It’s another amazing, erotic, educational, transformational Porn ‘n’ Purim Bacchanal in the Womb Room as the Commedia Erotica cast of porn stars, comedians, transwomen and Hollywood socialites reenact the sexiest story in the Bible (or the second sexiest, if you prefer “Song Of Songs”): the Book of Esther, aka Megillat Esther, which tells the tale of the ancient Persian Jewish beauty contest winner who saves her people from genocide by using her Weapons of Mass Seduction. The storyline might be familiar, especially if you got Bar Mitzvah’ed, but believe me, this is not your Bubbe’s Purim.

With shocking news of the Sandy Hook massacre painfully fresh in our minds, many of us are searching for ways to process and combat the evil that would drive a fellow human to mass murder, as we gather in churches, mosques and temples around the nation. Here in the Womb Room sanctuary of our “Church” of BonoboVille, we ethical hedonists also gather together to honor the fallen and fight evil with its opposite and, in a way, its antidote: love. And I’m not just talking about ethereal love for God or humankind; I’m talking about physical love: hugging, touching, rubbing, kissing and yes, making love, e.g., having sex. It’s the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure. From the Olympian hardcore lovemaking of a husband and wife to the communal ecstasy that envelopes the congregation as we dance, drum, spank, suck, fuck, squirt and revel in live music inspired by ancient tribes, we celebrate the spirit of eros (love), the counterpoint to thanatos (death) throughout this show.

Halloween 2012 in BonoboVille opens with a lyrical and satirical resurrection of the hot witch within and a discussion amongst my guests of the dynamics of fear and arousal. Stimulating as all this brain food is, there’s only so much it can satisfy the ravenous, hedonistic appetites of the wildly painted and flamboyantly costumed Speakeasy congregation. So it isn’t long before an orgy of orgasming angels, screwing zombies and squirting pussycats explodes upon my bed of broken glass and skeletons (DrSuzy.tv producer Tasia Sutor’s frighteningly hot set), by a bubbling cauldron of bobbing dildos, your happy hostess flying around the Womb Room on my Magic Dildonic Vibrating Broom. Harry Potter, eat your heart out. We know how to fly Halloween.

Are you or have you ever been a sex addict? Has anyone ever called you one? What is sex addiction? Is it a real psychological illness or a myth concocted by professional addictionologists, inflated by the sensation-hungry media and perpetrated by desperate-for-redemption celebrity “sex addicts” like David Duchovny and Tiger Woods? What about John Travolta? What about us? What does it mean when we talk about problematic human sexuality as an “addiction,” i.e., an uncontrollable sickness? Perhaps equating sexual behavior with narcotic abuse by using the clinical label of “addiction” is actually more indicative of a mental illness in society than it is the individual. Maybe “sex addiction” is just the current craze of therapists and mainstream media attaching fear to recreational sex, much as it was with prior commonly held beliefs such as masturbation leading to blindness, or that women with high sex drives were victims of “nymphomania.” Despite the lack of scientific substance, people love to call themselves and others “sex addicts.” It’s like we’re addicted to seeing ourselves as addicts. And even though being called a “sex addict” tends to be pretty humiliating, it can also be kind of sexy, especially for the great number of people who find the idea of being helplessly “out of control” intensely erotic, not to mention a good excuse for bad behavior. So maybe the best option is just to wear the label like more of a badge of honor than a scarlet letter, much as people are already doing with labels like “slut” and “queer.” As more and more normal people say, “Yes, I’m a sex addict, and I’m not ashamed,” maybe so-called experts would stop using it to vilify people whose sexual tastes are simply different from the norm or, on the other hand, to exonerate selfish sexual conduct. We’re All Sex Addicts Now. This show’s scintillating discussion on these subjects with Dr. David Ley, author of the The Myth of Sex Addiction, is followed by a veritable Sex Addict Orgy on my bed! Well it is the second week of Masturbation Month, and it’s not enough for us to debunk masturbation addiction myths–we also need to masturbate! Thus ensues a wild shrieking romp of Sybian rides, fisting and giant black dildos, more Sybian rides, trapeze and naked hula-hooping in the after-party, a moment of trauma when I broke an art piece (which can be fixed!), more erotic escapades, followed by some particularly hot sex with the hubby in our private after-after-party. Yes indeed, we are sex addicts, and we are not ashamed.

It’s another amazing, erotic, educational Porn ‘n’ Purim Bacchanal in the Womb Room as the Commedia Erotica cast of porn stars, comedians, transwomen and Hollywood socialites reenact the sexiest story in the Bible (or the second sexiest, if you prefer “Song Of Songs”): the Book of Esther, aka Megillat Esther, which tells the tale of the ancient Persian Jewish beauty contest winner who saves her people from genocide by using her Weapons of Mass Seduction. The storyline might be familiar, especially if you got Bar Mitzvah’ed, but believe me, this is not your Bubbe’s Purim. Keep in mind that, in true Commedia Dell’Arte tradition, this reenactment is totally improvised—no rehearsal, no script, no net but the Internet—with parts, costumes and sex acts determined just moments before our live-on-the-air performance! Fortunately for those players and viewers who don’t know a hamantaschen from a hard-on, you also get a little guided narration from your Irreverend Rebbetzen here who, once upon a time, was a Sunday school teacher. In a way, I still teach Sunday school, except now I do it on Saturday nights and half my class is naked. This Saturday turns out to be quite a lesson in human behavior—both during and after the Purimschpiel (Purim play). I’ll get to “after” later; first let’s talk about the show—which happens to be one of our finest Purimschpiels ever (see Purim 2008 and 2011 for oldies but goodies)—exciting, provocative, ridiculous and erotic. Of course, with a cast of some of the world’s hottest porn stars, even reading Facebook’s Rules and Regulations would be erotic. But much of our Purimschpiel’s eroticism lies in the original story. This makes it stand out against most of the Hebrew Bible, aka the Old Testament, which is only “pro-sex” when it comes to procreation. Just about every other kind of sexual relation is presented as “unclean” or an “abomination,” often punishable by death or even fire and brimstone for the entire community. But the Purim story is a very sex-positive one: a feminist tale in a patriarchal time, beginning with the feast of a king and the disobedience of a queen and ending with the obedience of a king and the feast of a queen. I won’t go into all the details (though if you’re a Purimschpiel fetishist, you can read my full erotic exotic interpretation of the Story of Esther here)….This ain’t Sunday School, though you may call it Sex Education Bible style…Sunday School Purimschpiels don’t feature golden dildo scepters! Basically, there’s this Persian King named Ahasuerus (sometimes said to be a version of the ancient Persian King Xerxes), who ruled over 127 provinces from India to Ethiopia, and, once upon a time, he throws a six-month drinking, eating, gambling, and sex festival (and you thought Charlie Sheen was decadent). During the climactic week-long feast, King Ahasuerus, “merry with wine,” orders his wife, Queen Vashti, to display her beauty to him, his court, and his people, in an ancient version of striptease (i.e., naked). In a pre-feminist act of feminism or just an ancient outburst of bitchiness, Vashti refuses to strip down for her royal hubby and his drinking buddies. For this, she is banished or beheaded (depending on the translation), though our Bonobo Purimschpiel just flogs her royal naked body on the cross. In an ancient Persian version of “Who Wants to Marry a King?”, the king calls for a new queen, to be chosen from all the kingdom’s virgins (you can imagine the comic erotic possibilities of casting porn stars as virgins—thank you Ideal Image Management!). The king chooses Esther, a Jewish girl entered into the contest (aka pimped) by her cousin, the hero of the story whom I lovingly call “Pimpin’ Cousin Mordecai.” Like I said, I’m not going to tell you the whole story (find those juicy details here), but needless to say, Esther arouses the king, and when she kisses the “tip of his scepter,” and wow, she gets him big and hard as an iron sword. But all is not rosy in Shushan (the magical city where Purim takes place), as the king’s evil right hand man, Haman, like a lot of ambitious politicians throughout history, has a thing against Jews who won’t bow down to him (like Mordecai), and he devises an extermination plan that would—and did—make Hitler smile. After a bunch of twists and turns—all illustrated with X-rated panache in our Purim play–Queen Esther fetes, fellates, sucks and seduces the king into saving her people from genocide. She’s quite a powerful sexual woman, Queen Esther, whether or not she really existed—right up there with Cleopatra and Scheherazade—and that is why we celebrate her and her Weapons of Mass Seduction here in Bonoboville. By the end of our Purimschpiel, the Jews have been saved, the king has been schtupped, and everyone has been treated to a healthy spectacle of Biblical sex… both on stage, and continuing into the afterparty. Whew, whatta lotta L’Chaim! BUT…sad to say, there is a disturbingly dark side to Purim’s *happy ending,* as there is to our after-party. In terms of the story: Though the king revokes the genocide edict, he cannot call off the hordes of swordsmen hell-bent on killing Jews; he gives his royal permission for gangs of Jewish swordsmen to kill thousands of their enemies in “self-defense,” including Haman’s 10 sons, some of whom are too young to even lift a sword. According to the Bible, this awful orgy of bloody revenge is all part of the “gladness, feasting and holiday-making.” For a peacenik like me, who so appreciates Esther’s ability to seduce her king away from killing, this part makes me want to toss my hamantaschen. Is this what the rabbis mean when they tell us that, on this night, we should drink so much we can’t tell the good guys from the bad? Must the oppressed become the oppressor? Must the cycle of violence go on? Not that I’m surprised. The Biblical and real histories of Judaism, like its offspring: Christianity and Islam, are densely littered with the dead victims of God-loving, righteous, racist mass murder. Check it out; it’s all right there in your Bible, Koran, Bhagavad Gita and other so-called holy books. Which brings me to the dark side of Purim 2013 in Bonoboville, and it pains me like a heart attack to write about this, but I feel I should bloggamize the bad along with the good that goes on here, as I have always done. Anyway, on Purim, we’re “commanded” to drink so much wine that we can’t tell the difference between the good (Mordecai) and the bad (Haman). That sounds like a lot of wholesome inebriated fun, and usually it is, but of course, it can be dangerous. So, after a terrific Purimschpiel, several hours of erotic peace through pleasure, and too-enthusiastic an attempt to honor the Purim drinking tradition, one of our staff members “lost it” and became crazy-violent. It was a tremendous shock to the Bonoboville system, as violence like this has never happened here before in over 20 years of shows and wild bacchanals. Then it escalated, other staff members got involved and it got even worse. I certainly don’t want to go into detail here or name names. Not at this time. I do want to apologize to all of our guests who were here and let you know that, though we are devastated by this barbaric outburst, we are trying our best to deal wisely with the situation and ensure that nothing like this happens here again. It’s not easy, to say the least. I’m just grateful that no one was seriously injured–or worse. Fortunately, none of the people involved had guns (another reminder of how important gun control is in these psycho time)! But incidents like this painfully remind me of why I’m dedicated to the cause of peace through pleasure. It’s something I’m constantly studying, trying to understand in relation to bonobos and humans. Having such senseless violence explode in your midst—seemingly out of nowhere (though it’s never just “out of nowhere”) like a terrorist attack on all you hold dear—is a terrible trial by fire. Fortunately, some heroic members of our staff helped diffuse the situation in the most bonobo manner possible under the circumstances, so it didn’t get even worse. Thank you, Brothers and Sisters, we appreciate your efforts, we love you, and though we have been wounded, our wounds will heal, and we will get through this better than ever, as we have gotten through all of our fiery trials. We’re also proud that this show, as well as all of our February shows, is part of Eve Ensler’s One Billion Rising movement to stop violence (including rape) against women and everyone else. We each have to try to stop the chain of violence in the world and in our own backyard, as we learned in this after-party. But I don’t want to let this stupid after-party incident take away from our marvelous Purimschpiel performers. So without further ado, here they are….

Length: 118:17 minutes Date: 12/15/2012 With shocking news of the Sandy Hook massacre painfully fresh in our minds, many of us are searching for ways to process and combat the evil that would drive a fellow human to mass murder, as we gather in churches, mosques and temples around the nation. Here in the Womb Room sanctuary of our “Church” of BonoboVille, we ethical hedonists also gather together to honor the fallen and fight evil with its opposite and, in a way, its antidote: love. And I’m not just talking about ethereal love for God or humankind; I’m talking about physical love: hugging, touching, rubbing, kissing and yes, making love, e.g., having sex. It’s the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure. From the Olympian hardcore lovemaking of a husband and wife to the communal ecstasy that envelopes the congregation as we dance, drum, spank, suck, fuck, squirt and revel in live music inspired by ancient tribes, we celebrate the spirit of eros (love), the counterpoint to thanatos (death) throughout this show. As Lara Riscol, a guest on “Sex vs Violence: Gun Shots vs Cum Shots: Which Do You Prefer?,” points out in her excellent essay What Terrorizes Americans Most: Guns or Sexual Freedom? (composed after that other ghastly massacre in Aurora), “America treats sex, not violence, as the biggest threat to families and the nation.” As long as we do that, we can expect more massacres, at home and abroad. As long as we sanction invasions, executions and drone strikes that kill children, while humiliating a decorated General not for bombing innocents but for having an affair, why should we be surprised when one of our troubled young men picks up a few of his mom’s prized military-style guns and mass-murders a bunch of kids on his own? We shouldn’t be surprised, and we aren’t, which is all the more reason we need to summon that spirit of eros within and all around us. Also, it’s the holidays, and we’re in a festive, slightly blasphemous mood. Not that I’m trying to insult anyone’s religion, but I am the Irreverend Dr. Block, and I do like to have fun with tradition. Nobody but the Pope and Rick Santorum would mind that most of my female guests are clad in skimpy SeXmas red teddies. But should our Divine Interventions Nativity Scene, including the Baby Jesus butt plug basking in the immaculate nurturance of the Mother Mary dildo, put some of you over the blasphemy threshold, just remember: it’s compassionate blasphemy. After all, it is far better to put Jesus in your butt than shoot him out of the barrel of your Mom’s semiautomatic Bushmaster .223 caliber assault rifle. It’s also the auspicious eighth night of the Jewish Festival of Lights which, disturbingly, celebrates a war. But candlelight is romantic, and I love the menorah, so we light three of them, reciting the ancient Hebrew bracha behind a beautiful blazing bonfire, like a burning bush of desire, some of us topless and others garbed in strange masks. How could such a delightful Hannukah scene be blasphemy? Maybe I push it a little when I use the shamash candle to drip hot wax on one of my lovely guests’ naked breasts. Does the fact that she used to be a Sunday school teacher and revels in the irreverence of the moment make it more blasphemous? It actually struck me as a fine way to celebrate the miraculous fire, and I think, along with Strip Dreidel, it’ll become a BonoboVille Hanukkah tradition . We also celebrate the antidote to all these crazy religions: the 221st birthday of the Bill of Rights. Of course, we’re big supporters of the First Amendment which gives us Freedom from Church, as well as Freedom of Speech and Freedom of the Press and the right to peaceably assemble. Despite its presence at the top of the list, our government agencies often don’t respect this amendment, and many innocents have gone to prison for it, including my husband Max. We also love the Fourth Amendment which was the basis of the case we won against the LAPD when they invaded BonoboVille, guns cocked (but fortunately for us all, not shooting). Back to shooting. The only gun you should be shooting is the one between your legs. So, when we come to the Second Amendment, especially after Sandy Hook, I’m not feeling very warm and fuzzy. But then I don’t imagine that the “right of the people to keep and bear arms” was meant to include semiautomatic assault weapons like the ones the attacker’s mom kept around the house. No doubt, a little gun control would go a long way toward lowering the death count. Just before the Sandy Hook massacre, another disturbed male assaulted another classroom of children in China. Since China has strong gun control laws, the attacker used a knife and though he wounded his victims, all of them survived. So yes, let’s take advantage of the situation and push better gun control through now while the blustering NRA is weak and just slightly ashamed of itself. But we need to do more than make laws. This part is trickier, and it’s a lot more difficult for me to say and for us to do, though its just as important to our safety and well-being. As a society, we need to understand the relationship between sexual pleasure and violence (see Dr. James Prescott), and we must try to deal more effectively with our mentally ill. We also need to make it safe for young, loner men at their sexual peak but perhaps their emotional depth to seek help, to talk to someone knowledgeable about what’s bothering them. Almost inevitably, what’s bothering them has something to do with sex, often involving shame and humiliation. Btw, you can call us anytime here at the Institute if you need to talk about and explore whatever’s bothering you. Yes, this is a little detour into a shameless plug, and if you’re at the economic level of the shooter, you can afford our private services. But you can also talk to us free any Saturday night on the show. This is our business, but it’s also our passion. We believe in the healing power of Bonobo Liberation, and you can see, hear and almost smell that power flowing, dancing, laughing and ejaculating throughout this amazing show.

Air Date: 10/27/2012 Halloween 2012 in BonoboVille opens with a lyrical and satirical resurrection of the hot witch within and a discussion amongst my guests of the dynamics of fear and arousal. Stimulating as all this brain food is, there’s only so much it can satisfy the ravenous, hedonistic appetites of the wildly painted and flamboyantly costumed Speakeasy congregation. So it isn’t long before an orgy of orgasming angels, screwing zombies and squirting pussycats explodes upon my bed of broken glass and skeletons (DrSuzy.tv producer Tasia Sutor’s frighteningly hot set), by a bubbling cauldron of bobbing dildos, your happy hostess flying around the Womb Room on my Magic Dildonic Vibrating Broom. Harry Potter, eat your heart out. We know how to fly Halloween.