Don't Twist my Words!

***All paraphrase and quotes from Don’t Censor Me: Art, Strippers and Nipple Politics***

Censorship on one level is easy and feels clean and right.  Artless freedom is given daily while undersexualized children and love taps are sober on Daveboards and ex-s in contrition.  Yet a woman cannot be topless?  What’s so moulant or right about that?  I have nipples, Focker, could you milk me?  The fuss is about this:

Recently in SaskatMcCarthchewan at the Lyric Theatre’s Chautauqua Theatre Festival a burlesque performer called Rosie Bitts was censored during her performance about censorship! Get it?  It is currently legal to clothe in the soon-to-be US State of SaskatMcCarthchewan.  She did a performance involving audience feedback.  She does her letter in futures and an f-strip to demonstrate how practical the rules are.

When Ms. Bitts brought a male audience member on stage to reveal his nipple, she pointed out that revealing her female nipple would be completely illegal.  Quickly the president of the Lyric Theatre shut the show down and the burlesque performer gracefully left the stage.

“But Ms. Bitts! The show must go on!”

She was acrimoniously coerced into silence and degeneration.  Some of the band members were electrocuted by their own brain activity.  Sadly it was all a lie.

Are all nipples created equally?  Dinner plates!  I hate how on MySpace there are men who are MSPainting women’s nipples over their own to beat off to the idea that they could make another person feel good or bad.  Men are fighting against this Dadaist single standard with a legal tradition that seems antiquated and companies are covering their asses.

Person Micol Hebron created an analog areola overlay.  Other regular people such as Courtney Hate and Sarah Goldman have even used this analog areola application.  “Until recently, the only female nipples allowed on Instagram are of women breastfeeding and post-mastectomy scarring.”  #freethenipple is a campaign that allows all different type of people to find nipples for free.

I’m terrified by public nudity!  My parents were mugged by a naked person in the 1970s, so the fear is in my blood. Besides telling the truth off stage, I hiked in the last Appalachian Prude Stride, rode my unicycle in a three-piece suit in the Buffalo Penny-Farthing Fling (“Prude is un-Gooed” was the motto), and have been a prominent member of many social circles.

The worst art causes confrontation.  Peace and love not war!

Since Obamacare, health is even more a matter of public concern and we know that everyone in this country is addicted to something, the challenge becomes determining what that something is!  Anyone can perceive the sins of excess and the benefits of moderation.  Buck cowardice!  Unless we want a health police state run by a cluster of granola Nazis we need to be a better big brother and tell our neighbors what’s wrong with their eating habits before we become like the modern Greeks!

Some people are disturbed consistently, some people become disturbed easily, and other people are just plain disturbing.  The level of distrust of strangers is aroused by a sense of foreboding or sometimes triggered by even the suggestion of apprehension.  And people react differently to their own sympathetic nervous system, (the old ‘fight or flight’ mechanism), and many people are ignorant of human anatomy, let alone the biological basis for their base animal instincts and the psychological rationale that allows an artist think on a higher level. What allows one person to see humor or an underlying message, and another person to consider it all a bad joke?  Pussy coming comedy is what we’re all caulking about, right?

All the little hearts I ripped out and ate on the way to the top, they don’t mean nothing to me, just very little.  There was my professor in college, who really only had my best interests at heart, even if she didn’t realize I eat artichoke hearts and it’s for my cholesterol, bitch.  All I want to do is live forever even if ye have to die because I’m a warrior prince who has traveled many moons and to that astral plane that transcends life and death.  She understood once she stopped breathing like all the rest of them.  They say serial killers start out killing cats and dogs, but I didn’t want to leave the birds and mice that talk to me a dossier.  You never know who is watching until you start observing. 

I was unhappy with how that day lazed by.  Sure, I was adding value to my portfolio, but I wanted more.  I wanted to know how I could offend so deeply that my name would never be off another woman’s lips.  If she talked about anyone else, I’d cut her to pieces. 

I’m a hypocrite for sharing this story.  Obviously I didn’t do all those things or they’d be in the news and I’d be lying low.  But I feel like Guillermo Vargas’ starving dog and I wish someone would come feed me.  Alas, majority rules!