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nonanon

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    911

    in Spray

    Posted

    I figured it this way:

    2 years at 730

    26 weeks at 182

    Last I checked that was 912 hahaha.gif

     

    Either way, close enuf for terrorist work...

    The $85 Pass is Here, Be Afraid, Be VERY AFRAID!

    in Access Issues

    Posted

    The FDP was originally pitched as a way to pay for the USFS’s maintenance “back-log.” The funds were supposed to stay at the point of purchase. (Remember the 80% hype?) So say I buy this $85 pass and then spend every weekend climbing at Beacon Rock SP. Think either Beacon Rock or the Wa. State Parks will get my $68? Guess again. Even if Beacon Rock did get my money, (which they won’t) wtf did they do to deserve it? Is the WSP system replacing rap anchors now? The FDP isn’t a reasonable funding alternative. It’s a rip-off.

    A question about "touching the void"

    in Climber's Board

    Posted

    Andrew Denton: You said you didn't want to die alone. Did you have any sense of God?

     

    Joe Simpson: My mother was Southern Irish, and I was brought up as a devout Catholic. In fact, at one point I thought I'd become a priest, but I'd have made an appalling priest anyway… At 16, I asked all these monks some serious questions and they didn't come up with the answers, and I just decided I didn't believe in God. And I always thought, you know, if everything hit the fan, then I might turn around and say, you know, a couple of Hail Marys, "Can you get me out of here?" And in all those days, I never did once, not even in the crevasse. I never thought of some God or some omniscient being that'd lean down and give me help, and I feel, actually, if I had believed that, I just would've stopped and waited for it, and I would've died. And so in a way, that's why that loneliness, I think, came in. I was 25, I was fit, strong, ambitious. I wanted to climb the world and I was dying. There was no afterlife, there's no paradise, there's no heaven. It's just dead. And I really didn't want to lose that. I've got immense respect for other people's religions, be it Christian or Buddhist, Hindu or Muslim. I just…I don't happen to have a belief, and I've tested that atheism, so, um, I respect my own lack of belief now. Before, I was never quite sure.

    The Passion

    in Spray

    Posted

    "THE PASSION": JESUS IN SUB-SPACE

     

    I first encountered "traditionalist" Catholicism back in the 1970s.

     

    As a teen, I went shopping for religions, or at least tried to sample

    all the selections before retreating into generalized cynicism. One

    evening I found myself listening to a lecture given by a man I'll call

    Father Pierre, a fellow who seemed to believe in anything and

    everything -- bleeding communion wafers, Our Lady of Fatima, splinters

    of the True Cross, you name it. Everything, that is, except the legacy

    of the Vatican II conference, which had tried to drag the Catholic

    Church into the modern age. The modern age held no charms for Father

    Pierre.

     

    My attention drifted to the small aviary of young-ish ‘nuns' who

    flitted about the handsome Father Pierre, tending to his every need.

    "Oh, he's so spiritual this evening!" one cooed to the other.

     

    "Yes, yes," replied her sister. "So spiritual. Filled with power and

    spirit..."

     

    These gals were gushing. In more ways than one. They practically left

    snail trails on the carpet. (I was hardly surprised to discover, many

    years later, that accusations of ‘impropriety' swirled around Father

    Pierre.)

     

    Nothing ushers you into cynicism faster than a youthful encounter with

    the subterranean sexual underpinnings of extreme religiosity.

     

    Watching Mel Gibson's well-crafted but unmoving "The Passion of the

    Christ" reminded me of that long-ago evening. My initial fears that

    evangelicals would find this film a potent recruiting device have

    proven groundless. By exposing the psychopathology underlying his

    version of traditionalist Christianity, Gibson has made the worst

    possible argument for his faith.

     

    "The Passion" strips Jesus of his message, ignores (for the most part)

    both his humanity and his spirituality, and reduces him to a suffering

    cipher. In Gibson's hands, Jesus becomes the central figure in a work

    of blood-soaked homosexual pornography. This film is a two-hour-long

    BDSM session, with Jesus playing "bottom" for a Jerusalem teeming with

    ruthless gay Doms.

     

    I do not object to the level of violence. I object, in part, to the

    fact that violence is all this film has to offer, just as sex is all

    that a sex film has to offer. First and foremost, I object to a

    filmmaker so lacking in self-awareness that he cannot admit, either to

    his audience or to himself, the true motives underlying his

    obsessions.

     

    BDSM explores primeval areas of sexuality and self-worth, and many who

    feel drawn to the imagery of erotic torture can never acknowledge this

    attraction on a conscious level. Mel Gibson, obviously, doesn't have

    the courage to look into this mirror. However, as Father Pierre's

    ‘nuns' taught me, religion can offer an outlet for the repressed and

    unacknowledged side of one's sexuality.

     

    Those who've read about BDSM, or spoken to anyone involved with the

    lifestyle, will recognize the flagellation scene in "Passion" for what

    it is: A hyperbolized version of the sort of activity that thousands

    of men and women experience in makeshift "dungeons" across the world,

    sometimes even paying for the privilege. The punishment we see on

    screen has little to do with actual Roman justice; forget about the

    traditional 39 lashes administered by bored soldiers just doing their

    jobs. The soldiers onscreen here relish their duties with a flagrantly

    sexual glee.

     

    In most BDSM scenes, the flogging slowly increases in intensity. The

    session starts with the lighter instruments of torment, then proceeds

    to the heavier, more sanguinary implements. When the "bottom" has

    achieved an altered state of consciousness called "sub-space," the

    "Top" turns him over to administer flagellation on the more sensitive

    front side of his body. "The Passion" follows this time-honored

    sequence, differing from offerings of fetish pornographers only in the

    quantity of its bloodletting.

     

    The Roman flagrum, I've read, had small bits of metal or animal bone

    embedded into the tails. That's not good enough for Gibson, who

    provides huge meat hooks which dig deep into the flesh. What we see on

    screen is not just the record of a "normal" BDSM scene; this is a born

    masochist's vision of the ultimate in submission.

     

    Before the first time they administer the whip or the cane, Tops are

    admonished to keep all strikes between the shoulder blades, never

    hitting the sensitive sides of the abdomen. Many sadists, however,

    long for the forbidden, and the more extreme Tops dream about finding

    a bottom who consents to being flogged anywhere, even in the

    proscribed zones. Similarly, the most extreme bottoms take an odd

    pride in their lack of limitations. Once we understand this sexual

    dynamic, we can better understand why the flagellation in "Passion"

    builds to a climactic shot in which the flagrum cuts deep into the

    side of Jesus' flesh. The camera records this blow in clear,

    pornographic detail. Jesus reacts with an agony tinged with ecstasy.

     

    A few subs dreamily consider extending their suffering to its logical

    conclusion -- the final submission. The Gospel story has spawned many

    a necro-erotic vision; a few underground BDSM clubs have featured live

    crucifixions. These extreme sexual fantasies, founded on guilts and

    self-hatreds many share but few confess, may well be the hidden source

    for orthodox Christianity's barbaric theology of blood substitution

    and human sacrifice to appease a primitive deity.

     

    When Gibson's lifeless Jesus receives the spear in the side, resulting

    in a (Biblically justifiable) gusher of blood and liquid, a Roman

    soldier gets sprayed in the face. Anyone one who has ever watched an

    adult video will recognize this moment as the film's cum shot.

     

    Having spent himself on Golgotha, Gibson cannot bother with the

    entombment, the anointing, the garden encounter, the angels in the

    tomb or the other details of the Resurrection. The empty tomb doesn't

    arouse him. The Ascension bores him. Mary Magdalene? Pheh. She's so

    vanilla.

     

    Now we know why Gibson gave his film a title with an obvious double

    meaning. Now we know the reason for his well-known discomfort with

    homosexuality. Now we know why images of torture permeate so many of

    his films.

     

    Even Bill O'Reilly's recent television interview with the fidgety,

    manic Gibson inadvertently revealed this film-maker's pathological

    masochism. My cathode ray tube has hosted few images more obscene than

    that of Mel Gibson whining about the sufferings and persecutions he

    has undergone. In a world teeming with unfortunates beset by genuine

    poverty and oppression, this widely-loved, world-famous

    mega-millionaire has the audacity to claim HE is the one undergoing

    "persecution" -- simply because some people dared to criticize his

    movie. What stupefying audacity!

     

    Gibson carried this audacity to further heights when he spoke of

    loving his persecutors. In doing so, he displayed an obnoxious

    condescension -- but he also let us glimpse a carefully occulted

    truth. On a certain plane, he does indeed love his persecutors. Or

    rather: He loves the idea of being persecuted.

     

    Gibson has bragged about the fact that, on screen, his is the hand

    that drives the first nail. We are told that he made this gesture to

    emphasize his own sense of sin. Yes, Mel, we know. You've been a bad

    boy. You've been a VERY bad boy.

     

    -- Martin Cannon

     

    (This text, if unaltered, can be reproduced anywhere.)

    constitutional amendment banning gay marriage?

    in Spray

    Posted

    The old, "divide and conquer", eh?

     

    Just smart politics is all that is.

     

    But now I’m interested in hearing how one of "the most fundamental institution(s) of civilization" can come to be viewed as NOT a basic human right. “If you prick them, do they not breed”, just isn’t gonna cut it for much longer.

    constitutional amendment banning gay marriage?

    in Spray

    Posted

    The other side of the triangulation coin is that fluffing up the gay marriage issue forces Dems to choose sides. While the Bush camp isn’t afraid of comin’ right out and saying they’re agin’ it, what will Kerry (or whoever) say? Dems have more votes to lose by taking a stand on either side of the gay marriage issue. In fact, I’d say they even have votes to lose by having a nominee waffling on it. It’s almost the perfect red herring for right now.

    constitutional amendment banning gay marriage?

    in Spray

    Posted

    Hey, while we're at it let's just open the floodgates to constitutional amendments. First off, allow foreign-born Americans to run for the office of President. Second, allow the Presidential incumbent to run for a third or subsequent administrations. Third,...

     

    Think they might wanna pass the ERA first?

     

    IMO, this whole amendment line is just so much smoke up the ass of the religious right. The only votes this admin loses by supporting it might be a few log cabin Repubs. It'll never pass, but at least they'll go down looking like they're trying to shaft the gays for god's sake.

     

    In the meantime, I'm happy for all of those couples down in the City. Poor Suckers!

    In DADA houze!

    in Spray

    Posted

    Dada rockband.gif-ed at the Roseland last night!

    Michael Gurley is a God.

     

    This week's tour dates in Washington are:

    Wendsday at Studio 7, Seattle.

    Thursday at Fairhaven Pub Bellingham

    Friday at Fender's in Tacoma.

    Saturday at the B-Side in Spokane.

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