Steellover

"Poledark"  (An ode to really bad PBS TV shoes.)

I hate M'f&&G Poledark, The worst show on TV

I hate M'f&&g Poledark, It means nothing to me

I hate M'f&&g Poledark, This shows a bunch of crap

I hate M'f&&g Poledark, whoever made this is a sap.

This show sucks, it's really bad

When it comes on then I get mad

Whose at fault, let's take a guess

It was those hacks at PBS!

I hate M'f&&g Poledark, worst show on TV

I hate M'f&&g Poledark, it means nothing to me

I hate M'f&&g Poledark, It's boring and it sucks

I hate M'f&&g Poledark, guess we're out of luck!

PBS, they have no clue!

They show THIS, but cancelled Doctor Who?

This shows boring and it's lame,

I'd rather watch a pro golf game!

I hate M'f&&g Poledark, worst show on TV

I hate Mf&&g Poledark, Last show I'd want to see

I hate M'f&&g Poledark, It really made me pissed

I hate M'f&&g Poledark, cancelled Doctor Who for THIS!

This show's bad, it's really terrible

Watching it is so unbearable.

I rage against the TV Set

I'd rather watch the Bachlorette!

I guess this rhyme is not that funny

But it's why PBS no longer gets my money!

What's an American to do, 

When they took away the Doctor Who?

This will be a strictly Music Corner blog entry.

So a little bit of background:  Last night, I got off work and headed over to the bar about a block away for a drink.  Keep in mind, I almost never actually do this; typically when Friday afternoon rolls around, I can't wait to just get home, and either hit the trails or kick back after a long work week. But I thought, after wrapping up the plans for old Larry Aichviaux's switch design (Not the engineer's real name, obviously) I owe myself a drink to celebrate. So I thought I'd go grab one, from the bar around the corner. Why not?  So I went over and grabbed one. There appeared to be some other activity, like some venders setting up a merch table, and people loading in some amps and music gear. This place does host live music from time to time, so I asked the bartender what was going on; who was playing tonight.  "It's this rock n' roll band from the Atlantic Northeast," she replied, "They're called Slomosa.  You should check them out!"  Then, I walked over to where Dan Zlawitz and Jay Sanchez (two other co-workers, and obviously not their real names either) were sitting, and asked hey have you guys heard of this band?  "Yeah, they're really heavy rock, you should check them out."  

Well, I had really nothing going on that night.  I was looking forward, or rather, not particularly looking forward but more like, resigned to- a rather boring evening of watching youtube videos at home. Why not?  

"If you don't already have a ticket you might want to let us know, in case it sells out," added Colin Martin, who was the guitarist for the opening band The Mainliners. (This is, actually, his real name.)   "Thanks man!  Cool. Okay, but let me go home, grab a bite to eat, and change out of my slacks and work shirt and ditch this stupid ID badge first, I replied.  "I'll be back in a bit."

So, after a chance to change clothes and grab a quick dinner I arrived back there a couple hours later, ready to rock out, Slomosa Style.  Now, keep in mind, I'd never heard of this band before.  But apparently enough people had heard of them that, after meeting up with Colin again to get in on the guest list, only five minutes later they announced the club was at capacity and nobody else could get in.  So, thanks Colin, by the way, even though you probably won't read this, you are a solid dude and I appreciate that!

His band, the Mainliners, were a sort of California styled punk band, think Rancid or Offspring, or any number of bands of that ilk, basically rocking out and getting the crowd pumped up as the opening act. A fun band and enjoyable in their own right.

Slomosa, on the other hand, brought their brand of Atlantic Northeastern rock to the stage and blew me away.  I've griped about the state of modern hard rock before; to summarize, I think there are too many cookie cutter 3 Days Grace/Linkin Park copy bands flooding the airwaves. Slomosa is... Not like that, at all. I'd describe them as classic, epic heavy 70's style rock, drawing on influences like Lynyrd Skynyrd, early ZZ Top, and the almighty Sabbath, or for a more modern comparison, Kyuss or Queens of the Stone Age (if you're familiar with those bands) sound fairly close to them.  Just thundering heavy rock riffs, great soaring vocals and powerful melodies. There were times it felt like my ears had an orgasm, it was that good.  And I was surprised how many people in the audience knew the songs, sang along, and were familiar with them.  As a band from the Non-American side of the Atlantic Northeast, the singer/guitarist really seemed grateful to the crowd for their support, expressing his initial reservations of touring the U.S. during a time when there seems to be such a rising backlash against foreigners.  But the crowd showed nothing less than total love and support- because these guys deserved it.

This, to me, is the spirit of rock n' roll.  Going to a club on the spur of the moment, discovering an unknown band, being part of a fun crowd and being blown away by them.  I hope Slomosa come back through and get big.  They are certainly far better than anything on the radio right now, that's for sure.  So I'll leave you guys with this:  You guys get to listen to them too!

She was all smiles, teeth, and perkiness.  "AB-so-LUTELY!" she exclaimed, in that scripted, trained door-to-door canvassers voice, after I explained how I thought my gas bills were too high.  "That's why we are campaigning to LOWER your natural gas rates, and we are asking you to donate..." She went on with her sales pitch.

Backing up a step, I heard my doorbell ring.  Thinking it was a neighbor wanting something, or an unexpected (but always welcome) visit from a buddy, I answered it, only to be greeted by the stereotypical Person With Clipboard. I let out an inward groan.  

"Person With Clipboard" usually means they want to sell you something you don't need, or sign a petition for something you may or may not agree with but if you do agree with it, they want money along with the signature.  This, as opposed to "People with White Shirts and Ties" that are just trying to get you to come to church- their specific church, of course.

I tend to cut "People With White Shirts and Ties" slack.  Religion can be a tough sell, and typically, these are kids who are far away from home for the first time, doing a thankless job. Plus, I already have a religion, although mine, thankfully, does not usually ask it's members to solicit new converts by going door to door.  But Person With Clipboard, on the other hand, well, I tend to get more irritated with them. "I'll give you ten seconds," I'll say,  then after about 15 seconds,  I'll usually reply, "Your story grows tiresome.  Nowz Ze time on schprokets Ven Ve Donse." 

But yet, even then, I try to be polite and cut them some slack, but yet I also have to be firm.  Because I know how it works.  Because, once, a long time ago, for a brief period, I was a Person With Clipboard.  Yes, that's right, a long time ago, one summer, you might have opened your door and seen me standing there with a clipboard, listened to my dumb pitch, and when I heard any words of agreement, I'd chime in with the patented "AB-so-LUTELY."  Like we were taught.

They got me on the college campus. "Want a summer job? Sign up to be a Community Activist!"  the woman said, all smiles, teeth, and perkiness. "Derrr,yeah,SURE" I replied, as I did, in fact, need a summer job at that time.  The deal was, it was a campaign for insurance rate reform; we were hoping to get a law passed to put a cap on auto insurance increases.  And after I signed up, they gave me the low-down:  They'd drive us to a town maybe 30 miles away, and we'd spend the next several hours pounding the pavement, knocking on doors, and giving our patented sales pitch about how the insurance companies were screwing people over, blah-de-blah-de-blah, but the goal was, to ask for money to pay for all of this.  All our wages came from whatever donations we got; that's how this "Grassroots Movement" sustained itself.

So anyway, we all had a quota; you were supposed to raise at least $150 per day.  I had a couple disadvantages though, which kept me from excelling at being a champion ace Person With Clipboard.  When I was in college, I was far from an attractive, perky young woman; in fact I was a somewhat grungy 80's metal dude who looked like Joey Ramone. But even then, to actually excel at it, you basically had to hound, harass, badger, and literally beg people to give you money, to the point where they either blasted you with a garden hose, called the cops, or else simply slammed the door in your face. I wasn't really willing to go to that extreme, even though that was basically what the Clipboard Lady Boss told us to do. 

I'd be like, "Those insurance companies are spending the money from your bills to fight you, the consumer."

"Ay men, brotha! I'm sick of my rates going up, just because I've had two DUI's, and I've only been in three wrecks!" They would reply.

"AB-so-LUTELY!  So that's why we are asking for a $30 donation to help...."

"Nah man, I can't afford that. Sorry bro.  I just spent the last of my money on court fees, plus I'm outta beer."

Which is where I'd be like, "Okay man, that's cool.  Thanks for your help!"  But the guys who actually got good at being Person With Clipboard would keep after it, keep hounding them, until the resident would either kick in the $30, or scream "I ain't giving you no money I said! Get the $%$% outta here!" and slam the door on them.

But after about a week of pounding the pavement in search of donations, I had had enough of being Person with Clipboard, and I soon got a much better and more stable job, delivering pizzas.  Funny enough, I had much less trouble getting money from people at the door when I had a pizza to give them in exchange.  It was kind of a mutual thing; the Clipboard Lady Boss had gotten annoyed with me not making the required $150 per day and was about to fire me anyway.  Oh well.  Pizza Delivery was fun, or at least, it could be an adventure at times, but that's a whole other post.  Suffice to say I enjoyed it much better than pounding the pavement all day with a clipboard.

So I guess the moral of this is, well there really isn't a moral.  Or if there is, I guess it's, be kind to your annoying solicitor Person With Clipboard, but by no means, should you feel obliged to give them any money or buy crap you don't need (Stand up for yourself even if you may ultimately have to slam the door on them.)  Or else, if you know of a local restaurant that is hiring, let them know, and they'll probably be far more grateful than if you had actually given them money.

Daydreaming, I envision a society where alpha females rule and men are born to submit.  The women run the society, and raise their men to be submissive and obedient, to stay home and run the household, and cater to their every whim (both sexually and domestically.) Should these men step out of line, it is the responsibility of their female dominants to chastise and punish them, to tame and gentle the innate aggression of the men under their care.  

Would this be the ideal society?  For some, yes. (I certainly wouldn't mind living in such a system!)

But let's be honest; for probably the majority of us, it would be horrible.

Other people envision a society where men rule things, and women are born to submit.  The men run the society, and raise women from birth to be submissive and obedient, to stay at home, prepare food, raise the kids, and should not be allowed to hold most professional jobs or even be allowed to vote.  

Many people believe this is the ideal society.  And for some it is!  I am sure a lot of people wouldn't mind living under such a system.

But let's be honest, for a lot of us, it would be horrible.

There is one difference, and that is:  One group clearly understands that it would be horrible.  The other, well, many advocates of the other system want to forcefully impose it on the rest of us- even those of us who would find it horrible.  

As of now, where I live, we are still free  to live our lives as we choose, and let others live their lives as they choose.  At least, as of right now, we are still free to live whatever dynamic in our relationships we believe will lead to a happy and fulfilling life.  If it becomes forced on you though, then it can only lead to oppression and misery.  I wish more people would understand that.  

So, Congratulations to the Michigan Wolverines, college basketball champions.  Just for fun, I fill out one of those bracket sheets every year, even though I am not the hugest basketball fan; I don't pour over every stat or look over those computerized Pomeroy ratings and what not; I just go with my gut feeling.  This year, that meant, among other things, that the team with the best record (Miami Ohio at 31-1) would advance to at least the top 16 (They didn't; they lost in the first round), that High Point would upset Wisconsin (They did!), and that Connecticut would return to the final four (They did) and that TCU would beat Duke (They did not.).  I got a lot of things wrong, as it turns out, with one key exception:  Michigan was something like 29-3; my dad was a Michigan alumni, and I wanted to see dad's alma mater win a championship.  So I picked them to win the whole big shebang.  And they did!  I shoulda put money on it, but again, I'm not enough of an expert to really risk that kind of bet, and I don't really gamble much anyway.

As a kid, I was tall for my age, but I was never much of a basketballer.  Too lanky; you know the whole "White Men Can't Jump" cliche? Well, that was me.    Some of these little short guys would toast me in 2 on 2 games, even though I would be a head taller than them, plus my shot wasn't all that consistent.  We lived on a hilly street with no park nearby, so maybe if I had a basketball hoop as a kid and had practiced more, I would have been decent, although probably not nearly good enough to play for dad's alma mater or anything like that.

On another note, This blog had over 140 views today, and something like 60 yesterday, despite my not having actually posted anything since Friday or Saturday.  At the same time, I got a message from a bot asking me if I was interested in submitting to "Her" despite her living on the opposite side of the country.   And yes I know "She" was a bot; yesterday I got a message, but today its "Profile Does Not Exist."  I think there is a coincidence; whenever the site is besieged with dating site bots, they will auto-scan everyone's profile.  Again, shout out to Villanelle and the staff for having to deal with this kinda crap.

Does anyone ever wonder how they came up with the idea of a giant rabbit that sneaks around laying eggs in people's houses?  

Rabbits are mammals; they don't lay eggs.  Now, the Easter CHICKEN; THAT would have made more sense.

I've also wondered how they pick the date for Easter. It's never on the same day, like for example Christmas, or even on the same Sunday, like for example the first Sunday in April. Sometimes it's on the second or even the third Sunday in April, sometimes it's super early, like late March.  I suspect that the Pope and his Cardinals just sit around over some Vatican beers, and just arbitrarily pick a day that they don't have a golf game, or something.

Anyway, Happy Easter. The idea of a man, preaching love, redemption, compassion, and hope, can suffer all kinds of horrible, excruciating torture just so some ordinary F***up like me can get into heaven, or some higher dimension after death, well, I can actually support that- and I do.  I won't tell you what to believe, but I do support the underlying message of Easter, albeit without the silly egg-laying rabbits.  Although those chocolate cream filled eggs you get at the store, well I have a weakness for those I must admit.

You ever drive around and see some commercial vehicle, van, or even a big truck, and on the back it says "How's my driving?  Call 1-800-etc."

Well, I've always wanted to call one of those numbers just to say, "You know, truck #3112 was driving fine.  He was going the speed limit, he slowed to allow me to merge, and seemed to be a very safety conscious driver."  I bet nobody ever does that.  The sad thing is, it's pretty much guaranteed that the only time anyone ever calls one of those "How's my driving" numbers is to complain about their driving.  Which is kinda sad, but that's how it is.

Although, what's even sadder is, if I ever DID call the number, it would probably automatically register it as a complaint, and I'd end up getting the driver in trouble anyway.  Well, that's all I got.  What can I say; it's pretty slow this weekend.  Went on a nice bike ride through the hills though.

In my life and experience as a submissive, I can honestly say that I am not a pain slut, and my pain tolerance isn't quite where I wish it was. But that does not mean that I don't occasionally enjoy (or rather, sometimes deserve, depending on your point of view...) the occasional hard discipline.  

I've been on the receiving end of all but one of these instruments, some of which were slightly painful but deliciously fun, others which were more painful but yet, if I deserve such discipline, then I obviously REALLY pissed her off- and it's a badge of honor to be able to take it, and hopefully, catharctic and satisfying for her to administrate it.  I'll rate these in order of, well, impact: 

1::  Basic flogger, or cat o-nine tails:  Deliciously disempowering, harsh yet playful.  I love being on the receiving end of this one.  Although if she's in the right mood, she can totally unload on you with this one and it WILL hurt.

2:  Leather paddle.  Again, this shows her who is boss (and it sure as heck ain't me!) and I can definitely feel her wrath when she unleashes it.  It can be a harsh, sharp sting, a deep bruising impact, or a playful spanking.  Whichever it is, is not up to me.

3:  Leather crop.  These things sting- and hurt just enough to let me know- hey, you better stand there and take it like a b**ch.  Just what a sub needs for light punishment.

4:  Fiberglass crop.  These things REALLY sting- and it hurts. You'd be surprised how much these little rods can hurt when she wants you to hurt. This is the point where it crosses the line from playful BDSM to more serious punishment.

5: The Wooden Paddle.  For when a sub REALLY screws up.   This is about my maximum limit.  The one time I've had to use a safe word, was when I got hit with this a few times, and it brought me to whimpering like a baby. (Did I deserve it?  You'll have to ask her!)  I was proud, though, to have stood there like a man, for her sake, but this is where things get serious, as in serious pain.  This is not playful light bondage anymore.

6) Bull Whip.  She never went that far, luckily, as these things can do some serious damage, leave serious marks, and you'd have to be a serious pain slut for this- and it would take some experience and skill on the part of the wielder not to do serious damage.  By my own admission, I'm not there yet, but if I ever screw up bad enough for her to try... well, that's really up to her, not up to me (isn't that the point of all this anyway?)

I've also seen even more severe instruments of torture- studded paddles, paddles with needles, some serious stuff that is literal torture.  That stuff is for the real extreme players out there.  At this point I'll say, stay safe, play safe, respect limits- especially your own.  

Anyway, that's all I got for now.  

"Congratulations! You are now a premium member!" 

So I finally pulled the trigger and upgraded my membership after being on the site for, gee I think it's been at least six years now.   I can't even remember when I first joined, but I just thought it was time.  Not because I think it will help me find a partner more easily, or anything like that, but I figured I would do it to support a good cause and a great website, which has helped me through a lot of stuff (both good and difficult.)   I mainly peruse this site for the blogs, articles, and forums rather than the personal section anyway. And thanks to all of you guys- staff and fellow bloggers alike, who allow me to share my thoughts and whose thoughts I have shared.

So, pat myself on the back... unless someone else wants to turn those pats into a hard spanking...  Aw heck, I'll just keep it short and to the point today.

Sometimes I just feel the need... like every man.

Okay, obviously, maybe NOT like every man.  

But I can't help or change who I am, or what I want, though I may try.

Sometimes I feel the need:

To be abused, degraded, defiled, and defiled.  To be whipped, spanked, and abused.  To give up control, let go of my cares, fears, longings, despair, and everything else that has been troubling me, clouding my mind, and focus on HER.  To block everything else out, and make HER the object of my worship.  To grovel at her feet, worship her boots, bask in her power.  To become a slave to her cruelty.  To experience taste of leather on my tongue and feel the sting of it on my back.  To be humiliated, chastened, belittled.  To suck her strap on, and to be a little naughty cock slut for Her amusement.  To be used, abused, and discarded.  Because the erotic high in such a power exchange is closer, more intense, and more soulfully intimate than most men can ever imagine.

And sometimes, I feel the need to make cringe erotic blog posts.  I generally try to refrain from doing so, as it's, well, cringe and unbecoming.

But I can't help or change who I am, and what I want, though I have tried.