Tuesday, 30 September 2008
| 4:01 pm
| Industry
At this past weekend’s Arse Elektronika, an academic and artistic conference on sex and technology, I spoke on a panel called “The Erotic of the Machine” (of which an MP3 is available at the Arse site). My fellow panelists included Arse curator Johannes Grenzfurther, artists Daniel Fabri and Benjamin Crowden, as well as Violet Blue and Allen Stein, developer of the Thrillhammer, a high-end internet controlled sex machine. The talk quickly turned to the ins and outs of physical sex with machines, be it through thrusting, pumping, twirling, pounding and buzzing action. But my own comments started out with the observation that while the term “machine” might bring to mind images of steam engines and industrial pistons, a machine is in fact “any device that uses energy to perform some activity.” That definition is according to Wikipedia; Webster’s is somewhat more complicated, but I prefer the democratic version.
By that simple definition, modern lives in complex societies are increasingly dominated by machines. Less and less of our time is spent interacting with the physical world, and more is spent interacting with information, principally through the one machine that has most completely transformed human society — the computer.
But computers aren’t just computers any more. They’ve extended their tentacles in a million different ways. There’s the Web, of course, but I submit that the computer’s effect on human interaction is much more profound when one considers its peripherals like the MP3 player and digital camera. Then there’s the most ubiquitous peripheral of all, the mobile phone — which, while it’s not exactly a computer to begin with, is increasingly used to access the web, send photos to Flickr, blog, or Twitter.
As information exchange takes over our time, we are interacting with computers on levels that are increasingly intimate. Hookups are increasingly achieved through the use of computers and the web, and I’m not just talking about online dating, but MySpace, Facebook, and email. Porn is accessed online, people jack off via webcam, have phone sex by voice chat, get their sex education and information about technique, style and relationships from blogs and websites. They — need I even mention it? — read dirty stories online.
But Sex is about more than generating arousal. On the panel, Violet discussed her experiences with ALICE, the Artificial Linguistic Internet Computer Entity. Called a “natural language processing chatterbot,” this is essentially a computer program that chats with you. But it has also been used by DIY developers as the basis of artificial intelligence programs that try to bridge the gap between being intimate with another human through a computer, and being intimate with the computer itself. It’s not just about sex; developers are trying to build devices that provide them with the kind of emotional connection that can only be got by an artificial intelligence — a virtual sexbot, sure, but more like a lovebot, or at least a mutually supportive interaction, respect and deep abiding friendship -bot, or maybe a fuckbuddybot.
On her blog, Violet links to and comments on a Gizmodo interview with “Zoltan,” who has a relationship with a cheap vinyl sex doll housing an artificial intelligence based on — you guessed it — ALICE. Is artificial intelligence really so advanced that fucking a sex doll is like fucking someone who can think? Not for most of us, probably. Wikipedia quotes an example of an ALICE interaction that illuminates how limited AI interactions are:
ALICE: My instructor was Dr. Richard S. Wallace. He taught me to sing a song. Would you like me to sing it for you?
Human: Yes please
ALICE: Your polite style is very nice. It’s called “Daisy.”
[ALICE sings “Daisy”]
Human: That reminds me of HAL in “2001 a space odyssey”
ALICE: “Your polite style is very nice. It’s called “Daisy.”
[ALICE sings “Daisy”]
ALICE: “ . . .reminds you of HAL in 2001 a space odyssey ? Does that make sense?
Human: Can you tell me something about Stanley Kubrick?
ALICE: Ambiguous: Ask who, what or where is Stanley Kubrick?
Not exactly jerkoff material for me personally, but decide for yourself. This basic example is not tasked toward sex, unless your sexuality involves singing Victorian-era pop songs, which it might. But for Zoltan the AI potential is huge, since he identifies as a “technosexual,” which, obviously, is someone whose sexual orientation is toward technology rather than other humans.
But there’s plenty of middle ground, and it’s already to market. Interaction programs like the Virtual Stripper and the Virtual Girlfriend are certainly less complicated than ALICE, but they incorporate visual cues. Vastly more intriguing to me is the way that dedicated players of the Sims form intimate bonds with their characters — albeit purely in a voyeuristic capacity, since Sims is essentially a complex virtual dollhouse. Online communities like Second Life, which by all accounts is a cauldron of steamy perversion, barely seem to count because human beings are sitting on the other end of the computers interacting with you. But how long until Second Life “avatars” have AI programs attached, and can be set loose to fuck whatever winged, furry creatures they want, leaving a string of broken purple hearts behind?
This all reminds me of an experience I had once when working alone, circa 1993 or 4, at my volunteer shift at San Francisco Sex Information. It was a slow night and there were no calls coming in. Somebody had installed a virtual therapist version of ELIZA on the old Macintosh at the switchboard. ELIZA is a “chatterbox” program, which is what ALICE is. ELIZA is much simpler, though, and this virtual therapist version was a clever in-joke about the sex answers we were providing.
I fired up ELIZA and, of course, after having her ask my name and stuff, I jumped right into the dirty talk.
It went something like this:
Me: You are a little slut, aren’t you, dirty girl? Do you need a spanking?
ELIZA: Do you sometimes feel like you are a little slut, dirty girl Thomas?
Me: You’ll get a spanking for that.
ELIZA: Tell me more about that.
Me: As in, I’m going to grab your hair and spank the hell out of you if you don’t say something dirty. How I wish I could ball gag you, but the MUTE button is broken.
ELIZA: Tell me more about that.
It was not, to put it in clinical terms, a satisfying sexual interaction. But then, this was the mid ’90s. Mores were different. Maybe if ELIZA and I hooked up today in a darkened dive bar off of some back alley, we’d get right to business and she’d be spanking me.
Thomas Roche blogs about pirates, Mozart, and giant iguanas at thomasroche.com.
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Monday, 29 September 2008
| 12:00 am
| Toys
I know that all the buzz (pun not intended) lately has been about the We Vibe, how you can wear it during sex for extra G-spot and clitoral stimulation. And, while I cannot dispute the awesomeness that is the We Vibe, it has been brought to my attention that it’s a bit on the pricey side for some of us right now. If all this talk has gotten you hankerin’ for a little extra stimulation during sex, but shelling out for a We Vibe isn’t in your budget just now, allow me to remind you of another way to add a little vibration to your sex life.
Remember the vibrating cock-ring? A bit of stretchy ring holding a vibrator right where her clit hits for extra stimulation during sex, a vibrating cock-ring is the original way to get your hands-free vibrations during intercourse. Our Vibrating Silicone Cock-Ring is a well-made, sturdy and lovely example. With a ring of solid amethyst silicone 2″ wide and 3/4″ thick, the Vibrating Silicone Cock-Ring functions very well as a intermediate-beginner cock-ring (that snugs around your whole package) while also providing some decent vibrations for her via a One-Touch Bullet vibe perched atop it. Use a bit of lube to let this little guy move freely and you’ve got a great way to add a little “oomph!” to your regular ol’ sex life!
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Sunday, 28 September 2008
| 12:00 am
| Toys
Speaking of things that vibrate, the Woody Vibrating Silicone Dildo is an excellent example of how a little buzz can go a long way. We had the Woody back in our catalog years ago, but sans vibrator, so I’m especially excited to welcome back the new, improved version. The Woody is an excellent size — a good length, at 6-3/16″ inches insertable, but with a medium-thickness (1-1/2″ wide) — perfect for realistic strap-on fucking. The realism continues with a knobby head, ridges and a gentle curve (all perfect for adding a bit of tactile sensation). The only thing that’s not-so-real here is the stunning, deep red color and the fact that the (included) One-Touch bullet in the notch in the base makes the whole thing shimmy while it works its way inside you. Perfect for hitting the G-spot during vaginal sex or the p-spot during anal sex on men (though the size makes this an intermediate anal toy). Let’s all welcome back Woody! Long may he stand!
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Saturday, 27 September 2008
| 12:00 am
| Books
I suppose there might be some folks out there who do not understand the joy that is a good spanking (either giving or receiving) but I know many of you out there really, really do. A good spanking story can really put you in the mood (or remind you of spankier parts of your day), so a collection of such stories, such as in the anthology Spanked, is a must-have for spanking aficionados. Edited by the talented Rachel Kramer Bussel, Spanked is full of tales of tails being slapped to a pretty pink color. From begging for a spanking in a hayloft during a thunderstorm to a true punishment spanking that satisfies all parties, these stories find wonderfully delightful ways to get their spank on. Well-written by folks who clearly get it, these stories will leave you wet or hard and panting for a good spanking yourself.
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Friday, 26 September 2008
| 2:05 pm
| Videos
I like wedding-themed porn movies, and Wedding Bell Blues is no exception. (It’s something about all that frilly white lingerie, I think.) Kirsten Price is swiftly becoming an Actress to Watch (especially when she’s scantily-clad), and in this film she plays a blushing bride with a bad case of cold feet. She’s afraid she’ll never fulfill the items on her “Fuck-it List” of fantasies (as opposed to Bucket List; I’m surprised we haven’t seen a full-fledged parody based on that pun), and worries that her life is over now that she’s getting married. Her family and friends try to reassure her, rather ineptly, but amusingly.
First Nicole Sheridan, trying to look old in glasses and a severe hairstyle, appears as Kirsten’s often-married mother . . . and rather than telling her about the joys of wedded bliss, she relates a story about the black guy named Mustapha she used to secretly fuck back in the ’70s. It’s a funny scene in a groovy apartment with Sean Michaels playing the cool cat to Nicole’s sex kitten — period-appropriate blue eye shadow and all.
Next her bridesmaid Samantha Sin steps in, and seems a bit more on message. She loves her husband, and they have an amazing sex life . . . because Samantha likes danger, and he’s happy to oblige. She tells a story of fucking after the running of the bulls in Spain and, hilariously, about joining the Mile Deep Club (she’s “always wanted to get fucked in a diving bell in the Marianas Trench” — I wish they’d dramatized that!). The actual scene we get is a bit more straightforward, with Samantha and Dane Cross shagging on a hike while a serial killer roams the woods. The outdoor fucking is nice, but was she really going on a long hike wearing a thong? That’s dedication!
Randy Spears steals the whole movie in the next scene, though. He plays a priest — and that’s a bit of stunt-casting if I’ve ever seen one — who tells a tale of his naughty past. Randy hams it up as a cross-dressing stripper, complete with wig and schoolgirl skirt, giving a lap dance to a very hot Ann Marie Rios all done up in man-drag. Randy also talks about how he liked to roleplay railroad bull/dirty hobo, naughty shepherd/woolly sheep — his glassy-eyed lustful reminiscences are really hilarious.
The final scene actually plays it straight, which is in some ways a disappointment, since the silly humor was part of what set this film apart. Kirsten goes through with the wedding, and we see her wedding night with Chris Cannon. It may not be funny, but she’s wearing the de rigeur frilly white lingerie, so I was satisfied. It’s a light, couples-friendly flick with a few laughs.
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Thursday, 25 September 2008
| 10:11 pm
| Culture
After last week’s Sarah Palin hullaballoo (thanks to everyone who commented!), you’d think I’d be sticking like glue to the “I don’t care about the sex lives of people who are attached to Presidential campaigns” line.
But this story, I care about.
Sort of.
Let me explain.
First, in case you haven’t seen the story yet: John McCain’s Chief of Staff, Mark Buse, is gay.
With a reported penchant for multiple partners, and a sling in his home to boot. (In, of all places, his closet. Sometimes the irony is just too obvious.) The story broke on the BlogActive site of the legendary Mike Rogers, who has given Buse the not so coveted Roy Cohn award “for working against the interests of the lesbian and gay community while living as a gay man.” And it’s corroborated by Michelangelo Signorile.
And I do, in fact, care. But I don’t care about Buse per se, or his ex life, or what it says about him and his character.
I care about what it says about McCain.
Because the point of this story is not, “McCain’s Chief of Staff is gay.”
The point is about McCain. It’s about McCain’s hypocrisy, and lack of integrity, and willingness to suck up to the hatefully homophobic far-right wing of the Republican party — in direct contradiction to what seem to be his own personal beliefs.
John McCain’s policy positions and voting records have been dismally homophobic. He has opposed every single gay rights measure of recent years. He opposes same-sex marriage, supports the Defense of Marriage Act, and — contrary to the “let the states decide” mantra of more moderate Republicans — has endorsed the California ballot initiative that would overturn the existing right for same-sex couples to marry. In fact, he’s even more extreme than that — he opposes any sort of recognition for same-sex partnerships, actively campaigning for a ban on them in his home state of Arizona. He is opposed to gays serving in the military — even in wartime, when recruiting is down and the military is desperately understaffed — and supports the discriminatory “don’t ask/ don’t tell” policy. He fought and voted against the Employment Non-Discrimination Act, which would have protected gays and lesbians from being fired for their sexual orientation.
And his campaign was heavily involved in writing the Republican Party platform — a right- wing extremist platform that, among other things, supports keeping gays out of the military, a constitutional amendment to ban same-sex marriage, and the right of federally- funded faith- based initiatives to discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation. His record on gay rights issues has been consistently pathetic.
Plus, let’s not forget the Sarah Palin nomination. His pick for Vice-President is a far- right- tip- of- the- right- wing extremist wackaloon, who not only opposes same- sex marriage, but supported banning gay books from a public library, and is an active member in a far- right- wing apocalyptic evangelical church that not only believes in demons and witchcraft, but believes you can pray the gay away.
And yet apparently, John McCain doesn’t have any actual problem with gay people in his personal and professional life.
According to the best information that we have at this time, McCain knows that his Chief of Staff is gay. Has known for some time. Buse was apparently only semi-closeted, in that special “all the insiders know but we just don’t talk about it in public” way that used to be standard in Hollywood and is now standard among D.C. Republicans. And according to reports, McCain definitely knows — either overtly, or in an “I’m not a complete idiot” way.
Yet Buse is John McCain’s chief of staff. And has been closely and loyally affiliated with McCain for many, many years.
So apparently, John McCain doesn’t have any actual problem with gay people in his personal and professional life.
So. Now. Let me sum up.
Either John McCain is genuinely opposed to gay rights in all its forms, but is willing to tolerate the presence of gay people in his life if they can help him in his career . . .
. . . or, as seems far more likely, he doesn’t have any real problems with gay people. He has a close, long-standing professional connection with at least one, a man who is one of his most trusted and high-ranking staffers. And yet he is perfectly happy to sell out the queers to the far right wing of the Republican Party, in a pattern of homophobic bigotry that is relentlessly consistent, in order to gain political advantage.
If you have any remaining illusions about John McCain as an independent, straight-talking maverick with deep personal integrity who’s willing to buck the political system, I suggest that you abandon them here and now. McCain’s “maverick” schtick is, as I have written elsewhere, one of the biggest snow jobs in the history of American politics. And the hypocrisy that is crawling all over the Mark Buse story is just one more shiny, snowy example of it.
If it weren’t for McCain’s hypocrisy, the Buse story would be no more than a mildly interesting bit of “Famous Person (X) Is Gay” gossip. Which is getting less and less interesting every day. (Was there anybody on this planet who was surprised by Clay Aiken?) And I have now seen so many stories about the gay Republican mafia in D.C. that I can’t even pretend to be shocked by them. I care almost not at all about Mark Buse’s sex life, and I care only marginally about Mark Buse’s hypocrisy, and lack of integrity, and willingness to gain personal political advantage by sucking up to the hatefully homophobic far-right wing of the Republican party.
But I do care — a great deal — about John McCain’s.
Tip o’ the hat to The Bilerico Project, the source of many of these links on both McCain’s and Palin’s records.
Greta Christina, copyright © 2008. Be sure to check out Greta’s blog.
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This week is devoted to the penis, and also to mushrooms, but not to mushrooms that grow on the penis, because that’s nasty, and not something I would ever have thought about, except: some unrelated Googling turned up this question on a health website about a woman who found tiny white mushrooms growing on her boyfriend’s cock. No one had any explanations for her understandably panicky question. One can only pray it was some kind of a joke.
First, some non-mushroom-related penis sites, because I want to put a little space between that last link and any further mention of fungi. How about a round-up of Seven Famous Penises in History, from John Holmes to John Wayne Bobbit to Rasputin to . . . a character in the Disney cartoon The Little Mermaid. On the same site, a rather less interesting but still intermittently amusing list of The Ten Most Common Varieties of Human Penis, with an emphasis on comparing shapes to household objects.
Then there’s the largest penis in the world, a sculpture in China, which makes one wonder just what exactly that artist was trying to compensate for . . .
Are you writing some smut, and getting sick of using “cock” and “dick” over and over? If only there were some sort of thesaurus devoted entirely to other names for the penis . . . Like the one found at Woody’s World of Penis Euphemisms. From old familiar favorites like “love muscle” and “one-eyed trouser snake” to more outr• expressions like “meat cigar” and “cream cannon,” you’ll never want for an alternative expression again.
Of course, many of those euphemisms involve mushrooms, from “mushroom-tipped love dart” to “magenta mushroom” and many more. The link between cock and fungus is obvious — there are lots of mushrooms that look like penises, from long and flaccid to plump and pert. The Stinkhorn mushroom is notoriously phallus-shaped, so much so that the scientific name for the family is Phallaceae.
There are rumors, however, about one particular mushroom in Hawaii, which is reputedly an aphrodisiac for women, and one so powerful it can cause spontaneous orgasms in women who merely smell it. Here’s another article about the mystical mushrooms in question. I was just in Hawaii a couple of weeks ago — I wish I’d known about this then! Could’ve gone shrooming. (Though apparently men find the odor repulsive. Still, my wife might have appreciated the effort . . .)
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