sex

Down with OPP?

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By Paula Connelly

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I regularly cruise the Craigslist “free stuff” section. In fact, more than half of my apartment has been furnished with other people’s recycled property. Picking out furniture from Craigslist is no small test of bravery (especially for someone who has had to abandon all her possessions because of a serious bedbug infestation) because you never know what, or whom, you’re going to encounter. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and today I forwarded three links from Craigslist to my roommate (view them here, here, and here) that are all from the same closing nightclub, giving away some cool looking 60’s Mod style furniture – for free! To boot, the address listed is only a few blocks from my urban palace. Which got me thinking… what nightclub, that I don’t go to, is right around the corner?

Power Exchange! Nothing personal against the swinging, exhibitionist haven. Actually, I’m sad to see such a unique sex club close and I hope that they find a way to reopen. But that doesn’t mean I’m down with other people’s fluids, free or not.

Hot sex events this week: April 29-May 5

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Compiled by Molly Freedenberg

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>> Latex Fashion School
Polly Pandemonium of the Moral Minority hosts this class in Latex clothing construction, which includes not only learning to sew with the fabulous fabric but how to spot a well-made garment. The course might seem pricey, but you’ll leave with materials and instructions to make your wardrobe even steamier.

Thurs/30, 7-10pm. $200.
Mission Control
2519 Mission, SF
kinkysalon.com

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>> A Touch of Pleasure
Sex educator and porn star Madison Young hosts this event featuring art and installations like steam-punk vibrators, Kink.com fucking machines, and a display of antique sex toys, all in honor of National Masturbation Month.

Sat/2, 7-10pm. Free.
(Show runs Thurs-Sun, 12-6pm, through May 31)
Femina Potens Art Gallery
2199 Market, SF
www.feminapotens.org

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>> IXFF: The Second Coming Tour at the Masturbate-a-thon
Oh lordy, it’s voyeur heaven. The Indie Erotic Film Festival kicks off its national tour of last year’s best shorts with a stop at the Center for Sex and Culture Masturbate-a-thon: as though watching featured masturbators compete to get themselves off wasn’t titillating enough. All proceeds benefit the Center. (If you want to compete in this year’s film festival, visit www.gv-ixff.org.

Sat/2, 11am-close. $15-25.
Center for Sex and Culture
1519 Mission, SF
www.maturbate-a-thon.com

What do (people) want?

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andrea@altsexcolumn.com

Dear Andrea:
Have you heard of a study that analyzed biometric feedback from self-identified male bisexuals, and the notable finding was that the overwhelming majority of these men were in fact homosexual, not bisexual? The conclusion of the study was that "true" male bisexuality is extremely rare. (For what it’s worth, I consider myself a "true" male bisexual, but what do I know?)

I also heard about another study from at least 10 years ago that tracked the sexual fantasies of self-identified lesbians, and the surprising result was that some 50 percent of these women actually fantasized about men while doing it with their female partners.

Have you heard of these, and would you care to comment?
Love,

Actually Here!

Dear Here:

I have, of course, and they’re all fascinating, partly for the science (which is generally super-simple and not easily misinterpreted) and partly for the reactions in the various communities whenever one of these studies is reported, which are frankly pretty funny.

The "there’s no such thing as male bisexuality" studies have received the most press, and the biggest, most offended reactions, but it’s not like the researchers at Northwestern University and the Center for Addiction and Mental Health in Toronto set out to disprove the existence of an entire sexual orientation! All they did was hook up some volunteers to a plethysmograph and show them porn. I think the first researchers were probably as surprised as anyone when the self-identified bi men failed to respond in a recognizably "bi" manner. About three-quarters of the bi men read as completely gay according to their penises (do penises lie?), while the rest were indistinguishable from the self-identified straight guys. There was no recognizable "bi" pattern of arousal, and the subjects seemed overwhelmingly to fall on one or the other end of the Kinsey scale:

Regardless of whether the men were gay, straight or bisexual, they showed about four times more arousal" to one sex or the other, said Gerulf Rieger… the study’s lead author.

So obviously, you think you exist but you’re wrong, Bi Guy!

Okay, no. What do I really think? I think, for one thing , it’s all funny since in my little bubble of not only San Francisco-ness but San Francisco sex educator-ness, fake bi guys who are actually straight but want hot bi chicks to think they’re cool way outnumber bi guys who are actually gay but closeted. Also, I do think you exist. Clearly truly bi men are rarer even than we thought, but I’m fairly certain that you are not a figment of your own or my imagination, and I think sexuality is a mite more complicated than penile plethysmography.

Another study, described here in a ScienceDaily article from 2003, and distinguished by including only people who identified as gay or straight, turned up more bisexual women than expected, but replicated earlier results where gay and straight (but not bi) men responded consistent with their self-identification: In contrast, both homosexual and heterosexual women showed a bisexual pattern of psychological as well as genital arousal. That is, heterosexual women were just as sexually aroused by watching female stimuli as by watching male stimuli.

The extraordinary article on female desire that ran in The New York Times Magazine (www.nytimes.com/2009/01/25/magazine/25desire) introduced recent research by Meredith Chivers, who’s been following up on the research above with the added fillip of throwing some ape porn in the mix and requiring volunteers to report their own perceptions of their arousal levels, which proved wildly inaccurate: During shots of lesbian coupling, heterosexual women reported less excitement than their vaginas indicated; watching gay men, they reported a great deal less; and viewing heterosexual intercourse, they reported much more. Among the lesbian volunteers, the two readings converged when women appeared on the screen. But when the films featured only men, the lesbians reported less engagement than the plethysmograph recorded. Whether straight or gay, the women claimed almost no arousal whatsoever while staring at the bonobos.

Good to know!

As for the studies (self-reported behavior, no telemetry) that show a high percentage of self-described lesbians fantasizing about men while having lesbisex, eh. People fantasize about all kinds of things, particularly things they feel uncomfortable about. Are those women fake lesbians? The furthest I can go with that is to say that we’ve seen that women are much (so much!) more likely than men to be bisexual by attraction. I’m assuming that some of the women studied are physically attracted to both, but emotionally more attached to women ("Whom do you fall in love with?" is a hugely important but oft-neglected measure of sexual orientation) and some are into women but enjoy fantasies of committing unnatural acts with men. That some must be really not that into chicks but have chosen for whatever reason to live as lesbians is undeniable but just not that important. They wouldn’t be the first people to partner with someone not of their preferred gender, or the last, and their existence does not cast doubt on anyone else’s authenticity. Can anyone do that?

Love,

Andrea

Don’t forget to read Andrea at Carnal Nation.com.

Got to be ‘Real’

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TV ADDICTION If you can ignore the resulting three-ring circus of gossip — Countess LuAnn de Lesseps breaks up with her no-account cheating Count! Kelly Bensimon arrested for boyfriend beating! Alex McCord nude! — swirling off this Real Housewives of Orange County spinoff, The Real Housewives of New York City gets my vote as the most consistently toothsome entry into the Real Housewives franchise. Now approaching its May 5 season finale, the reality TV series reads as an uptown-downmarket update of Edith Wharton, albeit brand-crazed (designers, of course, get considerable love, but these enterprising housewives are also busy building their own brands) and considerably less tragic (unless you count the McCord couple’s over-the-top ensembles).

And thanks to some brilliant editing, Jane Austen would have had a hearty, tea-steeped chortle over the Brooklyn Bridge-wide disjunctions between these housewives’ socialite pretensions and more rough-and-tumble actions. It’s tough to beat last season’s climactic clash between crazy-eyed Ramona Singer and the comically striving McCords when Alex violated a girls-party theme dinner by bringing her attached-at-the-hip spouse Simon, coupled with a conversation lightly spinning around the idea, "What is class?"

Yet, in line with Austen, class — both in terms of proper behavior and the various social gradations on view — continues to be in session as this season’s recurring leitmotif. Attempts at behavioral instruction often wonderfully backfire: from the instance when the Countess told guests at a tribute-benefit for her and her husband to essentially shut up, to the episode in which ex-Elle Accessories editor Bensimon ditzily dresses down Bethenny Frankel, a meet-up that succeeds in making Bensimon look not only insanely stupid but horrendously snobby. Hypocrisy among the cognoscenti, who seem generally non-cognizant, persistently rears its dual heads.

Ready to call it all out is Frankel, the outsider chef busily establishing her "Skinny Girl’s Martini" and other business ventures, and the odd woman out since she isn’t and has never been an actual wife, let alone kept up a sprawling house. She functions as the closest thing to an Austenian heroine here. Salty, highly entertaining wisecracks roll off her hardened single-girl shell in rapid succession ("Think of my vagina as a vase — and if you’ve had sex with me it’s time to send flowers.") As much as I appreciate the yenta feistiness of Jill Zarin or the American-Indian-girl-strikes-it-rich forthrightness of de Lesseps, I identify most with the non-wife who’s attempting to keep it really real — especially during a season centered on charity events in the context of a slimly acknowledged recession, amid deeds that seem to have as much to do with building social capital as raising vanishing funds.

www.bravotv.com/the-real-housewives-of-new-york-city

alt.sex.column: What do (people) want?

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By Andrea Nemerson. View more alt.sex columns here. Email your questions to Andrea: andrea@altsexcolumn.com

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Dear Andrea:
Have you heard of a study that analyzed biometric feedback from self-identified male bisexuals, and the notable finding was that the overwhelming majority of these men were in fact homosexual, not bisexual? The conclusion of the study was that "true" male bisexuality is extremely rare. (For what it’s worth, I consider myself a "true" male bisexual, but what do I know?)

I also heard about another study from at least 10 years ago that tracked the sexual fantasies of self-identified lesbians, and the surprising result was that some 50 percent of these women actually fantasized about men while doing it with their female partners.

Have you heard of these, and would you care to comment?
Love,

Actually Here!

Dear Here:

I have, of course, and they’re all fascinating, partly for the science (which is generally super-simple and not easily misinterpreted) and partly for the reactions in the various communities whenever one of these studies is reported, which are frankly pretty funny.

The "there’s no such thing as male bisexuality" studies have received the most press, and the biggest, most offended reactions, but it’s not like the researchers at Northwestern University and the Center for Addiction and Mental Health in Toronto set out to disprove the existence of an entire sexual orientation! All they did was hook up some volunteers to a plethysmograph and show them porn. I think the first researchers were probably as surprised as anyone when the self-identified bi men failed to respond in a recognizably "bi" manner. About three-quarters of the bi men read as completely gay according to their penises (do penises lie?), while the rest were indistinguishable from the self-identified straight guys. There was no recognizable "bi" pattern of arousal, and the subjects seemed overwhelmingly to fall on one or the other end of the Kinsey scale:

Products: Giving G Twist a go

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By Molly Freedenberg

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The G Twist in unintimidating Target/K-Mart blue…

I am a lazy masturbator. I blame it on the fact that I started so young (and so long before I connected masturbation to sexuality) that I’ve gotten too attached to, and too good at, my dependable 25-year-old method (indirect clitoral stimulation with my hand, on my stomach, legs crossed). If I can bring myself to four or five orgasms in less than 10 minutes this way, why bother with toys, lingerie, and setting the mood — in short, why make it more work?

The answer is, of course, that there is more to sex — both alone and with a partner (or several) — than simple orgasm. And there’s more than one kind of orgasm. As soon as I became sexually active with other people, I seemed to understand this intuitively. (It helped that many of my high school-era partners didn’t, and though I wasn’t quite sure what was missing, I knew it was a lot). But when I’m feeling solo and sexy, I tend towards efficient familiarity.

Which is why it took me nearly two weeks to test out my new G Twist from Good Vibrations, the highly regarded silicon vibrator with a ridged shaft, curved head, and base made to stimulate the clitoris. Or it could’ve been that the giant, matte black model with the realistic-looking head and spiraling shaft (sort of like a severed alien dick) was a bit intimidating, especially compared to its slim, pink, shiny plastic predecessor.

Ask a Porn Star: Wendy Williams on straight lust and sex objects

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In which super sexy porn people answer questions — each week — from Bay Area locals. View the last installment here
By Justin Juul

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Fielding your questions this month is AVN’s current “Transsexual Performer of The Year,” Wendy Williams. Check out some of her stuff and then send some questions here.

SFBG: You’re known for using blogs and video diaries to develop and maintain a really intimate relationship with your fans. Can you tell us a little about them? Are they mostly straight men?

Williams: Yeah, they are. You gotta understand that my fans are attracted to the feminine qualities they see in me and that many of them just consider the dick to be a fetish. Transsexual porn has a very divided fan base, actually. For example, there are people who want to see the transsexual as a bottom only. For them, the fact that she has a dick is just kind of a best-of-both-worlds thing. They would never do it in real life, but they like to see it. I don’t know what that means as far as sexual orientation goes, but I do know that most of my fans identify as straight men. They’re never gonna go to a gay bar and try to pick up guys because they’re not attracted to masculine qualities. They like long hair, breasts, and asses. Obviously, since I have a cock, there’s some question about their actual straightness, but that really doesn’t matter. I’m sure I have bi-sexual fans and I’m sure there are people out there who just want to fuck anything with legs. Whatever. I don’t believe in rigid labels.

SFBG: Yeah, the lines always get blurry when you really start to look at this stuff. I think smart people view sexuality as a continuum that shifts around throughout life. The labels don’t really fit anyone perfectly.
Williams: Yeah, it’s hard not to use the labels sometimes though. I mean, it’s pretty obvious that transsexual porn is marketed to and made for a straight male audience. Ask any gay guy if he’s attracted to transsexuals and you’ll get the same sort of answer: “God, no! I don’t want titties on my back. That’s disgusting!” Transsexuals and drag queens have a place in the gay community, but we’re not sex objects. We are a form of entertainment.

Cruising Craigslist: Smelly fingers, fast food, and straight guys who like to watch other men masturbate

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Each week, Justin Juul combs the SF Craigslist Personals and Missed Connections for true gems that prove there’s enough love for everyone. View his last installment here

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Sex is cool and all, but sometimes it’s just too much work. That’s why so many of us masturbate. It’s easier, safer, cleaner, and –if you can find someone who looks like Picard from Star Trek to watch you do it or lend a hand — 10 times as fun as regular intercourse. You can even win national recognition for your talents! The only problem is, where are you gonna find someone like that? Hmmmm.

Jack-U? (downtown / civic / van ness)
Reply to: [redacted]
Date: 2009-04-15, 6:55PM PDT

Handsome older gentleman, Picard-like, seeks good-natured hwp ns/nd to jerk off. Zero receiving. No senior nudity. I’m compact at 5-3 126. This is jack-u-off only.

Help me understand something – w4m – 21 (Bradford)
Reply to: [redacted]
Date: 2009-03-17, 8:32PM PDT
Hello guys, I’m not looking for sex, so don’t ask. I need help understanding something. My boyfriend says that all men masturbate all the time. I’ve been married and have had several other relationships and have never been with a man that said he has to jack off everyday. Even days when we’ve had sex, he still sometimes does it a couple of times. I don’t mind putting on a show for him while he does it, and that’s led to some great sex, but if I’m busy, he just looks at erotic porn and does it anyway and that kind of bothers me. I’ve never been into it, unless I’ve been without sex for a long time. In my whole life, I’ve probably masturbated to orgasm less than a dozen times. He says that the other men I’ve been with did it regularly too, but just did it in secret. Is this true? Do all of you still masturbate, even when you’re getting regular sex? Do you ever outgrow it? If you do, can you explain why? Do you have to look at images of women too? I’m serious about this. Thanks for your honest input.

Isabella Rossellini and “crazy animal sex”

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By Juliette Tang

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Isabella Rossellini is a woman who wears many hats. Actress, model, writer, philanthropist. Now, Rossellini can add “filmmaker specializing in animal pornography” to that already impressive list. “When needed, I can have an erection six feet long and stick it inside a female,” exclaims Isabella Rossellini, clothed not in her standard designer fare, but in a paper mache whale costume, of which the defining characteristic is an attachment of a giant pink penis in full erection.

Hallelujah, season two of Green Porno is underway!

Rossellini writes, directs, and lends her acting chops to the quirky Green Porno series, which features the actress, donned in hilarious animal costumes, describing the various mating habits of members of the animal kingdom. The series is winsome and fun, not just because of Rossellini’s infectious charm, but also because of the wonderful craftsmanship of Andy Byers, a Brooklyn-based artist who created all the sets and costumes. His costumes are hand-made, crafts-influenced, and seeped in an adult’s residual nostalgia for bad elementary school Halloween costumes meticulously made by well-intetioned mothers hungry for Kodak moments. There’s also the fact of Rossellini’s sexy, ambiguously European accent, with its traces of Italian and Swedish, which lends richness and whimsy to phrases like “Penises, different penises, all trying to get as close as possible to my eggs!” The series is peppered with Rossellini’s cheeky and good-natured translations of beastial intercourse, and pronouncements like “we are sequential hermaphrodites” reminds me very much of a Polish biology teacher I once had, who always confused the term “organism” with “orgasm,” to jocular result.

5 Great Sandwiches

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Tourists may flood into our city each year just to eat bread, but we locals know that bread tastes a whole lot better if you make it into a sandwich. A good sandwich can cure a hangover, elevate a bad mood, decrease boredom, increase likeability, boost physical performance, raise your appeal to the opposite sex, hone your intellect, enhance your memory, and improve your personality — really, it’s shocking how little a sandwich can’t do. I could wax poetic until 2012 about the merits of two pieces of bread separated by edible fillings, but I believe my stomach says it best when it, quite simply, growls.

ATOMIC SUB AT SUBMARINE CENTER


I don’t know what kind of sandwich voodoo they practice at Submarine Center in West Portal, but their subs are so yummy I’ve decided not to question it. For nearly 30 years, Submarine Center has made some of the best — and most enormous — hot subs in SF. Their gargantuan Atomic Sub is one of the few sandwiches in the world that could probably shoot down a military aircraft if blasted out of a bazooka. A beautiful symphony of ingredients, the Atomic Sub features toasted white French bread, hot pastrami, hot ham, hot roast beef, lettuce, tomato, fiery jalapeños, onions, mayo, and an unexpected grace note of piquant Italian dressing. The fact that they’ll put crushed rather than cubed ice in your Coke is just icing (ha ha) on the cake.

820 Ulloa, SF. (415) 564-1455, www.submarinecenter.com

GRILLED CHEESE AT BLUE BARN GOURMET


Why offer just one type of grilled cheese sandwich when you can offer six? Blue Barn Gourmet, a rustic café housed in a barn (you can’t miss it) in the Marina District, answers this important philosophical question by giving the venerable grilled cheese its own special menu. The apotheosis of the grilled cheese has never looked so heavenly. Brie d’affinois, provolone, white cheddar, manchego, Jarlsberg and Gruyère, or mozzarella burratta — whatever the craving, Blue Barn aims to nurse that grilled cheese fever. Our favorite is the simple and effective cheddar panini, a textbook on proper sandwich- making written on pages of black forest ham, white cheddar, and honey mustard and bound with two slices of freshly baked sourdough. This is Velveeta on Wonderbread all grown up.

2105 Chestnut, SF. (415) 441-3232, www.bluebarngourmet.com

SHRIMP PO’BOY AT YATS’ IN JACK’S CLUB


It’s comforting to know, before diving into the behemoth fried shrimp po’boy sandwich at Yats’, that San Francisco General Hospital is across the street. It’s still unclear why Jack’s, a humble Potrero District dive bar, made the decision to start serving authentic N’awlins style po’boys, but since that decision was made, we’ve all benefited. Featuring real Louisiana French bread shipped from the Leidenheimer Bakery in NoLA, this mountain of fried shrimp snow-capped with mayonnaise is so delicious it’s worth the risk to your heart. You won’t get your three-to-five daily servings of veggies, but if you feel guilty, they’ll readily give you extra lettuce and tomato. Finish your meal with a thick slab of cornbread and a beer or three. Your soul will thank you, even if your arteries don’t.

2545 24th St., SF. (415) 282-8906, www.whereyats.com

MEATLESS MIKE AT IKE’S PLACE


For the meatball fan who likes everything about meatballs except for the meat, the Meatless Mike sandwich at the popular sandwich shop Ike’s Place will happily satisfy that craven need for animal protein, sans animal. Tasty ground soy protein "meatballs" are thickly slathered in marinara and Ike’s own house-made garlic aioli ("dirty sauce") and topped generously with pepper Jack. Served on a toasty Dutch crunch roll, it’s so good that your next sandwich is on me if you aren’t convinced it tastes as good — if not better — than real meat. Instead of eating your sando on the sidewalk and using up a roll of napkins, eat in Dolores Park around the corner and wipe your hands on the grass. So gooey, messy, and delicious, you’ll proudly wear that dirty sauce stain running down the front of your shirt as if it were a gold medal.

3506 16th St., SF. (415) 553-6888, www.ilikeikesplace.com

FRESH, SMOKED SALMON SANDWICH AT THE SENTINEL


A sandwich so elegant, it’s like the Lawrence Olivier of sandwiches. Fresh baked wild salmon topped with a layer of smoked salmon, with fennel, dill, and a sheath of iceberg lettuce on a soft roll, this sandwich is thoughtful and deliberate in its approach to taste and texture. It might sound fancy, but don’t confuse this sandwich for a snob. At $8.50, you get a bang for your buck. "The Sentinel" is an imposing name for a SoMa sandwich stand that offers no seating, let alone a bathroom, but like Thomas the Tank Engine, this tiny place means serious business. Owned and operated by chef Dennis Leary of Canteen — who will personally wrap your sandwich for you — these sandwiches work so hard at being good it makes other sandwiches look like lazy bums in comparison.

37 New Montgomery, SF. (415) 284-9960, www.thesentinelsf.com

Peepshow: The Masturbate-A-Thon cometh

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Each week Justin Juul highlights a rad upcoming local sexy event

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Who: Last year, a Japanese man named Mr. Masanobu Sato came to San Francisco and masturbated in public for nearly ten hours straight. Had he done this in any other city, he might have been thrown in jail or at least laughed at relentlessly. But this is the sexiest place on earth so Mr. Sato got a gold medal instead. He also got a lot of media attention for the toy company he works for, Tenga, Japan’s premier manufacturer of disposable and reusable wank cups. Obviously, becoming a world champion has done wonders for Sato’s career (sales are up, employee-of-the-month certificates are hanging, etc) and so he has no choice but to defend his record. That’s why he’ll *probably be coming back to our city again this year for The Center for Sex and Culture’s annual Masturbate-a-thon. Join Mr. Masanobu Sato, Sister Roma, Fellatio Brown, Dr. Carol Queen, and other famous wankers as they play with their junk in the name sex positivism. Exhibitionists, porn-addicts, and totally normal people like you and me are encouraged to ogle, vote, and even participate in this year’s exhibition/contest.

Sex-children of the Throb

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By Marke B.

Throbbing Gristle, “Discipline” live at Kezar, 1981

“Like always I persuaaa-aade you.” My audiophile pals have been burbling for weeks about Throbbing Gristle’s return to the Bay Area — an event of enormous sonic-historical magnitude that both Brandon Bussolini and Nicole Gluckstern write about in this week’s issue. And they’ve mostly been taken by the series of vids recorded at Kezar Stadium (“the stadium of dead souls”) in 1981 that documents the raw, uninhibited mind-warp of the group at the time — a perfect tonic for our still-obsessed post-punk indie-bop era. It’s pretty amazing, and I’m loving the obvs tripped-out audience. Also, it looks to have much more in common with composer John Adams‘ Berkeley music-concrete happenings than the overloaded, multimedia Wax Trax spectaculars that industrial would soon veer into, livewise.

The above extended cataclysm, plus this one below by Germany’s Liaisons Dangereuses from 1982, tells a seedy, sweaty, and dirty-sexy industrial story, with a space for women even (“are you ready boys, are you ready girls?”), that I wish had been pin-patched and bedazzled onto Haight Street kids’ jackets rather than the hypersteroidal/paranoid-pop Skinny Puppy-Nitzer Ebb-Ministry one (and hey, doesn’t Depeche Mode have a new album out?)

Liaisons Dangereuses, “Los Niños Del Parque”

It’s a wonder to me how all those macho mid-80s big-time industrial acts could simultaneously be so testosteronal and yet so castrated. Maybe it was all the trying too hard (and it kind of happened again in the 90s with, ew, rap-rock). But, you know, I shaved off my devil lock and fled the industrial dance floor once KMFDM’s “Control” became inescapable. Now that was torture, even though now I find them quite adorable. It’ll be very interesting to see what kind of crowd shows up at the TG show on Thursday, to say the least, and whether they’ll have the spikes to ride the experimental thrust into polysexual purgatory, industrial’s true Valhalla (not hell at all), with barest, brief release.

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From the LA Times Coachella blog: “I think I’ve had three orgasms already,” Genesis P-Orridge said after the first song of Throbbing Gristle’s set. All right, so we know it was good for the fair-haired, transgendered leader of the British industrial act, but how was it for us?

Ammiano for governor?

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By Tim Redmond

I don’t see why not — after all, Tom Ammiano as a supervisor was responsible for the two main accomplishments Mayor Gavin Newsom takes credit for in his slick campaign video.

Newsom says that San Francisco is “well on our way to universal health care.” Yes, that’s true — and it’s because Ammiano — with zero help from Newsom — pushed through the Healthy San Francisco law.

The mayor also claims that the city’s bond rating is up and that San Francisco is relatively fiscally sound because of the Rainy Day Fund. Again — that was Ammiano’s bill, and Newsom did absolutely nothing to help pass it.

“He want to be the governor of appropriations, because he appropriates everyone else’s ideas,” Ammiano told me.

Truthfully, Newsom has very little in the way of actual accomplishments (except for same-sex marraige, which is a major accomplishment he can take a lot of credit for, but isn’t pushing and doesn’t even mention in his campaign video.)

What a fucking fraud.

I’m a lonely guy

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andrea@altsexcolumn.com

Dear Readers:

The letter from "Forty and Frustrated" a few weeks back got a lot of interest and at least one excellent suggestion (go out alone) from a woman who has had success following her own advice. Excellent! I also heard from "F&F’s" male counterpart (and no, sorry, I can’t match them up), and here’s what we’re going to do: We’re going to read this and figure out what’s wrong and come up with a better approach. Together. Here goes:

I’m a 44-year-old guy, single for most of my life. Aside from a 10-year relationship with someone I was not attracted to and got involved with for all the wrong reasons, I’ve never had a girlfriend. I have had a few flings, though none have lasted more than a month.

In the last year, I’ve had more than two dozen dates. All but two weren’t interested in seeing me again. The most recent split was particularly painful because she seemed to be the closest match for me yet. (She apparently felt otherwise.) It’s always the same pattern. There seems to be a strong initial attraction that quickly fades after a couple of weeks. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told I’m a nice guy. I’m beginning to think that the few women who are interested enough to want to see me again eventually realize that I don’t have much else to offer, and lose interest. For the record, I’m healthy, fit, athletic. I have a life. I’m not aggressive, conceited, or rude. I like to think I’m a reasonably pleasant person to be around. I’m genuinely interested in what my date has to say. What am I doing wrong?

My profile on Match.com has had over 1,500 hits, I have yet to receive a single unsolicited e-mail. I’ve sent out nearly 500. I’ve had more than a few women write back, appearing interested, only to never hear from them again. When writing my profile, I made a concerted effort to not come across as pretentious or self-absorbed. I don’t have a checklist that’s a mile long. I included photos in which I’m smiling and one can clearly see my face. I would be thrilled to receive an e-mail from a woman who was interested enough to take the time to write one. I can’t speak for other guys, but having a woman ask me out on a date would be one of the most flattering things that could happen to me. And I’ve never backed out of a date at the last minute.

OK! The first thing that catches my eye is the admission, from someone who otherwise seems willing to acknowledge his own more saleable qualities, that he has "not much else to offer." Either this is evidence of a self-image badly enough distorted to cripple any attempts to connect meaningfully with women he might be interested in, or it’s true. If true, we had better hope it is fixable. What does it mean to "have something to offer"?

Well, what are those women looking for? They do want somebody solvent (did anyone else read the articles about chimpanzee chicks who have more sex with the chimp dudes who have more antelope meat?) and sane, but beyond that? Fun, yes; compatible sexually and otherwise, yes; but also, assuming he’s dating women in their 30s, a husband and kids. If women in their 40s, maybe just the former, but these days you never know. What they all probably want, though, is availability and commitment. If he is not signaling that these are on offer, and not going way too far in the other direction and offering them in his opening e-mail, he’d better get signaling, and fast.

I assume they would also like to know why he’s 44, never married, and so little-dated. He’s going to have to come up with a good spin on a sad tale. Not a lie, mind you, but a little polish.

It also occurs to me that he may be — and I hate to say this because I imagine him reading it and I shudder in empathy — boring. True, "nobody wants to date me" is not your most scintilutf8g subject and may not inspire the complainant to dazzling heights of witty word play, but come on. A little joke, some narrative flair, even a pun would help — and I hate puns. Lonely guy, spark it up. Maybe they’re not calling back because they fell asleep.

OK readers, your turn. Have at him. Female daters, would you answer his ad? And have you dated (some version of) this guy? What made you stop?

I recently bought both my kids T-shirts that say "When I Grow Up I’m Going To Save The World." (That these were available in the boys’ department only is an issue for another column.) I’m already grown up, and frankly, I don’t think I’m going to save the world, but hey, let’s save this guy.

What would it take to get him a date?

Love,

Andrea

Don’t forget to read Andrea at Carnal Nation.com.

At the desert shore

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a&eletters@sfbg.com

At some point between the group’s termination in 1981 and re-formation in 2004, Throbbing Gristle entered the canon. The more Throbbing Gristle music you’ve heard, and the more you’ve read about it, the less likely that conversion will seem. Matmos’ Drew Daniels acknowledged as much in his contribution to Continuum’s 33 1/3 series on classic albums, an exegesis of the band’s most accessible statement, the puzzling 20 Jazz Funk Greats (Industrial Records, 1979). The group’s relationship with music-as-such was perverse enough to make contemporaries like the Sex Pistols look like Chuck Berry revivalists. Back in the saddle after nearly a quarter-century, Throbbing Gristle mark two has less in common with the noise pranksters of old than the divergent, innovative projects the group has splintered into: spokes(wo)man and singer Genesis P-Orridge’s Burroughsian reengineering of rock’s DNA with Psychic TV; synth whiz Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson’s protean electronic voyages with Coil; and the rain-slick, dark disco of Cosey Fanni Tutti and Chris Carter’s Carter Tutti project all figure in the group’s latest recording, the appropriately bizarre Part Two: The Endless Not (Mute, 2007).

P-Orridge, the most visible and outspoken member, is seductively articulate about the band’s intentions: they have little to do with making music that plays into the pleasure of listening, and much to do with music’s mainline connection to culture. For all of Throbbing Gristle’s touted firsts, its music often verges on indecipherable. None of the group’s gritty, lo-fi recordings evoke emotions beyond a vague, lingering unease. But, the achievements: Throbbing Gristle literally invented modern industrial music with the founding of its so-named label, members Carter and Sleazy are credited with developing an early keyboard-triggered sampler, Tutti’s "Hot on the Heels of Love" was a prime inspiration for first-wave Detroit techno, and "(We Hate You) Little Girls" predates Whitehouse’s power electronics and the whole harsh-noise underground long since percoutf8g in the U.S. and Japan. And so on.

The weird thing about such innovations is that those committed to establishing Throbbing Gristle’s major authorship risk freezing and trapping these self-appointed culture-creeps within one historical moment or another. Despite all the collateral riding on Throbbing Gristle’s "seminal" place in the last half-decade of musical and cultural history, the band’s deliberate failure to be just that — a band — in any conventional sense needs to be acknowledged, partly as a tactical gambit. If Throbbing Gristle is a band more talked about than listened to, it seems inconsequential. Individually and collectively, they were prescient enough to choose culture as their medium, and music as a tool for scrambling it. It’s a foresight that has been borne out by MTV and then the Internet, but the tricky thing is that Throbbing Gristle’s actual accomplishment — the meaning behind what it does — isn’t in music itself, but in culture. That’s a zone where significance tends to be more protean; we can’t simply rely on albums as self-contained, coherent statements that we can either identify with or reject. There’s something trickier going on here, as if Throbbing Gristle’s music is meant to be heard at the second or third degree, when everything’s been attenuated.

The Throbbing Gristle project grew out of COUM Transmissions, a sort of umbrella term for performances and art projects that had strong affinities with the extreme performance artists known as the Vienna Aktionists, William Burroughs, and occultist Aleister Crowley. Their best-known installation, "Pornography," in a gallery within spitting distance of Buckingham Palace, most notably exhibited images of Cosey from various British porn magazines. It was a publicly-funded blight whose purpose was, in part, to convert sensationalist press into a feedback loop worth contemputf8g: the group framed and mounted outraged press clippings, and when newspapers published articles about this détournement, framed those as well. This press-driven mise-en-abyme probably offers the best example of how to listen to TG. The band plumbed new depths with feedback and delay, but their raison d’être was, beyond electronic trickery, setting up circular cultural patterns that explode hypocrisy. In doing so, the creative forces within Throbbing Gristle afford themselves the freedom to play any villainous or anti-heroic role handed to them.

THROBBING GRISTLE

Thurs/23, 8 p.m., sold out

Grand Ballroom, Regency Center

1290 Sutter, SF

www.throbbing-gristle.com

HOW TO DESTROY THE UNIVERSE — PART 6

Thurs/23–Sun/26, various venues

www.mobilization.com

Throbbing Gristle vs. Machine Sex

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P>Though San Francisco might be eternally hampered by the stereotyped perception of a hippie wonderland replete with flowery hair, free love, and fluffy puppies, in reality, SF has long been as much a haven for radical dystopians as it is for their wistfully upbeat foils. From robot circuses to urban exploration to electric sheep, San Franciscans have a demonstrated predilection for the bionic, the blighted, and the bizarre. Add in a penchant for situational absurdism and a fervent appreciation for electronic music predating the Summer of Love, and it becomes clear why San Francisco was ground zero for the first wave of North American industrial noise music, and the city with the strongest connection to its European progenitors — Throbbing Gristle.

Throbbing Gristle is, in every sense of the word, the seminal industrial band, whose confrontational performance tactics, nihilistic lyrics, and audio sampling techniques foreshadowed acts as divergent as Skinny Puppy, Negativland, and 2 Live Crew, despite their repeated assertions that they were not really meant to be a band at all. "Assuming that we had no basic interest in making records, no basic interest in music per se, it’s pretty weird to think we’ve released something like ten albums … that have had an effect on the popular music scene forever." So declared Throbbing Gristle’s Genesis P-Orridge in the Industrial Culture Handbook, first published in 1983. Beginning their Bay Area association in 1976 through correspondence with Oakland-based shock artist Monte Cazazza — who traveled to England to assist with their nascent Industrial Records project and coined their company slogan: "industrial music for industrial people" — Throbbing Gristle’s aural extremism was also painstakingly documented by local champion of the underground V. Vale, first through fifth issue of the publication of RE/Search, and then through Industrial Culture Handbook.

It wasn’t just the Dada-esque, cut-up compositions of Throbbing Gristle and Bay Area-based industrial noise peers like Boyd Rice and Z’ev that gained an early foothold in the collective consciousness of the SF underground. Survival Research Laboratories, founded in 1978 by Mark Pauline, gave mecha-fetishism a physical expression — with installations of and performances by a bevy of robotic entities, often decorated with animal carcasses for ultimate shock value. SRL’s first public event, Machine Sex, featuring dead pigeons on a conveyor belt trundling toward a rotating blade, debuted on St. Patrick’s Day 30years ago. Not long after, Vale introduced Pauline to Monte Cazazza, who became one of SRL’s early collaborators — and the bridge between the musical and mechanical arms of industrial culture.

Industrial music, permanently positioned outside the mainstream by design, has long struggled for recognition in the U.S. But early industrial’s lasting influence on the Bay Area arts is readily apparent in the confrontational panhandling robots of the Omnicircus, the large-scale mechanical sculptures of the Flaming Lotus Girls, the electro-noise/"weirdcore" performances of the Katabatik Collective, the flesh-eating fantasia of industrial music club MEAT, and even in the Mad Max-ian flamethrowing antics and electronica oases found at Burning Man and live looping sensations such as Kid Beyond and Loop!Station. Considered in that vein, you could say a little bit of Throbbing Gristle resides in us all. Chew on it.

A THROBBING GRISTLE AFTERPARTY

With DJs D-SYN, pink noise, R.M.S.

Thurs/23–Sun/26, 11 p.m.-2 a.m., free

Space Gallery

1141 Polk, SF

www.mobilization.com

SFIFF: 52 pick-up

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cheryl@sfbg.com

In early April, a long-range rocket blasted off from deepest, darkest North Korea; according to a Reuters.com news report, the communist country claimed that its satellite was "launched into orbit and [is now] circling the Earth transmitting revolutionary songs." Um, yeah. Most folks say the rocket failed — and that its real purpose was to test North Korea’s dropping-warheads-on-our-enemies capabilities. Recent rumors of ill health aside, North Korea’s Kim Jong-il appeared shortly after the incident to mark his re-election as the chairman of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea’s National Defense Commission.

As scary as it is to imagine the pompadored, isolationist "Great Leader" with his mitts on nukes, to focus on North Korea’s threat to the outside world takes away from the atrocities committed within its borders, against its own citizens. As NC Heikin’s quietly terrifying Kimjongilia reveals, the dictator’s country is a cruel, brutal place. The doc features interviews with North Korean refugees whose tales of escape are as harrowing as their recollections of life back home — a place where simply listening to music from a capitalist country or dropping a newspaper with a photograph of Kim on the floor were infractions that could mean imprisonment for three generations of a single family. Starvation, torture, and constant fear factor into nearly every story; families are separated, and even those who escape struggle, such as a woman whose "freedom" in China translated into years of sex slavery. For these people, WMDs are the least of their concerns.

Peering beyond what’s obvious is a theme at the 52nd San Francisco International Film Festival, with a slate that’s particularly doc-heavy. For every gesture that’s a little debatable (you can spin that Francis Ford Coppola directing award however you want, but Apocalypse Now came out in 1979, and 2007’s Youth Without Youth sucked), there are many that deserves high praise: groundbreaking local documentarian Lourdes Portillo receiving the Golden Gate Persistence of Vision Award, for example. Read on for the Guardian‘s coverage of this year’s fest, and keep watching the skies.

KIMJONGILIA

May 3, 3:30 p.m.; May 6, 3:15 p.m., Sundance Kabuki

May 4, 6:30 p.m., PFA


THE 52ND SAN FRANCISCO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL runs April 23–May 7. Main venues are the Sundance Kabuki, 1881 Post, SF; Castro, 429 Castro, SF; Pacific Film Archive, 2575 Bancroft, Berk; and Clay, 2261 Fillmore, SF. Satellite venues are Premier Theater, Letterman Digital Arts Center, Bldg. B, One Letterman Drive, Presidio, SF; and Roxie, 3117 16th St, SF. Tickets (most shows $12.50; special programs vary) and additional information at www.sffs.org.

More: Reviews, interviews, and more SFIFF 52 coverage on the Pixel Vision blog as the festival unfolds.

Hot sex events this week: April 22-28

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Compiled by Molly Freedenberg

tattoopinups_0409.jpg
Charles Gatewood has been documenting the underground sex and fetish scene for decades. Check out his retrospective slideshow at The Citadel on Thursday.

————-

>> “Give Her a Hand” Sexual Massage Course
Get all the skills you need to turn your hands into amazing sex toys, including advanced fingering, labia play, combining vaginal, clitoral, and anal stimulation, adding toys, and more.

Wed/22, 8pm, $25-30
Good Vibrations
603 Valencia, SF
www.goodvibes.com

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>> Charles Gatewood: A retrospective slideshow
In his slide lecture, Gatewood – known for documenting America’s sexual underground in the mid-60s, will show photos from every phase of his career, including work from Sidetripping, Forbidden Photographs, Primitives, True Blood, and Photography for Perverts.

Thu/23, 7-9:30, $30
SF Citadel
1277 Mission, SF
(415) 626-1746
www.sfcitadel.org

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>> Hypnosex Workshop
Learn to eliminate sexual inhibitions and shame, enhance your pleasure, and go beyond full-body orgasms at this two-day play-and-personal-transformation workshop. Bring a friend or lover and you’ll each get $100 off.

Sat/25, 9am-Sun/26, 6pm, $397-497
Secret, intimate location in the Bay Area
www.hypnosex.eventbrite.com

———-

>> Diamond Daggers Femme Follies
Burlesque! Brains! Brawn! It’s the official Bay Area book release party for Femmes of Power: Exploding Queer Femininities, and it’s sure to be a blast, thanks to performances by Simone de la Getto, Vixen Noir, Twilight Vixen Revue, and more..

Sat//25, 9pm, $12-20
Fat City
314 11th St., SF
www.diamonddaggers.com

Good Vibes goes green … and free!

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By Molly Freedenberg

fling_0409.jpg
Fling, a G-spotter made from sustainable harvested exotic wood by Nob Essence.

Think environmentalism is sexy? Does Earth Day rev your biodiesel-fueled engine? Well, both just got a whole lot steamier, thanks to Good Vibrations.

Everyone’s favorite sex resource and retailer has just launched a new Ecorotic collection, featuring toys made for more sustainable sex. (Wonder how, exactly, sex could not be sustainable? Check out our Green City column and this blog post on the topic.) The legendary company’s new line offers all-natural and organic products (sans phthalates), durable toys that will stay out of the landfill longer, and recharcheable vibrators. And even better? For some of you, they’ll all be free.

A Hip Girl’s Guide to UTIs

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By Juliette “TMI?” Tang

uticran0409a.jpg
Cranberry prevention?

I am a chronic sufferer of urinary tract infections. Luckily I have a great doctor who has my local Walgreens on speed dial for the days when I call her crying into the phone for Cipro, otherwise I’d still be wailing on the floor at the moment, rather than spreading the good word on how you can avoid my predicament.

It helps knowing, in a sick way, that no matter how much pain I’m in, I’m not alone. For women, there’s no way around it: more than 50% of us will suffer the agony of a urinary tract infection at some point. And most of the time, this loathsome incursion burrows its way up our urethrae and into our lives, without warning, when we are sexually active. Urinary tract infections are the bane of an active sex life. They are the second most common type of infection in the body, and account for 10 million hospital visits each year (plus 1.5 hospitalizations, and $1 billion in health care costs). Along with unplanned pregnancy, STDs, and shameful flashbacks to what happened last Saturday at the Knock Out, UTIs are another way the universe has of zapping some of the fun out of sex. Luckily, unlike children or other STDs (and it is questionable whether a UTI even counts as an STD), a UTI doesn’t last forever — though when confronted with what feels like someone taking broken glass to the inside of your hoo-ha, forever will feel like a relative term.

Parts is parts

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andrea@altsexcolumn.com

Parts is parts

Dear Readers:

These are perennial body parts questions, and I feel I would be somewhat remiss if I didn’t re-answer them every few years. Here are some that have been hanging around waiting for me.

Love,

Andrea

Dear Andrea:

I once tried for half an hour putting my index finger about two inches inside my girlfriend’s vagina, pressing with a "come hither motion" and simultaneously pressing the mound from outside. Unfortunately my partner did not experience any extra pleasure. Maybe I have to try again and again?
Love,

Willing

Dear Will:

Yes, yes, very funny. I’m not entirely sure what she was experiencing, but from your phrasing, which could have been cut and pasted from any one of a thousand how-to Web sites, I think you may have been proceeding a bit by rote there. Rather than printing out some stranger’s directions, how about following hers?

There are plenty of women who don’t have much of the spongy erectile tissue surrounding the urethra and the front of the vagina that we’ve come, for convenience’s sake, to call the G-spot. These women can lie there all day receiving simultaneous come-hither motions and external pressure and only manage to get kind of annoyed with you. If your girlfriend is one of them, I would not suggest "trying again and again" unless you want her to lean forward and swat the top of your head with the TV remote.

You can probably determine whether she is G-spot enabled by letting her guide you. Since the G-spot is, inconveniently, not actually a "hot button," but a collection of tissues sensitive to the touch under certain but not all circumstances, I cannot tell you exactly how to operate it. I’d start once she’s already well turned-on, though, and without impatience or, indeed, goal-orientation. Just kind of slip in there when things are already going well and keep your eyes on her face while you try a little deeper or a little closer in, a little harder and a little softer, a little … oh, you get the picture.

Love,

Andrea

Dear Andrea:

My penis is curved a little. Is that normal, and if not what can I do to straighten it?

Love,

Upwards

Dear Up:

Nothing! Do not do anything! Some curvatures are caused by a previous injury that heals but puts a hitch in the sheath of sausage-casing-like material that encases the spongy, sausage-like corpora cavernosa, the working parts of your penis. I don’t think that’s what happened to you, but if you want to find out how a devastating penis fracture heals, try unbending it.

Yours probably was just made that way. If we were all made in God’s image, some of God’s avatars would have a dick just like yours. Worry not, and if you have a chance check out some G-spot toys, if the curve looks familiar, boy are you in luck.

Love,

Andrea

Dear Andrea:

I am just a big chicken! How come I am afraid of sticking my finger inside of me? It just terrifies me for some reason, and I refuse to stick anything inside of me ’cause I am just so afraid!!

Love,

Chicken

Dear Chick:

I’m going to assume you are a teenager, in which case it’s pretty normal. Not only do we hear a ton about how it might hurt and bleed (and, indeed, it might), this is the inside of your body. That is, emotionally speaking, some heavy stuff. We spend our very early childhood learning the limits of our bodies — where we stop and other people begin, what goes in and what comes out. It is no small trick to relearn boundaries later and start letting new things in new places.

Take it easy, take it slow, and maybe try with something smaller, like a Q-Tip and see how that goes. Also, take a mirror and see where it’s going. Either you will learn that there is more room than you thought, or you won’t. If there’s a hymen there it will be more complicated, but it’s still meant to let things in. Just let them in on your own terms, at your own pace.

Love,

Andrea

Dear Andrea:

My wife’s ex was a "big" guy, and she only mentioned this to me while trying to reassure me that she likes having sex with me more. I don’t believe her, though. Now all I can think about is how he was bigger than me and whether she misses that.
Love,

Average Joe

Dear Joe:

Just imagine telling her all the time how you can’t stop comparing yourself to her ex, who is out of the picture, and anyway she loves you and would rather have sex with you. How does that sound? See? Now cut it out. She was telling you the truth, as you perfectly well know.

Love,

Andrea

Don’t forget to read Andrea at Carnal Nation.com.

alt.sex.column: Parts is parts

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By Andrea Nemerson. View more alt.sex columns here. Email your questions to Andrea: andrea@altsexcolumn.com.

AltSex_Icon.jpg

Dear Readers:

These are perennial body parts questions, and I feel I would be somewhat remiss if I didn’t re-answer them every few years. Here are some that have been hanging around waiting for me.

Love,

Andrea

Dear Andrea:

I once tried for half an hour putting my index finger about two inches inside my girlfriend’s vagina, pressing with a "come hither motion" and simultaneously pressing the mound from outside. Unfortunately my partner did not experience any extra pleasure. Maybe I have to try again and again?
Love,

Willing

Dear Will:

Yes, yes, very funny. I’m not entirely sure what she was experiencing, but from your phrasing, which could have been cut and pasted from any one of a thousand how-to Web sites, I think you may have been proceeding a bit by rote there. Rather than printing out some stranger’s directions, how about following hers?

There are plenty of women who don’t have much of the spongy erectile tissue surrounding the urethra and the front of the vagina that we’ve come, for convenience’s sake, to call the G-spot. These women can lie there all day receiving simultaneous come-hither motions and external pressure and only manage to get kind of annoyed with you. If your girlfriend is one of them, I would not suggest "trying again and again" unless you want her to lean forward and swat the top of your head with the TV remote.

You can probably determine whether she is G-spot enabled by letting her guide you. Since the G-spot is, inconveniently, not actually a "hot button," but a collection of tissues sensitive to the touch under certain but not all circumstances, I cannot tell you exactly how to operate it. I’d start once she’s already well turned-on, though, and without impatience or, indeed, goal-orientation. Just kind of slip in there when things are already going well and keep your eyes on her face while you try a little deeper or a little closer in, a little harder and a little softer, a little … oh, you get the picture.

Love,

Andrea

Dear Andrea:

My penis is curved a little. Is that normal, and if not what can I do to straighten it?

Love,

Upwards

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