Why isn't Dick in Jail?

Richard J Cheney admitted committing a serious felony. On T.V.

Torture is unlawful. This is fact. Causing torture is also unlawful. This is also a fact.

Waterboarding is torture. This too is a factual statement. The United States Government has tried, convicted and executed people for waterboarding, as torture. Waterboarding was called, for years, the Water Torture.

Cheney admitted instigating torture, thus, he has admitted to committing a crime.

Mr Holder? What the fuck are you waiting for?

Swallowing

Science now knows that when pregnant women orally ingest the ejaculate of the father of the child she bears, she has a SIGNIFICANTLY reduced chance of developing preeclampsia. Further research has also found that the regular ingestion of the ejaculate of her partner can help a woman become pregnant in the first place. It introduces the partners proteins into her system as a whole, and gradually acclimates her system to the presence of his proteins, so that she is far less likely to have an immune response when the fertilized egg attempts to implant, increasing the chance of successful pregnancy.

Of course, I didn't fucking KNOW THIS ten years ago, or my wife's pregnancy would have been MUCH more fun for me. (She didn't actually have preecampsia, so the effect on her would have been minimal, but trying to prevent it would have been a blast. Health first!) :-)

Pantomime Horses, I shit you not.

I download a lot of japanese porn, mostly because the idea of beauty in Japan is apparently much different than in American porn. There is very little silicon breastage, Almost no Anorexically thin chicks (who arouse in me nothing more than the desire to buy them a good date at an all-you-can-eat pancake house) and quite a bit of defiled innocence and purity, and that happens to be my thing. But I erase 9 out of 10 of the things I download, mostly because I don't read or speak Japanese, and in addition to the aesthetically pleasing aspect of Japanese porn, there is a LOT of serious weirdness. Tentacles, a penchant for VERY young looking actresses (and if I can't TELL they are over 18, I don't feel comfortable watching it or having it on my hard drive) and a rather odd costume thing. And, apparently, a real liking of sex with pantomime horses. Or, rather, very well-endowed men in HORSE COSTUMES. The first time, I laughed my ass off. It was hilarious. Around the 8th such film, I got to wondering if there was some wierd cultural thing of which I was unaware. Pantomime Horses.

Squick

I was asked to define the term "Squick".

Squick is the sound you make, and the feeling you have when, in the middle, you realize that somebody has spliced Golden Showers into your perfectly good BDSM download. Curiously, I am told it is the same thing you feel when somebody has spliced Twinkie porn into your perfectly good Golden Showers porn. Or when you realize that somebody has put Missionary Vanilla in the middle of your download of the Ozzie and Harriet Show.

The Brits are getting it right. Us? not so much.

The British High Court came to the conclusion that "United States" authorities had violated the Convention Against Torture treaty that was signed by Ronald Reagan and ratified by congress.

This treaty states that whenever credible reports of torture are made, they must be investigated, first in the jurisdiction in which the torture was alleged to have taken place.

The treaty also directs third party countries to investigate and bring charges if the power accused refuses to investigate on its own.

Obama has no choice now but to investigate if he wishes to conform to the law. If he fails to do so, he is an accomplice after the fact.

Back from Florida. The drive was awesome. I raced up the east coast to avoid the "snowpocalypse" blizzard that slammed the megalopolis from New York to Richmond. Made the entire 1400 miles from Orlando to Vassalboro in about 30 hours.

I meditate while driving. The tunes are cranked, and I drive like a fucking crazy man, so my mind is almost constantly engaged in trying to look for cops, maximize the speed, looking for road signs. the whole front part of my brain is involved, psyched, grooving, moving. The back part, Mystic Half, is free to dream.

And dream he does.

The car is nice, a 1999 Saturn wagon, but it is white, not my favorite color. Named her Amalthea (from the glowing silver chick that the Last Unicorn turned into when she was hiding from the Bull) We got along well, immediately. I wasn't even off Disney property before she managed to become an extension of me, and I forgot completely about the physical part of driving. The rest of the ride was just sweet. Two three-hour naps in the back (she isn't quite long enough for me to fit into comfortably, but nonstop speedfreaking the miles takes a toll, and sleep was, for a change, easy)

And mystic half dreamed of plots, and characters, and possible narratives. I made progress on what I have tentatively called "Spinners" but the block is not yet broken. I have characters, names, places, maps, everything but a story. But the drive got me a bit closer to that.

More later.