St Louis Sinner May/June 2013

June/July 2013

Unmasked

The Sinful Looks Of

Mary Elizabeth Kennedy

Defenseless in St Louis

STARTING ENGINES & SPINNING WHEELS I woke a few hours ago crashed out in the basement office singing lyrics to songs I had never head, or at least to songs I can’t remember hearing. It was a bee or wasp or some other evil insect dancing around the light that I never turned off that woke me. There was a cool breeze but there were no windows open, no windows at all in the basement that I woke in. The woman wondered where I was, and so did I for a brief moment. At least I was somewhere. But how did I get here to begin with?

I started thinking, typing something, building this old patched-up engine some ten-plus years ago – and the wheels are still spinning.

They may not be going as fast nor far as they once did, but at least they’re still turning. At least I dared turn the fucking ignition to start with. So many of us never do.

Another drunk ramble at 4 am the night before print. You either love ‘em or hate ‘em, but to ever have them at all you have to get your drunk ass off the couch and stumble to the basement to write them, and that’s where I’m at. I really don’t like it here, downstairs in this creepy old basement where our office now resides. Coughs and footsteps echo from above in the middle of the morning, much like the evil insect that now lies dead on the floor once did. The insect was very real, the bearer of the coughs and steps can’t be found, nor explained. You could say our new venture is a means to an end, or maybe it’s an end to the means. Sometimes in life we have to do things backwards, like starting something in the basement.

Of course, the dream of opening a business, or independent newspaper, brings delusions of grandeur. Visions of clean new offices with employees and interns sitting in shiny leather seats under new oak desks with MAC labtops clouds the reality of life – unless you’re already eating with a silver spoon.

That’s the 1%, and they’re seldom following any passion, only a lust for money.

For the indy publisher or business entrepreneur, you start where you can with what you can afford. If not, you’re more than likely fucked in a few months. The Big Dream always appears in a nice package with quick profits and smiles; reality looks much differ-

ent for the majority of us. It means we set up shop in the spare bedroom, or creepy basement office. It means we bite the bullet and decide whether an upgraded computer or audio system is more practical than a pair of new shoes to replace the ones you’ve worn out. It means sacrifice at every turn. But the real point is starting something, turning the fucking ignition over, even if it misfires and smokes. If you never do, you’ll never go anywhere or see anything. Never fucking live...

Sacrifice is seldom fun, nor easy, but to survive even a good economy you better learn to love it’s sour taste for a while. Starting an indy paper or new business is a learning experience, often a painful kick in the nuts.

You’re going to slip and slide, spin out around a few corners, sail off the road into the ditch.

People are going to laugh, even criticize.

Sometimes you’ll get it from envious haters who are too fucking scared to do anything else, anything at all but point and laugh. You need to have more than thick skin, something fire resistant like NASCAR drivers wear. And you have to keep a cool head under all the day-to-day pressures to keep this new machine out of the ditch when these distractions hit you in the face or ass. If not, you may sling a rod and find yourself being towed back to the shop, or creepy old basement. If that happens, it’s tough to get back on the road again.

I’ve been there. I think I live there. And it’s a lot worse than some creepy old basement.

SPINNING OUT & SLINGING RODS And even if you handle all the sharp turns, dodge all the potholes, keep this machine of yours purring like a fat lion, the rod may still sling. It’s the nature of small business competing in the concrete jungle. The lion may be the king, but the big men behind the desk of large corporations have mercenaries hunting even little kittens with big guns... and the lion seldom wins.

And that my dear reader is just another tale of fear and publishing from St. Louis...

photo by Konstantin

WRITERS, RANTERS, OPINIONISTS & OTHER ALL-OUT FREAKS: Mark Taylor-Canfield Saab Lofton Nikki Lewis Henry Nicolle Colin E Suchland

John Williams Drew Digital Rajkhet Dirzhud-Rashid Kendra Holliday Scott Addison

Publisher: Chuck Foster Layout: Terri Daniels Cover Art: Gina Simon Cover Model: Mary Elizabeth Kennedy

The Sinner is a group of contributing writers. Their opinions, rants and ideas do not necessarily reflect the views of The Sinner itself. The Sinner encourages contributions from its readers but retains the right to edit material due to content or length of submission.

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There’s A Reason For All Things written by Saab Lofton Han Solo: Look, I ain’t in this for your revolution, and I’m not in it for you, Princess. I expect to be well paid. I’m in it for the money.

Princess Leia [to Luke Skywalker]: Your friend is quite the mercenary. I wonder if he really cares about anything. Or anybody.

– from the movie, Star Wars: A New Hope (1977) “Selling guns is like selling vacuum cleaners; you make calls, pound the pavement, take orders. I was an equal-opportunity merchant of death; I supplied to every army but the Salvation Army. I sold Israeli-made Uzis to Muslims... I delivered communist-made bullets to fascists... I even shipped cargo to Afghanistan while they were fighting my fellow Soviets.

I never sold to Osama bin Laden – not on any moral grounds; back then, he was always bouncing checks.” – from the movie, Lord of War (2005)

North St Louis Shady Jack’s 1432 N Broadway Ye Ole Haunt 1319 St Louis Ave Dutch Town Friendly’s 3503 Roger Pl South County Steel & Ink Studio 3561 Ritz Center MOFO The Silver Ballroom 4701 Mofo Rd at Itaska South City Shameless Grounds 2650 Sidney The Heavy Anchor 5226 Gravois

Jefferson Ave Bistro 3701 S Jefferson Ave Cherokee District Apop Records 2831 Cherokee St Downtown Crack Fox 1114 Olive St Soulard Shanti Tavern 825 Allen DB’s Sportsbar 1615 S Broadway Laclede Landing Show Me’s 724 N 2nd St Big Daddy’s 118 Morgan St

Affton Bob’s Liquor 9347 Gravois Rd Overland Just Bill’s 2543 Woodson Rd Priscilla’s 10210 Page Ave Central West End 34 Club 34 N Euclid Tom’s Bar & Grill 20 S Euclid The Grove Just John’s 4112 Manchester Ave The Atomic Cowboy 4140 Manchester

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NO one needs an MTV Cribs lifestyle or an MC Hammer mansion, which is the primary motivation of any “merchant of death.” If you’re unwilling to settle for a three-bedroom/ two bathroom home, then you have a very serious psychiatric problem and need to seek professional help immediately.

I’ve forsworn romance itself so I can focus solely on becoming a successful storyteller (a la Aaron McGruder), BUT I’m doing this so I can regularly afford enormous donations to good causes such as Greenpeace, Amnesty International and the United Negro College Fund. In addition, even if I do beat the odds and succeed, I’ll STILL remain single – the money wasted raising yet another family on an already overpopulated planet is FAR better spent on a worthy charity.

A small apartment is all Saab Lofton will ever need, but unfortunately, the aforementioned dedication is often considered quixotic by those who’re suffering from one “bling-bling” rap video too many. Remember Jay Z’s Big Pimpin’ Spendin’ Gs, which depicts him on a YACHT? Exactly.

Imagine owning a palatial estate with a five car garage, a fountain in the front and a kidney-shaped swimming pool in the back. Imagine unlimited access to your opiates of choice. Imagine a ménage à trois with a Natalie Portman lookalike and a Reese Witherspoon lookalike or an orgy every weekend. Now, imagine that these vices/indulgences are all paid for by selling WEAPONS. In order to understand this beleaguered world of ours, it must be admitted that the biggest difference between crack dealers and arms dealers isn’t supply (both are merchants of death), but demand: Crack is addictive whereas arms are NOT (despite what FOX News would claim), so to sell enough of them to “style and profile,” as wrestling champion Ric Flair would say, a FALSE sense of urgency has been concocted. Tell me if the following sounds familiar: “Well, garsh darn it! We can’t cut the military budget! America would be defenseless!”

See why it’s so essential for arms dealers to dumb down the population? An intelligent person would know better; a well read individual could easily cite this FACT...

“The United States spends 58 percent of the total defense dollars paid out by the world’s top 10 military powers, which combined for $1.19 trillion in military funding in 2011. With its unparalleled global reach, the US outspends China, the next-biggest military power, by nearly 6-to-1.” – The Huffington Post, August 6th, 2012 ...and a really skillful intellectual (such as yours truly) should point out that America’s lavish devotion to the military-industrial complex was this wasteful before September 11th, 2001, which means increasing military spending won’t necessarily prevent terrorism, but it WILL coddle an already wealthy elite.

The biggest similarity between crack dealers and arms dealers is their desire for mass consumption. In other words, a LOT of bullets/crack pellets must be sold to afford a Robin Leach Lifestyle of the Rich and Famous, so is it any wonder that such a big deal was made out of, say, the Boston Bombing, for instance? If a WAR could be declared as a result of that tragedy, well... As they say in Hip Hop, “mo’ money, mo’ money, mo’ money!”

There’s a reason for all things – and VERY RARELY does war have a damn thing to do with “defending freedom”...

This is why the most important book in Human history isn’t the Bible or the Koran or the Torah... It’s Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol because of the socialistic lesson Ebenezer Scrooge learned, but there’s more at stake than an arms dealer sharing the wealth. The lives lost, the bodies maimed/disabled and the spirits tortured by war are what arms dealers traffic in, so aside from generosity, they must also further their own obsolescence (unless you’re masochistic or imbecilic enough to DIE in order for them to continually party hearty).

Manufacturing NON-lethal weaponry probably ain’t that profitable, but instead of worrying about losing the so-called “liberty” (note the quotes) to wallow in a palatial estate, remember this classic scene...

Ebenezer Scrooge: B-But you were always a good man of business.

The Ghost of Jacob Marley: Mankind was my business! The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance and benevolence were all my business! The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!

ESSAY | 4th Generation Warefare – The Capstone Of Government Essay by Henry Nicolle

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th generation warfare is characterized by a "violent non-state actor fighting a state".

Back in the early days of government insurrection, someone coined the anti-revolution question, "What if you gave a war and nobody came?"

Well, that's just what our Federal and State Governments have done and the question can be answered "Since we did not oppose, we lost our liberty to government anarcho-insurrectionists."

If you, dear reader, object that I am a little free with the definitions of "anarchy", "government" and insurrection", you are correct and my twists are deliberately so. Who is the government in our country?

It is you and I, in every state and therefore also of the federal union.

The Institutions are our creations and those institutions are populated by people who occupy those positions at our pleasure and their conduct is ruled by our commands and prohibitions.

Throughout the history of our country, we have always held that our self-government makes our institutions different from all other by the fact that other governments are imposed upon their subjects and citizens and we are our own rulers.

Therefore, if the people in another government change the rules of government, there is no insurrection, no rebellion. The government people do as government people always do. They rule. They are sovereign.

However, in our country, the people in government lack that authority, because they work for the true government, they work for us, you and I, the People of the states of the united States of America, we (not our institutions) are sovereign.

When the people who occupy our institutions disagree with our rules, when they ignore our purpose for the institutions, when they refuse to perform their duties faithfully, when they pervert the rules that we have established, when they defy the restrictions we place upon their conduct, when they expand powers beyond our intent and when they have invented new powers which we, ourselves have not granted, the people who have been empowered to serve our Liberty have become reckless, rebellious and defiant.

We have tolerated this misconduct as a good parent would tolerate the errors of a child, gently castigating some errors and relying upon mild corrections, instructions and incentives to improve the conduct during growth from infancy to maturity. We have been rewarded by evolution of our creation from impotent infancy, through difficult childhood, rebellious teenage-hood and now they have passed into full-on criminal maturity with the attendant violence of insurrection. (Insurrection is rebellion with armed force.)

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The child of federal duty has turned traitor and become the instigator and mentor for state defiance of individual Rights, Liberty and SelfDetermination.

The men and women of our country are the source of the Republic's wealth, from the state to federal domains. Our individual will and blood are the powers which create, bind, preserve and protect our families, homes and society.

The people in government agree only to the extent that we are the resource. They assert that they are the sole authority to establish the exploitation of our resource and to command the disposition of the product of our existence.

A 4th generation enemy lacks hierarchical authority, lacks formal structure, it has patience, flexibility and ability to keep a low profile when needed and it is of small size.

4th generation warfare takes place on all fronts: economical, political, social, media and military.

A 4th generation enemy seeks to split their opponents' resolve, to convince them that their opposition is too difficult, too costly or too unlikely to be achieved by resistance.

A 4th generation enemy will not hesitate to employ and threaten to employ violence and deadly force openly and covertly as an effective means to establish obedience, submission, compliance and anxiety for well-being of the individuals and families of their opponents.

All these characteristics exist between the people in government and the People of our society. During the passage of the 237 years of our existence, we have permitted our fellow Americans who hold government positions to emasculate our presence in self-governance, we have tolerated their treacherous, sometimes open defiance as today, or by stealthy and disguise methods which permeate much of our history.

Today, by the government's own words, we own nothing except at the convenience of government policy and our liberty is "structured, with some of the effects of true liberty", again for the convenience of government. We do not know Liberty today. We have lost Liberty to a new and unnamed form of government. We have surrendered our lives and our property in exchange for the social conveniences and false security of serfdom.

Those who remember Liberty and dare speak of Self-governance today are declared enemies of the State. The fact is intolerable. We have been destroyed.

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Defenseless in St Louis

CRIMES OF EXPRESSION

I

n November 2012, we published a torrid critique on the “Occupy” rights controversy in St Louis, the legal community’s numb unresponse to the crisis, and the discooperation that has plagued efforts to muster legal support (“‘Occupy’ Rights & Loser Law...”). That writing focused on the failures of civil law remedies to date; nothing was said about the criminal cases that came out of it – 4 citations on 10/5/11, 10 arrests on 10/6/11, 27 arrests on 11/12/11 – because scant little was known. This is a problem.

Any prosecutions related to First Amendment exercise are of vital public interest, because all too easily law enforcement tactics can be pretextual, retaliatory toward expressions, and chilling in effect. Such actions affecting disparate attendees at an open public event are often hard to track: They may be profiled and targeted as a group, but criminal charges are personal and each case proceeds under strict court-imposed privacy limits and the bounds of legal privilege when lawyers get involved.

In contract, the caese from the eviction of Occupy St. Louis should have been easy to support: These arrests occurred in a single incident on the night of November 12 as 27 participants refused orders to vacate the park under the curfew ordinance and stood in peaceful civil disobedience... all could be readily identified upon arrest or release from jail. This information was compiled by volunteers but then held within a small closed circle – the same lawyers who had just lost on a lame TRO motion in Federal cout the night before, who then took over the defenses and made this “their game” as well. The full list was not provided to the press or supporters, limiting public awareness and independent scrutiny... in this way the pleadings and progress of these cases have been largely concealed from concerned parties, including the defendants themselves.

The “Occupy” defenses actually started out with some promise... early motions were granted to take them directly to jury trial in the 22nd Circuit, but the city persisted in opposing this procedure and apparently the lawyers could not make sufficient arguments in support. So the cases were finally sent back down to the Municipal Court for separate bench trials – back to square one. Obviously these procedural delays & out-

Lose Law II... The Plodding Debacle of the “Occupy STL” Trials written by Scott Addison

<> The defenses were misguided and glaringly inept: Lawyers tried to question the identification of defendants (“Is this really the guy?...) - or in one case, the location of the park boundary (“Where is the line?”...) These were not credible challenges in a public act of civil disobedience where defendants stood knowingly in the park, submitted willingly to arrest, and the boundary was set definitively by a line of over 100 cops. No real

<> the rulings were narrow and bluntly lockstep: Judge Torack presided over the first 3 dockets, Judge McCoy over the 4th. They deemed the curfew ordinance to be facially constitutional and found the simple elements & facts of violation in accord with city allegations; if defense questions strayed from this paradigm, they were curtailed in accord with city objections. The expressive purposes of the defendants were acknowledged but lent no weight, and the convictions piled up predictably. Nor was jail time served considered in sentencing; everyone paid $150 in fines and court costs.

First Amendmet issues were presented, just pretentious vague assertions of a “constitutional right to protest”... ridiculous. Only one defense tried to argue the ‘necessity’ of Occupy speech in the public interest but with inadequate foundation, and it also failed.

the prosecutor). Outcomes of the remaining 8 cases are still unknown (at the time of this writing)... several were not included in these 4 trial dockets; the lawyers share no information.

Of the original 27 defendants, 10 went to trial and were found guilty, 3 took pre-trial pleas with fines, at least 5 were issued warrants for failure to appear and 1 tried in absentia (by agreement) was acquitted of the curfew violation – only because no evidence established him personally in the park before his arrest (a miscue by

comes served the guiles of city prosecutors, dragging it all out, defusing the issues & public support.

All this time defendants heard little from the lawyers, got no guidance and limited disclosure on the course of their defenses. Reportedly most learned only days before that their trials would commence on 12/10/12 – 13 months after their arrests in Kiener Plaza.

Star Chamber, Occupied So, over a long week in December, the Municipal Court disposed of the “Occupy” protesters in four days of short dockets (Dec 10-12-13-17). I was there as an observer in the public interest.

These proceedings were set in a small courtroom apart from other cases at times when other courts were out of session so the daily throngs under city summons would not be exposed or incited. As for concerned citizens, there were no others in attendance. The ‘defense team’ gave short notice and put out no publicity on the trials so those who conscientiously went to jail had no support in court nor anyone in the gallery to hear the views they fought for or to see the fight.

The courtroom door was open, the trials were ‘public’ as the Sixth Amendment requires, but the public was not there. It was all to the city’s advantage, the next best thing to a secret “Star Chamber” court, as used by the English crown to quell political opposition well into the 17th century.

Each defendant was called and tried individually; the cases seemed to follow a predictable course to a foregone conclusion, most telling in their drudging conduct: <> The prosecutions were simplistic and droningly redundant: In each trial St. Louis Policy Lt. Dan Zarrick stated his credentials and official role on the night of the ‘Occupy’ expulsion from Kiener Plaza. He affirmed that notice was given of the curfew violation before the arrests and identified the defendant among them. Segments of a YouTube video were shown on a laptop as supporting evidence – unauthenticated, but admitted anyway. The city objected to defense questions and cross-examination related to the expressive purposes of the protesters on the grounds that there is no element of intent (mens rea) in the curfew violation: If a defendant was in the partk after 10pm, he/she was guilty.

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StoptheDrugWar.org Angry Afternoon (The Human and Fiscal Cost of the Medical Marijuana Wars)

by David Borden Two reports came out today about the federal government’s attacks on medical marijuana providers. First, California NORML surveyed court records connected with medical marijuana cases, finding nearly 500 person years of incarceration for medical marijuana defendants. Second, Americans for Safe Access has estimated $300 million spent by the Obama administration on anti-medical marijuana enforcement, after $200 million spent in two terms of the Bush administration -- half a billion total.

Among the cases highlighted are those of people like Richard Flor, Montana medical marijuana provider who died in federal prison. They include the husband and wife defendants Dale Schafer (a hemophiliac) and Dr. Mollie Fry (a cancer patient). Not highlighted in the release, but on the list, is my friend Bryan Epis, California’s second medical marijuana defendant and the first to be convicted. Bryan is getting out soon, but he’s spent too many years behind bars. There are many more, of course.

Some people argue that these people knowingly took a risk, violating federal law, and even if one disagrees with a law, it’s the law and prosecutors are bound to uphold it. But that misses a basic ethical point, and a practical one. In practical terms, police and prosecutors have discretion to focus their resources on the cases of most importance to them. They also can choose not to prosecute, or make deals to let people out of prison time, no abuse of discretion being thereby committed. In many cases that’s what happened.

And so in a situation such as this one -- states passing pro-medical marijuana laws, now even legalization laws, the Obama administration effectively encouraging people further by promising a more-or-less hands off approach to the issue, that clearly would have been the right approach for officials to take. If they felt (rightly or wrongly) that they had to shut down certain operations, the ethical approach, given all that came before, would have been to tell the people things have changed, they have to stop doing what they’re doing or face prosecution, but giving them that chance. (The same idea applies to Marc Emery, whose business was accepted by authorities for nine years until they hit him with the years he’s serving.)

Instead of doing that, in the many cases CANORML has highlighted, they instead let the parties go about their business for years, until they had the evidence compiled they would need to get the extremely harsh sentences they wanted. If these outlets were really harming the public, shouldn’t they have moved to close them down as soon as they could instead? I thought the point of our laws was to protect the public, not to destroy the individuals targeted by the law.

Nevada Governor Signs Medical Marijuana Dispensary, Needle Bills

by Phillip Smith Nevada’s Republican governor, Brian Sandoval, Wednesday signed into law two drug reform measures, one allowing for medical marijuana dispensaries and one removing syringes from the state’s drug paraphernalia law.

On the medical marijuana front, Sandoval signed into law Senate Bill 374, which will establish a state-regulated system of dispensaries. The law envisions up to 66 dispensaries across the state, with up to 40 in Las Vegas, 10 in Reno, and at least one in each county.

“We applaud Gov. Sandoval and the legislature for their leadership and commend those law enforcement organizations that expressed support for this much-needed legislation,” said Karen O’Keefe, director of state policies for the Marijuana Policy Project, who testified in support of the bill. “It will make Nevada a safer and healthier place not only for medical marijuana patients, but for the entire community. This new law will provide patients with the safe and reliable access to medical marijuana that they deserve,” O’Keefe said. “Regulating medical marijuana sales will also generate revenue and take a bite out of the state’s underground marijuana market.”

Introduced by Sens. Tick Segerblom (D-Las Vegas) and Mark Hutchison (R-Las Vegas), the bill creates rules and regulations not only for dispensaries, but also infused product manufacturers and cultivation and testing facilities. It also imposes 2% excise taxes on both wholesale and retail sales, with 75% of those revenues going to the education fund and 25% going to cover the cost of regulating the medical marijuana industry.

The state’s voter-approved medical marijuana law, passed twice in 1998 and 2000, required the legislature to create a medical marijuana program that included appropriate methods of supplying medical marijuana to patients.

Now, the legislature has finally done so. Nevada will now join Arizona, Colorado, Maine, New Jersey, New Mexico, and Rhode Island on the list of states that have state-regulated dispensaries. Two more jurisdictions, Washington, DC, and Vermont should come on board this summer, and the rule-making process for dispensaries is underway in Connecticut and Massachusetts.

On the harm reduction front, Sandoval signed into law Senate Bill 410, which decriminalizes the possession of syringes by removing them from the state’s drug paraphernalia list. That opens the way for the over-the-counter sale of syringes and needle exchange programs.

“Back in 1996 when first elected, I was asked what bills I’d be pursuing for my first legislative session,” said Sen. David Parks (D-Las Vegas). “My response was employment non-discrimination, HIV/AIDS state funding and decriminalization of hypodermic devices. Little did I know it would be my 9th session before decriminalization of hypodermic devices would come to fruition.”

Nevada becomes the 37th state to decriminalize syringe possession and allow for the over-the-counter sale of needles, as well as needle exchange programs, proven means of reducing the transmission of HIV, viral hepatitis, and other blood-borne infections.

Nevada harm reduction workers said they were ready to get a needle exchange up and running as soon as the law takes effect.

Northern Nevada HOPES in Reno plans to start a syringe exchange program as soon as the law takes effect.

Director Sharon Chamberlain says, “In addition to getting sterile syringe out to those who need them, our program will increase safe syringe disposal by individuals in the community,” said Sharon Chamberlain, director of Northern Nevada HOPES in Reno. “We will educate these users about the new and needed community disposal options, and strongly encourage them to take advantage of this resource. Previously, no community initiatives provided safe disposal options. “

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ESSAY | STRANDS OF DECEIT AND THE WICKED WEBS THEY WEAVE

by Henry Nicolle

L

ittle lies ease the frictions of society. Little deceits lubricate the bureaucratic machinery. Our families, our societies and our governments depend upon dishonesty and fraud. Too much truth inhibits progress.

Sometimes, truth is necessary. Even then, we waffle a bit. Truth feels like an embarrassment. Truth reveals too much of us, but when we fib a small fib, we are embarrassed that we caught ourselves making the lie. We're caught feeling that our pants are down whether we sin or not sin. I don't think this feeling is universal, though. I think that people in government are immune from embarrassment over their lies and deceptions on the job. I can understand that. “It's a job.”

Workers for the government have a free pass to avoid personal connection to the webs of tragedy woven from strands their little wheels of public service spin. If your meals and TV, the roof over your head and Summer vacations are the fruit of someone who works for a government, you are part of the tragedy because you benefit from the lies and deceptions of someone whose tools are lies and deceite.

Out of many examples, I'll take this conversation into an area of government policy and violence which should sound familiar to many Sinners, Sinners being more observant than ordinary people and notice these things more often than the mundane American. It involves “policy”, “immunity”, physics and physiology, violence, truth and lies. Strap in. It's not pretty.

Two new and disconcerting themes prevail among law enforcement and their management. The first is submission and obedience by civilians in every encounter with law enforcement. A civilian is expected to perform his role with obsequious politeness and humility and to instantly and completely obey any request or command by an officer, regardless of how immoral, illegal, unsafe, patently stupid or impossible the request or command may be. Once the civilian's peace has been interrupted, the primary concerns of the officer are submission and officer safety. Silence, questions or slow compliance now risk potentially mortal consequences in the interest of “officer safety”.

Once engaged, whether the officer had a valid reason to stop the civilian or not, the encounter changes from law to policy. The policy is to impose and enforce the authority of the government by whatever force is necessary to preserve officer safety. The second is to demand, require and enforce immediate, obedience to ANY officer request or direction. ANY conduct or delay in obedience will be construed as some level of offensive threat against the officer's person or the officer's authority and safety.

When a person is taken down by a cop, any movement will be construed as “resisting” and the subject will be instructed “Don't Move!” “Stop Moving” “Stop Resisting!”, etc. enforced with a blow or kick. An arriving cop is urged by the special culture, to announce his arrival with a blow or kick to the person of attention. This process is self-perpetuating, especially if two or more officers are present.

A blow will trigger a reflex, a flinch. The reflex is construed as resisting, requiring a pain compliance blow and escalation of the level of force necessary to establish “compliance”. A reflex caused by one cop's blow will trigger pain compliance by another cop, ad infinitum. A circle-jerk of cultural violence.

A similar custom applies to firearm use. It is a general presumption, for the purposes of CYA, that if one shot is fired, there must have been a critical reason for the gunshot. If multiple cops have their firearm in hand and aimed at a prospective victim, the first shot, however inappropriately or accidentally fired, will trip the triggers of additional, perhaps all firearms aimed at the target. We often record shootings of 40, 60, 100 or more round fusillades at an often unarmed victim. Adding insult to injury, when the cops know that they have screwed the pooch, they will prevent life-preservation assistance for as long as is necessary for the victim to bleed out and expire. This assures an absence of testimony which might contradict the fictions of the official story. Then begins a tale of deception, lies and omissions in the name of “Policy”.

Not every encounter results in a violent interaction. Most are simple tax collections and power demonstrations. Most people are properly submissive, obedient and obsequious, fulfilling the egos of the cops and the expectations of their taskmasters.

Our world has changed. This new world has abandoned Liberty and adopted the New Inquisition.

Well-being now depends upon daily submission to political correctness and conduct, especially in encounters with any government.

We should recognize the disease of authoritarian tyranny and consider alternatives. There are no public benefits stolen at the cost of Liberty

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Virgin or Slut

by Nikki Lewis

“How do we express our femininity while still remaining true to our gender”

T

he word “feminine” can bring to mind many different stereotypes. Two of the most prevalent stereotypes are those of the virgin and the slut. On the virgin, the likeness of the white-gloves-on-Sunday-pin-curls-andpearls reminiscent of the 1950’s sitcom mom or the occasional gray-haired first lady of the United States comes to mind. High-collared shirts with every button fastened, loose-fitting skirts or pants in neutral colors, carefully coifed hair—nothing unruly and quite often, as a fitting foundation for all of that modesty, impossibly large white underwear, a.k.a. “granny panties”, are the expected vestments of the virgin. Opposite the virgin, you’ll find the slut. She’s scantily clad in cut-to-there dresses, booty-clinging, hip-hugging pants the size of a Kleenex with a provocative glimpse of a leopard print thong peeking from her crack. Her wildly (yet precisely) tousled bed-head and several layers of makeup round out the image. Both images of women are very feminine, but neither is the look of a woman revered for her astounding intellect or her engaging wit.

So, given these two blatant stereotypes as our latest models of femininity, where do we, as women, find the balance between these two disparate worlds while still maintaining our own identities? Society asks us, do you want to be the pastor’s wife (virginal, submissive arm-piece) or the prostitute (wanton, air-headed eyecandy)? I ask you, why should you have to choose?

Women on the extreme outer ends of the spectrum, the virgins and the sluts, so to speak, are society’s easiest and most divided archetypes of femininity. It’s seemingly simple to, with one glance, pigeon-hole a woman into one of these two categories. For women trying to find the middle-ground, the place where they can demonstrate their sexuality without being labeled bimbos or maintain their chastity without being labeled frigid, the choice is not so simple. These women are left with the task of finding a place for themselves somewhere between the hal ter tops and support hose that feels like truth — and doesn’t include the phrase “the weaker sex”.

Unfortunately, the stereotypes of these two brands of femininity go much deeper than appearance.

They have burrowed their way into our speech and mannerisms. If a woman is too nice she is considered weak, ineffective and naïve. If a woman is attractive and shows concern for her appearance or is physically demonstrative she is considered shallow, stupid and expendable. The backlash of the established stereotypes has resulted in women who think they have to act and dress like men to get the attention and respect they deserve. These women are sometimes overly aggressive, feel they have to be vulgar and loud, burp, fart and cuss like men and present themselves as generally bad-ass bitches to be noticed. They have compromised their femininity to be accepted as equal to men.

The question remains, how do we express our femininity while still remaining true to our gender, while still being strong contributors to the social order? How do we overcome the “stigma” of femininity to excel in today’s male-driven society? Do we completely eschew all semblance of feminine behavior? Do we change our appearance — stop shaving our legs and pits (not most American women’s cup o’ tea), leave behind the makeup and perfume and dress in baggy menswear à la Annie Hall? I do know one thing — I like makeup and perfume and I love the satiny-smooth feeling of freshly shaven legs. I like to wear pink occasionally.

I’m not interested in wowing anyone with how fast I can burp the alphabet and I don’t intend to learn how to pee

standing up. I will not compromise myself for anyone.

I can accept the fact that I am neither the virgin nor the slut, but a little bit of both. I am not a man, but I can be just as blunt and assertive as a man if I so desire. I am not a stereotype and I do not fit into a pigeon-hole.

These are the things I tell myself each day because I am also not immune to paranoid fits of vanity and self-doubt. I have moments where I feel that I don’t live up to society’s standards when it comes to my level of intelligence or my appearance. I can be intimidated at times by people that I admire and I often wish I was sexier or more outspoken. I am firmly standing on that middle ground, still seeking the balance. I have realized that what really matters is my level of confidence and my willingness to embrace who I truly am inside.

You don’t have to wear ankle-length skirts and pin your hair up in a tight bun, or lower your eyes and speak in a meek whisper when asked for your opinion to prove how modest and chaste you can be.

Conversely, you don’t have to wear three pounds of makeup, two ounces of clothing and appear topless in “Girls Gone Wild: Hoochies on Patrol” to prove how desirable you are and you certainly don’t have to win a belching contest to demonstrate that you can be as crude as a man. You don’t have to do any of these things, but you can if you really want to. You can still burp, fart and cuss if that’s what comes naturally to you (you know who you are). You can wear a black vinyl dress with fishnet stockings and dance on a table if that’s what suits you. You can cover up, button down, walk the straight and narrow and wait for Mr. Right to come and brush away the cobwebs if that’s what you truly want to do. You can get a manicure, a bikini wax (ouch!) and wear pretty clothes (yes, even pink).

You can be a different person each day of the week.

As long as you speak your mind and speak it well, have an opinion (or lots of opinions) and make them known, and feel comfortable in your own skin, you will be successful in whatever you attempt. Don’t squeeze yourself into some mold of what’s supposed to pass for sexy because you’ve been hurt in the past and you feel you must behave a certain way to get attention. Don’t play the submissive innocent because you think it’s the only way to get a man to love you. Own your identity no matter what it is, regardless of how much it may shock you. Put yourself in the world, take chances, live life on your terms and at your own pace.

Just keep this in mind — the typical demure virginal type does not run for president; she becomes the wife of the president. She chooses the China pattern, not the Cabinet. The typical wanton slut type becomes a pin-up on the wall of some horny guy’s wood-paneled basement…until the next typical slut type comes along; then she becomes a dart-board.

Don’t be typical.

Contamination Defcon 4 2013 Offers Celebrities, Parties, Movies & More!

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yer Straits Productions (DSP) presents year four of St. Louis’ Premier pop culture, horror & sci-fi convention all under one roof August 2-4, 2013 CONTAMINATION: DEFCON 4. This year’s event takes place at the Holiday Inn South County Center, which is bigger and better with film icons, TV stars, super heroes, ghost hunters, DriveIn, Tiki Party, Cos-play, and filmmakers. Veteran actor Andrew Prine (“V” the series, Chisum) will be headlining this year alongside a cast reunion of the original ladies from the Evil Dead film series (Betsy Baker, Ellen Sandweiss & Theresa Tilly), Danny Hicks & Kassie Wesley Depaiva (Jake & Bobby Joe), and Timothy Patrick Quill (The Blacksmith) from Army of Darkness, along with an impressive lineup of icons at this highly anticipated follow-up event.

This year’s Contamination: Defcon 4 goes Grindhouse and celebrates the genre with Larry Bishop (Hellride, The Devil’s 8 & The Savage Seven) and Laura Cayouette of the Academy Award winner Quentin Tarantino’s movie, Django Unchained. This will be Laura’s first ever convention appearance. Horror fans will also get their fix with David Naughton (An American Werewolf in London) Pricilla Barnes (The Devil’s Rejects), and Tom Towels (The Devil’s Rejects, Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer). This year will see a Friday the 13th fans greatest Nightmare when we are joined by Kane Hodder, “Jason Voorhees” from pt’s 7-10, and C.J Graham, “Jason Voorhees” from part 6. The Walking Dead enthusiasts will be able to meet Nick Gomez (“Tomas”), Travis Love (“Bowman”) and Theodus Crane (“Big Tiny”), plus many more celebrities from all walks. Fans of all genres will get a total “Celebrity” experience with a weekend full of options, such as a chance to meet the celebrities, get autographs and pictures, and a lucky few V.I.P’s will even get to know their favorite celebrity one on one at an intimate private gathering. Contamination’s 24 Hour Grindhouse Cinema returns along with upcoming film makers getting to show off their endeavors. There will be crazy Seminars, a dealer room with vendors to shop all weekend for toys, t-shirts, movie posters and much more. A wild Pagan Tiki Party will happen on Friday and a dance party takes off Saturday night with DJ Tre dropping the beats. If that’s not enough,they will be having the “Contaminated Toxic Cinema Drive-In” showing Dark Night of the Scarecrow hosted by writer J.D. Feigelson. The competition is on, too, so get your best costume ready for our Cos-play Contest for a chance to win big.

Tickets for the weekend convention are available online now for a discount, but prices will be higher when purchased at the door. A limited amount of VIP Passes are available online while supplies last. And you can book your room for a great discounted rate of $89 at the Holiday Inn South County Center before they are gone.

The successful events that began this new tradition in St. Louis - Contamination 2010, Contamination 2011: The Sequel and Contamination 3D 2012 – have featured film legends from popular horror series such as Halloween, Friday the 13th,Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Candyman – and showcased one of the most recognized cars in the world - The Batmobile & the “Munster Koach”.

Much more information can be found at www.con-tamination.com. Check their site and their Facebook page for updates and a complete list of celebrities, artists, filmmakers, musicians and vendors. See you there, unless you’re too scared to come out...

The Moon Glampers South City staple Lemons hosted a great set of local acts on Friday, May 18, featuring: The Home Wreckers, The Moon Glampers, Juanita Place and De Los Muertos.

Home Wreckers

Colin E. Suchland Photos www.colinesuchalndphotos.com

De Los Muertos

Juanita Place

De Los Muertos

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EVEN CHANCE

PIT BULL ADVOCACY + RESOURCES + RESCUE Fundraiser May 26th @ Lemmon’s

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ven Chance is a non-profit who strives to counteract misinformation about pit bulls with factual education, communication, and resources for the public, pit bull owners, and potential adopters.

They rescue temperamentally sound dogs from local shelters, including dogs with medical needs and dogs rescued from organized fighting rings or other inhumane situations. They provide foster care for all of their rescued dogs until they are placed in safe and loving forever homes. And that’s why so many good businesses, bands, and Lemmon’s got behind Racheal Kitchen again this year to host such an amazing cause! It was a night full of rocking and grooving sounds from so many amazing bands, like The Reverend Whiskey Richard, Tok, Pillow Talk and so many more....

But the real winners here that night were the many pit bulls that will be rescued this year, thanks to Racheal and Even Chance. This isn’t the only fundraiser of the year for this non-profit, either. Check them out at WWW.EVENCHANCE.ORG for other events. And whatever you do, try to shake the public stigma that our media has installed into your head about pit bulls and those who own them and rescue them.

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Legend goes that it was on October 30th, 1957 when Richard, a.k.a. Dick Hammer, and his band The TBA boys were on the road heading to the biggest gig of their entire career. Some still remember that rainy, cold and dark evening when the car skidded and came to a haunting rest somewhere at the bottom of the Green River, killing Dick and the rest of his band. Now over 60 years later the band has returned, walking the earth, blood thirsty with a hard on to end all the mainstream music, the pollution that seeped into their coffins and awoken them from their dirt naps!

Thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s one hell of a story to spin, but make no mistake about the serious sounds this trio puts out. Dick will tear at the strings on his guitar with his teeth, then run out the door playing to outside smokers, only to return and leap on the bar for the drinking patrons! These guys will wake the fucking dead! Follow them on FB for touring!

www.facebook.com/deaddickhammer

UNMASKED “Things have to change, you know? Repeating yourself again and again can lead you towards self-parody.” interview by Chuck Foster

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oday most in the music scene know the intense sounds of Sinfinis as Mary Elizabeth Kennedy on vocals and her husband Kai Kennedy on instrumentation, recording, and production. In reality, she started this project ten years ago, uncertain about what direction to take things or how to do anything in the music business. She eventually collaborated with hired studio musicians to create a couple of tracks, ultimately creating her first demo EP, The Edge of a Knife* in 2007.

With a new craving to create, she then started networking around St. Louis, hoping to meet the right musician, attending numerous shows and meetings, and passing her new EP to anyone who said they’d listen to it.

It wasn’t until 2009 that she started playing live shows with a couple of different people. But it was later that year when she met Kai as the two shared a bill with the band he fronted at the time, an alternative metal rockers act, Hephaestus.

They immediately clicked, working together on occasion over the next few months. And in 2010, Kai joined with her full-time, quickly giving Sinfinis’ sound a more distinctive shape. That’s been three years ago, and Sinfinis has only continued to evolve, always enhancing her unique, eroticlymacbre sound year after year, album after album.

And this is where we start now, discussing the band’s orgin and where it’s going as 2013 quickly disappears over the horizon...

So, what’s the story behind the name, Sinfinis?

Kai: The name is designed simply to be thoughtprovoking. It was the result of a conversation about fictitious words that are created, from a marketing perspective, in order to evoke certain imagery, e.g. Verizon, Viagra. “Sinfinis” started as a mergence of “sin” and “infinite”. When Mary Elizabeth heard this and considered the varying photo by Wendy Kyle

word combinations and the meanings and images they conjured, it seemed a fitting band name, as much of what she writes is related to human nature visà-vis the internal struggle between right and wrong.

When I caught you a few months back at Novak’s I barely recognized you, or your unique macabre sound that your known for? What can you say about that set and the evolution of your sound over the years?

Mary Elizabeth: Things have to change, you know? Repeating yourself again and again can lead you towards self-parody. Kai does most of the music, and he’s a fan of many, many genres, so that definitely factors into it. The girl singing over electronic music concept has been thoroughly mined, so if we’re going to also do it, we want to do as many things as we can to make sure that we’re expressing ourselves as fully and as creatively as possible.

You guys describe your sound on FB as “electrosexyou”. Can you explain where the tag line came from?

That was just a tongue-in-cheek attempt at acknowledging our association with the electronic music genre, while trying to avoid boxing ourselves into any particular subgenre. We tend to work in multiple styles, varying from trip-hop to jazz to more aggressive rock.

Across the board, though, people often comment on the sensual nature of our sound, so that term seemed appropriate. It’s kind of silly, though; we should probably update it.

Let me ask about your song writing. Can you tell me something about the release of Rational Animals and the popular track ‘Say When’?

Rational Animals was of our first full-lengthstudio release (February 2011).

photo by Courtney Strong

“Say When” is one of the tracks from that album.

The lyrics began with the idea to make a play on the title phrase, exploring its usual meaning to “say when” it’s time to stop something, and also using it to mean “say when” to start something.

The song is written from the point of view of a person who’s afraid to enter into a relationship, mainly because she fears its eventual inevitable demise. So, she tells her paramour to take the lead: “I’ll leave it to you to say when, ‘cause I don’t think I can.” It’s about feeling that fear of commitment and fear of loss, yet, at the same time, being willing to give control to someone else.

It’s been a while since I picked up a new CD, is there another on the way?

The 18-song XLP *Schizophilia* will be ready for release later this year.

up to give their support, whether they pledged a dollar amount or simply spread the word for us.)

We’ll plan a show to coincide with the release.

How can readers find out more about Sinfinis, or purchase merch like your T-Shirts and CDs? Our website is sinfinis.com. We’re also on Facebook, Twitter, Soundcloud, Reverbnation, and other music and social networking sites.

Last, when and where can St. Louisans catch you two live again?

We’re holed up in the studio, focused on wrapping the new album; so, we don’t have anything on the books at present. We’ll plan a show to coincide with the album release, later this year.

photo by John Williams

What would you say has been your biggest mistake as a band; and how did you overcome it or work your way through it?

We’ve made a few bad calls with respect to shows we elected to play. We worked our way through those experiences by playing the show to the best of our ability, whether the sound system was awful, or the venue cut our set down to 15 minutes because the headliners did a 2-hour sound check, or the promoter made a hash of scheduling and stuck us in a slot at the same time as another band.

We’ve learned what venues to avoid, and which individuals should give us pause if they ask to do business with us again.

What can readers expect from Sinfinis as 2013 ends...touring, shows, CD releases?

We’re finishing up an 18-song XLP; it’ll be ready for release later this year. (We just wrapped a very successful Kickstarter campaign, which will help with funding the final stages of the production process. Our fans really blew us away by stepping

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Slow Form Of Suicide YOU GOT TO KEEP MOVIN’! DON’T BE AFRAID! YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD!

“You are a fuckin’ rat in rat race!”, screams J-Bone from the small stage before he strikes the first cord of his bass. He’s the front vocalist for Slow Form Of Suicide, better known as SFOS. He’s backed up by Tracemaster on guitar/vocals and GC on drums. This Punk/Hardcore/Thrash band first entered the Chicago music scene in 2009, and have quickly made a name for themselves as one of the area’s heavy hitters. Their first album, Already Dead, was released by 40 Hour Death Records later on, an album described as “fast, with attitude, and yes, again, fast!” Since this release SFOS has hit their third US tour, recently stopping in St. Louis at Ye Ole Haunt, where their insane antics were well received.

They warn fans to lock their doors so you won`t find yourself with them in your homes, because that wouldn’t be a good thing. The band claims that listening to their chaotic sounds at work might lead you to kill your boss, and that unpleasant signs of violence might appear toward the people around you. In their spare time they do what they know best: Spread chaos as a group of angry, fast, loud and thrashy kids! www.facebook.com/pages/ Slow-Form-Of-Suicide

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STL NIGHTLIFE

with John D. Williams Photography Venus In Flames, Casaloma Ballroom, The Beggarâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Carnivale last night of the Show Me Burlesque Festival

Lola Van Ella Show Me Burlesque Festival at Koken Art Factory

Top: Midnite Martini doing an extremely creative and beautiful number on the silks.

Ami Amore' on stage and looking breathtaking while doing one of my favorite numbers.

Right: Lola and Bunny - At the 4th annual Show Me Burlesque Festival. Thursdayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s show was at 2720 Cherokee.

Below: Sweetpea Tawnya Konobeck is an amazing, talented performer and drop dead in my tracks beautiful.

The Incredibly talented and simply breathtaking to watch Perle Noire.

Mary Elizabeth Kennedy has spent a great deal of her life here in St. Louis, but most of us in the local A&E scene know hew as the front-woman from Sinfinis. Her lyrics from center-stage, often dark and macabre, leave her fans, including myself, speechless by night’s end. The passion in which she sings takes listeners down a worm hole of pleasures and pains, joys and fears, furies and griefs. And the beauty of her modeling is no different. While her first love is music, she admits modeling is second. She graced the cover of The Sinner three years ago with Jimmy Pourdas of Bare Knuckle Conflict, posed tastefully nude in body paint; by far one of my favorites. As several years have passed, and she has given birth to her third child, I thought this would be the perfect time to reunite with her and discuss all that is new with her and Sinfinis....

Since most folks in the A&E scene know you as Sinfinis, how did you get involved in modeling?

I made a couple of attempts at working with agencies, starting around age 12. Nothing panned out, and when I considered seriously pursuing an independent modeling career, I realized that I just wasn’t interested in putting so much time and energy into a line of work I’d come to view as superficial and inconsequential. My first “real” professional shoots were for the band. As Kai and I became acquainted with a few of the photographers here in town, I was offered some modeling opportunities. Many of those early gigs were TFP shoots or what I’ll call “TFBP” (“trade for band photos”) shoots. Those led to broader networking with other photographers and promoters, and thus, more work.

One of those contacts led me to the Saint Louis Drawing and Painting Group, which opened up a number of new prospects, in the art commu-

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Gina Simon Photography

nity. Now, the majority of my work is figure modeling.

What was your first shoot and who was the photographer?

I shot with Crystal Rolfe for the September 2009 issue of the *Sinner*, which featured art by Bradley Pipkin. She photographed Bradley’s body art on Jimmy Pourdas (of Bare Knuckle Conflict) and me. A few months later, Gina Simon did a full-on band shoot for Sinfinis. That went so well, we shot with her again about a week later! Working with Gina is really what started getting me / us connected to other photographers in the art and music scene.

I know you recently had your first child, right? How has that affected your modeling and music?

Kiran is my third, actually. He has two older brothers: Nathaniel (age 10) and Gabriel (age 8). It was during my pregnancy (summer/ fall 2011) when I started working as a figure model for a number of artists’ groups in town. I got quite a bit of work at that time, and those contacts carried over to the present. As for music, we performed regularly until I was about seven months along, and then took a few months off from playing live shows. We continued to write and record, even releasing an album just two weeks before Kiran was born.

I’m also aware that you have posed for some pretty racy shots, even like our cover several years ago. What’s it like as a local artist/musician to put yourself out there like that?

It’s invigorating to reach a place where you don’t feel self-conscious. As a writer and singer, I’m baring the most important parts of me. I’m showing the world everything in my heart and head. I’m laying out my ideas, my fears, my joys, fury, and grief, for anyone to dissect and judge. You can’t get more exposed than that. I suppose that’s a big part of why I’m not ashamed or afraid to expose myself, physically, as well.

Sometimes, I choose to do something because I want to make a bold statement. A pinup shoot where 15 other models will be wearing lingerie? I’ll go dressed in shibari.

We’re slated to play a show called “Pussyfest” where other performers don pasties and cat ears? I’ll wear a liquid latex catsuit. But, it’s never *only* about pushing the envelope.

I still have to see some artistic value in a thing in order to want to do it. (The two examples I gave required custommade wardrobe.) And, most of what I do which might be considered “racy” is quite tastefully done. You mentioned the

*Sinner* cover. While I get that an image of a naked woman has raw sex appeal, that particular photo isn’t so base as that; she’s not naked for the scandal of it – she’s acting as a canvas.

What about any backlash from some of your racy shots, such as family, friends or employers in the ever-expanding world of net?

Occasionally, someone will react negatively.

We’ve had a few people ask to be removed from the band mailing list, and that’s always disappointing. And, my mother definitely takes every opportunity to express her disapproval. As for employers, I’ve always kept modeling mostly under wraps.

Photos are out there, so, it’s certainly not impossible to dig them up, if someone is looking. I’m confident that I can explain my reasons for participating in any photo shoot or art group event, to anyone who asks.

What has been the toughest obstacle for you to overcome as a model, and musician?

Being a woman in the music industry is a challenge, right out of the gate.

I want people to genuinely like and appreciate my music because they think it’s good, rather than give me praise because they think I’m attractive…or, conversely, to dismiss my work because they don’t approve of something I wore on stage or in a photo! Our visual presence is

linked to the music, to be sure – that’s just the way the entertainment business works.

And while it’s flattering and humbling that people often see us as dynamic performers and as a photogenic couple, it can be frustrating when they fail to separate that from the music itself. When you work very hard to create something, you want people to recognize its intrinsic value. We love making music.

We try to make it great. We want listeners to judge it solely on its merit. I’m primarily a lyricist; then, a vocalist; after that, a performer. And yeah, sometimes, I model. The hardest thing for me, at times, is getting people to pay attention to the actual words I write and sing – and they’re what I’m most proud of.

What can readers expect from you in 2014?

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We’re finishing up an 18-song XLP; it’ll be ready for release later this year. (We just wrapped a very successful Kickstarter campaign, which will help with funding the final stages of the production process. Our fans really blew us away by stepping up to give their support, whether they pledged a dollar amount or simply spread the word for us.) We’ll plan a show to coincide with the release, I’m sure. And we’re constantly writing new material, so, it’s a safe bet that 2014 will bring more new songs. We’ve also planned for a while to expand our live show, e.g. using more complex lighting, bringing in more live instrumentation, etc. A personal goal of mine is to contribute more in writing arrangements. My husband and partner, Kai, handles nearly all our instrumentation, as well as recording and production. My focus has always been the words. I’ve never really done more than dabble on keys. I’d really like to hone my skill so that I can actually say I play and not just tinker. And, I’m currently studying guitar, so, I’m really hoping to step up my game in the coming year.

Any advice for other young girls looking to follow in your footsteps?

If you’re interested in music, start learning, right now. Take lessons, or if you can’t afford that, get online and buy an inexpensive used instrument, and search for any resources you can use

to get started. Just don’t put it off. And keep at it. You’re not going to be awesome at first.

If you want to be awesome, keep practicing. And if you hope to play out, get involved in the scene. Go out and see live music. There’s a show every night of the week, somewhere.

See as many bands as you can, and talk to them after their set. Familiarize yourself with every venue in town. Introduce yourself to the owner. Networking is key.If you want to model, I recommend simply getting involved in the art community. St. Louis is blessed with a rich art culture. You’ll meet some amazing artists, photographers, clothing and jewelry designers… and they all need models. Working independently, you’ll have the freedom to choose whether to take a job or not. If I see no artistic value in an opportunity, I don’t want it. Don’t take a job you think you might eventually regret. Ask yourself: are you being treated like a piece of meat, or a piece of art?

Any last words to share or shouts to throw out?

A few great resources for anyone interested in getting involved in the music and art scene: St. Louis Musicians Unite!, Saint Louis Drawing and Painting Group, St. Louis Artists’ Guild, STL Alternative Models & Photography Group (AMP), and Concrete Ocean Art Gallery.

WHISKEY FRIDAYS Jim Beam burger and fries $6.50

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Cry on the Wind written by Thomas Cooney

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he air was crisp, with a smell of fallen leaves.

Overhead a full moon shone fat and yellow down on Toby and I as we walked along the dark and dusty road home. Another mile and we would arrive to the warmth and comfort of hot apple cider and a roaring fire to warm our coldness. An owl hooted softly from an old oak tree and was echoed by another farther off in the woods.

We passed old man McKinney’s farmhouse, our bags of candy feeling heavier and more leaden with every step. We stopped to take a rest, sitting on the curb. A slight breeze had sprung up and pushed the leaves against our feet, making whispering sounds in the apple trees behind us. We sat quietly, not making a sound, not talking from the tiredness. I leaned back and looked at the moon. Someday men will be there I thought to myself. Maybe we’ll have homes, parks, schools, and places just like here.

It was time to get going. We needed to be getting back home before it got too late. The clock in the courthouse downtown began to chime. The lone bell tolled sadly ten times. It was late and we still had to pass by Ravenswood. That name sent a shiver down my spine. Some said Ravenswood Cemetery was haunted. We had heard the stories the old men told in the barbershop. Stories we kids weren’t supposed to hear, but we peeped in the windows and heard the men’s talk float through the door until we were chased away. Haunted they said. That girl who lost her life in the accident on Old Mill road one cold fall night twenty years ago. She never saw the car they say, never knew what hit her until the impact sent her flying into the big elm. They say you can still see the spot where her head hit it. Made that dent in the old gnarled bark. One minute she was walking along, the next she was on the slab at the undertaker. The guy who hit her was so unnerved they said, went and put a bullet through his head later that year. Now’s he’s up there with her, over in a family plot by the west wall, under that huge oak they put him.

The girl was just sixteen, and pretty as a peach with blonde hair and those blue eyes. She was a ringer for Jean Harlow. “Looked more like Thelma Todd, if you ask me,” said old Doc Lindstrom. “ I should know, saw every one of Thelma’s movies”. “Hell, I delivered Jenny into the world” wiping his forehead. “She was destined for better things than the cold grave”, he said with a sigh.

She had a fight with her boyfriend at the dance at the grange hall, started walking home and never made it back. They said she’s still there in Ravenswood, but not in peace. Roams the graveyard at night. She was trying to find her way back home, to warmth, to loving parents who didn’t need to bury their daughter so young, to the boy who loved her. The young man they say, well after her death, he went and joined up with the army. He never came back either. Killed in the last war. “Died in France” said old man McKinney. “It wasn’t France you fool”, replied Mr. Bartlett the grocer.

“He died in Germany, fighting the krauts he did. Died near Berlin when his platoon wandered into that kraut minefield. Buried over there he is. His body was so bad blown up they almost couldn’t identify it. Would have cost the family a pretty penny to have what was left shipped home, so they had him buried there”. Now she’s looking for him they said. Wants to set things to rights and be with the boy. Was going to get married and have kids and a nice little house here in town. She won’t

rest till she finds him they said. “Such a shame, such a shame”, said old man McKinney, so young and beautiful and he shook his head.

A bat flittered above in the moonlight as we approached the familiar gray wall of Ravenswood. It’s said the stone for it came from China. Was brought over in the hold of a ship before the Civil War and then built stone by stone. Tall, stark, and oppressive, it stood guard over those entombed behind its chiseled wall.

I could feel a shiver as we approached the gates that made the place even more imposing and sinister. We stopped and looked at the rows and rows of cold marble slabs, crosses, angels, obelisks, marble mausoleums built by the wealthiest townspeople, built to last an eternity, and to keep their secrets with them. What were once living flesh and blood now lay rotting in the ground, or sealed behind the stone and wrought iron doors of their cold crypts.

We stood and watched for what seemed like an eternity, until I said that perhaps we should leave. I was tired. I wanted to get home to safety and warmth. To feel my mother hug me and ask if I got a lot of candy this year. To take off this skeleton costume and slip beneath the coolness of the sheets and drift off into sleep and explore exotic worlds and places in my dreams. Toby seemed fixated on something behind the cold iron gates. I tried to get his attention as he stared, his eyes seeing something I couldn’t. He said he had to go in there. He wanted to see what it was. He said he saw someone in there, up on the hill, someone staring at us, watching us with sad eyes. I felt a cold chill on my spine, and I swear, I swear to God himself I could hear the sound of what seems to be crying in the wind as it picks up and blows the dead leaves across the cemetery.

We can’t go in there I told him, but he wouldn’t listen. I told him the caretaker locks the gate every night. He closed it at sundown and put the heavy iron lock on it and everyone in town knows that once the gates are locked they stay that way until morning when he comes back with the key to open it. But still my words fall away as Toby stared between the bars. I reach out and place my hand on the bars and give the gate a shake, to show that it was locked and we couldn’t get in.

To my horror I heard the sound of the lock coming open.

I look down and what only a man with a key could part is now hanging on one side of the gate. Toby pushed me away and opened the gate. I had to follow him, I had no choice, I had to protect my friend.

We started up the dirt path, wet still from the rains, with the ruts of cars and the hearse running down its middle. A cold weeping angel looked down on Toby and I as we started climbing the incline in the road. In her hand she held a wreath made of laurel, a final tribute to Jack Simpson who died in the war to end all wars. I swear I could see real tears streaming from those dead eyes, glinting with silver in the light. My feet became heavier and heavier, but still something pulled me forward up that desolate hill. Toby ran ahead and I yelled for him to stop and wait for me, but he didn’t hear.

I started running after him, my breath getting heavy and loud as I tried to catch up with him.

I stopped. There was Toby standing at the top of the hill, but to whom was he talking? It looked like a woman. But why was she here, amongst the cold and unfeeling stones? She glowed with a blue light that

made my heart clutch in my chest. I could see her face, the remnants of tears still on her cheeks, her blonde hair wafting behind her while her gown made a rustling sound as the wind caught it and made it flow behind her like a wave of blue silk on the ocean. I could see her corsage made of orchid on her bosom, the silver reflection of her necklace of pearl. She reached a hand out to Toby and touched his face. I stood in fear as she caressed his face and on the wind I heard her say,” lover, you’re here at last, it’s been so long”.

A dark cloud passed over the moon, obscuring it and it plunged me into darkness. I heard the scream, the scream of terror, of horror, and a scream of death itself. It plunged into my very soul like a knife blade of ice. I dropped my bag and reversed my course back down the muddy path. I slipped and fell. A sudden sharp pain coursed up my body. I got up and tried to run again, but the pain hurt me so bad. I could see the gates at the bottom, if only I could reach them, I’d throw them open and run home.

Home to my family, my pets, my safety. Limping I got to the bottom, but the gates were closed and locked.

They were open. I know they were. I shook them and rattled them. Perhaps someone would hear and come and open the gates and let me out of that desolate and frightening place. I shook and shook them as hard as I could. I started to cry, and huge wracking sobs burst out of my mouth. I fell to the ground and cried. I cried tears of fear and desperation. I wanted out of there. I don’t know what happened to Toby, why wasn’t he there to help?

I collapsed and I felt myself drifting off, Sleep; sleep would help calm my fear. Someone was bound to drive by and see me; perhaps they’d call the police and let me out. I could wait. I wasn’t scared anymore. The dawn came and the breeze picked up and scattered the leaves, which covered my sleeping form. I was awake, but why was I was still here? It all seemed like a horrible dream from which I never thought I would awake from

They never found Toby. I’m the only one who knew what happened that night. I tried to tell the others, but they couldn’t hear me. It’s as if I didn’t exist. Why did they ignore me and walk past? I sat here on this cold marble stone and cried because no one knew I was here. I’ll always be here, a nameless child who will never grow up, never have a first kiss, or see his children and grandchildren. I will be here until the end of time. I will be here to watch the seasons change. For you see, I never made it out either.

The next day, they found me. I lay by the gates, a pile of leaves at my head, my candy bag a short distance away. Old Doctor Lindstrom knelt over me and told the others I had died of shock and the cold. What I had possibly seen to frighten me to death, they couldn’t say. They’ll never know. My parents claimed my body at the county morgue. My mother was in hysterics as they laid my coffin in the ground. I can still hear that awful sound of dirt hitting the top of the coffin, the muffled voices above getting more and more silent with each shovel full of earth. Now I wait for my story to be heard.

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This, I Shamelessly Tell You Doing the â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;cavemanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; thing, and thoughts on current events as well as some thoughts on what makes a man a man and a woman a woman, in my opinion

by James Stansberry

A

s I sit watching traffic crawl on the Northbound and Southbound freeway just across the way from my living room window, I have to reflect that I'm glad it's another weekend, and hey, this one has a little sunshine. Well, so far it does. This is Seattle, so one never knows what'll happen tomorrow. I guess that applies, in general, to the world these days, particularly in light of the events in Boston which have played out like a never ending saga in the pages of and on the screens of national media. Heck, I'm sure this stuff's been all over international media too.

Personally, I hate to say, I saw this coming. There was a bill coming up that would give the current administration more power to spy on computers, and after the events in Boston, in spite of lots of grassroots protest, the bill sailed through the House, going on to the Senate, looking like we'll have more nail in the coffin of civil liberties. Also, there were several immigrant rights pieces of legislation that were pending, and the whole Gay marriage thing. All of that's been tabled now, as we, a nation of manipulated, frightened sheep, move in lockstep to what we're told is happening instead of trying to find out what's actually going on behind the screen of lies and made up 'news'. Now we all wait to see what new rabbit of excuses for cutting back social programs, and beefing up the war machine we get from our leaders. Same old, same old and getting worse, for sure.

Turning from this, which I cannot control, I look back on the last couple of weeks and ponder.

The new kitty which came to heal me, my partner and our little Garbo kitty's remaining sister (though Zzell kitty is much more interested in nursing her hurt and anger and hissing at new kitty than seeing little Bizhouxx as the gift I see her to be) is growing like a little weed, and gaining courage enough to challenge boundaries. I see myself in her, so I guess I do like her a little better than the other cat, who's become super needy and a bit of a bully, though I try to be fair and loving to both of them. I also reflect on how insanely impossible it's become to navigate as a pedestrian anywhere in Seattle, as more of the ugly buildings go up, and more holes are dug in the ground to build more ugly, unaffordable housing.

More ugly building, and more people sleeping in doorways, and you can't get from one end of town to the other without encountering hateful bus drivers (some of whom seem to have a permanent chip on their shoulder these days), smelly drunks and those who've been kicked to the curb by a rapidly deteriorating mental health system and are now raving in public places.

I've also been reflecting on why people still refer to me as 'ma'am', though I'm now wearing a large, man's watch that sweetie gave me (he got if from the evil day job, and thought it too butch for himher, so gave it to me, since I'm embracing the man in me), and much more manly looking clothes. What makes a man a man in the world, I have to wonder, as I've had people refer to me as 'man' when I wear certain hats, but not 'man' when they can see that I still have 'bumps' on my chest. I live for a world where what my body looks like does not define who I am, or what gender I choose to identify myself as. I live for a world where my partner can be the woman inside, a lot more, and no one will blink an eye, but love us both for who we are, not who the world wants us to be. Call me a hopeless dreamer, but that's my vision and I'm sticking to it, and fighting for it every day I go out dressed in 'James' clothes and have to smile politely when someone calls me ma'am. Or cheering, each time I go to the vegan restaurant near my place, and one of the cute girls smiles at me, giving me a sort of 'thumbs up' with that smile, making me feel I'm a little closer to at least some folks viewing me as I see myself. At least the guys in the weight room, at my gym have stopped staring at me when I come in and we all just grunt and lift weights, not caring what's under the clothes. Yeah, I live for those moments.

This I shamelessly tell you.

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www.facebook.com/seattlesinner * www.facebook.com/saintlouissinner

Think Outside The Cage with Kendra Holliday of The Beautiful Kind

Will I Freak My Doctor Out? Kink Aware Professionals Washington University of St Louis School of Medicine has been offering a special program to their medical students for many years now – sensitivity training for working with patients who are outside the heteronormative realm – those in the LGBT community.

For instance, don’t assume that every woman you treat is married to a man and needs birth control. Consider the possibility that the man sitting on your exam table might need a pap test because he was born with a vagina.

Last year, for the first time, Wash U expanded their program to include those with alternative lifestyles – non-monogamy, sex work, and/or BDSM. I was invited to represent these subgroups and lead group sessions educating medical students about what they might encounter in the healthcare setting.

I sat at the head of the classroom and told them about myself, really testing their ability to maintain a poker face. Once again, I’m struck by the fact that folks either know nothing about me, or WAY too much.

I sometimes forget how mind-blowing it is for some people to hear a woman speak matter-of-factly and unashamedly about her multiple sex partners and being tied up and beaten. I know my looks threw them off, too – with no tattoos and conservative dress, I can totally pass for normal. I have to admit, it felt kind of weird talking about such things in a professional environment – I kept half-expecting to get cut off and asked to leave. But it didn’t happen.

Leveling with Medical Professionals I informed them about the option of being listed on kink aware directories (see NCSF info below) so alt lifestyle people could find them and skip the awkward step of having to explain WHY they have a husband AND boyfriend.

It was fun defining things like bladeplay and pegging and discussing the best way to determine if their patient was into BDSM or being abused. I explained safe, sane and consensual. It was decided a simple, “Do you feel safe at home?” would be a good thing to ask. I told them clues to watch out for – collars, what rope marks look like, the difference between polyamory and swinging.

I explained why some people like BDSM – that it can be therapeutic and a way to act out fantasies in a safe manner. They sat patiently and quietly and allowed me to explain, unlike the female radio host I met the other day. I was on her radio show explaining my sex-positive mission and she kept interrupting me to exclaim, “OH it’s hot in here, oh my we’re really getting spicy today! Just the word sex is shocking enough! Do we need to go off the air to say what BDSM stands for?!”

I told them about my hot redhead nurse friend who told all her co-workers that she rock-climbed in order to explain all her bruises and marks from bondage, which planted a seed in their mind forevermore to wonder

about every redhead nurse they saw from now on.

I said, “Everywhere you go – the mall, the grocery store – there are people who haven’t thought about sex or had it for years, and then there are people wearing diapers and butt plugs and sexting outrageous orders to each other. Or that sweet woman you know who does volunteer work at your kid’s school could moonlight as a prostitute. You never know which is which – good luck practicing your kinkdar.”

I told them the most dangerous thing a person could do is practice BDSM alone – that’s how most kinky fatalities occur – tying yourself up solo. I suggested that depending on their specialty, they will probably encounter their fair share of odd objects inserted in the ass, and stressed being as non-judgmental and compassionate in the patient’s presence, and to wait until the coast is clear to laugh about it, because we all know that will happen.

Compassion for Kinksters I get tested for STIs every three months and the same woman goes over my paperwork each time.

One time she asked me how many partners I had since the last time I saw her and I said, “Three.”

She blurted, “Well that’s better than last time – you had ten!”

I said, “What are you talking about better? Sounds like I’ve had a slow month!”

She also asked me why I come in so often. I pointed to the sign on her wall. “The sign says to keep healthy and prevent spread of STIs to get tested often!”

I never did tell her I was a sex worker – I wonder if she would have called the cops.

——— The National Coalition for Sexual Freedom has a comprehensive website that includes a Kink Aware Professionals page. They list lawyers, doctor and therapists, as well as life coaches, web design, and more!

kendra@thebeautifulkind.com www.thebeautifulkind.com www.sexstl.com Got a sex, relationship, BDSM or fetish related question? Ask your local sexpert, Kendra Holliday, Writer & Editor of The Beautiful Kind, and Co-Founder of Sex Positive St. Louis.

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