and enjoy another great conversation with Glenn Klein.”
I never know how to celebrate my birthday. It’s not like a wedding anniversary where I’m honoring... more I never know how to celebrate my birthday. It’s not like a wedding anniversary where I’m honoring a beloved relationship, a book or magazine launch where I’m celebrating finishing the book or magazine, a holiday where I get into practicing and/or parodying its history and rituals, or somebody else’s birthday where I’m just happy to make it all about them.
However, when it’s my birthday, I either want to throw a big birthday bacchanal where a lot of people have an awesome time, or I want to crawl into a nice dark time warp and come out when it’s a brand new, not my birth-date day.
LOS ANGELES, Calif., Apr. 11, 2019 — Susan M. Block, Ph.D., a.k.a., “Dr. Suzy,” internationally r... more LOS ANGELES, Calif., Apr. 11, 2019 — Susan M. Block, Ph.D., a.k.a., “Dr. Suzy,” internationally renowned sexologist, talk show host and best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure, will deliver an updated reprise of her acclaimed talk, FemDoms of the Wild: The Bonobo Way of BDSM, at DOMCON LA 2019 on Saturday, May 11, 2019 1-2 p.m.in Room B1 of the Hilton Hotel LAX.
When Capt’n Max, aka “my butler Max,” told the Marina del Rey Hotel concierge that it was our 25t... more When Capt’n Max, aka “my butler Max,” told the Marina del Rey Hotel concierge that it was our 25th wedding anniversary, we figured we might get some silver-wrapped chocolates or a bottle of champagne. Little did we know we’d be spending our special day (and two very special nights) in a palatial one-bedroom suite fit for a Trump—without the bad taste.
Now don’t go telling them it’s your 25th wedding anniversary—unless it really is. I’m sure the concierge checked out our April 12th 1992 Ketuba (signed by two Rabbis, Gerald Wolpe and Ivan Caine), or at least our Philadelphia marriage license. More likely, he just checked out Capt’n Max’s deep baritone radio voice, which can be very compelling.
Once again, with feeling, we brought the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure to a new excited an... more Once again, with feeling, we brought the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure to a new excited and exciting audience, this time the great teachers, healers and “sex geeks” of AASECT, the venerable American Association of Sex Educators, Counselors and Therapists, for their 48th annual conference in San Juan, Puerto Rico. With my birthday falling on the day before my presentation, Capt’n Max and I invited a couple of our Puerto Rican friends whom we met on our last trip to come join us in aquatic revelry at the Condado Plaza Hilton’s water wonderland by the balmy Caribbean sea.
Susan M. Block, Ph.D., a.k.a., “Dr. Suzy,” internationally renowned sexologist and best-selling a... more Susan M. Block, Ph.D., a.k.a., “Dr. Suzy,” internationally renowned sexologist and best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure (Gardner & Daughters Publishers), will present “The Bonobo Way: An Alternative Great Ape Paradigm for Human Sexuality” at the 48th Annual Conference of The American Association of Sexuality Educators, Counselors & Therapists (AASECT), to be held June 8-12 in San Juan, Puerto Rico.
“I look forward to sharing this very special portion of the ‘Bonobo Sutra’ with my fellow sex educators and therapists,” says Dr. Block who has been presenting various aspects of the Bonobo Way, locally and abroad, at different academic and lifestyle conferences over the past few months, including the keynote address to the world’s first “ecosexuality” symposium in an academic institution, convened at the University of Puerto Rico, Mayagüez by UPRM Humanities Professor SerenaGaia Anderlini D’Onofrio. She also gave a talk on nonmonogamy among bonobos at the 5th International Conference on Monogamy & Nonmonogamy at UC Berkeley; and she’ll give another presentation on bonobos as the “Most FemDom Apes on Earth” on May 21 at DomCon LA 2016.
We had such a deliciously good time at last year’s DomCon, we just had to come back for seconds. ... more We had such a deliciously good time at last year’s DomCon, we just had to come back for seconds. This year was even yummier and more intense, since I gave a talk on The Bonobo Way, FemDom-Style and oh my Goddess, what a fantastic, enthusiastic audience. It’s always a pleasure when most of my crowd is dressed up sluttier than me, gets my kinky jokes and goes bonobos for bonobos. Plus I was deeply honored to spot several VIPs in my little “class,” including DomCon’s commanding “Headmistress,” whip-cracking pony rider and bonoboësque founder, Mistress Cyan Herself. A glittering class of stellar students seeking knowledge in the FemDom ways of the bonobo.
“I look forward to bringing the ‘good news’ about the primal female empowerment of the Bonobo Way... more “I look forward to bringing the ‘good news’ about the primal female empowerment of the Bonobo Way to the fabulous FemDoms of DomCon and others attending this exciting, educational convention founded by veteran BDSM powerhouse Mistress Cyan,” says Dr. Block.
Los Angeles, California: March 25, 2016 — Susan M. Block, Ph.D., a.k.a., “Dr. Suzy,” internationa... more Los Angeles, California: March 25, 2016 — Susan M. Block, Ph.D., a.k.a., “Dr. Suzy,” internationally renowned sexologist and best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure (Gardner & Daughters Publishers), will present “The Bonobo Way: A New FemDom Paradigm for Humanity” at DOMCON LA 2016.
“I look forward to bringing the ‘good news’ about the primal female empowerment of the Bonobo Way to the fabulous FemDoms of DomCon and others attending this exciting, educational convention founded by veteran BDSM powerhouse Mistress Cyan,” says Dr. Block.
DomCon LA 2016 will be held May 18-22 at the LAX Airport Hilton. Get tickets here. The Bonobo Way: A New FemDom Paradigm for Humanity is scheduled for 4:30 pm on May 21, 2016. For information about the Bonobo Way at DomCon LA 2016 or to arrange an interview with Dr. Susan Block, please call 310-568-0066.
"Dr. Suzy’s keynote was a big hit. Some students felt an alignment with their own way of thinking... more "Dr. Suzy’s keynote was a big hit. Some students felt an alignment with their own way of thinking. Others were exposed to entirely new ideas.... Dr. Suzy eloquently explained how, if inspired by #bonobos, we humans could find ways to use our ecosexual intelligence [ESQ] more efficiently than we do today. We too could evolve peace through pleasure instead of endangering terrestrial life with our cruel weapons. Yes, I agree!... It’s been a joy to convene the first symposium about #Ecosexuality hosted in an academic institution..." --UPRM Professor Serena Anderlini-D’Onofrio
LOS ANGELES — Internationally renowned sexologist and the best-selling author of “The Bonobo Way:... more LOS ANGELES — Internationally renowned sexologist and the best-selling author of “The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure,” Susan M. Block, Ph.D., a.k.a., “Dr. Suzy,” will deliver the keynote address for the upcoming “Practices of Ecosexuality, the First Symposium on Ecosexuality in the Caribbean.”
The event will be held at the University of Puerto Rico at Mayaguez (UPRM), from 10:45-11:45 a.m. on Thursday, January 28, in UPRM’s Teatro Figueroa Chapel, and is the first event of the symposium.
Block’s keynote, “The Bonobo Way: An Ecosexual Paradigm for Humanity,” poses the question, “Can we learn to make ‘peace through pleasure’ from our Great Ape cousins?”
Dr. Susan Block delivers the keynote speech for "Practices of Ecosexuality" at the University of ... more Dr. Susan Block delivers the keynote speech for "Practices of Ecosexuality" at the University of Puerto Rico, Mayaguez, the first ecosexuality symposium at an academic institution, on “The Bonobo Way: A New Ecosexual Great Ape Paradigm for Humanity.”
Ecosexuality Symposium Convener: UPRM Humanities Professor SerenaGaia Anderlini D’Onofrio who introduces Dr. Block.
Seduced by the sultry charms of the Island of Enchantment, ecosexuals from around Lover Earth cam... more Seduced by the sultry charms of the Island of Enchantment, ecosexuals from around Lover Earth came together at the university, in the café, along the boulevards and by the sea, loving the Earth we make love on, marrying the beach and raising our collective oxytocin levels, along with our ESQ.
“ESQ” is my acronym for “Eco-Sexual Intelligence”—or as we say the language of romance, Inteligencia Ecosexual—one of the topics of my keynote address on “The Bonobo Way: A New Ecosexual Paradigm for Humanity” for “Practices of Ecosexuality” at the University of Puerto Rico, Mayaguez (UPRM) which occurred last week. Organized by award-winning author, editor and UPRM Humanities Professor SerenaGaia Anderlini D’Onofrio, my keynote kicked off the first Symposium on Ecosexuality in the Caribbean, as well as the first conference of its kind at any major university in the world, one aimed at ESQ literacy and development.
This document is an Invitation to the Inaugural events for the Project Islas Maravillas: Ecosexua... more This document is an Invitation to the Inaugural events for the Project Islas Maravillas: Ecosexuality Education and Extensive research at UPRM. These include the Symposium "Practices of Ecosexuality," and the Plural Wedding of Ecosexual Love "Te Amo Playa Azul I Love You Two."
The document also functions as a program-at-a-glance for these events.
For the Symposium, the document introduces the keynote and visualizes times, places, titles, and speakers. For the Wedding, it gives location and directions, a registration link, a timeline and program, and a list of attendance norms and needs.
The Symposium will take place on January 28-29, 2016 at the University of Puerto Rico, Mayaguez.
The Wedding will take place on January 30th at the nearby locality known as Playa Azul.
Both events are open to the public and free of charge. They are a product of the passion of its speakers and was creates in the spirit of the gift economy.
This document is the Program for the event "Practices of Ecosexuality: A Symposium / Practicas de... more This document is the Program for the event "Practices of Ecosexuality: A Symposium / Practicas de Ecosexualidad: Un Simposio."
The Symposium is the inaugural event for the project Islas Maravillas: Ecosexuality Education and Extensive Research at UPRM." It will take place at UPR Mayaguez on January 28-29, 2016.
The Symposium features Dr. Susan M. Block as a keynote speakers, and many other speakers.
The event is open to the public and free of charge and was created in the spirit of the gift economy.
Los Angeles, California: January 6, 2016 — Susan M. Block, Ph.D., a.k.a., “Dr. Suzy,” internation... more Los Angeles, California: January 6, 2016 — Susan M. Block, Ph.D., a.k.a., “Dr. Suzy,” internationally renowned sexologist and best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure (Gardner & Daughters Publishers), will deliver the keynote address for Practices of Ecosexuality, the First Symposium on Ecosexuality in the Caribbean, to be held on-campus at the University of Puerto Rico at Mayaguez (UPRM).
Block’s keynote, “The Bonobo Way: An Ecosexual Paradigm for Humanity,” poses the question, “Can we learn to make ‘peace through pleasure’ from our Great Ape cousins?” Inspired by the real bonobos (pan paniscus), it presents these fascinating, close genetic cousins of ours as a new primate model for humanity in terms of sexuality, war, peace, gender equality, community and “ecosexuality.”
For the second time in less than two weeks, I packed my G-strings, Hitachi and The Bonobo Way, le... more For the second time in less than two weeks, I packed my G-strings, Hitachi and The Bonobo Way, leaving my little Bonoboville (previously a rare occurrence) on another sapiosexual mission to share love, gain wisdom and have as much fun in three days as legally and anatomically possible.
This time, instead of flying over the great American South to the Island of Enchantment’s ecosexual beaches and balmy UPRM campus, Capt’n Max and I took a road trip through California’s redolent cow pastures and spooky truck stops, en route to deliver our “Gospel of the Bonobos” into the hallowed, historically progressive halls of University of California at Berkeley (UCB).
Susan M. Block, Ph.D. delivers “The Bonobo Way: Consensual Nonmonogamy Among Non-Human Primates” ... more Susan M. Block, Ph.D. delivers “The Bonobo Way: Consensual Nonmonogamy Among Non-Human Primates” at UC Berkeley for the 5th International Conference on the Future of Monogamy & Nonmonogamy, convened by Dave Doleshal, Ph.D. For more information about The Bonobo Way (http://amzn.to/1zimlbP ), please call 310-568-0066.
Los Angeles, California: February 2, 2016 — Susan M. Block, Ph.D., a.k.a., “Dr. Suzy,” internatio... more Los Angeles, California: February 2, 2016 — Susan M. Block, Ph.D., a.k.a., “Dr. Suzy,” internationally renowned sexologist and best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure (Gardner & Daughters Publishers), will give a talk on “The Bonobo Way: Consensual Nonmonogamy Among Non-Human Primates” at the Society for Applied and Academic Research (SAAR) 5th International Conference on the Future of Monogamy and Nonmonogamy in the International House Conference Center on-campus at the University of California, Berkeley.
Inspired by the “Make Love Not War” bonobo chimpanzees (Pan paniscus), Block will present “The Bonobo Way” as an alternative great ape paradigm that can illuminate and enhance human relationships—whether nonmonogamous, monogamous or “monogamish.”
Who will win? The Billionaire or The People?
Ding! I’m a lover, not a fighter, but as “Free Spee... more Who will win? The Billionaire or The People?
Ding! I’m a lover, not a fighter, but as “Free Speech Woman,” I am entering the ring for Round II of my epic legal fight with Meta, parent company of Facebook and Instagram, owned by Meta multi-owned by Meta multi-billionaire “Boy-in-the-Bubble” CEO and avid Jiu-Jitsu Blue Belt Mark Zuckerberg.
To recap: I contend that when Meta’s AI “content moderation” bots censored and deactivated my Facebook profile and IG account – unfairly, arbitrarily and without warning – Meta breached its own contracts. READ MY BRIEF/S
Meta contends that I’m nothing more than a wanton whore, unworthy of any protection from harm or even the courtesy of being treated like a human being.
Section 230: The Internet’s Iron Dome
Meanwhile Billionaire Bubble-Boy Zuckerberg is shielded from his own massively destructive mistakes and power-drunk misdeeds by his protective “bubble” – a virtual Iron Dome – enabled by an algorithmic army of bots and fortified by a cavalry of highly paid attorneys, complicit arbitrators, corrupt politicians and an obscure portion of the Communications Decency Act, 47 USC 230, known simply and ominously as “Section 230.”
In the legal world, Silicon Valley-friendly interpretations of Section 230 have given social media moguls like Zuckerberg that Iron Dome-like protection, letting them groom and doom, exploit, censor, ban and deny many of us our right to free speech, our access to the “digital town square,” even our right to communicate with loved ones in times of need.
My own Facebook profile was deactivated shortly before my beloved husband of 32 years, Maximillian R. Lobkowicz di Filangieri, had a major ischemic stroke, shattering our lives. Meta may not have caused Max’s stroke, but it certainly didn’t help that, besides deactivating my Facebook profile, Mark Zuckerberg also vaporized my Facebook Messenger and WhatsApp, making it all the more difficult to get in touch with loved ones during this cataclysmic crisis.
That’s Zuckerberg Family Values for you. Since 2008, Meta had groomed me and my relatives to communicate via Facebook, then doomed me to deactivation and the rest of us to zero communication.
When I asked Meta to restore my wrongfully deactivated accounts, I was greeted with stony silence, followed by a barrage of defamatory lies. On the advice of counsel, I took Meta to arbitration. However, thanks to Section 230’s protective bubble around Boy-Lord Zuckerberg, buoyed by a paid-by-Meta arbitrator’s unsubtle coaching of Meta’s Mayer Brown lawyers, my so-called “case” was unceremoniously and erroneously awarded to Meta without allowing me – the plaintiff – to utter a word.
Such is the sinister way of the megalomaniacal Markie Z’s Meta megalopoly.
Algorithmic Ignorance & Sexual Services
In attempting to defend their indefensible actions and to keep my mouth gagged shut with fabricated scandal, Meta lawyers falsely accused me of being a sex worker (i.e., prostitute) providing “sexual services” via Meta sites. Just to set the record straight: I am not now, nor have I ever been a sex worker, nor did I ever provide “sexual services” through Meta sites or anywhere else. I am a therapist providing sex therapy, as I was prepared to prove if I had been permitted to present my case.
Though I’ve often expressed my political views that consenting adult sex work should be decriminalized, and I have had many wonderful sex workers as guests on my show, I myself have never been one. Nevertheless, Meta’s lawyers and the paid-by-META arbitrator conspired to defame me with the Scarlet Letter of “sex work” – on top of depriving me of my rights – to punish me for blowing the whistle on Meta’s fraudulent “contracts of adhesion” and its destructive, AI (Artificial Ignorance)-based censorship.
Yes indeed, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners, wake up and smell the censorship! It stinks of dumb bots droning your posts and maybe your whole, carefully curated account.
Like so many other innocent Meta users posting about sex, politics, health and other debatable topics, I am the victim of an algorithm that identified buzz words on my profiles and incorrectly labeled me as being in violation of platform policies. Rather than bothering to even try to be fair, Facebook and Instagram just adopted the algorithm’s conclusion as gospel. No human beings even looked at my profiles until I requested arbitration, and then it was Meta’s lawyers, who simply sought to ratify the algorithm to avoid a cascade of claims against the two platforms for relying solely on these faulty algorithms to police content from people’s profiles. Because the fact of the matter is, as many studies have shown, these powerful algorithms are notoriously faulty.
Next Legal Move – Motion to Vacate
Bullied but not beaten, I am taking Zuck the Cuck’s “bull” by the horns, filing a Motion to Vacate their deeply flawed Arbitration Award, in pro per.
My motion maintains that not only was the Arbitrator biased, prejudicially squeamish about basic sex education, ignorant of algorithmic error rates and disingenuous about Facebook’s vast and unique social media power, he was also “without legal authority” to rule on my case based on Facebook’s and Instagram’s contracts.
There are so many reasons why this Arbitration Award must be vacated – but will the judge agree? Or will that palm beneath his robes be greased by Meta’s own Silicon?
Free Speech Woman vs. Zuck the META Cuck
One of our most valuable rights as Americans is Freedom of Speech. Most nations don’t grant Free Speech to their citizens, but we Americans (supposedly) do. It’s as close as our secular government gets to sacred. In 1789, We the American People received the 10 Amendments of the Bill of Rights, rather like Moses receiving the 10 Commandments. Our First Amendment right to Freedom of Speech has been revered by the world, but it has long been under attack from both the Right and the so-called Left – now on a Meta-scale.
Whether you’re talking about sex, politics, equality, health or Palestine, power-drunk social media moguls like Mark Zuckerberg and Elon Musk pervert the very phrase “free speech” by twisting it into its Orwellian opposite, literally getting away with digital murder every day.
But enough is enough. This past Halloween, I summoned the spirit of “Free Speech Woman” within me to give me the power to hold – or at least try to hold – Mark ‘Zuck the Jiu-Jitsu Cuck’ Zuckerberg down on the Mat of Truth, holding him accountable for censoring our speech, exploiting our desires, stoking our divisions, flattening our relationships and banning us from our own communities and the Internet’s public square.
Mark the Meta-Megalopolist knows this better than anyone, referring to his Facebook “fiefdom” (so-called by others) as “the digital equivalent of the town square,” and boasting meta-magnanimously that “our platforms are for everyone.”
Really – “for everyone”? More for every paying advertiser and useful government power broker. But what about Meta users? What about ‘We the People’ who make Meta great? What about me? What right does Mark Zuckerberg have to ban me from the ‘digital equivalent of the town square’ – to banish me from my own communities, even from my own family(!) – just because his faulty algorithms ascertain that my politics, religion or sex-positive values might offend a Meta advertiser or the head of the House Energy & Commerce Committee?
Free Speech vs. Empire
While I venerate the creators of the Bill of Rights – including Max’s 18th century Italian ancestor, Gaetano Filangieri – who was freedom-loving pen pals with Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson (though Filangieri didn’t own slaves) – Zuckerberg exalts a different kind of role model (who owned lots of slaves): the first emperor of the Roman Empire, Augustus Caesar, aka Gaius Octavius, known for making the world safe for ruthless dictators.
Now Mark “Silicon Caesar” Zuckerbucks and his army of bots has more unchecked power over our everyday lives than any single human on earth.
The Greek prefix “Meta” means “beyond,” and Zuck’s Meta has gone beyond the pale, metamorphosing into a Meta-menace to democracy.
The Pro-Bonobo Way
“Zuck the Cuck needs to be clocked!” I declare, brandishing my cherry red boxing gloves as Free Speech Woman, fighting to win my Motion to Vacate the Award with a knock-out punch, taking down Zuck-the-Cuck – well, actually it’s just a blow-up doll effigy, but it looks about as human as the real thing, sharply attired in a snappy “Meta Über Alles” white T – to the Mat of Truth.
Tell the truth, Zuck! You’re a censor.
Then, like a bonobo matriarch, I spank Zuck the Cuck’s sorry rubber butt with The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure and a Motion to Vacate, gently but firmly holding him responsible while holding him down on the Mat of Truth between the Bill of Rights and my pointy-toed, high-heeled cowgirl boots, as a couple of bonobo apes make peace through pleasure nearby.
Like the bonobos, I’m a lover not a fighter. I prefer negotiation, but Meta refuses to negotiate, so Free Speech Woman to the rescue! Cage match!
Elon the Chicken won’t fight Zuck the Cuck, but I will.
LA’s longtime “Love Doctor” and internationally esteemed sexologist, Dr. Susan Block, is dragging... more LA’s longtime “Love Doctor” and internationally esteemed sexologist, Dr. Susan Block, is dragging Mark Zuckerberg to the Halls of Justice.
Not one to take abuse of power “lying down” (even though she’s a sexologist), Dr. Block has taken legal action against Mr. Zuckerberg’s META, parent corporation of Facebook and Instagram, bringing the giant social media conglomerate to arbitration for its wrongful business practices, lack of accountability, algorithmic discrimination and deactivation of her accounts.
Currently, META attorneys are working hard to try to stop her before the arbitrator even hears her case.
So… will Mark Zuckerberg hide – once again – behind the unraveling skirts of Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act… or will justice prevail for Dr. Block?
The case of “Dr. Susan Block vs. Instagram/META Platforms, Inc. (formerly known as Facebook, Inc.),” exposes Mark Zuckerberg’s ballooning exploitation of META’s users, including the damage he does to so many users by treacherously activating their META addictions, and for some, unfairly deactivating their digital lives.
Dr. Block, represented by G&B Law LLP, will hold Mr. Zuckerberg and META accountable for these misdeeds that have harmed her and so many other META users like her – if justice prevails.
A team of META lawyers from Mayer-Brown LLP, is currently doing their legal beagle best to ensure that justice does NOT prevail.
Like so many everyday META users, Dr. Block built and curated her Facebook and IG profiles over many years, starting in 2008, always adhering to their terms and conditions. Though META’s activation was seductively gradual – prompting and “grooming” her to post and connect more and more, inviting real-life friends, family, Yale classmates and AASECT colleagues to join her in the Facebook community and communicate via Facebook messenger – deactivation was shockingly sudden. Shortly after congratulating Dr. Block for surpassing 10,000 Facebook followers, META shut down both her Facebook and IG accounts and banned her from all META sites and apps.
Why? No reason was given, no trial, no evidence – just a firing squad of bots summarily terminating (exterminating) her accounts, dumping them into a mass grave filled with millions of other similarly destroyed social media accounts (maybe some you know).
“META’s wanton, algorithmic and unwarranted deactivation of my accounts has destroyed 15 years of hard labor in its social media mines, cut me off from essential communication channels, damaged my reputation and infringed upon my freedom of speech as well as the freedom of my friends, family and colleagues to hear me speak on their META feeds and in messenger,” Block asserts. “This AI-controlled deactivation represents the normalization of dehumanization. AI of this kind is artificial ignorance. It’s killing our humanity first, on its way to killing all the humans.”
Block's legal team contends that META's actions constitute a breach of contract and violate fundamental principles of fairness, free speech and due process. They argue that the company's failure to provide any warning, explanation, opportunity to address any alleged community guidelines violations, or recourse for the deactivation constitutes an abuse of power, effectively and unjustly silencing her voice and depriving her of access to an essential digital public sphere.
"Of course, this is not just about me," Block observes. "META activates and deactivates millions of people, doing great damage to our digital lives, mental health, personal relationships, art, work, fan bases and reputations. META drives some to homicide and many more just to hopelessness, frustration and depression. Sadly, most people cannot fight back. I am fighting back.”
“I am so glad to hear that Dr. Block is fighting for her right to free speech,” writes art critic Paul Artman. “This is a gift for all of us. She has my total and utter support.”
“No individual or entity should wield unchecked power to silence voices they disagree with in the public square,” asserts Block, “Mark Zuckerberg may consider it his ‘personal fiefdom,’ but Meta’s mega monopoly makes up such a large portion of the digital public square – it should be open to the public.”
“META’s actions in silencing Dr. Block are unacceptable and fascist!” writes Cal State Long Beach art professor Rhiannon Aarons. “Any of us could be next.”
Block’s legal action against META highlights the growing concerns surrounding the influence and accountability of social media giants in moderating our everyday online discourse – mostly with AI – and the need for greater transparency, fairness, accountability and humanity in their practices, as well as more equitable conflict resolution in social media and other common digital spaces.
“Dr. Susan Block vs. Instagram/META (formerly known as Facebook)” is scheduled for an arbitration hearing in Los Angeles on Wednesday morning June 26th, 2024. Exact time and place TBA.
Susan Marilyn Block, Ph.D., aka “Dr. Suzy,” world-renowned sexologist, cultural commentator, Yale grad, best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure, peace activist, bonobo conservationist and host of The Dr. Susan Block Show for over 30 years.
You might know Dr. Block from her #1 Nielsen-rated, groundbreaking HBO specials or remember her long-running radio shows – “Radio Match” and “Date Nite” (rated “Best of LA Phone-In Shows” by The LA Weekly) on KIEV and KFOX, but did you know that she successfully sued the LAPD for infringement of her First and Fourth Amendment rights after they raided one of her live broadcasts?
Dr. Block also helped bring about the downfall of another power-hungry, erotophobic media mogul who tried to muzzle her Free Speech on Public Access TV. Adelphia Cable TV owner John Rigas wound up in prison while The Dr. Susan Block Show went back on the air uncensored - until the Time Warner Cable killed public access because, they said, “now you have the Internet.”
Dr. Block collaborates with her husband of 32 years, Maximillian R. Lobkowicz, aka “Capt’n Max” or “Pr. Max,” former publisher of The LA Star, The Brentwood Bla Bla and Beverly Hills, the Magazine. Together, they host FDR Radio and direct the Susan Marilyn Block Foundation, Dr. Suzy’s Speakeasy Art Gallery, and Bonoboville—helping humans connect and save the bonobos.
Interviewed by dozens of major media outlets, most recently quoted at length in The Mirror on Stormy Daniels spanking Trump, and a top contributor to a wide range of publications, from the Wiley-Black Human Sexuality Encyclopedia to Counterpunch, Dr. Block has delivered keynote speeches, talks and lectures at conventions and universities on sex, kink, female empowerment, bonobos, free speech and living the “cage-free” life. But she’ll never quit her “day job” as a sex therapist with the Dr. Susan Block Institute, helping people to explore, enjoy and take responsibility for their personal, sexual lives.
For media inquiries or interview requests, please contact Christina. Phone: 626.461.5950 / Email: BlockMediaDesk@Gmail.com
The following is a little piece of hate mail dropped like a psychological dumb bomb into my inbox... more The following is a little piece of hate mail dropped like a psychological dumb bomb into my inbox the other day…
Dr. Block —
When did you start becoming a self-hating Jew like Larry David, Joy Behar and decades before, Woody Allen?
Your CounterPunch commentary reflects self-denial of facts, mostly one most liberal/progressives love to bury: Israel was attacked on October 7th. I won’t go into gory detail, but you might want to look up the carnage Hamas produced against young women on the concert grounds that day and ones not seen since.
As a Free Beacon journalist, I wouldn’t waste characters interviewing you regarding your hatred of Natanyahu or the actions of the IDF. Instead, should I see you on the campus of UCLA, USC with the bands of anti-American insurrectionists, only then will I approach you to explain your sordid viewpoint.
Until then, I personally hope Israel finishes the job and rids the world of Hamas, Hezbollah and every Iranian-backed proxy you defend.
Sincerely,
Aimee Hawkes
After a short bout of laughter, tears and tossing my falafel, here is my response (may it help you to create your own mental Iron Dome against any Zionist psycho dumb bombs tossed your way)…
Dear Ms. Aimee Hawkes,
Thank you for your email. It’s always illuminating to hear from my readers, even when they troll me with nasty Zionist tirades like yours.
I must say that your first question, “when did you start becoming a self-hating Jew?” is as rancid as week-old borscht. It also incorrectly presumes that I am one. I’m not sure what the litmus test is for “self-hating Jew,” but I doubt I’d pass, as witnesses to my beautiful Bat Mitzvah, teen summers in Israel and Camp Ramah, Har Zion Temple wedding presided over by two Rabbis, popular Israeli TV show (1998 – 2003), big bacchanalian Purimschpiels and hot-wax Hanukkah parties can attest.
A self-questioning Jew, yes, but self-hating? Nah. I’ve long loved many aspects of Jewish culture, from Queen Esther to the Marx Brothers (including Karl) to the soulful prayers of Kol Nidre. Polytheistic libertine that I am, I could never “hate” my Jewish roots. I do hate war, genocide, apartheid, but I don’t hate people… least of all myself.
My hatred for war – but not people – inspired those Counterpunch articles you reference, including my first seriously anti-Zionist apartheid piece in 2021; stepping up the pace a bit with an Anti-Zionist Hanukkah, Purim, and a tribute to The Burning Soldier – since Israel stepped up its pace to genocide in 2023-24, as you well know, my dear Ms. Hawkes.
Not that we’re friends, but I doubt the Jewish celebrities – canceled and/or acclaimed – that you namedrop “hate” themselves either. They are practitioners of the rather Jewish art of self-deprecation and, like me, they question things – as the Talmud encourages us to do.
So, who are these “self-hating Jews” of which you speak?
Maybe you?
It seems to me that the true “self-hating Jews” among us are the Zionists. Why else would you feel the need to steal land, murder, mass-murder, practice apartheid, even commit genocide, and then lie, lie and lie some more to try to cover it up?
The religo-Zionist world-view, that they are “chosen” by God, strikes me as a vain effort to compensate for this nagging, unflagging, self-hating, inferiority complex, with myths of superiority, making them special, exempt from the rules.
Now, with no rules to restrain them, the “Chosen People” are attempting to mitigate the self-hate that fuels them by waging genocide against the natives of the land they’re trying to conquer.
How’s that working for you?
Zionists seem to self-hate so much (often, I must say, with good reason), it’s unbearable, so they project their self-hate onto others – the Palestinians, the Iranians, the American student protesters, the Amalekites, Esau, Ishmael and all their innocent children. There are no innocents when you hate yourself so hard, you can’t get the stains of self-hate out of your soul no matter how much you kill, and then try to wash your hands with excuses…
You are the Zionist Lady MacBeth.
The sheer, blood-soaked futility of the Zionist cry, “We will defeat Hamas!” echoes Shakespeare’s most damnable, guilt-ridden villainess’ notorious line, “Out damn spot, out, I say!”
Or maybe it’s not just a spot, but a bloody hell like the artist Jonathan Yeo painted around King Charles.
It must be a kind of bloody hell for you too, Ms. Hawkes.
As for me, I have lived a long and pretty comfortable, agnostic Jewish life among people of all faiths (sort of like Palestine used to be!), though I must confess, arrogant, bombastic Zionists like Bibi (who went to school in Philly near where I grew up) have given me the creeps since Hebrew school.
I was an antiwar girl – attending Vietnam war protests at local colleges with my older draft-age brother – and the Zionist Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) were the great warriors of our time.
At least, our Hebrew schoolteachers taught us they were great, the world’s most “moral” army. Ha! Even as a kid being fed fake news with my fried matzah, my stomach cramped with the unpalatable presence of this serious contradiction. If this “God” of ours had commanded, “Thou shalt not kill,” how could any killing – let alone a killing machine like the IDF – be moral?
When I visited Israel with Zionist Camp Ramah, I asked my counselors: Why was “a land without people for a people without land” actually inhabited by these people – these Palestinians that Israel’s motherly prime minister Golda Meir said simply didn’t exist (“there is no such thing as Palestinian people”)?
My counselors muttered that all these people were “Bedouins,” and chastised me when I returned from a free afternoon in Jerusalem riding around the Garden of Gethsemane on the back of the motorcycle of a young Palestinian man I’d met in a café. They would have been livid to know that we also shared a kiss.
Later, I learned the “D” in IDF was really an “O” for “occupation,” inflicting horrific death, destruction and trauma on the occupied, from apartheid to genocide. I didn’t know the extent of Israel’s atrocities for years (and I regret to admit I didn’t want to know), but now we see it every day on our screens, despite the mainstream media’s attempts to obfuscate the wretched truth.
And what about the occupier? What about those who support the occupation? What about you, Ms. Hawkes?
As a sex therapist in private practice since 1991, I’ve talked to hundreds of PTSD-afflicted veterans of multiple immoral American and Israeli wars and occupations. Many occupiers (especially the leaders) are stone-hearted sociopaths – but others (the more *normal* ones) are afflicted with great regret, self-hate and depression.
Deflecting their self-hate onto the occupied, they might develop sadistic urges laced with morbid, fetishistic kinks. We see this on perverse display in the IOF soldiers who steal and play with panties, bras and high heels belonging to dead or fleeing Gazan women whose homes they just demolished. Some dance wildly between bombing missions, trying to flaunttheir erotic vitality. The worst relish humiliating and torturing Palestinian prisoners. We’ve seen it before in Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo, and now we see it on steroids in Gaza and the West Bank.
It’s coming up on Purim, the Semitic St. Paddy’s, Yiddishe Mardi Gras or Hebraic Halloweenof masq... more It’s coming up on Purim, the Semitic St. Paddy’s, Yiddishe Mardi Gras or Hebraic Halloweenof masquerade, storytelling (Purim shpiels), games, pranks, music, wine and a special Spring holiday dessert called “hamantaschen.” These triangular, fruit jelly-stuffed pastries are said to represent the pirate-style hat of the Purim story’s villain, that quintessential antisemite Haman the Agagite, Biblical cousins of Israeli Prime Minister Bibi Netanyahu’s favorite scriptural boogeymen, the Amalekites.
I love hats, but I’ve long felt that hamantaschen more closely resemble the female genitalia, as they are shaped like an open vulva with a fruit-filled vaginal hole in the middle. Perhaps that’s my sexologist’s dirty mind hard at work – or play – since both triangular treats are good to eat. In any case, because Purim is the only Hebrew holiday story starring a woman, Queen Esther, and hardly anybody but Ashkenazi Jews and Germans can pronounce hamantaschen, I call them “pussy cookies.”
The Biblical Queen Esther is a humble teenage beauty contest winner who uses her “Weapons of Mass Seduction” – her sex appeal, charm, diplomacy, teasing, humility, wit and wiles – to seduce the Persian King Ahasuerus (said to be a Biblical stand-in for Xerxes), saving her “people” (the Jewish people of the 5th century BCE Persian Empire) from the King’s chief minister Haman’s diabolical plan for genocide.
In a time when power was almost always gained through brute force and cold gold – a time much like our own – this was, and still is, a kind of human miracle, a bonoboësque triumph that I honor with joy almost every Spring.
I’ve grown up with Purim, since I was a little girl who didn’t know bonobos from bananas, but I knew I enjoyed pretending to be the strong but sweet Queen Esther in Hebrew SchoolPurim shpiels. Over the years, my Purim parties grew, deepened and blossomed into Commedia Erotica Purim Bacchanals (Warning: Click the following links at your own risk. These are not your Bubbe’s Purim Shpiels!) like my Erotic Purim Masquerade (2006), Porn ‘n’ Purim (2008), Vaginal Pastry Purim (2009) Purim Bacchanalia (2011), Purim Rising(2013), St. Paddy’s Purim (2015), Porny Purim, (2017), FemDom Purim (2019), Pussy Cookie Rush (2022), Pussy Cookie March Madness (2023), and the Purim parades have marched on, drunk up and twirled around year after year.
But this year is different. Instead of being saved from genocide, Israel is committing genocide.
Indeed, Israel is doing just what the villain Haman plots to do in the Purim story. Moreover, Israel’s bombing, starvation and demolition of Gaza is even worse than Haman’s most sadistic fantasies. Besides, Haman’s annihilation of the Jews was only in the plotting stages, while the Zionist annihilation of Palestine is actually happening, a heart-breaking holocaust unfolding in real time, right now before our traumatized eyes.
So, I can’t celebrate Purim with joy in 2024, or maybe ever again.
Certainly not while some of my fellow Jews – not just Haman Netanyahu, but the whole horrid Zionist branch of my Semitic *family* – are committing such atrocities.
However, a Queen can dream, and I do have a Purim fantasy for 2024. This Purim, I imagine a “Queen Esther for Palestine” arising to stop the current King Ahasuerus from supporting his Haman.
You might need to learn (or refresh your knowledge of) the basic Purim Story to appreciate this bizarre Midrash (Biblical interpretation) of mine in which King Ahasuerus’ role is played by none other than “Genocide Joe” Biden.
It fits because doddering Biden supports Netanyahu’s murderous regime by sending bombs and bullets to Israel, just as drunken King Ahasuerus supports Haman’s plot to slaughter the Jews of the Persian Empire in the Purim story.
The Queen Esther for Palestine I envision could be anyone; perhaps a Palestinian – if she could slip past the Secret Service – or a Palestine ally, an advisor, a special friend, a beloved son, a granddaughter, a cute ice cream server with nice-smelling hair, or even Joe’s beloved Dr. Jill Biden – whoever has the ear of the *King.*
Sure, the U.S. President isn’t as powerful as a Biblical King, but he can stop the flow of genocidal armaments to Israel. Yes, it’s a longshot that an ardent AIPAC-funded “Zionist” like Joe Biden will do that, but then again, Haman was King Ahasuerus’ favorite minister before Esther changed his mind, and hey, Canada just did it(!)… meaning it’s worth a try.
So, Dr. Jill, how about playing Queen Esther this Easter and whispering seductively into King Joe’s ear, “C’mon Joey, just stop sending weapons to Bibi, and I’ll lick your ice cream cone clean tonight.”
If Dr. Jill as Queen Esther actually gets King Joe to stop arming my genocidal lonsmen – who shame the entire *tribe* with their beyond-Biblical atrocities, absurd explanations and obnoxious celebrations – she may just work the miracle of turning Genocide Joe into Bonobo Joe.
Nothing can bring back the thousands of precious lives lost, but stopping the flow of armaments (now) could win Joe this next election, sparing us a Trumpocalypse, in addition to saving the Palestinian people – Esther-style – from the current Zionist rampage.
On a poignant note, the Mayor of Jericho, Palestine, Abdul Karim Sidr, has named a street in Jericho “Aaron Bushnell Street,” after the brave U.S. Airman who burned himself alive outside the Israeli Embassy to protest the genocide. Transforming himself from cannon fodder to canonized fighter, Aaron Bushnell became “The Burning Soldier” for Palestine.
May Airman Bushnell’s great sacrifice not be in vain, may we experience another bonoboësque human miracle, like Queen Esther’s on Purim, and may Palestine be free.
It’s coming up on Purim, the Semitic St. Paddy’s, Yiddishe Mardi Gras or Hebraic Halloweenof masq... more It’s coming up on Purim, the Semitic St. Paddy’s, Yiddishe Mardi Gras or Hebraic Halloweenof masquerade, storytelling (Purim shpiels), games, pranks, music, wine and a special Spring holiday dessert called “hamantaschen.” These triangular, fruit jelly-stuffed pastries are said to represent the pirate-style hat of the Purim story’s villain, that quintessential antisemite Haman the Agagite, Biblical cousins of Israeli Prime Minister Bibi Netanyahu’s favorite scriptural boogeymen, the Amalekites.
I love hats, but I’ve long felt that hamantaschen more closely resemble the female genitalia, as they are shaped like an open vulva with a fruit-filled vaginal hole in the middle. Perhaps that’s my sexologist’s dirty mind hard at work – or play – since both triangular treats are good to eat. In any case, because Purim is the only Hebrew holiday story starring a woman, Queen Esther, and hardly anybody but Ashkenazi Jews and Germans can pronounce hamantaschen, I call them “pussy cookies.”
The Biblical Queen Esther is a humble teenage beauty contest winner who uses her “Weapons of Mass Seduction” – her sex appeal, charm, diplomacy, teasing, humility, wit and wiles – to seduce the Persian King Ahasuerus (said to be a Biblical stand-in for Xerxes), saving her “people” (the Jewish people of the 5th century BCE Persian Empire) from the King’s chief minister Haman’s diabolical plan for genocide.
In a time when power was almost always gained through brute force and cold gold – a time much like our own – this was, and still is, a kind of human miracle, a bonoboësque triumph that I honor with joy almost every Spring.
I’ve grown up with Purim, since I was a little girl who didn’t know bonobos from bananas, but I knew I enjoyed pretending to be the strong but sweet Queen Esther in Hebrew SchoolPurim shpiels. Over the years, my Purim parties grew, deepened and blossomed into Commedia Erotica Purim Bacchanals (Warning: Click the following links at your own risk. These are not your Bubbe’s Purim Shpiels!) like my Erotic Purim Masquerade (2006), Porn ‘n’ Purim (2008), Vaginal Pastry Purim (2009) Purim Bacchanalia (2011), Purim Rising(2013), St. Paddy’s Purim (2015), Porny Purim, (2017), FemDom Purim (2019), Pussy Cookie Rush (2022), Pussy Cookie March Madness (2023), and the Purim parades have marched on, drunk up and twirled around year after year.
But this year is different. Instead of being saved from genocide, Israel is committing genocide.
Indeed, Israel is doing just what the villain Haman plots to do in the Purim story. Moreover, Israel’s bombing, starvation and demolition of Gaza is even worse than Haman’s most sadistic fantasies. Besides, Haman’s annihilation of the Jews was only in the plotting stages, while the Zionist annihilation of Palestine is actually happening, a heart-breaking holocaust unfolding in real time, right now before our traumatized eyes.
So, I can’t celebrate Purim with joy in 2024, or maybe ever again.
Certainly not while some of my fellow Jews – not just Haman Netanyahu, but the whole horrid Zionist branch of my Semitic *family* – are committing such atrocities.
However, a Queen can dream, and I do have a Purim fantasy for 2024. This Purim, I imagine a “Queen Esther for Palestine” arising to stop the current King Ahasuerus from supporting his Haman.
You might need to learn (or refresh your knowledge of) the basic Purim Story to appreciate this bizarre Midrash (Biblical interpretation) of mine in which King Ahasuerus’ role is played by none other than “Genocide Joe” Biden.
It fits because doddering Biden supports Netanyahu’s murderous regime by sending bombs and bullets to Israel, just as drunken King Ahasuerus supports Haman’s plot to slaughter the Jews of the Persian Empire in the Purim story.
The Queen Esther for Palestine I envision could be anyone; perhaps a Palestinian – if she could slip past the Secret Service – or a Palestine ally, an advisor, a special friend, a beloved son, a granddaughter, a cute ice cream server with nice-smelling hair, or even Joe’s beloved Dr. Jill Biden – whoever has the ear of the *King.*
Sure, the U.S. President isn’t as powerful as a Biblical King, but he can stop the flow of genocidal armaments to Israel. Yes, it’s a longshot that an ardent AIPAC-funded “Zionist” like Joe Biden will do that, but then again, Haman was King Ahasuerus’ favorite minister before Esther changed his mind, and hey, Canada just did it(!)… meaning it’s worth a try.
So, Dr. Jill, how about playing Queen Esther this Easter and whispering seductively into King Joe’s ear, “C’mon Joey, just stop sending weapons to Bibi, and I’ll lick your ice cream cone clean tonight.”
If Dr. Jill as Queen Esther actually gets King Joe to stop arming my genocidal lonsmen – who shame the entire *tribe* with their beyond-Biblical atrocities, absurd explanations and obnoxious celebrations – she may just work the miracle of turning Genocide Joe into Bonobo Joe.
Nothing can bring back the thousands of precious lives lost, but stopping the flow of armaments (now) could win Joe this next election, sparing us a Trumpocalypse, in addition to saving the Palestinian people – Esther-style – from the current Zionist rampage.
On a poignant note, the Mayor of Jericho, Palestine, Abdul Karim Sidr, has named a street in Jericho “Aaron Bushnell Street,” after the brave U.S. Airman who burned himself alive outside the Israeli Embassy to protest the genocide. Transforming himself from cannon fodder to canonized fighter, Aaron Bushnell became “The Burning Soldier” for Palestine.
May Airman Bushnell’s great sacrifice not be in vain, may we experience another bonoboësque human miracle, like Queen Esther’s on Purim, and may Palestine be free.
Burning with passion for Palestine, active-duty U.S. Airman Aaron Bushnell set himself on fire, c... more Burning with passion for Palestine, active-duty U.S. Airman Aaron Bushnell set himself on fire, committing suicide to protest genocide.
Make no mistake: Aaron Bushnell is not a role model. Don’t set yourself on fire! Do not emulate self-immolation. But do let it illuminate a very dark situation.
And not just any dark situation. Aaron Bushnell did not set himself on fire over the “Israel/Hamas war” as the mainstream media (MSM) tried to explain, before moving on to the weather report, nor was he experiencing a mental health episode that could have been alleviated with a pill or a call to a suicide hotline, as implied by other MSM hasbara.
“They want us to believe we are mad and this war is sane,” observed CounterPunch’s Jeffrey St. Clair.
Indeed, on his own Twitch-broadcast livestream, Aaron Bushnell sanely and calmly spelled out exactly what he was protesting as he marched to the Israeli embassy in Washington DC, wearing his U.S. military fatigues. “My name is Aaron Bushnell,” he said. “And I am an active-duty member of the United States Air Force. I will no longer be complicit in genocide. I’m about to engage in an extreme act of protest but, compared to what people have been experiencing in Palestine at the hands of their colonizers, it’s not extreme at all. This is what our ruling class has decided will be normal.”
Then he set his phone to auto-record, and he set himself on fire.
He poured the kerosene on his head, stuck his cap back on and, just before he struck the match, a disembodied voice with the banality of a store clerk inquired, “Can I help you, Sir?”
Then suddenly, the blaze erupted, and Airman Aaron Bushnell became a real-life “Burning Man,” a Burning Soldier, marching in place in what must have been searing agony, yelling, “Free Palestine!” over and over again – his voice raw with pain mixed with love for the Palestinian people, so many of whom have been and are still being burned alive by Israeli bombs, paid for by American taxpayers – until he fell to the ground in flames.
“Get on the ground! Get on the ground!” yelled someone, presumably an Israeli embassy guard. Slowly, the guard walked toward the fire, arms stretched taut, hands together, holding a gun on the Burning Soldier as he burned to death.
A gun?
Another guy, perhaps a paramedic, arrived on the scene shouting, “Yo! I don’t need guns, I need fire extinguishers.”
What a moment. A quintessential defining snapshot of humanity, as the world turns and we all burn – as we go on fighting wars, bombing civilians and shooting our neighbors – when the wisest amongst us can barely be heard above the violence, stating the obvious…
“I don’t need guns! I need fire extinguishers!”
Finally, the fire extinguishers arrived, a little too late and spraying clouds of foam all over the Burning Soldier’s burned body, as everyone (but Aaron) shouted, panicked, and someone near the camera asked, “What is that? Who is this?”
Then the camera switched off.
What Are You Doing Right Now?
Before his dramatic act of blazing protest, Aaron Bushnell posed this question, “Many of us like to ask ourselves, ‘what would I do if I was alive during slavery/ or the Jim Crow South? Or apartheid? What would I do if my country was committing genocide?’ The answer is, you’re doing it. Right now.”
Then Aaron set himself on fire. That was his answer to his own challenge. I’m not saying it was a good answer. It wouldn’t be my answer. It’s not an answer I would recommend to anyone. But it was his answer, and I respect it.
He could have posted his views on social media, like so many of us do, or gone to a protest, or done a podcast. He could have drowned his sorrows in beer or porn or ketamine. He could have killed himself less flamboyantly with pills, or perhaps a gun, maybe taking a few friends or strangers down with him, as so many American ammosexual mass murderers have done. Instead, his answer to his question, “What would I do if my country was committing genocide?” was to set himself on fire for all the world to see, feel and take note.
It’s tragic, and very strange, but I feel a kinship with Aaron Bushnell. Maybe it’s because he’s a self-described “anarchist” and a performance artist who performed the ultimate act of anarchistic political performance art protest on Sunday, February 25, 2024, and he did it with such pacifist grace and humble purity, without physically harming anyone but himself.
U.S. Airman Bushnell was trained to be a cog in the American war machine, but for one brief moment he clogged the gears, broke the machine, transformed his destiny and brought the entire Military Industrial Complex to a screeching halt. He fought fire with fire and sacrificed his life, transmogrifying himself into the Burning Soldier for Palestine.
From Burning Monk to Burning Soldier
Aaron Bushnell’s performance protest triggered one of my first memories of any kind of protest. I was about five years old, too little to read or even watch the news, but I caught a glimpse of something that transcended “news” in my father’s newspaper, an extraordinary black and white photo that showed a man on fire, sitting cross-legged on a busy street.
Having been taught never to even touch a hot stove, my kindergarten brain wondered, “How could he do such a thing?” as the image branded itself into my brain.
I later learned that the man in the photo was a Vietnamese Buddhist monk named Thích Quảng Đức who burned himself alive, using principles of Mahayana meditation, to protest the persecution of Buddhists by the US-supported Catholic government of South Vietnamese President Ngo Diem.
He became known as the “Burning Monk.”
Frightening and mystical as it was, the “Burning Monk” photo taken by AP photographer Malcomb Browne had a huge impact on people’s impressions of America’s presence in Vietnam. Several other self-immolation protests have occurred since then, including an unnamed woman holding a Palestinian flag in front of Atlanta’s Israeli consulate in 2023. Unfortunately, her protest was not filmed, and the MSM was able to spin a more Zionism-friendly narrative, quoting Israeli consul general Anat Sultan-Dadon’s portrayal of the woman’s final act as an expression of “hate and incitement toward Israel” – before sweeping it under the imperialist rug.
Not so with Aaron Bushnell; a 25-year-old Whitmore, Massachusetts native raised on a Christian compound called the Community of Jesus, who joined the air force, becoming a cyber defense operations specialist with the 531st intelligence support squadron at joint base San Antonio, Texas. You could question his background (was that compound a cult?), but his motivations would not be so easily mischaracterized by the MSM spin doctors, as his fiery self-sacrifice on the altar of the Israeli embassy, along with his words explaining it, was live-streamed for the world to see, achieving a monumental impact that has yet to be measured.
Aaron Bushnell, the Burning Soldier, marched through that fire into the hearts and minds of millions. He marched into the history books – if there are to be history books in our future. He certainly marched into trending topics.
Unsurprisingly, his actions were often misinterpreted, minimized as “mentally ill” and even mocked on social media, but he also sparked a lot of art, memorials and tributes, including Gaza Fights for Freedom filmmaker Abby Martin’s Portland vigil, featuring her husband, U.S. army veteran and anti-war activist Mike Prysner and fellow About Face: Veterans Against the War. Mike’s tribute to Bushnell and Abby and Robbie Martin’s Media Roots Radio show on “The Self-Immolation of Aaron Bushnell” are also very moving.
Mid-vigil, Mike and the other veterans burned their military uniforms in a can of fire, chanting, “Remember Aaron Bushnell! He’s not alone.”
Holy Fire
Chanting, dancing or just sitting around a bonfire like that feels sacred. In the Bible, fire represents the “holy spirit.” Moses encounters God in the “burning bush,” the prophet Elijah ascends to heaven in a “Chariot of Fire,” and the Hanukkah candles that only had enough oil to last 24 hours burn for a miraculous eight days.
But fire isn’t all sparkles and light. In Greek mythology, Prometheus is condemned to suffer for eternity for having given humanity the gift of fire.
Whatever your beliefs, fire illuminates what you might not otherwise see, and the firelight of the Burning Solider illuminates the plight of the Palestinians burning, suffering and dying under Zionist apartheid and genocide. It illuminates our need to protest, to resist ennui and despair.
Whatever we do or don’t do, every precious moment, we are answering Aaron’s question, “What would I do if my country was committing genocide?”
Saint Joan Burned at the Stake
The Burning Soldier triggered another old memory for me. When I was a shy but drama-loving adolescent, I played the title role in George Bernard Shaw’s Saint Joan, which focuses on Joan of Arc’s trial before she was burned at the stake. I was no Marie Falconetti – luminous star of Carl Dreyer’s silent masterpiece, “Passion of Joan of Arc” (also featuring another of my fiery favorites, Antonin Artaud). However, for my sheltered little middle class mind, learning lines for a high school play, it was a deep challenge to just contemplate being burned alive.
Yikes!
I learned that Joan was given a chance to live if she would just recant her “voices” and stop wearing “men’s clothes,” but she refused. She made a choice to be burned at the stake (according to Shaw); it was an act of voluntary self-immolation – to make a spiritual, political point – like Aaron Bushnell. Whether or not her point was taken, in 1920 (three years before Shaw wrote his play), Joan of Arc was canonized by the Catholic Church as “Saint Joan.”
It’s a New Year, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners, a socially sanctified turning point in... more It’s a New Year, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners, a socially sanctified turning point in calendrical time with stirring possibilities that shimmer like GloFish in a pool of fresh clean water, awaiting my dive down into a future so bright that all you can see is my “Happy Nude Rear.”
So, why do I feel like I’m being marched, blindfolded, starved, half-naked (and not in a “happy nude” way) and shackled to fellow hapless humans—like the poor Gazan “POWs” I see on my news feeds—goosed by Israeli Tavor X-95 rifles, or maybe shot, beaten, blown up by American-made bombs, exterminated by AI (Artificial Ignorance), or *just* mocked and dehumanized as we’re all shoved through a trapdoor into 2024?
Also, there’s almost no fresh clean water, and what there is costs $14.95 a cup.
Make Like Bonobos, Not Baboons
With such bleak nightmares and much worse – actually happening now in real time in Gaza right before the eyes of the world – set against the annual wet dream of a brand-new run around the sun, I resolve to #GoBonobos in 2024.
Bonobos (just in case you don’t know) are the “Make Love Not War” chimpanzees who swing through the trees as well as with each other. They’re also humanity’s closest genetic cousins, but unlike us, they honor love over hate and lust over greed, practicing what I call “The Bonobo Way,” an uncanny but very real path of peace. That is, bonobos (pan paniscus) are the only great apes who have never been seen killing each other in the wild or captivity.
How do they do it? Bonobos make peace through pleasure (including but not limited to sexual pleasure), with a generous helping of female empowerment (females rule Bonoboville), male nurturing (take care of our dudes!), ecosexual intelligence (save our planet!), a strong sense of connection (community is key) and sharing resources (sharing is caring).
Sound good? It is good.
Indeed, now more than ever, we the peoples of the world need to “make like bonobos, not baboons.”
Year of the Bonobo
You may have heard me say it before, but I’m saying it more for 2024. Yes, it’s a new year, but it’s my same old new year’s resolution as 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016 and 2015. This makes 2024, aka MMXXIV (imperial Roman drum roll, please) … the 10th Great Year of the Bonobo! Woohoo!
But why, you may wonder, after a decade of resolving to go bonobos, aren’t we there yet? I’d like to say that we’re *almost there.* However, in so many disturbing ways, 2023 drove us farther off the path of peace through pleasure than ever.
First, going by the mass murder and mayhem count—in wars abroad and at home—humans appear to be going more bananas than bonobos.
Second, going by the demonization of any expression of sexual pleasure even slightly outside the theocratically blessed, baby-making “norm,” we are being force-fed the most unbonobo bananas ever grown since United Fruit colonized Central America.
Indeed, looking over last year’s resolution to “go bonobos,” I am vexed to see I successfully foretold that this past year (2023) would be “worse, much worse” in many ways than the year before. This was not exactly a unique crystal ball prediction, but sadly, it came all too true.
Annihilation Nations
Annihilation was in the air, on the ground and at sea all through 2023.
Many were annihilated by bombs, AR-15s, knives, chemicals and the occasional bulldozer. Tens of thousands of Ukrainians were killed in their grinding war with Russian, using American munitions, including cluster bombs, though now “quietly shifting” from counteroffensive to a more “defensive posture.” Whole families in Gaza were annihilated by Israel’s ferocious bombardments in 2023, also with American bombs, as the U.S. even blocked a U.N. Security Council Ceasefire Resolution. More wars raged (and still rage) in Myanmar, Syria, Iraq, Yemen, the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Ethiopia, Somalia and other African countries. Sorry if I’ve left out some; there are so many fighting and dying in these ongoing cycles of perma war around the world, it’s tough to keep track.
I call it “perma war” because it’s like perma press, only instead of pants that don’t crease, it’s wars that won’t end.
Additionally, there were (and still are) our ongoing *wars* at home. Though the all-around crime rate in American cities went down in 2023 (woohoo!), murders and mass murders committed by ammosexual incels, PTSD-traumatized veterans, social media-crazed misfits, lonely human apes and our more and more militarized sadistic police continued to kill us at home.
Will all this killing get worse in 2024, or will we finally “study war no more”? Probably the former, but at least we could have a real ceasefire in Palestine… couldn’t we?
Apparently not yet, as of this writing. The Zionist bombing, slaughtering, mass executions, displacement of Palestinian people in Gaza and the West Bank, and even the “accidental” murder of Israeli hostages trying to surrender, in the face of massive protests around the world, has been especially harrowing and utterly unconscionable in the last quarter of 2023, now bleeding into 2024.
What is wrong with us humans? Baboons are better behaved.
Of course, it’s not all of us humans. Some of us were in the streets rallying for peace and justice in humongous demonstrations, and others were on our devices, agitating to stop the war(s) all through 2023 with no sign of letting up in 2024. Special kudos to our friends Abby Martin, Robbie Martin, Mike Prysner and CounterPunch colleagues for advocating ceasefire and a free Palestine online and on the street.
Props also to Soma Snakeoil, the Damianos and my husband Max’s former partner Veronica Vera for their sex-positive activism on the web and in the public squares of so-called civilization. For more Make-Love-Not-War heroes, winners (and a few choice losers) of this past year, check out the 12th annual SUZY Awards 2023.
For the 12th year, “Best Journalist” goes to Julian Assange, still locked up in Belmarsh Prison for daring to publish the American War Machine-humiliating truth about perma war and its inevitable, insidious, Collateral Murder.
War Crime as an Aphrodisiac
So, who is it that that has such a hard-on for war instead of love? The warmongers, of course, our distinguished world leaders, the alpha males and elite females of the Capitalocene, the scheming war profiteers, the narcissistic presidents, the paranoid billionaires, the corrupt politicians and their slimy sons-in-law, the oil barons and their ladder-climbing, apple-polishing, support personnel.
While most of us are rightly repulsed by the horrors we see in our news feeds, for these folks *at the top,* war porn is better than Viagra; it makes both their penises and portfolios rise, especially when the contested region is sitting on top of desirable, natural resources. Or is it just a *coincidence* that huge oil and natural gas reserves were recently discovered off the Gaza coast?
Many American leaders of both major parties are even agitating for war with China. While the Chinese say(in a Bonobo Way), “planet Earth is big enough for the two countries [the U.S. and China] to succeed,” the U.S. Army prefers to compete, commissioning the Rand Corporation to “think the unthinkable” and imagine “War with China.” What’s next – doing the undoable and inciting World War III in the China Sea?
At least, the worst war criminal of the latter half of the 20th century, Henry Kissinger, finally left us in 2023. This real-life Dr. Strangelove famously opined, “Power is the greatest aphrodisiac.” That hasn’t been my experience personally, nor as a sex therapist who hears about a lot of people’s turn-ons. If it were true, most of Harvey Weinstein’s accusers might not have accused him.
Power is more of an intoxicant than an aphrodisiac; some world leaders seem to be so intoxicated by power – and the fear of losing it – they don’t seem to give a damn about the people their policies are killing; if they do, only their therapists, sex workers and bartenders know.
Of course, anything can be deemed an aphrodisiac, if you profess faith in it, as the faith-professing, district-swinging Congresswoman Lauren Boebert proved when the notoriously unerotic Beetlejuice made her so hot “Miss Ammosexual” had to cool off her hand on her date’s crotch.
Well, our faith leaders do “mess up” sexually; they’re only human apes! However, for the rest of us, sex had better be under control, preferably harnessed into a capitalist project, like breeding workers to exploit. Otherwise, our leaders would rather we not spend too much time on sex, especially if it’s recreational, not procreational. They want us out of bed and on to work, maybe with a fast-food break before online shopping.
Outercourse is In & Religiosity is Out
Among bonobos, lust trumps greed, and recreational sex is far from just profligate fun; it’s key to keeping the peace. Bonobos engage in a lot more outercourse than intercourse, including erotic, affectionate touch, massage, tickling and cuddling that diffuses violent tension and keeps everybody calm. Could something like that work for humans? Doesn’t it already?
One promising rather bonoboësque sex trend for 2024, especially among Generation Z’ers, is “shallowing.” Somewhere between intercourse and outercourse, “shallowing” involves stimulating the outside of the genitalia without going inside, and is more likely to bring a female to orgasm before a male partner – usually a good thing – and less likely to cause an accidental pregnancy – also usually a good thing… though not according to the religio-fascist misogynists in power who want women to breed more exploitable labor.
An old Catholic friend emailed to wish my husband Max and me a “Happy Hanukkah… with lots of fun ... more An old Catholic friend emailed to wish my husband Max and me a “Happy Hanukkah… with lots of fun and good cheer.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “But with Israel bombing the lights and the life out of Gaza, it’s not a very ‘Happy Hanukkah 2023’.”
I’m actually on the fence about every Hanukkah—loathing its might-is-right story while loving its gifts, games, hot wax and flickering lights.
But this year’s ruthless, relentless bombardment is far too dark for even the world’s biggest menorah to brighten.
Of course, the Zionist apartheid has long been brewing this toxic stew that exploded in its face with the brutal 10/7 Hamas attack (and yes, I do condemn Hamas!), which—like 9/11and Pearl Harbor—could have been prevented with a little of that much ballyhooed Israeli Intelligence… though maybe a politically desperate and depraved “Bibi” Netanyahu just *let* those horrors happen. We may never know.
What we do know is that then came the monstrous, fire-breathing vengeance, the slaughtering of thousands, the insistence that there are no Palestinian “civilians,” not even children, and the targeting of Palestinian doctors and poets in their homes, hospitals and schools, bombing, bombing, bombing beyond war crimes (really, beyond words).
And still it comes, with nary a “pause” in sight.
These are Zionist—not Jewish—crimes, but unfortunately, most non-Jews conflate Zionism with Judaism. It’s understandable, but maddening, and this mistaken conflation, stoked by the Jewish Zionists (as well as American Christian Zionists), compels me to join my fellow “Jews for Peace” in crying “Not in Our Name!” to IDF bombing and Zionist apartheid, even though I have Zionist friends from high school days now living in Israel who won’t follow my advice to leave. I haven’t stopped caring about them though; I worry daily for their safety, and their sanity.
I grew up among Zionists (including these friends who “made Aliyah”), though I never felt that Israel was *my* country, or even a place I wanted to live. Its gung-ho, GI-Judah spirit was a turn-off when I just wanted to make love, not war. For years, I could ignore it, but as the Zionist cancer grew, I had to “come out” against it.
Now Netanyahu is Antiochus, the brutal villain of the Hanukkah Story.
Hannukah’s traditional tale of the Jewish people under the occupation of the Syrian Greek Seleucid King Antiochus IV in 160 BC has some very eerie parallels to the modern story of the Palestinian people under the occupation of Mad King Netanyahu (or as Max calls him, “Net Nut”) in 2023.
According to the first Book of Maccabees, Antiochus was a sadistic king, always trying to humiliate his Jewish subjects, making them bow down to statues of strange gods, eat pork and probably commit sexual perversities. Now we have Netanyahu’s IDF humiliating Palestinians, stripping them down to their underwear, blindfolding them Guantanamo-style, and forcing them to kneel before the Almighty smartphones that broadcast their humiliation throughout the universe.
Worse than Antiochus, Net Nut goes beyond humiliation to annihilation, dropping his mass-murderous bombs—high-tech Hanukkah gifts from his good friend, Genocide Joe—even as this wanted-for-corruption, narcissistic Nut has the chutzpah to piously light the first candle of Hannukah 2023 flanked by a paid-off Rabbi at the Western Wall.
If Antiochus is like Netanyahu, do the Maccabees of Hanukkah correspond to Hamas of Palestine? I’m no fan of horrid Hamas (didn’t I just condemn Hamas?), and I’m sure I’ll be called a “self-hating Jew” for saying this, but Judah Maccabee and his brothers are the quintessential extremist religious fanatics, “terrorists,” in the eyes of their occupiers… kind of like Hamas.
Partly because it’s so GI-Judah, the ancient rabbis did not classify Hanukkah as a major Jewish holiday. But it’s a Winter festival, so it piggybacks on Christmas and the gift-giving angle makes it good for capitalism.
However, Hanukkah (Hanuka, Chanukah, or whatever phonetization you prefer) is much more than gifts and war. Like all winter holidays, it stems from the original Winter Solstice, honoring the most basic natural miracle that a cold, dark, half-dead Earth comes back to life with warmth and light. The Christmas miracle is the virgin birth of “God” in human form. The Miracle of Hanukkah is the “everlasting light,” the sacred lamp of the Jewish Temple. According to legend, it only had enough oil to burn for 24 hours; yet lasted eight days (thus the eight candles of the menorah), providing enough time for those heroic terrorist Maccabees to get fresh olive oil to replenish the eternal flame.
Speaking of oil, perhaps Netanyahu, the Zionists and their Uncle Genocide Joe are after a different kind of oil—or natural gas—in or off the shore of poor little rich Gaza.
Oil is often a motivating factor in occupations, but it’s not 160 BC anymore or even 1948, and the whole world is watching with disgust.
So how about that miracle? The one so many of us wish for—whether actively marching in the streets or more passively witnessing from our devices—that the Palestinians will be free of Zionist occupation, and that Jews—wherever we live—can once again be a people of peace and wisdom.
It’s the Bonobo Way, the way of peace through the pleasure; the pleasure of sharing love, sex, food, medicine, knowledge and resources, the peaceable pleasure of seeing our own humanity in the moist, open eyes of the stranger.
This is what I wish for as I light the candles for our Anti-Zionist Hanukkah, singing the Hebrew prayers for Palestine, hoping my tears don’t douse the flames, any one of which could be the everlasting light of miracles that we all need.
Blessed art thou, O God of Gods, who commands us to light the candles for Palestine.
Amen. Awomen!
The Super Zionists say that an anti-Zionist Jew for Palestine like me can’t or shouldn’t celebrate Hanukkah because it’s a Zionist holiday, and sure, it celebrates military might (which isn’t my cup of Manischewitz), but telling me I can’t honor a holiday of my youth because I don’t agree with your politics is downright anti-Semitic.
Turns out that Israeli and Christian Zionists are some of the worst anti-Semites, maybe because they don’t separate politics from religion or Synagogue from State.
Hanukkah games are fun, and it’s a mitzvah or “good deed” to have sex with your spouse on Hanukkah, a commandment we’re very happy to fulfill, but what I really like are the lights, fire and hot wax.
An old Catholic friend emailed to wish my husband Max and me a “Happy Hanukkah… with lots of fun ... more An old Catholic friend emailed to wish my husband Max and me a “Happy Hanukkah… with lots of fun and good cheer.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “But with Israel bombing the lights and the life out of Gaza, it’s not a very ‘Happy Hanukkah 2023’.”
I’m actually on the fence about every Hanukkah—loathing its might-is-right story while loving its gifts, games, hot wax and flickering lights.
But this year’s ruthless, relentless bombardment is far too dark for even the world’s biggest menorah to brighten.
Of course, the Zionist apartheid has long been brewing this toxic stew that exploded in its face with the brutal 10/7 Hamas attack (and yes, I do condemn Hamas!), which—like 9/11and Pearl Harbor—could have been prevented with a little of that much ballyhooed Israeli Intelligence… though maybe a politically desperate and depraved “Bibi” Netanyahu just *let* those horrors happen. We may never know.
What we do know is that then came the monstrous, fire-breathing vengeance, the slaughtering of thousands, the insistence that there are no Palestinian “civilians,” not even children, and the targeting of Palestinian doctors and poets in their homes, hospitals and schools, bombing, bombing, bombing beyond war crimes (really, beyond words).
And still it comes, with nary a “pause” in sight.
These are Zionist—not Jewish—crimes, but unfortunately, most non-Jews conflate Zionism with Judaism. It’s understandable, but maddening, and this mistaken conflation, stoked by the Jewish Zionists (as well as American Christian Zionists), compels me to join my fellow “Jews for Peace” in crying “Not in Our Name!” to IDF bombing and Zionist apartheid, even though I have Zionist friends from high school days now living in Israel who won’t follow my advice to leave. I haven’t stopped caring about them though; I worry daily for their safety, and their sanity.
I grew up among Zionists (including these friends who “made Aliyah”), though I never felt that Israel was *my* country, or even a place I wanted to live. Its gung-ho, GI-Judah spirit was a turn-off when I just wanted to make love, not war. For years, I could ignore it, but as the Zionist cancer grew, I had to “come out” against it.
Now Netanyahu is Antiochus, the brutal villain of the Hanukkah Story.
Hannukah’s traditional tale of the Jewish people under the occupation of the Syrian Greek Seleucid King Antiochus IV in 160 BC has some very eerie parallels to the modern story of the Palestinian people under the occupation of Mad King Netanyahu (or as Max calls him, “Net Nut”) in 2023.
According to the first Book of Maccabees, Antiochus was a sadistic king, always trying to humiliate his Jewish subjects, making them bow down to statues of strange gods, eat pork and probably commit sexual perversities. Now we have Netanyahu’s IDF humiliating Palestinians, stripping them down to their underwear, blindfolding them Guantanamo-style, and forcing them to kneel before the Almighty smartphones that broadcast their humiliation throughout the universe.
Worse than Antiochus, Net Nut goes beyond humiliation to annihilation, dropping his mass-murderous bombs—high-tech Hanukkah gifts from his good friend, Genocide Joe—even as this wanted-for-corruption, narcissistic Nut has the chutzpah to piously light the first candle of Hannukah 2023 flanked by a paid-off Rabbi at the Western Wall.
If Antiochus is like Netanyahu, do the Maccabees of Hanukkah correspond to Hamas of Palestine? I’m no fan of horrid Hamas (didn’t I just condemn Hamas?), and I’m sure I’ll be called a “self-hating Jew” for saying this, but Judah Maccabee and his brothers are the quintessential extremist religious fanatics, “terrorists,” in the eyes of their occupiers… kind of like Hamas.
Partly because it’s so GI-Judah, the ancient rabbis did not classify Hanukkah as a major Jewish holiday. But it’s a Winter festival, so it piggybacks on Christmas and the gift-giving angle makes it good for capitalism.
However, Hanukkah (Hanuka, Chanukah, or whatever phonetization you prefer) is much more than gifts and war. Like all winter holidays, it stems from the original Winter Solstice, honoring the most basic natural miracle that a cold, dark, half-dead Earth comes back to life with warmth and light. The Christmas miracle is the virgin birth of “God” in human form. The Miracle of Hanukkah is the “everlasting light,” the sacred lamp of the Jewish Temple. According to legend, it only had enough oil to burn for 24 hours; yet lasted eight days (thus the eight candles of the menorah), providing enough time for those heroic terrorist Maccabees to get fresh olive oil to replenish the eternal flame.
Speaking of oil, perhaps Netanyahu, the Zionists and their Uncle Genocide Joe are after a different kind of oil—or natural gas—in or off the shore of poor little rich Gaza.
Oil is often a motivating factor in occupations, but it’s not 160 BC anymore or even 1948, and the whole world is watching with disgust.
So how about that miracle? The one so many of us wish for—whether actively marching in the streets or more passively witnessing from our devices—that the Palestinians will be free of Zionist occupation, and that Jews—wherever we live—can once again be a people of peace and wisdom.
It’s the Bonobo Way, the way of peace through the pleasure; the pleasure of sharing love, sex, food, medicine, knowledge and resources, the peaceable pleasure of seeing our own humanity in the moist, open eyes of the stranger.
This is what I wish for as I light the candles for our Anti-Zionist Hanukkah, singing the Hebrew prayers for Palestine, hoping my tears don’t douse the flames, any one of which could be the everlasting light of miracles that we all need.
Blessed art thou, O God of Gods, who commands us to light the candles for Palestine.
Amen. Awomen!
The Super Zionists say that an anti-Zionist Jew for Palestine like me can’t or shouldn’t celebrate Hanukkah because it’s a Zionist holiday, and sure, it celebrates military might (which isn’t my cup of Manischewitz), but telling me I can’t honor a holiday of my youth because I don’t agree with your politics is downright anti-Semitic.
Turns out that Israeli and Christian Zionists are some of the worst anti-Semites, maybe because they don’t separate politics from religion or Synagogue from State.
Hanukkah games are fun, and it’s a mitzvah or “good deed” to have sex with your spouse on Hanukkah, a commandment we’re very happy to fulfill, but what I really like are the lights, fire and hot wax.
This year marks the golden anniversary of Deep Throat—the erotic, ironic, iconic 1972 movie that,... more This year marks the golden anniversary of Deep Throat—the erotic, ironic, iconic 1972 movie that, for many, personified the Sexual Revolution in America.
Deep Throat gave the world a taste of Porno Chic with a Big Gulp of Free Speech, followed by a bubbly chaser of U.S. politics mixed with presidential scandal, spiced with make-love-not-war fervor, spliced with sex-positive feminism and diced with pungent controversies; leaving a complex aftertaste that still lingers five decades later.
It's all shaken up into a flavorful 50th anniversary tasting tour courtesy of Gerard Damiano, Jr. and Christar Damiano, devoted son and daughter of Deep Throat auteur/director Gerard Damiano. The world tour honors their father’s seminal (in every sense of the word), cinematic creation-cum-pop culture sensation that shocked and seduced the nation—not always in that order.
Director’s cut screenings have been playing throughout this golden anniversary in theaters, festivals, clubs and other venues around the globe. All of Deep Throat’s quirky scenarios, jingle-happy soundtrack and explicit, unexpurgated sex scenes in their full-on, glorious, notorious, 4K-restored clarity and color can be seen on the big screen once again.
Down the hatch!
Not that it all goes down easy or creamy. Some aspects of Deep Throat are tough to swallow.
This is, after all, the movie that launched a thousand protests—ranging from the raging Religious Right to the anti-porn feminist “Left,” from Chicago Sun-Times film critic Roger Ebert to Memphis, Tennessee’s “smut”-smiting prosecutor Larry Parrish, from “liberal” New York City Mayor John Lindsay to “conservative” U.S. President Richard M. Nixon, as well as the FBI, the NYPD, Charles Keating, the Meese Commission and many more. Over the years, a myriad of people, organizations and political movements have tried to shut down, shut up and choke off Deep Throat.
That’s one reason why the Damianos arranged post-screening “talkback” panels at every venue, featuring experts of different kinds from Golden Age adult stars to 21st century “intimacy coordinators.”
I was honored to accept their invitation to moderate the panels at the two Los Angeles venues, though moderating a discussion about something so immoderate as Deep Throat has its challenges. I brought my riding crop just in case I needed to discipline a panel member (kidding—I just brought it for fun).
Having broadcasted shows live from “The Deep Throat Sex Scandal” (the play by David Bertolino) and “Harry Reems Tribute” in 2013, and having been interviewed for the E! True Hollywood Story’s “Linda Lovelace” episode in 2000—AND having actually seen the movie in a theater circa 1978—I felt prepared. Little did I know how deeply we would go into the sometimes bizarre, controversial and culturally insurgent qualities of Deep Throat.
The first LA screening was held at the venerable, old Laemmle Royal Theater in West LA, and the second at the kink-positive, new 910 WeHo Center in West Hollywood, owned and operated by the courageous and congenial Tom Hoffman.
There was supposed to be a third venue, the Frida Cinema in Santa Ana. However, controversy reared its scandalous head as the Frida canceled its scheduled screening just over a week prior to showtime due to outrage expressed by anonymous “community” members. The reaction was so “swift and severe” that no amount of “talkback” would moderate the “pushback.” Or so said Frida Management—that is, the same person who had originally, and quite enthusiastically, scheduled the screening—as they apologetically but resolutely canceled it.
Funny how censorship, bans, deactivations, complaints and cancellations are so often based on anonymous outrage.
However, the show must go on, and on it went at the two remaining So Cal venues, with flash and panache, as befits the subject. Swinging Seventies nostalgia was in the air. Golden Age porn stars, most of whom had worked with Damiano and all of whom adored him, strutted across the red carpets, including Nina Hartley, Veronica Hart, Amber Lynn, Christy Canyon, Keisha, porn power couple Luc Wylder and Alexandra Silk (who are also making a film about the tour), “Naked John,” Golden Age porn star/director Gloria Leonard’s granddaughter Nai’a, and the legendary Herschel Savage.
Sadly, though Mr. Savage seemed ageless at this event, he passed away suddenly just four months later. Star of another classic, Debbie Does Dallas, (graphic descriptions of which helped make Ronald Reagan’s “Meese Commission” Report a best-seller), as well as the lesser-known Satisfiers of Alpha Blue, directed by Gerard Damiano, Herschel was a trained Broadway actor who studied with renowned Stanislavski “method” teachers, Uta Hagen and Stella Adler, before doing Debbie, and he went on to become one of the world’s first and biggest adult stars.
RIP Herschel Savage, née Harvey Cohen, November 25, 1952 – October 8, 2023.
However, that night a very much alive and reflective Herschel joined the rest of us to commemorate one of the most groundbreaking American films ever made… which happened to be about blowjobs.
Of course, Deep Throat was (and still is) not just *about* blowjobs. It also actually showed these blowjobs, as well as cunnilingus, doggy-style, reverse cowgirl, orgies and more—close-up!—on the big screens of major movie theaters throughout the greater U.S. of A.
Talk about a cinematic sexual revolution!
Many audiences were thrilled to partake in an adults-only group sex-watching experience that—with the right crowd—was like a rock concert, love-in and midnight screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show (to be released a few years later in 1975) combined, creating a palpable sense of “communal ecstasy”… with a hat tip to the late great Barbara Ehrenreich’s not-so-kinky concept of “collective joy.”
No, Deep Throat wasn’t as spiritual as Woodstock (1969), though you could say they were both “dirty”… in different ways. Of course, other Deep Throat audience members (perhaps with the wrong crowd) were more shell-shocked than thrilled, wondering what in hell they were watching… genitalia as big as a house?!?
Well, a tiny house; but still, this was big-screen, wide open-to-the-public entertainment, and the public ate it up like ice cream after a tonsillectomy.
From the movie’s initial release in 1972 to its vast dissemination in ’73, through Watergate and the socially liberal Jimmy Carter years, right up until the invention of the VCR in the late seventies that led porn out of the big theaters (and even most small theaters) and into private bedrooms, the 1970s was the decade of Deep Throat.
It was “the film that brought the country to its knees.” Whether you loved it or hated it, even if you’d never seen it, everyone knew—and still knows—“Deep Throat.”
It was so popular, so catchy and so outrageous, “Deep Throat” became a household term. Whether or not the people in these respectable, middle-class households actually saw the flick or practiced the act is unknown. What is known is that the words “Deep Throat” penetrated their consciousness via their trusted late-night companion Johnny Carson’s winking wisecracks, the insider patter of Truman Capote and breathless glimpses of Jackie O, not to mention Martin Scorsese, Barbara Walters and Frank Sinatra (not-so-discreetly) slipping in and out of a Pussycat Theater for an afternoon screening. Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-in laughed about it. Ralph Blumenthal of the New York Times dubbed it “porno chic,” and “Deep Throat” became a part of the lexicon. Everyone wanted to experience it, wear it, practice it, or at least see what it was.
Whether or not it was the flagship film of the Sexual Revolution, Deep Throat was a cinematic symbol of erotic liberation. Americans were coming out of their fallout shelters as well as their closets. People—especially young people—wanted to make love, not war.
My name is Susan Marilyn Block, and I am a sexologist, sex therapist, sex educator, sex researche... more My name is Susan Marilyn Block, and I am a sexologist, sex therapist, sex educator, sex researcher, counselor, love doctor, talk show host, lecturer, bonobo buff, conservationist, a graduate of Yale University with two Ph.D.’s from Pacific Western and Institute for the Advanced Study of Human Sexuality, a best-selling author of several books that have been translated into 11 languages, and one of the top contributors to the Wiley-Blackwell International Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality, the world standard sexuality text. I am also a featured speaker at AASECT (American Association of Sex Educators, Counselors & Therapists) and other conferences at University of California, Berkeley, the University of Puerto Rico and Yale University, my alma mater, and I have served on several cases as an expert witness for the LA Public Defender’s Office (sex crimes division). I have been a writer and columnist for hundreds of publications over 40 years, including Counterpunch (for 22 years), and I have been interviewed in many more, from Health Magazine to Cosmopolitan to The New Yorker, to name a few. I have been featured on many TV shows, such as The Doctors, CNN, ABC News, Oprah and NPR, and I am perhaps best-known for hosting my own #1 Nielsen-rated shows on HBO. I have won various awards, including the “Sexologist of the Year” Glenny Award for three years in a row and “America’s Greatest Thinker” (second place) by the Great American Think-Off. I also run the Susan Marilyn Block Foundation, the goal of which is to foster peace and reduce violence in society, to learn about peace through pleasure and female empowerment from bonobos and to help save these highly endangered Great Apes from extinction. I’ve been married for over 31 years to my best friend and partner, Maximillian R. Lobkowicz. Together we host a weekly radio podcast, which we’d played every week on Facebook and Instagram until META deactivated my accounts. We talk about sexuality, politics, art and current events on our shows, and we are staunch defenders of Free Speech. I opened my Facebook profile in 2008. Encouraged, enticed and literally “groomed” by Facebook, I tentatively and then actively started building up my own community of family, friends, fans and IASHS and Yale classmates and colleagues within the larger Facebook community, including posts, pictures, reels and stories, for the past 15 years. I opened an Instagram account with the same sort of content in 2017. Like many people, my Facebook profile and IG account have served as a digital album of my life, my loves, my work, my shows, my art, my politics, my philosophy and my experiences, as well as a source of contact for important people in my life. I used to make real photo albums and contact books, but META, Facebook and Mark Zuckerberg utilized various enticements to get me to virtually replace these real archives, real artworks and even, in some cases, real friends, with stuff I could do on or via my Facebook profile. Thus enticed, I invested a great deal of time and creative energy into these Facebook and Instagram albums of photos, writings, videos and artworks, in turn enticing other friends, fans and family from the “real” work into friending or following me, all to the continuous benefit of Facebook, IG, META and Mark Zuckerberg. Over those 15 years, Mr. Zuckerberg either defeated or bought out much of the competition (defeating Pinterest, buying Instagram), monopolizing the social media landscape, so there is virtually nowhere else to go for many social functions. Indeed, besides serving as people’s personal digital albums or archives, the META/FB/IG/Threads/WhatsApp/Zuckerberg empire also serves as the Digital Commons. The Commons or Towns Square is where people like me should be able to share feelings, experiences and ideas, as well as join together with our communities of fellow humans. Of course, when sharing so much within a community, there must be rules, and I have always tried my best to stay within Facebook, IG and META rules or guidelines. Occasionally, over the last 15 years, a few of my posts have been deemed outside the guidelines, and I was therefore penalized with “Facebook Jail” or IG censorship, sometimes for a post that I’d made years before that was considered okay at the time, but as rules got stricter, some of these posts were ruled out of bounds. All of this was confusing, but understandable. Times change, and I try to keep up with the changes, but it’s not always easy, especially when guidelines are very fluid and ambiguous. Nevertheless, my penalties were always for visual infractions – what we call a “nip slip,” or once it was because a picture of me showed me wearing a fake gag – but it was never because of words. Suddenly, that changed. In mid-May, 2023, I was pleased to receive a note of congratulations from META because my Facebook profile had surpassed 10,000 followers. The note praised and congratulated me for this feat, and said that, thanks to my exalted status, I would now need two-step verification which I accepted. Then, within a day or two, both my META accounts on Facebook and Instagram were disabled with no warning, no reason given, no trial—just a firing squad of bots that killed both my accounts with one digital bullet. I was (and still am) devastated. This was no finite sentence to Facebook Jail, this was being banished from the META Empire. This was the complete erasure of 15 years of labor and love—and likes!—on Facebook, plus seven years on IG. No reason was given and no answers forthcoming to my many pleas for restoration and explanation. A college professor friend even made up a petition to restore my accounts. Still no response. I wondered what the problem could be as I’d been very careful with images, and I had never been censored by META for words. It took an attorney with a relationship with IG, James Felton, to finally get a response. This struck me as unfair—that only someone with a lawyer can communicate with META about losing their life’s work—but I pressed on. We received a response from a Mayer Brown LLP lawyer named Elizabeth M. Anderson, presumably representing META, that claimed that my account was disabled because I had posted content referencing my work as a sex therapist, in which I practice sex therapy over the phone, aka “phone sex therapy,” with the hashtag #phonesextherapy. Suddenly and without warning, this content was deemed deserving of deactivation of both my accounts. Note that I had posted the same content many times for several years and had never received a notice, strike, warning or a month in Facebook Jail or IG censorship of any post with these words—or any words. Moreover, this hashtag was not mentioned as forbidden in META guidelines. Yet the instant sentence for my unproven crime was “deactivation,” sometimes called “termination,” the equivalent of digital extermination. Ms. Anderson’s letter accuses me of “violating the Guidelines, which prohibit users from offering sexual services.” I have never stated that I offer “sexual services,” nor have I ever offered “sexual services.” I am not nor have I ever been a “sexual services” provider. Not that it is clear what is meant by “sexual services,” but the implication appears to be “sex work,” which is incorrect and slanderous. Though I have great respect for sex workers, and I have interviewed sex workers on my show, I am not nor have I ever been a sex worker. I am a sex therapist. There is a big difference, first and foremost, in that everything I do is legal. Sex work, in most states, is illegal. Sex workers provide “sexual services,” that is, having sex with their clients. I only talk about sex with my clients, mostly over the phone. I call this Telephone Sex Therapy. If by “sexual services,” Ms. Anderson really means that I talk about sex, that is true. I am a sex therapist and sexologist. That is my life’s work, and practicing it does not violate META “Terms of Use.” Indeed, there are hundreds, if not thousands of other sex therapists and sexologists on IG and Facebook, posting a wide variety of types of content. So, if Ms. Anderson means that my accounts have been deactivated for my sex therapeutic work, then I am being subject to unfair discrimination. It’s been documented in various articles and shows that I am the creator of Phone Sex Therapy or sex therapy over the phone, tele-sex therapy or telephone sex therapy. I usually use the last term, but it contains the most characters, and I often have a lot of other things to say in my posts, so I use #PhoneSexTherapy, with a hashtag, mainly so as to connect my current post with my other posts, since almost no one else uses that hashtag but me, at least as of May, 2023. Just as Facebook, IG and META’s guidelines have changed over the years, so has the practice of sex therapy. Thirty years ago, just before I earned my first Ph.D., I conducted all of my sex therapy sessions in person. Then when I became ill, I started to conduct therapy sessions over the phone. That worked so well for me and my clients that even after I recovered, I continued doing that. Why conduct sex therapy over the phone? Because it’s safer for the client and for the therapist. It’s more convenient, comfortable, private and it’s better for the environment—no cars involved—and it’s available to anyone with a phone worldwide. I called it telephone sex therapy or tele-sex therapy or phone sex therapy. No one else was doing it in the early 1990s, and some of my colleagues in sex therapy were appalled. Gradually, they realized it was fine and even better in some ways than in-person therapy, and then many started doing it themselves. Then the pandemic happened, and they ALL started doing it, and they haven’t stopped. Nowadays, tele-medicine as well as tele-therapy or phone therapy and phone sex therapy are at least as common as in-person sessions, if not more so.
I first became aware of the incomparable Sinéad O’Connor in 1990 when I heard her sing “Nothing C... more I first became aware of the incomparable Sinéad O’Connor in 1990 when I heard her sing “Nothing Compares 2 U,” a song by Prince that Sinéad made her own—without Prince’s blessing—but with eyes that saw right through you and a voice of silvery gold.
That voice reminded me of Joan Baez singing like an angel crying out against the wars, but more tormented because Sinéad was tortured, abused, probably by a priest or a nun or her mother. Most definitely by our world.
Her delivery was so intense, haunting, accusatory and yet so vulnerable, that as soon as I heard it, like millions around the world, I fell in love with her.
So did my husband Max. And as we fell in love with Sinéad, we fell in love with each other. We were already bonding through our opposition to war in general and Desert Storm (when it was still Desert Shield) in particular, and together we made a cassette tape (remember those?), Desert Susan, in the spirit of Tokyo Rose with a pinch of Scheherazade. We sent a few hundred cassettes to the troops and officers of Desert Shield and Storm to persuade them to “make love not war.” I talk about the wisdom of the much-maligned “Vietnam Syndrome,” the folly of war and the beauty of love in between musical interludes, and the first song on the tape is Sinéad O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares 2 U.”
To whom was she singing in that song? Her lover who left her? Maybe they broke up, or he died, or perhaps he went off to war, and she yearns for him to return in peace.
We yearned for all of them to return in peace, but they didn’t, though when they thought they “won,” they held a big parade. Then one Gulf War led to another, with terrible sanctions in between, and the Perma Warscontinued and continue. At least, over the years, Max and I have heard how those Desert Susan tapes featuring Sinéad turned some of those troops and officers to turn their swords into plowshares—or maybe floggers—and make love, not war. We’ve even met a few of them.
Then in 1992, the year Max and I got married, Sinéad O’Connor went on Saturday Night Live, sang out like a seer in that precious metal voice, and then she ripped up the Pope—actually her mother’s photo of Pope John Paul II—telling us to “Fight the Real Enemy.” In that moment, she was incandescent, a Joan of Arc for our times, and I fell even harder in love with her, as the fires burned around her.
Some claim now that nobody knew then that Catholic priests were molesting altar boys and girls en masse, but a lot of us knew, though many didn’t want to know, and poor Sinéad, like Joan, burned and suffered on the stake of society’s willful sexual ignorance.
The pope-ripping caused Sinéad to get canceled before cancelling was a thing. A few days later, she was booed at a concert by seemingly everyone but Kris Kristofferson, and it seemed that her brilliant career had been flushed down the Vicar’s drain.
But Sinéad was never sorry for what she did. She admitted she struggled with bipolar disorder and PTSD all her life, but in that moment, she was the sanest person on the planet. It was what she was destined for, to tell that truth about Catholic priests abusing the most vulnerable members of their flock when it was unpopular to say so, and I loved her for that. Now everyone loves her for that (well, almost everyone).
Then, almost two decades later, in 2013, I felt the pain of seeing someone I love do something I despise—as dramatically as she did the things I loved. Sinéad O’Connor wrote a scolding, slut-shaming open letter to Miley Cyrus about being too sexual and too “naked” in her Wrecking Ball video. She wrote that Hollywood was making a “prostitute” out of Miley, and not in a good way—whether Miley’s outfits and dance moves were Miley’s idea or not. When Sinéad slut-shamed Miley so fiercely and publicly, she slut-shamed me, and all of us who choose to wear erotic outfits or nothing at all—and I hated her for that… perhaps especially because I had loved her so much before.
Another Counterpunch writer, Ruth Fowler, wrote an article at the time that expressed my feelings about that awful letter much more eloquently and humorously than I ever could. Apparently, Sinéad read Ruth’s article and freaked out, called CP editor Jeffrey St. Clair and “unloaded” on him for 40 minutes, demanding that he fire Ruth. He didn’t fire Ruth, but he did suggest Sinéad write a piece for Counterpunch, which she did—and I loved her for that.
She took a few other important and unpopular positions, like supporting the Palestinians, turning down a Grammy as too “commercial,” and opposing all the wars. Though I’m still repelled by her slut-shaming, there was a lot to love about Sinéad O’Connor.
Her youngest son died by suicide a year ago, and I can’t even conceive of the immense pain and harrowing loneliness she went through over that, though I sometimes imagine her singing Prince’s song to her lost boy. Through all of her suffering, she gave us so many gifts of love, until she couldn’t anymore, and now at the young age of 56, she’s gone.
Thank you for everything, Sinéad O’Connor. Nothing compares to you.
I first became aware of the incomparable Sinéad O’Connor in 1990 when I heard her sing “Nothing C... more I first became aware of the incomparable Sinéad O’Connor in 1990 when I heard her sing “Nothing Compares 2 U,” a song by Prince that Sinéad made her own—without Prince’s blessing—but with eyes that saw right through you and a voice of silvery gold.
That voice reminded me of Joan Baez singing like an angel crying out against the wars, but more tormented because Sinéad was tortured, abused, probably by a priest or a nun or her mother. Most definitely by our world.
Her delivery was so intense, haunting, accusatory and yet so vulnerable, that as soon as I heard it, like millions around the world, I fell in love with her.
So did my husband Max. And as we fell in love with Sinéad, we fell in love with each other. We were already bonding through our opposition to war in general and Desert Storm (when it was still Desert Shield) in particular, and together we made a cassette tape (remember those?), Desert Susan, in the spirit of Tokyo Rose with a pinch of Scheherazade. We sent a few hundred cassettes to the troops and officers of Desert Shield and Storm to persuade them to “make love not war.” I talk about the wisdom of the much-maligned “Vietnam Syndrome,” the folly of war and the beauty of love in between musical interludes, and the first song on the tape is Sinéad O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares 2 U.”
To whom was she singing in that song? Her lover who left her? Maybe they broke up, or he died, or perhaps he went off to war, and she yearns for him to return in peace.
We yearned for all of them to return in peace, but they didn’t, though when they thought they “won,” they held a big parade. Then one Gulf War led to another, with terrible sanctions in between, and the Perma Warscontinued and continue. At least, over the years, Max and I have heard how those Desert Susan tapes featuring Sinéad turned some of those troops and officers to turn their swords into plowshares—or maybe floggers—and make love, not war. We’ve even met a few of them.
Then in 1992, the year Max and I got married, Sinéad O’Connor went on Saturday Night Live, sang out like a seer in that precious metal voice, and then she ripped up the Pope—actually her mother’s photo of Pope John Paul II—telling us to “Fight the Real Enemy.” In that moment, she was incandescent, a Joan of Arc for our times, and I fell even harder in love with her, as the fires burned around her.
Some claim now that nobody knew then that Catholic priests were molesting altar boys and girls en masse, but a lot of us knew, though many didn’t want to know, and poor Sinéad, like Joan, burned and suffered on the stake of society’s willful sexual ignorance.
The pope-ripping caused Sinéad to get canceled before cancelling was a thing. A few days later, she was booed at a concert by seemingly everyone but Kris Kristofferson, and it seemed that her brilliant career had been flushed down the Vicar’s drain.
But Sinéad was never sorry for what she did. She admitted she struggled with bipolar disorder and PTSD all her life, but in that moment, she was the sanest person on the planet. It was what she was destined for, to tell that truth about Catholic priests abusing the most vulnerable members of their flock when it was unpopular to say so, and I loved her for that. Now everyone loves her for that (well, almost everyone).
Then, almost two decades later, in 2013, I felt the pain of seeing someone I love do something I despise—as dramatically as she did the things I loved. Sinéad O’Connor wrote a scolding, slut-shaming open letter to Miley Cyrus about being too sexual and too “naked” in her Wrecking Ball video. She wrote that Hollywood was making a “prostitute” out of Miley, and not in a good way—whether Miley’s outfits and dance moves were Miley’s idea or not. When Sinéad slut-shamed Miley so fiercely and publicly, she slut-shamed me, and all of us who choose to wear erotic outfits or nothing at all—and I hated her for that… perhaps especially because I had loved her so much before.
Another Counterpunch writer, Ruth Fowler, wrote an article at the time that expressed my feelings about that awful letter much more eloquently and humorously than I ever could. Apparently, Sinéad read Ruth’s article and freaked out, called CP editor Jeffrey St. Clair and “unloaded” on him for 40 minutes, demanding that he fire Ruth. He didn’t fire Ruth, but he did suggest Sinéad write a piece for Counterpunch, which she did—and I loved her for that.
She took a few other important and unpopular positions, like supporting the Palestinians, turning down a Grammy as too “commercial,” and opposing all the wars. Though I’m still repelled by her slut-shaming, there was a lot to love about Sinéad O’Connor.
Her youngest son died by suicide a year ago, and I can’t even conceive of the immense pain and harrowing loneliness she went through over that, though I sometimes imagine her singing Prince’s song to her lost boy. Through all of her suffering, she gave us so many gifts of love, until she couldn’t anymore, and now at the young age of 56, she’s gone.
Thank you for everything, Sinéad O’Connor. Nothing compares to you.
America’s premiere sexuality research center, the Kinsey Institute, has been defunded, even as Am... more America’s premiere sexuality research center, the Kinsey Institute, has been defunded, even as American Perma Wars—at home and abroad—are super-funded.
Bi-partisan billions keep rolling in for the War Machines—thanks to the Military Industrial-Congressional Complex, the Cops and the Gun Industry—that destroy lives at home and abroad, yet there’s nothing but slander and censorship, fire and brimstone for the sexology that saves lives.
Saying “yes” to Thanatos (the death impulse) and “no” to Eros (the erotic life force) is the Ammosexual Incelway. Sadly, it’s also become the American Way. Maybe it always was… at least since 1492.
I prefer the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure, including sexual pleasures, though food, shelter, games and many other organic, sustainable, egalitarian pleasures can be shared along the Bonobo Way.
Unfortunately, not everybody sees things my way. It appears that GQP Hoosiers in the House went the way of anti-pleasure, anti-sex education and anti-Kinsey ignorance in February of this year, casting a 53-34 vote against providing the usual state funding for the institute that was as narrow as it was narrow-minded.
It was and is a sign of these “alternative facts”-driven times.
Founded within Indiana University by pioneering sex researcher Dr. Alfred Kinsey whose “Kinsey Reports”—Sexual Behavior in the Human Male (1948) and Sexual Behavior in the Human Female (1953)—took a scientific approach to the study of human sexuality (Kinsey started as an entomologist), and helped to kickstart the Sexual Revolution of the 1960s and ‘70s, the Kinsey Institute is unparalleled.
Not that such accomplishments would impress the Christofascists who stripped the Indiana University Kinsey Institute for Research in Sex, Gender and Reproduction of all its state funding.
State Funding Stripper-in-Chief was Freshman Representative Lorissa Sweet (R-Wabash) who blithely slandered the late Kinsey as a “child predator,” claiming without evidence that the Institute “could” currently be “hiding child predators.” So *could* McDonald’s, the local church or police station, but hey, any excuse will do for the GQP to slash and burn a sexuality studies school with fiery accusations.
Representative Matt Pierce (D-Bloomington, including Indiana University) tried in vain to reveal a few facts that countered Sweet’s candy-coated fabrications, mainly that they are “old, unproven allegations,” “conspiracy fodder” and little more than “warmed over Internet memes that keep coming back.” Unfortunately, Pierce was unable to douse the flames of Sweet’s incendiary ignorance and save the Kinsey Institute’s state funding from going up in smoke.
Under questioning, Sweet confessed that any and all investigations into alleged “child abuse” at the Kinsey Institute had been dropped for lack of evidence long ago. Normally, that admission would sink any wrongful allegation. But the new “normal” for a young GQP rising star with an erotophobic base to fire up is that facts don’t matter one Sweet bit. The neo-Puritan narrative is that most teachers are “predators,” all sex educators are the Devil with a chalk board, and schools like the Kinsey Institute certainly should not get funded for their Satanic chalk.
As a fellow sexologist who has long looked up to the Kinsey Institute, it’s disturbing to hear that this great leader in sexology lost their government funding, though reassuring that 1) Indiana University receives all its money from the state in a lump sum, which makes extricating Kinsey funds from others trickier than doing reverse cowgirl on water skis, and 2) Kinsey’s corporate financing will make up for the state’s shortfall anyway. Still, financial gymnastics aside, it’s just more bad news for American sex education and freedom of speech.
My own institute is not funded by any government or corporate entities—just by our private sex therapyservices. This means we are often relatively broke, but it’s also one reason why we can “speak easy” at our “Speakeasy” about subjects that aren’t so easy to speak about (like sex), without government or corporate oversight. It’s also why evil YouTube AI censored and recently terminated my channel of 15 years.
Even more recently, a few days after META sent me a message of congratulations for surpassing 10,000 followers on my Facebook profile, it sent me a very different notice of termination for both my Facebook andInstagram accounts. Why? No reason, no trial, no evidence, just a firing squad of META Bots summarily executing my virtual self, letting my bodiless body fall into a mass grave filled with millions of other similarly suspended social media accounts.
It happened shortly after my show about Kinsey’s defunding aired which may or may not have “violated” guidelines and/or made someone feel “unsafe.” Yes indeed, Brothers and Sisters, in the name of making everyone feel “safe,” neo-Nazi, neo-Puritanical censorship, account terminations and crazed book-banning are rising like the all-consuming and very unsafe flames of violence, inequality and fascism.
This brings to mind the scorched fate of another great sex institute at the hands of those other Nazis (the original ones). A couple of decades before Kinsey was hunting gall wasps, the Hirschfeld Institute, directed by Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld, dubbed the “Einstein of Sex,” thrived smack in the center of Berlin during the wild Weimar period (1919 – 1933) between the Kaiser and Der Fuehrer. Life was a Cabaret in a way, and erotic adventurers like Christopher Isherwood (author of I am a Camera which became Cabaret), Cole Porter, the Gershwin Brothers and many more went to the Hirschfeld Institute in Weimar Berlin to study, socialize, humanize and revolutionize society.
Then it all went up in smoke as the Hirschfeld Institute was one of the first prominent German establishments to be destroyed shortly after the “terrorist” Reichstag fire which was the Nazi’s 9/11, aka an excuse to seize power. In their moral crusade against terrorists, sexual “degenerates,” communists, gays, Jews and, of course, *predators*, a giddy gang of enflamed Hitler Youth in swastikas and lederhosen burned all the books in the Hirschfeld Institute, except a few they kept for themselves (and thus for history). When you see newsreels of Nazis burning books, you are usually watching Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld’s great human sexuality library being consumed in a sacrificial bonfire to Der Fuehrer’s dominance over so-called decadence.
If Lorissa Sweet and her colleagues could have their way, they’d be dancing around their own American bonfire, maybe holding a barbeque, as all the books, documents and art of the Kinsey Institute went up in flames. So maybe we should be grateful that she only verbally torched the Kinsey Reports?
The *good* news is that the Kinsey Institute is not burning, and it will go on without state government funding, at least for a while, as I will go on without YouTube and META… for a while.
Nevertheless, it’s a sign of the times that corporate control, book banning as a cottage industry, the rise of artificial ignorance (AI) along with human illiteracy, punitive social media censorship, increasing economic inequality and defunded studies are squeezing the life—Eros—out of education, as Christofascist crusaders, ammosexual incels and super-funded Perma Wars tighten their nonconsensual Thanatoxic grip around our erotic multi-cultural throats, and our humanities go up in smoke.
They’re everywhere—caressing a new Crusader AR-15 in your neighbor’s basement, gripping an old AK... more They’re everywhere—caressing a new Crusader AR-15 in your neighbor’s basement, gripping an old AK-47 on the back of a Taliban truck, operating U.S. military drones while solemnly pledging no-fap, spraying a street, a school, a supermarket, a corner of your community with mass death and eternal sorrow in the name of an almighty erotophobic God.
Who are they, these ammosexual incels multiplying like bacteria in the crevices of our culture, their phallic firearms in their tiny hands, and why are they so afraid, enraged and ready to burst from their cells, with pistols spurting deadly shots of lead?
Ammosexual Incels?
Oh no, here’s a whole other kind of AI to worry about.
Oh yes, it is. At least, that’s my professional sexological assessment. Thanks to a potent cocktail of contributing toxins—capitalism’s collapse, Neo-Puritan repression, climate crises galore, pollutants aplenty, perma wars, police states, racist propaganda, cultural change, ruthless marketing, stratospherically lucrative firearm sales, gargantuan military budgets, defense and gun lobby greed, QAnonense and more—the world’s ammosexual incel population is proliferating faster than a bullet train, and we are all sitting ducks on its track.
Why, how and WTF?
It’s all part of the Capitalogenic ascendance of war over peace and greed over pleasure. Just as our so-called civilization’s greed for oil and disdain for nature has generated climate change, so our leaders’ fervor for conquest and denigration of organic erotic pleasures has spawned the ammosexual incel insurgency.
And oh, what a spawn we hath wrought. It’s a veritable Pistol-Packing Misogynistic No Fap Lonelyhearts Club.
The Ammosexual American
Just in case you’re blissfully unaware, an “ammosexual” (noun) is a person who fetishizes firearms. Having defined “fetish” for the Wiley Blackwell Encyclopedia, it’s clear to me that America has a gun fetish, and it’s killing us.
Ammosexuals could be male, female, trans or non-binary, in the closet or out on the range. Though the great majority identify as straight males, there are notable ammosexual females. Take pistol packing Colorado Congresswoman Lauren Boebert, winner of the “Miss Ammosexual” SUZY Award Boobie Prize for her sultry shotgun displays—from handguns tucked into her tight jeans, to firearms festooning her old “Shooters” grill, to more guns on the shelf behind her head than I have dildos in my bed, not to mention AR-15s held like toys by her grinning and well-groomed young children.
More and more women and others are joining the Gun Party, but the great majority are still the male of the species, especially the white supremacist male. At least, that’s how it is here in America where the alleged “good guy with a gun” (who rarely does anybody any good) is the direct descendant of the colonial cowboy clearing the “wild west” of Native Americans and catching runaway slaves for sport and profit.
Though ammosexuals come in all colors throughout the so-called civilized world, the American Ammosexual tends to identify as white, like the White House, which is pretty much always occupied by a mass murderer, though not necessarily an ammosexual one. Most are just cold-blooded war criminals.
What does it mean if you’re “ammosexual” (adjective)? Like any fetish, it varies, but let’s just say you probably like guns the way some people like porn. It’s a passion.
There’s loads (pun intended) of ammosexual porn on the web—from homemade guns and ammo to Pentagon-purchased missiles and fighter jets. It’s hard to avoid it (and believe me, I’ve tried)! In contrast, regular porn and all things deemed *erotic* or sex-positive are more and more banned or shadow-banned. I don’t mean the titillation of celebrity bikini selfies or the obsession with sex scandals à la Epstein; they’re almost as common as the guns. I mean frank, sex-positive sex education that could really help people struggling with sexual issues. For example, my own sex educational YouTube channel that I’d been updating since 2007 was just terminated by bots. It’s not as bad as being exterminated by cops, but it hurts, and it’s all part of the expanding ammosexual police state, the Cop Cities bent on strangling our voices and beating us down, with a knee on our necks and a gun to our heads.
As sex is censored more frequently, gun porn proliferates without restriction. I’m all for Free Speech that includes gun nuts, but the amount of violence on display—much of it celebrated—is staggering. Images and stories of war, police brutality and sheriffs’ gangs tend to be the most horrific, and in a way, it’s good to share the evidence on the off chance it’ll inspire folks to rise up against the ammosexual police state, though sadly, it seems to arouse many viewers’ libidos more than their outrage.
Then there are the NRA promos, the Mainstream Media (MSM)’s war-cheerleading, clickbait crime coverage, gun ads galore, real snuff films, murders in the news, cosplay “militias,” politicians’ families hoisting their semi-automatic weapons around the Christmas tree, folks with thousands of guns laid out on their patios like art collections, comic book violence, “action” heroes, well-armed Jesus memes, AI massacres and all-too-often real massacres (with more and more difficulty telling the difference)—it’s all out there, in your face. And that’s just on the internet.
Unfortunately, it’s also happening in real life, actual shooting and, consequently, killing (or maiming)—whether on purpose or by accident (parents of young children hide their dildos better than they hide their firearms), compulsively planned or impulsively acted out, due to fear or desire, or a lethal combination. Not everyone who ogles gun porn feels a need to shoot the damn things, but enough do to turn America into a 3.5 million square mile firing range.
Need I explain how shooting firearms can be an exhilarating pseudo-ejaculatory release? Most gun lovers wouldn’t admit it’s a kink for them, despite it being disturbingly obvious.
Of course, it’s a lot more fun—and less dangerous—to “shoot the gun between your legs.” Why not have a wank (Merry Masturbation Month!) or some kind of consenting adult sex, and forget the guns and ammo, bombs and fighter jets? Cocks Not Glocks! Peace through pleasure. It’s the Bonobo Way.
Sadly, American culture has gone the Way of the Gun, denigrating sex for recreation, mandating procreation, and honoring the armed-to-the-teeth “hero” as the romantic masculine ideal. From Christopher Columbus’ matchlock rifles to Top Gun Tom’s F-14 jets, the white European invaders of Turtle Island have always been massively, formidably, desperately, homicidally and ecocidally ammosexual.
And it’s getting worse.
The NRA and weapons industries are actively and shamelessly marketing weapons of war via conflating our natural sex drives with gun ownership, channeling the ammosexual’s erotic desires into buying, handling and relishing the lethal thrill of shooting phallic weapons in a manner that is fetishistic, compulsive, contagious and deadly.
Of course, all these individual killers and mass killers are inspired by the most ammosexual—and deadly—entity ever, the American Military-Industrial-Congressional-Complex, currently on its merry, madcap, gun-loving way to obliterating the Earth, or at least rendering most of it uninhabitable. That’s the climax of the ammosexual drive. It bypasses the healing “little death” (le petite mort) of orgasm, shooting it’s super-heroic way—bang-bang-bang—to the Big One, a.k.a. the Final Solution: Almighty annihilation for the glory of the Capitalocene in a hail of aimless ammo.
Incel-itus Unbound
What about the incel part of the “ammosexual incel”?
The term “incel” is short for “involuntary celibate,” and refers to a group of loosely identified men who aren’t having sex; at least not the kind of sex they think they should be having. Though the term was invented by a woman, the movement was soon overtaken by men—including many raging male supremacists.
Incels are not “asexual.” Often, they have strong sexual feelings exacerbated by their erotic frustration. To make matters murkier, many incels are really “volcels” in the sense that they want or “volunteer” to be celibate—perhaps for religious reasons (Catholic priests comes to mind) or because they despise what they desire (misogynists and deeply closeted gay men, for example) or a combination (think Neo-Nazi Nick Fuentes)—though the term incel is more commonly used.
I’ve been writing about incel culture since Elliot Rodger’s and Alek Manassian’s incel-identified mass murders. The movement emerged from the Internet’s “Man-o-Sphere” on sites like 4chan and 8chan, with origins in “The Game,” a.k.a. “seduction” culture, which is/was a bunch of hucksters selling the notion that any man can seduce any woman. What an awesome sale pitch! Lonely guys ate it up and paid for the privilege of being royally conned. The problem with “The Game” is that it doesn’t work, at least not for most men. So, The Game (well, that Game) fizzled like a spent tool, leaving a lot of guys hurt, pissed off and ripe to be black-pilled by incel culture.
Incel culture doesn’t have to work.
Instead of addressing the incel’s desire for sexual intimacy or human companionship, incel “influencers” simply exploit their mostly male followers’ alienation and rage against the disinterested women of their dreams (called “Staceys”) and the men who date them (called “Chads”), as well as the rest of the world in general (called “Normies”). The only “solutions”—sexual and otherwise—that they provide are a misery-loves-company community and ammosexual revenge fantasies.
And there you have it: put them together—ammosexual and incel—and you have the primary ingredients for a human grenade.
Moving through the fog of perma-war, pestilence, puritanism and greed into the bright, blinding l... more Moving through the fog of perma-war, pestilence, puritanism and greed into the bright, blinding light of a brand new year that’s looking to be worse—much worse!—I will fear no evil, as I continue along the Bonobo Way of peace, love, equality, ecology and good sex.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself as I pop the bubbly for a “Happy Nude Rear,” kick up my heels and say “Howdeeeee 2023!”
It’s another year, another revolution ‘round the sun and another resolution to go bonobos.
Why bonobos? That’s a good question which I take a whole book to answer, but here’s the gist: As humanity’s closest great ape cousins (over 98% genetically similar to us), bonobos hold the key to peace on earth. Unlike so-called “killer apes”— common chimpanzees, gorillas, orangutans and humans (especially humans)—bonobos (Latin classification: Pan paniscus) have never been seen killing each other in the wild or captivity.
What’s their secret? Can we crack the code?
You may have heard bonobos called the “Make Love Not War” chimpanzees who swing from the trees as well as with each other. It’s party time in “Bonoboville” (my term for bonobo communities, as well as human groups inspired by bonobos) almost every day, and the mature females run the party. That is, MILFs rule Bonoboville gently but firmly, keeping the males gentle and firm. Male well-being complements female empowerment, and everybody shares, more or less, everything… even each other!
There are no billionaires (or the nonhuman equivalent) in Bonoboville. No incels either!
Bonobos show us that lust is natural for apes like us, and greed is not. Moreover, lust can be satisfied. Greed is never satisfied. Bonobos value the lusty, sustainable pleasures of life, from eating and playing to teaching and learning to sexual activity. Bonobo sex is not just for procreation, but also for recreation, good relations and negotiation, which includes keeping the peace.
Bonobos have sex in a variety of combinations (male-female, female-female, male-male, threesomes, group and solo sex), in a Bonobo Sutra of positions (including the so-called “human” style of face-to-face), and for multiple purposes—to relieve stress, trade for food, engage in politics, express lust, establish trust, convey affection, negotiate deals, resolve conflicts and reduce violence, to name a few.
As Dr. Frans De Waal so aptly puts it, “Common chimps use violence to get sex. Bonobos use sex to avoid violence.”
Can we do that too?
Maybe. Bonobos aren’t people. Though they tend to be more humane than most humans, Pan paniscus culture isn’t a blueprint for a new Homo sapiens civilization. After all, bonobos sleep in trees and eat bugs, and most of us can’t or won’t live like that. However, their remarkable ability to make peace through sharing pleasures is an inspiration, perhaps even a “missing link” in our evolution and the heart of my New Year’s resolution.
So, it’s on my fridge: #GoBonobos in 2023! Save the Humans.
Not that my New Year’s Resolution for 2023 is actually new. In fact, it’s pretty much the same as my 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016 and 2015 resolutions, making 2023, aka MMXXIII (Imperial Roman drum roll please)… the ninth great Year of the Bonobo!
After almost a decade, why aren’t we there yet? I’d like to say that we’re *almost there,* but in many ways, 2022 drove us farther off the path of peace through pleasure than ever.
Why can’t we be more bonobo? Most of us could “be bonobo,” and many of us really want to. Unfortunately, our rulers—or, as George Carlin would say, our “owners”—and the ultra-capitalist systems that serve them, stop us from taking The Bonobo Way. Lately, they seem to literally push us—actively kicking, screaming and protesting or passively shopping, surfing and gaming—in the opposite direction.
Many of these games are war games. And right out the gate into 2023, we’re at war, and it’s a popular war.
Actually, we’re in a couple of popular wars. First, there’s Ukraine. After finally pulling out of Afghanistan and Iraq (remember when those were “popular wars”?) and even maybe Yemen, another damn war literally exploded in the mystical, star-crossed land of the Baal Shem Tov, boosting the devastating cycle of perma war, just when us hopeless romantic peaceniks hoped it might wind down.
I call it “perma war” because it’s like perma press, only instead of pants that don’t crease, it’s wars that won’t end.
Doubtless, Putin the Pillager started this disastrous War on Ukraine—winning himself the 2022 SUZY Award Boobie Prize for “War Criminal of the Year”—plunging the country into a most unbonobo state of military murder and heartbreaking mayhem.
But now what? Are we going to just keep billions of dollars’ worth of arms flowing into this war like dirty water down a raging river until the dam bursts and we all drown in the tide of WWIII?
How can we stop a war that we give a standing ovation?
There’s also the war at home. Like any domestic problem, it’s complicated, but so far, the new American Civil War is a War on Being Civil. It’s being fought on various battlegrounds—in Congress, state assemblies, the courts, hospitals, school board meetings, libraries and on the street. And let’s not forget the Confederate flag-festooned Rape of the Capitol, aka Coup Anon. The Insurrection took place on 1/6/2021 but, thanks to endless hearings throughout 2022, it was eyeballed-on-repeat more than 9/11, as if to warn us: Batten down the hatches, fellow Americans, there’s a Civil War on!
The biggest Civil War battleground (so far) is the Internet, where the Right screams bloody murder, and the Left gets censored. Whoever gets the most attention wins. Of course, whoever has the most money gets the most attention, and that’s almost always the Rightwing, the war wing, which isn’t even a wing anymore; it’s the whole damn eagle, especially when it comes to wars.
Who’s winning these wars? The Ukraine war has already been won by Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, BAE and Raytheon, the war profiteering barons of the new Gilded Age on Steroids, and they just keep winning with each bomb, each deadly drone strike.
War-at-Home winners include the NRA, the guns and ammo industry and it’s greedy little whores… with apologies to real whores, aka sex workers, who are much more honest and less greedy, not to mention more bonoboësque than these slimy politicians in bed with the Merchants of Death.
Our current state of Perma Civil War is made up of all these so-called “culture wars,” which rage through the polluted social media air we breathe and occasionally flare into real death and immeasurable tragedy.
Why do we fight? For one thing, internet algorithms reward violence. Whether you like it or not, murder and mayhem get your attention. So does sex, but that’s censored, for the most part, as is socialism. Which brings us to the capitalism angle: Fighting each other keeps us from joining together to fight a class war against the super-rich who bribe our so-called representatives to cut their taxes and preach “austerity” for the rest of us.
Ah, austerity. Does it make us stronger? Maybe. That’s what the Puritans intoned sanctimoniously as they whipped, tortured, drowned and burned their “witches.”
Or does pleasure help us to thrive?
By pleasure, I don’t mean Elon Musk’s maniacal pleasure in shattering Twitter, Jeff Bezos’ unsustainable pleasure in flying phallic rockets, Ron DeSantis’ sadistic pleasure in forced feeding or Samuel Alito’s misogynistic pleasure in forced breeding. I mean the bonoboësque pleasures of sharing warmth, food, intimacy, consensual sex, sensuous culture, healing touch, genuine care, teaching, learning, communicating, foraging, playing, maybe making a little art and music because we’re human—though bonobos play music too.
One reason bonobos can make peace through sharing pleasures like these is that they live in a lush jungle of natural abundance. Sound out of reach for us? Well, it isn’t. Humanity—despite our ridiculously huge numbers—still has the resources to feed everyone (at least, for now); it’s just that almost all of our “abundance” is in the tiny hands of the rich.
Meanwhile, these same rich bitches and corporate owners of ours are very busy prosecuting the worst perma war of all, the War to End All Wars, the War on Our Mother the Earth, a war we are already losing as we choke on the air their corporations have fouled and drown in the floods they’ve unleashed.
More than ever, for our own sake and that of all the other species dying out in the fumes of our wars, we need the sustainable ecosexuality of the Bonobo Way.
Well, at least, the War on Drugs let up a bit in 2022. Welcome home Brittney Griner!
But another deadly perma war flared this year—a very unbonobo “War on Sex” that has been raging since the beginning of human civilization when women were first enslaved—and now even forced breeding is back. Women and LGBTQ people are under attack verbally and physically, mostly from the unhinged neo-Puritanical Right, but attacks on natural, healing, consenting-adult sexuality in all its many-splendored diversity may also emanate from the quick-to-judge, politically correct Left. Not that I’m trying to be even-handed. Attacks on consenting adult sexual expression are much more likely to emanate from the Religious Right wherever they hold power, from the Supreme Court Injustices on high to the Proud Boys on the streets down below to the Lords of the Internet in the middle.
Ironically and disturbingly, as Americans get progressively less religious, our leaders are acting regressively more religious, making religio-fascist rulings, spouting pious “thoughts and prayers” for the dead and deprived, and dripping disdain for the poor and “degenerate.”
No doubt, I’m not your typical Yale alumna. I’m not a propertied billionaire or even millionaire—... more No doubt, I’m not your typical Yale alumna. I’m not a propertied billionaire or even millionaire—legacy or self-made—nor a tenured academic, scientist, CEO, lawyer, stockbroker, political operative or journalist embedded with the MSM, like many of my distinguished classmates.
Nor did I get my MRS degree to marry one. However, I did marry a Prince—with no principality, fortune nor (truth be told) pot to pee in—and we’ve stayed married for over 30 years.
My profession—and passion—is that of “sexologist,” the only one in my class… at least the only one that’s out of the closet about it.
I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve and my sexual freedom across my chest. I also tend to cover my Ivy-edumacated brain with a hat, preferably a big hat.
As such, I forego the buttoned-up suits, preppy crew neck sweaters and boat neck blouses typical of the Ivy League for lingerie and latex. Not that I ever wore suits or boating attire much, even while an undergrad, being more the hippie tie-dye type… when not in costume for a play or streaking naked through Old Campus “for peace.”
Nevertheless, I am a proud magna cum laude graduate of Yale University, Class of ’77.
I haven’t always been so proud. Maybe it has to do with not being “typical,” but for over a decade, I’d tell people I went to college in “New Haven.” Actually, for various reasons, a lot of Yalies do this. Not that it conceals the Yale bona fides, since nobody thinks we mean Quinnipiac College. We just say it to be cool and/or because we cringe at coming off as “elitist.”
I confess, I have a longstanding inclination to critique the “elites,” and ivy-adorned Yale University—envisioned by the theocratic Reverend John Davenport, co-founded in 1701 by prominent witch-hunting Puritan Cotton Mather and Christened after its biggest benefactor, wealthy British colonialist Elihu Yale (later indicted for corruption)—is nothing if not elite.
Couldn’t the Metaverse just digitize privilege, call it “e-lite” and sell bits of it like bitcoin?
We Yalies were marked the “best and brightest,” which was something of a Mark of Cain, as graduating from Yale was and is no guarantee of intelligence, but more of an indication that you do well on tests. Or that your Dad did well on tests, well enough for you to get in too. Or, more likely, your Dad or your Dad’s Dad contributed a lot of money, big bones for the Bulldog.
Here’s looking at you, Mr. Skull-and-Bonehead George Mission-Accomplished-Dubya Bush(Class of ’68).
Honestly, seeing Yale’s most notorious “C student” attempt to denounce the “wholly unjustified and brutal invasion of Iraq—I mean, Ukraine…hehe… Iraq too! Anyway…” was enough to make any Eli—elite or on the street—want to hide our diplomas.
Boola Boola-la
It was my husband Max who helped me see my Yale degree a little differently. For everyGeorge W. Bush, there was a Samuel Morse—inventor of the Morse Code. For every awful Brett Kavanaugh (Yale Class of ’87) who makes me want to hang my Bulldog face in shame, there’s an awesome Lupita Nyong’o (Yale Drama MFA 2012) who fills me with ivy pride. It all evens out, more or less, and— Magna Cum Laude or just me-coming-loudly—Yale’s a part of my life. So, thanks to Max, I gradually started to show off my Yale degree… with a twist.
I’m not the first Eli to hang a Bulldog pennant on the wall behind her bed, but it happens that said bed is also where I broadcast my weekly talk shows. Like a chef hosts a cooking show from the kitchen surrounded by pots and pans, I host my sexuality show from bedsurrounded by sex toys… and a pennant emblazoned with “For God, For Country And For Yale.”
It was never expressly stated, but I’ve always felt that bit of boola-boola helped seal the deal for my HBO specials, executive-produced by proud fellow Yalie Sheila Nevins (Yale Drama MFA 1963). Not that I didn’t deserve it on “merit,” but we know the clubby nature of elites.
SWAY crushed by Dick
After watching one of these HBO specials, Sex Week at Yale (SWAY) founder Eric Rubenstein, Class of ‘2004, invited me to speak at the first SWAY in 2002 and every SWAY thereafter through 2012. Good times! Indeed, those special winter weeks around Valentine’s Day, the High Holidays of Love, were sex educational, mind-body-and-soul-expanding times for the students, faculty and special guests who were lucky and brave enough to participate. As for me, I felt welcomed back into the bountiful bosom of Mother Yale every other year. That is, until former Yale President Richard Levin stopped SWAY from swaying.
And what a shame that was. Under pressure from corporate interests, Yale-in-Singapore,an entrenched over-privileged fraternity system, and well-funded, ruthless anti-sex-education, Christofascist media, including Focus on the Family, Master Dick forced SWAY to bow to his haughty, erotophobic and demeaning demands. Then he crushed it anyway under his elite J. Press tassel calfskin loafer.
Incidentally, Yale college supervisors are—or were—called “Masters,” so “Master Dick” is actually not as outrageous a nickname for former President Richard Levin as it sounds. In fact, as the head of Yale, he could—I’m taking a leap here—be called “Master Dick, Head (of Yale).”
Silly puns aside, Dick Levin is gone, replaced by a kinder, gentler Yale President, Peter Salovey, whose groundbreaking work in Emotional Intelligence I appreciated enough to quote in The Bonobo Way. I’d like to believe Pete would not have crushed Sex Week at Yale like Dick did.
People ask if I’ll ever “bring it back,” but it’s not up to me. Maybe Yale students will resurrect Sex Week at Yale, or put on their own version for the 2020’s—or 2030’s (assuming the Megamachine lets human civilization last that long). Hey, a sexologist can dream…
Elite Knickers
Besides being the quintessential e-lite academic institution (that other school in Cambridge notwithstanding), Yale has a tradition of elite-critiquing—from Nathan Hale spying on King George III to Chaplain William Sloane Coffin leading protests against the War in Vietnam to socialist economist Richard D. Wolff condemning capitalism in our times—and I am proud to be a part of that tradition, in my fashion.
Rightwing Coup Anon’ers portray Yale as a hotbed of “woke,” decadent Marxism. So, “elite critiquing” doesn’t only come from the Left, though it tends to be accompanied by a large side order of garbage when delivered by the Right. Seeing neo-Puritan Senator Tom Cotton get pilloried in social media for vainly trying to denigrate brave Yale student protesters against Christofascist speakers as “fragile… Leftwing children” made me proud of my school.
So, when I received an invitation to my 45th Yale College Reunion, and was reassured that it would be Covid-safe (relatively) with testing upon arrival, I said yes for two.
To kick off this special boola-boola weekend, I put a small Yale pennant on my big blue hat with Y-A-L-E emblazoned across my chest, accompanied by an assortment of other Eli-positive accessories, including a “Y” pendant hand-woven by Twin Towers in-house designers with the blue and white threads of inmate uniforms. The opposite of elite and light as a flower, it occasionally flips around and upside down, turning the “Y” in the circle into a peace sign, which I take as a good omen.
One accessory that was seen only by Max and my selfie stick was my Yale University thong—or thongs—received as gifts and purchased over the years at the Boola Boola shop on Broadway.
These thongs were just good wholesome collegiate underwear, until one otherwise fine day in 2006. I had just produced a Yale Whim ‘n Rhythm concert in which Yale thongs were flashed, which got some very elite Yale corporate lawyers’ panties in a twist, and they told the Boola Boola shop to stop selling those thongs and me to stop showing them… or else!
The shop stopped, but I did not.
In fact, I told Yale’s killjoy counselors to go ahead and sue me. They said they most certainly would, but never did. Sometimes you’ve just got to call the bluffs of these blustering elites—and not let them scare the panties off of you.
Flying High
We passed our home Covid tests and took meticulous photos of our negative results before leaving Bonoboville, expecting we’d have to take another test when we reached New Haven. After all, the plane was packed with heavy breathers, most of whom were gleefully maskless.
It was our first flight since our carefree, pre-Coronapocalypse, Mile High Club days, and we were both recovering from our wild Bonoboville Reunion and a whirlwind DomCon 2022, with a bout of pneumonia in between.
So, packed between mask-free yappers, coughers and even a few sneezers, we kept our masks on, like muzzled monks in a flying chamber of demonic droplets, only taking them off to eat, drink and kiss.
The kissing helped, but overall, the new post-Coronapocalyptic flying experience—once a nomadic pleasure brimming with delightful possibilities of connecting with old and new friends and lovers—is a paranoid, overcrowded chore.
Speaking of the good old days, why don’t we take a tip from the “smoking sections” of yore and seat the maskless in the back of the plane? Never mind, I can already see the fists flying before the planes even take off.
The best part of our new air travel experience was Max’s wheelchair. Having let Delta know in advance that my Yale Husband, due to his various ailments, would need assistance, a charming attendant whisked him along through the fast lane as I jogged to keep up. The adrenaline rush, along with the edibles I took before leaving Bonoboville, helped beam me up above the Delta dystopia that threatened to swallow me in swarming madness.
No doubt, I’m not your typical Yale alumna. I’m not a propertied billionaire or even millionaire—... more No doubt, I’m not your typical Yale alumna. I’m not a propertied billionaire or even millionaire—legacy or self-made—nor a tenured academic, scientist, CEO, lawyer, stockbroker or journalist embedded with the MSM, like many of my distinguished classmates.
Nor did I get my MRS degree to marry one. However, I did marry a Prince—with no principality, fortune nor (truth be told) pot to pee in—and we’ve stayed married for over 30 years.
My profession—and passion—is that of “sexologist,” the only one in my class… at least the only one that’s out of the closet about it.
I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve and my sexual freedom across my chest. I also tend to cover my Ivy-edumacated brain with a hat, preferably a big one.
As such, I forego the buttoned-up suits, preppy crew neck sweaters and boat neck blouses typical of the Ivy League for lingerie and latex. Not that I ever wore suits or boating attire much, even while an undergrad, being more the hippie tie-dye type… when not in costume for a play or streaking naked through Old Campus “for peace.”
Nevertheless, I am a proud magna cum laude graduate of Yale University, Class of ’77.
I haven’t always been so proud. Maybe it has to do with not being “typical,” but for over a decade, I’d tell people I went to college in “New Haven.” Actually, for various reasons, a lot of Yalies do this. Not that it conceals our Yale bonafides, since nobody thinks we mean Quinnipiac College. We just say it to be cool and/or because we cringe at coming off as “elitist.”
I confess, I have a longstanding inclination to critique the “elites,” and ivy-adorned Yale University—envisioned by the theocratic Reverend John Davenport, co-founded in 1701 by prominent witch-hunting Puritan Cotton Mather and Christened after its biggest benefactor, wealthy British colonialist Elihu Yale (later indicted for corruption)—is nothing if not elite.
Maybe now we should just digitize privilege in the Metaverse, call it “e-lite” and sell bits of it like bitcoin.
We Yalies were marked the “best and brightest,” which was something of a Mark of Cain, as graduating from Yale was and is no guarantee of intelligence, but more of an indication that you do well on tests. Or that your Dad did well on tests, well enough for you to get in too. Or, more likely, your Dad or your Dad’s Dad contributed a lot of money, big bones for the Bulldog.
Here’s looking at you, Mr. Skull-and-Bonehead George Mission-Accomplished-Dubya Bush (Class of ’68).
Honestly, seeing Yale’s most notorious “C student” attempt to denounce the “wholly unjustified and brutal invasion of Iraq—I mean, Ukraine…hehe… Iraq too! Anyway…” was enough to make any Eli—elite or on the street—want to hide our diplomas.
Boola Boola-la
It was my husband Max who helped me see my Yale degree a little differently.
For every George W. Bush, there was a Samuel Morse—inventor of the Morse Code. For every awful Brett Kavanaugh (Yale Class of ’87) who makes me want to hang my Bulldog face in shame, there’s an awesome Lupita Nyong’o (Yale Drama MFA 2012) who fills me with ivy pride. It all evens out, more or less, and— Magna Cum Laude or just me-coming-loudly—Yale’s a part of my life. So, thanks to Max, I gradually started to show off my Yale degree… with a twist.
I’m not the first Eli to hang a Bulldog pennant on the wall behind her bed, but it happens that said bed is also where I broadcast my weekly talk shows. Like a chef hosts a cooking show from the kitchen surrounded by pots and pans, I host a sexuality show from bed surrounded by sex toys… and a pennant emblazoned with “For God, For Country And For Yale.”
It was never expressly stated, but I’ve always felt that bit of boola-boola helped seal the deal for my HBO specials, executive-produced by proud fellow Yalie Sheila Nevins (Yale Drama MFA 1963).
SWAY crushed by Dick
After watching one of these HBO specials, Sex Week at Yale (SWAY) founder Eric Rubenstein, Class of ‘2004, invited me to speak at the first SWAY in 2002 and every SWAY thereafter through 2012.
Good times! Indeed, those special winter weeks around Valentine’s Day, the High Holidays of Love, were sex educational, mind-body-and-soul-expanding times for the students, faculty and special guests who were lucky and brave enough to participate. As for me, I felt welcomed back into the bountiful bosom of Mother Yale every other year. That is, until former Yale President Richard Levin stopped SWAY from swaying.
And what a shame that was. Under pressure from corporate interests, Yale-in-Singapore, an entrenched over-privileged fraternity system, and well-funded, ruthless anti-sex-education, Christofascist media, including Focus on the Family, Master Dick forced SWAY to bow to his haughty, erotophobic and demeaning demands. Then he crushed it anyway under his elite J. Press tassel calfskin loafer.
Incidentally, Yale college supervisors are—or were—called “Masters,” so “Master Dick” is actually not as outrageous a nickname for former President Richard Levin as it sounds. In fact, as the head of Yale, he could—I’m taking a leap here—be called “Master Dick, Head (of Yale).”
Silly puns aside, Dick Levin is gone, replaced by a kinder, gentler Yale President, Peter Salovey, whose groundbreaking work in Emotional Intelligence I appreciated enough to quote in The Bonobo Way. I’d like to believe Pete would not have crushed Sex Week at Yale like Dick did.
People ask if I’ll ever “bring it back,” but that not up to me. Maybe Yale students will resurrect Sex Week at Yale, or put on their own version for the 2020’s—or 2030’s (assuming the Megamachine lets human civilization last that long). Hey, a sexologist can dream…
Elite Knickers Besides being the quintessential e-lite academic institution (that other school in Cambridge notwithstanding), Yale has a tradition of elite-critiquing—from Nathan Hale spying on King George III to Chaplain William Sloane Coffin leading protests against the War in Vietnam to socialist economist Richard D. Wolff condemning capitalism in our times—and I am proud to be a part of that tradition, in my fashion.
Rightwing Coup Anon’ers portray Yale as a hotbed of “woke,” decadent Marxism. So, “elite critiquing” doesn’t only come from the Left, though it tends to be accompanied by a large side order of garbage when delivered by the Right. Actually, seeing neo-Puritan Senator Tom Cotton get pilloried in social media for vainly trying to denigrate brave Yale student protesters against Christofascist speakers as “fragile… Leftwing children” made me proud of my school.
So, when I received an invitation to my 45th Yale College Reunion, and was reassured that it would be Covid-safe (or relatively) with testing upon arrival, I was pleased to say yes for two.
To kick off this special boola-boola weekend, I put a small Yale pennant on my big blue hat with Y-A-L-E emblazoned across my chest, accompanied by an assortment of other Eli-positive accessories, including a “Y” pendant hand-woven by Twin Towers in-house designers with the blue and white threads of inmate uniforms. The opposite of elite and light as a flower, it occasionally flips around and upside down, turning the “Y” in the circle into a peace sign, which I take as a good omen.
One accessory that was seen only by Max and my selfie stick (until now) was my Yale University thong—or thongs in white on black, white on red and blue on white—received as gifts and purchased over the years at the Boola Boola shop on Broadway.
These thongs were just good wholesome collegiate underwear, until one otherwise fine day in 2006. I had just produced a wondrous Whim ‘n Rhythm concert (having connected with these mellifluous ladies of at SWAY ’06) at my “Speakeasy” in which Yale thongs were flashed. Word of this got some very elite Yale corporate lawyers’ panties in a twist, and they insisted that the Boola Boola shop stop selling those thongs (hence they gifted me with their entire unsaleable inventory). Then they told me to stop showing off my Yale panties all over the Internet… or else!
The shop stopped, but I did not. In fact, I told Yale’s killjoy counselors to go ahead and sue me. They said they most certainly would, but never did. Sometimes you’ve just got to call the bluffs of these blustering elites—and not let them scare the panties off of you.
Flying High
We passed our home Covid tests and took meticulous photos of our negative results before leaving Bonoboville, expecting we’d have to take another test when we reached New Haven. After all, the plane was packed with heavy breathers, most of whom were gleefully maskless.
It was our first flight since our carefree, pre-Coronapocalypse, Mile High Club days, and we were both recovering from our wild Bonoboville Reunion and a whirlwind DomCon 2022, with a bout of pneumonia in between.
So, packed between mask-free yappers, coughers and even a few sneezers, we kept our masks on, like muzzled monks in a flying chamber of demonic droplets, only taking them off to eat, drink and kiss.
The kissing helped, but overall, the new post-Coronapocalyptic flying experience—once a nomadic pleasure, brimming with delightful possibilities of connecting with old and new friends and lovers—is a paranoid, overcrowded chore.
Speaking of the good old days, why don’t we take a tip from the “smoking sections” of yore and seat the maskless in the back of the plane? Never mind, I can already see the fists flying.
The best part of our new air travel experience was Max’s wheelchair. Having let Delta know in advance that my Yale Husband, due to his various ailments, would need assistance, a charming attendant whisked him along through the fast lane as I jogged to keep up. The adrenaline rush, along with the edibles I took before leaving Bonoboville, helped beam me up above the Delta dystopia that threatened to swallow me in madness.
“If wars can be started by lies, peace can be started by the truth.”
– Julian Assange
Now, mor... more “If wars can be started by lies, peace can be started by the truth.”
– Julian Assange
Now, more than ever, we need to “Make Kink Not War.”
Rattled by battles, wars and more wars, including the war on women, plus rising inequality, tyranny, misogyny, insanity, political criminality, sex-negativity, truth-relativity, hyper-religiosity, murder, mass murder, appalling apartheid, worsening climate chaos and the nuclear Doomsday Clock at 100 seconds to midnight… like so many other thinking, caring humans, I feel like I’m losing my marbles and my mind at the same time.
Thus, I’ve taken this little jingle as my light in the dark, my mantra against the madness and a bit of a gag (all puns intended) in the gloom:
Make Kink Not War!
It’s the fierce yet peaceable kinkster’s *battle cry*… but what does it mean in the real world—on the battlefield, in the bedroom, the boardroom, the classroom, the dungeon, the protest march or the play party?
Making Love vs. Making Kink
Everyone’s heard “Make Love Not War,” that groovy nugget of Swinging ‘60s-70s gold that’s guided my life since I was a child accompanying my draft-age older brother to protests against the American War in Vietnam and the nukes at Three Mile Island. As I ogled the sexy, earthy hippie protesters, I fantasized about beautiful people “making love” so passionately, they would somehow stop the wars. Unfortunately, they didn’t. Though they did stop the draft (woohoo!), the wars got worse.
But “Make Kink Not War” (MKNW) could be an even better idea… especially now—and not just because “now” is October, which happens to be “Kink Month” aka Kinktober. Happy Kink Month 2022!
Why kink instead of love? Well, many people “make war” in the name of “love.” It might be love of country, religion, family, heritage, “democracy,” or just one person (see Helen of Troy) who may or may not be real (see Jesus). Unfortunately for humanity, love-sweet-love can ignite all manner of murder and mayhem.
Another famous saying explains why: “Love has no rules.” Though no one’s sure who said it first, everyone knows it’s true. Kink, on the other hand, has lots of rules. Otherwise, it’s not kink; it’s abuse.
Kink RULES!
A kink is a “twist,” as Thomas Jefferson, one of the first to use the term to describe a feeling as opposed to a bend in the bondage rope, opined. One rule of kink is that it must be between consenting-adults when practiced in real life. SSC or “safe, sane and consensual” is the guiding imperative of kink and any kind of erotic power exchange. A step beyond SSC is RACK: Risk-Aware Consensual Kink.
This may sound like alphabet soup or seem to lack spontaneity, but kink rules when it’s based on rules.
Since Jefferson’s sexual relationship with Sally Hemings—a real slave—was not consensual, that would be abuse, not kink. Even if her shackles were made of French perfume, her reality was that she couldn’t choose to leave or say no to Master Tom.
If your kink is just fantasy, I say anything goes. Go ahead and roleplay Master Tom and slave sally, or Mistress Interrogator and hapless prisoner, Antifa and MAGA mud-wrestling; nothing is taboo when it’s all just playing in the movie of your mind… at least until our corporate owners start implanting us with microchipped “thought police.” It’s coming.
Meanwhile, just imagine… anything you like! Habitual fantasies of abuse might be a red flag, but even that’s *okay* if it’s only happening in your dreams. Sometimes your dreams are the only freedom you have.
However, if and when you transition from your impossible dreams into fragile, fleshy reality, there are many consenting-adult kink rules and protocols, and following them is part of the fun. Moreover, when you adhere to these rules—which may vary, depending on your fetish—your kinky playtime is the opposite of abuse. Indeed, kink can even help survivors of past abuse heal from their trauma.
Making “love,” on the other hand—at least in the old-fashioned, PIV (penis-in-vagina) sense of the term—is a pretty risky matter, especially these days, with America morphing into a Christofascist Gilead out of The Handmaid’s Tale, overturning abortion rights and threatening to restrict contraception, in addition to various old and new STDs going around (monkeypox anyone?) like party-crashers at a masquerade.
Concurrently, with growing awareness, personal therapy, groups, workshops, practical tips and guidance available online, “making kink” is now safer—and maybe even more fun—than ever.
#GoBonobos for Kink (Not War)!
Kink can channel natural violent energy and erotic desire into mutually agreed-upon playtime activities for the sake of physical and mental expression and pleasure. You can even include a little consensual, carefully monitored pain; for kinksters, that can be the best part.
Does this sound like some strange unnatural perversion? Sorry to pop your neo-Puritanical bubble, but kink flows through nature, from the horny mountain goats to the FemDom hyenas to the pansexual dolphins frolicking kinkily in the sea. Humans are far from the only kinky—or even the kinkiest—creatures on the planet.
Indeed, our closest great ape cousins who share over 98% of our DNA, the female-empowered, male-nurturing, sex-positive bonobos, are very kinky in a Bonobo Sutra of ways. I call them the “Kinkiest Apes on Earth.” They’re also astoundingly peaceful and have never been seen killing each other in the wild or captivity. It’s amazing but as true as my stiletto heel is sharp: bonobos utilize various kinds of kink to make peace through pleasure… with a little pain.
Can we do it too?
I don’t know If we will (in time to save civilization), but I do believe that we can and—considering a cataclysmic WWIII is always hovering on the horizon—we ought to try. Let’s give kink a chance! It might well save the world… or at least, improve your love life. It’s also the basis for my presentation, “Make Kink Not War: Be Bonobo,” Version 6.0 of The Bonobo Way at DomCon LA (now playing on a platform near you) 2022.
Comic Con of Kink & Met Gala of Latex
I love DomCon LA. It’s one of my favorite “homes away from home,” or you could say, a BDSM-focused Bonoboville away from my Bonoboville. DomCon is the MetGala of Latex and the Comic-Con of Kink. All that lubed-up flash, flesh and studded fashion gives it eye-candy allure for the voyeur connoisseur… for sure!
But the heart and soul of DomCon are the Dommes, Doms, subbies, Tops, bottoms, fetishists, exhibitionists,Masters, Mistresses and kinksters of all kinds—plus a few kink-positive sex therapists like me—all of us coming together (sometimes literally) to share the love, the spanks, the ideas, the accessories, sometimes politics, but always the rules, the protocols and the kink, always the kink.
My DomCon Evolution
It takes a village to create a DomCon, or maybe a school, and the Headmistress of that School of Hard Knocks and Impact Play is Mistress Cyan St. James, who happens to have given me my first consenting-adult birthday spanking in 2004, the same year she founded DomCon,“the World’s Premiere Lifestyle and Professional Domination Convention.” I didn’t get there until 2015 when the divine Goddess Soma and her then-BF, kinky lefty Fat Mike of NoFX, invited me over for a tour and a talk about my then-new book, The Bonobo Way, and its implications for kink and the FemDom lifestyle. With that, a series was born, tailored for the largely Mistress-led DomCon, delivering an updated version of The Bonobo Way at DomCon LA in 2015,2016, 2017, 2018 and 2019, getting more elaborate each year, even incorporating a kinky cast of characterswe called the Bonoboville Commedia Erotica Players.
In 2020, Mistress Cyan named me DomCon Mistress of Ceremonies. No dominatrix myself (just a humble sex therapist), I was honored; but alas, the Coronapocalypse kept us apart, so I MC’ed DomCon 2020 Virtual from my couch. DomCon 2021 was held in person, though it was too soon for Covid-phobic me, but when 2022 rolled around, with two vaccines and boosters, I felt ready to return. I almost didn’t make it when an erotic exotic Covid-tested Bonoboville Reunion with Vice TV left me with a whopping case of pneumonia. At least, it wasn’t the wretched Rona, so within a couple weeks, I was good to #GoBonobos at DomCon.
Mistress Cyan kindly offered me MC honors again, but to reduce the risks, I declined, determined to make this DomCon a quickie. The old in-and-out, aka “the quickie,” may not be the greatest way to make love, but if you’re pushed for time or want to minimize human contact, it might be best. Besides, this was about making kink, not making love. And with the right timing, good kink can be as quick as a single, sharp, well-placed spank, the whisper of a naughty name or the swift kick of a pointy-toed shoe.
I decided to further diminish risk by taking the RV rather than staying at the Hilton. Eating in the restaurants and drinking at the hotel bar with all those laughing, chatting, maskless people crowded together just seemed like inviting Covid to an orgy in my lungs.
Considering how the Coronapocalypse had kept me captive for two years, this felt like a major jailbreak. It was great to connect with fellow kinksters, but masked physical-distancing, though sensible (as it turned out, very sensible), meant less hugging, less physical affection, less connection and less fun. We also had a few technical glitches, never good for going bonobos or even just going with the flow. As we learn from the mythical suffering of Prometheus—the plucky Greek Titan who gave humans fire technology is a great gift… and an equally great curse.
Last week, Ken Starr went off to the Great Starr Chamber in the Sky, or most likely the one in He... more Last week, Ken Starr went off to the Great Starr Chamber in the Sky, or most likely the one in Hell. Starr was a star in the ruthless Republican galaxy known as the “Vast Right Wing Conspiracy” that Hillary Clinton (no Lefty herself) warned us about just before the turn of the 21st century, a conspiracy that’s only gotten vaster and even more extremely and destructively “right wing.”
“Independent Counsel” Kenneth W. Starr’s main claim to fame was that he got a U.S. President impeached when he stumbled upon the Commander-in-Chief’s somewhat shadowy, private sex life and forced it into the harsh light of a 24/7 media feeding frenzy, with a virtue-signaling twinkle in his twofaced blue eyes.
I wasn’t a fan of Bill Clinton‘s neoliberal policies or his draconian sanctioning of Iraq, but he wasn’t the worst U.S. President (this was before he bombed Belgrade). I felt that Starr’s “investigation,” which took him from a failed 1970s real estate deal right into the President’s pants, was a nakedly partisan power-grab dressed up in the pious trappings of a Moral Crusade.
Moreover, as a sex-positive sexologist, I didn’t think a U.S. President should lose his day job just because he got a consensual blowjob.
Ken Porn Starr
In September of 1998, U.S. Inquisitor Kenneth W. Starr, along with his little well-paid team of arch-conservative, highly ambitious legal ninjas (including a young, sexy and nasty Ann Coulter and a fresh-out-of-Yale Law School, Brett Kavanaugh), released The Starr Report—like a hot money shot that lands in your eye or perhaps up your nose.
A very official and somewhat officious document dripping with details of intern thongs, U.S. Presidential ejaculations, furtive phone sex, cigars in vaginas and much more, the Starr Report stepped like a stripper onto the stage of this relatively new medium called the Internet and proceeded strut it’s stuff to one and all of us.
The Starr Report read like a porn script. But no porn script ever made it to the front page of The New York Times and countless local newspapers around the world. This was the most widely read piece of pornography of the year—maybe of all time!
In an effort to expose naughty Billy Jeff’s privates, prissy old Kenny wound up exposing himself to be quite the erotic artiste.
He was far bolder and more intrusive than most low-budget, ethical porn producers (yes, most porn producers are ethical!), even orchestrating a sting operation, wiring Monica Lewinsky’s “friend,” the arch-conservative Linda Tripp, to record the juiciest parts of their private chats, giving a soap operatic edge to his unprecedented taxpayer-funded porn production.
The Report itself was breathless, badly written schlock (a predecessor to the equally uninspired 50 Shades of Grey), but most porn scripts are not exactly Shakespeare.
At the time, my friend porn star-turned-artist, Annie Sprinkle, along with the late great Betty Dodson and Candida Royalle, invited me to speak at the World Pornography Conference “Pornocopia,” which happened to fall on the same day that Monica Lewinsky was bullied into testifying before a Grand Jury about her affair with the President. In my eroto-political mind, the timing was more than coincidental.
Here was the first official gathering of career academics and pornographic filmmakers in sunny LA, while in steamy DC, the star of the nation’s biggest pornography production ever was spilling the delectable details of Oval Orifice lust, presidential phone sex, love gifts, heavy fondling and a dress that must have smelled like a skunk, having gone four years without cleaning. This performance was ostensibly for the Grand Jury, but its real purpose (for Starr the auteur of it all) was to engage, excite and enrage an audience that encompassed the whole country and most of the world.
Supposedly, Monica wasn’t a willing star in this X-rated soap that titillated the populace at the expense of the nation—although the mom-daughter team maintenance of the dress, stains and all, made that supposition rather suspect. More than anything, she seemed dazed and confused, yet unwavering in her defense of her ex-lover’s privacy. And yes, the #MeToo movement has since reminded us of the unfair imbalance of power between an intern and a President. Still, this intern was over 21, an experienced philanderer with older men and the more admitted pursuer in their Oval Orificeaffair.
Whether Monica was victim or vixen or both, there was no doubt that hymn-singing Independent Counsel Kenneth W. Starr relished bullying the poor woman and was a more-than-willing, down-right passionate producer of this piece of common porn that would find its place in history books. One can imagine Ken, Brett, Ann and rest of the porn writing team wondering how “semen stains” might best be referenced… as “dried body fluids”? DNA material? Bubba love droppings? A seminal moment in history?
And the Boobie Award Winner was…
Thus, the World Pornography Conference Opening Night Pornocopia seemed the perfect venue to present the 1998 Boobie Award for Best Pornography Production to that Peeping Tom point man of Richard Mellon Scaife, Big Tobacco and the Religious Right: Kenneth W. Starr for “The Intern & the President: America Held Hostage to Ken Starr’s Perverted Peeping Tom Sense of Justice,” partially financed with over 30 million of your tax dollars—brought to you by the GOP, party of frugal government spending.
It was the perfect live audience to present this award: some 500 pornographers, professors, lawyers and smut-hungry reporters. As I tore open the envelope, the pornographers held their breath in anticipation as the professors looked around and the reporters muttered amongst themselves, wondering whom the winner could be. Many had done much to further the cause of pornography, but none came close to GOP’s own enterprising independent counsel who cucked the Constitution and forced a consensual blowjob down the entire nation’s throat.
Accepting the award for Mr. Starr was my friend, Ken Starr lookalike, Keith James. Keith was so convincing; after the show, I overheard a couple of porn stars ask a professor, “How did she get Ken Starr to come here?”
As he accepted his Boobie Prize (designed by the artist Heilman-C) and handed me a subpoena, I congratulated Mr. Starr—via Mr. James—on making a sticky, internationally embarrassing mess of the US government, for getting Congress to be his porn distributors and for being the only pornographer that forced his work on other people. Is that even legal?
Judging from the applause, there was no doubt that Ken’s Boobie Prize was well-deserved.
In fact, “The Intern & the President” won six more Big Boobies that night, including, “Most Leaky Storyline,” “Best Hot Talk Taping,” “Best Unseen Oral Sex Scene,” “Best Cum Shot (on a Dress),” “Best Marketing Campaign,” “Most Expensive Porn Production in History—with a $40+ million budget,” and a special Boobie also went to Ms. Linda Tripp for “Most Underhanded Technical Support.”
Los Angeles, CA. – November 3, 2024 – Dr. Susan Block, aka “Dr. Suzy,” award-winning sex therapis... more Los Angeles, CA. – November 3, 2024 – Dr. Susan Block, aka “Dr. Suzy,” award-winning sex therapist, best-selling author, HBO personality and bonobo conservationist, is stepping up her legal fight with META, parent company of Facebook and Instagram, owned by Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg.
To recap: Block contends that when META’s AI “content moderation” bots censored and deactivated her Facebook profile and IG account – unfairly, arbitrarily and without warning – META breached its own contracts.
META contends that Block is nothing but a wanton wh0re unworthy of any protection from harm or even being treated like a human being.
Section 230: The Internet’s Iron Dome
Meanwhile Mark Zuckerberg, the Billionaire Boy in the Bubble, is shielded from his own massively destructive mistakes and power-drunk misdeeds by a protective “bubble” – a virtual Iron Dome – enabled by an algorithmic army of bots and fortified by highly paid attorneys, complicit arbitrators and an obscure portion of the Communications Decency Act, 47 USC 230, known simply and ominously as “Section 230.”
In the legal world, Silicon Valley-friendly interpretations of Section 230 have given social media moguls like Zuckerberg that Iron Dome-like protection, letting them groom and doom, exploit, censor, ban and deny many users their right to free speech, access to the “digital town square,” even their right to communicate with loved ones in times of need.
Block’s own Facebook profile was deactivated shortly before her beloved husband of 32 years, Maximillian R. Lobkowicz di Filangieri, had a major ischemic stroke. Meta may not have caused the stroke, but it certainly didn’t help that besides deactivating Blocks Facebook profile and IG account, it also removed her Facebook Messenger and WhatsApp, making it all the more difficult for her to get in touch with loved ones in this cataclysmic crisis.
“That’s Zuckerberg Family Values for you,” remarks Block. “Since 2008, Meta had groomed me and my relatives to communicate via Facebook, then doomed me to deactivation and the rest of us to zero communication.”
When Block asked META to restore her wrongfully deactivated accounts, she was greeted with stony silence, followed by a barrage of defamatory lies. On the advice of counsel, Block took META to arbitration. However, thanks to Section 230’s protective bubble around Boy-Lord Zuckerberg, buoyed by a paid-by-META arbitrator’s unsubtle coaching of META’s Mayer Brown lawyers, Block’s case was unceremoniously and erroneously awarded to META without allowing her – the plaintiff – to utter a word.
Algorithmic Ignorance & Sexual Services
In attempting to defend their indefensible actions and to keep Block’s mouth gagged shut with fabricated scandal, META falsely accused Block of being a sex worker (i.e., prostitute) providing “sexual services” via META sites. Just to set the record straight: Block is not now, nor has she ever been a sex worker, nor did she ever provide “sexual services” through META sites or anywhere else. She is a therapist providing sex therapy, as she was prepared to prove if she had been permitted to present her case. Though she has expressed her political views that consenting adult sex work should be decriminalized, and sex workers have been guests on her show, she herself is not one. Nevertheless, META’s lawyers and the paid-by-META arbitrator colluded to defame Block with the Scarlet Letter of “sex work” – on top of depriving her of her rights – to punish her for blowing the whistle on META’s fraudulent “contracts of adhesion” and its destructive, AI (Artificial Ignorance)-based censorship.
“Like so many other innocent Meta users posting about sex, politics, health and other debatable topics, I am the victim of an algorithm that identified buzz words on my profiles and incorrectly labeled me as being in violation of platform policies,” asserts Block. “Rather than bothering to even try to be fair, Facebook and Instagram just adopted the algorithm’s conclusion as gospel. No human beings even looked at my profiles until I requested arbitration, and then it was the lawyers for META, who simply sought to ratify the algorithm to avoid a cascade of claims against the two platforms for relying solely on these faulty algorithms to police content from people’s profiles. Because the fact of the matter is, as many studies have shown, these powerful algorithms are notoriously faulty.”
Next Legal Move – Motion to Vacate
Bullied but not beaten, Block is now taking META’s “bull” by the horns, filing a Motion to Vacate their deeply flawed Arbitration Award, in pro per.
Block’s motion maintains that not only was the Arbitrator biased, prejudicially squeamish about basic sex education, ignorant of algorithmic error rates and disingenuous about Facebook’s vast and unique social media power, he was also “without legal authority” to rule on Block’s case based on Facebook’s and Instagram’s contracts.
Therefore, Block asserts, “the Arbitration Award must be vacated.”
Free Speech Woman vs. Zuck the META Cuck
“One of our most valuable rights as Americans is Freedom of Speech,” Block proclaims as “Free Speech Woman” (her Halloween 2024 costume). “Most nations don’t grant Free Speech to their citizens, but we Americans (supposedly) do. It’s as close as our secular government gets to sacred. In 1789, We the American People received the Bill of Rights’10 Amendments, rather like Moses receiving the 10 Commandments. Our First Amendment right to Freedom of Speech has been revered by the world, but it has long been under attack from both the Right and the so-called Left – now on a Meta-scale.
“Whether you’re talking about sex, politics, equality, health or Palestine, power-drunk social media moguls like Mark Zuckerberg and Elon Musk pervert the very phrase ‘free speech,’ twisting it into its Orwellian opposite, literally getting away with digital murder every day.”
International sexologist and spanking expert Dr. Susan Block gives an “exclusive” interview to Th... more International sexologist and spanking expert Dr. Susan Block gives an “exclusive” interview to The MIRROR’s Yelena Mandenberg on “the spank heard round the world” – Stormy Daniels spanking Donald Trump with a rolled-up Forbes featuring his picture on the cover – just as the world’s most politically influential porn star wraps up her “bombshell testimony” at Trump’s hush money trial.
Here are a few of Dr. Block’s observations about Stormy, Trump, spanking, kink, fetishes and humiliation quoted in The Mirror story:
“When somebody spanks somebody else, they’re turning the tables. [Stormy Daniels] is a younger person, she’s smaller in height, less powerful in status, so she’s turning the tables on Trump… and it’s very satisfying for us as an audience, and for him, it might be a turn-on because he’s so used to people kissing his a– and now here’s someone spanking his a–.” Block referred to the incident as a ‘sex game’ – one that they’re continuing to play. “They’re still playing this sex game. They’re just playing it in court and the realm of public opinion. He wanted to keep it private, but he didn’t succeed in that. The game is right in front of us, and it’s very titillating.” “Humans are always titillated by hearing about sex stories from the powerful, from Clinton to Gary Hart, whether we find it appalling or [feel] ‘go for it.’ Usually it’s been consensual, though not always, but, usually, it is something we can laugh about without guilt and enjoy ourselves.” “Because it seems he was a little tyrant since he was a kid – his mother was ill and his father was gone – so my guess is he wasn’t spanked or even punished very much so there might be a part of him that liked it, that found it exciting that the tables are turned.” “She spanked the obnoxiousness out of him for at least 10 minutes, then she went to the bathroom, and he went right back to his old way; that’s probably when the spell was broken.” “A lot of times people in positions of power do get turned on by having the tables turned sexually, want to keep it private… Often we get excited and, even if we don’t like it, or feel it’s bad, or humiliating, we may be turned on by it. Because [this incident] was private, he wouldn’t feel humiliated [in a hotel bedroom], but in the courtroom, I’m sure he did feel humiliated to hear all of this.” “For him, it was foreplay. For her, it was a joke.” “I’m kinda impressed by the idea that this person from the sexuality field, the ‘porn star,’ can bring down the past president,”
Two days after U.S. President Joe Biden went to Congress to deliver the 2024 State of the Union a... more Two days after U.S. President Joe Biden went to Congress to deliver the 2024 State of the Union address, Dr. Susan Block went on “Active Radio” with Hartley Pleshaw on WCAP-AM 980 to deliver the 2024 State of the SEXUAL Union.
“Where the State of the Sexual Union (SOTSU) is concerned, no one is better qualified than America’s leading sexologist, Dr. Susan Block,” Hartley proclaims.
Whether you loved, hated or slept through the President's State of the Union, don't miss Dr. Suzy's State of the SEXUAL union address 2024.
Best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure, longtime broadcaster and cultural commentator, as well as an award-winning sexologist and sex therapist, Dr. Susan Block, aka Dr. Suzy, launches her 2024 SOTSU “Sermon on the Mound” – usually inspired by Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech reimagined as “I Have a Fantasy” – with a Biden-ish spin, mirroring his SOTU 2024’s series of “I See a Future” visions for her own bonoboësque vision of a more equal, more free, make-love-not-war tomorrow.
I see a future where good clean consensual sex is not considered dirty. I see a future where peace through pleasure is honored over war for profit. I see a future where sex education and science are valued over ignorance, superstition and violent religious fundamentalism. I see a future where ecosexuality is more popular than ammosexuality and war porn. I see a future where women’s rights are respected more than faith-based forced breeding. I see a future where we have a Ceasefire Now and Permanently in Gaza, the West Bank, Ukraine, Russia, Africa, America and around the world, where Jews and Muslims, Christians, Hindus, Buddhists, atheists and everyone else will be free and will “study war no more.” I see a future where we practice the Bonobo Way of female empowerment, male well-being, sharing resources and peace through pleasure… and stop acting like baboons!
Click the pic above to listen to Dr. Susan Block’s Full 2024 State of the Sexual Union address on WCAP
“I’m ready to vote for you for President now, Dr. Suzy,” Hartley exclaims at the climax of her vision for the future. “You have by far the best platform of any of the candidates this year, which isn’t saying much, but you really knocked it out of the park!”
Then the SOTSU turns into a sort of Meet the Press where Hartley asks Dr. Suzy questions on a variety of topics within the “meeting ground of sex, politics and culture which,” he opines, “I believe Dr. Suzy covers and handles better than anyone in the present contemporary scene.”
Subjects include:
-Anti-Abortion Crusaders who fetishize the fetus and eroticize the embryo, but once you’re born, you’re over the hill to them – and how now that they killed Roe vs. Wade, they’re going after contraception and whatever power over our sex lives they can grab. -The Christofascist Supremes – Since Federalist Society powerbroker-to-the-Supremes Leonard Leo owns a mansion in the WCAP broadcast range, Dr. Suzy addresses him personally: We see you, Leonard Leo, trying to take America back to a time like The Handmaid’s Tale, stripping sex of recreation for the sake of procreation – forced breeding – so that the poor can bear cannon fodder for the military and cogs in the wheels of capitalism – and the rich can have grandchildren to inherit their billions. For that perk and others, those billionaires get to bribe the reactionary Supremes that you choose - Brett “Beer Pong” Kavanaugh, Amy Coney “Handmaid” Barrett and Neil “Handman to the Billionaires” Gorsuch – ganging up with Sam “Leaky” Alito, Clarence “Uncle” Thomas and John “Citizens United” Roberts to overturn Roe V Wade, restrict our sexuality, free big business from any restrictions whatsoever, and throw the American people under the bus. Anti-Sex “Feminists” – Dr. Suzy and Hartley talk about the erotophobia (fear of healthy sex) on the Right and Left, from the #MeToo activists who have done great things, but could learn something from the female-empowered bonobos – that female empowerment is intrinsically connected to nurturing male well-being – to the anti-sex “feminists” paid by Rightwing thinktanks to make convoluted arguments to keep most women (excepting them, of course) knocked up and broke. -Ammosexual War Porn – From American War Profiteers to the NRA to the young troops of the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF), modern death-dealers are using “Sex As a Weapon,” tapping into our frustrated, denigrated sex drives like never before, using sex to sell and promote phallic missiles, climactic explosions, mass murder and apartheid, even genocide. Warmongers have tried to “sex up” fighting and weaponry since the beginning of war but, but the IDF’s dark, depraved, dystopian, wildly ammosexual and sadistic war porn is off the charts, far more demented than George W. Bush’s P.O.W. Porn at Abu Ghraib – and that’s just what the Israelis themselves show openly on their own channels. Plus, why are so many incels – spawned by the denigration of lust and elevation of greed – so ammosexual? War porn harms (and often kills) its victims, as well as its perpetrators, and also traumatizes those of us who watch – by choice or by chance – transforming the populace into War Porn Voyeurs. -The Burning Soldier – Can self-immolation illuminate dehumanization? Can suicide help to stop a genocide? Dr. Suzy contrasts S. Airman Aaron Bushnell tragic but sane sacrifice to “Free Palestine” from ammosexual war crimes and domestic mass murders committed by PTSD-wracked veterans of America’s many wars. Censorship by Bot: Dr. Suzy is taking META to arbitration for their wrongful deactivation and algorithmic, anti-sex, dictatorial, technocratic dehumanization. Save the Date: June 26, 2024 for the Suzy vs. Zuck the Cuck Showdown.
#GoBonobos for a Sex-Positive, Antiwar, Free Speech, Pro-Bonobo Future!
Sex-positive alternative relationships expert Coralyn Jewel interviewed renowned sexologist Dr. S... more Sex-positive alternative relationships expert Coralyn Jewel interviewed renowned sexologist Dr. Susan Block, aka “Dr. Suzy,” on her award-nominated podcast “Embrace” about human sexuality, censorship and the state of the world. The interview kicks off Season 4 of Embrace, “Open Up,” and is now available for your listening and viewing pleasure and knowledge on multiple platforms.
Subjects of discussion include:
Dr. Suzy’s Philadelphia upbringing, family, Yale University education and other early influences on her life, loves and work as a sexologist and sex therapist in private practice.
Phone Sex Therapy and video therapy with the Dr. Susan Block Institute (where Coralyn is a therapist).
Bonobo apes, Dr. Suzy’s book and her philosophy of the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure (bonobos don’t kill each other!), female empowerment, male well-being, sharing, caring and lots of great sex!
Dr. Suzy’s relationship with Pr. Maximillian R. Lobkowicz, aka “Capt’n Max,” her husband of 31 years, executive producer of The Dr. Susan Block Show, publisher of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure, Dr. Block’s Speakeasy Journal and many other publications, and co-host with Dr. Suzy of F.D.R. radio.
Dr. Suzy’s definitions of “Sexual Fetishes,” “Phone Sex,” “Striptease,” “Spanking” and “Cuckolding” published in the Wiley-Blackwell Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality.
Censorship in America, YouTube’s termination and META’s deactivation of Dr. Suzy’s various accounts and channels, and how she is taking META to arbitration—and YouTube will be next!
Vice TV’s new documentary on Dr. Suzy and Bonoboville (including an appearance from Coralyn at the Bonoboville Reunion) which is “salacious, suspicious and rather sanctimonious,” inciting anti-sex comments, especially compared to the shameless sex-positivity of the #1 Nielsen-rated documentaries Dr. Suzy did with HBO.
How to balance your personal sexual needs with respect for the so-called *morals* of your more prudish family—especially if you live with them! Dr. Suzy‘s world-famous bacchanalian orgy shows.
How to prevent our erotic humanity from being destroyed by the billionaires and their bots.
Other topics include the power of kink, masturbation, sexual fantasies, cuckolding, relationship counseling, religion, fantasy roleplay, virginity, erotophobia, taboo thoughts, mother issues, Yale thongs, Bedtime Stories for Adults, The 10 Commandments of Pleasure, embracing your sexuality and more!
Dr. Susan Marilyn Block, a.k.a. “Dr. Suzy”—her remarkable life, pro-bonobo world and “controversi... more Dr. Susan Marilyn Block, a.k.a. “Dr. Suzy”—her remarkable life, pro-bonobo world and “controversial” sex therapy system, clients and techniques—is the subject of the new Vice TV documentary, “Dr. Suzy’s Controversial Phone Sex Therapy.” The piece premiered in August, 2023, shot past 100,000 views within its first week and is edging towards 200,000.
“The practice of sex therapy is changing,” says Dr. Susan Block about her groundbreaking approach. “30 years ago, when I was just starting to conduct therapy sessions over the phone, no one else was doing it, and some of my colleagues were appalled. Gradually, they realized it’s safer, more convenient, intimate, private, better for the environment and available to anyone with a phone worldwide, and started doing it themselves. Nowadays, tele-therapy or phone therapy and phone sex therapy are as common as in-person sessions. However, my unique brand of therapy allows clients to talk about ANYTHING. We are not the ‘thought police,’ and we believe in the value of talking about what’s on your mind with someone who can help you handle it. Most find this unconventional approach liberating and effective, but some—like Vice—see it as ‘controversial’.”
With unfettered access, Vice TV ventured deep inside the Dr. Susan Block Institute for the Erotic Arts & Sciences and Dr. Suzy’s Speakeasy in Bonoboville. Filmmakers documented two days in the life of Dr. Suzy, her husband Max and their merry band of bonoboësque collaborators and volunteers. Vice even takes viewers into the lives and homes of real phone sex therapy clients of the Institute who discuss how phone sex therapy has helped them.
Dr. Suzy’s playful, mindful techniques come to life in the invisible, intimate and often very healing realms of the telephone, as well as in the extended “capitalist socialist” community she calls “Bonoboville,” which exists in virtual reality as well as regular reality.
Part of the “Vice Guide to Sex” series, the episode climaxes with a bacchanalian “Bonoboville Reunion” of artists, kinksters, actors, comedians, political activists, friends and lovers in the “Womb Room” sanctuary of the “Irreverend” Dr. Susan Block’s very special “Church” of the Bonobo Way in the “Eco Village” of Bonoboville centered around her philosophy of peace through pleasure, female empowerment, male well-being, ecosexuality, friendliness, inclusivity and sharing resources.
Though the Vice piece touches upon Block’s philosophy, it focuses on the “controversies” as well as the erotic action, packing into the 17-and-a-half-minute piece much nude cavorting, while just managing to stay within YouTube’s vague but unforgiving “community guidelines.”
Taboo body parts are revealed but concealed by a whitish film. “If you squint, it looks like the editors must have ejaculated all over everyone’s nipples and genitals, and some butt crack, depending on the angle,” quips Block. “It’s funny because the Vice cameramen really focused on the nudity in Bonoboville, almost like they were trying to shoot porn, only to hand the footage over to editors who then censored it in this eerie, dehumanizing but still provocative way. It’s digital ejaculation censorship. They do seem to love that white stuff. It’s all over a painting of Marilyn Monroe, her breasts and even her face.”
Was it worth it?
“It’s a great honor and privilege to be the focus of a Vice TV documentary, reaching their huge viewership of millions,” says Block. “Their spin, however, is pretty salacious, suspicious and a little sanctimonious. After all, they call themselves ‘Vice,” and present my work as a kind of ‘vice.’ They’re more sex-positive than most major media, but with a dash of disapproval. And it’s not just the sex. Much of our art is censored, as is our politics. They also keep changing the title, making it sleazier with each alteration. I’ve complained to the producer, but he says there’s nothing I can do, as all the Vice marketing team is looking for are ‘views’… and not getting sued.”
Besides garnering over 180,000 views, the new Vice documentary has inspired hundreds of passionate comments, ranging from great praise, support, tributes and testimonials to thundering rage, outrage, disgust, condemnation, denigration, slut-shaming, elder abuse, misogyny, thought-policing, prayer-reciting and even violent threats.
The ongoing, name-calling debate between lovers and haters of Dr. Suzy’s “controversial” phone sex therapy, kink-positive Bonoboville community and Bonobo Way philosophy is a sign of the times, elucidating a views-driven cultural divide in America and around the world that questions the very nature of sexual health and mental well-being.
Bonoboville Reunion guests include Daniele Watts (aka DaLove), Chef Belive, Amor Hilton, Sally Mullins, Man-Pet, Shannon Coronado, Mistress Mina Nietsche de Sade, Nova, Kacy T-Girl, Onyx Muse, Rhiannon Aarons, Coralyn Jewel, Erikka Rijks, Ikkor the Wolf, Luzer Twersky, Abby Martin, Mike Prysner, Stan Kent, Cyn Yen, and John Barrymore.
Other segments show flashbacks of Dr. Suzy’s shows with Too $hort, Dr. Christopher Ryan, Nancy Friday and Dave Bautista.
Susan M Block, Ph.D., aka “Dr. Suzy,” is an internationally renowned sexologist best-known for her groundbreaking HBO specials. She has hosted The Dr. Susan Block Show for almost 35 years, and is the best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure. A magna cum laude Yale graduate, Counterpunch columnist, DomCon and AASECT lecturer, and champion of sex education, bonobo conservation and freedom of speech, recently featured in Vice TV’s Sex Before the Internet, interviewed on Abby Martin’s Dosed and nominated for the “Most Popular Sex Educator” Urban X Award, Dr. Block hosts F.D.R. Radio every Saturday night with her husband of 31 years, publisher and producer Maximillian Lobkowicz di Filangieri. She’s also been featured on NPR, Oprah, Health, The Doctors, and many others. But she’ll never quit her “day job” as director and chief therapist with the Dr. Susan Block Institute, helping couples, singles and groups to explore, enjoy, take responsibility for and live their best sexual lives.
“I just hope that, despite—or because of—its flaws, this Vice piece inspires some viewers to check out our own shows and books and join us in Bonoboville, as well as encouraging people who need help to call the Institute for private therapy whenever they need to talk.”
The Urban X Awards has nominated renowned sexologist Dr. Susan Block, a.k.a. “Dr. Suzy,” for its ... more The Urban X Awards has nominated renowned sexologist Dr. Susan Block, a.k.a. “Dr. Suzy,” for its “Most Popular Sex Educator” award. Originally called the Urban Spice Awards, established in 2008, the Urban X Awards recognize achievements by performers and others in adult media, with a focus on Black, Latin and Asian achievers. The winners are voted for by fans. Besides Dr. Susan Block, other nominees for the “Sex Educator” 2023 award include Tyomi Morgan, ACS, Jetsetting Jasmine, Sinnamon Love, Pegstress (Peggin tha Stallion), Madame Carmen, Jessica Drake and Ericka Hart.
“I’m thrilled to be among such illustrious nominees,” says Dr. Suzy. “In this erotophobic era of sex education suppression, banning books, anti-sex social media censorship, repression of sexual expression, defunding the Kinsey Institute, firing sex educators and rendering The Handmaid’s Tale all too real, it’s great to be honored for our work… and play. Thank you, Urban X Awards, for your courage and great taste.”
Susan M Block, Ph.D., aka “Dr. Suzy,” is an internationally acclaimed sexologist best-known for her groundbreaking HBO specials. She is currently featured in the new Vice TV documentary, “Dr. Suzy’s Controversial Phone Sex Therapy.” She has hosted The Dr. Susan Block Show for almost 35 years, and is the best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure. A magna cum laude Yale graduate, Counterpunch columnist, DomCon and AASECT lecturer, and champion of sex education, bonobo conservation and freedom of speech, recently featured in Vice TV’s Sex Before the Internet and Abby Martin’s Dosed. Dr. Block hosts F.D.R. Radio every Saturday night with her husband of 31 years, publisher and producer Maximillian Lobkowicz di Filangieri. She’s also been featured on NPR, Oprah, Health, The Doctors, and many other media outlets. But she’ll never quit her “day job” as director and chief therapist with the Dr. Susan Block Institute, helping couples, singles and groups to explore, enjoy, take responsibility for and live their best sexual lives.
World renowned sexologist, best-selling author of The Bonobo Way, and host of the Dr. Susan Block... more World renowned sexologist, best-selling author of The Bonobo Way, and host of the Dr. Susan Block Show, Dr. Susan Block, a.k.a. Dr. Suzy, recently appeared on episode 5 of VICE TV’s Sex Before the Internet series, produced by former ABC News President James Goldstone. In the episode titled “Sex on TV,” which first aired on Feb. 7, 2023, Dr. Suzy discusses both her experiences and the impact of HBO’s groundbreaking cult favorite reality show, Real Sex.
“HBO was the place to go for adult entertainment that was as smart as it was sexy in those spicy, sex-exploratory years surrounding the turn of the 21st century,” explains Dr. Suzy. “In many ways, HBO’s Real Sex was unprecedented in television history and unsurpassed ever since. It also happened to be open-minded, informative, educational, empathetic, relatively nonjudgmental, funny and a lot of fun.”
The feeling was mutual. HBO called Dr. Suzy “radio’s sexiest, funniest, most outrageous sex therapist… if conversation is a sex act, then this Yale graduate has a very talented tongue.”
Vice’s “Sex on TV” opens with footage of Dr. Suzy’s signature “Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners…” which leads into her monologue on ethical hedonism that also kicks off Real Sex 25. The moment is followed by a present-day interview with Dr. Suzy, where she states that Real Sex was “a sexual revolution—for television.”
After making cameo appearances on a few of the very first Real Sex shows, Dr. Suzy was first featured on Real Sex 11 in 1995, then again on Real Sex 25 in 1999. In between her Real Sex segments, HBO launched two half-hour spin-offs hosted by Dr. Suzy, Radio Sex TV (1997) and Radio Sex TV 2: Off the Dial (1998), all about “Sex. Fun. Wisdom.” Both were #1-rated Nielsen specials.
“Sex on TV” also shows a Real Sex 11 clip of Dr. Suzy broadcasting her live syndicated radio show from bed 28 years ago, juxtaposed with her present-day studio as she broadcasts alongside her husband of over 30 years (also appearing in Radio Sex TV and her Real Sex segments), Max Lobkowicz, on F.D.R. Radio, where she still helps callers with their love lives, still educating, exploring and sharing “sex… fun… wisdom.”
The episode also includes interviews with former head of HBO Documentary Films and Real Sex executive producer Sheila Nevins, former HBO President Michael Fuchs, Real Sex lead producer Patti Kaplan, producer/director Deb Wasser, and other members of the female-led Real Sex production team, along with appearances by sex educator Tristan Taormino (another Real Sex featured guest), as well as comedians Nikki Glaser, Lunell, Joanna Briley, Zach Noe Towers, and adult performer Silvia Saige, all of whom say they *grew up on* Real Sex when it aired on HBO, and a few of whom would love to *bring it back* in some form.
In her Vice interview, Dr. Suzy talks about how Real Sex greatly expanded her audience, enabling her to reach people all over the world, as it helped so many others to share their sexual experience, insight and joy via this unique and remarkable TV show.
Back by popular demand after her 2021 and 2022 “State of the Sexual Union” (SOTSU) addresses, wor... more Back by popular demand after her 2021 and 2022 “State of the Sexual Union” (SOTSU) addresses, world-renowned sexologist Dr. Susan Block, aka Dr. Suzy, returned to Active Radio with host Hartley Pleshaw on WCAP-AM 980 in the Massachusetts Valley on 2/25/23 to deliver a new SOTSU address for 2023.
“We had Joe Biden’s State of the Union last week. We had Vladimir Putin’s address. Well, those were just amateurs,” opined Hartley Pleshaw by way of introduction. “Today you’re going to get what we consider to be the most important state of the union – State of the Sexual Union, I should say – address of 2023, the one and only Dr. Susan Block… sexologist supreme.”
The two then discussed a variety of topics within the “meeting ground of sex, politics and culture which” Hartley says, “I believe [Dr. Susan Block] covers and handles better than anyone in the present contemporary scene.”
Just before the end, at the climax of the show, Dr. Suzy delivered the heart of her 2023 SOTSU address, her passionate “I Have a Fantasy” speech, inspired by Dr. Martin Luther King’s iconic 1963 “I Have a Dream” speech, updated for 2023.
Some of the subjects discussed include:
-War: Right after Dr. Suzy’s 2022 SOTSU address, Russia bombed Ukraine, and now America and most of Europe are at war with Russia, putting much of the world on a warpath which is the opposite of the Bonobo Way, the path of peace through pleasure. This warpath, mapped out for us by the war profiteers within the Miltary-Industrial Complex, dominates our budget, our hearts and minds and some of our bodies. During this year of war, Dr. Suzy responded with “Make Kink Not War” at her Yale Reunion, DomCon and on FDR, one of her key “fantasies” being to replace the Capitalocene, which values war for profit, with the Bonobocene, valuing female empowerment, male well-being, sharing resources, good sex and peace through pleasure. That’s one reason the theme of Dr. Suzy’s annual presentation at DomCon 2022 was Make Kink Not War: Be Bonobo.
-Censorship by Bot: The “Artificial Intelligence” (AI)—or as Dr. Suzy calls it, “Artificial Ignorance”—that terminated The Dr. Susan Block Show channel (and many other great shows and channels) on YouTube, and her remarkably effective “Block Curse” on YouTube CEO and Censor-in-Chief Susan Wojcicki who subsequently resigned. Nevertheless, despite the power of “Block Magic,” she says that Free Speech—in terms of noncorporate sex education and political expression—is still being unfairly censored in our more and more corporate, and less and less human (let alone humane) social media.
-Real Sex: Hartley dubs Dr. Suzy the “Official Sexologist of Active Radio” and commends her recent appearance in Vice TV’s Sex before the Internet episode 5, explores how HBO’s Real Sex revolutionized the portrayal of sex on television.
-DeSantis: Prompted by Hartley’s questions about the book-burning Florida Governor’s “Don’t Say Gay” programs, coupled with his 2024 U.S. Presidential ambitions, Dr. Suzy delves into the fascism-lite “phony cafone” populism and sadistic personality traits of her fellow Yale grad (Class of 2001, also a member in the infamous Delta Kappa Epsilon fraternity, like G.W. Bush), Ron DeSantis and his personal record of torture and deception when he was a CIA lawyer stationed at Guantanamo prison as described in an interview conducted by Mike Prysner (the marvelous Abby Martin’s awesome husband) with one of his former prisoners.
-Trump: Hartley asks Dr. Suzy to address sexual conservatives’ support for Trump, a sexual libertine, to which she replies, “In a word, it’s hypocrisy,” then talks about how a libertine created a S. Supreme Court of the Religious Right to rule a citizenry that’s less religious than ever.
-Drag: When Hartley asks Dr. Suzy her views on the “Republican jihad about drag queens,” she discusses the history of ”drag” from prehistoric times to Shakespeare to now, and how closeted crossdressing, bisexual desires, erotophobia and shame mix with Rightwing politicians’ cynical and divisive approach to this “culture wedge” issue, creating a ridiculous yet very dangerous anti-Drag Queen/anti-trans crusade that has triggered mass shootings and other violence.
-“I Have a Fantasy”: Dr. Suzy delivers her latest rendition of “I Have a Fantasy,” inspired by MLK’s “I Have a Dream.”
Listen to Dr. Suzy’s 2023 State of the Sexual Union address and chat with Hartley Pleshaw on Active Radio WCAP 980-AM: https://drsusanblock.com/active-radio-3
Prominent investigative journalist (Breaking the Set, The Empire Files), artist, activist and com... more Prominent investigative journalist (Breaking the Set, The Empire Files), artist, activist and commentator, Abby Martin, along with her partner, political activist Mike Prysner, interviewed Dr. Susan Block on episode #22 of their live Callin show, “DOSED With Abby Martin.” For each episode, Martin invites different public figures and freethinkers to offer their insights on what’s happening in the world today.
On this broadcast, Martin and Prysner ask Block for her unique sexological perspective of current events, especially violence, war and politics—which is tied to Martin’s opening question, “Would you say that America has a healthy relationship to sex and our bodies?”
Martin begins with a riveting reading from Block’s acclaimed 2001 essay, “Sex Not Bombs” in which she compares the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Centers to a “castration” of America’s great phallic towers of power. Then Martin and Prysner ask Block for her views on sexuality and violence in America, and the discussion delves into the relatively liberated Native American tribes vs. the strict, punishing Puritans who invaded this land and the Neo-Puritans on the Supreme Court now controlling it. As Block sees it, the American denigration of natural diverse sexuality—sex for recreation, not just procreation—has played a significant part in our high levels of violence, misogyny, mass murder, ammosexual incels on the march, perma wars, “forced breeding” and “forced feeding,” along with the increasing mechanization, militarization and polarization that is engineering the economic and ecological collapse of America and perhaps human civilization. A bleak horizon, but Block sees a glimmer of hope in our kissing cousins, the “Make Love Not War” bonobos, and believes that following a “Bonobo Way” of peace through pleasure, female empowerment, male well-being and sharing resources, could go a long way toward solving some of these problems.
The discussion, which includes calls from the audience, runs over two hours. This marks the first time that Martin has interviewed Block, though Block interviewed Martin on “The Dr. Susan Block Show” in 2015, and Martin’s brother (who makes a quick appearance on this show) Robbie Martin interviewed Block on Media Roots about two years ago. Abby and Mike both make a brief appearance on Block’s Bonoboville Reunion show released in the Spring of 2022.
The State of the Union is important, especially now(!). But what about the State of the SEXUAL Un... more The State of the Union is important, especially now(!). But what about the State of the SEXUAL Union? As the imperialist bullies of the world & the MSM wage war, let's not forget LOVE... and sex. With that in mind, give a listen... Following a rousing reception to my 2021 “State of the Sexual Union” address, I returned to Active Radio with host Hartley Pleshaw on WCAP-AM 980 in the Massachusetts Valley to deliver a new State of the Sexual Union address for 2022. Broadcast live 2/12/22, this special V-Day weekend address and interview focused on some of the major themes and events of the past year, including
~The ongoing Coronapocalypse, and how singles and couples are navigating the difficulties and opportunities of pandemic sex... ~2022 improvement: We don’t have a grifting, sociopathic narcissist in the White House, but we do have a geriatric neoliberal corporate military industrial complex cheerleader, which is only marginally better... ~The 1/6/21 Insurrection and its noxious aftermath... ~The Afghan war and the monstrous American Military-Industrial Complex... ~The Massage Parlor Massacre and the general rise in misogynistic ammosexual violence and discourse... ~Andrew Cuomo, #MeToo and the backlash... ~Joe Rogan, Jordan Peterson and the masculinist incel movement... ~Why distinguished leftist journalist Chris Hedges “plague of pornography” campaign is dangerously misguided... ~Neopuritanism rising on the Right and the Left... ~Toxic masculinity and toxic femininity... ~The American Conservative and the misogynistic Sexual Counterrevolution... ~The atrocity of Julian Assange still being imprisoned... ~Small wins for sex last year: Onlyfans flipped and Stormy Daniels won her suit against Michael Avenatti... ~The ominous anti-sex, anti-Free Speech “EARN IT” act is worse than the proven-to-be-bad SESTA/FOSTA acts... ~Happy Lupercalia, the original pagan Valentine’s Day, and Happy World Bonobo Day! Help save humanity’s closest great ape cousins, the bonobo chimpanzees, from extinction – and release your inner bonobo for better sex and a better life... ~Follow The Bonobo Way of ecosexuality, female empowerment and male well-being, antiwar activism, sharing, caring and peace through pleasure...
Just did this fun, penetrating “Washington Babylon” interview with eminent investigative journali... more Just did this fun, penetrating “Washington Babylon” interview with eminent investigative journalist (Vice, LA Times, NY Observer, Harper’s) & co-founder of Counterpunch (!), Ken Silverstein, entitled “11 Minutes With Sexologist Susan Block on Sex Therapy, The Bonobo Way, and Billionaire Penis Size,” though time flies, & it goes twice that long—though it feels like half
Topics include sexology & sex therapy; The Bonobo Way of female empowerment, male well-being & peace through pleasure; Sperm Wars & the insufferable “Billionaire Dicks in Space Race” vs. Bonobos Penis-Fencing; the legendary Dr. Susan Block Show; the founding of Counterpunch & the late great Alexander Cockburn; plus pervy police raids on Block Studios—including one on the day of this interview! More about this most recent ridiculous police raid coming soon
“Active Radio” host Hartley Pleshaw interviewed Dr. Susan Block on WCAP-AM 980 live 2/6/21 throug... more “Active Radio” host Hartley Pleshaw interviewed Dr. Susan Block on WCAP-AM 980 live 2/6/21 throughout the Massachusetts Valley area. Generally covering politics and culture, Dr. Block’s interview is Active Radio’s first episode entirely dedicated to love and sexuality. Bringing her special expertise to live talk radio, the “Theater of the Mind,” once again, Block talks with Pleshaw about a variety of sex and romance-related topics, from “Love in the Time of Coronavirus” and the study of Sexology to Big Tech social media censorship; the #MeToo movement; Trump’s bad influence on sexual expression; bonobos and The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure and more. When Pleshaw requests that she give a “State of the Sexual Union” address, Block delivers “I Have a Fantasy,” inspired by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech at the 1963 March on Washington. A rousing address, “I Have a Fantasy” (also available on F.D.R. (F*ck Da Rich): Fantasy Tailgating) hopes for a better, more bonoboësque world with greater acceptance of all forms of consensual sexuality and erotic freedom of expression.
How does human sexuality influence politics? How are politicians now trying to control sex? “Sex... more How does human sexuality influence politics? How are politicians now trying to control sex? “Sex Workers Battled Big Tech First, Obscenity Laws & Cuckolding in the Trump-era with Dr. Susan Block,” hosted by Robbie Martin on Media Roots Radio, explores these issues and more in this riveting, revealing and inspirational interview.
After the Trump Riots and before the Biden inauguration, Robbie and Susan discuss the rioters’ sexual motivations and the insurrection itself as an “orgy of violence”; the growing popularity of cuckolding, practiced actively by Trump operatives, Paul Manafort and Roger Stone, and the hypocritical weaponizing of the term “cuck”; the destructive effects of SESTA/FOSTA laws on sex workers’ lives and on all of our Freedom of Speech, and the looming threat of SISEA (Stop Internet Exploitation Act); Vice President Kamala Harris’ worrisome record as California Attorney General aggressively prosecuting sex workers and Backpage; the “Chilling Effect” on the porn industry and all forms of erotic expression from “set up” cases like Max Hardcore’s (on The Dr. Susan Block Show shortly after his release from prison in 2011); the benefits of lust over greed; the inspirational example of our close great ape cousins, the bonobos, and The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure, and much more.
Media Roots Radio is a “non-partisan, radical political podcast focusing on foreign policy, the police state, and social issues” co-hosted by filmmaker Robbie Martin and his sister, journalist Abby Martin, interviewed on The Dr. Susan Block Show in 2014, host of The Empire Files and formerly of Breaking the Set (RT).
Dr. Susan Block is an award-winning sexologist, talk show host, best-selling author of The Bonobo Way, advocate for bonobo conservation, columnist and sex therapist in private practice.
“AfterHours,” a GasMaskGirl podcast hosted by Ameena, interviewed Dr. Susan Block on 10/9/20 abou... more “AfterHours,” a GasMaskGirl podcast hosted by Ameena, interviewed Dr. Susan Block on 10/9/20 about her long and illustrious sexology career, her marriage of over 28 years, some of her most effective sex therapy techniques, a few of her current projects and her thoughts on various hot topics, including sex, love and fetish in the Coronapocalypse, politics, conspiracy theories, culture, climate change and The Bonobo Way. She also tells the origin story of The Dr. Susan Block Show, going back 35 years, as well as her first show with GasmaskGirl just after the 2016 election. “GasMaskGirl was the perfect guest for our state of electoral dysfunction,” says Dr. Block. “With Trump, I felt the very air we were breathing would soon be so toxic we’d need gasmasks. Little did I know how prescient that feeling would be.” When Ameena asks what brings her the most joy during this strange period in time, Dr, Block’s answer is sex, of course (no more in-person orgies in the Coronopocalypse, but at least she’s got her husband Max!). She also savors simple pleasures, such as playing with Bonoboville’s newest and cutest member, Chico Peggles the Pomeranian power puppy! You can listen to this enriching podcast here. https://gasmaskgirl.com/dr-susan-block
“Sex in the Pews” host Glenn Klein welcomes Dr. Susan Block back to a second interview “in the pe... more “Sex in the Pews” host Glenn Klein welcomes Dr. Susan Block back to a second interview “in the pews,” with congratulations on her first interview having “gone viral,” scoring the most hits of all “Sex in the Pews” podcasts in 2019. No wonder she won the “Sexologist of the Year” Glenny award! The “Sex in the Pews” podcast is dedicated to promoting a healthy attitude towards sex, as well as dismantling religion and the harm it can cause. The subject of Dr. Suzy first top-scoring interview (episode #58) is her longtime philosophy of “Ethical Hedonism.” In this second interview (episode #270), Glenn asks Dr. Suzy what to do “When Life Gets in the Way of Sex,” and Dr. Suzy replies that “Sex is the essence of life (thus the podcast title), the trick we play on death; sex is what brings us into the world, and sex is what motivates us to stick around for a while.” She also addresses how work, family, school, social media, politics, religion, resentment, jealousy, boredom, health issues, weight gain, the aging process, the environment, schedules—and now the Coronapocalypse—all can get “in the way” of sex. They talk about the importance of planning sex dates; “The best-laid plans may not get you laid the way you planned,” says Dr. Suzy, “but plan anyway,” and no, it doesn’t “ruin the spontaneity”). She also suggests entering the “erotic theater of the mind,” as well as making sex a top priority, or at least in the top five. Listen to the podcast to find out the other four, as well as hear more about bonobos (they certainly prioritize sex!), The Bonobo Way, “medibation” (masturbation plus meditation), our biggest sex organs and true tales of sexual experiences “in the pews” of Church and Temple. Glenn also credits Dr. Suzy with enlightening him on their first interview about how male circumcision is a form of genital mutilation (like female circumcision which is usually considerably worse) and, when performed on an infant, a form of child sexual abuse. Indeed, their lively conversation touches upon many subjects in the intersecting realms of sexuality, spirituality, religion, eroticism, health, abortion, sports, laughter, politics and culture. Listen here.: https://sexinthepews.podbean.com/e/270-%E2%80%93-sex-is-the-essence-of-life-with-dr-suzy-block/
Marabelle Blue, host of Kink E. Magazine’s weekly podcast, KEM Top Talk, talks with Dr. Susan Blo... more Marabelle Blue, host of Kink E. Magazine’s weekly podcast, KEM Top Talk, talks with Dr. Susan Block about her life and times as America’s premiere phone sex therapist in this in-depth interview.
Starting with Dr. Suzy's early career as a radio talk show host, author and therapist pursuing her doctorate in psychology, Marabelle delves into her development of “telephone sex therapy” as a viable therapeutic alternative, combining traditional sex therapy and relationship counseling with healing-oriented phone sex, erotic hypnosis, bonobo liberation therapy and other methods.
Dr. Suzy further discusses the benefits of phone sex therapy, as well as webcam and sext therapy, in a digital world, and how the “erotic theater of the mind” can mitigate the deeply-ingrained sense of shame, repression and confusion that clients feel about their sexual desires.
The two also talk about the advantages of attending kink-positive events like DomCon where Dr. Suzy will be this year’s Mistress of Ceremonies. KEM Top Talk streams on a variety of platforms including Spotify, iTunes, and RadioPublic, and you can check it out here: https://drsusanblock.com/kem
Dr. Suzy offers tips on "How to have Seriously Hot Phone Sex" in Health.com, from timing to breat... more Dr. Suzy offers tips on "How to have Seriously Hot Phone Sex" in Health.com, from timing to breathing, turning fantasy into memory to utilizing your "sexy voice" in If you're interested in trying to initiate phone sex with a lover for the first time and you have no idea how to start, read this article: https://www.health.com/sex/phone-sex
"Bonobo Way" author Dr. Susan Block talks with "Secular Sexuality" about why bonobos are special:... more "Bonobo Way" author Dr. Susan Block talks with "Secular Sexuality" about why bonobos are special: 1) They're very close to us, 2) They have a lot of sex, 3) Females rule Bonoboville,. 4) They promote male well-being, and 5) They make peace through pleasure." Hosts Christy Powell and Vi la Bianca go on to interview Dr. Block about bonobo culture, pansexuality, prehistoric human society and how humans can release their inner bonobos through Bonobo Liberation Therapy.
Audio erotica is blowing up right now, from Silicon Valley-backed startups to the rise of ASMR — ... more Audio erotica is blowing up right now, from Silicon Valley-backed startups to the rise of ASMR — not to mention a huge growth in podcasts. But the hub for audio erotica can be found on Reddit in a community of more than 300,000 devoted fans and amateur performers. We dive into this world to understand audio erotica’s surprising moment in the cultural spotlight and the unexpected ways it’s transforming people’s lives. Thanks to Redditor u/Papa200034 for this week's episode art, "Study." You can find more of his work on Instagram @_afnan.art.
We feature audio in this episode from Redditors u/Eves-garden, u/wasawaynowimback, u/The__Other__Guy, u/everdistant_utopia, u/garden_slumber, u/igrokyou, u/AnAudioDilletante, u/LoveAtFirstMoan, u/Skitty_GWA, u/Xyta_Midnyte, u/Crescent_Spoon, u/tarkustrooper, u/heartdamage, u/VexxingCat, and u/mymbling.
It’s field trip day in the Pews as we take a wonderful journey to Bonoboville with Sexologist Dr.... more It’s field trip day in the Pews as we take a wonderful journey to Bonoboville with Sexologist Dr. Susan Block. Dr. Suzy is a sex therapist, author, filmmaker, cable TV talk show host, and cultural commentator. She is perhaps best known for her HBO specials. She is also the founder and director of The Dr. Susan Block Institute for the Erotic Arts & Science.
Among the voluminous topics covered: Dr. Suzy’s path from Yale University to becoming a world renowned sexologist and social commentator, what she has discovered about “The Bonobo Way”—the sex lives of Bonobo Monkeys and what we should learn from them, what percentage of women are orgasmic today versus years ago, “outercourse” as contrasted with intercourse, the biggest sex organ of the body, dealing with men’s fear of lack of size, eco-sexuality, what is “ethical hedonism”, pan sexuality, plus much, much more. This is ain’t going to be boring and will be an instant Sex in the Pews Classic.
NSFW or children. Strong Sexual Content, Language, Intellect and, Humor.
A portion of all proceeds donated to combat human sex slave trafficking and genital mutilation.
Bloody Mary in the morning? Cherry pie in the afternoon? Riding the Crimson Wave into the night a... more Bloody Mary in the morning? Cherry pie in the afternoon? Riding the Crimson Wave into the night and over the moon?
If you love Red Wings (hold the jalapeño), you’re already salivating. If you don’t, well, you may wish to be excused from this berry-stained episode of Sex Calls.
Though it’s gorily perfect for Halloween!
“Steve” is calling for my help with his fetish for “period sex.” Dr. Suzy as “Aunt Ruby” to the rescue! There’s nothing wrong with having sex – even cunnilingus, aka “red wings,” as Steve confesses he enjoys – when a woman is menstruating. In fact, it can be wonderful – albeit a bit messy – especially for the menstruating woman.
After all, period cramps can be painful, and an orgasm is an amazingly effective, organic painkiller.
Parting the Red Sea with Passion… And then there’s the almost Biblical, extremely taboo aspect of period sex which I address in my Esther Story featured in The Erotic Edge, mingling the “blood of my affliction with the juice of my affection.”
Period sex can also be a “rare” pleasure for the Bloody Mary-loving man, a man like Steve, the primal wildness, the forbidden (sometimes called “unclean“) flavors, the “war paint” aftermath and especially the earthly, womanly “scent.” Some guys even feel it gives them super powers.
Steve’s “concern” is that he is a self-described “sexually active male,” chowing down on “red wings” at two or three different restaurants – I mean, with two or three menstruating women at a time – well, not at the same time (that would be quite the Halloween gore fest!), but within a few days of each other.
At least Steve wears condoms, but still, blood sports are inherently dangerous for a range of reasons. For one thing, it’s “unsanitary,” I caution our bloodied love warrior. It’s also rather unsafe sex. “I believe you should respect your turn-ons,” I advise, “but I also believe you should respect your life… and their lives.”
Do you think Steve is weird? Perhaps, but this Red Wing Gourmet savors the fact that not many men have a taste for strawberry tamales – partly because it makes his lovers love him even more. “You found a niche,” I concur, “kind of like ‘niche marketing’” – especially when you’re as much on the “meat” market as Steve says he is.
Nevertheless, “everything in moderation,” I caution Red Sea surfer Steve. “Be an ethical hedonist… “While I want you to enjoy your fetish, I hope you can treat these women as real human beings and not just as founts of bloody passion.”
Those last four words seem to give Steve an instant erection. Nevertheless, he agrees that a monogamous relationship would be safest for having monthly period sex with the kind of wild abandon he adores.
Like most Sex Calls, this one is timeless, though it does reference my neopuritan nemesis Dr. Laura Schlessinger. I’m also wearing a cap HBO gave me while my HBO special (rated #1 at the time), was running, so it was probably broadcast live around 1998.
Will Steve find himself the ultimate red wing(s)? Even if he does, will he be satisfied with just one? Find out in this vintage clip from the “SEX CALLS” broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on our live Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For current shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com.
Angel calls in on a wing and a prayer, her soft cherubic voice as wishful as it is wistful.
“I’m... more Angel calls in on a wing and a prayer, her soft cherubic voice as wishful as it is wistful.
“I’m fearful of sex,” Angel confesses to me, her Mother Confessor, “and I’d like to be more sexual and sensual.”
Fear and sex have had a deeply intertwined relationship ever since our prehistoric ancestors mated in pleasure surrounded by predators right up to the rampant erotophobia of our sex-negative society. Fear can be an aphrodisiac, but it can also be a passion-killer, morphing into its irritating, enervating, party-pooping cousins, anxiety and paranoia. Angel is experiencing all of the above.
Angel’s 29 years old and practically a virgin, having only been with two men, and her second, current relationship is more about exhibitionism, voyeurism and teasing than *regular* sex. She says she and her lover use condoms, but they don’t have intercourse. He also has other partners (he’s a bit of a swinger), which bothers Angel… and turns her on at the same time. Angel may be inexperienced, but she’s kind of kinky.
Fearful of Sex: Anxiety or Aphrodisiac?
She’s also rather religious (with a name like Angel, it’s to be expected), but hers is not a typical religious household because her entire Christian family loves The Dr. Susan Block Show (guess that makes it a “family show”), especially her younger, more sexually experienced sister who likes my attitude and my “outfits.”
Speaking of outfits, it happens to be my 5th wedding anniversary (with my beloved Capt’n Max!), so I’m all decked out in my white bridal crinoline, pearls and wedding veil topped by a sparkling tiara. Its fun, but it’s also always a little scary to be a bride (or groom)!
To contrast with all that pure white, I wield a rather impure, black leather riding crop, twirling it like a baton as Angel tells me about her devout Christian Mom who actually whips her Dad as they roleplay. Well, the religious are often the wild ones. Angel’s swinger/voyeur/lover, whom she describes as the embodiment of “temptation,” sounds like a bit of a snake, and my own pet Akeeta corn snake Eve just happens to be slithering all over my body to demonstrate.
Will Angel open up despite her fear of sex – or because of it? How can such a sweet inexperienced, trusting spirit handle this seductive player who is “playing a dangerous game”? How can she explore the balance of trust and lust, exhibitionism and voyeurism, safe sex and adventurous fantasy? Watch “Fearful of Sex” and find out!
“Fearful of Sex” is a vintage clip from the “SEX CALLS” broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998) broadcast live from Dr. Suzy’s Speakeasy at the Villa Piacere. This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on my Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For current shows and other events, visit us at DrSusanBlock.com.
“Dr. Block, I'm having a problem: I have to masturbate at least 10 times before I get up in the m... more “Dr. Block, I'm having a problem: I have to masturbate at least 10 times before I get up in the morning,” confesses a self-described "older woman" aptly named "Hot Frost" calling in to The Dr. Susan Block Show.
Wow, sounds like it takes a LOT of onanistic orgasms to defrost Hot Frost.
Of course, there's nothing wrong with masturbation - even 10 times before breakfast - but since the sizzling Hot Frost frames it as a "problem," I suggest she take up belly dancing.
"That is really cool!" replies Hot Frost who is actually quite cool herself, as well as, well, hot.
I'm glad she likes my idea because it just so happens that I have a couple of sexy and very sensuous belly dancers, the lovely Leela and Salome, as guests on this show, lounging voluptuously in my big broadcast bed like its King Solomon's harem. They agree that belly dancing is a great way to express your sexual energy while you get in shape and socialize. Plus, you get to shake your booty like Leela and Salome in glittering bras and bangles.
Turns out to be the perfect advice for high-energy Hot Frost who happens to be an "erotic dancer." Max and I invite her to visit the show, and several Saturdays later, she actually shows up, looking even sexier than she sounds... but that's another show. Suffice it to say, it's Erotic Expression in Motion.
“Masturbation Bellydance” is a vintage clip from the “SEX CALLS” broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on our Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For current shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com
Have a question about masturbation? Or is there something else you need to talk about that you can’t talk about anywhere else? Experience Phone Sex Therapy. Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213-291-9497. Hot or Frosty, we’re here for you.
"Am I gay?" wonders Jo.
A 34-year-old woman who loves men, Jo can only orgasm when thinking abou... more "Am I gay?" wonders Jo.
A 34-year-old woman who loves men, Jo can only orgasm when thinking about women, and only from oral sex (not intercourse). So, Jo calls me to help her sort it all out, and Oh-My-Goddess, do we!
Do YOU ever have fantasies that you don't really want to act out, but nothing makes you climax like these taboo desires, so you wonder... should you act on them?
This is Jo's dilemma. When she has sex with a man, she can only experience orgasm when he gives her oral pleasure, and as he does that, she imagines that her male lover is a woman.
"Does that mean I'm gay?" she asks me.
It's a simple enough question, but complicated by Jo’s conflicted feelings. Does she *really* want to be with women, or is she enticed by the "forbidden" qualities of lesbian sex, flavored by her devout "Christian" upbringing? When should a fantasy become reality... if ever?
Is Jo simply bisexual? Bi-curious? Or does she really crave "making love to herself” – which appears as same-sex love in the erotic theater of her mind? Is that the hidden meaning of Jo’s bi oral desires? Could real-life, shame-free self-pleasure help Jo discover her deepest orgasmic potential? Watch this riveting Sex Calls clip - featuring me, Jo and my slinky snake Eve - and find out!
"Bi Oral Desires" is a vintage clip from the "SEX CALLS" broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on our Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For current shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com.
Have a question about bisexuality, oral pleasure or solo sex? Or is there something else you need to talk about that you can't talk about anywhere else? Experience Phone Sex Therapy. Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213-291-9497. We're here for you.
Jessica calls into DrSuzy.Tv with the quintessential “lifestyle” issue.
“I’ve had a couple of or... more Jessica calls into DrSuzy.Tv with the quintessential “lifestyle” issue.
“I’ve had a couple of orgies,” she explains. Wow, 26-years-old and quite the sex party hostess!
The problem, Jessica continues, is that every time she tells a new boyfriend about the orgies, he breaks up with her.
So, she asks me, should she keep her orgiastic exploits a “secret” or find someone who will accept this somewhat taboo part of her?
To Tell or Not to Tell…
That is the question! As I see it, Jessica needs to choose between two schools of sexual adventurism, the European and the American, which break down – more or less – like this:
1) The European Way: You lead a double life and keep your extracurricular secret from your significant other. This is sometimes referred to as cheating, but with the caveat that you will do your utmost to ensure that your partner will never be confronted with the truth. If and when they are, all bets are off. That’s the downside of doing it Euro-style; learning the truth of your partner’s lust can destroy your trust.
2) The American Way: You’re honest about your sexuality, even if it means alienating a potential partner. This might involve engaging in the extracurricular sex with them or just being open about it, even if they don’t join in. I realize that honesty isn’t all that “American” – at least not in politics – but this is how many kinky sex experts differentiate stealthy sex parties (Euro) from honest orgies (USA).
There are probably Asian and African Ways as well, but these seem to break down the basic choices open to Jessica’s conundrum.
Though I choose the “American Way” for myself and generally recommend it to others, I understand and even respect the European “double” lifestyle, despite its inherent dangers. Regardless of the way we choose to mix the flavors of our sex lives with the palate of our day to day, there will always be benefits and pitfalls.
To help her make her own choice, I ask Jessica: Are you the kind of person who likes to share what’s going on in your life with the person you love?
What do you think Jessica says? What way does she choose – European or American? Watch and find out!
“Secret Orgies” is a vintage clip from the “SEX CALLS” broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998) broadcast live from Dr. Suzy’s Speakasy at the Villa Piacere in the Hollywood Hills. This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on one of my Saturday night live shows. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com.
Have a question about group sex? Or is there something else you need to talk about that you can’t talk about anywhere else? Experience Phone Sex Therapy. Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213-291-9497. We’re here for you.
Do you like exciting sexual positions - but also want to be comfortable? Fiancés "Robert and Ang... more Do you like exciting sexual positions - but also want to be comfortable? Fiancés "Robert and Angie" both enjoy sex "from behind," aka doggie-style. Now Robert would like to "do" Angie in a twist on the Reverse Cowgirl Position involving her sitting on top of him, her back facing his chest but, he says, "it's hard for her." Actually, says Angie, "it hurts," and Robert doesn't want to hurt her. So, they call internationally renowned sexologist and sex therapist Dr. Susan Block for advice in "Reverse Cowgirl Positioning."
Acknowledging Angie's pain, Dr. Block addresses the general discomfort and danger of Reverse Cowgirl. Moreover,Robert's method of doing it gives Angie no leverage or control of his level of penetration. Adding inches to the problem, they both confess, Robert is well-endowed.
Since Angie does like sex from behind and wants to give this a try, Dr. Block suggests they "do" it in steps, first assuming regular Cowgirl, face-to-face with Robert on his back and Angie on top, getting in the groove with lots of lube. Once Angie is very comfortable and Robert is very hard, she can try swiveling around to Reverse Cowgirl, taking her time and taking control, using her thigh muscles to adjust how deeply Robert penetrates her, so it never has to hurt.
Then... Giddyap! Ride 'em Cowgirl!
"Reverse Cowgirl Positioning" is a vintage clip from the "SEX CALLS" broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on Dr. Block's Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. Have a question about sexual positions? Or is there something else you need to talk about that you can't talk about anywhere else? Experience Phone Sex Therapy. Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213-291-9497. We're here for you. For current shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com. For more on sexual positions, go to https://drsusanblock.com/sex-positions.
Internationally renowned sexologist and sex therapist Dr. Susan Block counsels "Lauren" about her... more Internationally renowned sexologist and sex therapist Dr. Susan Block counsels "Lauren" about her "How to Orgasm with Your Husband" in this clip. Can you climax during intercourse with your husband? Watch “How to Orgasm with Your Husband,” a vintage (but pretty timeless!) clip from the "SEX CALLS" broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). Why is it that so many women can have orgasms with ease through solo sex, but not via intercourse with their partners? How can you integrate masturbation into lovemaking? How do you stop worrying about what society or your parents might think of you self-pleasuring? Why do we often hold our breath during sex? How does breathing deeply *into* your pelvis help you to experience orgasm? How do kegel or pubococcygeus (PC muscle) exercises help? Why is it easier for most women to experience orgasm from clitoral stimulation than vaginal penetration? What are "eargasms," "toegasms," and "nipplegasms"? Why is the clitoris, the "pearl of the oyster,” somehow involved in almost any female genital orgasm? Other subjects: fear of losing control; being patient with yourself and taking the time that you need, masturbation embarrassment; sex as an art form, sex as a spiritual practice and sex as a team sport; "achieving" vs. experiencing orgasm; squeezing and releasing the pubococcygeus (kegel) muscles; why the idea that an orgasm from just penetration is somehow better than a clitoral orgasm just an "Old Husband's Tale"; the importance of lubrication and cunnilingus for female orgasm; This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on Dr. Block's Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For more on this show, go to https://drsusanblockinstitute.com/orgasm-husband/.
Internationally renowned sexologist and sex therapist Dr. Susan Block counsels "Laurie" about her... more Internationally renowned sexologist and sex therapist Dr. Susan Block counsels "Laurie" about her "Female Ejaculation Concerns" in this short clip.
The main subject of discussion is female ejaculation, aka squirting, the orgasmic release of fluids from the urethra. But many people, like Laurie, have questions about it. Is it real? Is it normal? Is it common? Is it *really* just a golden shower? Can any woman ejaculate? Why don't more women actually do it? How do the partners of women who squirt feel about it?
“Female Ejaculation Concerns” is a vintage clip from the "SEX CALLS" broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on Dr. Block's Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. Have a question about female ejaculation or is there something else you need to talk about that you can't talk about anywhere else? Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213-291-9497. We're here for you. See this video here: https://drsusanblockinstitute.com/female-ejaculation-concerns/
Internationally renowned sexologist and sex therapist Dr. Susan Block counsels "Steven and Regina... more Internationally renowned sexologist and sex therapist Dr. Susan Block counsels "Steven and Regina," a young man and an older woman in a four-year relationship, in “High Maintenance Roleplay.”
Subjects of discussion include fantasy roleplay, relationships, age play, taboo turn-ons, erotic obsession, shaving and waxing vs. natural pubic hair, Cougar problems spanking, pigtail fetish, the importance of differentiating between real life and adult fantasies, dressing for sex, playing doctor, erotic domination, bondage, conscious kink, variety, having sex on the dining room table, using tongs as sex toys and appreciating your partner for the adult woman she is, even though you like to fantasize about her being a schoolgirl.
“High Maintenance Roleplay” is a vintage clip from the "SEX CALLS" broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on Dr. Block's Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For current shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com. This video is called "Age Play Issues" on YouTube.
Have a question, confession or fantasy, but need to talk privately? Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213-291-9497. We're here for you. Visit us: https://drsusanblockinstitute.com/fantasy-roleplay
Internationally renowned Sexologist Dr. Susan Block talks about “Bisexual Monogamy” with Alex and... more Internationally renowned Sexologist Dr. Susan Block talks about “Bisexual Monogamy” with Alex and Mark, a young woman and man in love, both of them bisexual, yet struggling with his desire to be monogamous and hers to be free to explore other women and even threesomes.
Subjects of discussion include relationships, bisexuality, monogamy, nonmonogamy, ethical hedonism, physical attraction, emotional commitment, self-pleasure and teaching your partner how to please you: “You can give pleasure by giving freedom to be with other people,” says Dr. Block. Also intercourse vs. outercourse and orgasm repression: “You don’t want to close off your options,” Dr. Block determines, “and so you close off your orgasm.”
“Bisexual Monogamy” is a vintage clip from the “SEX CALLS” broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on Dr. Block’s Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For current shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com.
Join me at Yale for my 45th class reunion as I frolic among the Ivy Towers with Capt’n Max and th... more Join me at Yale for my 45th class reunion as I frolic among the Ivy Towers with Capt’n Max and the Eli Elite, Handsome Dan XIV, Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh’s classmates (Class of 1987) rallying against him and Sam Alito (Yale Law, 1975) at the Women’s Table, and my fabulous fellow #Yale Alumni at the Yale Repertory Theater, Yale Law School, Cross Campus, Toad’s Place and more. I also host a Yale Roundtable discussion on “Peace, Love & Bonobos" which is the centerpiece of this video.
Discussion Topics: • Why we prefer King Arthur’s ROUNDtable to Putin’s long table; • Why Yale’s “Killer Ape” Anthropology department made we want to major in Theater; • How Max and I fell in love over our mutual opposition to the popular and horrible first Gulf War, commanded by President George H.W. Bush (Yale, 1948); • How our love and antiwar fervor grew during the even more horrible wars in Iraq and Afghanistan commanded by George W. Bush (Yale, 1968); • How George W. Bush’s epic Freudian slip confusing Putin’s invasion of Ukraine with his own invasion of Iraq brought the perma-war full circle; • Why I become a sexologist; • How I first learned about bonobos the Make Love Not War great apes, on PBS, and then met some at the San Diego Zoo; • What are some of the differences between apes and monkeys; • How human apes are very close genetically to bonobos, common chimps, gorillas and orangutans; • How bonobos make peace through pleasure; • How bonobos make love in a Bonobo Sutra of positions, including face-to-face; • How bonobo female empowerment is supported by male well-being and vice versa; • Why bonobos (and humans) really enjoy sharing—even with strangers; • Was Prince Chim, who lived at Yale in the Dr. Robert Yerkes primate center, the first bonobo in the United States? • What’s SEX got to do with bonobo conflict resolution? • Why other apes kill each other, and humans kill each other most; • “Grooming” in primatology vs. the culture wars; • Why bonobo female orgasm is most common during Hoka Hoka, aka genito-genital rubbing; • Intercourse vs. Outercourse among bonobos and humans; • Our competitive “inner chimp” vs. our cooperative “inner bonobo”; • Nature vs. Nurture and how a bunch of baboons went bonobos; • Primatologists Dr. Frans de Waal, Dr. Richard Wrangham, Dr. Brian Hare and Vanessa Woods on bonobos and Dr. Robert Sapolsky on baboons; • Food-sharing and “sex work” among bonobos; • Tool use and communication among bonobos and common chimps; • The benefits and drawbacks of Zoos; • The Lysistrata method vs. the Bonobo Way; • Yale’s Puritan origins; • Sex toys, sex education and the Religious Right; • The true story of the rise & fall of Sex Week at Yale (SWAY), created by Yale students and destroyed by false accusations from well-financed Christofascist forces, including Focus on the Family, and an ex-Yale President’s desire for a scapegoat for the unrelated-to-SWAY bad behavior of powerful Yale fraternities; • Why anti-abortion laws amount to forced breeding; • Why I’m against all wars of my lifetime, from America’s War in Vietnam, that I protested pre-Yale, to our current war in Ukraine. Yes, Putin started it, just as Bush invaded Iraq, but we (and NATO) continue it, and now is time for peace negotiations; • Why bonobos should be part of Peace Studies courses at Yale and other universities; • How our ammosexual society channels our natural sex drive into violence to the benefit of the weapons industry, the military, the prison system and the police; • “Make Kink Not War: Be Bonobo” and the Bonobo Way makes its way from our Bonoboville Reunion with Vice to DomCon 2022 to Yale; • How to avoid catching COVID at all these reunions; • How New Haven humidity messes with my hair; • Why bonobos are highly endangered and how we can help save them from extinction (so they can help us save ourselves!): Donate to Lola ya Bonobo, Friends of Bonobos, the Bonobo Conservation Initiative. • #GoBonobos for Bulldogs… Boola Boola! • Music: Yale Harkness Tower Bells; The Whiffenpoofs (Yale, 1977); Dr. Oscar Hills (Yale, 1977) on Banjo; Bales-Gitlin Band (Ginny Bales and Jay Gitlin) - “Disco Inferno” & “Johnny B. Goode”
Internationally renowned sex therapist and Sexologist-of-the-Year Dr. Susan M Block talks with “K... more Internationally renowned sex therapist and Sexologist-of-the-Year Dr. Susan M Block talks with “Kinky Newlyweds” Irene and Evan about how to balance lust with trust, power play, marriage, BDSM, bisexuality, threesomes, Tantra, exhibitionism, boundaries and privacy.
“Kinky Newlyweds” is a vintage clip from the "SEX CALLS" broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on Dr. Block's Saturday night live show.
For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For current shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com.
Have a question, confession or fantasy, but need to talk privately? Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213-291-9497. We're here for you. Visit us: http://drsusanblockinstitute.com
Last week, Ken Starr went up to the Great Starr Chamber in the Sky, or most likely down to the on... more Last week, Ken Starr went up to the Great Starr Chamber in the Sky, or most likely down to the one in Hell, so I'm re-releasing this comic, erotic and very historic, turn-of-the-21st century Dr. Susan Block Show throwback, taking you onstage at the World Pornography Conference where I presented the 1998 Boobie Award for “Best National Pornography Production” to "The Intern & the President," produced and directed by Kenneth W. Starr, the notorious neo-Puritanical Independent Counsel who spearheaded a ruthless witch hunt, Republican power grab and hypocritical smear campaign against then-President Bill Clinton, climaxing with the release of the salacious yet sanctimonious Starr Report—like a hot money shot that lands in your eye or perhaps up your nose.
“Never has a piece of common porn so captured the hearts, minds and gonads of so many Americans, even those of us who really don’t care who swallows the presidential semen.” I proclaimed to my audience of professors, porn stars, lawyers and reporters. “Never has the mainstream American media proven itself to be such a fantastic public relations machine for a single porn production, broadcasting every rumor and innuendo in this sperm-swirling storm of gossip, intrigue and sanctimonious outrage.” If you lived through it, you know how it dominated the news, and #KenStarr was the instigator, chief voyeur and Grand Inquisitor.
I also take you into my broadcast bed for an intimate after-party at the Villa Piacere where Capt'n Max and I explore the juicy details of the #StarrReport with such luminaries as Dr. Betty Dodson, Richard Pacheco, Kat Sunlove, Jack Hafferkamp, LaSara, KISS and Tod Hunter. Also at the Pornucopia, hosted by Dr. Annie Sprinkle and Candida Royalle: Dr. Vern Bullough, Dr. Carol Queen, Al Goldstein, Roy Karch and Veronica Vera.
This special episode captures an historic moment, including footage from the day a Starr-bullied Monica Lewinsky testified before the Grand Jury, and reactions to the Starr Report and Boobie Award on KTLA5 & KNBC4. At a time when most Americans were becoming more open, tolerant and sex-positive, Ken Starr and his team of reactionary young ninjas (including a fledgling Brett Kavanaugh and Ann Coulter) didn’t succeed in their intended coup d’état (or as Joe Conason called it, "Coup de Twat"), but they did turn the clock back on sexual freedom, and now we have QAnon (fanned by former #ClintonImpeachment House Manager Lindsey Graham) and a powerful majority on the Supreme Court (including former Starr Report co-author Brett Kavanaugh) literally forcing their extreme #NeoPuritanical ways on the rest of us.
This video first aired uncensored in 1998 on public access TV stations around America.
Of course, this version is censored for Youtube (we don't want our account shut down). So...
Happy Labia Day 2022! Labor Day became “Labia Day” for the FIRST TIME exactly seven years ago, on... more Happy Labia Day 2022! Labor Day became “Labia Day” for the FIRST TIME exactly seven years ago, on this September 5, 2015 show live from Bonoboville on DrSuzy.Tv. Why Labia Day? Unlike May Day, Labor Day was never a truly authentic holiday for labor, aka the working class. So, we decided to read between the lines—and lips—of Labor Day to find a similar, onomatopoetic, but far more bonoboësque name for this early September day off from the daily grind, as I opened up my Womb Room for our very first Labia Day (puns intended)!
Thus, a great, new holiday blossoms like a Georgia O’Keeffe flower in the verdant Garden of Bonoboville, as we celebrate those ubiquitous, but mysterious and always absolutely fabulous, fleshy doors to female pleasure and wonder… and labor. A lady’s nether lips “go into labor,” along with the rest of her reproductive system, in giving birth. Other times, they tease, please, open, close, squirt and explode in orgasmic ecstasy.
It's particularly poignant to re-release this historic Dr. Susan Block Show celebrating female genitalia in all its glory, power (power to the labia!) and vulnerability, now in 2022, when sexuality is under attack and American women’s Constitutional right to abortion has been ripped away from us by a radical right wing Supreme Court that probably never looked up-close at a nice pair of labia in their NeoPurtian lives.
Little did we know the repressive future on our first Labia Day featuring the delightful Dayton Rains showing off her world-famous labia in multiple positions, expertly licking my lucky labia and, in that great U.S. presidential intern tradition, smoking a cigar through her labia! Dayton’s exhibition inspires the rest of us to exhibit our own labia, along with the Wondrous Vulva Puppets, and a bottle of yummy Kinky Liqueur incorporated into our traditional Bonoboville Communion rites. Our First Labia Day also features Biz Bonobo, Chelsea, Ikkor the Wolf, Luzer Twersky and his puppy (no, not her labia).
Of course, Youtube, which is not Labia-Positive, won’t let us show you our labia. So this version is heavily censored. But you might enjoy the slideshow of PG images from Labia Day mixed with our friendly advertisements. I know, it’s not the same. So, if you love labia, I suggest you watch the First Labia Day uncensored here (youtube also won’t let us provide links, so you have to figure it out): https://drsusanblock.com/labia-day
It’s a tag team smack-down in the Womb Room with the one-and-only David Bautista, aka “The Animal... more It’s a tag team smack-down in the Womb Room with the one-and-only David Bautista, aka “The Animal,” aka “The Beast,” in one corner, and a Bevy of Beauties in another. I guess that makes me the referee in this erotically epic contest where, really, everybody wins. Games abound from libido-wrestling to muscle-flexing, bonoboesque stripper pole sliding, BJ tournaments, orgasm races and a wild, face-to-crotch, upside-down, WWE maneuver known as the Batista Bomb. Though Bautista keeps his pants on (but not his shirt!), we “unleash the Beast”… in a Bonobo Way. Broadcast live 12/10/2011 on DrSuzy.Tv, Dave was just starting to shift from “Batista” (his WWE and World Heavyweight Champ moniker) back to Bautista (his real name), and from wrestling champ to actor, promoting his role in The Man with the Iron Fists, a stepping stone toward playing the iconic Drax in the blockbuster series, Guardians of the Galaxy, making him a huge Hollywood star.
Actually, he’s huger than huge, and I’m not just talking about his strapping physique (not to mention the heavy-weight package below the winner’s belt); Dave Bautista is the real deal, a gentle giant, a good sport, a sex worker ally, a bit of a socialist, and sincere in sharing his favorite cause—fighting cancer. He also shares his love for lunchboxes when I give him an “Invasion of the Monster Women” vintage lunchbox, which might sound like an innocent enough hobby, until deeper sexological analysis reveals that the “box,” slang for female genitalia, is the Lust of the Beast. Confessing that “women” are his greatest “addiction,” this champ wrestles with his high sex drive more than any mere opponent (at least, he did in 2011). A real-life Angel (Angela Sommers) puts The Animal to the test, plus the dynamic charismatic Destiny Dixon, sexy Samantha Saint, Victoria White and Daisy Delight all pile-on top of this mountain of muscle. All these beauties put up a good fight for Bautista’s beleaguered libido—and put on a spectacular show—but does it work or does the Champ stays true to his girlfriend? Watch the show!
Through it all, Anthony Winn, co-creator of Striperella with the late great Stan Lee, creates new art (of me!), and the Speakeasy rocks out into an exuberant after-party of sex, fun, wild rickshaw-riding and wrestling with naked angels. And why not, because aren’t wrestlers and porn stars— the beauties and the beasts of our animal nature—among the greatest real-life comic book characters we know?
We broadcast “GasMaskGirl Summer Kink” live during the very hot summer of 2018, though it’s now h... more We broadcast “GasMaskGirl Summer Kink” live during the very hot summer of 2018, though it’s now hotter than ever. Looking into my crystal ball, I predict everyone will soon be masking up, and now here we are. At the time, I felt we were inhaling the toxic ashes of an incinerating civilization, so we’d all need gasmasks just to breathe. Covid is a little different—germ warfare waged by Mother Nature against us for destroying her—and we’re in facemasks instead of gasmasks—but still it’s a very prescient show! It’s also a very sexy, funny show featuring latex-clad GasMaskGirl’s Coralee Summers, cute “Buddha Ho” pornstar Eva Yi (father from China & mother from Taiwan, showing they can get along!), wry Philly comic Lamar D. Sol, sensuous sexual healer Shana Lay, hot model Larissa and Bonoboville’s favorite rapper Ikkor the Wolf, plus a surprise visit from award-winning actor Luzer Twersky. It’s quite a varied bunch, but we all get along like bonobos—chatting, stripping, OTK spanking, dancing, foot fetish fun, ice cube play, bondage, boob therapy, latex, Bonoboville Communion, telling funny stories and arguing. Hey, conflict is the spice of life. The key is to resolve conflicts in peace through pleasure. It’s the Bonobo Way. For the most part, sex is “sustainable” pleasure, especially when you compare engaging in sexual activity with other human pleasures, like food, driving, sailing, flying, gaming and just about everything else we do for fun. I’m talking recreational not procreational sex which is actually at the root of a lot of human problems. Too many people. No offense to all the beautiful people and their spoiled kids, but Mother Earth is hemorrhaging from the weight of all the teeming, gas-guzzling, plastic-using humans—more than when we did this show! We also spank our surrogate tRumpy—gagged on the Russian flag!—for his Space Farce, among other things and we cheer AOC for supporting sex workers’ rights, predicting (also correctly) that she will win her seat in Congress. Also on display: a tRump Puppy Pee Pad by the artist Jeffrey Vallance. #GoBonobos
Fireworks Not Bombs! Enjoy "Orgasms for the Eye on the 4th of July," a Dr. Susan Block Show thro... more Fireworks Not Bombs! Enjoy "Orgasms for the Eye on the 4th of July," a Dr. Susan Block Show throwback filmed on the Bonoboville Rooftop as well as inside the Womb Room of the Little Love Church of The Bonobo Way, featuring Biz Bonobo, Chelsea, Capt'n Max & my beautiful akeeta corn snake Eve. Of course, this is the censored version which has photos of lots of other great humans and other animals who have passed through the Dr. Susan Block Institute. It's called "Orgasms for the Eyes," but the Censored-for-Youtube version is more eargasms than eyegasms..
Merry Masturbation Month, Brothers and Sinners, Wankers, Yankers, Sperm-Bankers and Monkey-Spanke... more Merry Masturbation Month, Brothers and Sinners, Wankers, Yankers, Sperm-Bankers and Monkey-Spankers… In this bubbly celebration of self-pleasure, broadcasting live from Bonoboville, we kick off the M Month with a bang, a buzz, an orgasm, a squirt and a rush of pink-and-blue May-Day-infused communal ecstasy. We also lick up some luscious Bonoboville Communion, take in a little M Month history, share funny masturbation stories and present my 8 Great Benefits of Masturbation… because self-pleasure doesn’t *just* feel good; it IS good for you... and the Earth (Masturbation is Ecosexual).
I open our blast-off into the Mmmm Month straddling the Sybian—an excellent mechanical device that, without attachments, makes me feel like I’m riding an extra-special vibrating horsey on a magical Merry-Go-Round—which I continue to ride merrily throughout much of the evening featuring Alana Cruise aka Savannah Fyre, Dayton Raines and more.
Opening up our new Womb Room, celebrating 3 DECADES of lawfully-wedded love and sex-revolutionary... more Opening up our new Womb Room, celebrating 3 DECADES of lawfully-wedded love and sex-revolutionary marriage from our broadcast bed, Capt’n and I are back in the sack, cranking up the Mattress Madness, even as the Arcadia Politburo Kangaroo Court tries to repress our right to lie down.
Hallelujah. Praise the bed! You can do a lot on a bed, even while awake, as we demonstrate on this Bedside Chat, chatting away, showing off our April 12, 1992 Wedding Album, testing equipment, ranting, reminiscing, researching, taking selfies, making out, smoking, drinking, horsing around, reading old diaries, making new jokes, dishing silly celebrities, protesting the war(s), goosing each other, welcoming the anniversary cake, playing with the dog and more making out… all in bed! We don’t even get to the sleeping part. Though, since we’re on the F.D.R. radio Love Train, you could say we’re in the Sleeper Car. Choo-choo! Have bed will travel…
True to our motto of making love first in order to make love last—for at least 30 years—we kick off this auspicious anniversary weekend with a little lovemaking, aka sex. It was just *Old People Sex,* so nothing too strenuous, but an essential aspect of keeping lust and trust alive long-term. The older you get, the truer this is. So, have sex first (if you want to make love last), and then, if you feel like it, you can always do it again… and again (and yes, we did). Capt’n Max shoots blessed blanks, so no pearl necklaces—at least not the ejaculatory kind. But we’re both decked out in oodles of real and fake pearl necklaces, strands, earrings, belly chains and bracelets, pearls of wisdom, purity and pure silliness, the pearl being the sexy symbol of the 30th Wedding Anniversary, the lustrous symbol of lust plus trust, crystalized into a shining little ball of beauty within the 30-year marriage oyster.
Besides celebrating our own crazy long marriage, we talk about other people’s marriages. We’re inspired by newlyweds Julian Assange and Stella Moris, disturbed by Will and Jada (who gives a bad name to good cuckolding!) and even more disturbed by U.S. Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas and MAGAt Coup Queen Ginny Thomas.
Though our 30th Anniversary Bedside Chat is tons of fun, our actual anniversary at Le Meridian with its exhibitionism-friendly window plan and awesome mattress takes us right back into the Love Zone.
“Art of the Teese” aired live on The Dr. Susan Block Show three years before there was a Youtube!... more “Art of the Teese” aired live on The Dr. Susan Block Show three years before there was a Youtube! Circa December 1, 2001—as American forces invaded Afghanistan—we preferred to “Make Kink, Not War” and penetrate the beautiful mind of one of the greatest kink models ever: the fabulous Dita Von Teese. Due to unforeseen circumstances, after the live broadcast, this remarkable interview was never posted… until now!
On the cusp of kinky superstardom crossed with mainstream celebrity when she joined me in my broadcast bed, Dita Von Teese was a fetish model, burlesque princess and budding lingerie mogul just starting to design what would grow into her multi-million dollar #DitaVonTeese brand—and all while dating controversial rock superstar Marilyn Manson.
Now, Marilyn Manson is much more controversial, accused of terrible crimes by his ex-fiancé Evan Rachel Wood and others (not Dita), which he denies and for which he has sued his accusers. Both Manson’s fans and foes may find something of interest in this in-depth interview.
This was Dita’s second appearance on DrSuzy . Tv; her first (with Mistress Antoinette) was on my 1996 interview with the one and only Bettie Page. Dita takes it to the next level in “Art of the Teese,” not only speaking freely, thoughtfully and yes, teasingly, about her life, loves and art; she also lets us tie her up… while we continue our interview (though we can't show you that part on Youtube)! Promoting the old Pink Bubble Bath Film Festival (where she was the host and I was a judge), Dita shares the kinky pleasures of vintage stockings, corsets, striptease, ballet, bondage, bisexuality, catfighting, spanking, red lipstick (a Manson fetish) and the torrid tale of her first climax. She also helps me handle callers into bondage and Dirt Devil self-love and flogs a couple of lucky audience members. Plus, she shares some very intimate details of her relationship with Manson—from first kiss to groupie games to court cases.
“Art of the Teese” is #26 in My Bedside Chat series on DrSusanBlock . Tv. Introduced by BlockFilms executive producer, Maximillian R. Lobkowicz, aka Capt’n Max live from Cannes, France, and my own erotic philosophy of teasing, it then puts the spotlight where it should be: on the dazzling Dita Von Teese, for a uniquely fascinating, in-depth look into the playful yet powerful spirit of this 21st century kink icon.
In her unique and paradigm-changing book, “The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasur... more In her unique and paradigm-changing book, “The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure,” best-selling author and renowned sexologist Dr. Susan Block, aka Dr. Suzy, offers a bright new view of human sexuality, war, peace and community, inspired by a role model who isn’t even human: our closest genetic cousin, the bonobo.
With a provocative, humorous and engaging style that makes science fun and ecology erotic, #DrSusanBlock asks: What do bonobos know about sex - and the rest of life - that we don’t?
Here are some things we know about bonobos:
They have lots of sex. They never kill each other. They empower the females and nurture the males. They share, care and try to be fair. They stay youthful longer than common chimps. They live in peace through pleasure…
And we thought humans were the smartest apes!
For decades, experts have used the “killer ape” paradigm to explain why humans murder, make war, bomb and behead each other, and supposedly always will. Of course, our common chimp cousins kill and even make a kind of “war”… but does that tell the whole tale?
Luckily, no. The Bonobo Way shows the other side of the story, presenting the #bonobo as a new great ape paradigm for humanity that could change the world… or at least improve your love life!
From the lush depths of the rainforest to the satin sheets of your bedroom, #DrSuzy (Banned on YouTube!) takes you on a fascinating journey, weaving stories, studies, theories and fantasies into exciting possibilities and a practical path of action, a very different kind of “12-Step Program” to release your “inner bonobo,” help save the real #bonobos from extinction, and energize all facets of your life. Give #TheBonoboWay to someone you love… even if that someone is you!
"Renowned sexologist Dr. Susan Block unlocks the secret to an amazing sex life and perhaps, even ... more "Renowned sexologist Dr. Susan Block unlocks the secret to an amazing sex life and perhaps, even world peace. Unbashfully candid and extremely witty, Block literally leaves no coconut shells unturned. From Bonobo Sutra to erotic politics and economics, The Bonobo Way provides a delightful insight to the vital role that sex plays in achieving and maintain peaceful egalitarian relationships through the eyes of our long-lost kissing cousins." ~Simply Sxy Review of The Bonobo Way
In this unique and paradigm-changing book, internationally acclaimed and controversial sex educat... more In this unique and paradigm-changing book, internationally acclaimed and controversial sex educator Dr. Susan Block offers an exciting new view of human sexuality, war, peace and community, inspired by a role model who isn’t even human: our closest genetic cousin, the bonobo.
With a provocative, humorous and engaging style that makes science fun and ecology erotic, The Bonobo Way boldly asks: What do these great apes know about sex--and the rest of life--that we don’t?
Here are some things we know about bonobos:
They have lots of sex.
They never kill each other.
They empower the females.
They stay younger longer.
They live in peace through pleasure.
And we thought humans were the smartest apes!
For decades, experts have used the “killer ape” paradigm to explain why humans murder, make war, bomb and behead each other, and supposedly always will. Sure, our common chimp cousins kill, but do they tell the whole tale?
Luckily, no. The Bonobo Way shows the other side of the story, presenting the bonobos as a new great ape paradigm for humanity that could change the world… or at least improve your love life.
From the lush depths of the rainforest to the satin sheets of your bedroom, Dr. Block takes you on a fascinating journey, weaving stories, studies, theories and fantasies into possibilities and a practical path of action, presenting a very different kind of “12-Step Program” to release your “inner bonobo,” help save the real bonobos from extinction and energize all facets of your life.
Whether you don’t know bonobos from bananas, or you think you know all about these amazing creatures, The Bonobo Way will show you the way to a happier, healthier, sexier life, and a more peaceful, sustainable culture.
"Amongst her many talents, Dr. Susan Block is known as an advocate for ethical hedonism, and in T... more "Amongst her many talents, Dr. Susan Block is known as an advocate for ethical hedonism, and in The Bonobo Way, she portrays these highly sexual animals as inspiration for her philosophy.
In her book, you will learn about the fascinating life of bonobos, how they deal with conflict by having sex, and how this coping mechanism may translate to humans as well. Their lifestyle speaks to a happy and peaceful society, something we have yet to accomplish in all the time we’ve been in existence.
Of particular interest is that bonobos have a strong sense of feminine energy. The females band together and sex is used to keep the males in check. And while bonobos may experience unique feelings for one another, they don't appear possessive. They are, after all, not monogamous. The book is an illustration of a lifestyle that exists harmoniously, underscored by the relationship between sexuality and a peaceful, polyamorous society. The connection between the two cannot be underestimated.
Dr. Block writes The Bonobo Way in an informative and enthusiastic voice. If you are unaware of bonobos, her book will pique your interest to learn more about this fascinating species. You may also question how we have evolved as human beings and how far we have yet to go." - Eden Baylee
“The Bonobo Way is, among other things, deeply thought-provoking and I do not use that phrase in ... more “The Bonobo Way is, among other things, deeply thought-provoking and I do not use that phrase in the hackneyed sense, but to describe a far more recondite process. Harold Bloom calls it a difficult pleasure, or the reader’s sublime, and it involves the way in which certain books can give us strong temporary insights into the great mysteries that populate our lives and the world…. One of the most charming things about this book is the voice, which is at once highly intellectual, very breezy, definitely flirtatious, profoundly sexual, consistently cheerful, and exacting in its word choice and fact dissemination. If this is not the definition of a perfect date, I do not know what is. And in this case, your date is mashing her body up against the glass case at the San Diego Zoo, because that is what the bonobo female on the other side is doing. If this does not charm you, then you will not long be a virgin…” Gerald Weaver, author of Gospel Prism
"I just finished reading The Bonobo Way. I love, love, love it. It is a fresh way to look at se... more "I just finished reading The Bonobo Way. I love, love, love it. It is a fresh way to look at sexuality... I made the mistake of starting to read it on Tuesday and now it's Thursday and I haven't been able to do anything else!" Darrel Ray, Ed.D., author of The God Virus and Darrel Ray
Read the rest of this glorious new review & celebrate the one-year anniversary of #TheBonoboWay in whatever way you #bonobo! If you buy the book, a portion of all proceeds goes to help save the real #bonobos (If you want to give directly, donate to Lola ya Bonobo & Bonobo Conservation Initiative). I Another portion goes to building & supporting our Bonoboville. :0
Internationally acclaimed sex educator Dr. Susan Block (known widely as "Dr. Suzy") just might ho... more Internationally acclaimed sex educator Dr. Susan Block (known widely as "Dr. Suzy") just might hold the key to world peace. Her latest book, The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure, is an impactful, often hilarious how-to guide for humans to learn from the libidinous lifestyle of an endangered species of chimpanzees called "bonobos" who use sex (and lots of it) to resolve conflict.
"Some find meaning in hate and killing and some in love and sex," Dr. Susan Block recently told us. "Bonobos lean decisively towards sex. They're also over 98% genetically similar to humans, so their very existence demonstrates how important good sex, affectionate touch, empathy, reciprocity and sharing pleasure is to our own well-being. Bonobos empower their females more than any other great ape species. They also appear to stay younger longer than their common chimp counterparts. Most importantly, we have not seen a bonobo killing another bonobo in captivity or the wild...." ______ Read more: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/steve-karras/the-bonobo-way-the-evolut_b_7903992.html ______
The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace Through Pleasure is a breath of fresh air for a culture th... more The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace Through Pleasure is a breath of fresh air for a culture that has been at war with itself for far too long. Written by international sex expert and Yale graduate Dr. Susan Block, The Bonobo Way highlights how humanity’s own lusty relationship with war and violence has not only affected countless human lives, but also the lives of Earth’s nonhuman nature—most notably, the bonobos (Pan Paniscus). At the book’s core, it is a call to action, a seductive moan from a lover’s ear to put down the war toys and come learn the ways of pleasure. From the jungles to the bedrooms, this book is an arousing, and downright sexy journey, complete with orgasmic anecdotes, as well as tales of lust, love and relationships built on power exchanges and trust.
What is most appealing about this book is the inclusiveness of Dr. Block’s narratives, she provides practical relationship tools-- for the monogamous, the polycurious and the full-fledged swingers; her tone is light, uplifting, and supportive. The tools she lays out are useful for all relationship dynamics; addressing matters of intimacy, tips for role-play, BDSM and sexual etiquette. Much of the information is laid out in a twelve step guide, “release your inner bonobo.”
The step work itself is a public and private affair, with strategies for cultivating the (somewhat) dormant sensual self, a self which is attuned to primal nature and our “kissing cousins” the bonobos. The anecdotes from Dr. Block’s personal life, along with world news and history, make the step work relatable and add a personal touch to the text. The approach brings the concept of peace through pleasure to life, guiding the reader across this great earth we love to “make love on”, and down a river of ecstasy towards a destination that is, not only picturesque, but achievable--for those willing to do the work of course.
Due to its broad range of topics, The Bonobo Way can appeal to a wide audience; from environmental conservationists, animal rights activists and ecological advocates to porn stars, feminists, and military veterans. On a textual level, the book is eco-feminism, with Block’s own environment described in great detail (the bedroom, the Speakeasy, the urban jungle). All the while, her connection to the bonobos is never far from the surface of the text; from Dr. Block’s first glimpse of the bonobos while watching a PBS broadcast, to her first visit with Lana the Bonobo at the San Diego Zoo. She narrates how studying bonobos has helped her develop a greater consciousness of empathy, compassion and sexual awareness. The results of her various states of “bonobo liberation” are disclosed in great detail, with an emphasis on preserving the bonobos who “empower the female” and “never kill each other.”
As a piece of literature, The Bonobo Way may deserve its own shelf, in between sexual studies and ecology, in a genre of its own dubbed “ecosexual.” The push for the preservation of the bonobos, their bioregion, and the call to action to repair our relationship with our “over-farmed and abused mother earth” (83), all help to categorize this book as ecological literature-- comparable to the works of Mary Hunter Austin, and Octavia Butler. However, the sexual narratives woven throughout the text are akin to the pages of high erotica, a literary orgasm that details escapades, advances, and near misses. The fusion of both the ecological and the sexual is really what defines this book.
The cost of this book is an investment into your character, and hopefully, your sex life. At 240 pages it is available in print and eBook-- the latter includes full color photos. Other features of the book are Dr. Block’s notes, which vary from “hat tips” to writers and rock stars, to supplemental information on clinical and “scene” terms, as well as vital historical references. For those inspired, to take action, the appendix of The Bonobo Way provides a list of sites and organizations that are dedicated to helping the bonobos, and a list of zoos, reserves, sanctuaries where bonobos can be seen.
Dr. Susan should have her own network TV show. She is the smartest and most inspiring woman I hav... more Dr. Susan should have her own network TV show. She is the smartest and most inspiring woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Her insight on sexuality is not only incredible, insightful, thought-provoking, and sex-positive...it is also the sexual revolution, easily mapped out, that we have been waiting for.
Everything you need in order to have a healthy, fun, sexuality is in this book. Whether you're in a monogamous relationship, a swinger, going solo, asexual, pansexual, all-sexual...Dr. Suzy has you covered!
It order for our society to heal from all this war, anger, hatred, shame, and even environmental destruction, we must find our inner bonobo. We share 98.7% of our DNA with bonobos. They are a species of ape who resolve all conflicts with sex which is exactly what human animals need to be doing!
Good sex could end so much suffering and this book was an amazing and inspiring read as someone who strives for global sex-positivity and a sexual revolution to heal our ailing planet.
I love Dr. Suzy so much and we can all learn a lot about ourselves by this amazing woman who has dedicated her life to spreading sexual awareness, knowledge, and being the Queen of Coitus! by Tracey Vanity
Powerhouse Academic Publisher WILEY-BLACKWELL releases the new International Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality with sex expert Dr. Susan Block contributing articles in Fetish, Phone Sex, Cuckolding, Spanking & Striptease.
Edited by distinguished Professors of Anthropology, Patricia Whelehan and Anne Bolin, with contributions from an international team of top scholars and practitioners, the Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality contains “over 500 entries that define sexuality from a broad biocultural perspective and show the diversity of human sexual behavior and belief systems… ranging from short definitions of scientific, clinical, cultural, and colloquial terms to extended explorations of major concepts…[covering] 13 key areas of content, from clinical medicine and body modification to the language of sexuality and the history of sexology.”
Powerhouse Academic Publisher WILEY-BLACKWELL releases the new International Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality with sex expert Dr. Susan Block contributing articles in Fetish, Phone Sex, Cuckolding, Spanking & Striptease.
Edited by distinguished Professors of Anthropology, Patricia Whelehan and Anne Bolin, with contributions from an international team of top scholars and practitioners, the Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality contains “over 500 entries that define sexuality from a broad biocultural perspective and show the diversity of human sexual behavior and belief systems… ranging from short definitions of scientific, clinical, cultural, and colloquial terms to extended explorations of major concepts…[covering] 13 key areas of content, from clinical medicine and body modification to the language of sexuality and the history of sexology.”
Powerhouse Academic Publisher WILEY-BLACKWELL releases the new International Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality with sex expert Dr. Susan Block contributing articles in Fetish, Phone Sex, Cuckolding, Spanking & Striptease.
Edited by distinguished Professors of Anthropology, Patricia Whelehan and Anne Bolin, with contributions from an international team of top scholars and practitioners, the Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality contains “over 500 entries that define sexuality from a broad biocultural perspective and show the diversity of human sexual behavior and belief systems… ranging from short definitions of scientific, clinical, cultural, and colloquial terms to extended explorations of major concepts…[covering] 13 key areas of content, from clinical medicine and body modification to the language of sexuality and the history of sexology.”
Powerhouse Academic Publisher WILEY-BLACKWELL releases the new International Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality with sex expert Dr. Susan Block contributing articles in Fetish, Phone Sex, Cuckolding, Spanking & Striptease.
Edited by distinguished Professors of Anthropology, Patricia Whelehan and Anne Bolin, with contributions from an international team of top scholars and practitioners, the Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality contains “over 500 entries that define sexuality from a broad biocultural perspective and show the diversity of human sexual behavior and belief systems… ranging from short definitions of scientific, clinical, cultural, and colloquial terms to extended explorations of major concepts…[covering] 13 key areas of content, from clinical medicine and body modification to the language of sexuality and the history of sexology.” _______ Tired of conventional sexuality experts? Dr. Block is available for comment or interview by contacting: David L. Rossi Phone: 310.568.0066 Email: Bonoboville@gmail.com http://drsusanblockinstitute.com http://thebonoboway.com
Powerhouse Academic Publisher WILEY-BLACKWELL releases the new International Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality with sex expert Dr. Susan Block contributing articles in Fetish, Phone Sex, Cuckolding, Spanking & Striptease.
Edited by distinguished Professors of Anthropology, Patricia Whelehan and Anne Bolin, with contributions from an international team of top scholars and practitioners, the Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality contains “over 500 entries that define sexuality from a broad biocultural perspective and show the diversity of human sexual behavior and belief systems… ranging from short definitions of scientific, clinical, cultural, and colloquial terms to extended explorations of major concepts…[covering] 13 key areas of content, from clinical medicine and body modification to the language of sexuality and the history of sexology.”
by Dr. Susan Block
As the accusations against American comic icon Bill Cosby keep coming, I (lik... more by Dr. Susan Block
As the accusations against American comic icon Bill Cosby keep coming, I (like everyone) can’t help but wonder why a charming multi-millionaire race-barrier-crashing superstar would feel compelled to drug women into unconsciousness before having sex with them. Several of Cosby’s accusers actually said they would have happily had sex with the man—and some actually did—without being drugged into it (pun intended). Drugging people and/or forcing them to drink excessively and then having sex with their unconscious body is a kind of stealth rape. Apparently, Cosby risked his marriage, career, empire and a lengthy prison term by committing these acts upon the slumbering bodies of multiple women throughout his life, and now, whatever happens, his legacy appears to be tarnished beyond repair. Max Factor heir Andrew Luster is currently serving a 124-year sentence for similar misdeeds. So, assuming Cosby did it, why would he?
When I first heard the news, I wasn’t as “shocked” as some, never having been a fan of Cosby’s “Father Knows Best” attitude on or off camera. Even worse was the way he waggled his sanctimonious finger at “black culture,” blaming it for African-American poverty and incarceration, as though his good fortune and impeccable comic timing gave him a right to condemn individuals and whole communities who weren’t as blessed as he was.
Nevertheless, despite my distaste for his smug, megawatt personality, I felt I ought to give his character the benefit of the doubt, having known several people, mostly of the male gender, who have been accused of sexual assault most unjustly and with devastating effect. I’m all for female solidarity (more on just how vital this is in my new book The Bonobo Way). But I’m not one to side with women just because we’re fellow females. Besides The Cos and I both hail from the City of Brotherly Love. I hate hearing about my fellow Philly dogs doing bad stuff.
But the accusations, which Cosby’s lawyer calls “unsubstantiated and fantastical,” keep coming. Some could be false, but most display an eerie similarity, and this glib comedian’s taciturn responses to simple questions seem to all but sign a confession of guilt. Almost everyone acknowledges the man’s king-sized arrogance, and many have addressed related subjects of race, gender, affluence and privilege. But still, why would he do such a thing, repeatedly? Suddenly, as one more accusatory tale flashed across my screen (this from a friend of a girl who told her that Cosby drugged and violated her even though they were already active lovers), the sexual heart of the matter dawned on me like the morning sun seeping through the dark fog of a bad hangover: Bill Cosby has a sleep fetish.
As a sex therapist in private practice, I’ve treated many clients with sleep fetishes of various kinds. The clinical term is “somnophilia,” a paraphilia in which sexual arousal arises from fondling or having sex with someone who is asleep or unconscious. A more romantic name for it is the “Sleeping Beauty” syndrome. The fairy tale fantasy of an exquisitely beautiful, utterly helpless princess in a deep, hypnotic, erotic sleep who only awakens with the climactic kiss of a charming prince, has captured imaginations and titillated libidos for centuries of civilized human history. If Prince Charming had given Beauty a roofie and then done his kissing and maybe a little fondling, he’d be a nonconsensual sleep fetishist, a.k.a., a sleep rapist. Not so charming any more.
Google “somnophiliac,” and you will find that most sleep fetishists maintain they would never use force or violence on their “partners,” and even the thought of forcing someone against their will is a turn-off. Yet the fact remains that you can’t give consent if you’re unconscious. Some couples work this out in advance so that the sleeper agrees to the sex before going to sleep, whereupon the sleep fetishist can then have his or her way with the sleeper with some level of impunity.
There is also the fact that all that fondling would likely cause a light or even moderate sleeper to wake up and possibly shriek, “What the f*ck are you doing?”
This is where drugging comes in. And this is where the rape begins.
Which does not mean that assuming the Sleeping Beauty or “victim” role doesn’t have a certain erotic appeal, if only in fantasy, for some who enjoy submission and passivity. Indeed, over the past couple of weeks, several of my sex therapy clients have informed me that they are having fantasies and dreams of being drugged and ravished by Cliff Huxtable himself. Some men and women are aroused by the idea of being “taken” as they snooze unawares, “slipped a mickie” or “put to sleep” by a powerful lover or diabolical anesthesiologist who then has his or her way with their sleeping body. This dreamy but dangerous fetish can be a tough one to understand (especially for those of us who savor wakefulness), let alone explore safely. Insomniacs are especially likely to crave and fetishize sleep and anesthesia. Some say that the late great “King of Pop” Michael Jackson suffered from an anesthesia fetish which may have ultimately killed him.
Some relish the feeling of being forcibly “put to sleep” without drugs. Many of my sex therapy clients get highly aroused under “erotic hypnosis,” in which a relaxation exercise leads them into a trance state where they can enjoy their sexual feelings without feeling “responsible” for them.
The other side of the sleep fetish, getting sexually aroused by having sex with slumbering lovers, is far more dangerous to others than to the fetishist, especially when it involves putting “lovers” to sleep without their consent and then using their knocked out, very vulnerable, rag-doll body to satisfy desires for absolute power, selfish sensation and an intoxicating feeling of total control. If the allegations are true, this appears to describe the sexual appetites and behaviors of Bill Cosby.
In her thesis ‘Potent Sleep: The Cultural Politics of Sleep,’ Christina Eugene (Bowling Green State University, USA) asserts:
“Sleep is the essential objectifier of all life. The passivity of sleep transforms subjects into inanimate objects, and in doing so removes the subject’s privilege of being able to act on the world of objects… This rendering of people into inanimate objects allows them to be fundamentally treated as objects – consumed, fetishized, and controlled. In accordance with the totality of capitalism and phallocentrism, an erotic fetish for sleeping beauties has surfaced”.
This is not to excuse Cosby’s alleged crimes or his capitalist (read: “I own you”), controlling, consuming, phallocentric attitude towards the weak, the sleeping, the drugged, the imprisoned (who are often, ironically, subject to the torture of sleep deprivation) and those less fortunate. Not at all. This is just to offer up a possible explanation in the hopes that if any readers are struggling with a nonconsensual sleep fetish (or if you know someone who might be), you seek help from an experienced sex therapist, before you find yourself committing acts of Cosbyësque hubris in the Sandman Land of dreams. If only my fellow Philly dog had come clean to me or someone like me a few decades ago when he first felt the sexual urge to sedate women into utter object inanimation, there’s a good chance he and Camille would be enjoying their golden years in glory, instead of infamy, right now. Moreover, it might have saved over a dozen reluctant “Sleeping Beauties” from being violated while sleeping.
In a roiling sea of greed-driven, militaristic, misogynistic, racist, kleptocratic, ecocidal patr... more In a roiling sea of greed-driven, militaristic, misogynistic, racist, kleptocratic, ecocidal patriarchies, DomCon is an island of female empowerment, male well-being and peace through pleasure… with a little bit of pain.
It’s the Comic-Con of kink, the Met Gala of BDSM and Game of Thrones without all the gross and gratuitous mass murder and mayhem… and even better outfits.
It’s the Bonobo Way in boots, latex and chains.
But really, it’s so much more… it’s DomCon!
No wonder I’ve relished participating in this gathering of powerful, beautiful women—natal, trans and queens-for-a-day—every Spring for the past five years, having so much fun, always learning and discovering new people, sensations and ideas at the workshops, the Mistress Photos, the Marketplace, the Jacuzzi, the parties, the balls and in the private rooms that spin off from public DomCon like electric sparks from the crack of the Goddess’ whip.
LOS ANGELES, Calif., April 10, 2019 — Susan M. Block, Ph.D., a.k.a., “Dr. Suzy,” internationally ... more LOS ANGELES, Calif., April 10, 2019 — Susan M. Block, Ph.D., a.k.a., “Dr. Suzy,” internationally renowned sexologist and best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure (Gardner & Daughters Publishers), will present “The Bonobo Way: An Alternative Great Ape Paradigm for Human Sexuality and Transformational, Healing Pleasure” at the 52nd Annual Conference of The American Association of Sexuality Educators, Counselors and Therapists (AASECT) 11 AM – Noon on Sunday, June 16th at the Loews Philadelphia Hotel in Dr. Block’s hometown of Philadelphia, PA.
“I look forward to returning to Philly to see Billy Penn, eat a hoagie and share the Bonobo Way,” says Dr. Block, who grew up in Penn Valley and attended Harriton High School, where she was editor-in-chief of the Harriton Forum, captain of the debate team and starred in the school’s Noël Coward play before getting her B.A. in Theater at Yale. After earning her Master’s and Ph.D. in Psychology from Miramar, she received an honorary Doctorate in Sexology from the Institute for the Advanced Study of Human Sexuality in San Francisco.
LOS ANGELES—Deep Throat, one of the most iconic, profitable and controversial movies ever made, i... more LOS ANGELES—Deep Throat, one of the most iconic, profitable and controversial movies ever made, is commemorating its 50th anniversary with a West Coast tour launched by the late director Gerard Damiano’s adult children, Christar and Gerard Damiano, Jr., starting at the end of May 2023. The talkbacks after the two Los Angeles screenings on June 2nd and 3rd will be moderated by world-renowned sexologist and best-selling author Dr. Susan Block, a.k.a. Dr. Suzy.
“The Zeitgeist of 1972, Deep Throat brought adult films into the mainstream and kickstarted the Sexual Revolution,” states DamianoFilms.com. “Its success was unprecedented, breaking box office records in its very first week of exhibition. Lauded as one of the first hardcore films to feature a plot, character development, and production values, it pushed the limits of what could be shown on screen and made an international celebrity of its star, Linda Lovelace.”
The West Coast tour will include screenings of the original 4K director’s cut restoration of the film, followed by talkbacks moderated by Dr. Susan Block (in LA) and featuring the Damianos, as well as adult performers and local academic experts. The talkbacks will focus on the history, cultural impact, and various controversies surrounding the film, to help contextualize Deep Throat for younger generations as well as those who remember when it first took 1970s America by storm.
“I first saw Deep Throat on a date in a big New Haven Theater, circa 1977,” recalls Dr. Block who appeared on E! True Hollywood Story’s “Linda Lovelace” episode in 2000 and broadcast shows live from “The Deep Throat Sex Scandal” (the play) and “Harry Reems Tribute” in 2013. “Honestly, I was shocked. I had never seen such large and well-lit genitalia! But soon enough, I relaxed and enjoyed it. By then, Deep Throat had become a household name, having gone beyond the box office to impact freedom of speech and obscenity laws, as well as help bring about the resignation of disgraced U.S. President Richard M. Nixon (who, incidentally, tried to shut down the film). Whether they loved it or hated it, even if they never saw it, everybody knew—and still knows—’Deep Throat.’
“Later, I learned about the controversies raised by parts of the Feminist Left in addition to the Religious Right, as well as Linda Lovelace herself,” Block continues. “Whatever the facts of the matter, we want to reopen a dialogue about the film, including Lovelace’s complex story, as well as changing attitudes towards sexuality in our society, and Deep Throat’s impact on American cinematic and cultural history. No doubt, Deep Throat entertained, aroused, disturbed and outraged the world—and it still does. So, I’m looking forward to seeing the movie as its director intended, and I’m also excited to discuss the issues surrounding this seminal (in every sense of the word) film with the Damianos and members of the LA community.”
Screenings followed by talkbacks moderated by Dr. Block will be held on the following days and at the following locations:
Friday, June 2nd: Laemmle Royal in West Los Angeles Saturday, June 3rd: 910 WeHo in West Hollywood Frida Cinema in Santa Ana Screening Cancelled Due to Community Pressure
Susan Block, Ph.D., aka “Dr. Suzy,” best-known for her groundbreaking HBO specials, has hosted The Dr. Susan Block Show for 35 years, and is the best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure, Yale graduate, Counterpunch columnist and champion of sex education and freedom of speech. Married over 31 years to publisher and producer Maximillian Lobkowicz di Filangieri, she’s been featured on HBO, NPR, Oprah, VICE TV and many more. But she’ll never quit her “day job” as a therapist with the Dr. Susan Block Institute, helping people to explore, enjoy and take responsibility for their sexual lives.
For information or to arrange an interview with Dr. Block, email drsusanblock@gmail.com or call (626) 461-5950. For more information about Deep Throat or to arrange an interview with Gerard Damiano, Jr., email gerard@damianofilms.com or call (718)614-4109.
Happy Kink Month 2022 ! Rattled by battles, wars and more wars, including the wars on women, I’ve... more Happy Kink Month 2022 ! Rattled by battles, wars and more wars, including the wars on women, I’ve taken this little jingle as my light in the dark, my mantra against the madness and a bit of a gag (pun intended) in the gloom: Make Kink Not War!
A twist on that oldie but goodie, Make Love Not War, it’s the peaceable kinkster’s *battle cry*… but what does it mean in the real world—on the battlefield, in the bedroom, the boardroom, the classroom, the dungeon, the RV, the protest march or the play party? What can we learn about our own ability to "Make Kink Not War" from the kinkiest apes on Earth, the #bonobos, the FemDoms of the Wild, the only great apes who never kill each other? How can we *be more bonobo and what it’s got to do with the transformative, healing, peaceful power of #kink?
Find out in Version 6.0 of The Bonobo Way at #DomCon LA, the Met Gala of Latex and the Comic-Con of Kink (with the Ted Talks of BDSM), founded and directed by the marvelous Mistress Cyan (who gave me my first consenting-adult birthday spanking in 2004, the same year she founded DomCon): Make Kink Not War: Be Bonobo.
Kick off Kink Month 2022 with a spanking hot sexual revelation. Take a front row seat in my Master Class (Mistress Class?) in kinky anthropology, ranging from our current abominable wars and war fantasies to the inspirational worlds of the kink-normative, femocratic bonobos and the peaceable kinksters of DomCon: the fabulous FemDoms, Mistresses, Goddesses, Dominatrixes, Dommes, Doms, submissives and switches, all of whom “Make Kink Not War.”
Join the findSisterhood team together with Dr. Susan Block where we discuss the art of squirting!... more Join the findSisterhood team together with Dr. Susan Block where we discuss the art of squirting!
This episode is sponsored by Vibe Wines™ ~ Sexy Pairings™: Bringing the worlds of wine and adult passion products together for truly unique gifts. https://www.vibewines.com/
LOS ANGELES, Calif., Apr. 11, 2019 — Susan M. Block, Ph.D., a.k.a., “Dr. Suzy,” internationally r... more LOS ANGELES, Calif., Apr. 11, 2019 — Susan M. Block, Ph.D., a.k.a., “Dr. Suzy,” internationally renowned sexologist, talk show host and best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure, will deliver an updated reprise of her acclaimed talk, FemDoms of the Wild: The Bonobo Way of BDSM, at DOMCON LA 2019 on Saturday, May 12, 2019 1-2 p.m.in Room B1 of the Hilton Hotel LAX.
Susan M. Block, Ph.D. delivers The Bonobo Way: FemDoms of the Wild at DomCon LA 2017, introducing... more Susan M. Block, Ph.D. delivers The Bonobo Way: FemDoms of the Wild at DomCon LA 2017, introducing her kinky audience to the female-empowered "make love not war" bonobos.
Strap yourself in or strap one on, and listen in on this wide-ranging wild ride on the Love Train... more Strap yourself in or strap one on, and listen in on this wide-ranging wild ride on the Love Train. We begin with a couple of endings, saying RIP to old friend and filmmaker Michele Capozzi, as well as Lisa Marie Presley, American Rock Royalty, dead at 54, victim of cardiac arrest and toxic celebrity.
Lifting the skirts of British #ToxicRoyalty, Prince Harry’s “Spare” might just help to “abolish the monarchy,” or at least take it down a peg (pun intended for William, Prince of Pegging who sounds like a royal pain in the butt). I am NOT a fan of Pr. Harry killing 25 people, though to be fair, his toxic family has killed, colonized and enslaved hundreds of millions more.
Toxic celebrity takes many forms, from royal poison to political/sexual conspiracy theories that take our hungry imaginations down rabbitholes like Pizzagate, revived like a stale slice of pepperoni by Callin’er Brady, tortured by visions of heinous sex crimes perpetrated by “elites,” all of whom are in bed with Balenciaga and on a plane with Jeffrey Epstein (dead or alive). My view: whether or not they’re committing sex crimes, ALL of these “elites” are committing war crimes, economic crimes and climate crimes—as well as ANTI-sex crimes, like deleting women’s reproductive rights.
Brady also requests my sexological analyst of incel hero, Jordan Peterson’s “wet dream” about his grandmother; don’t miss it!
But the sexiest story of this show is not a fantasy. It’s Tennessee #PoliceOrgies! Hey, better for cops to have consensual sex with each other than harass and murder innocent citizens. Too bad most of the kinky cops got fired, especially the gal at the center (with six male officers), Maegen Hill. At least her hubby (a cuckold?) is staying; maybe they’ll start a cop fetish OnlyFans! Just as we’re wondering how many orgies are in Tennessee, Cornelius calls in from Tennessee to say there are a LOT more orgies than we might think. AND his police officer cousin attends them in uniform driving his cop car.
Birthday shoutout to Mal, aka Kenneth Malcomb Jones, supporter of the Bonobo Female Empowerment Project—who just turned 90 years old! Go Bonobos in 2023!
It’s the birth of a new year, but also the death of a good friend, Capt’n Max’s former partner in... more It’s the birth of a new year, but also the death of a good friend, Capt’n Max’s former partner in revolutionary publishing, radio, art and adventure, Willem de Ridder. Willem just passed away (we hear from Covid), so we say farewell to this great artist, storyteller, publisher, radio and TV producer, FLUXUS art movement leader, and founder of SUCK, the first European erotic magazine, featuring luminaries such as Germaine Greer, a copy of which found its way around the world and into the hands of another young publisher named Maximillian R. Lobkowicz, aka Mickey Leblovic.
When Willem met Mickey, the two began a great friendship and collaboration, publishing some of the most innovative sex magazines, Love, Hate, Finger, God, Annie Sprinkle’s Hot Sh*t, The Sprinkle Report, The Ladies Room, the LA Star and more. On this show, we talk about their life and work together, the history of underground publishing in LA, as well as their “pirate” radio shows in Italy and work with many great artists and adult stars like Annie Sprinkle who was Willem’s lover for a time. Together, they traveled through Europe and America, making art, getting busted (22 times!) and publishing “reader-written” magazines that changed the world.
Yes, changed the world. Now, with social media, 90% of what most of us read is “reader-written,” but back in the Swinging ‘70s, it was unusual if not blasphemous to publish the prose, photos and art of readers—not professionals—with virtually no editing or judgment. An amazing, if unheralded accomplishment for our Max and the late great #WillemDeRidder.
Though most of this show is one wild De Ridder story after another, we manage to squeeze in shoutouts to our beloved SUZY award winners; Louisiana demanding ID to view erotica; Prince Harry getting spanked by a cougar; Julian Assange, still tragically imprisoned for practicing journalism; Ron Jeremy declared “incompetent” to stand trial due to dementia; and to the MAGAts in Congress creating the political chaos they are paid by their oligarchical sponsors to create. #GoBonobos in 2023! Make Kink Not War!
Honoring excellence in broadcast artistry and exhibitionism, erotic performance, pro-sex politics... more Honoring excellence in broadcast artistry and exhibitionism, erotic performance, pro-sex politics and Weapons of Mass Seduction, celebrating The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure in all kinds of weather, for the 11th consecutive year…
It’s the SUZYs 2022!
Well before XBIZ, the AVNs, the TEAs, the Oscars, Critics Choice, the Grammies, the Tonys, the Emmys, the BAFTAs, NAACP, XRCO, SAG and MTV #awards and the Golden Globes trot out their awards, we are here to acknowledge the best and worst of 2022 with the DrSusanBlock.tv Awards, a.k.a., “The SUZYS.” Are YOU a winner?
So… Merry Xmas, Sexmas, Festivus AND a Happy Hanukkah (it’s the 7th night when we broadcast live), Happy Kwanza, Happy Pancha Ganapati, Io Saturnalia, Merry Winter Solstice, Happy Whatever You Celebrate 2022 AND a Happy Nude Rear! We’re looking up the ass of the past year! And I haven’t even gotten to the Prince of Pegging award.
In a way, the SUZYs are the Anti-Award Awards. Our goal, as always (besides having a cum-ton of fun), is to advance the noble cause of sex education—more important than ever, as we face draconian crackdowns on sexual speech and activity by Big Tech and our Supreme Court Injustices. We also aim to inspire better erotica and pro-sex political activism, as well as to save the real bonobos from extinction and support a more bonoboësque, Make Love Not War, Make Kink Not War ethos in the world.
As is traditional for The SUZYs, we do not invite the winners, or anyone at all to the award show, so don’t worry, you didn’t miss out! Just sit back by the yuletide fire, pour yourself a flute of champagne, smoke a doobie, relax, cheer for The Best, boooo The Worst and enjoy the #SUZY awards….
Honorable mention goes to the one Callin caller who manages to squeeze onto this #SUZYaward-packed live broadcast, providing a very sex-educational lesson in religious hypocrisy!
Peace on Earth. Pleasure for All. Amen. Awomen. And a Happy Nude Rear!
From sexy highs to stormy lows, we ride the turbulence of the holiday season. Still high from my ... more From sexy highs to stormy lows, we ride the turbulence of the holiday season. Still high from my incredible “Dosed” interview with the marvelous Abby Martin & Mike Prysner, I hop on FDR with Capt’n Max, & we roar through Saturnalia with a new release of our orgiastic broadcast from exactly 17 years ago, “XXXmas Saturnalia 2005,” tracing Xmas’ bacchanalian history, wishing, as always, for Peace on Earth & Pleasure for All.
But the evil Krampus—& Antiochus—are never far… and there’s always that nagging Hanukkah worry: Who wants to kill all the Jews NOW? In Hanukkah 2022, that’s easy: Ye (Oy Ye!), aka Kanye or “Con Ye” trying to con us into thinking he’s a misunderstood genius, or poor lonesome bipolar cuckold Incel for Christ… when he’s just an garden variety anti-Semite. Con Ye buddy Nick Fuentes is so incel, he’s volcel, & proclaims that having heterosexual sex is gay. FYI: Judaism & Zionism are not at all the same, & it really hurts Jews for Palestine like me when idiots like Con Ye & Volcel Fuentes conflate the two.
We also say farewell to amazing Twin Peaks composer Angelo Badalamenti & honor International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers. But the most exciting & unsettling part of the show is what makes it a “sonata,” expressing the rage under the surface of holiday cheer with “conflict instead of continuity, ultimately deriving its impact from the explosive power of tonal organization (definition of “sonata”). The center of the storm is Heidi, a conspiracy theory lover who says she’s not into conspiracy theories, but instantly starts spouting one about the Clintons in Arkansas. Max gets mad, Heidi gets banned, I get unsettled, & if you get vicarious thrills from the unfiltered sounds of fresh marital discord live-on-the-air, this show’s for you! It’s also great radio for other reasons, & we eventually make-up, the Bonobo Way, with a lot of good sex & bananas. Max also predicts his friend Joe will drop all charges against Julian Assange. All Saturnalian conflicts aside, this is our Solstice wish. And speaking of drama, a couple LA Sheriff’s deputies were caught having sex on the radio. Assuming it was consensual, I’d rather they have sex than shoot us, wouldn’t you?
Hop aboard FDR as we celebrate the release of my roundtable at Yale and Brittney Griner’s release... more Hop aboard FDR as we celebrate the release of my roundtable at Yale and Brittney Griner’s release from Russian jail, and we continue our search for the “Sexual Grail,” riding the rails of the Bonobo Trail. Midway through, Capt’n Max and I pick up the charming “Heidi” as we make these stops (and more) along the trail: • At the Arcadia City Council holiday party, I got a hug from outgoing Mayor Tom Beck, patron saint of Santa Anita horseracing and King of the Kangaroo Court that’s been harassing Bonoboville! • LA City Council’s party was even worse with Santa-capped Councilmember Kevin de Leon physically assaulting Jason Reedy! • Santa Anita Racetrack’s 2024 “Breeder’s Cup” gives me dystopian nightmares of pregnant handmaids racing to see who can give birth to the most unwanted children first… which unfortunately arouses some commenters, like the descriptively named "Gerbil Hung," though his silly fantasies are nowhere near as bad as the all-too-real Supreme Court-ordered spaying of women’s rights. • Why anxiety should be channeled through consenting adult kink—not legislation. Eroticize, don’t politicize, your fetishes! • Why I love-hate those #Yale elites. • Trying to pick a 2022 SUZY award winner for “Worst Yale Grad”—but there are so many! Bush? Alito? Kavanaugh? DeSantis? • From Forced Breeding to Forced Feeding! • From Britney Spears in 2021 to Brittney Griner in 2022, we’re freeing Brittneys everywhere! • It’s my half-birthday, and a good present (Joe, ya listening?) would be to free Julian Assange, Leonard Peltier and so many more… but tRump-for-Jail—please! • From the Prison Industrial Complex to YouTube Jail to banishment to mental jails, and now if you have consenting-adult premarital sex in Indonesia, you could go to jail. • And let's not forget Mr. Yale-to-Jail: Oathkeepers founder Stewart Rhodes! • Our continuing search for the “Sexual Grail” of orgasm takes us to the clitoris, Mother of (Almost) All Female Orgasms • Republican Independent Counsels couldn’t nail Bill Clinton for any of his so-called crimes in Arkansas, so they nailed him for getting nailed. • One more half-birthday wish: Peace on Earth. Pleasure for All. As the Megamachine forces us down the road of endless conflict and consumption, let’s switch lanes to the Love Train on the #Bonobo Trail, the path of sharing simple consensual pleasures, wherever we can.
Most major religions preach “Be fruitful and multiply” (Genesis 1:28). But what if human reproduc... more Most major religions preach “Be fruitful and multiply” (Genesis 1:28). But what if human reproductive sex is destroying life on Earth? Are recent political and religious campaigns to exalt and increase human reproduction through procreation pressures & forced breeding—even as human population rises, along with intensifying climate catastrophes—racist, misogynist, selfish, greedy, diabolical or just plain dumb?
Is there an alternative? Could channeling our multi-splendored sex drives into various types of erotic recreation—as opposed to procreation—be a better, more sustainable way—the Bonobo Way? If we could just put our erotophobia aside… wouldn’t we & all the living things be better off if more of us released our inner bonobos & expressed our sex drives through consenting-adult recreational pleasures like kink, outercourse, gay sex & sharing peace through pleasure—instead of ammosexual gun culture, perma-war, cutthroat competition, insatiable consumption & having huge, unsustainable, resource-consuming, trash-producing families?
Overpopulation is real. When Capt’n Max was born 11/8/1943, the world human population was 1.5 billion. Exactly 70 years later, the population clock struck 8 billion. Unfortunately, the Earth is still the same size! Of course, the Rightwing has its own way of reducing population: sell everybody guns, make a profit, & let ‘em shoot each other. The Left’s way is more humane—at least rhetorically—but no fun. My way is The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure, ecosexual sustainability & fun, as we explore on this show…
We also take a couple calls, from 1) “Obsolete” currently residing in his mom’s basement, but not an incel; he’s been a “volcel” (voluntary celibate)… until now! & 2) Brady, rejecting the violent ways of his military family, says he now “loves” the Bonobo Way & his “new favorite show,” FDR… “it’s cool as hell!”
We also address Elon Musk turning Twitter Rightwing, Hunter Biden’s Laptop Let-Down, Oy Ye-in-a-Hood & Neo-Nazi-to-the-Stars Nick Fuentes praising Hitler like Jesus, & continuing to complain about “the Jews,” leaving us to parse: who are “the Jews” & what can the rest of humanity blame us for? Not that I take that blame, but I do take the opportunity to say: Free Palestine! And Free Assange! This week, a bunch of media said what we’ve said for 10 years: Imprison the war criminals, not the journalists who tell the truth about war. Make KiNK Not War, you war porn lovers! Beware the Trumpus & a very Merry Kinky Krampus to all!
Taking the scenic route—from the mythical village of Bonoboville to the dairy farms of upstate Ne... more Taking the scenic route—from the mythical village of Bonoboville to the dairy farms of upstate New York by way of Atlantis, from the terrible tragedy of Colorado’s Club Q to the incel dream of Don’t Worry Darling (a great Date Night movie!) to the mountains of central Italy, birthplace of the great grandparents of Florida Governor Ron DeSantis, the phony “cafone” of fascism—our Love Train travels through time… Last week’s FDR was a VOTER Boner, but now Herschel Walker’s saying, “this erection is about the people.” Meanwhile I win our Spanksgiving wishbone-snap… does that make me a Wishboner?
On a serious, tragic note, we mourn the victims of the Club Q massacre the heroes who stopped the killer, especially the trans woman who put her high heel to valiant use. No praise for the Club Q killer’s Dad, Aaron Brink, an adult performer who’s more worried about his son being gay than a mass murderer.
We also take Callin calls from Lance in upstate New York who’s obsessed with Atlanteans as aliens and wants to start a workers coop for ex-prisoners, and with Schnarf in the Bronx by way of Puerto Rico who has a bunch of questions about masturbation, penis size, exhibitionism and insecurity. We go into overtime trying to reassure Schnarf that his equipment is big “enough," and hopefully he sees the light... Thanks to the evil machinations of the Megamachine of capitalism, conquest and competition, nothing is ever “enough.” It’s pretty powerful, but it can still be defeated, or at least avoided, at least in small mythical villages, by the power of sharing pleasure, the Bonobo Way.
Peace on Earth. Pleasure for All. Step away from the MegaMachine. That’s my Mythical Wishboner-winning wish for the Holidaze!
We’re posting this show a little late in the news cycle because Youtube censored suddenly censore... more We’re posting this show a little late in the news cycle because Youtube censored suddenly censored us for an old show, “Coup Anon K*nk”—for no clear reason, of course, calling it “harassment & cyberbullying,” but who was the victim? Trumpty Dumpty? QAnon? Youtube didn’t say; they just put us (me) in Youtube Jail (no bail, no trial, no lawyers allowed) for a week. So THIS show is over a week late in posting, enough time for my “VOTER Bon*r” to go flaccid. BUT you can still enjoy this podcast: listen to the popping of our political corks as the 2022 midterm tallies flow in, our #election erections wet with waves of blue, love, laughter, liquor, socialist hope, sexual fantasies, erotic compassion for our so-called “enemies,” and yes, #Voter Boners! Being a She/Her, I had a Voter Ladyboner (a Lady Voter-Bon*r?).
As a sexologist, I’m mindful of the twisted effects of humiliation—even in metaphor—but I must say, the MAGAts got cuckolded—and not in the fun, consensual way—in that election. Oh, how they bragged about the BIG Red Wave bursting at their zippers, coming to drench us all. But it turned out to be so small—smaller than my finger!—and now all these losers have “small wave syndrome.” Seems those flirty, flighty “independent” voters, said to lean Right, instead went Left with us gun-controlling socialist abortionist hedonists. Women (more Hot Wives than Handmaids) and young voters (#GoBonobos for Gen Z) rocked the vote! Hopefully, the Supreme Injustices that just denied women human rights are now quivering in their panties under those big black robes as they watch the votes come in, flooding their corrupt Court with a strong Blue Tide.
We also cheer the defeat of Sheriff Alex Villanueva, whom we’ve been denouncing for years, passage of Measure A (so LA’s City Council can fire the next Sheriff), pro-abortion access measures, winning the U.S. Senate(!) and making Trumpty Dumpty fall off his wall. As for Florida’s winning Governor Ron DeSantis, fellow Italian-American Capt’n Max calls him a “cafone” which sounds like “phony,” and he is one. But the phoniest thing about these “populists” is their FUNDING. Republican winners like Hillbilly Yalie JD Vance and losers like ammosexual bigot Blake Masters were funded by none other than Twitter-Destroyer Elon Musk’s sometime-partner, the megalomaniacal Peter Thiel, the billionaire who started PayPal—which we are proud to have sued in small claims court—and won!
Joining our Love Train #BlueWave Block Party with a splash is “Most Bonobo Couple,” DaLove and Belive, naked and singing, plus a vivacious Russian/Ukrainian model named Julia—her traumatic tales reminding me of one thing neither Republicans nor Democrats much talked about, the War in Ukraine! Speaking of the war, NOW is the time to make peace; it’s the Bonobo Way. We also talk with Chase, a self-described “Christian” calling in from the bloodred swamps of Mississippi, who voted straight scarlet and goes to Church… but still wants to party with us. Well, wouldn’t you? Happy Naughty November and almost-Spanksgiving!
Need to talk PRIVATELY? Experience #PhoneSexTherapy. Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213.291.9497. We’re Here for YOU.
Season’s Beatings! On Thanksgiving, we give thanks, & on Spanksgiving, we give spanks. It’s Our D... more Season’s Beatings! On Thanksgiving, we give thanks, & on Spanksgiving, we give spanks. It’s Our Duty to Spank Booty on Spanksgiving. Historically, SPANKSgiving is more reality-based than THANKSgiving. Those musket-wielding Pilgrims were less likely to share food with the Wampanoag Natives than slaughter them, kickstarting the North American genocide. Thanks, but no thanksgiving.
But every day was SPANKSgiving among those sadistic Pilgrims & Puritans who administered frequent spankings, paddlings, whippings, “stocks & bonds,” tar & feathering, “public disgrace” & witch-hanging. Of course, these were nonconsensual atrocities, & we decry Neo-Puritan GQP efforts to bring them back (i.e., via corporal punishment in schools)! BUT consenting adults can enjoy Spanksgiving roleplay along with impact play, as Capt’n Max & I have a spanking good time exploring on this show. Later, I get stuffed from both ends, & I hope you do too!
We also spank 3 Turkeys in the News: 1) We tried to stick a fork in it in 2020, but the Trump Turkey is still squawking—& running—in 2024. Merrick, please put this gobbler in a cage! 2) Another juicy—& leaky—Turkey in the News is neo-Puritan Supreme Court Injustice Sam Alito (A-leak-o?); thanks to whistleblower Rev. Robert Schenck, we now have MORE proof that Alito leaked his own decisions—including Hobby Lobby & Dobbs—to Rightwing activists, Alito (A-leak-o?) leaks are now staining what’s left of the Court’s reputation with curdling Christofascist gravy. 3) Then there’s that Turkey of a Billionaire Elona Musky, aka Space Karen, aka Twitter-destroyer Elon Musk, currently setting our beloved Tweety-Bird ablaze like one of his defective Teslas bursting into the Flames of Hell.
Back to Thanksgiving, which can be a delicious reunion with those we love, but also tough to digest, stressful, hypocritical & downright nauseating, where we have to repress our real feelings for fear of triggering Uncle MAGAt’s Loser trauma which might trigger his finger on that AR-15 that he has a Second Amendment Right to bring to dinner. Well, we can always just stay home and choke our chickens instead of swallowing their turkey and taking their crap. Spank the Monkey! See why I give spanks… as well as thanks? Spanksgiving puts Thanksgiving into perspective. Bottoms up! Turn the whole plutocratic, ecocidal oligarchy upside down & spank its naughty behind. Too bad the NRA doesn’t profit from spanking paddle sales. Feast or fap, stuffed, spanked or spent, have a good one (& follow the Bonobo Way)!
It’s almost Capt’n Max’s birthday, so we celebrate my beloved prime-mate, partner and husband of ... more It’s almost Capt’n Max’s birthday, so we celebrate my beloved prime-mate, partner and husband of over 30 years, Prince Maximillian R. Leblovic di #Lobkowicz di #Filangieri, life-long sex revolutionary, pioneer in First Amendment freedoms and reader-written publishing—which evolved into what we now call “social media—a great designer and a really great kisser. Va-va-va-voom! Capt’n Max is my “V” without the violence, as we “remember, remember the 5th of November” from “V for Vendetta,” that classic, cinematic celebration of masked revolution.
It's also the 8th anniversary of The Bonobo Way (with over 50 five-star Amazon reviews), more evolution than revolution, as well as conflict resolution via peace through pleasure, female empowerment, male well-being, sharing, caring and a Bonobo Sutra of erotic activities. Eight years ago, I wrote #TheBonoboWay and gave it to Max for his birthday. Now, our latest Bonobo Way offering is Make Kink Not War: Be Bonobo at DomCon 2022, with “Peace, Love & Bonobos” at Yale coming soon!
It's also our first FDR of Naughty November, 2022, and third live Callin show, as the birthday festivities turn into a Block Party that explodes into a freewheeling, far-reaching, deep-diving, sexy, lefty, bonobo-evolutionary, media-therapeutic discussion. Joining us live on Callin are Daniele Watts, aka DaLove—and it’s her birthday too!—and Chef Belive with many erotic and traumatic confessions, revelations and adventures to share in the crisp, not-so-clean, Naughty November air. We also take Callin calls from Dale and Schnarf about sexuality, fantasy, love, kink, “addiction,” eargams, toegasms, desire, release, struggle and the perennial allure of “Strangers in the Night.”
And it's Native American History Month, coming up on Spanksgiving, coming up on the last Saturday before one of the craziest most polarizing Election Days in the history of the USA, meaning it’s lesser-of-two-evils time, meaning get out and vote for the damn Dems! If it’s Wednesday, it’s too late. Just stay home and trip out. But if it’s Tuesday get your ass up. Play ball. Don’t just play with your balls. We don’t have a perfect democracy, we have an oligarchy, and we have war. It’s awful, but it could be worse. Much worse.
We mourn Twitter, now being ruined by Elon Musk quicker than tRump ruined our country. This whole Elona Musky Twitter horror show is a great example of why we need a wealth tax. In the meantime, we slip, slide, fumble, fuck, fight, dance, laugh, cry and trip along to our dystopian destinies, hopefully mitigated by the Bonobo Way.
Happiest of Birthdays to the Very BEST of Husbands, my big bonobo, my little Prince, Capt’n Max. As deep is our trust, so wide is our lust, you’re my best friend forever, but you’ll always be my mysteriously sexy Stranger in the Night.
All aboard FDR's Second Coming on Callin - Vergin’-No-More! Though we’re vergin’ on #Halloween, ... more All aboard FDR's Second Coming on Callin - Vergin’-No-More! Though we’re vergin’ on #Halloween, opening with My Samhain Ode to Sexy Witches, B*tches, Belladonnas & Scary Sex (consenting adults only please!), a Halloween Fever Dream that takes you Over the Moon on My Magic Dildonic Vibrating Broom (great for roleplay, pegging, spanking & good vibrations)… But frightful goblins lurk all around us: Melting Himalayas releasing ancient viruses; upcoming elections portending fascism & violence; people shooting, trampling & beating each other with hammers; the planet heating up, but it could all instantly cool down to nuclear winter, as we’re vergin’ on Armageddon, H-bombs poised for mutual annihilation on both sides of the madness. Now more than ever, we need to Make Kink Not War. Can we “be bonobo” before it’s too late?
Not yet fried alive, we wave farewell to Jerry Lee Lewis (Max was a Jerry Lee tribute artist) whose “Great Balls of Fire” is soaring up to rock & roll heaven or dropping down to honkytonk hell. Another scary reality is Elon Musk’s Twitter takeover. Twitter is not a truck. If someone doesn’t take the wheel, Elon is going to drive his new Twitter truck into a tree. Meanwhile, Musk’s buddy Kanye learned how “going Death/Def Con 3 on Jewish people” translates to losing more than half a billion dollars in a day. #GoBonobos for the Semitic convergence of Old Hollywood & new track shoes. Free Palestine! AND for a comic erotic trick-or-treat, the Pope confesses HIS Halloween fantasies of “nuns (watching) porn”… Another scary reality: black-robed ghouls on the Supreme Court’s Catholic supermajority stoning American women’s rights to death. Let’s impeach 6 out of 9, starting with Supreme Injustice Clarence Thomas whose wife, Ginni Thomas, is one of leaders of the (still ongoing) Coup Anon Insurrection - & let’s take heart in Iran’s ongoing “Women, Life, Freedom” rebellion against the Ayatollahs, the Persian version of our Supreme Injustices. Meanwhile, racism & greed from our caught-on-tape LA City Council intersect with Sheriff Villaneuva’s murderous deputy gangs. Our Kangaroo Court Arcadia City Council may be smaller, but it’s no better.
We also take a couple of Callin calls from Joe who really resonates with our sex-positive, no-Bernays, no bull message, & Wally who jokes about the great & powerful, one-eyed Halloween Monster threatening to bust through his zipper. Trick or treat!
It’s our FIRST #Callin show, but when I spell out v-i- r-g- i-n, I get censored by the Megamachin... more It’s our FIRST #Callin show, but when I spell out v-i- r-g- i-n, I get censored by the Megamachine. So, I’m “Vergin’ on Callin,” meaning it’s Capt’n Max‘s & my FIRST TIME on a brand spanking new platform (for us): Callin! There’s a first time for everything, but there’s only one first time for anything (you never get to have a second first time), so we make it special… with spooky mid-Kinktober tricks, treats & Season’s Beatings!
Spooky can be kooky, but Halloween is the eve of the Day of the Dead (Día de los Muertos), so we say RIP to KAY PARKER, my beloved friend & the ultimate MILF/Mom Fantasy as Barbara Scott in #Taboo + BARBARA EHRENREICH, great bonoboësque author of “Dancing in the Streets: A History of Collective Joy” which inspired my notion of “communal ecstasy.”
We also send bonobo sisterly support to my late great Counterpunch publisher Alexander Cockburn’s niece, OLIVIA WILDE, “Don’t Worry Darling” director & ex to Tao Ruspoli & Jason Sudeikis, now with Harry Styles - to namedrop a few - & being unfairly targeted by neo-Puritanical media misogynists. We all know the MSM loves to serve up sex with a side dish of shame, but it hurts all the same…
Other topics: Free Assange... Cancel Kanye... Free Palestine... Coup Anon fascist thuggery & E. JEAN CARROLL’s sticky case against the Donald... Alexandra M. Hunt’s “Right to Sex”... Though “God Forbid: The Sex Scandal that Brought Down a Dynasty” calls JERRY FALWELL, JR. & hotwife Becki “freaks” for their #cuckold relationship with the pool boy – they’re not freaks; they’re just redblooded Christofascist hypocrites..
And we take calls from Callin’ers who don’t even “call,” but just press a little icon to talk. First, Shardoll on corporal punishment in schools (always wrong) vs spanking consenting adults (can be great!) + porn star Stormy Daniels’ way to discipline Trump Baby - spank him with his Forbes Cover! We also talk with Jeff who loves Chris Ryan, Sex at Dawn & Civilized to Death almost as much as we do, & sounds like he could be Vergin’ on The Bonobo Way. Though he’s listened to several other shows on Callin, FDR is the FIRST where he actually “called in,” so he’s a Vergin’ too… & CallIn is lookin’ promisin’ for FDR!
Season’s Beatings and a Happy Bonobo Kinktober to you and your familiars.
All Aboard FDR for a t... more Season’s Beatings and a Happy Bonobo Kinktober to you and your familiars.
All Aboard FDR for a trippy trip through the Tunnel of Love—which was pretty spooky a couple of weeks ago, when Capt’n Max fell off the tracks, derailed by a monster infection that we’ve been battling ever since. Fortunately, Max comes roaring back this show, ranting against censorship and Republican religio-fascism, and declaring his nostalgic love for “Bullet Bras.” I say better to wear a bullet bra than bullets in your bra and an AR-15 over your shoulder. Speaking of shoulders, IG is censoring shoulders now, and GoogleAds is censoring the word “cuckold.” Meanwhile, in Iran, the outrageous “Morality Police” are fueling the hijab rebellion: Women, Life, Freedom! Amen and AWOMEN.
We’re also celebrating Kinktober with the RELEASE of Make Kink Not War: Be Bonobo, Version 6.0 of The Bonobo Way at Domcon LA. Shout-out to my Counterpunch colleague Kollibri terre Sonnenbaum for his engaging Twitter thread converting a “War-Is-Human-Nature” (it’s not) tweeter to the Bonobo Way! And to Steve Jobs' lame and probably fake last words! And to our media ménage à trois: three different “Hollywood” documentaries with and about HBO and Vice coming soon…
As we broadcast live, protests for Wikileaks’s journalist Julian Assange rise up around the world, including thousands of people surrounding British Parliament in a “Human Chain” of support to Free Assange, whom we have supported since 2010. So… Let’s Go Brandon! Stop torturing an innocent journalist! FreeSpeech advocates on the Right and Left Free Speech all fervently support Assange, yet Democrat and Republican LEADERS all fail to defend him. They are equally awful about the war, which rages on with poopin’ Putin turning 70 in his bunker, as Russian draft dodgers flee, and Ukrainians blow up bridges with American war toys to the ammosexual delight of Youtube viewers at home. No sex toys allowed on YouTube - Just war toys and war games that kill real people. And you wonder why our society is so sick?
As the Love Train leaves the station, Max enjoys a nice chocolate (a traditional aphrodisiac) that happens to be cannabis-infused (a double aphrodisiac), so by the time we arrive, we are off the rails, inspiring a night of orgasmic senior sex like we haven’t had in… a couple of weeks! Wheeee! #GoBonobos for Make-Up Sex!
It’s a Rough Ride on the Love Train without Capt’n Max's baritone in my earphone (he’s there, jus... more It’s a Rough Ride on the Love Train without Capt’n Max's baritone in my earphone (he’s there, just not on-air), but “the show must go on,” so on I go, as we “Fall Out of Line” & into a fiery & flooded #Fall Equinox with a Climate-Changed Heat Dome in Heaven & Pakistan & Puerto Rico underwater…
Meanwhile the Capitalocene #MegaMachine keeps pumping that gas & poisoning tap water, now “filtered” from human sewage laced with chemicals like SSRI’s that lower your #SexDrive.. Listen to the Tale of Will, addicted to the antidepressants ruining his libido, & how I help him get it up again! Happy #SelfLoveSeptember! And Happy Bi Week aka Bisexuality Week! Need a sex toy for that?
Welp, a dildo & lube-filled truck lost its load—perhaps a delivery for Big Willie, #PrinceofPegging Heir to #TampaxKing Charles III finally winding up the endless Dead Queen Cosplay, as half the fans of Harry the Spare want to #AbolishtheMonarchy, the other half to reestablish it in Montecito with #PrincessMeghan on the throne. And oh, the British Royal Crime Family’s history of war, colonialism, slavery, theft & genocide is bad enough, but what’s with these giant phallic bearskin capped Dicks on Parade? I love phalluses, but not covered with fur, let alone the fur of Canadian black bears which, though not endangered, should not be murdered for a hat (& I love hats)…
Big Furry CockHats might make you look silly, but an “improperly” worn Hijab can get you killed by Iranian #MoralityPolice as happened to Mahsa Amini; we support the brave protesters against Islamofascism—which is at least as bad as Israel’s Judeofascism & America’s NeoPuritan Christofascism... At least notorious #NeoPuritan Ken Starr is dead, & oh, how much damage was done by this Poster Boy for Right-Wing Hypocrisy, & oh how much fun we had awarding him 1998 “Pornographer of the Year”… And oh how glad we are now to see Ca. Atty Gen Rob Bonta impede LA Sheriff Villaneuva’s Deputy Gangbang of So Cal citizens… In tRump News: Proving QAnon has achieved a Coup Anon in his brain, the Trumpus declares he can declassify top secret documents “just by thinking about it”…. We also talk about Kanye-Never-Reading-A-Book vs. Me reading Fabian Scheidler’s End of the Megamachine: A Brief History of a Failing Civilization, the MM consisting of 4 Tyrannies: 1) military 2) economy 3) religion & 4) #LinearThinking, #4 being my personal weakness, as evidenced by this show... FREE ASSANGE! Get well, Max! Be Bonobo. #ListenUp!
The Queen is Dead. Goddess Save the Queens! And a Happy Self-Love September to all who mourn, cel... more The Queen is Dead. Goddess Save the Queens! And a Happy Self-Love September to all who mourn, celebrate or simply don’t give a fig. As the Love Train rolls out of the second Elizabethan Era into the Great Neo-Feudal Unknown, we receive the news that Queen Lizzie’s dead… but are we ready for His Majesty, the Tampon King, inserting himself into the center of this extravagant cosplay circus of power, opulence and international thievery with a history of colonialism and genocide, known to all as the British Royal Family? Will Charles III be more like Charles II (“the Merry Monarch”) or Charles I (executed by the Roundheads of Parliament)? What about Harry and Meghan and the Prince of Pegging? What about the poor, the people whose human rights “The Firm” has trampled, their ancestors killed, enslaved, colonized, burglarized and brutalized for The Crown? These are our fellow humans whose "job" it is to embody the idea that some people are born into privilege and should live in luxury and rule by birthright whilst the rest—that means you and me—should kneel, obey, pay-pay-pay and enjoy the gossip rags. The Brits worship their Crown Royals like the ancient Greeks did their Gods and Goddesses, but why do Americans care about the Queen? Why do we care about the Kardashians? What is it about “influencers”? Hollywood? Personality politics? What is at the root of these often toxic cults of celebrity? And what about tRump? Sir Donald, Baron of Bullshittery and the never-ending Trump Crime Family Circus give the Royal Crime Family a run for their stolen money in pulling off the “Greatest Grift on Earth,” juggling Top Secret documents, leaping through fiery lies, and inciting armies of clowns, many of them heavily armed and dangerous. No Big Top is big enough for so many clowns, so they are running and shooting through the streets. And did we mention the HEAT? Climate Catastrophes are here… Mid-show, Bob calls in from Oregon to get out of the HEAT, ask a few questions about self-pleasure, share his amazing ejaculatory prowess and celebrate Self-Love September with a Live On-the-Air Self-Loving orgasm! Capt'n Max, aka Prince Maximillian Rudolf Leblovic di Lobkowicz di Filangieri (deposed on both sides) also honor Queens of all kinds, Queen Bees, Queenly Bonobo Matriarchs and Drag Queens. Unlike the Proud Boys (who are obsessed with them), we curtsy to really fine Drag Queens.
With the “Show Me” State of Missouri now in a “Spank Me” State of Misery—bringing corporal punish... more With the “Show Me” State of Missouri now in a “Spank Me” State of Misery—bringing corporal punishment, aka beating children, back to public schools (!), we feel it’s a good time (once again) to differentiate “erotic spanking” or impact play—which is a great form of recreational kink for consenting adults—from punitive spanking or paddling, which is a terrible way to “discipline” children. Nevertheless, school districts in the Great States of MO, TX, LA & more are once again spanking children who “misbehave.” This, even as they ban books, dumbing down the next generation from top to tush. Not everyone on the Love Train agrees with Capt’n Max & Me that spanking kids is wrong (such a divisive issue!), but we resolve our conflict in a Bonobo Way when I give our Birthday Gal Ana—a consenting adult—a celebratory Birthday Spanking right on the air. Joining us in Twitter Spaces, Chris G from NJ celebrates his graduation, spreading The Bonobo Way of Peace Through Pleasure, and riding our F.D.R. “rocket” into the wonders of space (outer and inner)! We also talk student loan forgiveness (the GQP doesn’t like it because they want #BodiesBodiesBodies and for YOU to be so poor you have to join their military); “The Beauties & Bautista” live from the Soul of Old DTLA; Jeff St. Claire & Jean-Jacques Rousseau on spanking; how we can get Biden to Free Assange and why we’re not sorry to see Liz Cheney go—even though she tried to take down tRump. So do we! And here we are, spanking and trying to beat Trump again and again—in words and pictures—as the FBI, the DOJ, the State of NY and even FOX-TV take turns spanking Trumpty Dumpty who will soon—hopefully, finally—have a great fall. Crrrrack!
No, not Trump Nudes (Putin has those). We’re talking (on this show) about the Top Secret Nuclear ... more No, not Trump Nudes (Putin has those). We’re talking (on this show) about the Top Secret Nuclear Documents uncovered in the Trump Raid, and whether or not—having pocketed $2 Billion in oil-soaked Saudi cash from his BFF, MBS (aka Mohammed Bone Saw) for his “private equity firm” —former First Son-in-Law Jared Kushner is the Mole.
We also talk Religious Fascism and the attack on Salmon Rushdie, freedom of expression and JK Rowling. Mid-show, a random caller turns out to be a poster boy for irreligious, antifascist, male-male, purely recreational and very sustainable sex: “Justin” calls in looking for phone love as he enjoys self-love. Speaking of dicks, we also learn that Kate’s nickname for the #PrinceofPegging is “Big Willie,” and we bid farewell to Jeffrey “Zoom Dick” Toobin (he should have called us for Phone Sex Therapy) now finally finishing--I mean leaving CNN.
I also share a bit of intriguing correspondence about bonobo female reproductive choice, alpha male reproduction, beta male recreational sex and the Bonobo Way of peace through shared non-reproductive pleasures with my favorite primatology couple, Dr. Brian Hare and Vanessa Woods, authors of Survival of the Friendliest (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J-Xrq...). Wow, talk about sustainable sex!
And of course, Capt’n Max and I celebrate the Trump Raid—just the tonic for toxic Post-Trump Sex Disorder!—with a little orgasmic sustainable sex of our own. Yes, it’s sustainable! The only Big Oil involved is a big jar of coconut oil.
All Aboard F.D.R. as Capt’n Max and I penetrate the Tunnel of Love, exploring Sleeper Car sex, “P... more All Aboard F.D.R. as Capt’n Max and I penetrate the Tunnel of Love, exploring Sleeper Car sex, “Pulling a Train”—with Consent, of course—and the fine art of “pegging” with a special focus on the “Prince of Pegging.” Guess which Royal we’re talking about! Hint: It’s not that Prince who fantasized he was a tampon inside his lover’s vagina (that’s the Prince of Begging) nor the one with the Princess of Montecito nor the one who was BFFs with Jeffrey Epstein. His Highness (His Heinie?) Prince WILL get pegged occasionally, according to rumors, and maybe this is why the upright Prince William walks like he’s got a stick up his butt… because he literally does. Perhaps a discreet, tampon-sized butt plug (like father, like son, but in reverse) is what keeps him serene during those long regal ceremonies. In any case, Kate is fine with it, and so are we. Actually we love pegging! (though for Max, who’s also Prince Lobkowicz di Filangieri, it’s a royal pain in the butt); it’s the Royal Family Corruption that bothers us (alongside the popular #PrinceofPegging hashtag is often #AbolishtheMonarchy). Though truth be told, we Americans have a worse Royal Problem than the Brits, with our billionaire Family Values, pampered celebrities, rampant nepotism and politicians who command princely sums brimming with Royal Corruption, thanks to the Supreme Court’s Citizens United ruling. We also condemn fake “progressive” LA Sheriff Alex Villaneuva for his Deputy Gangs, homeless sweeps and the sadistic beatings in LA’s infamous Twin Towers Jail (Max tells stories of having seen Sheriff-approved jail beatings like this firsthand). Finally, we dive into the riveting tale of a poor little tRump supporter who’s not as bad as most – maybe BECAUSE he receives excellent Phone Sex Therapy from the Dr. Susan Block Institute. Mitigate your MAGAt ways The Bonobo Way with a little sex therapy (you know you need it!) & listen to this sapiosexual and very sex educational (especially if you’re into anal) radio podcast.
A “Coup Anon” is when QAnon tries to do a coup, and—love it or loathe it—America’s got a Coup Ano... more A “Coup Anon” is when QAnon tries to do a coup, and—love it or loathe it—America’s got a Coup Anon Kink. So hop aboard the Love Train as we explore the political, comical, Christofascist and calamitous kinks of the American “Coup Anon” Crusade. It’s depressing—at least for anyone not a billionaire—though I personally am no longer depressed, partly because I got some deep rest. Of course, depression can always return, so I don’t keep guns in the house. As guns get easier to obtain, thanks to our Supreme Injustices, the murders and mass murders mount—and that’s not “mounting” in the fun way. Good thing most of those depressed cosplay-clown Coup Anon’ers weren’t carrying guns on Jan 6, 2021, or the “Rape of the Capitol” would have been a bloodbath. The hearings show us Clown Commander Trumpty-Dumpty, sitting in the White House watching his Coup Anon unfold like a giant wrestling match on Fox TV, hoping they’d soon call him in to declare Martial Law and be crowned President for Life.
Once he realized his “wild” Coup Anon was failing miserably, he reluctantly agreed tell his hordes to go home, but not that he lost the election. He also appears to have poisoned the Secret Service, turning a couple into Coup Anon accomplices. And then there’s Coup Anon lieutenant Josh Hawley, the erotophobic Senator from Missouri who recently boasted, “I’m not gonna cower, I’m not gonna run,” as footage went viral of Chickenhawk Hawley running away from the Capitol-crashing Coup Anon’ers—just after he’d fist-pumped them into a fighting frenzy. As Capitol Cop Michael Fanone put it, “Josh Hawley ran like a little bitch.” Though that's an unintended insult to girl-dogs, sissies and women who take no shit, it's an apt description of the cowardly fist-pumper from Missouri. But will anyone important—especially the Big Orange Cheesebrain—be held accountable for this criminal Coup Anon?
We also talk about Public Access TV—which had more Free Speech than YouTube—and which I’ll soon be discussing on HBO (!), the Climate Criminal KarTRASHians (especially jet fuel-spewing Kylie Jenner and Travis Scott), yummy Armie Hammer and cannibalism kink, the unconscionable extradition of journalist Julian Assange and how we really need to quit this Coup Anon Kink Crusade and just “Be Bonobo” on The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure, ecosexuality, female empowerment, male well-being, great consensual sex and sharing everything.
We use the “F” word a lot on this ride, though not the fun one. Unfortunately, it’s Fascism on th... more We use the “F” word a lot on this ride, though not the fun one. Unfortunately, it’s Fascism on the March (Fascismo in Marcia!) in America. Though the American brand isn’t the same as fascism in Italy (birthplace of fascismo), Germany, Japan or Chile. So some say “it can’t happen here,” but it can, and it IS happening here. With a civilian “army” of racist, misogynist, religious fanatics, corrupt police, Proud Boys, Oathkeepers and ammosexual incel mass shooters at the bottom, the power-mad, illegitimate, forced breeding-fetishist Supreme Court Injustices at the top, and unscrupulous politicians in the middle, this new all-American fascism is a growing menace to our society, our sexuality, our democracy and the very future of life on Earth… It’s pretty depressing, and I’m pretty depressed about it. I almost called this show “Sex, Depression & the Bonobo Way,” but “depression” sounds too depressing, and “fascism” sounds sexier. That’s how f’ed up fascism is! All those hot kinky uniforms and lethal phallic weapons look hot. Of course, American fascists aren’t hot. They’re mostly out-of-shape slobs with BBQ stains on their “Let’s go Brandon” shirts. Not even cum stains for these winners…. Yes, they’re bigtime losers, but they lie and cheat, and they plan to lie and cheat some more, so these raging, Christofascist losers—along with their cynical and boundlessly greedy billionaire and corporate sponsors—can walk and poop all over the rest of us…. What to do? How about The Bonobo Way? Unfortunately, with the increasingly hostile corporate (and rather fascist) takeover of all popular social media, our message of bonoboesque peace, love, good sex and socialism usually gets censored or shadow-banned… But we’re trying—for all our sakes!
Both Capt’n Max and I get pretty fired up on this show (one way to relieve your depression is to release it on your podcast!) and our commenters are also pretty fired up, so we don’t have time for calls. Max and I are both pretty disturbed by current events, but Max manifests his rage as righteous anger, and mine tends to drop precipitously down into depression. We also talk about the Coronapocalypse (it’s baaack!), Israel’s awful apartheid treatment of Palestinians; Elon Musk vs. Errol Musk (who’s worse?); Coup Anon & other tRump trash; the Perma Wars; hot Senior Sex (at least we have that!); Orgasms (they can relieve depression… temporarily!); and how important it is to get out and PROTEST the Supreme Wrongs of these illegitimate Injustices. At first, I apologize for not going out to protest, but then recall that I was just recently protesting on the front lines of the Anti-Supreme Court demonstration at Yale, focusing much of our collegial wrath on infamous Yale alumnus Brett Kavanaugh, one of the two men (the other being Clarence Thomas) credibly accused of sexual abuse during their confirmation hearings that are now sexually abusing the entire country.
It's all very disturbing… but we cheer up by gazing at the galaxies (courtesy of the Webb Telescope!) as well as our amazing show and the beautiful photos streaming throughout the live podcast from our erotic exotic orgiastic fantastic Bonoboville Reunion, Class of 2022 (which is too hot for Youtube, but you can see it all here: https:// drsusanblock. com/ bonobo-reunion) with Vice TV, in the Womb Room sanctuary of the little Love Church of The Bonobo Way. Yes indeed, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners, the best antidote to this creeping—and very creepy—neofascism in America is to #GoBonobos, to follow The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure, ecosexuality, female empowerment, male well-being, great consensual sex and sharing everything… because everything and everyone is connected, and nothing is really just “ours” and ours alone.
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Show Journals by Susan Block
The technical term is cerebrovascular accident (CVA), but everyone calls it a “stroke” – though it’s really more of a strike – less a caress than a bullet to the brain, or, in Max’s case, an unexploded bomb that forms a blood clot blocking the flow of blood as well as oxygen to the cerebrum, causing (in Max’s case) sudden and severe damage.
What a stroke of madness, immobility and immeasurable suffering for my beloved Prince Max! Though it can always be worse; he could have had a stroke in Gaza. I’m not trying to be flip; I am grateful for the life-saving medical care Max is receiving that so many other people – from bombing victims in Palestine to women in need of abortions in Texas – cannot get right now. Indeed, Max and I are *privileged* to have access to quality care.
Nevertheless, a major ischemic stroke like this takes you – body, shattered brain and soul – to what appears to be as deathly a place as you can go in life – short of death itself.
Max’s stroke almost took his life; as it is, it has rendered him almost immobile, virtually paralyzing the entire right side of his body, and splintering much of his mind. Poor Max, so strong, right-handed, with such a powerful, creative mind, broken like a spilled jigsaw puzzle missing a few key pieces.
As for me, well, since the proverbial stroke of dawn, Sunday morning, May 19th – when Max’s deep growl turning into a howl of cosmic agony shocked me awake – until now, as I write this next to his hospital bed – I’ve been by his side.
According to Max, “The goal is the journey,” and – for better or worse – this is a journey we are on together.
So, every day, all day, and into the night, I’m in the hospital, the rehab, the ambulance, holding Max’s hand(s) – both his limp, stroke-stricken right hand and his *good* rambunctious left hand – trying my imperfect best to help my lover and friend of almost 40 years to survive, recover, communicate and somehow ease his incredible agony.
There are moments of ecstasy in the agony – cute crooked smiles, big wide eyes, whispers of desire, joyous laughter, pithy phrases blurted like “spoken word” poetry, unintelligible instructions delivered with the gravity of a Mafia don, flashes of radiance, hope, healing, hugs, even eroticism, fun, flirtation, sensuous touch, precious kisses and bonobo love glowing like a fire in the darkness.
In a way, I have never felt so much love as I feel right now for Max in these awful, draining weeks –before and (now) after this show.
Ah, this show. Yes indeed, on with the show. That’s what Max would say.
In fact, that’s what Max did say just before he had the damn stroke. Even though he wasn’t feeling well, even though I begged him not to (I myself have been cutting back on broadcasting live shows, and I thought he should too), he did a show. More than just about anything – except sex – Max loves doing the show. And I know if he could talk coherently right now, he would tell me to get on that mic and broadcast the truth. As it was, he nodded when I told him it was almost showtime. His big beautiful hazel eyes widened while a cute, crooked smile broke out across his face, before he emphatically exclaimed, “okay!”
And so, I broadcast this show about Max and his stroke – what happened, how he’s doing and what it means for all of us – for Max, for me, for our guests, for everyone in Bonoboville and for Max’s family, friends and fans all over the world. Of course, it’s just the tip of this iceberg of illness that has crashed into our Good Ship Bonoboville – not to mention our marriage! – but at least I’m (partially) facing the reality of *what happened* with Max by sharing the news.
It’s also my birthday. What a lousy birthday present, huh? Though if ever there was something Max didn’t do on purpose, it’s being stricken by a stroke, and by the time my birthday rolls around, Max is unintubated (taken off the breathing tube) and seemingly out of the darkest part of the woods, meaning there’s actually something to – cautiously – celebrate and certainly support on this auspicious, musical, magical, emotional birthday show.
This is, in a way, the opposite of what our show is known for. Usually, we talk about sex, not strokes. But even stroke patients need to be stroked. Maybe especially stroke patients need to be stroked – mentally and physically – encouraged and caressed. Desire is at least as strong a motivator as fear.
Yes indeed, I always find a sex angle, even in a stroke, and after all, this stroke patient is my lover.
So, after spending all day Saturday giving Max the good kind of strokes, I gather our Bonoboville crew, a few guests and friends for my birthday and Max’s healing (thus the title) in the little Love Church of The Bonobo Way at the “Speakeasy,” our ongoing, always-evolving show where we “speak easy” about things that aren’t so easy to speak about, like sex, death and Max’s stroke.
Continue Reading & Watch the Show: https://drsusanblock.com/birthday-healing
But I stay on the Love Train, from the Capitalocene to the Bonobocene on X/Twitter and Rumble, and I begin with a big thank you to the students of America (and now the world) who have so bravely stood, sat in and camped out on dozens of college campuses, to protest their schools’ investments in genocide, despite intense attacks from Zionists (see my letter below).
These students are beacons of light in this dark tunnel through which we’re now riding, when our leaders are failing us, and we are faced with a dismal dilemma: Genocide Joe or the Orange Turd….
Speaking of that Marmalade Poop Pile, Mango Mussolini, Trumpty Dumpty, Trumpus Rumpus, Don the Con, and I could go on… check out my interview in the Mirror about the spank heard round the world – Stormy Daniels spanking tRump’s rump – in that Tahoe hotel room and now in a New York courtroom, spanking him with her fearless testimony. We recently spanked Trump at our 32nd wedding anniversary too, you may recall – it’s the parody of our times.
Stormy Daniels is such an inspiration, like the students, but different. Funny how I wrote about Stormy and the Students inspiring me back in 2018, and now they’re doing it again. Stormy’s star is brighter than ever, and the students are different, though it’s a similar idea. In 2018, they were on a “March for Our Lives” for gun control. Now they march and camp out to stop the killing halfway around the world. Stop genocide!
Masturbation not Occupation!
That’s one way to segue into the merry month of May, and a Merry Masturbation Month to you. Seasons Beatings! Give yourself a Hand.
We discuss our favorite masturbation techniques and devices with the one and only Maria Von Fiddybritch, whose preferred method is to *get head* from an adjustable shower head or jacuzzi jet blasting water on her “little man in the boat,” cause tidal waves of pleasure.
That reminds us of our Spring Showers show in 2006 where a couple of guests actually brought a full shower onto our set, and then everybody got very wet and wild. It’s one of the hundreds of amazing shows in the archives soon to play in our Midnight Theater.
Motherhood is kind of the opposite of masturbation; you don’t become a mother through masturbating, unless maybe you’re the Virgin Mary, but Mother’s Day and the M Month both fall in May, so we wish Maria – whose 27-year-old daughter is getting her doctorate in chemistry – a Happy Mother’s Day!
Maria is overflowing with love – for her daughter, for us, for my Mirror interview on Stormy Daniels, for the Palestinians (“people are dying!” she exclaims), and for music, singing us two songs, the second of which is a camp song for FREEDOM.
Yes indeed, Free Palestine. Free Assange. Free Yourself.
META Legal Strategy: Slut-Shaming & Hypocrisy
And then there’s our Free Speech, which META and Mark Zuckerberg have stolen from me, deactivating, terminating and exterminating my Facebook and IG accounts.
If it’s happened to you, if you too have been a victim of META abuses – whether activated or deactivated – you know it’s unfair, unjust and a sign of our algorithmic, bot-controlled, dystopian times.
That’s why I’m taking META to arbitration. This should be my inviolable right, according to META’s own contracts. However, META lawyers are now doing their legal-beagle best to get my case kicked out before we even get to arbitration, attacking, trying to slut-shame me and hiding their hypocrisy behind Section 230.
Meanwhile Ginny Thomas, wife of our most corrupt Supreme Court Injustice Clarence Thomas, used her Facebook profile to incite Insurrection, while our show about the Insurrection got censored on YouTube, and my Facebook and IG profiles got deactivated.
Justice is more and more of a myth in a dehumanized America that is driven by bots for the benefit of the Rich (F*ck Da Rich!) – and the bots
I also briefly address the latest reports on bonobo male “aggression” that has bad, snarky journalists trying to say bonobos don’t really make love, not war. But yes, they do! Listen to the show as I explain that their aggression is never lethal nor directed towards females, making it more like pro-wrestling than war.
We’re into Freeing Your Inner Bonobo, Free Speech. Free Assange. Free Palestine. Free yourself. Be Cage-Free. Be Bonobo.
Of course, not everybody’s into what we’re into, such as Ms. Aimee Hawkes who wrote me the letter below, followed by my reply:
Dr. Block —
When did you start becoming a self-hating Jew like Larry David, Joy Behar and decades before, Woody Allen?
Your CounterPunch commentary reflects self-denial of facts, mostly one most liberal/progressives love to bury: Israel was attacked on October 7th. I won’t go into gory detail, but you might want to look up the carnage Hamas produced against young women on the concert grounds that day and ones not seen since.
As a Free Beacon journalist, I wouldn’t waste characters interviewing you regarding your hatred of Natanyahu or the actions of the IDF. Instead, should I see you on the campus of UCLA, USC with the bands of anti-American insurrectionists, only then will I approach you to explain your sordid viewpoint.
Until then, I personally hope Israel finishes the job and rids the world of Hamas, Hezbollah and every Iranian-backed proxy you defend.
Sincerely,
Aimee Hawkes
xxx
My Loving Reply
Dear Ms. Aimee Hawkes,
Thank you for your email. It’s always illuminating to hear from my readers, even when they troll me with nasty, lying, Zionist tirades like yours.
Your first question, “when did you start becoming a self-hating Jew?” is as rancid as week-old borscht.
It also incorrectly presumes that I am one. I’m not sure what the litmus test is for “self-hating Jew,” but I doubt I’d pass, as witnesses to my Bat Mitzvah, teen summers in Israel and Camp Ramah, Har Zion Temple wedding presided over by two Rabbis, Israeli TV show, big beautiful Purimschpiels and hot-wax Hanukkah parties can attest.
A self-questioning Jew, yes, but hating? Nah. I’ve long loved many aspects of my Jewish background, from Queen Esther to the Marx Brothers (including Karl) to the soulful prayers of Kol Nidre on Yom Kippur Eve. Polytheistic libertine that I am, I could never “hate” my Jewish roots. I do hate war, genocide, apartheid, but I don’t hate people – least of all myself.
Continue reading & listen to the show: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-stormy-students
The date was 4/12/1992. And now, 32 years – 384 months (for all you numerophiles) 1,700 weeks, 11,688 days, 280,512 hours, or 16,830,720 minutes later (more or less) – through thousands of shows, books, magazines, orgasms, trips, talks, arguments, adventures, imprisonments, forced separations – fabulous bacchanals, through thick and thin, and love, love and more love – we put on this show.
Gathering together a few friends, lovers and allies to the FDR radio broadcast bar at the little Love Church of the Bonobo Way in the Village of Bonoboville, we celebrate 32 Years of lawfully wedded love, pro-bonobo marriage, sexual revelation and cage-free revolution.
And what a reveling, revolving, revealing, rollicking, Rabelaisian, roller coaster we ride on our 32nd anniversary show, filled with love, sex, pleasure, pain, laughter, anger and joy, expounding, erupting, interrupting, sulking, sucking, licking, kissing, reminiscing, fantasizing, romanticizing, clashing, rehashing, telling tales, spanking tails, celebrating our love and – as always – protesting the war/s – especially the unceasing and increasingly appalling Zionist genocide.
Free Palestine!
We don’t spend the entire show beating our peace drums for the victims of Israel’s ongoing apartheid/genocide, but enough so you could call it our “32nd Wedding Anniversary for Palestine,” which I do.
I even wear a black and white keffiyeh with my wedding-white lingerie.
In a way, the keffiyeh reminds me of a Jewish tallis or prayer shawl. It’s ironic that our currently warring religions are so very similar, like Abraham’s sons, Ishmael and Isaac.
Capt’n Max, the “Captain of My Heart” (inscribed on the inside of my wedding ring), sports a Palestinian flag pin on his cap. More Palestinian flags of different sizes festoon Bonoboville.
I wonder what the two rabbis who officiated at our Har Zion temple wedding 32 years ago (many thanks to Rabbi Gerald Wolpe and Rabbi Ivan Caine, wherever they are) would think of our attire, decor and fervent opposition to the Zionist apartheid/genocide.
Much as they encouraged me while growing up, my hunch is they wouldn’t approve.
What kind of horror is this that divides Jews against Jews? The Jewish people have always been a diverse bunch, but this feels like it could be a Jewish Civil War – the Zionists against the rest of us. Max (who converted to Judaism years before we got married) and I are on the side of Jews for peace (literally) – that is already coming to blows in the streets of the Holy Land, from Tel Aviv to Brooklyn, Berlin to LA. Us anti-Zionist Jews are passionate, reasonable and, as the Talmudists say, “righteous.”
Unfortunately, the Zionists have all the guns.
Guns and bombs rule the rubble, but on the Battlefield of Public Opinion, we are winning. Israel’s genocide is supported by the powerful AIPAC (American Israel Public Affairs Committee) lobby and humungous Military-Industrial-Congressional Complex of War Criminals and Sleazebags, while we – and the peoples of the world – support peace in Palestine.
So, that’s how we’re rolling through this auspicious evening of conflict, resolution, revolution, good times, great food, fantastic old friends and a new beginning in the course of our endless journey.
It happens that one symbol of the 32nd wedding anniversary is “transportation” – whether a high-speed train, your own two legs or your imagination.
The Goal is the Journey. At least, that’s our motto (one of them) for 32 years.
The DERBY
Transportation might be the name of the 32nd anniversary game, but Max and I don’t really go anywhere.
Honestly, we tried going up the coast on a Great RV Adventure on our 31st, but didn’t make it past Ventura, and weren’t about to try that again.
Nevertheless, the 32nd is quite the wild ride – a bit bumpy at times (like every anniversary) – but mostly awesome and ultimately amazing.
Of course, we transport ourselves on every FDR show, riding that Love Train, which is also a Peace-through-Pleasure Train, into the future, from the Capitalocene to the Bonobocene, through the terrible Perma-Wars of our times.
We also transport ourselves to dinner at the Derby on the night of our actual anniversary. We know it should be good, having had a scrumptious lunch seasoned with equestrian ambiance on my 2022 birthday.
Continue reading and watch the show: https://drsusanblock.com/32nd-wedding-anniversary
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Such is the mystery of virginity on the air and everywhere.
Why do radio veterans like Capt’n Max and me, along with Engineer Abraham, suddenly find ourselves virgins on new platforms? Unfortunately, Callin – our home broadcast platform for the past couple of years – just shut down, leaving us radio refugees and newbies to Rumble.
We’re also on Spaces, but we’re certainly not virgins to X/Twitter, so it’s more of an FDR “Resurrection,” and that’s what we call the show.
Cage-Free Eggs & People
Indeed, tis the season of resurrection, and it’s Easter Eve as we broadcast live from the Love Train’s bar car, rolling down the tracks of 2024, living the Cage-Free Life, the Bonobo Way.
Maybe you’ve painted cage-free Easter eggs… but do you lead a cage-free life?
We try to live cage-free – or relatively free of corporate shackles – here in Bonoboville.
We’re into Free Speech and a Free Press. We want to Free Assange. Free Palestine. Free yourself. Be Cage-Free. Be Bonobo.
Now’s the time to revamp, renew and resurrect our long-hibernating joie de vivre. It’s Spring!
Jesus Loved the Sex Workers
Resurrection is one of the springiest themes of Spring, a theologically serious but subtly salacious subject - and not just because it phonetically contains the word “erection” - but due to Jesus rising up from the depths of Thanatos (death) to heavenly Eros (life, lust and love), thanks to the miracle of Easter Sunday Resurrection.
And then, when Jesus is “born again,” whom does He first see? His favorite Easter Bunny: Mary Magdalene.
Yes indeed, Jesus loves the sex workers.
So, it’s fitting that the first caller on our virgin show is veteran sex worker, porn star and Dr. Susan Block Institute sex therapist, Hamilton Steele aka Le-Beverley.
Hamilton continues to regale us with tales of the gigolo life, serving the tech lords, nerds, cuckolds and incels of Silicon Valley. “I’ve never seen guys so fucked up, they couldn’t get laid with a hooker.”
I wonder how much of these tech lords’ deep-seated sexual frustration is at the root of their raging censorship, specifically META Zuck-the-Cuck’s deactivation of my Facebook and IG accounts?
It’s wrong, and we are fighting back. Yes, it’s a longshot, but I’m in the right, META is oh-so wrong, and you never know, so keep up with the Power Point updates, and join us for arbitration on June 26: Time and place TBA!
Resurrection Connection
Regarding the Resurrection, Hamilton is quite familiar with erections, and he believes Jesus was a “historical figure,” though he wonders, “How did Easter bunnies and chocolate eggs come out of a Jewish guy being crucified?”
Good question! And the answer, in part, is paganism. Sounds blasphemous, but here in Bonoboville, we sometimes roleplay the res-erection with our Divine Interventions “Jesus Jackhammer” dildo rising up out of Dorrie Lane’s Wondrous Vulva Puppet or perhaps a real woman’s yoni or mouth, as we sing, “Hallelujah! Jesus is in her now!”
The myth of resurrection stems from the Earth being “reborn” in spring… with the promise that we too can be reborn. Jesus dies on Good Friday, then springs back to life on Easter Sunday. Resurrection gives us hope of life after death, and it is one of the cornerstones of Christianity.
However, Jesus wasn’t the first human/God to be born again in Spring.
On our Spring Equinox show, we compare the Resurrection of Jesus to the Resurrection of Persephone, the Greek Holy Daughter returning to her Mother, the Earth, instead of the Holy Son returning to his Father in the Sky.
On this Easter Eve Resurrection show, we compare Jesus to another Greek deity, Dionysus aka Bacchus, another God of the People who is killed and brought back to life – the Resurrection of Dionysus – by his Heavenly Father Zeus, aka Jupiter, aka God.
Jesus & Dionysus
Centuries before Jesus Christ is said to have lived, died and lived again, the ancient Spring Dionysia and Primavera Bacchanalia honored the resurrection of the Greek God Dionysus (Bacchus to the Romans), a “Christlike,” charismatic and bonoboësque God of Spring, one of whose consorts is Pan, the horned, horny goat God of the Wild who lends his name to Pan paniscus, the scientific classification for bonobos.
The Spring Dionysia featuring the great tragedies of Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides and the comedies of Aristophanes, and the Bacchanalia of ancient Rome included ecstatic rituals and bonoboësque orgies celebrating this extremely popular, complex deity who, in a number of intriguing ways, foreshadowed the coming – and second coming – of Jesus Christ.
How could a God of Orgies have anything to do with sweet Jesus? I’m so glad you asked! Let me count the ways…
Both Jesus and Dionysus are especially adorable as babies (as are bonobos).
Both Gods never lose their youthful, androgynous good looks, also like bonobos.
Both Gods have human “virgin” mothers and divine heavenly Fathers.
Both Jesus and Dionysus are liberators and revolutionaries, overturning the status quo—politically in the community and emotionally (spiritually) within the individual.
Both Gods treat women as equals, as bonobos do, and have passionate, prominent female followers.
Both Gods treat slaves as equals.
Both Gods miraculously heal the sick.
Both Gods are intimately connected with wine; Dionysus is the God of Wine, and Jesus turns water into wine.
Both Gods have, in a sense, their “flesh and blood” eaten and drunk by others.
Both Jesus and Dionysus are charismatic “rock stars” with long hair, an entourage and adoring groupies – and both are opposed by uncool, older conservative types
Both Gods preach that the Kingdom of Heaven is within you.
Both Gods are Masters of Seduction, saying that “Heavenly ecstasy is yours if only you follow Me.”
Both Jesus and Dionysus die terrible bloody deaths, suffering tremendously and at great length, for the sake of humanity.
Both Gods are resurrected in Spring.
Hustler Orgasms
Speaking of the second coming – as well as the first and third – I’m giving advice on the all-important topic of orgasms in this month’s Hustler.
Check out my tips on coming, second comings, G-spot hunting and how to resurrect your flagging erection in “Building a Better Orgasm” by Marcy Diamond.
And check out Marcy riding the Motorbunny to a rollicking holiday orgasm in “Halloween 2015 Kink Month Climax in BooNoBooVille” on DrSuzy.Tv.
Trump Bibles vs. The Bonobo Bible
From resurrection to insurrection, and just in time for Holy Week, America’s Top Huckster is hawking The Trump Bible – the “God Bless the USA” Bible, here to “Make America Pray Again” at the bargain price of just $59.95 (got to cover those legal bills!) – reaching new heights of hucksterism, having violated almost all the 10 commandments and much more.
It couldn’t be any worse than Trump Vodka, Trump Steaks, Trump University… or the Trump White House - hopefully, that won’t be resurrected.
On this auspicious first Rumble show and Spaces resurrection, our oldest listener (he’s been listening to the show since I was on KFOX 93.5 FM!), Don P, aka PolyBi, calls in to express his fervent hope that Trump will lose Manhattan District Attorney’s Alvin Bragg’s 34-count felony “hush money” case against him just before the 2024 election. If found guilty, the history books will record that kink saved the country and Trumpty Dumpty was brought down by a porn star, the one and only Stormy Daniels.
Coming soon: The Bonobo Bible! Includes The 10 Commandments of Pleasure, The Bonobo Way and more!
Also coming soon: My interview with Telltale Industries about the mysterious Jonathan Taylor Spielberg (no relation to Steven, except spiritually). Check out some interview pics in the Gallery and stay tuned for this quintessential Hollywood story.
Continue reading & listen to the show: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-resurrection
Erin go Bragh and Go Bragh-less!
It’s also our last train – or one of our last – on Callin, but no, I am not being banned on yet another platform. Callin is being shut down by its corporate overlord (Rumble), making us soon-to-be radio refugees. But have no fear; FdR will keep running, Bonoboville will keep humming, and we will keep spreading the Bonobo Way.
So, its “last call” on Callin at the Speakeasy Bar for the St. Paddy’s Day Eve Gift of Gab fest, and Capt’n Max and I have a lot to gab about, much of it with one of our favorite Callin callers, Maria, who regales us with tales, questions and a lovely song, and promises to follow us to our next platform, wherever it might be.
Prince of Pegging & Missing Princess
Last FdR, as well as on my 2024 State of the Sexual Union address – broadcast live on Hartley Pleshaw’s “Active Radio” on WCAP 980 AM and now available on most major platforms where I’m not banned (as well as some where I am) – we talked about the terrible traumatic proliferation of War Porn – which is, in this sexologist’s not-so-humble opinion, far more traumatizing to victims, perpetrators and viewers than regular porn.
On this show, the topic turns to Royals Porn, that is, the British Royals having sex, though it’s not exactly porn because, while you hear lots of rumors of their sexcapades, and even plenty of rumors about the rumors, you don’t actually see much of anything, except for paparazzi snaps of furtive glances, smiling eyes (Irish or otherwise) and stiff upper lips.
It’s really more of a Royal Soap Opera with titillating tattle-tales of aristocratic cheating, bisexual adventures, the Prince of Pegging‘s alleged penchant for kinky recreational sex with his wife’s ex-friend, possible procreational sex resulting in a Comedy of Errors and Heirs, bad photoshopping, very bad lying and a curiously missing princess who was once a paparazzi exhibitionist, but hasn’t been seen since Christmas, 2023. Maybe she really is recovering from a mysterious kind of “abdominal surgery” (perhaps a hysterectomy?), or maybe she’s on strike or having her own affair – who knows? All this is, of course, going on against the bloody backdrop of the sordid history of British colonialism and imperialism and lots of violent death, including the terrible car crash that killed Princess Diana.
So… Where is Kate?
That is the question that has turned many of us who normally don’t give a crown about this rather dysfunctional family into royal voyeurs. This could be juicier than Charles the Tampon King or Harry losing his virginity in a field behind a pub…
Tune in for a deep discussion – thanks to Maria’s probing questions and Prince Max’s posterior squeamishness – on pegging – what it is and why you (and various Royals and commoners) may or may not really like it.
Boeing Booboos
Usually, when we mention flying, it’s fun stuff, like joining the Mile High Club. Then again, we’ve also talked about how planes are some of modern civilization’s worst polluters.
We don’t often comment on plane engineering, but now it seems that great American jet manufacturer, Boeing, is making planes that seem designed to break. Turns out that after Boeing merged with McDonnell Douglas – and after our friend and DrSuzy.TV guest Eric John quit working as a Boeing engineer to become a porn star (a smart career move, it being way better to bang wenches than wrenches all day, plus you won’t be responsible for a packed passenger plane suddenly falling out of the sky) – the company attained the Market Dominance it always wanted. Then Boeing got lazy – playing out another tale of American greed and dysfunction, with the help of Trump’s deregulation of American transportation industries, hiring cheaper cost-cutting executives instead of better engineers.
This week’s news is that Boeing whistleblower John Barnett “committed suicide” in a parking lot, and if you believe that he punched his own ticket, then I’ve got a plane to sell you…
Persephone Rising for Spring Equinox
Spring or Vernal Equinox 2024 is also upon us. Catch Spring Fever and fall in love… or rise up like a blooming spring rose.
Long before the Easter Rebirth of the Holy Son returning to His Father in Heaven, people honored the Spring Equinox Resurrection of the Holy Daughter returning to Her Mother on Earth.
As Spring unfolds, the Greek Goddess Persephone (Proserpina to the Romans) is said to rise up from the bowels of Hades (Pluto) to rejoin Her Earth Mama Demeter (Ceres) who is so ecstatic to embrace the fruit of Her loins that She showers the world in Spring (now that’s some serious squirting).
Telling the timeless story for the umpteenth time on this show, I’m happy to hear Maria’s spin on Spring and “Persephone,” the name she happened to have chosen, once upon a time, for her cat.
All religions have some way to honor and explain the coming of Spring. This year, Ramadan coincides with Spring Equinox, and some Muslims celebrate the Persian New Year or Noruz.
Check out our many fantastic, orgiastic Spring Equinox Bacchanalia with our own erotic Eleusinian Mysteries on DrSuzy.Tv.
Anti-Zionist Purim for Palestine
It’s coming up on Purim, the Semitic St. Paddy’s, Yiddishe Mardi Gras or Hebraic Halloween of masquerade, storytelling (Purim shpiels), games, pranks, music, wine and a special Spring holiday dessert called “hamantaschen.” These triangular, fruit jelly-stuffed pastries are said to represent the pirate-style hat of the Purim story’s villain, that quintessential antisemite Haman the Agagite, Biblical cousins of Bibi Netanyahu’s favorite scriptural boogeymen, the Amalekites.
Continue reading & listen to the show: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-lucky-spring-purim
I’m always marching into love with Capt’n Max, and on this show, we march for peace and freedom of speech, arm in arm with friends and lovers, singers and swingers, protesters and porn stars, ethical hedonists and antiwar activists on F.D.R. Go Bonobos!
Fighting Fire with Fire
Burning with passion for Palestine, active-duty U.S. Airman Aaron Bushnell set himself on fire, committing suicide to protest genocide.
Make no mistake: Aaron Bushnell is not a role model. Don’t set yourself on fire! Do not emulate self-immolation. But do let it illuminate a very dark situation.
And not just any dark situation. Aaron Bushnell did not set himself on fire over the “Israel/Hamas war” as the mainstream media (MSM) tried to explain, before moving on to the weather report, nor was he experiencing a mental health episode that could have been alleviated with a pill or a call to a suicide hotline, as implied by other MSM hasbara.
“They want us to believe we are mad and this war is sane,” observed Counterpunch’s Jeffrey St. Claire.
Indeed, on his own Twitch-broadcast livestream, Aaron Bushnell sanely and calmly spelled out exactly what he was protesting as he marched to the Israeli embassy in Washington DC, wearing his U.S. military fatigues. “My name is Aaron Bushnell,” he said. “And I am an active-duty member of the United States Air Force. I will no longer be complicit in genocide. I’m about to engage in an extreme act of protest but, compared to what people have been experiencing in Palestine at the hands of their colonizers, it’s not extreme at all. This is what our ruling class has decided will be normal.”
Then he set his phone to auto-record, and he set himself on fire.
He poured the kerosene on his head, stuck his cap back on and, just before he struck the match, a disembodied voice with the banality of a store clerk inquired, “Can I help you, Sir?”
Then suddenly, the blaze erupted, and Airman Aaron Bushnell became a real-life “Burning Man,” a Burning Soldier, marching in place in what must have been searing agony, yelling, “Free Palestine!” over and over again – his voice raw with pain mixed with love for the Palestinian people, so many of whom have been and are still being burned alive by Israeli bombs, paid for by American taxpayers – until he fell to the ground in flames.
“Get on the ground! Get on the ground!” yelled someone, presumably an Israeli embassy guard. Slowly, the guard walked toward the fire, arms stretched taut, hands together, holding a gun on the Burning Soldier as he burned to death.
A gun?
Another guy, perhaps a paramedic, arrived on the scene shouting, “Yo! I don’t need guns, I need fire extinguishers.”
What a moment. A quintessential defining snapshot of humanity, as the world turns and we all burn – as we go on fighting wars, bombing civilians and shooting our neighbors – when the wisest amongst us can barely be heard above the violence, stating the obvious…
“I don’t need guns! I need fire extinguishers!”
Read more prose & listen to the show(s):
There’s blood on the tracks – the innocent blood of thousands of Gazans, bombed and starved by Benny Net Nut and his gang of Zionist thugs.
Meanwhile, two semi-senile US Presidential candidates - Genocide Joe the Net Nut-abetting War Criminal and Trumpty Dumpty the Jack-of-All-Crimes (theft, fraud, assault, defamation, election tampering, treason and war crimes), vie for control of the train.
Is that a light at the end of the tunnel or a nuclear bomb exploding?
At the moment, darkness reigns as any criticism of Zionism is being censored as “anti-Semitism” (it’s not). Meanwhile real anti-Semitism is rising, as the Zionist massacre of innocent Palestinians in Gaza as well as the West Bank gets worse and is splayed across social media for all the world to see, and yet on and on it goes.
What is this madness?
Well, it sounds like genocide, looks like genocide, and if we were there, I’m sure it would smell like genocide, so yeah, it is genocide.
But our leaders refuse to call it what it is: genocide. Why?
We know their pockets are stuffed with Zionist and U.S. weapons industry cash. Apparently, so are their ears and their mouths.
Therein lies the bloody center of this storm of madness.
Speaking of storms, Capitalogenic climate change is causing floods, fires and famines around the world, but hey, life goes on (for some of us), and so does love – and Capt’n Max and I are lucky indeed to be alive and in love! And despite our general antipathy to V-Day in all its chaste commercialism, we had a great Valentine’s Day 2024.
It was not very commercial (we didn’t even go anywhere), but it was delicious (home-cooked lobsters – yum!), not at all chaste (two orgasms just after midnight to kick it off, and three more to wind it up with el grando climaxo), Lupercalian (I wore little red Pan horns and drew a heart on my forehead like the Lupercii drew on their foreheads in goat’s blood, though I used lipstick for a less messy effect), bonoboesque (Happy World Bonobo Season! Save the Bonobos! Make Like Bonobos, Not Baboons!), slightly soused (Cheers to Absente Absinthe!), definitely aroused (we’re seniors, but not dead!) and very romantic (Max is Roman, after all).
Valentine’s Day can be stressful, as we’ve acknowledged, and there are many ways to handle it. So imagine my surprise when I came across the worst piece of V-day advice on my news feed. Dr. Laura Berman (who happened to interview me about fetishes back in 2002) advises couples to not have sex on V-day. She advocates taking sex off the Valentine’s Day table entirely. Wow. This is not only odd, but part of a disturbing, anti-sex neo-puritan trend that is poisoning healthy human sexuality in our times.
My tip for V-day or any holiday is just the opposite. If you’re an experienced couple, make love first if you want to make love last.
Just after midnight as the holiday starts is perfect. Then, you can blaze through your day in a relatively stress-free afterglow. So, if it’s a bad day, or if you eat or drink too much and can’t have sex or don’t want to, it’s no big deal and no one will get *blamed* or have to *miss out,* because you already had sex. But if it’s a good day, and you’re feeling feisty, you can end the holiday on an orgasmic note and do it again.
That’s what we try to do on holidays, and that’s what we did this V-Day, and – even for two decrepit old fogies who can barely turn around without pulling a muscle – it hit the spot like Cupid’s arrow.
Brave and brilliant Wikileaks publisher Julian Assange is still in London’s bleak Belmarsh high security prison for exposing U.S. war crimes.
Because Assange has an important court date coming up, Capt’n Max and I – as well as Abe the Engineer and very passionately pro-Assange caller Maria - spend much of this show extolling his journalistic truth-telling, drooling over his sex appeal (well, I am), denouncing the slow, harsh torture to which he has long been subjected by the Anglo-American imperial regime(s) – despite the support of the world – and calling for his immediate release.
We have supported Julian Assange since before 2010, and so do many others around the world on the Right and Left who care about free speech and freedom of the press. Assange is more than a great publisher; he is a survivor and a symbol of Freedom of the Press for all of us.
As I write this, Assange is about to mount a final plea for his right to appeal his extradition to the U.S. where his treatment will be even worse than Belmarsh, verging on deadly. We have been saying it for almost 15 years, but let us say it again: Free Assange!
META Arbitration Set for June 26!
Meanwhile, sex education and information are being censored more and more, especially by META and its overlord, Mr. Mark Zuckerberg, whom I am taking to arbitration for their crimes, as we also discuss on this show.
Why are we taking META to arbitration? For the sake of freedom of speech, for the sake of fairness, for the sake of our mental health in the face of META’s dehumanization, for the sake of sex-positivity and sex education, for the sake of our freedom to be able to love whom we want to love – including ourselves – in the privacy of our own homes.
Multiple SUZY award winner Chris G. calls in and eloquently pledges to write a letter to the arbitrator, having supported us against censorship for years, especially in Zuck the Cuck’s latest bot-driven fascist crackdown.
Save the date: June 26 for the arbitration of Dr. Susan Block vs. META and Mark Zuckerberg! Time: 10 AM PST. Location (in Los Angeles) TBA.
One of the literal high notes of this rather musical show is when Maria requests a song from Chris, and he obliges with a Leonard Bernstein-worthy rendition of West Side Story’s “Maria.”
Later Maria sings “Don’t Dream It, Be it” – substituting “Be Bonobo” for “Be It” – from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Since Susan Sarandon is one of the stars of that iconic movie, I give her a shoutout for her courageous and very bonobo activism on behalf of Palestine.
More topics on this show…
My upcoming interview with a London podcast about another colorful character who passed through Bonoboville (before we called it Bonoboville), Jonathan Taylor Spielberg. Stay tuned for this unique Hollywood story.
#GoBonobos for Fulton County, Georgia’s DA Fani Willis. Trump’s lawyers are trying to pin the scarlet letter because she had a consensual sexual affair with a lawyer whom she assigned to the Trump case (after they broke up). Well, she had her reasons, and none of them appear to be illegal. Maybe she’s right when she says that she’s not the one on trial; Trump and his mob are on trial for trying to “steal the election in 2020.” And she looks damn good saying it in her scarlet power dress.
Another one of Trump’s lawyers, Alina Habba, who just lost her client $85 million to E. Jean Carroll and $355 million to the State of New York, once said she’d rather be pretty than smart because she can fake being smart. As in sex, so in law: it’s not so easy to “fake it.”
Russian dissident Alexei Navalny was found dead in his prison cell. He was not a great guy, a bit of a fascist and certainly no Julian Assange, but they say he was poisoned by Tucker Carlson’s Bear Daddy Vlady Putin, and anything that makes Tucker blush as red as Fani Willis’ dress is okay with us.
Lots more on this rollicking and yet very serious ride. Fingers crossed (but not legs!) that the light at the end of the tunnel’s not another bomb.
Continue reading and check out the show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-elder-orgasms-antiwar-activism
I cum to bury Valentine’s Day, not to praise it…
Sorry to mangle Marc Antony’s classic eulogy in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, but Valentine’s Day is fake news.
A sugar-coated confection of disinformation concocted by the early Catholic Church, developed by the Victorian greeting card industry, sweetened by See’s candies, polished by DaBeers diamonds and abetted by Amazon, all this overpriced Hallmark-card fakery is based upon a lovely little sexless fairy tale starring the celibate Saint Valentine.
Sexless St. Valentine
As the story opens in 4th century pagan Rome, mean old Emperor Claudius has made marriage illegal. In a vain effort to restore potency to his weakening imperial army, Claudius wanted fighters not lovers; after all, when you make love, you’re not so inclined to make war. Valentine, a Christian priest who married couples in secret, was arrested and, while awaiting execution, converted his jailer’s blind daughter to Christianity, whereupon she fell in love with him. Then, just after Valentine was executed, the jailer’s blind daughter found a card in his cell addressed to her from “Your Valentine.” Not only was she touched by this loving gesture, but the fact that she could now see the card meant Valentine’s saintly ophthalmological skills had cured her of her blindness.
What a touching tale of chaste ideals befitting the high holiday of hopelessly romantic love, Saint Valentine’s Day!
But alas and alack (a big lack), the ideal is the enemy of the real, as Capt’n Max says, and in reality, there were several Christian martyrs named “Valentine,” and no evidence that any of them healed a jailer’s blind daughter or composed a farewell card.
However, the ideal is more compelling than the real – as well as more marketable – at least according to Hallmark, See’s, DeBeers and Amazon, who have worked hard over the centuries to provide the tools for a V-Day fraught with pressure – the enemy of pleasure.
I’m all for relationship romance – and I’ve got the 31-year marital romance to prove it – but I’ve always felt Valentine’s Day was a bit contrived, like artificial icing on a natural succulent strawberry. The real juicy fruit is in there somewhere, but the sickly-sweet shell disguises, sanitizes and commercializes it beyond recognition.
Later, I learned that deep inside the phony, saintly, sweet Valentine shell is the original, primal, heart-felt feast for all the senses, including your sense of history – with nothing saintly or celibate – about it…
Lusty Lupercalia: The Original V-Day
They called it “Lupercalia,” the original pagan Valentine’s Day, the holiday of the heart, a big bacchanalian celebration of communal ecstasy, collective sexuality, fertility, purification, the rush of hormones, the howl of the wolf, the crack of the whip and the coming of Spring.
In contrast to the commercialism, artificial sweetness and romantic exclusivity of Valentine’s Day, Lupercalia seemed to be about a more inclusive, less expensive love—on the natural, kinky, consensual, pan-sensual, polyamorous Pan-horns of lust.
The star, namesake and feminist heroine of Lupercalia is the Luper. If you don’t know a “luper” from a “leper,” the former is Latin for “she-wolf.” According to Rome’s foundation myth, Romulus and Remus, the infant twins of the War God Mars and human Queen Rhea Silvia, are tossed into the Tiber River by their jealous Great Uncle Amulius after he assumes the throne of their grandfather Numitor’s kingdom of Alba Longa.
In our Lupercalian theater pieces with the Bonoboville Commedia Erotica Players, Great Uncle Amulius was usually played by Capt’n Max to dramatic effect, reenacting the throwing of Romulus and Remus into the Tiber by tossing a couple of scrunched-up balls of paper in between fluttering blue and green scarves held by lovely ladies roleplaying the waves.
Miraculously, Romulus and Remus are rescued and suckled by a she-wolf – the luper, usually played by the buxom Rhiannon Aarons, topless in a wolf mask – in a cave they called the Lupercal.
Yes, a wolf suckling human babies sounds pretty bizarre, but compared to other religious origin stories – such as the Christian notion of immaculate conception or the Jewish idea of creating the entire universe in six days – it’s not so farfetched. In fact, there are documented cases of children being “raised by wolves,” who apparently are more adept at parenting than some humans (such as Great Uncle Amulius).
Adding another layer of meaning, the word “lupa” is Latin slang for “prostitute,” making the Luper a kind of “Sacred Whore,” the Great Primal Wolf-MILF of prehistoric Rome. This explains all the suckling. It also harkens back to a pre-patriarchal time when “sex work” was not only legal; it was honored.
Nurtured on wolf’s milk, Romulus and Remus grow up strong – maybe a little too strong. They are, after all, sons of Mars and wolves – not Venus and bonobos. So, pretty much as soon as they can walk, they go off and assassinate their Great Uncle Amulius; fair enough, considering he tossed them in the Tiber, but unfortunately, the killing continues.
Having assassinated Amulius and given Alba Longa back to their Granddad King Numitor, the twins go down the road a few miles to build their own city on seven hills. Life is good, until they fight over a fence – or maybe, you could call it a wall.
Then, as now, such man-made barriers to movement can be huge sources of contention. So, as Romulus is doggedly building his wall – Remus jeers at his construction and even jumps over it, just to show how ineffective his brother’s great border wall is. Then, in a fit of humiliated sibling rivalry reminiscent of the Judeo-Christian Bible’s Cain killing his brother Abel (hotheaded fratricide being a recurring theme among both pagans and monotheists), Romulus kills his brother Remus.
A born politician, Romulus professes to greatly “regretting” the killing of Remus, but doesn’t lose much sleep before founding the city of both of their dreams which he names Rome, after himself, conveniently forgetting his beloved bro.
Otherwise, the great imperial capitol we all know as Rome would be called “Reme.”
Nevertheless, the spirit of Remus lived on in a Roman college fraternity, the Luperci Fabii, as did that of Romulus in the Luperci Quintilii. Here is where mythology turns to history – or at least not-so-fake news – and wild communal celebration.
Februa of Pan
Every Ides of February, these two tribes or fraternities of primeval “frat boys” – the Lupercii Fabii and Quintilii – would meet within that dark, womblike cave of the Lupercal where the Luper (meaning both “she-wolf” and “whore”) once suckled their twin great-great-grandfathers. Here they would sacrifice a goat, honoring the goatherd god Lupercus, a spin-off of Faunus, the Roman name for the great Greek Lord of the Wild, that horned and horny old goat, Pan.
I call Pan the “Patron Saint of the Bonobos,” since their Latin classification is Pan Paniscus, and they are the horniest apes on Earth, humanity’s closest Great Ape cousins, the Make-Love-Not-War, female-empowered, male-nurturing, sharing, caring, peace-through-pleasure-loving bonobos. Moreover, Valentine’s Day is their holiday too, and it’s called World Bonobo Day.
Meanwhile, back in the Cave of the Lupercal, drinking the sacred wine, the Lupercii would shirk their togas and laugh ritualistically – as well as, I’m sure, spontaneously, considering all that sacred wine. Then they would mark each other’s foreheads with the goat’s bright red blood; talk about “blood on your hands” – and your head!
Then the more sober among the Lupercii cut strips from the goatskin, making some into loincloths and others into those notorious leather whips they called februa. Yes, it’s from the same root as February, the last month of the old Roman year, a time for spring cleaning and new beginnings. According to Ovid, februa translates to “the means of purification.”
Thus equipped and rather drunk, the Lupercii would leave their cave, laughing and howling like wolves as they raced through the hills and towns, wielding their “means of purification,” their sacred februa whips, gaily whacking the willing behinds of villagers and farmers, many of whom were women (also probably a little drunk), looking for luck, love and perhaps a baby. The ancient Romans believed that such gentle whacks ensured fertility, which is not as scientific as an IVF clinic, though Lupercalia probably did whip the local populace up into a sex frenzy, resulting in a November baby boom. Men would also raise their butts or put out their palms for a smack. All were welcome to receive the smack of good fortune that the gods bestowed upon the people through the lucky, lusty, laughing Lupercii.
With Pan, Lord of the Wild presiding over all that whipping, laughter and purification, the Lupercalia often got rather wild, releasing steam from life’s labors - like Valentines, candy or even diamonds never do. All in all, it was a little too steamy for the early Catholic Church which squelched Lupercalian enthusiasm by not only making it illegal, but by turning poor, horned, horny Pan into the Devil.
The rest is Satanic history.
The Lupercalian Beauty of a Heart-Shaped Booty
With Lupercalian celebrations outlawed, the early Christian fathers plunked the more chaste and Church-friendly St. Valentine’s Day down on the same date, the Ides of Februa, forbidding the whips of luck and lust, but appropriating the vivid color of goat’s blood smeared on human skin as its signature shade – red.
Another V-Day symbol that I consider to be Lupercalian in origin is the “heart,” which looks less like the cardiac organ than a set of well-whipped, “heart-shaped” buns.
Continue reading and check out the shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-valentine-2024
Personally, Capt’n Max and I would rather go bonobos than bonkers.
We prefer the Joys of Sex to the Horrors of War – or whatever you call Benny Net Nut Netanyahu's mad bombing fetish. The Zionists call it “self-defense,” but those of us with eyes can see it for what it is: “genocide,” war crimes, apocalyptic mass murder, mass extermination, massive madness… Hell.
Is that where this Block Party on the Love Train is headed? Can we stop this runaway train?
Sores on Don’s Palms vs. Blood on Joe’s Hands
Nostalgic for a simpler time, Capt’n Max puts a penny on the track. Better for our train to smash a penny than for Israel to keep dropping hundreds of 2000-pound bombs on helpless, bomb-less Gaza, smashing homes, hospitals, people.
Pennies on the track, quarters squeezed between hind quarters, dollars stuffed into the pockets of corrupt politicians, billions for bombs and not a nickel for the poor… money appears to be at the root of most modern evils.
Speaking of the evils of capital, it’s the 13th anniversary of Citizens United, one of the worst Supreme Court rulings ever, polluting America’s already filthy politics with wads of dirty corporate money stuffed in the pockets of our so-called “representatives” who really only represent the rich (F*ck Da Rich!) who are, unsurprisingly, getting richer, as the rest of us lose our shirts – and not in the sexy way.
Now, with this muddy money swirling through our already very dirty political laundry, our choice for that once-respected office of the U.S. Presidency comes down to Genocide Joe or Syphilis Don – a narcissistic fascistic rapist under four indictments with sores on his palms vs. a war crimes profiteer with blood on his hands.
What to do?
Better wipe off that blood, Joe, and pull the needle out of Benny Net Nut’s arm that’s mainlining U.S. bombs straight into Israel’s body politic, marked for the destruction of Gaza. Stop the genocide, and maybe you’ll wring enough votes out of America to stop the festering Syphilitic Mussolini.
Also, free Julian Assange! His only “crime” was to expose the truth of American war crimes like yours, Joe. There is no free press without freeing Julian Assange.
Raw! Raw! Raw! Maria Wins a SUZY!
What’s a Block Party without music?
With the voice of an angel, a devilish wit and a healthy appetite for the “raw cock” of the human “stallions” in her “stable,” the ruby-lipped, mellifluous Maria joins in on the Block Party festivities.
I take the opportunity to present Maria with the very prestigious 2023 SUZY award of “Best Singing Caller.”
She even sings her acceptance speech, thanking David Bowie (and us!) for “inspiration.”
We also talk about cunning linguists with talented tongues, recipes for tastier oral sex with or without condoms or condiments, “Heavy Metal” sexual fantasies, ketamine as an aphrodisiac (plus it saved my life from septic shock back in 2006), the Hollywood hypocrisy of “performative empathy,” Swinger Block Parties, Cuckold Block Parties Foot Fetish Block Parties, mental blocks and whether or not to “block” people who try to crash our Block Party.
Next stop: Valentine’s Day which is also World Bonobo Day, originally the big pagan spanking Block Party of Lupercalia.
Party like a bonobo! Share the wealth of the world. Listen to this fun show and Make Kink Not War in 2024.
Continue Reading & Listen to the Show: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-block-party
At least, we dodge the bullets, fending off the faux fighters, war-lovers, booby traps and beautiful, wily attention hogs, and we manage to come out of the tunnel making love not war in 2024.
Nevertheless, it’s a bumpy ride, perhaps portending a rough year ahead, though everyone survives to live and love another day, so maybe it’ll all turn out okay. Who knows what this new year will bring?
We could guess, and even before we start this ride, I’m reluctant to hop aboard, being a little under the weather. Plus we’re short-staffed, and everyone is still a bit holidazed, as well as shellshocked by all the war porn, wrenching images of death and destruction from the hellscape that is Gaza under Zionist bombardment.
But Capt’n Max and I have surprise guests from out of town: one of our favorite couples, seven-time “Most Bonobo Couple” SUZY award winners Danièle Watts, aka DaLove, and Brian James Lucas, aka Chef Be*Live, aka BeLove, stars of our Bonoboville Reunion, featured on Vice TV (now having surpassed 300,000 views!).
So, we put on our headsets and gather around the Speakeasy bar, speaking about the “unspeakable,” with Unscene Abe bartending the broadcast. As always, BeLove is a gracious guest, and delightful DaLove slips into her usual position of contrarian - maybe a little more contrary than usual - sweetly but firmly insisting on calling Bonoboville a “family.”
I prefer to say we’re a “community” which tends to have less baggage than a family, but DaLove wants to “unpack a little of that.”
And “unpack” that baggage she does, with her signature “poetic” flair, flinging its contents throughout the Train, practically pulling the whole baggage rack down on the other passengers. Fortunately, no one gets hit by DaLove’s flying panties or shoes, as our little Love Train braves the turbulence, even picking up a couple of other passengers along the tracks.
Porn star Hamilton Steele regales us with his torrid Tales of the Billionaire Class as seen through the eyes of a sex worker who literally “fucks da rich.” A cock-size fetishist insisted they measure each other’s manhood. One wealthy Cuckold hired Hamilton to play the Bull screwing his Hot Wife as he sat happily watching and smoking expensive cigars on sheets and towels worth more than Hamilton was being paid (Hamilton confessed to evening things out by pilfering a few towels – to which DaLove asserted she would have done the same as I voiced mild disapproval).
Then Christopher Gagliardi calls in from the snowstorms of Englewood, New Jersey to thank us for his “Most Bonobo Graduate” SUZY Award (his ninth!) and express his New Year’s resolution to share “the autistic experience” through film and spread “humanism” through our “peace through pleasure” movement. I applaud Chris’ “courage” in staying pleasure-positive in this sex-negative and quick-to-cancel culture. Chris also vows to study hard at Felician University, where he is the proud host of his own college radio show.
Several themes recur, including the quirky joys of amputee sex, about which regular Callin’er Gerbil Penis drolly comments, “my penis cannot compete with a leg stump.”
We also consider the proliferation of war porn even as regular porn is more censored, though DaLove confesses to just discovering the wholesome pleasures of Pornhub.
Trying to put the brakes on DaLove’s apparent inclination to derail the train, plus her mounting desire for more erotic action, I whip her half-Happy Nude Rear, then BeLove spanks it, wholly happy and totally nude.
It’s also the third anniversary of Trumpty Dumpty’s Insurrection, aka “Coup Anon,” if you’re tuned in live, but we’re too busy with DaLove’s attention-grabbing antics to acknowledge it.
We love DaLove and BeLove, but upon examining the “radical empathy” involved when actors like DaLove play the parts of, say, narcissists like Trump, and war criminals like Benjamin Netanyahu (aka Benny Net Nut), Max and I realize another reason why neither of us pursued acting careers.
We don’t want to empathize with Benny Net Nut!
We’re also out of time, but DaLove’s transformation into Bonoboville Devil’s Advocate goes into full swing, and she has a lot more to say, leading us all into on-air dust-ups that are entertaining (or so we hear from our engrossed audience), but uncomfortable. Max and I are passionately antiwar and want to end the show on a peace-through-pleasure note, but deliciously naughty DaLove appears to have a passionate fetish for provoking us.
Finally, we come to the end of the line – at least for this show, with a plea for the world, including ourselves, to cut through the chatter of our devices, our intellects and our negative emotions – to go bonobos into 2024.
Make Kink Not War!
Read more prose & check out the shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-go-bonobos-2024
It’s the SUZYs 2023!
Honoring excellence in broadcast artistry and exhibitionism, erotic performance, pro-sex activism, antiwar politics and Weapons of Mass Seduction, celebrating The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure in all kinds of weather, for the 12th consecutive year…
Are YOU a winner?
Well before XBIZ, the AVNs, the TEAs, the Oscars, Critics Choice, the Grammys, the Tonys, the Emmys, the BAFTAs, NAACP, XRCO, SAG and MTV awards and the Golden Globes trot out their awards, we are here to acknowledge the best and worst of 2023 with the DrSusanBlock.tv Awards, a.k.a., “The SUZYS.”
So… Merry XXXmas, Sexmas, Festivus, Happy Kwanza, Happy Pancha Ganapati, Io Saturnalia, Happy Anti-Zionist Hanukkah, Happy Whatever You Celebrate 2023, Winter Solstice Cheer AND a Happy Nude Rear! We’re looking up the ass of the past year!
Our goal, as always (besides having a cum-ton of fun), is to advance the noble cause of sex education—more important than ever, as we face draconian crackdowns on sexual speech and activity by Big Tech, Big War and our Supreme Court Injustices. We also aim to inspire peace on earth, better erotica, pro-sex work, antiwar politics and free speech activism, as well as to save the real bonobos from extinction and support a more bonoboësque, Make Love Not War/Make Kink Not War ethos in the world.
Speaking of “ethos,” our Bonoboville Ethics Committee has, since our inception, stipulated that DrSuzy.Tv and/or F.D.R. staff members, no matter how deserving, are ineligible to receive SUZY awards.
However, because we were raised in the United States of Everybody-Gets-an-Award, we do give a special “staff award” to our beloved staff, a “thank you for your service” award that winners can put on their resume, if not their mantle.
Otherwise, all award winners are selected from guest appearances, calls and mentions on the over 37 live broadcasts in 2023 F.D.R. and The Dr. Susan Block Show, including several outside interviews and Bonoboville-on-the-Road presentations on location.
As is traditional for The SUZYs, we do not invite the winners, the losers, or anyone at all to the award show, so don’t worry, you didn’t miss out! Just sit back by the yuletide fire, pour yourself a flute of champagne, smoke a doobie, relax, cheer for The Best, boooo The Worst and enjoy the SUZY awards….
And The Winners Are…
#GoBonobos
“Most Bonobo” – Janelle Monáe
“Most Bonobo Couple” – Danièle Watts & Chef Be*Live – aka DaLove & BeLove
“Most Bonobo Primatologists” – Vanessa Woods & Brian Hare
“Best Bonobo Conservation” – Lola ya Bonobo
“Best Bonobo Conservation” – Bonobo Conservation Initiative
“Best Bonobo-in-America Habitat” – The San Diego Zoo
“Staff Award” – DrSuzy-Tv Staff
Sex & Pleasure
“Hottest Cougar” – Amber Lynn
“Mozart of Sex” – Nina Hartley
“Best Intimacy Coordinator” – Erin Tillman
“Best Purse” – Lux Lives
“Veteran Porn Power Couple” – Luc Wylder & Alexandra Silk
“Best Bonoboville Communion” – Rhiannon Aarons
“Best PG Bonoboville Communion” – Lilith Kat
“Best Redcarpet Interview” – Danny Wolf, Prod: David Bertolino
“Best Live Radio Interview” – Hartley Pleshaw, WCAP-980 AM Active Radio
“Most Intimate Interview” – Coralyn Jewel
“Best Deep Throat Confession” – Veronica Hart, aka Jane Hamilton
Kink, Fetish & BDSM
“Most Well-Rounded Kinkster” – Rhiannon Aarons
“Most Adorable” – Amor “Baby Block” Hilton
“Best Barbie” – Amor “Baby Block” Hilton
“Kinkiest Mask” – Gas Mask Girl, featuring Kyla Keys
“Most Congenial Kink Host” – Tom Hoffman
“Most Sparkling GemDom” – Madame Margherite
“Best Kinky Thespian” – John Barrymore
“Best Tease” – Dita Von Teese
“Best Leather” – Jux Leather
“Best Spankee” – Fawnia
“Most Sapiosexual Sadist” – Madame Mina De Sade-Fatale
Arts, Science & Media
“Best Art Party” – Abby Martin & Mike Prysner
“Best Art Café” – Fairouz
“Best Outdoor Art Gallery” – Little Secret, Queerspace
“Most International Yalie” – Gerry Weaver
“Best Live Callin Comments” – CutThePentagon, aka Fahim
“Most Poetic Comments” – Stan Kent
“Most Artistic Comments” – Kristen Rocks
“Best Free Speech Trial Tweets” – Stephen Lemons
“Social Media Support Sister” – Kacy TGirl
“Best Hairdresser” – Mark Brown
“Most Loyal Listener” – Don Pascal
“Most Bonobo Graduate” – Chris Gagliardi
“Best Rapmaster” – Ikkor the Wolf
“Best Singing Caller” – Maria
“Best Singing Dog” – Rufio the Dog, Manager: Brady Crow
“Best Captain’s Hats” – Dragon Steele
“Best Long-Term Radio Friend” – Janelle Hopkins
“Best Blast from the Past” – Barry Miller
“Best 50th Anniversary” – Gerard Damiano’s DEEP THROAT
“Sex Positive Activism” – Soma Snakeoil
“Wildest AI Art” – Robbie Martin
“Worst Censor” – Mark Zuckerberg
“Worst Video Censor” – YouTube
“Best ‘Real Sex’ Nostalgia” – Sex on the Internet, Vice TV
“Shadiest TV Producer” – Zach Shucklin, Vice TV
“Most Flagrantly Obnoxious Billionaire” – Elon Musk
Bonobo Politics
“Bonobo Courage Award” – Palestine
“Bonobo Caring Award” – Jews for Palestine – Jewish Voice for Peace
“Bonobo Sharing Award” – Doctors Without Borders
“Best Journalist” –Julian Assange
“Best Journalism” – Counterpunch
“Bravest Journalism” – Journalists of Gaza
“Best Interviews on Palestine” – Abby Martin, Empire Files
“Best Political Podcast” – Media Roots
“War Criminal of the Year” – Benjamin Netanyahu, aka “Benny Net Nut”
“War Criminal of the Century” – George W. Bush
“War Criminal of the 20th Century (2nd Half)” – Henry Kissinger
“Worst War Profiteers” –Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, Raytheon
“War Crimes Complicit” – Joe Biden
“Loser of the Year” – Israel
“Loser of the Century” – Donald J. Trump
“Worst Yale Grad” – Ron DeSantis
“Worst Neopuritan” – S. House Speaker Mike Johnson
“Miss Ammosexual” – Lauren Boebert
“Miss QAnonsenical” – Marjorie Taylor Greene
“Kangaroo Court of the Year” – Arcadia City Council
“Worst Americans” – Supreme Court Right Wing
“Best U.S. President of My Lifetime” – Jimmy Carter
“Worst Ideology” – Zionism
There you have it, another hot listicle of sexperts, sexpots, sex workers, politicos, artists, exhibitionists, visionaries, revolutionaries, hot babes, bitches, a few bad bastards and several war criminals who should be in prison but probably the worst that’ll happen to them is this boobie prize. All have appeared, been mentioned or parodied, immortalized, honored for greatness or exposed for evil on FDR and/or DrSuzy.Tv.
In a way, the SUZYs are the Anti-Award Awards. You may question some of our choices (so did we!), which is one reason to listen to the show. Another reason is that it’s full of sex, fun, bonobo wisdom, antiwar fervor and leftist politics, always bubbling up in our champagne as we toast the winners and pee on the losers. That’s just virtual peeing; don’t panic, you Censor-Bots! We’re not the Israeli Defense Forces – who really did pee on Palestinian prisoners, thinking that was some sort of “own” goal, when all it proved is how gross they are.
The Perfect Sexy Lefty Gift
Need the perfect gift for the socialist-feminist-orgiast who has everything? Give The Bonobo Way for the holidays… or Valentine’s Day (which is also World Bonobo Day)!
Win or losing it, get under that mistletoe and make love to someone you love tonight, even if that someone is you. And if you need a helping hand or if you just need to talk, the award-winning Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute are here for you 24/7 throughout the Holy Daze and into the future. And if you haven’t got a dime, everything you can see on DrSuzy.Tv is still free.
If you need a sex toy, your SUZY award can be used as a dildo; just remove the wings! In fact, it already has its own condom, worn like a halo on our SUZY award’s head.
Peace on Earth. Pleasure for All. Amen. Awomen. And a Happy Nude Rear!
Continue reading and listen to the show: https://drsusanblock.com/awards2023
Sorry to still bewail these unsexy atrocities week after week, but Israel is still committing them—week after week.
This Hanukkah isn’t So Happy
On the day of this show, an old Catholic friend emails me, wishing Capt’n Max and me a “Happy Hanukkah… with lots of fun and good cheer.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “But sadly, this is not a ‘Happy Hanukkah’ with ‘lots of fun and good cheer,’ as Israel bombs the lights and the life out of Gaza. I’m sorry to have to respond this way to your sincere good wishes, but that’s the way it is this Hanukkah.”
Israel’s apartheid has long been brewing a toxic stew, stirring up the brutal 10/7 Hamas explosion, which—like 9/11 and Pearl Harbor—could have been prevented with a little more intelligence, as opposed to highly overrated Intelligence… or maybe a politically desperate and depraved “Bibi” Netanyahu just *let* it happen. Then came the monstrous vengeance, the slaughtering of thousands, the denial that there are any Palestinian “civilians,” not even children, the targeting of Palestinian doctors and poets in their hospitals and schools, bombing, bombing, bombing beyond war crimes (really, beyond words).
These are Zionist—not Jewish—crimes, but unfortunately, most non-Jews conflate Zionism with Judaism. This mistaken conflation, stoked by the Jewish Zionists—as well as American Christian Zionists—compels me to join my fellow “Jews for Peace” in crying “Not in Our Name!” to IDF bombing and Zionist apartheid, even though I have Zionist friends from high school days now living in Israel (who won’t follow my advice to leave), and I haven’t stopped caring about them, worried daily for their safety, as well as their sanity.
Antiochus Netanyahu
I grew up among Zionists (including these friends who “made Aliyah”), but I never felt their passion, never believed that Israel was *my* country, or even a place I wanted to live. Its gung-ho, GI-Judah, post-Six Day War military spirit was a turn-off; I just wanted to make love, not war. For years, I could ignore, but the Zionist cancer, I had to “come out” against it. Now with this so-called “war” against Hamas that is really a Palestinian massacre, it seems that Netanyahu has overtaken Antiochus, the brutal villain of the Hanukkah story.
Yes, the ancient Hanukkah story of the Jewish people under the occupation of the Syrian Greek Seleucid King Antiochus IV in 160 BC has telling parallels to the modern story of the Palestinian people under the occupation of Mad King Netanyahu (or as Max calls him, “Net Nut”) in 2023.
According to the first Book of Maccabees, Antiochus was a sadistic king, always trying to humiliate his Jewish subjects, making them bow to idols, eat pork and probably commit sexual perversities. Now we have Netanyahu’s IDF, humiliating, stripping down, blindfolding Guantanamo-style, and forcing Palestinians to kneel before the Almighty smartphones that broadcast their humiliation throughout the universe.
Even worse than Antiochus, Net Nut drops his bombs—high-tech Hanukkah gifts from his good friend, Genocide Joe—killing Palestinians en masse and individual by precious individual, even as this wanted-for-corruption, narcissistic Nut has the chutzpah to piously light the first candle of Hannukah 2023 with a paid-off Rabbi by the Western Wall.
Miracle of Peace
If I compare the Maccabees of Hanukkah to Hamas of Palestine, the Zionists would call me a self-hating Jew. I’m no fan of horrid Hamas, but Judah Maccabee and his brothers are the quintessential extremist religious fanatics, “terrorists,” in the eyes of their occupiers… kind of like Hamas.
The ancient rabbis did not classify Hanukkah as a major Jewish holiday, maybe because it’s so GI-Judah. But it’s a Winter festival, so it piggybacks on Christmas and the gift-giving angle makes it good for capitalism.
But it’s much more than gifts and war. Like all winter holidays, Hanukkah stems from the original Winter Solstice, and the miracles that test their devotees’ willingness to believe, the most basic natural miracle being that a cold, dark, half-dead Earth is now coming alive with warmth and light, and Spring. The Christmas miracle is the virgin birth of “God” in human form, and the Miracle of Hanukkah is the “everlasting light,” the sacred lamp of the Jewish Temple, which had only enough oil to burn for 24 hours; yet it lasted eight days (thus the eight candles of the menorah), giving enough time for those terrorist/hero Maccabees to get fresh oil to replenish the eternal flame.
Speaking of oil, could Netanyahu and the Zionists be after a different kind of oil—or natural gas—in or off the shore of poor little rich Gaza? Perhaps oil is a motivating factor, as it often is, but it’s not 160 BC anymore or even 1948, and the whole world is watching on their devices.
This year’s hoped-for miracle, the one that I and so many wish for—whether actively marching in the streets or more passively witnessing from those ubiquitous devices—is that the Palestinian people be free of Zionist occupation, and that Jews—wherever we live—can once again be a people of peace and wisdom.
“It’s the Bonobo Way,” I say in my email and on the air, “the way of peace through the pleasure; the pleasure of sharing love, sex, food, medicine, knowledge and resources, the peace-inducing pleasure of seeing our own humanity in the eyes of the stranger.”
Thus, I give quite the earful to my poor well-meaning Catholic friend who only wanted to wish me a “Happy Hanukkah”—as well as to our audience on this show.
Candles for Palestine
Then I light the candles, singing the Hanukkah prayers—in my own quasi-Hebraic way—for Palestine, hoping my tears don’t douse the flames, any one of which could be the everlasting light of miracles that we all need.
Baruch atah Adonai elohenu melach ha’olam ashair k’dishanu b’mitzvotav l’hadliq nair shel Palestine.
Blessed art thou, O God of Gods, who makes us holy through your commandments, and commands us to light the candles for Palestine.
Singing my own version of the Hanukkah prayer, I think of those Zionists who say that an anti-Zionist Jew for Palestine like me can’t or shouldn’t celebrate Hanukkah because it’s a Zionist holiday. It’s true that Hanukkah celebrates military might (which isn’t my cup of Manischewitz), but telling me I can’t honor one of the holidays of my youth because I don’t agree with your politics is downright anti-Semitic. Turns out that Israeli and Christian Zionists are some of the worst anti-Semites around these days, maybe because they don’t separate politics from religion or Church from State.
Hot-Wax Hanukkah
I have always celebrated Hanukkah in my own way, and I always will. The games are fun, and it’s a mitzvah or “good deed” to have sex with your spouse on Hanukkah, a commandment that Max and I are very happy to fulfill.
But what I really love are the lights, the fire and the hot wax.
O hot wax, how I do love thee… having played with it since I was a pyrophiliac child, scolded not to burn the house down. Little did my good parents know, they were helping to stoke a fetish for the kinky pleasures of dripping hot wax skillfully on the beautiful bodies of consenting adults. Back in sexier times, I held some fairly big bacchanalian Hot-Wax Hanukkah party shows, including Hanukkah Girls Gone Wild (2010), Massive Musical Orgy of Love, Lights & the Bill of Rights (2012), Hot Wax Chanuka in Bonoboville (2015), Xmas Eve Confessions with Hanuka Hot Wax (2016), Hot Wax Hanukkah & the Alabama Miracle (2017), Squirting Hot Wax Hanukkah (2018), FemDom Hot-Wax Hanukkah (2019) our Coronapocalyptic Hanukkah-Xmas Bedside Chat 2020, and last year’s Saturnalia-Hanukkah-Sonata, all free to see on DrSuzy.Tv.
I’m pretty sure these amazing, blazing bacchanals would get me burned at the stake by the religious Zionists who seem to prefer the bomb-fires of demolition to the pleasures of hot, dripping love, not war.
Creating Trauma in Real Time
What a tragedy—though also a time of great heroism—for Palestine. And what a shame, what a great sin, a Shanda as they say in Yiddish, for Israel. What a shame as well for America, providing bombs paid for with our taxes, supported with ghastly enthusiasm by our political representatives, the U.S. just vetoing the Security Council draft resolution for a humanitarian ceasefire. Shameful!
It seems that Hanukkah 2023 is a time of collective trauma for all thinking, caring non-Zionist Jews. It’s nothing like having your house reduced to rubble, your limbs blown off or other unspeakable horrors being visited upon Palestinians; still, it’s sad to witness the rituals and relics of my Judaic youth destroyed by Zionists. Like the Nazis ruined a perfectly beautiful Buddhist symbol of peace, turning it into the swastika of hate, now the Zionists are ruining the Star of David, turning it into a symbol of oppression.
Read more prose & check out the shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-antizionist-hanukkah
The American pilgrims massacred the Natives with muskets and blankets filled with smallpox. The Zionist pilgrims use bombs (provided by American war profiteers) and light up the night sky with white phosphorus.
Thus—though Capt’n Max and I are very thankful for the deeply heartwarming and bonoboesque Israel/Hamas hostages-for-prisoners exchange taking place as I write this, and for the fabulous turkey dinner created by Chef Gideon here in Bonoboville (boy, did I get stuffed—from both ends)—we generally prefer Spanksgiving to Thanksgiving.
Slappy Spanksgiving 2023!
Season’s Beatings, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners, Pilgrims and Libertines and In-Betweens…
It’s our duty to spank booty on Spanksgiving!
Come let us play… And let us sing: Amen and Awomen. Praise be to the power and glory of spanking. Hallelujah. Praise the buns. And give ‘em a spank.
On Thanksgiving, let us give thanks, and on Spanksgiving, let us give spanks. Let us spank away the hate and the greed and the fear that divide us. And let us practice the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure… with a little spanking. Consenting adults only please. Don’t spank kids (they can’t consent).
The Bible says, “Spare the rod and spoil the child.” I say: “Spare the child and use that hot rod to spoil your (consenting adult) lover with just the kind of spanking they enjoy.”
Spanking is not to everyone’s erotic taste, but it’s a whole lot of kink-positive, recreational-not-procreational, butt-whacking fun or some. It can even, when done the right way, be therapeutic.
Pilgrim Kinks
Spanksgiving is more reality-based than Thanksgiving. It’s far more likely that our Pilgrim ancestors practiced the rites of Spanksgiving than the mythical love-in with the Wampanoag Native Americans that we in willfully ignorant America have come to call Thanksgiving. Pilgrim and Puritan spankings, paddlings, whippings, floggings, “stocks and bonds,” “tar and feathering,” “public disgrace” and witch-hangings (which members of our audience find particularly distressing this episode) were, of course, totally nonconsensual atrocities delivered with sanctimonious relish, often to punish sexual transgressions, such as adultery, group sex or masturbation. The witches or belladonnas were also hung for healing the sick because when it came to matters of life, death and well-being, the all-controlling Church Fathers didn’t like competition.
Despite our abhorrence for such abusive chastisements—which are making terrible “comebacks,” like corporal punishment in schools and torture in prisons—consenting adults can share kinky healing pleasure in roleplaying such crimes of colonialism, such as we do at the Institute via phone sex therapy as well as in Spanksgiving celebrations past in Bonoboville.
Shanksgiving?
Disturbingly enough, Shanksgiving is trending on xTwitter right now—referring to the recent prison stabbing of Derek Chauvin, whom the world saw in 2020 slowly murdering George Floyd with his knee on his neck.
I can’t say I’m upset about Chauvin’s plight; still, I prefer Spanks to Shanksgiving.
It’s our duty to spank booty on Spanksgiving!
Deep Throat does LA
Speaking of booty… My “Deep Throat does LA” multi-media extravaganza is now online! Join me and Bonoboville On-the-Road across town and down the hatch of history for the 50th anniversary of Gerard Damiano’s DEEP THROAT, that ‘70s Film epitomizing “Porno Chic” and, for some, the Sexual Revolution. It’s all part of Gerard Damiano, Jr. and Christar Damiano’s golden anniversary commemoration of their father’s seminal (pun intended) film, bringing a 4K-Restored Director’s Cut Print to the Laemmle Royal Theater and 910 WeHo Center (courtesy of Tom Hoffman), both LA screenings featuring Golden Age Adult Nina Hartley, Veronica Hart, Amber Lynn, Christy Canyon, Keisha, porn power couple Luc Wylder and Alexandra Silk (who are also making a film about the tour), “Naked John,” Nai’a (Golden Age porn star/director Gloria Leonard’s granddaughter), and the late great Herschel Savage (who sadly passed away a month ago) on the Red Carpet, plus Danny Wolf interviewing me about my “first time” watching Deep Throat in a big theater circa 1978. Sexperts Erin Tillman, Lux Lives, Kim Airs, Rhiannon Aarons and more joined the veteran stars at the follow-up “Talk Back” Panels, moderated by yours truly, about the history, the “communal ecstasy,” the raging controversies, the complex and tragic tale of Deep Throat star Linda Lovelace, Free Speech (then and now), the value of sexual recreation (The Bonobo Way) vs. forced procreation (the Alito way), Clarence Thomas and the Coke can, and the quirky creation of this iconic and scandalous film.
Filmed for under $25,000, Deep Throat is said to have made almost $600 million (for all you capitalists counting profits), capturing the cravings of the “Make Love Not War” generation traumatized by Vietnam and yearning for sexual healing. Prosecuted for obscenity and defended by Hollywood stars Warren Beatty, Jack Nicholson, Barry Miller (who joined us at 910 WeHo) and many others, Deep Throat drew (and still draws) a wide range of protests, from Charles Keating and the Religious Right to Catherine MacKinnon and the Anti-Porn Feminists to President Richard Nixon himself. With delectable irony, the name of the “Watergate” informant that forced Nixon to resign was “Deep Throat.” Tricky Dick Nixon tried to shut down Deep Throat, but “Deep Throat” took down Tricky Dick.
“What was Deep Throat’s effect on our world? What about it was delicious and what was tough to swallow?” I asked the Laemmle and 910 WeHo panels. “What has changed for the better and what for worse?” If you missed these stimulating screening events and panels live, don’t miss the fabulous videos and my “Deep Throat does LA” journal.
It being Thanksgiving, I give thanks to Counterpunch for posting “Deep Throat does LA: 50 Years of Sex, Cinema, Politics & Controversy” and for all their excellent coverage and analysis of the crazy world today. Thanks especially to Jeffrey St. Claire and Joshua Frank, my excellent editors who don’t really edit, but keep it all together for us. I even have a subscription and you should too.
Oral & Aural Pleasure
The Deep Throat logo is a kiss, and Callin caller Maria’s avatar is her own rubyt lips holding a fortune cookie fortune between them reading “You look happy and proud.”
Indeed, Maria is quite happy and proud of herself and her Thanksgiving 2023 that included a “Friendsgiving” and family feast with guests from Czech Republic, Tunisia and Lebanon, none of whom discussed politics, nor did they have a foursome with Maria’s sister-in-law who invited them (or so she says), even though I can’t get the image of a consensual Gravy Train Gangbang out of my mind.
Though we don’t talk directly about sex on this call—except to elicit a giggle over Spanksgiving—Maria describes her Thanksgiving cuisine with such sensuous, mellifluous, mouthwatering detail; it’s like having phone sex with a restaurant hostess reciting the menu. Well, eating is an oral pleasure. Before we close, she obliges my musical request, reprising the Beatles “Her Majesty” with royal harmony. Now that’s an aural pleasure.
Lots more on this flavorful show. Grab a bowl of leftover stuffing—or fresh cannabis—and listen...
more prose & shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-spanksgiving-2023
Deep Throat gave the world a taste of Porno Chic with a Big Gulp of Free Speech, followed by a bubbly chaser of U.S. politics mixed with presidential scandal, spiced with make-love-not-war fervor, spliced with sex-positive feminism and diced with pungent controversies; leaving a complex aftertaste that still lingers five decades later.
It's all shaken up into a flavorful 50th anniversary tasting tour courtesy of Gerard Damiano, Jr. and Christar Damiano, devoted son and daughter of Deep Throat auteur/director Gerard Damiano. The world tour honors their father’s seminal (in every sense of the word), cinematic creation-cum-pop culture sensation that shocked and seduced the nation—not always in that order.
Director’s cut screenings have been playing throughout this golden anniversary in theaters, festivals, clubs and other venues around the globe. All of Deep Throat’s quirky scenarios, jingle-happy soundtrack and explicit, unexpurgated sex scenes in their full-on, glorious, notorious, 4K-restored clarity and color can be seen on the big screen once again.
Down the hatch!
Not that it all goes down easy or creamy. Some aspects of Deep Throat are tough to swallow.
This is, after all, the movie that launched a thousand protests—ranging from the raging Religious Right to the anti-porn feminist “Left,” from Chicago Sun-Times film critic Roger Ebert to Memphis, Tennessee’s “smut”-smiting prosecutor Larry Parrish, from “liberal” New York City Mayor John Lindsay to “conservative” U.S. President Richard M. Nixon, as well as the FBI, the NYPD, Charles Keating, the Meese Commission and many more. Over the years, a myriad of people, organizations and political movements have tried to shut down, shut up and choke off Deep Throat.
That’s one reason why the Damianos arranged post-screening “talkback” panels at every venue, featuring experts of different kinds from Golden Age adult stars to 21st century “intimacy coordinators.”
I was honored to accept their invitation to moderate the panels at the two Los Angeles venues, though moderating a discussion about something so immoderate as Deep Throat has its challenges. I brought my riding crop just in case I needed to discipline a panel member (kidding—I just brought it for fun).
Having broadcasted shows live from “The Deep Throat Sex Scandal” (the play by David Bertolino) and “Harry Reems Tribute” in 2013, and having been interviewed for the E! True Hollywood Story’s “Linda Lovelace” episode in 2000—AND having actually seen the movie in a theater circa 1978—I felt prepared. Little did I know how deeply we would go into the sometimes bizarre, controversial and culturally insurgent qualities of Deep Throat.
The first LA screening was held at the venerable, old Laemmle Royal Theater in West LA, and the second at the kink-positive, new 910 WeHo Center in West Hollywood, owned and operated by the courageous and congenial Tom Hoffman.
There was supposed to be a third venue, the Frida Cinema in Santa Ana. However, controversy reared its scandalous head as the Frida canceled its scheduled screening just over a week prior to showtime due to outrage expressed by anonymous “community” members. The reaction was so “swift and severe” that no amount of “talkback” would moderate the “pushback.” Or so said Frida Management—that is, the same person who had originally, and quite enthusiastically, scheduled the screening—as they apologetically but resolutely canceled it.
Funny how censorship, bans, deactivations, complaints and cancellations are so often based on anonymous outrage.
However, the show must go on, and on it went at the two remaining So Cal venues, with flash and panache, as befits the subject. Swinging Seventies nostalgia was in the air. Golden Age porn stars, most of whom had worked with Damiano and all of whom adored him, strutted across the red carpets, including Nina Hartley, Veronica Hart, Amber Lynn, Christy Canyon, Keisha, porn power couple Luc Wylder and Alexandra Silk (who are also making a film about the tour), “Naked John,” Golden Age porn star/director Gloria Leonard’s granddaughter Nai’a, and the legendary Herschel Savage.
Sadly, though Mr. Savage seemed ageless at this event, he passed away suddenly just four months later. Star of another classic, Debbie Does Dallas, (graphic descriptions of which helped make Ronald Reagan’s “Meese Commission” Report a best-seller), as well as the lesser-known Satisfiers of Alpha Blue, directed by Gerard Damiano, Herschel was a trained Broadway actor who studied with renowned Stanislavski “method” teachers, Uta Hagen and Stella Adler, before doing Debbie, and he went on to become one of the world’s first and biggest adult stars.
RIP Herschel Savage, née Harvey Cohen, November 25, 1952 – October 8, 2023.
However, that night a very much alive and reflective Herschel joined the rest of us to commemorate one of the most groundbreaking American films ever made… which happened to be about blowjobs.
Of course, Deep Throat was (and still is) not just *about* blowjobs. It also actually showed these blowjobs, as well as cunnilingus, doggy-style, reverse cowgirl, orgies and more—close-up!—on the big screens of major movie theaters throughout the greater U.S. of A.
Talk about a cinematic sexual revolution!
Many audiences were thrilled to partake in an adults-only group sex-watching experience that—with the right crowd—was like a rock concert, love-in and midnight screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show (to be released a few years later in 1975) combined, creating a palpable sense of “communal ecstasy”… with a hat tip to the late great Barbara Ehrenreich’s not-so-kinky concept of “collective joy.”
No, Deep Throat wasn’t as spiritual as Woodstock (1969), though you could say they were both “dirty”… in different ways.
Of course, other Deep Throat audience members (perhaps with the wrong crowd) were more shell-shocked than thrilled, wondering what in hell they were watching… genitalia as big as a house?!?
Well, a tiny house; but still, this was big-screen, wide open-to-the-public entertainment, and the public ate it up like ice cream after a tonsillectomy.
Continue reading, see the pics & watch the videos: https://drsusanblock.com/deep-throat-la
It’s also the 9th Anniversary of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure (now with over fifty five-star reviews on Amazon) which was my gift to Max for his birthday in 2014. In these dystopian days of perma war, genocide, ecocide and neo-Puritan neo-fascism, we need the Bonobo Way of conflict resolution, female empowerment, male well-being, sharing resources and peace through pleasure more than ever.
Yet opportunities to release our inner bonobos seem fewer and farther between.
We even took a trip to the Zoo to see the real bonobos for a Bonobo Peace Summit a couple weeks ago, as Israel’s retributive bombardment of Gaza began, so we could learn more about how to “Be Bonobo” and possibly save the world—or at least save our sanity in our own “little” worlds.
Happy Naughty November 2023
And it’s Naughty November, appropriately enough, as birthday spankings may be given to naughty birthday boys. Max is “naughty” in the best sense, especially for an octogenarian. Since his actual day of birth (November 8) fell on a Wednesday—the Hump of the Week—we kicked it off with a little humping.
Go bonobos for senior sex! It keeps you young. Max is now 80 years young and, despite a few disabilities that have now rendered him temporarily wheelchair-bound, he’s still having and giving great orgasms. I can attest to the orgasms he is giving (to me, at least) being somehow better than ever. And he’s having some pretty good ones too, thanks to his naughty Night Nurse (that would also be me) slipping into bed with him for “treatments.”
I figure it’s best to have some kind of sex first thing to get the big birthday off to a sexy start, because you never know how the rest of your day and evening will go. The typical plan is to have sex at the end of a day of festivities, but the best laid plans may not get you laid the way you planned, so maybe it’s better to have it first. After all that celebrating, the day’s end might find you drunk, exhausted or mad at each other—and then there goes the birthday sex! Best to do it first, just in case, and then you can always do it again. We were too drunk and exhausted for round two—but at least we weren’t mad at each other this year!
Perma War Day
It's also Veterans Day 2023, so we talk about how this somber military day of salutes, cemeteries and fighter jet ballets started out as Armistice Day, which celebrated making peace after World War I, the notorious “War to End All Wars.”
However, the wars didn’t end with WWI.
On the contrary, the American War Machine just got bigger and bigger with no sign of America ever going back to a “peacetime economy.” So, our leaders turned Armistice Day, a holiday celebrating peacemakers, into Veterans Day, a holiday venerating the fallen warriors of Perma War.
Sanctions are almost as bad as war, since they tend to kill the poorest civilians, rather than the elites who wage wars and make policies that America doesn’t like. Burt Sesame calls in to ask, “Why don’t Why don’t we drop care packages instead of bombs?” His suggestion for good-will drops of food, medicine and iPads is great, and very bonobo, though it reminds me of an incident in Iraq where children confused air-dropped care packages with cluster bomblets—both bright yellow.
That’s not the main problem with Burt’s idea, however. It’s that dropping bombs makes a lot more money for the American War Machine and its political handmaids than dropping care packages.
Birthday Spankings!
We prefer celebrating Naughty November to Dead Troops of the War Machine Day.
And Capt’n Max’s hump-of-the-week birthday party took it up a notch. Since Max was rooted to his wheelchair, we couldn’t give him his own birthday spankings. Fortunately, we had two beautiful butts volunteering for the honor.
First up for Max’s birthday spanking was the fabulous Amor Hilton (no relation to Paris) who appeared to be in her birthday suit—at least from the waist down, her pale pink thong teddy matching her pale pink skin. Such a living Barbie Doll, with a purse made of white latex skeletons, it’s no wonder Amor wins the “Most Adorable” Suzy Award every year.
Admitting she was naughty and “deserved” a spanking, having missed my birthday show a few months ago, Amor subjected her pale pink ass to my rosy palm, complimenting my slaps with her squeals.
Adorable Amor also contributed a few well-placed wallops to my marathon spanking of Fawnia, our delightful, hot MILF real estate agent.
Fawnia had done nothing naughty, though some might use that adjective to describe her periodic boob-flashing throughout the party. However, she received the most spanks—80, to be exact—one for each of Max’s 80 years—with long pauses between spanks for Max to reminisce about that particular year in his long life of love and revolution.
What a good impact-play sport our Fawnia is!
Birthday Laughs & Love
Amor’s “date,” Mr. David Harris, arrived in a dapper purple suit and tie with matching fedora and purple heart-shaped sunglasses. He even led the toasts “to Max!” One toast led to another (thanks to scrumptious Barbancour Pango pineapple-flavored rum), and before we could say “birthday suit,” David had his shirt unbuttoned, and then completely off, though he kept his tie on, continually toasting “to Max!”
Fawnia and Amor showered Max with hugs and kisses (David also tried to, but Max held his boundaries). Amor even gave him her ring to wear around his neck, just like the old Elvis song (one of Max’s favorites), which Max wore through this show.
Amor gave him a flashcard that said, “I wanna spoon the fuck out of you.” “I wanna spoon the fork out of you” would be funnier, but whoever made the flashcards didn’t consult me.
What a nice gathering—just enough to call it a party, and we did party with plenty of drinking, eating, speechifying, spanking, a little dancing and carousing, and no fighting. Fighting and shooting break out in a lot of parties these days, but not in Bonoboville, at least not on Capt’n Max’s 80th birthday.
Three cheers and a bonobo beer for our great Captain!
CEASEFIRE NOW!
Alas, but it isn’t long before celebrations give way to lamentations on this show, as Bibi Netanyahu and the Zionist branch of the American War Machine continue to bomb Gaza into a deathscape of cataclysmic proportions.
Much as we—and billions of others—are screaming “Ceasefire Now!” in the streets, on our podcasts, in the offices of our representative and just about everywhere else except Genocide Joe’s own bathroom, our leaders are not listening. They are too busy raking in the cash from the Military Industrial Congressional Complex, aka the American War Machine.
It’s also the 84th anniversary of Kristallnacht, “the night of the broken glass,” one of the opening shots of the Nazi Holocaust, when Jews were killed and Jewish businesses were destroyed. Now the atrocity is practically in reverse, as Israel’s genocidal demolition of Gaza goes on, destroying schools, hospitals, humanitarian water trucks, refugee camps and all the innocent people in them.
Ceasefire Now and forever. No more killing in the Holy Land!
Maria, aka Smiley Red Herring, calls in response to our Gaza lamentations, but winds up partaking in Max’s birthday celebration, singing “Happy Birthday” with a bluesy lilt that has us applauding and cheering for more.
She’s a bit religious—or as she says, an “ecumenical” Christian with a fondness for the “digital” Gideon’s Bible—and certainly to the right of our sexy, lefty politics. Nevertheless we find ourselves in harmony on many things, from the joy of spanking (she prefers giving to receiving, and only when “in the mood”) to the pain of Palestine. She’s even watched our friend Abby Martin’s “Gaza Fights for Freedom.”
We also agree that all these religious folks murdering one another in the name of their righteous God(s) ought to follow at least one of the Big 10 Commandments: “Thou Shalt Not Kill.” How about it, believers?
Our descriptions of Max’s bacchanalian birthday also make an impression on Maria. "Ya'll are making me freakishly jealous right now,” she confesses.
There’s only one thing to do about that: mellifluous Maria is hereby invited to the next Bonoboville bacchanal!
In the meantime, she’s checking out the Christian crusading comments on our Vice TV piece, now reaching 265K views!
MAGAt Mike’s Johnson & Son
In the midst of all the celebrations and lamentations, we get a little comic relief. MAGAt Mike Johnson would be hilarious if he weren’t Speaker of the House, third in line to the highest office in the land.
Even then, he’s pretty funny. An ammosexual Christian nationalist, he blames school shootings on the teaching of evolution, claiming that if we learn that humans have evolved over billions of years from “slime,” as opposed to being crafted from dirt (it’s in the Bible) six thousand years ago by a guy in the sky, we can’t be expected to value life.
Speaking of slime, MAGAt Mike has a big porn fetish, big enough that he has used a porn-monitoring system to catch his johnson when it gets slimy, and it’s called “Covenant Eyes.” If that sounds Handmaid’s Tale-ish—as in “Under His Eye”—that’s because it is. Mike is very enthusiastic about Covenant’s “accountability software,” which he has used religiously with his porn partner—I mean, his “accountability partner”—who just happened to be his son. Yes, MAGA Mike and his then 17-year-old son monitored each other’s porn. Yikes.
Continue reading and check out the show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-max-birthday-bonobo
We want your poems! Don’t be afraid. Give “poetry therapy” a chance.
AND we want a ceasefire now! It’s been three weeks since “Israel’s 9/11” on October 7th, when Capt’n Max and I broadcasted live the day after attending “Gaza Fights for Freedom” filmmaker Abby Martin’s art party, only to wake up to Hamas attacking Israel, and then Israel attacking Gaza, which it is still attacking… and bombing in a frenzy of atrocity after Zionist atrocity, slaughtering thousands of Palestinians, including many children.
I’m Jewish but never Zionist; not even when I believed the poisonous pablum fed to me like toxic baby food in Hebrew School about Israel being “a land without people for a people without land.” I felt like modern Israel was a warrior state—more in tune with Joshua invading Jericho than King Solomon’s erotic Song of Songs—and I was a make-love-not-war kind of gal.
Nevertheless, I have long had Zionist friends and family, some of whom live in Israel, so it has taken me years to clearly see just how bad it is—bad for Palestine, bad for the Jews, bad for everyone—and to take a stand against Zionism, Bibi Netanyahu and the whole Israeli War Machine supported by American tax dollars, my tax dollars.
When I first saw footage of the Hamas attack, I was mortified. I still am mortified. I see images of Israelis being murdered and being kidnapped, and I see my old friends from Har Zion Hebrew School and Camp Ramah. I see myself. I can’t unsee myself in those images. But then I see the Palestinian people, and I see myself in them too. They’re not as ethnically close as my old Ramah friends, but they’re people, like me. But unlike me, they’re trapped in a concentration camp, slaughtered by Zionist bombs.
What a shame—a shondah, as they say in Yiddish—for the Jews; even for us anti-Zionist Jews, because unfortunately, most non-Jews don’t see the difference. So, I join the voices of my fellow anti-Zionist Jews protesting Israel’s bombs who cry, “No! Not in our name! Not in my name will you commit such atrocities. Ceasefire now.”
It’s heartening to hear these words of peace sung and shouted in the huge protest marches in all the big cities around the world.
The whole world is watching YOU, Israel. Even as you bomb Gaza and cut off their food, water, medicine, electricity and Internet, bombing hospitals, homes and schools, the world still sees, and now knows. Israel may be stronger, thanks to American weapons, but Israel is losing the war of world opinion.
So, my Israeli friends and family, if you’re listening: Ceasefire now! Ceasefire for Palestine! Ceasefire for the hostages you are currently killing with your bombs. Ceasefire for Israel itself. The only ones who won’t benefit from a ceasefire are Hamas, because Hamas feeds off of everyone’s outrage over Israel’s war crimes. The best thing Israel can do now is to negotiate with Hamas, to neutralize the “enemy” with peace, like bonobos. Hamas may well refuse to negotiate because that would legitimatize Israel, and delegitimize Hamas. More bombing as usual is just proving Hamas’ point—as it murders thousands of innocents.
It’s also heartening to see Israelis on the streets of Tel Aviv and other Israeli cities protesting the bombing and especially the bomber, Bibi Netanyahu who, like his counterpart Trump, belongs in prison (even more than Trump belongs in prison).
Speaking of the devil, Trumpty Dumpty deserves some of the blame for this mess, since his son-in-law Jared Kushner’s much ballyhooed “Abraham Accords” totally ignored Palestine, making Hamas feel it had nothing to lose. And that cool $2 billion that Jared picked up from the Saudis… could it have been payment for a bit of top secret info on Israel’s defense systems?
We all want peace—at least those of us who don’t profit from war. But how to make it? Who knows? Maybe our kissing cousins, the Make-Love-Not-War bonobos, know.
Watching Zionist bombs pulverize Gaza on our phones from our privileged perch here in Bonoboville LA may be physically safe, but it’s emotionally enervating. So, when Friends of Bonobos (the outreach arm of Lola ya Bonobo) invited us on a backstage tour of the bonobos (pan paniscus) at the San Diego Zoo, we jumped up and hooted like bonobos at the chance.
Guided by veteran primate specialist Kimba Livingston who I’d met way back in 2004 when I had my close encounter with bonobo Lana, we were treated to “inside” views of the orangutans, gorillas and, of course, the bonobos.
Thanks to new fences and other barriers, this was nowhere near as intimate an encounter as I’d had with Lana, or even with Lisa (in 2016’s Opera for Bonobos). But we had a great time at our “peace summit” with the quintessential peacemakers: the bonobos. Observing them made me even more certain that peace is the way, even in Palestine.
Bonobos make peace through pleasure, which often means sex. Unfortunately, the San Diego bonobos seem to have less and less sex every time I see them. I was afraid to ask Kimba if they were feeding them saltpeter, or maybe Prozac, though I had to wonder.
They did have a little bit of sex, and it was clearly a form of conflict resolution to defuse their competitive tensions and stop their fighting over food. So fascinating and edifying to see peace through pleasure in action!
My most exciting human-bonobo encounter this trip arose from playing catch, of all things. Due to my astigmatism and general lack of athletic prowess, I am usually a lousy pitcher; but when Kimba suggested I toss a walnut to Lisa the alpha female bonobo, I figured I’d give it a toss. Kimba herself wasn’t exactly Pedro Martinez, and the bonobos were missing her pitches. So, I took a deep breath, stepped back and threw the nut, and lo and behold, my old friend Lisa stretched out her big bony hand and caught it! Then I did it again and she caught it—though it bounced, but then she caught it again—and I could swear she winked at me whilst devouring the crunchy treat.
Maybe instead of bombing and shooting, the Israelis and Palestinians could play soccer or volleyball. Sounds crazy, but no crazier than massacring hundreds of humans every day.
Be Bonobo: Save the Humans. Please donate to Friends of Bonobos…
Thanks to Netanyahu’s genocidal blockade, Gazans are going hungry right now, which we “never forget.”
Nevertheless, starving ourselves wouldn’t feed Gaza. So when our San Diego Peace Mission needed to eat, we checked into a wonderful Palestinian restaurant called Fairouz (which means “turquoise” in Arabic), recommended by one of our regular Callin listeners, Fahim aka “Cut the Pentagon.”
Serving traditional Middle Eastern dishes like kebab and falafel, if I didn’t know Fairouz was a “Palestinian” restaurant, I’d think it was Israeli. Of course, Israel stole Palestinian and Lebanese cuisine, which is the least of Zionism’s crimes against the natives. This is why I grew up thinking that kebab, falafel and hummus were Israeli foods. Boy was I wrong!
Well, at least I didn’t think that hummus (mashed chickpeas) was Hamas… like Trumpty Dumpty. But just to be safe, I ordered the Baba Ghanouj (mashed eggplant).
But Fairouz is more than a restaurant; it’s an art gallery. The walls are covered with the vibrant and colorful paintings created by one of the owners, Ibrahim Al Nashashibi, also a poet. His brother Sami Al Nashashibi, who looks like Peter Sellers (star of one of my favorite films, Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 masterpiece, Dr. Strangelove), was a charming host, treating us like friends. Sami’s twinkling eyes lit up the space, and his broad smile seemed to stretch across the great divide between Palestine and Israel, Muslim and Jew; with love, art, poetry and great food.
Sami and his wife, the chef, exclaimed that I reminded them of “the famous [Lebanese] singer” Sabah. When I replied, “Thank you, I’m a little bit famous too,” a diner shouted from another table, “Yes, that’s Dr. Susan Block!” Then he pointed to Max and said “you must be Max.”
Who knew we had such gregarious fans in San Diego? Turns out the guy’s a cop. Wonder if he’s checked out our rants against police brutality. If he did, he’s probably one of the good ones.
Towards the end of the podcast, Fahim calls in to discuss more of the wonders of Fairouz, where he has been a regular diner for many years, as well as to express solidarity for Gaza and support for a ceasefire.
Fahim also regales us with tales of our mutual friend Abby Martin’s beginnings as a young artist and citizen journalist when she was an undergrad at San Diego State in 2006. So moving to hear how he almost wept with joy when Abby returned to San Diego in 2019 to show Gaza Fights for Freedom. If you haven’t already, please see that film and Abby’s interviews for background on the current horrors. After the screening, they all went to Fairouz.
We can’t wait to return! In the meantime, we are enjoying the two poetry and art books we bought there, Ibrahim Al Nashashibi’s Written with Colors, Drawn with Words, and Spirit Whispers, Heart Listens, which Ibrahim dedicated to his beloved younger brother, the warm and welcoming Sami.
Fahim’s description on this show of Abby Martin as “the next generation of Protest Mommies” is perfect. Hopefully, the “Protest Mommies” of the Left will overtake “Moms for Liberty,” and soon!
Continue reading and listen to the show: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-halloween-2023
But that’s not all that we do.
Indeed, hours before showtime, Hamas attacked Israel, killing hundreds of Israeli soldiers and civilians and taking dozens of hostages in what some are calling “Israel’s 9/11,” its bold and dramatic ferocity demonstrating the stronger country’s complete and embarrassing breakdown in so-called “intelligence.” In response, Israeli forces bombed Gaza, murdering hundreds of Palestinians with vengeful vows of war and more war, and we’re pretty shaken up about it, so of course, we talk about it.
There is no simple solution to this war or any war, except never to start a war, occupation or apartheid colonization in the first place, no matter how “holy” the land.
I have friends and family in Israel; they’re okay, but I tell them to get out of there (not that they listen to me). I support the Palestinian people’s right to live in peace and resist the brutal Zionist occupation, but I condemn the horrific violence of the Hamas attacks. I also condemn Israel’s retaliation which is, of course, many times worse, and just an escalation of the ongoing Zionist campaign of bombing, killing and oppressing the native Palestinians of this land we call “the Holy Land” for decades.
There is no simple solution to this war or any war, except never to start a war, occupation or apartheid colonization in the first place, no matter how “holy” the land.
Make Kink Not War! That’s the Bonobo Way, and it’s our motto every day—especially in the kink-positive month of Kinktober—though these days, raging wars of all kinds are engulfing our vulnerable little world. These wars are not kinky, at least not by my definition which involves consenting adults engaging in mutually exciting activities. In that sense, war is the opposite of kink, though many perversely get “off” on it. Thus, the horrific *war porn* flooding our media every day, and though its hard to look at, it’s even harder to look away.
There are many to blame on all sides for the carnage and terror now consuming Israel and Palestine. Hamas’ violence against civilians is reprehensible, but primary responsibility rests with the greater power which is, in this case, Israel, a nuclear armed colonizer country supported by the U.S.A.
I learned a lot about the brutal apartheid nature of the Zionist occupation of Palestine from none other than Abby Martin whose “Untold History of Israel & Palestine,” “Gaza fights for Freedom” and other Empire Files documentaries are excellent exposes of the plight of Palestinians under Zionist rule. I highly recommend these films as well as Abby’s interviews with various personalities, including Joe Rogan, to anyone trying to understand the roots of the current violence.
Abby Martin is a truly extraordinary woman whom Capt’n Max *discovered* back in 2014 on the once-great RT (Russian TV). We invited her on The Dr. Susan Block Show for a truly remarkable interview, and we’ve been her friend and fan ever since. Last year, Abby and her wonderful partner Mike Prysner interviewed me on their Dosed Show about sex, violence and the Bonobo Way, and a couple years earlier, I talked about politics and cuckolding on Media Roots with Abby’s brilliant brother Robbie Martin; yes, it’s quite an amazing family of great sexy lefty journalists. Abby and Mike also attended our erotic-verging-on-orgiastic Bonoboville Reunion, so yes, you can see them (mostly in the background) on our Vice TV piece too!
So, we were delighted to join Abby and Mike at their art show and going away party (sadly, they’re leaving LA for Oregon) at the outdoor Queerspace Little Secret in out-of-the-way DTLA.
What a fun time… for everyone but Chico, who was a naughty barker and had to wait outside while another, calmer canine ran the party which was filled with art, music, a metro train going by every hour, drinks on top of a lit-up double decker bus, dancing, singing and swinging. No, not sexual swinging (unfortunately), but a pretty cool swing on a rope by the bar.
Abby’s art was the star of the evening—gorgeous, abstract, hallucinogenic paintings you could lose yourself in, invoking fantasies, dreams and creativity of all kinds.
I was honored that Abby gave me one of her most beautiful paintings as a gift. The title, “Hell Yeah,” and its lush red lips, tongue, gleaming teeth, kinky wires, blue-shadowed eyelids, manicured fingers and shadowy nudes all seem to slide down a psychedelic Deep Throat through dreamy doors of perception.
Our gift to Abby was more modest, but she seemed to like the blingy microphone pendant we gave her to honor all the real mics and bullhorns she’s spoken on through her distinguished career. We know Mike loved his mic because he put it around his neck and wore it all night. The perfect mic for Mike!
As I flitted around from swing to bus to dance floor and back, Max hung out in his wheelchair by the bar, still recovering from his horrible case of the shingles, but happily chatting and enjoying the fashion show (especially the foot-wear) and local painkillers (tequila shots).
We met a few cool folks, including some of our own fans, like the garrulous Paul Reynolds who discovered us through Abby and now listens regularly to FDR on Callin. Paul was sweet, even though he boldly photobombed a selfie Abby and I were trying to take in front of her art. Well, fans will be fans, and we love them all.
Casual and warm in the cool of the Kinktober night, Abby’s party was a good time. It was also an aphrodisiac, at least for Max and me. Even though, thanks to Max’s shingles, we can’t touch each other’s most intimate places right now, we managed to have a little orgasmic sex right after the party and before this show.
#GoBonobos for disabled senior sex! It keeps you young and (hopefully) helps you get healthy. It’s also very risky, of course, in various ways, but all in all, sex heals a billion times more than it kills.
Great music is the soundtrack to great sex, and sweet sounds certainly played a big part in Abby’s party. Go bonobos for Max Collins of Eve 6, Mz Neon, Metal Mother, Televangel [Blue Sky Black Death] and DJs Succubus and Infernx!
Music also plays a recurring role in this FDR podcast, beginning with Max in the afterglow of our post-Abby party senior sex, warbling “I’m in the Mood for Love.”
Then it moves onto the return of musician Brady Crow calling in from Texas to sing us his new unfinished song (part of his upcoming antiwar album), “Just Say No to NATO.” It’s pretty cool, though I think it should include “Go Bonobo” somewhere in there. But the best singer of the show—and the whole weekend—is Brady’s SUZY Award-winning dog Rufio crooning to the moon, “Just Say Nooooo to NATOOOooooo.”
Maybe we should teach Chico to sing instead of just barking frantically.
Other subjects on the Love Train include Olivia Wilde, niece of Alex Cockburn – pronounced Cohburn, not cock-burn—though we have a field day with that pronunciation; coconut oil (good for cock burn); our Vice TV piece surpassing 225K views; GW Bush and the Yale Skull and Boneheads; plastic in our water; and the terrible attacks by a gang of young men on Ekolo ya Bonobo in which two male bonobos were killed. Now more than ever, Ekolo and Lola ya Bonobo need our help!
Stay tuned for the time and place of our arbitration against Zuck the META cuck making mega bucks off our exploitation and then rewarding our hard work with deactivation.
And Be Bonobo. Even if we can’t stop wars in the Middle East, Ukraine or anywhere in this war-torn world, we can at least make our voices heard… unless we’re censored, that is.
Well, we can at least “be bonobo” and make peace through pleasure in our own lives. That’s a start!
Happy Kink Month 2023! It may not seem like it for soooo many reasons, but it really is a better time than ever to… Make Kink Not War!
Continue for more prose & listen/watch the show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-kinktober-2023
Is freedom-to-buy the best freedom we can get?
One of our most vital freedoms that is under attack is freedom of speech. That is an ongoing topic of this rollicking ride on FDR, and that is what we are fighting for in our battle with Zuck the Cuck and META, the throbbing heart of the American Censorship Industrial Complex that is monopolizing and controlling human discourse more every day in our more and more digitized world. Since the great and powerful META unjustly terminated my Facebook and Instagram accounts a few months ago, I’ve been fighting—mostly fruitlessly—for explanations and restoration. Now I’m taking Zuck and META to arbitration.
Midway through the Tunnel of Love, our train picks up Daniele Watts (aka DaLove) and Chef Belive (now BeLove), calling from—of all places—Freedom, California. They share a fantastic tale of sharing free love in a most Bonobo Way behind a laundromat right there in Freedom.
We’re also excited to hear they are making a film, “BeDaLoveLight Wedding,” about the different kinds of love—eros, agape and philia. Oh, those amazing Epicurean Greeks! And oh, those lovely bonobo lovers, DaLove and BeLove, practicing Tantra in their car and living in Freedom, aka Freed OM (mani padme hum). Or as Capt’n Max wonders, “Are we talking about freedoms or Free Doms?”
We also continue celebrating Self-Love September (actually, we celebrate self-love all year) as well as our Vice TV piece surpassing 200,000 views, and we address the reckonings of Rupert Murdoch, Russell Brand, Jann Wenner and the poor woman sentenced to two years in Nebraska prison for helping her daughter find abortion pills. Aiding and abetting this heinous sentence is META, which turned in the mother and daughter’s “private” Facebook messages. So, not only is META the world’s biggest censor, they’re a bunch of dirty rats.
Help us fight META! More news about the impending arbitration coming soon, but in the meantime, read all about it here: https://drsusanblock.com/meta-arbitration-statement
Read more prose and check out the show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-freed-om
Sex with partners can be complicated—verging on treacherous—especially these days. Consent is essential, but can be difficult to discern for some. Given the post-#MeToo climate and other concerns, sex with other people comes with new dangers. Better to be safe than sorry and err on the side of caution. Nevertheless, sex is vital to mental and physical health and healing. So, what are we to do? Sacrifice our sexual health and seek safety in celibacy? Never fear! Wanking is here. Solo sex, since it only involves you, may not be the *best* sex, but it does tend to be simpler, especially since consent is 100% guaranteed.
It’s natural! Aside from grasping tree branches and smartphones, the human fingers appear to be made for stroking, strumming—and self-loving! Bonobos love to masturbate, as do other apes like us – it’s part of keeping the PEACE through Pleasure. If we were more masturbation-positive, we would probably be a less violent species.
As George Carlin said, “If God had intended us not to masturbate, he would have made our arms shorter.” Of course, there’s no reason you can’t go bonobos for self-love all year around; but Self-Love September is a great time for you self-love slackers to step up your game.
Masturbation is often denigrated as a sort of “slacker” sex since, unlike sex with someone else, it’s easy, please-y and doesn’t require hardly any work. In that slacker pleasure spirit, we say “Rest in Paradise” to the late great Jimmy Buffet.
No, he didn’t promote masturbation, though I’m sure he did it, like everybody else. But Jimmy Buffet did popularize slacker chic.
There was something bonoboesque about about Jimmy Buffet’s songs, though bonobos don’t drink margaritas—at least not in the wild—even if it’s 5 o’clock somewhere, though they would enjoy a cheeseburger in paradise.
Just as some people are ashamed of masturbation, back in the late 70s and 80s, I used to be ashamed of liking Jimmy Buffet, because his music wasn’t serious or important. But then I learned how serious and important pleasure and relaxation are, so no, I’m not a Parrothead, but I’m proud to say I like Margaritaville. It’s right next to Bonoboville.
It’s almost Fall or Autumn Equinox, another name for which is “Mabon,” after the Welsh God of the Harvest. In keeping with Self-Love September, I call it “Mabon’er” (yes, women get Lady Boners).
For the Greeks and Romans, Fall Equinox is actually a “fall,” aka the Rape of Persephone (Proserpina to the Greeks), daughter of Demeter (Ceres to the Romans), the great Earth Mother Goddess of the Harvest, Fertility and Agriculture. Like too many unfortunate maidens then and now, Persephone is sexually assaulted by her mean old Uncle Hades, or Pluto, the Lord of Hell.
As Hades sweeps her up into his chariot, Persephone literally falls through the Earth into the Underworld, taking her Mother’s joy and the Earth’s abundance down with her. Raging with grief, the Earth Mother almost destroys the Earth. Fortunately, Mama Demeter has the wherewithal to work a deal for sustainability with King Zeus, aka Jupiter, for her beloved daughter to reunite with her half the year, at which point, she blesses the Earth with the glories of Spring and Summer.
Of course, these Greek myths were created before Climate Change started wreaking havoc with our seasons. Still, they show us that no matter how bad things get or seem to get, we can usually work out a deal to make them better.
It’s also coming up on the 22nd anniversary of 9/11, that horrific yet surreally cinematic castration of America’s tallest Towers of Power, Dick I and Dick II, whose destruction served as two mega doses of Viagra for America’s Military-Industrial-Congressional Complex.
Thus G.W. Bush’s self-proclaimed Wars on Terror entered the Perma War phase of American hegemony, turning into modern “crusades” and devastating losses for everyone (except the war industries) that still harm us all to this day.
If any single country was responsible for this crazy crime, it would be Saudi Arabia, as 15 out of 19 of the 9/11 hijackers were Saudi, and there has long been evidence of Saudi funding, but we don’t bother the Kingdom—that happens to sit atop 17% of the world’s oil—because they’re our friends. With friends like that, who needs enemies? Well, we do—at least our war machine does—and so we made Iraq and Afghanistan our enemies and attacked these countries without provocation, virtually destroying these nations, gaining nothing for the American people (unless you consider American weapons makers and oil companies “people”), and paving the immoral way for Vladimir Putin to attack “Iraq – I mean Ukraine. Same thing.” Yes, that Freudian slip and accidental confession comes courtesy of our war-criminal-turned-bad-painter George W. Bush when he was attempting to condemn Putin.
Though Dubya was the Prez, he was a puppet president whose strings were pulled by the Dark Lord of Perma War, his “Vice,” Dick Cheney.
Sadly and frighteningly, the crimes of Bush and Dick carry on and expand, as Julian Assange, who exposed them, languishes in prison. It is sad that these two Chickenhawk war criminals can fly free while eagle-eyed journalists who embody the First Amendment are confined to cages.
More VICE
Speaking of “Vice,” our Vice TV piece has over 180,000 views. If you’d like to see some of the fun frames from the piece, and read about my mixed feelings regarding Vice portraying my adVice and phone sex therapy practice, click here.
View-hungry Vice execs also changed the beginning of the title from “Dial ‘O’ for Orgasm” to the more salacious and neo-Puritan-triggering “Masturbating During Therapy.” It’s irritating, but it’s Self-Love September, so I might as well embrace it, and it’s true that I allow masturbating during phone therapy. It’s a good thing!
I am not the ‘thought police,’ and I believe in the therapeutic healing value of talking about what’s on your mind with someone who can help you handle it.
In honor of everything, Max smokes a joint and I munch edibles, as we discuss the impending decriminalization of magic mushrooms, psychedelics and other fine drugs in California.
Of course, legalization or decriminalization is only the first step. Uva 13 calls in to talk about the problem of corruption in the cannabis industry, as there is corruption in every American industry, including other, more respectable drugs hopelessly corrupted by Big Pharma and the doctors they bribe.
All the more reason we need a little socialism injected into the run-amok capitalism that is choking us—literally (try breathing our so-called air without coughing like you’re toking weed) and figuratively (try starting up new companies in any field without really good, well-connected lawyers).
Well, we end on a positive note with Uva: As long as the corruption doesn’t poison your pot, it’s a great aphrodisiac!
It’s also almost Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and even though I am NOT a Zionist nor a religious Jew, I’m Jewish so I wish a “L’shanah Tovah Rosh Hashanah!” to all my Lonsmen who celebrate. Also: Free Palestine!
And free Assange! Make Kink Not War. Follow The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure. Be Bonobo.
Read more prose & listen to the show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-911-selfloveseptember-vice
Into the storm drops Trumpty Dumpty, Big Egg of the Trump Crime Family and Rico racketeering mob boss of the legal beagle Batman Villains Club, MAGAt cult leader, and leading Republican 2024 Presidential candidate, on an urban X-pedition to Atlanta’s Fulton County Jail for Indictment #4 (with a total of 91 criminal charges), and all the mug makers are putting his mean mug shot on their mugs.
The Mango Mugger mugged America once; the next time could be fatal.
Related or not, as our live broadcast begins, another horrific racist body-armored ammosexual incel mass shooter murdered multiple human beings before turning his weapon of war on himself. This time, the particular racist ammosexual sprayed a Dollar Store in Jacksonville, urban center of Ron DeStupid’s Florida where sex is censored and racism is empowered with “permitless concealed carry” gun laws.
Armed killers are on the loose through America, and some of the worst are wearing badges.
Sometimes, cop kills are obvious shots in the back. In other cases, they’re a bit more subtle.
A couples of years short of a century old, Kansas newspaperwoman and owner of the Marion County Record, Joan Meyer, died the day after an unconscionable police raid of her newspaper’s office and her home.
As the raiding cops barged through her door, the 98-year-old Meyer confronted them with remarkable courage and strength, challenging them from her walker, calling them “assholes” engaging in “Hitler tactics,” which they were, and ordering them to “get out,” but they didn’t.
The next day, she died of cardiac arrest. What a travesty, tragedy and atrocity. These Marion, Kansas police “assholes” with their “Hitler tactics” murdered this almost centenarian journalist. RIP Joan Meyer.
Censorship Industrial Complex, Anatolian Apes & Callin Calls
Meanwhile, the Censorship Industrial Complex strikes again and again. Anti-imperialist website Mint Press News—friends with Frank Moore’s people (who tipped us off about this), as well as Abby Martin, Mike Prysner and Robbie Martin–has had its TikTok account deleted without warning or explanation. This comes after it was previously de-platformed from PayPal and had its money withheld.
We know the feeling, being currently censored by YouTube, Facebook, Spotify and Instagram which we are about to take into arbitration. Social media censorship is all around us, always aiming to monetize and/or silence us, with guidelines clear as polluted skies, and bots as bad as bad cops.
We take a call from Reza in Iran, which he prefers to call Persia, though he’s very picky about who or what is actually “Persian,” and he’s a little obnoxious about it, but he too is in a fight against censorship and deletion of his shows, and we support him in that. To paraphrase a paraphrase of Voltaire, though we may disagree with what you say, we defend—though probably not “to the death”—your right to say it.
Chris G calls in from New Jersey to talk about his recent Tik Tok successes (social media builds you up and takes you down, sometimes in close succession!), his mom’s podcast and his media studies at Felician college. At one point, when he is delivering one of his stirring speeches to “save this precious woman” (I believe that’s me), in support of the restoration of my terminated channels and accounts, we hear music in the background (he says it helps relax him before bed)—which is kind funny, but also makes his speech even more stirring!
Then “Hybrid Bonobo,” aka David, calls in to say he loves my 1996 interview with Harvard Anthropology Professor Richard Wrangham, but can’t get over how “different” we sound (it’s called aging, David!), and asks some challenging questions about sex, vision and genitalia. Listen up for my illuminating answers!
Speaking of human apes and the Persian region, here’s some 8 million year old breaking news: We always thought we humans and all of our ape cousins evolved in Africa, but now there are fossil findings that show that our human ape ancestors migrated from Anatolia, Turkey to Africa, and then back to Europe again. It’s all quite mind-blowing in ways I will explain at another date…
Not so mind-blowing, but worth a shoutout: Our Vice TV piece, flaws and all, has over 155,000 views. If you haven’t yet seen it, what are you waiting for? Check out what all the fuss is about.
Back to our Urban X-pedition to the Urban X Awards at the Globe Theater in Downtown LA (DTLA) in the middle of the Hurriquake! It was fun. I was nominated for “Most Popular Sex Educator.” I didn’t expect to win. Because even though the Urban X Awards is inclusive of everyone—and it really is—all colors, all sexual orientations and gender identifications, it’s still “urban.”
Originally called the Urban Spice Awards, established in 2008, the Urban X Awards “recognize achievements by performers and others in adult media, with a focus on Black, Latin and Asian achievers.” I can’t really check those boxes, although I am Jewish, which is not a race, but it’s actually very urban if you define “urban” as being “of the city.”
Jews of all races are the original urbanites. We may not have a country (Palestine is not *our* country; the Zionists are dead wrong), but we are often of the City.
Speaking of urban Jews, we take a detour to talk about our friend Luzer Twersky, raised Satmar Orthodox Jewish, now atheist, and he’s starring in a movie called Dovbush that just premiered in Ukraine in which he plays the Baal Shem Tov.
In fact, he’s now in the urban center of Kiev, Ukraine at his movie premiere under Putin’s attack, with air raid sirens blaring.
Talk about living the ultimate urban experience.
Going Downtown
One definition of “urban” is “downtown,” of course, and “going downtown,” i.e., cunnilingus, is one of the yummiest sex acts. No wonder, we love the urbanities…
Capt’n Max and I reminisce about our urban days, from our HBO shows to our LAPD raids.
But we also love the other kind of “downtown” of our DTLA days, 1998 – 2013. We were DTLA arts area pioneers, urban campers camping out in abandoned factories which were rough for life, but fantastic for art and big bacchanalian events like Eros Day and Lupercalia.
Actually, DTLA and I go back even earlier to the late 1980s when the late great Scott Kelman ran the Factory Place Theater and Boyd Street Theater on Skid Row (yes, those were the days when you could run a theater on Skid Row, which at the time was just a row; now it’s 40 blocks), featuring such up and coming stars as Whoopi Goldberg just before she did “Ghost.” That’s how far back I go with DTLA. I am OG Urban.
Capt’n Max and I reminisce about our urban days, from our HBO shows to our LAPD raids. Then, thanks to the Staples arena, DTLA became too pricey and too dirty for us. And the dirt wasn’t worth the price.
So, we moved to Inglewood which was just the right mix of urban and beachy. But after a few years, thanks to the Coliseum, Inglewood also got too pricey (all these giant sporting arenas really ruin urban areas) and too dirty (the air pollution). So, we moved out to Arcadia, which is more suburban sprawl than urban life, part of what Henry Miller called “The Air-Conditioned Nightmare.” But we like it here, and everybody likes us. That is, our neighbors and our landlady do, but not the City of Arcadia inspectors who pretend to be urban, but are really the same kind of small town “assholes” whose flagrant violations of constitutional rights wind up killing upstanding citizens like Joan Myer.
They haven’t killed us, and hopefully they won’t, but they do try to trample on our rights. Could it be because we are hard to classify? Because we’re sex educators?
Which brings me back to my Urban X nomination for ‘Most Popular Sex Educator’ which I did not win. But my favorite of all my fellow nominees, the lovely Sinnamon Love, did win, and deservedly so. After all, while I am followed by just over 25,000 on the X (formerly Twitter), Sinnamon has over 495,000 followers. Now that’s “popular.”
Moreover, I love Sinnamon love. She was a guest on DrSuzy.Tv a few times during our early urban period in the 2000s. And speaking of “X,” Ms. Love was also a guest star of our Eros Day X in 2009, one of our biggest, most urban bacchanals in DTLA, our Eros Day Orgy for Obama, our 10th annual Eros Day which doubled as a wild inaugural ball for our most urban and urbane President.
Though my urban days are numbered, I still went to the show. Max didn’t; he would have gone, just to accompany me, but we both knew it wasn’t his thing, so I our new bonobo Rodrigo escorted me through the hurricane! From the weather reports and X hysteria, I thought I might have to swim Downtown. But I’m an adventurer; I climbed to the top of the Golden Gate Bridge when I was an urban San Franciscan, and I’d paddled a canoe through white water rapids in the Adirondacks.
So, I figured I could make it to DTLA in an Uber. It was pretty wet splashing out of Arcadia. I wore boots, a hat and an OG Fringe Logo Vest custom made by Dre Day of Dr. Block’s Pleasure Shop.
Read more prose and catch the show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-urban-x-pats
The technical term is cerebrovascular accident (CVA), but everyone calls it a “stroke” – though it’s really more of a strike – less a caress than a bullet to the brain, or, in Max’s case, an unexploded bomb that forms a blood clot blocking the flow of blood as well as oxygen to the cerebrum, causing (in Max’s case) sudden and severe damage.
What a stroke of madness, immobility and immeasurable suffering for my beloved Prince Max! Though it can always be worse; he could have had a stroke in Gaza. I’m not trying to be flip; I am grateful for the life-saving medical care Max is receiving that so many other people – from bombing victims in Palestine to women in need of abortions in Texas – cannot get right now. Indeed, Max and I are *privileged* to have access to quality care.
Nevertheless, a major ischemic stroke like this takes you – body, shattered brain and soul – to what appears to be as deathly a place as you can go in life – short of death itself.
Max’s stroke almost took his life; as it is, it has rendered him almost immobile, virtually paralyzing the entire right side of his body, and splintering much of his mind. Poor Max, so strong, right-handed, with such a powerful, creative mind, broken like a spilled jigsaw puzzle missing a few key pieces.
As for me, well, since the proverbial stroke of dawn, Sunday morning, May 19th – when Max’s deep growl turning into a howl of cosmic agony shocked me awake – until now, as I write this next to his hospital bed – I’ve been by his side.
According to Max, “The goal is the journey,” and – for better or worse – this is a journey we are on together.
So, every day, all day, and into the night, I’m in the hospital, the rehab, the ambulance, holding Max’s hand(s) – both his limp, stroke-stricken right hand and his *good* rambunctious left hand – trying my imperfect best to help my lover and friend of almost 40 years to survive, recover, communicate and somehow ease his incredible agony.
There are moments of ecstasy in the agony – cute crooked smiles, big wide eyes, whispers of desire, joyous laughter, pithy phrases blurted like “spoken word” poetry, unintelligible instructions delivered with the gravity of a Mafia don, flashes of radiance, hope, healing, hugs, even eroticism, fun, flirtation, sensuous touch, precious kisses and bonobo love glowing like a fire in the darkness.
In a way, I have never felt so much love as I feel right now for Max in these awful, draining weeks –before and (now) after this show.
Ah, this show. Yes indeed, on with the show. That’s what Max would say.
In fact, that’s what Max did say just before he had the damn stroke. Even though he wasn’t feeling well, even though I begged him not to (I myself have been cutting back on broadcasting live shows, and I thought he should too), he did a show. More than just about anything – except sex – Max loves doing the show. And I know if he could talk coherently right now, he would tell me to get on that mic and broadcast the truth. As it was, he nodded when I told him it was almost showtime. His big beautiful hazel eyes widened while a cute, crooked smile broke out across his face, before he emphatically exclaimed, “okay!”
And so, I broadcast this show about Max and his stroke – what happened, how he’s doing and what it means for all of us – for Max, for me, for our guests, for everyone in Bonoboville and for Max’s family, friends and fans all over the world. Of course, it’s just the tip of this iceberg of illness that has crashed into our Good Ship Bonoboville – not to mention our marriage! – but at least I’m (partially) facing the reality of *what happened* with Max by sharing the news.
It’s also my birthday. What a lousy birthday present, huh? Though if ever there was something Max didn’t do on purpose, it’s being stricken by a stroke, and by the time my birthday rolls around, Max is unintubated (taken off the breathing tube) and seemingly out of the darkest part of the woods, meaning there’s actually something to – cautiously – celebrate and certainly support on this auspicious, musical, magical, emotional birthday show.
This is, in a way, the opposite of what our show is known for. Usually, we talk about sex, not strokes. But even stroke patients need to be stroked. Maybe especially stroke patients need to be stroked – mentally and physically – encouraged and caressed. Desire is at least as strong a motivator as fear.
Yes indeed, I always find a sex angle, even in a stroke, and after all, this stroke patient is my lover.
So, after spending all day Saturday giving Max the good kind of strokes, I gather our Bonoboville crew, a few guests and friends for my birthday and Max’s healing (thus the title) in the little Love Church of The Bonobo Way at the “Speakeasy,” our ongoing, always-evolving show where we “speak easy” about things that aren’t so easy to speak about, like sex, death and Max’s stroke.
Continue Reading & Watch the Show: https://drsusanblock.com/birthday-healing
But I stay on the Love Train, from the Capitalocene to the Bonobocene on X/Twitter and Rumble, and I begin with a big thank you to the students of America (and now the world) who have so bravely stood, sat in and camped out on dozens of college campuses, to protest their schools’ investments in genocide, despite intense attacks from Zionists (see my letter below).
These students are beacons of light in this dark tunnel through which we’re now riding, when our leaders are failing us, and we are faced with a dismal dilemma: Genocide Joe or the Orange Turd….
Speaking of that Marmalade Poop Pile, Mango Mussolini, Trumpty Dumpty, Trumpus Rumpus, Don the Con, and I could go on… check out my interview in the Mirror about the spank heard round the world – Stormy Daniels spanking tRump’s rump – in that Tahoe hotel room and now in a New York courtroom, spanking him with her fearless testimony. We recently spanked Trump at our 32nd wedding anniversary too, you may recall – it’s the parody of our times.
Stormy Daniels is such an inspiration, like the students, but different. Funny how I wrote about Stormy and the Students inspiring me back in 2018, and now they’re doing it again. Stormy’s star is brighter than ever, and the students are different, though it’s a similar idea. In 2018, they were on a “March for Our Lives” for gun control. Now they march and camp out to stop the killing halfway around the world. Stop genocide!
Masturbation not Occupation!
That’s one way to segue into the merry month of May, and a Merry Masturbation Month to you. Seasons Beatings! Give yourself a Hand.
We discuss our favorite masturbation techniques and devices with the one and only Maria Von Fiddybritch, whose preferred method is to *get head* from an adjustable shower head or jacuzzi jet blasting water on her “little man in the boat,” cause tidal waves of pleasure.
That reminds us of our Spring Showers show in 2006 where a couple of guests actually brought a full shower onto our set, and then everybody got very wet and wild. It’s one of the hundreds of amazing shows in the archives soon to play in our Midnight Theater.
Motherhood is kind of the opposite of masturbation; you don’t become a mother through masturbating, unless maybe you’re the Virgin Mary, but Mother’s Day and the M Month both fall in May, so we wish Maria – whose 27-year-old daughter is getting her doctorate in chemistry – a Happy Mother’s Day!
Maria is overflowing with love – for her daughter, for us, for my Mirror interview on Stormy Daniels, for the Palestinians (“people are dying!” she exclaims), and for music, singing us two songs, the second of which is a camp song for FREEDOM.
Yes indeed, Free Palestine. Free Assange. Free Yourself.
META Legal Strategy: Slut-Shaming & Hypocrisy
And then there’s our Free Speech, which META and Mark Zuckerberg have stolen from me, deactivating, terminating and exterminating my Facebook and IG accounts.
If it’s happened to you, if you too have been a victim of META abuses – whether activated or deactivated – you know it’s unfair, unjust and a sign of our algorithmic, bot-controlled, dystopian times.
That’s why I’m taking META to arbitration. This should be my inviolable right, according to META’s own contracts. However, META lawyers are now doing their legal-beagle best to get my case kicked out before we even get to arbitration, attacking, trying to slut-shame me and hiding their hypocrisy behind Section 230.
Meanwhile Ginny Thomas, wife of our most corrupt Supreme Court Injustice Clarence Thomas, used her Facebook profile to incite Insurrection, while our show about the Insurrection got censored on YouTube, and my Facebook and IG profiles got deactivated.
Justice is more and more of a myth in a dehumanized America that is driven by bots for the benefit of the Rich (F*ck Da Rich!) – and the bots
I also briefly address the latest reports on bonobo male “aggression” that has bad, snarky journalists trying to say bonobos don’t really make love, not war. But yes, they do! Listen to the show as I explain that their aggression is never lethal nor directed towards females, making it more like pro-wrestling than war.
We’re into Freeing Your Inner Bonobo, Free Speech. Free Assange. Free Palestine. Free yourself. Be Cage-Free. Be Bonobo.
Of course, not everybody’s into what we’re into, such as Ms. Aimee Hawkes who wrote me the letter below, followed by my reply:
Dr. Block —
When did you start becoming a self-hating Jew like Larry David, Joy Behar and decades before, Woody Allen?
Your CounterPunch commentary reflects self-denial of facts, mostly one most liberal/progressives love to bury: Israel was attacked on October 7th. I won’t go into gory detail, but you might want to look up the carnage Hamas produced against young women on the concert grounds that day and ones not seen since.
As a Free Beacon journalist, I wouldn’t waste characters interviewing you regarding your hatred of Natanyahu or the actions of the IDF. Instead, should I see you on the campus of UCLA, USC with the bands of anti-American insurrectionists, only then will I approach you to explain your sordid viewpoint.
Until then, I personally hope Israel finishes the job and rids the world of Hamas, Hezbollah and every Iranian-backed proxy you defend.
Sincerely,
Aimee Hawkes
xxx
My Loving Reply
Dear Ms. Aimee Hawkes,
Thank you for your email. It’s always illuminating to hear from my readers, even when they troll me with nasty, lying, Zionist tirades like yours.
Your first question, “when did you start becoming a self-hating Jew?” is as rancid as week-old borscht.
It also incorrectly presumes that I am one. I’m not sure what the litmus test is for “self-hating Jew,” but I doubt I’d pass, as witnesses to my Bat Mitzvah, teen summers in Israel and Camp Ramah, Har Zion Temple wedding presided over by two Rabbis, Israeli TV show, big beautiful Purimschpiels and hot-wax Hanukkah parties can attest.
A self-questioning Jew, yes, but hating? Nah. I’ve long loved many aspects of my Jewish background, from Queen Esther to the Marx Brothers (including Karl) to the soulful prayers of Kol Nidre on Yom Kippur Eve. Polytheistic libertine that I am, I could never “hate” my Jewish roots. I do hate war, genocide, apartheid, but I don’t hate people – least of all myself.
Continue reading & listen to the show: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-stormy-students
The date was 4/12/1992. And now, 32 years – 384 months (for all you numerophiles) 1,700 weeks, 11,688 days, 280,512 hours, or 16,830,720 minutes later (more or less) – through thousands of shows, books, magazines, orgasms, trips, talks, arguments, adventures, imprisonments, forced separations – fabulous bacchanals, through thick and thin, and love, love and more love – we put on this show.
Gathering together a few friends, lovers and allies to the FDR radio broadcast bar at the little Love Church of the Bonobo Way in the Village of Bonoboville, we celebrate 32 Years of lawfully wedded love, pro-bonobo marriage, sexual revelation and cage-free revolution.
And what a reveling, revolving, revealing, rollicking, Rabelaisian, roller coaster we ride on our 32nd anniversary show, filled with love, sex, pleasure, pain, laughter, anger and joy, expounding, erupting, interrupting, sulking, sucking, licking, kissing, reminiscing, fantasizing, romanticizing, clashing, rehashing, telling tales, spanking tails, celebrating our love and – as always – protesting the war/s – especially the unceasing and increasingly appalling Zionist genocide.
Free Palestine!
We don’t spend the entire show beating our peace drums for the victims of Israel’s ongoing apartheid/genocide, but enough so you could call it our “32nd Wedding Anniversary for Palestine,” which I do.
I even wear a black and white keffiyeh with my wedding-white lingerie.
In a way, the keffiyeh reminds me of a Jewish tallis or prayer shawl. It’s ironic that our currently warring religions are so very similar, like Abraham’s sons, Ishmael and Isaac.
Capt’n Max, the “Captain of My Heart” (inscribed on the inside of my wedding ring), sports a Palestinian flag pin on his cap. More Palestinian flags of different sizes festoon Bonoboville.
I wonder what the two rabbis who officiated at our Har Zion temple wedding 32 years ago (many thanks to Rabbi Gerald Wolpe and Rabbi Ivan Caine, wherever they are) would think of our attire, decor and fervent opposition to the Zionist apartheid/genocide.
Much as they encouraged me while growing up, my hunch is they wouldn’t approve.
What kind of horror is this that divides Jews against Jews? The Jewish people have always been a diverse bunch, but this feels like it could be a Jewish Civil War – the Zionists against the rest of us. Max (who converted to Judaism years before we got married) and I are on the side of Jews for peace (literally) – that is already coming to blows in the streets of the Holy Land, from Tel Aviv to Brooklyn, Berlin to LA. Us anti-Zionist Jews are passionate, reasonable and, as the Talmudists say, “righteous.”
Unfortunately, the Zionists have all the guns.
Guns and bombs rule the rubble, but on the Battlefield of Public Opinion, we are winning. Israel’s genocide is supported by the powerful AIPAC (American Israel Public Affairs Committee) lobby and humungous Military-Industrial-Congressional Complex of War Criminals and Sleazebags, while we – and the peoples of the world – support peace in Palestine.
So, that’s how we’re rolling through this auspicious evening of conflict, resolution, revolution, good times, great food, fantastic old friends and a new beginning in the course of our endless journey.
It happens that one symbol of the 32nd wedding anniversary is “transportation” – whether a high-speed train, your own two legs or your imagination.
The Goal is the Journey. At least, that’s our motto (one of them) for 32 years.
The DERBY
Transportation might be the name of the 32nd anniversary game, but Max and I don’t really go anywhere.
Honestly, we tried going up the coast on a Great RV Adventure on our 31st, but didn’t make it past Ventura, and weren’t about to try that again.
Nevertheless, the 32nd is quite the wild ride – a bit bumpy at times (like every anniversary) – but mostly awesome and ultimately amazing.
Of course, we transport ourselves on every FDR show, riding that Love Train, which is also a Peace-through-Pleasure Train, into the future, from the Capitalocene to the Bonobocene, through the terrible Perma-Wars of our times.
We also transport ourselves to dinner at the Derby on the night of our actual anniversary. We know it should be good, having had a scrumptious lunch seasoned with equestrian ambiance on my 2022 birthday.
Continue reading and watch the show: https://drsusanblock.com/32nd-wedding-anniversary
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Such is the mystery of virginity on the air and everywhere.
Why do radio veterans like Capt’n Max and me, along with Engineer Abraham, suddenly find ourselves virgins on new platforms? Unfortunately, Callin – our home broadcast platform for the past couple of years – just shut down, leaving us radio refugees and newbies to Rumble.
We’re also on Spaces, but we’re certainly not virgins to X/Twitter, so it’s more of an FDR “Resurrection,” and that’s what we call the show.
Cage-Free Eggs & People
Indeed, tis the season of resurrection, and it’s Easter Eve as we broadcast live from the Love Train’s bar car, rolling down the tracks of 2024, living the Cage-Free Life, the Bonobo Way.
Maybe you’ve painted cage-free Easter eggs… but do you lead a cage-free life?
We try to live cage-free – or relatively free of corporate shackles – here in Bonoboville.
We’re into Free Speech and a Free Press. We want to Free Assange. Free Palestine. Free yourself. Be Cage-Free. Be Bonobo.
Now’s the time to revamp, renew and resurrect our long-hibernating joie de vivre. It’s Spring!
Jesus Loved the Sex Workers
Resurrection is one of the springiest themes of Spring, a theologically serious but subtly salacious subject - and not just because it phonetically contains the word “erection” - but due to Jesus rising up from the depths of Thanatos (death) to heavenly Eros (life, lust and love), thanks to the miracle of Easter Sunday Resurrection.
And then, when Jesus is “born again,” whom does He first see? His favorite Easter Bunny: Mary Magdalene.
Yes indeed, Jesus loves the sex workers.
So, it’s fitting that the first caller on our virgin show is veteran sex worker, porn star and Dr. Susan Block Institute sex therapist, Hamilton Steele aka Le-Beverley.
Hamilton continues to regale us with tales of the gigolo life, serving the tech lords, nerds, cuckolds and incels of Silicon Valley. “I’ve never seen guys so fucked up, they couldn’t get laid with a hooker.”
I wonder how much of these tech lords’ deep-seated sexual frustration is at the root of their raging censorship, specifically META Zuck-the-Cuck’s deactivation of my Facebook and IG accounts?
It’s wrong, and we are fighting back. Yes, it’s a longshot, but I’m in the right, META is oh-so wrong, and you never know, so keep up with the Power Point updates, and join us for arbitration on June 26: Time and place TBA!
Resurrection Connection
Regarding the Resurrection, Hamilton is quite familiar with erections, and he believes Jesus was a “historical figure,” though he wonders, “How did Easter bunnies and chocolate eggs come out of a Jewish guy being crucified?”
Good question! And the answer, in part, is paganism. Sounds blasphemous, but here in Bonoboville, we sometimes roleplay the res-erection with our Divine Interventions “Jesus Jackhammer” dildo rising up out of Dorrie Lane’s Wondrous Vulva Puppet or perhaps a real woman’s yoni or mouth, as we sing, “Hallelujah! Jesus is in her now!”
The myth of resurrection stems from the Earth being “reborn” in spring… with the promise that we too can be reborn. Jesus dies on Good Friday, then springs back to life on Easter Sunday. Resurrection gives us hope of life after death, and it is one of the cornerstones of Christianity.
However, Jesus wasn’t the first human/God to be born again in Spring.
On our Spring Equinox show, we compare the Resurrection of Jesus to the Resurrection of Persephone, the Greek Holy Daughter returning to her Mother, the Earth, instead of the Holy Son returning to his Father in the Sky.
On this Easter Eve Resurrection show, we compare Jesus to another Greek deity, Dionysus aka Bacchus, another God of the People who is killed and brought back to life – the Resurrection of Dionysus – by his Heavenly Father Zeus, aka Jupiter, aka God.
Jesus & Dionysus
Centuries before Jesus Christ is said to have lived, died and lived again, the ancient Spring Dionysia and Primavera Bacchanalia honored the resurrection of the Greek God Dionysus (Bacchus to the Romans), a “Christlike,” charismatic and bonoboësque God of Spring, one of whose consorts is Pan, the horned, horny goat God of the Wild who lends his name to Pan paniscus, the scientific classification for bonobos.
The Spring Dionysia featuring the great tragedies of Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides and the comedies of Aristophanes, and the Bacchanalia of ancient Rome included ecstatic rituals and bonoboësque orgies celebrating this extremely popular, complex deity who, in a number of intriguing ways, foreshadowed the coming – and second coming – of Jesus Christ.
How could a God of Orgies have anything to do with sweet Jesus? I’m so glad you asked! Let me count the ways…
Both Jesus and Dionysus are especially adorable as babies (as are bonobos).
Both Gods never lose their youthful, androgynous good looks, also like bonobos.
Both Gods have human “virgin” mothers and divine heavenly Fathers.
Both Jesus and Dionysus are liberators and revolutionaries, overturning the status quo—politically in the community and emotionally (spiritually) within the individual.
Both Gods treat women as equals, as bonobos do, and have passionate, prominent female followers.
Both Gods treat slaves as equals.
Both Gods miraculously heal the sick.
Both Gods are intimately connected with wine; Dionysus is the God of Wine, and Jesus turns water into wine.
Both Gods have, in a sense, their “flesh and blood” eaten and drunk by others.
Both Jesus and Dionysus are charismatic “rock stars” with long hair, an entourage and adoring groupies – and both are opposed by uncool, older conservative types
Both Gods preach that the Kingdom of Heaven is within you.
Both Gods are Masters of Seduction, saying that “Heavenly ecstasy is yours if only you follow Me.”
Both Jesus and Dionysus die terrible bloody deaths, suffering tremendously and at great length, for the sake of humanity.
Both Gods are resurrected in Spring.
Hustler Orgasms
Speaking of the second coming – as well as the first and third – I’m giving advice on the all-important topic of orgasms in this month’s Hustler.
Check out my tips on coming, second comings, G-spot hunting and how to resurrect your flagging erection in “Building a Better Orgasm” by Marcy Diamond.
And check out Marcy riding the Motorbunny to a rollicking holiday orgasm in “Halloween 2015 Kink Month Climax in BooNoBooVille” on DrSuzy.Tv.
Trump Bibles vs. The Bonobo Bible
From resurrection to insurrection, and just in time for Holy Week, America’s Top Huckster is hawking The Trump Bible – the “God Bless the USA” Bible, here to “Make America Pray Again” at the bargain price of just $59.95 (got to cover those legal bills!) – reaching new heights of hucksterism, having violated almost all the 10 commandments and much more.
It couldn’t be any worse than Trump Vodka, Trump Steaks, Trump University… or the Trump White House - hopefully, that won’t be resurrected.
On this auspicious first Rumble show and Spaces resurrection, our oldest listener (he’s been listening to the show since I was on KFOX 93.5 FM!), Don P, aka PolyBi, calls in to express his fervent hope that Trump will lose Manhattan District Attorney’s Alvin Bragg’s 34-count felony “hush money” case against him just before the 2024 election. If found guilty, the history books will record that kink saved the country and Trumpty Dumpty was brought down by a porn star, the one and only Stormy Daniels.
Coming soon: The Bonobo Bible! Includes The 10 Commandments of Pleasure, The Bonobo Way and more!
Also coming soon: My interview with Telltale Industries about the mysterious Jonathan Taylor Spielberg (no relation to Steven, except spiritually). Check out some interview pics in the Gallery and stay tuned for this quintessential Hollywood story.
Continue reading & listen to the show: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-resurrection
Erin go Bragh and Go Bragh-less!
It’s also our last train – or one of our last – on Callin, but no, I am not being banned on yet another platform. Callin is being shut down by its corporate overlord (Rumble), making us soon-to-be radio refugees. But have no fear; FdR will keep running, Bonoboville will keep humming, and we will keep spreading the Bonobo Way.
So, its “last call” on Callin at the Speakeasy Bar for the St. Paddy’s Day Eve Gift of Gab fest, and Capt’n Max and I have a lot to gab about, much of it with one of our favorite Callin callers, Maria, who regales us with tales, questions and a lovely song, and promises to follow us to our next platform, wherever it might be.
Prince of Pegging & Missing Princess
Last FdR, as well as on my 2024 State of the Sexual Union address – broadcast live on Hartley Pleshaw’s “Active Radio” on WCAP 980 AM and now available on most major platforms where I’m not banned (as well as some where I am) – we talked about the terrible traumatic proliferation of War Porn – which is, in this sexologist’s not-so-humble opinion, far more traumatizing to victims, perpetrators and viewers than regular porn.
On this show, the topic turns to Royals Porn, that is, the British Royals having sex, though it’s not exactly porn because, while you hear lots of rumors of their sexcapades, and even plenty of rumors about the rumors, you don’t actually see much of anything, except for paparazzi snaps of furtive glances, smiling eyes (Irish or otherwise) and stiff upper lips.
It’s really more of a Royal Soap Opera with titillating tattle-tales of aristocratic cheating, bisexual adventures, the Prince of Pegging‘s alleged penchant for kinky recreational sex with his wife’s ex-friend, possible procreational sex resulting in a Comedy of Errors and Heirs, bad photoshopping, very bad lying and a curiously missing princess who was once a paparazzi exhibitionist, but hasn’t been seen since Christmas, 2023. Maybe she really is recovering from a mysterious kind of “abdominal surgery” (perhaps a hysterectomy?), or maybe she’s on strike or having her own affair – who knows? All this is, of course, going on against the bloody backdrop of the sordid history of British colonialism and imperialism and lots of violent death, including the terrible car crash that killed Princess Diana.
So… Where is Kate?
That is the question that has turned many of us who normally don’t give a crown about this rather dysfunctional family into royal voyeurs. This could be juicier than Charles the Tampon King or Harry losing his virginity in a field behind a pub…
Tune in for a deep discussion – thanks to Maria’s probing questions and Prince Max’s posterior squeamishness – on pegging – what it is and why you (and various Royals and commoners) may or may not really like it.
Boeing Booboos
Usually, when we mention flying, it’s fun stuff, like joining the Mile High Club. Then again, we’ve also talked about how planes are some of modern civilization’s worst polluters.
We don’t often comment on plane engineering, but now it seems that great American jet manufacturer, Boeing, is making planes that seem designed to break. Turns out that after Boeing merged with McDonnell Douglas – and after our friend and DrSuzy.TV guest Eric John quit working as a Boeing engineer to become a porn star (a smart career move, it being way better to bang wenches than wrenches all day, plus you won’t be responsible for a packed passenger plane suddenly falling out of the sky) – the company attained the Market Dominance it always wanted. Then Boeing got lazy – playing out another tale of American greed and dysfunction, with the help of Trump’s deregulation of American transportation industries, hiring cheaper cost-cutting executives instead of better engineers.
This week’s news is that Boeing whistleblower John Barnett “committed suicide” in a parking lot, and if you believe that he punched his own ticket, then I’ve got a plane to sell you…
Persephone Rising for Spring Equinox
Spring or Vernal Equinox 2024 is also upon us. Catch Spring Fever and fall in love… or rise up like a blooming spring rose.
Long before the Easter Rebirth of the Holy Son returning to His Father in Heaven, people honored the Spring Equinox Resurrection of the Holy Daughter returning to Her Mother on Earth.
As Spring unfolds, the Greek Goddess Persephone (Proserpina to the Romans) is said to rise up from the bowels of Hades (Pluto) to rejoin Her Earth Mama Demeter (Ceres) who is so ecstatic to embrace the fruit of Her loins that She showers the world in Spring (now that’s some serious squirting).
Telling the timeless story for the umpteenth time on this show, I’m happy to hear Maria’s spin on Spring and “Persephone,” the name she happened to have chosen, once upon a time, for her cat.
All religions have some way to honor and explain the coming of Spring. This year, Ramadan coincides with Spring Equinox, and some Muslims celebrate the Persian New Year or Noruz.
Check out our many fantastic, orgiastic Spring Equinox Bacchanalia with our own erotic Eleusinian Mysteries on DrSuzy.Tv.
Anti-Zionist Purim for Palestine
It’s coming up on Purim, the Semitic St. Paddy’s, Yiddishe Mardi Gras or Hebraic Halloween of masquerade, storytelling (Purim shpiels), games, pranks, music, wine and a special Spring holiday dessert called “hamantaschen.” These triangular, fruit jelly-stuffed pastries are said to represent the pirate-style hat of the Purim story’s villain, that quintessential antisemite Haman the Agagite, Biblical cousins of Bibi Netanyahu’s favorite scriptural boogeymen, the Amalekites.
Continue reading & listen to the show: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-lucky-spring-purim
I’m always marching into love with Capt’n Max, and on this show, we march for peace and freedom of speech, arm in arm with friends and lovers, singers and swingers, protesters and porn stars, ethical hedonists and antiwar activists on F.D.R. Go Bonobos!
Fighting Fire with Fire
Burning with passion for Palestine, active-duty U.S. Airman Aaron Bushnell set himself on fire, committing suicide to protest genocide.
Make no mistake: Aaron Bushnell is not a role model. Don’t set yourself on fire! Do not emulate self-immolation. But do let it illuminate a very dark situation.
And not just any dark situation. Aaron Bushnell did not set himself on fire over the “Israel/Hamas war” as the mainstream media (MSM) tried to explain, before moving on to the weather report, nor was he experiencing a mental health episode that could have been alleviated with a pill or a call to a suicide hotline, as implied by other MSM hasbara.
“They want us to believe we are mad and this war is sane,” observed Counterpunch’s Jeffrey St. Claire.
Indeed, on his own Twitch-broadcast livestream, Aaron Bushnell sanely and calmly spelled out exactly what he was protesting as he marched to the Israeli embassy in Washington DC, wearing his U.S. military fatigues. “My name is Aaron Bushnell,” he said. “And I am an active-duty member of the United States Air Force. I will no longer be complicit in genocide. I’m about to engage in an extreme act of protest but, compared to what people have been experiencing in Palestine at the hands of their colonizers, it’s not extreme at all. This is what our ruling class has decided will be normal.”
Then he set his phone to auto-record, and he set himself on fire.
He poured the kerosene on his head, stuck his cap back on and, just before he struck the match, a disembodied voice with the banality of a store clerk inquired, “Can I help you, Sir?”
Then suddenly, the blaze erupted, and Airman Aaron Bushnell became a real-life “Burning Man,” a Burning Soldier, marching in place in what must have been searing agony, yelling, “Free Palestine!” over and over again – his voice raw with pain mixed with love for the Palestinian people, so many of whom have been and are still being burned alive by Israeli bombs, paid for by American taxpayers – until he fell to the ground in flames.
“Get on the ground! Get on the ground!” yelled someone, presumably an Israeli embassy guard. Slowly, the guard walked toward the fire, arms stretched taut, hands together, holding a gun on the Burning Soldier as he burned to death.
A gun?
Another guy, perhaps a paramedic, arrived on the scene shouting, “Yo! I don’t need guns, I need fire extinguishers.”
What a moment. A quintessential defining snapshot of humanity, as the world turns and we all burn – as we go on fighting wars, bombing civilians and shooting our neighbors – when the wisest amongst us can barely be heard above the violence, stating the obvious…
“I don’t need guns! I need fire extinguishers!”
Read more prose & listen to the show(s):
There’s blood on the tracks – the innocent blood of thousands of Gazans, bombed and starved by Benny Net Nut and his gang of Zionist thugs.
Meanwhile, two semi-senile US Presidential candidates - Genocide Joe the Net Nut-abetting War Criminal and Trumpty Dumpty the Jack-of-All-Crimes (theft, fraud, assault, defamation, election tampering, treason and war crimes), vie for control of the train.
Is that a light at the end of the tunnel or a nuclear bomb exploding?
At the moment, darkness reigns as any criticism of Zionism is being censored as “anti-Semitism” (it’s not). Meanwhile real anti-Semitism is rising, as the Zionist massacre of innocent Palestinians in Gaza as well as the West Bank gets worse and is splayed across social media for all the world to see, and yet on and on it goes.
What is this madness?
Well, it sounds like genocide, looks like genocide, and if we were there, I’m sure it would smell like genocide, so yeah, it is genocide.
But our leaders refuse to call it what it is: genocide. Why?
We know their pockets are stuffed with Zionist and U.S. weapons industry cash. Apparently, so are their ears and their mouths.
Therein lies the bloody center of this storm of madness.
Speaking of storms, Capitalogenic climate change is causing floods, fires and famines around the world, but hey, life goes on (for some of us), and so does love – and Capt’n Max and I are lucky indeed to be alive and in love! And despite our general antipathy to V-Day in all its chaste commercialism, we had a great Valentine’s Day 2024.
It was not very commercial (we didn’t even go anywhere), but it was delicious (home-cooked lobsters – yum!), not at all chaste (two orgasms just after midnight to kick it off, and three more to wind it up with el grando climaxo), Lupercalian (I wore little red Pan horns and drew a heart on my forehead like the Lupercii drew on their foreheads in goat’s blood, though I used lipstick for a less messy effect), bonoboesque (Happy World Bonobo Season! Save the Bonobos! Make Like Bonobos, Not Baboons!), slightly soused (Cheers to Absente Absinthe!), definitely aroused (we’re seniors, but not dead!) and very romantic (Max is Roman, after all).
Valentine’s Day can be stressful, as we’ve acknowledged, and there are many ways to handle it. So imagine my surprise when I came across the worst piece of V-day advice on my news feed. Dr. Laura Berman (who happened to interview me about fetishes back in 2002) advises couples to not have sex on V-day. She advocates taking sex off the Valentine’s Day table entirely. Wow. This is not only odd, but part of a disturbing, anti-sex neo-puritan trend that is poisoning healthy human sexuality in our times.
My tip for V-day or any holiday is just the opposite. If you’re an experienced couple, make love first if you want to make love last.
Just after midnight as the holiday starts is perfect. Then, you can blaze through your day in a relatively stress-free afterglow. So, if it’s a bad day, or if you eat or drink too much and can’t have sex or don’t want to, it’s no big deal and no one will get *blamed* or have to *miss out,* because you already had sex. But if it’s a good day, and you’re feeling feisty, you can end the holiday on an orgasmic note and do it again.
That’s what we try to do on holidays, and that’s what we did this V-Day, and – even for two decrepit old fogies who can barely turn around without pulling a muscle – it hit the spot like Cupid’s arrow.
Brave and brilliant Wikileaks publisher Julian Assange is still in London’s bleak Belmarsh high security prison for exposing U.S. war crimes.
Because Assange has an important court date coming up, Capt’n Max and I – as well as Abe the Engineer and very passionately pro-Assange caller Maria - spend much of this show extolling his journalistic truth-telling, drooling over his sex appeal (well, I am), denouncing the slow, harsh torture to which he has long been subjected by the Anglo-American imperial regime(s) – despite the support of the world – and calling for his immediate release.
We have supported Julian Assange since before 2010, and so do many others around the world on the Right and Left who care about free speech and freedom of the press. Assange is more than a great publisher; he is a survivor and a symbol of Freedom of the Press for all of us.
As I write this, Assange is about to mount a final plea for his right to appeal his extradition to the U.S. where his treatment will be even worse than Belmarsh, verging on deadly. We have been saying it for almost 15 years, but let us say it again: Free Assange!
META Arbitration Set for June 26!
Meanwhile, sex education and information are being censored more and more, especially by META and its overlord, Mr. Mark Zuckerberg, whom I am taking to arbitration for their crimes, as we also discuss on this show.
Why are we taking META to arbitration? For the sake of freedom of speech, for the sake of fairness, for the sake of our mental health in the face of META’s dehumanization, for the sake of sex-positivity and sex education, for the sake of our freedom to be able to love whom we want to love – including ourselves – in the privacy of our own homes.
Multiple SUZY award winner Chris G. calls in and eloquently pledges to write a letter to the arbitrator, having supported us against censorship for years, especially in Zuck the Cuck’s latest bot-driven fascist crackdown.
Save the date: June 26 for the arbitration of Dr. Susan Block vs. META and Mark Zuckerberg! Time: 10 AM PST. Location (in Los Angeles) TBA.
One of the literal high notes of this rather musical show is when Maria requests a song from Chris, and he obliges with a Leonard Bernstein-worthy rendition of West Side Story’s “Maria.”
Later Maria sings “Don’t Dream It, Be it” – substituting “Be Bonobo” for “Be It” – from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Since Susan Sarandon is one of the stars of that iconic movie, I give her a shoutout for her courageous and very bonobo activism on behalf of Palestine.
More topics on this show…
My upcoming interview with a London podcast about another colorful character who passed through Bonoboville (before we called it Bonoboville), Jonathan Taylor Spielberg. Stay tuned for this unique Hollywood story.
#GoBonobos for Fulton County, Georgia’s DA Fani Willis. Trump’s lawyers are trying to pin the scarlet letter because she had a consensual sexual affair with a lawyer whom she assigned to the Trump case (after they broke up). Well, she had her reasons, and none of them appear to be illegal. Maybe she’s right when she says that she’s not the one on trial; Trump and his mob are on trial for trying to “steal the election in 2020.” And she looks damn good saying it in her scarlet power dress.
Another one of Trump’s lawyers, Alina Habba, who just lost her client $85 million to E. Jean Carroll and $355 million to the State of New York, once said she’d rather be pretty than smart because she can fake being smart. As in sex, so in law: it’s not so easy to “fake it.”
Russian dissident Alexei Navalny was found dead in his prison cell. He was not a great guy, a bit of a fascist and certainly no Julian Assange, but they say he was poisoned by Tucker Carlson’s Bear Daddy Vlady Putin, and anything that makes Tucker blush as red as Fani Willis’ dress is okay with us.
Lots more on this rollicking and yet very serious ride. Fingers crossed (but not legs!) that the light at the end of the tunnel’s not another bomb.
Continue reading and check out the show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-elder-orgasms-antiwar-activism
I cum to bury Valentine’s Day, not to praise it…
Sorry to mangle Marc Antony’s classic eulogy in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, but Valentine’s Day is fake news.
A sugar-coated confection of disinformation concocted by the early Catholic Church, developed by the Victorian greeting card industry, sweetened by See’s candies, polished by DaBeers diamonds and abetted by Amazon, all this overpriced Hallmark-card fakery is based upon a lovely little sexless fairy tale starring the celibate Saint Valentine.
Sexless St. Valentine
As the story opens in 4th century pagan Rome, mean old Emperor Claudius has made marriage illegal. In a vain effort to restore potency to his weakening imperial army, Claudius wanted fighters not lovers; after all, when you make love, you’re not so inclined to make war. Valentine, a Christian priest who married couples in secret, was arrested and, while awaiting execution, converted his jailer’s blind daughter to Christianity, whereupon she fell in love with him. Then, just after Valentine was executed, the jailer’s blind daughter found a card in his cell addressed to her from “Your Valentine.” Not only was she touched by this loving gesture, but the fact that she could now see the card meant Valentine’s saintly ophthalmological skills had cured her of her blindness.
What a touching tale of chaste ideals befitting the high holiday of hopelessly romantic love, Saint Valentine’s Day!
But alas and alack (a big lack), the ideal is the enemy of the real, as Capt’n Max says, and in reality, there were several Christian martyrs named “Valentine,” and no evidence that any of them healed a jailer’s blind daughter or composed a farewell card.
However, the ideal is more compelling than the real – as well as more marketable – at least according to Hallmark, See’s, DeBeers and Amazon, who have worked hard over the centuries to provide the tools for a V-Day fraught with pressure – the enemy of pleasure.
I’m all for relationship romance – and I’ve got the 31-year marital romance to prove it – but I’ve always felt Valentine’s Day was a bit contrived, like artificial icing on a natural succulent strawberry. The real juicy fruit is in there somewhere, but the sickly-sweet shell disguises, sanitizes and commercializes it beyond recognition.
Later, I learned that deep inside the phony, saintly, sweet Valentine shell is the original, primal, heart-felt feast for all the senses, including your sense of history – with nothing saintly or celibate – about it…
Lusty Lupercalia: The Original V-Day
They called it “Lupercalia,” the original pagan Valentine’s Day, the holiday of the heart, a big bacchanalian celebration of communal ecstasy, collective sexuality, fertility, purification, the rush of hormones, the howl of the wolf, the crack of the whip and the coming of Spring.
In contrast to the commercialism, artificial sweetness and romantic exclusivity of Valentine’s Day, Lupercalia seemed to be about a more inclusive, less expensive love—on the natural, kinky, consensual, pan-sensual, polyamorous Pan-horns of lust.
The star, namesake and feminist heroine of Lupercalia is the Luper. If you don’t know a “luper” from a “leper,” the former is Latin for “she-wolf.” According to Rome’s foundation myth, Romulus and Remus, the infant twins of the War God Mars and human Queen Rhea Silvia, are tossed into the Tiber River by their jealous Great Uncle Amulius after he assumes the throne of their grandfather Numitor’s kingdom of Alba Longa.
In our Lupercalian theater pieces with the Bonoboville Commedia Erotica Players, Great Uncle Amulius was usually played by Capt’n Max to dramatic effect, reenacting the throwing of Romulus and Remus into the Tiber by tossing a couple of scrunched-up balls of paper in between fluttering blue and green scarves held by lovely ladies roleplaying the waves.
Miraculously, Romulus and Remus are rescued and suckled by a she-wolf – the luper, usually played by the buxom Rhiannon Aarons, topless in a wolf mask – in a cave they called the Lupercal.
Yes, a wolf suckling human babies sounds pretty bizarre, but compared to other religious origin stories – such as the Christian notion of immaculate conception or the Jewish idea of creating the entire universe in six days – it’s not so farfetched. In fact, there are documented cases of children being “raised by wolves,” who apparently are more adept at parenting than some humans (such as Great Uncle Amulius).
Adding another layer of meaning, the word “lupa” is Latin slang for “prostitute,” making the Luper a kind of “Sacred Whore,” the Great Primal Wolf-MILF of prehistoric Rome. This explains all the suckling. It also harkens back to a pre-patriarchal time when “sex work” was not only legal; it was honored.
Nurtured on wolf’s milk, Romulus and Remus grow up strong – maybe a little too strong. They are, after all, sons of Mars and wolves – not Venus and bonobos. So, pretty much as soon as they can walk, they go off and assassinate their Great Uncle Amulius; fair enough, considering he tossed them in the Tiber, but unfortunately, the killing continues.
Having assassinated Amulius and given Alba Longa back to their Granddad King Numitor, the twins go down the road a few miles to build their own city on seven hills. Life is good, until they fight over a fence – or maybe, you could call it a wall.
Then, as now, such man-made barriers to movement can be huge sources of contention. So, as Romulus is doggedly building his wall – Remus jeers at his construction and even jumps over it, just to show how ineffective his brother’s great border wall is. Then, in a fit of humiliated sibling rivalry reminiscent of the Judeo-Christian Bible’s Cain killing his brother Abel (hotheaded fratricide being a recurring theme among both pagans and monotheists), Romulus kills his brother Remus.
A born politician, Romulus professes to greatly “regretting” the killing of Remus, but doesn’t lose much sleep before founding the city of both of their dreams which he names Rome, after himself, conveniently forgetting his beloved bro.
Otherwise, the great imperial capitol we all know as Rome would be called “Reme.”
Nevertheless, the spirit of Remus lived on in a Roman college fraternity, the Luperci Fabii, as did that of Romulus in the Luperci Quintilii. Here is where mythology turns to history – or at least not-so-fake news – and wild communal celebration.
Februa of Pan
Every Ides of February, these two tribes or fraternities of primeval “frat boys” – the Lupercii Fabii and Quintilii – would meet within that dark, womblike cave of the Lupercal where the Luper (meaning both “she-wolf” and “whore”) once suckled their twin great-great-grandfathers. Here they would sacrifice a goat, honoring the goatherd god Lupercus, a spin-off of Faunus, the Roman name for the great Greek Lord of the Wild, that horned and horny old goat, Pan.
I call Pan the “Patron Saint of the Bonobos,” since their Latin classification is Pan Paniscus, and they are the horniest apes on Earth, humanity’s closest Great Ape cousins, the Make-Love-Not-War, female-empowered, male-nurturing, sharing, caring, peace-through-pleasure-loving bonobos. Moreover, Valentine’s Day is their holiday too, and it’s called World Bonobo Day.
Meanwhile, back in the Cave of the Lupercal, drinking the sacred wine, the Lupercii would shirk their togas and laugh ritualistically – as well as, I’m sure, spontaneously, considering all that sacred wine. Then they would mark each other’s foreheads with the goat’s bright red blood; talk about “blood on your hands” – and your head!
Then the more sober among the Lupercii cut strips from the goatskin, making some into loincloths and others into those notorious leather whips they called februa. Yes, it’s from the same root as February, the last month of the old Roman year, a time for spring cleaning and new beginnings. According to Ovid, februa translates to “the means of purification.”
Thus equipped and rather drunk, the Lupercii would leave their cave, laughing and howling like wolves as they raced through the hills and towns, wielding their “means of purification,” their sacred februa whips, gaily whacking the willing behinds of villagers and farmers, many of whom were women (also probably a little drunk), looking for luck, love and perhaps a baby. The ancient Romans believed that such gentle whacks ensured fertility, which is not as scientific as an IVF clinic, though Lupercalia probably did whip the local populace up into a sex frenzy, resulting in a November baby boom. Men would also raise their butts or put out their palms for a smack. All were welcome to receive the smack of good fortune that the gods bestowed upon the people through the lucky, lusty, laughing Lupercii.
With Pan, Lord of the Wild presiding over all that whipping, laughter and purification, the Lupercalia often got rather wild, releasing steam from life’s labors - like Valentines, candy or even diamonds never do. All in all, it was a little too steamy for the early Catholic Church which squelched Lupercalian enthusiasm by not only making it illegal, but by turning poor, horned, horny Pan into the Devil.
The rest is Satanic history.
The Lupercalian Beauty of a Heart-Shaped Booty
With Lupercalian celebrations outlawed, the early Christian fathers plunked the more chaste and Church-friendly St. Valentine’s Day down on the same date, the Ides of Februa, forbidding the whips of luck and lust, but appropriating the vivid color of goat’s blood smeared on human skin as its signature shade – red.
Another V-Day symbol that I consider to be Lupercalian in origin is the “heart,” which looks less like the cardiac organ than a set of well-whipped, “heart-shaped” buns.
Continue reading and check out the shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-valentine-2024
Personally, Capt’n Max and I would rather go bonobos than bonkers.
We prefer the Joys of Sex to the Horrors of War – or whatever you call Benny Net Nut Netanyahu's mad bombing fetish. The Zionists call it “self-defense,” but those of us with eyes can see it for what it is: “genocide,” war crimes, apocalyptic mass murder, mass extermination, massive madness… Hell.
Is that where this Block Party on the Love Train is headed? Can we stop this runaway train?
Sores on Don’s Palms vs. Blood on Joe’s Hands
Nostalgic for a simpler time, Capt’n Max puts a penny on the track. Better for our train to smash a penny than for Israel to keep dropping hundreds of 2000-pound bombs on helpless, bomb-less Gaza, smashing homes, hospitals, people.
Pennies on the track, quarters squeezed between hind quarters, dollars stuffed into the pockets of corrupt politicians, billions for bombs and not a nickel for the poor… money appears to be at the root of most modern evils.
Speaking of the evils of capital, it’s the 13th anniversary of Citizens United, one of the worst Supreme Court rulings ever, polluting America’s already filthy politics with wads of dirty corporate money stuffed in the pockets of our so-called “representatives” who really only represent the rich (F*ck Da Rich!) who are, unsurprisingly, getting richer, as the rest of us lose our shirts – and not in the sexy way.
Now, with this muddy money swirling through our already very dirty political laundry, our choice for that once-respected office of the U.S. Presidency comes down to Genocide Joe or Syphilis Don – a narcissistic fascistic rapist under four indictments with sores on his palms vs. a war crimes profiteer with blood on his hands.
What to do?
Better wipe off that blood, Joe, and pull the needle out of Benny Net Nut’s arm that’s mainlining U.S. bombs straight into Israel’s body politic, marked for the destruction of Gaza. Stop the genocide, and maybe you’ll wring enough votes out of America to stop the festering Syphilitic Mussolini.
Also, free Julian Assange! His only “crime” was to expose the truth of American war crimes like yours, Joe. There is no free press without freeing Julian Assange.
Raw! Raw! Raw! Maria Wins a SUZY!
What’s a Block Party without music?
With the voice of an angel, a devilish wit and a healthy appetite for the “raw cock” of the human “stallions” in her “stable,” the ruby-lipped, mellifluous Maria joins in on the Block Party festivities.
I take the opportunity to present Maria with the very prestigious 2023 SUZY award of “Best Singing Caller.”
She even sings her acceptance speech, thanking David Bowie (and us!) for “inspiration.”
We also talk about cunning linguists with talented tongues, recipes for tastier oral sex with or without condoms or condiments, “Heavy Metal” sexual fantasies, ketamine as an aphrodisiac (plus it saved my life from septic shock back in 2006), the Hollywood hypocrisy of “performative empathy,” Swinger Block Parties, Cuckold Block Parties Foot Fetish Block Parties, mental blocks and whether or not to “block” people who try to crash our Block Party.
Next stop: Valentine’s Day which is also World Bonobo Day, originally the big pagan spanking Block Party of Lupercalia.
Party like a bonobo! Share the wealth of the world. Listen to this fun show and Make Kink Not War in 2024.
Continue Reading & Listen to the Show: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-block-party
At least, we dodge the bullets, fending off the faux fighters, war-lovers, booby traps and beautiful, wily attention hogs, and we manage to come out of the tunnel making love not war in 2024.
Nevertheless, it’s a bumpy ride, perhaps portending a rough year ahead, though everyone survives to live and love another day, so maybe it’ll all turn out okay. Who knows what this new year will bring?
We could guess, and even before we start this ride, I’m reluctant to hop aboard, being a little under the weather. Plus we’re short-staffed, and everyone is still a bit holidazed, as well as shellshocked by all the war porn, wrenching images of death and destruction from the hellscape that is Gaza under Zionist bombardment.
But Capt’n Max and I have surprise guests from out of town: one of our favorite couples, seven-time “Most Bonobo Couple” SUZY award winners Danièle Watts, aka DaLove, and Brian James Lucas, aka Chef Be*Live, aka BeLove, stars of our Bonoboville Reunion, featured on Vice TV (now having surpassed 300,000 views!).
So, we put on our headsets and gather around the Speakeasy bar, speaking about the “unspeakable,” with Unscene Abe bartending the broadcast. As always, BeLove is a gracious guest, and delightful DaLove slips into her usual position of contrarian - maybe a little more contrary than usual - sweetly but firmly insisting on calling Bonoboville a “family.”
I prefer to say we’re a “community” which tends to have less baggage than a family, but DaLove wants to “unpack a little of that.”
And “unpack” that baggage she does, with her signature “poetic” flair, flinging its contents throughout the Train, practically pulling the whole baggage rack down on the other passengers. Fortunately, no one gets hit by DaLove’s flying panties or shoes, as our little Love Train braves the turbulence, even picking up a couple of other passengers along the tracks.
Porn star Hamilton Steele regales us with his torrid Tales of the Billionaire Class as seen through the eyes of a sex worker who literally “fucks da rich.” A cock-size fetishist insisted they measure each other’s manhood. One wealthy Cuckold hired Hamilton to play the Bull screwing his Hot Wife as he sat happily watching and smoking expensive cigars on sheets and towels worth more than Hamilton was being paid (Hamilton confessed to evening things out by pilfering a few towels – to which DaLove asserted she would have done the same as I voiced mild disapproval).
Then Christopher Gagliardi calls in from the snowstorms of Englewood, New Jersey to thank us for his “Most Bonobo Graduate” SUZY Award (his ninth!) and express his New Year’s resolution to share “the autistic experience” through film and spread “humanism” through our “peace through pleasure” movement. I applaud Chris’ “courage” in staying pleasure-positive in this sex-negative and quick-to-cancel culture. Chris also vows to study hard at Felician University, where he is the proud host of his own college radio show.
Several themes recur, including the quirky joys of amputee sex, about which regular Callin’er Gerbil Penis drolly comments, “my penis cannot compete with a leg stump.”
We also consider the proliferation of war porn even as regular porn is more censored, though DaLove confesses to just discovering the wholesome pleasures of Pornhub.
Trying to put the brakes on DaLove’s apparent inclination to derail the train, plus her mounting desire for more erotic action, I whip her half-Happy Nude Rear, then BeLove spanks it, wholly happy and totally nude.
It’s also the third anniversary of Trumpty Dumpty’s Insurrection, aka “Coup Anon,” if you’re tuned in live, but we’re too busy with DaLove’s attention-grabbing antics to acknowledge it.
We love DaLove and BeLove, but upon examining the “radical empathy” involved when actors like DaLove play the parts of, say, narcissists like Trump, and war criminals like Benjamin Netanyahu (aka Benny Net Nut), Max and I realize another reason why neither of us pursued acting careers.
We don’t want to empathize with Benny Net Nut!
We’re also out of time, but DaLove’s transformation into Bonoboville Devil’s Advocate goes into full swing, and she has a lot more to say, leading us all into on-air dust-ups that are entertaining (or so we hear from our engrossed audience), but uncomfortable. Max and I are passionately antiwar and want to end the show on a peace-through-pleasure note, but deliciously naughty DaLove appears to have a passionate fetish for provoking us.
Finally, we come to the end of the line – at least for this show, with a plea for the world, including ourselves, to cut through the chatter of our devices, our intellects and our negative emotions – to go bonobos into 2024.
Make Kink Not War!
Read more prose & check out the shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-go-bonobos-2024
It’s the SUZYs 2023!
Honoring excellence in broadcast artistry and exhibitionism, erotic performance, pro-sex activism, antiwar politics and Weapons of Mass Seduction, celebrating The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure in all kinds of weather, for the 12th consecutive year…
Are YOU a winner?
Well before XBIZ, the AVNs, the TEAs, the Oscars, Critics Choice, the Grammys, the Tonys, the Emmys, the BAFTAs, NAACP, XRCO, SAG and MTV awards and the Golden Globes trot out their awards, we are here to acknowledge the best and worst of 2023 with the DrSusanBlock.tv Awards, a.k.a., “The SUZYS.”
So… Merry XXXmas, Sexmas, Festivus, Happy Kwanza, Happy Pancha Ganapati, Io Saturnalia, Happy Anti-Zionist Hanukkah, Happy Whatever You Celebrate 2023, Winter Solstice Cheer AND a Happy Nude Rear! We’re looking up the ass of the past year!
Our goal, as always (besides having a cum-ton of fun), is to advance the noble cause of sex education—more important than ever, as we face draconian crackdowns on sexual speech and activity by Big Tech, Big War and our Supreme Court Injustices. We also aim to inspire peace on earth, better erotica, pro-sex work, antiwar politics and free speech activism, as well as to save the real bonobos from extinction and support a more bonoboësque, Make Love Not War/Make Kink Not War ethos in the world.
Speaking of “ethos,” our Bonoboville Ethics Committee has, since our inception, stipulated that DrSuzy.Tv and/or F.D.R. staff members, no matter how deserving, are ineligible to receive SUZY awards.
However, because we were raised in the United States of Everybody-Gets-an-Award, we do give a special “staff award” to our beloved staff, a “thank you for your service” award that winners can put on their resume, if not their mantle.
Otherwise, all award winners are selected from guest appearances, calls and mentions on the over 37 live broadcasts in 2023 F.D.R. and The Dr. Susan Block Show, including several outside interviews and Bonoboville-on-the-Road presentations on location.
As is traditional for The SUZYs, we do not invite the winners, the losers, or anyone at all to the award show, so don’t worry, you didn’t miss out! Just sit back by the yuletide fire, pour yourself a flute of champagne, smoke a doobie, relax, cheer for The Best, boooo The Worst and enjoy the SUZY awards….
And The Winners Are…
#GoBonobos
“Most Bonobo” – Janelle Monáe
“Most Bonobo Couple” – Danièle Watts & Chef Be*Live – aka DaLove & BeLove
“Most Bonobo Primatologists” – Vanessa Woods & Brian Hare
“Best Bonobo Conservation” – Lola ya Bonobo
“Best Bonobo Conservation” – Bonobo Conservation Initiative
“Best Bonobo-in-America Habitat” – The San Diego Zoo
“Staff Award” – DrSuzy-Tv Staff
Sex & Pleasure
“Hottest Cougar” – Amber Lynn
“Mozart of Sex” – Nina Hartley
“Best Intimacy Coordinator” – Erin Tillman
“Best Purse” – Lux Lives
“Veteran Porn Power Couple” – Luc Wylder & Alexandra Silk
“Best Bonoboville Communion” – Rhiannon Aarons
“Best PG Bonoboville Communion” – Lilith Kat
“Best Redcarpet Interview” – Danny Wolf, Prod: David Bertolino
“Best Live Radio Interview” – Hartley Pleshaw, WCAP-980 AM Active Radio
“Most Intimate Interview” – Coralyn Jewel
“Best Deep Throat Confession” – Veronica Hart, aka Jane Hamilton
Kink, Fetish & BDSM
“Most Well-Rounded Kinkster” – Rhiannon Aarons
“Most Adorable” – Amor “Baby Block” Hilton
“Best Barbie” – Amor “Baby Block” Hilton
“Kinkiest Mask” – Gas Mask Girl, featuring Kyla Keys
“Most Congenial Kink Host” – Tom Hoffman
“Most Sparkling GemDom” – Madame Margherite
“Best Kinky Thespian” – John Barrymore
“Best Tease” – Dita Von Teese
“Best Leather” – Jux Leather
“Best Spankee” – Fawnia
“Most Sapiosexual Sadist” – Madame Mina De Sade-Fatale
Arts, Science & Media
“Best Art Party” – Abby Martin & Mike Prysner
“Best Art Café” – Fairouz
“Best Outdoor Art Gallery” – Little Secret, Queerspace
“Most International Yalie” – Gerry Weaver
“Best Live Callin Comments” – CutThePentagon, aka Fahim
“Most Poetic Comments” – Stan Kent
“Most Artistic Comments” – Kristen Rocks
“Best Free Speech Trial Tweets” – Stephen Lemons
“Social Media Support Sister” – Kacy TGirl
“Best Hairdresser” – Mark Brown
“Most Loyal Listener” – Don Pascal
“Most Bonobo Graduate” – Chris Gagliardi
“Best Rapmaster” – Ikkor the Wolf
“Best Singing Caller” – Maria
“Best Singing Dog” – Rufio the Dog, Manager: Brady Crow
“Best Captain’s Hats” – Dragon Steele
“Best Long-Term Radio Friend” – Janelle Hopkins
“Best Blast from the Past” – Barry Miller
“Best 50th Anniversary” – Gerard Damiano’s DEEP THROAT
“Sex Positive Activism” – Soma Snakeoil
“Wildest AI Art” – Robbie Martin
“Worst Censor” – Mark Zuckerberg
“Worst Video Censor” – YouTube
“Best ‘Real Sex’ Nostalgia” – Sex on the Internet, Vice TV
“Shadiest TV Producer” – Zach Shucklin, Vice TV
“Most Flagrantly Obnoxious Billionaire” – Elon Musk
Bonobo Politics
“Bonobo Courage Award” – Palestine
“Bonobo Caring Award” – Jews for Palestine – Jewish Voice for Peace
“Bonobo Sharing Award” – Doctors Without Borders
“Best Journalist” –Julian Assange
“Best Journalism” – Counterpunch
“Bravest Journalism” – Journalists of Gaza
“Best Interviews on Palestine” – Abby Martin, Empire Files
“Best Political Podcast” – Media Roots
“War Criminal of the Year” – Benjamin Netanyahu, aka “Benny Net Nut”
“War Criminal of the Century” – George W. Bush
“War Criminal of the 20th Century (2nd Half)” – Henry Kissinger
“Worst War Profiteers” –Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, Raytheon
“War Crimes Complicit” – Joe Biden
“Loser of the Year” – Israel
“Loser of the Century” – Donald J. Trump
“Worst Yale Grad” – Ron DeSantis
“Worst Neopuritan” – S. House Speaker Mike Johnson
“Miss Ammosexual” – Lauren Boebert
“Miss QAnonsenical” – Marjorie Taylor Greene
“Kangaroo Court of the Year” – Arcadia City Council
“Worst Americans” – Supreme Court Right Wing
“Best U.S. President of My Lifetime” – Jimmy Carter
“Worst Ideology” – Zionism
There you have it, another hot listicle of sexperts, sexpots, sex workers, politicos, artists, exhibitionists, visionaries, revolutionaries, hot babes, bitches, a few bad bastards and several war criminals who should be in prison but probably the worst that’ll happen to them is this boobie prize. All have appeared, been mentioned or parodied, immortalized, honored for greatness or exposed for evil on FDR and/or DrSuzy.Tv.
In a way, the SUZYs are the Anti-Award Awards. You may question some of our choices (so did we!), which is one reason to listen to the show. Another reason is that it’s full of sex, fun, bonobo wisdom, antiwar fervor and leftist politics, always bubbling up in our champagne as we toast the winners and pee on the losers. That’s just virtual peeing; don’t panic, you Censor-Bots! We’re not the Israeli Defense Forces – who really did pee on Palestinian prisoners, thinking that was some sort of “own” goal, when all it proved is how gross they are.
The Perfect Sexy Lefty Gift
Need the perfect gift for the socialist-feminist-orgiast who has everything? Give The Bonobo Way for the holidays… or Valentine’s Day (which is also World Bonobo Day)!
Win or losing it, get under that mistletoe and make love to someone you love tonight, even if that someone is you. And if you need a helping hand or if you just need to talk, the award-winning Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute are here for you 24/7 throughout the Holy Daze and into the future. And if you haven’t got a dime, everything you can see on DrSuzy.Tv is still free.
If you need a sex toy, your SUZY award can be used as a dildo; just remove the wings! In fact, it already has its own condom, worn like a halo on our SUZY award’s head.
Peace on Earth. Pleasure for All. Amen. Awomen. And a Happy Nude Rear!
Continue reading and listen to the show: https://drsusanblock.com/awards2023
Sorry to still bewail these unsexy atrocities week after week, but Israel is still committing them—week after week.
This Hanukkah isn’t So Happy
On the day of this show, an old Catholic friend emails me, wishing Capt’n Max and me a “Happy Hanukkah… with lots of fun and good cheer.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “But sadly, this is not a ‘Happy Hanukkah’ with ‘lots of fun and good cheer,’ as Israel bombs the lights and the life out of Gaza. I’m sorry to have to respond this way to your sincere good wishes, but that’s the way it is this Hanukkah.”
Israel’s apartheid has long been brewing a toxic stew, stirring up the brutal 10/7 Hamas explosion, which—like 9/11 and Pearl Harbor—could have been prevented with a little more intelligence, as opposed to highly overrated Intelligence… or maybe a politically desperate and depraved “Bibi” Netanyahu just *let* it happen. Then came the monstrous vengeance, the slaughtering of thousands, the denial that there are any Palestinian “civilians,” not even children, the targeting of Palestinian doctors and poets in their hospitals and schools, bombing, bombing, bombing beyond war crimes (really, beyond words).
These are Zionist—not Jewish—crimes, but unfortunately, most non-Jews conflate Zionism with Judaism. This mistaken conflation, stoked by the Jewish Zionists—as well as American Christian Zionists—compels me to join my fellow “Jews for Peace” in crying “Not in Our Name!” to IDF bombing and Zionist apartheid, even though I have Zionist friends from high school days now living in Israel (who won’t follow my advice to leave), and I haven’t stopped caring about them, worried daily for their safety, as well as their sanity.
Antiochus Netanyahu
I grew up among Zionists (including these friends who “made Aliyah”), but I never felt their passion, never believed that Israel was *my* country, or even a place I wanted to live. Its gung-ho, GI-Judah, post-Six Day War military spirit was a turn-off; I just wanted to make love, not war. For years, I could ignore, but the Zionist cancer, I had to “come out” against it. Now with this so-called “war” against Hamas that is really a Palestinian massacre, it seems that Netanyahu has overtaken Antiochus, the brutal villain of the Hanukkah story.
Yes, the ancient Hanukkah story of the Jewish people under the occupation of the Syrian Greek Seleucid King Antiochus IV in 160 BC has telling parallels to the modern story of the Palestinian people under the occupation of Mad King Netanyahu (or as Max calls him, “Net Nut”) in 2023.
According to the first Book of Maccabees, Antiochus was a sadistic king, always trying to humiliate his Jewish subjects, making them bow to idols, eat pork and probably commit sexual perversities. Now we have Netanyahu’s IDF, humiliating, stripping down, blindfolding Guantanamo-style, and forcing Palestinians to kneel before the Almighty smartphones that broadcast their humiliation throughout the universe.
Even worse than Antiochus, Net Nut drops his bombs—high-tech Hanukkah gifts from his good friend, Genocide Joe—killing Palestinians en masse and individual by precious individual, even as this wanted-for-corruption, narcissistic Nut has the chutzpah to piously light the first candle of Hannukah 2023 with a paid-off Rabbi by the Western Wall.
Miracle of Peace
If I compare the Maccabees of Hanukkah to Hamas of Palestine, the Zionists would call me a self-hating Jew. I’m no fan of horrid Hamas, but Judah Maccabee and his brothers are the quintessential extremist religious fanatics, “terrorists,” in the eyes of their occupiers… kind of like Hamas.
The ancient rabbis did not classify Hanukkah as a major Jewish holiday, maybe because it’s so GI-Judah. But it’s a Winter festival, so it piggybacks on Christmas and the gift-giving angle makes it good for capitalism.
But it’s much more than gifts and war. Like all winter holidays, Hanukkah stems from the original Winter Solstice, and the miracles that test their devotees’ willingness to believe, the most basic natural miracle being that a cold, dark, half-dead Earth is now coming alive with warmth and light, and Spring. The Christmas miracle is the virgin birth of “God” in human form, and the Miracle of Hanukkah is the “everlasting light,” the sacred lamp of the Jewish Temple, which had only enough oil to burn for 24 hours; yet it lasted eight days (thus the eight candles of the menorah), giving enough time for those terrorist/hero Maccabees to get fresh oil to replenish the eternal flame.
Speaking of oil, could Netanyahu and the Zionists be after a different kind of oil—or natural gas—in or off the shore of poor little rich Gaza? Perhaps oil is a motivating factor, as it often is, but it’s not 160 BC anymore or even 1948, and the whole world is watching on their devices.
This year’s hoped-for miracle, the one that I and so many wish for—whether actively marching in the streets or more passively witnessing from those ubiquitous devices—is that the Palestinian people be free of Zionist occupation, and that Jews—wherever we live—can once again be a people of peace and wisdom.
“It’s the Bonobo Way,” I say in my email and on the air, “the way of peace through the pleasure; the pleasure of sharing love, sex, food, medicine, knowledge and resources, the peace-inducing pleasure of seeing our own humanity in the eyes of the stranger.”
Thus, I give quite the earful to my poor well-meaning Catholic friend who only wanted to wish me a “Happy Hanukkah”—as well as to our audience on this show.
Candles for Palestine
Then I light the candles, singing the Hanukkah prayers—in my own quasi-Hebraic way—for Palestine, hoping my tears don’t douse the flames, any one of which could be the everlasting light of miracles that we all need.
Baruch atah Adonai elohenu melach ha’olam ashair k’dishanu b’mitzvotav l’hadliq nair shel Palestine.
Blessed art thou, O God of Gods, who makes us holy through your commandments, and commands us to light the candles for Palestine.
Singing my own version of the Hanukkah prayer, I think of those Zionists who say that an anti-Zionist Jew for Palestine like me can’t or shouldn’t celebrate Hanukkah because it’s a Zionist holiday. It’s true that Hanukkah celebrates military might (which isn’t my cup of Manischewitz), but telling me I can’t honor one of the holidays of my youth because I don’t agree with your politics is downright anti-Semitic. Turns out that Israeli and Christian Zionists are some of the worst anti-Semites around these days, maybe because they don’t separate politics from religion or Church from State.
Hot-Wax Hanukkah
I have always celebrated Hanukkah in my own way, and I always will. The games are fun, and it’s a mitzvah or “good deed” to have sex with your spouse on Hanukkah, a commandment that Max and I are very happy to fulfill.
But what I really love are the lights, the fire and the hot wax.
O hot wax, how I do love thee… having played with it since I was a pyrophiliac child, scolded not to burn the house down. Little did my good parents know, they were helping to stoke a fetish for the kinky pleasures of dripping hot wax skillfully on the beautiful bodies of consenting adults. Back in sexier times, I held some fairly big bacchanalian Hot-Wax Hanukkah party shows, including Hanukkah Girls Gone Wild (2010), Massive Musical Orgy of Love, Lights & the Bill of Rights (2012), Hot Wax Chanuka in Bonoboville (2015), Xmas Eve Confessions with Hanuka Hot Wax (2016), Hot Wax Hanukkah & the Alabama Miracle (2017), Squirting Hot Wax Hanukkah (2018), FemDom Hot-Wax Hanukkah (2019) our Coronapocalyptic Hanukkah-Xmas Bedside Chat 2020, and last year’s Saturnalia-Hanukkah-Sonata, all free to see on DrSuzy.Tv.
I’m pretty sure these amazing, blazing bacchanals would get me burned at the stake by the religious Zionists who seem to prefer the bomb-fires of demolition to the pleasures of hot, dripping love, not war.
Creating Trauma in Real Time
What a tragedy—though also a time of great heroism—for Palestine. And what a shame, what a great sin, a Shanda as they say in Yiddish, for Israel. What a shame as well for America, providing bombs paid for with our taxes, supported with ghastly enthusiasm by our political representatives, the U.S. just vetoing the Security Council draft resolution for a humanitarian ceasefire. Shameful!
It seems that Hanukkah 2023 is a time of collective trauma for all thinking, caring non-Zionist Jews. It’s nothing like having your house reduced to rubble, your limbs blown off or other unspeakable horrors being visited upon Palestinians; still, it’s sad to witness the rituals and relics of my Judaic youth destroyed by Zionists. Like the Nazis ruined a perfectly beautiful Buddhist symbol of peace, turning it into the swastika of hate, now the Zionists are ruining the Star of David, turning it into a symbol of oppression.
Read more prose & check out the shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-antizionist-hanukkah
The American pilgrims massacred the Natives with muskets and blankets filled with smallpox. The Zionist pilgrims use bombs (provided by American war profiteers) and light up the night sky with white phosphorus.
Thus—though Capt’n Max and I are very thankful for the deeply heartwarming and bonoboesque Israel/Hamas hostages-for-prisoners exchange taking place as I write this, and for the fabulous turkey dinner created by Chef Gideon here in Bonoboville (boy, did I get stuffed—from both ends)—we generally prefer Spanksgiving to Thanksgiving.
Slappy Spanksgiving 2023!
Season’s Beatings, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners, Pilgrims and Libertines and In-Betweens…
It’s our duty to spank booty on Spanksgiving!
Come let us play… And let us sing: Amen and Awomen. Praise be to the power and glory of spanking. Hallelujah. Praise the buns. And give ‘em a spank.
On Thanksgiving, let us give thanks, and on Spanksgiving, let us give spanks. Let us spank away the hate and the greed and the fear that divide us. And let us practice the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure… with a little spanking. Consenting adults only please. Don’t spank kids (they can’t consent).
The Bible says, “Spare the rod and spoil the child.” I say: “Spare the child and use that hot rod to spoil your (consenting adult) lover with just the kind of spanking they enjoy.”
Spanking is not to everyone’s erotic taste, but it’s a whole lot of kink-positive, recreational-not-procreational, butt-whacking fun or some. It can even, when done the right way, be therapeutic.
Pilgrim Kinks
Spanksgiving is more reality-based than Thanksgiving. It’s far more likely that our Pilgrim ancestors practiced the rites of Spanksgiving than the mythical love-in with the Wampanoag Native Americans that we in willfully ignorant America have come to call Thanksgiving. Pilgrim and Puritan spankings, paddlings, whippings, floggings, “stocks and bonds,” “tar and feathering,” “public disgrace” and witch-hangings (which members of our audience find particularly distressing this episode) were, of course, totally nonconsensual atrocities delivered with sanctimonious relish, often to punish sexual transgressions, such as adultery, group sex or masturbation. The witches or belladonnas were also hung for healing the sick because when it came to matters of life, death and well-being, the all-controlling Church Fathers didn’t like competition.
Despite our abhorrence for such abusive chastisements—which are making terrible “comebacks,” like corporal punishment in schools and torture in prisons—consenting adults can share kinky healing pleasure in roleplaying such crimes of colonialism, such as we do at the Institute via phone sex therapy as well as in Spanksgiving celebrations past in Bonoboville.
Shanksgiving?
Disturbingly enough, Shanksgiving is trending on xTwitter right now—referring to the recent prison stabbing of Derek Chauvin, whom the world saw in 2020 slowly murdering George Floyd with his knee on his neck.
I can’t say I’m upset about Chauvin’s plight; still, I prefer Spanks to Shanksgiving.
It’s our duty to spank booty on Spanksgiving!
Deep Throat does LA
Speaking of booty… My “Deep Throat does LA” multi-media extravaganza is now online! Join me and Bonoboville On-the-Road across town and down the hatch of history for the 50th anniversary of Gerard Damiano’s DEEP THROAT, that ‘70s Film epitomizing “Porno Chic” and, for some, the Sexual Revolution. It’s all part of Gerard Damiano, Jr. and Christar Damiano’s golden anniversary commemoration of their father’s seminal (pun intended) film, bringing a 4K-Restored Director’s Cut Print to the Laemmle Royal Theater and 910 WeHo Center (courtesy of Tom Hoffman), both LA screenings featuring Golden Age Adult Nina Hartley, Veronica Hart, Amber Lynn, Christy Canyon, Keisha, porn power couple Luc Wylder and Alexandra Silk (who are also making a film about the tour), “Naked John,” Nai’a (Golden Age porn star/director Gloria Leonard’s granddaughter), and the late great Herschel Savage (who sadly passed away a month ago) on the Red Carpet, plus Danny Wolf interviewing me about my “first time” watching Deep Throat in a big theater circa 1978. Sexperts Erin Tillman, Lux Lives, Kim Airs, Rhiannon Aarons and more joined the veteran stars at the follow-up “Talk Back” Panels, moderated by yours truly, about the history, the “communal ecstasy,” the raging controversies, the complex and tragic tale of Deep Throat star Linda Lovelace, Free Speech (then and now), the value of sexual recreation (The Bonobo Way) vs. forced procreation (the Alito way), Clarence Thomas and the Coke can, and the quirky creation of this iconic and scandalous film.
Filmed for under $25,000, Deep Throat is said to have made almost $600 million (for all you capitalists counting profits), capturing the cravings of the “Make Love Not War” generation traumatized by Vietnam and yearning for sexual healing. Prosecuted for obscenity and defended by Hollywood stars Warren Beatty, Jack Nicholson, Barry Miller (who joined us at 910 WeHo) and many others, Deep Throat drew (and still draws) a wide range of protests, from Charles Keating and the Religious Right to Catherine MacKinnon and the Anti-Porn Feminists to President Richard Nixon himself. With delectable irony, the name of the “Watergate” informant that forced Nixon to resign was “Deep Throat.” Tricky Dick Nixon tried to shut down Deep Throat, but “Deep Throat” took down Tricky Dick.
“What was Deep Throat’s effect on our world? What about it was delicious and what was tough to swallow?” I asked the Laemmle and 910 WeHo panels. “What has changed for the better and what for worse?” If you missed these stimulating screening events and panels live, don’t miss the fabulous videos and my “Deep Throat does LA” journal.
It being Thanksgiving, I give thanks to Counterpunch for posting “Deep Throat does LA: 50 Years of Sex, Cinema, Politics & Controversy” and for all their excellent coverage and analysis of the crazy world today. Thanks especially to Jeffrey St. Claire and Joshua Frank, my excellent editors who don’t really edit, but keep it all together for us. I even have a subscription and you should too.
Oral & Aural Pleasure
The Deep Throat logo is a kiss, and Callin caller Maria’s avatar is her own rubyt lips holding a fortune cookie fortune between them reading “You look happy and proud.”
Indeed, Maria is quite happy and proud of herself and her Thanksgiving 2023 that included a “Friendsgiving” and family feast with guests from Czech Republic, Tunisia and Lebanon, none of whom discussed politics, nor did they have a foursome with Maria’s sister-in-law who invited them (or so she says), even though I can’t get the image of a consensual Gravy Train Gangbang out of my mind.
Though we don’t talk directly about sex on this call—except to elicit a giggle over Spanksgiving—Maria describes her Thanksgiving cuisine with such sensuous, mellifluous, mouthwatering detail; it’s like having phone sex with a restaurant hostess reciting the menu. Well, eating is an oral pleasure. Before we close, she obliges my musical request, reprising the Beatles “Her Majesty” with royal harmony. Now that’s an aural pleasure.
Lots more on this flavorful show. Grab a bowl of leftover stuffing—or fresh cannabis—and listen...
more prose & shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-spanksgiving-2023
Deep Throat gave the world a taste of Porno Chic with a Big Gulp of Free Speech, followed by a bubbly chaser of U.S. politics mixed with presidential scandal, spiced with make-love-not-war fervor, spliced with sex-positive feminism and diced with pungent controversies; leaving a complex aftertaste that still lingers five decades later.
It's all shaken up into a flavorful 50th anniversary tasting tour courtesy of Gerard Damiano, Jr. and Christar Damiano, devoted son and daughter of Deep Throat auteur/director Gerard Damiano. The world tour honors their father’s seminal (in every sense of the word), cinematic creation-cum-pop culture sensation that shocked and seduced the nation—not always in that order.
Director’s cut screenings have been playing throughout this golden anniversary in theaters, festivals, clubs and other venues around the globe. All of Deep Throat’s quirky scenarios, jingle-happy soundtrack and explicit, unexpurgated sex scenes in their full-on, glorious, notorious, 4K-restored clarity and color can be seen on the big screen once again.
Down the hatch!
Not that it all goes down easy or creamy. Some aspects of Deep Throat are tough to swallow.
This is, after all, the movie that launched a thousand protests—ranging from the raging Religious Right to the anti-porn feminist “Left,” from Chicago Sun-Times film critic Roger Ebert to Memphis, Tennessee’s “smut”-smiting prosecutor Larry Parrish, from “liberal” New York City Mayor John Lindsay to “conservative” U.S. President Richard M. Nixon, as well as the FBI, the NYPD, Charles Keating, the Meese Commission and many more. Over the years, a myriad of people, organizations and political movements have tried to shut down, shut up and choke off Deep Throat.
That’s one reason why the Damianos arranged post-screening “talkback” panels at every venue, featuring experts of different kinds from Golden Age adult stars to 21st century “intimacy coordinators.”
I was honored to accept their invitation to moderate the panels at the two Los Angeles venues, though moderating a discussion about something so immoderate as Deep Throat has its challenges. I brought my riding crop just in case I needed to discipline a panel member (kidding—I just brought it for fun).
Having broadcasted shows live from “The Deep Throat Sex Scandal” (the play by David Bertolino) and “Harry Reems Tribute” in 2013, and having been interviewed for the E! True Hollywood Story’s “Linda Lovelace” episode in 2000—AND having actually seen the movie in a theater circa 1978—I felt prepared. Little did I know how deeply we would go into the sometimes bizarre, controversial and culturally insurgent qualities of Deep Throat.
The first LA screening was held at the venerable, old Laemmle Royal Theater in West LA, and the second at the kink-positive, new 910 WeHo Center in West Hollywood, owned and operated by the courageous and congenial Tom Hoffman.
There was supposed to be a third venue, the Frida Cinema in Santa Ana. However, controversy reared its scandalous head as the Frida canceled its scheduled screening just over a week prior to showtime due to outrage expressed by anonymous “community” members. The reaction was so “swift and severe” that no amount of “talkback” would moderate the “pushback.” Or so said Frida Management—that is, the same person who had originally, and quite enthusiastically, scheduled the screening—as they apologetically but resolutely canceled it.
Funny how censorship, bans, deactivations, complaints and cancellations are so often based on anonymous outrage.
However, the show must go on, and on it went at the two remaining So Cal venues, with flash and panache, as befits the subject. Swinging Seventies nostalgia was in the air. Golden Age porn stars, most of whom had worked with Damiano and all of whom adored him, strutted across the red carpets, including Nina Hartley, Veronica Hart, Amber Lynn, Christy Canyon, Keisha, porn power couple Luc Wylder and Alexandra Silk (who are also making a film about the tour), “Naked John,” Golden Age porn star/director Gloria Leonard’s granddaughter Nai’a, and the legendary Herschel Savage.
Sadly, though Mr. Savage seemed ageless at this event, he passed away suddenly just four months later. Star of another classic, Debbie Does Dallas, (graphic descriptions of which helped make Ronald Reagan’s “Meese Commission” Report a best-seller), as well as the lesser-known Satisfiers of Alpha Blue, directed by Gerard Damiano, Herschel was a trained Broadway actor who studied with renowned Stanislavski “method” teachers, Uta Hagen and Stella Adler, before doing Debbie, and he went on to become one of the world’s first and biggest adult stars.
RIP Herschel Savage, née Harvey Cohen, November 25, 1952 – October 8, 2023.
However, that night a very much alive and reflective Herschel joined the rest of us to commemorate one of the most groundbreaking American films ever made… which happened to be about blowjobs.
Of course, Deep Throat was (and still is) not just *about* blowjobs. It also actually showed these blowjobs, as well as cunnilingus, doggy-style, reverse cowgirl, orgies and more—close-up!—on the big screens of major movie theaters throughout the greater U.S. of A.
Talk about a cinematic sexual revolution!
Many audiences were thrilled to partake in an adults-only group sex-watching experience that—with the right crowd—was like a rock concert, love-in and midnight screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show (to be released a few years later in 1975) combined, creating a palpable sense of “communal ecstasy”… with a hat tip to the late great Barbara Ehrenreich’s not-so-kinky concept of “collective joy.”
No, Deep Throat wasn’t as spiritual as Woodstock (1969), though you could say they were both “dirty”… in different ways.
Of course, other Deep Throat audience members (perhaps with the wrong crowd) were more shell-shocked than thrilled, wondering what in hell they were watching… genitalia as big as a house?!?
Well, a tiny house; but still, this was big-screen, wide open-to-the-public entertainment, and the public ate it up like ice cream after a tonsillectomy.
Continue reading, see the pics & watch the videos: https://drsusanblock.com/deep-throat-la
It’s also the 9th Anniversary of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure (now with over fifty five-star reviews on Amazon) which was my gift to Max for his birthday in 2014. In these dystopian days of perma war, genocide, ecocide and neo-Puritan neo-fascism, we need the Bonobo Way of conflict resolution, female empowerment, male well-being, sharing resources and peace through pleasure more than ever.
Yet opportunities to release our inner bonobos seem fewer and farther between.
We even took a trip to the Zoo to see the real bonobos for a Bonobo Peace Summit a couple weeks ago, as Israel’s retributive bombardment of Gaza began, so we could learn more about how to “Be Bonobo” and possibly save the world—or at least save our sanity in our own “little” worlds.
Happy Naughty November 2023
And it’s Naughty November, appropriately enough, as birthday spankings may be given to naughty birthday boys. Max is “naughty” in the best sense, especially for an octogenarian. Since his actual day of birth (November 8) fell on a Wednesday—the Hump of the Week—we kicked it off with a little humping.
Go bonobos for senior sex! It keeps you young. Max is now 80 years young and, despite a few disabilities that have now rendered him temporarily wheelchair-bound, he’s still having and giving great orgasms. I can attest to the orgasms he is giving (to me, at least) being somehow better than ever. And he’s having some pretty good ones too, thanks to his naughty Night Nurse (that would also be me) slipping into bed with him for “treatments.”
I figure it’s best to have some kind of sex first thing to get the big birthday off to a sexy start, because you never know how the rest of your day and evening will go. The typical plan is to have sex at the end of a day of festivities, but the best laid plans may not get you laid the way you planned, so maybe it’s better to have it first. After all that celebrating, the day’s end might find you drunk, exhausted or mad at each other—and then there goes the birthday sex! Best to do it first, just in case, and then you can always do it again. We were too drunk and exhausted for round two—but at least we weren’t mad at each other this year!
Perma War Day
It's also Veterans Day 2023, so we talk about how this somber military day of salutes, cemeteries and fighter jet ballets started out as Armistice Day, which celebrated making peace after World War I, the notorious “War to End All Wars.”
However, the wars didn’t end with WWI.
On the contrary, the American War Machine just got bigger and bigger with no sign of America ever going back to a “peacetime economy.” So, our leaders turned Armistice Day, a holiday celebrating peacemakers, into Veterans Day, a holiday venerating the fallen warriors of Perma War.
Sanctions are almost as bad as war, since they tend to kill the poorest civilians, rather than the elites who wage wars and make policies that America doesn’t like. Burt Sesame calls in to ask, “Why don’t Why don’t we drop care packages instead of bombs?” His suggestion for good-will drops of food, medicine and iPads is great, and very bonobo, though it reminds me of an incident in Iraq where children confused air-dropped care packages with cluster bomblets—both bright yellow.
That’s not the main problem with Burt’s idea, however. It’s that dropping bombs makes a lot more money for the American War Machine and its political handmaids than dropping care packages.
Birthday Spankings!
We prefer celebrating Naughty November to Dead Troops of the War Machine Day.
And Capt’n Max’s hump-of-the-week birthday party took it up a notch. Since Max was rooted to his wheelchair, we couldn’t give him his own birthday spankings. Fortunately, we had two beautiful butts volunteering for the honor.
First up for Max’s birthday spanking was the fabulous Amor Hilton (no relation to Paris) who appeared to be in her birthday suit—at least from the waist down, her pale pink thong teddy matching her pale pink skin. Such a living Barbie Doll, with a purse made of white latex skeletons, it’s no wonder Amor wins the “Most Adorable” Suzy Award every year.
Admitting she was naughty and “deserved” a spanking, having missed my birthday show a few months ago, Amor subjected her pale pink ass to my rosy palm, complimenting my slaps with her squeals.
Adorable Amor also contributed a few well-placed wallops to my marathon spanking of Fawnia, our delightful, hot MILF real estate agent.
Fawnia had done nothing naughty, though some might use that adjective to describe her periodic boob-flashing throughout the party. However, she received the most spanks—80, to be exact—one for each of Max’s 80 years—with long pauses between spanks for Max to reminisce about that particular year in his long life of love and revolution.
What a good impact-play sport our Fawnia is!
Birthday Laughs & Love
Amor’s “date,” Mr. David Harris, arrived in a dapper purple suit and tie with matching fedora and purple heart-shaped sunglasses. He even led the toasts “to Max!” One toast led to another (thanks to scrumptious Barbancour Pango pineapple-flavored rum), and before we could say “birthday suit,” David had his shirt unbuttoned, and then completely off, though he kept his tie on, continually toasting “to Max!”
Fawnia and Amor showered Max with hugs and kisses (David also tried to, but Max held his boundaries). Amor even gave him her ring to wear around his neck, just like the old Elvis song (one of Max’s favorites), which Max wore through this show.
Amor gave him a flashcard that said, “I wanna spoon the fuck out of you.” “I wanna spoon the fork out of you” would be funnier, but whoever made the flashcards didn’t consult me.
What a nice gathering—just enough to call it a party, and we did party with plenty of drinking, eating, speechifying, spanking, a little dancing and carousing, and no fighting. Fighting and shooting break out in a lot of parties these days, but not in Bonoboville, at least not on Capt’n Max’s 80th birthday.
Three cheers and a bonobo beer for our great Captain!
CEASEFIRE NOW!
Alas, but it isn’t long before celebrations give way to lamentations on this show, as Bibi Netanyahu and the Zionist branch of the American War Machine continue to bomb Gaza into a deathscape of cataclysmic proportions.
Much as we—and billions of others—are screaming “Ceasefire Now!” in the streets, on our podcasts, in the offices of our representative and just about everywhere else except Genocide Joe’s own bathroom, our leaders are not listening. They are too busy raking in the cash from the Military Industrial Congressional Complex, aka the American War Machine.
It’s also the 84th anniversary of Kristallnacht, “the night of the broken glass,” one of the opening shots of the Nazi Holocaust, when Jews were killed and Jewish businesses were destroyed. Now the atrocity is practically in reverse, as Israel’s genocidal demolition of Gaza goes on, destroying schools, hospitals, humanitarian water trucks, refugee camps and all the innocent people in them.
Ceasefire Now and forever. No more killing in the Holy Land!
Maria, aka Smiley Red Herring, calls in response to our Gaza lamentations, but winds up partaking in Max’s birthday celebration, singing “Happy Birthday” with a bluesy lilt that has us applauding and cheering for more.
She’s a bit religious—or as she says, an “ecumenical” Christian with a fondness for the “digital” Gideon’s Bible—and certainly to the right of our sexy, lefty politics. Nevertheless we find ourselves in harmony on many things, from the joy of spanking (she prefers giving to receiving, and only when “in the mood”) to the pain of Palestine. She’s even watched our friend Abby Martin’s “Gaza Fights for Freedom.”
We also agree that all these religious folks murdering one another in the name of their righteous God(s) ought to follow at least one of the Big 10 Commandments: “Thou Shalt Not Kill.” How about it, believers?
Our descriptions of Max’s bacchanalian birthday also make an impression on Maria. "Ya'll are making me freakishly jealous right now,” she confesses.
There’s only one thing to do about that: mellifluous Maria is hereby invited to the next Bonoboville bacchanal!
In the meantime, she’s checking out the Christian crusading comments on our Vice TV piece, now reaching 265K views!
MAGAt Mike’s Johnson & Son
In the midst of all the celebrations and lamentations, we get a little comic relief. MAGAt Mike Johnson would be hilarious if he weren’t Speaker of the House, third in line to the highest office in the land.
Even then, he’s pretty funny. An ammosexual Christian nationalist, he blames school shootings on the teaching of evolution, claiming that if we learn that humans have evolved over billions of years from “slime,” as opposed to being crafted from dirt (it’s in the Bible) six thousand years ago by a guy in the sky, we can’t be expected to value life.
Speaking of slime, MAGAt Mike has a big porn fetish, big enough that he has used a porn-monitoring system to catch his johnson when it gets slimy, and it’s called “Covenant Eyes.” If that sounds Handmaid’s Tale-ish—as in “Under His Eye”—that’s because it is. Mike is very enthusiastic about Covenant’s “accountability software,” which he has used religiously with his porn partner—I mean, his “accountability partner”—who just happened to be his son. Yes, MAGA Mike and his then 17-year-old son monitored each other’s porn. Yikes.
Continue reading and check out the show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-max-birthday-bonobo
We want your poems! Don’t be afraid. Give “poetry therapy” a chance.
AND we want a ceasefire now! It’s been three weeks since “Israel’s 9/11” on October 7th, when Capt’n Max and I broadcasted live the day after attending “Gaza Fights for Freedom” filmmaker Abby Martin’s art party, only to wake up to Hamas attacking Israel, and then Israel attacking Gaza, which it is still attacking… and bombing in a frenzy of atrocity after Zionist atrocity, slaughtering thousands of Palestinians, including many children.
I’m Jewish but never Zionist; not even when I believed the poisonous pablum fed to me like toxic baby food in Hebrew School about Israel being “a land without people for a people without land.” I felt like modern Israel was a warrior state—more in tune with Joshua invading Jericho than King Solomon’s erotic Song of Songs—and I was a make-love-not-war kind of gal.
Nevertheless, I have long had Zionist friends and family, some of whom live in Israel, so it has taken me years to clearly see just how bad it is—bad for Palestine, bad for the Jews, bad for everyone—and to take a stand against Zionism, Bibi Netanyahu and the whole Israeli War Machine supported by American tax dollars, my tax dollars.
When I first saw footage of the Hamas attack, I was mortified. I still am mortified. I see images of Israelis being murdered and being kidnapped, and I see my old friends from Har Zion Hebrew School and Camp Ramah. I see myself. I can’t unsee myself in those images. But then I see the Palestinian people, and I see myself in them too. They’re not as ethnically close as my old Ramah friends, but they’re people, like me. But unlike me, they’re trapped in a concentration camp, slaughtered by Zionist bombs.
What a shame—a shondah, as they say in Yiddish—for the Jews; even for us anti-Zionist Jews, because unfortunately, most non-Jews don’t see the difference. So, I join the voices of my fellow anti-Zionist Jews protesting Israel’s bombs who cry, “No! Not in our name! Not in my name will you commit such atrocities. Ceasefire now.”
It’s heartening to hear these words of peace sung and shouted in the huge protest marches in all the big cities around the world.
The whole world is watching YOU, Israel. Even as you bomb Gaza and cut off their food, water, medicine, electricity and Internet, bombing hospitals, homes and schools, the world still sees, and now knows. Israel may be stronger, thanks to American weapons, but Israel is losing the war of world opinion.
So, my Israeli friends and family, if you’re listening: Ceasefire now! Ceasefire for Palestine! Ceasefire for the hostages you are currently killing with your bombs. Ceasefire for Israel itself. The only ones who won’t benefit from a ceasefire are Hamas, because Hamas feeds off of everyone’s outrage over Israel’s war crimes. The best thing Israel can do now is to negotiate with Hamas, to neutralize the “enemy” with peace, like bonobos. Hamas may well refuse to negotiate because that would legitimatize Israel, and delegitimize Hamas. More bombing as usual is just proving Hamas’ point—as it murders thousands of innocents.
It’s also heartening to see Israelis on the streets of Tel Aviv and other Israeli cities protesting the bombing and especially the bomber, Bibi Netanyahu who, like his counterpart Trump, belongs in prison (even more than Trump belongs in prison).
Speaking of the devil, Trumpty Dumpty deserves some of the blame for this mess, since his son-in-law Jared Kushner’s much ballyhooed “Abraham Accords” totally ignored Palestine, making Hamas feel it had nothing to lose. And that cool $2 billion that Jared picked up from the Saudis… could it have been payment for a bit of top secret info on Israel’s defense systems?
We all want peace—at least those of us who don’t profit from war. But how to make it? Who knows? Maybe our kissing cousins, the Make-Love-Not-War bonobos, know.
Watching Zionist bombs pulverize Gaza on our phones from our privileged perch here in Bonoboville LA may be physically safe, but it’s emotionally enervating. So, when Friends of Bonobos (the outreach arm of Lola ya Bonobo) invited us on a backstage tour of the bonobos (pan paniscus) at the San Diego Zoo, we jumped up and hooted like bonobos at the chance.
Guided by veteran primate specialist Kimba Livingston who I’d met way back in 2004 when I had my close encounter with bonobo Lana, we were treated to “inside” views of the orangutans, gorillas and, of course, the bonobos.
Thanks to new fences and other barriers, this was nowhere near as intimate an encounter as I’d had with Lana, or even with Lisa (in 2016’s Opera for Bonobos). But we had a great time at our “peace summit” with the quintessential peacemakers: the bonobos. Observing them made me even more certain that peace is the way, even in Palestine.
Bonobos make peace through pleasure, which often means sex. Unfortunately, the San Diego bonobos seem to have less and less sex every time I see them. I was afraid to ask Kimba if they were feeding them saltpeter, or maybe Prozac, though I had to wonder.
They did have a little bit of sex, and it was clearly a form of conflict resolution to defuse their competitive tensions and stop their fighting over food. So fascinating and edifying to see peace through pleasure in action!
My most exciting human-bonobo encounter this trip arose from playing catch, of all things. Due to my astigmatism and general lack of athletic prowess, I am usually a lousy pitcher; but when Kimba suggested I toss a walnut to Lisa the alpha female bonobo, I figured I’d give it a toss. Kimba herself wasn’t exactly Pedro Martinez, and the bonobos were missing her pitches. So, I took a deep breath, stepped back and threw the nut, and lo and behold, my old friend Lisa stretched out her big bony hand and caught it! Then I did it again and she caught it—though it bounced, but then she caught it again—and I could swear she winked at me whilst devouring the crunchy treat.
Maybe instead of bombing and shooting, the Israelis and Palestinians could play soccer or volleyball. Sounds crazy, but no crazier than massacring hundreds of humans every day.
Be Bonobo: Save the Humans. Please donate to Friends of Bonobos…
Thanks to Netanyahu’s genocidal blockade, Gazans are going hungry right now, which we “never forget.”
Nevertheless, starving ourselves wouldn’t feed Gaza. So when our San Diego Peace Mission needed to eat, we checked into a wonderful Palestinian restaurant called Fairouz (which means “turquoise” in Arabic), recommended by one of our regular Callin listeners, Fahim aka “Cut the Pentagon.”
Serving traditional Middle Eastern dishes like kebab and falafel, if I didn’t know Fairouz was a “Palestinian” restaurant, I’d think it was Israeli. Of course, Israel stole Palestinian and Lebanese cuisine, which is the least of Zionism’s crimes against the natives. This is why I grew up thinking that kebab, falafel and hummus were Israeli foods. Boy was I wrong!
Well, at least I didn’t think that hummus (mashed chickpeas) was Hamas… like Trumpty Dumpty. But just to be safe, I ordered the Baba Ghanouj (mashed eggplant).
But Fairouz is more than a restaurant; it’s an art gallery. The walls are covered with the vibrant and colorful paintings created by one of the owners, Ibrahim Al Nashashibi, also a poet. His brother Sami Al Nashashibi, who looks like Peter Sellers (star of one of my favorite films, Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 masterpiece, Dr. Strangelove), was a charming host, treating us like friends. Sami’s twinkling eyes lit up the space, and his broad smile seemed to stretch across the great divide between Palestine and Israel, Muslim and Jew; with love, art, poetry and great food.
Sami and his wife, the chef, exclaimed that I reminded them of “the famous [Lebanese] singer” Sabah. When I replied, “Thank you, I’m a little bit famous too,” a diner shouted from another table, “Yes, that’s Dr. Susan Block!” Then he pointed to Max and said “you must be Max.”
Who knew we had such gregarious fans in San Diego? Turns out the guy’s a cop. Wonder if he’s checked out our rants against police brutality. If he did, he’s probably one of the good ones.
Towards the end of the podcast, Fahim calls in to discuss more of the wonders of Fairouz, where he has been a regular diner for many years, as well as to express solidarity for Gaza and support for a ceasefire.
Fahim also regales us with tales of our mutual friend Abby Martin’s beginnings as a young artist and citizen journalist when she was an undergrad at San Diego State in 2006. So moving to hear how he almost wept with joy when Abby returned to San Diego in 2019 to show Gaza Fights for Freedom. If you haven’t already, please see that film and Abby’s interviews for background on the current horrors. After the screening, they all went to Fairouz.
We can’t wait to return! In the meantime, we are enjoying the two poetry and art books we bought there, Ibrahim Al Nashashibi’s Written with Colors, Drawn with Words, and Spirit Whispers, Heart Listens, which Ibrahim dedicated to his beloved younger brother, the warm and welcoming Sami.
Fahim’s description on this show of Abby Martin as “the next generation of Protest Mommies” is perfect. Hopefully, the “Protest Mommies” of the Left will overtake “Moms for Liberty,” and soon!
Continue reading and listen to the show: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-halloween-2023
But that’s not all that we do.
Indeed, hours before showtime, Hamas attacked Israel, killing hundreds of Israeli soldiers and civilians and taking dozens of hostages in what some are calling “Israel’s 9/11,” its bold and dramatic ferocity demonstrating the stronger country’s complete and embarrassing breakdown in so-called “intelligence.” In response, Israeli forces bombed Gaza, murdering hundreds of Palestinians with vengeful vows of war and more war, and we’re pretty shaken up about it, so of course, we talk about it.
There is no simple solution to this war or any war, except never to start a war, occupation or apartheid colonization in the first place, no matter how “holy” the land.
I have friends and family in Israel; they’re okay, but I tell them to get out of there (not that they listen to me). I support the Palestinian people’s right to live in peace and resist the brutal Zionist occupation, but I condemn the horrific violence of the Hamas attacks. I also condemn Israel’s retaliation which is, of course, many times worse, and just an escalation of the ongoing Zionist campaign of bombing, killing and oppressing the native Palestinians of this land we call “the Holy Land” for decades.
There is no simple solution to this war or any war, except never to start a war, occupation or apartheid colonization in the first place, no matter how “holy” the land.
Make Kink Not War! That’s the Bonobo Way, and it’s our motto every day—especially in the kink-positive month of Kinktober—though these days, raging wars of all kinds are engulfing our vulnerable little world. These wars are not kinky, at least not by my definition which involves consenting adults engaging in mutually exciting activities. In that sense, war is the opposite of kink, though many perversely get “off” on it. Thus, the horrific *war porn* flooding our media every day, and though its hard to look at, it’s even harder to look away.
There are many to blame on all sides for the carnage and terror now consuming Israel and Palestine. Hamas’ violence against civilians is reprehensible, but primary responsibility rests with the greater power which is, in this case, Israel, a nuclear armed colonizer country supported by the U.S.A.
I learned a lot about the brutal apartheid nature of the Zionist occupation of Palestine from none other than Abby Martin whose “Untold History of Israel & Palestine,” “Gaza fights for Freedom” and other Empire Files documentaries are excellent exposes of the plight of Palestinians under Zionist rule. I highly recommend these films as well as Abby’s interviews with various personalities, including Joe Rogan, to anyone trying to understand the roots of the current violence.
Abby Martin is a truly extraordinary woman whom Capt’n Max *discovered* back in 2014 on the once-great RT (Russian TV). We invited her on The Dr. Susan Block Show for a truly remarkable interview, and we’ve been her friend and fan ever since. Last year, Abby and her wonderful partner Mike Prysner interviewed me on their Dosed Show about sex, violence and the Bonobo Way, and a couple years earlier, I talked about politics and cuckolding on Media Roots with Abby’s brilliant brother Robbie Martin; yes, it’s quite an amazing family of great sexy lefty journalists. Abby and Mike also attended our erotic-verging-on-orgiastic Bonoboville Reunion, so yes, you can see them (mostly in the background) on our Vice TV piece too!
So, we were delighted to join Abby and Mike at their art show and going away party (sadly, they’re leaving LA for Oregon) at the outdoor Queerspace Little Secret in out-of-the-way DTLA.
What a fun time… for everyone but Chico, who was a naughty barker and had to wait outside while another, calmer canine ran the party which was filled with art, music, a metro train going by every hour, drinks on top of a lit-up double decker bus, dancing, singing and swinging. No, not sexual swinging (unfortunately), but a pretty cool swing on a rope by the bar.
Abby’s art was the star of the evening—gorgeous, abstract, hallucinogenic paintings you could lose yourself in, invoking fantasies, dreams and creativity of all kinds.
I was honored that Abby gave me one of her most beautiful paintings as a gift. The title, “Hell Yeah,” and its lush red lips, tongue, gleaming teeth, kinky wires, blue-shadowed eyelids, manicured fingers and shadowy nudes all seem to slide down a psychedelic Deep Throat through dreamy doors of perception.
Our gift to Abby was more modest, but she seemed to like the blingy microphone pendant we gave her to honor all the real mics and bullhorns she’s spoken on through her distinguished career. We know Mike loved his mic because he put it around his neck and wore it all night. The perfect mic for Mike!
As I flitted around from swing to bus to dance floor and back, Max hung out in his wheelchair by the bar, still recovering from his horrible case of the shingles, but happily chatting and enjoying the fashion show (especially the foot-wear) and local painkillers (tequila shots).
We met a few cool folks, including some of our own fans, like the garrulous Paul Reynolds who discovered us through Abby and now listens regularly to FDR on Callin. Paul was sweet, even though he boldly photobombed a selfie Abby and I were trying to take in front of her art. Well, fans will be fans, and we love them all.
Casual and warm in the cool of the Kinktober night, Abby’s party was a good time. It was also an aphrodisiac, at least for Max and me. Even though, thanks to Max’s shingles, we can’t touch each other’s most intimate places right now, we managed to have a little orgasmic sex right after the party and before this show.
#GoBonobos for disabled senior sex! It keeps you young and (hopefully) helps you get healthy. It’s also very risky, of course, in various ways, but all in all, sex heals a billion times more than it kills.
Great music is the soundtrack to great sex, and sweet sounds certainly played a big part in Abby’s party. Go bonobos for Max Collins of Eve 6, Mz Neon, Metal Mother, Televangel [Blue Sky Black Death] and DJs Succubus and Infernx!
Music also plays a recurring role in this FDR podcast, beginning with Max in the afterglow of our post-Abby party senior sex, warbling “I’m in the Mood for Love.”
Then it moves onto the return of musician Brady Crow calling in from Texas to sing us his new unfinished song (part of his upcoming antiwar album), “Just Say No to NATO.” It’s pretty cool, though I think it should include “Go Bonobo” somewhere in there. But the best singer of the show—and the whole weekend—is Brady’s SUZY Award-winning dog Rufio crooning to the moon, “Just Say Nooooo to NATOOOooooo.”
Maybe we should teach Chico to sing instead of just barking frantically.
Other subjects on the Love Train include Olivia Wilde, niece of Alex Cockburn – pronounced Cohburn, not cock-burn—though we have a field day with that pronunciation; coconut oil (good for cock burn); our Vice TV piece surpassing 225K views; GW Bush and the Yale Skull and Boneheads; plastic in our water; and the terrible attacks by a gang of young men on Ekolo ya Bonobo in which two male bonobos were killed. Now more than ever, Ekolo and Lola ya Bonobo need our help!
Stay tuned for the time and place of our arbitration against Zuck the META cuck making mega bucks off our exploitation and then rewarding our hard work with deactivation.
And Be Bonobo. Even if we can’t stop wars in the Middle East, Ukraine or anywhere in this war-torn world, we can at least make our voices heard… unless we’re censored, that is.
Well, we can at least “be bonobo” and make peace through pleasure in our own lives. That’s a start!
Happy Kink Month 2023! It may not seem like it for soooo many reasons, but it really is a better time than ever to… Make Kink Not War!
Continue for more prose & listen/watch the show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-kinktober-2023
Is freedom-to-buy the best freedom we can get?
One of our most vital freedoms that is under attack is freedom of speech. That is an ongoing topic of this rollicking ride on FDR, and that is what we are fighting for in our battle with Zuck the Cuck and META, the throbbing heart of the American Censorship Industrial Complex that is monopolizing and controlling human discourse more every day in our more and more digitized world. Since the great and powerful META unjustly terminated my Facebook and Instagram accounts a few months ago, I’ve been fighting—mostly fruitlessly—for explanations and restoration. Now I’m taking Zuck and META to arbitration.
Midway through the Tunnel of Love, our train picks up Daniele Watts (aka DaLove) and Chef Belive (now BeLove), calling from—of all places—Freedom, California. They share a fantastic tale of sharing free love in a most Bonobo Way behind a laundromat right there in Freedom.
We’re also excited to hear they are making a film, “BeDaLoveLight Wedding,” about the different kinds of love—eros, agape and philia. Oh, those amazing Epicurean Greeks! And oh, those lovely bonobo lovers, DaLove and BeLove, practicing Tantra in their car and living in Freedom, aka Freed OM (mani padme hum). Or as Capt’n Max wonders, “Are we talking about freedoms or Free Doms?”
We also continue celebrating Self-Love September (actually, we celebrate self-love all year) as well as our Vice TV piece surpassing 200,000 views, and we address the reckonings of Rupert Murdoch, Russell Brand, Jann Wenner and the poor woman sentenced to two years in Nebraska prison for helping her daughter find abortion pills. Aiding and abetting this heinous sentence is META, which turned in the mother and daughter’s “private” Facebook messages. So, not only is META the world’s biggest censor, they’re a bunch of dirty rats.
Help us fight META! More news about the impending arbitration coming soon, but in the meantime, read all about it here: https://drsusanblock.com/meta-arbitration-statement
Read more prose and check out the show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-freed-om
Sex with partners can be complicated—verging on treacherous—especially these days. Consent is essential, but can be difficult to discern for some. Given the post-#MeToo climate and other concerns, sex with other people comes with new dangers. Better to be safe than sorry and err on the side of caution. Nevertheless, sex is vital to mental and physical health and healing. So, what are we to do? Sacrifice our sexual health and seek safety in celibacy? Never fear! Wanking is here. Solo sex, since it only involves you, may not be the *best* sex, but it does tend to be simpler, especially since consent is 100% guaranteed.
It’s natural! Aside from grasping tree branches and smartphones, the human fingers appear to be made for stroking, strumming—and self-loving! Bonobos love to masturbate, as do other apes like us – it’s part of keeping the PEACE through Pleasure. If we were more masturbation-positive, we would probably be a less violent species.
As George Carlin said, “If God had intended us not to masturbate, he would have made our arms shorter.” Of course, there’s no reason you can’t go bonobos for self-love all year around; but Self-Love September is a great time for you self-love slackers to step up your game.
Masturbation is often denigrated as a sort of “slacker” sex since, unlike sex with someone else, it’s easy, please-y and doesn’t require hardly any work. In that slacker pleasure spirit, we say “Rest in Paradise” to the late great Jimmy Buffet.
No, he didn’t promote masturbation, though I’m sure he did it, like everybody else. But Jimmy Buffet did popularize slacker chic.
There was something bonoboesque about about Jimmy Buffet’s songs, though bonobos don’t drink margaritas—at least not in the wild—even if it’s 5 o’clock somewhere, though they would enjoy a cheeseburger in paradise.
Just as some people are ashamed of masturbation, back in the late 70s and 80s, I used to be ashamed of liking Jimmy Buffet, because his music wasn’t serious or important. But then I learned how serious and important pleasure and relaxation are, so no, I’m not a Parrothead, but I’m proud to say I like Margaritaville. It’s right next to Bonoboville.
It’s almost Fall or Autumn Equinox, another name for which is “Mabon,” after the Welsh God of the Harvest. In keeping with Self-Love September, I call it “Mabon’er” (yes, women get Lady Boners).
For the Greeks and Romans, Fall Equinox is actually a “fall,” aka the Rape of Persephone (Proserpina to the Greeks), daughter of Demeter (Ceres to the Romans), the great Earth Mother Goddess of the Harvest, Fertility and Agriculture. Like too many unfortunate maidens then and now, Persephone is sexually assaulted by her mean old Uncle Hades, or Pluto, the Lord of Hell.
As Hades sweeps her up into his chariot, Persephone literally falls through the Earth into the Underworld, taking her Mother’s joy and the Earth’s abundance down with her. Raging with grief, the Earth Mother almost destroys the Earth. Fortunately, Mama Demeter has the wherewithal to work a deal for sustainability with King Zeus, aka Jupiter, for her beloved daughter to reunite with her half the year, at which point, she blesses the Earth with the glories of Spring and Summer.
Of course, these Greek myths were created before Climate Change started wreaking havoc with our seasons. Still, they show us that no matter how bad things get or seem to get, we can usually work out a deal to make them better.
It’s also coming up on the 22nd anniversary of 9/11, that horrific yet surreally cinematic castration of America’s tallest Towers of Power, Dick I and Dick II, whose destruction served as two mega doses of Viagra for America’s Military-Industrial-Congressional Complex.
Thus G.W. Bush’s self-proclaimed Wars on Terror entered the Perma War phase of American hegemony, turning into modern “crusades” and devastating losses for everyone (except the war industries) that still harm us all to this day.
If any single country was responsible for this crazy crime, it would be Saudi Arabia, as 15 out of 19 of the 9/11 hijackers were Saudi, and there has long been evidence of Saudi funding, but we don’t bother the Kingdom—that happens to sit atop 17% of the world’s oil—because they’re our friends. With friends like that, who needs enemies? Well, we do—at least our war machine does—and so we made Iraq and Afghanistan our enemies and attacked these countries without provocation, virtually destroying these nations, gaining nothing for the American people (unless you consider American weapons makers and oil companies “people”), and paving the immoral way for Vladimir Putin to attack “Iraq – I mean Ukraine. Same thing.” Yes, that Freudian slip and accidental confession comes courtesy of our war-criminal-turned-bad-painter George W. Bush when he was attempting to condemn Putin.
Though Dubya was the Prez, he was a puppet president whose strings were pulled by the Dark Lord of Perma War, his “Vice,” Dick Cheney.
Sadly and frighteningly, the crimes of Bush and Dick carry on and expand, as Julian Assange, who exposed them, languishes in prison. It is sad that these two Chickenhawk war criminals can fly free while eagle-eyed journalists who embody the First Amendment are confined to cages.
More VICE
Speaking of “Vice,” our Vice TV piece has over 180,000 views. If you’d like to see some of the fun frames from the piece, and read about my mixed feelings regarding Vice portraying my adVice and phone sex therapy practice, click here.
View-hungry Vice execs also changed the beginning of the title from “Dial ‘O’ for Orgasm” to the more salacious and neo-Puritan-triggering “Masturbating During Therapy.” It’s irritating, but it’s Self-Love September, so I might as well embrace it, and it’s true that I allow masturbating during phone therapy. It’s a good thing!
I am not the ‘thought police,’ and I believe in the therapeutic healing value of talking about what’s on your mind with someone who can help you handle it.
In honor of everything, Max smokes a joint and I munch edibles, as we discuss the impending decriminalization of magic mushrooms, psychedelics and other fine drugs in California.
Of course, legalization or decriminalization is only the first step. Uva 13 calls in to talk about the problem of corruption in the cannabis industry, as there is corruption in every American industry, including other, more respectable drugs hopelessly corrupted by Big Pharma and the doctors they bribe.
All the more reason we need a little socialism injected into the run-amok capitalism that is choking us—literally (try breathing our so-called air without coughing like you’re toking weed) and figuratively (try starting up new companies in any field without really good, well-connected lawyers).
Well, we end on a positive note with Uva: As long as the corruption doesn’t poison your pot, it’s a great aphrodisiac!
It’s also almost Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and even though I am NOT a Zionist nor a religious Jew, I’m Jewish so I wish a “L’shanah Tovah Rosh Hashanah!” to all my Lonsmen who celebrate. Also: Free Palestine!
And free Assange! Make Kink Not War. Follow The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure. Be Bonobo.
Read more prose & listen to the show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-911-selfloveseptember-vice
Into the storm drops Trumpty Dumpty, Big Egg of the Trump Crime Family and Rico racketeering mob boss of the legal beagle Batman Villains Club, MAGAt cult leader, and leading Republican 2024 Presidential candidate, on an urban X-pedition to Atlanta’s Fulton County Jail for Indictment #4 (with a total of 91 criminal charges), and all the mug makers are putting his mean mug shot on their mugs.
The Mango Mugger mugged America once; the next time could be fatal.
Related or not, as our live broadcast begins, another horrific racist body-armored ammosexual incel mass shooter murdered multiple human beings before turning his weapon of war on himself. This time, the particular racist ammosexual sprayed a Dollar Store in Jacksonville, urban center of Ron DeStupid’s Florida where sex is censored and racism is empowered with “permitless concealed carry” gun laws.
Armed killers are on the loose through America, and some of the worst are wearing badges.
Sometimes, cop kills are obvious shots in the back. In other cases, they’re a bit more subtle.
A couples of years short of a century old, Kansas newspaperwoman and owner of the Marion County Record, Joan Meyer, died the day after an unconscionable police raid of her newspaper’s office and her home.
As the raiding cops barged through her door, the 98-year-old Meyer confronted them with remarkable courage and strength, challenging them from her walker, calling them “assholes” engaging in “Hitler tactics,” which they were, and ordering them to “get out,” but they didn’t.
The next day, she died of cardiac arrest. What a travesty, tragedy and atrocity. These Marion, Kansas police “assholes” with their “Hitler tactics” murdered this almost centenarian journalist. RIP Joan Meyer.
Censorship Industrial Complex, Anatolian Apes & Callin Calls
Meanwhile, the Censorship Industrial Complex strikes again and again. Anti-imperialist website Mint Press News—friends with Frank Moore’s people (who tipped us off about this), as well as Abby Martin, Mike Prysner and Robbie Martin–has had its TikTok account deleted without warning or explanation. This comes after it was previously de-platformed from PayPal and had its money withheld.
We know the feeling, being currently censored by YouTube, Facebook, Spotify and Instagram which we are about to take into arbitration. Social media censorship is all around us, always aiming to monetize and/or silence us, with guidelines clear as polluted skies, and bots as bad as bad cops.
We take a call from Reza in Iran, which he prefers to call Persia, though he’s very picky about who or what is actually “Persian,” and he’s a little obnoxious about it, but he too is in a fight against censorship and deletion of his shows, and we support him in that. To paraphrase a paraphrase of Voltaire, though we may disagree with what you say, we defend—though probably not “to the death”—your right to say it.
Chris G calls in from New Jersey to talk about his recent Tik Tok successes (social media builds you up and takes you down, sometimes in close succession!), his mom’s podcast and his media studies at Felician college. At one point, when he is delivering one of his stirring speeches to “save this precious woman” (I believe that’s me), in support of the restoration of my terminated channels and accounts, we hear music in the background (he says it helps relax him before bed)—which is kind funny, but also makes his speech even more stirring!
Then “Hybrid Bonobo,” aka David, calls in to say he loves my 1996 interview with Harvard Anthropology Professor Richard Wrangham, but can’t get over how “different” we sound (it’s called aging, David!), and asks some challenging questions about sex, vision and genitalia. Listen up for my illuminating answers!
Speaking of human apes and the Persian region, here’s some 8 million year old breaking news: We always thought we humans and all of our ape cousins evolved in Africa, but now there are fossil findings that show that our human ape ancestors migrated from Anatolia, Turkey to Africa, and then back to Europe again. It’s all quite mind-blowing in ways I will explain at another date…
Not so mind-blowing, but worth a shoutout: Our Vice TV piece, flaws and all, has over 155,000 views. If you haven’t yet seen it, what are you waiting for? Check out what all the fuss is about.
Back to our Urban X-pedition to the Urban X Awards at the Globe Theater in Downtown LA (DTLA) in the middle of the Hurriquake! It was fun. I was nominated for “Most Popular Sex Educator.” I didn’t expect to win. Because even though the Urban X Awards is inclusive of everyone—and it really is—all colors, all sexual orientations and gender identifications, it’s still “urban.”
Originally called the Urban Spice Awards, established in 2008, the Urban X Awards “recognize achievements by performers and others in adult media, with a focus on Black, Latin and Asian achievers.” I can’t really check those boxes, although I am Jewish, which is not a race, but it’s actually very urban if you define “urban” as being “of the city.”
Jews of all races are the original urbanites. We may not have a country (Palestine is not *our* country; the Zionists are dead wrong), but we are often of the City.
Speaking of urban Jews, we take a detour to talk about our friend Luzer Twersky, raised Satmar Orthodox Jewish, now atheist, and he’s starring in a movie called Dovbush that just premiered in Ukraine in which he plays the Baal Shem Tov.
In fact, he’s now in the urban center of Kiev, Ukraine at his movie premiere under Putin’s attack, with air raid sirens blaring.
Talk about living the ultimate urban experience.
Going Downtown
One definition of “urban” is “downtown,” of course, and “going downtown,” i.e., cunnilingus, is one of the yummiest sex acts. No wonder, we love the urbanities…
Capt’n Max and I reminisce about our urban days, from our HBO shows to our LAPD raids.
But we also love the other kind of “downtown” of our DTLA days, 1998 – 2013. We were DTLA arts area pioneers, urban campers camping out in abandoned factories which were rough for life, but fantastic for art and big bacchanalian events like Eros Day and Lupercalia.
Actually, DTLA and I go back even earlier to the late 1980s when the late great Scott Kelman ran the Factory Place Theater and Boyd Street Theater on Skid Row (yes, those were the days when you could run a theater on Skid Row, which at the time was just a row; now it’s 40 blocks), featuring such up and coming stars as Whoopi Goldberg just before she did “Ghost.” That’s how far back I go with DTLA. I am OG Urban.
Capt’n Max and I reminisce about our urban days, from our HBO shows to our LAPD raids. Then, thanks to the Staples arena, DTLA became too pricey and too dirty for us. And the dirt wasn’t worth the price.
So, we moved to Inglewood which was just the right mix of urban and beachy. But after a few years, thanks to the Coliseum, Inglewood also got too pricey (all these giant sporting arenas really ruin urban areas) and too dirty (the air pollution). So, we moved out to Arcadia, which is more suburban sprawl than urban life, part of what Henry Miller called “The Air-Conditioned Nightmare.” But we like it here, and everybody likes us. That is, our neighbors and our landlady do, but not the City of Arcadia inspectors who pretend to be urban, but are really the same kind of small town “assholes” whose flagrant violations of constitutional rights wind up killing upstanding citizens like Joan Myer.
They haven’t killed us, and hopefully they won’t, but they do try to trample on our rights. Could it be because we are hard to classify? Because we’re sex educators?
Which brings me back to my Urban X nomination for ‘Most Popular Sex Educator’ which I did not win. But my favorite of all my fellow nominees, the lovely Sinnamon Love, did win, and deservedly so. After all, while I am followed by just over 25,000 on the X (formerly Twitter), Sinnamon has over 495,000 followers. Now that’s “popular.”
Moreover, I love Sinnamon love. She was a guest on DrSuzy.Tv a few times during our early urban period in the 2000s. And speaking of “X,” Ms. Love was also a guest star of our Eros Day X in 2009, one of our biggest, most urban bacchanals in DTLA, our Eros Day Orgy for Obama, our 10th annual Eros Day which doubled as a wild inaugural ball for our most urban and urbane President.
Though my urban days are numbered, I still went to the show. Max didn’t; he would have gone, just to accompany me, but we both knew it wasn’t his thing, so I our new bonobo Rodrigo escorted me through the hurricane! From the weather reports and X hysteria, I thought I might have to swim Downtown. But I’m an adventurer; I climbed to the top of the Golden Gate Bridge when I was an urban San Franciscan, and I’d paddled a canoe through white water rapids in the Adirondacks.
So, I figured I could make it to DTLA in an Uber. It was pretty wet splashing out of Arcadia. I wore boots, a hat and an OG Fringe Logo Vest custom made by Dre Day of Dr. Block’s Pleasure Shop.
Read more prose and catch the show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-urban-x-pats
Rattled by battles, wars and more wars, including the war on women, plus rising inequality, tyranny, misogyny, insanity, political criminality, sex-negativity, truth-relativity, hyper-religiosity, murder, mass murder, appalling apartheid, worsening climate chaos and the nuclear Doomsday Clock at 100 seconds to midnight… like so many other thinking, caring humans, I feel like I’m losing my marbles and my mind at the same time.
Thus, I’ve taken this little jingle as my light in the dark, my mantra against the madness and a bit of a gag (all puns intended) in the gloom:
Make Kink Not War!
It’s the fierce yet peaceable kinkster’s *battle cry*… but what does it mean in the real world—on the battlefield, in the bedroom, the boardroom or the classroom, the dungeon, the protest march or the play party?
Making Love vs. Making Kink
Everyone’s heard “Make Love Not War.” It’s one of modern humanity’s most famous sayings. Indeed, it’s a brilliant idea, an oldie but goodie that’s guided my life since I was a child accompanying my draft-age older brother to protests against the American War in Vietnam and the nukes at Three Mile Island. As I ogled the sexy, earthy hippie protesters, I fantasized about beautiful people “making love” so passionately, they would somehow stop the wars. Unfortunately, they didn’t. Though they did stop the draft (woohoo!), the wars got worse.
But “Make Kink Not War” (MKNW) could be an even better idea… especially now.
After all, many people “make war” in the name of “love.” It might be love of country, religion, race, family, heritage, “democracy,” or just one person (see Helen of Troy). Unfortunately for humanity, love can ignite all manner of murder and mayhem.
Another famous saying explains why: “Love has no rules.” Though no one’s sure who said it first, everyone knows it’s true.
Kink, on the other hand, has lots of rules. Otherwise, it’s not kink; it’s abuse.
Kink RULES!
A kink is a “twist,” as Thomas Jefferson was one of the first to use the term to describe a feeling as opposed to a bend in the bondage rope. One rule of kink is that it must be between consenting-adults when practiced in real life. SSC or “safe, sane and consensual” is the guiding imperative of kink and any kind of erotic power exchange. A step beyond SSC is RACK: Risk-Aware Consensual Kink.
This may sound like alphabet soup or seem to lack spontaneity, but kink rules when it’s based on rules.
Since Jefferson’s sexual relationship with Sally Hemings—a real slave—was not consensual, that would be abuse, not kink. Even if her shackles were made of French perfume, her reality was that she couldn’t choose to leave or say no to Master Tom.
If your kink is just fantasy, I say anything goes. Go ahead and roleplay Master Tom and “slave sally,” or Mistress Interrogator and hapless prisoner, Antifa and MAGA mud-wrestling; nothing is taboo when it’s all just playing in the movie of your mind… at least until our corporate owners start implanting us with microchipped “thought police.” It’s coming.
Meanwhile, just imagine… anything you like! Habitual fantasies of abuse might be a red flag, but even that’s *okay* if it’s only happening in your dreams. Sometimes your dreams are your only freedom.
However, if and when you move through reality, there are many rules and protocols to consenting adult kink, and following them is part of the fun.
When you adhere to these rules—which may vary, depending on your fetish—your kinky playtime is the opposite of abuse. Indeed, the best kinds of kink can help survivors of past abuse heal from their trauma.
Making “love,” on the other hand—at least in the old-fashioned, PIV (penis-in-vagina) sense of the term—is a pretty risky matter, especially these days, with America morphing into a Christofascist Gilead out of The Handmaid’s Tale, overturning abortion rights and threatening to restrict contraception, in addition to various old and new STDs going around (monkeypox anyone?) like party-crashers at a masquerade.
On the other hand, with growing awareness, practical tips and guidance available online, personal therapy, groups and workshops, “making kink” might be safer—and more fun—than ever.
#GoBonobos for Kink (Not War)!
Kink can channel natural violent energy and erotic desire into mutually agreed-upon playtime activities for the sake of physical and mental pleasure and evolution. You can even include a little consensual pain; for kinksters, that can be the best part!
Does this sound like some strange unnatural perversion? Sorry to pop your neo-Puritanical bubble, but it’s not. Kink flows through nature from the horny mountain goats to the FemDom hyenas to the pansexual dolphins frolicking kinkily in the sea. Humans are far from the only kinky creatures on the planet.
Indeed, our closest great ape cousins who share over 98% of our DNA, the female-empowered, male-nurturing, sex-positive bonobos, are very kinky in a Bonobo Sutra of ways. I call them the “Kinkiest Apes on Earth.” They’re also astoundingly peaceful and have never been seen killing each other in the wild or captivity. It’s amazing but as true as my stiletto heel is sharp: bonobos utilize various kinds of kink to make peace through pleasure… with a little pain.
Can we do it too?
I don’t know If we will (in time to save civilization!), but I do believe that we can and—considering a cataclysmic WWIII is always hovering on the horizon—we ought to try.
Let’s give kink a chance! It might well save the world… or at least, improve your love life.
It’s also the basis for my presentation, “Make Kink Not War: Be Bonobo,” Version 6.0 of The Bonobo Way at DomCon LA, now playing on a platform near you.
Comic Con of Kink & Met Gala of Latex
I love DomCon LA.
It’s one of my favorite “homes away from home,” or you could say, a BDSM-focused Bonoboville away from my Bonoboville.
I call DomCon “the MetGala of Latex” and “the Comic-Con of Kink.” All that lubed-up flash, flesh and studded fashion gives it eye-candy allure for the voyeur connoisseur… for sure!
But the heart and soul of DomCon are the Dommes, Doms, subbies, Tops, bottoms, fetishists, exhibitionists, Masters, Mistresses and kinksters of all kinds—plus a few kink-positive sex therapists like me—all of us coming together (sometimes literally) to share the love, the spanks, the ideas, the accessories, the rules, the protocols and the kink, always the kink.
Read more prose and watch the show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/domcon-2022
In Dr. Suzy’s award-winning 2020 “Sex in the Pews” interview, “Sex is the Essence of Life” (episode 270), she answers the question, “What happens when life gets in the way of sex?”
This is her second time winning “Sexologist of the Year,” the first having been for her premier “Sex in the Pews” interview in 2019 regarding her bonoboësque philosophy of “Ethical Hedonism” (episode #58). According to Coach Glenn, it went “viral,” scoring the most hits that year.
“I’m delighted to accept my second ‘Sexologist of the Year’ Glenny Award,” says Dr. Suzy, a sex therapist in private practice, world-renowned sexologist, host of The Dr. Susan Block Show, co-host of F.D.R. (F*ck Da Rich) and bestselling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure.
“I was ready to debate my fellow sexologists or wrestle them in the ring, see who squirts the farthest or could talk about sex the longest; whatever it took to defend my title. Thankfully, all I had to do was sit back and enjoy another great conversation with Glenn Klein.”
More info here: https://drsusanblock.com/sexologist-of-the-year-2
However, when it’s my birthday, I either want to throw a big birthday bacchanal where a lot of people have an awesome time, or I want to crawl into a nice dark time warp and come out when it’s a brand new, not my birth-date day.
Now don’t go telling them it’s your 25th wedding anniversary—unless it really is. I’m sure the concierge checked out our April 12th 1992 Ketuba (signed by two Rabbis, Gerald Wolpe and Ivan Caine), or at least our Philadelphia marriage license. More likely, he just checked out Capt’n Max’s deep baritone radio voice, which can be very compelling.
Read more here: http://drsusanblock.com/aasect-bday-bonoboway
© June 21, 2016. Susan Block, Ph.D., a.k.a. “Dr. Suzy,” is a world renowned LA sex therapist, author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure and horny housewife, occasionally seen on HBO and other channels. For speaking engagements, call 310-568-0066.
“I look forward to sharing this very special portion of the ‘Bonobo Sutra’ with my fellow sex educators and therapists,” says Dr. Block who has been presenting various aspects of the Bonobo Way, locally and abroad, at different academic and lifestyle conferences over the past few months, including the keynote address to the world’s first “ecosexuality” symposium in an academic institution, convened at the University of Puerto Rico, Mayagüez by UPRM Humanities Professor SerenaGaia Anderlini D’Onofrio. She also gave a talk on nonmonogamy among bonobos at the 5th International Conference on Monogamy & Nonmonogamy at UC Berkeley; and she’ll give another presentation on bonobos as the “Most FemDom Apes on Earth” on May 21 at DomCon LA 2016.
Read full press release here: http://drsusanblock.com/aasect-the-bonobo-way
Read more here: http://drsusanblock.com/bonoboway-domconla
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© May 25, 2016. Susan Block, Ph.D., a.k.a. “Dr. Suzy,” is a world renowned LA sex therapist, author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure and horny housewife, occasionally seen on HBO and other channels. For speaking engagements, call 310-568-0066.
Read full Press Release here: http://drsusanblock.com/domcon-bonoboway
“I look forward to bringing the ‘good news’ about the primal female empowerment of the Bonobo Way to the fabulous FemDoms of DomCon and others attending this exciting, educational convention founded by veteran BDSM powerhouse Mistress Cyan,” says Dr. Block.
Read more here: http://drsusanblock.com/domcon-bonoboway
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DomCon LA 2016 will be held May 18-22 at the LAX Airport Hilton. Get tickets here. The Bonobo Way: A New FemDom Paradigm for Humanity is scheduled for 4:30 pm on May 21, 2016. For information about the Bonobo Way at DomCon LA 2016 or to arrange an interview with Dr. Susan Block, please call 310-568-0066.
Read more here: http://serenagaia.org/practices-of-ecosexuality-first-academic-symposium-speaks-of-day-one-in-the-caribbean/
#GoBonobos {8(:|)
The event will be held at the University of Puerto Rico at Mayaguez (UPRM), from 10:45-11:45 a.m. on Thursday, January 28, in UPRM’s Teatro Figueroa Chapel, and is the first event of the symposium.
Block’s keynote, “The Bonobo Way: An Ecosexual Paradigm for Humanity,” poses the question, “Can we learn to make ‘peace through pleasure’ from our Great Ape cousins?”
Read more here: http://www.xbiz.com/news/203580
Ecosexuality Symposium Convener: UPRM Humanities Professor SerenaGaia Anderlini D’Onofrio who introduces Dr. Block.
For more information, please call 310-568-0066.
Watch video here: https://youtu.be/2DrVb10zOoc
“ESQ” is my acronym for “Eco-Sexual Intelligence”—or as we say the language of romance, Inteligencia Ecosexual—one of the topics of my keynote address on “The Bonobo Way: A New Ecosexual Paradigm for Humanity” for “Practices of Ecosexuality” at the University of Puerto Rico, Mayaguez (UPRM) which occurred last week. Organized by award-winning author, editor and UPRM Humanities Professor SerenaGaia Anderlini D’Onofrio, my keynote kicked off the first Symposium on Ecosexuality in the Caribbean, as well as the first conference of its kind at any major university in the world, one aimed at ESQ literacy and development.
Read more here: http://drsusanblock.com/el-camino-del-bonobo
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© February 9, 2016. Susan Block, Ph.D., a.k.a. “Dr. Suzy,” is a world renowned LA sex therapist, author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure and horny housewife, occasionally seen on HBO and other channels. For speaking engagements, call 310-568-0066.
The document also functions as a program-at-a-glance for these events.
For the Symposium, the document introduces the keynote and visualizes times, places, titles, and speakers. For the Wedding, it gives location and directions, a registration link, a timeline and program, and a list of attendance norms and needs.
The Symposium will take place on January 28-29, 2016 at the University of Puerto Rico, Mayaguez.
The Wedding will take place on January 30th at the nearby locality known as Playa Azul.
Both events are open to the public and free of charge. They are a product of the passion of its speakers and was creates in the spirit of the gift economy.
The Symposium is the inaugural event for the project Islas Maravillas: Ecosexuality Education and Extensive Research at UPRM." It will take place at UPR Mayaguez on January 28-29, 2016.
The Symposium features Dr. Susan M. Block as a keynote speakers, and many other speakers.
The event is open to the public and free of charge and was created in the spirit of the gift economy.
Block’s keynote, “The Bonobo Way: An Ecosexual Paradigm for Humanity,” poses the question, “Can we learn to make ‘peace through pleasure’ from our Great Ape cousins?” Inspired by the real bonobos (pan paniscus), it presents these fascinating, close genetic cousins of ours as a new primate model for humanity in terms of sexuality, war, peace, gender equality, community and “ecosexuality.”
Read more here: http://drsusanblock.com/bonobo-way-keynote-uprm
This time, instead of flying over the great American South to the Island of Enchantment’s ecosexual beaches and balmy UPRM campus, Capt’n Max and I took a road trip through California’s redolent cow pastures and spooky truck stops, en route to deliver our “Gospel of the Bonobos” into the hallowed, historically progressive halls of University of California at Berkeley (UCB).
#GoBonobos! Go Bears! Bezerkeley or bust!
Read the full story here: http://drsusanblock.com/uc-berkeley-bonobo-way
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© February 25, 2016. Susan Block, Ph.D., a.k.a. “Dr. Suzy,” is a world renowned LA sex therapist, author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure and horny housewife, occasionally seen on HBO and other channels. For speaking engagements, call 310-568-0066.
Inspired by the “Make Love Not War” bonobo chimpanzees (Pan paniscus), Block will present “The Bonobo Way” as an alternative great ape paradigm that can illuminate and enhance human relationships—whether nonmonogamous, monogamous or “monogamish.”
Read full press release here: http://drsusanblock.com/bonobo-ucberkeley-nonmonogamy
Ding! I’m a lover, not a fighter, but as “Free Speech Woman,” I am entering the ring for Round II of my epic legal fight with Meta, parent company of Facebook and Instagram, owned by Meta multi-owned by Meta multi-billionaire “Boy-in-the-Bubble” CEO and avid Jiu-Jitsu Blue Belt Mark Zuckerberg.
To recap: I contend that when Meta’s AI “content moderation” bots censored and deactivated my Facebook profile and IG account – unfairly, arbitrarily and without warning – Meta breached its own contracts. READ MY BRIEF/S
Meta contends that I’m nothing more than a wanton whore, unworthy of any protection from harm or even the courtesy of being treated like a human being.
Section 230: The Internet’s Iron Dome
Meanwhile Billionaire Bubble-Boy Zuckerberg is shielded from his own massively destructive mistakes and power-drunk misdeeds by his protective “bubble” – a virtual Iron Dome – enabled by an algorithmic army of bots and fortified by a cavalry of highly paid attorneys, complicit arbitrators, corrupt politicians and an obscure portion of the Communications Decency Act, 47 USC 230, known simply and ominously as “Section 230.”
In the legal world, Silicon Valley-friendly interpretations of Section 230 have given social media moguls like Zuckerberg that Iron Dome-like protection, letting them groom and doom, exploit, censor, ban and deny many of us our right to free speech, our access to the “digital town square,” even our right to communicate with loved ones in times of need.
My own Facebook profile was deactivated shortly before my beloved husband of 32 years, Maximillian R. Lobkowicz di Filangieri, had a major ischemic stroke, shattering our lives. Meta may not have caused Max’s stroke, but it certainly didn’t help that, besides deactivating my Facebook profile, Mark Zuckerberg also vaporized my Facebook Messenger and WhatsApp, making it all the more difficult to get in touch with loved ones during this cataclysmic crisis.
That’s Zuckerberg Family Values for you. Since 2008, Meta had groomed me and my relatives to communicate via Facebook, then doomed me to deactivation and the rest of us to zero communication.
When I asked Meta to restore my wrongfully deactivated accounts, I was greeted with stony silence, followed by a barrage of defamatory lies. On the advice of counsel, I took Meta to arbitration. However, thanks to Section 230’s protective bubble around Boy-Lord Zuckerberg, buoyed by a paid-by-Meta arbitrator’s unsubtle coaching of Meta’s Mayer Brown lawyers, my so-called “case” was unceremoniously and erroneously awarded to Meta without allowing me – the plaintiff – to utter a word.
Such is the sinister way of the megalomaniacal Markie Z’s Meta megalopoly.
Algorithmic Ignorance & Sexual Services
In attempting to defend their indefensible actions and to keep my mouth gagged shut with fabricated scandal, Meta lawyers falsely accused me of being a sex worker (i.e., prostitute) providing “sexual services” via Meta sites. Just to set the record straight: I am not now, nor have I ever been a sex worker, nor did I ever provide “sexual services” through Meta sites or anywhere else. I am a therapist providing sex therapy, as I was prepared to prove if I had been permitted to present my case.
Though I’ve often expressed my political views that consenting adult sex work should be decriminalized, and I have had many wonderful sex workers as guests on my show, I myself have never been one. Nevertheless, Meta’s lawyers and the paid-by-META arbitrator conspired to defame me with the Scarlet Letter of “sex work” – on top of depriving me of my rights – to punish me for blowing the whistle on Meta’s fraudulent “contracts of adhesion” and its destructive, AI (Artificial Ignorance)-based censorship.
Yes indeed, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners, wake up and smell the censorship! It stinks of dumb bots droning your posts and maybe your whole, carefully curated account.
Like so many other innocent Meta users posting about sex, politics, health and other debatable topics, I am the victim of an algorithm that identified buzz words on my profiles and incorrectly labeled me as being in violation of platform policies. Rather than bothering to even try to be fair, Facebook and Instagram just adopted the algorithm’s conclusion as gospel. No human beings even looked at my profiles until I requested arbitration, and then it was Meta’s lawyers, who simply sought to ratify the algorithm to avoid a cascade of claims against the two platforms for relying solely on these faulty algorithms to police content from people’s profiles. Because the fact of the matter is, as many studies have shown, these powerful algorithms are notoriously faulty.
Next Legal Move – Motion to Vacate
Bullied but not beaten, I am taking Zuck the Cuck’s “bull” by the horns, filing a Motion to Vacate their deeply flawed Arbitration Award, in pro per.
My motion maintains that not only was the Arbitrator biased, prejudicially squeamish about basic sex education, ignorant of algorithmic error rates and disingenuous about Facebook’s vast and unique social media power, he was also “without legal authority” to rule on my case based on Facebook’s and Instagram’s contracts.
There are so many reasons why this Arbitration Award must be vacated – but will the judge agree? Or will that palm beneath his robes be greased by Meta’s own Silicon?
Free Speech Woman vs. Zuck the META Cuck
One of our most valuable rights as Americans is Freedom of Speech. Most nations don’t grant Free Speech to their citizens, but we Americans (supposedly) do. It’s as close as our secular government gets to sacred. In 1789, We the American People received the 10 Amendments of the Bill of Rights, rather like Moses receiving the 10 Commandments. Our First Amendment right to Freedom of Speech has been revered by the world, but it has long been under attack from both the Right and the so-called Left – now on a Meta-scale.
Whether you’re talking about sex, politics, equality, health or Palestine, power-drunk social media moguls like Mark Zuckerberg and Elon Musk pervert the very phrase “free speech” by twisting it into its Orwellian opposite, literally getting away with digital murder every day.
But enough is enough. This past Halloween, I summoned the spirit of “Free Speech Woman” within me to give me the power to hold – or at least try to hold – Mark ‘Zuck the Jiu-Jitsu Cuck’ Zuckerberg down on the Mat of Truth, holding him accountable for censoring our speech, exploiting our desires, stoking our divisions, flattening our relationships and banning us from our own communities and the Internet’s public square.
Mark the Meta-Megalopolist knows this better than anyone, referring to his Facebook “fiefdom” (so-called by others) as “the digital equivalent of the town square,” and boasting meta-magnanimously that “our platforms are for everyone.”
Really – “for everyone”? More for every paying advertiser and useful government power broker. But what about Meta users? What about ‘We the People’ who make Meta great? What about me? What right does Mark Zuckerberg have to ban me from the ‘digital equivalent of the town square’ – to banish me from my own communities, even from my own family(!) – just because his faulty algorithms ascertain that my politics, religion or sex-positive values might offend a Meta advertiser or the head of the House Energy & Commerce Committee?
Free Speech vs. Empire
While I venerate the creators of the Bill of Rights – including Max’s 18th century Italian ancestor, Gaetano Filangieri – who was freedom-loving pen pals with Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson (though Filangieri didn’t own slaves) – Zuckerberg exalts a different kind of role model (who owned lots of slaves): the first emperor of the Roman Empire, Augustus Caesar, aka Gaius Octavius, known for making the world safe for ruthless dictators.
Now Mark “Silicon Caesar” Zuckerbucks and his army of bots has more unchecked power over our everyday lives than any single human on earth.
The Greek prefix “Meta” means “beyond,” and Zuck’s Meta has gone beyond the pale, metamorphosing into a Meta-menace to democracy.
The Pro-Bonobo Way
“Zuck the Cuck needs to be clocked!” I declare, brandishing my cherry red boxing gloves as Free Speech Woman, fighting to win my Motion to Vacate the Award with a knock-out punch, taking down Zuck-the-Cuck – well, actually it’s just a blow-up doll effigy, but it looks about as human as the real thing, sharply attired in a snappy “Meta Über Alles” white T – to the Mat of Truth.
Tell the truth, Zuck! You’re a censor.
Then, like a bonobo matriarch, I spank Zuck the Cuck’s sorry rubber butt with The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure and a Motion to Vacate, gently but firmly holding him responsible while holding him down on the Mat of Truth between the Bill of Rights and my pointy-toed, high-heeled cowgirl boots, as a couple of bonobo apes make peace through pleasure nearby.
Like the bonobos, I’m a lover not a fighter. I prefer negotiation, but Meta refuses to negotiate, so Free Speech Woman to the rescue! Cage match!
Elon the Chicken won’t fight Zuck the Cuck, but I will.
Continue reading: https://drsusanblock.com/free-speech-woman
Not one to take abuse of power “lying down” (even though she’s a sexologist), Dr. Block has taken legal action against Mr. Zuckerberg’s META, parent corporation of Facebook and Instagram, bringing the giant social media conglomerate to arbitration for its wrongful business practices, lack of accountability, algorithmic discrimination and deactivation of her accounts.
Currently, META attorneys are working hard to try to stop her before the arbitrator even hears her case.
So… will Mark Zuckerberg hide – once again – behind the unraveling skirts of Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act… or will justice prevail for Dr. Block?
The case of “Dr. Susan Block vs. Instagram/META Platforms, Inc. (formerly known as Facebook, Inc.),” exposes Mark Zuckerberg’s ballooning exploitation of META’s users, including the damage he does to so many users by treacherously activating their META addictions, and for some, unfairly deactivating their digital lives.
Dr. Block, represented by G&B Law LLP, will hold Mr. Zuckerberg and META accountable for these misdeeds that have harmed her and so many other META users like her – if justice prevails.
A team of META lawyers from Mayer-Brown LLP, is currently doing their legal beagle best to ensure that justice does NOT prevail.
Like so many everyday META users, Dr. Block built and curated her Facebook and IG profiles over many years, starting in 2008, always adhering to their terms and conditions. Though META’s activation was seductively gradual – prompting and “grooming” her to post and connect more and more, inviting real-life friends, family, Yale classmates and AASECT colleagues to join her in the Facebook community and communicate via Facebook messenger – deactivation was shockingly sudden. Shortly after congratulating Dr. Block for surpassing 10,000 Facebook followers, META shut down both her Facebook and IG accounts and banned her from all META sites and apps.
Why? No reason was given, no trial, no evidence – just a firing squad of bots summarily terminating (exterminating) her accounts, dumping them into a mass grave filled with millions of other similarly destroyed social media accounts (maybe some you know).
“META’s wanton, algorithmic and unwarranted deactivation of my accounts has destroyed 15 years of hard labor in its social media mines, cut me off from essential communication channels, damaged my reputation and infringed upon my freedom of speech as well as the freedom of my friends, family and colleagues to hear me speak on their META feeds and in messenger,” Block asserts. “This AI-controlled deactivation represents the normalization of dehumanization. AI of this kind is artificial ignorance. It’s killing our humanity first, on its way to killing all the humans.”
Block's legal team contends that META's actions constitute a breach of contract and violate fundamental principles of fairness, free speech and due process. They argue that the company's failure to provide any warning, explanation, opportunity to address any alleged community guidelines violations, or recourse for the deactivation constitutes an abuse of power, effectively and unjustly silencing her voice and depriving her of access to an essential digital public sphere.
"Of course, this is not just about me," Block observes. "META activates and deactivates millions of people, doing great damage to our digital lives, mental health, personal relationships, art, work, fan bases and reputations. META drives some to homicide and many more just to hopelessness, frustration and depression. Sadly, most people cannot fight back. I am fighting back.”
“I am so glad to hear that Dr. Block is fighting for her right to free speech,” writes art critic Paul Artman. “This is a gift for all of us. She has my total and utter support.”
“No individual or entity should wield unchecked power to silence voices they disagree with in the public square,” asserts Block, “Mark Zuckerberg may consider it his ‘personal fiefdom,’ but Meta’s mega monopoly makes up such a large portion of the digital public square – it should be open to the public.”
“META’s actions in silencing Dr. Block are unacceptable and fascist!” writes Cal State Long Beach art professor Rhiannon Aarons. “Any of us could be next.”
Block’s legal action against META highlights the growing concerns surrounding the influence and accountability of social media giants in moderating our everyday online discourse – mostly with AI – and the need for greater transparency, fairness, accountability and humanity in their practices, as well as more equitable conflict resolution in social media and other common digital spaces.
“Dr. Susan Block vs. Instagram/META (formerly known as Facebook)” is scheduled for an arbitration hearing in Los Angeles on Wednesday morning June 26th, 2024. Exact time and place TBA.
Read more: https://drsusanblock.com/meta-arbitration-statement
Susan Marilyn Block, Ph.D., aka “Dr. Suzy,” world-renowned sexologist, cultural commentator, Yale grad, best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure, peace activist, bonobo conservationist and host of The Dr. Susan Block Show for over 30 years.
You might know Dr. Block from her #1 Nielsen-rated, groundbreaking HBO specials or remember her long-running radio shows – “Radio Match” and “Date Nite” (rated “Best of LA Phone-In Shows” by The LA Weekly) on KIEV and KFOX, but did you know that she successfully sued the LAPD for infringement of her First and Fourth Amendment rights after they raided one of her live broadcasts?
Dr. Block also helped bring about the downfall of another power-hungry, erotophobic media mogul who tried to muzzle her Free Speech on Public Access TV. Adelphia Cable TV owner John Rigas wound up in prison while The Dr. Susan Block Show went back on the air uncensored - until the Time Warner Cable killed public access because, they said, “now you have the Internet.”
Dr. Block collaborates with her husband of 32 years, Maximillian R. Lobkowicz, aka “Capt’n Max” or “Pr. Max,” former publisher of The LA Star, The Brentwood Bla Bla and Beverly Hills, the Magazine. Together, they host FDR Radio and direct the Susan Marilyn Block Foundation, Dr. Suzy’s Speakeasy Art Gallery, and Bonoboville—helping humans connect and save the bonobos.
Interviewed by dozens of major media outlets, most recently quoted at length in The Mirror on Stormy Daniels spanking Trump, and a top contributor to a wide range of publications, from the Wiley-Black Human Sexuality Encyclopedia to Counterpunch, Dr. Block has delivered keynote speeches, talks and lectures at conventions and universities on sex, kink, female empowerment, bonobos, free speech and living the “cage-free” life. But she’ll never quit her “day job” as a sex therapist with the Dr. Susan Block Institute, helping people to explore, enjoy and take responsibility for their personal, sexual lives.
For media inquiries or interview requests, please contact Christina.
Phone: 626.461.5950 / Email: BlockMediaDesk@Gmail.com
Read more: https://drsusanblock.com/meta-pr
Dr. Block —
When did you start becoming a self-hating Jew like Larry David, Joy Behar and decades before, Woody Allen?
Your CounterPunch commentary reflects self-denial of facts, mostly one most liberal/progressives love to bury: Israel was attacked on October 7th. I won’t go into gory detail, but you might want to look up the carnage Hamas produced against young women on the concert grounds that day and ones not seen since.
As a Free Beacon journalist, I wouldn’t waste characters interviewing you regarding your hatred of Natanyahu or the actions of the IDF. Instead, should I see you on the campus of UCLA, USC with the bands of anti-American insurrectionists, only then will I approach you to explain your sordid viewpoint.
Until then, I personally hope Israel finishes the job and rids the world of Hamas, Hezbollah and every Iranian-backed proxy you defend.
Sincerely,
Aimee Hawkes
After a short bout of laughter, tears and tossing my falafel, here is my response (may it help you to create your own mental Iron Dome against any Zionist psycho dumb bombs tossed your way)…
Dear Ms. Aimee Hawkes,
Thank you for your email. It’s always illuminating to hear from my readers, even when they troll me with nasty Zionist tirades like yours.
I must say that your first question, “when did you start becoming a self-hating Jew?” is as rancid as week-old borscht. It also incorrectly presumes that I am one. I’m not sure what the litmus test is for “self-hating Jew,” but I doubt I’d pass, as witnesses to my beautiful Bat Mitzvah, teen summers in Israel and Camp Ramah, Har Zion Temple wedding presided over by two Rabbis, popular Israeli TV show (1998 – 2003), big bacchanalian Purimschpiels and hot-wax Hanukkah parties can attest.
A self-questioning Jew, yes, but self-hating? Nah. I’ve long loved many aspects of Jewish culture, from Queen Esther to the Marx Brothers (including Karl) to the soulful prayers of Kol Nidre. Polytheistic libertine that I am, I could never “hate” my Jewish roots. I do hate war, genocide, apartheid, but I don’t hate people… least of all myself.
My hatred for war – but not people – inspired those Counterpunch articles you reference, including my first seriously anti-Zionist apartheid piece in 2021; stepping up the pace a bit with an Anti-Zionist Hanukkah, Purim, and a tribute to The Burning Soldier – since Israel stepped up its pace to genocide in 2023-24, as you well know, my dear Ms. Hawkes.
Not that we’re friends, but I doubt the Jewish celebrities – canceled and/or acclaimed – that you namedrop “hate” themselves either. They are practitioners of the rather Jewish art of self-deprecation and, like me, they question things – as the Talmud encourages us to do.
So, who are these “self-hating Jews” of which you speak?
Maybe you?
It seems to me that the true “self-hating Jews” among us are the Zionists. Why else would you feel the need to steal land, murder, mass-murder, practice apartheid, even commit genocide, and then lie, lie and lie some more to try to cover it up?
The religo-Zionist world-view, that they are “chosen” by God, strikes me as a vain effort to compensate for this nagging, unflagging, self-hating, inferiority complex, with myths of superiority, making them special, exempt from the rules.
Now, with no rules to restrain them, the “Chosen People” are attempting to mitigate the self-hate that fuels them by waging genocide against the natives of the land they’re trying to conquer.
How’s that working for you?
Zionists seem to self-hate so much (often, I must say, with good reason), it’s unbearable, so they project their self-hate onto others – the Palestinians, the Iranians, the American student protesters, the Amalekites, Esau, Ishmael and all their innocent children. There are no innocents when you hate yourself so hard, you can’t get the stains of self-hate out of your soul no matter how much you kill, and then try to wash your hands with excuses…
You are the Zionist Lady MacBeth.
The sheer, blood-soaked futility of the Zionist cry, “We will defeat Hamas!” echoes Shakespeare’s most damnable, guilt-ridden villainess’ notorious line, “Out damn spot, out, I say!”
Or maybe it’s not just a spot, but a bloody hell like the artist Jonathan Yeo painted around King Charles.
It must be a kind of bloody hell for you too, Ms. Hawkes.
As for me, I have lived a long and pretty comfortable, agnostic Jewish life among people of all faiths (sort of like Palestine used to be!), though I must confess, arrogant, bombastic Zionists like Bibi (who went to school in Philly near where I grew up) have given me the creeps since Hebrew school.
I was an antiwar girl – attending Vietnam war protests at local colleges with my older draft-age brother – and the Zionist Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) were the great warriors of our time.
At least, our Hebrew schoolteachers taught us they were great, the world’s most “moral” army. Ha! Even as a kid being fed fake news with my fried matzah, my stomach cramped with the unpalatable presence of this serious contradiction. If this “God” of ours had commanded, “Thou shalt not kill,” how could any killing – let alone a killing machine like the IDF – be moral?
When I visited Israel with Zionist Camp Ramah, I asked my counselors: Why was “a land without people for a people without land” actually inhabited by these people – these Palestinians that Israel’s motherly prime minister Golda Meir said simply didn’t exist (“there is no such thing as Palestinian people”)?
My counselors muttered that all these people were “Bedouins,” and chastised me when I returned from a free afternoon in Jerusalem riding around the Garden of Gethsemane on the back of the motorcycle of a young Palestinian man I’d met in a café. They would have been livid to know that we also shared a kiss.
Later, I learned the “D” in IDF was really an “O” for “occupation,” inflicting horrific death, destruction and trauma on the occupied, from apartheid to genocide. I didn’t know the extent of Israel’s atrocities for years (and I regret to admit I didn’t want to know), but now we see it every day on our screens, despite the mainstream media’s attempts to obfuscate the wretched truth.
And what about the occupier? What about those who support the occupation? What about you, Ms. Hawkes?
As a sex therapist in private practice since 1991, I’ve talked to hundreds of PTSD-afflicted veterans of multiple immoral American and Israeli wars and occupations. Many occupiers (especially the leaders) are stone-hearted sociopaths – but others (the more *normal* ones) are afflicted with great regret, self-hate and depression.
Deflecting their self-hate onto the occupied, they might develop sadistic urges laced with morbid, fetishistic kinks. We see this on perverse display in the IOF soldiers who steal and play with panties, bras and high heels belonging to dead or fleeing Gazan women whose homes they just demolished. Some dance wildly between bombing missions, trying to flaunttheir erotic vitality. The worst relish humiliating and torturing Palestinian prisoners. We’ve seen it before in Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo, and now we see it on steroids in Gaza and the West Bank.
Continue reading: https://www.counterpunch.org/2024/05/17/reply-to-a-zionist-troll/
Listen on FDR: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-stormy-students
I love hats, but I’ve long felt that hamantaschen more closely resemble the female genitalia, as they are shaped like an open vulva with a fruit-filled vaginal hole in the middle. Perhaps that’s my sexologist’s dirty mind hard at work – or play – since both triangular treats are good to eat. In any case, because Purim is the only Hebrew holiday story starring a woman, Queen Esther, and hardly anybody but Ashkenazi Jews and Germans can pronounce hamantaschen, I call them “pussy cookies.”
The Biblical Queen Esther is a humble teenage beauty contest winner who uses her “Weapons of Mass Seduction” – her sex appeal, charm, diplomacy, teasing, humility, wit and wiles – to seduce the Persian King Ahasuerus (said to be a Biblical stand-in for Xerxes), saving her “people” (the Jewish people of the 5th century BCE Persian Empire) from the King’s chief minister Haman’s diabolical plan for genocide.
In a time when power was almost always gained through brute force and cold gold – a time much like our own – this was, and still is, a kind of human miracle, a bonoboësque triumph that I honor with joy almost every Spring.
I’ve grown up with Purim, since I was a little girl who didn’t know bonobos from bananas, but I knew I enjoyed pretending to be the strong but sweet Queen Esther in Hebrew SchoolPurim shpiels. Over the years, my Purim parties grew, deepened and blossomed into Commedia Erotica Purim Bacchanals (Warning: Click the following links at your own risk. These are not your Bubbe’s Purim Shpiels!) like my Erotic Purim Masquerade (2006), Porn ‘n’ Purim (2008), Vaginal Pastry Purim (2009) Purim Bacchanalia (2011), Purim Rising(2013), St. Paddy’s Purim (2015), Porny Purim, (2017), FemDom Purim (2019), Pussy Cookie Rush (2022), Pussy Cookie March Madness (2023), and the Purim parades have marched on, drunk up and twirled around year after year.
But this year is different. Instead of being saved from genocide, Israel is committing genocide.
Indeed, Israel is doing just what the villain Haman plots to do in the Purim story. Moreover, Israel’s bombing, starvation and demolition of Gaza is even worse than Haman’s most sadistic fantasies. Besides, Haman’s annihilation of the Jews was only in the plotting stages, while the Zionist annihilation of Palestine is actually happening, a heart-breaking holocaust unfolding in real time, right now before our traumatized eyes.
So, I can’t celebrate Purim with joy in 2024, or maybe ever again.
Certainly not while some of my fellow Jews – not just Haman Netanyahu, but the whole horrid Zionist branch of my Semitic *family* – are committing such atrocities.
However, a Queen can dream, and I do have a Purim fantasy for 2024. This Purim, I imagine a “Queen Esther for Palestine” arising to stop the current King Ahasuerus from supporting his Haman.
You might need to learn (or refresh your knowledge of) the basic Purim Story to appreciate this bizarre Midrash (Biblical interpretation) of mine in which King Ahasuerus’ role is played by none other than “Genocide Joe” Biden.
It fits because doddering Biden supports Netanyahu’s murderous regime by sending bombs and bullets to Israel, just as drunken King Ahasuerus supports Haman’s plot to slaughter the Jews of the Persian Empire in the Purim story.
The Queen Esther for Palestine I envision could be anyone; perhaps a Palestinian – if she could slip past the Secret Service – or a Palestine ally, an advisor, a special friend, a beloved son, a granddaughter, a cute ice cream server with nice-smelling hair, or even Joe’s beloved Dr. Jill Biden – whoever has the ear of the *King.*
Sure, the U.S. President isn’t as powerful as a Biblical King, but he can stop the flow of genocidal armaments to Israel. Yes, it’s a longshot that an ardent AIPAC-funded “Zionist” like Joe Biden will do that, but then again, Haman was King Ahasuerus’ favorite minister before Esther changed his mind, and hey, Canada just did it(!)… meaning it’s worth a try.
So, Dr. Jill, how about playing Queen Esther this Easter and whispering seductively into King Joe’s ear, “C’mon Joey, just stop sending weapons to Bibi, and I’ll lick your ice cream cone clean tonight.”
If Dr. Jill as Queen Esther actually gets King Joe to stop arming my genocidal lonsmen – who shame the entire *tribe* with their beyond-Biblical atrocities, absurd explanations and obnoxious celebrations – she may just work the miracle of turning Genocide Joe into Bonobo Joe.
Nothing can bring back the thousands of precious lives lost, but stopping the flow of armaments (now) could win Joe this next election, sparing us a Trumpocalypse, in addition to saving the Palestinian people – Esther-style – from the current Zionist rampage.
On a poignant note, the Mayor of Jericho, Palestine, Abdul Karim Sidr, has named a street in Jericho “Aaron Bushnell Street,” after the brave U.S. Airman who burned himself alive outside the Israeli Embassy to protest the genocide. Transforming himself from cannon fodder to canonized fighter, Aaron Bushnell became “The Burning Soldier” for Palestine.
May Airman Bushnell’s great sacrifice not be in vain, may we experience another bonoboësque human miracle, like Queen Esther’s on Purim, and may Palestine be free.
Listen on FDR: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-lucky-spring-purim
https://www.counterpunch.org/2024/03/22/anti-zionist-purim-for-palestine/
I love hats, but I’ve long felt that hamantaschen more closely resemble the female genitalia, as they are shaped like an open vulva with a fruit-filled vaginal hole in the middle. Perhaps that’s my sexologist’s dirty mind hard at work – or play – since both triangular treats are good to eat. In any case, because Purim is the only Hebrew holiday story starring a woman, Queen Esther, and hardly anybody but Ashkenazi Jews and Germans can pronounce hamantaschen, I call them “pussy cookies.”
The Biblical Queen Esther is a humble teenage beauty contest winner who uses her “Weapons of Mass Seduction” – her sex appeal, charm, diplomacy, teasing, humility, wit and wiles – to seduce the Persian King Ahasuerus (said to be a Biblical stand-in for Xerxes), saving her “people” (the Jewish people of the 5th century BCE Persian Empire) from the King’s chief minister Haman’s diabolical plan for genocide.
In a time when power was almost always gained through brute force and cold gold – a time much like our own – this was, and still is, a kind of human miracle, a bonoboësque triumph that I honor with joy almost every Spring.
I’ve grown up with Purim, since I was a little girl who didn’t know bonobos from bananas, but I knew I enjoyed pretending to be the strong but sweet Queen Esther in Hebrew SchoolPurim shpiels. Over the years, my Purim parties grew, deepened and blossomed into Commedia Erotica Purim Bacchanals (Warning: Click the following links at your own risk. These are not your Bubbe’s Purim Shpiels!) like my Erotic Purim Masquerade (2006), Porn ‘n’ Purim (2008), Vaginal Pastry Purim (2009) Purim Bacchanalia (2011), Purim Rising(2013), St. Paddy’s Purim (2015), Porny Purim, (2017), FemDom Purim (2019), Pussy Cookie Rush (2022), Pussy Cookie March Madness (2023), and the Purim parades have marched on, drunk up and twirled around year after year.
But this year is different. Instead of being saved from genocide, Israel is committing genocide.
Indeed, Israel is doing just what the villain Haman plots to do in the Purim story. Moreover, Israel’s bombing, starvation and demolition of Gaza is even worse than Haman’s most sadistic fantasies. Besides, Haman’s annihilation of the Jews was only in the plotting stages, while the Zionist annihilation of Palestine is actually happening, a heart-breaking holocaust unfolding in real time, right now before our traumatized eyes.
So, I can’t celebrate Purim with joy in 2024, or maybe ever again.
Certainly not while some of my fellow Jews – not just Haman Netanyahu, but the whole horrid Zionist branch of my Semitic *family* – are committing such atrocities.
However, a Queen can dream, and I do have a Purim fantasy for 2024. This Purim, I imagine a “Queen Esther for Palestine” arising to stop the current King Ahasuerus from supporting his Haman.
You might need to learn (or refresh your knowledge of) the basic Purim Story to appreciate this bizarre Midrash (Biblical interpretation) of mine in which King Ahasuerus’ role is played by none other than “Genocide Joe” Biden.
It fits because doddering Biden supports Netanyahu’s murderous regime by sending bombs and bullets to Israel, just as drunken King Ahasuerus supports Haman’s plot to slaughter the Jews of the Persian Empire in the Purim story.
The Queen Esther for Palestine I envision could be anyone; perhaps a Palestinian – if she could slip past the Secret Service – or a Palestine ally, an advisor, a special friend, a beloved son, a granddaughter, a cute ice cream server with nice-smelling hair, or even Joe’s beloved Dr. Jill Biden – whoever has the ear of the *King.*
Sure, the U.S. President isn’t as powerful as a Biblical King, but he can stop the flow of genocidal armaments to Israel. Yes, it’s a longshot that an ardent AIPAC-funded “Zionist” like Joe Biden will do that, but then again, Haman was King Ahasuerus’ favorite minister before Esther changed his mind, and hey, Canada just did it(!)… meaning it’s worth a try.
So, Dr. Jill, how about playing Queen Esther this Easter and whispering seductively into King Joe’s ear, “C’mon Joey, just stop sending weapons to Bibi, and I’ll lick your ice cream cone clean tonight.”
If Dr. Jill as Queen Esther actually gets King Joe to stop arming my genocidal lonsmen – who shame the entire *tribe* with their beyond-Biblical atrocities, absurd explanations and obnoxious celebrations – she may just work the miracle of turning Genocide Joe into Bonobo Joe.
Nothing can bring back the thousands of precious lives lost, but stopping the flow of armaments (now) could win Joe this next election, sparing us a Trumpocalypse, in addition to saving the Palestinian people – Esther-style – from the current Zionist rampage.
On a poignant note, the Mayor of Jericho, Palestine, Abdul Karim Sidr, has named a street in Jericho “Aaron Bushnell Street,” after the brave U.S. Airman who burned himself alive outside the Israeli Embassy to protest the genocide. Transforming himself from cannon fodder to canonized fighter, Aaron Bushnell became “The Burning Soldier” for Palestine.
May Airman Bushnell’s great sacrifice not be in vain, may we experience another bonoboësque human miracle, like Queen Esther’s on Purim, and may Palestine be free.
Listen on FDR: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-lucky-spring-purim
https://www.counterpunch.org/2024/03/22/anti-zionist-purim-for-palestine/
Make no mistake: Aaron Bushnell is not a role model. Don’t set yourself on fire! Do not emulate self-immolation. But do let it illuminate a very dark situation.
And not just any dark situation. Aaron Bushnell did not set himself on fire over the “Israel/Hamas war” as the mainstream media (MSM) tried to explain, before moving on to the weather report, nor was he experiencing a mental health episode that could have been alleviated with a pill or a call to a suicide hotline, as implied by other MSM hasbara.
“They want us to believe we are mad and this war is sane,” observed CounterPunch’s Jeffrey St. Clair.
Indeed, on his own Twitch-broadcast livestream, Aaron Bushnell sanely and calmly spelled out exactly what he was protesting as he marched to the Israeli embassy in Washington DC, wearing his U.S. military fatigues. “My name is Aaron Bushnell,” he said. “And I am an active-duty member of the United States Air Force. I will no longer be complicit in genocide. I’m about to engage in an extreme act of protest but, compared to what people have been experiencing in Palestine at the hands of their colonizers, it’s not extreme at all. This is what our ruling class has decided will be normal.”
Then he set his phone to auto-record, and he set himself on fire.
He poured the kerosene on his head, stuck his cap back on and, just before he struck the match, a disembodied voice with the banality of a store clerk inquired, “Can I help you, Sir?”
Then suddenly, the blaze erupted, and Airman Aaron Bushnell became a real-life “Burning Man,” a Burning Soldier, marching in place in what must have been searing agony, yelling, “Free Palestine!” over and over again – his voice raw with pain mixed with love for the Palestinian people, so many of whom have been and are still being burned alive by Israeli bombs, paid for by American taxpayers – until he fell to the ground in flames.
“Get on the ground! Get on the ground!” yelled someone, presumably an Israeli embassy guard. Slowly, the guard walked toward the fire, arms stretched taut, hands together, holding a gun on the Burning Soldier as he burned to death.
A gun?
Another guy, perhaps a paramedic, arrived on the scene shouting, “Yo! I don’t need guns, I need fire extinguishers.”
What a moment. A quintessential defining snapshot of humanity, as the world turns and we all burn – as we go on fighting wars, bombing civilians and shooting our neighbors – when the wisest amongst us can barely be heard above the violence, stating the obvious…
“I don’t need guns! I need fire extinguishers!”
Finally, the fire extinguishers arrived, a little too late and spraying clouds of foam all over the Burning Soldier’s burned body, as everyone (but Aaron) shouted, panicked, and someone near the camera asked, “What is that? Who is this?”
Then the camera switched off.
What Are You Doing Right Now?
Before his dramatic act of blazing protest, Aaron Bushnell posed this question, “Many of us like to ask ourselves, ‘what would I do if I was alive during slavery/ or the Jim Crow South? Or apartheid? What would I do if my country was committing genocide?’ The answer is, you’re doing it. Right now.”
Then Aaron set himself on fire. That was his answer to his own challenge. I’m not saying it was a good answer. It wouldn’t be my answer. It’s not an answer I would recommend to anyone. But it was his answer, and I respect it.
He could have posted his views on social media, like so many of us do, or gone to a protest, or done a podcast. He could have drowned his sorrows in beer or porn or ketamine. He could have killed himself less flamboyantly with pills, or perhaps a gun, maybe taking a few friends or strangers down with him, as so many American ammosexual mass murderers have done. Instead, his answer to his question, “What would I do if my country was committing genocide?” was to set himself on fire for all the world to see, feel and take note.
It’s tragic, and very strange, but I feel a kinship with Aaron Bushnell. Maybe it’s because he’s a self-described “anarchist” and a performance artist who performed the ultimate act of anarchistic political performance art protest on Sunday, February 25, 2024, and he did it with such pacifist grace and humble purity, without physically harming anyone but himself.
U.S. Airman Bushnell was trained to be a cog in the American war machine, but for one brief moment he clogged the gears, broke the machine, transformed his destiny and brought the entire Military Industrial Complex to a screeching halt. He fought fire with fire and sacrificed his life, transmogrifying himself into the Burning Soldier for Palestine.
From Burning Monk to Burning Soldier
Aaron Bushnell’s performance protest triggered one of my first memories of any kind of protest. I was about five years old, too little to read or even watch the news, but I caught a glimpse of something that transcended “news” in my father’s newspaper, an extraordinary black and white photo that showed a man on fire, sitting cross-legged on a busy street.
Having been taught never to even touch a hot stove, my kindergarten brain wondered, “How could he do such a thing?” as the image branded itself into my brain.
I later learned that the man in the photo was a Vietnamese Buddhist monk named Thích Quảng Đức who burned himself alive, using principles of Mahayana meditation, to protest the persecution of Buddhists by the US-supported Catholic government of South Vietnamese President Ngo Diem.
He became known as the “Burning Monk.”
Frightening and mystical as it was, the “Burning Monk” photo taken by AP photographer Malcomb Browne had a huge impact on people’s impressions of America’s presence in Vietnam. Several other self-immolation protests have occurred since then, including an unnamed woman holding a Palestinian flag in front of Atlanta’s Israeli consulate in 2023. Unfortunately, her protest was not filmed, and the MSM was able to spin a more Zionism-friendly narrative, quoting Israeli consul general Anat Sultan-Dadon’s portrayal of the woman’s final act as an expression of “hate and incitement toward Israel” – before sweeping it under the imperialist rug.
Not so with Aaron Bushnell; a 25-year-old Whitmore, Massachusetts native raised on a Christian compound called the Community of Jesus, who joined the air force, becoming a cyber defense operations specialist with the 531st intelligence support squadron at joint base San Antonio, Texas. You could question his background (was that compound a cult?), but his motivations would not be so easily mischaracterized by the MSM spin doctors, as his fiery self-sacrifice on the altar of the Israeli embassy, along with his words explaining it, was live-streamed for the world to see, achieving a monumental impact that has yet to be measured.
Aaron Bushnell, the Burning Soldier, marched through that fire into the hearts and minds of millions. He marched into the history books – if there are to be history books in our future. He certainly marched into trending topics.
Unsurprisingly, his actions were often misinterpreted, minimized as “mentally ill” and even mocked on social media, but he also sparked a lot of art, memorials and tributes, including Gaza Fights for Freedom filmmaker Abby Martin’s Portland vigil, featuring her husband, U.S. army veteran and anti-war activist Mike Prysner and fellow About Face: Veterans Against the War. Mike’s tribute to Bushnell and Abby and Robbie Martin’s Media Roots Radio show on “The Self-Immolation of Aaron Bushnell” are also very moving.
Mid-vigil, Mike and the other veterans burned their military uniforms in a can of fire, chanting, “Remember Aaron Bushnell! He’s not alone.”
Holy Fire
Chanting, dancing or just sitting around a bonfire like that feels sacred. In the Bible, fire represents the “holy spirit.” Moses encounters God in the “burning bush,” the prophet Elijah ascends to heaven in a “Chariot of Fire,” and the Hanukkah candles that only had enough oil to last 24 hours burn for a miraculous eight days.
But fire isn’t all sparkles and light. In Greek mythology, Prometheus is condemned to suffer for eternity for having given humanity the gift of fire.
Whatever your beliefs, fire illuminates what you might not otherwise see, and the firelight of the Burning Solider illuminates the plight of the Palestinians burning, suffering and dying under Zionist apartheid and genocide. It illuminates our need to protest, to resist ennui and despair.
Whatever we do or don’t do, every precious moment, we are answering Aaron’s question, “What would I do if my country was committing genocide?”
Saint Joan Burned at the Stake
The Burning Soldier triggered another old memory for me. When I was a shy but drama-loving adolescent, I played the title role in George Bernard Shaw’s Saint Joan, which focuses on Joan of Arc’s trial before she was burned at the stake. I was no Marie Falconetti – luminous star of Carl Dreyer’s silent masterpiece, “Passion of Joan of Arc” (also featuring another of my fiery favorites, Antonin Artaud). However, for my sheltered little middle class mind, learning lines for a high school play, it was a deep challenge to just contemplate being burned alive.
Yikes!
I learned that Joan was given a chance to live if she would just recant her “voices” and stop wearing “men’s clothes,” but she refused. She made a choice to be burned at the stake (according to Shaw); it was an act of voluntary self-immolation – to make a spiritual, political point – like Aaron Bushnell. Whether or not her point was taken, in 1920 (three years before Shaw wrote his play), Joan of Arc was canonized by the Catholic Church as “Saint Joan.”
Continue reading on Counterpunch: https://www.counterpunch.org/2024/03/07/the-burning-soldier/
Listen to the show on FDR: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-burning-soldier
So, why do I feel like I’m being marched, blindfolded, starved, half-naked (and not in a “happy nude” way) and shackled to fellow hapless humans—like the poor Gazan “POWs” I see on my news feeds—goosed by Israeli Tavor X-95 rifles, or maybe shot, beaten, blown up by American-made bombs, exterminated by AI (Artificial Ignorance), or *just* mocked and dehumanized as we’re all shoved through a trapdoor into 2024?
Also, there’s almost no fresh clean water, and what there is costs $14.95 a cup.
Make Like Bonobos, Not Baboons
With such bleak nightmares and much worse – actually happening now in real time in Gaza right before the eyes of the world – set against the annual wet dream of a brand-new run around the sun, I resolve to #GoBonobos in 2024.
Bonobos (just in case you don’t know) are the “Make Love Not War” chimpanzees who swing through the trees as well as with each other. They’re also humanity’s closest genetic cousins, but unlike us, they honor love over hate and lust over greed, practicing what I call “The Bonobo Way,” an uncanny but very real path of peace. That is, bonobos (pan paniscus) are the only great apes who have never been seen killing each other in the wild or captivity.
How do they do it? Bonobos make peace through pleasure (including but not limited to sexual pleasure), with a generous helping of female empowerment (females rule Bonoboville), male nurturing (take care of our dudes!), ecosexual intelligence (save our planet!), a strong sense of connection (community is key) and sharing resources (sharing is caring).
Sound good? It is good.
Indeed, now more than ever, we the peoples of the world need to “make like bonobos, not baboons.”
Year of the Bonobo
You may have heard me say it before, but I’m saying it more for 2024. Yes, it’s a new year, but it’s my same old new year’s resolution as 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016 and 2015. This makes 2024, aka MMXXIV (imperial Roman drum roll, please) … the 10th Great Year of the Bonobo! Woohoo!
But why, you may wonder, after a decade of resolving to go bonobos, aren’t we there yet? I’d like to say that we’re *almost there.* However, in so many disturbing ways, 2023 drove us farther off the path of peace through pleasure than ever.
First, going by the mass murder and mayhem count—in wars abroad and at home—humans appear to be going more bananas than bonobos.
Second, going by the demonization of any expression of sexual pleasure even slightly outside the theocratically blessed, baby-making “norm,” we are being force-fed the most unbonobo bananas ever grown since United Fruit colonized Central America.
Indeed, looking over last year’s resolution to “go bonobos,” I am vexed to see I successfully foretold that this past year (2023) would be “worse, much worse” in many ways than the year before. This was not exactly a unique crystal ball prediction, but sadly, it came all too true.
Annihilation Nations
Annihilation was in the air, on the ground and at sea all through 2023.
Many were annihilated by bombs, AR-15s, knives, chemicals and the occasional bulldozer. Tens of thousands of Ukrainians were killed in their grinding war with Russian, using American munitions, including cluster bombs, though now “quietly shifting” from counteroffensive to a more “defensive posture.” Whole families in Gaza were annihilated by Israel’s ferocious bombardments in 2023, also with American bombs, as the U.S. even blocked a U.N. Security Council Ceasefire Resolution. More wars raged (and still rage) in Myanmar, Syria, Iraq, Yemen, the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Ethiopia, Somalia and other African countries. Sorry if I’ve left out some; there are so many fighting and dying in these ongoing cycles of perma war around the world, it’s tough to keep track.
I call it “perma war” because it’s like perma press, only instead of pants that don’t crease, it’s wars that won’t end.
Additionally, there were (and still are) our ongoing *wars* at home. Though the all-around crime rate in American cities went down in 2023 (woohoo!), murders and mass murders committed by ammosexual incels, PTSD-traumatized veterans, social media-crazed misfits, lonely human apes and our more and more militarized sadistic police continued to kill us at home.
Will all this killing get worse in 2024, or will we finally “study war no more”? Probably the former, but at least we could have a real ceasefire in Palestine… couldn’t we?
Apparently not yet, as of this writing. The Zionist bombing, slaughtering, mass executions, displacement of Palestinian people in Gaza and the West Bank, and even the “accidental” murder of Israeli hostages trying to surrender, in the face of massive protests around the world, has been especially harrowing and utterly unconscionable in the last quarter of 2023, now bleeding into 2024.
What is wrong with us humans? Baboons are better behaved.
Of course, it’s not all of us humans. Some of us were in the streets rallying for peace and justice in humongous demonstrations, and others were on our devices, agitating to stop the war(s) all through 2023 with no sign of letting up in 2024. Special kudos to our friends Abby Martin, Robbie Martin, Mike Prysner and CounterPunch colleagues for advocating ceasefire and a free Palestine online and on the street.
Props also to Soma Snakeoil, the Damianos and my husband Max’s former partner Veronica Vera for their sex-positive activism on the web and in the public squares of so-called civilization. For more Make-Love-Not-War heroes, winners (and a few choice losers) of this past year, check out the 12th annual SUZY Awards 2023.
For the 12th year, “Best Journalist” goes to Julian Assange, still locked up in Belmarsh Prison for daring to publish the American War Machine-humiliating truth about perma war and its inevitable, insidious, Collateral Murder.
War Crime as an Aphrodisiac
So, who is it that that has such a hard-on for war instead of love? The warmongers, of course, our distinguished world leaders, the alpha males and elite females of the Capitalocene, the scheming war profiteers, the narcissistic presidents, the paranoid billionaires, the corrupt politicians and their slimy sons-in-law, the oil barons and their ladder-climbing, apple-polishing, support personnel.
While most of us are rightly repulsed by the horrors we see in our news feeds, for these folks *at the top,* war porn is better than Viagra; it makes both their penises and portfolios rise, especially when the contested region is sitting on top of desirable, natural resources. Or is it just a *coincidence* that huge oil and natural gas reserves were recently discovered off the Gaza coast?
Many American leaders of both major parties are even agitating for war with China. While the Chinese say(in a Bonobo Way), “planet Earth is big enough for the two countries [the U.S. and China] to succeed,” the U.S. Army prefers to compete, commissioning the Rand Corporation to “think the unthinkable” and imagine “War with China.” What’s next – doing the undoable and inciting World War III in the China Sea?
At least, the worst war criminal of the latter half of the 20th century, Henry Kissinger, finally left us in 2023. This real-life Dr. Strangelove famously opined, “Power is the greatest aphrodisiac.” That hasn’t been my experience personally, nor as a sex therapist who hears about a lot of people’s turn-ons. If it were true, most of Harvey Weinstein’s accusers might not have accused him.
Power is more of an intoxicant than an aphrodisiac; some world leaders seem to be so intoxicated by power – and the fear of losing it – they don’t seem to give a damn about the people their policies are killing; if they do, only their therapists, sex workers and bartenders know.
Of course, anything can be deemed an aphrodisiac, if you profess faith in it, as the faith-professing, district-swinging Congresswoman Lauren Boebert proved when the notoriously unerotic Beetlejuice made her so hot “Miss Ammosexual” had to cool off her hand on her date’s crotch.
Well, our faith leaders do “mess up” sexually; they’re only human apes! However, for the rest of us, sex had better be under control, preferably harnessed into a capitalist project, like breeding workers to exploit. Otherwise, our leaders would rather we not spend too much time on sex, especially if it’s recreational, not procreational. They want us out of bed and on to work, maybe with a fast-food break before online shopping.
Outercourse is In & Religiosity is Out
Among bonobos, lust trumps greed, and recreational sex is far from just profligate fun; it’s key to keeping the peace. Bonobos engage in a lot more outercourse than intercourse, including erotic, affectionate touch, massage, tickling and cuddling that diffuses violent tension and keeps everybody calm. Could something like that work for humans? Doesn’t it already?
One promising rather bonoboësque sex trend for 2024, especially among Generation Z’ers, is “shallowing.” Somewhere between intercourse and outercourse, “shallowing” involves stimulating the outside of the genitalia without going inside, and is more likely to bring a female to orgasm before a male partner – usually a good thing – and less likely to cause an accidental pregnancy – also usually a good thing… though not according to the religio-fascist misogynists in power who want women to breed more exploitable labor.
Continue reading on DrSusanBlock.com: https://drsusanblock.com/go-bonobos-2024
Or on Counterpunch: https://www.counterpunch.org/2024/01/01/go-bonobos-in-2024/
“Thanks,” I replied. “But with Israel bombing the lights and the life out of Gaza, it’s not a very ‘Happy Hanukkah 2023’.”
I’m actually on the fence about every Hanukkah—loathing its might-is-right story while loving its gifts, games, hot wax and flickering lights.
But this year’s ruthless, relentless bombardment is far too dark for even the world’s biggest menorah to brighten.
Of course, the Zionist apartheid has long been brewing this toxic stew that exploded in its face with the brutal 10/7 Hamas attack (and yes, I do condemn Hamas!), which—like 9/11and Pearl Harbor—could have been prevented with a little of that much ballyhooed Israeli Intelligence… though maybe a politically desperate and depraved “Bibi” Netanyahu just *let* those horrors happen. We may never know.
What we do know is that then came the monstrous, fire-breathing vengeance, the slaughtering of thousands, the insistence that there are no Palestinian “civilians,” not even children, and the targeting of Palestinian doctors and poets in their homes, hospitals and schools, bombing, bombing, bombing beyond war crimes (really, beyond words).
And still it comes, with nary a “pause” in sight.
These are Zionist—not Jewish—crimes, but unfortunately, most non-Jews conflate Zionism with Judaism. It’s understandable, but maddening, and this mistaken conflation, stoked by the Jewish Zionists (as well as American Christian Zionists), compels me to join my fellow “Jews for Peace” in crying “Not in Our Name!” to IDF bombing and Zionist apartheid, even though I have Zionist friends from high school days now living in Israel who won’t follow my advice to leave. I haven’t stopped caring about them though; I worry daily for their safety, and their sanity.
I grew up among Zionists (including these friends who “made Aliyah”), though I never felt that Israel was *my* country, or even a place I wanted to live. Its gung-ho, GI-Judah spirit was a turn-off when I just wanted to make love, not war. For years, I could ignore it, but as the Zionist cancer grew, I had to “come out” against it.
Now Netanyahu is Antiochus, the brutal villain of the Hanukkah Story.
Hannukah’s traditional tale of the Jewish people under the occupation of the Syrian Greek Seleucid King Antiochus IV in 160 BC has some very eerie parallels to the modern story of the Palestinian people under the occupation of Mad King Netanyahu (or as Max calls him, “Net Nut”) in 2023.
According to the first Book of Maccabees, Antiochus was a sadistic king, always trying to humiliate his Jewish subjects, making them bow down to statues of strange gods, eat pork and probably commit sexual perversities. Now we have Netanyahu’s IDF humiliating Palestinians, stripping them down to their underwear, blindfolding them Guantanamo-style, and forcing them to kneel before the Almighty smartphones that broadcast their humiliation throughout the universe.
Worse than Antiochus, Net Nut goes beyond humiliation to annihilation, dropping his mass-murderous bombs—high-tech Hanukkah gifts from his good friend, Genocide Joe—even as this wanted-for-corruption, narcissistic Nut has the chutzpah to piously light the first candle of Hannukah 2023 flanked by a paid-off Rabbi at the Western Wall.
If Antiochus is like Netanyahu, do the Maccabees of Hanukkah correspond to Hamas of Palestine? I’m no fan of horrid Hamas (didn’t I just condemn Hamas?), and I’m sure I’ll be called a “self-hating Jew” for saying this, but Judah Maccabee and his brothers are the quintessential extremist religious fanatics, “terrorists,” in the eyes of their occupiers… kind of like Hamas.
Partly because it’s so GI-Judah, the ancient rabbis did not classify Hanukkah as a major Jewish holiday. But it’s a Winter festival, so it piggybacks on Christmas and the gift-giving angle makes it good for capitalism.
However, Hanukkah (Hanuka, Chanukah, or whatever phonetization you prefer) is much more than gifts and war. Like all winter holidays, it stems from the original Winter Solstice, honoring the most basic natural miracle that a cold, dark, half-dead Earth comes back to life with warmth and light. The Christmas miracle is the virgin birth of “God” in human form. The Miracle of Hanukkah is the “everlasting light,” the sacred lamp of the Jewish Temple. According to legend, it only had enough oil to burn for 24 hours; yet lasted eight days (thus the eight candles of the menorah), providing enough time for those heroic terrorist Maccabees to get fresh olive oil to replenish the eternal flame.
Speaking of oil, perhaps Netanyahu, the Zionists and their Uncle Genocide Joe are after a different kind of oil—or natural gas—in or off the shore of poor little rich Gaza.
Oil is often a motivating factor in occupations, but it’s not 160 BC anymore or even 1948, and the whole world is watching with disgust.
So how about that miracle? The one so many of us wish for—whether actively marching in the streets or more passively witnessing from our devices—that the Palestinians will be free of Zionist occupation, and that Jews—wherever we live—can once again be a people of peace and wisdom.
It’s the Bonobo Way, the way of peace through the pleasure; the pleasure of sharing love, sex, food, medicine, knowledge and resources, the peaceable pleasure of seeing our own humanity in the moist, open eyes of the stranger.
This is what I wish for as I light the candles for our Anti-Zionist Hanukkah, singing the Hebrew prayers for Palestine, hoping my tears don’t douse the flames, any one of which could be the everlasting light of miracles that we all need.
Baruch atah Adonai elohenu melach ha’olam ashair k’dishanu b’mitzvotav l’hadliq nair shel Palestine.
Blessed art thou, O God of Gods, who commands us to light the candles for Palestine.
Amen. Awomen!
The Super Zionists say that an anti-Zionist Jew for Palestine like me can’t or shouldn’t celebrate Hanukkah because it’s a Zionist holiday, and sure, it celebrates military might (which isn’t my cup of Manischewitz), but telling me I can’t honor a holiday of my youth because I don’t agree with your politics is downright anti-Semitic.
Turns out that Israeli and Christian Zionists are some of the worst anti-Semites, maybe because they don’t separate politics from religion or Synagogue from State.
Hanukkah games are fun, and it’s a mitzvah or “good deed” to have sex with your spouse on Hanukkah, a commandment we’re very happy to fulfill, but what I really like are the lights, fire and hot wax.
Continue Reading: https://www.counterpunch.org/2023/12/13/an-anti-zionist-hanukkah-for-palestine/
“Thanks,” I replied. “But with Israel bombing the lights and the life out of Gaza, it’s not a very ‘Happy Hanukkah 2023’.”
I’m actually on the fence about every Hanukkah—loathing its might-is-right story while loving its gifts, games, hot wax and flickering lights.
But this year’s ruthless, relentless bombardment is far too dark for even the world’s biggest menorah to brighten.
Of course, the Zionist apartheid has long been brewing this toxic stew that exploded in its face with the brutal 10/7 Hamas attack (and yes, I do condemn Hamas!), which—like 9/11and Pearl Harbor—could have been prevented with a little of that much ballyhooed Israeli Intelligence… though maybe a politically desperate and depraved “Bibi” Netanyahu just *let* those horrors happen. We may never know.
What we do know is that then came the monstrous, fire-breathing vengeance, the slaughtering of thousands, the insistence that there are no Palestinian “civilians,” not even children, and the targeting of Palestinian doctors and poets in their homes, hospitals and schools, bombing, bombing, bombing beyond war crimes (really, beyond words).
And still it comes, with nary a “pause” in sight.
These are Zionist—not Jewish—crimes, but unfortunately, most non-Jews conflate Zionism with Judaism. It’s understandable, but maddening, and this mistaken conflation, stoked by the Jewish Zionists (as well as American Christian Zionists), compels me to join my fellow “Jews for Peace” in crying “Not in Our Name!” to IDF bombing and Zionist apartheid, even though I have Zionist friends from high school days now living in Israel who won’t follow my advice to leave. I haven’t stopped caring about them though; I worry daily for their safety, and their sanity.
I grew up among Zionists (including these friends who “made Aliyah”), though I never felt that Israel was *my* country, or even a place I wanted to live. Its gung-ho, GI-Judah spirit was a turn-off when I just wanted to make love, not war. For years, I could ignore it, but as the Zionist cancer grew, I had to “come out” against it.
Now Netanyahu is Antiochus, the brutal villain of the Hanukkah Story.
Hannukah’s traditional tale of the Jewish people under the occupation of the Syrian Greek Seleucid King Antiochus IV in 160 BC has some very eerie parallels to the modern story of the Palestinian people under the occupation of Mad King Netanyahu (or as Max calls him, “Net Nut”) in 2023.
According to the first Book of Maccabees, Antiochus was a sadistic king, always trying to humiliate his Jewish subjects, making them bow down to statues of strange gods, eat pork and probably commit sexual perversities. Now we have Netanyahu’s IDF humiliating Palestinians, stripping them down to their underwear, blindfolding them Guantanamo-style, and forcing them to kneel before the Almighty smartphones that broadcast their humiliation throughout the universe.
Worse than Antiochus, Net Nut goes beyond humiliation to annihilation, dropping his mass-murderous bombs—high-tech Hanukkah gifts from his good friend, Genocide Joe—even as this wanted-for-corruption, narcissistic Nut has the chutzpah to piously light the first candle of Hannukah 2023 flanked by a paid-off Rabbi at the Western Wall.
If Antiochus is like Netanyahu, do the Maccabees of Hanukkah correspond to Hamas of Palestine? I’m no fan of horrid Hamas (didn’t I just condemn Hamas?), and I’m sure I’ll be called a “self-hating Jew” for saying this, but Judah Maccabee and his brothers are the quintessential extremist religious fanatics, “terrorists,” in the eyes of their occupiers… kind of like Hamas.
Partly because it’s so GI-Judah, the ancient rabbis did not classify Hanukkah as a major Jewish holiday. But it’s a Winter festival, so it piggybacks on Christmas and the gift-giving angle makes it good for capitalism.
However, Hanukkah (Hanuka, Chanukah, or whatever phonetization you prefer) is much more than gifts and war. Like all winter holidays, it stems from the original Winter Solstice, honoring the most basic natural miracle that a cold, dark, half-dead Earth comes back to life with warmth and light. The Christmas miracle is the virgin birth of “God” in human form. The Miracle of Hanukkah is the “everlasting light,” the sacred lamp of the Jewish Temple. According to legend, it only had enough oil to burn for 24 hours; yet lasted eight days (thus the eight candles of the menorah), providing enough time for those heroic terrorist Maccabees to get fresh olive oil to replenish the eternal flame.
Speaking of oil, perhaps Netanyahu, the Zionists and their Uncle Genocide Joe are after a different kind of oil—or natural gas—in or off the shore of poor little rich Gaza.
Oil is often a motivating factor in occupations, but it’s not 160 BC anymore or even 1948, and the whole world is watching with disgust.
So how about that miracle? The one so many of us wish for—whether actively marching in the streets or more passively witnessing from our devices—that the Palestinians will be free of Zionist occupation, and that Jews—wherever we live—can once again be a people of peace and wisdom.
It’s the Bonobo Way, the way of peace through the pleasure; the pleasure of sharing love, sex, food, medicine, knowledge and resources, the peaceable pleasure of seeing our own humanity in the moist, open eyes of the stranger.
This is what I wish for as I light the candles for our Anti-Zionist Hanukkah, singing the Hebrew prayers for Palestine, hoping my tears don’t douse the flames, any one of which could be the everlasting light of miracles that we all need.
Baruch atah Adonai elohenu melach ha’olam ashair k’dishanu b’mitzvotav l’hadliq nair shel Palestine.
Blessed art thou, O God of Gods, who commands us to light the candles for Palestine.
Amen. Awomen!
The Super Zionists say that an anti-Zionist Jew for Palestine like me can’t or shouldn’t celebrate Hanukkah because it’s a Zionist holiday, and sure, it celebrates military might (which isn’t my cup of Manischewitz), but telling me I can’t honor a holiday of my youth because I don’t agree with your politics is downright anti-Semitic.
Turns out that Israeli and Christian Zionists are some of the worst anti-Semites, maybe because they don’t separate politics from religion or Synagogue from State.
Hanukkah games are fun, and it’s a mitzvah or “good deed” to have sex with your spouse on Hanukkah, a commandment we’re very happy to fulfill, but what I really like are the lights, fire and hot wax.
Continue Reading: https://www.counterpunch.org/2023/12/13/an-anti-zionist-hanukkah-for-palestine/
Deep Throat gave the world a taste of Porno Chic with a Big Gulp of Free Speech, followed by a bubbly chaser of U.S. politics mixed with presidential scandal, spiced with make-love-not-war fervor, spliced with sex-positive feminism and diced with pungent controversies; leaving a complex aftertaste that still lingers five decades later.
It's all shaken up into a flavorful 50th anniversary tasting tour courtesy of Gerard Damiano, Jr. and Christar Damiano, devoted son and daughter of Deep Throat auteur/director Gerard Damiano. The world tour honors their father’s seminal (in every sense of the word), cinematic creation-cum-pop culture sensation that shocked and seduced the nation—not always in that order.
Director’s cut screenings have been playing throughout this golden anniversary in theaters, festivals, clubs and other venues around the globe. All of Deep Throat’s quirky scenarios, jingle-happy soundtrack and explicit, unexpurgated sex scenes in their full-on, glorious, notorious, 4K-restored clarity and color can be seen on the big screen once again.
Down the hatch!
Not that it all goes down easy or creamy. Some aspects of Deep Throat are tough to swallow.
This is, after all, the movie that launched a thousand protests—ranging from the raging Religious Right to the anti-porn feminist “Left,” from Chicago Sun-Times film critic Roger Ebert to Memphis, Tennessee’s “smut”-smiting prosecutor Larry Parrish, from “liberal” New York City Mayor John Lindsay to “conservative” U.S. President Richard M. Nixon, as well as the FBI, the NYPD, Charles Keating, the Meese Commission and many more. Over the years, a myriad of people, organizations and political movements have tried to shut down, shut up and choke off Deep Throat.
That’s one reason why the Damianos arranged post-screening “talkback” panels at every venue, featuring experts of different kinds from Golden Age adult stars to 21st century “intimacy coordinators.”
I was honored to accept their invitation to moderate the panels at the two Los Angeles venues, though moderating a discussion about something so immoderate as Deep Throat has its challenges. I brought my riding crop just in case I needed to discipline a panel member (kidding—I just brought it for fun).
Having broadcasted shows live from “The Deep Throat Sex Scandal” (the play by David Bertolino) and “Harry Reems Tribute” in 2013, and having been interviewed for the E! True Hollywood Story’s “Linda Lovelace” episode in 2000—AND having actually seen the movie in a theater circa 1978—I felt prepared. Little did I know how deeply we would go into the sometimes bizarre, controversial and culturally insurgent qualities of Deep Throat.
The first LA screening was held at the venerable, old Laemmle Royal Theater in West LA, and the second at the kink-positive, new 910 WeHo Center in West Hollywood, owned and operated by the courageous and congenial Tom Hoffman.
There was supposed to be a third venue, the Frida Cinema in Santa Ana. However, controversy reared its scandalous head as the Frida canceled its scheduled screening just over a week prior to showtime due to outrage expressed by anonymous “community” members. The reaction was so “swift and severe” that no amount of “talkback” would moderate the “pushback.” Or so said Frida Management—that is, the same person who had originally, and quite enthusiastically, scheduled the screening—as they apologetically but resolutely canceled it.
Funny how censorship, bans, deactivations, complaints and cancellations are so often based on anonymous outrage.
However, the show must go on, and on it went at the two remaining So Cal venues, with flash and panache, as befits the subject. Swinging Seventies nostalgia was in the air. Golden Age porn stars, most of whom had worked with Damiano and all of whom adored him, strutted across the red carpets, including Nina Hartley, Veronica Hart, Amber Lynn, Christy Canyon, Keisha, porn power couple Luc Wylder and Alexandra Silk (who are also making a film about the tour), “Naked John,” Golden Age porn star/director Gloria Leonard’s granddaughter Nai’a, and the legendary Herschel Savage.
Sadly, though Mr. Savage seemed ageless at this event, he passed away suddenly just four months later. Star of another classic, Debbie Does Dallas, (graphic descriptions of which helped make Ronald Reagan’s “Meese Commission” Report a best-seller), as well as the lesser-known Satisfiers of Alpha Blue, directed by Gerard Damiano, Herschel was a trained Broadway actor who studied with renowned Stanislavski “method” teachers, Uta Hagen and Stella Adler, before doing Debbie, and he went on to become one of the world’s first and biggest adult stars.
RIP Herschel Savage, née Harvey Cohen, November 25, 1952 – October 8, 2023.
However, that night a very much alive and reflective Herschel joined the rest of us to commemorate one of the most groundbreaking American films ever made… which happened to be about blowjobs.
Of course, Deep Throat was (and still is) not just *about* blowjobs. It also actually showed these blowjobs, as well as cunnilingus, doggy-style, reverse cowgirl, orgies and more—close-up!—on the big screens of major movie theaters throughout the greater U.S. of A.
Talk about a cinematic sexual revolution!
Many audiences were thrilled to partake in an adults-only group sex-watching experience that—with the right crowd—was like a rock concert, love-in and midnight screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show (to be released a few years later in 1975) combined, creating a palpable sense of “communal ecstasy”… with a hat tip to the late great Barbara Ehrenreich’s not-so-kinky concept of “collective joy.”
No, Deep Throat wasn’t as spiritual as Woodstock (1969), though you could say they were both “dirty”… in different ways.
Of course, other Deep Throat audience members (perhaps with the wrong crowd) were more shell-shocked than thrilled, wondering what in hell they were watching… genitalia as big as a house?!?
Well, a tiny house; but still, this was big-screen, wide open-to-the-public entertainment, and the public ate it up like ice cream after a tonsillectomy.
From the movie’s initial release in 1972 to its vast dissemination in ’73, through Watergate and the socially liberal Jimmy Carter years, right up until the invention of the VCR in the late seventies that led porn out of the big theaters (and even most small theaters) and into private bedrooms, the 1970s was the decade of Deep Throat.
It was “the film that brought the country to its knees.” Whether you loved it or hated it, even if you’d never seen it, everyone knew—and still knows—“Deep Throat.”
It was so popular, so catchy and so outrageous, “Deep Throat” became a household term. Whether or not the people in these respectable, middle-class households actually saw the flick or practiced the act is unknown. What is known is that the words “Deep Throat” penetrated their consciousness via their trusted late-night companion Johnny Carson’s winking wisecracks, the insider patter of Truman Capote and breathless glimpses of Jackie O, not to mention Martin Scorsese, Barbara Walters and Frank Sinatra (not-so-discreetly) slipping in and out of a Pussycat Theater for an afternoon screening. Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-in laughed about it. Ralph Blumenthal of the New York Times dubbed it “porno chic,” and “Deep Throat” became a part of the lexicon. Everyone wanted to experience it, wear it, practice it, or at least see what it was.
Whether or not it was the flagship film of the Sexual Revolution, Deep Throat was a cinematic symbol of erotic liberation. Americans were coming out of their fallout shelters as well as their closets. People—especially young people—wanted to make love, not war.
Continue reading: https://www.counterpunch.org/2023/11/24/deep-throat-does-la-50-years-of-sex-cinema-politics-controversy/
See the videos: https://drsusanblock.com/deep-throat-la
I opened my Facebook profile in 2008. Encouraged, enticed and literally “groomed” by Facebook, I tentatively and then actively started building up my own community of family, friends, fans and IASHS and Yale classmates and colleagues within the larger Facebook community, including posts, pictures, reels and stories, for the past 15 years.
I opened an Instagram account with the same sort of content in 2017. Like many people, my Facebook profile and IG account have served as a digital album of my life, my loves, my work, my shows, my art, my politics, my philosophy and my experiences, as well as a source of contact for important people in my life. I used to make real photo albums and contact books, but META, Facebook and Mark Zuckerberg utilized various enticements to get me to virtually replace these real archives, real artworks and even, in some cases, real friends, with stuff I could do on or via my Facebook profile.
Thus enticed, I invested a great deal of time and creative energy into these Facebook and Instagram albums of photos, writings, videos and artworks, in turn enticing other friends, fans and family from the “real” work into friending or following me, all to the continuous benefit of Facebook, IG, META and Mark Zuckerberg.
Over those 15 years, Mr. Zuckerberg either defeated or bought out much of the competition (defeating Pinterest, buying Instagram), monopolizing the social media landscape, so there is virtually nowhere else to go for many social functions.
Indeed, besides serving as people’s personal digital albums or archives, the META/FB/IG/Threads/WhatsApp/Zuckerberg empire also serves as the Digital Commons. The Commons or Towns Square is where people like me should be able to share feelings, experiences and ideas, as well as join together with our communities of fellow humans.
Of course, when sharing so much within a community, there must be rules, and I have always tried my best to stay within Facebook, IG and META rules or guidelines. Occasionally, over the last 15 years, a few of my posts have been deemed outside the guidelines, and I was therefore penalized with “Facebook Jail” or IG censorship, sometimes for a post that I’d made years before that was considered okay at the time, but as rules got stricter, some of these posts were ruled out of bounds. All of this was confusing, but understandable. Times change, and I try to keep up with the changes, but it’s not always easy, especially when guidelines are very fluid and ambiguous. Nevertheless, my penalties were always for visual infractions – what we call a “nip slip,” or once it was because a picture of me showed me wearing a fake gag – but it was never because of words.
Suddenly, that changed.
In mid-May, 2023, I was pleased to receive a note of congratulations from META because my Facebook profile had surpassed 10,000 followers. The note praised and congratulated me for this feat, and said that, thanks to my exalted status, I would now need two-step verification which I accepted.
Then, within a day or two, both my META accounts on Facebook and Instagram were disabled with no warning, no reason given, no trial—just a firing squad of bots that killed both my accounts with one digital bullet.
I was (and still am) devastated. This was no finite sentence to Facebook Jail, this was being banished from the META Empire. This was the complete erasure of 15 years of labor and love—and likes!—on Facebook, plus seven years on IG. No reason was given and no answers forthcoming to my many pleas for restoration and explanation. A college professor friend even made up a petition to restore my accounts. Still no response. I wondered what the problem could be as I’d been very careful with images, and I had never been censored by META for words.
It took an attorney with a relationship with IG, James Felton, to finally get a response. This struck me as unfair—that only someone with a lawyer can communicate with META about losing their life’s work—but I pressed on. We received a response from a Mayer Brown LLP lawyer named Elizabeth M. Anderson, presumably representing META, that claimed that my account was disabled because I had posted content referencing my work as a sex therapist, in which I practice sex therapy over the phone, aka “phone sex therapy,” with the hashtag #phonesextherapy. Suddenly and without warning, this content was deemed deserving of deactivation of both my accounts. Note that I had posted the same content many times for several years and had never received a notice, strike, warning or a month in Facebook Jail or IG censorship of any post with these words—or any words. Moreover, this hashtag was not mentioned as forbidden in META guidelines.
Yet the instant sentence for my unproven crime was “deactivation,” sometimes called “termination,” the equivalent of digital extermination.
Ms. Anderson’s letter accuses me of “violating the Guidelines, which prohibit users from offering sexual services.” I have never stated that I offer “sexual services,” nor have I ever offered “sexual services.” I am not nor have I ever been a “sexual services” provider.
Not that it is clear what is meant by “sexual services,” but the implication appears to be “sex work,” which is incorrect and slanderous. Though I have great respect for sex workers, and I have interviewed sex workers on my show, I am not nor have I ever been a sex worker. I am a sex therapist. There is a big difference, first and foremost, in that everything I do is legal. Sex work, in most states, is illegal. Sex workers provide “sexual services,” that is, having sex with their clients. I only talk about sex with my clients, mostly over the phone. I call this Telephone Sex Therapy.
If by “sexual services,” Ms. Anderson really means that I talk about sex, that is true. I am a sex therapist and sexologist. That is my life’s work, and practicing it does not violate META “Terms of Use.” Indeed, there are hundreds, if not thousands of other sex therapists and sexologists on IG and Facebook, posting a wide variety of types of content. So, if Ms. Anderson means that my accounts have been deactivated for my sex therapeutic work, then I am being subject to unfair discrimination.
It’s been documented in various articles and shows that I am the creator of Phone Sex Therapy or sex therapy over the phone, tele-sex therapy or telephone sex therapy. I usually use the last term, but it contains the most characters, and I often have a lot of other things to say in my posts, so I use #PhoneSexTherapy, with a hashtag, mainly so as to connect my current post with my other posts, since almost no one else uses that hashtag but me, at least as of May, 2023.
Just as Facebook, IG and META’s guidelines have changed over the years, so has the practice of sex therapy. Thirty years ago, just before I earned my first Ph.D., I conducted all of my sex therapy sessions in person. Then when I became ill, I started to conduct therapy sessions over the phone. That worked so well for me and my clients that even after I recovered, I continued doing that.
Why conduct sex therapy over the phone? Because it’s safer for the client and for the therapist. It’s more convenient, comfortable, private and it’s better for the environment—no cars involved—and it’s available to anyone with a phone worldwide. I called it telephone sex therapy or tele-sex therapy or phone sex therapy. No one else was doing it in the early 1990s, and some of my colleagues in sex therapy were appalled. Gradually, they realized it was fine and even better in some ways than in-person therapy, and then many started doing it themselves. Then the pandemic happened, and they ALL started doing it, and they haven’t stopped. Nowadays, tele-medicine as well as tele-therapy or phone therapy and phone sex therapy are at least as common as in-person sessions, if not more so.
Continue reading: https://drsusanblock.com/meta-arbitration-statement
That voice reminded me of Joan Baez singing like an angel crying out against the wars, but more tormented because Sinéad was tortured, abused, probably by a priest or a nun or her mother. Most definitely by our world.
Her delivery was so intense, haunting, accusatory and yet so vulnerable, that as soon as I heard it, like millions around the world, I fell in love with her.
So did my husband Max. And as we fell in love with Sinéad, we fell in love with each other. We were already bonding through our opposition to war in general and Desert Storm (when it was still Desert Shield) in particular, and together we made a cassette tape (remember those?), Desert Susan, in the spirit of Tokyo Rose with a pinch of Scheherazade. We sent a few hundred cassettes to the troops and officers of Desert Shield and Storm to persuade them to “make love not war.” I talk about the wisdom of the much-maligned “Vietnam Syndrome,” the folly of war and the beauty of love in between musical interludes, and the first song on the tape is Sinéad O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares 2 U.”
To whom was she singing in that song? Her lover who left her? Maybe they broke up, or he died, or perhaps he went off to war, and she yearns for him to return in peace.
We yearned for all of them to return in peace, but they didn’t, though when they thought they “won,” they held a big parade. Then one Gulf War led to another, with terrible sanctions in between, and the Perma Warscontinued and continue. At least, over the years, Max and I have heard how those Desert Susan tapes featuring Sinéad turned some of those troops and officers to turn their swords into plowshares—or maybe floggers—and make love, not war. We’ve even met a few of them.
Then in 1992, the year Max and I got married, Sinéad O’Connor went on Saturday Night Live, sang out like a seer in that precious metal voice, and then she ripped up the Pope—actually her mother’s photo of Pope John Paul II—telling us to “Fight the Real Enemy.” In that moment, she was incandescent, a Joan of Arc for our times, and I fell even harder in love with her, as the fires burned around her.
Some claim now that nobody knew then that Catholic priests were molesting altar boys and girls en masse, but a lot of us knew, though many didn’t want to know, and poor Sinéad, like Joan, burned and suffered on the stake of society’s willful sexual ignorance.
The pope-ripping caused Sinéad to get canceled before cancelling was a thing. A few days later, she was booed at a concert by seemingly everyone but Kris Kristofferson, and it seemed that her brilliant career had been flushed down the Vicar’s drain.
But Sinéad was never sorry for what she did. She admitted she struggled with bipolar disorder and PTSD all her life, but in that moment, she was the sanest person on the planet. It was what she was destined for, to tell that truth about Catholic priests abusing the most vulnerable members of their flock when it was unpopular to say so, and I loved her for that. Now everyone loves her for that (well, almost everyone).
Then, almost two decades later, in 2013, I felt the pain of seeing someone I love do something I despise—as dramatically as she did the things I loved. Sinéad O’Connor wrote a scolding, slut-shaming open letter to Miley Cyrus about being too sexual and too “naked” in her Wrecking Ball video. She wrote that Hollywood was making a “prostitute” out of Miley, and not in a good way—whether Miley’s outfits and dance moves were Miley’s idea or not. When Sinéad slut-shamed Miley so fiercely and publicly, she slut-shamed me, and all of us who choose to wear erotic outfits or nothing at all—and I hated her for that… perhaps especially because I had loved her so much before.
Another Counterpunch writer, Ruth Fowler, wrote an article at the time that expressed my feelings about that awful letter much more eloquently and humorously than I ever could. Apparently, Sinéad read Ruth’s article and freaked out, called CP editor Jeffrey St. Clair and “unloaded” on him for 40 minutes, demanding that he fire Ruth. He didn’t fire Ruth, but he did suggest Sinéad write a piece for Counterpunch, which she did—and I loved her for that.
She took a few other important and unpopular positions, like supporting the Palestinians, turning down a Grammy as too “commercial,” and opposing all the wars. Though I’m still repelled by her slut-shaming, there was a lot to love about Sinéad O’Connor.
Her youngest son died by suicide a year ago, and I can’t even conceive of the immense pain and harrowing loneliness she went through over that, though I sometimes imagine her singing Prince’s song to her lost boy. Through all of her suffering, she gave us so many gifts of love, until she couldn’t anymore, and now at the young age of 56, she’s gone.
Thank you for everything, Sinéad O’Connor. Nothing compares to you.
Read on Counterpunch: https://www.counterpunch.org/2023/08/04/nothing-compares-to-sinead-oconnor/
Listen on FDR: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-x-press
That voice reminded me of Joan Baez singing like an angel crying out against the wars, but more tormented because Sinéad was tortured, abused, probably by a priest or a nun or her mother. Most definitely by our world.
Her delivery was so intense, haunting, accusatory and yet so vulnerable, that as soon as I heard it, like millions around the world, I fell in love with her.
So did my husband Max. And as we fell in love with Sinéad, we fell in love with each other. We were already bonding through our opposition to war in general and Desert Storm (when it was still Desert Shield) in particular, and together we made a cassette tape (remember those?), Desert Susan, in the spirit of Tokyo Rose with a pinch of Scheherazade. We sent a few hundred cassettes to the troops and officers of Desert Shield and Storm to persuade them to “make love not war.” I talk about the wisdom of the much-maligned “Vietnam Syndrome,” the folly of war and the beauty of love in between musical interludes, and the first song on the tape is Sinéad O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares 2 U.”
To whom was she singing in that song? Her lover who left her? Maybe they broke up, or he died, or perhaps he went off to war, and she yearns for him to return in peace.
We yearned for all of them to return in peace, but they didn’t, though when they thought they “won,” they held a big parade. Then one Gulf War led to another, with terrible sanctions in between, and the Perma Warscontinued and continue. At least, over the years, Max and I have heard how those Desert Susan tapes featuring Sinéad turned some of those troops and officers to turn their swords into plowshares—or maybe floggers—and make love, not war. We’ve even met a few of them.
Then in 1992, the year Max and I got married, Sinéad O’Connor went on Saturday Night Live, sang out like a seer in that precious metal voice, and then she ripped up the Pope—actually her mother’s photo of Pope John Paul II—telling us to “Fight the Real Enemy.” In that moment, she was incandescent, a Joan of Arc for our times, and I fell even harder in love with her, as the fires burned around her.
Some claim now that nobody knew then that Catholic priests were molesting altar boys and girls en masse, but a lot of us knew, though many didn’t want to know, and poor Sinéad, like Joan, burned and suffered on the stake of society’s willful sexual ignorance.
The pope-ripping caused Sinéad to get canceled before cancelling was a thing. A few days later, she was booed at a concert by seemingly everyone but Kris Kristofferson, and it seemed that her brilliant career had been flushed down the Vicar’s drain.
But Sinéad was never sorry for what she did. She admitted she struggled with bipolar disorder and PTSD all her life, but in that moment, she was the sanest person on the planet. It was what she was destined for, to tell that truth about Catholic priests abusing the most vulnerable members of their flock when it was unpopular to say so, and I loved her for that. Now everyone loves her for that (well, almost everyone).
Then, almost two decades later, in 2013, I felt the pain of seeing someone I love do something I despise—as dramatically as she did the things I loved. Sinéad O’Connor wrote a scolding, slut-shaming open letter to Miley Cyrus about being too sexual and too “naked” in her Wrecking Ball video. She wrote that Hollywood was making a “prostitute” out of Miley, and not in a good way—whether Miley’s outfits and dance moves were Miley’s idea or not. When Sinéad slut-shamed Miley so fiercely and publicly, she slut-shamed me, and all of us who choose to wear erotic outfits or nothing at all—and I hated her for that… perhaps especially because I had loved her so much before.
Another Counterpunch writer, Ruth Fowler, wrote an article at the time that expressed my feelings about that awful letter much more eloquently and humorously than I ever could. Apparently, Sinéad read Ruth’s article and freaked out, called CP editor Jeffrey St. Clair and “unloaded” on him for 40 minutes, demanding that he fire Ruth. He didn’t fire Ruth, but he did suggest Sinéad write a piece for Counterpunch, which she did—and I loved her for that.
She took a few other important and unpopular positions, like supporting the Palestinians, turning down a Grammy as too “commercial,” and opposing all the wars. Though I’m still repelled by her slut-shaming, there was a lot to love about Sinéad O’Connor.
Her youngest son died by suicide a year ago, and I can’t even conceive of the immense pain and harrowing loneliness she went through over that, though I sometimes imagine her singing Prince’s song to her lost boy. Through all of her suffering, she gave us so many gifts of love, until she couldn’t anymore, and now at the young age of 56, she’s gone.
Thank you for everything, Sinéad O’Connor. Nothing compares to you.
Read on Counterpunch: https://www.counterpunch.org/2023/08/04/nothing-compares-to-sinead-oconnor/
Listen on FDR: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-x-press
Bi-partisan billions keep rolling in for the War Machines—thanks to the Military Industrial-Congressional Complex, the Cops and the Gun Industry—that destroy lives at home and abroad, yet there’s nothing but slander and censorship, fire and brimstone for the sexology that saves lives.
Saying “yes” to Thanatos (the death impulse) and “no” to Eros (the erotic life force) is the Ammosexual Incelway. Sadly, it’s also become the American Way. Maybe it always was… at least since 1492.
I prefer the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure, including sexual pleasures, though food, shelter, games and many other organic, sustainable, egalitarian pleasures can be shared along the Bonobo Way.
Unfortunately, not everybody sees things my way. It appears that GQP Hoosiers in the House went the way of anti-pleasure, anti-sex education and anti-Kinsey ignorance in February of this year, casting a 53-34 vote against providing the usual state funding for the institute that was as narrow as it was narrow-minded.
It was and is a sign of these “alternative facts”-driven times.
Founded within Indiana University by pioneering sex researcher Dr. Alfred Kinsey whose “Kinsey Reports”—Sexual Behavior in the Human Male (1948) and Sexual Behavior in the Human Female (1953)—took a scientific approach to the study of human sexuality (Kinsey started as an entomologist), and helped to kickstart the Sexual Revolution of the 1960s and ‘70s, the Kinsey Institute is unparalleled.
Not that such accomplishments would impress the Christofascists who stripped the Indiana University Kinsey Institute for Research in Sex, Gender and Reproduction of all its state funding.
State Funding Stripper-in-Chief was Freshman Representative Lorissa Sweet (R-Wabash) who blithely slandered the late Kinsey as a “child predator,” claiming without evidence that the Institute “could” currently be “hiding child predators.” So *could* McDonald’s, the local church or police station, but hey, any excuse will do for the GQP to slash and burn a sexuality studies school with fiery accusations.
Representative Matt Pierce (D-Bloomington, including Indiana University) tried in vain to reveal a few facts that countered Sweet’s candy-coated fabrications, mainly that they are “old, unproven allegations,” “conspiracy fodder” and little more than “warmed over Internet memes that keep coming back.” Unfortunately, Pierce was unable to douse the flames of Sweet’s incendiary ignorance and save the Kinsey Institute’s state funding from going up in smoke.
Under questioning, Sweet confessed that any and all investigations into alleged “child abuse” at the Kinsey Institute had been dropped for lack of evidence long ago. Normally, that admission would sink any wrongful allegation. But the new “normal” for a young GQP rising star with an erotophobic base to fire up is that facts don’t matter one Sweet bit. The neo-Puritan narrative is that most teachers are “predators,” all sex educators are the Devil with a chalk board, and schools like the Kinsey Institute certainly should not get funded for their Satanic chalk.
As a fellow sexologist who has long looked up to the Kinsey Institute, it’s disturbing to hear that this great leader in sexology lost their government funding, though reassuring that 1) Indiana University receives all its money from the state in a lump sum, which makes extricating Kinsey funds from others trickier than doing reverse cowgirl on water skis, and 2) Kinsey’s corporate financing will make up for the state’s shortfall anyway. Still, financial gymnastics aside, it’s just more bad news for American sex education and freedom of speech.
My own institute is not funded by any government or corporate entities—just by our private sex therapyservices. This means we are often relatively broke, but it’s also one reason why we can “speak easy” at our “Speakeasy” about subjects that aren’t so easy to speak about (like sex), without government or corporate oversight. It’s also why evil YouTube AI censored and recently terminated my channel of 15 years.
Even more recently, a few days after META sent me a message of congratulations for surpassing 10,000 followers on my Facebook profile, it sent me a very different notice of termination for both my Facebook andInstagram accounts. Why? No reason, no trial, no evidence, just a firing squad of META Bots summarily executing my virtual self, letting my bodiless body fall into a mass grave filled with millions of other similarly suspended social media accounts.
It happened shortly after my show about Kinsey’s defunding aired which may or may not have “violated” guidelines and/or made someone feel “unsafe.” Yes indeed, Brothers and Sisters, in the name of making everyone feel “safe,” neo-Nazi, neo-Puritanical censorship, account terminations and crazed book-banning are rising like the all-consuming and very unsafe flames of violence, inequality and fascism.
This brings to mind the scorched fate of another great sex institute at the hands of those other Nazis (the original ones). A couple of decades before Kinsey was hunting gall wasps, the Hirschfeld Institute, directed by Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld, dubbed the “Einstein of Sex,” thrived smack in the center of Berlin during the wild Weimar period (1919 – 1933) between the Kaiser and Der Fuehrer. Life was a Cabaret in a way, and erotic adventurers like Christopher Isherwood (author of I am a Camera which became Cabaret), Cole Porter, the Gershwin Brothers and many more went to the Hirschfeld Institute in Weimar Berlin to study, socialize, humanize and revolutionize society.
Then it all went up in smoke as the Hirschfeld Institute was one of the first prominent German establishments to be destroyed shortly after the “terrorist” Reichstag fire which was the Nazi’s 9/11, aka an excuse to seize power. In their moral crusade against terrorists, sexual “degenerates,” communists, gays, Jews and, of course, *predators*, a giddy gang of enflamed Hitler Youth in swastikas and lederhosen burned all the books in the Hirschfeld Institute, except a few they kept for themselves (and thus for history). When you see newsreels of Nazis burning books, you are usually watching Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld’s great human sexuality library being consumed in a sacrificial bonfire to Der Fuehrer’s dominance over so-called decadence.
If Lorissa Sweet and her colleagues could have their way, they’d be dancing around their own American bonfire, maybe holding a barbeque, as all the books, documents and art of the Kinsey Institute went up in flames. So maybe we should be grateful that she only verbally torched the Kinsey Reports?
The *good* news is that the Kinsey Institute is not burning, and it will go on without state government funding, at least for a while, as I will go on without YouTube and META… for a while.
Nevertheless, it’s a sign of the times that corporate control, book banning as a cottage industry, the rise of artificial ignorance (AI) along with human illiteracy, punitive social media censorship, increasing economic inequality and defunded studies are squeezing the life—Eros—out of education, as Christofascist crusaders, ammosexual incels and super-funded Perma Wars tighten their nonconsensual Thanatoxic grip around our erotic multi-cultural throats, and our humanities go up in smoke.
continue reading: https://drsusanblock.com/kinsey-defunded
on Counterpunch: https://www.counterpunch.org/2023/05/26/kinsey-defunded-perma-wars-mega-funded-humanities-up-in-smoke/
Who are they, these ammosexual incels multiplying like bacteria in the crevices of our culture, their phallic firearms in their tiny hands, and why are they so afraid, enraged and ready to burst from their cells, with pistols spurting deadly shots of lead?
Ammosexual Incels?
Oh no, here’s a whole other kind of AI to worry about.
Oh yes, it is. At least, that’s my professional sexological assessment. Thanks to a potent cocktail of contributing toxins—capitalism’s collapse, Neo-Puritan repression, climate crises galore, pollutants aplenty, perma wars, police states, racist propaganda, cultural change, ruthless marketing, stratospherically lucrative firearm sales, gargantuan military budgets, defense and gun lobby greed, QAnonense and more—the world’s ammosexual incel population is proliferating faster than a bullet train, and we are all sitting ducks on its track.
Why, how and WTF?
It’s all part of the Capitalogenic ascendance of war over peace and greed over pleasure. Just as our so-called civilization’s greed for oil and disdain for nature has generated climate change, so our leaders’ fervor for conquest and denigration of organic erotic pleasures has spawned the ammosexual incel insurgency.
And oh, what a spawn we hath wrought. It’s a veritable Pistol-Packing Misogynistic No Fap Lonelyhearts Club.
The Ammosexual American
Just in case you’re blissfully unaware, an “ammosexual” (noun) is a person who fetishizes firearms. Having defined “fetish” for the Wiley Blackwell Encyclopedia, it’s clear to me that America has a gun fetish, and it’s killing us.
Ammosexuals could be male, female, trans or non-binary, in the closet or out on the range. Though the great majority identify as straight males, there are notable ammosexual females. Take pistol packing Colorado Congresswoman Lauren Boebert, winner of the “Miss Ammosexual” SUZY Award Boobie Prize for her sultry shotgun displays—from handguns tucked into her tight jeans, to firearms festooning her old “Shooters” grill, to more guns on the shelf behind her head than I have dildos in my bed, not to mention AR-15s held like toys by her grinning and well-groomed young children.
More and more women and others are joining the Gun Party, but the great majority are still the male of the species, especially the white supremacist male. At least, that’s how it is here in America where the alleged “good guy with a gun” (who rarely does anybody any good) is the direct descendant of the colonial cowboy clearing the “wild west” of Native Americans and catching runaway slaves for sport and profit.
Though ammosexuals come in all colors throughout the so-called civilized world, the American Ammosexual tends to identify as white, like the White House, which is pretty much always occupied by a mass murderer, though not necessarily an ammosexual one. Most are just cold-blooded war criminals.
What does it mean if you’re “ammosexual” (adjective)? Like any fetish, it varies, but let’s just say you probably like guns the way some people like porn. It’s a passion.
There’s loads (pun intended) of ammosexual porn on the web—from homemade guns and ammo to Pentagon-purchased missiles and fighter jets. It’s hard to avoid it (and believe me, I’ve tried)! In contrast, regular porn and all things deemed *erotic* or sex-positive are more and more banned or shadow-banned. I don’t mean the titillation of celebrity bikini selfies or the obsession with sex scandals à la Epstein; they’re almost as common as the guns. I mean frank, sex-positive sex education that could really help people struggling with sexual issues. For example, my own sex educational YouTube channel that I’d been updating since 2007 was just terminated by bots. It’s not as bad as being exterminated by cops, but it hurts, and it’s all part of the expanding ammosexual police state, the Cop Cities bent on strangling our voices and beating us down, with a knee on our necks and a gun to our heads.
As sex is censored more frequently, gun porn proliferates without restriction. I’m all for Free Speech that includes gun nuts, but the amount of violence on display—much of it celebrated—is staggering. Images and stories of war, police brutality and sheriffs’ gangs tend to be the most horrific, and in a way, it’s good to share the evidence on the off chance it’ll inspire folks to rise up against the ammosexual police state, though sadly, it seems to arouse many viewers’ libidos more than their outrage.
Then there are the NRA promos, the Mainstream Media (MSM)’s war-cheerleading, clickbait crime coverage, gun ads galore, real snuff films, murders in the news, cosplay “militias,” politicians’ families hoisting their semi-automatic weapons around the Christmas tree, folks with thousands of guns laid out on their patios like art collections, comic book violence, “action” heroes, well-armed Jesus memes, AI massacres and all-too-often real massacres (with more and more difficulty telling the difference)—it’s all out there, in your face. And that’s just on the internet.
Unfortunately, it’s also happening in real life, actual shooting and, consequently, killing (or maiming)—whether on purpose or by accident (parents of young children hide their dildos better than they hide their firearms), compulsively planned or impulsively acted out, due to fear or desire, or a lethal combination. Not everyone who ogles gun porn feels a need to shoot the damn things, but enough do to turn America into a 3.5 million square mile firing range.
Need I explain how shooting firearms can be an exhilarating pseudo-ejaculatory release? Most gun lovers wouldn’t admit it’s a kink for them, despite it being disturbingly obvious.
Of course, it’s a lot more fun—and less dangerous—to “shoot the gun between your legs.” Why not have a wank (Merry Masturbation Month!) or some kind of consenting adult sex, and forget the guns and ammo, bombs and fighter jets? Cocks Not Glocks! Peace through pleasure. It’s the Bonobo Way.
Sadly, American culture has gone the Way of the Gun, denigrating sex for recreation, mandating procreation, and honoring the armed-to-the-teeth “hero” as the romantic masculine ideal. From Christopher Columbus’ matchlock rifles to Top Gun Tom’s F-14 jets, the white European invaders of Turtle Island have always been massively, formidably, desperately, homicidally and ecocidally ammosexual.
And it’s getting worse.
The NRA and weapons industries are actively and shamelessly marketing weapons of war via conflating our natural sex drives with gun ownership, channeling the ammosexual’s erotic desires into buying, handling and relishing the lethal thrill of shooting phallic weapons in a manner that is fetishistic, compulsive, contagious and deadly.
Of course, all these individual killers and mass killers are inspired by the most ammosexual—and deadly—entity ever, the American Military-Industrial-Congressional-Complex, currently on its merry, madcap, gun-loving way to obliterating the Earth, or at least rendering most of it uninhabitable. That’s the climax of the ammosexual drive. It bypasses the healing “little death” (le petite mort) of orgasm, shooting it’s super-heroic way—bang-bang-bang—to the Big One, a.k.a. the Final Solution: Almighty annihilation for the glory of the Capitalocene in a hail of aimless ammo.
Incel-itus Unbound
What about the incel part of the “ammosexual incel”?
The term “incel” is short for “involuntary celibate,” and refers to a group of loosely identified men who aren’t having sex; at least not the kind of sex they think they should be having. Though the term was invented by a woman, the movement was soon overtaken by men—including many raging male supremacists.
Incels are not “asexual.” Often, they have strong sexual feelings exacerbated by their erotic frustration. To make matters murkier, many incels are really “volcels” in the sense that they want or “volunteer” to be celibate—perhaps for religious reasons (Catholic priests comes to mind) or because they despise what they desire (misogynists and deeply closeted gay men, for example) or a combination (think Neo-Nazi Nick Fuentes)—though the term incel is more commonly used.
I’ve been writing about incel culture since Elliot Rodger’s and Alek Manassian’s incel-identified mass murders. The movement emerged from the Internet’s “Man-o-Sphere” on sites like 4chan and 8chan, with origins in “The Game,” a.k.a. “seduction” culture, which is/was a bunch of hucksters selling the notion that any man can seduce any woman. What an awesome sale pitch! Lonely guys ate it up and paid for the privilege of being royally conned. The problem with “The Game” is that it doesn’t work, at least not for most men. So, The Game (well, that Game) fizzled like a spent tool, leaving a lot of guys hurt, pissed off and ripe to be black-pilled by incel culture.
Incel culture doesn’t have to work.
Instead of addressing the incel’s desire for sexual intimacy or human companionship, incel “influencers” simply exploit their mostly male followers’ alienation and rage against the disinterested women of their dreams (called “Staceys”) and the men who date them (called “Chads”), as well as the rest of the world in general (called “Normies”). The only “solutions”—sexual and otherwise—that they provide are a misery-loves-company community and ammosexual revenge fantasies.
And there you have it: put them together—ammosexual and incel—and you have the primary ingredients for a human grenade.
Continue Reading: https://drsusanblock.com/ammosexual-incels
On Counterpunch: https://www.counterpunch.org/2023/05/05/ammosexual-incels-primer
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself as I pop the bubbly for a “Happy Nude Rear,” kick up my heels and say “Howdeeeee 2023!”
It’s another year, another revolution ‘round the sun and another resolution to go bonobos.
Why bonobos? That’s a good question which I take a whole book to answer, but here’s the gist: As humanity’s closest great ape cousins (over 98% genetically similar to us), bonobos hold the key to peace on earth. Unlike so-called “killer apes”— common chimpanzees, gorillas, orangutans and humans (especially humans)—bonobos (Latin classification: Pan paniscus) have never been seen killing each other in the wild or captivity.
What’s their secret? Can we crack the code?
You may have heard bonobos called the “Make Love Not War” chimpanzees who swing from the trees as well as with each other. It’s party time in “Bonoboville” (my term for bonobo communities, as well as human groups inspired by bonobos) almost every day, and the mature females run the party. That is, MILFs rule Bonoboville gently but firmly, keeping the males gentle and firm. Male well-being complements female empowerment, and everybody shares, more or less, everything… even each other!
There are no billionaires (or the nonhuman equivalent) in Bonoboville. No incels either!
Bonobos show us that lust is natural for apes like us, and greed is not. Moreover, lust can be satisfied. Greed is never satisfied. Bonobos value the lusty, sustainable pleasures of life, from eating and playing to teaching and learning to sexual activity. Bonobo sex is not just for procreation, but also for recreation, good relations and negotiation, which includes keeping the peace.
Bonobos have sex in a variety of combinations (male-female, female-female, male-male, threesomes, group and solo sex), in a Bonobo Sutra of positions (including the so-called “human” style of face-to-face), and for multiple purposes—to relieve stress, trade for food, engage in politics, express lust, establish trust, convey affection, negotiate deals, resolve conflicts and reduce violence, to name a few.
As Dr. Frans De Waal so aptly puts it, “Common chimps use violence to get sex. Bonobos use sex to avoid violence.”
Can we do that too?
Maybe. Bonobos aren’t people. Though they tend to be more humane than most humans, Pan paniscus culture isn’t a blueprint for a new Homo sapiens civilization. After all, bonobos sleep in trees and eat bugs, and most of us can’t or won’t live like that. However, their remarkable ability to make peace through sharing pleasures is an inspiration, perhaps even a “missing link” in our evolution and the heart of my New Year’s resolution.
So, it’s on my fridge: #GoBonobos in 2023! Save the Humans.
Not that my New Year’s Resolution for 2023 is actually new. In fact, it’s pretty much the same as my 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016 and 2015 resolutions, making 2023, aka MMXXIII (Imperial Roman drum roll please)… the ninth great Year of the Bonobo!
After almost a decade, why aren’t we there yet? I’d like to say that we’re *almost there,* but in many ways, 2022 drove us farther off the path of peace through pleasure than ever.
Why can’t we be more bonobo? Most of us could “be bonobo,” and many of us really want to. Unfortunately, our rulers—or, as George Carlin would say, our “owners”—and the ultra-capitalist systems that serve them, stop us from taking The Bonobo Way. Lately, they seem to literally push us—actively kicking, screaming and protesting or passively shopping, surfing and gaming—in the opposite direction.
Many of these games are war games. And right out the gate into 2023, we’re at war, and it’s a popular war.
Actually, we’re in a couple of popular wars. First, there’s Ukraine. After finally pulling out of Afghanistan and Iraq (remember when those were “popular wars”?) and even maybe Yemen, another damn war literally exploded in the mystical, star-crossed land of the Baal Shem Tov, boosting the devastating cycle of perma war, just when us hopeless romantic peaceniks hoped it might wind down.
I call it “perma war” because it’s like perma press, only instead of pants that don’t crease, it’s wars that won’t end.
Doubtless, Putin the Pillager started this disastrous War on Ukraine—winning himself the 2022 SUZY Award Boobie Prize for “War Criminal of the Year”—plunging the country into a most unbonobo state of military murder and heartbreaking mayhem.
But now what? Are we going to just keep billions of dollars’ worth of arms flowing into this war like dirty water down a raging river until the dam bursts and we all drown in the tide of WWIII?
How can we stop a war that we give a standing ovation?
There’s also the war at home. Like any domestic problem, it’s complicated, but so far, the new American Civil War is a War on Being Civil. It’s being fought on various battlegrounds—in Congress, state assemblies, the courts, hospitals, school board meetings, libraries and on the street. And let’s not forget the Confederate flag-festooned Rape of the Capitol, aka Coup Anon. The Insurrection took place on 1/6/2021 but, thanks to endless hearings throughout 2022, it was eyeballed-on-repeat more than 9/11, as if to warn us: Batten down the hatches, fellow Americans, there’s a Civil War on!
The biggest Civil War battleground (so far) is the Internet, where the Right screams bloody murder, and the Left gets censored. Whoever gets the most attention wins. Of course, whoever has the most money gets the most attention, and that’s almost always the Rightwing, the war wing, which isn’t even a wing anymore; it’s the whole damn eagle, especially when it comes to wars.
Who’s winning these wars? The Ukraine war has already been won by Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, BAE and Raytheon, the war profiteering barons of the new Gilded Age on Steroids, and they just keep winning with each bomb, each deadly drone strike.
War-at-Home winners include the NRA, the guns and ammo industry and it’s greedy little whores… with apologies to real whores, aka sex workers, who are much more honest and less greedy, not to mention more bonoboësque than these slimy politicians in bed with the Merchants of Death.
Our current state of Perma Civil War is made up of all these so-called “culture wars,” which rage through the polluted social media air we breathe and occasionally flare into real death and immeasurable tragedy.
Why do we fight? For one thing, internet algorithms reward violence. Whether you like it or not, murder and mayhem get your attention. So does sex, but that’s censored, for the most part, as is socialism. Which brings us to the capitalism angle: Fighting each other keeps us from joining together to fight a class war against the super-rich who bribe our so-called representatives to cut their taxes and preach “austerity” for the rest of us.
Ah, austerity. Does it make us stronger? Maybe. That’s what the Puritans intoned sanctimoniously as they whipped, tortured, drowned and burned their “witches.”
Or does pleasure help us to thrive?
By pleasure, I don’t mean Elon Musk’s maniacal pleasure in shattering Twitter, Jeff Bezos’ unsustainable pleasure in flying phallic rockets, Ron DeSantis’ sadistic pleasure in forced feeding or Samuel Alito’s misogynistic pleasure in forced breeding. I mean the bonoboësque pleasures of sharing warmth, food, intimacy, consensual sex, sensuous culture, healing touch, genuine care, teaching, learning, communicating, foraging, playing, maybe making a little art and music because we’re human—though bonobos play music too.
One reason bonobos can make peace through sharing pleasures like these is that they live in a lush jungle of natural abundance. Sound out of reach for us? Well, it isn’t. Humanity—despite our ridiculously huge numbers—still has the resources to feed everyone (at least, for now); it’s just that almost all of our “abundance” is in the tiny hands of the rich.
Meanwhile, these same rich bitches and corporate owners of ours are very busy prosecuting the worst perma war of all, the War to End All Wars, the War on Our Mother the Earth, a war we are already losing as we choke on the air their corporations have fouled and drown in the floods they’ve unleashed.
More than ever, for our own sake and that of all the other species dying out in the fumes of our wars, we need the sustainable ecosexuality of the Bonobo Way.
Well, at least, the War on Drugs let up a bit in 2022. Welcome home Brittney Griner!
But another deadly perma war flared this year—a very unbonobo “War on Sex” that has been raging since the beginning of human civilization when women were first enslaved—and now even forced breeding is back. Women and LGBTQ people are under attack verbally and physically, mostly from the unhinged neo-Puritanical Right, but attacks on natural, healing, consenting-adult sexuality in all its many-splendored diversity may also emanate from the quick-to-judge, politically correct Left. Not that I’m trying to be even-handed. Attacks on consenting adult sexual expression are much more likely to emanate from the Religious Right wherever they hold power, from the Supreme Court Injustices on high to the Proud Boys on the streets down below to the Lords of the Internet in the middle.
Ironically and disturbingly, as Americans get progressively less religious, our leaders are acting regressively more religious, making religio-fascist rulings, spouting pious “thoughts and prayers” for the dead and deprived, and dripping disdain for the poor and “degenerate.”
Continue reading here: https://drsusanblock.com/go-bonobos-2023 or on Counterpunch: https://www.counterpunch.org/2022/12/30/go-bonobos-in-2023/
Nor did I get my MRS degree to marry one. However, I did marry a Prince—with no principality, fortune nor (truth be told) pot to pee in—and we’ve stayed married for over 30 years.
My profession—and passion—is that of “sexologist,” the only one in my class… at least the only one that’s out of the closet about it.
I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve and my sexual freedom across my chest. I also tend to cover my Ivy-edumacated brain with a hat, preferably a big hat.
As such, I forego the buttoned-up suits, preppy crew neck sweaters and boat neck blouses typical of the Ivy League for lingerie and latex. Not that I ever wore suits or boating attire much, even while an undergrad, being more the hippie tie-dye type… when not in costume for a play or streaking naked through Old Campus “for peace.”
Nevertheless, I am a proud magna cum laude graduate of Yale University, Class of ’77.
I haven’t always been so proud. Maybe it has to do with not being “typical,” but for over a decade, I’d tell people I went to college in “New Haven.” Actually, for various reasons, a lot of Yalies do this. Not that it conceals the Yale bona fides, since nobody thinks we mean Quinnipiac College. We just say it to be cool and/or because we cringe at coming off as “elitist.”
I confess, I have a longstanding inclination to critique the “elites,” and ivy-adorned Yale University—envisioned by the theocratic Reverend John Davenport, co-founded in 1701 by prominent witch-hunting Puritan Cotton Mather and Christened after its biggest benefactor, wealthy British colonialist Elihu Yale (later indicted for corruption)—is nothing if not elite.
Couldn’t the Metaverse just digitize privilege, call it “e-lite” and sell bits of it like bitcoin?
We Yalies were marked the “best and brightest,” which was something of a Mark of Cain, as graduating from Yale was and is no guarantee of intelligence, but more of an indication that you do well on tests. Or that your Dad did well on tests, well enough for you to get in too. Or, more likely, your Dad or your Dad’s Dad contributed a lot of money, big bones for the Bulldog.
Here’s looking at you, Mr. Skull-and-Bonehead George Mission-Accomplished-Dubya Bush(Class of ’68).
Honestly, seeing Yale’s most notorious “C student” attempt to denounce the “wholly unjustified and brutal invasion of Iraq—I mean, Ukraine…hehe… Iraq too! Anyway…” was enough to make any Eli—elite or on the street—want to hide our diplomas.
Boola Boola-la
It was my husband Max who helped me see my Yale degree a little differently. For everyGeorge W. Bush, there was a Samuel Morse—inventor of the Morse Code. For every awful Brett Kavanaugh (Yale Class of ’87) who makes me want to hang my Bulldog face in shame, there’s an awesome Lupita Nyong’o (Yale Drama MFA 2012) who fills me with ivy pride. It all evens out, more or less, and— Magna Cum Laude or just me-coming-loudly—Yale’s a part of my life. So, thanks to Max, I gradually started to show off my Yale degree… with a twist.
I’m not the first Eli to hang a Bulldog pennant on the wall behind her bed, but it happens that said bed is also where I broadcast my weekly talk shows. Like a chef hosts a cooking show from the kitchen surrounded by pots and pans, I host my sexuality show from bedsurrounded by sex toys… and a pennant emblazoned with “For God, For Country And For Yale.”
It was never expressly stated, but I’ve always felt that bit of boola-boola helped seal the deal for my HBO specials, executive-produced by proud fellow Yalie Sheila Nevins (Yale Drama MFA 1963). Not that I didn’t deserve it on “merit,” but we know the clubby nature of elites.
SWAY crushed by Dick
After watching one of these HBO specials, Sex Week at Yale (SWAY) founder Eric Rubenstein, Class of ‘2004, invited me to speak at the first SWAY in 2002 and every SWAY thereafter through 2012. Good times! Indeed, those special winter weeks around Valentine’s Day, the High Holidays of Love, were sex educational, mind-body-and-soul-expanding times for the students, faculty and special guests who were lucky and brave enough to participate. As for me, I felt welcomed back into the bountiful bosom of Mother Yale every other year. That is, until former Yale President Richard Levin stopped SWAY from swaying.
And what a shame that was. Under pressure from corporate interests, Yale-in-Singapore,an entrenched over-privileged fraternity system, and well-funded, ruthless anti-sex-education, Christofascist media, including Focus on the Family, Master Dick forced SWAY to bow to his haughty, erotophobic and demeaning demands. Then he crushed it anyway under his elite J. Press tassel calfskin loafer.
Incidentally, Yale college supervisors are—or were—called “Masters,” so “Master Dick” is actually not as outrageous a nickname for former President Richard Levin as it sounds. In fact, as the head of Yale, he could—I’m taking a leap here—be called “Master Dick, Head (of Yale).”
Silly puns aside, Dick Levin is gone, replaced by a kinder, gentler Yale President, Peter Salovey, whose groundbreaking work in Emotional Intelligence I appreciated enough to quote in The Bonobo Way. I’d like to believe Pete would not have crushed Sex Week at Yale like Dick did.
People ask if I’ll ever “bring it back,” but it’s not up to me. Maybe Yale students will resurrect Sex Week at Yale, or put on their own version for the 2020’s—or 2030’s (assuming the Megamachine lets human civilization last that long). Hey, a sexologist can dream…
Elite Knickers
Besides being the quintessential e-lite academic institution (that other school in Cambridge notwithstanding), Yale has a tradition of elite-critiquing—from Nathan Hale spying on King George III to Chaplain William Sloane Coffin leading protests against the War in Vietnam to socialist economist Richard D. Wolff condemning capitalism in our times—and I am proud to be a part of that tradition, in my fashion.
Rightwing Coup Anon’ers portray Yale as a hotbed of “woke,” decadent Marxism. So, “elite critiquing” doesn’t only come from the Left, though it tends to be accompanied by a large side order of garbage when delivered by the Right. Seeing neo-Puritan Senator Tom Cotton get pilloried in social media for vainly trying to denigrate brave Yale student protesters against Christofascist speakers as “fragile… Leftwing children” made me proud of my school.
So, when I received an invitation to my 45th Yale College Reunion, and was reassured that it would be Covid-safe (relatively) with testing upon arrival, I said yes for two.
To kick off this special boola-boola weekend, I put a small Yale pennant on my big blue hat with Y-A-L-E emblazoned across my chest, accompanied by an assortment of other Eli-positive accessories, including a “Y” pendant hand-woven by Twin Towers in-house designers with the blue and white threads of inmate uniforms. The opposite of elite and light as a flower, it occasionally flips around and upside down, turning the “Y” in the circle into a peace sign, which I take as a good omen.
One accessory that was seen only by Max and my selfie stick was my Yale University thong—or thongs—received as gifts and purchased over the years at the Boola Boola shop on Broadway.
These thongs were just good wholesome collegiate underwear, until one otherwise fine day in 2006. I had just produced a Yale Whim ‘n Rhythm concert in which Yale thongs were flashed, which got some very elite Yale corporate lawyers’ panties in a twist, and they told the Boola Boola shop to stop selling those thongs and me to stop showing them… or else!
The shop stopped, but I did not.
In fact, I told Yale’s killjoy counselors to go ahead and sue me. They said they most certainly would, but never did. Sometimes you’ve just got to call the bluffs of these blustering elites—and not let them scare the panties off of you.
Flying High
We passed our home Covid tests and took meticulous photos of our negative results before leaving Bonoboville, expecting we’d have to take another test when we reached New Haven. After all, the plane was packed with heavy breathers, most of whom were gleefully maskless.
It was our first flight since our carefree, pre-Coronapocalypse, Mile High Club days, and we were both recovering from our wild Bonoboville Reunion and a whirlwind DomCon 2022, with a bout of pneumonia in between.
So, packed between mask-free yappers, coughers and even a few sneezers, we kept our masks on, like muzzled monks in a flying chamber of demonic droplets, only taking them off to eat, drink and kiss.
The kissing helped, but overall, the new post-Coronapocalyptic flying experience—once a nomadic pleasure brimming with delightful possibilities of connecting with old and new friends and lovers—is a paranoid, overcrowded chore.
Speaking of the good old days, why don’t we take a tip from the “smoking sections” of yore and seat the maskless in the back of the plane? Never mind, I can already see the fists flying before the planes even take off.
The best part of our new air travel experience was Max’s wheelchair. Having let Delta know in advance that my Yale Husband, due to his various ailments, would need assistance, a charming attendant whisked him along through the fast lane as I jogged to keep up. The adrenaline rush, along with the edibles I took before leaving Bonoboville, helped beam me up above the Delta dystopia that threatened to swallow me in swarming madness.
Read More on https://www.counterpunch.org/2022/12/09/yale-reunion-bulldogs-go-bonobos/
Watch My Yale Roundtable: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8JpuNO66MlQ
See the photos: https://drsusanblock.com/yale-2022
Nor did I get my MRS degree to marry one. However, I did marry a Prince—with no principality, fortune nor (truth be told) pot to pee in—and we’ve stayed married for over 30 years.
My profession—and passion—is that of “sexologist,” the only one in my class… at least the only one that’s out of the closet about it.
I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve and my sexual freedom across my chest. I also tend to cover my Ivy-edumacated brain with a hat, preferably a big one.
As such, I forego the buttoned-up suits, preppy crew neck sweaters and boat neck blouses typical of the Ivy League for lingerie and latex. Not that I ever wore suits or boating attire much, even while an undergrad, being more the hippie tie-dye type… when not in costume for a play or streaking naked through Old Campus “for peace.”
Nevertheless, I am a proud magna cum laude graduate of Yale University, Class of ’77.
I haven’t always been so proud. Maybe it has to do with not being “typical,” but for over a decade, I’d tell people I went to college in “New Haven.” Actually, for various reasons, a lot of Yalies do this. Not that it conceals our Yale bonafides, since nobody thinks we mean Quinnipiac College. We just say it to be cool and/or because we cringe at coming off as “elitist.”
I confess, I have a longstanding inclination to critique the “elites,” and ivy-adorned Yale University—envisioned by the theocratic Reverend John Davenport, co-founded in 1701 by prominent witch-hunting Puritan Cotton Mather and Christened after its biggest benefactor, wealthy British colonialist Elihu Yale (later indicted for corruption)—is nothing if not elite.
Maybe now we should just digitize privilege in the Metaverse, call it “e-lite” and sell bits of it like bitcoin.
We Yalies were marked the “best and brightest,” which was something of a Mark of Cain, as graduating from Yale was and is no guarantee of intelligence, but more of an indication that you do well on tests. Or that your Dad did well on tests, well enough for you to get in too. Or, more likely, your Dad or your Dad’s Dad contributed a lot of money, big bones for the Bulldog.
Here’s looking at you, Mr. Skull-and-Bonehead George Mission-Accomplished-Dubya Bush (Class of ’68).
Honestly, seeing Yale’s most notorious “C student” attempt to denounce the “wholly unjustified and brutal invasion of Iraq—I mean, Ukraine…hehe… Iraq too! Anyway…” was enough to make any Eli—elite or on the street—want to hide our diplomas.
Boola Boola-la
It was my husband Max who helped me see my Yale degree a little differently.
For every George W. Bush, there was a Samuel Morse—inventor of the Morse Code. For every awful Brett Kavanaugh (Yale Class of ’87) who makes me want to hang my Bulldog face in shame, there’s an awesome Lupita Nyong’o (Yale Drama MFA 2012) who fills me with ivy pride. It all evens out, more or less, and— Magna Cum Laude or just me-coming-loudly—Yale’s a part of my life. So, thanks to Max, I gradually started to show off my Yale degree… with a twist.
I’m not the first Eli to hang a Bulldog pennant on the wall behind her bed, but it happens that said bed is also where I broadcast my weekly talk shows. Like a chef hosts a cooking show from the kitchen surrounded by pots and pans, I host a sexuality show from bed surrounded by sex toys… and a pennant emblazoned with “For God, For Country And For Yale.”
It was never expressly stated, but I’ve always felt that bit of boola-boola helped seal the deal for my HBO specials, executive-produced by proud fellow Yalie Sheila Nevins (Yale Drama MFA 1963).
SWAY crushed by Dick
After watching one of these HBO specials, Sex Week at Yale (SWAY) founder Eric Rubenstein, Class of ‘2004, invited me to speak at the first SWAY in 2002 and every SWAY thereafter through 2012.
Good times! Indeed, those special winter weeks around Valentine’s Day, the High Holidays of Love, were sex educational, mind-body-and-soul-expanding times for the students, faculty and special guests who were lucky and brave enough to participate. As for me, I felt welcomed back into the bountiful bosom of Mother Yale every other year. That is, until former Yale President Richard Levin stopped SWAY from swaying.
And what a shame that was. Under pressure from corporate interests, Yale-in-Singapore, an entrenched over-privileged fraternity system, and well-funded, ruthless anti-sex-education, Christofascist media, including Focus on the Family, Master Dick forced SWAY to bow to his haughty, erotophobic and demeaning demands. Then he crushed it anyway under his elite J. Press tassel calfskin loafer.
Incidentally, Yale college supervisors are—or were—called “Masters,” so “Master Dick” is actually not as outrageous a nickname for former President Richard Levin as it sounds. In fact, as the head of Yale, he could—I’m taking a leap here—be called “Master Dick, Head (of Yale).”
Silly puns aside, Dick Levin is gone, replaced by a kinder, gentler Yale President, Peter Salovey, whose groundbreaking work in Emotional Intelligence I appreciated enough to quote in The Bonobo Way. I’d like to believe Pete would not have crushed Sex Week at Yale like Dick did.
People ask if I’ll ever “bring it back,” but that not up to me. Maybe Yale students will resurrect Sex Week at Yale, or put on their own version for the 2020’s—or 2030’s (assuming the Megamachine lets human civilization last that long). Hey, a sexologist can dream…
Elite Knickers
Besides being the quintessential e-lite academic institution (that other school in Cambridge notwithstanding), Yale has a tradition of elite-critiquing—from Nathan Hale spying on King George III to Chaplain William Sloane Coffin leading protests against the War in Vietnam to socialist economist Richard D. Wolff condemning capitalism in our times—and I am proud to be a part of that tradition, in my fashion.
Rightwing Coup Anon’ers portray Yale as a hotbed of “woke,” decadent Marxism. So, “elite critiquing” doesn’t only come from the Left, though it tends to be accompanied by a large side order of garbage when delivered by the Right. Actually, seeing neo-Puritan Senator Tom Cotton get pilloried in social media for vainly trying to denigrate brave Yale student protesters against Christofascist speakers as “fragile… Leftwing children” made me proud of my school.
So, when I received an invitation to my 45th Yale College Reunion, and was reassured that it would be Covid-safe (or relatively) with testing upon arrival, I was pleased to say yes for two.
To kick off this special boola-boola weekend, I put a small Yale pennant on my big blue hat with Y-A-L-E emblazoned across my chest, accompanied by an assortment of other Eli-positive accessories, including a “Y” pendant hand-woven by Twin Towers in-house designers with the blue and white threads of inmate uniforms. The opposite of elite and light as a flower, it occasionally flips around and upside down, turning the “Y” in the circle into a peace sign, which I take as a good omen.
One accessory that was seen only by Max and my selfie stick (until now) was my Yale University thong—or thongs in white on black, white on red and blue on white—received as gifts and purchased over the years at the Boola Boola shop on Broadway.
These thongs were just good wholesome collegiate underwear, until one otherwise fine day in 2006. I had just produced a wondrous Whim ‘n Rhythm concert (having connected with these mellifluous ladies of at SWAY ’06) at my “Speakeasy” in which Yale thongs were flashed. Word of this got some very elite Yale corporate lawyers’ panties in a twist, and they insisted that the Boola Boola shop stop selling those thongs (hence they gifted me with their entire unsaleable inventory). Then they told me to stop showing off my Yale panties all over the Internet… or else!
The shop stopped, but I did not. In fact, I told Yale’s killjoy counselors to go ahead and sue me. They said they most certainly would, but never did. Sometimes you’ve just got to call the bluffs of these blustering elites—and not let them scare the panties off of you.
Flying High
We passed our home Covid tests and took meticulous photos of our negative results before leaving Bonoboville, expecting we’d have to take another test when we reached New Haven. After all, the plane was packed with heavy breathers, most of whom were gleefully maskless.
It was our first flight since our carefree, pre-Coronapocalypse, Mile High Club days, and we were both recovering from our wild Bonoboville Reunion and a whirlwind DomCon 2022, with a bout of pneumonia in between.
So, packed between mask-free yappers, coughers and even a few sneezers, we kept our masks on, like muzzled monks in a flying chamber of demonic droplets, only taking them off to eat, drink and kiss.
The kissing helped, but overall, the new post-Coronapocalyptic flying experience—once a nomadic pleasure, brimming with delightful possibilities of connecting with old and new friends and lovers—is a paranoid, overcrowded chore.
Speaking of the good old days, why don’t we take a tip from the “smoking sections” of yore and seat the maskless in the back of the plane? Never mind, I can already see the fists flying.
The best part of our new air travel experience was Max’s wheelchair. Having let Delta know in advance that my Yale Husband, due to his various ailments, would need assistance, a charming attendant whisked him along through the fast lane as I jogged to keep up. The adrenaline rush, along with the edibles I took before leaving Bonoboville, helped beam me up above the Delta dystopia that threatened to swallow me in madness.
Read the Journal and watch the Roundtable: https://drsusanblock.com/yale-2022
– Julian Assange
Now, more than ever, we need to “Make Kink Not War.”
Rattled by battles, wars and more wars, including the war on women, plus rising inequality, tyranny, misogyny, insanity, political criminality, sex-negativity, truth-relativity, hyper-religiosity, murder, mass murder, appalling apartheid, worsening climate chaos and the nuclear Doomsday Clock at 100 seconds to midnight… like so many other thinking, caring humans, I feel like I’m losing my marbles and my mind at the same time.
Thus, I’ve taken this little jingle as my light in the dark, my mantra against the madness and a bit of a gag (all puns intended) in the gloom:
Make Kink Not War!
It’s the fierce yet peaceable kinkster’s *battle cry*… but what does it mean in the real world—on the battlefield, in the bedroom, the boardroom, the classroom, the dungeon, the protest march or the play party?
Making Love vs. Making Kink
Everyone’s heard “Make Love Not War,” that groovy nugget of Swinging ‘60s-70s gold that’s guided my life since I was a child accompanying my draft-age older brother to protests against the American War in Vietnam and the nukes at Three Mile Island. As I ogled the sexy, earthy hippie protesters, I fantasized about beautiful people “making love” so passionately, they would somehow stop the wars. Unfortunately, they didn’t. Though they did stop the draft (woohoo!), the wars got worse.
But “Make Kink Not War” (MKNW) could be an even better idea… especially now—and not just because “now” is October, which happens to be “Kink Month” aka Kinktober. Happy Kink Month 2022!
Why kink instead of love? Well, many people “make war” in the name of “love.” It might be love of country, religion, family, heritage, “democracy,” or just one person (see Helen of Troy) who may or may not be real (see Jesus). Unfortunately for humanity, love-sweet-love can ignite all manner of murder and mayhem.
Another famous saying explains why: “Love has no rules.” Though no one’s sure who said it first, everyone knows it’s true. Kink, on the other hand, has lots of rules. Otherwise, it’s not kink; it’s abuse.
Kink RULES!
A kink is a “twist,” as Thomas Jefferson, one of the first to use the term to describe a feeling as opposed to a bend in the bondage rope, opined. One rule of kink is that it must be between consenting-adults when practiced in real life. SSC or “safe, sane and consensual” is the guiding imperative of kink and any kind of erotic power exchange. A step beyond SSC is RACK: Risk-Aware Consensual Kink.
This may sound like alphabet soup or seem to lack spontaneity, but kink rules when it’s based on rules.
Since Jefferson’s sexual relationship with Sally Hemings—a real slave—was not consensual, that would be abuse, not kink. Even if her shackles were made of French perfume, her reality was that she couldn’t choose to leave or say no to Master Tom.
If your kink is just fantasy, I say anything goes. Go ahead and roleplay Master Tom and slave sally, or Mistress Interrogator and hapless prisoner, Antifa and MAGA mud-wrestling; nothing is taboo when it’s all just playing in the movie of your mind… at least until our corporate owners start implanting us with microchipped “thought police.” It’s coming.
Meanwhile, just imagine… anything you like! Habitual fantasies of abuse might be a red flag, but even that’s *okay* if it’s only happening in your dreams. Sometimes your dreams are the only freedom you have.
However, if and when you transition from your impossible dreams into fragile, fleshy reality, there are many consenting-adult kink rules and protocols, and following them is part of the fun. Moreover, when you adhere to these rules—which may vary, depending on your fetish—your kinky playtime is the opposite of abuse. Indeed, kink can even help survivors of past abuse heal from their trauma.
Making “love,” on the other hand—at least in the old-fashioned, PIV (penis-in-vagina) sense of the term—is a pretty risky matter, especially these days, with America morphing into a Christofascist Gilead out of The Handmaid’s Tale, overturning abortion rights and threatening to restrict contraception, in addition to various old and new STDs going around (monkeypox anyone?) like party-crashers at a masquerade.
Concurrently, with growing awareness, personal therapy, groups, workshops, practical tips and guidance available online, “making kink” is now safer—and maybe even more fun—than ever.
#GoBonobos for Kink (Not War)!
Kink can channel natural violent energy and erotic desire into mutually agreed-upon playtime activities for the sake of physical and mental expression and pleasure. You can even include a little consensual, carefully monitored pain; for kinksters, that can be the best part.
Does this sound like some strange unnatural perversion? Sorry to pop your neo-Puritanical bubble, but kink flows through nature, from the horny mountain goats to the FemDom hyenas to the pansexual dolphins frolicking kinkily in the sea. Humans are far from the only kinky—or even the kinkiest—creatures on the planet.
Indeed, our closest great ape cousins who share over 98% of our DNA, the female-empowered, male-nurturing, sex-positive bonobos, are very kinky in a Bonobo Sutra of ways. I call them the “Kinkiest Apes on Earth.” They’re also astoundingly peaceful and have never been seen killing each other in the wild or captivity. It’s amazing but as true as my stiletto heel is sharp: bonobos utilize various kinds of kink to make peace through pleasure… with a little pain.
Can we do it too?
I don’t know If we will (in time to save civilization), but I do believe that we can and—considering a cataclysmic WWIII is always hovering on the horizon—we ought to try. Let’s give kink a chance! It might well save the world… or at least, improve your love life. It’s also the basis for my presentation, “Make Kink Not War: Be Bonobo,” Version 6.0 of The Bonobo Way at DomCon LA (now playing on a platform near you) 2022.
Comic Con of Kink & Met Gala of Latex
I love DomCon LA. It’s one of my favorite “homes away from home,” or you could say, a BDSM-focused Bonoboville away from my Bonoboville. DomCon is the MetGala of Latex and the Comic-Con of Kink. All that lubed-up flash, flesh and studded fashion gives it eye-candy allure for the voyeur connoisseur… for sure!
But the heart and soul of DomCon are the Dommes, Doms, subbies, Tops, bottoms, fetishists, exhibitionists,Masters, Mistresses and kinksters of all kinds—plus a few kink-positive sex therapists like me—all of us coming together (sometimes literally) to share the love, the spanks, the ideas, the accessories, sometimes politics, but always the rules, the protocols and the kink, always the kink.
My DomCon Evolution
It takes a village to create a DomCon, or maybe a school, and the Headmistress of that School of Hard Knocks and Impact Play is Mistress Cyan St. James, who happens to have given me my first consenting-adult birthday spanking in 2004, the same year she founded DomCon,“the World’s Premiere Lifestyle and Professional Domination Convention.” I didn’t get there until 2015 when the divine Goddess Soma and her then-BF, kinky lefty Fat Mike of NoFX, invited me over for a tour and a talk about my then-new book, The Bonobo Way, and its implications for kink and the FemDom lifestyle. With that, a series was born, tailored for the largely Mistress-led DomCon, delivering an updated version of The Bonobo Way at DomCon LA in 2015,2016, 2017, 2018 and 2019, getting more elaborate each year, even incorporating a kinky cast of characterswe called the Bonoboville Commedia Erotica Players.
In 2020, Mistress Cyan named me DomCon Mistress of Ceremonies. No dominatrix myself (just a humble sex therapist), I was honored; but alas, the Coronapocalypse kept us apart, so I MC’ed DomCon 2020 Virtual from my couch. DomCon 2021 was held in person, though it was too soon for Covid-phobic me, but when 2022 rolled around, with two vaccines and boosters, I felt ready to return. I almost didn’t make it when an erotic exotic Covid-tested Bonoboville Reunion with Vice TV left me with a whopping case of pneumonia. At least, it wasn’t the wretched Rona, so within a couple weeks, I was good to #GoBonobos at DomCon.
Mistress Cyan kindly offered me MC honors again, but to reduce the risks, I declined, determined to make this DomCon a quickie. The old in-and-out, aka “the quickie,” may not be the greatest way to make love, but if you’re pushed for time or want to minimize human contact, it might be best. Besides, this was about making kink, not making love. And with the right timing, good kink can be as quick as a single, sharp, well-placed spank, the whisper of a naughty name or the swift kick of a pointy-toed shoe.
I decided to further diminish risk by taking the RV rather than staying at the Hilton. Eating in the restaurants and drinking at the hotel bar with all those laughing, chatting, maskless people crowded together just seemed like inviting Covid to an orgy in my lungs.
Considering how the Coronapocalypse had kept me captive for two years, this felt like a major jailbreak. It was great to connect with fellow kinksters, but masked physical-distancing, though sensible (as it turned out, very sensible), meant less hugging, less physical affection, less connection and less fun. We also had a few technical glitches, never good for going bonobos or even just going with the flow. As we learn from the mythical suffering of Prometheus—the plucky Greek Titan who gave humans fire technology is a great gift… and an equally great curse.
continue reading on Counterpunch: https://www.counterpunch.org/2022/10/06/make-kink-not-war/
see the video and photos: https://drsusanblock.com/domcon-2022
“Independent Counsel” Kenneth W. Starr’s main claim to fame was that he got a U.S. President impeached when he stumbled upon the Commander-in-Chief’s somewhat shadowy, private sex life and forced it into the harsh light of a 24/7 media feeding frenzy, with a virtue-signaling twinkle in his twofaced blue eyes.
I wasn’t a fan of Bill Clinton‘s neoliberal policies or his draconian sanctioning of Iraq, but he wasn’t the worst U.S. President (this was before he bombed Belgrade). I felt that Starr’s “investigation,” which took him from a failed 1970s real estate deal right into the President’s pants, was a nakedly partisan power-grab dressed up in the pious trappings of a Moral Crusade.
Moreover, as a sex-positive sexologist, I didn’t think a U.S. President should lose his day job just because he got a consensual blowjob.
Ken Porn Starr
In September of 1998, U.S. Inquisitor Kenneth W. Starr, along with his little well-paid team of arch-conservative, highly ambitious legal ninjas (including a young, sexy and nasty Ann Coulter and a fresh-out-of-Yale Law School, Brett Kavanaugh), released The Starr Report—like a hot money shot that lands in your eye or perhaps up your nose.
A very official and somewhat officious document dripping with details of intern thongs, U.S. Presidential ejaculations, furtive phone sex, cigars in vaginas and much more, the Starr Report stepped like a stripper onto the stage of this relatively new medium called the Internet and proceeded strut it’s stuff to one and all of us.
The Starr Report read like a porn script. But no porn script ever made it to the front page of The New York Times and countless local newspapers around the world. This was the most widely read piece of pornography of the year—maybe of all time!
In an effort to expose naughty Billy Jeff’s privates, prissy old Kenny wound up exposing himself to be quite the erotic artiste.
He was far bolder and more intrusive than most low-budget, ethical porn producers (yes, most porn producers are ethical!), even orchestrating a sting operation, wiring Monica Lewinsky’s “friend,” the arch-conservative Linda Tripp, to record the juiciest parts of their private chats, giving a soap operatic edge to his unprecedented taxpayer-funded porn production.
The Report itself was breathless, badly written schlock (a predecessor to the equally uninspired 50 Shades of Grey), but most porn scripts are not exactly Shakespeare.
At the time, my friend porn star-turned-artist, Annie Sprinkle, along with the late great Betty Dodson and Candida Royalle, invited me to speak at the World Pornography Conference “Pornocopia,” which happened to fall on the same day that Monica Lewinsky was bullied into testifying before a Grand Jury about her affair with the President. In my eroto-political mind, the timing was more than coincidental.
Here was the first official gathering of career academics and pornographic filmmakers in sunny LA, while in steamy DC, the star of the nation’s biggest pornography production ever was spilling the delectable details of Oval Orifice lust, presidential phone sex, love gifts, heavy fondling and a dress that must have smelled like a skunk, having gone four years without cleaning. This performance was ostensibly for the Grand Jury, but its real purpose (for Starr the auteur of it all) was to engage, excite and enrage an audience that encompassed the whole country and most of the world.
Supposedly, Monica wasn’t a willing star in this X-rated soap that titillated the populace at the expense of the nation—although the mom-daughter team maintenance of the dress, stains and all, made that supposition rather suspect. More than anything, she seemed dazed and confused, yet unwavering in her defense of her ex-lover’s privacy. And yes, the #MeToo movement has since reminded us of the unfair imbalance of power between an intern and a President. Still, this intern was over 21, an experienced philanderer with older men and the more admitted pursuer in their Oval Orificeaffair.
Whether Monica was victim or vixen or both, there was no doubt that hymn-singing Independent Counsel Kenneth W. Starr relished bullying the poor woman and was a more-than-willing, down-right passionate producer of this piece of common porn that would find its place in history books. One can imagine Ken, Brett, Ann and rest of the porn writing team wondering how “semen stains” might best be referenced… as “dried body fluids”? DNA material? Bubba love droppings? A seminal moment in history?
And the Boobie Award Winner was…
Thus, the World Pornography Conference Opening Night Pornocopia seemed the perfect venue to present the 1998 Boobie Award for Best Pornography Production to that Peeping Tom point man of Richard Mellon Scaife, Big Tobacco and the Religious Right: Kenneth W. Starr for “The Intern & the President: America Held Hostage to Ken Starr’s Perverted Peeping Tom Sense of Justice,” partially financed with over 30 million of your tax dollars—brought to you by the GOP, party of frugal government spending.
It was the perfect live audience to present this award: some 500 pornographers, professors, lawyers and smut-hungry reporters. As I tore open the envelope, the pornographers held their breath in anticipation as the professors looked around and the reporters muttered amongst themselves, wondering whom the winner could be. Many had done much to further the cause of pornography, but none came close to GOP’s own enterprising independent counsel who cucked the Constitution and forced a consensual blowjob down the entire nation’s throat.
Accepting the award for Mr. Starr was my friend, Ken Starr lookalike, Keith James. Keith was so convincing; after the show, I overheard a couple of porn stars ask a professor, “How did she get Ken Starr to come here?”
As he accepted his Boobie Prize (designed by the artist Heilman-C) and handed me a subpoena, I congratulated Mr. Starr—via Mr. James—on making a sticky, internationally embarrassing mess of the US government, for getting Congress to be his porn distributors and for being the only pornographer that forced his work on other people. Is that even legal?
Judging from the applause, there was no doubt that Ken’s Boobie Prize was well-deserved.
In fact, “The Intern & the President” won six more Big Boobies that night, including, “Most Leaky Storyline,” “Best Hot Talk Taping,” “Best Unseen Oral Sex Scene,” “Best Cum Shot (on a Dress),” “Best Marketing Campaign,” “Most Expensive Porn Production in History—with a $40+ million budget,” and a special Boobie also went to Ms. Linda Tripp for “Most Underhanded Technical Support.”
Continue Reading: https://www.counterpunch.org/2022/09/20/kenneth-w-starr-a-pornographer-for-our-times/
To recap: Block contends that when META’s AI “content moderation” bots censored and deactivated her Facebook profile and IG account – unfairly, arbitrarily and without warning – META breached its own contracts.
META contends that Block is nothing but a wanton wh0re unworthy of any protection from harm or even being treated like a human being.
Section 230: The Internet’s Iron Dome
Meanwhile Mark Zuckerberg, the Billionaire Boy in the Bubble, is shielded from his own massively destructive mistakes and power-drunk misdeeds by a protective “bubble” – a virtual Iron Dome – enabled by an algorithmic army of bots and fortified by highly paid attorneys, complicit arbitrators and an obscure portion of the Communications Decency Act, 47 USC 230, known simply and ominously as “Section 230.”
In the legal world, Silicon Valley-friendly interpretations of Section 230 have given social media moguls like Zuckerberg that Iron Dome-like protection, letting them groom and doom, exploit, censor, ban and deny many users their right to free speech, access to the “digital town square,” even their right to communicate with loved ones in times of need.
Block’s own Facebook profile was deactivated shortly before her beloved husband of 32 years, Maximillian R. Lobkowicz di Filangieri, had a major ischemic stroke. Meta may not have caused the stroke, but it certainly didn’t help that besides deactivating Blocks Facebook profile and IG account, it also removed her Facebook Messenger and WhatsApp, making it all the more difficult for her to get in touch with loved ones in this cataclysmic crisis.
“That’s Zuckerberg Family Values for you,” remarks Block. “Since 2008, Meta had groomed me and my relatives to communicate via Facebook, then doomed me to deactivation and the rest of us to zero communication.”
When Block asked META to restore her wrongfully deactivated accounts, she was greeted with stony silence, followed by a barrage of defamatory lies. On the advice of counsel, Block took META to arbitration. However, thanks to Section 230’s protective bubble around Boy-Lord Zuckerberg, buoyed by a paid-by-META arbitrator’s unsubtle coaching of META’s Mayer Brown lawyers, Block’s case was unceremoniously and erroneously awarded to META without allowing her – the plaintiff – to utter a word.
Algorithmic Ignorance & Sexual Services
In attempting to defend their indefensible actions and to keep Block’s mouth gagged shut with fabricated scandal, META falsely accused Block of being a sex worker (i.e., prostitute) providing “sexual services” via META sites. Just to set the record straight: Block is not now, nor has she ever been a sex worker, nor did she ever provide “sexual services” through META sites or anywhere else. She is a therapist providing sex therapy, as she was prepared to prove if she had been permitted to present her case. Though she has expressed her political views that consenting adult sex work should be decriminalized, and sex workers have been guests on her show, she herself is not one. Nevertheless, META’s lawyers and the paid-by-META arbitrator colluded to defame Block with the Scarlet Letter of “sex work” – on top of depriving her of her rights – to punish her for blowing the whistle on META’s fraudulent “contracts of adhesion” and its destructive, AI (Artificial Ignorance)-based censorship.
“Like so many other innocent Meta users posting about sex, politics, health and other debatable topics, I am the victim of an algorithm that identified buzz words on my profiles and incorrectly labeled me as being in violation of platform policies,” asserts Block. “Rather than bothering to even try to be fair, Facebook and Instagram just adopted the algorithm’s conclusion as gospel. No human beings even looked at my profiles until I requested arbitration, and then it was the lawyers for META, who simply sought to ratify the algorithm to avoid a cascade of claims against the two platforms for relying solely on these faulty algorithms to police content from people’s profiles. Because the fact of the matter is, as many studies have shown, these powerful algorithms are notoriously faulty.”
Next Legal Move – Motion to Vacate
Bullied but not beaten, Block is now taking META’s “bull” by the horns, filing a Motion to Vacate their deeply flawed Arbitration Award, in pro per.
Block’s motion maintains that not only was the Arbitrator biased, prejudicially squeamish about basic sex education, ignorant of algorithmic error rates and disingenuous about Facebook’s vast and unique social media power, he was also “without legal authority” to rule on Block’s case based on Facebook’s and Instagram’s contracts.
Therefore, Block asserts, “the Arbitration Award must be vacated.”
Free Speech Woman vs. Zuck the META Cuck
“One of our most valuable rights as Americans is Freedom of Speech,” Block proclaims as “Free Speech Woman” (her Halloween 2024 costume). “Most nations don’t grant Free Speech to their citizens, but we Americans (supposedly) do. It’s as close as our secular government gets to sacred. In 1789, We the American People received the Bill of Rights’10 Amendments, rather like Moses receiving the 10 Commandments. Our First Amendment right to Freedom of Speech has been revered by the world, but it has long been under attack from both the Right and the so-called Left – now on a Meta-scale.
“Whether you’re talking about sex, politics, equality, health or Palestine, power-drunk social media moguls like Mark Zuckerberg and Elon Musk pervert the very phrase ‘free speech,’ twisting it into its Orwellian opposite, literally getting away with digital murder every day.”
https://drsusanblock.com/meta-pr-2
Here are a few of Dr. Block’s observations about Stormy, Trump, spanking, kink, fetishes and humiliation quoted in The Mirror story:
“When somebody spanks somebody else, they’re turning the tables. [Stormy Daniels] is a younger person, she’s smaller in height, less powerful in status, so she’s turning the tables on Trump… and it’s very satisfying for us as an audience, and for him, it might be a turn-on because he’s so used to people kissing his a– and now here’s someone spanking his a–.”
Block referred to the incident as a ‘sex game’ – one that they’re continuing to play. “They’re still playing this sex game. They’re just playing it in court and the realm of public opinion. He wanted to keep it private, but he didn’t succeed in that. The game is right in front of us, and it’s very titillating.”
“Humans are always titillated by hearing about sex stories from the powerful, from Clinton to Gary Hart, whether we find it appalling or [feel] ‘go for it.’ Usually it’s been consensual, though not always, but, usually, it is something we can laugh about without guilt and enjoy ourselves.”
“Because it seems he was a little tyrant since he was a kid – his mother was ill and his father was gone – so my guess is he wasn’t spanked or even punished very much so there might be a part of him that liked it, that found it exciting that the tables are turned.”
“She spanked the obnoxiousness out of him for at least 10 minutes, then she went to the bathroom, and he went right back to his old way; that’s probably when the spell was broken.”
“A lot of times people in positions of power do get turned on by having the tables turned sexually, want to keep it private… Often we get excited and, even if we don’t like it, or feel it’s bad, or humiliating, we may be turned on by it. Because [this incident] was private, he wouldn’t feel humiliated [in a hotel bedroom], but in the courtroom, I’m sure he did feel humiliated to hear all of this.”
“For him, it was foreplay. For her, it was a joke.”
“I’m kinda impressed by the idea that this person from the sexuality field, the ‘porn star,’ can bring down the past president,”
To read or listen to the entire Mirror article, go to https://www.themirror.com/news/us-news/donald-trump-stormy-daniels-kinky-476856
PR: https://drsusanblock.com/stormy-mirror
“Where the State of the Sexual Union (SOTSU) is concerned, no one is better qualified than America’s leading sexologist, Dr. Susan Block,” Hartley proclaims.
Whether you loved, hated or slept through the President's State of the Union, don't miss Dr. Suzy's State of the SEXUAL union address 2024.
Best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure, longtime broadcaster and cultural commentator, as well as an award-winning sexologist and sex therapist, Dr. Susan Block, aka Dr. Suzy, launches her 2024 SOTSU “Sermon on the Mound” – usually inspired by Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech reimagined as “I Have a Fantasy” – with a Biden-ish spin, mirroring his SOTU 2024’s series of “I See a Future” visions for her own bonoboësque vision of a more equal, more free, make-love-not-war tomorrow.
I see a future where good clean consensual sex is not considered dirty.
I see a future where peace through pleasure is honored over war for profit.
I see a future where sex education and science are valued over ignorance, superstition and violent religious fundamentalism.
I see a future where ecosexuality is more popular than ammosexuality and war porn.
I see a future where women’s rights are respected more than faith-based forced breeding.
I see a future where we have a Ceasefire Now and Permanently in Gaza, the West Bank, Ukraine, Russia, Africa, America and around the world, where Jews and Muslims, Christians, Hindus, Buddhists, atheists and everyone else will be free and will “study war no more.”
I see a future where we practice the Bonobo Way of female empowerment, male well-being, sharing resources and peace through pleasure… and stop acting like baboons!
Click the pic above to listen to Dr. Susan Block’s Full 2024 State of the Sexual Union address on WCAP
“I’m ready to vote for you for President now, Dr. Suzy,” Hartley exclaims at the climax of her vision for the future. “You have by far the best platform of any of the candidates this year, which isn’t saying much, but you really knocked it out of the park!”
Then the SOTSU turns into a sort of Meet the Press where Hartley asks Dr. Suzy questions on a variety of topics within the “meeting ground of sex, politics and culture which,” he opines, “I believe Dr. Suzy covers and handles better than anyone in the present contemporary scene.”
Subjects include:
-Anti-Abortion Crusaders who fetishize the fetus and eroticize the embryo, but once you’re born, you’re over the hill to them – and how now that they killed Roe vs. Wade, they’re going after contraception and whatever power over our sex lives they can grab.
-The Christofascist Supremes – Since Federalist Society powerbroker-to-the-Supremes Leonard Leo owns a mansion in the WCAP broadcast range, Dr. Suzy addresses him personally: We see you, Leonard Leo, trying to take America back to a time like The Handmaid’s Tale, stripping sex of recreation for the sake of procreation – forced breeding – so that the poor can bear cannon fodder for the military and cogs in the wheels of capitalism – and the rich can have grandchildren to inherit their billions. For that perk and others, those billionaires get to bribe the reactionary Supremes that you choose - Brett “Beer Pong” Kavanaugh, Amy Coney “Handmaid” Barrett and Neil “Handman to the Billionaires” Gorsuch – ganging up with Sam “Leaky” Alito, Clarence “Uncle” Thomas and John “Citizens United” Roberts to overturn Roe V Wade, restrict our sexuality, free big business from any restrictions whatsoever, and throw the American people under the bus.
Anti-Sex “Feminists” – Dr. Suzy and Hartley talk about the erotophobia (fear of healthy sex) on the Right and Left, from the #MeToo activists who have done great things, but could learn something from the female-empowered bonobos – that female empowerment is intrinsically connected to nurturing male well-being – to the anti-sex “feminists” paid by Rightwing thinktanks to make convoluted arguments to keep most women (excepting them, of course) knocked up and broke.
-Ammosexual War Porn – From American War Profiteers to the NRA to the young troops of the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF), modern death-dealers are using “Sex As a Weapon,” tapping into our frustrated, denigrated sex drives like never before, using sex to sell and promote phallic missiles, climactic explosions, mass murder and apartheid, even genocide. Warmongers have tried to “sex up” fighting and weaponry since the beginning of war but, but the IDF’s dark, depraved, dystopian, wildly ammosexual and sadistic war porn is off the charts, far more demented than George W. Bush’s P.O.W. Porn at Abu Ghraib – and that’s just what the Israelis themselves show openly on their own channels. Plus, why are so many incels – spawned by the denigration of lust and elevation of greed – so ammosexual? War porn harms (and often kills) its victims, as well as its perpetrators, and also traumatizes those of us who watch – by choice or by chance – transforming the populace into War Porn Voyeurs.
-The Burning Soldier – Can self-immolation illuminate dehumanization? Can suicide help to stop a genocide? Dr. Suzy contrasts S. Airman Aaron Bushnell tragic but sane sacrifice to “Free Palestine” from ammosexual war crimes and domestic mass murders committed by PTSD-wracked veterans of America’s many wars.
Censorship by Bot: Dr. Suzy is taking META to arbitration for their wrongful deactivation and algorithmic, anti-sex, dictatorial, technocratic dehumanization. Save the Date: June 26, 2024 for the Suzy vs. Zuck the Cuck Showdown.
#GoBonobos for a Sex-Positive, Antiwar, Free Speech, Pro-Bonobo Future!
Listen and continue reading: https://drsusanblock.com/active-radio-4
Subjects of discussion include:
Dr. Suzy’s Philadelphia upbringing, family, Yale University education and other early influences on her life, loves and work as a sexologist and sex therapist in private practice.
Phone Sex Therapy and video therapy with the Dr. Susan Block Institute (where Coralyn is a therapist).
Bonobo apes, Dr. Suzy’s book and her philosophy of the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure (bonobos don’t kill each other!), female empowerment, male well-being, sharing, caring and lots of great sex!
Dr. Suzy’s relationship with Pr. Maximillian R. Lobkowicz, aka “Capt’n Max,” her husband of 31 years, executive producer of The Dr. Susan Block Show, publisher of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure, Dr. Block’s Speakeasy Journal and many other publications, and co-host with Dr. Suzy of F.D.R. radio.
Dr. Suzy’s definitions of “Sexual Fetishes,” “Phone Sex,” “Striptease,” “Spanking” and “Cuckolding” published in the Wiley-Blackwell Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality.
Censorship in America, YouTube’s termination and META’s deactivation of Dr. Suzy’s various accounts and channels, and how she is taking META to arbitration—and YouTube will be next!
Vice TV’s new documentary on Dr. Suzy and Bonoboville (including an appearance from Coralyn at the Bonoboville Reunion) which is “salacious, suspicious and rather sanctimonious,” inciting anti-sex comments, especially compared to the shameless sex-positivity of the #1 Nielsen-rated documentaries Dr. Suzy did with HBO.
How to balance your personal sexual needs with respect for the so-called *morals* of your more prudish family—especially if you live with them!
Dr. Suzy‘s world-famous bacchanalian orgy shows.
How to prevent our erotic humanity from being destroyed by the billionaires and their bots.
Other topics include the power of kink, masturbation, sexual fantasies, cuckolding, relationship counseling, religion, fantasy roleplay, virginity, erotophobia, taboo thoughts, mother issues, Yale thongs, Bedtime Stories for Adults, The 10 Commandments of Pleasure, embracing your sexuality and more!
more here: https://drsusanblock.com/embrace
“The practice of sex therapy is changing,” says Dr. Susan Block about her groundbreaking approach. “30 years ago, when I was just starting to conduct therapy sessions over the phone, no one else was doing it, and some of my colleagues were appalled. Gradually, they realized it’s safer, more convenient, intimate, private, better for the environment and available to anyone with a phone worldwide, and started doing it themselves. Nowadays, tele-therapy or phone therapy and phone sex therapy are as common as in-person sessions. However, my unique brand of therapy allows clients to talk about ANYTHING. We are not the ‘thought police,’ and we believe in the value of talking about what’s on your mind with someone who can help you handle it. Most find this unconventional approach liberating and effective, but some—like Vice—see it as ‘controversial’.”
With unfettered access, Vice TV ventured deep inside the Dr. Susan Block Institute for the Erotic Arts & Sciences and Dr. Suzy’s Speakeasy in Bonoboville. Filmmakers documented two days in the life of Dr. Suzy, her husband Max and their merry band of bonoboësque collaborators and volunteers. Vice even takes viewers into the lives and homes of real phone sex therapy clients of the Institute who discuss how phone sex therapy has helped them.
Dr. Suzy’s playful, mindful techniques come to life in the invisible, intimate and often very healing realms of the telephone, as well as in the extended “capitalist socialist” community she calls “Bonoboville,” which exists in virtual reality as well as regular reality.
Part of the “Vice Guide to Sex” series, the episode climaxes with a bacchanalian “Bonoboville Reunion” of artists, kinksters, actors, comedians, political activists, friends and lovers in the “Womb Room” sanctuary of the “Irreverend” Dr. Susan Block’s very special “Church” of the Bonobo Way in the “Eco Village” of Bonoboville centered around her philosophy of peace through pleasure, female empowerment, male well-being, ecosexuality, friendliness, inclusivity and sharing resources.
Though the Vice piece touches upon Block’s philosophy, it focuses on the “controversies” as well as the erotic action, packing into the 17-and-a-half-minute piece much nude cavorting, while just managing to stay within YouTube’s vague but unforgiving “community guidelines.”
Taboo body parts are revealed but concealed by a whitish film. “If you squint, it looks like the editors must have ejaculated all over everyone’s nipples and genitals, and some butt crack, depending on the angle,” quips Block. “It’s funny because the Vice cameramen really focused on the nudity in Bonoboville, almost like they were trying to shoot porn, only to hand the footage over to editors who then censored it in this eerie, dehumanizing but still provocative way. It’s digital ejaculation censorship. They do seem to love that white stuff. It’s all over a painting of Marilyn Monroe, her breasts and even her face.”
Was it worth it?
“It’s a great honor and privilege to be the focus of a Vice TV documentary, reaching their huge viewership of millions,” says Block. “Their spin, however, is pretty salacious, suspicious and a little sanctimonious. After all, they call themselves ‘Vice,” and present my work as a kind of ‘vice.’ They’re more sex-positive than most major media, but with a dash of disapproval. And it’s not just the sex. Much of our art is censored, as is our politics. They also keep changing the title, making it sleazier with each alteration. I’ve complained to the producer, but he says there’s nothing I can do, as all the Vice marketing team is looking for are ‘views’… and not getting sued.”
Besides garnering over 180,000 views, the new Vice documentary has inspired hundreds of passionate comments, ranging from great praise, support, tributes and testimonials to thundering rage, outrage, disgust, condemnation, denigration, slut-shaming, elder abuse, misogyny, thought-policing, prayer-reciting and even violent threats.
The ongoing, name-calling debate between lovers and haters of Dr. Suzy’s “controversial” phone sex therapy, kink-positive Bonoboville community and Bonobo Way philosophy is a sign of the times, elucidating a views-driven cultural divide in America and around the world that questions the very nature of sexual health and mental well-being.
Bonoboville Reunion guests include Daniele Watts (aka DaLove), Chef Belive, Amor Hilton, Sally Mullins, Man-Pet, Shannon Coronado, Mistress Mina Nietsche de Sade, Nova, Kacy T-Girl, Onyx Muse, Rhiannon Aarons, Coralyn Jewel, Erikka Rijks, Ikkor the Wolf, Luzer Twersky, Abby Martin, Mike Prysner, Stan Kent, Cyn Yen, and John Barrymore.
Other segments show flashbacks of Dr. Suzy’s shows with Too $hort, Dr. Christopher Ryan, Nancy Friday and Dave Bautista.
Susan M Block, Ph.D., aka “Dr. Suzy,” is an internationally renowned sexologist best-known for her groundbreaking HBO specials. She has hosted The Dr. Susan Block Show for almost 35 years, and is the best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure. A magna cum laude Yale graduate, Counterpunch columnist, DomCon and AASECT lecturer, and champion of sex education, bonobo conservation and freedom of speech, recently featured in Vice TV’s Sex Before the Internet, interviewed on Abby Martin’s Dosed and nominated for the “Most Popular Sex Educator” Urban X Award, Dr. Block hosts F.D.R. Radio every Saturday night with her husband of 31 years, publisher and producer Maximillian Lobkowicz di Filangieri. She’s also been featured on NPR, Oprah, Health, The Doctors, and many others. But she’ll never quit her “day job” as director and chief therapist with the Dr. Susan Block Institute, helping couples, singles and groups to explore, enjoy, take responsibility for and live their best sexual lives.
“I just hope that, despite—or because of—its flaws, this Vice piece inspires some viewers to check out our own shows and books and join us in Bonoboville, as well as encouraging people who need help to call the Institute for private therapy whenever they need to talk.”
Read more & see the pics: https://drsusanblock.com/vice
See the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XCpETHZzHpE
“I’m thrilled to be among such illustrious nominees,” says Dr. Suzy. “In this erotophobic era of sex education suppression, banning books, anti-sex social media censorship, repression of sexual expression, defunding the Kinsey Institute, firing sex educators and rendering The Handmaid’s Tale all too real, it’s great to be honored for our work… and play. Thank you, Urban X Awards, for your courage and great taste.”
Susan M Block, Ph.D., aka “Dr. Suzy,” is an internationally acclaimed sexologist best-known for her groundbreaking HBO specials. She is currently featured in the new Vice TV documentary, “Dr. Suzy’s Controversial Phone Sex Therapy.” She has hosted The Dr. Susan Block Show for almost 35 years, and is the best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure. A magna cum laude Yale graduate, Counterpunch columnist, DomCon and AASECT lecturer, and champion of sex education, bonobo conservation and freedom of speech, recently featured in Vice TV’s Sex Before the Internet and Abby Martin’s Dosed. Dr. Block hosts F.D.R. Radio every Saturday night with her husband of 31 years, publisher and producer Maximillian Lobkowicz di Filangieri. She’s also been featured on NPR, Oprah, Health, The Doctors, and many other media outlets. But she’ll never quit her “day job” as director and chief therapist with the Dr. Susan Block Institute, helping couples, singles and groups to explore, enjoy, take responsibility for and live their best sexual lives.
Read more: https://drsusanblock.com/urban-x-awards-sex-educator
“HBO was the place to go for adult entertainment that was as smart as it was sexy in those spicy, sex-exploratory years surrounding the turn of the 21st century,” explains Dr. Suzy. “In many ways, HBO’s Real Sex was unprecedented in television history and unsurpassed ever since. It also happened to be open-minded, informative, educational, empathetic, relatively nonjudgmental, funny and a lot of fun.”
The feeling was mutual. HBO called Dr. Suzy “radio’s sexiest, funniest, most outrageous sex therapist… if conversation is a sex act, then this Yale graduate has a very talented tongue.”
Vice’s “Sex on TV” opens with footage of Dr. Suzy’s signature “Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners…” which leads into her monologue on ethical hedonism that also kicks off Real Sex 25. The moment is followed by a present-day interview with Dr. Suzy, where she states that Real Sex was “a sexual revolution—for television.”
After making cameo appearances on a few of the very first Real Sex shows, Dr. Suzy was first featured on Real Sex 11 in 1995, then again on Real Sex 25 in 1999. In between her Real Sex segments, HBO launched two half-hour spin-offs hosted by Dr. Suzy, Radio Sex TV (1997) and Radio Sex TV 2: Off the Dial (1998), all about “Sex. Fun. Wisdom.” Both were #1-rated Nielsen specials.
“Sex on TV” also shows a Real Sex 11 clip of Dr. Suzy broadcasting her live syndicated radio show from bed 28 years ago, juxtaposed with her present-day studio as she broadcasts alongside her husband of over 30 years (also appearing in Radio Sex TV and her Real Sex segments), Max Lobkowicz, on F.D.R. Radio, where she still helps callers with their love lives, still educating, exploring and sharing “sex… fun… wisdom.”
The episode also includes interviews with former head of HBO Documentary Films and Real Sex executive producer Sheila Nevins, former HBO President Michael Fuchs, Real Sex lead producer Patti Kaplan, producer/director Deb Wasser, and other members of the female-led Real Sex production team, along with appearances by sex educator Tristan Taormino (another Real Sex featured guest), as well as comedians Nikki Glaser, Lunell, Joanna Briley, Zach Noe Towers, and adult performer Silvia Saige, all of whom say they *grew up on* Real Sex when it aired on HBO, and a few of whom would love to *bring it back* in some form.
In her Vice interview, Dr. Suzy talks about how Real Sex greatly expanded her audience, enabling her to reach people all over the world, as it helped so many others to share their sexual experience, insight and joy via this unique and remarkable TV show.
See the Vice TV interview: https://drsusanblock.com/sex-before-the-internet
See the Real Sex and Radio Sex TV shows: https://drsusanblock.com/hbo
“We had Joe Biden’s State of the Union last week. We had Vladimir Putin’s address. Well, those were just amateurs,” opined Hartley Pleshaw by way of introduction. “Today you’re going to get what we consider to be the most important state of the union – State of the Sexual Union, I should say – address of 2023, the one and only Dr. Susan Block… sexologist supreme.”
The two then discussed a variety of topics within the “meeting ground of sex, politics and culture which” Hartley says, “I believe [Dr. Susan Block] covers and handles better than anyone in the present contemporary scene.”
Just before the end, at the climax of the show, Dr. Suzy delivered the heart of her 2023 SOTSU address, her passionate “I Have a Fantasy” speech, inspired by Dr. Martin Luther King’s iconic 1963 “I Have a Dream” speech, updated for 2023.
Some of the subjects discussed include:
-War: Right after Dr. Suzy’s 2022 SOTSU address, Russia bombed Ukraine, and now America and most of Europe are at war with Russia, putting much of the world on a warpath which is the opposite of the Bonobo Way, the path of peace through pleasure. This warpath, mapped out for us by the war profiteers within the Miltary-Industrial Complex, dominates our budget, our hearts and minds and some of our bodies. During this year of war, Dr. Suzy responded with “Make Kink Not War” at her Yale Reunion, DomCon and on FDR, one of her key “fantasies” being to replace the Capitalocene, which values war for profit, with the Bonobocene, valuing female empowerment, male well-being, sharing resources, good sex and peace through pleasure. That’s one reason the theme of Dr. Suzy’s annual presentation at DomCon 2022 was Make Kink Not War: Be Bonobo.
-Censorship by Bot: The “Artificial Intelligence” (AI)—or as Dr. Suzy calls it, “Artificial Ignorance”—that terminated The Dr. Susan Block Show channel (and many other great shows and channels) on YouTube, and her remarkably effective “Block Curse” on YouTube CEO and Censor-in-Chief Susan Wojcicki who subsequently resigned. Nevertheless, despite the power of “Block Magic,” she says that Free Speech—in terms of noncorporate sex education and political expression—is still being unfairly censored in our more and more corporate, and less and less human (let alone humane) social media.
-Real Sex: Hartley dubs Dr. Suzy the “Official Sexologist of Active Radio” and commends her recent appearance in Vice TV’s Sex before the Internet episode 5, explores how HBO’s Real Sex revolutionized the portrayal of sex on television.
-DeSantis: Prompted by Hartley’s questions about the book-burning Florida Governor’s “Don’t Say Gay” programs, coupled with his 2024 U.S. Presidential ambitions, Dr. Suzy delves into the fascism-lite “phony cafone” populism and sadistic personality traits of her fellow Yale grad (Class of 2001, also a member in the infamous Delta Kappa Epsilon fraternity, like G.W. Bush), Ron DeSantis and his personal record of torture and deception when he was a CIA lawyer stationed at Guantanamo prison as described in an interview conducted by Mike Prysner (the marvelous Abby Martin’s awesome husband) with one of his former prisoners.
-Trump: Hartley asks Dr. Suzy to address sexual conservatives’ support for Trump, a sexual libertine, to which she replies, “In a word, it’s hypocrisy,” then talks about how a libertine created a S. Supreme Court of the Religious Right to rule a citizenry that’s less religious than ever.
-Drag: When Hartley asks Dr. Suzy her views on the “Republican jihad about drag queens,” she discusses the history of ”drag” from prehistoric times to Shakespeare to now, and how closeted crossdressing, bisexual desires, erotophobia and shame mix with Rightwing politicians’ cynical and divisive approach to this “culture wedge” issue, creating a ridiculous yet very dangerous anti-Drag Queen/anti-trans crusade that has triggered mass shootings and other violence.
-“I Have a Fantasy”: Dr. Suzy delivers her latest rendition of “I Have a Fantasy,” inspired by MLK’s “I Have a Dream.”
Click here for a list of her 2023 fantasies as reprised on FDR: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-sotsu
Listen to Dr. Suzy’s 2023 State of the Sexual Union address and chat with Hartley Pleshaw on Active Radio WCAP 980-AM: https://drsusanblock.com/active-radio-3
On this broadcast, Martin and Prysner ask Block for her unique sexological perspective of current events, especially violence, war and politics—which is tied to Martin’s opening question, “Would you say that America has a healthy relationship to sex and our bodies?”
Martin begins with a riveting reading from Block’s acclaimed 2001 essay, “Sex Not Bombs” in which she compares the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Centers to a “castration” of America’s great phallic towers of power. Then Martin and Prysner ask Block for her views on sexuality and violence in America, and the discussion delves into the relatively liberated Native American tribes vs. the strict, punishing Puritans who invaded this land and the Neo-Puritans on the Supreme Court now controlling it. As Block sees it, the American denigration of natural diverse sexuality—sex for recreation, not just procreation—has played a significant part in our high levels of violence, misogyny, mass murder, ammosexual incels on the march, perma wars, “forced breeding” and “forced feeding,” along with the increasing mechanization, militarization and polarization that is engineering the economic and ecological collapse of America and perhaps human civilization. A bleak horizon, but Block sees a glimmer of hope in our kissing cousins, the “Make Love Not War” bonobos, and believes that following a “Bonobo Way” of peace through pleasure, female empowerment, male well-being and sharing resources, could go a long way toward solving some of these problems.
The discussion, which includes calls from the audience, runs over two hours. This marks the first time that Martin has interviewed Block, though Block interviewed Martin on “The Dr. Susan Block Show” in 2015, and Martin’s brother (who makes a quick appearance on this show) Robbie Martin interviewed Block on Media Roots about two years ago. Abby and Mike both make a brief appearance on Block’s Bonoboville Reunion show released in the Spring of 2022.
Episode #22 of “Dosed” is now available on all major streaming platforms.
Listen on Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/podcast-episode/podcast/id1617662634?i=1000590355918&ign-itscg=30200&ign-itsct=lt_p
Listen on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/3UzXuWVhQQXfiZVvXz8yle?utm_medium=share&utm_source=linktree
Listen on Podbean: https://twitter.com/drsuzy/status/1603967496762949638
Listen on Callin: https://www.callin.com/episode/22-sexologist-dr-susan-block-awCkYBHuef
For all other listening platforms, visit linktr.ee/dosedshow.
~The ongoing Coronapocalypse, and how singles and couples are navigating the difficulties and opportunities of pandemic sex...
~2022 improvement: We don’t have a grifting, sociopathic narcissist in the White House, but we do have a geriatric neoliberal corporate military industrial complex cheerleader, which is only marginally better...
~The 1/6/21 Insurrection and its noxious aftermath...
~The Afghan war and the monstrous American Military-Industrial Complex...
~The Massage Parlor Massacre and the general rise in misogynistic ammosexual violence and discourse...
~Andrew Cuomo, #MeToo and the backlash...
~Joe Rogan, Jordan Peterson and the masculinist incel movement...
~Why distinguished leftist journalist Chris Hedges “plague of pornography” campaign is dangerously misguided...
~Neopuritanism rising on the Right and the Left...
~Toxic masculinity and toxic femininity...
~The American Conservative and the misogynistic Sexual Counterrevolution...
~The atrocity of Julian Assange still being imprisoned...
~Small wins for sex last year: Onlyfans flipped and Stormy Daniels won her suit against Michael Avenatti...
~The ominous anti-sex, anti-Free Speech “EARN IT” act is worse than the proven-to-be-bad SESTA/FOSTA acts...
~Happy Lupercalia, the original pagan Valentine’s Day, and Happy World Bonobo Day! Help save humanity’s closest great ape cousins, the bonobo chimpanzees, from extinction – and release your inner bonobo for better sex and a better life...
~Follow The Bonobo Way of ecosexuality, female empowerment and male well-being, antiwar activism, sharing, caring and peace through pleasure...
For more click: https://drsusanblock.com/active-radio-2
Listen to My “I Have a Fantasy” speech on FDR Radio’s Valentine Fantasies & Neopuritanical Nightmares: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-valentine
Topics include sexology & sex therapy; The Bonobo Way of female empowerment, male well-being & peace through pleasure; Sperm Wars & the insufferable “Billionaire Dicks in Space Race” vs. Bonobos Penis-Fencing; the legendary Dr. Susan Block Show; the founding of Counterpunch & the late great Alexander Cockburn; plus pervy police raids on Block Studios—including one on the day of this interview! More about this most recent ridiculous police raid coming soon
Listen: https://washingtonbabylon.com/eleven-minutes-with-sexologist-su
Listen: https://drsusanblock.com/active-radio
After the Trump Riots and before the Biden inauguration, Robbie and Susan discuss the rioters’ sexual motivations and the insurrection itself as an “orgy of violence”; the growing popularity of cuckolding, practiced actively by Trump operatives, Paul Manafort and Roger Stone, and the hypocritical weaponizing of the term “cuck”; the destructive effects of SESTA/FOSTA laws on sex workers’ lives and on all of our Freedom of Speech, and the looming threat of SISEA (Stop Internet Exploitation Act); Vice President Kamala Harris’ worrisome record as California Attorney General aggressively prosecuting sex workers and Backpage; the “Chilling Effect” on the porn industry and all forms of erotic expression from “set up” cases like Max Hardcore’s (on The Dr. Susan Block Show shortly after his release from prison in 2011); the benefits of lust over greed; the inspirational example of our close great ape cousins, the bonobos, and The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure, and much more.
Media Roots Radio is a “non-partisan, radical political podcast focusing on foreign policy, the police state, and social issues” co-hosted by filmmaker Robbie Martin and his sister, journalist Abby Martin, interviewed on The Dr. Susan Block Show in 2014, host of The Empire Files and formerly of Breaking the Set (RT).
Dr. Susan Block is an award-winning sexologist, talk show host, best-selling author of The Bonobo Way, advocate for bonobo conservation, columnist and sex therapist in private practice.
Listen to the interview here. https://soundcloud.com/media-roots/sex-workers-battled-big-tech-first-obscenity-laws-cuckolding-in-the-trump-era-w-dr-susan-block
More info here: https://drsusanblock.com/media-roots
Click here to listen:
https://anchor.fm/kemtoptalk/episodes/KEM-TopTalk-Interviews-and-Discussions---Marabelle-Blue-Interviews-Dr--Suzy-Block-edlml7
or here: http://kinkemag.com/kem-toptalk-radio-show/kem-toptalk-interviews-and-discussions-features-dr-suzy-block/
Starting with Dr. Suzy's early career as a radio talk show host, author and therapist pursuing her doctorate in psychology, Marabelle delves into her development of “telephone sex therapy” as a viable therapeutic alternative, combining traditional sex therapy and relationship counseling with healing-oriented phone sex, erotic hypnosis, bonobo liberation therapy and other methods.
Dr. Suzy further discusses the benefits of phone sex therapy, as well as webcam and sext therapy, in a digital world, and how the “erotic theater of the mind” can mitigate the deeply-ingrained sense of shame, repression and confusion that clients feel about their sexual desires.
The two also talk about the advantages of attending kink-positive events like DomCon where Dr. Suzy will be this year’s Mistress of Ceremonies. KEM Top Talk streams on a variety of platforms including Spotify, iTunes, and RadioPublic, and you can check it out here: https://drsusanblock.com/kem
Watch & Listen: https://youtu.be/TxSVM-_e-0w
Thanks to Redditor u/Papa200034 for this week's episode art, "Study." You can find more of his work on Instagram @_afnan.art.
We feature audio in this episode from Redditors u/Eves-garden, u/wasawaynowimback, u/The__Other__Guy, u/everdistant_utopia, u/garden_slumber, u/igrokyou, u/AnAudioDilletante, u/LoveAtFirstMoan, u/Skitty_GWA, u/Xyta_Midnyte, u/Crescent_Spoon, u/tarkustrooper, u/heartdamage, u/VexxingCat, and u/mymbling.
Among the voluminous topics covered: Dr. Suzy’s path from Yale University to becoming a world renowned sexologist and social commentator, what she has discovered about “The Bonobo Way”—the sex lives of Bonobo Monkeys and what we should learn from them, what percentage of women are orgasmic today versus years ago, “outercourse” as contrasted with intercourse, the biggest sex organ of the body, dealing with men’s fear of lack of size, eco-sexuality, what is “ethical hedonism”, pan sexuality, plus much, much more. This is ain’t going to be boring and will be an instant Sex in the Pews Classic.
NSFW or children. Strong Sexual Content, Language, Intellect and, Humor.
A portion of all proceeds donated to combat human sex slave trafficking and genital mutilation.
If you love Red Wings (hold the jalapeño), you’re already salivating. If you don’t, well, you may wish to be excused from this berry-stained episode of Sex Calls.
Though it’s gorily perfect for Halloween!
“Steve” is calling for my help with his fetish for “period sex.” Dr. Suzy as “Aunt Ruby” to the rescue! There’s nothing wrong with having sex – even cunnilingus, aka “red wings,” as Steve confesses he enjoys – when a woman is menstruating. In fact, it can be wonderful – albeit a bit messy – especially for the menstruating woman.
After all, period cramps can be painful, and an orgasm is an amazingly effective, organic painkiller.
Parting the Red Sea with Passion…
And then there’s the almost Biblical, extremely taboo aspect of period sex which I address in my Esther Story featured in The Erotic Edge, mingling the “blood of my affliction with the juice of my affection.”
Period sex can also be a “rare” pleasure for the Bloody Mary-loving man, a man like Steve, the primal wildness, the forbidden (sometimes called “unclean“) flavors, the “war paint” aftermath and especially the earthly, womanly “scent.” Some guys even feel it gives them super powers.
Steve’s “concern” is that he is a self-described “sexually active male,” chowing down on “red wings” at two or three different restaurants – I mean, with two or three menstruating women at a time – well, not at the same time (that would be quite the Halloween gore fest!), but within a few days of each other.
At least Steve wears condoms, but still, blood sports are inherently dangerous for a range of reasons. For one thing, it’s “unsanitary,” I caution our bloodied love warrior. It’s also rather unsafe sex. “I believe you should respect your turn-ons,” I advise, “but I also believe you should respect your life… and their lives.”
Do you think Steve is weird? Perhaps, but this Red Wing Gourmet savors the fact that not many men have a taste for strawberry tamales – partly because it makes his lovers love him even more. “You found a niche,” I concur, “kind of like ‘niche marketing’” – especially when you’re as much on the “meat” market as Steve says he is.
Nevertheless, “everything in moderation,” I caution Red Sea surfer Steve. “Be an ethical hedonist… “While I want you to enjoy your fetish, I hope you can treat these women as real human beings and not just as founts of bloody passion.”
Those last four words seem to give Steve an instant erection. Nevertheless, he agrees that a monogamous relationship would be safest for having monthly period sex with the kind of wild abandon he adores.
Like most Sex Calls, this one is timeless, though it does reference my neopuritan nemesis Dr. Laura Schlessinger. I’m also wearing a cap HBO gave me while my HBO special (rated #1 at the time), was running, so it was probably broadcast live around 1998.
Will Steve find himself the ultimate red wing(s)? Even if he does, will he be satisfied with just one? Find out in this vintage clip from the “SEX CALLS” broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on our live Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For current shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com.
Watch the clip and continue reading: https://drsusanblockinstitute.com/red-wings
“I’m fearful of sex,” Angel confesses to me, her Mother Confessor, “and I’d like to be more sexual and sensual.”
Fear and sex have had a deeply intertwined relationship ever since our prehistoric ancestors mated in pleasure surrounded by predators right up to the rampant erotophobia of our sex-negative society. Fear can be an aphrodisiac, but it can also be a passion-killer, morphing into its irritating, enervating, party-pooping cousins, anxiety and paranoia. Angel is experiencing all of the above.
Angel’s 29 years old and practically a virgin, having only been with two men, and her second, current relationship is more about exhibitionism, voyeurism and teasing than *regular* sex. She says she and her lover use condoms, but they don’t have intercourse. He also has other partners (he’s a bit of a swinger), which bothers Angel… and turns her on at the same time. Angel may be inexperienced, but she’s kind of kinky.
Fearful of Sex: Anxiety or Aphrodisiac?
She’s also rather religious (with a name like Angel, it’s to be expected), but hers is not a typical religious household because her entire Christian family loves The Dr. Susan Block Show (guess that makes it a “family show”), especially her younger, more sexually experienced sister who likes my attitude and my “outfits.”
Speaking of outfits, it happens to be my 5th wedding anniversary (with my beloved Capt’n Max!), so I’m all decked out in my white bridal crinoline, pearls and wedding veil topped by a sparkling tiara. Its fun, but it’s also always a little scary to be a bride (or groom)!
To contrast with all that pure white, I wield a rather impure, black leather riding crop, twirling it like a baton as Angel tells me about her devout Christian Mom who actually whips her Dad as they roleplay. Well, the religious are often the wild ones. Angel’s swinger/voyeur/lover, whom she describes as the embodiment of “temptation,” sounds like a bit of a snake, and my own pet Akeeta corn snake Eve just happens to be slithering all over my body to demonstrate.
Will Angel open up despite her fear of sex – or because of it? How can such a sweet inexperienced, trusting spirit handle this seductive player who is “playing a dangerous game”? How can she explore the balance of trust and lust, exhibitionism and voyeurism, safe sex and adventurous fantasy? Watch “Fearful of Sex” and find out!
“Fearful of Sex” is a vintage clip from the “SEX CALLS” broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998) broadcast live from Dr. Suzy’s Speakeasy at the Villa Piacere. This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on my Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For current shows and other events, visit us at DrSusanBlock.com.
Read more and watch the show: https://drsusanblockinstitute.com/fearful-of-sex
Wow, sounds like it takes a LOT of onanistic orgasms to defrost Hot Frost.
Of course, there's nothing wrong with masturbation - even 10 times before breakfast - but since the sizzling Hot Frost frames it as a "problem," I suggest she take up belly dancing.
"That is really cool!" replies Hot Frost who is actually quite cool herself, as well as, well, hot.
I'm glad she likes my idea because it just so happens that I have a couple of sexy and very sensuous belly dancers, the lovely Leela and Salome, as guests on this show, lounging voluptuously in my big broadcast bed like its King Solomon's harem. They agree that belly dancing is a great way to express your sexual energy while you get in shape and socialize. Plus, you get to shake your booty like Leela and Salome in glittering bras and bangles.
Turns out to be the perfect advice for high-energy Hot Frost who happens to be an "erotic dancer." Max and I invite her to visit the show, and several Saturdays later, she actually shows up, looking even sexier than she sounds... but that's another show.
Suffice it to say, it's Erotic Expression in Motion.
“Masturbation Bellydance” is a vintage clip from the “SEX CALLS” broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on our Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For current shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com
Have a question about masturbation? Or is there something else you need to talk about that you can’t talk about anywhere else? Experience Phone Sex Therapy. Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213-291-9497. Hot or Frosty, we’re here for you.
Read more, watch the show and see more Sex Calls: https://drsusanblockinstitute.com/masturbation-bellydance/
A 34-year-old woman who loves men, Jo can only orgasm when thinking about women, and only from oral sex (not intercourse). So, Jo calls me to help her sort it all out, and Oh-My-Goddess, do we!
Do YOU ever have fantasies that you don't really want to act out, but nothing makes you climax like these taboo desires, so you wonder... should you act on them?
This is Jo's dilemma. When she has sex with a man, she can only experience orgasm when he gives her oral pleasure, and as he does that, she imagines that her male lover is a woman.
"Does that mean I'm gay?" she asks me.
It's a simple enough question, but complicated by Jo’s conflicted feelings. Does she *really* want to be with women, or is she enticed by the "forbidden" qualities of lesbian sex, flavored by her devout "Christian" upbringing? When should a fantasy become reality... if ever?
Is Jo simply bisexual? Bi-curious? Or does she really crave "making love to herself” – which appears as same-sex love in the erotic theater of her mind? Is that the hidden meaning of Jo’s bi oral desires? Could real-life, shame-free self-pleasure help Jo discover her deepest orgasmic potential? Watch this riveting Sex Calls clip - featuring me, Jo and my slinky snake Eve - and find out!
"Bi Oral Desires" is a vintage clip from the "SEX CALLS" broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on our Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For current shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com.
Have a question about bisexuality, oral pleasure or solo sex? Or is there something else you need to talk about that you can't talk about anywhere else? Experience Phone Sex Therapy. Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213-291-9497. We're here for you.
Watch: https://drsusanblockinstitute.com/bi-oral
“I’ve had a couple of orgies,” she explains. Wow, 26-years-old and quite the sex party hostess!
The problem, Jessica continues, is that every time she tells a new boyfriend about the orgies, he breaks up with her.
So, she asks me, should she keep her orgiastic exploits a “secret” or find someone who will accept this somewhat taboo part of her?
To Tell or Not to Tell…
That is the question! As I see it, Jessica needs to choose between two schools of sexual adventurism, the European and the American, which break down – more or less – like this:
1) The European Way: You lead a double life and keep your extracurricular secret from your significant other. This is sometimes referred to as cheating, but with the caveat that you will do your utmost to ensure that your partner will never be confronted with the truth. If and when they are, all bets are off. That’s the downside of doing it Euro-style; learning the truth of your partner’s lust can destroy your trust.
2) The American Way: You’re honest about your sexuality, even if it means alienating a potential partner. This might involve engaging in the extracurricular sex with them or just being open about it, even if they don’t join in. I realize that honesty isn’t all that “American” – at least not in politics – but this is how many kinky sex experts differentiate stealthy sex parties (Euro) from honest orgies (USA).
There are probably Asian and African Ways as well, but these seem to break down the basic choices open to Jessica’s conundrum.
Though I choose the “American Way” for myself and generally recommend it to others, I understand and even respect the European “double” lifestyle, despite its inherent dangers. Regardless of the way we choose to mix the flavors of our sex lives with the palate of our day to day, there will always be benefits and pitfalls.
To help her make her own choice, I ask Jessica: Are you the kind of person who likes to share what’s going on in your life with the person you love?
What do you think Jessica says? What way does she choose – European or American? Watch and find out!
“Secret Orgies” is a vintage clip from the “SEX CALLS” broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998) broadcast live from Dr. Suzy’s Speakasy at the Villa Piacere in the Hollywood Hills. This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on one of my Saturday night live shows. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com.
Have a question about group sex? Or is there something else you need to talk about that you can’t talk about anywhere else? Experience Phone Sex Therapy. Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213-291-9497. We’re here for you.
Watch: https://drsusanblockinstitute.com/secret-orgies
Acknowledging Angie's pain, Dr. Block addresses the general discomfort and danger of Reverse Cowgirl. Moreover,Robert's method of doing it gives Angie no leverage or control of his level of penetration. Adding inches to the problem, they both confess, Robert is well-endowed.
Since Angie does like sex from behind and wants to give this a try, Dr. Block suggests they "do" it in steps, first assuming regular Cowgirl, face-to-face with Robert on his back and Angie on top, getting in the groove with lots of lube. Once Angie is very comfortable and Robert is very hard, she can try swiveling around to Reverse Cowgirl, taking her time and taking control, using her thigh muscles to adjust how deeply Robert penetrates her, so it never has to hurt.
Then... Giddyap! Ride 'em Cowgirl!
"Reverse Cowgirl Positioning" is a vintage clip from the "SEX CALLS" broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on Dr. Block's Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. Have a question about sexual positions? Or is there something else you need to talk about that you can't talk about anywhere else? Experience Phone Sex Therapy. Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213-291-9497. We're here for you. For current shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com. For more on sexual positions, go to https://drsusanblock.com/sex-positions.
Can you climax during intercourse with your husband? Watch “How to Orgasm with Your Husband,” a vintage (but pretty timeless!) clip from the "SEX CALLS" broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). Why is it that so many women can have orgasms with ease through solo sex, but not via intercourse with their partners? How can you integrate masturbation into lovemaking? How do you stop worrying about what society or your parents might think of you self-pleasuring? Why do we often hold our breath during sex? How does breathing deeply *into* your pelvis help you to experience orgasm? How do kegel or pubococcygeus (PC muscle) exercises help? Why is it easier for most women to experience orgasm from clitoral stimulation than vaginal penetration? What are "eargasms," "toegasms," and "nipplegasms"? Why is the clitoris, the "pearl of the oyster,” somehow involved in almost any female genital orgasm?
Other subjects: fear of losing control; being patient with yourself and taking the time that you need, masturbation embarrassment; sex as an art form, sex as a spiritual practice and sex as a team sport; "achieving" vs. experiencing orgasm; squeezing and releasing the pubococcygeus (kegel) muscles; why the idea that an orgasm from just penetration is somehow better than a clitoral orgasm just an "Old Husband's Tale"; the importance of lubrication and cunnilingus for female orgasm;
This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on Dr. Block's Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For more on this show, go to https://drsusanblockinstitute.com/orgasm-husband/.
The main subject of discussion is female ejaculation, aka squirting, the orgasmic release of fluids from the urethra. But many people, like Laurie, have questions about it. Is it real? Is it normal? Is it common? Is it *really* just a golden shower? Can any woman ejaculate? Why don't more women actually do it? How do the partners of women who squirt feel about it?
“Female Ejaculation Concerns” is a vintage clip from the "SEX CALLS" broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on Dr. Block's Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. Have a question about female ejaculation or is there something else you need to talk about that you can't talk about anywhere else? Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213-291-9497. We're here for you. See this video here: https://drsusanblockinstitute.com/female-ejaculation-concerns/
Visit us: https://drsusanblockinstitute.com/squirting-world
Subjects of discussion include fantasy roleplay, relationships, age play, taboo turn-ons, erotic obsession, shaving and waxing vs. natural pubic hair, Cougar problems spanking, pigtail fetish, the importance of differentiating between real life and adult fantasies, dressing for sex, playing doctor, erotic domination, bondage, conscious kink, variety, having sex on the dining room table, using tongs as sex toys and appreciating your partner for the adult woman she is, even though you like to fantasize about her being a schoolgirl.
“High Maintenance Roleplay” is a vintage clip from the "SEX CALLS" broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on Dr. Block's Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For current shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com. This video is called "Age Play Issues" on YouTube.
Have a question, confession or fantasy, but need to talk privately? Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213-291-9497. We're here for you. Visit us: https://drsusanblockinstitute.com/fantasy-roleplay
Subjects of discussion include relationships, bisexuality, monogamy, nonmonogamy, ethical hedonism, physical attraction, emotional commitment, self-pleasure and teaching your partner how to please you: “You can give pleasure by giving freedom to be with other people,” says Dr. Block. Also intercourse vs. outercourse and orgasm repression: “You don’t want to close off your options,” Dr. Block determines, “and so you close off your orgasm.”
“Bisexual Monogamy” is a vintage clip from the “SEX CALLS” broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on Dr. Block’s Saturday night live show. For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For current shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com.
Visit us: https://drsusanblockinstitute.com/bisexual-monogamy
Discussion Topics:
• Why we prefer King Arthur’s ROUNDtable to Putin’s long table;
• Why Yale’s “Killer Ape” Anthropology department made we want to major in Theater;
• How Max and I fell in love over our mutual opposition to the popular and horrible first Gulf War, commanded by President George H.W. Bush (Yale, 1948);
• How our love and antiwar fervor grew during the even more horrible wars in Iraq and Afghanistan commanded by George W. Bush (Yale, 1968);
• How George W. Bush’s epic Freudian slip confusing Putin’s invasion of Ukraine with his own invasion of Iraq brought the perma-war full circle;
• Why I become a sexologist;
• How I first learned about bonobos the Make Love Not War great apes, on PBS, and then met some at the San Diego Zoo;
• What are some of the differences between apes and monkeys;
• How human apes are very close genetically to bonobos, common chimps, gorillas and orangutans;
• How bonobos make peace through pleasure;
• How bonobos make love in a Bonobo Sutra of positions, including face-to-face;
• How bonobo female empowerment is supported by male well-being and vice versa;
• Why bonobos (and humans) really enjoy sharing—even with strangers;
• Was Prince Chim, who lived at Yale in the Dr. Robert Yerkes primate center, the first bonobo in the United States?
• What’s SEX got to do with bonobo conflict resolution?
• Why other apes kill each other, and humans kill each other most;
• “Grooming” in primatology vs. the culture wars;
• Why bonobo female orgasm is most common during Hoka Hoka, aka genito-genital rubbing;
• Intercourse vs. Outercourse among bonobos and humans;
• Our competitive “inner chimp” vs. our cooperative “inner bonobo”;
• Nature vs. Nurture and how a bunch of baboons went bonobos;
• Primatologists Dr. Frans de Waal, Dr. Richard Wrangham, Dr. Brian Hare and Vanessa Woods on bonobos and Dr. Robert Sapolsky on baboons;
• Food-sharing and “sex work” among bonobos;
• Tool use and communication among bonobos and common chimps;
• The benefits and drawbacks of Zoos;
• The Lysistrata method vs. the Bonobo Way;
• Yale’s Puritan origins;
• Sex toys, sex education and the Religious Right;
• The true story of the rise & fall of Sex Week at Yale (SWAY), created by Yale students and destroyed by false accusations from well-financed Christofascist forces, including Focus on the Family, and an ex-Yale President’s desire for a scapegoat for the unrelated-to-SWAY bad behavior of powerful Yale fraternities;
• Why anti-abortion laws amount to forced breeding;
• Why I’m against all wars of my lifetime, from America’s War in Vietnam, that I protested pre-Yale, to our current war in Ukraine. Yes, Putin started it, just as Bush invaded Iraq, but we (and NATO) continue it, and now is time for peace negotiations;
• Why bonobos should be part of Peace Studies courses at Yale and other universities;
• How our ammosexual society channels our natural sex drive into violence to the benefit of the weapons industry, the military, the prison system and the police;
• “Make Kink Not War: Be Bonobo” and the Bonobo Way makes its way from our Bonoboville Reunion with Vice to DomCon 2022 to Yale;
• How to avoid catching COVID at all these reunions;
• How New Haven humidity messes with my hair;
• Why bonobos are highly endangered and how we can help save them from extinction (so they can help us save ourselves!): Donate to Lola ya Bonobo, Friends of Bonobos, the Bonobo Conservation Initiative.
• #GoBonobos for Bulldogs… Boola Boola!
• Music: Yale Harkness Tower Bells; The Whiffenpoofs (Yale, 1977); Dr. Oscar Hills (Yale, 1977) on Banjo; Bales-Gitlin Band (Ginny Bales and Jay Gitlin) - “Disco Inferno” & “Johnny B. Goode”
Read more prose & see the photos: https://drsusanblock.com/yale-2022
“Kinky Newlyweds” is a vintage clip from the "SEX CALLS" broadcast archives of The Dr. Susan Block Show (circa 1998). This is NOT a call with actual therapy clients; those are absolutely private and confidential. This is a caller on Dr. Block's Saturday night live show.
For more information, call us at 626.461.5950. For current shows and other events, visit us at http://drsusanblock.com.
Have a question, confession or fantasy, but need to talk privately? Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213-291-9497. We're here for you. Visit us: http://drsusanblockinstitute.com
“Never has a piece of common porn so captured the hearts, minds and gonads of so many Americans, even those of us who really don’t care who swallows the presidential semen.” I proclaimed to my audience of professors, porn stars, lawyers and reporters. “Never has the mainstream American media proven itself to be such a fantastic public relations machine for a single porn production, broadcasting every rumor and innuendo in this sperm-swirling storm of gossip, intrigue and sanctimonious outrage.” If you lived through it, you know how it dominated the news, and #KenStarr was the instigator, chief voyeur and Grand Inquisitor.
I also take you into my broadcast bed for an intimate after-party at the Villa Piacere where Capt'n Max and I explore the juicy details of the #StarrReport with such luminaries as Dr. Betty Dodson, Richard Pacheco, Kat Sunlove, Jack Hafferkamp, LaSara, KISS and Tod Hunter. Also at the Pornucopia, hosted by Dr. Annie Sprinkle and Candida Royalle: Dr. Vern Bullough, Dr. Carol Queen, Al Goldstein, Roy Karch and Veronica Vera.
This special episode captures an historic moment, including footage from the day a Starr-bullied Monica Lewinsky testified before the Grand Jury, and reactions to the Starr Report and Boobie Award on KTLA5 & KNBC4. At a time when most Americans were becoming more open, tolerant and sex-positive, Ken Starr and his team of reactionary young ninjas (including a fledgling Brett Kavanaugh and Ann Coulter) didn’t succeed in their intended coup d’état (or as Joe Conason called it, "Coup de Twat"), but they did turn the clock back on sexual freedom, and now we have QAnon (fanned by former #ClintonImpeachment House Manager Lindsey Graham) and a powerful majority on the Supreme Court (including former Starr Report co-author Brett Kavanaugh) literally forcing their extreme #NeoPuritanical ways on the rest of us.
This video first aired uncensored in 1998 on public access TV stations around America.
Of course, this version is censored for Youtube (we don't want our account shut down). So...
Read More Prose & Watch the Amazing UNCENSORED Show(s) on #DrSuzy-Tv: https://drsusanblock.com/Ken-Starr
Thus, a great, new holiday blossoms like a Georgia O’Keeffe flower in the verdant Garden of Bonoboville, as we celebrate those ubiquitous, but mysterious and always absolutely fabulous, fleshy doors to female pleasure and wonder… and labor. A lady’s nether lips “go into labor,” along with the rest of her reproductive system, in giving birth. Other times, they tease, please, open, close, squirt and explode in orgasmic ecstasy.
It's particularly poignant to re-release this historic Dr. Susan Block Show celebrating female genitalia in all its glory, power (power to the labia!) and vulnerability, now in 2022, when sexuality is under attack and American women’s Constitutional right to abortion has been ripped away from us by a radical right wing Supreme Court that probably never looked up-close at a nice pair of labia in their NeoPurtian lives.
Little did we know the repressive future on our first Labia Day featuring the delightful Dayton Rains showing off her world-famous labia in multiple positions, expertly licking my lucky labia and, in that great U.S. presidential intern tradition, smoking a cigar through her labia! Dayton’s exhibition inspires the rest of us to exhibit our own labia, along with the Wondrous Vulva Puppets, and a bottle of yummy Kinky Liqueur incorporated into our traditional Bonoboville Communion rites. Our First Labia Day also features Biz Bonobo, Chelsea, Ikkor the Wolf, Luzer Twersky and his puppy (no, not her labia).
Of course, Youtube, which is not Labia-Positive, won’t let us show you our labia. So this version is heavily censored. But you might enjoy the slideshow of PG images from Labia Day mixed with our friendly advertisements. I know, it’s not the same. So, if you love labia, I suggest you watch the First Labia Day uncensored here (youtube also won’t let us provide links, so you have to figure it out): https://drsusanblock.com/labia-day
Actually, he’s huger than huge, and I’m not just talking about his strapping physique (not to mention the heavy-weight package below the winner’s belt); Dave Bautista is the real deal, a gentle giant, a good sport, a sex worker ally, a bit of a socialist, and sincere in sharing his favorite cause—fighting cancer. He also shares his love for lunchboxes when I give him an “Invasion of the Monster Women” vintage lunchbox, which might sound like an innocent enough hobby, until deeper sexological analysis reveals that the “box,” slang for female genitalia, is the Lust of the Beast. Confessing that “women” are his greatest “addiction,” this champ wrestles with his high sex drive more than any mere opponent (at least, he did in 2011). A real-life Angel (Angela Sommers) puts The Animal to the test, plus the dynamic charismatic Destiny Dixon, sexy Samantha Saint, Victoria White and Daisy Delight all pile-on top of this mountain of muscle. All these beauties put up a good fight for Bautista’s beleaguered libido—and put on a spectacular show—but does it work or does the Champ stays true to his girlfriend? Watch the show!
Through it all, Anthony Winn, co-creator of Striperella with the late great Stan Lee, creates new art (of me!), and the Speakeasy rocks out into an exuberant after-party of sex, fun, wild rickshaw-riding and wrestling with naked angels. And why not, because aren’t wrestlers and porn stars— the beauties and the beasts of our animal nature—among the greatest real-life comic book characters we know?
Read more prose and watch the amazing uncensored show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/beauties-bautista-wrestle
Of course, we have to censor this version for Youtube. Watch it all uncensored and free on DrSuzy-Tv: https://drsusanblock.com/gasmaskgirl-summer
For the eyegasms, and to read more prose and watch the shows uncensored and free on DrSuzy-Tv: https://drsusanblock.com/July-4th
I open our blast-off into the Mmmm Month straddling the Sybian—an excellent mechanical device that, without attachments, makes me feel like I’m riding an extra-special vibrating horsey on a magical Merry-Go-Round—which I continue to ride merrily throughout much of the evening featuring Alana Cruise aka Savannah Fyre, Dayton Raines and more.
Watch this show uncensored and free: https://drsusanblock.com/masturbation-month-kick-off
Hallelujah. Praise the bed! You can do a lot on a bed, even while awake, as we demonstrate on this Bedside Chat, chatting away, showing off our April 12, 1992 Wedding Album, testing equipment, ranting, reminiscing, researching, taking selfies, making out, smoking, drinking, horsing around, reading old diaries, making new jokes, dishing silly celebrities, protesting the war(s), goosing each other, welcoming the anniversary cake, playing with the dog and more making out… all in bed! We don’t even get to the sleeping part. Though, since we’re on the F.D.R. radio Love Train, you could say we’re in the Sleeper Car. Choo-choo! Have bed will travel…
True to our motto of making love first in order to make love last—for at least 30 years—we kick off this auspicious anniversary weekend with a little lovemaking, aka sex. It was just *Old People Sex,* so nothing too strenuous, but an essential aspect of keeping lust and trust alive long-term. The older you get, the truer this is. So, have sex first (if you want to make love last), and then, if you feel like it, you can always do it again… and again (and yes, we did). Capt’n Max shoots blessed blanks, so no pearl necklaces—at least not the ejaculatory kind. But we’re both decked out in oodles of real and fake pearl necklaces, strands, earrings, belly chains and bracelets, pearls of wisdom, purity and pure silliness, the pearl being the sexy symbol of the 30th Wedding Anniversary, the lustrous symbol of lust plus trust, crystalized into a shining little ball of beauty within the 30-year marriage oyster.
Besides celebrating our own crazy long marriage, we talk about other people’s marriages. We’re inspired by newlyweds Julian Assange and Stella Moris, disturbed by Will and Jada (who gives a bad name to good cuckolding!) and even more disturbed by U.S. Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas and MAGAt Coup Queen Ginny Thomas.
Though our 30th Anniversary Bedside Chat is tons of fun, our actual anniversary at Le Meridian with its exhibitionism-friendly window plan and awesome mattress takes us right back into the Love Zone.
Read more prose and watch the (uncensored) show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/30th-wedding-anniversary
On the cusp of kinky superstardom crossed with mainstream celebrity when she joined me in my broadcast bed, Dita Von Teese was a fetish model, burlesque princess and budding lingerie mogul just starting to design what would grow into her multi-million dollar #DitaVonTeese brand—and all while dating controversial rock superstar Marilyn Manson.
Now, Marilyn Manson is much more controversial, accused of terrible crimes by his ex-fiancé Evan Rachel Wood and others (not Dita), which he denies and for which he has sued his accusers. Both Manson’s fans and foes may find something of interest in this in-depth interview.
This was Dita’s second appearance on DrSuzy . Tv; her first (with Mistress Antoinette) was on my 1996 interview with the one and only Bettie Page. Dita takes it to the next level in “Art of the Teese,” not only speaking freely, thoughtfully and yes, teasingly, about her life, loves and art; she also lets us tie her up… while we continue our interview (though we can't show you that part on Youtube)! Promoting the old Pink Bubble Bath Film Festival (where she was the host and I was a judge), Dita shares the kinky pleasures of vintage stockings, corsets, striptease, ballet, bondage, bisexuality, catfighting, spanking, red lipstick (a Manson fetish) and the torrid tale of her first climax. She also helps me handle callers into bondage and Dirt Devil self-love and flogs a couple of lucky audience members. Plus, she shares some very intimate details of her relationship with Manson—from first kiss to groupie games to court cases.
“Art of the Teese” is #26 in My Bedside Chat series on DrSusanBlock . Tv. Introduced by BlockFilms executive producer, Maximillian R. Lobkowicz, aka Capt’n Max live from Cannes, France, and my own erotic philosophy of teasing, it then puts the spotlight where it should be: on the dazzling Dita Von Teese, for a uniquely fascinating, in-depth look into the playful yet powerful spirit of this 21st century kink icon.
Watch this show uncensored: https://drsusanblock.com/dita-von-teese
With a provocative, humorous and engaging style that makes science fun and ecology erotic, #DrSusanBlock asks: What do bonobos know about sex - and the rest of life - that we don’t?
Here are some things we know about bonobos:
They have lots of sex.
They never kill each other.
They empower the females and nurture the males.
They share, care and try to be fair.
They stay youthful longer than common chimps.
They live in peace through pleasure…
And we thought humans were the smartest apes!
For decades, experts have used the “killer ape” paradigm to explain why humans murder, make war, bomb and behead each other, and supposedly always will. Of course, our common chimp cousins kill and even make a kind of “war”… but does that tell the whole tale?
Luckily, no. The Bonobo Way shows the other side of the story, presenting the #bonobo as a new great ape paradigm for humanity that could change the world… or at least improve your love life!
From the lush depths of the rainforest to the satin sheets of your bedroom, #DrSuzy (Banned on YouTube!) takes you on a fascinating journey, weaving stories, studies, theories and fantasies into exciting possibilities and a practical path of action, a very different kind of “12-Step Program” to release your “inner bonobo,” help save the real #bonobos from extinction, and energize all facets of your life. Give #TheBonoboWay to someone you love… even if that someone is you!
Get it now: http://amzn.to/1zimlbP
~Simply Sxy Review of The Bonobo Way
http://simplysxy.com/articles/2015/08/10/book-review-the-bonobo-way-by-dr-susan-block/
With a provocative, humorous and engaging style that makes science fun and ecology erotic, The Bonobo Way boldly asks: What do these great apes know about sex--and the rest of life--that we don’t?
Here are some things we know about bonobos:
They have lots of sex.
They never kill each other.
They empower the females.
They stay younger longer.
They live in peace through pleasure.
And we thought humans were the smartest apes!
For decades, experts have used the “killer ape” paradigm to explain why humans murder, make war, bomb and behead each other, and supposedly always will. Sure, our common chimp cousins kill, but do they tell the whole tale?
Luckily, no. The Bonobo Way shows the other side of the story, presenting the bonobos as a new great ape paradigm for humanity that could change the world… or at least improve your love life.
From the lush depths of the rainforest to the satin sheets of your bedroom, Dr. Block takes you on a fascinating journey, weaving stories, studies, theories and fantasies into possibilities and a practical path of action, presenting a very different kind of “12-Step Program” to release your “inner bonobo,” help save the real bonobos from extinction and energize all facets of your life.
Whether you don’t know bonobos from bananas, or you think you know all about these amazing creatures, The Bonobo Way will show you the way to a happier, healthier, sexier life, and a more peaceful, sustainable culture.
Get The Bonobo Way on Kindle or Paperback here: http://bit.ly/AmazonTBW
In her book, you will learn about the fascinating life of bonobos, how they deal with conflict by having sex, and how this coping mechanism may translate to humans as well. Their lifestyle speaks to a happy and peaceful society, something we have yet to accomplish in all the time we’ve been in existence.
Of particular interest is that bonobos have a strong sense of feminine energy. The females band together and sex is used to keep the males in check. And while bonobos may experience unique feelings for one another, they don't appear possessive. They are, after all, not monogamous. The book is an illustration of a lifestyle that exists harmoniously, underscored by the relationship between sexuality and a peaceful, polyamorous society. The connection between the two cannot be underestimated.
Dr. Block writes The Bonobo Way in an informative and enthusiastic voice. If you are unaware of bonobos, her book will pique your interest to learn more about this fascinating species. You may also question how we have evolved as human beings and how far we have yet to go." - Eden Baylee
See Eden Baylee's review of The Bonobo Way on Amazon.com: http://amzn.to/1UICFh7
Gerald Weaver, author of Gospel Prism
Read the full review - it’s worth the click!
http://www.amazon.com/review/R3NX166Q9FGOTX/ref=cm_cr_dp_title?ie=UTF8&ASIN=0692323767&channel=detail-glance&nodeID=283155&store=books
Darrel Ray, Ed.D., author of The God Virus and Darrel Ray
Read the rest of this glorious new review & celebrate the one-year anniversary of #TheBonoboWay in whatever way you #bonobo! If you buy the book, a portion of all proceeds goes to help save the real #bonobos (If you want to give directly, donate to Lola ya Bonobo & Bonobo Conservation Initiative). I Another portion goes to building & supporting our Bonoboville. :0
"Some find meaning in hate and killing and some in love and sex," Dr. Susan Block recently told us. "Bonobos lean decisively towards sex. They're also over 98% genetically similar to humans, so their very existence demonstrates how important good sex, affectionate touch, empathy, reciprocity and sharing pleasure is to our own well-being. Bonobos empower their females more than any other great ape species. They also appear to stay younger longer than their common chimp counterparts. Most importantly, we have not seen a bonobo killing another bonobo in captivity or the wild...."
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Read more: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/steve-karras/the-bonobo-way-the-evolut_b_7903992.html
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What is most appealing about this book is the inclusiveness of Dr. Block’s narratives, she provides practical relationship tools-- for the monogamous, the polycurious and the full-fledged swingers; her tone is light, uplifting, and supportive. The tools she lays out are useful for all relationship dynamics; addressing matters of intimacy, tips for role-play, BDSM and sexual etiquette. Much of the information is laid out in a twelve step guide, “release your inner bonobo.”
The step work itself is a public and private affair, with strategies for cultivating the (somewhat) dormant sensual self, a self which is attuned to primal nature and our “kissing cousins” the bonobos. The anecdotes from Dr. Block’s personal life, along with world news and history, make the step work relatable and add a personal touch to the text. The approach brings the concept of peace through pleasure to life, guiding the reader across this great earth we love to “make love on”, and down a river of ecstasy towards a destination that is, not only picturesque, but achievable--for those willing to do the work of course.
Due to its broad range of topics, The Bonobo Way can appeal to a wide audience; from environmental conservationists, animal rights activists and ecological advocates to porn stars, feminists, and military veterans. On a textual level, the book is eco-feminism, with Block’s own environment described in great detail (the bedroom, the Speakeasy, the urban jungle). All the while, her connection to the bonobos is never far from the surface of the text; from Dr. Block’s first glimpse of the bonobos while watching a PBS broadcast, to her first visit with Lana the Bonobo at the San Diego Zoo. She narrates how studying bonobos has helped her develop a greater consciousness of empathy, compassion and sexual awareness. The results of her various states of “bonobo liberation” are disclosed in great detail, with an emphasis on preserving the bonobos who “empower the female” and “never kill each other.”
As a piece of literature, The Bonobo Way may deserve its own shelf, in between sexual studies and ecology, in a genre of its own dubbed “ecosexual.” The push for the preservation of the bonobos, their bioregion, and the call to action to repair our relationship with our “over-farmed and abused mother earth” (83), all help to categorize this book as ecological literature-- comparable to the works of Mary Hunter Austin, and Octavia Butler. However, the sexual narratives woven throughout the text are akin to the pages of high erotica, a literary orgasm that details escapades, advances, and near misses. The fusion of both the ecological and the sexual is really what defines this book.
The cost of this book is an investment into your character, and hopefully, your sex life. At 240 pages it is available in print and eBook-- the latter includes full color photos. Other features of the book are Dr. Block’s notes, which vary from “hat tips” to writers and rock stars, to supplemental information on clinical and “scene” terms, as well as vital historical references. For those inspired, to take action, the appendix of The Bonobo Way provides a list of sites and organizations that are dedicated to helping the bonobos, and a list of zoos, reserves, sanctuaries where bonobos can be seen.
Everything you need in order to have a healthy, fun, sexuality is in this book. Whether you're in a monogamous relationship, a swinger, going solo, asexual, pansexual, all-sexual...Dr. Suzy has you covered!
It order for our society to heal from all this war, anger, hatred, shame, and even environmental destruction, we must find our inner bonobo. We share 98.7% of our DNA with bonobos. They are a species of ape who resolve all conflicts with sex which is exactly what human animals need to be doing!
Good sex could end so much suffering and this book was an amazing and inspiring read as someone who strives for global sex-positivity and a sexual revolution to heal our ailing planet.
I love Dr. Suzy so much and we can all learn a lot about ourselves by this amazing woman who has dedicated her life to spreading sexual awareness, knowledge, and being the Queen of Coitus! by Tracey Vanity
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Powerhouse Academic Publisher WILEY-BLACKWELL releases the new International Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality with sex expert Dr. Susan Block contributing articles in Fetish, Phone Sex, Cuckolding, Spanking & Striptease.
Edited by distinguished Professors of Anthropology, Patricia Whelehan and Anne Bolin, with contributions from an international team of top scholars and practitioners, the Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality contains “over 500 entries that define sexuality from a broad biocultural perspective and show the diversity of human sexual behavior and belief systems… ranging from short definitions of scientific, clinical, cultural, and colloquial terms to extended explorations of major concepts…[covering] 13 key areas of content, from clinical medicine and body modification to the language of sexuality and the history of sexology.”
Tired of conventional sexuality experts? Dr. Block is available for comment or interview by contacting:
David L. Rossi
Phone: 310.568.0066
Email: Bonoboville@gmail.com
http://drsusanblockinstitute.com
http://thebonoboway.com
______________
Powerhouse Academic Publisher WILEY-BLACKWELL releases the new International Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality with sex expert Dr. Susan Block contributing articles in Fetish, Phone Sex, Cuckolding, Spanking & Striptease.
Edited by distinguished Professors of Anthropology, Patricia Whelehan and Anne Bolin, with contributions from an international team of top scholars and practitioners, the Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality contains “over 500 entries that define sexuality from a broad biocultural perspective and show the diversity of human sexual behavior and belief systems… ranging from short definitions of scientific, clinical, cultural, and colloquial terms to extended explorations of major concepts…[covering] 13 key areas of content, from clinical medicine and body modification to the language of sexuality and the history of sexology.”
Tired of conventional sexuality experts? Dr. Block is available for comment or interview by contacting:
David L. Rossi
Phone: 310.568.0066
Email: Bonoboville@gmail.com
http://drsusanblockinstitute.com
http://thebonoboway.com
______________
Powerhouse Academic Publisher WILEY-BLACKWELL releases the new International Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality with sex expert Dr. Susan Block contributing articles in Fetish, Phone Sex, Cuckolding, Spanking & Striptease.
Edited by distinguished Professors of Anthropology, Patricia Whelehan and Anne Bolin, with contributions from an international team of top scholars and practitioners, the Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality contains “over 500 entries that define sexuality from a broad biocultural perspective and show the diversity of human sexual behavior and belief systems… ranging from short definitions of scientific, clinical, cultural, and colloquial terms to extended explorations of major concepts…[covering] 13 key areas of content, from clinical medicine and body modification to the language of sexuality and the history of sexology.”
Tired of conventional sexuality experts? Dr. Block is available for comment or interview by contacting:
David L. Rossi
Phone: 310.568.0066
Email: Bonoboville@gmail.com
http://drsusanblockinstitute.com
http://thebonoboway.com
______________
Powerhouse Academic Publisher WILEY-BLACKWELL releases the new International Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality with sex expert Dr. Susan Block contributing articles in Fetish, Phone Sex, Cuckolding, Spanking & Striptease.
Edited by distinguished Professors of Anthropology, Patricia Whelehan and Anne Bolin, with contributions from an international team of top scholars and practitioners, the Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality contains “over 500 entries that define sexuality from a broad biocultural perspective and show the diversity of human sexual behavior and belief systems… ranging from short definitions of scientific, clinical, cultural, and colloquial terms to extended explorations of major concepts…[covering] 13 key areas of content, from clinical medicine and body modification to the language of sexuality and the history of sexology.”
_______
Tired of conventional sexuality experts? Dr. Block is available for comment or interview by contacting:
David L. Rossi
Phone: 310.568.0066
Email: Bonoboville@gmail.com
http://drsusanblockinstitute.com
http://thebonoboway.com
______________
Powerhouse Academic Publisher WILEY-BLACKWELL releases the new International Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality with sex expert Dr. Susan Block contributing articles in Fetish, Phone Sex, Cuckolding, Spanking & Striptease.
Edited by distinguished Professors of Anthropology, Patricia Whelehan and Anne Bolin, with contributions from an international team of top scholars and practitioners, the Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality contains “over 500 entries that define sexuality from a broad biocultural perspective and show the diversity of human sexual behavior and belief systems… ranging from short definitions of scientific, clinical, cultural, and colloquial terms to extended explorations of major concepts…[covering] 13 key areas of content, from clinical medicine and body modification to the language of sexuality and the history of sexology.”
Tired of conventional sexuality experts? Dr. Block is available for comment or interview by contacting:
David L. Rossi
Phone: 310.568.0066
Email: Bonoboville@gmail.com
http://drsusanblockinstitute.com
http://thebonoboway.com
As the accusations against American comic icon Bill Cosby keep coming, I (like everyone) can’t help but wonder why a charming multi-millionaire race-barrier-crashing superstar would feel compelled to drug women into unconsciousness before having sex with them. Several of Cosby’s accusers actually said they would have happily had sex with the man—and some actually did—without being drugged into it (pun intended). Drugging people and/or forcing them to drink excessively and then having sex with their unconscious body is a kind of stealth rape. Apparently, Cosby risked his marriage, career, empire and a lengthy prison term by committing these acts upon the slumbering bodies of multiple women throughout his life, and now, whatever happens, his legacy appears to be tarnished beyond repair. Max Factor heir Andrew Luster is currently serving a 124-year sentence for similar misdeeds. So, assuming Cosby did it, why would he?
When I first heard the news, I wasn’t as “shocked” as some, never having been a fan of Cosby’s “Father Knows Best” attitude on or off camera. Even worse was the way he waggled his sanctimonious finger at “black culture,” blaming it for African-American poverty and incarceration, as though his good fortune and impeccable comic timing gave him a right to condemn individuals and whole communities who weren’t as blessed as he was.
Nevertheless, despite my distaste for his smug, megawatt personality, I felt I ought to give his character the benefit of the doubt, having known several people, mostly of the male gender, who have been accused of sexual assault most unjustly and with devastating effect. I’m all for female solidarity (more on just how vital this is in my new book The Bonobo Way). But I’m not one to side with women just because we’re fellow females. Besides The Cos and I both hail from the City of Brotherly Love. I hate hearing about my fellow Philly dogs doing bad stuff.
But the accusations, which Cosby’s lawyer calls “unsubstantiated and fantastical,” keep coming. Some could be false, but most display an eerie similarity, and this glib comedian’s taciturn responses to simple questions seem to all but sign a confession of guilt. Almost everyone acknowledges the man’s king-sized arrogance, and many have addressed related subjects of race, gender, affluence and privilege. But still, why would he do such a thing, repeatedly? Suddenly, as one more accusatory tale flashed across my screen (this from a friend of a girl who told her that Cosby drugged and violated her even though they were already active lovers), the sexual heart of the matter dawned on me like the morning sun seeping through the dark fog of a bad hangover: Bill Cosby has a sleep fetish.
As a sex therapist in private practice, I’ve treated many clients with sleep fetishes of various kinds. The clinical term is “somnophilia,” a paraphilia in which sexual arousal arises from fondling or having sex with someone who is asleep or unconscious. A more romantic name for it is the “Sleeping Beauty” syndrome. The fairy tale fantasy of an exquisitely beautiful, utterly helpless princess in a deep, hypnotic, erotic sleep who only awakens with the climactic kiss of a charming prince, has captured imaginations and titillated libidos for centuries of civilized human history. If Prince Charming had given Beauty a roofie and then done his kissing and maybe a little fondling, he’d be a nonconsensual sleep fetishist, a.k.a., a sleep rapist. Not so charming any more.
Google “somnophiliac,” and you will find that most sleep fetishists maintain they would never use force or violence on their “partners,” and even the thought of forcing someone against their will is a turn-off. Yet the fact remains that you can’t give consent if you’re unconscious. Some couples work this out in advance so that the sleeper agrees to the sex before going to sleep, whereupon the sleep fetishist can then have his or her way with the sleeper with some level of impunity.
There is also the fact that all that fondling would likely cause a light or even moderate sleeper to wake up and possibly shriek, “What the f*ck are you doing?”
This is where drugging comes in. And this is where the rape begins.
Which does not mean that assuming the Sleeping Beauty or “victim” role doesn’t have a certain erotic appeal, if only in fantasy, for some who enjoy submission and passivity. Indeed, over the past couple of weeks, several of my sex therapy clients have informed me that they are having fantasies and dreams of being drugged and ravished by Cliff Huxtable himself. Some men and women are aroused by the idea of being “taken” as they snooze unawares, “slipped a mickie” or “put to sleep” by a powerful lover or diabolical anesthesiologist who then has his or her way with their sleeping body. This dreamy but dangerous fetish can be a tough one to understand (especially for those of us who savor wakefulness), let alone explore safely. Insomniacs are especially likely to crave and fetishize sleep and anesthesia. Some say that the late great “King of Pop” Michael Jackson suffered from an anesthesia fetish which may have ultimately killed him.
Some relish the feeling of being forcibly “put to sleep” without drugs. Many of my sex therapy clients get highly aroused under “erotic hypnosis,” in which a relaxation exercise leads them into a trance state where they can enjoy their sexual feelings without feeling “responsible” for them.
The other side of the sleep fetish, getting sexually aroused by having sex with slumbering lovers, is far more dangerous to others than to the fetishist, especially when it involves putting “lovers” to sleep without their consent and then using their knocked out, very vulnerable, rag-doll body to satisfy desires for absolute power, selfish sensation and an intoxicating feeling of total control. If the allegations are true, this appears to describe the sexual appetites and behaviors of Bill Cosby.
In her thesis ‘Potent Sleep: The Cultural Politics of Sleep,’ Christina Eugene (Bowling Green State University, USA) asserts:
“Sleep is the essential objectifier of all life. The passivity of sleep transforms subjects into inanimate objects, and in doing so removes the subject’s privilege of being able to act on the world of objects… This rendering of people into inanimate objects allows them to be fundamentally treated as objects – consumed, fetishized, and controlled. In accordance with the totality of capitalism and phallocentrism, an erotic fetish for sleeping beauties has surfaced”.
This is not to excuse Cosby’s alleged crimes or his capitalist (read: “I own you”), controlling, consuming, phallocentric attitude towards the weak, the sleeping, the drugged, the imprisoned (who are often, ironically, subject to the torture of sleep deprivation) and those less fortunate. Not at all. This is just to offer up a possible explanation in the hopes that if any readers are struggling with a nonconsensual sleep fetish (or if you know someone who might be), you seek help from an experienced sex therapist, before you find yourself committing acts of Cosbyësque hubris in the Sandman Land of dreams. If only my fellow Philly dog had come clean to me or someone like me a few decades ago when he first felt the sexual urge to sedate women into utter object inanimation, there’s a good chance he and Camille would be enjoying their golden years in glory, instead of infamy, right now. Moreover, it might have saved over a dozen reluctant “Sleeping Beauties” from being violated while sleeping.
© December 3, 2014. Susan Block, Ph.D., a.k.a. “Dr. Suzy,” is an internationally renowned LA sex therapist, author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure, occasionally seen on HBO and other channels.
This article is reposted here in Counterpunch “America’s Best Political Newsletter”: http://www.counterpunch.org/2014/12/05/bill-cosbys-sleep-fetish/
Watch the Video: Bill Cosby’s Sleep Fetish explained by Dr. Susan Block: https://youtu.be/X3SAeu3h4I4
It’s the Comic-Con of kink, the Met Gala of BDSM and Game of Thrones without all the gross and gratuitous mass murder and mayhem… and even better outfits.
It’s the Bonobo Way in boots, latex and chains.
But really, it’s so much more… it’s DomCon!
No wonder I’ve relished participating in this gathering of powerful, beautiful women—natal, trans and queens-for-a-day—every Spring for the past five years, having so much fun, always learning and discovering new people, sensations and ideas at the workshops, the Mistress Photos, the Marketplace, the Jacuzzi, the parties, the balls and in the private rooms that spin off from public DomCon like electric sparks from the crack of the Goddess’ whip.
“I look forward to returning to Philly to see Billy Penn, eat a hoagie and share the Bonobo Way,” says Dr. Block, who grew up in Penn Valley and attended Harriton High School, where she was editor-in-chief of the Harriton Forum, captain of the debate team and starred in the school’s Noël Coward play before getting her B.A. in Theater at Yale. After earning her Master’s and Ph.D. in Psychology from Miramar, she received an honorary Doctorate in Sexology from the Institute for the Advanced Study of Human Sexuality in San Francisco.
“The Zeitgeist of 1972, Deep Throat brought adult films into the mainstream and kickstarted the Sexual Revolution,” states DamianoFilms.com. “Its success was unprecedented, breaking box office records in its very first week of exhibition. Lauded as one of the first hardcore films to feature a plot, character development, and production values, it pushed the limits of what could be shown on screen and made an international celebrity of its star, Linda Lovelace.”
The West Coast tour will include screenings of the original 4K director’s cut restoration of the film, followed by talkbacks moderated by Dr. Susan Block (in LA) and featuring the Damianos, as well as adult performers and local academic experts. The talkbacks will focus on the history, cultural impact, and various controversies surrounding the film, to help contextualize Deep Throat for younger generations as well as those who remember when it first took 1970s America by storm.
“I first saw Deep Throat on a date in a big New Haven Theater, circa 1977,” recalls Dr. Block who appeared on E! True Hollywood Story’s “Linda Lovelace” episode in 2000 and broadcast shows live from “The Deep Throat Sex Scandal” (the play) and “Harry Reems Tribute” in 2013. “Honestly, I was shocked. I had never seen such large and well-lit genitalia! But soon enough, I relaxed and enjoyed it. By then, Deep Throat had become a household name, having gone beyond the box office to impact freedom of speech and obscenity laws, as well as help bring about the resignation of disgraced U.S. President Richard M. Nixon (who, incidentally, tried to shut down the film). Whether they loved it or hated it, even if they never saw it, everybody knew—and still knows—’Deep Throat.’
“Later, I learned about the controversies raised by parts of the Feminist Left in addition to the Religious Right, as well as Linda Lovelace herself,” Block continues. “Whatever the facts of the matter, we want to reopen a dialogue about the film, including Lovelace’s complex story, as well as changing attitudes towards sexuality in our society, and Deep Throat’s impact on American cinematic and cultural history. No doubt, Deep Throat entertained, aroused, disturbed and outraged the world—and it still does. So, I’m looking forward to seeing the movie as its director intended, and I’m also excited to discuss the issues surrounding this seminal (in every sense of the word) film with the Damianos and members of the LA community.”
Screenings followed by talkbacks moderated by Dr. Block will be held on the following days and at the following locations:
Friday, June 2nd: Laemmle Royal in West Los Angeles
Saturday, June 3rd: 910 WeHo in West Hollywood
Frida Cinema in Santa Ana Screening Cancelled Due to Community Pressure
Susan Block, Ph.D., aka “Dr. Suzy,” best-known for her groundbreaking HBO specials, has hosted The Dr. Susan Block Show for 35 years, and is the best-selling author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure, Yale graduate, Counterpunch columnist and champion of sex education and freedom of speech. Married over 31 years to publisher and producer Maximillian Lobkowicz di Filangieri, she’s been featured on HBO, NPR, Oprah, VICE TV and many more. But she’ll never quit her “day job” as a therapist with the Dr. Susan Block Institute, helping people to explore, enjoy and take responsibility for their sexual lives.
For information or to arrange an interview with Dr. Block, email drsusanblock@gmail.com or call (626) 461-5950. For more information about Deep Throat or to arrange an interview with Gerard Damiano, Jr., email gerard@damianofilms.com or call (718)614-4109.
https://drsusanblock.com/deep-throat-50th-pr
A twist on that oldie but goodie, Make Love Not War, it’s the peaceable kinkster’s *battle cry*… but what does it mean in the real world—on the battlefield, in the bedroom, the boardroom, the classroom, the dungeon, the RV, the protest march or the play party? What can we learn about our own ability to "Make Kink Not War" from the kinkiest apes on Earth, the #bonobos, the FemDoms of the Wild, the only great apes who never kill each other? How can we *be more bonobo and what it’s got to do with the transformative, healing, peaceful power of #kink?
Find out in Version 6.0 of The Bonobo Way at #DomCon LA, the Met Gala of Latex and the Comic-Con of Kink (with the Ted Talks of BDSM), founded and directed by the marvelous Mistress Cyan (who gave me my first consenting-adult birthday spanking in 2004, the same year she founded DomCon): Make Kink Not War: Be Bonobo.
Kick off Kink Month 2022 with a spanking hot sexual revelation. Take a front row seat in my Master Class (Mistress Class?) in kinky anthropology, ranging from our current abominable wars and war fantasies to the inspirational worlds of the kink-normative, femocratic bonobos and the peaceable kinksters of DomCon: the fabulous FemDoms, Mistresses, Goddesses, Dominatrixes, Dommes, Doms, submissives and switches, all of whom “Make Kink Not War.”
Read More Prose and Watch More Shows: https://drsusanblock.com/domcon-2022
This episode is sponsored by Vibe Wines™ ~ Sexy Pairings™: Bringing the worlds of wine and adult passion products together for truly unique gifts.
https://www.vibewines.com/
The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure: http://amzn.to/1zimlbP.
Help save the bonobos from extinction: http://blockbonobofoundation.org/
For more DomCon 2017: https://drsusanblock.com/domcon-2017
Lifting the skirts of British #ToxicRoyalty, Prince Harry’s “Spare” might just help to “abolish the monarchy,” or at least take it down a peg (pun intended for William, Prince of Pegging who sounds like a royal pain in the butt). I am NOT a fan of Pr. Harry killing 25 people, though to be fair, his toxic family has killed, colonized and enslaved hundreds of millions more.
Toxic celebrity takes many forms, from royal poison to political/sexual conspiracy theories that take our hungry imaginations down rabbitholes like Pizzagate, revived like a stale slice of pepperoni by Callin’er Brady, tortured by visions of heinous sex crimes perpetrated by “elites,” all of whom are in bed with Balenciaga and on a plane with Jeffrey Epstein (dead or alive). My view: whether or not they’re committing sex crimes, ALL of these “elites” are committing war crimes, economic crimes and climate crimes—as well as ANTI-sex crimes, like deleting women’s reproductive rights.
Brady also requests my sexological analyst of incel hero, Jordan Peterson’s “wet dream” about his grandmother; don’t miss it!
But the sexiest story of this show is not a fantasy. It’s Tennessee #PoliceOrgies! Hey, better for cops to have consensual sex with each other than harass and murder innocent citizens. Too bad most of the kinky cops got fired, especially the gal at the center (with six male officers), Maegen Hill. At least her hubby (a cuckold?) is staying; maybe they’ll start a cop fetish OnlyFans! Just as we’re wondering how many orgies are in Tennessee, Cornelius calls in from Tennessee to say there are a LOT more orgies than we might think. AND his police officer cousin attends them in uniform driving his cop car.
Birthday shoutout to Mal, aka Kenneth Malcomb Jones, supporter of the Bonobo Female Empowerment Project—who just turned 90 years old! Go Bonobos in 2023!
Read more prose & watch the shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-cop-orgy-royal
When Willem met Mickey, the two began a great friendship and collaboration, publishing some of the most innovative sex magazines, Love, Hate, Finger, God, Annie Sprinkle’s Hot Sh*t, The Sprinkle Report, The Ladies Room, the LA Star and more. On this show, we talk about their life and work together, the history of underground publishing in LA, as well as their “pirate” radio shows in Italy and work with many great artists and adult stars like Annie Sprinkle who was Willem’s lover for a time. Together, they traveled through Europe and America, making art, getting busted (22 times!) and publishing “reader-written” magazines that changed the world.
Yes, changed the world. Now, with social media, 90% of what most of us read is “reader-written,” but back in the Swinging ‘70s, it was unusual if not blasphemous to publish the prose, photos and art of readers—not professionals—with virtually no editing or judgment. An amazing, if unheralded accomplishment for our Max and the late great #WillemDeRidder.
Though most of this show is one wild De Ridder story after another, we manage to squeeze in shoutouts to our beloved SUZY award winners; Louisiana demanding ID to view erotica; Prince Harry getting spanked by a cougar; Julian Assange, still tragically imprisoned for practicing journalism; Ron Jeremy declared “incompetent” to stand trial due to dementia; and to the MAGAts in Congress creating the political chaos they are paid by their oligarchical sponsors to create. #GoBonobos in 2023! Make Kink Not War!
Read more prose & watch the shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-willem-de-ridder
It’s the SUZYs 2022!
Well before XBIZ, the AVNs, the TEAs, the Oscars, Critics Choice, the Grammies, the Tonys, the Emmys, the BAFTAs, NAACP, XRCO, SAG and MTV #awards and the Golden Globes trot out their awards, we are here to acknowledge the best and worst of 2022 with the DrSusanBlock.tv Awards, a.k.a., “The SUZYS.”
Are YOU a winner?
So… Merry Xmas, Sexmas, Festivus AND a Happy Hanukkah (it’s the 7th night when we broadcast live), Happy Kwanza, Happy Pancha Ganapati, Io Saturnalia, Merry Winter Solstice, Happy Whatever You Celebrate 2022 AND a Happy Nude Rear! We’re looking up the ass of the past year! And I haven’t even gotten to the Prince of Pegging award.
In a way, the SUZYs are the Anti-Award Awards. Our goal, as always (besides having a cum-ton of fun), is to advance the noble cause of sex education—more important than ever, as we face draconian crackdowns on sexual speech and activity by Big Tech and our Supreme Court Injustices. We also aim to inspire better erotica and pro-sex political activism, as well as to save the real bonobos from extinction and support a more bonoboësque, Make Love Not War, Make Kink Not War ethos in the world.
As is traditional for The SUZYs, we do not invite the winners, or anyone at all to the award show, so don’t worry, you didn’t miss out! Just sit back by the yuletide fire, pour yourself a flute of champagne, smoke a doobie, relax, cheer for The Best, boooo The Worst and enjoy the #SUZY awards….
Honorable mention goes to the one Callin caller who manages to squeeze onto this #SUZYaward-packed live broadcast, providing a very sex-educational lesson in religious hypocrisy!
Peace on Earth. Pleasure for All. Amen. Awomen. And a Happy Nude Rear!
For a list of all 2022 SUZY Award winners (and losers), go to: https://drsusanblock.com/awards2022
But the evil Krampus—& Antiochus—are never far… and there’s always that nagging Hanukkah worry: Who wants to kill all the Jews NOW? In Hanukkah 2022, that’s easy: Ye (Oy Ye!), aka Kanye or “Con Ye” trying to con us into thinking he’s a misunderstood genius, or poor lonesome bipolar cuckold Incel for Christ… when he’s just an garden variety anti-Semite. Con Ye buddy Nick Fuentes is so incel, he’s volcel, & proclaims that having heterosexual sex is gay. FYI: Judaism & Zionism are not at all the same, & it really hurts Jews for Palestine like me when idiots like Con Ye & Volcel Fuentes conflate the two.
We also say farewell to amazing Twin Peaks composer Angelo Badalamenti & honor International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers. But the most exciting & unsettling part of the show is what makes it a “sonata,” expressing the rage under the surface of holiday cheer with “conflict instead of continuity, ultimately deriving its impact from the explosive power of tonal organization (definition of “sonata”). The center of the storm is Heidi, a conspiracy theory lover who says she’s not into conspiracy theories, but instantly starts spouting one about the Clintons in Arkansas. Max gets mad, Heidi gets banned, I get unsettled, & if you get vicarious thrills from the unfiltered sounds of fresh marital discord live-on-the-air, this show’s for you! It’s also great radio for other reasons, & we eventually make-up, the Bonobo Way, with a lot of good sex & bananas. Max also predicts his friend Joe will drop all charges against Julian Assange. All Saturnalian conflicts aside, this is our Solstice wish. And speaking of drama, a couple LA Sheriff’s deputies were caught having sex on the radio. Assuming it was consensual, I’d rather they have sex than shoot us, wouldn’t you?
Read more prose & see the show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-saturnalia-hanukkah-sonata
• At the Arcadia City Council holiday party, I got a hug from outgoing Mayor Tom Beck, patron saint of Santa Anita horseracing and King of the Kangaroo Court that’s been harassing Bonoboville!
• LA City Council’s party was even worse with Santa-capped Councilmember Kevin de Leon physically assaulting Jason Reedy!
• Santa Anita Racetrack’s 2024 “Breeder’s Cup” gives me dystopian nightmares of pregnant handmaids racing to see who can give birth to the most unwanted children first… which unfortunately arouses some commenters, like the descriptively named "Gerbil Hung," though his silly fantasies are nowhere near as bad as the all-too-real Supreme Court-ordered spaying of women’s rights.
• Why anxiety should be channeled through consenting adult kink—not legislation. Eroticize, don’t politicize, your fetishes!
• Why I love-hate those #Yale elites.
• Trying to pick a 2022 SUZY award winner for “Worst Yale Grad”—but there are so many! Bush? Alito? Kavanaugh? DeSantis?
• From Forced Breeding to Forced Feeding!
• From Britney Spears in 2021 to Brittney Griner in 2022, we’re freeing Brittneys everywhere!
• It’s my half-birthday, and a good present (Joe, ya listening?) would be to free Julian Assange, Leonard Peltier and so many more… but tRump-for-Jail—please!
• From the Prison Industrial Complex to YouTube Jail to banishment to mental jails, and now if you have consenting-adult premarital sex in Indonesia, you could go to jail.
• And let's not forget Mr. Yale-to-Jail: Oathkeepers founder Stewart Rhodes!
• Our continuing search for the “Sexual Grail” of orgasm takes us to the clitoris, Mother of (Almost) All Female Orgasms
• Republican Independent Counsels couldn’t nail Bill Clinton for any of his so-called crimes in Arkansas, so they nailed him for getting nailed.
• One more half-birthday wish: Peace on Earth. Pleasure for All. As the Megamachine forces us down the road of endless conflict and consumption, let’s switch lanes to the Love Train on the #Bonobo Trail, the path of sharing simple consensual pleasures, wherever we can.
Read more prose & see the show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-yale-jail-grail-trail
Is there an alternative? Could channeling our multi-splendored sex drives into various types of erotic recreation—as opposed to procreation—be a better, more sustainable way—the Bonobo Way? If we could just put our erotophobia aside… wouldn’t we & all the living things be better off if more of us released our inner bonobos & expressed our sex drives through consenting-adult recreational pleasures like kink, outercourse, gay sex & sharing peace through pleasure—instead of ammosexual gun culture, perma-war, cutthroat competition, insatiable consumption & having huge, unsustainable, resource-consuming, trash-producing families?
Overpopulation is real. When Capt’n Max was born 11/8/1943, the world human population was 1.5 billion. Exactly 70 years later, the population clock struck 8 billion. Unfortunately, the Earth is still the same size! Of course, the Rightwing has its own way of reducing population: sell everybody guns, make a profit, & let ‘em shoot each other. The Left’s way is more humane—at least rhetorically—but no fun. My way is The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure, ecosexual sustainability & fun, as we explore on this show…
We also take a couple calls, from 1) “Obsolete” currently residing in his mom’s basement, but not an incel; he’s been a “volcel” (voluntary celibate)… until now! & 2) Brady, rejecting the violent ways of his military family, says he now “loves” the Bonobo Way & his “new favorite show,” FDR… “it’s cool as hell!”
We also address Elon Musk turning Twitter Rightwing, Hunter Biden’s Laptop Let-Down, Oy Ye-in-a-Hood & Neo-Nazi-to-the-Stars Nick Fuentes praising Hitler like Jesus, & continuing to complain about “the Jews,” leaving us to parse: who are “the Jews” & what can the rest of humanity blame us for? Not that I take that blame, but I do take the opportunity to say: Free Palestine! And Free Assange! This week, a bunch of media said what we’ve said for 10 years: Imprison the war criminals, not the journalists who tell the truth about war. Make KiNK Not War, you war porn lovers! Beware the Trumpus & a very Merry Kinky Krampus to all!
Read more prose & watch the shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-reproduction-recreation
On a serious, tragic note, we mourn the victims of the Club Q massacre the heroes who stopped the killer, especially the trans woman who put her high heel to valiant use. No praise for the Club Q killer’s Dad, Aaron Brink, an adult performer who’s more worried about his son being gay than a mass murderer.
We also take Callin calls from Lance in upstate New York who’s obsessed with Atlanteans as aliens and wants to start a workers coop for ex-prisoners, and with Schnarf in the Bronx by way of Puerto Rico who has a bunch of questions about masturbation, penis size, exhibitionism and insecurity. We go into overtime trying to reassure Schnarf that his equipment is big “enough," and hopefully he sees the light... Thanks to the evil machinations of the Megamachine of capitalism, conquest and competition, nothing is ever “enough.” It’s pretty powerful, but it can still be defeated, or at least avoided, at least in small mythical villages, by the power of sharing pleasure, the Bonobo Way.
Peace on Earth. Pleasure for All. Step away from the MegaMachine. That’s my Mythical Wishboner-winning wish for the Holidaze!
Read more prose & watch the shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-mythical-wishboner
As a sexologist, I’m mindful of the twisted effects of humiliation—even in metaphor—but I must say, the MAGAts got cuckolded—and not in the fun, consensual way—in that election. Oh, how they bragged about the BIG Red Wave bursting at their zippers, coming to drench us all. But it turned out to be so small—smaller than my finger!—and now all these losers have “small wave syndrome.” Seems those flirty, flighty “independent” voters, said to lean Right, instead went Left with us gun-controlling socialist abortionist hedonists. Women (more Hot Wives than Handmaids) and young voters (#GoBonobos for Gen Z) rocked the vote! Hopefully, the Supreme Injustices that just denied women human rights are now quivering in their panties under those big black robes as they watch the votes come in, flooding their corrupt Court with a strong Blue Tide.
We also cheer the defeat of Sheriff Alex Villanueva, whom we’ve been denouncing for years, passage of Measure A (so LA’s City Council can fire the next Sheriff), pro-abortion access measures, winning the U.S. Senate(!) and making Trumpty Dumpty fall off his wall. As for Florida’s winning Governor Ron DeSantis, fellow Italian-American Capt’n Max calls him a “cafone” which sounds like “phony,” and he is one. But the phoniest thing about these “populists” is their FUNDING. Republican winners like Hillbilly Yalie JD Vance and losers like ammosexual bigot Blake Masters were funded by none other than Twitter-Destroyer Elon Musk’s sometime-partner, the megalomaniacal Peter Thiel, the billionaire who started PayPal—which we are proud to have sued in small claims court—and won!
Joining our Love Train #BlueWave Block Party with a splash is “Most Bonobo Couple,” DaLove and Belive, naked and singing, plus a vivacious Russian/Ukrainian model named Julia—her traumatic tales reminding me of one thing neither Republicans nor Democrats much talked about, the War in Ukraine! Speaking of the war, NOW is the time to make peace; it’s the Bonobo Way. We also talk with Chase, a self-described “Christian” calling in from the bloodred swamps of Mississippi, who voted straight scarlet and goes to Church… but still wants to party with us. Well, wouldn’t you? Happy Naughty November and almost-Spanksgiving!
Read more prose & watch the shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-voter-boner
Need to talk PRIVATELY? Experience #PhoneSexTherapy. Call the Therapists Without Borders of the Dr. Susan Block Institute anytime: 213.291.9497. We’re Here for YOU.
But every day was SPANKSgiving among those sadistic Pilgrims & Puritans who administered frequent spankings, paddlings, whippings, “stocks & bonds,” tar & feathering, “public disgrace” & witch-hanging. Of course, these were nonconsensual atrocities, & we decry Neo-Puritan GQP efforts to bring them back (i.e., via corporal punishment in schools)! BUT consenting adults can enjoy Spanksgiving roleplay along with impact play, as Capt’n Max & I have a spanking good time exploring on this show. Later, I get stuffed from both ends, & I hope you do too!
We also spank 3 Turkeys in the News: 1) We tried to stick a fork in it in 2020, but the Trump Turkey is still squawking—& running—in 2024. Merrick, please put this gobbler in a cage! 2) Another juicy—& leaky—Turkey in the News is neo-Puritan Supreme Court Injustice Sam Alito (A-leak-o?); thanks to whistleblower Rev. Robert Schenck, we now have MORE proof that Alito leaked his own decisions—including Hobby Lobby & Dobbs—to Rightwing activists, Alito (A-leak-o?) leaks are now staining what’s left of the Court’s reputation with curdling Christofascist gravy. 3) Then there’s that Turkey of a Billionaire Elona Musky, aka Space Karen, aka Twitter-destroyer Elon Musk, currently setting our beloved Tweety-Bird ablaze like one of his defective Teslas bursting into the Flames of Hell.
Back to Thanksgiving, which can be a delicious reunion with those we love, but also tough to digest, stressful, hypocritical & downright nauseating, where we have to repress our real feelings for fear of triggering Uncle MAGAt’s Loser trauma which might trigger his finger on that AR-15 that he has a Second Amendment Right to bring to dinner. Well, we can always just stay home and choke our chickens instead of swallowing their turkey and taking their crap. Spank the Monkey! See why I give spanks… as well as thanks? Spanksgiving puts Thanksgiving into perspective. Bottoms up! Turn the whole plutocratic, ecocidal oligarchy upside down & spank its naughty behind. Too bad the NRA doesn’t profit from spanking paddle sales. Feast or fap, stuffed, spanked or spent, have a good one (& follow the Bonobo Way)!
Read more prose & watch the amazing Spanksgiving shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-spanksgiving-2022
It's also the 8th anniversary of The Bonobo Way (with over 50 five-star Amazon reviews), more evolution than revolution, as well as conflict resolution via peace through pleasure, female empowerment, male well-being, sharing, caring and a Bonobo Sutra of erotic activities. Eight years ago, I wrote #TheBonoboWay and gave it to Max for his birthday. Now, our latest Bonobo Way offering is Make Kink Not War: Be Bonobo at DomCon 2022, with “Peace, Love & Bonobos” at Yale coming soon!
It's also our first FDR of Naughty November, 2022, and third live Callin show, as the birthday festivities turn into a Block Party that explodes into a freewheeling, far-reaching, deep-diving, sexy, lefty, bonobo-evolutionary, media-therapeutic discussion. Joining us live on Callin are Daniele Watts, aka DaLove—and it’s her birthday too!—and Chef Belive with many erotic and traumatic confessions, revelations and adventures to share in the crisp, not-so-clean, Naughty November air. We also take Callin calls from Dale and Schnarf about sexuality, fantasy, love, kink, “addiction,” eargams, toegasms, desire, release, struggle and the perennial allure of “Strangers in the Night.”
And it's Native American History Month, coming up on Spanksgiving, coming up on the last Saturday before one of the craziest most polarizing Election Days in the history of the USA, meaning it’s lesser-of-two-evils time, meaning get out and vote for the damn Dems! If it’s Wednesday, it’s too late. Just stay home and trip out. But if it’s Tuesday get your ass up. Play ball. Don’t just play with your balls. We don’t have a perfect democracy, we have an oligarchy, and we have war. It’s awful, but it could be worse. Much worse.
We mourn Twitter, now being ruined by Elon Musk quicker than tRump ruined our country. This whole Elona Musky Twitter horror show is a great example of why we need a wealth tax. In the meantime, we slip, slide, fumble, fuck, fight, dance, laugh, cry and trip along to our dystopian destinies, hopefully mitigated by the Bonobo Way.
Happiest of Birthdays to the Very BEST of Husbands, my big bonobo, my little Prince, Capt’n Max. As deep is our trust, so wide is our lust, you’re my best friend forever, but you’ll always be my mysteriously sexy Stranger in the Night.
Read more prose & watch the shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-max-bday-bonobo-2022
Not yet fried alive, we wave farewell to Jerry Lee Lewis (Max was a Jerry Lee tribute artist) whose “Great Balls of Fire” is soaring up to rock & roll heaven or dropping down to honkytonk hell. Another scary reality is Elon Musk’s Twitter takeover. Twitter is not a truck. If someone doesn’t take the wheel, Elon is going to drive his new Twitter truck into a tree. Meanwhile, Musk’s buddy Kanye learned how “going Death/Def Con 3 on Jewish people” translates to losing more than half a billion dollars in a day. #GoBonobos for the Semitic convergence of Old Hollywood & new track shoes. Free Palestine! AND for a comic erotic trick-or-treat, the Pope confesses HIS Halloween fantasies of “nuns (watching) porn”… Another scary reality: black-robed ghouls on the Supreme Court’s Catholic supermajority stoning American women’s rights to death. Let’s impeach 6 out of 9, starting with Supreme Injustice Clarence Thomas whose wife, Ginni Thomas, is one of leaders of the (still ongoing) Coup Anon Insurrection - & let’s take heart in Iran’s ongoing “Women, Life, Freedom” rebellion against the Ayatollahs, the Persian version of our Supreme Injustices. Meanwhile, racism & greed from our caught-on-tape LA City Council intersect with Sheriff Villaneuva’s murderous deputy gangs. Our Kangaroo Court Arcadia City Council may be smaller, but it’s no better.
We also take a couple of Callin calls from Joe who really resonates with our sex-positive, no-Bernays, no bull message, & Wally who jokes about the great & powerful, one-eyed Halloween Monster threatening to bust through his zipper. Trick or treat!
Read more prose & watch the shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-halloween-2022
Spooky can be kooky, but Halloween is the eve of the Day of the Dead (Día de los Muertos), so we say RIP to KAY PARKER, my beloved friend & the ultimate MILF/Mom Fantasy as Barbara Scott in #Taboo + BARBARA EHRENREICH, great bonoboësque author of “Dancing in the Streets: A History of Collective Joy” which inspired my notion of “communal ecstasy.”
We also send bonobo sisterly support to my late great Counterpunch publisher Alexander Cockburn’s niece, OLIVIA WILDE, “Don’t Worry Darling” director & ex to Tao Ruspoli & Jason Sudeikis, now with Harry Styles - to namedrop a few - & being unfairly targeted by neo-Puritanical media misogynists. We all know the MSM loves to serve up sex with a side dish of shame, but it hurts all the same…
Other topics: Free Assange... Cancel Kanye... Free Palestine... Coup Anon fascist thuggery & E. JEAN CARROLL’s sticky case against the Donald... Alexandra M. Hunt’s “Right to Sex”... Though “God Forbid: The Sex Scandal that Brought Down a Dynasty” calls JERRY FALWELL, JR. & hotwife Becki “freaks” for their #cuckold relationship with the pool boy – they’re not freaks; they’re just redblooded Christofascist hypocrites..
And we take calls from Callin’ers who don’t even “call,” but just press a little icon to talk. First, Shardoll on corporal punishment in schools (always wrong) vs spanking consenting adults (can be great!) + porn star Stormy Daniels’ way to discipline Trump Baby - spank him with his Forbes Cover! We also talk with Jeff who loves Chris Ryan, Sex at Dawn & Civilized to Death almost as much as we do, & sounds like he could be Vergin’ on The Bonobo Way. Though he’s listened to several other shows on Callin, FDR is the FIRST where he actually “called in,” so he’s a Vergin’ too… & CallIn is lookin’ promisin’ for FDR!
Read more prose & watch the shows: https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-vergin-callin
All Aboard FDR for a trippy trip through the Tunnel of Love—which was pretty spooky a couple of weeks ago, when Capt’n Max fell off the tracks, derailed by a monster infection that we’ve been battling ever since. Fortunately, Max comes roaring back this show, ranting against censorship and Republican religio-fascism, and declaring his nostalgic love for “Bullet Bras.” I say better to wear a bullet bra than bullets in your bra and an AR-15 over your shoulder. Speaking of shoulders, IG is censoring shoulders now, and GoogleAds is censoring the word “cuckold.” Meanwhile, in Iran, the outrageous “Morality Police” are fueling the hijab rebellion: Women, Life, Freedom! Amen and AWOMEN.
We’re also celebrating Kinktober with the RELEASE of Make Kink Not War: Be Bonobo, Version 6.0 of The Bonobo Way at Domcon LA. Shout-out to my Counterpunch colleague Kollibri terre Sonnenbaum for his engaging Twitter thread converting a “War-Is-Human-Nature” (it’s not) tweeter to the Bonobo Way! And to Steve Jobs' lame and probably fake last words! And to our media ménage à trois: three different “Hollywood” documentaries with and about HBO and Vice coming soon…
As we broadcast live, protests for Wikileaks’s journalist Julian Assange rise up around the world, including thousands of people surrounding British Parliament in a “Human Chain” of support to Free Assange, whom we have supported since 2010. So… Let’s Go Brandon! Stop torturing an innocent journalist! FreeSpeech advocates on the Right and Left Free Speech all fervently support Assange, yet Democrat and Republican LEADERS all fail to defend him. They are equally awful about the war, which rages on with poopin’ Putin turning 70 in his bunker, as Russian draft dodgers flee, and Ukrainians blow up bridges with American war toys to the ammosexual delight of Youtube viewers at home. No sex toys allowed on YouTube - Just war toys and war games that kill real people. And you wonder why our society is so sick?
As the Love Train leaves the station, Max enjoys a nice chocolate (a traditional aphrodisiac) that happens to be cannabis-infused (a double aphrodisiac), so by the time we arrive, we are off the rails, inspiring a night of orgasmic senior sex like we haven’t had in… a couple of weeks! Wheeee! #GoBonobos for Make-Up Sex!
Read More Prose & Watch the Show(s): https://drsusanblock.com/fdr-bonobo-kinktober
Meanwhile the Capitalocene #MegaMachine keeps pumping that gas & poisoning tap water, now “filtered” from human sewage laced with chemicals like SSRI’s that lower your #SexDrive.. Listen to the Tale of Will, addicted to the antidepressants ruining his libido, & how I help him get it up again! Happy #SelfLoveSeptember! And Happy Bi Week aka Bisexuality Week! Need a sex toy for that?
Welp, a dildo & lube-filled truck lost its load—perhaps a delivery for Big Willie, #PrinceofPegging Heir to #TampaxKing Charles III finally winding up the endless Dead Queen Cosplay, as half the fans of Harry the Spare want to #AbolishtheMonarchy, the other half to reestablish it in Montecito with #PrincessMeghan on the throne. And oh, the British Royal Crime Family’s history of war, colonialism, slavery, theft & genocide is bad enough, but what’s with these giant phallic bearskin capped Dicks on Parade? I love phalluses, but not covered with fur, let alone the fur of Canadian black bears which, though not endangered, should not be murdered for a hat (& I love hats)…
Big Furry CockHats might make you look silly, but an “improperly” worn Hijab can get you killed by Iranian #MoralityPolice as happened to Mahsa Amini; we support the brave protesters against Islamofascism—which is at least as bad as Israel’s Judeofascism & America’s NeoPuritan Christofascism... At least notorious #NeoPuritan Ken Starr is dead, & oh, how much damage was done by this Poster Boy for Right-Wing Hypocrisy, & oh how much fun we had awarding him 1998 “Pornographer of the Year”… And oh how glad we are now to see Ca. Atty Gen Rob Bonta impede LA Sheriff Villaneuva’s Deputy Gangbang of So Cal citizens… In tRump News: Proving QAnon has achieved a Coup Anon in his brain, the Trumpus declares he can declassify top secret documents “just by thinking about it”…. We also talk about Kanye-Never-Reading-A-Book vs. Me reading Fabian Scheidler’s End of the Megamachine: A Brief History of a Failing Civilization, the MM consisting of 4 Tyrannies: 1) military 2) economy 3) religion & 4) #LinearThinking, #4 being my personal weakness, as evidenced by this show... FREE ASSANGE! Get well, Max! Be Bonobo. #ListenUp!
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We also talk Religious Fascism and the attack on Salmon Rushdie, freedom of expression and JK Rowling. Mid-show, a random caller turns out to be a poster boy for irreligious, antifascist, male-male, purely recreational and very sustainable sex: “Justin” calls in looking for phone love as he enjoys self-love. Speaking of dicks, we also learn that Kate’s nickname for the #PrinceofPegging is “Big Willie,” and we bid farewell to Jeffrey “Zoom Dick” Toobin (he should have called us for Phone Sex Therapy) now finally finishing--I mean leaving CNN.
I also share a bit of intriguing correspondence about bonobo female reproductive choice, alpha male reproduction, beta male recreational sex and the Bonobo Way of peace through shared non-reproductive pleasures with my favorite primatology couple, Dr. Brian Hare and Vanessa Woods, authors of Survival of the Friendliest (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J-Xrq...). Wow, talk about sustainable sex!
And of course, Capt’n Max and I celebrate the Trump Raid—just the tonic for toxic Post-Trump Sex Disorder!—with a little orgasmic sustainable sex of our own. Yes, it’s sustainable! The only Big Oil involved is a big jar of coconut oil.
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Once he realized his “wild” Coup Anon was failing miserably, he reluctantly agreed tell his hordes to go home, but not that he lost the election. He also appears to have poisoned the Secret Service, turning a couple into Coup Anon accomplices. And then there’s Coup Anon lieutenant Josh Hawley, the erotophobic Senator from Missouri who recently boasted, “I’m not gonna cower, I’m not gonna run,” as footage went viral of Chickenhawk Hawley running away from the Capitol-crashing Coup Anon’ers—just after he’d fist-pumped them into a fighting frenzy. As Capitol Cop Michael Fanone put it, “Josh Hawley ran like a little bitch.” Though that's an unintended insult to girl-dogs, sissies and women who take no shit, it's an apt description of the cowardly fist-pumper from Missouri. But will anyone important—especially the Big Orange Cheesebrain—be held accountable for this criminal Coup Anon?
We also talk about Public Access TV—which had more Free Speech than YouTube—and which I’ll soon be discussing on HBO (!), the Climate Criminal KarTRASHians (especially jet fuel-spewing Kylie Jenner and Travis Scott), yummy Armie Hammer and cannibalism kink, the unconscionable extradition of journalist Julian Assange and how we really need to quit this Coup Anon Kink Crusade and just “Be Bonobo” on The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure, ecosexuality, female empowerment, male well-being, great consensual sex and sharing everything.
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Both Capt’n Max and I get pretty fired up on this show (one way to relieve your depression is to release it on your podcast!) and our commenters are also pretty fired up, so we don’t have time for calls. Max and I are both pretty disturbed by current events, but Max manifests his rage as righteous anger, and mine tends to drop precipitously down into depression. We also talk about the Coronapocalypse (it’s baaack!), Israel’s awful apartheid treatment of Palestinians; Elon Musk vs. Errol Musk (who’s worse?); Coup Anon & other tRump trash; the Perma Wars; hot Senior Sex (at least we have that!); Orgasms (they can relieve depression… temporarily!); and how important it is to get out and PROTEST the Supreme Wrongs of these illegitimate Injustices. At first, I apologize for not going out to protest, but then recall that I was just recently protesting on the front lines of the Anti-Supreme Court demonstration at Yale, focusing much of our collegial wrath on infamous Yale alumnus Brett Kavanaugh, one of the two men (the other being Clarence Thomas) credibly accused of sexual abuse during their confirmation hearings that are now sexually abusing the entire country.
It's all very disturbing… but we cheer up by gazing at the galaxies (courtesy of the Webb Telescope!) as well as our amazing show and the beautiful photos streaming throughout the live podcast from our erotic exotic orgiastic fantastic Bonoboville Reunion, Class of 2022 (which is too hot for Youtube, but you can see it all here: https:// drsusanblock. com/ bonobo-reunion) with Vice TV, in the Womb Room sanctuary of the little Love Church of The Bonobo Way. Yes indeed, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners, the best antidote to this creeping—and very creepy—neofascism in America is to #GoBonobos, to follow The Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure, ecosexuality, female empowerment, male well-being, great consensual sex and sharing everything… because everything and everyone is connected, and nothing is really just “ours” and ours alone.
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