Kinky Sex Blog (Part One)

Tie Up My Hands - Starsailor (mp3)
Tie the Rope - The Format (mp3)

In the last two months, Bottom of the Glass is up more than 60% in traffic compared to October and November of 2008. That self-congratulatory note is to say that we are grateful to you for hanging out with us, reading us, listening to our music, and even offering your own views and feedback when the spirit moves. While we write because writing serves a valuable, perhaps essential, role in keeping our sanity, having a place where we can share it, and having people kind enough to read what we offer, makes an amazing difference.

So I thank you, and I'm sure Bob does, too.

In part I mention this because I had a request from one of our readers that went something like this: "If you don't write something on your blog about David Carradine's death, I might never speak to you again."

We don't get a lot of requests in this business. First of all, because it's not much of a business. Second of all, because... well, probably because it's like telling someone, "Hey, say sumpin in French!" So when we get one, we seem to feel surprisingly compelled to do what we can. We gotta keep the fans we got, right?

So today I'm gonna write about rope, about being tied up, and about attaching things to your nuts.

When Flying Solo, Avoid Ropes: The David Carradine Story

For those of you who didn't already know, David "Kung Fu/Kill Bill" Carradine was found dead with a rope tied around his neck. That same rope was also tied around his nuts. Let the conspiracy theories on the death of a 72-year-old celebrity footnote begin!

So my biggest question about this particular incident is for you, the readers: Which is worse? Is it worse for people to believe that you died because you killed yourself, thus the mystery and shame of suicide forever casting a shadow over your legacy? Or is it worse for people to believe that you tied a rope around your wrists, your neck, and your genitals because you like to engage in what is known as "auto-erotic asphyxiation" (oh come on, it's Wikipedia! Educate yourself!) as a means of having the kind of mind-blowing earth-shattering orgasm that makes regular boring orgasms feel like polishing your shoes or clipping your nails?

Tough call, if you ask me.

If you find me dead on the floor with some Vaseline and your standard porn DVD because I slipped on a drop of lubricant and fell and hit my head on the corner of our dining room table and died of cerebral hemorrhage, I guess I'd probably prefer folks to know that than for them to think I'd killed myself. Most everyone knows I'm a fairly randy fellow, and they'd mostly say stuff like, "I kinda figured Billy would go out in some weird way like that. Shame all that lubricant went to waste, though."

I'd hate it for my children, but I'm not sure any such death -- from excessive horniness or suicide -- is better when it comes to inevitable playground and locker room taunting of one's surviving children.

However, if I were found dangling from a closet with a rope around my nuts? Please just tell everyone I killed myself. Seriously. I'd rather everyone thought life was just too miserable and unbearable and have them search desperately for the reasons I ended it all than I would have people think that regular orgasms just weren't enough for me, so I had to go tying a loop around my balls and another around my throat so I could experience Go-Go Juice whilst deprived of (almost) all oxygen to my brain.

The farthest I get with my auto-erotic kink is trying to decide which hand I'm asking on the date, if'n ya get my drift. Seriously, I thought the whole idea of "taking care of business" was that it's simple and efficient. How much free and alone time did he have that he could get himself undressed, tie a rope to 43 different parts of his body, dangle himself from the closet, and then begin the whole masturbatory process??

Or, as my inappropriate friend and the person who made the request put it, "Carradine was in Bangkok. You can buy young boys for sex for a couple of Yen in Bangkok. They're cheaper than what he probably paid for that rope."

Yes, all of this is terribly inappropriate and beyond the pale. The lesson is, rope and Bangkok don't mix.

Tune in tomorrow for the harrowing closer-to-home conclusion of Kinky Sex Blog!

The Format, like Carradine, is deceased, having disbanded recently. Starsailor is possibly alive, but no one seems to care. Both of their albums can be purchased through iTunes or Amazon.com.