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Those of you who tend to think normalized relations with Cuba are such a great idea might well read the book "Bothers in Arms" by Gus Russo and Stephen Molton prior to a rush to such judgment. This docu-novel chronicles the extent to which the Castro brothers were involved in the planning and cover-up of the assassination of JFK, as well as the subsequent manipulation of the US government. Whether or not you area a devotee of the Kennedy style of progressive governance or a member of the cult of personality that grew up surrounding the man himself I suspect you will be appalled at how America was pushed into an extremely unpopular and bloody war in Southeast Asia, among other things, by the Soviet handlers of those same Castro brothers. I guess some are more forgiving than others but I also suspect that those who lived through those times will remain less so.BTW, when did Lush morph into such a political, site? Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Just sort of surprised that an erotic lit site seems to have gone in that direction.
Not quite a reply to the OT but IMHO since so many have decided they possess poetic chops I think it might be a good change to give the preview of entries to that category in the poetic form in which the text is written. In that particular genre, form is often as important as phrasing. Returning to the OT: I think there are already sufficient categories from which to choose...or to confuse me, whichever comes first. The aforementioned preview ought to be enough to allow a reader to filter-out a peice he doesn't desire to peruse.
Not going to divulge where this comes from. Trust me, if somebody undertook to hang me up from the skin on my back you'd hear the hollering all the way to the UK. But from what I have been told the phenomenon of body suspension is less to tingle the masochistic nerve we all have on board than it is for erotic effect and to showcase the skill of piercing and/or the body jewelry involved. As repugnant as many of us find the practice it seems there is a highly specialized, very motivated group involved with this "art form".
As in so many of life's pursuits, what you don't say resounds more loudly than what you do choose to verbalize. Where personalities are allowed to trump honest criticism a system of selecting quality is useless. This, as I only learned through trial and error, is the way Lush works. Get over it, you aren't on a site dedicated to improving authors, you're on a social networking site that utilizes erotic vignettes as a draw.
Unless I am sadly mistaken, a not unthinkable conclusion, painful anger can be imputed in the words of one or more of the participants in this topic, empathy in some others, pathos in one or two. In this sterilization scenario, sans the equivocation of temporary this-and-that and the hyperbole generated by emotional involvement, it appears all that's left is to appoint an arbiter of who, and when, a casual user devolves into a hopeless addict and when he or she is to be deprived of his reproductive rights. From amongst which group will you look first, the understanding or the legalistic? Or will the matter be turned-over to what we hope will be the cold calculations of a beneficent government?
As is true in the case of yesterday's "sub-human" slave and the disenfranchised woman of the 19th century, societal mores quickly overtake our tardy identification of what, and who, is guilty of aberrant behavior. Are today's drug addicts new appointed subjects for medically oriented social experiment ala Dr. Mengele?
I know it will earn few points for popularity but I think that occasionally some are so enamored of instant gratification that they fail to consider what would happen to the freedom to contribute to a site like "Lush" on the off-chance we were someday saddled with the Sharia Law these mosque-building zealots would like to see imposed. Complacency is the proverbial path of least resistance and you can too easily fall victim to an over abundance of a good thing while occupied with assiduously denigrating the opinions of those with whom you disagree.
2005 It was a hot, gritty night. The kind you experience only on the high desert. The long, flat highway rolled-out ahead as would a path through a mountain meadow. Except that here the peaks were rising towers of mist, the valley, sand, wind-blown off the desert floor across which the blue/gray Navy hearse was forced to crawl at snail-speed. A cloud enshrouded full moon did little to...
Added 28 Dec 2011 | Category Love Stories
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