Gag No. 8 – Suck My Clit by Fire Chick – Camille Paglia and Sisterhood

Historical note – Camille Paglia was a hotly debated cunt, and putting out lots of books in the early 1990s. In 1992 she released a book called “Sex, Art and American Culture” which contained two chapters devoted to date rape, in which she blamed women (specifically feminists) for being raped. Conservative men loved her, as she represented everything they hoped a woman to be – e.g. critical of feminist women. She espoused just what conservative anti-feminist men and radical Muslim men have told women for centuries and codified into their own laws, but pretended to be radical and new in her thoughts at the same time. Nice parlour trick if you can manage it. Her views on gang rape make most motorcycle gangs look loving and sensitive. 
On the other hand Susan Faludi’s book “Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women” which came out in 1991 was inspiring me to great rightious anger, as it should well do.
I was also getting into magic mushrooms and the spiritual world of Rudolph Steiner, which helped me have the best New Year’s Eve party evah … at Malone’s loft near the Belmont El station in Chicago to welcome in 1993. These books and events combined into creating my all time favorite Fire Chick column . . .
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Suck My Clit bi Fire Chick 

Dec/Jan ‘92 ’93

Now it’s the new queer year and Fire Chick was gonna do one of those tired year-end rap-up thangs about other chickz. A sort of wringing of the dish rag to see what is left over. She looked around and noticed that everyone had switched partners while she was out of town for the holidays, and things in the dyke scene had gotten a little messy. Nothing a little Bon Ami won’t fix, but not shit Fire Chick wants to throw, lest some return her way, so:

After a religious experience at a northside loft one extremely cold New Year’s morning, Fire Chick had seen the Elemental Spirits in her Fern and viewed paintings formed by cold air hitting warm smoke over the pastel tableau of the city and touched the Rainbow Threads connecting us all. Just a little too crunchy-granola for her normal Bitchy state. So, she thought she’d read some bookies she’d long wondered about.

Bookies like: Camille Paglia’s, The Dopiness of My Thoughts Formulated So that Men Will Love Me the Mostest Even Though I’m Only a Woman (But I’m Better than All those Other Women Because I’m the Exception to All My Rules!)” I think it was called. C.P. lovingly informs us that women miss out on what gang rape is really all about. Chickz are missing the fun aspect of a gang rape. Yes, gang rape, the festive male bonding experienceof tearing a woman up and violating her spirit. (See Fern reference above.)

Here is what Fire Chick would like to do for C.P. (not P.C.), to show proper appreciation for her enlightening prose: Femming it up, we will invite her for dinner, cooking lots of manly roast bovine corpse. We will converse heartily and get nice and toasty drunk with scotch whiskey (straight, no chaser – she can take it). We will go to look at some fabulous paintings in the bedroom (by fabulous men, because as she says , women are not capable of True Art.)

When she enters, we will conk her on the head with a lead pipe, to sort of get her attention. Oops, spill your drinky? Heads up Camille, because this will be fun!

First we will bind your wrists tightly with crunchy rope. We will beat you just a little, because it makes our blood boil and is festive, too. Merriment, n’est-ce pas!? So sorry you are unable to agree through the dirty underwear stuffed into your mouth.

But goodness, where are our manners to fill just one of your Orifices? Here is the fabulous Jeff Stryker dildo. Although it isn’t the real ballsy man-thing, I’m sure you will agree it is quite life-like in the way it simulates sexual intercourse with your unlubricated pimply ass. Are those tears of Joy; the Joy of Knowing? Why, I think you do understand my Inner Soul, Camille, how quaint. Fire Chick has a lot of testosterone in her system today, so naturally we do not accept responsibility for our merry activities. We’ll carry you to this cozy ditch over here, and drop you off. Come again next week and Fire Chick will explain to you how it was all your fault. You know how your Terse and Tight Lips get a girl all excited; what did you expect?

“Why Fire Chick, ” you say, “there must be some bright spots on the horizon. You know, girlz who don’t fuck over other girlz; gosh, sisterz – sisterhood.” Well, Fire Chick does like this group just formed in the suburbs of Chicago: Dykes Armed With Guns. DAWG has target practice and brunch once-a-month when everyone is good and premenstrual. Usually the main course is a main awaiting trail on rape charges, or just some poor sucker who made a pass at the wrong gal at the office.

The chickz decide on a proper target, and drive up in their Dodge Caravan Wagon with a few Uzis and offer to take him out to Palos Hills for huevos rancheros. It’s really a great Sisterly Love Experience, and dollar for dollar, membership price in DAWG sure beats the cost of fucking some girl in the mud at Michigan (unless she is really hot and the mud sort of squishes up in all the right places . . . ).

So remember, girlz – the next time some sperm hose on the street says “Love that ass . . . wanna date?” say “Sure. I’d love to.” Invite a few girlz over and have him for dinner. A bit gamey, but you’ll soon develop a taste for it regularly. Fire Chick does not see extinction of the Andro-Vulgaris as a problem in the near future, so whack away my little bunnies, it’s Green.

And remember, if you can’t suck your own Clit, you can always suck mine; and never, never read Susan Faludi books before bedtime!

 

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