Tag Archives: sex

A Chiel’s Amang ye Takin Notes –

I guess Jack should just make this the Thursday guest post – he’s late again – – –

I make every effort not to comment on whatever stramash is exercising the lave on FaceBook at the minnit – but –

It seems to me there’s no defense for a mature man making eyes at a fourteen year old girl. The argument that some fourteen year olds look ‘older’ takes no account of emotional maturity or experience of life. It’s just plain wrong!

This subject came up recently on a long running BBC political discussion program called ‘Question Time’ and one of the audience asked of the panel – “why do I, a normal young man, not engage in these kind of activities, while celebrities and politicians do?”. One of the panel (a Conservative Party MP) responded rather too quickly and truthfully – “because you don’t yet have power”. He quickly tried to backtrack but that comment has gone viral!

I think this gets right to the heart of matters. This isn’t really about sex or the attractiveness of a young girl. It’s simply about the exercise of power – I do this because I can, and have enough power to get away with it.

Which brings us to another matter. How do they get away with it?

The powerful look after each other and always circle the wagons when any attempt is made to confront them. There’s a long catalogue of these kind of things having gone on for decades in the UK and, almost every time, any investigation is dragged out until the culprit has died and can no longer be cross-examined.

Finally – the way that Mr. Moore’s behavior has been excused by some so-called Christians is chilling in the extreme. It amounts to a recruiting call for lecherous older men to head to their nearest evangelical Church and start eyeing up whatever young lassies are ‘available’!

I recommend watching this – http://www.latimes.com/opinion/op-ed/la-oe-brightbill-roy-moore-evangelical-culture-20171110-story.html

 

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Filed under between books, Big Stone Gap, Life reflections, Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap, small town USA, Uncategorized, Wendy Welch

The People in 306

Every year, Jack and I emcee the Sycamore Shoals Celtic Festival, in gratitude of which they give us a small stipend and a big room in a grand hotel.

For the past four years it’s been the Carnegie, a nice place in JC that features huge bathrooms, glorious hallway chandeliers, and paper-thin walls. Last night Jack and I settled into our room with the requisite Indian take-out meal from Sahib’s, mid-term grading for me and Scottish political sites for Jack.

About half an hour later, we glanced at each other. Strange noises were coming from the hallway. It sounded as though a child were throwing up.

“No, that’s the room beside us,” Jack said, as I started to open the door leading to the hall. He indicated the wall with a flick of his head.

I stood at the point where the noise seemed loudest and listened again. The soft, ah-ah-ah gasps escalated to something like crying.

“This kid is in pain,” I said to Jack. “Do you hear an adult in the room? Should we knock?”

At that moment a male voice said, “Good girl, do it again” and my whole assessment of the situation shifted. Jack and I shot back from the wall as though, well, shot.

The voices continued, rumbling, mumbling, giggling, and that high, heated shrieking the gasps had turned into. There were sounds of spanking, and choking. “Are you all right?” “Oh yeah, that was amazing!”

Jack and I glanced at each other, at the clock by our bed (10:45), at our empty, neatly made bed, and busted up laughing. At some point marriages turn into “Let’s get a good night’s sleep” instead of “I’ll have what she’s having.”

And that’s okay. Don’t get the wrong idea; sex shared with the right person has no equal. But it also has no need of broadcasting. Sex just doesn’t sound like much fun at all when you’re not the one having it. Erotic asphyxiation is definitely off my list. She sounded like a poodle with asthma.

So is the Carnegie Hotel, perhaps. Next year we’re asking for the Comfort Inn. Fare-thee-well, paper thin walls that bring more than someone else’s TV into your life.

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Filed under humor, Life reflections, Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap, small town USA, Uncategorized, Wendy Welch