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View from the Front
by Beth Lock
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Thursday, June 26, 2003

The Red Racer

There is a snake that meanders about in the industrial park where I work. I saw it once several years ago when we were in the old building. It's a magnificent coral colored snake.

When I first saw it, it was slithering through the red sand, looking for a hidey hole. Though I'm somewhat scared of snakes, I've always thought they must be more afraid of us than we are of them. Or, perhaps scared is an anthrpomorphic word. After all, do snakes have feelings? It's more likely that they have instincts; danger! slither!

I saw the snake through the window. I never much looked out the window, but just then I happened to do so. "Snake!" I shouted, and ran out the door to see it.

I was awed by it's sensuous beauty. Deep red sand, coral colored snake, nothing between me and it but more sand and a few weeds.

"Snake!" I whispered. It slithered through the sand. Toward me, and I trembled, though I knew it would not harm me. "Snake", I whispered again.

It's snake sense told it to turn and slither away. It was fast, so fast, like red lightning. I opened the door and shouted to the others, "Come see this snake!" By the time they got outside, the Red Racer had gone.

That must have been three years ago or so. Since that time we've moved to a new building, just up the road. Every day I drive to the post office to get the mail, every day around ten am. It's habit. One point five miles down to the post office, and one point five miles back. My morning ritual. Two days ago I was leaving the office to go to the post office. As soon as I hit the main road from the parking lot, the Red Racer slithered across the road in front of my car. It had grown, quite a lot.

"Snake!" I yelled, as I jumped from the car. "Snake!" I watched it move across the hot pavement toward the red sand. Of course, as before, it had no use for me.

Thursday, February 13, 2003

Blow Jobs for Peace

I was wondering if I could mobilize the women of the world behind this cause. Women all over the world are getting naked for peace. Now I'm a well-liberated woman who believes in the beauty of the female body in any form. The truth of the matter is, men are not quite as appreciative of the nude middle-aged female body 'en masse'. So I was thinking, what if we offered them blow jobs instead? I mean, I've never met a man who would turn one down. They are just lying there with their eyes closed anyhow, you know?

I mentioned this idea to a male correspondent who replied,

"Interesting idea. It certainly seems to explain Clinton's "wuss factor", although we should determine the time span between his taking out the aspirin Factory and Monica's most recent visit. Actually, I see only the problem that it simply can't go on all day, as in the General's response to "Make Love, not War", that he saw no reason why one could not be done in the daytime, the other in the evening. Plenty of time for both. That being said, I am sure there would be no shortage of takers.

While I got a chuckle out of this, it responds to the idea that war is simply a result of male "Macho" agression. Several anthropologists have tried and failed to make this case. History simply doesn't support it, as obvious as it seems to some."

It's easy for me to agree with the anthropological assessment, but I still wonder, if armies all over the world were busy being blown, wouldn't it disrupt the war just a teeny little bit?

Can't you just see the poster now, Uncle Sam pointing his finger, the caption reading, "Would you rather blow a man for peace, or blow the world to pieces?" or,

"A blow job a day keeps the missiles away", or...

"My country 'tis of thee, blow jobs for liberty."

The downside to all this is somebody would have to volunteer to blow George Bush and Saddam Hussein. Any really patriotic ladies out there?

Friday, January 10, 2003

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