Filthy, Stinking Rich

When Sean “P. Diddy” Comb’s son Justin turned 16 last year, the rap mogul made sure that the young man commuted in style by purchasing him a $300,000 Maybach luxury car as a birthday gift. This year, when Justin qualified for the honor roll, Diddy purchased him a custom Maybach limousine valued at almost $400,000. When questioned about the extravagant gift, Mr. Combs admitted that it was for special occasions like a “first date” and that Justin (like all of his children) really enjoyed the “simpler things” in life.

While I applaud Diddy’s emphasis on academic achievement, perhaps the “simpler things” line was a bit disingenuous. After all, in a world where your first car exceeds the value of the average American home I suspect that “simpler things” is a relative concept like cutting back by firing your personal assistant’s secretary. 

Diddy at last year's Salvation Army benefit gala...

Justin’s story is not unique, and if you have ever sat through an episode of MTV’s Sweet 16 you will realize that there are a growing number of American children who experience a childhood untouched by financial limitations. While my parents worked hard to ensure that my sister and I never went without what we needed, I would not classify us as wealthy. I went to public school, making the honor roll meant I got to pick the restaurant the family ate at and my first car was a used 1993 Chevrolet Cavalier.

I am grateful for that environment because I have always had the sneaking suspicion that I would become a public menace were I to come into substantial monies. I believe that we all have a self-absorbed dark side, but for most people it just remains mercifully underfinanced.

I have decided that if I were to become independently wealthy, the following would occur:

1. I would buy “summer homes” in different countries (preferably without extradition treaties) and constantly lament the difficulty in finding time to visit them all.

2. I would fly first class to impoverished nations while complaining that the Siberian-tiger meatloaf bites I insisted on being served were “too gamey.”

3. I would underwrite a celebrity death match between Rosanne Barr and Kathy Griffin, and then have the winner executed.

4. I would live irresponsibly for the better part of a decade, bottom out at 37 with a VH1 reality series, and then write a bestselling memoir about how misunderstood my personal journey was.

5. I would hire a world-renowned chef just pour my Frosted Flakes in a bowl for me.

6. I would completely outsource the rearing of my ridiculously-named offspring (“Have you met my son Epimetheus and my daughter Saristocrat?”) and then live the remainder of my days in genuine shock when they grow into mal-adjusted adults with expensive prescription drug habits.

7. I would re-purchase all of the same furniture I have now……….for my dog.

8. I would spend hours threatening lawsuits over unacceptable “yacht fees” and the outrageous tariffs on imported-marble utility sinks.

9. My wife and I would be featured on Amazing Vacation Homes on the Travel Channel where our occupations would be listed as Domestic Socialite and Technology Enthusiast respectively.

10. I would start a charity and host outrageously-priced fundraising dinners to benefit fake causes (like endangered sea-bison or children suffering from butterscotch tendonitis) just to see who would come.

All of this is not to say that one cannot be born into economic privilege and remain a grounded, self-less human being. I am just fairly certain I am not that person.  I admire those who wield their fiscal power in a responsible manner, but I am afraid that had I been in P. Diddy’s shoes I would have driven the limo to my child’s school, set it on fire in front of the student body, and then informed everyone that I am so filthy rich that I could afford to ignite the car just because I was cold. That is, unless my personal assistant stopped me….

Goddesses & Good Times

Prostitution has been called the world’s oldest profession and throughout history we see examples of individuals trading currency or commodities for carnal favors. However, as it remains illegal in the United States (with the exception of a few decommissioned bomb testing sites in Nevada) those dabbling in the flesh trade have been forced to run clandestine operations. While there are a few notable exceptions, such as the Arkansas “VIP Spa” for lonely truckers, most keep a low profile to avoid legal repercussions.

Founder Tracy Elise (during an apparent fireworks mishap)

This all changed in 1995 when former beauty queen Tracy Elise decided to leave her husband, children, and small business to pursue her destiny as a “goddess.” Unable to find an accredited university with a goddess program, she opted for real-world training in a Washington State massage parlor. From there she spent time at the Seattle Tantra Temple until she landed in Phoenix a few years ago and opened The Phoenix Goddess Temple, the most brilliant brothel the world has ever seen.

Elise claims that since her own sensual awakening, a journey that by her own admission involved over 1,000 lovers or about 1/8^th of the standing US coast guard, she has felt the calling to bring her spiritual eroticism to the masses. Well aware of the legal tightrope she was walking, Elise created a church that offered prosecutable services with un-prosecutable names like “Full body Chakra contact” and “Sacred Vessel Anointing.” All sessions are offered to “seekers” in exchange for “suggested donations” to further the mission of the temple.

Most female practitioners, referred to exclusively as goddesses, use quasi-mythological pseudonyms like “Ora Lakshmi” or “Astrid” and each has a profile page where they can showcase their specialties while prospective seekers view casual portraits (such as Leila Swan air-humping a cello while dressed as a Geisha or Angelica meditating butt-naked in a fern garden). Each goddess must adhere to the unquantifiable characteristics identified in the temple’s governing document such as embodying a “full spectrum living matrix” and “artfully weaving the ladder of light.” There is no mention of Microsoft Excel experience.

Goddess "Bast"on casual Friday.

The business model is so successful that the city of Phoenix has never been able to cite them for anything more substantial than inadequate parking in their three years of operation, partially because “seekers” sign a waiver implying that they are there for spiritual enlightenment only. A seeker is asked for a suggested hourly tithe based on the temple’s study of ancient numerology and these “donations” are cash only to provide a “deterrent to a person excessively visiting and going into debt.” 

After reading an expose in the Phoenix New Times and visiting the temple’s website, I must admit the group’s prodigious implementations of euphemisms for the male reproductive organ is nothing short of inspired. It is identified as a “wand of light,” “resonating vessel,” and if I am interpreting the FAQ correctly, a “fire finger” among others. Even the detailed descriptions seem to be constructed for reasonable doubt in a jury trial:

  “Everything I showed him about the Polarities that we learned in class blew his mind, and his awareness just grew and grew.  When I laid over him to plug the chakra energy centers into each other, I started at the root of course and let him feel it with his new awareness.  I wish you could have seen his face!  We then nested our energy centers the rest of the way up to the crown.”

I have read this four times and either something dirty transpired concerning some guy’s “nested energy center” or they took up a love offering. Even the extra services could be interpreted several ways:

Releasing Kundalini – either a Class C felony or what happens after consuming a chipotle burrito value meal.

Sacred Cacao Hot Chocolate Ceremony – either illegal for consenting adults in all 50 states or a delicious Christmas tradition served with graham crackers.

Tantric Soul Gazing – either extremely inappropriate for the office or the working title of Sting’s autobiography.

Surrender to Yin – either a source of venereal disease or a clever nickname for a Chinese plea-bargain.

Full Chakra Hug – either an erotic formal greeting or the street name for what happened to Joe Pesci’s character at the end of Casino.

I would be interested to see what happens if a “seeker” has something done to his “enlightenment basket” and declines to donate a “tithe.” Are there cosmic repercussions? Does the “goddess shaman” realign the seeker’s “inner being” with a complimentary “pressure point activation session” in the temple parking lot?

While I cannot condone the services offered by the Phoenix Goddess Temple, I must admire their creativity. Tracy Elise has created a business that openly exchanges sensual favors for cash in a busy metropolitan area while invoking the protections of religious freedom. The website is descriptive enough to make you want to take a shower but vague enough to make you unsure exactly why that shower is necessary. A visitor can read pages upon pages describing “cosmic-vessel awakening rituals” and “polarity staff realignment services” but not once could I find direct mention of genitals. The site’s wording in so effective that most Internet filters do not classify the site as adult.

It remains to be seen whether or not the city will find a way to shut down the temple, but in the meantime it appears that there are plenty of “seekers” whose “chakras” are in need of “enlightenment.”

The Phoenix Temple's Website is here.  

Death Threat Etiquette

I have recently become saddened by what I see as a decline in the quality of death threats in this country. There was once a time where highly ranking elected officials and social reformers could expect ominous late night calls from a payphone or the occasional menacing letter comprised of re-purposed newspaper clippings. Such warnings were taken seriously because they were serious, and Americans could take pride in the fact that we were on the forefront of the “implied violence movement.”

 

Unfortunately, it appears that America’s newest generation is not prepared to continue such a proud legacy. A few days ago, I ran a Google News search for “death threats” and began riffling through the results. Did I find heads of state in mortal danger? Community activists fearing for their safety? Sadly, all I could find were articles concerning Disney star Selena Gomez who has been receiving death threats (mostly via Twitter) after she was photographed spending time with Justin Bieber over the holidays on a private yacht.

If that wasn’t disheartening enough, apparently the same thing happened to Kim Kardashian after she appeared in a magazine photo-shoot with Mr. Bieber last year. And it isn’t just his fans spearheading this sad trend. During her appearance on Dancing With The Stars, Bristol Palin received multiple death threats and a mysterious envelop with white powder was mailed to the ABC studio where the show is filmed. Her success on the program angered one Wisconsin resident to the point that he fired a shotgun at his TV and entered into a tense standoff with law enforcement.

 Forgive me for being blunt, but kids today have no appreciation for a good death threat. For one thing, Twitter takes all of the effort out of it. Do you know how long it takes to piece together a coherent paragraph using headlines from the Sunday business section? Do you have any idea the dedication required to stand at a grimy pay phone at three o’ clock in the morning with a sock over the receiver just so you can inform senator Bob that his days are numbered? These new kids don’t even possess the good sense to hide their identity; much less issue a credible threat.

 

Instead, little Hannah sees a clip on Entertainment Tonight of The Bieb shaking hands with Helen Mirren, picks up her iPhone, and tweets, “I will cut you @helenmirren.” Perhaps the most heartbreaking aspect of this is that little Hannah has no long term emotional investment in carrying out such a proclamation because by tomorrow she will have issued so many more tweets that her homepage won’t even display her warning to Mrs. Mirren and she will have forgotten about it.

Not only are the techniques lacking, but the targets themselves are subpar. Selena Gomez? Bristol Palin? Kim Kardashian? Even Ryan Seacrest has reportedly been given an extra security detail. Once, such flattery was reserved for icons like John Lennon, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and John F. Kennedy; but now it appears that we are handing out dire warnings willy nilly.

 

Soon the art of the death threat will be lost forever, buried under years of half-hearted Twitter updates and poorly punctuated text messages. This onslaught will slowly erode the credibility of the remaining proper practitioners causing the inevitable collapse of the delicate relationship between the famous and those striving to become infamous.

At least we still have Facebook status feuds…..

Welcome to the (legislative) Gun Show!

Several weeks ago, multi-millionaire Republican Congressman Christopher Lee was innocently perusing craigslist personal ads when he came across a 34-year old single woman looking for a “financially and emotionally secure 30-40 year-old single man who is at least six feet tall.” Like any conscientious elected representative, Lee took it upon himself to assist what he perceived to be a constituent in need by removing his shirt and taking a phone-pic of his upper-torso. 

Accompanying this portrait, Congressman Lee penned a brief paragraph describing himself as a 39 year-old “fun classy guy” currently working as a Washington lobbyist. In his haste, Lee innocently forgot to mention that he was married, had a son, and was actually forty-six. The two exchanged several e-mails in which Lee discussed how he had been disappointed that other women he had met on craigslist had “not been as advertised.”

Concerned that the complete stranger answering her anonymous personal ad on craigslist might not have been completely forthright, the woman plugged Lee’s name and e-mail address into a search engine which led her to his Facebook page. Realizing that he was actually a married Congressman, she forwarded the conversations and photos to celebrity gossip blog Gawker.com who posted the now-infamous shirtless picture. Within three hours, Lee had resigned and issued a canned apology, much like the service I offer here.

Much has been made of the rampant immorality displayed by Lee, and certainly one might expect more from a conservative, family-values politician in the way of marital fidelity, but as a taxpayer I find myself more distraught by his general lack of common sense. This is a man who made a name for himself by crusading for Internet safety but willingly provided his real name, a photo, and primary e-mail address (which directly linked to his personal Facebook page) to a craigslist personal ad.

In retrospect, I suppose America is fortunate he was only a Congressman. Had he worked for the Department of Defense, he might have accidentally Tweeted nuclear launch codes while trying to take the infamous pic with his Blackberry.

There is also painful irony in a man lying about his age, job and marital status while simultaneously complaining about a lack of authenticity concerning Internet personal ads. If we really want to go to the mattresses on this, I am not so sure that a middle-aged politician taking half-naked self-portraits in a D.C. men’s room can accurately identify himself as “classy” to prospective lovers. The combination of bare upper-torso and meticulously coiffed hair gives exudes a creepy homeless game show-host vibe.      

Among all of the lies Lee fed to the woman, the biggest whopper was when she coyly asked why he chose to send her the shirtless photo and he replied that “it was the only one he had.” Aside from a real estate agent, I cannot think of a career path that would have left him with a wider variety of professional portraits at his disposal than politics. The truth is that Lee was betting once his Internet paramour was given a complimentary single-day ticket to his gun show, she would have no other choice than to commit to a season pass.

Call it pessimism if you wish, but I no longer expect my elected officials to be ethical cornerstones in the community. My only request is that they exhibit enough intelligence to prevent themselves from being easily blackmailed. This guy sat on the Ways and Means Committee, the entity responsible for authoring every single piece of tax legislation affecting this country, and yet the level of stealth he exhibited in his sexual indiscretions made Wilt Chamberlin look like a secret agent. Does America really want a guy too lazy to register for a second Gmail account on the committee that tweaked N.A.F.T.A.?