Category: Sexuality

David Bowie’s cod and what women really want

The movie Labyrinth (1986) is a tale of an adolescent girl’s quest/hero’s journey/sexual awakening. It’s a fantasy that features muppets good and slightly evil and everything in between. It also features David Bowie in very tight tights with his cod on obvious display. You can’t miss it—and that’s the point.

But why is it the point?

THE SETUP:

Jareth the Goblin King and his co-star. No, not the muppet.

Our intrepid heroine, Sarah, is a girl whose mother ran out on the family to become an actress and from what tidbits one can glean, a relatively successful stage actress. Sarah is not resentful. In fact, she finds this wistfully romantic. Sarah has a baby brother by her not-very-new stepmother, whose treatment of Sarah is (per Sarah’s point of view) borderline abusive because she asks Sarah to babysit while Dad and she go out on a date. The viewer doesn’t get much but that the stepmother would not ask Sarah to babysit if she had a date or parties to go to and that she is frustrated that Sarah doesn’t want friends nor does she want to date or go out. Sarah just wants to live in her own fantasy world alone, cosplaying and dreaming about her mother’s glamorous life, which distresses the stepmother to no end.

Stepmom: She treats me like the wicked stepmother in a fairy story no matter what I do.

We get the point: Sarah’s living in her head in the starring role of Cinderella and loving every second of her victimhood. But she’s a teenager whose mother ran out on her, so that is to be expected.

So Dad and Wicked Stepmother leave and there’s poor Sarah wandering around the house in a romantic and fanciful poet’s shirt and vest, in the dark while it’s storming outside, bemoaning her fate and talking to the baby rather hatefully, yet handling him gently.

Sarah: I wish the Goblin King would come take you away.

And … cue baby vanishing. An owl thumps at the window and (because she is very smart), she opens it.

Owl: a symbol of femininity, fertility, darkness, spiritual wisdom, strategy, and represents the goddess Athena/Diana. “According to myth, an owl sat on Athena’s blind side, so that she could see the whole truth.”

Then there stands a man, a tall man with freakish hair in RenFest garb. He’s the personification of desire, and Sarah is breathless with fear and attraction. He is Jareth the Goblin King, and she knows this instantly. She begs for her brother back. He plays with his balls to demonstrate his magic while giving her a challenge/quest/dare. If she can complete the labyrinth that surrounds the Goblin City in 13 hours, he’ll give her her baby brother back, but if she doesn’t, he will turn the baby into a goblin forever.

And off she goes on her quest like a good little hero/ine on his/her journey, encountering all sorts of obstacles along the way, the main one being her hubris that she can defeat the Goblin King

“Don’t go that way … If she’d’a gone that way, she’d’a gone straight to the castle.”

She is constantly exhorted not to take things for granted and that things aren’t always what they seem. She cuts other characters off once she thinks she has all the information she needs. She doesn’t ask the right questions. She thinks her wisdom is sufficient to solve the labyrinth.

On the surface, the movie is a morality tale and is very explicit about it: Don’t take anything for granted and stop it with the hubris. A teenage girl watching this movie will get that. She will be breathless at the idea of Jareth the Goblin King taking an interest in a lowly teenage girl, but she won’t parse that. Why do that when she has a powerful, magical man’s attention and his lust (which is in plain sight), tempting her to the pleasures of hedonism? And he blatantly uses his cod to tempt her with his presence, his devotion to her, his love and desire for her as a woman.

Jareth: I ask for so little. Just let me rule you and you can have everything you want. … Fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave.

THE DECONSTRUCTION:

The story is a constant struggle between Sarah’s sense of adult responsibility, her burgeoning womanhood/sexuality, and her girlish dreams, desires, and fantasies.

The struggle comes down to two pivotal moments in the movie:

Dancin’ in the streets… Oh, wait.

Sarah has been poisoned. In her delirious state, she is at a ball, in a grown woman’s fantasy ball gown, in the middle of decadent adults, being romantically pursued by Jareth. She is confused, disoriented, even while it is the culmination of all her romantic and magical fantasies. Yet the memory of an important quest is on the edges of her mind. She chooses to rebuff Jareth’s advances and escape, turning away from her new and scary sexual feelings.

She falls in the darkness, eventually winding up on her own bed, which is frilly. Was it a dream? Was it real? Her bedroom is full of stuffed animals (that look remarkably like her muppet friends), RenFest clothing, a shelf full of elaborately bound fairy tales, a vanity on which there’s makeup and knickknacks. Every single thing in her room is a three-dimensional representation of everything going on in the fantasy. Most importantly (which you will miss in a blink), there is a newspaper clipping of a review of her mother’s play. It’s a picture of her mother standing with her costar, who happens to look exactly like Jareth the Goblin King.

The Goblin King is in the details.

She sits confused at her vanity while a character shoves all her old comforts at her and reminds her of how nice it is to be in her comfy warm and welcoming and fantastical bedroom, tempting her to stay a little girl. She’s painfully disoriented, but it’s her own room, her childhood in 108 square feet, her shelter from the world of adulthood, adult decisions, adult problems.

On the edge of her mind, though, is a purpose, a purpose she doesn’t remember until she sees one of her fairy tales and remembers. On she forges. You know she successfully retrieves her baby brother because that’s how the quest works. Humans like that.

In the last scene, she’s back in her house, the baby’s in the crib asleep, she goes to her room and starts putting away her childish things, Dad and Stepmom come home. The stuffed animals come to life and regretfully must leave, but they reassure her that should she ever need them …

They don’t finish the thought, but she dances with them while an owl (femininity, fertility, darkness) sits on a tree limb outside her window and watches them before flying away.

For now, she is firmly on the edge of girlhood and womanhood, having rejected both—for the time being—but knowing that it’s inevitable and she will leave her friends behind.

THE CIRCUMSTANCE:

I was not aware of this movie when it was released in June of 1986. My parents had bought a house on the opposite corner of the metro area from where I grew up and I was busy moving us. I and our trusty 1.5-ton passenger van moved that house almost all by ourselves. I was also getting ready to go to BYU. I would stay in the new house for a grand 2.5 weeks before I left for another adventure.

I was leaving my frilly childhood bedroom and stuffed animals behind and in a month, I would be dropped off at a dorm 1200 miles away from home watching my parents drive away and going back to my dorm room alone. But what was home? A new bedroom in a new house in a suburban neighborhood like the one I’d always fantasized about? Naw. “Home” was no more home than the dorm room was. My home was gone forever and we all know you can’t go home again.

The movie didn’t come to the BYU on-campus theater until late spring or early fall semester 1987. I don’t remember. I went with this gorgeous, funny, hyperactive Korean dude I was majorly crushing on. He couldn’t keep his leg still, bouncing it all the way through.

But the movie worked its spell no matter how irritated and distracted I was.

THE BREAKDOWN:

Fast forward 20 years. I found the online romance novel scene. Self-proclaimed feminists and budding SWJs were out pounding the internet pavement preaching the gospel of the Feminist Agenda of Romance Novels. Why? Because they liked them, they felt guilty about liking them with some of their problematic themes, and wanted mainstream feminism to stop sneering at what they liked. It was simultaneous defiance and begging for approval.

They didn’t get it. I was a romance-novel veteran and they hated the early ones where the heroine was brave and gutsy and involved herself in all sorts of feats of derring-do. They were bad. “This isn’t your mother’s rapetastic romance novel,” they would screech, not actually knowing what they were talking about. The romance novels of yesteryear had kick-ass heroines and more explicit sex than the namby-pamby stuff of the aughts.

A major participant in Romancelandia was a women’s studies professor. Her husband was Jewish. She was Catholic, but converted to marry him. He got a job at some rinky-dink college and she was a spousal hire (“You don’t get me if you don’t hire my wife”). Instant tenure. Hot stuff in her field (ORLY).

She had heard much wistful sighing over Labyrinth in Romancelandia so she sat down with her two tween sons and watched it. Like a good feminist and women’s studies professor, she broke it down to three things: David Bowie’s cod, phallic imagery everywhere, men (Henson and Lucas) telling such a stupid tale to fulfill their own perverse desires for a young girl. She thought it was hilarious and ridiculous, a sausagefest (with one sausage).

She, whose respected romance novel blog* with thrice-weekly posts would routinely get close to a hundred comments (impressive even in those days, for a one-chick blog), garnered a few vague “Oh, that’s an interesting take” type comments.

It sat there. For a week. Getting nothing more. She let it sit for a few more days. Nothing.

Finally, I said, “I really don’t understand how you missed the entire point of the movie.” And went on to summarize the above but far more briefly and only so I wouldn’t come off as totally unhinged with rage at her stupidity.

Because I was.

How in the world does a feminist women’s study professor—who “loves” romance novels (but only the politically virtuous ones) (zzzzzzz) and screams to her disdainful colleagues how empowering and feminist they are—miss this?

I stopped just shy of telling her she was a stupid traditional housewife who converted to a man’s religion to marry him, followed him to his profession, got a job on his coattails, and promptly had two children. Betty Friedan would be ashamed. There was nothing “feminist” about her, and then she missed this.

She gave me a polite, “That’s an interesting take,” but the floodgates opened. And the comments section exploded with other gently made points about Labyrinth’s importance to both feminism and the hero’s journey and the fact that a girl was on the hero’s journey (quite groundbreaking for 1986) and a girl’s sexual awakening—and that Jim Henson and George Lucas knew more about it than any other filmmakers at the time (and maybe still) and portrayed it accurately. Details and symbolism got pulled out left and right.

Dr. Hot Stuff: “Well, maybe I should watch it again.”

Ya think?

She lost a lot of credibility in Romancelandia that day, credibility that was, inexplicably, very important to her.

My work there was done.

November 8, 2019
Q’s Brain Toilet: 6th Floor – Definitely NSFW

Feeling down? Experiencing loss of interest in things you used to enjoy? Trouble sleeping? Well I have just the thing! Q-azine, the breakthrough new medication will whisk away all your troubles and put you into a state of half-conscious stupor from which there is no escape. In convenient gummy form, even children can benefit from Q-azine’s quasi-comatose state. So just take this, chew it up and relax…

IN THE FUTURE!!!

– Humans will surpass their own intellectual limits due to enormous penises. Stem cell and reconstructive technology will get advanced enough to be applied to male genital surgery and supply the world’s men with giant, quivering, foot-long intromissive assassins. In order to accommodate these shiny new love tools, women’s vaginas will have to experience a similar increase in size, either through surgical intervention or sexually selective evolution. Since baby’s heads are disproportionately large to provide capacity for our oversized brains, and the female birth canal is the primary limiting factor on said noggin, it only makes sense that babies will eventually begin evolving larger brains and superior intelligence due to womens’ capacious vaginas.

– Due to VR, virtual presence technology, telecommuting and increasing network speed and availability, people will become even more isolated and atomized than ever with many/most barely leaving the house. Physical contact with other people will be largely limited to fleeting and anonymous sexual encounters between partners determined by algorithm. A few lunatic religious throwbacks will continue to cultivate friendships and families; but the men will still have humungous dongs.

– Neuroscientists will have determined the proper intensity and frequency of strobing light to hack the human brain and cause euphoria. Therefore, the DEA will classify photons as an illicit substance.

– Increases in crop yields, wealth, free time and entertainment across the developing world will elevate the standard of living to heights never before seen. The climate will remain stable and worldwide crime and terrorism will drastically drop. Trade will largely replace military brinksmanship as the way in which former adversaries relate. Mass migration will mostly be a thing of the past as various nations get closer to economic parity. Naturally, all these developments will convince millions that the world is coming to an end and the system must be drastically reformed to prevent chaos and the destruction of humanity.

– Ruth Bader Ginsburg will be recovering from her latest bout of cancer and eager to begin her 217th year on the bench.

In Defense of the Unabomber (for straff)

Earlier this month, straffinrun challenged me to offer a defense of the Unabomber after I made a glib comment in response to his assertion that no man is an island. I could find the exchange, but I’m lazy. In spite of my initial glibitude, I began thinking and I actually think there is a fair amount about the Unabomber that’s admirable. This, of course, does *not* include the killing; I’ll go on record right now and unequivocally condemn the bombings (as if it needs to be said). In fact, the bombings were just about the stupidest possible thing he could have done, both from a moral standpoint (obviously), but also for his message. You see, I actually think there is actually a lot of validity to his thought process and he completely undermined any legitimate interest philosophers, sociologists and technology critics might have in it; and there would be a lot of interest, believe me.

I’ll address two points: first, that he was an unambiguous whack-job, and second, that no man is an island and only lunatics would live the way he did. Ted Kaczynski was definitely ill and socially maladjusted. But I certainly don’t think he was unambiguously crazy. His manifesto outlines how human have become slaves to their own technological creations. Even as we incorporate more and more technology into our lives, we become more and more enslaved to it; seeing the way people interact with their smart phones, I’d almost call this point axiomatic. Of course his solution was to attack and murder those he considered responsible for the technological breakthroughs he hated so much; so that’s kind of where he lost the script. But many of his larger points, I think, stand.

The second point I’m addressing is the cliché that “no man is an island”. It’s true that humans are nominally social creatures in a pathetic sort of way. Our social organization is one small step above chimpanzees. Rather than something to be celebrated, I see social organization and interpersonal dependence as something to try to transcend and evolve past. Buddhist monks spend their whole lives separating themselves from the corporeal to try and embrace the ethereal. The harsh truth from which many people try to shield themselves we is that are born alone and we die alone. In between we make connections that, even if they appear strong on the surface, are in actuality quite tenuous. It doesn’t take much to fracture the “strong” bonds of family. And fuggeddabout friends and acquaintances; these relations are artificial, weak and, usually, lies. People *are* islands their whole lives, they just delude themselves into thinking they’re not.

You Thought *You* Were Kinky…

Just in case you ever feel ashamed of any odd sexual desires and/or fetishes you might have, remember the Marquis de Sade. Here are a few excerpts from the end of 120 Days of Sodom in which he just bullet points sexual fetishes as if it were a grocery list.

– “He binds the girl belly down upon a dining table and eats a piping hot omelette served upon her buttocks. He uses an exceedingly sharp fork.”

– “A sodomite cooks up a little girl in a double boiler.”

– “He covers a girl with honey then binds her to a column and releases upon her a swarm of large flies.”

– “He has the girl run naked about a garden at night, the season is winter, the weather freezing; here and there are stretched cords upon which she trips and falls. Each time she falls, he discharges his semen.”

– “He holds the girl by the ears and walks her around the room, discharging his semen as he parades with her. The audience burns their genitals while discharging. At conclusion all involved bugger one another for two hours minimum.”

– “He uses his exceedingly large tool to rape her vaginally and anally and infect her with syphilis. Her vagina and anus are then sewn up with heavy, red waxed thread.”

– “He pulls out her teeth and scratches her gums with needles. Sometimes he heats the needles. Then he discharges his semen down her throat.”

FIN

Another horrific edition of the Brain Toilet is now flushed. I’d say you probably shouldn’t follow the Marquis’ advice for fun on a Saturday night, but who am I to judge? And besides, the ass omelette thing might be fun.

September 27, 2019
Bight Me: An Essay About Rope Bondage (Part 1)

Part 1 – The Shibari Scene

The kink scene has changed a great deal since I first became involved in the 1990s. And it had changed dramatically from the early 60s and 70s. The straight kink scene was largely inspired by the gay leather scene. And public play was almost entirely focused on controlled, sexualized violence that ranged from spanking, flogging, whipping, caning to various types of rough body play. Bondage usually involved leather or metal cuffs, hoods, restraints or all sorts of creative furniture inspired by medieval dungeons. Rope, to the extent it was used for fetish purposes, was western style. Think Betty Page and Nell Fenwick from Dudley Do Right. Using cheap nylon rope to tie someone up immobile on the floor or to furniture. That all changed about ten or fifteen years ago, give or take.

Old school.

Shibari began to gain popularity in the west coast kink scene(s) about that time and has exploded in popularity since. The last 3-5 years have seen it grow to the point that there is now a dozen or so kink conventions focused purely on learning more about shibari. Almost no one bothers to do “western” style rope any longer. Generally, western is looked down upon. And while there are practitioners here in the US that have been doing shibari far longer than a decade, they were mostly isolated up until the popularity boom.

For those of us that don’t speak Japanese, shibari means ‘tie decoratively’. It’s another way of describing the same techniques also referred to as kinbaku which means ‘bind tightly’. Either word is accurate as far as it goes. And there are many folks in the US who use the words interchangeably. Others will happily get into a slap fight over which is the/correct/ word to use to describe a style of Japanese rope bondage. These people are morons and are basically kink weeaboos and so should at the least be safely ignored, if not gagged and tied western style with poly rope. But I digress.

The shirt says “Han Shot First”

There is a natural human tendency to take things that are foreign, see them as exotic, and elevate them with meaning that isn’t there in the home culture from which they are derived. Especially with Japan. In action/adventure media it is the superlative nature of a katana or the profundity assumed to come from Buddhism, or the way the Chinese perceive any well-known American brand as having cache’. People find depth and significance in the practices of other cultures. We appreciate that which is different and can value it because of that. I think it is rooted in the fundamental decency of people and part of why humans are pretty damn good at exchange and trade.

In the kink scene, it should come as no surprise, that impulse doesn’t change. There are numerous people in the west who see shibari as a profound Japanese art form that happens to be both art and sado-masochistic. In part it is a way of expressing the idea that our own culture can be too uptight about sex and pleasure, particularly around things which are seen as deviant. A way to say, ‘I’m not a pervert! This whole culture finds deep meaning in these things my home culture finds disgusting or strange’. I think it can also derive from a desire to make sacred the things we do that matter to us. And a desire to go from being an outcast to mainstream, or even a desire to be better than the mainstream.

The idea that shibari is on the same shelf with the Japanese Tea Ceremony is bullshit of the rankest odor. While the roots of it go back to hojojutsu, or Samurai techniques for binding enemies, and there are lineages and styles like various martial arts, the former is more inspiration and the latter is a phenomenon of western interest making it possible for nawashi (lit: string maker, fig: rope masters) to make a living teaching people how to do shibari. The truth is; modern shibari was born in underground Japanese sex clubs and pornography in the post-war era. So it’s a bit like if Seka or John Holmes had ‘schools’ for dick sucking or blowing massive wads. I imagine Japanese resident Glibs can confirm that shibari is as out of the mainstream as those vending machines that dispense worn school-girl panties.

I don’t hold shibari in much reverence in that regard, despite putting in 10-12 hours a week doing rope. I do think it is a metric shitload of fun though and I can understand the popularity of it in the kink scene. There are three reasons for why it has grown so astronomically popular. First, it looks pretty damn amazing, particularly suspensions. (shibari has essentially two modes. Tying on the ground and suspensions which means using uplines to shift the CoG such that most of the weight is dependent on the uplines for support). Second, it is performative. It started in small, underground sex clubs as a way to titillate and arouse and even in the most intimate types of rope, there’s a performative aspect that is fun to watch. Even people who aren’t necessarily kinky will sometimes enjoy watching it. Third is a consequence of the second. Because it is performative, it draws attention at public kink events. And women especially seem to be drawn to it. It looks graceful when both the top/rigger and the rope bottom are experienced and in-sync. Because women want to experience it, men want to learn how to do it. Because it will get them laid

Unlike many, maybe even most other kink activities, shibari takes a great deal of practice to get good at. I’ll discuss more in part two about that. It’s also an extremely high-risk activity, possibly the riskiest thing that people regularly do in kink. The risk particularly comes in with suspensions. Every time someone goes up in the air there is a potential for nerve damage, both sensation and functional nerve damage. There is a lower likelihood of it happening on the ground, but it is still present. Joint injuries and broken bones can happen from a botched suspension. There are even a few deaths from up-lines being tangled and strangling someone or someone being dropped on their head. The danger only adds to the allure.

It’s a skill that takes practice from both sides, and it has that in common with dancing. I could take anyone reading this and teach them how to use a paddle or flogger to have a good scene in about 15 minutes. The mechanics are easy to grasp, and not much harder to master. Shibari, especially to be at a level to do a suspension, requires hours and hours of regular practice on a consistent basis. One has to learn anatomy and physics on a practical level. Drilling over and over on specific ways of tying the rope so that to minimize risk and improve sustainability for the rope bottom. Learning to be able to plan as you go, and how to adjust to circumstances on the fly without worrying about the basics because it is rote. For the sort of person who gets satisfaction from doing something that requires both the mind and the body to function in concert, it is deeply rewarding.

That need for instruction, practice, and the performative aspects of rope have combined with its popularity to spawn a global, if niche industry of performers and instructors. The make their living going around the country teaching others, attending conventions, and performing. There are a those that have full-time jobs making rope to sell to those involved in the scene. A single hank of 9 meters of jute can be anywhere from $5-$40 dollars. And a full kit for suspensions is usually 10-12 lengths of rope. I think this also ties into how natural free markets are, and how ingrained peaceful trade is to people, how natural it is. It isn’t a cheap hobby from a time or expense perspective.

That high level of dedication is behind some of the snobbery, the attempting to infuse profound meaning into what is bondage using rope. Those involved tend to have strong preferences about things and sometimes generalize those preferences to be ‘the proper Japanese way’. For example, the type of rope used. Jute is the most commonly used type of rope for shibari. It’s a natural fiber so it tends to grip itself and has good tensile strength. Hemp is less commonly used as it tends to get too soft with repeated use. And almost every experienced rope enthusiast turns their nose up and any kind of synthetic material. And if you want to see the Platonic ideal of being catty get a couple of rope tops with similar styles together to critique the rope of others. It can be amusing and exasperating. But it helps remind me that no matter how deviant, kinksters are still people and have many of the same tendencies as any other group of folks who are highly invested in a hobby. It’s just our hobby tends to have lots of fucking involved.

It may not be art, but shibari does allow for personal expression. The way I tie is illustrative of my personality and my relationship with the person I’m tying. While some riggers simply ape the style of whoever taught them, the better ones go on to develop their own style and aesthetic all their own. They pour their heart and mind and body into it. It creates intense moments of connection between the rope top and bottom via shared, strenuous experience. I can understand how that encourages people to try to make something transcendental out of what started as a sexual side show performance.

Up next I’ll discuss some basics of risk mitigation and learning to tie. With the background out of the way, the follow-up article will deal more with the basic mechanics. It is not a how-to. But rather a description of what it takes to be able to do some of the things from the photos included in this.

[EDITOR’S NOTE: Spudalicious going Irish has been moved to Friday, when he will be available to rebut any and all slanders against him.]

April 9, 2019
IFLA: The Horoscope for the Week of Feb 17

This week’s sky is probably the most complicated one we’ve seen yet (most of the sky omitted for clarity)

It is amazing that anyone was able to do SCIENCE before Powerpoint existed. For an example of someone doing amazing work without even the benefit of algebra, see https://youtu.be/vUWKMo5scKY?t=175

On the first level we have four alignments: Jupiter-Venus-Earth-Luna (in green–change in marital status); Jupiter-Sol-Mars (magenta — state level conflicts, officers, military rulers); Saturn-Mercury-Mars (purple — bad news about war, ending of a conflict, death of a soldier); and Venus-Sol-Mercury (gold — love letters, pornography, gossip). On the second level, we have interactions indicating that a divorce degree will be finalized that gives possession of the house; A general’s mistress will lose her baby; A war comes to an end because a leader (the one that wins) changes strategies; and a foreign correspondent gets lucky with a local. The third and fourth levels are both very similar indicating that this will be the most important happening of the week: A media organization will go completely to shit. There will be scandals, layoffs, and lawsuits all hitting it at the same time. I’m very curious to see which one it will be.

Of course, the Sun is in Aquarius. Also the same as last week Jupiter is in Aquarius so bonus to self control. Which is good, because Mercury is in Pisces, indicating that events around you are not going to respond to your efforts. The moon in Cancer indicates that secrets will feature prominently. Venus and Saturn are fighting it out in Capricorn, the end result (probably) being that you are going to stumble into something good purely by accident. I hesitate to make this last reading for liability reasons, but Mars in Taurus advises just bulling through any fights you may get into this week.

Aquarius: 9 of Coins – Safety, success, riches

Pisces: 4 of Coins, reversed – Suspense, delay, opposition

Aries: Wheel of Fortune, reversed – Decrease, bad luck, rapidity, loss of control

Taurus: 8 of Cups – Timidity, abandonment, surrender

Gemini: The Hermit, reversed – Concealment, disguise, fear

Cancer: 3 of Cups – Successful conclusion, perfection, merriment, celebration, healing

Leo: Ace of Cups (again!) – Joy, contentment, fertility, nourishment

Virgo: 7 of Cups – Desire, determination, will

Libra: Queen of Cups – A good woman, an honest woman, aid offered.

Scorpio: The World, reversed – Inertia, stagnation, status quo

Sagittarius: 5 of Wands, reversed – Trickery, litigation, disputes, contradiction

Capricorn: 10 of Cups, reversed – A false sense of security, indignation, violence.

February 17, 2019