Yay! The swap works!

So the books I sent out through Paperback Swap are starting to arrive, which means the people are reporting that I am a good person and therefore I should get more books. Today my first requested book arrived - my missing Alex Delaware book, Obsession. I have three more books requested and am so far pleased with the system. I especially like the little labels they make.

Does this mean I am going to stop whining that I have no new books? Hell no! Have you seen how fast I read them?? But hopefully, I will whine less.

I am interested in referrals from other readers, so I thought maybe I'd let you know what my tastes are.

I like sagas. Big, broad books and series that make you feel like if only you had this book in your hands, you too could be a world traveler, or time traveler. But within that, I tend to enjoy a level of complexity - the mysteries of Jeffrey Archer, (Kane and Abel) for example, vs. the melodrama of Sydney Sheldon. I like strong central characters over length works which pass you on to other generations - Pilot-Major John Blackthorn in Shogun vs. the two Roman families in Steven Saylar's Roma: The Novel of Ancient Rome (Novels of Ancient Rome). (Although I love Steven to death and read that one as fast as I read his Gordianous books. His gay male porn, by the way, is stunningly good.

When I do go for the sweeping, multi-generational tale, I would rather one that fills in a lot of details about a style of living, rather than a place just by itself. Edward Rutherford's Sarum: The Novel of England was great, but by the end of the book, I lost track of who was related to whom. And I no longer really cared. On the other hand, Ken Follett's The Pillars of the Earth (Deluxe Edition) (Oprah's Book Club) gave me a story of architecture which I never would have found interesting if not for the central characters.

I like strong lead characters who I can empathize with, even when they are stupid (like Nicole, in Household Gods) or when they are so smart and clever, you wonder how everyone else in the world around them didn't just up and die one day while taking a walk. (Ayla, of course. What didn't she invent?)

I'll probably go on about this topic in future posts.

A little fantasy...

From my pile of "Re-read this before I sell it or trade it" came Death and Thraxas, a book I picked up at a Gaylaxicon. Not quite sure what the gay connection is, but the story is cute, a sort of mashing of noir detective stories and high fantasy. I liked the main character so much I named one of my WOW characters after him.

I can't find my copy of Dark Knight. I bet I loaned it to someone. Last night for a break between Lamb and Thraxas, I read a few dozen pages of the first Cerebus phonebook. Man, his art was sucky at the beginning. It got better; and so did the stories.

I am guessing that since my mood is for light reading and comic books right now, my occasional orgy of Star Trek novels will come soon.

Mexican Pepsi is REAL Pepsi

So, Pepsi is actually suing a distributor for distributing one of their products. The catch? It's Mexican Pepsi, *imported* to the US for those who know that Soda made with cane sugar is vastly superior to the stuff made with HFCS.

In this house, I tend to buy several cases of Passover Coke when that time of year rolls around. It, too, is made with cane sugar, and Mrs. Pornographer swears she can tell the difference. This year, we made it through November with the stock I bought in April.

Now, Pepsi is saying that the cane sugar product might degrade in the shipping to the US, which is...fairly ridiculous. Do they mean to suggest that Mexicans are getting an inferior product? That shipping to the US is somehow more damaging that shipping throughout Mexico?

Another graphic novel

In between chapters of Lamb, I also reread Martha Washington Goes to War. Tis is one volume of the Give me Liberty series by Frank Miller and Dave Gibbons. Frank, of course, is best known for Batman: The Dark Knight Returns which I had no idea was worth as much as Amazon says it is. I need to see how many copies I have.

And Dave Gibbons is best known for Watchmen, which he did with genius Alan Moore.

Frankly, I find Alan much more, hmmm, how shall I put it...sane...than Frank Miller. Frank has some views about human nature and society which rely far too heavily on Ayn Rand for my taste. Plus, I'm sorry, but 300 WAS more than a tad homophobic while at the same time heavily homoerotic. (Gee, wonder what that says...?) At the same time, the man wrote some cracking adventure stories. Does that excuse the gay Nazi enemies Martha Washington has to literally impale on her service saber, or the freakishly drawn gay? pre-op tranny? WTF? who appears with a swastika tattooed on his hugely muscled pec in Dark Knight? Or that the Joke himself is portrayed as having an interest in makeup for its gender transformation rather than the whole clown image? I mean, dammit. He calls Batman "darling."

Eh; I console myself that no one comes out looking very good in Miller's worlds, unless they are borderline lone heroes with slight psychopathic and obsessive tendencies and a frustrated inability to form lasting relationships. (I mean, really, how many Robins HAVE there been?) Liberals, feminists, peaceniks, hippies, slackers, stoners, politicians and anyone engaged in the status quo are all seen as a collaborative mass of oozing acid slowly eroding the penis - er, the strength of um...

Well, everything. Civilization is at risk because stupid, under educated yet over paid workers don't know how to do their jobs. Pot smoking parents forget they have kids. Gays are...um...Nazis. Protesters are deluded, shrinks are useless, the media is opium and everyone is either a part of the corruption or a victim of it. Only one lone individual has any power against the ...erosion? - and they are doomed to suffer at the hands of vile people both within and without the structure of society who will try to kill them along the way.


And I read it for fun. But wow, if I believed in that, I'd need a lot more Celexa to get up in the morning, tell you whut.

Still re-reading

I am daunted by the pile of serious Jew-lit and gay-lit I found I hadn't read. It all sounds so gloomy and good-for-you; packed full of nutritional value but without any of the sheer joy that junk reading delivers. As a friend of mine once said as she sampled the gluten-free cake at a reading, "Needs more glutens."

So instead, it's back to little palate cleansers of Sandman graphic novels punctuated by light reading. Last night I read The Sandman Vol. 7: Brief Lives.

When I finished that, I decided it was time to reread Lamb Special Gift Ed: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal
by Christopher Moore. Oh, is this shit funny. SO irreverent and silly. But it does answer the deep, philosophical question, "What if Jesus knew Kung-Fu?" - which I must have asked myself a thousand times. Hasn't everyone?

Sadly, his other books didn't amuse me as much, although he certainly has a talent for titles. I mean, how can you beat The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove?

OK, found something to read today.

While going through my shelves for more books I can trade or sell, I found Favorite Son, which I have kept since..1984? 1988? I started re-reading it over lunch to see why I kept it. So far, it seems like a nice mesh of politics, romance and behind the scenes skullduggery.

I also dug out two more to re-read before listing. But we've been doing such a good job at culling the monster that is our library, I am not sure what else will be left.

However, when I get to the office library...where all the porn is?

Those, I'll sell. And I will be letting people know way ahead of time.

Reading catch up

OK, so I finished the Kellermans, had a palate cleanser of Household Gods, and then dipped into an anthology I've had around for years but never actually read, Sandman, The: Book of Dreams. I had it because a friend of mine, Lawrence Schimel, has a poem in it. Lawrence is the world's hardest working writer; if he doesn't have work in over 100 anthologies, I'd be surprised. He has done everything from poetry to children's lit to erotica.

Anyway, I am a huge Neil Gaimon fan, and I love my Sandman, but I never had the urge to read short stories set in the world. There is something about prose versions of comic books which usually disappoints me. (Probably starting with the costumes. I can take them in pictures, but actually reading about someone pulling on their green tights and tunic would make me giggle.)

The verdict? Damn good. Loved it. What's wrong with me anyway? It goes back on the shelf with the other keepers.

Then I missed my serial killers, so I reread Thomas Harris' Hannibal books. The Silence of the Lambs (Hannibal Lector), then through Hannibal Rising

Silence is still the best, but I like the time spent with Lector in Hannibal. Rising...well. It's The Godfather 3. I want it for closure.

I have no idea what to read next. There is nothing on my "new books" shelf, which always sucks.

Oh, speaking of new and old books, I joined Paperback Swap, this online service that facilitates getting rid of books you no longer want and getting books back from other people. Using a nice little matching system and a helping of trust and media mail, so far I have sent out several books from my "why have I kept this?" pile and will be adding more soon. If you join, mention me as a referrer. I don't know if it gets me any goodies, but it can't hurt.

For the man who...

Wow; a gentleman's sex toy with matching bling.

Regular reads

There are some books I tend to read over and over again, not for any philosophical value, or even to learn from them, but for the same strange reasons why some trashy movies entertain me no matter how many times I see them. Sure it's easy to say "I watch The Godfather over and over again" because it's acknowledged as an American classic. But Trading Places? Major League? Coming to America? Put one of those on and I get happy, despite their thin plots, cheesy acting and, well, general low-brow content.

Ditto, it would be great to say I read great classics over and over again because they speak to my soul, warm my cockles, etc. But the fact is, what draws me to re-read is not depth of thought but depth of setting and color. I want to get lost in a book and feel, viscerally, what the main character(s) feel. I want to know what they taste, what the air is like on their skin, and to feel like the book is a sort of guide to that world. That's why Clavell's Shogun and Auel's The Clan of the Cave Bear and Mccullough's First Man in Rome (Masters of Rome) series get a thorough read every year or so.

An odd book that makes me happy every time I reread it is Household Gods, by Judith Tarr and Harry Turtledove. It's odd because I can't say I am a huge fan of either of them writing as individuals. Some of Turtledove's alt-history stories are nice and fast reads, but they tend not to be volumes I keep. And the other fiction I've read by Tarr I have found heavy and meandering.

And it's also odd because there's nothing especially *me* in this book. The protagonist is a single mom lawyer who has made some bad choices in a lifestyle I find annoying to read about. She is astonishingly ignorant of history for a lawyer, which is important because it's one of those time travel books where the 20th century person winds up back in time. There are times when I want to reach through the book and smack her.

And yet...the descriptions of the people, the food, the smells, the buildings, the daily interactions are so right on. She might be dense from time to time, but she's tough, too, and crafty. And there is a certain pleasure in the story of a person who actually learns useful things in the course of a story. Best of all, the story doesn't end in two of the most common ways in time travel sagas; she neither finds true love in the past nor gets dropped off safely at her front door while "the end" appears immediately thereafter.

Readers who know my work might recognize the fact that I like multiple endings. The story isn't over just because someone falls in love or returns home. I always tend to ask, "and THEN what?" even in my own work. This book pleases me because I find out.

After a month of mysteries and police stories in the Kellerman family, it was nice to enjoy the richness of ancient Roman culture through the eyes of a California lawyer who didn't know what she was getting into. What I am going to read next, I dunno. This year, no one gave me books, possibly a first! It's back to the shelves for another re-read, and soon.

Finished with the Kellerman

And I found out I am missing one. I hate that. Apparently, I was not in the mood to pick up Obsession (Alex Delaware, No. 21)

Head over to Circlet.com!

Cecilia Tan and her Tan Clan have been putting out erotic SF, fantasy and horror for so long, you can call them Olde Guarde Porne. This year, at Circlet.com, she's been putting up stories from their many anthologies and writers in a free-fest of fantasy, one story a day for a sort of kinky advent period. I've got two stories appearing this week - Shayna Maidel and a new one I wrote just for her site, called Ho-Fucking-Ho.

The first is my Jewish-lesbian-vampire story (doesn't *everyone* have one of those?) and the new one I wrote because I find Xmas stories trite, yet had just written a little ditty called Santa, Bucko, to the tune of Santa, Baby.

Ahh, the life of the mind.

See, I wrote the song lyrics because a regular on Bilerico, a queer blog, had posted a version written for MtF chicks. It was cute, I liked it, but thought the FtMs might want their own version. So, I dashed one off and posted it. Then the two people in my life who get m to do things I would not ordinarily do told me I should spread it around, that it was funny. OK, fine, so it wound up on my mailing list and on my website.

And then Cecilia wrote and asked if I had any Xmas stories sitting around. And I had this song...and a picture popped into my head of a really cranky Daddy and a bunch of hot boys...

Anyway. That story will appear on the 24th, on the Circlet.com site. Hope you like it.

Next Kellerman

As I continue my trek through the Kellerman family, today's book is Gone. It's not his best; I still think his earlier work is far better than his more current. But as I reread the series in order, I think I've been harsh in dismissing his more recent work as vastly inferior. It is...stripped down more. Alex's personal life seems so bare compared to the details which made him more of a rounded character earlier on.

Am I more forgiving now because I am reading them so quickly, and therefore didn't have time to forget the details? Or because maybe I am lulled into the process of each story; set up, complications, mysteries - then bang-up ending which puts Alex in danger for at least two pages?

One thing for sure - Milo sure gets the short shrift in all these years. A genius, a butch sourpuss of a gay detective, suddenly I am wishing there was a series about him. And how come we never get to see his handsome emergency surgeon husband??

Books I'm Reading

I've spent the last month reading Jonathan Kellerman's mysteries in chronological order. I'm up to Rage.

My review of "Defending Pornography"

Defending Pornography (for real this time)
by Laura Antoniou


If pornography is part of your sexuality, then you have no right to your sexuality. - Catharine MacKinnon

Lesbian written pornography ... is an expression of self hatred. - Andrea Dworkin

WITH statements like these descending from their lips, it almost seems unnecessary to dispute Dworkin and MacKinnon: they obviously have the wherewithal to shoot themselves in various appendages and make enemies by the score. And that's before we start gathering other mots, such as their implied and stated contention that sex is what heterosexual men do to heterosexual women, and that all other forms of sexuality are mere representations or substitutions for the same; that essentially all men are born rapists and all women their victims; that women cannot be trusted to enter into a voluntary contract that involves any form of sexual expression; and on and on. These women are obsessed with sex, specifically of the violent and nonconsensual variety as enacted by men against women.

When Dworkin stood to testify before Congress and its Meese Commission in 1986, she claimed that 65 to 70% of all women involved in the sex industries--such as prostitutes, film stars, models, and presumably writers of a certain kind--had been victims of incest or child abuse, though she supplied no evidence to substantiate this assertion. She suggested that so-called snuff films were so commonplace, it began to sound as if you could pick one up at your local Blockbuster. When MacKinnon wrote an impassioned story about the horrible atrocities being committed in prison camps in Bosnia, her lurid tales of sexual abuse and torture were almost lyrical in their attention to detail.

The writings of MacKinnon and Dworkin could be dismissed were it not for the fact that much of the world--including whole governments, such as that of Canada--have taken their arguments seriously and even codified them into law. This opens up a curious mystery. Usually, when a woman with some academic credentials behind her stands up and rails against the heterosexist, patriarchal, violence-loving, oppressive, angry-white-male culture, she is left alone with her women's studies classes, published in under-distributed journals, abandoned by the mainstream to wait for tenure and retirement. But these two get their faces on every roundtable discussion, testify
before every commission, get discussed in state legislatures, and find their words written into Canadian law (and make it necessary for me to become an international smuggler to sell my wares)!

What made MacKinnon and Dworkin such a uniquely successful feminist force to be reckoned with? Was it MacKinnon's sparkling prose? Dworkin's high media-Q factor and star quality?

Of course not: it was the smut. It was their focus on pornography, the writings of whores, the land of the solitary vice, that made the terrible twosome famous and feared. What they discovered, after years of putting in their time on various feminist fronts, was that the pornography war was the only one which the aforementioned hetero-patriarchal government and culture responded to. It was their big chance to get something done. No amount of writing and talking on their part could actually raise working women's salaries, create childcare opportunities, or make abortion safe and available to poor women. Congress wasn't holding hearings on the question of domestic partnership laws or the rights of lesbians to qualify for health care or the rights of young queers to safe sex information. People were looking for a scapegoat for every perceived moral and ethical failing in our culture, and pornography fit the bill. And MacDworkin--to borrow Nadine Strossen's name for them in Defending Pornography (Scribner, 1995)--was ready to fall into step. Here, at last, was a battle they could win.
...

Read the rest HERE

Got time to waste?

Watch some internet files. Check out some new stops on my reading list. Have fun.

Foamy has some issues. Watch Volume 4. I died laughing.

Dykes to Watch Out For; The Blog. Yes; my favorite lefty comic strip creator has started to blog. And dammit, Lois would have been hot as an FTM.

Susie Bright, the Blog. Ahh, Susie! I met her when she was with On Our Backs, many moons ago. Fun lady.

Speaking of FTMs. Here's a cute lil' FTM rapper! Named Katastrophe. Oooh, you are a tough guy! I mean it. Really.

Admit it, you have no idea what an FTM is. Here. And if you have read my books and still need to ask about Chris, I suggest remedial reading.

It's like the end of an era

Izora Armstead; a singer on the Weather Girls' recording 'It's Raining Men' has passed away

..."It's Raining Men," a bombastic vocal romp that winkingly borrowed from gospel music – "Hallelujah, it's raining men, amen!" goes its chorus – was one of the biggest hits of the genre known as hi-NRG, a souped-up version of disco that ruled dance clubs in the 1980s.

Sung with gusto by Ms. Armstead, then known as Izora Rhodes, and her partner, Martha Wash, the song only reached No. 46 on the pop charts when it was released in 1983, but hit No. 1 on the club charts and later reached No. 2 in England.

Written by Paul Jabara and Paul Shaffer – of "Late Show With David Letterman" – the song has since become an anthem of the gay club scene and in 2001 it again reached the top of the British charts with a version by a former Spice Girl, Geri Halliwell.

Written by Paul Shaffer?? Who knew? And Homer Simpson loved it, too. One of the funniest moment at my wedding was when the DJ played it and all the gay men leapt to their feet, leaving my het cousins to blink and ask, "gay men like this song?"

I coulda told them THAT!

Is Caffeine Withdrawal a Mental Disorder?
Er. YES.
1 in 8 People Can't Function Without Daily Fix
That's ALL??

Sept. 30, 2004 -- Researchers are saying that caffeine withdrawal should now be classified as a psychiatric disorder.

A new study that analyzes some 170 years' worth of research concludes that caffeine withdrawal is very real -- producing enough physical symptoms and a disruption in daily life to classify it as a psychiatric disorder. Researchers are suggesting that caffeine withdrawal should be included in the next edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), considered the bible of mental disorders.

"I don't think this means anyone should be worried," says study researcher Roland Griffiths, PhD, professor of psychiatry and neuroscience at Johns Hopkins School of Medicine. "What it means is that the phenomenon of caffeine withdrawal is real and that when people don't get their usual dose, they can suffer a range of withdrawal symptoms."

I'm so glad someone got paid to study 170 years of information on this. Hell, anyone caffeine addict will be glad to tell you exactly what it's like to go cold turkey, and it ain't pretty.
Sheesh.

Next, they'll say eating chocolate and ice cream helps alleviate symptoms of depression and PMS.

Oh, I got another book coming out this year

Just in case you are one of the few readers of the blog who also reads my porn, my "best of" collection, The Catalyst and Other Works, will be out before the end of the year, and some kind folks are already taking preorders. Drop me a note if you want the secret code to get 10% off the cover price.

101 Top books?

101 Great books recommended for high school students, especially those heading on to college. Frankly...I don't see todays high schoolers having the ability to read many of the books on this list. The ones in bold are ones I've read.

-- Beowulf
Achebe, Chinua Things Fall Apart
Agee, James A Death in the Family
Austin, Jane Pride and Prejudice
Baldwin, James Go Tell It on the Mountain
Beckett, Samuel Waiting for Godot
Bellow, Saul The Adventures of Augie March
Bronte, Charlotte Jane Eyre
Bronte, Emily Wuthering Heights
Camus, Albert The Stranger
Cather, Willa Death Comes for the Archbishop
Cervantes, Miguel de Don Quixote
Chaucer, Geoffrey The Canterbury Tales
Chekhov, Anton The Cherry Orchard
Chopin, Kate The Awakening
Conrad, Joseph Heart of Darkness
Cooper, James Fenimore The Last of the Mohicans
Crane, Stephen The Red Badge of Courage
Dante Inferno
Defoe, Daniel Robinson Crusoe
Dickens, Charles A Tale of Two Cities
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor Crime and Punishment
Douglass, Frederick Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass
Dreiser, Theodore An American Tragedy
Dumas, Alexandre The Three Musketeers
Eliot, George The Mill on the Floss
Ellison, Ralph Invisible Man
Emerson, Ralph Waldo Selected Essays
Faulkner, William As I Lay Dying
Faulkner, William The Sound and the Fury
Fielding, Henry Tom Jones
Fitzgerald, F. Scott The Great Gatsby
Flaubert, Gustave Madame Bovary
Ford, Ford Madox The Good Soldier
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von Faust
Golding, William Lord of the Flies
Hardy, Thomas Tess of the d'Urbervilles
Hawthorne, Nathaniel The Scarlet Letter
Heller, Joseph Catch 22
Hemingway, Ernest A Farewell to Arms
Homer The Iliad
Homer The Odyssey
Hugo, Victor The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Hurston, Zora Neale Their Eyes Were Watching God
Huxley, Aldous Brave New World
Ibsen, Henrik A Doll's House
James, Henry The Portrait of a Lady
James, Henry The Turn of the Screw
Joyce, James A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Kafka, Franz The Metamorphosis
Kingston, Maxine Hong The Woman Warrior
Lee, Harper To Kill a Mockingbird
Lewis, Sinclair Babbitt
London, Jack The Call of the Wild
Mann, Thomas The Magic Mountain
Marquez, Gabriel Garcia One Hundred Years of Solitude
Melville, Herman Bartleby the Scrivener
Melville, Herman Moby Dick
Miller, Arthur The Crucible
Morrison, Toni Beloved
O'Connor, Flannery A Good Man is Hard to Find
O'Neill, Eugene Long Day's Journey into Night
Orwell, George Animal Farm
Pasternak, Boris Doctor Zhivago
Plath, Sylvia The Bell Jar
Poe, Edgar Allen Selected Tales
Proust, Marcel Swann's Way
Pynchon, Thomas The Crying of Lot 49
Remarque, Erich Maria All Quiet on the Western Front
Rostand, Edmond Cyrano de Bergerac
Roth, Henry Call It Sleep
Salinger, J.D. The Catcher in the Rye
Shakespeare, William Hamlet
Shakespeare, William Macbeth
Shakespeare, William A Midsummer Night's Dream
Shakespeare, William Romeo and Juliet
Shaw, George Bernard Pygmalion
Shelley, Mary Frankenstein
Silko, Leslie Marmon Ceremony
Solzhenitsyn, Alexander One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich
Sophocles Antigone
Sophocles Oedipus Rex
Steinbeck, John The Grapes of Wrath
Stevenson, Robert Louis Treasure Island
Stowe, Harriet Beecher Uncle Tom's Cabin
Swift, Jonathan Gulliver's Travels
Thackeray, William Vanity Fair
Thoreau, Henry David Walden
Tolstoy, Leo War and Peace
Turgenev, Ivan Fathers and Sons
Twain, Mark The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
Voltaire Candide
Vonnegut, Kurt Jr. Slaughterhouse-Five
Walker, Alice The Color Purple
Warton, Edith The House of Mirth
Welty, Eudora Collected Stories
Whitman, Walt Leaves of Grass
Wilde, Oscar The Picture of Dorian Gray
Williams, Tennessee The Glass Menagerie
Woolf, Virginia To the Lighthouse
Wright, Richard Native Son

Because the name "Biggus Dickus" was taken?

Fossilised crustacean boasts oldest penis A newly discovered 425 million-year-old fossil boasts a lurid claim to fame - it has the oldest penis on record.

The five millimetre long crustacean, discovered by UK and US researchers, has been named Colymbosathon ecplecticos - derived from the Greek for "astounding swimmer with a large penis".

The well-endowed creature is surprisingly similar to modern relatives, despite being entombed nearly half a billion years ago, says the team.

David Siveter, a paleontologist at the University of Leicester, and colleagues unearthed the clamlike species in a rock formation in Herefordshire, UK. The creature possesses a hard shell, an organ for grabbing prey, six gills, as well as a "copulatory organ [that] is large and stout", says the team....

From Monty Python's Life of Brian:

BRIAN
I'm not Jewish ... I'm a Roman!
PILATE
*WOMAN*?
BRIAN
No, *ROMAN*.
(But he's not quick enough to avoid another blow from the CENTURION.)
PILATE
So, your father was a *WOMAN*. Who was he?
BRIAN (proudly)
He was a centurion in the Jerusalem Garrison.
PILATE
Oh. What was his name?
BRIAN
Nortius Maximus.
(An involuntary titter arises from the CENTURION.)
PILATE
Centuwion, do we have anyone of that name in the gawwison?
CENTURION
Well ... no sir.
PILATE
You sound vewwy sure ... have you checked?
CENTURION
Well ... no sir ... I think it's a joke, sir ... like ... Sillius Soddus
or ... Biggus Dickus.
PILATE
What's so funny about Biggus Dickus?
CENTURION
Well ... it's a ... joke name, sir.
PILATE
I have a vewwy gweat fwend in Wome called Biggus Dickus.
(Involuntary laughter from a nearby GUARD surprises PILATE.)
PILATE
Silence! What is all this insolence? You will find yourself in
gladiator school vewwy quickly with wotten behaviour like that.
(The GUARD tries to stop giggling. PILATE turns away from him. He is angry.)
BRIAN
Can I go now sir ...
(The CENTURION strikes him.)
PILATE
Wait till Biggus hears of this!
(The GUARD immediately breaks up again. PILATE turns on him.)
PILATE
Wight! Centuwion ... take him away.
CENTURION
Oh sir, he only ...
PILATE
I want him fighting wabid wild animals within a week.
CENTURION
Yes, sir.
(He starts to drag out the wretched GUARD. BRIAN notices that little
attention is being paid to him.)
PILATE
I will not have my fwends widiculed by the common soldiewy.
(He walks slowly towards the other GUARDS.)
PILATE
Now ... anyone else feel like a little giggle when I mention my fwend ...
(He goes right up to one of the GUARDS.)
Biggus ... Dickus. He has a wife you know.
(The GUARDS tense up.)
Called Incontinentia.
(The GUARDS relax.)
Incontinentia Buttocks!