[Prev][Next][Index]
Yucks Digest V2 #37
Yucks Digest Tue, 30 Jun 92 Volume 2 : Issue 37
Today's Topics:
a brief trip report about Survival Research Labs
SRL show; what was supposed to happen
Network Stations Ponder Pilots
OPINION & ANALYSIS What really drives men crazy
RSVP: MANNERS How are your table manners?
Timeless
Tough Times For Gentle Sex
The "Yucks" digest is a moderated list of the bizarre, the unusual,
the sometimes risque, the possibly insane, and the (usually) humorous.
It is issued on a semi-regular basis, as the whim and time present
themselves.
Back issues and subscriptions can be obtained using a mail server. Send
mail to "yucks-request@cs.purdue.edu" with a "Subject:" line of the single
word "help" for instructions.
Submissions and problem reports should be sent to spaf@cs.purdue.edu
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Wed, 8 Apr 1992 17:18:06 PDT
From: "Chris Kent Kantarjiev" <kent@parc.xerox.com>
Subject: a brief trip report about Survival Research Labs
To: The great and wonderful eniac <eniac@mejac.palo-alto.ca.us>
Today, as you've all already heard, was to be SRL's next show in San
Francisco. This was part of the SFMOMA's groundbreaking ceremony for
their new site; for a long time it looked as if only ticket-holders
(i.e., paid up museum members) would get to see this. But that turned
out not to be the case: the site was a corner lot in the SOMA district.
The only thing that kept the public out was some chain link fence.
The show was scheduled to start at 11:00, and there was a rumor that
SRL would actually start on time for a change. I took up a position at
the fence in the back corner, roughly opposite the magazine-loaded can
hurler. Just in front of me was the V-1 rocket engine, flanking a
makeshift pagoda of corrugated steel. I could see the new walker
peeking out behind the pagoda. Over by the can hurler was something
that had to be the slime gun (about 3 feet of rusty steel tubing, with
a short right angled end, the muzzle of which was pointed upwards at
about 45 degrees) and the rail gun. There were a few more structures,
some covered, promising more to come.
The crowd was a good SOMA mix: lots of black leather, shaved heads,
some tattoos, mixed in with the curious financial district types in
their suits and ties, some Pacific Heights swells who had escaped the
SFMOMA compound in order to get a better view, as well as folks who had
come up from the Peninsula just for the show (I overheard a heated
discussion behind me of the relative merits of awk vs perl).
The SRL crowd was huddled in front of us, apparently getting last
minute instructions from Mark Pauline. Most of them were dressed like
something out of
Mad Max: well-worn overalls, bandannas, work gloves. Along with hearing
protectors, hands-free radios, belt power packs and large joystick control
setups.
The group broke and started taking up positions. One person climbed a ladder and
placed two gallon milk containers of what looked like pig's blood on top, and
cut into the top of each container, allowing the blood to start seeping out.
The can hurler operator put on his head mounted display and started
tracking the gun. It was amazing how responsive it was.
I put in my earplugs.
Someone started saying "Get off the roof, you're in the target
zone" over the PA. One of the boundaries of the lot is a two story building with
a great view of hte lot from the roof. The problem is that this building wall is
exactly opposite the rail gun, the can hurler, and the slime gun.
About this time, a worried looking man in a white shirt and blue sweater started
walking around, pointing at pieces of machinery and asking questions. Mark went
over and conferred with him. It wasn't hard to figure out that this was a
representative of the local constabulary ... and word quickly spread through the
crowd that it was, indeed, a fire marshall. Fire extinguishers were located and
placed. The man seemed appeased, but still looked worried.
Engines were started, people took their places, the soundtrack began...
The walker began walking. Pretty impressive, even though it walks in fits and
starts; I couldn't tell if this was an operator or machine malfunction. The
mobile V-1 started up, pointed itself at various portions of the crowd and
fired. Firing came in two modes: either continuous 20-foot streams of flame, or
seriously impressive short bursts accompanied by a powerful concussion wave. (I
particularly liked the little weather-vane that indicates, presumably to the
operator, the direction in which it is next likely to move.) After a bit of
this, a gallon container of blood was ejected, intact. I assume this was meant
to melt and be spewed, but it didn't work out that way.
About this time, a large canvas over the site was unveiled, revealing a depction
of various bestial acts involving female humans and what looked like boars. Went
with the theme of SEXUALIZED WAR, I guess, but it didn't really do much for the
tableau in this critic's opinion.
About 10 feet from me, a compressed air fog horn went off about every 35
seconds. This was seriously loud, and watching the reaction of the people who
hadn't brought ear plugs was fun.
Another small machine rolled over to the pagoda before me. This one had
a claw like a lobster's, and pressed this against one of the window
panes at the base.
It then began to shake by means of two eccentric rotating weights in its
platform. This shook the structure and eventually broke the glass.
The firing mechanism on the can hurler had apparently jammed, and was
being looked at furiously; the operator had his VR goggles off. The
slime gun was working, sort of, but had nowhere near the anticipated 200 ft range.
The rail gun was working great, though. Lots of flying sparkly bits of molten metal!
The V1 rolled over to another structure and stuck its snout into an opening
therein in what must have been intended to be a sexual metaphor. It then fired,
inflating the parachute on top of the structure and generally starting small
fires all around.
The giant arm began to poke its head, err, arm out of its hiding place and was
met by cheers from the crowd.
The shaker grabbed one of the cardboard supports on the pagoda and shook and
pulled until the whole thing fell. The blood didn't really spill, though. The V1
came over and took a few blasts.
Oh yes, the fire marshall. He'd been darting around (not easy for a man easily
6'4") looking worried. He now started looking *really* worried. As the
V1 nuzzled into the pagoda and increased the flames, the whole
structure collapsed on the shaker. It looked like the shaker blew some
hydraulics at this point,
because it mostly stopped moving (one drive wheel was off the ground but kept
turning), trapped under the flaming debris.
The shaker is gasoline powered.
The fire marshall pretty much stopped the action and wanted the fire put out.
About 10 people strode up with 10lb CO2 fire extinguishers. I laughed. There was
no way that they were going to put out that gas and paper fire with those
extinguishers -- and they didn't. Some effort was made to pull the debris away,
a forklift was started and brought over but inexplicably not used. Someone
through a gallon of blood on the mess, in a pleasant gesture but to little
effect.
About this time, some fire department folks with real uniforms and
badges and walkie-talkies showed up. One of them turned out to be the
chief. None of them looked happy.
More efforts were made to douse the flames, with extinguishers, slime,
and water. The shaker had mostly been extricated and now it was just a
cardboard fire. The soundtrack was shut off, and it was safe to say
that the choreographed portion of the show was over.
But we asked, just to be sure. "Yah, it's over, we're shut down. It
burned much better than we expected." The fire marshall was walking
around with Mark, having grasped him by the arm just above the elbow:
this really didn't look good, but Mark had a very satisfied look on his face.
Then we heard sirens. The fire chief got several SRLers to pull back
some of the fence, a couple of firemen came in with a water hose and
doused the rest of the flames. The crowd dispersed.
They say that the reason that SRL doesn't get to put on a show more often than
every three years in SF is that it takes about that long for the administration
to change or enough people to forget what the last show was like so they can get
a permit again...
------------------------------
Date: Thu, 9 Apr 92 16:11:32 PDT
From: Raymond.Drewry@Gain.COM (Raymond Drewry)
Subject: SRL show; what was supposed to happen
To: eniac@mejac.palo-alto.ca.us
The show was completely unlike any other SRL show
I've worked on. The segregation of the audiences (museum
donors and everyone else) was annoying. The site itself was
good, but the constraints placed on viewing positions
were bad.
The show`s orignal theme was the exploitation of
resaonable things (like sex) for unreasonable ends. After
a while, we just gave upon that, and dcided the theme would
be 'This is an SRL show in the middle of the day.' This
led to the notion of uncovering and revealing, which meant
we could keep the orgy mural; it also produced the large
silly face appearing out of the columned structure. It
is not at all surprising that those of you at the show may not
have figured this out.
The fire department insisted on having someone at
the control panel during the show. He very quickly figured
out that what he should really do was follow the V-1 operator, who
would occasionally sprint to the opposite side of the site to avoid him.
The fire department was also upset by the rail gun.
The V-1 was obviously the star of the show. It rattled the
Wells Fargo building's windows very nicely. It also singed my
eyebrows, though not much. (It scorched my overalls in Spain;
I think it may be time to wise up and just avoid it, though
the rumbling noises it makes are an interesting experience.)
The Shaker started out pretty well. The logging claw/
eccentric rotating counterweight combination could, if one so desired,
destroy a telephone pole. Its suspension is not very good, though,
so it got stuck inside the round pavilion. The operator managed to go
forward far enough to tear down the telescoping pole in the middle, collapsing
the rest of the structure (as the script specified.) Due to a breakdown
in communications, the V-1 attacked the debris anyway -- the Shaker
was supposed to emerge, slightly singed, and attack the V-1, but since
it was stuck this never happened. THis is where the fire department
got upset. Mark managed to haggle with them for long enough for a few
more things to happen, but there was a fair amount that just never got going.
The large tower in the middle contained acetelyne-filled balloons,
which were to be ignited by the rail gun (the thing that was shooting
blobs of molten metal around.) Another prop had huge quantities of
Insta-Pak in it (unmixed), which oozed out (admixed with blood) when
the prop toppled.) The large mural was arranged so that its supports could
be collapsed bt the Arm or the metermaid cart. The sheet metal pyramid
had just started agitating the two large cardboard dummies, which ought
to have ended up hopping about spectacularly. There wasn't
enough time to inflate the parachute fully.
There were some technical failures. The tele-robotic cannon
jammed (though it worked fine before and after the show.) Some of its
plaster slugs were filled with dye, some with other things. The Arm
got curmudgeonly and refused to leave its hut; it managed to destroy
some of it from the inside. We were trying a new mixture in the snot gun;
it was more disgusting than the previous stuff, but didn't fly as well, so
we'll probably go back to the old formula. If the show had run for
its full lenght, the snot gun would have had pretty good coverage
on the whole audience, with special attention to the good seats.
The running machine was jittery because of operator
uncertainty; it can walk very smoothly and briskly. It's a pretty insane
piece of mechanical design, and has produced something akin to envy
in a couple of serious robotics types.
So, we're sorry it was so hard to see. Things probably would
have been better if things had been allowed to continue another
15 minutes or so -- I think that even those of you in bad
locations would have seen something interesting, or at least
felt it. I had a good time, though, and hope that at least
some of the audience did too.
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 7 Apr 92 22:13:18 PDT
From: one of our correspondents
Subject: Network Stations Ponder Pilots
To: yucks-request
By DEBORAH HASTINGS
AP Television Writer
LOS ANGELES (AP)
Someone should make a sitcom about making sitcoms in Hollywood.
Viewers would be hard pressed to believe such a show. But then,
they're going to be hard pressed to believe some of the pilots
waiting in the network wings.
One of the most bizarre is a comedy called "Woops," which is about
life after a nuclear holocaust. Its title recalls the last utterance
of the knucklehead who accidentally pushes the button.
The end of the world as we know it. What a thigh-slapper.
The pilot is from no less than Tony Thomas and Paul Witt, two
producers who have helped create some of the most successful programs
on TV, including "The Golden Girls" and "Empty Nest."
In the next month, executives at ABC, CBS, NBC and Fox
Broadcasting Co. will winnow their weird lists for the annual
presentation of the fall schedule to advertisers.
Out of about 50 candidates, here are some of the more promising
and some of the most absurd. You decide which is which.
FOX:
"The Hannigans of Rhode Island." It's a series about a well-known
political family with a son who's a womanizing, boozing senator and a
cousin who's a TV journalist married to a bodybuilder movie star. Fox
touts this new piece of television brilliance thusly: "The Hannigans
are truly unique, unlike any other family in political history."
Fox's tongue is firmly implanted in its corporate cheek, of course.
Or it already is building a legal case should a certain Massachusetts
political family sue for slander.
CBS:
"Bob." Bob Newhart returns to television in a series written and
directed by the off-camera lineup at "Cheers." Newhart plays the
creator of a comic book hero called "Mad Dog."
"Love Is Hell." No kidding. The latest creation of "Murphy Brown"
parents Diane English and Joel Shukovsky. Jay Thomas plays a reporter
who falls for the woman who just bought his local bar. The woman is
Susan Dey, who is leaving as a regular on "L.A. Law" after this
season her second departure from the NBC series.
NBC:
"Do Not Bring That Python in The House." Yes, that's really the
title. Starring Tony-winner Judith Ivey as a newspaper columnist with
three sons and no husband.
"Radio Free Neighborhood." Robert Townsend, the actor-director
who made and starred in such films as "Hollywood Shuffle" and "The
Five Heartbeats," is the force behind this new series about a
community radio station. From the Carsey Werner company, which
produces "A Different World," "Roseanne" and "Davis Rules."
ABC:
"Going to Extremes." Brought to you by the producing team of Josh
Brand and John Falsey, two men who can't create anything without the
adjective "quirky" being used to describe it. Examples: "Northern
Exposure" and "St. Elsewhere." This time, the locale is Jamaica and
the subject matter is medicine.
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 7 Apr 92 22:14:49 PDT
From: one of our correspondents
Subject: OPINION & ANALYSIS What really drives men crazy
To: yucks-request
(With Illustration - Male Hormones)
By M.G. Lord Copley News Service
I had the good fortune to pick up the April issue of M magazine
early one recent morning after the godawful noises emanating from my
sleeping husband had awakened me. I had always assumed male snoring
was a form of passive aggression. But after reading an article on
testosterone by science writer Karen Wright, I learned otherwise.
Snoring like baldness, brutality, beer bellies and all those
other quintessential guy things is simply a function of that elixir
of maleness, testosterone.
In the half-light of dawn when my best ideas appear I thought
of a modest proposal. Wouldn't the quality of life improve
dramatically if testosterone linked in studies to violent crime,
rape and other asocial behavior could be kept in check? If, by
embedding a skin patch, like Norplant or Nicoderm, a victim of
testosterone excess could be transformed from a raging bull into a
gentle bunny?
With less testosterone, Saddam Hussein might blossom into a
statesman. And if somebody had had the foresight to control his
imbalance years ago, it would not have been necessary to fight or
pay for last year's video game in the Persian Gulf.
Mike Tyson is another victim of his glands. Had his lawyers been
resourceful, they might have argued that his hormones made him do it.
The PMS (premenstrual syndrome) defense has worked for women; why
shouldn't TMT (too much testosterone) work for men?
And except for surging hormones, Washington, D.C.'s, ex-Mayor
Marion Barry might well still be in office, Jimmy Swaggart in his
pulpit and Gary Hart in the White House.
Of course, one can imagine why trial lawyers would be loath to
defend clients by prosecuting testosterone.
According to a study presented at the American Psychological
Society's meeting last June, courtroom attorneys have higher levels of
the chemical than their paper-pushing counterparts. And although the
thought makes one queasy, female trial lawyers also have unusually
high levels of the substance.
In moderation, testosterone is not necessarily bad. Without it,
male sex drive and performance plummet. Perhaps to fanatical
anti-pornography crusader Andrea Dworkin who seems to view most
heterosexual encounters as rape this is a good thing.
But most other women, I suspect, would not agree, despite the fact
that Dworkin has been arguing her case with the zeal of a trial
lawyers. (Hmmm. I wonder what her testosterone level is.)
Perhaps the real issue with testosterone is: How much is too much?
Bodybuilders who shoot up the hormone along with other anabolic
steroids suffer acne eruptions all over their bodies and bouts of
insanity that they refer to as "roid rages."
Except for a few Mr. Olympia titleholders whose brains have been
permanently damaged, I can't imagine anyone finding these symptoms
attractive. Perhaps the goal should be: enough testosterone to keep
men interested in breeding, not so much that they become interested in
invading Kuwait.
Skin-patch testosterone regulators may also be a challenge to
devise. Depo-Provera has been used to eliminate testosterone
production in sexual offenders; but to my knowledge, no drug exists to
moderate hormone levels. And even if such patches were technically
feasible, they might strike some as Orwellian.
The American Civil Liberties Union would no doubt oppose them, even
as it opposed the recent decision by Northern California Judge Howard
Broadman to implant Norplant in a 28-year-old mother of four (with
five previous felony convictions) who had just been found guilty of
beating her kids with an electric cord.
There also is an implicit psychological obstacle. Male doctors have
no apparent compunction about tampering with women's hormonal cycles
witness the pill and Norplant. But if the kind of chemical
contraceptives on the market are any indication, they are not
especially eager to tamper with their own.
Male vanity, however, might prompt skin-patch research.
Testosterone causes baldness and a skin patch is probably a good
deal less painful than hair reforestation.
I know my dream is utopian, but for a few brief moments, dream it
with me. Imagine a world without war, rape or boxing. Imagine Norman
Mailer penning the definitive book on flower arrangement.
Imagine Robert Bly leading a nail-care workshop in the wilderness,
William Kennedy Smith taking up tatting or Sylvester Stallone filming
a lyrical movie about a Junior League bake sale.
Imagine a world without snoring or hairy backs. Where Arnold
Schwarzenegger would be viewed as a mutant and Hemingway as a quaint
anachronism. Where Brett Easton Ellis' "American Psycho" not only
wouldn't have sold, it would never have been written.
Unthinkable, you say. Probably. But 100 years ago, telephone
beepers, fax machines, in vitro insemination and television talk shows
would have been pooh-poohed, too. And you never know what lengths a
man will go to to avoid losing his hair.
M.G. Lord is an editorial cartoonist and columnist with Newsday.
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 7 Apr 92 12:57:07 PDT
From: one of our correspondents
Subject: RSVP: MANNERS How are your table manners?
To: yucks-request
By Letitia Baldrige Copley News Service
Q. If the hostess picks up the piece of pheasant she's eating and
chews it, holding it in her fingers, that means that her guests can do
likewise, right?
A. Correct. Remember, when eating poultry, fowl or meat chops:
Outdoors, at an informal meal, you can pick up your chicken or
spare ribs or whatever you are eating and chew them with gusto, right
down to the bone.
Indoors, you should cut the meat with your fork or knife; however,
if your host picks up his piece with his fingers, you can certainly
follow suit, if you choose. It's nice when your host initiates the
finger-eating and says to his guests, "Do pick up these small birds
don't try any longer to get the meat off with your forks and knives,
because it's too difficult."
If you can't get any more meat off your lamb chop, for example, and
you crave the last tidbits on the bone, you may certainly ask your
host, "Would you mind if I picked this up? It's so delicious, I don't
want to miss a morsel of it." (I've never heard of a host who said no
in answer to this polite question.)
When you do pick up a chicken leg or any other piece of boned meat
whether you're indoors or outdoors hold it with only the thumb and
forefinger of one hand, and remember to use your napkin quickly and
often to remove the inevitable stains from fingers and mouth.
Q. When you look down at the flatware at your place setting and you
see two forks on the left, should you use the one fork for the meat
course and the other fork for the salad plate, or is the second fork
supposed to be saved for dessert (such as pie or cake)?
A. This is a sticky wicket. If your host sets the table with the
inner fork, it might well be meant for dessert. The easiest thing for
a host to do is to set the dessert fork and spoon at the top center of
the place setting (above the plate), which would alleviate any doubt
about what will be used to eat dessert.
If I am faced with the dilemma of two forks at my place setting and
I don't know if one is supposed to be used for the salad plate, I
don't take a chance. I use my dinner fork to eat the main course and
the salad, so I don't get caught with a later course that requires
another fork. If you're in a good restaurant, use a separate fork for
each course because if you run out of flatware, a waiter can easily
solve the problem. It's more embarrassing to run out of a fork in a
friend's home, but it isn't the end of the world, either.
Q. When you're a clumsy dolt like me and drop on the floor a small
capon you're trying to serve yourself from a platter, what should you
do, other than die of embarrassment?
A. If you drop it on the floor in a restaurant, let the waiter pick
it up. He'll say he is replacing it with a fresh one, but he'll most
likely walk into the kitchen and come right back out again with your
same capon.
If you drop it on the floor in your friend's house, pick it up
yourself, wipe it off with your napkin, put it back on your plate, but
before eating it, wipe up the stain on the carpet with your napkin.
(You can always get a clean napkin from your host, but very possibly
not another capon.)
Q. I hate asparagus, and so it's wasteful for me to take some when
I'm a guest at someone's home. Yet I feel my hostess's eyes boring
holes through me if I refuse to take any dish passed to me.
A. If there are several things being passed at this meal, you may
certainly pass up a proffered dish. However, don't reject more than
one dish, or you will be conspicuously rude. If asparagus is the only
vegetable offered at the meal, you can always take a couple of
branches and proceed to push them around on your plate so they will
look half-consumed. Don't be worried about your table manners. Just
look and observe others who handle themselves with grace at the table,
and you'll learn how to eat properly. I remember a French
philosopher's words, "It is far worse to speak ill of others at the
table than to eat in an uncouth manner." There are many things in
life that are more objectionable than poor table manners, but there
are few things that are easier to correct.
Letitia Baldrige is the author of numerous books, including "The
Complete Guide to the New Manners for the '90s" and "The Complete
Guide to Executive Manners." Write Copley News Service, P.O. Box 190,
San Diego, CA 92112-0190.
[Yeah, but this doesn't answer my usual questions. Like what do I do
when the elderly lady to my left removes her dentures and leaves them
in the fingerbowl to soak ("This pudding is too tough, don't you
think?"), the guy across the table is demonstrating how to eat
spaghetti through his nose, and the host is explaining how we almost
didn't have enough of the first course because the dog had gotten into
it....which fork do I use then? --spaf]
------------------------------
Date: Thu, 9 Apr 92 10:29:46 CDT
From: brennan@hal.com (Dave Brennan)
Subject: Timeless
To: yucks-request
> Date: Wed, 01 Apr 1992 00:01 PST
> To: UCLA Library Information Systems <systems@library.ucla.edu>
> From: I. B. Lyon <iefbr14@ibm.com>
> Subject: IBM Zurich announces new chip
----- PRESS RELEASE
The Zurich laboratory unveiled the world's fastest chip this week.
The chip, code named "Timeless", is based on high temperature
superconductors and is capable of transferring data signals faster
than the speed of light. This makes it possible for a computer based
on this chip to produce answers before questions are asked.
Using this technology, the Hursley laboratory has been able to produce
a program product before the user requirements were known. Industry
analysts found the Hursley announcement humorous, citing that IBM has
been writing program products without user requirements for years.
Products created using the Hursley method are still expected to miss
their ship dates due to the excessive length of the Fall and Spring
planning cycles.
The Communication Products Systems Test organization is using the same
technology to test program products in zero days. Said a spokesperson
in Raleigh, "It's amazing. Just preparing to test the software
thoroughly causes it to be tested. It's like the system can read your
mind." Oddly enough, planning experts in System Test are reporting
that regardless of the productivity gains realized by the Timeless
chip, the average test duration is expected to be nine months.
There have been rumors of some odd side-effects of the Timeless chip.
Some customers have been receiving products before they order them.
Most customers we interviewed did admit that they were planning to
order the new software when it arrived. They said that they liked the
speed with which the products arrived, but they disliked IBM's new
policy of billing them before they ordered anything. Said an IBM
billing expert, "We knew they were going to think about ordering some
software, so we thought we would think about billing them."
IBM Service has made some exciting advances in hardware and software
maintenance based on these side-effects. IBM Service worldwide has
begun a free preventative maintenance program in which the IBM
Customer Engineers think about fixing all the problems of every
customer. Said an IBM Service representative, "The program is working
very well. Service calls are down 99%. The only calls we are getting
now are to fix hardware and software that hasn't been invented yet."
If you are thinking of ordering computer systems which uses the
Timeless chip, they can be ordered from IBM.
Of course, if you have been thinking about ordering one, it is
probably on its way to you right now.
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 7 Apr 92 12:57:36 PDT
From: one of our correspondents
Subject: Tough Times For Gentle Sex
To: yucks-request
ALBANY, Calif. (AP)
These are tough times for gentle sex. Just ask Yellow Silk editor
and publisher Lily Pond.
In the 10 years since she began her "journal of erotic arts," Pond
has watched as the religious right, anti-porn feminists,
sadomasochistic die-hards and AIDS combined to make sex a dirty word.
Through it all, Pond has stuck to her motto: "All persuasions, no
brutality."
Some people have called her quarterly magazine pornographic.
Others reject it as boring. But her tasteful mix of short stories,
poems and pictures has earned it a readership of about 15,000 people.
Most of the subscribers find Yellow Silk through ads in other
literary or alternative magazines.
Those looking for either Hustler-like titillation or explicit
Anais Nin-style erotica are bound to be disappointed much like an
adolescent who sneaks into an Ingmar Bergman movie because it's
Swedish and ends up sleeping through a quick flash of flesh.
"This isn't stuff that is written to turn people on. It's erotic
from the core out, not from the shell in," Pond said. "Yellow Silk is
obscene in the way spring is obscene. Everything is bursting with an
urgency that has nothing to do with black lace and garters."
Not to say there are no direct sexual references or exposed
bodies. But Yellow Silk's contents are often more literary-minded
than sexually explicit.
"There's gorgeous art and literature out there that everybody's
ignoring," Pond said. "I wanted to do a magazine that I wanted to
read."
She's not the only one who wanted to read it. The magazine,
written on a home computer, now grosses $250,000 a year from
advertising, subscriptions and newsstand sales.
Pond looks an unlikely crusader. She stands just over 5-foot-1 and
her warm face betrays not a trace of fanaticism. But she takes a firm
editorial stance against what she believes is a campaign to twist us
into sexual deviants.
Pond says popular links between violence and sex are fostered by
child abusers, media and fashion czars and anti-choice zealots. She
notes that the religious right has used the AIDS epidemic to make sex
a synonym for death.
The sex industry also deserves blame for its message that any act
that stays clear of violence or humiliation is bland.
"We are taught from many sides that sex is immoral, or even
deadly, and its fruits shameful ones, we are given few cultural
examples of a free and open sexuality, and we are expected to
participate in fashions which demean us all," she writes in the
upcoming 10th anniversary issue.
[Yes, but which fork do I use? --spaf]
------------------------------
End of Yucks Digest
------------------------------