Why I Leaked the Anita Hill Affidavit | shall identify myself only as a female aide to a Republican senator. It is also relevant that | have long nurtured a keen interest in psycho- history, the process by which a nation’ s direction is interpreted as an extension of the psychological makeup of those individuals who govern it. Without going into specific detail, let me simply state that on October 5, 1991, | happened to hear part of a conversation among Judge—now Supreme Court Justice—Clarence Thomas, Senator Orrin Hatch and Senator Alan Simpson. The three were meeting informally one week after the Judiciary Committee voted, first 7-7, then 13-1, to recommend the confirmation of Judge Thomas, and one day after the full Senate indicated that he wou/d be confirmed. The conversation | happened to hear had to do with those charges brought by Anita Hill and ignored by the members of the committee, both Democratic and Republican. At that point in time | still thought this was an appropriate response, because the alternative would have been to hold an executive session, and Judge Thomas would then have had no practical choice but to resort to heavy denial. Now, however, these men were, in a HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015132

jocular fashion, acknowledging the truth of what would turn out to be Professor Hill’ s allegations. Senator Simpson was saying, “Y’ know, Clarence, |’ ve seen some pretty raunchy porno movies in my time, but | never did see one where a lady was having sex with an animal" “l’ Il never forget it," Judge Thomas replied in his riveting sonorous tone. “They were in a barn. Except that the inside of the barn was like a theater.” Senator Hatch interjected, “Summer stock, eh? No pun intended” “There was a stage at one end,” Judge Thomas continued his description, “and the stage was facing rows and rows of wooden folding chairs. There were haystacks piled up on the stage, and in front of the haystacks there was a beautiful, buxom, blond woman—and a donkey. Well, the woman began disrobing and she started stroking the donkey to arousal.” “Doesn’ t sound at all sleazy to me,” Senator Simpson said. “Actually, it had Beethoven piano sonatas playing in the background,” Judge Thomas said. “Well, when the woman was fully disrobed and the donkey was fully aroused, they began copulating, right there in front of those haystacks on the stage of that barn. Slow and HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015133

sensual. Then bumping and grinding away, accompanied by passionate moans and wild braying. You’ ve never seen a sight like this, | promise. And then the camera panned slowly toward the audience . . . and the audience consisted entirely of donkeys.” The Senate office shook with raucous laughter, especially that of Judge Thomas. His booming guffaws rang like huge gongs in a church belfry. And, | must admit, | had to suppress my own laughter. | had been totally caught by surprise, but | appreciated getting the insight. Homo sapiens is, in reality, the only species that has a need for pornography. When the group’ s laughter finally began to simmer down, Senator Hatch said, “Il suppose that movie was one of the demands of the animal rights people.” “That’ s correct,” Senator Simpson added. “Saving animals’ lives is no longer enough. They need cu/ture." | felt like | was imprisoned in the boys’ locker room, but | was getting ready to force myself to leave anyway, and it would have ended right there for me if the subject matter hadn’ t returned to Anita Hill. “I’ m glad nobody considered calling Aer to testify against me, even for a closed-door session,” Judge Thomas said. “But you fellas will really love this. Anita Hill was a very opinionated young lady. Actually, she HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015134

and | once had an extreme/y animated discussion on the decriminalization of abortion. Can you imagine what the Democrats would’ ve done with that?" And that was the precise instant | made the decision to leak Professor Hill’ s statement to the press. Although | have constantly been sexually Aass/ed, | have never really been harassed in the /ega/sense of the word. However, | Aave had an abortion, and | was totally outraged by the blatant hypocrisy I’ d overheard. | had never leaked a document before, but my anger overshadowed my fear. | chose Nina Totenberg because | had come to trust her reporting about the Supreme Court on National Public Radio. | honestly had no idea what leaking the affidavit would accomplish. | certainly did not envision that it would literally embarrass the Senate into delaying the vote until public hearings were held, though that probably was my secret desire. But Judge Thomas testified under oath that he had never discussed the subject of abortion. However, in response to a question by Senator Hank Brown, Professor Hill testified that she had disagreed with Judge Thomas in a discussion about Roe v. Wade. Unfortunately, then-Senator Joseph Biden quickly interrupted her. “That is not the subject of these hearings,” he said. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015135

Personally, | feel quite disappointed about that particular aspect of the testimony, but | have not the slightest regret over leaking Anita Hill’ s affidavit, and | would gladly do it all over again. | certainly set a higher moral standard for myself than did the staffer for Senator John Danforth who wrote Judge Thomas’ s statement that began, “Nobody helped me with this.” HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015136

President Clinton’ s Private Confession The following ts a leaked transcript of a closed-door, secretly taped prayer breakfast that Bill Clinton hosted for a group of religious leaders after the impeachment trial failed to remove him from oftice. # Gentlemen--and lady (I guess you must be the Episcopalian)—thank you for being here. It’ s too bad Reverend Moon isn’ t among us this morning, so he could perform a mass impeachment of all the senators who swore under oath that they would be impartial. But seriously, folks, I’ d like begin with an epiphany | had yesterday, one that truly humbled me. Strangely enough, it happened while | was watching 7he Roseanne Show. | had never seen it before, but she was interviewing Paula Jones and, as my mother used to say, curiosity got the best of me. Ms. Jones was telling Roseanne about the first time she saw me in that hotel. She was working at the courtesy booth for the governors’ conference. She described me as funny-looking, the way my hair was styled, being overweight, how my suit was out of fashion and didn’ t fit. So, she was sitting at the registration desk with her girlfriend, pointing at HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015137

me and giggling. Somehow, | perceived her through the filter of arrogance that people with power develop, and / assumed that she was giving me a come-hither look. That simple misperception is what triggered this whole long ordeal. | took her willingness for granted. It was different with Monica Lewinsky. | mean to say, she flashed the strap of her thong underwear—it made my heart go thump—and, you know, I' m a prisoner at the White House. | can’ t go to a motel, but Monica appeared like a gift from Heaven, and | succumbed to temptation. | was fully cognizant that this was a very delicate situation—I even asked for permission to kiss her—yet | blocked out my foresight. Way back in college, when | tried to avoid military service, | was already thinking ahead to campaigning for president, but now | found myself ignoring the likelihood that Monica would not keep our relationship a secret. | certainly didn’ t consider the possibility that she would become so seriously involved with me. It was embarrassing to hear the tape that Linda Tripp made, where Monica told her what she had said to me on the phone: “| love you, Butthead.” | remember thinking when it happened, “Hey, I' m the president of the United States, you can’ t call me Butthead.” However, | immediately decided to treat the situation with humor. But she hung up before | could say, “I love you, Beavis.” HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015138

Surprisingly, | was not embarrassed about the infamous cigar incident. | felt that it had been an act of restraint from actua/ intercourse. Kind of tender and playful. Now, if it had been a Cuban cigar, that would have been illegal. But this was not the sort of intimacy that | would have felt comfortable performing with the First Lady. Hillary and | are really close, but as I’ m sure you understand, no cigar. For her, the most revealing thing in 7he Starr Report is Monica’ s fantasy about our—Monica and me—being together more often when |’ II be out of office; where she quotes me as saying, “Il might be alone in three years.” Hillary was furious, not only because it had provided a young intern with false encouragement, but also because it implied that we--Hillary and me--don’ t have sex, and she felt it divulged our agreement that if we were to separate, it would not occur before we left the White House. For me, the most revealing section—in that same section of the report—is Monica’ s testimony that | jokingly said, “Well, what are we going to do when I|' m seventy-five and | have to pee twenty-five times a day?” True, | did say that, but | really wasn’ ¢ joking. In fact, it was my fear of old age that kept drawing me to Monica. She was my direct link to youth. So | was being /itera/ about peeing twenty-five times a day when HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015139

I' m_ seventy-five. Hell, | drink at least eight glasses of water a day now—just like I’ m supposed to, for my health—but then | have to pee at least eight times a day. Ironically, the TV commercials warn that if you have to pee eight times in 24 hours, it’ s a symptom of an overactive bladder. Indeed, irony has permeated this long-running scandal, beginning to end. It was ironic that my sexual appetite helped put me in office—the Gennifer Flowers allegation originally placed me in the media spotlight—and it was my sexual appetite that almost tossed me out of that same office. And it’ s ironic that, although Kathleen Willey enjoyed our brief encounter, to prove it we would have had to resort to obtaining testimony from her confidant, the wonderful Linda Tripp. Now, there are things that I’ ve done as president of which I’ m truly ashamed. Even before my inauguration, | made it a point to stop in Arkansas to oversee the execution of a mentally retarded prisoner. At his last meal, he said he’ d wait to have his dessert, a slice of pecan pie, until after the execution—that’ s how much he understood what was going on. I' m ashamed of under-protecting the rights of gays and over-protecting children from the Internet. I' m ashamed of being aga/nst medical marijuana and for requiring a urine test as a prerequisite to obtaining a driver’ s license. I' m ashamed of bombing Iraq, Afghanistan and Sudan. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015140

I' m ashamed of /ncreasing the military budget and decreasing the welfare budget. |’ m ashamed of dropping cluster bombs and continuing to plant land mines. But the Republicans didn’ t dare attack me for any of those positions because they are their positions too. I’ Il tell you how | survived this past year, how | maintained such high approval ratings, while Newt Gingrich fell by the wayside. How | managed, in short, to remain president. It was partly the state of the economy, and it was partly the state of the culture. Pornography is a twenty-billion-dollars-a-year business in this country. Steven Spielberg told me that’ s more than Hollywood’ s entire domestic box-office receipts. Because it’ s what the American public wants. And the TV networks exploit that dirty little secret. It' s why sweeps weeks are always so raunchy. So, then, what /did wasn’ t considered such a big deal after all. Mainly, though, | have survived because, one sunny afternoon, Monica was positioning herself on the carpet under my desk in the Oval Office while | was on the phone with Benjamin Netanyahu. | was telling him about the time that Monica was performing oral sex on me while Yassir Arafat was waiting in the Rose Garden for our appointment. | HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015141

didn’ ttell Netanyahu that she was just about to perform the same act on me while | was on the phone with Aim. Anyway, at that point, Monica found a big old dusty Mason jar under my desk. There was a label on the side which read, “Property of Ronald Reagan.” That Mason jar was filled with Teflon, and | have rubbed it on myself every day since. | began my talk this morning with an epiphany, and |’ d like to end with another. This epiphany also occurred while | was watching television—Larry King Live—and, once again, Paula Jones was the guest. At One point she said, “I'’ ve never voted in my life.” And | was astounded. Then she said, “I'’ m so apolitical, it’ s unreal.” And | realized what an incredibly great country America really is, that somebody who was just a plain citizen, who was never even /nterested in politics—somebody who had never even voted for a president—had nearly succeeded in toppling one. Well, this has been a catharsis for me. | just want to say once more how much | appreciate your presence here. And finally | would like to share with you a little witticism that Hillary came up with last night, an idea for what my epitaph should be: “Here lies Bill Clinton, but that depends on what you mean by lies.” Isn't she wonderful? HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015142

Oh, and one more thing. Now listen carefully. | did not have sexual assault with that woman, Ms. Broaddrick. I’ Il be honest with you, it may have been rough sex, but it was totally consensual. That, | can guarantee. Thank you and God bless you all. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015143

The Autobiography of Monica Lewinsky The following is an exclusive excerpt trom an autobiography-in- progressy by Monica Lewinsky, titled Going Down in History. 7he manuscript was leaked to The Realist by, of course, a reliable source. # | am not an airhead. I’ m a victim, partly of my own making. And mostly, I' ma political pawn of the spin doctors. There are several books being written about the White House scandal, but only a few individuals know what really happened, and only | know who / really am, which is why | have decided to write this book. | would write it even if | didn’ t need the money for legal expenses. My life may be ruined—at least my reputation will be forever tainted—but the truth must be told. | don’ t like being a one-dimensional symbol. If anybody were to take a free-association test, the psychiatrist would say “Monica Lewinsky” and the patient would immediately respond “Oral sex." Maybe soon my name will be in a crossword puzzle—the clue: eight letters across—and the correct word will be “fellatio.” HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015144

Back home in Brentwood, I’ ve been listening to talk radio a lot. Ronn Owens on KABC had listeners phone in with nothing but jokes about me for a solid hour. First he warned the audience that if they were easily offended, they should tune out. | have never felt so objectified in my life, and yet, at the same time, | found the program quite riveting. The best call came from a nine-year-old who said, “Bill Clinton violated the Eleventh Commandment: Thou shalt not put thy rod in thy staff.” The worst call came from a man who asked, “What do the Titanic and Monica Lewinsky have in common?” The answer was, “They both have dead seamen (semen) floating in the hull.” And remember that awful piece of gossip—the one Lucianne Goldberg initiated in order to get attention from the press for He-—that | kept a blue dress stained with Clinton’ s dried ejaculation as a souvenir? Well, Jonathan Brandmeier on KLSX invited listeners to call in and suggest euphemisms for presidential semen. My favorite was “Bubba butter.” Apparently, my role is to serve as a vehicle for the destruction of taboos. | have also become an automatic comedy reference. So, to Jay Leno, David Letterman and Conan O’ Brien, |’ m very useful in punchlines. To Saturday Night Live \' m just a character in their sketches, and never without that beret from my famous hugging-Bill TV footage. But | did HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015145

think it was hilarious to cast John Goodman in drag as Linda Tripp. That cheered me up. |’ ve been simultaneously depressed, scared and, strangely enough, exhilarated. As an instant celebrity, I' ve learned that everybody always sees everybody else through their own particular filters. Democrats, Republicans, men, women, the other interns—all perceive me subjectively. For a manufacturer of novelty items, | was simply a disembodied inspiration for the marketing of “Presidential Kneepads.” And _ for Penthouse magazine, | would only be considered their next notorious masturbation enhancer. In the eyes of the media—from NBC News to MWghtline, from TIME magazine to People, from the New York Times to the National Enquirer, from the Washington Post to Entertainment Tonight—| am purely a commodity. Naturally, | believe in the First Amendment, so I’ m against censorship. All I’ m saying is that while America is achieving adolescence publicly, the tabloids have won the war. The battleground is like an ongoing contemporary Shakespearean tragicomedy, but there is no script, there is no producer, there is no director. There is only the process of everyone’ s karma interacting. | recall HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015146

the words of Terence McKenna when he was a guest lecturer at Lewis & Clark. He said, “Chaos is the tail that wags the dog.” Damage control is the name of the game. It was Dick Morris who advised Clinton to get a dog. Buddy, huh? They should’ ve named him Photo-Op. It was also Dick Morris who suggested taping that ostensibly candid scene of the First Couple dancing on the beach. And | would bet my entire book advance that both Hillary and Bill knew ahead of time that Dick Morris was going to release a trial balloon that /# the rumor about Hillary being a lesbian were true, then it would be perfectly reasonable that her husband would need to seek sexual gratification elsewhere. In fact, the reason | think that Clinton’ s approval ratings have been so high is because people can /dentify with him fooling around. | mean, when Jimmy Carter admitted that he had lust in his heart, it was the adultery vote that helped get him elected. And that was only lust in his heart. Bill Clinton is an activist. I' ve been reading a book, Spin Cycle by Howard Kurtz, and there’ sa story in there about that time in 1996 when the president said that he “might like to date” a shapely, 500-year-old mummy whose remains were on display at the National Geographic Society. Later, chatting after a few cocktails, Press Secretary Mike McCurry told a dozen HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015147

journalists on the press plane that he could understand Clinton’ s remark. “Compared to that mummy he’ s been fucking,” McCurry chuckled, “why not?” Poor Hillary. Without bothering to mention that it was off the record, McCurry assumed his joke wouldn’ t be reported, and it wasn’ t until that book. Washington is a very cynical place. Everything is stated carefully and deliberately, with the /ntention that it will be repeated. When McCurry told the Chicago Tribune in an interview that Clinton’ s relationship with me could turn out to have been “complicated,” it was no slip of the tongue. He was fully aware that his observation would appear in print. Unlike Richard Nixon, who never dreamed that Avs words would be published in a book, Abuse of Power: The New Nixon Oval Office Tapes, edited by Stanley Kutner: “Bob [Haldeman], please get me the names of the Jews, you know, the big Jewish contributors to the Democrats. Could we please investigate some of the cocksuckers?” My mom is a member of the Book of the Month Club, and in their brochure they printed it “c*cks*ck*rs.”. Anyhoo, that’ s how everybody thinks of me now. |’ m the nation’ s official c*cks*ck*r laureate. The image of me on my knees giving head to the president has become a cultural icon. The irony is that /t never happened. When Wolf HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015148

Blitzer from CNN asked Clinton at a press conference what he would like to say to me, Clinton smiled and said, “That’ s good, that’ s good” —referring sarcastically to the question—but it was extremely ironic, because that’ s exact/y what | imagined he did say to me: “That' s good, that’ s good.” And | replied, “Il gave you a blow job, but! didn’ t swallow.” He started laughing hysterically, just like that time he did with Boris Yeltsin. Bill liked my sense of humor. That’ s why we went from flirtation to friendship. However, the reasons | visited the White House thirty-seven times was not for Bill—it was to be with Hillary—she was the one who desired me physically. The rumor about her being a lesbian was true. And so my relationship with Bill was complicated. He just acted as a middle man for Hillary, and now, by denying an affair with me he’ s telling the truth and taking the fall for Aer In that sense, he’ s an incredibly loyal husband. Despite what the public may think, Bill is absolutely devoted to Hillary. Everybody is watching so closely for him to commit the next indiscretion, but it would have to be with somebody he can fota//y trust, somebody who could suck the leader of the Western World’ s dick and not confide in a friend, or to somebody who pretended to be a friend. So, for a while, Bill is left with only Buddy’ s tongue for sexual companionship. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015149

At least, Buddy won’ t lick and tell. And if | know my president, while Buddy is pleasuring him, Clinton will fantasize that it’ sa female dog. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015150

Sarah Palin’ s Reality Sitcom Referring to the Ronald Reagan presidency, Neal Gabler has written about “the triumph of entertainment over political ideology of any sort.” And Kurt Andersen labeled Bill Clinton the “Entertainer-in-Chief.”. The voters are the audience, conditioned to fear and superficiality in commercials for erectile dysfunction and political campaigns alike, both having scary side effects. And now the injection of Sarah Palin and her family into the McCain vs. Obama campaign makes one wonder whether the winner of this race will ultimately depend on which candidate presents the better sitcom. It already /s a reality show. Do you know what the difference is between a sitcom and a reality show? The laugh track. Otherwise, how would the masses be able to tell whether something is funny or not? Hmmmmm ... In any case, we’ re pleased to present the pilot episode of: BRIDGES TO NOWHERE [Instrumental rockabilly music accompanies a montage of Sarah Palin in various contexts, as the opening credits are superimposed on these images: In a helicopter, using a machine-gun to shoot a wolf running away in the snow. As a contestant in the Miss Alaska competition. A HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015151

wedding photo. Burning a pile of books. Jumping high to block a shot in a basketball game. Seated at her desk in the governor’ s office. At a barbecue with her children. Giving a speech to a large crowd. At the bank, exchanging a wolf’ s left foreleg for a $150 bounty. Tossing her hat way up in the air and then shooting it down with a rifle] [Sarah and Todd are slumped down on the living-room sofa.] SARAH: I’ m exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. | was at the Learning Annex all day, taking that course in “How to Be a Vice President.” TODD: And | was interviewing potential nannies all day. No one fits the bill yet. But | just keep calling the agency. Maybe I’ Il try Craigslist. [The telephone rings. Todd picks it up.] TODD: Hello .. . thanks, | will. /Hangs up the phone and clicks on the TV.] That was McCain. /Looks at TV Guide for the channel number and clicks the TV on.] Keith Olbermann is doing a Special Comment about you on MSNBC. OLBERMANN: When John McCain first selected Sarah Palin as his running mate, it seemed to me that it was the best “What were you thinking?" moment since Hugh Grant got caught getting oral sex from a prostitute in his rental car. | was sure that with Governor Palin as the HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015152

ambush candidate, Senator McCain would be ridiculed into a severe case of buyer’ s remorse, his impulsive choice would backfire, and there would then be an epidemic of schaedenfreude among Democats. But | must admit, Ms. Palin, you have, dare | say, a certain Machiavellian charisma, and | was not quite prepared for that. You said that you deliberately tried to make yourself look frumpy, what with those Kawasaki eyeglasses and that chocolate-rust cotton-candy hair-do, sort of like the secretary in a porn movie who takes off her glasses and shakes her hair loose, then she goes ahead and seduces her uptight boss right there on his own black leather executive chair. Or so the comedians tell me, | wouldn’ t know. But you might as well be the star of a porn movie, because your main qualification to be vice president is that you Aave a vagina and you area cunt. Allow me to parse that for you, Sarah. When | say that you were appointed because you have a vagina, there is no way in semantic purgatory that McCain would have chosen a man who had exactly the same political positions and experience as you--except that your American flag pin is bigger--so his having a penis would simply not make one iota of difference. And, you’ re a cunt if for no other reason than, in your acceptance speech, using Barack Obama as a prototype, you demeaned countless dedicated and courageous community organizers across the HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015153

nation by pretending that, as mayor, you exercised actua/ responsibilities which ostensibly they don’ t have. And | am not being sexist here, Sarah, because | am also calling John McCain a prick, if only because he is against funding higher education for our young men and women who are fighting and being maimed and dying in Iraq and Afghanistan--McCain’ s pathetic rationale being that if they had that funding to look forward to, then they just might prefer to come home and go to college rather than re-enlist. So, you-the-cunt and he-the-prick have a very complementary relationship. Support our troops, indeed! McCain’ s idea of supporting the troops is to send them more antidepressants--one out of every eight is already on them--so they can go kick down doors and kill people but still feel good about it. Oh, yes, and Sarah, we must not forget how Cindy McCain described the basis of your foreign policy experience. She said, “Alaska is the closest part of our country to Russia.” With allies like that, you don’ t need opponents. Cindy reminds me of Jessica Simpson, when she asked if acan of “Chicken of the Sea” was fish or chicken. What’ s next, Cindy will sing her own rendition of Rosemary Clooney’ s classic song, “C’ monna My Houses" ? And speaking of rendition, Sarah, | wonder what you think of the CIA flying prisoners to other continents where they are tortured. Hey, what ever happened to Country Firsf?--they should be HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015154

tortured in this country--yes, this country that is so incredibly endangered by the Unholy Trinity of corrupt government, welfare corporations and evangelical religion. Incidentally, Sarah, wouldn’ t you agree that Rush Limbaugh--infamous hater of the “feminazis” --was a sexist when he boasted, “We’ re the ones with a babe on the ticket!” Inquiring minds want to know. Likewise, wouldn’ t you agree that McCain was a sexist when he was asked a question about Hillary Clinton during the primaries-- “How do we beat the bitch?” --and he replied, “Excellent question.” And wasn’ t it sexist of him to vote against equal pay for women? Just remember, Sarah, the only thing that John McCain wants more than to live in the White House is to have a menage a’ trois with you and Cindy. Good night and good luck. [Todd clicks the TV off] SARAH: I’ Il tell you something, Todd. | feel like a human dartboard for the media, but I’ m developing a thick skin. TODD: | know what you mean. | say, “Oh, yeah, media? /C/utching his crotch] Troopergate this!" SARAH: And you know what, the campaign spinners who feed the media are just as bad. They’ re like the airport security people, who have to spend all day looking at a screen in order to focus on potential threats HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015155

in the shape of a gun or a knife or a hand grenade. Both campaigns-- they have to focus on each other’ s opponents in desperate search of anything that can be deliberately misinterpreted to distract all the dumbed-down voters from the rea/issues like national security. At first, | thought that was the name of a bank. “Hurry up and invest your money at the National Security Bank--before they fail!” [Sarah and Todd start laughing hysterically. And what about earmarks? Why, they’ re just political hickies.... [Piper ts sitting on a rocking chair in her bedroom, with Trig on her lap, holding a bottle to his mouth with one hand, and continually licking her other hand in order to leave a saliva deposit, then smoothing down Trig’ s hair] PIPER; Come on now, Trig, | want you to drink your moose’ n’ banana shake. It tastes so delicious. And it’ s good for you too, even if the plastic bottle has poison lead in it because it’ s from China or somewhere. Listen, I' m sorry that you were like a circus prop at the convention. People screaming all over the place. But it’ s lucky they gave you a watchamacallit, a sedative so you could sleep through all that noise. And you didn’ t even know that you were being passed around like a HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015156

marijuana joint, huh? It’ s legal here in Alaska. Did you know that? But it has to be only one ounce or less. And then you have to smoke it in your own house. |’ m gonna wait till I’ m thirteen before | try it. Bristol and Levi smoke it when Mommy’ s out making a speech. If she was here, she’ d smell it right away, so then they have to go somewhere else. Mommy says, “Pot may be part of God’ s plan, but not in this house.” She’ s always saying that something is part of God’ s plan, but | don’ t understand what she means about that. Are hurricanes and train crashes part of God’ s plan too? Anyhow, you’ re not supposed to smoke anything when you’ re pregnant, right? Hey, Trig, you wanna hear what | think would be a nice name for Bristol’ s baby? Diversion. | didn’ t think of that by myself. | heard my teacher tell another teacher that Mommy’ s baby is a diversion. | think it could be for either a boy or a girl. Hey, my tongue is dry. | don’ t have any watchamacallit, any salvia left. Maybe if | just have a little sip of your moose’ n’ banana shake. /Drinks from bottle] It’ s really yummy... [Track Is riding a stationery bike in his room while talking with Willow.] HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015157

TRACK: I’ m telling you, those Iraq Veterans Against the War were real traitors at the Democratic convention. | learned that they had the nerve to be in full uniform, and they were chanting, “My buddy’ s in the foxhole with a bullet in his head--I called to get the medic but he’ s already dead.” But at our convention, just like the war in Iraq was a justifiable pre-emptive strike, so was the raid on the protesters before the convention began. WILLOW: What happened? | was busy taking care of Trig. TRACK: The police and the sheriff’ s department seized material that could’ ve been used to barricade roads, and spikes that could disable the delegates’ buses. They confiscated slingshots and buckets of gray water and urine. It’ s better to prevent using that stuff before it happens. They busted four people on suspicion of conspiracy to commit a riot, and detained dozens of others. They took boxes of pamphlets on free-speech laws in Minnesota, and booklets on how to protest legally. WILLOW: That doesn’ t seem right. | was listening to the radio, and a pundint was talking -- TRACK: You mean pundit-- WILLOW: --a pundit, he was talking about keeping protesters out of sight, they could only speak on P.A. systems in fenced-off, like cages, on HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015158

side streets, and | thought they were talking about the Olympics in China, but then | realized that they were actually talking about the protesters at our conventions. TRACK: It’ s not the same. China is a Commie dictatorship--and here there were seventy-seven applications to speak--but not one single protester was given permission, and all those who applied were arrested before the games began. Way to go. WILLOW: | heard that in St. Paul, even a m/me got a permit to speak. And the people who did speak couldn’ t be heard. | mean, what about the First Amendment? We learned about that in school. TRACK: Yeah, well, it doesn’ t apply to those anarchists on the opening day, with black cloth covering their faces, a few hundred of them, running around the streets, setting fires, throwing rocks, breaking windows, blocking traffic. It was the duty of the riot squad and the National Guard to stop those actions. Tear gas, pepper spray, rubber bullets, concussion grenades, whatever it took. WILLOW: But what about the peacefu/ demonstrators? TRACK: There were ten thousand demonstrators who were peaceful, and they were allowed to march against the war. All they had to do was follow the rules. When their permit expired at 5 p.m., they still tried to HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015159

march to the convention center, but the authorities had already blocked a couple of the bridges that led to the convention center. They blocked ‘em with snowplows and gravel trucks, police barricades and plenty of manpower. | saw the protesters running toward one of those bridges, and they were being chased by police in riot gear and teargas masks, so then the protesters were stuck in the middle. Isn’ t that great? WILLOW: Ha-ha, the bridges to nowhere. /7rack and Willow giggle wildly.JY' know, \' m really gonna miss you when you go to Iraq. TRACK: I' m gonna miss you too. Anyway, the thing is, our guys had to be prepared, starting months before the convention, because there’ s all kinds of front organizations out there that the FBI had to get infiltrated, like the environmentalists and vegetarians who pretend to be just innocent special-interest groups. Same with farmers, attorneys, medics, reporters--a journalist, Amy Goodman and her producers, plus a guy from Associated Press on the sidewalk in front of a building where there was a huge party given by lobbyists for legislators with a band, Hookers and Blow, not to be confused with a terrorist band, Rage Against the Machine, and also a bunch of bloggers and a whole video collective called |-Witness--some people had to be roughed-up and handcuffed and arrested for trying to interfere with law enforcement. Their computers and HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015160

laptops and cameras and journals and diaries were seized. In some locations, even children had assault rifles pointed at their faces. In the military, this is all known as “anticipatory self-defense.” WILLOW: That’ s wicked. So tell me, are you nervous about going to Iraq? TRACK: /Stops pedaling and pulls up the left leg of his sweatpants, revealing a tattoo of Christ on his calf] Not as long as He’ s with me, and He will be, every moment, day and night. WILLOW: /Bend's down and kisses the tattoo] | really love Jesus. Whenever | close my eyes and pray, | don’ t know what God looks like, but | always think of Jesus, because | know what He looks like... kok # [Bristol and Levi are sitting on the living-room sofa, holding hands. He ts wearing a T-shirt that says “Billabong.” ] BRISTOL: Here it is Friday night, and we can’ t even go out anywhere, because everybody points at us and stares at us and talks about us. It makes me feel like a real freak. LEVI: How do you think / feel? All | ever wanted to do is play hockey and hang out with the guys and party like mad and get stoned out of my gourd and just chill out. | don’ t give a shit about politics. If we didn’ t HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015161

get drunk and screw in the tent outside that party, | never woulda had to go to that fuckin’ Republican convention with your parents, who hate my ass off but they pretend we’ re one big happy family. BRISTOL: Oh, c’ mon, if my mother gets elected--like | wasn’ t planning to live in Washington, D.C.-- but it’ Il be fun. Please, don’ t be such a grouch. LEVI: You saw my MySpace page. | mean everybody’ s seen it. “I’ ma fuckin’ redneck who likes to snowboard and ride dirt bikes.” I' m too young to get married. I’ m trapped. | was just minding my own business, and suddenly my whole fuckin’ //feis destroyed. BRISTOL: Look, | don’ t wanna argue with you any more. Let’ s just see what’ s on TV. [Levi reaches for the remote control and clicks on the TV.] DAVID LETTERMAN: Here’ s good news, ladies and gentlemen. The Palin family crisis has been solved now, and today the baby is being adopted by Angelina Jolie. LEVI: Boy, | sure wish that was true. | never wanted to have kids. BRISTOL: Please, this is not exactly a picnic for me. Let’ s just see what else is on. [Click!] HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015162

JAY LENO: Governor Palin announced that her seventeen-year-old unmarried daughter is five months pregnant. And you thought John Edwards was in trouble before. Now he’ s rea//y done it. [Click!] CONAN O’ BRIEN: Sarah Palin said, “We should never have introduced her to John Edwards.” [Click!] CRAIG FERGUSON: | don’ t think that a young lady getting pregnant should even be news. Unless John Edwards is the father. Then that /s kinda news. [Click!] BILL MAHER: Palin has five children including an infant that has Downs syndrome. She had it when she was forty-three years old. And it looks a lot like John Edwards. [Levi reaches for the remote control and clicks off the TV.] LEVI: That’ s really great, Bristol. John Edwards fucked you and your mother... [Sarah is sitting at her computer when there is a knock on her office door.] HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015163

SARAH: Come in. [Willow opens the door, walks in and sits down.] I' m just looking over my stump speech here. It keeps changing. WILLOW: Mon, | have to talk to you. SARAH: Yes, dear, what’ s on your mind? WILLOW: /Pausing/\' m... pregnant. SARAH: Very funny. WILLOW: Mom, I’ m not kidding. SARAH: Willow, you’ re only fourteen years old! How could you be pregnant? Are you sure? WILLOW: | did the test three different times. They all said “Positive.” | can feel changes in my body. SARAH: This is horrible. | mean wonderful, of course. God always has a plan. Who’ s the father? WILLOW: /Pausing/\t' s... Track. SARAH: What! How can that be? He’ s your brother! You had sex with your brother?! WILLOW: | still don’ t understand Aow | got pregnant. He borrowed a condom from Dad’ s sock drawer. SARAH: I’ m shocked beyond belief. When did this happen? WILLOW: Let’ s see, the first time was-- HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015164

SARAH: The frst time! Did he force himself on you? WILLOW: Well, not really. It was voluntary. SARAH: Oh my God! What are we gonna do? Oh my God! |’ m hysterical! Oh my God! [Todd Is finishing up an interview with a beautiful young woman in his office. He tries unsuccesstully to avert his eyes from her cleavage.] TODD: Well, your resume’ is solid--l'’ m totally impressed with your experience as a nanny--you have excellent references, you have a very enthusiastic personality, and | must admit, of all the women I’ ve been interviewing, you’ re not only the most qualified, you’ re also the most attractive, if you don’ t mind my saying so. NANNY: Oh, | don’ t mind at all, Mr. Palin. As a matter of fact, the feeling is mutual. TODD: Please, call me Todd. NANNY: Todd. Such a nice masculine name. /Standing/ When would you like me to start? TODD: I’ Il have to figure that out with Sarah when she returns. [Standing] She’ s meeting with Senator McCain today. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015165

NANNY: /S/owly moving toward him] Then just be sure to call me whenever you know. TODD: [Slowly moving toward her] All right, | will. NANNY: You have my number. TODD: And you have my number. NANNY: | certainly do. TODD: /They are standing just a few inches from each other] The kids are really gonna /ove you. [Gradually they embrace, He moves to kiss her on the cheek. She turns her head so that their lips touch, leading to a passionate kiss.] NANNY: /Mumbling between kisses] | feel like Jude Law’ s babysitter. TODD: /Mumbling between kisses] Who's Jude Law? NANNY: /Unbuttoning his shirt] He’ s a British actor who made love with his girlfriend Sienna Miller’ s babysitter on the billiards table. TODD: /Unbuttoning her blouse]\ don’ t have a billiards table, but | do have a cue-stick. NANNY: /Unbuckling his belt] Oh, | know you do, | can feel it... zk k * [Sarah is pacing back and forth at her meeting with John McCain.] HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015166

McCAIN: Calm down, Sarah, have a seat, take it easy. SARAH: [Sitting down] \' m still in a state of shock. My heart is beating so fast. | have terminal dry mouth. This is awful. McCAIN: Let’ s review the situation. Your seventeen-year-old daughter is pregnant. And your nineteen-year-old son is the father. It was consensual sex. Nevertheless, that’ s statutory rape. | think we have only two options. One, she gets an abortion. SARAH: I’ m sorry, that’ s off the table. | mean it’ s out of the question. McCAIN: Look, | realize that you’ re against abortion based on your religious principles, even in the case of rape or incest. And in this case it’ s both. But you’ re not against abortion if the life of the mother is endangered. That could be our exit strategy. There’ s a blind doctor in Washington who performs the safest possible abortion, and he wouldn’ t even know who the patient is. SARAH: Absolutely not. Here’ s what | thought about on the plane. Of course, we will never identify Track as the father--I' m so angry | found myself hoping that he would get killed in Iraq, and that would be perceived as such a heartbreaking patriotic sacrifice--| wanted to offer a bounty for the delivery of Track's severed left calf with the Jesus tattoo, HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015167

and yet | don’ t want him to be indicted and sent to prison for who knows how many years. What we can do is to place the full blame on a stranger who was wearing a stocking over his face so that there will be no description except for that detail. Willow didn’ t report it because she didn’ t have enough cash to pay for a rape kit, and she felt afraid to tell me until she was sure that she was pregnant. But she w///be giving birth to that baby. And when Track returns home from Iraq, he will help raise that child, pretending he’ s only the uncle, which he actually wi//be. We could even announce Willow’ s pregnancy as an October surprise. That would endear our Christian conservative base to us even more than now, and it could provide a surge--excuse the expression--to our popularity. McCAIN: Just because it worked in Bristol’ s case, that doesn’ t mean it will also work in Willow’ s case. | hadn’ t quite considered an announcement like this as a possible October surprise. | thought we might capture Osama bin Laden. Or that there could be impeachment and conviction of Bush and Cheney, but it would leave Nancy Pelosi as the new president, and we surely don’ t want that Maybe Obama would be assassinated, then there would be rioting all over the country, there would be martial law, the election would be canceled, and the Bush administration would remain in power. Or the October surprise could be HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015168

dropping bombs on Pakistan. Or an air strike on Iran. Even if Israel did that, it would be with U.S. aid and approval. Also, there’ s a scenario floating around that Joe Biden will drop out of the race in deference to Hillary as Obama’ s vice-presidential running mate replacing Biden. That would really ruin our chances of winning. PALIN: So tell me what the second option is. McCAIN: That you drop out of the race. It’ s the honorable thing to do. PALIN: What are you gonna do, kick me off the island? Let’ s face it, John, if | dropped out, you’ d lose the election for sure, and you know it. You need to show me off during this campaign. |’ m your biggest asset. | wanted to go on my own Palin Talk Express tour, but no, your neocon friends--they discovered me a year before you and | met--and now they’ reso afraid | can’ t function without their guidance. They’ re like a mad beehive, spouting campaign buzz words at me. But | will mever drop out of this race. | would sooner give to the media my tape of our one- night stand in my hotel room at the governors’ conference last February. McCAIN: If you were to do that, | would release my tape of this whole conversation. So we’ re just canceling each other out with such tactics. But that’ s what | like about you. You’ re such a feisty lady. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015169

Y' know, Sarah, if we get elected, | was hoping that our little tryst in Washington could happen again, perhaps this time in the Oval Office. PALIN: Thanks but no thanks. McCAIN: | remember you were so pregnant then. PALIN: And | remember exactly what you said. “Let me baptize your fetus with some maverick juice.” How romantic. But you were lucky | was already pregnant, because it would not have happened otherwise, since, as you know, I’ m against birth control. Raising children is performing a task that is from God. And | believe that life begins before conception. McCAIN: You and the Bush administration. They also consider birth control to be a form of abortion. The Health and Human Services Department is secretly trying to redefine contraception--the Pill, IUDs, you name it—redefine as abortion. So this federal agency could eliminate many state laws. Pharmacists could refuse to supply women with birth control devices. Insurance companies wouldn’ t cover contraception. Rape victims wouldn’ t have access to the morning-after pill. You have your beliefs and | respect them, but I’ m trying to distance myself from George Bush. PALIN: Except for his speechwriters. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015170

McCAIN: Oh, you’ re referring to Matthew Scully and your acceptance speech at the convention. He’ s great. By the way, he asked me to pass on a line to you for the stump speech when you’ re talking about Obama: “Charlie Manson was a community organizer!" PALIN: That will definitely get a good response. We need as many applause lines as we can muster up. Maybe every sentence should get a reaction. Clapping, laughter, cheers. The audiences always get off on that. They feel high and they associate it with us. McCAIN: Fine, at least we’ re back on the same page again. Now promise that if you do become vice president you won’ t arrange for me to be killed by the grace of your powerful buddies in Alaska so that you can then become president. PALIN: Okay, | promise not to have you killed--unless you decide to run for a second term. /They both chortle nervously.] kok # [The TV set is on, but nobody ts watching. A commercial Is playing.] VOICEOVER BY ALEC BALDWIN: //mages of Sarah Palin waving to huge, screaming crowds, signing autographs and being surrounded by paparazzi] She’ s the biggest celebrity in the world. (Video footage of Michael Jackson and Michael Richards are superimposed as if they are in HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015171

the company of Sarah.] But is she ready to lead? John McCain knows full well she isn’ t. With the energy shortage looming, McCain says no to windmills and solar power. And with the economic crisis already upon us, McCain says he’ Il cut taxes by lowering payments for Social Security and Medicare. More suffering, increased drilling. That’ s the real McCain. [The face of Joe Biden fills the screen.} VOICEOVER BY JOE BIDEN: I’ m Joe Biden and | approve this message. Let me just add that when one of John McCain’ s top economic advisers, former Senator Phil Gramm, was quoted that the United States was only in a_ “mental recession” and had become “a nation of whiners,” he unintentionally revealed the massive disconnect between the citizens of this country and their representatives .. . [A few minutes later, Biden is still talking, when Nanny walks into the room, cellphone to her ear, and shuts off the TV.] NANNY: Yes, hello. Is this the National Enquirer ... Oh, good. |’ d like to speak to a reporter, please... Thank you, I’ Il hold... [A split screen shows Nanny and the Reporter on split screens.] REPORTER: Hello, what can | do for you? HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015172

NANNY: Yes, hello, | have a story that you might be interested in. I' ve been having an affair with, you know, the First Dude, and now it seems that I’ m pregnant. What would the Enquirer pay for my story? REPORTER: Do you have any proof that he’ s the father? NANNY: Actually, yes, | do have evidence--DNA, physical evidence, like in CS/+-I saved what was left of his semen in the condoms. REPORTER: But then how could you be pregnant? NANNY: He told me that his wife makes tiny pinholes in the reservoir tips of his condoms [in Sarah’ s voice] “in order to give all those teeny little spermies a fighting chance.” REPORTER: Why doesn’ t he just get a vasectomy? NANNY: Sarah says that would be like cheating God... [As the closing credits roll by, Britney Spears sings the program’ s theme song, “Oops, | Did It Again.” ] HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015173

SUBCULTURES HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015174

And Whose Little Monkey Are You? Sometimes | think I' m dreaming when | read the news. But there are places where the inhabitants have never seen a magazine or a newspaper, and it is simply not a part of their psyche to dream about lines of type. In a spurt of generosity, the United States shipped surplus battery- operated TV sets across the sea to one group of islands in the Pacific Ocean, so that those natives could pass directly from a preliterate society to a post-literate society without having to read a single book in the process. They watched in amazement as so-called psychic Uri Geller bent forks on the Merv Griffin show. The strange thing was that even though Geller accomplished this feat by trickery, there were young children back in America who hadn’ t yet been taught about the self-fulfilling rules of 20th Century physics, and to their parents’ dismay, they were able to bend various kitchen utensils by means of sheer will power. kok # As more and more deadly conflicts around the world continue to escalate, more and more people are saying, “Boy, the shit’ s really gonna HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015175

hit the fan now.” That phrase, incidentally, did not come into the language until after there was electricity. People say that they are not referring to a lovely Japanese lithograph showing a kimono-clad woman whose long shiny black hair is twisted up into a bun, and who is coquettishly providing her own personal breeze with a colorful rice-paper fan. Then sp/at/-right in her porcelain-like face. So, no, it has to be an electric fan, which revolves so fast it protects you from the shit—or spreads it, depending which side you’ re on—or what’ sa fan fo/? Meanwhile, even as all that shit is hitting all those fans, the laxative industry continues to blossom. New brand names are constantly competing in the open marketplace. Ex-Lax has even come out with a “milder” version for women—certainly an indication of rampant male chauvinism in their Research & Development section. What' s_ the implication of this trend? Do females have different digestive systems than males? Is it perfectly acceptable for macho men to have chocolate-covered sandpaper coursing through their intestinal tracts? And yet credit must also be given to those friendly folks at Ex-Lax. They were the very first sponsor on television to include a sign-language translation of a commercial—a long-overdue service for the constipated hearing-impaired. Indeed, this had been an early demand of the Deaf HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015176

Liberation Front. You’ ve probably seen their frontline members on the street and in airports, selling little cards with the sign-language alphabet. Some have been getting arrested for being deaf without a license. Naturally, the police recite their Miranda rights, shouting, “You have the right to remain silent! Anyway, this particular Ex-Lax commercial features a pleasant, matronly woman reminiscing through her family photo album while a young fellow in the corner of the screen ostensibly translates the message into sign language. Actually, he can say whatever he wants. Nobody monitors his translation. He can indulge in private jokes for all the deaf viewers and only they will know. The matronly woman in the Ex-Lax commercial says: “Thank God my family is normal” The young fellow shifts the emphasis slightly in his translation: “Thank God her family is normal.” She continues: “Of course, once in a while somebody in our family will be troubled by irregularity.” He translates: “No shit.” She concludes: “So then we do what we’ ve done in our family for generations—we turn to an old friend, Ex-Lax.” He translates: “Jimmy Hoffa knows too much.” And while the hearing-impaired at home _ giggle at_ this mistranslation, all over the globe the shit continues to hit the fans. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015177

These are rough times, but it’ s extremely important to develop a sense of optimism. The Bulletin of Atomic Scientists periodically updates a clock on their cover to indicate how close we’ re moving toward nuclear war. Recently they moved it from four minutes to midnight to three minutes to midnight, with midnight representing total annihilation. | don’ t know exactly what their time scale is—whether one minute represents a month or a year or a decade—but, whichever, they’ re saying that we are all now only three minutes away from the ultimate holocaust. That’ s the bad news. The good news is that atomic scientists are just as fucked-up as the rest of us. They overeat, they forget to floss, they don’ t have time for serial orgasms, or they suffer from premature ejaculations, and they set their clocks fifteen minutes ahead so that if they need to mail a letter by six 0’ clock and their clock says it’ s ten after six, it means they still have five minutes to get to the mailbox. So that clock on the cover of the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists is fifteen minutes fast. We don’ t have just three minutes till doomsday; we have eighteen minutes. zk k * HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015178

Life remains peaceful on a certain island off the coast of Japan. Here, humans and animals live in peace and harmony. There are monkeys who for eons have subsisted entirely on sweet potatoes. They would pick the sweet potatoes right out of the dirt in which they grow—eating them, dirt and all. This is the way they have always done it. But one day, for whatever mysterious reason, an individual young female monkey carried her sweet potato to the shore, washed the dirt off in the ocean and proceeded to eat the sweet potato. Who knows why it was this particular monkey? Any explanation will suffice. Maybe she was an Aries, with a strong pioneer spirit. At any rate, once this monkey broke the ice, other monkeys began to wash the dirt off their sweet potatoes before they ate them. But only the young monkeys. It was not until the 100th young monkey had washed the dirt off a sweet potato in the ocean--not exactly the 100th; it could’ ve been the 93rd or the 108th; the 100th monkey is merely a metaphor for reaching critical mass—but not until then did the first adu/t monkey wash the dirt off a sweet potato. This was a case of reverse generational influence. And then other adult monkeys started to imitate this behavior. Washing the dirt off sweet potatoes even began to occur on adjoining HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015179

islands, indicating that there was some kind of psychic communication in the air. Now, how can this living New Age parable be applied to Auman behavior? Well, whatever you do personally to help further the cause of justice and the pursuit of ecstasy, even though you might get discouraged, you must always remember that you might be the one who turns the tide—you have to act as though you are the 100th monkey—and this gives us reason to hope. That’ s the good news. The bad news is, those monkeys needed that dirt in their diet for roughage. So now there were all these monkeys on this island who weren’ t able to shit. But it just so happened that this was one of the islands where we shipped our surplus TV sets. Across the island, monkeys were gathered around those TV sets, all watching a program that was sponsored by Ex- Lax. Moreover, here was that commercial with the sign-language translation. And, fortuitously enough, these monkeys had relatives trained at Stanford University, where they learned how to communicate in sign language, and had been returned to the island to teach others of their species how to sign. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015180

That’ s the good news. The bad news is that this was the Ex-Lax commercial where the brand name of the product was not translated. The message in sign language was “Jimmy Hoffa knows too much.” These monkeys—serving as shock troops of the Deaf Liberation Front—took that private joke to be their marching orders. So, even though you may have heard the propaganda that Hoffa was killed because he was prepared to speak out about the alliance between military intelligence and organized crime, the truth is that he was eaten to death by hordes of constipated monkeys. The good news is, they washed the dirt off him first. kok # It is several years later now. Things have returned to normalcy. The monkeys on those islands off the coast of Japan still watch TV, but they no longer wash the dirt off their sweet potatoes, and they are just as regular in their defecation as they used to be. But in America, those children who once bent kitchen utensils to the dismay of their parents have grown up. One such young man now works on the assembly line in a missile factory, and he is able to bend certain working parts out of shape through the use of sheer will power. Soon HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015181

others will follow suit. Already the intelligence agencies are training their operatives in methods to counteract this kind of psychic sabotage. The Mime and the Pacer | found myself walking around and around in a counter-clockwise circle on the stage of the Wallenboyd Theater in downtown Los Angeles, just as a young man known as the Pacer does for several hours every day, always in the same direction, at the exact same spot in the mididle of the boardwalk in Venice Beach. He is an inspiration to me and | sometimes talk about him in my performances. The boardwalk in Venice is both literally and figuratively on the edge of this country. T-shirts are the hieroglyphics of our time. Here, a grungy wino, who needed a shave long before Don Johnson made stubble fashionable, is wearing a T-shirt that says “Yes, | Am a Model.” There, a nerdy tourist is trying not to let the pizza drip on his T-shirt that says “I Choked Linda Lovelace” (the porn star of Deep Throat). The boardwalk resembles one of those double-page-spread montages in a children’ s book showing many different modes of transportation being used simultaneously. Airplanes fly by, trailing printed messages such as “The New Dating Game Wants You,” and HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015182

“Scientology, Give Us Our Money Back,” while below, roller-skaters and skate-boarders mingle with cops riding bicycles and Hare Krishnas preparing for their annual parade featuring an elephant nourished entirely on trail mix. A lone Jesus freak walks along and yells at them— “Antichrist! Antichrist! Antichrist!” —trying to drown out their chant. “Repent, Krishna! People are starving in India every day because these foolish Krishnas refuse to eat the cow! Eat the cow and believe in Jesus Christ! Repent, Krishna!” You can buy all types of stuff along the boardwalk—rainbow sunglasses and fake Rolex watches and falafel-shaped yo-yo’ s. “But,” complains a flower vendor who pays $600 a month for a ten-by-two-foot Space, “rent will be going up to $800 and then to $1200 by summer. Venice will eventually be inhabited by a bunch of wealthy lot owners and a population of slaves who work for them.” However, the performers pay no rent, dependent on voluntary donations. There is a poet who speaks professional gibberish; an artist who draws on the ground with colored chalk; a fellow who juggles an electric chainsaw, a bowling ball, and an apple, for which strangers put money in HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015183

his hat because they’ re grateful to God that theydon’ t have to do such a bizarre thing to earn a living. There is a woman who plays the violin while standing on her head. And a man who has a table covered with wine glasses of different sizes filled to varying heights with water, and he plays this musical instrument by rubbing his fingers around the tops of those wine glasses. Audiences gather spontaneously to here his rendition of a Mozart sonata or a ragtime melody or the theme from Chariots of Fire. There are breakdancers who bring their own personal linoleum-floor sections, and a jogger who jumps hurdles over the endless row of garbage cans lined along the boardwalk. He has to avoid one garbage can because a homeless person is foraging for lunch. If | had to choose my favorite moment on the boardwalk, it would have to be the time a Rastafarian yogi was standing on the very top of a wooden chair, preparing to jump barefoot onto a pile of freshly broken bottles. “This is serious shit,” he reminded the large semicircle of onlookers. And then, during the anticipatory silence, along came that Jesus freak. Upon seeing this crowd, he edged his way in. Now the Rastafarian yogi was poised upon that unseen edge between “Look before you leap” and “He who hesitates is lost.” Suddenly the Jesus freak called HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015184

out, “Hey, wait, before you commit suicide there, how do you feel about abortion?” In front of the Sidewalk Café on the boardwalk, the Mime, a black man wearing white gloves along with a tuxedo and top hat, just stands stilli—often for hours. He is listening to a stereo headset. One might think he was playing music to counteract the boredom, but it’ s really a tape loop reminding him, “Don’ t move, stay still, it doesn’ t matter if your back itches, people are paying you not to scratch...” Passersby do indeed put cash in the cardboard box at his feet after they have gaped at him long enough to get their money’ s worth. Standing still is his job. People pay him not to move. When he goes to the Unemployment office, a clerk asks, “Did you look for work this week?” He answers simply, “Yes, | stood on the corner of Hollywood and Vine, and then | stood on the corner of Beverly Boulevard and Sierra Bonita, and then | stood..." In contrast to the Mime is the Pacer, who intrigues me most. He doesn’ t call himself the Pacer. He may not even know that others do. But the circle he walks around and around in is his turf. Even an occasional HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015185

police car respects the force field he creates, and the cops drive around him. Obviously he originally started this strange stint as a matter of choice. “I think I’ Il walk around in circles on the boardwalk today.” And the next day. And the next. But somewhere along the way, walking around in circles became a compulsion, and /t started doing Aim. When you play a role long enough, the role can begin to play you if you’ re not careful. I' ve been out at six o’ clock in the morning and there was the Pacer walking in circles. I’ ve been out at six 0’ clock in the evening and there was the Pacer walking in circles. He does stop to eat—which indicates that at some level he is still acting voluntarily. He walks in a straight line to a greasy-spoon diner nearby on the boardwalk and sits at the counter, but he doe not twirl on his stool, nor stir his coffee, nor roll his eyes. Once he talked about his obsessive activity: “I'’ m in control of walking, but out of control too. When | walk I’ m in a trance. If | slow down at night | see colors. | see millions of faces—some with Pilgrim hats, some with cowboy hats—modern faces and prehistoric faces.” There must be some kind of spiritual path that the sweating, red- faced Pacer keeps treading, even if it’ s circular--some unique relationship HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015186

with the universe by which he justifies his existence to himself. Everybody has to feel they’ re making some contribution to society, if only to maintain self-esteem. Even those who work in a missile factory must rationalize, “Well, the United States needs to have a strong defense.” It’ s an absurd age we live in. Future Shock is already an outdated book. Children whose shoes stay on their feet by the grace of Velcro may never experience the thrill of tying their shoelaces in the dark. They have developed a fast-food approach to perceiving time because all they know is digital clocks. Time goes click, click, and if the power goes off they think that 12:00-12:00-12:00 is appliance language for “Help! Help! Help! Turn me back to the right time! Help! Help! Help!” Kids have lost that certain sense of time in motion, going around and around, eternally. That concept is endangered, just like the whooping crane. But we can all be grateful to the Pacer, for he is the Keeper of the Counter-Clockwise. 7hat is his spiritual calling. But the Pacer doesn’ t have a cardboard box for people to drop money into—he walks around in circles out of the goodness of his heart. kok # The Mime and the Pacer provide a perfect metaphor for the two- party system in America. The Republicans are like the Mime, standing HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015187

absolutely still while the world passes them by—tran, Iraq, Nicaragua, El Salvador—and they get paid for it, just like the Mime. The Democrats are like the Pacer, walking around in circles while the world passes them by—lIsrael, Libya, Cuba, Honduras—and they don’ tget paid for it, just like the Pacer. But recently the Pacer did something that hurled such a comparison right into the metaphor graveyard, along with “That' s like bringing coals to Newcastle” (for Newcastle finally ad run out of coal) and “Good as gold” (since the government now prints money without the benefit of the gold standard). The Pacer had put a cardboard box down on the ground and started walking around it. And now people began giving him money. By the mere presence of that cardboard box, the Pacer had transformed his personal perversion into a marketable talent. Just like so many of us. And | could no longer feel superior to him. He was not just some nut walking in circles. Now he was earning a living. | still “do” the Pacer in my act, but with increased respect. “His job is no less dignified than anything we do,” | tell the audience. “He works hard all day, and then, just like you and me, he goes home and unwinds.” And | proceed to walk around and around in a circle onstage, only now in a clockwise direction. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015188

Johnnie Cochran Meets Dr. Hip Tragedy and absurdity were two sides of the same coin: On one side, O.J. Simpson’ s_ “suicide” note with a smiley face in the O of his signature; on the other side, the woman who pinched Simpson lawyer Robert Shapiro’ s ass because “I wanted to be part of history.” And somewhere along the ridge of that coin was Simpson himself, walking into the courtroom humming the melody of “Touch Me” from the Broadway hit Cats and explaining to reporters that he was thinking about his children. That was at Simpson’ s criminal trial. Shortly before his civil trial began in 1997, | met his lead attorney, Johnnie Cochran. He was the guest of honor and luncheon speaker at a national convention of criminal defense attorneys held in a huge banquet hall at a hotel in Santa Monica. No media people were allowed entry. One of the attendees was Dr. Eugene Schoenfeld, also known as Dr. Hip from his days as a syndicated columnist for the underground press. He now testifies occasionally as an expert witness, and was at this event for that reason. My wife Nancy and | were his guests. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015189

Cochran’ s speech reassured the enthusiastic audience: “In the Simpson matter, we just did what you do every day’ —that is, defend their clients by any means necessary and chalk up a bunch of billable hours in the process—and he got a standing ovation. In the afterglow of his speech, colleagues came up to Cochran to shake his hand and get in a little banter. One well-wisher shared this joke: “If [prosecutor] Chris Darden spent as much time trying to nail O.J. Simpson as he did trying to nail [prosecutor] Marcia Clark, he might’ ve won the case.” The other defense attorneys within hearing distance all had a good laugh at that one. Dr. Schoenfeld joined the line of lawyers waiting to have photos taken of themselves standing alongside Cochran. When it was Schoenfeld’ s turn, Nancy focused her camera. For this particular occasion, Schoenfeld had stashed a hand-printed card underneath the standard, plastic-encased ID lapel card. As in the previous poses, Cochran and Schoenfeld put their arms around each other, although they were looking, not at each other, but straight ahead and smiling at the camera. Thus, Cochran didn’ t notice how, just before Nancy snapped their picture, Schoenfeld subtly managed to pull away the ID card and reveal the hand-printed card, which declared, in large printed letters, “OJ. DID HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015190

IT!” | published that photo on the front cover of 7he Rea/ist that spring. It was the result of a good old-fashioned guerrilla action. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015191

Jealousy At the Swingers Convention The 24th annual Lifestyles Couples Convention has filled three hotels in Palm Springs, California. The Convention Center is connected to one of them, the Wyndham, which surrounds a large outdoor pool and patio populated by couples busy socializing in 116-degree dry heat. Women and men alike are wearing thongs. From afar they appear like so many eyeless smiley faces among the bathing suits. The law that Sonny Bono signed when he was mayor, banning thongs in public, does not apply to this event, or, for that matter, to Cher. The convention is for couples only. Except for me. I’ ve been hired to perform stand-up comedy at their Friday luncheon, and |’ m here alone. On the small, propellor plane from Los Angeles to Palm Springs, the right side consists of two-seat rows, occupied entirely by couples on their way to the convention—horny with the expectation of getting laid by the spouse of a stranger, perhaps sitting in front of or behind them—and the left side of the plane consists of one-seat rows, occupied entirely by me. I' m afraid that the plane might tip over upon trying to land. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015192

At the Convention Center, even the plastic-encased lapel nametags are coupled off: “Ken and Barbie” on his, “Barbie and Ken” on hers. Not all the couples are paired off in real lie, though. One person can simply bring along another—known in swinger circles as a_ “ticket” for gender balance—in order to get into the convention. So everybody has entered two by two, and | feel like a unicorn stowaway on Noah’ s Ark, surreptitiously balancing on the cusp of love and lust. There are 3,000 participants at this convention, mostly upper-middle- class, in their 30s, 40s and 50s. They consider people in the outside world to be “straight,", even though one would ordinarily consider them Straight. | mean there are suburban soccer moms here, openly celebrating their secret lifestyle at an oasis of supportiveness. There’ s aman ina suit with a flesh-colored penis necktie, another wearing a T-shirt declaring “I’ m Not Going Bald, I’ m Getting More Head,” and another dressed only in a leather jockstrap, who recognizes me and introduces himself. “I’ d give you my card,” he says, “but | have no place to keep them.” Inside the 100,000 square-foot Convention Center, the Exhibit Hall has been turned into an “Adult Marketplace,” buzzing with commercial activity. | overhear one shopper’ s complaint: “But we’ ve a/ready spent HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015193

$400.” There’ s a multitude of merchandise on display—pornographic videos, naughty lingerie, fetish paraphernalia, edible lotions—plus booths galore. At the Golden Nipples booth, women are cheerfully having exact duplicates of their nipples created in sterling silver or 14-karat gold, which can be used as pendants, key fobs, money clips or—yes, of course—nipple covers. At the Penimax booth, an Asian vendor is selling disposable cock rings, which, he promises, will maintain my erection even after | ejaculate. There are several booths dedicated to booking vacations especially designed for swingers, at nude beaches, clothing-optional resorts and ocean cruises. | follow around an elderly woman who is busy picking up brochures at every such booth. It seems incongruous, but | try not to indulge in stereotypes. Finally | engage her in a conversation, and she explains that her boss told her to get as much material as she could, because he owns some property surrounded by government land, and he wants to start a new business. At the Erotic Massage Wear table, a woman uses my arm to demonstrate a device that turns her fingertip into a vibrator, not intended for nose picking. Then she puts Jergen’ s Lotion on my right hand, dons a pair of Love Mitts—made of vinyl with little nubs all over—and proceeds to massage my hand while on the VCR there’ s a tape of a woman HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015194

wearing Love Mitts and massaging a man’ s lubricated penis. This is a bizarre mixed-media sensation. Although | don’ t get a hard-on, the lobes of my brain seem to fuse, and for the next few hours my left hand persists in feeling neglected. Checking out the functional furniture, | merely eavesdrop on a (fully clothed) couple testing out the “rocking torso feature” on a Love Table, but | actually climb into the Love Swing, assuming a position ordinarily assumed by a woman while the man stands up, crotch to crotch. My body is suspended half upside-down in mid-air with legs spread and feet up in stirrups. I’ m feeling mighty vulnerable. As | hang there, the inventor hands me my tape recorder, then proceeds to show me how “the woman can place the man’ s penis on her G-spot by moving her legs from a position of being out front like this to being in the fetal position” and how “the man, instead of just going in and out like that, he can make his penis a joystick, so every step he takes is a movement inside of her, more like a dance step.” He guarantees, “You' Il never use a bed again.” Next | inspect the Bungee Sexperience—a harness designed by a company that makes bungee cords—it bounces in the air, so the “rider” can enjoy weightless sex in a variety of positions. | ask the woman demonstrating this how many hours a day she bounces up and down. “At HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015195

an event like this,” she responds, without missing a bounce, “I' d say eight to twelve hours.” She tells me that her circulation is excellent, and that her 18-year-old son refers to the contraption as a “bungee humper.” In addition to bouncing, it can also create “the illusion of bondage, yet the person can actually be comfortable while restrained.” The Auto Erotic Chair, however, provides rea/ bondage. It’ s equipped with leather restraints and panic snaps for arms and legs, and comes complete with a power box, pneumatically operated anal and vaginal plugs. “Our power source unit is designed to stimulate nerve fibers throughout the genital areas by delivering controllable electro-pulse energy through conductive electrodes on our sex toys. Our precision- engineered technology gives you safe and pleasurable electric play.” So, for example, in the Electro-Flex Penile Ring/Anal Plug Configuration, “A single conductor butt plug is used in conjunction with a single conductive cock ring to complete the circuit. With a single conductive cock ring, one side of a double conductive butt plug can be used to stimulate either the prostate or the sphincter.” If you’ d prefer something, well, less electric, there’ s always the Crystal Wand, a 10-inch-long, S-shaped co-ed tool, hand-carved from pure crystal-clear acrylic, that doubles simultaneously as a G-spot stimulator HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015196

and prostate massager. |’ m reminded of a swing party | heard about, one that took place at the Whispers Club in Michigan. Couples removed from the refrigerator 12-inch summer sausages and cucumbers that the hostess had planned to use for food that evening. When she walked into the “party room,” she couldn’ t help but notice that although the food was being consumed, it was not exactly in the fashion she had originally envisioned. Instead, the sausages and cucumbers were being utilized as organic sex toys. As | continue to wander around the Adult Marketplace, | realize that the name of the game is penetration. All paths lead to penetration. But I' m not referring to penetration of the sexual kind, although that’ s an implicit goal—pick an orifice, any orifice, and there’ s always a corresponding appendage or gadget that can fulfill its desire for penetration—no, |’ m talking about penetration of the market There’ s lots of money to be made here. The persistent question is, how can | penetrate this market? Maybe | could come up with a combination FM radio and vibrating dildo. I' m beginning to feel like I' m experiencing an alien encounter, only /’ m the alien here. Nevertheless, I' m aware that swingers and HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015197

comedians do have something in common. We both like to have a good opening line. As a performer, | always try to slant my opening line toward a particular audience. My opening line at the World Hemp Expo was, “Last night, for the first time in my life, | used a hemp condom.” My opening line at a Skeptics Conference, attended by the Amazing Randi and the Amazing Kreskin, was: “The is the first conference |’ ve been to where there were two people with the same first name of Amazing—but the Amazing Randi was born with that name, it’ s on his birth certificate, whereas the Amazing Kreskin changed his name for showbiz--his real name is the Obnoxious Kreskin.”. And my opening line at a luncheon during the Los Angeles County Bar Association conference was, “I’ d like to begin with a moment of silence, so that you can think about your client’ s problem, and then you can make this a billable hour.” Now | find myself in a lavish hotel suite, trying to crystallize an opening line while contemplating the bald spot on the back of my head, infinitely cloned in the mirrors of the hotel-room bathroom, actually the only place | ever get to see that bald spot as others do. This will be a serious opening line, since | have been told that, in the introduction to my performance, | will be presented with the Lifestyles Freedom Award. | HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015198

decide that my opening line will then be, “I just want to say that freedom of expression existed long before the First Amendment.” Though it’ s not my motivation, | realize that this opening line will undoubtedly please Robert McGinley, the bearded co-founder and president of the Lifestyles Organization. “We hate government intervention in our lives,” he has assured me. “We hate censorship. We’ re against laws that require helmets for cyclists. It’ s good that a law was just passed allowing women to breastfeed in public, but we shouldn’ t need permission from the u government to do it.” He admits to being “libertarian, but not Libertarian Party.” He draws his philosophy from Jack London— “The proper function of man is to live, not to exist” —and, more specifically, his credo is “Adult sexuality is normal.” Dr. McGinley (he holds a Ph.D. in counseling psychology) tells me a riddle: “What do you call an Italian swinger?” | give up. The answer: “A swop.” At the luncheon, it turns out that | will mot be presented with the Freedom Award after all, and | have to come up immediately with a replacement opening line: “I'’ m delighted to be at the Lifestyles Convention—this is the first convention |’ ve ever been to that was named after a condom.” HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015199

Indeed, condom consciousness (if not condom use) is present at the convention. In one workshop, “The ABC’ s of Swinging,” condom etiquette is described as bringing “the right safety equipment, just as you would for scuba diving or parachuting.” Another presentation on “Safer u Sex” covers new drug therapies for AIDS, information on other sexually transmitted diseases that are increasing among heterosexuals, and “things you should be doing to protect yourself.” Originally, herpes had caused a certain panic in swinger circles. Some swing clubs closed, though private parties increased. But, paradoxically enough, with the advent of AIDS, new clubs opened, as if the disease were anti-climactic. Currently, there’ s a surge of growth in this subculture—thanks to the Internet—with estimates ranging from 2,000 to three million participants. And, according to Dr. McGinley, “There’ s been very little increase in condom use. It’ s the woman’ s choice.” Nonetheless, at the Adult Marketplace, a woman in a black lace negligee roams around giving out free samples of condoms. There are also Créme Cookie Condoms for sale. They appear to be vanilla and chocolate Oreo-style cookies, individually wrapped in cellophane. | ask the vendor whether these are condoms that look like cookies, or cookies that look like HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015200

condoms. She tells me that they are edible cookies, but each one has a condom inside. “They’ re only a dollar each,” she says, adding, as | edge away from her booth, “it’ sa great joke.” kok # The Art Gallery at the convention Center, featuring the Lifestyles Convention’ s 7th annual Sensual & Erotic Art Exhibition, almost didn’ t happen. The state’ s Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control had tried to prevent it from opening. When their authority was challenged, an ABC representative became an alchemist, transforming logic into absurdity. Legally, he said, you can’ t even have sex in a hotel room which has a mini- bar. Sure, pal, just try to enforce that one. Two days before the convention, the ACLU obtained a restraining order against ABC’ s interference with the art exhibit. But ABC didn’ t just give up and assume the fetal position in a Love Swing. Rather, the agency threatened to revoke the Wyndham Hotel’ s liquor license if they allowed a special two-hour session, the convention’ s traditional Evening of Caressive Intimacy, to take place in the Wyndham Ballroom on Friday as scheduled. This popular, closed-door, clothing-optional massage clinic, limited to the first 200 couples who sign up, would include the “human HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015201

car wash,” involving, as one veteran swinger portrays it, “a lot of naked bodies and some serious rubbing.” But the ABC regulations on Attire and Conduct—behavior “deemed contrary to public welfare and morals, and therefore no on-sale license shall be held at any premises where such conduct or acts are permitted” —includes this clause as a no-no: “To encourage or permit any person on the licensed premises to touch, caress or fondle the breasts, buttocks, anus or genitals of any other person.” The Wyndham chickens out, the massage clinic is canceled, the money is refunded, Lifestyles will sue the hotel for breach of contract, and next year’ s convention will be held in Las Vegas in 1998. A lawyer, standing on the border of cynicism, suggests, “Just buy a town in Mexico and buy off all the officials.” In the previous year, 1996, the convention was held at the Town & Country Hotel in San Diego (for the fourth time), but two ABC officers claimed that they witnessed oral copulation in the convention hall, and the hotel’ s liquor license was suspended for five days, hence Lifestyle’ s move to Palm Springs this year. Lately, ABC has been spreading its particular brand of paranoia in Los Angeles, where the agency has raided gay, black and Latino bars in Los Angeles and in Hermosa Beach, where it HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015202

has imposed restrictions on restaurants, requiring patio patrons to order food with their drinks, and forbidding customers to dance. Proprietors now play less upbeat music so that nobody will be tempted to dance. Those who can’ t resist are asked to stop. Incidentally, | find out that, instead of giving the Freedom Award to me, convention officials have decided to present ABC with an Anti- Freedom Award, but that notion gets lost somewhere in award limbo, along with my original unspoken opening line. On Friday night, the massage clinic that doesn’ t take place is followed by the Wild West Casino and Dance. One man comes attired in a sheriff’ s outfit with a rubber penis drooping almost to the floor. A security guard tells him that he’ Il have to check it. Fake knives, guns and bullets are acceptable, but not a fake sex organ. Another cowboy, with a real (unloaded) gun, is stopped by a security guard, but he resists, asserting in his best John Wayne manner, “This is an 1887 pistol, and I' m not about to check it.” Several folks leave the dance at midnight to attend an unofficial 3rd annual spanking party. It ends at 3 a.m. with a bout of fist fucking. Dear Abby was right. One thing does lead to another. zk k * HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015203

I' ve been sampling many workshops at the Convention Center, and | notice that whenever | sit down on a chair next to a chair with someone else’ s stuff on it, and the owner of that stuff is sitting on the other side of that chair, they always tap the top of their stuff in a subconscious gesture of territoriality. | also observe that a man with one leg (he walks with crutches) and his wife seem to arrive at every single workshop that | attend. Hmmmmm. I' m beginning to get suspicious. Obviously, |’ ve seen too many spy movies. A cartoon in the 1991 convention program showed two rooms where lectures were being given. The attendees in the room featuring “Do It Yourself Porn: Make Your Own XXX Movies” were overflowing into the corridor, while the room featuring “Socio-Political Ramifications of Current Trends in the Erosion of Civil Liberties” was empty, except for the baffled lecturer. It was a nice touch of self-deprecating humor, an exaggeration not too far from reality. At this ' 97 convention, porn actress Nina Hartley’ s “So You Want to Throw a Party: Recipes for a Successful Orgy” attracts ten times more audience than attorney Bob Burke’ s “Sexual Politics: A Behind the Scenes Look.” Unfortunately, one workshop, “The Undertone of Sexuality in the Star Trek Series,” has been canceled— “due,” someone added to the HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015204

notice, “to Federation Regulations and Star Fleet Emergency Order 1007- 932." Deborah Warner, in describing her presentation, had written: “Paramount and its parent company, Viacom, have a vested interest in presenting the 7rek franchise as a family-oriented show. To this end, they overtly depict the characters as asexual. Yet there exists erotic subtext. This has spawned a very large community of fans who create volumes of explicit erotica that is enjoying great popularity in print and an explosion of interest on the Internet.” Now, outside the room where her workshop would have been, there is disappointment-- “Oh, and she was gonna bring a Klingon” --and nostalgia-- “Remember the time Quark and Deanna were French- kissing?” That theme continues at “American Tantra: How to Worship Each Other in Bed,” This workshop—whose motto, “Orgasm long and prosper,” paraphrases Star Trek’ s blessing, “Live long and prosper” —is conducted by Paul Ramana Das and Marilena Silbey. “Interspecies intercourse,” he muses. “This can’ t be the only planet where love is made.” A writer for AVN (Adult Video News) has reviewed their /ntimate Secrets of Sex & Spiritand confessed, “l' ve rarely laughed so hard in my life. No shit, this vid earns a pre-nomination for ‘most HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015205

outrageous sex scene.’ Paul actually uses Marilena’ s pussy as an echo chamber!” Now, in his regular voice, he is telling our workshop of the need to “approach the body, not for sexual release, but for every single inch of this body, the groundwork, the geography of pleasure. Can anybody name one spot on your body that is not capable of receiving pleasure?” Nobody can. Later, the entire audience, seated around the perimeter of this extra-large room, is instructed to come stand in the center area and face their partners. | start to slide out, but not inconspicuously enough. Ramana Das, who knows me from a previous incarnation, calls out, “There goes Paul Krassner. Are you afraid to participate?” “I’m here as a journalist.” “Ah, he can’ t participate because he’ s a journalist. See how everybody has excuses.” Suddenly I’ m saddled with a dose of New Age guilt, as though | have aborted my inner child. Meanwhile, there’ s a lovely blonde who doesn’ t have a partner, and now |’ m tempted to participate, but some guy who’ s also without a partner links up with her. Unexpectedly, my guilt changes to jealousy. Just a slight pang of jealousy, mind you, but a terrible taboo in this particular world. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015206

Jealousy is an outmoded emotion to be shunned like dandruff. There’ s even a workshop that advises “How to Handle Jealousy” and 1 another titled “Swing Without Guilt or Jealousy.” And so now | not only feel guilty about not participating, | also feel guilty about feeling jealous. I' ve committed a swinger crime. | can hear security guards shouting “Jealousy alert!” Loud sirens go off. “Jealousy alert!” Now where will | go? | have been reading about tantra in Rea/ Magic by Isaac Bonewits: “Energy control is a very important part of the exercises; it is essential, for example, that during Kama-ka/i the male be able to refrain from ejaculating under the most harrowing circumstances.” | decide to drop in on a workshop, “How to Prevent Premature Ejaculation,” but everybody has already been there, and they all left early. Sorry. | blurted that out before | could stop myself. kok # There are swing clubs all around the country, from “Shenanigans” in Indiana to “Liberated Christians” in Arizona ( “for Christians seeking liberation from false sexual repression based on mistranslation of scripture who wish to explore responsible non-monogamy and polyfidelity” ). Many clubs designate themselves as Equal Opportunity Lifestyle Organizations, HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015207

where membership is open to all races, and they belong to NASCA (North American Swing Club Association). The Spring 1997 issue of NASCA /nside Report editorializes: “There are political attacks on freedom that citizens should be aware of. It is far too easy to lose, through complacency and ignorance, the freedom that we Americans cherish. These attacks include the proposed censorship of the Internet now under review by the USS. Supreme Court, the recently court-upheld attempts by states to keep ‘harmful’ literature from the eyes of children by controlling street news racks, the reintroduction in Pennsylvania of legislation to outlaw swing clubs and a similar measure in California. Regarding the latter two, do we smell a conspiracy here?” If there is one, it’ s bi-partisan. In Pennsylvania, Richard Kasunic, a Democratic state senator, failed in his 1996 attempt to outlaw “sex clubs.” This year, he has reintroduced legislation to outlaw “swinger clubs.” He states, “My bill will outlaw these immoral establishments in every community in Pennsylvania and provide significant penalties for those who choose to continue this offensive practice.” The penalty for operating a swing club, even in one’ s own home: up to two years in jail and $5,000 in fines. For a second HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015208

conviction: up to seven years and $15,000. For patronizing a swing club: $300 plus court costs. In California, Tim Leslie, a Republican state senator, has introduced a bill which would provide that “every building or place which, as a primary activity, accommodates or encourages persons to engage in, or to observe other persons engaging in, sexual conduct including, but not limited to, anal intercourse, oral copulation or vaginal intercourse, is a nuisance and shall be enjoined, abated and prevented, and for which damages may be recovered, whether it is a public or private nuisance.” Swinger periodicals range from New Friends to Fuck Thy Neighbor. Patti Thomas, author of Recreational Sex: An Insider’ s Guide to the Swinging Lifestyle, is editor at Connection, which publishes thirteen titles, including Cocoa ’ n Créme, catering to interracial swingers (not to be confused with Black ’ n Blue catering to sadomasochist swingers). Connection is suing the federal government over a bill that Ronald Reagan sent to Congress in 1987, the Child Protection and Obscenity Act, an outgrowth of the Meese Commission on Pornography. The specific statute being challenged—known as the record keeping and labeling law, or the ID law—was supposed to be aimed at child pornography, but has been applied to adults-only swing publications. It HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015209

requires anyone placing an explicit photo ad to provide a photo ID, nicknames, maiden names, stage names, professional names and aliases. These records must be available for inspection by the attorney general’ s office. Connection had attempted to comply with the law by cutting out every explicit photo ad from its magazines and sending them with a letter to those advertisers, explaining the new law and its requirements, asking that they submit the proper ID or send a_ “soft” photo that didn’ t require ID. Out of 500 advertisers, only 26 responded with IDs. Patti Thomas spoke about this in her keynote speech at the Conclave ' 97 Convention in Chicago: “It definitely makes it difficult to produce the magazine our readers and subscribers have come to expect, when you don’ t have enough so- called ‘legal’ ads to fill all those pages. And considering that swinging itself is not illegal, why should we have to ‘register our sexual choices’ with the government just to place a personal ad in a magazine? ... |’ ve never really thought of myself as an activist, or as one who was ‘politically involved,’ but over the last few years | think I’ ve finally come to realizing that it’ s going to be necessary to be involved, even if it does mean ‘exposing’ my lifestyle to those who would repress it. | am HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015210

fucking sick and tired of do-gooders trying to tell me how | should live my life!” In 1995, Connection filed a suit challenging the constitutionality of the law and seeking a permanent injunction. In 1997, the motion was denied. Attorneys filed an appeal and a motion for a temporary injunction relieving Connection from complying with the act during that appeal. The motion was granted. “The justice system in this country just makes no sense to me whatsoever,” Patti Thomas tells me. “As far as | know, once we do present our case to the Court of Appeals, if our decision isn’ t favorable, we will make every attempt to go to the Supreme Court. Our attorneys are the best First Amendment attorneys anywhere. Our lawsuit has been very costly, as you can imagine, but our company believes very strongly in fighting for our constitutional rights. Our suit was filed not only for the benefit of our company but because we felt that this outrageous law was totally infringing on the civil rights and freedoms of people involved in alternative lifestyles. Obviously, the average person involved in swinging would have no way of combating this law on their own.” | ask her whether attempts at repression have resulted in politicizing the swinger community. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015211

“I’ m afraid we haven’ t been very successful,” she replies. “We try to inform our readers about political issues threatening our lifestyle and attempt to get them involved. Unfortunately, many in the lifestyle either don’ t believe that the government will actually take away their rights or are too afraid to make a stand. Swingers who have been ‘exposed’ as active participants in the lifestyle have lost jobs, family, community standing and friends as a result. “People I’ ve personally known who have lost their jobs when their swinging activities were discovered just wouldn’ t fight back because of the fear of further exposure through the publicity that could have been generated. As a matter of fact, my ex-husband was fired from a management position back in 1980 when someone discovered his photo in One our magazines and brought it to the attention of his superiors. Luckily, he was able to find a position with one of Connection’ s affiliate companies. So we pretty much remain an ‘underground minority.’ ” That point is underscored by a 29-year-old woman at the convention. “None of us like publicity,” she says. “None of us want to be out in the open. The business world is very conservative.” She is wearing an American flag bikini, although she has never heard of Abbie Hoffman. She was born the same year that he got arrested for wearing an HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015212

American flag shirt. Nor did she have any way of knowing that when he wore another American flag shirt on 7he Merv Griffin Show, his half of the TV screen was blocked out all across America. She was, in short, unaware of the roots of her own, limited freedom. kok # It’ s Saturday night, and the Carnival Masquerade Ball is being held in the huge Convention Center Ballroom. On the wall behind the stage are gigantic masks. Above the tables are gold and purple balloons, fashioned after either somebody’ s school colors or a Chinese restaurant’ s little hot mustard and soy sauce plate. The taped music is loud, and the dancing is raunchy, enhanced by gaudy yellow, blue and red lights. Pheromones are flying, and the costumes are kinky. “Costumes,” the program states, “may be anything of fertile imagination (genital area musts be covered) for an exotic night of adult social fun.” Hey, look who’ s here: Superman. The Phantom of the Opera. The devil. Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse (in a see-through top). An executioner. An Arabian potentate. A gold-plated pharaoh. A chicken lady covered with big yellow feathers. A guy in a dog collar being led around on a leash. And the one-legged man, who is wearing a roller skate as his costume. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015213

At one point, an announcement is made that the next dance number will be filmed, so anybody who doesn’ t wish to be recognized should get off the dance floor. About 80% of the dancers leave. Similarly, taking part in the costume-judging means that permission to be photographed is automatically granted, which results in many contestants not making themselves available to be chosen as possible finalists. The Best Male Costume goes to a 75-year-old man dressed as a biker stud. The Best Female Costume goes to his 75-year-old wife, dressed as a biker slut. The Best Couple’ s Costume goes to a woman with paper mache’ breasts the size of beach balls and her mate with matching enormous testicles but covered by pillowcases and a sign that warns, “Censored by the hotel and ABC." A marriage ceremony is performed onstage. The blissful pair have written their own vows; nothing is mentioned about forsaking all others. The newlyweds, their party and a few other couples are invited to a gathering in the suite of a three-time Emmy Award-winning TV producer and his wife. It turns out to be a tantra-filled wedding night. All the women massage the groom, and all the men massage the bride. One woman, a computer animator who wants to become a sexual surrogate, predicts HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015214

that, as the millennium comes to an end, tantric men will be popping up everywhere. A retired chairman and CEO of a title and escrow company, who attended another tantra party, tells me, “The difference between the tantra party and the party next door is the fact that at the beginning of the wedding tantra party there was a lot of ceremony and shared tantra ritual, but once we had experienced that, it was every person for themselves. It was like the party next door.” These were closed parties by invitation only. But you didn’ t need an invitation for open parties. All you had to do was find them. The Wyndham Hotel is permeated by a sense of uninhibitedness. In the elevator, a beautiful black woman is looking in the full-length mirror and admiring her new Clit Clip—non-piercing, adjustable, genital jewelry-- “not designed to be painful,” | learned at the Adult Marketplace, “just very sensual and aesthetically attractive. The Clit Clip is a long narrow, U- shaped piece of metal, designed to fit around the clitoris hood, with some light-catching Austrian crystals, in your choice of clear, red, blue and purple, dangling from the ends.” The woman in the elevator turns toward me and says, “Isn’ tit nice?” Her husband smiles proudly. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015215

“It'’ s charming,” I reply, “but what are you gonna do if the metal detector goes off at the airport?” | leave them giggling in the elevator as | get off on a floor where I' ve heard there would be lots of action. | follow one group, but only the couple in front really knows where they’ re going. But they happen to be on the way to their own room, and when they get there, they go in, close the door, and we are all left out in the corridor, looking like a perplexed ant farm. Everybody turns around. | am now at the front of the line, so | let them all pass by me as they head in the opposite direction, strolling briskly, except for the one-legged man with the roller skate and crutches, who is gliding gracefully along the carpet. Passersby are asked, in vain, “Where’ s the party?” We finally find a room with a porn photo on the door, which is slightly open. Inside, there are around fifty people in semi-darkness. Exhibitionists and voyeurs, together again. Here a blow job, there a copulation, everywhere an undulating juiciness. There is an unspoken homophobia—no man is relating sexually to another man—but there is lots of lesbian libido. In order to keep a low profile, | have ripped several pages out of my notebook and folded them in half, so that | can take notes unobtrusively. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015216

However, a woman with a feather duster asks me to hold on to her panties. She is about to join a threesome on the king-sized bed near the bureau that I' m leaning against. | marvel at the choreography of this foursome. But they’ re playing, and |’ m working. Their moans become my background music. | wasn’ t a/ways a wallflower at the orgy. | flash back 30 years to 1967 ...1 was at a Sexual Freedom League couples-only party on New Year’ s Eve at a large theatrical studio in San Francisco. There were about 150 people dancing in the nude. Behind the closed curtains on the stage there were fifteen small mattresses in constant use by different couples. | remember making love on one of those mattresses with a sweet flower child only fifteen minutes after we’ d met. It was an exhilarating experience. We were on the front lines of the Sexual Revolution. We had to hold back from screaming out political slogans at our moment of climax. The seeds of contemporary swinging were planted at that party, but who could have known it would blossom into an industry? kok # If it’ s true that, as Bill Maher once stated so poetically, “The real problem with marriage is that it’ s just very difficult to bump your uglies with the same person every night your whole life,” then for some people, HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015217

swinging is the answer. To them, cheating is not an issue, unfaithfulness is obsolescent, and adultery is merely a concept that deprived former Air Force Lieutenant Kelly Flinn of her opportunity to drop a nuclear bomb. The Lifestyles Convention provides a nurturing environment for these couples the same way a convention of crossword-puzzle enthusiasts or barbed-wire collectors would provide for those folks. Yet, in the case of swingers, one is left with a puzzle. Is impersonal intimacy an oxymoron? | ask that question of psychologist Stella Resnick, sex therapist and author of 7he Pleasure Zone. Her reply: “We can’ t put a value judgment on this. These are all consenting adults. It doesn’ t really matter that it’ s rather impersonal because they are in long-term relationships, so they’ re getting their intimacy needs met, but not necessarily their needs for excitement in sex, and this is certainly a way to do it. Often they are sexually identified in the sense that they’ re sexual people, they have strong desires, they’ re not necessarily into politics or other causes, but this is a good cause—being in the body, being healthy—and it’ s a way of relaxing and enjoying their bodies. Whatever turns you on, as long as you’ re not doing any damage to anybody else and you’ re taking care of yourself, fine, enjoy.” HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015218

When Tom Arnold was a guest on Late Show, David Letterman pressed him about his friendship with Kathie Lee and Frank Gifford. This was shortly after the G/obe had entrapped and videotaped Gifford’ s extramarital tryst with a flight attendant in a hotel room. Letterman insisted, “I don’ t revel in the miseries of others,” but Arnold reminded him of his monologues with jokes about Gifford. Letterman defended himself: “It’ s part of the job.” Arnold stammered, searching for just the right words. He finally found them: “Frank Gifford took a bullet for a lot of us.” And the audience applauded the accuracy of his assessment. Certainly, non-celebrities don’ t have to worry about supermarket tabloids revealing infidelities to the/r spouses. Such exposure could never occur with swinging couples, not only because, as a rule, they are honest with each other, but also because they party with each other, so there are no surprises. They are sharing a secret lifestyle, one with an ethic that transcends ordinary romance. Sneaky affairs are for straight people, but swingers can eat their wedding cake and have their fantasies too. Which explains why there have been no hookers hanging around fh/s convention. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015219

Life Among the Neo-Pagans In the summer of 1997, | performed at the 17th annual Starwood Neo-Pagan Festival in Sherman, New York—Amish country on the border near Ohio and Pennsylvania. This event—a female-oriented celebration of the sensual and the spiritual—took place on private campgrounds, where clothing was optional. Many women were bare-breasted, and several men and women walked around fully naked, a practice known as the “sky clad” experience. Instead of camping out, | stayed at a nearby bed-and-breakfast place. Downstairs in the living room, | asked a woman—falsely assuming that she was the proprietor—where the key would be left if | came back late at night. “|don’ t know,” she replied. “I’ m here for the festival.” “Oh. In what capacity?” “I’m in the craft.” “Which craft?” “That’ s right,” she said. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015220

She has been a Wiccan for twenty years, but now she complained, “Witchcraft has become trendy. | mean, ever since Buffy the Vampire Slayer..." At the festival, on Merchants Row, there was an inviting banner over one of the booths: “Stop by for a Spell.” A positive perspective on witchcraft was a theme at this event, along with such workshops as “Privacy Rights and Drug Policy,” “Cultivating Consciousness in Your Child," “Live Meditations in Drumming and Dance,” “The Supreme Court and the Free Exercise of Religion, “A Procession to Honor the Earth Goddess," “Safer Sex” and “Dark Ecstasy: The Ritual Use of Pleasure, Pain and Sensory Deprivation as Psychedelic Experience.” When | walked on to the outdoor stage, my opening line was “I'’ m gonna start with two words that have been thought year after year at these festivals, but which have never actually been uttered out loud, and those two wards are: “Nice tits." The audience hesitated a second, because in that context this could be a politically incorrect observation—| had deliberately taken that chance—but then they laughed and applauded, because they knew it was true. | was invited back to perform at Starwood again in the summer of 1998. The previous month, two Amish men had been arrested for HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015221

distributing cocaine they bought from a biker gang, the Pagans, one of whose members was a police informer. The two men were from a particularly conservative Amish sect, where not only electricity and tractors were forbidden, but even zippers. Did the sight of those Amish-tempting zippers on the Pagans’ leather motorcycle jackets serve as a gateway drug to cocaine? Speaking of illegal drugs, at the festival | came across the only individual I’ ve ever met who had actually hallucinated on toad slime. | pictured him as a young lad with a tadpole in his pocket, and now as a grown man with a frog in his pocket. | also met Reverend Ivan Stang, leader of the infamous Church of the SubGenius. He talked about “how to milk the Internet for all it’ s worth, and get away with murder, before the Conspiracy figures out how to spoil it for us.”. But Stang was in deep embarrassment mode, since this was only a couple of weeks after the failure of his widely circulated prediction that, on July 5th at 7 a.m., Pleasure Saucers would descend to Earth as part of the great “Rupture” and take away all those SubGeniuses who had paid $30 for the privilege. The festival climaxed with its traditional 50-foot-diameter, 25-foot- high bonfire, constructed during the week with the aid of a derrick. On HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015222

Saturday night, several dancers with torches ritualistically teased this pyramid of logs, encircled at a distance by two thousand enthusiasts, although one impatient woman yelled, “Just do it!" The neo-pagans danced and pranced and cavorted around the bonfire late into the night. My own personal highlight occurred when a_ beautiful woman named Pearl approached me. She was in the process of transforming her breasts from fetish to functional by nursing a baby that had been conceived there the year before. During that festival, she had walked in on my performance, bare-breasted, at the precise moment that | uttered the words, “Nice tits.” She assumed that | was referring specifically to her and, | had learned, she was flattered, so now | didn’ t have the heart to disillusion her. But | did write about it in my High Times column, “Brain Damage Control,” ending with this sentence: “I hope she doesn’ t read this.” Furthermore, at the 20th annual Starwood Festival in 2000, | found myself in front of a microphone on that same stage, and | told that story. Pearl was in the audience, and she was laughing heartily. This time, though, when | said, “Nice tits,” | added, “Okay, now everybody," and the words came booming back at me: ‘MCE 7/TS!’ ” Later, as | was HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015223

leaving the stage, Pearl called out, “Vice dick!” | was fully dressed, but it didn’ t matter. This was a perfect example of tit for tat. Or dick for tit. My old friend Steve Gaskin and | were staying at a bed-and- breakfast house where there were angels all over the place. Stuffed angels, plastic angels, plaster-of-paris angels, embroidered angels, stained-glass angels, paplier-mache’ angels, teddy-bear angels and origami angels. There were angel dolls and angel paintings and angel sculptures and even an angel mobile hanging from the ceiling. In the bathroom, there was an angel tissue-dispenser and an angel night-light. On a table in the hallway, there was a pile of Ange/s on Earth magazine. On the bureau in my room, there was a copy of Whispers From Heaven, featuring such articles as “Feeding Angels,” “When Angels Kiss" and “Rescued by Angels: The Amazing Story of a Kidnapping Survivor.” Gaskin’ s room had a door that led to the roof, and the first night we sat out there and smoked a joint. The next day there was a note taped to the door: “The roof is to be used only as a fire escape. Please use the patio.” The next night we smoked a joint in my room. And the next day there was a “No Smoking” sign on the inside of my door, and the electric fan was on, aimed toward the now-open window. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015224

At breakfast the next morning, | was just about to apologize to the kindly Christian woman whose home this was, explaining that a doctor had recommended marijuana for my arthritis, but she apologized to me because she hadn’ t told me in advance that smoking wasn’ t allowed. “Some people are allergic to cigarette smoke,” she explained, and | almost blurted out, “That wasn’ t tobacco, that was pot.” | hope she doesn’ t read this. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015225

Murder At the Conspiracy Convention ‘The history of civilization is the history of wartare between secret societies.” --/shmael Reed In the men’ s room at the airport, a man standing at the urinal a couple of urinals away from my urinal was urinating without aiming his penis. Both hands were flossing his teeth. A monument to multi-tasking. I’ Il admit that | occasionally brush my teeth while I’ m urinating—at least that leaves me with one hand free to steer—but this guy could possibly be the only human being on earth who pisses and flosses simultaneously. He must have practiced at home before he decided to go public. And of course he was proud of his manual dexterity. Maybe he even has a license plate that says PFLOSS, though other drivers might assume it’ s his name, not his avocation. In any case, that image immediately replaced my previous visual mantra: seeing one of the kids on a school bus holding up to the window a sign that read HELP US!--and laughing with his classmates. Now, on Memorial Day weekend, | was catching a flight to San Jose, California. | was headed for Conspiracy Con 2001, a convention featuring the prophets of the sinister. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015226

My friend Roy Zimmerman, who writes and sings satirical folk songs in the tradition of Tom Lehrer, has a spoken piece of patter which goes: “I just got back from the conspiracy convention. Have you been? It’ s fun. Seven hundred conspiracy theorists all in one hotel, with the little name tags, ‘Hello, my name is—none of your fucking business!’ Great seminars— ‘Triangulation and You, ‘Paranoia for Profit,’ ‘Victoria’ s Real Secret Was J. Edgar Hoover.’ In the lobby, | saw five people get off the elevator—what, you think that’ s a coincidence? There was entertainment, of course—a group of horny anti-government folk singers called the Randy Weavers.” Zimmerman was surprised to learn that there would actually be an event such as the one that he thought he was making up. Although the real conspiracy convention didn’ t have the seven hundred attendees he had imagined, there were over 500, including 40% from out of state and 10% from other countries, including Canada, England, Australia, Denmark, Austria and Ireland. Also taking place at the Santa Clara Convention Center that same weekend as Conspiracy Con was the Charismatic Catholic Convention. Dueling religions, together again. zk k * HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015227

The leadoff speaker at Conspiracy Con was Cathy O’ Brien, who claimed to be a victim of the CIA’ s MK-Ultra child-sex-slave program, Project Monarch. She was introduced by her husband, Mark Phillips, as “the love of my life.” Phillips claims that, having worked for the CIA, where he learned hypnosis, and for a Department of Defense subcontractor with exposure to mind-control research, he was able to rescue O' Brien, deprogram her and collaborate on their book, 7rance Formation of America. “There is not one person in this audience,” he exhorts, “that could not be legally experimented on, killed or financially destroyed.” He has the bearing, the cadence and the pompadour of a dramatically pious televangelist. He oozes with practiced integrity. In contrast, Cathy O’ Brien has the demeanor of a guileless, bleached-blond checkout cashier in a small-town supermarket who sends money every week to her favorite televangelist. She speaks with a certain tremor in her voice. “Mind control,” she warns, “is the most important issue facing humanity today.” She reveals her relationship with Gerald Ford, who was “very much interested in mind control, so the local Michigan Mafia child pornography HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015228

ring was actually sanctioned, and they could target children like myself who were so horribly abused that they would be used in child pornography. When my father was caught sending this pornography through the mail, Gerald Ford approached and told him that he could receive immunity from prosecution if he would sell me into the project. My father eagerly agreed. He was so happy that the government actually condoned child abuse that he went on to have five more children to raise for the project, so there were seven of us in all. He was never prosecuted and remains free for reasons of national security.” At the age of 13, she met the man “who would become my owner” —Senator Robert Byrd. In 7rance Formation, she describes their first meeting: “| undressed and climbed into his bed as ordered. | was momentarily relieved to find that his penis was abnormally tiny—so small it didn’ t even hurt! And | could breathe with it in my mouth! Then he began to indulge himself in his brutal perversions, talking on and on about how | was ‘made just for him’ due to the vast amounts of pain | could withstand. The spankings and police handcuffs | had previously endured were child’ s play compared to Senator Byrd’ s near-death tortures. The hundreds of scars on my body still show today. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015229

“| was one of the only kids in my school who listened to country music. But then, Senator Byrd fancied himself a country music fiddler, and it was ‘my duty to love what he did.’ | was ordered to listen to country music or no music at all. Music was my psychological avenue for escape, a dissociative tool. CIA operator Merle Haggard, who often used well- documented cryptic language in his songs pertaining to government mind- control slave operations, released songs including ‘Freedom Train’ and ‘Over the Rainbow.’ “My father told me repeatedly that Merle Haggard was my ‘favorite’ singer, and his songs reinforced my programming. Of course, Senator Byrd remained my_ ‘favorite’ fiddler’ as ordered. He played train songs like ‘Orange Blossom Special’ while making train sounds on his fiddle. Sometimes | was his captive audience, bound and gagged, while he played his fiddle. Other times he instructed me to spin round and round like a music box dancer in order to add ‘new dimensions to our sex.’ These new dimensions included more and more physical pain through ‘kinky’ torture.” It was Senator Byrd who directed her father to send her to Catholic school, and it was Gerald Ford who became “my first president.” That night, she recalls, “I wore my Catholic uniform as instructed and went into HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015230

a dissociative trance as my father drove me to the local National Guard Armory, where | was prostituted to Ford. He took me into an empty room, pushed me down on the wooden floor as he unzipped his pants and said, ‘Pray on this.’ Then he brutally, sexually assaulted me. Afterward, my memory was compartmentalized through use of high voltage. | was then carried out to the car where | lay in the back seat, muscles contracted, stunned, in pain, and unable to move.” And then there was Dick Cheney, President Ford’ s chief of staff. After Cathy was hunted down and caught in Cheney’ s game of “human hunting,” she stood naked in his hunting-lodge office as he paced around and gave her this choice: “I could stuff you and mount you like a jackalope and call you a two-legged deer. Or | could stuff you with this--he unzipped his pants to reveal his oversized penis--right down your throat and then mount you. Which do you prefer?” Apparently, Cheney’ s oversized penis balanced out Senator Byrd’ s tiny penis--a tawdry version of Emerson’ s Law of Compensation. Cathy specialized in political figures (although she was also thrust upon by country singers such as “CIA operatives” Merle Haggard and Kris Kristofferson). With unintentional prophetic irony, Cathy described her 1983 meeting with Ronald Reagan, George Bush and Dick Cheney: HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015231