Air Date: 06/30/2012 Vanilla, a richly flavored spice derived from the blooming orchids of the vanilla plant, tastes especially delicious in cream puffs and ice cream. Of course, if you’re forced to eat nothing but vanilla, soon that delectable flavor induces nausea and boredom. And so it is with “vanilla” or conventional marriage. Engaging in nothing but vanilla, monogamous, marital, missionary-position sex might be terrific, romantic and very orgasmic—for a few years. But after a while, if you don’t mix it up with a few other spicy flavors, vanilla relationships almost inevitably get boring, if not downright nauseating. This show is an antidote to all that. In fact, it is “The Anti-Vanilla,” and I am your Anti-Vanilla Auntie, garbed for the occasion in a rainbow sherbet palette of summer-hot hues to combat vanilla boredom and honor the tail end of Gay Pride Month. Helping me help you out of the vanilla closet, should you be trapped inside of such a relatively flavorless marital prison, is a yummy bunch of guests in the Womb Room and on webcam, from the author of Unlearn Vanilla Marriage and his swinging wife of 15 years to some of the hottest porn performers on the planet, each deliciously un-vanilla in her or his own very tasty way.

Length: 108:02 minutes Date: 08/11/2012 Two mass murders in quick succession got me wondering—yet again—why America is so murderously violent, both abroad and at home. Obviously, there is a rich and tangled tapestry of reasons, one being our sheer number of citizens (statistically, we’re likely to have more mass murders than other countries). Another is the relative convenience with which Americans can acquire automatic weapons; in some states, like Alabama, it’s easier to buy a gun than a sex toy. Speaking of sex, another reason for all the all-American violence might be that the American Brain leans more toward the “Might Makes Right” than the “Make Love, Not War” school of thought. This is partly an American tradition; our nation was founded by Puritans who came to a new land, brimming with religiously inspired, passionately anti-sex fervor, and essentially mass-murdered most of the natives so they could live in “peace.” That tradition is carried on by an American media and ratings system that consistently rewards violent programming packed with shootings, stabbings and bombings with G or PG ratings, but smacks an X or NC-17 on any film that shows a simple nipple. Shooting someone in the breast is considered PG, as long as that breast is clothed. What does it mean to grow up under the influence of the consistent American media message that gun shots are “cleaner” and more acceptable than cum shots? At the very least, it’s one more reason that a deeply frustrated, psychotic individual might grab a semiautomatic weapon and mow down his neighbors, rather than just shooting the gun between his legs and taking a nap. As my favorite developmental neuropsychologist, Dr. James Prescott, found through lab tests with animals and cross-cultural analyses of human societies: “Pleasure and violence have a reciprocal relationship, that is, the presence of one inhibits the other… A raging, violent animal will abruptly calm down when electrodes stimulate the pleasure centers of its brain. Likewise, stimulating the violence centers in the brain can terminate the animal’s sensual pleasure and peaceful behavior. When the brain’s pleasure circuits are ‘on,’ the violence circuits are ‘off,’ and vice versa…As either violence or pleasure goes up, the other goes down.” Our kissing cousins, the bonobos, show us the way. Whereas common chimps tend to control sex through violence, bonobos control violence with sex. We humans, being about as equally close to bonobos as we are to common chimps, have our erotic bonobo side and our more violent and authoritarian (and Republican?) common chimp side. Personally, I’m rooting for our bonobo side to take over before we blow each other up. I don’t believe in censorship, except the kind that stops folks from yelling “fire!” in the proverbial crowded theater. So I gathered together a congregation of pundits, publishers, porn stars and puppets (amazing marionettes created by the Team America: World Police “Puppet Man”, actually, but more on that in a minute) to address these sex, life and death issues in the Womb Room broadcast studio.

Air Date: 06/30/2012 Vanilla, a richly flavored spice derived from the blooming orchids of the vanilla plant, tastes especially delicious in cream puffs and ice cream. Of course, if you’re forced to eat nothing but vanilla, soon that delectable flavor induces nausea and boredom. And so it is with “vanilla” or conventional marriage. Engaging in nothing but vanilla, monogamous, marital, missionary-position sex might be terrific, romantic and very orgasmic—for a few years. But after a while, if you don’t mix it up with a few other spicy flavors, vanilla relationships almost inevitably get boring, if not downright nauseating. This show is an antidote to all that. In fact, it is “The Anti-Vanilla,” and I am your Anti-Vanilla Auntie, garbed for the occasion in a rainbow sherbet palette of summer-hot hues to combat vanilla boredom and honor the tail end of Gay Pride Month. Helping me help you out of the vanilla closet, should you be trapped inside of such a relatively flavorless marital prison, is a yummy bunch of guests in the Womb Room and on webcam, from the author of Unlearn Vanilla Marriage and his swinging wife of 15 years to some of the hottest porn performers on the planet, each deliciously un-vanilla in her or his own very tasty way.

Length: 97:33 minutes Date: 02/18/2012 Take one punk rock star, two tranny stars, assorted porn stars, dom stars and Munkey-Barz, stir ‘em up in the Womb Room with music, politics, flogging, Agwa, sizzling hot anal sex, kinky hijinks, a Peter Piper and plenty of bodacious bare booty bouncing off the rubber walls, inspired by the classy (yet deliciously nasty) new film, Rubber Bordello, and what do you get? An amazing show, and a suitably awesome climax to more than a year straight of live 3-camera Womb Room broadcasts. Now we’re taking a few weeks hiatus while Captain Max embarks upon his great and treacherous journey into the high seas of neo-bladder surgery. Oh, but what a sensational and heartwarmingly outrageous Speakeasy send-off it is!

Two mass murders in quick succession got me wondering—yet again—why America is so murderously violent, both abroad and at home. Obviously, there is a rich and tangled tapestry of reasons, one being our sheer number of citizens (statistically, we’re likely to have more mass murders than other countries). Another is the relative convenience with which Americans can acquire automatic weapons; in some states, like Alabama, it’s easier to buy a gun than a sex toy. Speaking of sex, another reason for all the all-American violence might be that the American Brain leans more toward the “Might Makes Right” than the “Make Love, Not War” school of thought. This is partly an American tradition; our nation was founded by Puritans who came to a new land, brimming with religiously inspired, passionately anti-sex fervor, and essentially mass-murdered most of the natives so they could live in “peace.” That tradition is carried on by an American media and ratings system that consistently rewards violent programming packed with shootings, stabbings and bombings with G or PG ratings, but smacks an X or NC-17 on any film that shows a simple nipple. Shooting someone in the breast is considered PG, as long as that breast is clothed. What does it mean to grow up under the influence of the consistent American media message that gun shots are “cleaner” and more acceptable than cum shots? At the very least, it’s one more reason that a deeply frustrated, psychotic individual might grab a semiautomatic weapon and mow down his neighbors, rather than just shooting the gun between his legs and taking a nap. As my favorite developmental neuropsychologist, Dr. James Prescott, found through lab tests with animals and cross-cultural analyses of human societies: “Pleasure and violence have a reciprocal relationship, that is, the presence of one inhibits the other… A raging, violent animal will abruptly calm down when electrodes stimulate the pleasure centers of its brain. Likewise, stimulating the violence centers in the brain can terminate the animal’s sensual pleasure and peaceful behavior. When the brain’s pleasure circuits are ‘on,’ the violence circuits are ‘off,’ and vice versa…As either violence or pleasure goes up, the other goes down.” Our kissing cousins, the bonobos, show us the way. Whereas common chimps tend to control sex through violence, bonobos control violence with sex. We humans, being about as equally close to bonobos as we are to common chimps, have our erotic bonobo side and our more violent and authoritarian (and Republican?) common chimp side. Personally, I’m rooting for our bonobo side to take over before we blow each other up. I don’t believe in censorship, except the kind that stops folks from yelling “fire!” in the proverbial crowded theater. So I gathered together a congregation of pundits, publishers, porn stars and puppets (amazing marionettes created by the Team America: World Police “Puppet Man”, actually, but more on that in a minute) to address these sex, life and death issues in the Womb Room broadcast studio. In terms of the issues, my guests agree to disagree on some points (like the Second Amendment), but we all love the beautiful, naked bodies and the hot, passionate sex that emerges, as it fortunately does in so many glorious editions of The Dr. Susan Block Show. The night climaxes with a cum shot, not a gun shot, in the after-party. So in the Sex vs. Violence competition, sex wins! At least here in BonoboVille, sex wins.

This show is dedicated to two amazing and very different individuals who are now no longer among the living. First, my dear Uncle Pip who just died at the age of 100. Born in 1913, Herman Block, aka Uncle Pip, experienced a full century of life. And a full life it was—athletic (a trophy-winning tennis champ and a great dancer), romantic, funny, loving and full of pep—that’s why we called him Pip. I love you, Uncle Pip, wherever you are! I wish I had visited you more, especially towards the end. Mazel Tov on making it to The Winner’s Circle of 100. My condolences to all who miss you now, your children, my cousins Elliot, Jeffrey and Diane, your many grandchildren and great grandchildren. Special gratitude goes to my saintly cousin Diane, who took care of him daily, virtually giving up her own life so that Uncle Pip could live 100 years, and never in a rest home. Good job Diane! Now, finally, you can take time for yourself—maybe you’ll even go to Burning Man!

Beginning back in the days before Rome was Rome, a couple of “colleges” of nearly naked young men would meet in mid-February in the ancient cave where Romulus and Remus were suckled by a she-wolf (luper in Latin). They sacrificed a goat, marking each other’s foreheads with goat’s blood (thus the signature red of the holiday) and drank a lot of wine, cut whips (called “februa”) from the goatskin, then raced through the hills and towns, gaily smacking the willing behinds of women looking for luck, love and perhaps a baby. For more about the history and meaning of the Lupercalia, and how it was outlawed and repressed by the Catholic Church, replacing it with the saintly, sanitized Valentine’s Day!

Take one punk rock star, two tranny stars, assorted porn stars, dom stars and Munkey-Barz, stir ‘em up in the Womb Room with music, politics, flogging, Agwa, sizzling hot anal sex, kinky hijinks, a Peter Piper and plenty of bodacious bare booty bouncing off the rubber walls, inspired by the classy (yet deliciously nasty) new film, Rubber Bordello, and what do you get? An amazing show, and a suitably awesome climax to more than a year straight of live 3-camera Womb Room broadcasts. Now we’re taking a few weeks hiatus while Captain Max embarks upon his great and treacherous journey into the high seas of neo-bladder surgery. Oh, but what a sensational and heartwarmingly outrageous Speakeasy send-off it is!

Once again, in a spanking hot, whipsmacking, flogtastic, female-ejaculating, breathtaking flurry of heart-shaped buns and floggers, we take back the original Valentine’s Day, The Lupercalia, and celebrate this erotic prehistoric festival of lust and thwacks in all its primeval glory. Unlike the mostly private Valentine’s Day, the Lupercalia of pre-imperial Rome was a euphoric public holiday of communal sexuality, fertility, the rush of hormones, the howl of the wolf, the crack of the whip and the coming of Spring.

This show is dedicated to two amazing and very different individuals who are now no longer among the living. First, my dear Uncle Pip who just died at the age of 100. Born in 1913, Herman Block, aka Uncle Pip, experienced a full century of life. And a full life it was—athletic (a trophy-winning tennis champ and a great dancer), romantic, funny, loving and full of pep—that’s why we called him Pip. I love you, Uncle Pip, wherever you are! I wish I had visited you more, especially towards the end. Mazel Tov on making it to The Winner’s Circle of 100. My condolences to all who miss you now, your children, my cousins Elliot, Jeffrey and Diane, your many grandchildren and great grandchildren. Special gratitude goes to my saintly cousin Diane, who took care of him daily, virtually giving up her own life so that Uncle Pip could live 100 years, and never in a rest home. Good job Diane! Now, finally, you can take time for yourself—maybe you’ll even go to Burning Man!