Surf Watch!Surf Watch!Internet censorship is a complex thing, much more so than movie or TV censorship. I was somewhat concerned that I would be censored after seeing the absurdities of the CYBERsitter debacle. So I installed a trial version of Surf Watch and played with it. Let's see what happened - I'll discuss the subject more later on ...
I fired up my browser and pointed it at www.partyinmypanties.com (which I won't honour with a hyperlink, though the name is good). Blocked! Cool ... Though the cached copy was still available (parents please note, clear your cache - you dirty bastards). So I moved on to AltaVista and, full of child-like innocence, tried the following query. (This is a good time to point the reader at a disclaimer.) If this form looks whacky it's because AltaVista have changed their layout again and I haven't caught up.
OK. Number 1 was Adult Links I, somewhere on flash.net (your mileage may vary but the form above is alive and ready for submission). It was blocked, replaced by a "Blocked by Surfwatch" fragment of HTML. Number 2 was an innocent Blackadder 007, part 1 - such is the nature of search engine searches. Numero tre was the above cited article - no impaired access here sports fans. My guesses are #1 was known to be naughty, #2 just had too many naughty words (correct me if I'm wrong) but then #3 points out how hard that is ascertain. It is quite a nice article, reproduced (without permission) below, but qualifies for exclusion by nearly every metric imaginable except gambling (no pictures of goats either I guess).
Don't get me wrong! I think Surfwatch rocks, and I could have tested my site without downloading a trial version of their software with the following link ...
Opportunity for appeal, the works. If I get e-mail-bombed you will hear about it, but Surfwatch seem much more professional than that. So what have we learned? That I play strange Internet games when it snows on the first weekend of Spring. And that Internet censorship is a difficult problem. And that I am open to comment on this (and anything else) and will include relevant comments as attachments to this page.
Whoa. Finally, a pro-cannabis benefit where one need not suffer patchouli oil assaulting the nostrils, disheveled activists wearing unbleached yak-wool parkas, or some lame-ass band like Hootie & the Blow-Chunks. Finally, an event crowded with lesbians who relish the opportunity to kick back, knock down a few good stiff drinks, and oggle some lucious naked chicks gyrating their delicate girl-parts mere inches from the faces of appreciative observers. Yes! If anything could make political activism more palatable for me, it's a Rothman's cigarette in one hand, a vodka collins in the other, the Sex Pistols blaring over the speakers, and the notorious Lick Sisters dripping candle wax onto each others' pert breasts four feet away from me. Ah, it does the heart good.
The November 2nd event at Dooley's Lounge - the snug chi-chi bar tucked in the Southwest corner of the Egyptian club - was a benefit promoting awareness of the proposed Oregon Cannabis Act, which would allow regulated sale of marijuana to adults in state liquor stores. The evening's attractions included the temperature-raising, naughty erotic shenanigans of Portland's own Lick Sisters (who will attend the World Cannabis Cup in Amsterdam, a sort of weed-Olympics for the best of the best crops), guest dancing by whip-wielding gothic girls, S & M demos, fire-eating, and the chance to treat yourself to a professional spanking for the low low price of ten dollars.
When I arrived at 9:30 p.m. with my boyfriend and a group of five rowdy pals, the place was already standing-room-only. The small room swam with an interesting mix of Budweiser-drinkin' Billy Bobs, amped-up frat boys, swaggering girl-girl couples, hyper-sexy dominatrix babes, and earnest activists. I made my way to the cannabis-awareness table bearing petition forms outlining the proposed law, and examples of hemp paper, cloth, and other products. I considered studiously wading through the page-and-a-half of fine-print legalese on the petition, but decided to wait until later when the announcer introduced the Sisters' first performance.
We all stood and watched with [awe] as the satin-haired, coyly smiling duo slunk provocatively about the stage, curled around each other like wicked kitties in heat, petting and pawing, and played with lit taper candles - including flicking the flames across their nipples, arching seductively as wax dripped onto their naughty bits, and finally dousing the fire in their own mouths with fellatio-esque flair.
One of the things I found refreshing about the Sisters is that they were plenty enthusiastic about dancing for other girls. Too often in a dance club, I'm all but ignored unless I lay down at least a fiver, and even then I get a limp, obligatory twelve seconds of tit-flash and hip-waggle. Also frustrating is the fact that many dancers are wary about getting too close to my boyfriend, nervously eyeing me for "permission," as if they fear I may plunge a barbeque-fork in their backs if they dare to titillate my man. Um... excuse me, darlin', but that is why we're here, you know? Well, at the Lick Sisters, we both got plenty of attention.
You may be wondering, did I just go to the event because I'm some lascivious rogue-ette who likes naked girls? Well, as for the issue of the Cannabis Act, I'm convinced it's a wise idea, though I have no personal recreational taste for marijuana. (In my experience, it's a great drug for indulging my paranoid side: Oh am I breathing funny? Did that thing I just said make any sense? Does the cat hate me? Does it bother anyone else in this room that we're all gonna DIE someday?...) But two things are for sure: First, there are too many people crowding the prisons on mandatory marijuana-related sentences; and second, while I've encountered dozens of belligerent, mouthy, violent drunks with an exaggerated sense of bravado, I've never seen anyone who was stoned throw a punch, bawl someone out, or for that matter, try to force their amorous attentions on an unwilling party. Nor do you hear of anyone's kids being run over by stoned drivers - and you can bet your boots the anti-drug folks would make sure such cases were all over the papers... if they happened.
A big plus of the Oregon Cannabis Tax Act is the large percentage of sales profits which will go to education and drug abuse treatment. Exactly how this works is far too involved for me to summarize in this article; but anyone interested in a complete description of the Cannabis Act, or a petition form, should contact Pay for Schools by Regulating Cannabis, at 229-0428. The outline of the proposed measure is so meticulously researched and detailed that, much to my amusement, they even kindly include a definition for "person" in Section 3.474.005 Definitions. (6) "Person" means a natural individual or corporate entity of any kind whatsoever. Um, thanks. I was unclear on that one.
A bonus of the evening was getting a sneak preview of the new n' improved Egyptian Tomb, on the north side of the building. Very, very cool. The design, layout of the room, and decor will appeal to both the customers and the bands - and the people involved with the project seem to have the style, savvy, and vision to make the Egyptian one of the hippest clubs in Portland. This month, they've warmed up the new space with acts such as, on one end of the spectrum, the haunting acoustic angst of Elliott Smith, to the frenzied buzzsaw blistering of Atomic 61 at the other. There'll be something there for everyone - readers are encouraged to check it out.
I came away from the evening with more than just a hangover
and a rip in my favorite latex dress - I saw a roomful of
evidence that you don't have to be some stinky goat's-milk
sippin' hippie to see why the Cannabis Act makes sense. Get your
hands on a copy of the petition and read for yourself. Portland
schools may thank you a few years down the road. 
PDXS, Disclaimer, Bruce Ellis: brucee@chunder.com, Home.