Judith Miller

I love intrigue. It’s like gossip except that it matters more because it’s people who are much more important than me.

Anyway, Egalia has an intriguing post that I will point you all to. I have no opinion one way or the other (amazing, I know) except to say that the whole thing is so weird (Why isn’t Robert Novack in jail?) that it really seems like something more must be going on.

I’ll try to come up with something else entertaining, folks, but I was just planning on popping one* off and going to bed early. Finding the Butcher home and cooking dinner has ruined my plans.

*Women, we need better euphemisms. “One” hardly does it justice.

13 thoughts on “Judith Miller

  1. understand that I am reading Irigaray right now and might be reading more than is necessary here. But is “one” a problem because you want more than one? To which I respond: be careful or you’ll become hard to satify except by yourself. Or, is one a problem because it is a bad description? To which I respond: you’re right.
    At least you got dinner prepared for you.

  2. Dear Professor, I love you dearly, but I call bullshit. I could certainly believe that, if one became singularly attached to a powerful vibrator that it might make a mere mortal something of a let-down.

    But I don’t think one’s ability to repeatedly induce “hysterical paroxysm” in oneself through conventional methods is any threat to other human beings, especially when other human beings are so much fun.

    Unless you’ve got a secret maneuver the rest of us don’t know. In which case, ‘fess up, woman.

    Otherwise, I’m going to wait for the Butcher to leave for the evening and quietly read old Luce aloud–“A women ‘touches herself’ constantly without anyone being able to forbid her do so, for her sex is composed of two lips which embrace continually. Thus, with herself she is already two – but not divisible into ones – which stimulate each other.”–and not worry about whether it ruins me for Dan Abrams and Jackie Guerra.

    Tee hee!

  3. Aunt B, I Hope you have your brain scanner.

    Of course at your place it would be a “Cat” Scan.

    Get it? Cat? Your blog is…never mind. Get back to your dirty,dirty business.

    Note: Here lately I’ve been referring to the device you ladies use as a “flashlight for the blind”

  4. wait a minute. i’m still completely in the dark here. isn’t there a link or something someone could post to help me out of this tough spot?

  5. When I said “popping one off,” I didn’t mean “writing just one post.”

    Does that help?

  6. I like “have a session” and “jilling off,” FYI. An old boyfriend and I coined “wank-naps” for those sessions followed by the immediate (and yielded-to) urge to sleep. I’m digging your bloggage–I’ll be creepin through your posts.

    Incidentally, I think tiny cat shoes *might* be funnier than tiny cat pants. A friend of mine says that she’s never been interested in dressing up her cats, but thinks it would be hilarious to put shoes on them. Specifically, tap shoes. It would make them nuts.

  7. I still think “tiny cat pants” is the most hilarious. It even sounds funny when you say it out loud.

    But, I will admit that the thought of tiny cat shoes… tap shoes… pretty damn funny.

  8. The Shiek had a roommate with two terrible cats at the same time he acquired his first CD burner. So when he took up making labels for all his newly burned discs, he used to stick the little center circle sticker left over from CD labels on the bottom of the crazy cat’s feet. The cat then refused to put his feet on the ground if they had stickers on them. It was a slow process to go from one to four – he was not willing to waste labels on this game. Imagine the hilarity – until the cat learned to pluck them off with his teeth. That’s what I think of when I hear “tiny cat shoes.”

  9. Aunt B., it’s not about the ability to get there or not. It’s not even about quality. I am only talking about quantity. Sometimes we need wank-naps so we are not all excited and frustrated after only one but can’t wake the partner who’s only ever got one in him.

  10. Woman! You have 57 lovers. If one of them only has one in him, roll that fucker out of bed and call in the next one.

  11. “Flicking the bean” is a good alternative. Nat and I however prefer to use the one we learned from a co-workers slang dictionary “watching Andy Griffith”.

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