Not Much Of A Spanking Picture

All six of my regular readers know that I don’t post many pictures depicting spanking. That’s simply because there are damn few that I consider worth posting. Do you know of a site that has good pictures? I don’t. Most of the pictures posted here are of women that have a bottom that I would love to spank. I let my mind do the work.

This is a not so good spanking picture, but I like it. Sorry, it does not show any parts. It was taken in a home – ceiling fans are not common in motels. So it’s possible they are not spanking models. I see two things. First, she dressed in a school girl outfit to get spanked. She may never have worn one in school, but she or her spanker like the look now.

Second, I see a look of pleasant anticipation on her face. He is standing far enough away from her to be using a paddle or strap. Whatever it is, she is happily waiting to feel the sting.

Our kind of spanking

Why Do We Hide?

On a spanking forum, a cyber chum started posted some gif’s of women humping pillows. It’s an age-old masturbation technique. It was a fav of the young Bacall. I wondered why she was posting masturbation pictures on a spanking site, but I also wondered if this was a big deal. I Googled humping pillows and beheld that every porn site in the universe had videos of women humping pillows. So what? You say. Many of them showed full nudity and their faces. So apparently is it’s OK to put yourself “out there” in acts depicting simulated sex, but not for spanking. Spanking we hide. I wonder why? I asked this question back in March in the post Are Spanko’s Prudes. I got ZERO replies to my question. This blog works best when there is some interaction.

The Dem Debate

The 2020 Democrats Lack Hindsight

They ignore reality and march in lockstep with their base. Did they learn anything from 2016?

Peggy Noonan’s take on the Dem debate. She is usually right.

I’ve received tens of thousands of letters and other communications from Trump supporters the past few years, some of which have sparked extended dialogues. Two I got after last week’s column struck me as pertinent to this moment, and they make insufficiently appreciated points.

A gentleman of early middle age in Kansas City wrote to say he’d sat out the 2016 election because he was dissatisfied with both parties. But now he’s for Donald Trump, and the reason “runs deeper than politics.”

America’s elites in politics, media and the academy have grown oblivious to “the average Joe’s intense disgust” at being morally instructed and “preached to.”

“Every day, Americans are told of the endless ways they are falling short. If we don’t show the ‘proper’ level of understanding according to a talking head, then we are surely racist. If we don’t embrace every sanitized PC talking point, then we must be heartless. If we have the audacity to speak our mind, then we are most definitely a bigot.” These accusations are relentless.

“We are jabbed like a boxer with no gloves on to defend us. And we are fed up. We are tired of being told we aren’t good enough.” He believes the American people are by nature kind and generous—“they would give you the shirt off their back if you were in trouble”—and that “in Donald Trump, voters found a massive sledgehammer that pulverizes the ridiculous notion that Americans aren’t good enough.” Mr. Trump doesn’t buy the guilt narrative.

“It’s surely not about the man at this point. It stopped being about Trump long ago. It is about that counter-punch that has been missing from our culture for far too long.”

The culture of accusation, he says, is breaking us apart.

A reader who grew up upper-middle-class in the South writes on the politics of the situation. His second wife, also a Southerner, grew up poor. She is a former waitress and bartender whose politics he characterizes as “pragmatic liberal.” They watched Mr. Trump’s 2015 announcement together, and he said to her, “He doesn’t have a chance.” She looked at him “with complete conviction” and said, “He’s going to win.”

As the campaign progressed, she never wavered. At the end, with the polls saying Hillary, “I asked my wife how she could be so certain Trump was going to win.” He found her response “astute and telling.”

“She told me, ‘He speaks my language, and there’s a lot more of me than there is of you.’ ”

I have to say after a week of reading such letters that emotionally this cycle feels like 2016 all over again. Various facts are changed (no Mrs. Clinton) but the same basic dynamic pertains—the two Americas talking past each other, the social and cultural resentments, the great estrangement. It’s four years later but we’re re-enacting the trauma of 2016.

And the Democrats again appear to be losing the thread.

They’ve spent the past few months giving the impression they are in a kind of passionate lockstep with a part of their base, the progressives, and detached from everyone else.

And in the debates they doubled down. Both nights had fizz. There was a lot of earnestness and different kinds of brightness.

But what Night One did was pick up the entire party and put it down outside the mainstream and apart from the center.

This is what the candidates said:

They are, functionally, in terms of the effects of their stands, for open borders.

They are in complete agreement with the abortion regime—no reservations or qualms, no sense of just or civilized limits.

They’re all in on identity politics. One candidate warned against denying federally funded abortions to “a trans female.”

Two said they would do away with all private health insurance.

Every party plays to its base in the primaries and attempts to soften its stands in the general. But I’m wondering how the ultimate nominee thinks he or she will walk this all back. It is too extreme for America, and too extreme for the big parts of its old base that the Democrats forgot in 2016.

It was as if they were saying, “Hi, middle-American people who used to be Democrats and voted for Trump, we intend to alienate you again. Go vote for that jerk, we don’t care.”

Another problem: America has a painful distance between rich and poor, but it is hard to pound the “1%” hammer effectively in a nation enjoying functional full employment. Our prosperity is provisional and could leave tomorrow, but right now America’s feeling stronger.

“Grapes of Wrath” rhetoric resonates when people think they’re in or entering a recession or depression. The debaters Wednesday night looked like they were saying, “Who ya gonna believe, me or your lying eyes?”

After these big facts, candidate-by-candidate analysis seems secondary. Beto O’Rourke’s fatuous, self-actualizing journey makes the Democrats look sillier than they have to. Elizabeth Warren was focused and energetic, and her call to break up concentrations of power, including big tech, was strong and timely. She made a terrible mistake in holding to her intention to do away with private health insurance. An estimated 180 million Americans have such policies. Why force potential supporters to choose between her and their family’s insurance? Who does she think is going to win that? Why put as the headline on your plan, “This is what I’m going to take away from you”? Why would she gamble a serious long-term candidacy on such a vow? It is insane.

If she is extremely lucky Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez won’t endorse her soon and make it worse.

Bill de Blasio had the best moment in the first half-hour, suggesting Democrats shouldn’t bicker about policy differences but instead unite as progressives. He has that air of burly, happy aggression that is the special province of idiots. Tulsi Gabbard broke through when it became clear she was the only explicitly antiwar candidate on the stage; this had the interesting effect of showing the others up.

Night two was more raucous but similarly extreme. The first 15 minutes included higher taxes, free college and student-loan forgiveness. Most candidates agreed on free health insurance for illegal immigrants. They also appeared to believe that most or all U.S. immigration law should be abolished.

The big dawgs did OK. If Kamala Harris was not a big dawg, she is now. Joe Biden sort of held his own but seemed to flag. Bernie Sanders seemed not as interesting as last cycle, more crotchety and irritable.

Eric Swalwell’s uncorking of a memory from when he was 6—ol’ Sen. Biden came to town and talked about passing the torch to younger leaders—was an attempt at slyness that so widely missed its mark, was so inelegant and obvious, that it was kind of fabulous. By the end of the night Mr. Swalwell had flamed out from sheer obnoxiousness.

The nonpolitician Marianne Williamson was delightfully unshy, sincere and, until her daffy closing statement, sympathetic. Kirsten Gillibrand yippily interrupted—“It’s my turn!”—and did herself no good.

It was an odd evening in that it was lively, spirited, at moments even soulful, and yet so detached from reality.