This pervert claims to believe that public *** on **** Beaches is
something that ****ists shouldn't complain about.
How do we keep these sickos off **** Beaches?
Here is what the pervert wrote.
http://www.killcreek.com/devolution/mykel/181.html
YOU'RE WRONG
An Irregular Column
by Mykel Board
It's been a long time since my balls last saw sunlight. I'm 6 months
old. Mom is changing me on the big redwood picnic table in the back
yard. I piss. Sssssss. Right in mom's face. She squints, makes a face
as the baby urine drips from her cheeks. I giggle.
"You little squirt!" yells mom. "I curse you. Here is my curse: Your
balls will not see sunlight again until you find yourself on a ****
beach on a tiny island in the middle of the French Caribbean."
Fifty years later, her curse finally runs its course.
I'm in Guadeloupe... on a tiny island in the French Caribbean. I've
come to practice my French, meet the locals, and have adventures.
Except for the French part, that's why I travel in general.
Evidently my language ability isn't very good. I walk into a store and
ask the hefty Negress behind the cash register.
"Ou est l'eau boch,?" I ask.
"I sorry," says the woman, "I no speak English."
As in most countries, the girls here are far better-looking than the
boys-- and much less available. [Exceptions: Denmark and Japan where
the boys are better-looking, Thailand where all genders are equally
beautiful and England, where all genders are equally ugly.] The boys
are too big, too many muscles with too hard faces. The girls are thin,
with sculpted jaws and narrow hips. As in many places, they stay that
way until they get married. Then they expand.
Guadeloupe itself is an archipelago. There are two main islands and a
bunch of surrounders. One of the main islands, Basse Terre, is
mountainous, with a volcano and a rainforest in the middle. The other,
Grande Terre, is flatter with scores of little beaches, each with its
own color sand.
The islands have a long and checkered history. Originally populated by
the Arawak Indians, an invasion of fiercer Carribs nearly exterminated
them. Then, the Columbus crew conquered The Caribs for Spain.
Then, the French conquered the Spanish. They also im****ted African
slaves. Somehow a bunch of Indians (turban, not feather) wound up
here. They set up a small Hindu community and mixed with the locals.
You can be any color and still be a Guadeloupen, though where I am,
most of the natives are black.
In 1998, the archipelago is a prefecture of France. The islanders are
citizens of France and participate in French elections. The money and
stamps are French. It's the same as the relation****p between Hawaii
and mainland U.S.-- only with fewer Japanese.
The biggest industry is sugar cane. From that, they make sugar and
rum. The natives consume both in large quantities. This lead to a high
number of hyperactive drunks. The second industry is tourism, being a
convenient place for French tourists from the mainland to get sun and
sand without leaving the country. The tourists come mainly for the
beaches.
One of those beaches, Anse Tarare, is a "plage naturiste," a ****ist
beach. It's in a little cove, with sand-colored sand and palm trees.
I'm on the beach now. First, I hitchhiked to a little gravel road.
Then, I had to walk down the side of a mountain. Approaching, the
colors jump out at you. The beige sand, the black, white and tanned
****d bodies, the crispy redness of those who've been in the sun too
long.
I'm dressed in black levis, a black SHLONG t-****rt, sneakers
(Converse, of course), my fedora and very dark sungl*****. I walk down
to the crowd and pick my way from one end of the beach to the other.
The people are slightly less than two thirds French tourists or white
islanders, and slightly less than a third Negro islanders. The rest
are Asian islanders.
[Note for the linguistically challenged: I'm not using "Asian" as a
fa****on word for "Oriental." I saw three Orientals during my entire
two weeks on the island. When I say Asian, I mean Asian. Indian-type
people with dark skin and occidental features.]
Most are ****d with the occidentals more likely to be ****d than the
Negroes. The Asians least likely of all.
The far end of the beach seems to be the homo center. I'm guessing by
the cockrings and guys kissing each other. It's the only sign of ***,
so I head for that end.
Once there, I spread out my "Guadeloupe Souvenir Towel," take off my
clothes, put on my fedora and darkest sungl*****. I need to keep my
head covered to prevent sunburn and sunstroke. I need to keep my eyes
covered, to watch people without them knowing it.
With my clothes off, I'm not proud of my prawn and two grapes,
especially in front of all these Negroes. [Note: somewhere there are
Negroes with small *****es. They rank among the world's greatest
tragedies. All the disadvantages without the advantages. Like being a
dumb Jew or an Oriental poor in math and science.]
I pull out a book, flop down on my stomach and watch, feeling secure
behind my fedora and dark gl*****.
Some of the French guys are looking my way. I stare back through my
sungl*****. They laugh and say things I can't understand. I pretend to
read.
As the sun slowly sizzles my ****d flesh, I decide it's time to get
into the ocean and swim around a bit. Besides cooling me off, I want
to see if it's possible to swim and piss at the same time. I stand and
gingerly tiptoe over the hot sand to the accompaniment of snickers and
"tres petit, n'est pas?" I finally make it to the water. Tiptoeing in,
I gradually get used to the colder temperature. It shrivels me
further.
Though I've got the urge, I find I can't swim and piss at the same
time. The main problem is that I can't swim. It is, however, possible
to dog-paddle and piss at the same time. Not only is it possible, it's
heavenly. As good as ***. Just releasing yourself to your surroundings
and having it carried away. Awesome. I thought about ****ing, but
figured it might float up to haunt me, and I've already suffered
enough embarrassment.
Looking toward the land, I see that the view is athletic (at least on
the homo end) but not physically stimulating. There is one beautiful
Negress among the muscled hairy Frogs. As black as the night, her
rippled belly and tight pert breasts make me want to stand up and be
counted. She is clothed-- at least bathing suited. The grey-haired
white man with her, drooping breasts, and legs wrinkled from too much
sun, appears to be her pere d'sucre. He is ****d.
Once I cool off and empty my bladder, I leave the water and retreat to
my blanket. Standing nearby is a slim good-looking young Negro whose
salient feature would reach his knees if it weren't sticking straight
out in front of him. This eases my mind, a bit. Besides my
embarrassing spacial deficiency, I've always had two objections to
****ism.
First, I thought that all that ****ity would de***ualize the body. If
you're used to seeing ****d people all the time, then ****ity is no
longer ***y. What a shame to loose such an enjoyable part of human
interaction. The beautiful becomes mundane.
Second, from my reading, the philosophy of ****ism itself is anti-***.
I've heard of innocently erected men forced to leave the premises.
"Into the ocean with you-- or take a cold shower."
Not only did naturism make the body non-***ual, it prohibited all
natural ***ual response. I could do without Jerry Falwell ****ism,
thank you.
This nearby erection, along with the cockrings and kissing on the
beach, makes me feel a lot better about ****ism, though it still
doesn't help with my deficiency.
I'm just in the middle of these thoughts when it starts to rain. Not a
drizzle. Not a misty rain. But a Caribbean rainforest deluge. Windy,
driving rain. Sheets of it. Hard and fast. After having just been in
the sea, I leave the beach to keep from getting wet.
When I return to New York, I post my adventures on the Usenet group
"rec.****." That's when I discover my previous fears are justified.
I post my Guadeloupen scene re****t. I explain how my experience helped
allay my original fears about ****ism. Especially my its focus on de-
***ing the body.
"You make de-***ing sound like something bad," is a paraphrase of one
of the answers. Then the **** hits the fan.
I wish I could quote some of the messages and let people speak for
themselves. Unfortunately, the ones with the scariest ideas lack the
courage to stand by those viewpoints. At least not outside the safe
context of their own little usenet group.
I offer everyone the op****tunity of a direct quote and an email
address so they could explain themselves. "No quoting" come the
replies, "and certainly no email addresses."
If you doubt my representation of their point of view, you can check
yourself. Just tune into rec.**** and look for the "masturbation"
thread.
In that group, people propose that anyone having *** at a ****ist beach
should re****ted to the cops. ****ist vigilantism. How wonderful it
would be, they say, for a newspaper headline to read "****ist Helps
Cops Capture Public *** Offenders."
There's a message from a Fundamentalist Christian ****ist (I **** you
not.) She says she's happy **** doesn't imply something as disgusting
as ***ual intercourse. Oy vey!
The main reason for this conservatism, however, are not any anti-***
principles. Christianity rarely has anything to do with it.
Why such a "Good German" attitude? ****ism just skirts the law, they
tell me. Public *** is illegal. In order to save their own ****d
*****, they have to eliminate the illegal activity from the barely
legal activity.
They're willing to sell others down the road, regardless of right and
wrong. Imagine them **** on a white segregated beach in the U.S. south
of the 50s. A Negro shows up... WHAM! Call the cops! We can't afford
to risk our little niche, if we want the right to show our little
niches. Put The Coloreds in jail! We'll be safe then. It'll look good
in the papers.
For how many columns have I shown the flashlight of reason on the dark
pit of identity politics? For how long have I yelled at those who
think of themselves as "gay" or "women" or "Asian?" How many trees
have been slaughtered on my recounting the evils of narrow focus, only
caring about your own rights and privileges to the exclusion of
everyone else.
If I were to invent an April Fools parody of identity politics, I'd
make up something as absurd as orthodox ****ism. I'd invent a group
that defines itself by the clothes it doesn't wear. I'd invent a group
that thinks of itself as liberated, yet is so cowered by the law that
it turns into it's own police force. Unfortunately, life too often
beats parody to the punch.
ENDNOTES:
--> Speaking of April Fools dept: A lot of folks missed the multitude
of April Fools jokes in the April MRR issue. The fake "returned"
columnists caught a lot of people off guard. A Dutch anarchist sent me
a rant telling "Larry" that it's NOT okay to be rich.
I don't know if anyone believed my column. The one about Tim writing
it for me. Obviously, that isn't true.
--> Further on the April Fools dept: I was caught myself in rec.****.
One of my antagonists posted a manifesto calling for ****ist male
supremacy and discrimination against homos. I was so prepared to
believe it that I swallowed it, head, stem and balls. Just goes to
show, we're ALL too willing to believe whatever reinforces our
preconceptions.
--> Now's your chance dept: Perhaps it's the exergies of age. Maybe
it's diet or not enough sleep. Maybe it's jerking off thrice a day.
Who knows? But with my last visitor, I began to wilt from the bottom.
Top down, no problem. Twice in a row? Yeah! But once I'm face up,
that's all that's up. I tried rings (four at once!) ginseng, a carrot
up the ass, the whole kit and caboodle. A tragedy! If I can't do it
face up, how'm I gonna enjoy that mirror on the ceiling?
That's where you come in. It's a contest. I'm setting up appointments
now. If you think you can personally cure me, come and test your
rising powers. If you do cure me, you'll get your name mentioned right
here as the great arouser.
You can get the chance to try your hand (or any other body part) on my
supine cure. Mail me a photo, your address, the most convenient time
for you to visit me here in NY, and a detailed description of what
you'll do. Send it to: Mykel Board, POB 137, Prince St. Station, New
York NY 10012.
I'll be scheduling appointments starting June 1.
--> The truth about Ann R Key dept: I don't know if she's mentioned my
"problem." (see above) She promised she would, I hope so! I need your
help for the cure. Despite the favor for me, it's about time someone
ratted on Ms. Key! With all the ratting she's done, she deserves to
feel the wrath of truth.
Here it is: she's awful in bed! I know I'm not supposed to write about
other columnists' opinions, but this isn't about an opinion. It's
about a deficiency. That girl uses her teeth! I got scrape marks after
the first blowjob. As far as a general lay, that general must be US
Grant. She's as dead as he is in bed!
>Some humorous tidbits from Liberty Magazine. Todd Brown sent me these via
email:
Reno, Nevada: Actor Mark Williams, wearing a beard, robes, and sandals
for his title role in Jesus Christ Superstar, was ejected from the
Pioneer Center for the Performing Arts when the theater's director
mistook him for a homeless person.
Maricopa County: Undercover agents from the Maricopa County Health
Department have been cra****ng weddings to seize cakes baked by friends
or relatives without licenses.
Milwaukee: Harmanjit S. Saini has filed a lawsuit seeking compensation
for "unprecedented discrimination as the result of a worldwide
conspiracy to prevent him from making a decent living and marrying a
white woman." The 249 defendants named include CBS, Chrysler, the
ambassador of Kuwait, Milwaukee public schools superintendent Howard
Fuller, and Sen. Ted Kennedy.
Florida: Michael Gifford should be acquitted of shooting abortionist
David Gunn on grounds of diminished capacity, because anti-
abortionists brainwashed and crazed him by showing him fetuses and
hateful, blood-drenched effigies, his lawyers told jurors. And, they
added, he didn't do it.
Hillsboro: To demonstrate how God will treat Satan on the Day of
Jubilee, Rev. Anthony Dearinger picked up and threw an eight-year-old
boy.
-> Taking me seriously dept: http://www.free-music.com/
is a site that
avoids copyrights and goes right for free distribution. ****
intellectual property. Yeah!
-->"Feminism is not about having to constantly watch your back for
some evil 'big sister' who's constantly looking over your shoulder.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: feminism is not about
replacing big brother with big sister."
That's a quote from the gals at PUNK ROCK FEMINIST HELL. I've
mentioned them before, but they've got a new address. Check 'em out
at: http://www.skapunx.ml.org/~acer/rant1.html
--> Tim Yohannon had the best laugh I've ever heard. A belly laugh:
deep, unaffected, infectious. There was nothing cynical about Tim's
laugh. Nothing evil, snide or malicious. That laugh brightened up the
most depressed groups of punks. It put wings on a losing Risk game.
Tim's laugh was the never-censored laugh of someone completely self-
confident. It wasn't a chocked chuckle or a nervous snicker. There was
no squeal, no throat clearing, never a hand over the mouth.
If you knew Tim's laugh you loved him. Despite his narrow- mindedness.
Despite his critical intolerance. Despite his stubborn refusal to put
ANYTHING or ANYONE before principles. You loved him despite his know-
it-all attitude or his instant alienation of those who didn't know the
laugh, or weren't affected by it. There's a big hole right now where
that laugh was. It's one that'll never be filled.
-END-
--Mykel (mykelB@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
)
http://www.freeyellow.com/members2/seidboard/
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