Marina Rose Martinez

I’ve been a fan of the various multimedia ventures of Keith McNally for awhile now. His taste and ear for popular music is only less enviable than his encyclopedic knowledge of it. If you go over to keithcourage.com, you’ll see and hear some good fun stuff, ranging from shitty comics to well composed and edited videos.

So when McNalley announced his latest venture, “XO, an Internet Show by Keith McNally in the Style of This American Life,” I was interested to hear what he had to offer. I was a fan of “This American Life” for years, and I remember wishing there was something else like it in the world. But that was before I started to get more and more annoyed with the continued fake-ness of celestial radio, the perfect cuts and the slightly pompous, over-important sound that most radio has, including “This American Life.”

By the time “XO” came on the scene, I had been bored with “This American Life” for awhile. I was over their traditional 3 act composition, I was over their smart indie music, I was over their articulate, sensitive and quirky staffers, I was even over the well produced and eerily ironic TV show.

But “XO” has ignited my love for things ‘in the style of This American Life,’ despite my dispassionate objection to the actual show for so long now. So far, 7 episodes in, McNally delivers everything I liked about “This American Life,” and everything I like about podacsting in general, while leaving a lot of the apathetic, over-edited bullshit I left radio for in the first place.

Since music for me can sometimes make or break a show, let me say up front that the music selection is the kind of considerately chosen, perfectly variegated pastiche of sound and meaning that I’ve come to expect from McNally’s work thus far. But unlike his earlier show “I Have a Ham Radio,” where the music was clearly the main event “XO, an Internet Show by Keith McNally in the Style of This American Life,” places the emphasis on the story, using the music as a compliment to the narrative.

The meat of the show is the real life audio, mostly recorded by Keith in different everyday situations. The magic of McNally is that he has the genius or the arrogance that it takes not only to put the mirror of unfiltered observation against his own life, but that he has the testicular fortitude to reproduce it for all of us, and leave the dirt in, with full knowledge of his actions. There’s a part in one of the shows where Keith contemplates editing out some earlier section where he felt he was being petty, and unreasonable. But in the final edit, the petty audio remains, and so does this on air rumination on the future editing process.

So many things in life advertise themselves as genuine, and yet they rarely are. XO makes no such claim, in fact, with a subtitle like ‘in the Style of This American Life,’ a potential listener almost expects an imitation, absolving the subject from any obligation to reality. But what I love about XO is that it is so honest, and so brazen, without sacrificing quality. This is not to say that there isn’t windy audio, or fuzzy audio. The show is recorded during the course of a man’s actual day-to-day living. What I mean by quality is simply that: the impeccable transitions between music and talking, the fact that the music so often matches the tempo, the tone of the language as if they were made for each other.

If you like “This American Life,” you might like “XO.” That would depend largely on what it is about the show you like, and what you’re looking for when you’re looking for a show. In “XO 006 Alcohol Rant,” Keith says “I’d rather continue to alienate the people who aren’t on my wave-length in order to feed the people that are.” I think that’s as good a philosophy as any. I look forward to more of this fledgling show, and I recommend anyone who likes to be early to the pop-culture party to watch Keith McNally and his future endeavors. I think there’s a lot more people out there who are on that wave-length than he might yet know.

So, awhile ago I wrote this tawdry block of text on the Keith and the Girl forums in response to a girl who was having trouble with her orgasms (she’s since sorted it out). I’ve gotten some great compliments on it. Seems to have helped others with their own personal -ahem- orgasm problems. Although I fail to see it’s potential to be arousing, I am proud of it, both as a piece of work and as sort of how-to guide. I notice that a lot of people are not prepared to speak or write in detail about their personal sex life and I see how this might be helpful. Two notes: firstly that every link in this post is completely Safe For Work so click away, and second that after five years of practiced, precision targeting, my 5-is-a-bad-night track record is somewhat less so. Every couple will tell you that working for the 5th O is usually futile when you know that they’ll be back in your bed naked again tomorrow. C’est la Vie.

Just thought I’d throw my 2 cents in here.

I agree with everyone to see your gyno, and that it might just be that you’re eighteen. I personally don’t believe that the fact that women tend to be unable to orgasm until a later age is due to physiognomy, and that it is probably due to our society but that’s a completely different topic.

I don’t know if it’ll be helpful to you, but this is what I did:

I’ve pretty much always masturbated and there would be a climax, at which point I would stop and go to sleep, but it was never incredible or mind blowing like I had heard it described by other girls. Eventually I changed my masturbatory technique from applied pressure to the clitoris to a combination of finger-fucking and clitoral stimulation, which caused the process to be a lot more fun, but I still had the same bland climax. One night, I was jerking off in my bed like I did every night and I could feel a real orgasm building. As it got closer and more intense, i realized that I was about to be overwhelmed by it and as soon as I made this realization, it felt like a door was being slammed shut in my head and within a second it was over and not only did I not cum, but I was completely turned off. It sounds dumb, but I had frightened myself away from cuming. Before this my jerk-sessions had been frantic and disconnected, almost like a chore. After this, I slowed it way down and made sure to take time not only to acknowledge that I was touching myself, but also to become comfortable with it. Considering how long I had been masturbating, being comfortable would seem like an easy task, but it was really difficult not to feel embarrassed or creeped out. I hadn’t realized how ingrained the shame was. I would have to give myself pep-talks in my head to keep going (it sounds ridiculous, but I’m not kidding).

Eventually, and I’m talking about months of doing this every night I had the same feeling of a massive orgasm building to climax again and I got scared and stopped this time too, but not as quickly, and the next time I felt it, it was only a month later instead of several months. I’m not sure how many times I got to the brink only to be scared away again, but I do know that it got easier each time to relax and accept the loss of control. This technique worked so well for me that now I’m pretty much the most orgasmic person I know, 5 times during sex would be considered a bad night.

Hope that helps, sorry it was so long, I wanted to be as detailed as possible in case you could benefit. Not being able to cum is a horrible condition. I’d have to say that my best advice is practice, practice, practice.

I posted this on a forum in response to some guy’s dumb instance that “women who are raped are asking for it, women think that they can get away with anything, and if rape is under-reported how do you even know that if they never report it anyway, huh? Also, feminists think that all men are rapists“ I’m quite proud of it, so here it is.

1. The problem I have with the “if you walked into gangland wearing a money suit at midnight” analogy is that, from culture to culture this half of the analogy remains the same. If a man is irresponsible with his valuables he deserves to loose them, everyone can agree on that. The female section of the joke is usually fairly similarly broken down to the same: If a woman is irresponsible with her valuables, she deserves to loose them. The issue I have with the joke is that it makes the assumption that a woman’s ability to be fucked is her valuable, that her physical body is a commodity that people (men) are allowed to have for a price, but not to take for free. If we switch the analogy around and have a woman with a purse overflowing with money downtown at night getting robbed, no problem, she should have watched her purse, but if we try to think of a guy, hanging out with some fun new guys from the bar, trading sex stories while wondering home when all of a sudden they’re forcing sex on him against his will and because there’s more of them than him, they run a train on his ass and leave him, bleeding in an alley. What did he expect? Those were strangers and he was out numbered. He shouldn’t be drunk, alone with strangers anyway, that dicktease. Is not the same with a person looks at it like that, or even if the man’s attackers had all been women, which has happened and no one cared or had much to say. When a man is brutalized, its just a one-off weird gross and unfortunate crime done by criminal-ass people like every other fucking crime, but when it happens to a woman its because she wasn’t wearing gloves under her Burka (burkah wearing and clitorectomies have also been defended using the above analogy).

Of course, on the other hand, that just happens to be the way our world is right now, and I have to say that although I understand that it is a flawed system, I do agree at least somewhat with the Camille Paglia “any girl who gets drunk at a frat party and doesn’t expect to get fucked that evening, even if its against her will, is a complete idiot” school of thought {LINK} because we live in a world where pussy is considered a commodity, which leads to the issue I hear a lot of men express:

2.Women think that they should get everything because they’re girls and suffer no ill consequences whatsoever. First of all, you hang out with bitches, so that might be more of a you problem. However, I feel like this is two sides of the same coin, on the one hand, girls are encouraged to think that our sexuality is a commodity that someone can steal from us because we are so weak and easily damaged, so we have to be on guard and constantly protecting that, but when a woman extrapolates this argument to make the assumption that her sexuality is not only a commodity that can be taken from her, but also a commodity that can be bartered for in exchange for things and special treatment, or that her physical strength is so minuscule and ineffectual that any violence she does to a man is inconsequential and insubstantial, she is derided for using societies own arguments to her gain and not just her determent. What we need to do is stop using this argument wholesale across the board and not just when in inconveniences societal stereotypes.

3. Un-reported Rape: The way to determine the under/un-reported instances of rape in any given population is to select a representative sample, give them all an anonymous questionnaire that asks “have you been raped?” and “did you report it to an authority?” You can ask them what kind of authority they reported it to, because in terms of conviction only the police matter, because only they can seek an arrest. Of course, if the instance of officially unreported rape seems to be high, as it does in these cases, {LINK} {LINK} one can find flaw in the polling data by asking one’s self “If they are not telling anyone else, why would they be telling us?” Part of that doubt can be taken away by the fact that it is an anonymous poll, but the truth remains that there are many women who probably wouldn’t even tell an anonymous poll about their experience with sexual assault, which actually skews the data away from the unbeliever, and in favor of those who argue that rape is seriously un-reported, which is my personal problem with the data: that it is inaccurate because it doesn’t actually reveal the scope of the issue at hand.

4. As for feminists thinking all men are rapists: What can I say, some feminists think that all men are rapists, some baptists think that all black people are monkeys. If you make broad generalizations about people who make broad generalizations, what kind of point are you actually making here?

First Published in Voice Chapman University’s Social Justice Publication 2006

When the first Gulf war broke out, I wanted to protest. I wanted to be the kid in the CNN stock protest footage, surrounded by people, and an uplifting hope that peace was possible. My grandmother had protested in the 60s, my friends parents went to protests, and put stickers on their cars: NO BLOOD FOR OIL. There were lengthy discussions and strong opinions that flew across the dinner table, but we didn?t protest, and we had no stickers.

When I was a sophomore in high school, protesting the economic sanctions against countries, such as Iraq, I knew that ten kids with signs in front of a suburban post office were not going to save the world.

When 9-11 occurred, I expressed many opinions I later learned were shared with me by a man named Ward Churchill (since blacklisted for those very thoughts.) I sent rice to the president and pleaded for FOOD NOT BOMBS. I put up flyers, and had ?intellectual discussion? everywhere I could.

When war was coming, four of us organized a walk-out that got negotiated down to a teach-in at lunch with full use of our high school gym. I went to other teach-ins outside my community; I dragged my friends and ate Vegan cookies on college lawns. For my birthday, my mother bought me a ticket to San Francisco, where I marched with 27,000 others to make the anti-war voice heard.

When the war started, I wasn?t surprised, but I kept my distance from the movement, feeling failure slow me down.

When election time came, I touted the benefits of not voting Bush, fully aware that there wasn?t much to keep him from cheating again, but definitely not expecting him to get a fair win.

When Bush won, I stopped. I no longer cared. Trapped in Orange County, not only did I feel that I was in a minority, but a minority infected with apathy. I became infected as well.

When I woke up, it was February, and I was afraid to continue the fight. I was afraid of failure one more time. I now know why we never protested when I was a child, and why there were no stickers on our car. I can remember my grandmothers face as she watched the injustice she had fought so hard against rise again. In the 60s they believed that they were going to recreate the world in their image, their desperation was that they merely improved it.

When I remembered why I fight, I was listening to an old woman say that ?You can?t allow others behavior to change who you are.? I am a believer in respect for life, I am a woman who deserves to be seen (as human, as valid, as beautiful, as powerful, as whatever I want to be). I don?t fight to win, and I?m not planning on recreating the world in my image. I fight to be who I am within My Reality, and in My Reality, WAR FOR PROFIT IS NOT OKAY. The victory is in resistance, and the failure is in apathy. Everything after that is only consequence.

Hundreds if not thousands of students are walking out in response to the illegal and xenophobic actions of our American government against their Latin American parents.

And there is an asshole on the radio right now talking about the violation of our sovereign nation by illegals walking down our American streets carrying their Mexican flag, and I’ll tell you something. I saw those ‘illegals’ yesterday, and they were hundreds of Chicano children, crossing the street in front of my car, showing their solidarity for their people, and standing up to a nation that’s willing to exploit their labor, but not support their education or healthcare. And I’ve also seen the pictures from Mexico, across the river from El Paso, of the bleached skulls of young girls littering the desert. Those girls have been tortured, and murdered, and no one knows who’s doing it, and is it any wonder that the murders started when the American factories moved to the area tax free to exploit the local workers, desperate to survive in an area where running water and electricity are luxuries? And It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that among those young women, probably lie the corpses of all the would-be union leaders that have gone missing over the years, because they would be costing the company precious dividends by trying to find justice and fair treatment for their people in their own country.

So, radio-asshole, you can go ahead and think that a crowd of children with pride in their parents and grandparents who have fled from a country you use as your own personal toilet and shooting gallery are threatening to you and yours, but the truth remains that these children are fighting for their survival, and you’re fighting to maintain a comfortable distance from the scapegoat you’ve blamed all your problems on thus far. Your ideal will fall, your way of life is ending. You will die in the next twenty years, and if the kids I saw yesterday continue to know they are strong, continue to know that they deserve the same rights and privileges of rich white children, you will be remembered with contempt and shame, and they will be held up like the heroes they are.

I’ve been waiting years for this, I’ve been pleading the people to fight back, and on the third day of student walkouts all across California, I can see a movement on the horizon. In my wildest dreams, this is the stirring of the great giant that’s been mollified and silenced for forty years too long. I fantasize that there is a nation of dis-empowered, angry people who are tired of being fed consumer goods at the price of their pride, at the price of their freedom. The people need jobs, the people need healthcare, not empty promises from over privileged exploiters.

And I don’t have promises, but for the first time in a long time, I have a hope for the future, and I have a renewed belief in my fellow man. We will endure. Generation after generation, we have not laid down after all, only waited and carried the memories of our forefathers before us, of their American hopes, and their Equality dreams that one day, they would be realized in us, in our children and grandchildren. Steadily we regain our humanity, steadily we find our voice, steadily we remember our pride, our strength.

We can do it, we will do it. Today I remembered the place we hold in this nation, and we are not the bottom, we are the backbone. We poor, we immigrants and children of immigrants are your nannies, your cleaners, and your food service employees. You cannot shop without us, you cannot drive without us. You will not survive without us. There are more of us- there are so many more of us. Unify! Mobilize! We cannot be ignored.

One time, I was reading Malcolm X’s autobiography, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you want to know about civil rights, and other shit like that.

When he was in school, Malcolm was academically better than any other student, white or black. One time all the other students were somewhere else, and Malcolm and his favorite teacher were left alone. When the teacher asked him what he wanted to do with his life, Malcolm told him that he was thinking about becoming a lawyer. Without skipping a beat, the teacher laughed and said ?Malcolm, niggers can?t be lawyers!? Although the teacher encouraged him to pursue carpentry, this is where Malcolm began is nefarious life of crime. I read this story and I thought, ?god how awful. What would if feel like to be that kid??

Ten pages later, I got my answer. Along the road in his nefarious life of crime, Young Malcolm met up with a pimp. One day, Malcolm angered one of the whores that this particular pimp had in his possession, and in order to calm the woman he had upset, he smacked her upside the head. After the pimp became offended that his friend had chosen to mistreat his property as such, Malcolm became confused. You see it was Malcolm X?s particular belief that women couldn?t be reasoned with, and needed to be cared for in such a way that necessitated a good smack once in awhile.

At first, I thought ?sign of the times.? But then I realized that the times were the early 1960?s, and women?s lib was in full swing. In order to maintain the belief that women just need a smackin? now and then, Malcolm X had to make a concerted effort to look the other way when the vast majority of his generation?s females stood up and said things like, ?I think I?ll be a lawyer?

What I?m trying to say here really has nothing to do with Malcolm X. What I?m actually taking about is something that fascinates me even as it baffles and worries me. I see so many people living in the same world as me, walking the same streets, breathing the same air, and yet, they are blind to everyone but themselves. They can?t see the suffering of others because they?ve elevated their own self pity above any thing else in the universe.

I see people who?ve been told they aren?t good enough and they turn around and tell it to the next guy. That white teacher thought that Malcolm X couldn?t be a lawyer; Malcolm X thought that a woman couldn?t be reasoned with.

I?ve been told that the poor just can?t manage money, and I?ve been told that there?s no sexism in American anymore; that there?s no such thing as discrimination, but when we don?t pay people a decent days wage for a decent days work, and the children of privilege can tell the children of poverty that there?s a reason a cashier and a doctor don?t get paid the same wage, even as the doctor?s children have every luxury and the cashier?s children haven?t even got a home to live in, what exactly are we calling that?.

Is it any wonder that the children of doctors get to be doctors as well, and that the children of cashiers get to be cashiers as well? Because the children of everyone, rich and poor get fed the same pipe dream, that all you have to do is try and America will give you want. We are told that everyone?s equal, and as long as we continue to think that, we will never realize that the children of poverty work twice as hard to get half as much as the children of privilege. So we work four times harder than all of the rest, and when some students drive beemers, we walk or take the bus, and when some students live large, we live in our cars. When everyone else parties, we study or work just to keep up, just to scrape by. And in the end, we succeed just so our children could become the children of privilege, who will tell the other children that there?s a reason that cashier and a doctor don?t make the same wage.

Dear Mr. Pope,

I heard on NPR today that your Papacy would be about love, and I seemed to remember that you were the same man who, as a cardinal, wrote the Letter to the Bishops of the Catholic Church on the Pastoral Care of Homosexual Persons. I seem to recall you writing in your letter that although violence was icky, if violent acts should be perpetrated against homosexual people, “neither the church nor society at large should be surprised when other distorted notions and practices gain ground and irrational and violent reactions increase.” In other words, if queers get killed it’s essentially our fault that we allowed such distortions to take hold in society.

Listen Mr. Pope, I know that you have a job to do, and a religion to protect. I also know that you know that you do not, and will not enforce, or even attempt to enforce all the ridiculous rules your religion is based on. You yourself are a sinner in your own clandestine eyes if that were the case. You cut your beard (Leviticus 19:27), you support divorce, and if you read the tag on you’re nice pope dress there, I’m sure that it’s not all made out of the same fabric, even though it’s a sin if it’s not (Leviticus 19:19). Why aren’t you waging a war on female teachers (I timothy 2:12)? or shrimp fishers (Leviticus 11:7)? In other words what’s your problem?

Actually, shut up, I don’t care about what your problems are, you’re obviously fucked up in the head. Anyone who used to be Hitler Youth probably is, but you’d think that all those evenings spent marching up and down, and unknowingly supporting the genocide of millions would have taught you a thing or two about hate, and what it does to entire societies. Obviously not.

Well, at least let me ask you one thing. Please, please Mr. Pope, if you are going to lie to us, lie to us about being sinners, lie to us about condoms being a tool of the devil. We’ll figure out those ones out. I think you know this one already, but the truth is, Mr. Pope, that we all want to be loved. And we all want to believe that God loves us, and sometimes we feel like so much shit that we can’t just ask him ourselves, we can’t have a personal relationship with God because people like you and yours have taught us that we’re not good enough to know our own higher power, and it’s not true, but for all the people out there that don’t know that yet, Let us alone, Mr. Pope, please. Stop trying to tell us that your campaign is about love, because it’s not and it never will be if you keep on like this. Some people want love so bad that they’ll take anything as long as you tell them you love them, but I’m not one of those people today Mr. Pope, and I’m not going to let you shit on my head and tell me it raining. Your campaign is about hate and guilt, but My God will forgive you for it, even if Your God won’t forgive me.

So, there’s this pro-life bulletin floating around that’s kinda lying, and I thought I’d correct it for posterity. I may be a godless heathen, but I think Jesus was into telling the truth. The bullshit is in regular text, the truth is in bold

Month One

Mommy, I am only 8 inches long, but I have all my organs. I love the sound of your voice. Every time I hear it, I wave my arms and legs. The sound of your heart beat is my favorite lullaby.

According to about.com, “Your baby is called a blastocyst as it implants. The baby measures about 0.1-0.2 mm (3mm=1/8inch just to give you an idea of how small that is (2)). At the end of the fourth week of pregnancy, the chorionic villi are formed”. It lives in a yolk sac, and doesn’t even have a placenta yet.

Month Two

Mommy, today I learned how to suck my thumb. If you could see me, you could definitely tell that I am a baby. I’m not big enough to survive outside my home though. It is so nice and warm in here.

Again, About.com says that “In the beginning of [the 2nd month] it’s hard to tell which way is up on your baby”. Only at the end of the month does it start to grow “the primordia of the liver, pancreas, lungs, and stomach.” Also, it has “limb buds” and “finger rays,” which, while promising, don’t exactly paint the same picture of the thumb sucking infant invoked above; especially since it has a tail (3).

Month Three

You know what Mommy, I’m a girl !! I hope that makes you happy. I always want you to be happy. I don’t like it when you cry. You sound so sad. It makes me sad too, and I cry with you even though you can’t hear me.

Your baby might be a girl, or it might not. Even though “external genitalia begin to differentiate… it’s still very difficult to tell whether your baby is a girl or a boy without genetic screening.” Since the baby just grew ears, it may well be able to hear you crying, but it’s hard to tell if it’s crying with you or not because it doesn’t have eyelids yet.

Month Four

Mommy, my hair is starting to grow. It is very short and fine, but I will have a lot of it. I spend a lot of my time exercising. I can turn my head and curl my fingers and toes, and stretch my arms and legs. I am becoming quite good at it too.

About.com says that the baby will have a “scalp hair pattern” which is not the same as hair. Other than that, this is pretty right. The fetus does, in fact move. However, it’s kind of a moot point anyway as 88% of abortions occur in the first 12 weeks, which is about three months. In other words, by the time the kid has a “scalp hair pattern” it’ll probably live unless something goes wrong.

Month Five

You went to the doctor today. Mommy, he lied to you. He said that I’m not a baby. I am a baby Mommy, your baby. I think and feel. Mommy, what’s abortion?

If the fetus is still alive at this point, chances are, unless giving birth will kill the mother, or her baby’s going to be stillborn, no abortion will be performed. 98.6% of all abortions occur within the first four months of pregnancy (1)

Month Six

I can hear that doctor again. I don’t like him. He seems cold and heartless. Something is intruding my home. The doctor called it a needle. Mommy what is it?

It burns! Please make him stop! I can’t get away from it! Mommy!! HELP me!! No . . . . .

According to a 2005 American Medical Association study, “neurological pathways in [the fetus’] brain that allow for the ‘conscious perception of pain’ do not function until after 28 weeks’ gestation.”(4) That’s not for another month. Besides, we’ve already established that only in extreme cases (death or imminent death of mother or child or both) would an abortion take place after the second trimester (which starts at week 27). (3)

Month Seven

Mommy, I am okay. I am in Jesus’ arms. he is holding me. He told me about abortion. Why didn’t you want me Mommy?

Why?

Every Abortion Is Just . . .

One more heart that was stopped. Two more eyes that will never see.

Two more hands that will never touch. Two more legs that will never run. One more mouth that will never speak.

This last part is just bullshit. The resolution to terminate a pregnancy is difficult enough without this self righteous buggery. No one just gets an abortion on a lark; there will always be reasons that are beyond any of our ability to speculate. I’m not saying that abortion is great, or even that it’s the right decision to make. I don’t fucking know what other people should be doing with their bodies, that’s their business, not mine. I just think that they shouldn’t be lied to or guilt tripped, no matter what choice they end up making.

Sources:
sources are referenced in the text by the number before the url
1.http://www.choiceusa.org/facts/myths.pdf
2.http://www.gujmedia.de/_content/20/11/201144/How-to-Convert_A4-quer.pdf
3.http://pregnancy.about.com/od/fetus/ss/ninemonths_6.htm
4.http://www.religioustolerance.org/abo_pain.htm