Mykel's April 2024 Blog/Column: The Obvious Answer

 

Mykel's APRIL 2024 Blog/Column

  

You’re STILL Wrong

Mykel's

April 2024 Blog/Column

The Obvious Answer

by Mykel Board

Heterosexual intercourse is the pure, formalized expression of contempt for women's bodies.
                                    – Andrea Dworkin

Do not put such unlimited power into the hands of the husbands. Remember all men would be tyrants if they could.
                                                                                 - Abigail Adams

Some women do not masturbate for pleasure; they masturbate to make a political statement: to remind us that women do not really need men             
                                                                    --Mokokoma Mokhonoana

April again, spring, renewal, most every culture and religion has a holiday… Christians-Easter, Jews-Passover, Muslims-Nowruz. Fools ignore this and think it’s like any other time of the year. They’re wrong.

People who know me, know that I’m an organizer. Thursdays, I have Drink Club, a small eat, drink, socializing group. Once a month I organize Eat Club, where we go to a different restaurant every month. I also have a ROUNDTABLE (sorry no URL) where we gather at the Algonquin hotel, like Dorothy Parker and friends in the 1920s. Every month a different topic with a somewhat varying group in the discussion… yes with food and drink. Finally, also every month, I have a haiku group… also meeting at the Algonquin… where we talk about our own poetic output.

Yet until now, I’ve never organized a political group. My politics usually don’t match those of anyone else… or at least too few to make a group out of it… until now that is. To understand what I’m doing I’d like you to imagine one of those awful prescription drug commercials on TV. Cut to the smiling grandpas… the kids playing ball in the park… the family barbecue. In the background read too fast and too faintly is the warning message.

_________ will likely cause frequent nausea. Other side effects include weight gain, lethargy, increased urination, food cravings, mood swings, backaches and joint pain, swelling of the ankles, fingers, and face, heartburn and indigestion, hemorrhoids, and insomnia. Some instances are fatal.

If this were a drug, I bet you’d be pretty hesitant to try it… maybe asking your doctor for an alternative. And what if this drug were forced on you? Or less seriously, you were connived into taking it because everyone else is.

Well, this isn’t a drug… but the side effects are real, and there are more than in the warning above. I’m writing about the side effects of PREGNANCY… especially pregnancy as the result of heterosexual sex.

Andrea Dworkin recognized it, but, for the most part, she was brushed off as a kook. I was one of those brushers. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how right she was. Or at least close. Rather than contempt for, I’d say power over. There’s no doubt that, on the whole, men have more physical power than women. The reason there are women’s sports and men’s sports is that combining the two would result in women losing most of the time.

Feminists say that rape is not about sex, but about power. I’m not sure about is the right word, but certainly involves. 92% of all rapes involve heterosexual sex. One of the reasons rape is so easy for men, is that, they’ve got more power. It may be taboo to say that in this all-things-are-equal era, but down deep you know it’s true.

And rape is only the most extreme. What of the everyday stress and insults that go unreported, but irritating?

Flash to Monday morning at Scamson bank. Jack, the branch manager, is already behind the inquiry desk, preparing for the first customer to ask him how to move money from his friend’s saving account to his own checking account. Jack likes to get in a few minutes early, and be there for the entrance of Madeline… his (not-so) secret crush. She’s a few minutes late as females are wont to be. She walks in, past the front desk as she does every morning.

When she walks past him, Jack speaks in a loud voice, accompanied by a smile. “Hey Madeline,” he says, “has anyone ever told you you have nice ass...sets?”

Madeline thinks sneer, but Jack is the boss. A sneer is a good way to get fired, so she pretends not to hear him. “And he continues. “Did I tell you how much I like your compound interest? I mean I go for that double-digit inflation there.”

Madeline continues the walk to her cubicle, wondering whether to sue the bank for harassment.

Stop right there! Don’t you see? The reason guys make sexual comments… talk about women’s bodies… is because the want to possess it! They want to make that asset… that inflated double digit... their own. The talk feeds the fantasy. Guys make the jokes, send out the sex-filled talk because they want to get laid. If getting laid… at least getting laid by women… stops, then the fantasies also stop… or at least drop dramatically. How many guys have fantasies about bank robbery? It’s illegal! They don’t think about it… and even if they do, they don’t talk about it in public.

I’ve had this discussion with dozens of friends… of any gender you can name. Almost all have come to agree. Then it occurred to me... like a lightning strike in a summer storm. There is a way to stop the he-said/she-said defense of what might be rape. There is a way to stop the disease of pregnancy… or at least reduce it to near zero. Just think… none of those nasty side effects. The population explosion would implode. Rape would nearly disappear. The fundamental inequality of power would be reduced to almost nothing. How could we do that? Easy answer: Make heterosexual sex illegal!

If I were 50 years younger and a bit more athletic I’d jump and click my heels at the revelation. Yes! Yes! Yes! It’s so obvious. The primary manifestation of the power imbalance… gone with the stroke of a president’s (or a governor’s) pen signing the new law.

You may have read about the organization I started there and then: Policy Initiative to Mitigate Power. It was easy to draw up papers and a statement of purpose… It’s all in the name. P.I.M.P. will change the world. Already almost a dozen Congressmen and women have climbed on board. And the best thing is that both the left and the right support us! The issue could be the great unifier. Conservatives who want sex education removed from schools fear that it will encourage heterosexual sex. After the P.I.M.P. law takes effect, the only class in sex ed would be not to do it. Trump-hating liberals constantly harp on Trump’s alleged involvement with heterosexual sex. After the P.I.M.P. law, all that becomes a clear violation.

Let me tell you a little bit about my organizing adventures. You might be surprised at the warm reception I received. First I made handouts… in the shape of those square religious tracts. On the front was printed: No matter who is your God… P.I.M.P. is the answer. I just stood at the corner of Seventh Avenue and Broadway, and handed them out to anyone who would take one. You can imagine that in the middle of Times Square that would be a lot of people. It was.

Only about 1 in 5 took one, but that was enough. My first taste of ecstatic joy was when a young woman (blond, thin, with a couple outstanding attributes), took one, walked off, and then came running back to me.

“This is wonderful!” she said. “Do you know how much time I waste tightening my belly, dyeing my hair, spending hundreds of dollars on makeup to please… men!” She said the word with a wrinkled nose and an expulsion... like you might spit out a cockroach in your burger.

Since the start of P.I.M.P. there have been dozens… maybe scores of people… men and women... who tell me how great they think a het-sex ban would be. Maybe 70% of PIMP is women, but in that last 30% are a bunch of gay men with the idea something like that means more for us.

One surprising group was the number of conservative women. Members of Libs of Tiktok or Moms for Liberty. Women who put kinship first and preach devotion to home, husband and family.

One member of that crew was front and center in that big demonstration we had in Texas. Maybe you read about it. She was early middle age, with jet-black hair and bright red fingernails.

“I’m happy to see you here,” I told her, “and you surprise me. I thought maybe the conservatives wouldn’t like us because so many conservatives focus on the family. Family usually means het-sex.”

“But don’t you see,” she says, “sex has been the disgusting thing we have to do in order to make “a family.” I nod, stroking my chin as if I had a goatee.

“Artificial insemination is even better than artificial intelligence,” she continues. “We don’t need to do IT.” She pronounces “it” as if it involved fellatio with a reptile. “It used to be our wifely duty... expected as part of family values. P.I.M.P. and science free us from that. Now, they have no excuse to make us perform that vile and loathsome act. We see a doctor… get an injection… down there. And pow! We got it. Yeah, we still have to suffer the side effects of pregnancy, but thanks to you, we’re free of the old etiology.”

‘Wait! Wait!” I say. “What does etiology mean?”

“Mykel, Mykel, Mykel,” she says, shaking her head. “Get with the program… and you wrote the program.”

I smile.

“It means, the cause of the disease,” she tells me. “Sure we still have suffer the symptoms, but we’re free of the old cause. You’ve saved us the pain… the embarrassment… the penetration by beast erect, rather than penetration by doctor’s syringe.”

So where do we go from here? Politics… that’s where. This month the P.I.M.P. party has officially registered with the US government. We’ll have candidates on the ballot in 5 states in November: New York, Texas, Florida, California, and Utah. Feminists and family-ists support us in the Blue and Red states. Besides those, we’ll have ballot initiatives in another half dozen states, pushing for the prohibition of heterosexual sex. We are the only party that can unify America. We are the only ones that will get citizens to join together without actually joining together.

Imagine a nation… a world… without hetero-sex. If we really believe it, we can really do it. And as the world calms down… as sexual tension relaxes and confines itself to one gender. As most of the problems in the world begin to disappear, we will only have ourselves to thank.

See you in heaven,
Mykel Board

ENDNOTES: [You can contact me on facebook or by email at mykelboard@gmail.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available. Send me an email with SUBSCRIBE in the subject line. Back blogs and columns are at https://mykelsblog.blogspot.com]

→ Look to Other Countries Dept: Stopsex.com reports that there are now seven countries that have banned heterosexual sex: Uzbekistan, Burkina Faso, Guinea, Benin, Burundi, Tajikistan and Togo, In every one of those countries, instances of rape… and family strife... have decreased.

→ You, you dirty rat dept: The Associated Press says rats have gotten into confiscated weed at New Orleans' aging police headquarters, munching the evidence as the building is taken over by mold and cockroaches. The city's police chief complains. "The rats eating our marijuana, they're all high."

→ I Told You So dept: In case you didn’t believe me. The NY Times reports that Citibank is being sued for “a culture of sexual harrassment.” Here are the exact words: Ardith Lindsey, a managing director at Citi, alleged that her 15-year career at the bank had increasingly become a “traumatizing” experience, especially after she ended a relationship with a former supervisor. The supervisor, Mani Singh, then sent her dozens of threatening text messages.

LINK TRADE DEPARTMENT:

I did a nice interview with The Aither zine. Interesting questions, complete, and questions I’ve never been asked before. You can read it here. It’s a good one.

I read that the search engines like lots of links... and it's also nice to support my friends and enemies in their blogs. So facebook me or email me if you have a blog, webpage or something else to connect to. I add you. You add me.

Here's a start:

I never expected to see myself as a centerfold. I know several of my enemies would like to see me fold… but not exactly like this:

That’s in the zine Trey Mayhem sent me recently. It’s called Murder and Mayhem and it’s also a record label Murder and Mayhem records. You can see the blog here. Or/and contact Trey at TreyofToday@yahoo.com

My long-time friend Sid Yiddish appears on a YouTube DatingGame-like video. Guess who wins the bachelorette!

Here’s Richard Goldberg: goldberg.wordpress.com

Poetry and humor fans will like Justin Martin in The Latency

And my friend Mike R has a nice site with recipe hits from the past! (He cooked for me once... great stuff.) Check out Yesterday's Recipes.

And here's one by a member of ANTI-SEEN... a tour diary of sorts.

Andy Shelton has an interesting blog here.

Savage Hippie is a guy who has been YouTubing for a long time. Our opinions largely overlap... but he complains that I'm a Communist. I'm not! I'm a communist.

Chris Stecher publishes a zine called PRECIS. You can see the back issue links there... and he promises a new issue soon.

George Fertakis has a very nice graphics-heavy blog... with music and books featured prominently. If there’s no link here (I can’t find it temporarily), then Google… er… Duckduckgo him for information.

And my long-term pal Sid Yiddish contributes with his Mishegas Master Blog.

And connect to TRUST Zine, a long-running German punk zine… that STILL PRINTS!!! Yeah, they have a website too… of course! It’s here.

Here are a couple video links.

This from Jon Cox https://squelchchamber1.bandcamp.com/album/down-so-low

And this one from my very long-time friend Roger Armstrong who has recently died in a motorcycle accident.

Jim Testa moved his long running zine, Jersey Beat, to the blogosphere awhile back. You can read it here. Jim also recommended a kind of unique album… in a style you don’t see to much of these days… or any days. Neo-Hassidic Rock Opera. You can stream the album here.

Kyle Nonneman is in prison in Portland. At least he can’t be kidnapped by the secret police… I think. I post his blog for him, he can’t do it from the klink. Lots of stuff about noise metal… and some very weird politics that will either fascinate or repulse you… or both. It’s hard (and costs money) to send him email. So. If you remember how to write a letter… send him one at: Kyle Nonneman, #16534211, Snake River Correctional Institution, 777 Stanton Blvd Ontario OR 97914-8335

My long time pal, Jim Hayes rightfully complained about my leaving out his blog. He’s a great writer, so it was a tragic omission. Here it is.

Oh yeah, then there’s me. I have a blog of stuff I’ve written mostly from last century. You might enjoy it. Then again, you might not. It’s here.

Let me know if you have a blog… or a print zine… or a YouTube and want to be added to the list. You show me yours… you’ve already seen mine. god@mykelboard.com

Going to Pieces or Mykel's April 2023 Blog

 

Going to Pieces or Mykel's April 2023 Blog

  

You’re STILL Wrong

or

Mykel's April 2023 Blog/Column 

Going To Pieces

by Mykel Board

Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over. – Octavia E. Butler

It is better we disintegrate in peace and not in pieces.
–Nnamdi Azikiwe

Thaw with her gentle persuasion is more powerful than Thor with his hammer. The one melts, the other breaks into pieces.

– Henry David Thoreau

As you stay on in a given place, things and people go to pieces round you; they rot and start to stink for your own special benefit. –Louis-Ferdinand Celine

Ah, April, despite its showers, it brings winter’s thaw. People say it’s the rainy month. Really, it’s change. I love April. Lowing like a cow, it moos itself into your consciousness. Forget the winter. Only vague memories of the chill remain. Other cold thoughts disappear. Let’s see what my thoughts are… Still, April might not be the month for me.

“I wouldn’t call it pain,” says, Dr. Provet, the urologist, “I’d call it discomfort.”

I kneel on the examining table, naked from the waist down. Next to me, on a metal table are the tools of the trade: A hypodermic with a needle as long as my thigh, what looks like a drill topped with a thin test tube, several empty sample jars, rubber gloves, what seems like a half-deflated balloon at the end of a drinking straw.

“Take a deep breath,” says Dr. Provet. “First we’ll start with the anesthetic. You’ll feel a little pinch when it goes in.”

It occurs to me that I’ve heard the little pinch spiel before… when the dentist gives me an injection before the drilling starts… always before the anesthesia. Maybe it’s part of the instructions on the box. Before injecting this material-- no matter which end--, please tell the patient “You’ll feel a little pinch.”

The doctor picks up the syringe with the huge needle. I feel a poke, then, pressure against my sphincter… an entrance… and insertion… like I imagine I’d feel being butt-fucked by a chihuahua. Then, the stab! Yes, the stab... nothing like a pinch, but like being stabbed in the prostate with a needle. Like? Not like… but actually being stabbed in the prostate with a needle. Then the withdrawal.

“We’ll give it a few seconds to numb you,” says the doctor.

For once in my life, I can’t think of a snappy comeback.

“Now comes the camera,” says the doc, picking up the balloon-like object. You might feel a little full.

“Yeah, like I’ve never done anal,” I don’t say to him. “Like I’ve never had to hold back explosive diarrhea. I have no idea what it’s like to feel a little full back… back… back.” I hold my breath as the balloon expands in my rectum.

In somewhere between 20 seconds and 20 minutes the balloon deflates and withdraws. The doc says. “Now, we’ll take the samples. It’ll feel like a stapler inside, but it won’t hurt.”

Oh sure, I think, feels like a stapler. Everybody’s had a stapler inserted into their asshole and felt the KER-CHANG as it deposits its U-shaped load. Of course, I know the feeling.

BA-TOOM! BA-TOOM! BA-TOOM!
BA-TOOM! BA-TOOM! BA-TOOM!
BA-TOOM! BA-TOOM!

Ah, I get it… then the withdrawal.

“Okay, that’s it,” says the doc. “Make sure you read the instructions so you know what to expect.

Three days of blood in the urine. Three days of prostate pain. Three weeks of blood in the semen.

FLASH AHEAD THREE WEEKS: Xvideos dot com… those femmy boy/butch girl videos… oh yeah… oh yeah… oh yeah. What the fuck???

You haven’t lived until you cum blood. Until you go about your business and wipe maroon on your bedside toilet paper. It’s a horror movie… porno holocaust... there between your own legs… Holy shit… cumming blood, feels the same, but sure as scarlet stain… doesn’t look the same.

FLASH AHEAD ANOTHER WEEK: My life is almost back to normal, though I’m still cumming blood. I can go to the gym, the post office, the Asian spice store.

Walking back from the post office… through SOHO. I take the cobblestone streets. The sidewalk is filled with old stairs, and high loading docks. As is my custom, I climb up and over them all. Making physical progress, and convincing myself I’m getting exercise at the same time.

Yeoh! What the fuck was that? I stubbed my little toe on some kind of pipe. One of those twin head water pipes that come out of the sidewalk at odd places... near old factories, now turned into fashion emporiums.

This is serious. I can barely stand on that foot. I feel what seems like blood oozing into my sock. Slowly, I limp home, gritting my teeth against the pain. Somehow I make it to the front door. I insert my key into the door. For a second, I think of the insertions during my biopsy. The pain right now is too great to hold that thought.

Up the elevator, into my apartment, sitting on the couch, I rip off my sneaker to see my once-white sock is now dripping red. I peel off the sock and look at the blood puddled along the right side of my foot. I put a bunch of toilet paper in my mouth to stifle a scream. (What single male doesn’t keep a roll of toilet paper by the bed?)

There’s something small and hard inside the sock. I shake it and falling out of it, along with a shitload of blood, is my little toe. I don’t know what to make of it. It’s not like I’ll miss my little toe, what do I use it for anyway. But it is disconcerting… like a bloody orgasm.

FLASH AHEAD ANOTHER WEEK: It should be about time for Xvideos to update Vintage School Students list. And I hope it’ll be time for me to stop cumming blood.

Oh yeah, that’s what I like. 1970s, young like I was. There’s the teacher, giving the sex education lesson... calling on the student trouble makers to stand in front of the class and be models for the lesson.

Oooo, there’s the group I like… a racially mixed… all too rare in 70s porn. First lesson: foreplay. Then comes: oral. Then missionary, yes! Yes! Then anal… then… what the fuck?

I stroke myself and then suddenly can’t stroke any more. It’s as if my hand is moving in air. My hand IS moving in air. It holds a penis, but the penis isn’t attached anywhere. There’s a bloody puddle between my legs and a now bloodless penis lies limp in my right fist.

Terrified, I throw it to the floor. It makes a soft squishing sound as it lands.

In the days that follow… one by one… parts of myself disconnect themselves. It’s as if my body was rejecting a transplant… but in this case it’s NOT a transplant. My body is rejecting ME.

I sit at the keyboard, trying to write this blog… one by one my fingers detach themselves, leaving bloody stumps on my hands…. Like a yakuza gangster who’s run out of repentance.

Things don’t stop there.

As I type this now, my head… the only part left… holds a pencil in its mouth. Letter by letter I press the eraser to the keys and type these words. My chin resting on a table directly in front of my computer.

Body parts litter my apartment: a kneecap here, an elbow there. My penis lies… tinier than ever… on the floor next to a fat brown internal organ I don’t even recognize. Key by key, I write what must be written. What’s left of a life that can’t last very long. What’s left of me, and what’s...

See you in hell.

Mykel Board

ENDNOTES: [You can contact me on facebook or by email at mykelboard@gmail.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available. Send me an email with SUBSCRIBE in the subject line. Back blogs and columns are at https://mykelsblog.blogspot.com]

→ What’s the world coming to dept: In the same week, I saw both a cop and a doctor with a man-bun. Doesn’t the doctor have to earn the confidence of his patients? Don’t these people have to testify in court? Doesn’t the cop play the bad guy in one of those good-guy bad-guy interrogations? If you were a serial killer, would you take him seriously?

→ Who are the censors dept? What’s most important in the government of a free society? Of course, the freedom to discuss and debate is most important most everywhere. Some Democrats may think the freedom to cut the testicles off little boys who play with dolls is important… but free discussion? Check this out from Stop Republicans… a Democrat front group:

→ Flogging the corpse of GG dept: The great bandleader/comic book artist Scott Corkern has finished his GG Allin Comic book. I’ve contributed to it, as have a host of others. BUT, Scott is the key… the genius. It’s expensive (list price around $30). I’ve got a few that’ll go for $20 each. But you have to get to me quick to get one. If you’re interested send me email: god@mykelboard.com with GG COMIC in the subject line. The first five emails will get one cheap(er).

See you in hell, redux,

MB

THE NATION AGAIN

I’m a long-time subscriber to the The Nation. It’s the only lefty publication that I find myself not only agreeing with, but also getting inspiration from. Strangely, when I post this stuff on facebook, no one looks at it. My “friends” would just rather call me a “Trumpist” or a “Republican” for all the times I don’t follow the party line. If it’s printed in THE NATION, it should give me street cred, right? Yeah right.

There is a great article by the new editor, about so-called “Democratic Unity.” It blasts the centrists for taking over, and the wimps on the left for letting them show off “their unity muscle.” Who wants unity if it’s for a bad cause.

The same issue has a piece by Sasha Abramsky about Universal Basic Income. A plan where everyone gets some money (not enough, I’d say) just for living. The rich pay to put a floor under the poor. Yes! Yes! Yes!

LINK TRADE DEPARTMENT:

I did a nice interview with The Aither zine. Interesting questions, complete, and questions I’ve never been asked before. You can read it here. It’s a good one.

I read that the search engines like lots of links... and it's also nice to support my friends and enemies in their blogs. So facebook me or email me if you have a blog, webpage or something else to connect to. I add you. You add me.

Here's a start:

Jason Rodgers sent me his book Invisible Generation… free! And I lost it. Jason, a long-time partner of Suzy Poe, has been bugging me to review it… and I can’t. So the best I can do is promote it. I have a lot of respect for Jason… he is a libertarian (in the best sense of the word), and a super-smart guy. When/if I find the book, I’ll give you some more details.

Video of the week: My long-time friend Sid Yiddish appears on a YouTube DatingGame-like video. Guess who wins the bachlorette!

Here’s Richard Goldberg: goldberg.wordpress.com

Poetry and humor fans will like Justin Martin in The Latency

And my friend Mike R has a nice site with recipe hits from the past! (He cooked for me once... great stuff.) Check out Yesterday's Recipes.

And here's one by a member of ANTI-SEEN... a tour diary of sorts.

Andy Shelton has an interesting blog here.

Savage Hippie is a guy who has been YouTubing for a long time. Our opinions largely overlap... but he complains that I'm a Communist. I'm not! I'm a communist.

Chris Stecher publishes a zine called PRECIS. You can see the back issue links there... and he promises a new issue soon.

George Fertakis has a very nice graphics-heavy blog... with music and books featured prominently. If there’s no link here (I can’t find it temporarily), then Google… er… Duckduckgo him for information.

And my long-term pal Sid Yiddish contributes with his Mishegas Master Blog.

And connect to TRUST Zine, a long-running German punk zine… that STILL PRINTS!!! Yeah, they have a website too… of course! It’s here.

Here are a couple video links.

This from Jon Cox https://squelchchamber1.bandcamp.com/album/down-so-low

And this one from my very long-time friend Roger Armstrong.

Jim Testa moved his long running zine, Jersey Beat, to the blogosphere awhile back. You can read it here. Jim also recommended a kind of unique album… in a style you don’t see to much of these days… or any days. Neo-Hassidic Rock Opera. You can stream the album here.

Kyle Nonneman is in prison in Portland. At least he can’t be kidnapped by the secret police… I think. I post his blog for him, he can’t do it from the klink. Lots of stuff about noise metal… and some very weird politics that will either fascinate or repulse you… or both.

My long time pal, Jim Hayes rightfully complained about my leaving out his blog. He’s a great writer, so it was a tragic omission. Here it is.

Oh yeah, then there’s me. I have a blog of stuff I’ve written mostly from last century. You might enjoy it. Then again, you might not. It’s here.

Let me know if you have a blog… or a print zine… or a YouTube and want to be added to the list. You show me yours… you’ve already seen mine. god@mykelboard.com