St Louis Sinner issue 22

Issue 22 - Jan 2011

UNMASKED

The Sinful Photography Of

MELISSA SCHRAMM

HOLEY COWS

News, Rants & Politics

Going Down, All The Way To Bible Town I grew up in the deep south, all the way across the swampy marshy lands of Georgia, in a town named Waycross, nonetheless. It was there that I was raped of my virginity – mind, and body. While my teenage cousin played doctor with me at the age of five, a far greater crime was committed downstairs in the light of day. At least there were only two victims in the attic, downstairs was a different tale.

Groups of children were raped by not a teenager, but by a twisted old lady.

She never touched our bodies, only our minds, where she created this thing called a soul. Then she destroyed it through heaven, and a fiery Hell.

During the day I was allowed to play, even innocently kiss my little galfriend; at nap time I disappeared to the attic. My mother had lost her faith through the pain of death and a broken marriage years prior, so I knew nothing of God, nor Satan. I was a virgin of good and evil, neither Supreme Being had planted their seed in me yet. My great Aunt made sure to change that for not only me, her great nephew, but for all the sheep she watched in God’s herd. I assumed mom was ignorant to it all, but that was common for many single mothers back then; I guess only “God” knows what happens to them today. I know that he never saved me, from either violations. So he either didn’t care, or planned it all in his greater scheme, so I could spew this tale about going down south again, home, like I do every year.

My aunt liked to gather us children after lunch for her grand sermon of fire and brimstone; propaganda works best on a full stomach. It was there that I would often tell her I would battle this horned, pitch-forked adversary with a water hose and a sword to my death, if necessary. She always laughed, saying no water of man’s could put out the fires of Hell. But that’s what she prepared us for, Revelations, the great “War” between God and Satan. It was real enough back then that I led a group of covert operatives, including my galfriend, to tackle the operation of digging a hole to Hell in the back of the playground. Our thoughts, and newly discovered souls, screamed out against our doomed faith. We believed we were taking the fight to Satan first, before his army in Hell, at the center of the world, could come attack us. Needless to say, we dug and dug, till our little fingers bled exhaustion and disappointment.

Mom pulled me out of that daycare before we accomplished our mission, which was certain to bring peace on earth today, a heaven underfoot with out war and hate and nuclear weapons and robotic soldiers of death. Peace, what a Christian concept to a naive child?

A few years later mom got remarried, and even worse, Born Again. I was “the sinner” of the family from then on out. The number one mission from then on out was to save my lost soul. For almost a decade prior to that defining moment mom had told fortunes to close friends, played with her Ouija Board, and collected one too many creepy dolls. Born Again was weird enough for any kid, even for one who had dealt with a lot of weirdness. Yet this seemed very typical for southern folks, especially those hitting their 40s, or mid-life crisis. It wasn’t long before I was dragged to church, saved, drowned in

a pool of icy water, and born again myself. All by force.

Years later I learned that religion is a personal choice, or should be. I never had a choice or chance to make an educated decision about faith, nor to decide if I’d pass altogether. Morals were taught to me before Christianity and I never fought, disrespected my elders, nor tortured animals. I was a pretty good kid, for a sinner.

When I head south nowadays, I get dressed in half a suit – jeans, dress shoes and shirt, with a tie and a coat

2. Fear and Publishing 3. Race, Religion, Tyranny 4. Weapons of Mass Distraction 5. New Year

6. Piper’s Pit

7. Stop The Drug War

Music, Film, Art & Entertainment

11. The Swirl And The Stomp 12. LOUG Poster 14. Sinful Nights 15. Super Jam

Melissa Schramm

16. LOUG Unmasked

17. Mayham at Mandina’s 18. Melissa Schramm Photography – and take mom to church. I still respect her faith, regardless of what fear or propaganda the church preaches. I don’t believe in the “Simultaneous Sneeze” that I heard this past Christmas. That a graduating class, who wasn’t allowed to mention faith at their ceremony, all sneezed

by God’s divine intervention at the end of the last speaker’s address to the crowd, leading to a “God Bless You” by all. Which of course brought about a standing ovation of cheers from the crowd. I didn’t even question the message behind the Jesus–tale when the preacher spoke out about their rights of “free speech” being attacked by Big Brother. What would have he said if I had asked, what about Christian Blue Laws, like in many southern states as Georgia, forbid the sale of alcohol on Sunday? Isn’t that Big Jesus interfering with my rights to purchase a legal beverage and the bar owner’s rights to serve it?

They always seem to see things differently.

New Year Revolutions & Broken Constitutions Dealing with all that kind of shit, religious freaks and a conservative mother, for over two weeks will drive a soulless sinner to drink. And that I did when I returned home for NYE. Determined to change my sinful ways, though, I began a revolution against my governing state, as resolutions never work for dysfunctional leaders like myself. I said to hell with getting drunk all weekend and partying all night with friends. I committed to exercising, and eating right, and getting this paper done more professionally and on time. I wrote a constitution, signed it in blood, and had the wife witness it. I even framed it one the wall in our office.

I must have missed the stud, or used a weak nail.

It crashed to the floor a week later, shattering into thousands of tiny pieces – and with it so did my new state.

This publication now sits five days behind, I missed work last Monday due to a staggering hangover – and who the hell likes to exercise at 40 in the first place? Those kind of commitments take an act of faith, an intervention of a higher power. I guess as a Sinner, I’m just fucked once again.

Well, here’s to another year of fear and sinning in two cities... cheers!

Religion, Sex, & Other Sinner Shit 8. Bitchin’ With Buddha 9. Our Sinful Community 10. Enemies With Benefits 19. The 7 Deadly Sins Of...

20. Campfire Tales HOLEY COWS

Melissa Schramm Melissa Schramm

21. Skin Deep With Stu 22. This, I Shamelessly Tell You 23. Ask The Slut

Publisher: Chuck Foster - Layout: Terri Daniels Cover Art : Melissa Schramm WRITERS, RANTERS, OPINIONISTS & OTHER ALL-OUT FREAKS: Mark Taylor-Canfield Matthew Gorman Emily Eufinger Paul Blow Lucifer Gabriel Zolman Jason Sibert Saab Lofton Malice Henry Nicolle Stu Kimberly Peters

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.

For advertising or submission information, contact us at chuck@theseattlesinner.com. Submission deadline is the 25th of every month.

ESSAY – SUBMISSION –

RACE, RELIGION, TYRANNY

by Henry Nicolle PREPARE TO BE OFFENDED. Please feel free to criticize my opinions, logic and conclusions.

They are mine and mine alone. Nobody put me up to this and nobody has any claim to what I am about to write. If it reads like a fool's scribbling, well, I am that fool.

Did you ever believe that America, the Beacon of Liberty, would be infected by popular submission to political correctness? We now use political correctness to serve selfish purposes, warp truth, impose fear and coerce stupid conduct. Our law has become a weapon to advance politically correct discrimination by race and religion and domination by social status. Who would have thought?

Our Government community has abandoned our purpose for their existence. It is probably the most lawless and irresponsible community among the People. They can be defined in three parts, the loyal, the rebellious and the indifferent. The loyal are few and silent, working in the shadow and in the belief that they can do some good, although not a lot, and that their loyalty can preserve Liberty for just a few moments longer than if they submit to the majority view of correct thinking Our "Black" community (how language has been warped by political correctness and ignorance) is about as homogeneous as any community among the People. Regardless of individual diversity of opinion, the community tends to express a 95% cohesiveness in voting and in predisposition for entitlement to special advantage and consideration by the People and our Institutions.

Our religious community now has become as emasculated and conformed as the Black community. Submission to ignorance and political correctness dominates the synagogue, mosque, church and revival tent. Liberty, they teach, is an offense to all of God and God's will is that we submit to "Authority", which, we are told, is God's expression on Earth in our mortal frailty.

These defects are incorporated by probably 90% of our People. Perhaps the indifferent who get along by going along are greater in number than I estimate. If so, I'll add them in and say 90% or better are losers in comfortable circumstances.

Those circumstances are turning hard and cold and the heat is rising for repercussions which must follow the last century's consumption of self-serving fruit of democracy.

The Wimpy of hamburger fame and Popeye's buddy has consumed a borrowed hamburger today on a promise to repay two on Monday has won the day. Tomorrow is Monday and the debt is coming due.

There is the promise of personal accountability in the air, a stench to the common nose and a fear in the blood of the exploiters and other people of good intentions, but deficient in their knowledge and respect for history. "Cause and effect" is Greek to these dark angels.

"From each according to his abilities and to each according to his needs" is a masquerade of evils and a cover for ignorant people who are incapable of perceiving the evil they do and the horrors they propagate in their doing of their good deeds.

I believe that it is possible that we will experience mortal problems between classes, between races, between government and People, between those perceived to be wealthy and those who believe themselves deprived of life's necessary assets.

We see the Federal and State governments impose deliberate policies to divide and alienate the races and the ethnic, religious, economic and political classes.

We see the tactic of removing children from the influence of their parents from before toddler-age until they leave the government school system. Even in post education, the indoctrination persists in policies demanding "continuing education for certification of professionals".

We see the overt protections of those who "have" and the cruel prosecution of those who "have not".

We see the exercise of undue privilege throughout our social, justice and administrative systems.

In the most contrary ways, we are among the worst of the third-world failed countries. Our saving grace is that the power of renewal remains in our hands for at least a few months, if we have the will to reject our indoctrination, our dependence and our antagonists.

If we desire Liberty, we must accept personal responsibility for our Liberty and wellbeing and accountability for our errors, omissions and failures.

We will achieve the status of Free Men and Women of a Free Society only if we withdraw our submission to the demands of political correctness and assert our individual Rights to our lives, present and future. This means we need to return the people who presume to rule by government back to society at large, to become productive Americans instead of the gatekeepers of structured liberty and regulated conduct.

The first step is simple. Stop the rebellion in government. Deny incumbent re-election.

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Demopublicans Vs. Republicrats = No Choice

written by Mark Taylor-Canfield

M

ost of those victory drunk people who were marching in the streets to celebrate Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama’s election had no idea just how co-opted and corporatized their choice for president would become. Hardcore progressives have already abandoned him, dropping him like a hot potato.

Right-wing conservatives have never liked him although their visions of him as a socialist dictator have never been substantiated. In fact, his actions as president place him firmly into the Goldman-Sachs/ Wall Street elite class of economic raiders. His new press secretary is but one more example in Obama’s businessoriented cabinet of corporate cronies playing the part of a public official. With the Supreme Court upholding corporate interests to the point of allowing a complete bankrolling of the elections, most residents of the US and European political and economic observers see America as the land of broken promises. The intrinsic promise of democratic elections was seriously curtailed by the highest court in the land when George W. Bush ascended to the US presidency. Among the issues discouraging the public’s faith in democracy are: The US Patriot Act, allegations of torture and official lies denying that practice, two unstable occupations of sovereign nations in the middle east, a failing economy where only the rich get taxpayerfunded bail-outs, etc. Include in this list a president and Congress who are too busy with political positioning to understand what’s in the best interest of the people. They see their constituency as nothing but a necessary evil which rears its ugly head every couple of years during the elections.

Instead of trying to solve the country’s problems, which are complex and in some cases largely the result of mass corporate globalization, our so-called leaders spend most of their precious time raising money from corporate sponsors and trying to devise new ways of taking advantage of the results of their latest polls or focus groups. These elected representatives have always been interested in their own political advancement, placing personal power above the needs of the people they are supposed to represent. Given our country’s “winner-take-all” election system, with no form of proportional representation, we are left with a one party corporate government ruled by big business and Wall Street.

This kind of accumulation of wealth and power in the hands of the fortunate few is, of course, not at all a new phenomenon. Throughout our history people on this planet have been battling with their lords and overseers in a universal struggle for opportunity, autonomy and self-expression. What has become obvious is that, no matter what your political affiliation, we are all being personally affected by this insatiable increase in the power of Big

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Brother and his corporate controllers to peek into your bedroom and take away our traditional civil liberties.

Whether on the right, left or middle of the spectrum, we can all agree that these forces are out of control. Witness the elimination of the middle class in America and it’s easy to see that the deck is stacked against anyone trying to achieve a reasonably economically stable life for themselves and their families. Thanks to the GATT and NAFTA trade agreements, the US has lost over 40,000 manufacturing plants.

Gone are the good union jobs which used to sustain our national economy. The US government and their corporate friends have pretty much eliminated the economic and political influence of organized labor unions.

The US has lost a major share in the global auto manufacturing market, and we no longer manufacture most electronic consumer goods. Our Constitutional rights to privacy and due process have been violated repeatedly by our own government. We, as a proud people, have now been reduced to the role of mindless followers. We are not allowed to voice our opposition to being groped by TSA employees at the airports. And our cell phones and emails are now open game for numerous federal law enforcement agencies who wish to spy on the public without proper judicial oversight. All of these violations of the public trust have resulted in an apathetic, discouraged and frustrated electorate.

And yet, in the middle of this constitutional crisis of conformity, CEO’s and national political leaders seem to be doing quite well financially in comparison with most citizens of the nation. The game is working very well for them and they are not as concerned about the plight of the average person as they are how to make another deal that will increase their personal wealth. The coming

train wreck doesn’t seem to concern them as long as their lot is good for the moment. In order to hold on to that enormous wealth, they must be able to infiltrate and influence local, national and foreign governments.

The corporate/government revolving door at the gates of the nation’s capitol serve only those who can pass from business to governance and back again. It’s an extremely lucrative system for the elite. A large part of the game involves a strategy whereby the players seek unique and crafty ways to use public resources for their own personal gain.

Control the government and you can control the treasury and the taxpayers’ money. There are billions of accessible dollars and some of the country’s largest banks, insurance companies and financial brokers have been taking complete and exclusive advantage of that fact.

Meanwhile, underneath all of these corporate raids on the national treasury there lies a serious economic issue which is not being addressed in any reasonable manner. A few days before Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi turned her gavel over to the Republicans, she made a perhaps startling statement before the US Congress. After the passage of the bill which included an extension of funding for unemployment insurance to millions of workers, she complained that although she appreciated the fact that the president had managed to get his political opponents to support the bill, it also included an extension of tax cuts for the wealthiest people in America. Obama’s compromise is estimated to add billions of dollars to the national debt, which currently stands at over thirteen trillion dollars. In effect, Obama and the Democrats were only able to postpone another inevitable economic meltdown due to the cost of financing such a huge

debt. Pelosi stood before the US Congress and told her colleagues that she regretted sacrificing the future of the nation’s children in order to finance the debt. What was most interesting about her statement is the fact that she finished it by referring to the “Chinese government” as the benefactors of our current debt crises. Her frustration was directed toward our policy of borrowing so much from the Chinese in a vain attempt to stave off our own economic depression. She was inferring that the coming generation’s financial future had actually been sold to the Capitalist/ Communist government of China.

A decade ago, during the Asia Pacific trade summit, the former head of the largest bank in Hong Kong remarked that the Chinese government did not find it necessary to challenge the US in a military confrontation. He stated that the reason for this selfassured attitude on the part of Chinese officials is that the Chinese government is confident that they can influence US foreign policy and national politics through their enormous economic influence on US corporations and political representatives. Pelosi was only stating the obvious, although it is indeed rare to hear that kind of honesty coming from the leader of the US House of Representatives. Normally, this sensitive subject would not be addressed by any self-serving career politician in the US. Clearly, Pelosi was pissed off. Her bitterness was apparent to all who heard her words.

And, of course, she blamed the Republicans.

The latest elections have only proven one thing for certain - the strategy of the Democrats and Republicans differ only in the speed at which they are willing to deliver up the public’s goods to major global corporate interests. While the congress and the president play political games designed to ensure their own political survival within the belly of the beast, Rome is burning.

The Chinese government knows this.

I think it’s high time for US political leaders to admit that they have failed to protect our vital national interests.

The best they can possibly do now is to attempt to clean up some of the mess that will surely plague us economically for generations to come.

My best advice is to start learning to speak Chinese if you really want to succeed in the international game of “winner take all” economics. These are very high stakes we are playing with and my concern is that while the US population is continuously distracted by inane political shell games perpetrated upon us by the corporate media, our children may be working their entire lives at a minimum wage job in order to help pay back our seemingly insurmountable national debt to a foreign nation which may or may not have our best interests in mind...

myspace.com/stlouissinner

New Year

By Jason Sibert

So 2010 has passed and 2011 is now upon us.

We’ve all attended New Year’s parties, consumed large amounts of alcohol, and told everyone we know to have a happy New Year and made our New Year’s resolutions. What is this holiday about? When I was growing up my aunt Anita always thought that New Year’s was a dumb holiday, only an excuse to get drunk.

For the most part, I think she was right, even though I celebrate New Year’s like anyone else. Why was she right?

When the clock strikes midnight each and every day of the year a new day arrives, but we do nothing to celebrate that new day.

I think what millions of noisy and drunk American’s are trying to celebrate every New Year’s Eve is the passage of time. Time goes by every second of our lives, but what does it mean to us? It represents a chance for us to make goals, or wishes as to what the next year will be like. We make resolutions as to what we want to accomplish in the new year, or we wish, through luck or some other person or force, that the next year be better than the last one.

Every year I hear disc jockeys on the radio joke about New Year’s resolutions and the jokes are made because many people fail to quit smoking, lose weight, find their soul mate in life, or do any other number of other things. I think we fail to achieve our resolutions because we fail to take time seriously.

We don’t realize its impact on our lives. We usually don’t work with it so it does its own job on us.

Time passes and once it’s gone we’ll never relive it again. Einstein won a Nobel Prize for this concept. But most never learn to make the most of it. Why? Maybe we really know nothing of the concept of control. We would prefer to engage in what might be called everyday distractions – video poker, playing the lottery, internet porn – rather than plan what we’re going to do with our time.

Those who do plan are taking a serious look at their potential and are rare among humans, the above mentioned Einstein is an example.

Maybe we like to feel helpless. If we actually plan and work toward goals we sometimes find that we might fail on the way to our goals, and in failing, we’re reminded of our limitation, something which often doesn’t exist in our dreams or fantasies, which can be played out in full in playing the lottery, video poker, and most of all in internet porn.

If we planned more and entered the world of possibility then maybe we’d find out more about ourselves, about our potential, and what we can do and what we mean to this world. But will the world ever gain much knowledge on our potential? If we read the bad news headlines that are at the top of the media food chain I’m afraid it usually doesn’t. But our world, or humanities’ collective memory of our interaction with space and time, already has a story to tell – in the book of history – about our ups, or downs, our faults and our potentials. Will we ever have the courage to confront our past and improve on it? If we listen to all of our friends around the New Year, I would say no.

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written by Saab Lofton “You’re a Starfleet officer. We don’t put civilians at risk or even potentially at risk to save ourselves. Sometimes, that means we lose the battle and sometimes our lives, but if you can’t make that choice, then you can’t wear that uniform.”

--Captain Sisko, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

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h, if only the American military adhered to such a code of honor. The problem, of course, is that white supremacist fear of being bred out (oil is but one motive). Since only white can make white (take a good look at Oscar winner Halle Berry or that overrated pretty boy Obama to see what I mean), the fear is that another 9-11 will further reduce the amount of whites by however much, so the consensus is the ends justify the means. In other words, no matter how many people are tortured in Guantánamo Bay, no matter how many people are raped in Abu Ghraib, no matter how many civilians had phosphorus dumped on them in Fallujah, no matter how many children are hideously deformed by depleted uranium, it’s SUPPOSEDLY worth it – so long as white suburbia remains unscathed.

Frightening, isn’t it? I mean, Reese Witherspoon and Natalie Portman are fine, and all, but damn! Are they really worth laying waste to the Middle East? Will it trigger a cosmic apocalypse if your descendants look like Ice T or Mariah Carey? The answer to both questions is NO and NO! I doN’T give a three-legged rat’s ass if planes crash into buildings every hour on the hour, there’s NO excuse of being Machiavellian!

I can already see I’ll need some backup, so here’s Norman Solomon, one of the most acclaimed journalists of all time... www. counterpunch.org/solomon05072004.html “Racial biases make the war process easier when the people being killed and maimed aren’t white people. An oversized elephant in the American media’s living room is a reality that few journalists talk about in public: The USA keeps waging war on countries where the victims resemble people who often experience personal and institutional racism in the United States... with the exception of Serbs, the victims of Pentagon firepower have been people of color who’ve looked different than the USA’s white majority and power structure. In the United States, racial biases have helped to grease the war machinery. We may want to view the large number of Latino and black GIs as reassurance that U.S. warfare is race-neutral. But the decision to launch a war is hardly democratic. Soldiers, by definition, follow orders that result from a political process: Skewed by the inequities of power and the effects of prejudice. We might prefer to believe that racism plays no part in the politics and media coverage of U.S. foreign policy. But that’s about as plausible as the claim that racism plays no part in American society.”

This is one of the reasons I’m such a hard core Trekkie. In Star Trek, after First Contact is made with an alien race (note the proper use

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of the term race), the Human race finally unites (it’s kinda hard for a teabagger to obsess over his daughter being with a nigger when there’s a green-skinned creature wanting a crack at her), which means the show’s white characters are NOT desensitized to the plight of tan/brown people. However, I’m NOT waiting for aliens to arrive! The American military needs to improve now! I’m tired of heartbreaking headlines about how some inbred retard has committed yet another Human rights violation!

It slays me when motherfuckers claim that exposing the American military’s many Human rights violations will somehow put soldiers at risk. Well, as the band Funkadelic used to sing, “if you don’t like the effects, don’t produce the cause.” If y’all don’t want terrorists taking revenge, then y’all need to join Amnesty International! Duh! The American military is clearly in dire need of positive role models: The Lone Ranger needs to replace John Wayne and Batman needs to replace Dirty Harry. Why? Because both characters use non-lethal tactics/weaponry. The Lone Ranger only shoots to wound and this scene from Batman Begins says it all ...

BRUCE WAYNE: No. I’m no executioner.

THE LEAGUE OF SHADOWS: Your compassion is a weakness your enemies will not share.

BRUCE WAYNE: That’s why it’s so important.

It separates us from them... I will go back to Gotham and I will fight men like this, but I will not become an executioner.

Tasers, tranquilizer darts, knockout gas bombs – a wide variety of non-lethal weaponry exists today, so there’s NO excuse!

Fools who lack imagination will want a real life role model, so allow me to re-introduce Warrant Officer Hugh Thompson Junior to the world: During the Vietnam Invasion/Occupation, Thompson flew over the infamous My Lai Massacre (March 16th, 1968) and spotted a dozen civilians, including children, running from American soldiers. Thompson then landed between them and ordered his men to fire on any solider who kept him from rescuing a civilian.

Those dozen lives were saved.

Warrant Officer Hugh Thompson Junior is LONNNNG overdue to have a major motion picture based on his heroics. When I see BEAUTIFUL women squealing in ecstasy over him – EN MASSE, mind you – then my work will be done and I can retire.

myspace.com/stlouissinner

StoptheDrugWar.org Medical Marijuana Bill Defeated in Illinois House

by Phillip Smith, January 07, 2011 Lawmakers in Springfield Thursday voted to reject a bill that would have allowed some Illinois patients access to medical marijuana. The bill, SB 1381, was defeated in the House by a vote of 56-60.

There is no joy in Springfield...

The measure had passed the state Senate on a 30-28 vote in May, meaning that passage by the House would have sent the measure to the desk of Gov. Pat Quinn (D) and made Illinois the 16th medical marijuana state once he signed it.

The bill would have given patients suffering from chronic, debilitating medical conditions, such as cancer, multiple sclerosis, or glaucoma, the right to possess up to two ounces for their own use. It would also have allowed them or designated caregivers to grow up to six plants, three of which could be flowering. That number was lowered from seven during consideration by the Senate.

The House sponsor of the bill, Rep. Lou Lang (D-Skokie) had pressed for a vote on the bill this week, saying it would pass if all supporters showed up. They didn’t, but undaunted by the defeat, Lang told St. Louis Today he planned to reintroduce the bill.

“I am going to continue to press on—on this particular piece of legislation, or some version of it—until I pass it,” Lang said. “Next year, the year after ... I’m a young man. I’ll be here awhile.”

There is still an outside chance the bill could be passed this session. As the Marijuana Policy Project noted in a Friday email to supporters, a representative who voted no on the bill can file for a motion of reconsideration to bring the bill up for another vote. One has already done so, the group reported.

This Week's Corrupt Cops Stories

by Phillip Smith, January 05, 2011, (Issue #665)

It’s a Texas trifecta this week, plus a Nashville cop buying guns for the cartels, an ATF agent with sticky fingers, and an upstate New York cop with several bad habits. Let’s get to it: In Nashville, Tennessee, a former Nashville police officer was found guilty December 20 of lying when purchasing weapons he intended to smuggle to Guatemala. Edwin Ronal Morales was one of five people indicted in 2009 on charges of conspiring to illegally purchase weapons to be smuggled to Guatemalan drug traffickers.

He was found guilty of two count of making false statement for falsely representing himself as the actual buyer when he was really giving the guns to a codefendant to be smuggled out of the country. He faces up to 10 years in prison on each count.

In Beaumont, Texas, two Beaumont police officers pleaded guilty December 22 to misdemeanor charges of tampering with government records for leaving a confidential informant’s name out of statements and testimony.

Officers Brad Bealieu and Eric Heilman also had their peace officer’s licenses suspended for six months.

In Cleveland, Ohio, a Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco & Firearms agent pleaded guilty December 22 to stealing money in an October drug raid. ATF Agent Steven Campbell was part of the team raiding a marijuana dealer in nearby Lyndhurst when he began stuffing cash into his pockets. A DEA agent on the raid turned him in. When confronted, Campbell insisted the only cash he had was his, but when he struggled to resist being handcuffed, $46,000 fell out of his pockets.

In McAllen, Texas, a former Pharr police officer pleaded guilty December 22 to being on the payroll of the Mexican drug cartel the Zetas. Former officer Jaime Beas, 33, had been arrested in a July sting in which he thought he was trading cocaine for high-powered weapons and body armor destined for the Zetas. He lived in a house owned by a Zetas member. The house and four luxury cars were seized by authorities. He pleaded guilty to an organized crime charge.

In McAllen, Texas, a former McAllen police officer was sentenced December 21 to 27 years in federal prison for drug trafficking conspiracy. Former officer Francisco Meza-Rojas had led a group that smuggled cocaine and pot into the Rio Grande Valley, but after being arrested in 2006 broke out of jail and fled to Mexico until he was arrested in July. He had pleaded guilty earlier this year to conspiracy to possess cocaine and marijuana with intent to distribute.

In Niagara Falls, New York, a former Niagara Falls police officer was sentenced December 22 to nearly 14 years in prison for tipping off drug dealers to police investigations, buying crack cocaine on duty, and groping a woman he had pulled over. Former officer Ryan Warme had pleaded guilty in April to three felonies in exchange for a 10-year sentence, but got additional time added on after admitting threatening a prisoner who was set to testify against. He pleaded guilty to deprivation of civil rights under color of law, using and carrying his Niagara Falls Police Department-issued pistol during a drug transaction and conspiracy to distribute more than five grams of crack cocaine.

In Shakopee, Minnesota, a former Carver County sheriff’s detective was sentenced December 28 to six months in jail for stealing methamphetamine from the department’s evidence vault in Chaska. Daniel Kahlow, an 18-year-veteran, went down after authorities noticed the drugs had been tampered with and saw him entering the vault in a surveillance video. He admitted ripping off the meth for his personal use and told investigators he had been smoking meth for about a year. Kahlow copped a plea to second-degree possession of meth. He begins serving his sentence this month.

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Bitching with Buddha Lu c i fe r

HI THERE, Well, it’s time for Lucifer to breakout the old crystal ball and make his predictions for 2011.

Sarah Palin will announce her immaculate conceived pregnancy. The result of God’s second cumming and the return of the Christ. She also announces that God instructed her to seek the Presidency as the Tea Party/Republican candidate in 2012. Scandals follow her candidacy as YouTube videos appear of her drinking beer while pregnant. Labeled “the world’s worst holy mom”, her political career comes to an end when it is finally revealed that the real father of her baby was her neighbor’s illegal pool boy, Geraldo and not God. The TSA will, again, be under scrutiny as a terrorist succeeds in detonating a home-made bomb he hides in is his rectum. Labeled “The Butt Hole Bomber” the explosion will not damage the plane which lands safely, but several passengers will be sickened by the smell and mess. “It was like a giant fart gone terribly wrong”, will quote one passenger.

Questioned as to how the bomber managed to sneak his explosive on board, a spokesman for the TSA will say that agents were busy searching a troop of college cheerleaders for explosives. “We had to make sure they were real”, will add the spokesman. “They were real and they were magnificent”, will quote another unnamed source at the TSA. The TSA will also announce new passenger inspection procedures as a result of the Butt Hole Bomber, can you guess what they are?

Students will continue to riot in the rest of the world over increases for college tuition. “It is the only way we have to advance out of poverty and now only the richest families can afford to send their children to college”, will quote one Argentinian student. And in the United States, students will continue their ugly and often hurtful twitter comments as anger mounts at shrinking financial aid and increasing college tuition.

Our world is full of paradoxes which is no less true of the financial world. The Fed will continue its policies designed to devalue the Dollar to make U.S. exports cheaper in foreign markets. The other countries will respond by printing more money, which in turn devalues their own currency in what is a mad race to the bottom. By year’s end the Mexican Peso will become the world’s most stable and valuable currency. “I think the rest of the world is crazy but at least I can now feed my family,” will quote an unnamed Mexican peasant farmer.

The EU will remain in crisis as the Euro plummets in value due to the down grading of Spain’s Bonds to “Junk” status. Unable to secure new funding the Spanish government will be unable to meet its financial obligations creating the crisis. By late summer the EU will dissolve as Germany refuses to carry any more of the EU’s financial burden.

By the year’s end, Germany will go to the World Court foreclosing on the rest of Europe. “We have finally managed to conquer Europe without firing a single shot. The Fuhrer would be proud”, will quote an unnamed Vatican official.

By year’s end Wiki links will release new US emails from the State Department to China, Israel, Saudi Arabia and Mexico requesting $2 billion for a U.S. invasion of Iran. China’s reply will be “No.” Israel will reply that it could do it for a quarter of price. Saudi Arabia will reply that it could get Israel to do it for half that price. Mexico will label the email as “junk mail” and not reply.

If you want to talk to God, see a psychiatrist, or email: god@theseattlesinner.com. To intercourse with the dark lord Lucifer, drink a bottle of Everclear, or email: lucifer@theseattlesinner.com.

8

myspace.com/stlouissinner

HELLO, ST. LOUIS!... AND WELCOME TO THE ELEVENTH EPISODE OF

OUR SINFUL COMMUNITY!

Hello again, St. Louis. I’m still your host, Chet Chesterson, and my job, once again, is to feature some of our local businesses and celebrities with a bit of sinful flare to them. So all you in the audience please stand up and give yourselves a round of applause for supporting your sinful community, and all you folks out there watching in TV-Land, give yourself a pat on the back, too. You each deserve it!

I would say that they should strap on some skates a try to hang for a practice. We ease guys into our practices and training and it is still an ass kicking for most. Once you see the game the way that it is played today, no one should walk away questioning how tough the sport is. Real rules, real hits, real injuries.

I certainly know the injuries are real, I’ve been to a couple of your practices. Before we run out of time, when does the new season begin, and how many bouts will you have locally?

Our season starts March 26th at Midwest Sports complex in Queeny Park. We have six local bouts lined up (one bout a month) and a Championship. This is going to be an intense season of local play. Everyone in the GateKeepers wants to win the first Championship in the worst way.

And one last question: Where can folks here find more info about the GateKeepers?

That’s an easy one, Chet. Our schedule and other relevant information can be found on our website at: www.stlgatekeepers.com. And season passes are available until January 31st for $45!

A

LRIGHT, ST. LOUIS...

READY TO RUMBLE?...

WHO’S

Then get on your feet and make some noise for our first guest of 2011, Scott, “Magnum P.I.M.P.” Meyer – the main man behind St. Louis’ very own men’s roller derby league, The Gatekeepers.

So How are you doing tonight, Scott? You look a little beat up... just joking. I know you just came from practice.

Great, Chet...

Alright then, good to hear you’re healthy... tell me who The GateKeepers are?

The StL GateKeepers are the men’s roller derby league in town. We are made up of three local teams: the South Grand Slammers, Riverfront Crimes and the Dogtown Red Rockets. The All Stars from each team combine to make our Travel Team that plays nationally.

And which team do you play for, Magnum?

I play for the Red Rockets, Chet...

That’s some pretty exciting names for a new team, but how did this project began?

I started the team with a fellow derby referee, Bat Wing, in November of 2009. It began with other referees, boyfriends/husbands of derby girls and derby fans and has grown to include people who have no previous affiliation with derby.

And how did you get involved with The GateKeepers?

I started refereeing roller derby in February of 2006. I was Head Referee for the Arch Rival Roller girls for three years and also bench coached their travel team for two years. I stepped down to just reffing (not head ref) with ARRG while I started the league.

Now that things are up and running I am back to coaching ARRG’s Travel Team as well as the GateKeepers.

Man, that sounds like a lot of work and time to put into a sport, Magnum... so what’s been the most challenging aspect of this new venture for you, personally?

Running a derby league takes a ton of time and commitment. Everything that we do we have to do ourselves. I have very ambitious plans for the GateKeepers and it takes a lot of work to make it happen. I could spend a full work week just doing derby stuff but unfortunately derby doesn’t pay... yet.

I hear you, Magnum... and I know the sacrifice

you’re talking about – boy, do I. So let me ask you this: How many other teams are in the US right now that The GateKeepers could potentially compete against?

The governing body for men’s derby is the Men’s Derby Coalition. There are 11 teams that make up MDC. There are roughly 20 other teams that are working to get their league to the level that they can join MDC. It seems like every couple weeks there is a new men’s team popping up. This is an exciting time for men’s derby.

It sure sounds like it, Magnum. And speaking of the other teams and the GateKeepers’ competitiveness, how did you guys fare last year in your first season?

Last year our record was 6-1. We had a great year! Our only loss was to the Puget Sound Outcasts (Seattle’s team) by one point in the Championship bout of the Spring Roll tournament.

We were only six months old at the time and have a rematch against them in May. With the teams we have scheduled at this years’ Spring Roll, we can establish ourselves at the #1 team in the country. The GateKeepers of today would murder our team from that time... I am really looking forward to the rematch with the Outcasts.

Well, you’ve got me excited now... the folks from The Sinner are from Seattle and talk about how tough the teams up there are, especially those Rat City Roller Girls.

Ok, now the tough question, Magnum.

You know I’m certainly a big fan, but what would you say to someone who doesn’t think that roller derby is that tough of a “man’s” sport, compared to hockey or football?

Well, thanks so much for stopping in, Magnum.

And we all look forward to seeing you guys take the championship later this year... Until then, be sure to get out and support your sinful community!

9

Deverie FX

ENEMIES WITH BENEFITS (part one)

by Gabriel C. Zolman IT WAS A MEATWAGON CALLED DESIRE. On our second date, she arrived at my apartment drunk enough to pre-embalm her corpse, should spontaneous human combustion fail to scorch her pierced and perfume-drenched remains into a smoldering blackened smear across the seat. Before I could even register, she had yanked me out the door—swiftly as her limbs could clumsily respond—and right into her ominously purring sports car, planting a violent lipstick-smearing drool-splat vodka kiss against my face, while she quickly hit the locks…and then, the gas. She sped off with me in tow/in shock, against the waning sun, a cool burgeoning night wind, and my impending doom. The top was down—and hers would follow—as she flashed oncoming traffic, screamed at random passers-by, and shamed still-grieving spirits of her ancestors at top speed, running lights and signs. Without a single eye or passing thought upon the road we raced to our demise upon, she turned to me with lazy bloodshot eyes, and confidently slurred, “My boyfriends drive. Men drive. If you’re going to be my man, you’re going to learn to drive.”

She then took her hands off the steering wheel, floored the gas with all her might, and threw her head down in my lap. As I nervously gripped the steering wheel from the passenger seat, barely able to weave us in and out of traffic, she unzipped my pants and wrapped her mouth around my junk…all the while never relenting on the gas, and depending on me to steer us to her house.

Yes…this all really happened. I was 20. And she was my first girlfriend.

We weaved viciously and violently in and out of traffic, and whipped around sharp turns at speeds that should have flung us off the road. I was certain—my young mind never more sure of anything—that she was going to bite my penis off, either by accident or by whim, or that we would spiral head-first into some large oncoming death machine.

The latter almost happened more than once. I’d never driven a car in my life. Hell, I’d only had a blowjob once. And I’d never been so utterly fear-stricken in all my days. I wasn’t even old enough to drink—in fact, I’d never been drunk in my life—and here I was…about to be a furry little corpse photo for the D.A.R.E. cops to use in “scared straight” demonstrations.

I don’t know how we made it home. I really, truly don’t. I also couldn’t tell you why we never saw a cop. The odds still seem unprecedented, though we were blessed with only modest traffic. All that I recall is that, at some vague and merciful moment, we gently rammed into her garage door, and she yelled at me for not clicking the garage remote when she’d handed it to me three panic-inducing turns ago. I stepped out of the car a nervous, shaken mess… but determined to deny her the satisfaction of seeing any shred of fear. She snatched the keys from my hand, and drunkenly giggled at my flustered state as I followed her messy, lumbering steps toward the door. She turned to look at me—and giggled even harder, despite (or because of) my attempt at being stone-faced. You see, I had forgotten to zip my pants back up, and my bits were hanging out in front of her bewildered neighbors, who’d stepped outside the moment we noisily banged into the drive.

I’d finally found something to laugh about with her; it was the first thing in common that we’d shared (apart from madness and saliva) since I had known her...

I followed her drunk and stumbling frame upstairs, into her room. She kicked off her remaining clothes, and sprawled out on the bed. Her eyes rolled back in her head as if possessed, as she writhed across the sheets, and called my name. She informed me, in a bizarre sort of slur reeking of some botched attempt at “sultry,” that I now got the “reward.” The reward, she said, was that I could do whatever I wanted to her—whatever I could think up, with few limits at all.

This would become standard arrangement on future dates: she would achieve stupendous feats of drunkenness with the frequent objective of infuriating or endangering me…and if I made it home with her intact, she would passively disrobe and await further instruction; I could do as I pleased. It was one part Sleeping Beauty, and three parts Hostel.

This was my first relationship. I suppose it tells you all you need to know.

She was beautiful, and often very sweet, in a Jeckyl & Hyde sort of dynamic. At times, she seemed so normal and so perfect—sometimes it would even last for days, though her manic-depression left me frequently on eggshells, perpetually on the defensive, and guarding every phrase. Any random thing could set her off, and end hours or days of calm. The objects of her rage would be seemingly meaningless, but she would carry on as if I’d wounded her very soul. Generally, I could calm her, and the storm would pass as swiftly as it came. But if left alone and understimulated, she would nip from hidden bottles—mostly inexpensive vodka—and pretend as if I didn’t know. And then the night began.

Ever the young romantic, convinced that love was real and magickal—able to save us all, no less—I was a gentle touch at first, and leery of the freedom I’d been granted. Ever the pastor’s son, I was determined I would save her. From what? I wasn’t sure—but I figured I’d find something, down the road. I had to save her; it’s simply what I did...it’s simply all I knew. I was determined not to abuse the bodily dominion I’d been given. But as months filled in a year, and that year filled out a dungeon full of phobias and hang-ups that I never may unpack in full, I would slowly come to appreciate the fullness of my liberties. With every torment and indignity that she compounded upon me by day, my conscience would come to whisper less and less when it came time to settle scores by night.

This tale/tirade is not quite about sex, despite the expectation. Rather, it concerns a lover’s gaze. There is a look that pierces time itself, like the tattooed teats of any random pink- or purple-haired Suicide Girl that you drunkenly befriended on MySpace when your girlfriend wasn’t looking. It’s not a look of love, or even lust—though desire lends it strength. But it is indeed a look of longing. It is a weary look that seeks to curtail curtain calls, and hasten the inevitable.

I’ve seen it; I’ve received it; I’ve dispensed it.

It is a look that thirsts for death. It’s eyes water with sorrow for a time, but soon they parch with apathy and dread.

It’s a lover’s gaze that loves only the grave…

(But I’ve dug this grave deeply enough tonight; and dispensed more than enough. You will have to wait ‘til next month for the rest. Who’s with me? Tune in...turn on...black out…)

10

)+(

myspace.com/stlouissinner

The Swirl and the Stomp

“Olé, Habibi!” A Flamenco/Belly Dance Fusion show December 3 at the Fox Hole Words by Emily Eufinger • Photos by Dan Costello

A

shake, a shiver, a sigh … there are many differences between the Belly Dancer and the Flamenco Dancer, yet on stage they are as one; souls fused to the music which drives the swirling hips of the Belly Dancer and the crushing heel stomp of the Flamenco Dancer. In the swirl there is presence; there is power in the stomp.

Many millennia ago it was undeniably the oscillating hips of a belly dancer which set in motion the earth’s rotation. The belly dancer moves as though her bones flowed as blood beneath her skin, commanding the audience with a twist of her ankle, the flick of a wrist. It is an art form with no wasted energy; each motion matters, from the bladelike precision of her hips to the extensive discipline of each muscle’s slightest fluctuation.

Enter the gravitational pull of her grace and fluidity through the portal of music from far away lands, a crooning voice of velvety rose-petal elegance backed by the chime of zills and melodies with Portishead’s electronic sensuality.

She makes you feel the pulse of the music with her pulsing hips; your eyes cannot leave her, caught in the tempest of flowing silk scarves, glittering shimmy belts, shells and beads, feathers and flowers, bangle bracelets, and strings of rhinestones. Her movements are subtle yet dramatic: hypnotic undulation of her body’s equator beneath bedlahs that jingle with each exhalation.

And no doubt it was the stomp of a flamenco dancer which tilted the earth on its axis.

The flamenco dancer does not dance until she is ready; she doesn’t dance until she feels the music permeate her very soul. When she rises, she lets her feet speak for her, telling a story both ancient and sad. The crush of her heel upon the stage expresses volumes of jubilation, determination, urgency, frustration, and triumph. The heel that plods the stage has trampled the hearts of poets and philosophers throughout its interminable journey.

She is alone on stage, suffused with the glow of the spotlight. The quiet pride on her face conveys that she does not dance for you; she dances only for herself, and perhaps for a melancholy memory of a time long passed. You may as well not exist while she dances; the whip of her pony tail could demolish you like crashing ocean waves; she could sweep the very thought of you aside with one wave of her billowing skirt. Be grateful she doesn’t look at you, because her gaze could incinerate you, and she wouldn’t trouble herself with disposing of the ashes.

Gathering both the belly dancer and the flamenco dancer onto one stage would at first seem as foolhardy as inviting a hurricane and a tornado to supper at the same table. Yet somehow Final Veil, The Reventones, Los Flamencos, Fringe Benefits, Sumaiya, Anna Bahn, and Sakinah Ali were able to combine these opposing winds in breathtaking harmony, successfully engaging the swirl and the stomp as though they’d always belonged together.

Learn more about the swirl at www. finalveil.com, www.chellcyraks.com/fringe_ benefits.html, www.sumaiyadance.com/home. html, and http://sakinahali.com; experience the stomp at www.los-flamencos.com; The Reventones can be heard at www.myspace. com/duoreventones.

11

Sinful Nights Out... New Year’s Eve Jefferson St. Bistro owner (right) with a local patron getting ready for the New Year! Thanks, for the shots!

NYE! What a blast as usual. If only it could be celebrated for three nights instead of one maybe we could all achieve drunkenness where we would like to without missing any great parties. I meant to be at Lemmon’s for a few before heading to The Way Out Club. Then we had every intention of hitting The Silver Ballroom to finish the night off. Well, it didn’t work that way. We were pretty shot after leaving Jefferson St. Bistro for dinner and drinks... but that’s what happens when the owner starts buying shots!

The Quaaludes at The Way Out, check these cats out asap in 2011!

Loug, Pam, Rock-Roll Machina, The chic from The Quaaludes, and some dude... some time that night!

14

LOUG’s band @ The Way Out!

Rock-Roll Machina on the violin for LOUG’s NYE show!

If you don’t know this cat, you’re not from St. Louis, or you never get out! Bob counting down!

myspace.com/stlouissinner

On The Scene & Heard @ Brewskeez in Florissant with

O

ur good friend Joe Meyer, who seems to be everybody's good friend, plays in this really fun cover band SUPERJAM who pays tribute to all the great arena bands of the 70s.

Remember back in the day going to see five spectacular bands all in a row, all day long into the night? LOVERBOY, CHEAP TRICK, JOURNEY, FOREIGNER, REO SPEEDWAGON, BOSTON, KANSAS, & STYX, always five, but some combination of these bands, usually outdoors down by the river.

And what's even better, SUPERJAM played in our neighborhood, just down the street @ Brewskeez in Florissant. We've hung out here a few times before, but this was the BEST time we've ever had in our own neighborhood. This is a sports bar/meat market/meet after work, stay all night kinda place - great food, lots of beer choices, attentive waitresses, cover bands, a disco ball, cool lighting effects, big screen TVs, lots of games to play (pinball, air hockey, pool), a something-for-everybody kinda atmosphere.

Not to mention, if we can stay close to home, have a good time listening to a really good band AND be home by midnight, I am one happy camper.

Real life blows when you have to get up early the next day.

Watching these guys is a full blown flashback to the late 70s, complete with lava lamps in groovy shades of lime green and cherry red along with a black light poster propped up in the corner and spiraling lights on the dance floor. The band members all dress the part, too, from faded bell bottoms to free flowing hair.

Joe (drummer and interpretative dance - trust me on this one) sports an athletic headband with athletic/ lounge wear and his trademark, ever changing facial hair. He never looks the same, yet somehow, we always find him in the crowd.

This week it was GI Joe... see for yourself...look him up on

Facebook. Oh, yeah, there are other people in the band, too: the bass player, Jeff, really hams it up, very entertaining to watch; Dave the singer does a mean Robin Zander in "Surrender"; and there’s Dave the keyboard player and Eric on lead guitar. This is more than just a stage show, THIS is an EXPERIENCE! With their look and Big Arena Sound, the familiar songs we've all heard before, my husband and I played our favorite game: "What the Hell Song is This?" (name it in 3 notes = bonus points).

There was a great crowd, too, one of the biggest we've ever seen here – enthusiastic dancers, even the people shooting pool in the back of the bar were dancing around their tables. Instead of flicking our bics old school, fans were on the dance floor brandishing their cell phones, taking pics for Facebook.

By midnight the place was hopping and we were reluctant to leave, but I was so glad to see that there was such a good turn out for them. The dance floor was packed, everyone was having a great time and they'll be talking about it all week long, about how long it's been since they've heard "Tom Sawyer" and their favorite song

by Foreigner when they were in high school. And remember THIS song from oh so long ago, when we were young and wild and free.

Now I know you can't wait to go see this band for yourself - you can find them most Thursdays at House Of Rock @ #4 Ronnie's Plaza. And you can look them up on Facebook. And Brewskeez is a great place to hang out, meet up with friends after work for a bite, stay to watch a game, shoot some pool, or catch a show by one of the many cover bands that play here every week.

This promises to be a great year for the local scene, so... Shag Your Ass To A Show Malice

15

Did I hear you say, “pending investigations”?

Yeah, yeah.... I can’t talk about it. this new project of yours... which is, LOUG, Correct?

Yes, L...O...U...G...

To be brutally honest, I wasn’t crazy about the intro, “Tourist”, but I did dig the words, like, “I’d rather be a tourist, when I’m in St. Louis....Cops don’t give a fuck, we don’t use enough... It really is a pity that the crazies run my city....”

Yeah, I thought I’d do a Devo thing, you know?....

Interview and photos by Chuck Foster

OK...so what if someone said, “what’s Tourist about?”

Frustrations with the city, you know....and that’s about it. If that’s not one of your favorite ones, which ones did you like, chuck?

It’s a toss-up, man. I loved

written by Chuck Foster

I

f you’ve ever sat down with Louie at a bar after a Saw show, you know it’s impossible to capture his partyrock essence in an interview in any other manner than in person. And that usually comes with a step outside, a few shots, and several PBRs. That’s Louie. And I can’t even tell you about the parties at his house, in order to protect the local musicians who show up to jam in his basement studio, and those other weirdos, like myself, guilty of too many shots and pictures taken with the Hearse – weather and borderline sobriety permitting.

In all honesty, I really thought a phone interview would be a bit safer realm for this piece, at least more professional; more sober. I don’t know what I was thinking; nor why I was lying to myself. Debauchery was our fate, as usual, even if only for a few brief moments before one of us freaked one another out, or passed out. At least one of us bastards are known for that. So the only way to start this gig was with a cheap bourbon and water – and a step outside while Loug Sawed Off Volume 1 played away in the background. Stepping back in, it actually went something like this, word for drunken word....

Hey Lou, what are you doing?

I’m sittin’ around, man...you know, sittin’ around...

Well, let me give you the official statement on The Saw...

OK! Hold on a second... Louie, my first question is, “What happened to The Saw? Fans and old members want to know... Or you can give me “the official statement”. Or you can pass, but I know some people want to know.

You Know, being in that band for twenty years was really takin’ its toll on me, and all these friggin’ pending investigations and shit like that, you know, like your bands couldn’t leave the state, was getting to be a bit much.

Did I hear you say, “pending investigations”?

Yeah, yeah.... I can’t talk about it.

That’s cool, man... So, once again, did I hear you say, “pending investigations”?

Yeah, man, restraining orders. I mean, half the band wasn’t even allowed to leave, you know, the state. So how were we going to go on tour? It just got to be a big hassle, you know... And I’ll always be proud of those guys, but then, you know, I can’t even stand to be in the same room with them right now...

We won’t print anything like that. That’s

Oh, easy...uhhhh, The Nevermores....uhmmm, Gorerock, and Uhmmm...

OK. That’s two... uhmmm....Who else?

Give me five, man...Tell me you know five fuckin’ bands...

Lovely Destruction...

OK. Lovely Destruction. Three...

Uhmmm...shit, uhmmm.... Electronic Triceratops...

Is that really a band? Or are you just making that shit up now?

Yeah, that’s Joe’s band. They’re awesome...

Ok. Four. Who’s the fifth band?

Ahhh, shit. Let me think... uhmmm...(strange noises that can not be interpreted) ... Oh, uhmmm,... The Quaaludes.

I love The Quaaludes....

Oh, Oh, OH!... and ANAL... Put ANAL on there. Is that five now?

UNMASKED totally off the record...

Why not.... If Ace ever jumps on stage with me again and dances around in a circle, in his pathetic attempt to steal my spotlight, I’ll kick his ass off the stage... and that goes for the rest of the old Saw, too... especially Mike’s drunk ass! ...Moving on, Lou...since I featured The Saw several months ago in The Sinner, I run into all sorts of venue bookers and managers that are fans of The Saw, some who have even been in the band year’s past...

So can you name all of The Saw members in a row from start to finish?

NO...ha, ha, ha!

Can you say, roughly, how many Saw members there have been over the years?

About, 30... I can tell you who I started it with...

Alright, who’d you start it with?

Uhmmm...Al Swacker, Jeff Hess, and uhhhh..

Chip,uhhhh, Chip Saw.... but actually Hess Saw and Al Saw... but I guess you can put Swacker down as a celebrity...

With all that said about “The Saw”, let’s talk about

“Hard Workin’ Man” and “Out of Here”. Speaking of “Out of Here”, when I was at your place that day, with several other protected criminals, recording the back-up vocals for “Party Girl” – for some ungodly reason – how did that track almost not make the LP? Ha,ha,ha,ha.... well, I guess we wrote about 15 songs and picked the best 9. So I don’t know, man. It was just selected, you know, when everybody liked it. It was a good party song, you know. It’s got those screamin’ psychedelic guitars.

So then, let me ask you about part of the lyrics. You say, “I can’t stand that band, I’m out of here...” correct?

(A short pause)...Yeah...ha,ha,ha,ha...

What are you saying in this song, Lou? That sometimes in the “scene” you “can’t stand that band” and you want to get out of there, or that you can’t stand the scene sometimes and you have to get out of there. I mean, what do you mean?

(A strange breathing sound followed by)....uhmmm, I don’t know, I want to leave that song to everybody’s interpretation ‘cause it has lots of different meanings... you know what I mean? I don’t want to give up all the answers...

That’s cool... and a really good answer, too. I meant that to be a tough one, on the spot. It’s one of my favorite songs and I interpreted it several different ways. When you told me that song “almost” didn’t make it, I was like, Shit, man! That’s a pretty tight song.

It was weird, we put it on, we recorded it, and it was kind of a joke. And, you know, we were just jammin’ it, and all of a sudden everyone liked it so much. Then we went in and recorded it the same way that we did it when we jammed it.

Yeah, that’s five now....

OK!....

Wait... that makes it your top six. We got distracted, man....

Alright, back to this interview... just say that after an all-ages show some kid from the crowd walks up to you and asks if it’s all fame and fortune, like MTV. What would you say?

I’d say that there isn’t a ton of money in it.... now the “_ _ _ _ _” (deleted for unmentionable reasons, fill in the blank) and dope, and the booze are there...ha,ha,ha,ha.......!

SAY WHAT? Can I quote you as saying that?

HA,HA,HA,HA,HA,HA,HA..............! I cant say “_ _ _ _ _” cause Pam will shoot me in the head...

I’ll do so in the past tense, or bleeped out...

HA,HA,HA,HA,HA,HA,HA..............!

Any last thoughts to hype, or folks to promote?

Yeah, I’m gonna have Loug Sawed Off Volume 1 available for free at The Way Out Club for now, at any show, and you’ll be able to find a few here and there in this issue of The Sinner, at unknown locations. And you’ll be able to find them at The Silver Ballroom really soon, too...

Speaking of the Silver Ballroom, Steve (Doc) said that he really wanted to catch your show at The Way Out on NYE, but he had to stick it out at The Ballroom....

Hell man, he used to be in The Saw...

No shit... I never knew that!....

Nope? He fucking answered a flier for Al (Swacker) when he was looking for a dummer... and that’s how he joined The Saw. Really? God-damned! That trips me out...

I was the first person he met when he got off the boat from Australia, man... me and Al... and then he rejoined the band (The Saw) right before you guys came here....

No shit! I just missed that line-up...

Yeah, man, he’s awesome....and his brother was at our show on NYE, man... remember?

Alright, I just got finished listening to “The Monkey”.

I really liked that song for a finale on the new disc...

Yeah, I love that song...

Not really, I was so fucked up that I can’t remember seeing him or anyone else. I don’t think we should put that shit in this piece, for obvious reasons...

Oh No!...ha,ha,ha,ha.... absolutely not!!!

So... what’s “The Monkey” about?

Well, it has two meanings. It could be, uhmmm, Big Brother Watching you.... and it could be, you know, somebody who is invading your space and stalking you.

Well, I’ve got you on tape now, Lou... bleeped out and all. But mostly, Unmasked!

Oh No, Man!...

I got you... you have a monkey on your back. But then he leaps from your back, climbs a telephone pole, and points a 9mm at your head...

Ha,ha,ha,ha... exactly...

OK, then.... oh, shit!.... One last question: how can someone find more about LOUG? We have a Facebook page, just search for LOUG.

OK Lou... how about this: who are your top five St. Louis bands? If you could suggest five bands for our readers to check out this year, who would they be?

Well. This was certainly a LOUG of sorts!!!! Hope you taste one soon....

Mayhem At Mandina’s Free Show January 8th

Text & Photos by Chuck Foster

There’s only one way to put this show into words, and that’s with a question: How do you transform a mom & pop sports bar in North St. Louis (1319 St. Louis Ave.) into a thrashing, kick-ass rock show?

You bring in Death And A Promise (above with fans) and The Humanoides (left and below)! Then you throw it for free and serve dollar PBRs all night – well, they do that all day every day, anyway! If you missed this show, you started the New Year off on a bad note!

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The Sinful Photography Of

MELISSA SCHRAMM

I

Written by Chuck Foster 18

f there’s one artist in St. Louis who deserves to be exposed by any media outlet, it’s Melissa Schramm. Her photography will make the most seasoned publisher pull hair when it comes to choosing one of her images for a front cover, even for a centerfold spread for that matter. She has traveled the globe, and her shots of Thailand alone are worthy of any magazine, including Time and National Geographic. When it comes to her more sinful nature, I can’t even begin to describe the difficulty in choosing photos for this piece, nor the pain in rejecting so many sinful shots due to our limited space.

To describe Melissa’s roots in any other manner than morbid would be a gross deception. She speaks of her childhood in a grave manner, of days in Germany with her father, and their visit to a church on the Czech border which displayed skeletons of priests behind glass. She believes it was then that her obsession with the macabre started.

She admits those feelings only intensified at the age of twelve, when her mother was shot by her boyfriend, who then turned the gun on himself. Her mother survived by dragging herself to a neighbors house. Although she feels that death has been an active theme through most of her life, she admits not all was doom and gloom. She remembers her father introducing her to burlesque as a teenager, their visits to an underground vaudeville bar in Prague with its thick, red, velvet curtains, tiny beaded lamps at the tables, and beautiful eastern European show girls with big feather fans. Good times indeed.

Melissa moved back to America in 1999 and has been in St. Louis pretty much ever since. Her photography began in college when a childhood friend of hers stationed in Afghanistan during the war sent her a digital camera for her birthday, her very first one. She says it was the gift that kept on giving.

And it was then that she began to shoot everything from abandon buildings, to friends, to herself. Unlike many photographers, Melissa is self taught. She has never taken a photography or photoshop class. While she admits that some of her earlier work is almost embarrassing, she notes that she can see the progress as an artist in her technique and content.

When I asked about her choice in cameras, which she preferred to shoot with, she proudly admits to being a faithful Sony user. As a matter of fact, that’s the only type of camera she’s ever owned. “I get a lot of flack about it but I always say, ‘Sony makes amazing video game platforms, why can’t they make bad-ass cameras?’

They can!” Melissa also collects vintage cameras of all brands, but never shoots with them. Her prized possession is a camera that was given to her when her father passed. It was used by her father to capture the aftermath of Hamburg when it was bombed, and created a photo album of his she treasures greatly today.

As far as the camera capturing the beauty or the beauty being in the eye of the beholder, Melissa believes real art comes from the pains and traumas of life, whether it be through music, painting, photography, writing, etc. She says that she’s been in artists’ studios where they have “a top-of-the line set up and their pictures are bland and missing heart and passion.” On the other side of the coin, she says that there are photographers who she’s been following for years that shoot with “old crappy cameras” and produce work that truly intimidates her.

Even though her image of Holly (featured below) was not picked to be on the cover, I was intrigued by that particular shot and its background. Melissa explained that the shoot was actually done many years ago. That her and Holly went out to this hangar to do a shoot with another local photographer (jfm photography), where they had an inspiring time talking to the vets about their time as war pilots. As far as her beautiful muse, Holly, Melissa says that she is great to work with because she can do her own makeup, gives you exactly what you want and can look different in every picture.

When asked about some of the effects used, she only says, “Well, that’s my little secret :)” I also was curious about her fascination with abandoned buildings, which has its own folder on her many sites. She admits to having a borderline, unhealthy obsession with the abandoned, that she’s been in neighborhoods that she shouldn’t have been and broken into places that were not safe by any means. With more thought, she believed this to be a two part answer: the first is she sees how these buildings used to be beautiful in their time, imagining their life and the memories that they hold; the second part to that is her own personal feelings of abandonment. Adding, “I have had a lot of people leave in my life and through it all I still stand, just like these beautiful buildings.”

I asked Melissa what had been the most challenging aspect of photography for her, and the most rewarding? The most challenging, she says, is finding good, reliable models in this small town. And she admits to being a little picky. Overall she prefers women that look like they’re straight out of the 20s or 50s or completely tattooed – and she knows that there’s a big difference in those qualities. The most rewarding aspect of photography for her, though, is when she creates a piece that is extremely personal and meaningful to her and someone understands the message. “It makes me feel like I’ve done my job.”

Last, I asked Melissa if she had any final thoughts or shouts? “I give shout-outs to what’s left of my family, my amazing and supportive sister... Love that’s left me and given me the pain to create. Love that has stayed with me that has given me the courage to go on.

My friends are some of my biggest supporters. Besides my sister, two important women in my life are Denise, who I have known since I was ten; and Holly, who I have been through hell with over the past decade. My two great friends Craig and Wolfgang have pushed me to further myself creatively when I didn’t think that I could and I appreciate that tremendously. I would also like to recognize the amazingly talented Cindy Royal, she has become my adopted mother and she has so much love to give and I adore her. And lastly, I would like to give a big shout out to my previous job for letting me go. It is has given me the time to focus on my art and I am creating some of my best work to date! My last words: Never give up on something that you believe in or have a passion for, even if people discourage you.”

To find more about Melissa, or to view more of her sinful works, log on to: www.myspace.com/schrammphotography, or www.flickr. com/photos/schrammphotography. And to reach her for pricing, shoots or quotes, email her at: m.schrammphotography@gmail.com or schrammphotography@hotmail.com.

myspace.com/stlouissinner

THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS OF...

JENNA PAUL

Photo by Rick Gould

I

really can’t say how many times I’ve spoken with Jenna, perhaps one of the sweetest bartenders I’ve ever met in St. Louis. NOT to sound sexist, or perverted, she’s an amazing 34–24-36; or at least she’s comfortable with me comparing her to those numbers for this piece since she really doesn’t know herself. That’s the kind of gal she is, modest, outgoing, friendly.

Originally form Jefferson County, Jenn Paul is now a full time mommy, and a part time bar tender at DB’s Sports bar. Even though she is spoken for, Jenna says that her “Turn-ons” are leopard prints, long legs, green eyes, and men with unique tattoos. Just so you know, her “turn-offs” are tribal tattoos, chest tattoos on women, and selfish people.

Her ideal night is going out for dinner and drinks, as is staying in and watching movies all night, which depends on her mood. She’s most passionate about being a great mommy and trying to raise her son to be a perfect/smart little gentleman.

And to sum her up, she admits to being cute, fun, and loving making people laugh.

And if you like what you’ve heard here about Jenna, or saw, she says you can find her behind the bar every Tuesday for lunch and happy hour at DB’s, where you can buy one, get one all day!

And now I give you the Seven Deadly Sins of Jenna Paul...

GREED

I guess I am greedy when it comes to people’s time and attention. Not in a bad way though.

WRATH

I get very angry when people lie to me. And at assholes who harass girls on the highway.

SLOTH

Very guilty...I have my days where I wish I could sleep all day and I wouldn’t even feel bad about it.

Most people hate sleeping in because then their day is wasted but that doesn’t even bother me. Haha!

I do need to start exercising though.

I hear from others It really changes the way you feel mentally and physically, and it’s just a good habit to get started.

GLUTTONY

I was blessed with a great body before and after my baby. And I eat what I want when I want. Nothing better than some yummy food!

ENVY

I think everyone is guilty of being envious at times. I try hard not to envy people because it usually just brings you down. I try to be happy with myself and make myself a better person instead of spending time being envious of others.

PRIDE

Guilty. But I’m not mad about it!

LUST

Guilty...I am always lusting for new and different things.

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writtenby byMatthew MatthewGorman Gorman written

O

ne of the most enigmatic specimens of inexplicable phenomenon in existence today is that of cattle mutilation. This is a world-wide occurrence wherein cattle are found dead, missing organs that have been removed with a surgical precision, and with their corpses often completely insanguinated (drained of blood). In addition, there appears to be no evidence of natural predation. No tracks, signs of struggle or even blood are found upon the ground, and the wounds inflicted to the cattle do not resemble those made by animals such as coyotes or wolves. A large part of the phenomenon’s inherent mystery lies in the fact that there have been literally thousands of pieces of tangible evidence (i.e. strangely killed cows) attesting to its validity.

Indeed, since the first documented reports of bizarre cattle mutilations in North America in the 1970’s, there have been well over 10,000 documented cases. In addition, horses, sheep and other animals are often found mutilated in a similar fashion. Often, there are reports of UFOs and/or unmarked, black helicopters in the vicinity just before or after these mutilations occur. This fact, of course, leading to continued speculation about extraterrestrial involvement and/or some clandestine government agency at work behind this grisly happenstance.

The first officially reported case of cattle mutilation phenomenon occurred in Gallipolis, Ohio in 1963, although many sources cite the first nationally recognized case of an eerily unsolvable animal mutilation to be that of a horse named Snippy found dead in Alamosa, Colorado in 1967. Poor Snippy was discovered with the flesh of his head and neck stripped clean to the bleach-white and bloodless bone, and with his chest organs neatly excised without leaving a drop of his blood behind. The partial or complete disappearance of a mutilated animal’s blood has been a continuously frequent characteristic in the thousands of mutilation cases ever since.

It was Fall of 1973 when the first major wave of cattle mutilations hit amongst the livestock of Minnesota and Kansas, sending shock waves of disbelief amongst the affected cattle ranchers and authorities alike. Satanists were originally blamed for the killings, but this hypothesis, like the cows themselves, was full of holes. Cows were found with organs such as ears, eyeballs, udders, genitalia and anuses cleanly removed but as previously mentioned, without any traces of the animals’ blood or of tracks of any kind. Frequently, large oval-shaped incisions were found in the cow’s hides and organs were neatly extricated, again, without a trace of blood or even bone fragments in or around

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these wounds. Jaws were often surgically stripped of flesh or missing completely, and the bovines’ tongues were taken in many cases after being severed deep inside their throats with a similar precision. What appeared to be clamp marks were commonly found around the cow’s legs, as well, leading some investigators to speculate that the animals may have been airlifted, mutilated, and then returned to the fields and pastures that they had originally occupied. Several eye-witnesses to these and other strings of cattle mutilations that occurred later in other states reported seeing UFOs sucking up cows with what appeared to be tractor beams or lasso-like strands of energy, and two alien abductee claimants “recall” seeing cattle being mutilated aboard alien vessels while undergoing hypnotic regression.

There may, in fact, be something to this alien hypothesis. The carcasses of cows and their surrounding environs exhibit abnormally high levels of radioactivity after mutilations occur. In addition, predators and scavengers who would normally consume remains left out to pasture will not come near the previously mutilated cattle. Also, the precise incisions often show evidence of extremely high heat levels that have cauterized the edges of the wounds almostt instantly, fueling some imagination with images of alien laser beams.

Of course, in true debunker fashion, multitudes of skeptics have offered up plausible and completely natural explanations for this phenomenon. Two Kansas state troopers, for example, conducted an experiment wherein they left the untouched body of a deceased cow out side in a field, claiming that they then observed such scavengers as vultures and blow flies consuming the corpse in such a way as to soon render it identical to those bovine remains of the purported mutilation phenomenon. The birds and insects would consume the softer exposed portions such as the tongue, the rectum and the sex organs first. A particular person of note in the skeptic’s camp is one Kenneth Rommel. Rommel, a 28-year veteran

of the FBI, then retired, was awarded a government grant from the U.S. Justice Department to research an epidemic of cattle mutilations in the state of New Mexico in May of 1979.

H i s findings, after consulting with a slew of professionals and doing personal fieldwork as well, are presented in “The Rommel Report”. In this report, he concludes that the cattle mutilation phenomenon is simply the result of natural predation and decay feeding first upon the most tender parts of the animals. The so-called precision cuts and oval-shaped wounds, he asserts, are simply the necrotic bloating of dead animals, splitting apart with even lines as they fester. As, for the lack of blood around the open wounds, this is due, according to Rommel, to the animal’s blood settling to the lower parts of the carcass after death. And that the lack of blood on the ground was the result of its rapid consumption by predators and scavengers.

However, professional cattle mutilation proponents, like Denver-based leading authority Linda Moulton Howe, find these skeptical assertions to be both glib and superfluous, as they fail to take into account strange yet certifiable data, such as the complete and utter absence of blood in many of the slaughtered cattle, as well as the evidence of the use of extreme heat and the subsequent cauterization of the livestocks’ wounds during the excision process. In some cases this cauterization resulted from heat in the hundreds and even thousands of degrees. Howe has been quoted as saying with regards to Rommel and his government funded report,“...I believe he’s being paid to cover up the real cause of the mutilations.”

The Fyfee, Alabama Police Department began their own ongoing investigation into the cattle mutilation phenomenon after a wave of mutilations began there in 1992. They were soon joined by the local authorities from neighboring communities as the killings spread throughout rural Alabama. And, as in other states where mutilations occurred, there were an extreme number of unmarked, black helicopter and UFO sightings during the time of the Alabama killings as well.

Two particularly interesting cases came out of Alabama during this period when well over 100 head of cattle were mysteriously slain and dissected. The first occurred on January 31, 1993 when investigators responded to a Dawson, Alabama rancher’s claim of a recent mutilation. Upon arriving, they found the blood-drained carcass of one of the rancher’s Black Angus cows with its genitals and rectum completely excoriated, its jaw stripped clean in the hallmark oval pattern of such mutilations, and the animal’s tongue missing. The investigators also recovered a flaky, white substance on the cow and on the earth surrounding it, which was immediately sent to the Fyfee Police department. There, as the material was being

transferred into a glass jar to be sent in for laboratory analysis it happened to come into contact with the brass writing tip of a ballpoint pen, instantly transforming the unknown material into a pool of clear liquid. After being tested, the substance was found to be a metallic compound with a far larger percentage of titanium than one researcher said would ever be found in any known man-made substance and would never occur in nature. The results of any further tests are not forthcoming at this time.

In a second case of significant interest during the Alabama mutilations, Cattle farmer David McClendon discovered his missing threeweek-old calf dead, and with a large section of its right hind quarter completely gone. Its chest cavity had been opened up and all of its organs were missing without a single drop of blood anywhere. There were no teeth marks or evidence of predatory tearing anywhere upon the calf’s body. McClendon elected to contact the cattle mutilation investigators in the Fyfee Police Department after his own local police dismissed it as the work of common predators. The Fyfee police subsequently sent tissue samples to the state of the art pathology and hematology laboratory of Dr. Altschuler, an avid researcher in the realm of cattle mutilations. He had personally examined Snippy the horse back in 1967. Due to the unique destruction of the collagen and hemoglobin around the wounds, Altschuler determined that the tissue had essentially been cooked by what he said must be temperatures in “the hundreds of degrees and possibly higher”. One thing was for certain, the incisions were not made by natural predators.

So is it aliens conducting biological experiments or seeking sustenance with animal’s organs and blood, or some secret government agenda we cannot possibly hope to fathom? Are the aliens working in conjunction with shadow governments across the world unbeknownst to the simple-minded masses?

Perhaps the black helicopters serve as earth’s game wardens making sure the E.T.s don’t bag more than their limit of abductees and cow asses. Whatever the case, it ain’t just buzzards and blowflies, you can count on that.

myspace.com/stlouissinner

Skin Deep with Stu L

Photography by LB Photography (LBfoto1@yahoo.com)

et me start by Saying that the purpose of this monthly column is to offer information and a personal view on matters involving body piercing and modification and is in no way meant to put myself above any other artist in the industry. Secondly, if you have a horror story and choose to share it with us, DO NOT give the name of the artist involved as I will just omit it anyway. There are many artists in the St. Louis and surrounding areas that deserve nothing but the utmost respect from myself and supporters of our shared profession. If you have a question about piercing/modification, a story, or just a desire to better understand the culture and would like that answered, please send them to: Stu@StuModifies.com.

Stu, Whats the best way to heal brands?

– Paul Aftercare for branding or scarification can be a tricky thing for clients and practitioners alike. The most common arguments I hear is whether the piece should be dry healed or kept moist, should it be scrubbed and irritated or just kept clean and then what is the proper combination of these strategies strike branding and at what times during healing should they be applied? The truth is that there is no perfect answer. Each different method will effect the heal in different ways and each body will respond differently, so the fist thing to decide is how you would like the piece to look when healed. Dry heals that are left alone tend to heal flush and simply just maintain an off color in comparison to the skin around it, but often don’t stand the test of time. Dry heals that are scrubbed or picked often seem to heal with an indention or unevenly due the spreading of irritation. Fresh pieces that are kept moist the whole time seem to swell and smudge again due the spreading of irritation in the skin. I believe a good even heal takes a mixture of all the above and some knowledge of when to do each one based on the clients preferred outcome. Drying the lines will make them shallow out and crisp and over moistening the lines will cause the surrounding tissue to sort of melt away making the lines swell outwards in all directions. It’s important to keep those two facts in your head and to think of them while analyzing the way your piece is healing. Generally I will start the first few days of aftercare off with a half and half moist/dry heal. I suggest the client wraps the piece in clean plastic wrapping over night. In the morning I suggest showering first thing and washing the piece very thoroughly removing all scab. A clean new toothbrush (soft or med) can be used to scrub out the wet scab, however this is very painful and I do not suggest doing it unless you are prepared to scrub the entire piece making sure that all the lines are scrubbed evenly and are free of scab. It is important to do this while the piece is still moist as dry tissue scrubs out in uneven chunks. After the shower I suggest air drying and allowing the piece to breath using a clean paper towel to blot any fluid escaping the wound. Just remember if you are going to allow your fresh piece to be out in the open it’s important to KEEP IT CLEAN so wash it gently a few times daily. At night simply re-wrap and repeat the following day. I typically suggest 3-5 days of this but it is really up to the client to decide when the piece is how he or she wants it. The best way to think of it is that moisture is what will dig the scar deep and drying it completely is the final step so keep it on the 50/50 technique until the lines are how you would like them, just don’t go over 5 days because that may distort the image. One last thing, pieces that contain removal or thick branded areas irritate at a much faster rate and therefore take extra special attention.

Often these types of pieces require that you treat the scar in sections and with different techniques. It’s best to allow your artist control by keeping in contact during the heal so you will get the best result. Awesome question Paul thanks!

Now as you know last month I mentioned a suspension event that I am throwing along with the shop that I am now working for called St. Louis Ink. We have finalized the details and there should be an ad for the event somewhere in this edition. The event will be called Suspension Sideshow Showcase and will in fact feature live Suspension along with many other freaky sites. The cost will be $20 and you will be given a collectors lanyard as your ticket. Tickets are on sale now at St. Louis Ink. So get up there and pick yours up today and come see a spectacle like no other in St. Louis. *Spots to suspend at this event are available, message me for more info*

All questions will be answered by email or by a request for you to call me directly and may be in the next issue of the St. Louis Sinner! Thanks for reading!

Stu (Myspace.com/StuModifies - Facbook.com/StuModifies) . Stu@StuModifies.com Self Inflicted Studios (Myspace.com/sistl) 1328 Washington Ave in St. Louis - (314)-621-4660

This, I Shamelessly Tell You

Gina Simon Photography

But doctor, isn’t my suffering enough for you to give me my prescription, now?

by Rajkhet Dirzhud-Rashid As I sit writing this, I’m waiting with cold, clammy hands for my bitch of a doctor to deign to call me and tell me she’s sent in the prescription for the meds that control the worst of my PTSD, my panic attacks. Yesterday, after basically hitting my head against the wall of Western Medicine that backs my doc and many others like her, up, I melted down in tears in my slave/life partner’s lap, wondering how anyone who is supposed to be about healing could do something as heinous as put their patient in danger. Because my medicine is a ‘controlled substance’ and comes under the watchful (but highly ineffective) eye of the government’s drug war stance. The stance that everyone taking a ‘controlled substance’, whether prescribed or not, is to be treated like a drug addict and given the shaft without lube.

I’ve been off the normal dose for two nights now and the effects of a panic attack are starting to show up and I’m wondering if my sweetie/slave and I will make that Christmas shopping trip we had planned yesterday. Yesterday, when I thought, maybe something like The Ghost of Christmas’ Past would visit my doctor and melt her Scroogelike heart into the kind of compassion shown in those movies of old, when Ebeneezer saw the error of his ways and became a good soul. Yesterday, when I still thought I could be the top I am, and they’d see that and stop topping me without my consent – ’they’ being the clinic where I see said bitch of a doctor. No such luck my dears, no such luck.

And this is a preview of what’s to come next year, as I’ve gotten the word ‘from on high’, that me, and others like me, without more than that bandaid that Medicaid is, are being kicked to the curb, so the governor can try to finally balance the state budget. Who knew the ‘zombie apocalypse’ would come about this way? That, because of thousands of folks losing their insurance, and thus their meds, there’d most likely be a horde of normally rational, functioning people, roaming the streets under various states of psychosis? That’s not the ones who become so damned desperate they take to robbing pharmacies.

Like that pharmacy I had to visit last weekend, in the emergency room of UW Med Center, because without my doc’s ‘permission’ (or prescription), I was forced to seek my meds through the emergency room. Fun city, let me tell you.

All I can think is that everyone of you reading this should clear your heads of whatever substance is taking the place of others meds and get together with others to join what I’m sure will be huge marches on this Washington come January. Hopefully some of the more compassionate docs and a few pharmacists will join us. The folks who still believe medicine should have nothing to do with dollars and cents, but more to do with the health and well being of their patients. Me, I’m getting my walking shoes, talent for making signs on cardboard and my voice (which is still recovering from a bout with laryngitis) ready for rallying cries, and marches to come. Join me, or you could be the next one held hostage by your doctor, which feels like being fisted without lube.

This, I Shamelessly Tell You...

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t u l S k The

As

What’s The Key To “First Rate Cunt Lapping”?

Stan Strembicki

SINNER

Dear Slut, I have had enough partners in life to become proficient with most aspects of sex and while I’ve never regarded myself as anything great, I have had a good number of return customers and it is rare that anyone goes home with just a single in their bag.

I have always enjoyed giving head and can generally get most girls to grab my hair and pull me up telling me they want to cum with meat in them next, which to me is a sign of a job well done.

However, I have a new young lass gracing me with her presence who is by far the greatest shag I have had, bar none. I am, however, a lost man. I seem to be missing the point when it comes to munching on her and giving her a “First Rate Cunt Lapping”.

We are open enough that we have discussed it and she has told me that she has been masturbating since the age of five (having a medical background I am familiar with other cases of this, it worries parents to no end) and learnt to do it by rubbing against her blanket rather than playing with fingers. This is also her current technique.

Girls that play with fingers are all I have really had so far, so my skill set is based upon a different type of stimulation. Just wondering if you have any suggestions on technique changes that could be made so that I can blow her mind, or at least impress her with my efforts.

Some background info: She said that when I started the first time what I was doing was bloody awesome but that I “lost it” with a technique change. Annoyingly I could feel the change in her reaction but could not remember what it was I was doing to try it again (she had woken me up to sit on my face). So somewhere in my subconscious lies the answer - just thought you may have a key that may unlock an idea.

I am not one to be clinical about sex, my passion has been the one greatest thing that I have, it is something regularly commented on how passionately that I go about it. I am just enjoying myself and really get off when the body under me is trying to tear strips off my back. So maybe just an understanding of the mechanics of a rub-er and not a finger-er is what I am having trouble understanding (being without a clit of my own to experiment on).

Wow I have been accused of being verbose before, but I think I may have just taken the prize on this email. ~Wordy Thoughtful Man Dear Wordy Man, I would say there are three main ways to get a woman off with your tongue on her clit (techniques like spelling out the Ten Commandments are too gimicky): 1. Light fast licking like a cat lapping up milk from a bowl (my personal fav) 2. Hardcore licking with your mouth mashed up against the cunt 3. Sucking on the clit I’m guessing you might want to try out #2, given her masturbation techniques (she gets props for being precocious). I think you’d want to rub your tongue up and down on her sweet spot as opposed to side to side or circles.

As you experiment, give each technique enough time to sink in before switching to the next pleasure test.

Would you be opposed to letting her hump your nose? Can you replicate the position she assumes when she’s masturbating? For instance, it’s easiest for me to cum when I’m lying down and my legs are straight and tense, though I can get off sitting on a friendly face or standing up, it just takes longer. If she trusts you enough, blindfold her - taking one of the senses away can heighten the others and make her more in tune with what you’re doing down there.

Whenever it does seem like you’ve hit your groove be patient (we’re talking 15-20 minutes, not 2) and consistent, using the same pressure as you ride the wave out.

And one last hint: DON’T do an image search for the word “tongue.” It’s enough to kill your sex drive for a week.

Good luck to you and the lucky lass!

Got a sex, relationship, BDSM or fetish related question? Kendra Holliday of The Beautiful Kind is a sexpert with over 20 years experience and is happy for you to learn from her mistakes while soaking up her hard earned wisdom. Email your kinky queries to HYPERLINK “mailto:love@thebeautifulkind.com” love@thebeautifulkind. com. HYPERLINK “http://www.thebeautifulkind.com” www.thebeautifulkind.com.

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