YOU'RE WRONG An Irregular Column by Mykel Board In Thailand, guys have attractive little t

                          YOU'RE WRONG
                       An Irregular Column
                         by Mykel Board


     In Thailand, guys have attractive little testicles, like
robin's eggs. Hung just right in a hairless silken purse, they're
smooth and bite size. You can fit 'em both in your mouth at the
same time. That's where they are now. 
     I suck gently on a pair of Thai balls, lying on my side. One
hand primes the pump above my mouth. On my other end, the young
man attached to those robin's eggs pulls my own hairy hangers,
one at a time, into his mouth.
     On the bed next to me, Lily's breasts glisten with sweat.
Her guy, naked, on his stomach, nestles his head between her
stretched legs, licking upwards. She puts her hands behind his
head, pressing his face deeper into her crotch.
     My partner and I roll over. He's on his back. I slide
around. Head to head. Cock to cock. His tongue pushes into my
mouth. I suck it in, swishing it around, tasting my balls on his
breath. 
     I reach down between us, fisting the double sausage. Parting
lips, I sit on his upper thighs, my hand still wrapped around the
twin wieners.
     Lily's knees are now by her ears. The brown-skinned rump
next to me, rises and thrusts between her legs. She breathes
heavily, nearly vocally, in time to those thrusts.
     "Ah, ah, ah," she breathes.
     The guy beneath me moans, then inhales and holds it. His
white stickiness spurts against the smooth brown belly beneath
me. To my left, the pumping rhythm moves from waltz through
rhumba into hardcore. The juices gather between my own legs. I
shudder. Again. Tensing and thrusting, I spew onto the bronze
body beneath me. Squirt. Squirt. Squirt. White rockets against
his skin.
     Lily and Lek, her Thai, lie next to us. He's just finished
too. She, not quite. They lie in a sweaty heap. My elbow brushes
Lily's. Four naked bodies on the bed. One by one we get up to
shower. When it's Lily's turn, Lek turns to me.
     "I don't think she came." he says. "I'll try again."
     The guy I was with, having washed the evidence of his
success off his chest, leaves with a kiss and 500 baht ($20).
Lily comes back. There are three of us now. 
     I lean back on the bed. My head rests on my bent right arm.
Lily lies down, face up, to my right. Lek lays directly on top of
her-- a brown human blanket over her pale skin. He kisses her on
the lips, then he slowly slides down her body. He mouths a
nipple. His fingers play over the other one. Lily puts her hands
under his armpits. Gently, she presses him upwards to a kneeling
position-- like a baseball catcher waiting for the ball. Seeing
that he's not quite up to the task, Lily lowers her head to his
crotch.
     Me? I watch. Feeling like I've been out for dinner, now it's
time for the show. Like a virtual reality porn movie, here I am.
With the sights, sounds and smells. Right next to me. A busty
blonde and an Oriental. Boing! I'm ready again. Watching and
jerking off to my very private performance.
     Lily has blown the air back into Lek's flaccidity. He's on
his back with her astride. Head thrown back, she fondles her own
breast as she rides that buckin' bronze bronco. He presses up.
She presses down. I rub myself both ways.
     The show continues with Lily on her back now. His elbows and
her knees lean towards the head of the bed. My hand strokes to
their beat. She "ah ah ah's" to his "uh uh uh's." They grab each
other in the shakes. For the second time in as many hours my
prostate squeezes semenally. Lek's does too.
     After a few post coital moments of affection (no, I didn't
kiss my own hand), Lily pays Lek and he leaves. We both fall
asleep-- big smiles on our faces.
     "Tomorrow a girl," I whisper before unconsciousness.
     "Mmmmmm" says Lily.
     We had hired the two guys from one of the local homobars.
When Lily walked in they flocked to her. Hands all over her, they
felt her roundness to see if it was real. They loved her.
Wouldn't leave her alone. They left me alone, though. She took
the one who caressed her the most. I took the skinniest. 
     Yep, I'm back from Thailand. Gone a month, with a year's
worth of adventures. Travelling with Ms. Lily, (former?) MRR
columnist, writer, editrix of Taste of Latex, sex worker, busty,
platinum blonde, white skinned. 
     Lily's smart. That means she agrees with me on almost
everything. Ideologically, we're two balls in the same scrotum.
She's pro-sex, anti-stupidity (read lefty fundamentalist
feminists) and funny. Still, we have our differences. Me, being
short, balding, Jewish, well-travelled and adventure seeking. Her
being... well... her.
     For example, for me, food is part of the adventure. I'll eat
most anything that doesn't move while I eat it. (And even there,
there are LOTS of exceptions.) I like to eat at little roadside
stands, weird places with nothing on the menu in English. Hot,
sweet, bitter, the weirder the better. I managed to have python,
wild boar and plenty of mystery meat on this trip. Lily is less
adventurous. In Bangkok, home of biting hot Oriental food-- it
was pizza-- four times. In Hat Yai, a southern Thai city, where
the food cultures of China, North and South Thailand come
together-- Colonel Sanders. In Penang, Malaysia-- home of the
worlds best Chinese, Indian, and Malay cooking-- A&W. Sometimes
there were other reasons that life was not so easy.
     We walk down a narrow sidewalk in Bangkok. I'm a few steps
ahead, walking slightly faster.
     "I'm not walking twelve steps in back," yells Lily from
behind, "I'm not your whore."  
     From then on, I'm the one who walks behind.
     Most difficult is learning to cope with being invisible.
When a sparrow and a peacock travel together-- few people notice
the sparrow. It doesn't help that Lily dresses up in nightclub
clothes with high heels to stroll downtown. Once, while walking
through Phat Phong, the Bangkok sex club district, the crowd on
the street spontaneously breaks into applause when Lily passes. I
hold my hand in front of my face to make sure I'm still there. I
can see right through it.
     I'm even invisible to Lily. In a pizzeria, I explain to her
the exotic nuances of African linguistic ability. She responds to
a spot about six inches above my left shoulder. She's not
talking, actually, just uh-huhning and mmm-hmmming. I turn around
to look at the booth behind us. An attractive Thai youth suddenly
wipes the smile from his face.
     At the Malaysian border, Lily charms us right through
customs. They don't even look at our bags. The mustachioed guard
just goo goo eyes Lily.
     "She's very beautiful," he says to me, "you should marry
her."
     "He'd regret it in a minute." she answers for me.
     This isn't made any easier by the vehemence with which Lily
denies all but the most casual relationship between us. We go to
Casanova, a notorious Bangkok transvestite/transsexual bar.
Outside, girls of all genders wait for customers. Giggly and
grabby, they reach for Lily when we pass. We walk in. More girls
flock to her, squeezing her breasts, comparing them with their
own. Then someone notices me.
     "Is he your husband?" she asks.
     "No!" says Lily.
     "Your boyfriend?"
     Lily scrunches up her nose in a what?-Me?-with-him? look.
"No, just a friend."
     "You have boyfriend?" continues the interrogation.
     "Yes," says the blonde bombshell, "he's tall with muscles
and long hair..." 
     Later, Lily is the hit of the night. She climbs on the bar
and slowly strips to her real-girl breasts. The working girls are
delighted. Some of the regular customers are concerned. They
don't expect "that kind of girl in a place like this."
     Lily expertly shakes her ampleness as she crawls along the
stage behind the bar. She grabs the smooth pole and thrusts it
between her legs, sliding up and down while expertly licking her
lips. The girls scream their approval. One asks for an autograph.
Me? I pass easily through the wall and wait for my molecules to
reassemble.
     I do have one moment of peacockhood. It's at the James Dean
bar in Phuket. (Yes, that's really the name of the island.
Although it's pronounced Pooget.) The bar's a merry place where
there are no professionals-- just casual relationships. Lily came
and danced for the boys. It was fun and they screamed in delight.
But she grew tired early and left. Now-- they're all over me.
     They climb on the bar stools on either side. A pretty,
slightly effeminate, boy gives me a back massages. Soon double
pairs of hands grope in my lap, stroking my stroker. 
     "You come toilet with me." begs a suave looking boy next to
me, "only a minute. No problem."
     "No, you come with me," says another one, pulling on my
zipper.
     Unfortunately, this is the same night we had been to the
massage parlor (more about that later). Normally, I'd be in the
men's room in a second. That night, I'm peckered out. But the
thought's there. They want me!  Ah well, I'm getting ahead of
myself.
     The day after that first Bangkok homobar, we go to a
girlbar. There are lots of 'em-- girls, that is. Little numbers
are pinned onto their clothes-- whenever they had on clothes.
     A bunch of 'em are on stage now. It's hot, soaking. One
looks even sexier than the rest. Narrow hips, a tough pouty
smile, just handful size breasts. She doesn't look at me though.
     Then comes the show. A short smiley-faced girl runs onto the
now empty stage. She carries a banana. She peels it.  Holding it
in front of her like a gun, she offers it to the audience. Five
guys each take a bite out of it. The banana's gone. 
     Then she undresses. Another skinless banana appears. She
pushes it between her legs. With a sound somewhere between a fart
and an uzi, she squirts it out over her head. Retrieving it, she
does it again. And again. With the same banana. Then, she takes
it to the audience members who ate the first one.
     "You eat?" she asks.
     There are no takers. 
     Now, things get interesting. A fire show. Four naked girls
dance, dripping candles on themselves. My own candle is in danger
of dripping.
     "I have a headache," says Lily, "lets get out of here.
Besides, I'm afraid of fire in such a small place."
     "Go?" I ask. "You wanna go?"
     She nods, motions to the barman, pays the bill and we leave-
- ending up in another homo bar.
     A row of boys dance in g-strings. Some are good looking.
Others are muscular. After the go go line comes the soap show.
Then the candles come out. Two post adolescents dance under
dripping wax.
     "Does the fire make you nervous?" I ask Lily.
     She stares intently at the writhing masculine shapes on the
stage.
     "Oh no," she says, "it's air conditioned here... Besides,
that one looks like a Thai Scott Baio. Lets take him."
     OK, I figure. Lily, Scott Baio and me. That should be ok.
Nice even number (for me). Ying and yang. I get one of each. We
take him. 
     After paying the bar his 'off fee', he dresses. Then he
drives us to the hotel in his expensive new Japanese car. (So
much for the myth of the poor, pitiful, exploited prostitute.) 
     The three of us lie naked in bed. Lily lies face up. Scott
is on her right. His lips nibble on her right nipple. His thin
hairless body stretches naked along her right side. My short
hairful body stretches naked along her left side. I take a nipple
into my mouth. Lily pushes my head away.
     "Don't," she says, "I don't like biting."
     Scott moves down Lily's body. Licking his way to her shaved
lickpot. Lily reaches over to the night table next to her and
picks up a condom. She opens the package, takes the condom out
and puts it in her mouth.  Then, she lowers herself to Scott's
crotch and kisses the tip. As she sucks him in, she unrolls the
condom down his brown tube.
     She lies on her back again. He nestles between her legs and
slips himself in. Holding her ankles in his hands, he presses
forward and back. I reach down toward her pulsing pubes to clit
diddle. She'll enjoy the two sensations at once.
     "Don't do that." she tells me. "I don't get off that way.
I'm not like most girls." 
     I stop, pissed that she won't let me touch her.  I'm gonna
pay half.  We should all share.  
     I turn my back to them and try to fall asleep amidst the
shaking bed. The next day Lily says, "I don't really like group
sex."
     "You got one guy for two people and you don't like group
sex?" I ask, "How exactly does your math work?"
     She shrugs off the question. A few nights later, Lily again
brings a single guy back to the hotel. This time, she earns ten
courtesy points by springing for a separate room where I won't be
subject to the touching temptation. She looses two of those
points, however, for borrowing 500 baht ($20) from me to pay him.
     The day after Scott Baio, we go to another girlbar. After
the banana trick, another naked girl comes out of the ceiling
bathing in a huge champagne class. She scrubs in all the right
places. Next comes the phonebooth. Two girls together, one on the
phone, the other between her legs. Naked, they squirm over one
another. Finally, one takes the phone and inserts it between the
legs of the other. The whole phone booth rises in the air. So do
I.
     "I've got a sore throat," says Lily. "We've got to get out
of here."
     Two nights latter, I try again. By the hairs on my balls,
I'm determined not to make this a boy only trip. 
     Tonight's show is even more spectacular. There is the shoot-
the-balloons-with-the-blowdart trick. There's the blow-out-the-
candles-on-the-cake trick. The S&M show. Everything my little
little could desire.
     I smile at a tough-looking girl on stage. Before long, she
comes down to sit next to Lily. Then, I notice that one of her
front teeth is missing. 
     After the usual, "What your name? Where you come from?" she
asks Lily to buy her a drink.
     "Maybe latter," says Lily.
     The girl gets up, bows, and comes back from the bar with a
drink for herself and a bill for us. I complain to the
management-- politely. I explain there must have been a
misunderstanding. No problem. The girl is pissed off, but we
don't have to pay for the drink. All is settled, I think.
     "I hate being hustled," says Lily. "Let's get out of here."
     It's in Phuket, that we finally get the girls. It's a
'massage parlor'-- massive and elegant-- named Christen.
     We walk up the carpeted stairway to an open lobby. All eyes
are on Lily as we stroll over to a table. The manager greets us. 
He asks Lily if she's a movie star. Then he sits us down in front
of a huge window. On the other side of it, pillars separate the
room into two sections. In those sections, on terraced steps--
colosseum-like behind the glass-- sit lots and lots of girls.
     All in their early 20s or so, some watch a TV hidden from
our view by one of the pillars. Each girl wears a pink smock with
a blue tag on it.  On each tag is a white number. We sit at a
table in front. While we discuss, we order coffee. The manager
comes to sit with us.
     After the usual you're lovely's and you look just like
Madonna's (none of these comments directed towards me, by the
way), we get down to business. We bargain, ending up at 1500 baht
($60) for the two of us.
     We both notice two girls behind the glass, one thin, small
breasted, dark and perky-- the other larger, with breasts that
mean it. Numbers 31 and 32. They flirt with us through the glass,
waving, pointing to themselves as if saying "Take me! Take me!"
We do.
     "You take the fat one," says Lily.
     "No, YOU take the fat one," I say. "I thought you liked
butch."
     "Butch smutch," she answers, "the other one is prettier."
     Somehow, I win this one. Not that it matters a whole lot.
We're all gonna be in one room with one big bed.
     We get to the room-- a large bedroomy type place with an
enormous bed, TV, bathtub and shower. A rubber raft, the kind you
laze in a pool with, leans up against the wall. After closing the
door, the girls sit and talk with us a bit. We ask them where
they're from, how long they've been working there and some stuff
I don't remember. The heftiest one speaks the best English. The
skinny one is the most experienced.
     They say they that Italians and Thais are the worst
customers. 
     "Italians grab too much." says Chubette, "and Thais gab too
much."
     A knock comes at the door. A waiter.
     "Do you want to order some drinks?"
     I decline.
     "For the girls," he says.
     Ah, more hustle-- but to be nice (figuring they get a
percentage) we order drinks for them. They never drink them, of
course. 
     After talking, the girls take off their pink smocks. They
wear nothing underneath. 
     Slinky motions for me to stand up.  She pulls my shirt off. 
I take off my boots and socks.  She reaches for my waist, unsnaps
the pants and zips down the fly.  Slowly, she lowers those pants
and reaches up to finish the job.  On the bed, Chubette does the
same for Lily. 
     Slinky then fills the tub with water and bubble bath.
Together, we climb in. She soaps me up, using her whole body as a
sponge, rubbing herself against my back, my front, by top my
bottom. Turning me over and back-- face up, face down. 
     Now she lies directly on top of me-- nipples to nipples,
crotch to crotch lips to lips. Stretching out her body, she hooks
her arms under my shoulders and pulls herself up and down over
me. It's like a dream. In a room with three naked girls.  One
lies on top of me-- mopping my soapy body with her own. What more
could you ask? One thing... I'm limp as uncooked bacon.
     We both sit up in the tub. I look over at the bed. Lily is
on her stomach. Chubette straddles her. She massages between the
shoulder blades, then moves her hands downward. Speaking of
downward, Slinky's hands are now between my legs. She rubs my
testicles in her fingers like a magician practicing the
disappearing balls trick. The water makes tiny waves, as she
rubs-- one hand manipulating the floating testes-- the other the
still limp tube of flesh.
     Still limp! I paid $30 to get in here. I gotta leave at
least another thirty for a tip. What do I get for it? Clean???
     Next comes the blow-up raft. You know those things that look
like six long fat hot dogs attached along the side. Slinky lays
it on the tile floor as I stand up in the bath letting the water
drip from my flaccidity. 
     She takes a bottle of something extremely slippery and
squirts it over the rubber raft. Then she motions for me to lie
down on it. I do-- face up. She squirts the slippery stuff all
over me-- and herself.
     Again using her naked brown body with pert black nipples and
the tiny scrub brush between her legs, she starts lubricating me.
The warmth of her body, her good parts thrusting next to my good
parts. Any man not dead would have a raging boner in a second. I
must be dead.
     Her breasts press hard against mine. Her lips touch mine.
Her tongue enters my mouth. I let it roam, explore my front
teeth, my incisors, my canines, my molars.  I push back with my
own tongue, tasting her saliva. I rub my tongue on her palate as
she rubs the entire surface of her body over mine. Then she turns
me over.
     Flop. A gentle touch is all it takes on the frictionless
surface. The rubber squeaks with a great farting sound as I move
onto my stomach.
     My limpness droops between the multiple rubber raft rods.
She lies prone against my back, like she did on my front. She
moves up and down on me as I move up and down on the rubber raft.
I try to relax. Enjoy the sensation.
     "Even if I don't shoot the white stuff," I lie to myself,
"I'll still enjoy the erotic situation-- the adventure."
     Lily and Chubette giggle on the bed. I can't see what's
going on, but I smile when I hear Lily say, "No, just a little
farther down. There, that's it. Now you've got it."
     After the raft, I'm spray washed to get the slippery stuff
off. Then, we move to the bed as Lily and Chubette move to the
refilling tub.
     Naked, dry, laying on my back in the bed vacated by those
two, Slinky starts licking. She runs her pink tongue around my
left nipple. Then, the right. Dribbling saliva in a line between
my breasts, she heads south. Skipping the entre, she moves to my
legs. She tongues under my right thigh. That does it. There must
be a nerve there. A direct connection. No slow step-by-step rise.
Oh no. She lights the fire and the limp bacon KERPOW! pops to
crispiness. I'm afraid of poking her eye out. Well, not very
afraid. I smile at the knowledge that I'm going to get just
what's coming to me. I close my eyes and feel the corners of my
mouth curl upwards into a smile bigger than my whole head. 
     Slinky seems nearly as pleased with her achievement as I am.
In fact, she's so happy she kisses it. Then again. I open my eyes
and watch her lightly nibble the tip, running her tongue under
the ridge right to the inverted V in back. Now, she takes it into
her mouth. All at once. Swooping down on it like a hawk on a
paralyzed mouse. Up and down. Expertly. Silently. The only sound
in the room is the swoosh of the shower in the tub on the other
side. I glance over there.
     Lily stands, white, majestic against the grey tile. Chubette
sprays her down as she stares intently at Slinky, me and my blow
job. That stare pumps another pint of blood into my already
overpumped pump.
     I slide down the bed, nestling my head between Slinky's
thighs. She's shaved identically to Lily. Just a tuft in front. I
part those smooth lower lips with my chin and push my tongue in.
Her clit is as small and perky as her breasts. No longer than the
top digit of my pinkie, it's thinner than the stirrer stuck in
her undrunk drink. And stir her I do. Her legs clamp on either
side of my head.
     About this time, the bed heaves with added weight. Lily and
Chubette have joined us. Lily is on the bottom and Chubette
covers her with her body. I can't see much else from my V-shaped
point of view. The pink on brown thighs are enough to keep me
excited right where I am. 
     Slinky slurps onward. So do I. I feel her legs tighten and
loosen-- then again. Does she come? I don't know. 
     I begin to feel the coffee perking myself. Gently, I touch
her head and whisper softly into her ear.
     "Condom," I say romantically.
     She goes to the dresser and gets out a Thai condom. She
slips in on me, slowly sliding it down from head to base. It's
not a conventional condom. These girls don't take chances. It's
as thick and inflexible as an oil drum-- and just as sensual. My
hard-won hard-on starts to soften.
     Meanwhile, Chubette nestles in Lily's bosomitude. One hand
plays between her legs. Lily presses her own head back against
her pillow and arches upwards. I lie next to her and arch
upwards, depressed that my flag again flies half mast. 
     Slinky straddles me. Expertly she presses the base to make
the best of a sagging matter. Using exactly the right muscles,
she massages me from with her insides. Propping me up, she deep
kneebends over my middle. Then, with me still inside, she lies on
her back.
     Amazingly, Lily offers me a nipple. I feel like sitting up
on my hind legs and barking a thank you. I lean over and suck on
it, as my rain coated thruster continues to thrust. 
     Chubette works her mouth on Lily's soft spot. 
     I pull out of Slinky, rolling off the condom. She gets the
idea and puts her lips where the latex had been. Nibbling the
tip, she strokes lower as I feel my prostate tighten. Pow!  Rise
and salute! Poking her middle finger into my puckered hole, she
massages that gland from the inside. It's hard to hold back. I
don't. I shudder and tense the muscles in my body. A shake and a
hip thrust upwards.  I spew the first drops against her tonsils,
the rest dripping down the sides of her mouth.
     After a moment's rest, we turn our attention to Ms. Lily.
Each of us takes a different part. Me on one breast, Chubette on
the other. Slinky uses her tongue, freshly lubricated with my
semen, on Lily's goodspot. Lily presses back against the bed. It
shakes like a motel bed with the magic fingers turned on. She
breathes hard. Harder, her head thrown back, she rises on her
elbows, pelvis thrust upwards-- then it's over. And so is this
column.
     Yes, we found out about child prostitution, indentured
servitude (sex slavery) and a bunch of other stuff. But you have
to wait till next month for that. Right now, I'm gonna take a
cold shower. I need it. 

ENDNOTES

--> While I was gone, history's greatest injustice was finally
(after more than 20 years) corrected. The Scooter, Phil Rizzutto,
is in the hall of fame. The world is a better place now than it
was a month ago.

--> Virgil Porter writes from Alaska that his radio station needs
promos. Also if your band wants to play in Anchorage, he can help
set up shows. Contact him c/o KRUA, Building K, Univ. of Alaska
Anchorage, 3211 Providence Dr., Anchorage AK 99508. He says too
that he's lonely for e-mail up there in snowland. You netties
should fling him some electrons at asvwp@acad2.alaska.edu.

--> Anybody know what happened to Capitol Punishment's Dale
Stewart? My last letter came back. I was thinking that he finally
got so sick of Fresno, he moved to someplace better, like
Cleveland. 

--> Do they want to pare down the mailing list or what dept: In
what I can't figure any other reason for, the Republican National
Committee (310 First Street Southeast, Washington DC 20003) has
sent a check for $1 to everyone on its mailing list. With the
check is a letter saying, "If you think Clinton will lower taxes
cash this check." As if you won't cash it, but send THEM money to
protect your taxes. Well, it's in my bank account. Lets see if I
get any more mail from them.

--> Sean, formerly(?) of N. 11 St in San Jose: I tried to send
you a postcard, but it was returned "for better address." What's
the story, you live in a bad neighborhood and the post office
wants you to move?

--> So John Wayne Bobbitt gets his dick cut off and it's big
news.  The jury finds his wife innocent. Suddenly, she's a cause
celebre among feminists and other scissors wielders. Radley sent
me a clipping from San Francisco about The Lesbian Avengers who
were hosting a 'Bobbitt-cue Weenie Roast.' Now who was it who
told me feminists were not castrating bitches, but just normal
women who wanted equal rights?

--> I love it when Oriental companies pick Latin alphabet
initials without knowing that they mean something else. In Japan,
you can buy J.O. coffee. In Thailand, I saw a company with the
initials F.I.B. It was an advertising agency.

-->Jun Doi in Japan-- my last card to you was returned. You got a
new address? A new band?

--> More video thanks to the guys (guy?) at Spunkasfuk (RD1, PO
Box 12905, Clarendon PA 16313) for sending me their vid. Even
though I make a brief appearance, it's still pretty good. The GG
Allin segment is one of the best I've seen. A new song,
spontaneous, unavailable elsewhere(?), is here. There is also
some very cruel stuff (like taping a live rat to a kite), that
deserves a punch in the mouth.

--> Even MORE video thanks to Navyman Charles Nelson for his
interesting video on animal husbandry-- and occasionally wifery.
Excellent. Yo buckaroos, keep those videos coming. You'll be
keeping me coming.  As usual, I'm at PO Box 137, Prince Street
Sta, New York NY 10012.

--> Bad news about Dok Mohawk, Thailand's first punk.  He's
completely blind now and very depressed.  His "best friend" stole
a lot of money from him. He hasn't been able to pay the rent in
four months.  He needs cheering up and cash!  If you've got a few
bucks to spare (rent is only $36 a month!) you should send it,
well-hidden, in a letter.  You can reach him:  Dok Mohawk, 304/17
soi Tapsuan 1, Ding Daeng Rd, Asoke, Bangkok 10400, THAILAND

--> Once, while visiting Dok's niece in a very poor section of
Bangkok, we saw the most beautiful couple ever: Dok's niece and
her husband. Thin, smooth-faced, with an air of innocence I've
never seen amongst white folks. 
     Dad holds their baby girl. She's wearing only a little
t-shirt. He holds her high above his head and lowers her to his
face. Putting his face between the little girl's legs, he
BRRRRRRs against her tiny sex. The baby giggles and reaches down
to play with dad's long black hair. He does it again. She laughs
out loud as does her mom and dad.
     In America, Dad would be jailed. The kid taken away and told
she was molested-- abused. She'd live the rest of her life in
hate and pain. In Thailand, it was play among people who love one
another. No, Thailand certainly didn't increase my love of either
Christians or feminists.


                              -end-


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