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Monday, April 28, 2008


Mary Roach at Town Hall

With her bestselling Stiff, Mary Roach wrote an intelligent, understandable, and, most importantly, hilarious book about the art and science of death. In her newest book, Bonk, Roach discusses the art and science of fucking. She introduces the reader to a penis surgeon who talks like Yoda, a meeting of sex-machine aficionados, and the difficulties of scientifically observing the cervix during heavy intercourse. It can be said, without hyperbole, that she's the world's funniest science writer. (Town Hall, 1119 Eighth Ave, 652-4255. 7:30 pm, $5.)


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You can watch a video of an ultrasound of Mary and her husband bonking here:

Posted by Fnarf | April 28, 2008 11:52 AM

Hmmm.... reminds me of a magazine cover I saw(ed) once.

They were waiting for the shower that morning, Johnny Cash was swinging the line of men and conversations, the story that was... life, despair,hard times and redemption wrapped up in a scuff.

The small talk like drips on a chin with no wipe at a red tie affair, interspersed
between cautious smiles, and the anticipated warmth of a clean dry set of clothes was cut off by the foreshadow:

A phantom that crept underneath the covers of a babies birth... only to remind the viewer and mock at the mean lines of a soft blur.

Nobody in the shoots and stalls and stalks likes a snitch.


Men chained to the gally of a face fight to the death swamped in a myriad of prefunctory grunts, motions and grimmaced jaw lines.

They had at previous pretense hoped to salvage the wreck of indignity, only to leave a mark and learn that they had shamed the one iota of respect that would once again raise the spector of demonization from the man.

Like taggers at the street level, miniscule twitches of muscle mass traded with the scratchy memories of oppression, long distilled through the course of social rehabillitation so called for the mis-diagnosis:

The attempted regentrification of the souls tortured displacement into a new geography.

At the present, I don't recall clearly if " I've been everywhere man " actually reached some of the men who had styled in that chair before me....

When I looked at the stack of magazines in the bookshelf,

"The Fresh Shave and Brush"....

....somehow felt less like Seattle Sound.

I was again reminded of the reasons why men and women who understand the destruction and carnage, defilement and terror can be as angels of revenge...

... callous individuals who build cages, boxes and bar-room brawls.

Characters are a funny sort..... musicians and clowns.... oddballs and superstars... nicklewound to superslinky roto-minds on a nylon rough.

" ...and she was..."

That's what I heard after I ripped the cover off the example.

I knew it would end up here....

in this place... my critics laughing in distorted wailimgs of cheap expressive graffitti.... if those who tagged her face would enjoy the get away by not being in attendance to witness the reaction.

I don't believe there is a friend, family, father, mother, brother or sister on the planet...

....given the similar situation.... who would enjoy the thoughts of the defacing of their daughters photograph...

..leaving a message, unspoken in the anonimity of the act.... as if escape exonerates immaturity;

....who at some point won't grapple with the violent thoughts or emotions of revenge.

... and on the whistled wind of the word I heard the echoes of a voice saying...

" they had forgotten the face of their fathers..."

Posted by danielbennettkieneker | April 28, 2008 12:48 PM

Three of a perfect pair(?).... or justice in a co-ink-i-dink?

Posted by anonymus | April 28, 2008 12:50 PM

By the way this is the denial... I didn't watch this all of this video... as per usual I just used it as a vehicle of meti- form.

Posted by jhaerkerdh | April 28, 2008 12:52 PM

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