Ancient Writings on the Female Orgasm

          Hippocrates of Kos is perhaps the most well known physician of ancient times and one of the most influential thinker on medical ethics. The Hippocratic Oath, so vaunted by various money-grubbing medical agencies, was if not written by him, named after him by his students, shortly after his death. One of his many achievements was the Corpus, which consists of about seventy medical works and is are the most detailed collection of ancient man’s medical expertise.

          Well, buried among them was this gem.

          “During intercourse, once a woman’s genitals are vigorously rubbed and her womb titillated, an itch overwhelms her down there, and the feeling of pleasure and warmth pools out through the rest of her body. A woman also has an ejaculation, furnished by her body, occurring at the same time in the womb, which has become wet, as well as on the outside because the womb is now gaping wide open.

          “A woman feels pleasure right from the start of intercourse, through the entire time of it, right up until the moment when the man pulls out; if she feels an orgasm coming on, she ejaculates with him, and then she no longer feel pleasure. But if she feels no oncoming orgasm, her pleasure stops when his does. It’s like when one throws cold water onto boiling water, the boiling ceases immediately. The same is with the man’s sperm falling into the womb, it extinguishes the warmth and pleasure of the woman.

          “Her pleasure and warmth, though, surge the moment the sperm descends into the womb, then it fades. Just when wine is poured on a flame, it spurts before it goes out for good.”

          Makes sense to me.

          If you liked that snippet try my new sci-fi novella Twin Villains.  Available on Kindle and paperback

Early Bestiality Laws

    The Hittites were an ancient people (mentioned throughout the Old Testament of the Bible as “the children of Heth” or Hethites) whose empire (or allied city-states) was located in the Middle East- notably around the areas of modern-day Turkey, Syria, and Saudi Arabia. In many ways they were your typical bronze age civilization, all of which spun off from the Sumerian and Babylonian civilizations. Perhaps their only distinction was a slight difference in architecture and dress fashions.  They had a cuneiform writing style, where writing was cut into clay and then hardened. And they had their own system of law and morality, as is evidenced below.

Taken from a clay Hittite Law Tablet. The term “does evil with” means to have carnal relations with.

“If a man does evil with a head of cattle, it is a capital crime and he shall be    

          killed.

If a man does evil with a sheep, it is a capital crime and he shall be killed.

If anyone does evil with a pig, he shall die

If a man does evil with a horse or mule, there shall be no punishment.

        If an ox leaps at [attempts to take the top sexually] a man, the ox shall die, but the man shall not die. A sheep may be proffered in the man’s stead and they shall kill that.

       If a pig leaps at a man there shall be no punishment.”

    Now we have no way of knowing how often these laws were called into effect. But they must have been enough occurrences for the authorities of the day to codify it into law and literally chisel the proclamations in stone. A few colleagues have chafed at the harsh punishment (death) of the infractors, which may say more about them than they wished, but one has to remember that this was essentially frontier law and harshness was the only way for the populace to take the lawmakers seriously. If you slap on fine on a guy for molesting a pig, it would be almost seen as an endorsement of the act. A slap and a wink. You hang him, people know you mean business.

    What I find most fascinating is not what wasn’t allowed, but what was. Sure I can see how being raped by a pig or a ox would not be the man or woman's fault. And while the person is spiritually unclean, hence the need to substitute a sheep (or scapegoat) to sacrifice for forgiveness, they aren’t going to be whacked for bending over at the wrong time.

    But apparently there are certain animals where it is accepted to have romantic relations with, the horse and the mule. Well perhaps accepted is too strong a term, it is more understood that on a long journey a man must relieve his sexual urges somewhere. Or is it that a man will eventually grow to have a certain fondness for an animal to which so much of his life and livelihood depend, and then on a moonlit night, after the vino has been flowing, if something should occur… well, these things happen.

For more on this subject try my book A Fine Romance: Details on Dating a Hooker  for 3.99 in paperback or free on Audible Audiobook or 99 cents on kindle 

UFO Sightings Mentioned in the Bible

          Granted I will be taking a few liberties with this one, but viewed through a certain lens various events described in the Bible could have an extraterrestrial, rather than supernatural, source. Again with both of these, you must take as a matter of faith that what is being described here actually happened and is not the result of an active imagination. 

For this article, I will be focusing exclusively on the Book of Ezekiel which takes place between 593 and 571 BCE (Before Common Era). The book records the six visions of the prophet (who is assumed to be the author), who is in exile in Babylon. This first excerpt describes an object landing near the Chebar Canal in ancient Chaldea (modern day Iraq) in the fifth year of the Jewish captivity under Nebuchadnezzar II.

“As I looked, behold, a stormy wind came out of the north, and a great cloud, with brightness round it, and fire flashing forth continually, and in the midst of the fire, as it were gleaming bronze.”

Odd, very odd. The prophet continues.

“And from the midst of it came the likeness of four living creatures. And this was their appearance: they had the forms of men, but each had four faces, and each of them had four wings. Their legs were straight, and the soles of their feet were like the sole of a calf’s foot: and they sparkled like burnished bronze. Under the wings on their four sides they had human hands… each had the face of a man in the front; the four had the face of a lion on the right side… the face of an ox on the left side, and ...the face of an eagle on the back… And their wings were spread out above; each creature had two wings, each of which touch the wing of another, while two covered their bodies. And each [creature] went straight forward without turning as they went...And the living creatures darted to and fro, like a flash of lightning.”

Even more odd. Some claim this is a description of the angelic order of Cherubs. But if you discount those creatures from existence, what else might they be describing? Some hybrid creature, created to mingle on the planet? Or natural shape-shifters. The description goes on.

“Now as I looked at the living, I saw a wheel upon the earth beside the living creatures, one for each of the four of them. As for the appearance of the wheels and their construction: the appearance was like the gleaming of a chrysolite [a yellowish-green gemstone]... being as it were a wheel within a wheel…. The four wheel shad rims and they had spokes, and their rims were full of eyes round about. And when the living creatures went, the wheels went beside them; and when the living creatures rose from the earth, the wheels rose.”

Ezekiel by Michelangelo from the Sistine Chapel panel

Are these spectral visitors or extra-terrestrial? The creatures approach Ezekiel, declare him to be the messenger of his people and is taken on board the craft (“the Spirit lifted me up...I heard the sound of the wheels… that sounded like a great earthquake”) and he is transported to Tel-abib (which translates to Spring Mound) to proselytize to his fellow Jewish exiles.

For more weirdness try Across the Wounded Galaxy by Rex Hurst

Spiff Blasthandy: Behind the Screen- Preview

 

A preview of my new novella, Spiff Blasthandy: Behind the Screen.

 

Available on Amazon as ebook or n print.

 

Amazon Listing is here

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spiff Blasthandy- Visual Glossary

 

 

                                                           

                  Phentari                                                                                    Cizerack

 

1

 

 

      The Phentrai wriggled on the ground, its four tentacles flapping piteously, mandibles clacking in fear.

     “What about my rights?” it said in a hideous whine.

      “What about your wrongs?” came the gravel voice reply.

       A red button blossomed in the alien’s forehead. Its brains spilled out in a thick schlump. Spiff Blasthandy looked to the iron clad sky in the distance. This job was done, but how much more injustice was spawning in this cold, cold galaxy?

      Fade to black.

      The feed switched back to the studio. The paid audience responded to the applause sign like well-trained apes. The host, lauded for his skill in imitating a warm smile no matter how odious the guest, gestured to Cecil Jaworski, star of the Spiff Blasthandy series.

      Cecil, a dark haired square-jawed man, sat in an amorphous chair that molded itself to a body’s contours. Piercing blue eyes registered and analyzed the host’s every movement.

      “Wow just wow,” the host said.

      Cecil smiled. Despite his muscles and confident demeanor, he was a mass of tender nerves. His powerful frame sweated heavily under the “clean” suit- which absorbed most stains, bodily secretions, and odors. He hated these real time interviews. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he burped on live flow? What if he was asked a question he didn’t understand. What if… what if… and on and on and on. It was just so much damn easier to beam a prerecorded message from the hidden recesses of his private chalet.

      But this was the most popular late night talk thing on the Earth flows this ratings quarter and they insisted on “authenticity”. Real audience, real reactions, everyone in the same studio. Terrifying. Cecil had to take a double dose of beta-blockers just to get in the studio door, but with 15 million live viewers gawping at him over the flow they had little effect.

     The flow. The interconnected wireless media. Everything and nothing. Everywhere and nowhere. People jacked into it from their datapads, home systems, anywhere they wanted. It provided them with all the free entertainment, porn, news, and knowledge they could ever hope for. Anyone could add to it. Anyone could be a star. Anyone a music legend waiting to happen. All of Earth culture was now balled up into one gigantic wireless mess.

       “So, Cecil…,” the host laughed. “Sorry, I just can’t think of your name as anything but Spiff. Can I call you Spiff?”

        “Oh please do,” Cecil replied. “I get it all the time.”

       Great, a buzzing from inside his clavicle said. Makes you look like a relaxed guy. One of them. A feet-on-the-ground slob who loves beer, broads, and cyball.

       “So, Cecil,” the host said, ignoring his previous statement to the crowd’s amusement, “you’ve come a long way from your early days at fourteen doing ads for topical medication.”

       An image of a 14 year old Cecil, ripe with acne, appeared. His hands were slapped against his face, eyes wide. Who will rid me of these turbulent zits? A dyslexic mirror image of the rugged man Cecil was today.

      Laugh along with it. The buzzing demanded. He’s trying to bait you.

       At the other end of the buzz was his manager, monitoring everything from a cozy desk. As nearly every other method of communication could be tapped by crazed fans and snoop paparazzi, Cecil had a receiver implanted in his jaw that tapped out a coded signal into the bone which radiated up the skeletal structure and was interpreted by a specialized chip inside his brain. This might be sound extraordinary, but extraordinary means were needed for total secrecy.

      “That was so long ago. Were we ever so young?” Cecil laughed, an obviously forced one. The host’s eyebrows cocked. What did that mean?

      “But you’re not the only one in your family who had such a young start in the entertainment industry, right Cecil?”

      Uh-oh. Stay on the script. Buzz buzz.

      “Long before Spiff Blasthandy there was your brother…”

       “Hey, can we focus on what people want to hear today? Not dredge up some ancient history.”

       Blood in the water. The host’s piranha sense was tingling.

       “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to talk about something other than yourself.”

       Watch out!

       “It’s not that.” Cecil faltered. “I just, you know…,” Bad memories. Dark deeds. The needle’s lure. Times that needed to be suppressed. “There are some things better left buried.”

      “Like your brother?”

       Cecil could hear the pundits and media sluts clicking their tongues at this arrogant, self-absorbed celebrity. To paraphrase Machiavelli: It was fine to be self-centered, but not to appear to be self-centered.

       You’re losing them. Do something funny!

       “I didn’t mean it like that. Everyone has problems. It’s just not a situation I feel comfortable discussing live.”

      Better. Makes you seem sympathetic. Not actually sympathetic, only seem that way.

      “Well, how about your co-star Roawar Mobawr, who plays your Cizerack sidekick Cloe?” the host asked sharpishly. “Is that okay to talk about?”

      “Sure. She’s a lovely actress and working with her is a joy.”

      “Roawar is a male.”

      Cizeracks were a four legged vaguely feline species from halfway across the galaxy. Cecil had barely had any face-to-face dealings with the race.

      “Who the hell can tell those people apart?” he said thoughtlessly.

       Jesus Christ.

       That sealed it. Worst interview ever. The flows were alive with harpies gossiping, condemning, virtue signaling about Cecil Jaworski. The celebrity who thought he was too big to notice the gender of his co-stars. Even as he stormed backstage, he knew the entire interview was being dissected, cut up, and tossed out over the flow with some pompous critic’s worthless opinion voiced over the images.

       Bad bad bad bad. 

       He stomped to the tiny dressing room followed by satellites. Two assistant drones, one pure AI, the other was connected to a guy somewhere in Turkey, floated about, waiting to fulfill his demands. Ahead, two security drones hovered, zapping back any of the gathering herd of fans who got too close. Despite his faux pas, which must’ve been signaled round the solar system by now, they yelled for an autograph, a livestream, a still shot, anything.

       His personal interface assistant, the only live help he had, handed him a cocktail in the dressing room. The assistant, whatever his name was, was a necessary evil. Sometimes gadgets fail, then someone real was needed to open doors and fetch drinks.

      “Don’t worry too much, sir,” the assistant said, irritating Cecil.

       “I’m not worried.”

       He plopped down and took off his goddamn shoes. They were very trendy and looked good on screen, but pinched his feet like a bastard.

      “Get the foot bath,” he ordered.

      “I still wouldn’t worry…”

       “I’m not. Get the thing!”

        And he wasn’t too worried. The show had been doing well on its main flow. In the current age, each show was sponsored by a parent content flow with new episodes appearing exclusively there. After that, an entire season was doled out on its own individual flow. Later on, it was bundled up with other shows into a yearly content package and sold to a colony, chartered dominion media corporation, or, on rare occasions, to an alien world.

       “Here you go, sir.”

       The assistant put down a plastic tub filled with hot water. Cecil dunked his aching bunions. Rollers dug into his arches, kneading deep into the flesh. A tiny bit of heaven.

      The AI drone squawked, “Your agent is attempting communication.”

      “Not now.”

      “Very good <crackle>.”

       He let the warm sensations on his feet cascade up his legs and over his abdomen. It was a meditative technique from the Zen Rigeln people that had become a bit of a fad in upper crust culture. And not a bad one, Cecil had to admit. It was helpful. But real life wouldn’t shut up today.

      I’m on damage control, his jaw buzzed. We’ve got to spin this quick.

     “Can’t I get a moment’s peace?”

     “Sir?” asked the assistant.

     “I’m not talking to you. Should know that by now. Get me some grapes.”

      The assistant ran out. Cecil rose and shook the water off of his feet. If he couldn’t get into a good mood then he might as well indulge the bad. This was going to be a protracted headache, he felt it deep in soul. If only that guy hadn’t mentioned his brother…

      “Look, Lolly,” The name of his manager. “I’m heading home. This will blow over in a week. I should just lay low.”

      No can do, bud. Corporate has deemed that you make nice and do good. Light and airy.

      And that was that. Corporate was the money, and the money had spoken.

      The human systems were generally organized along sponsorship flows with conglomerates buying and selling the individual flows back and forth. They had attempted to expand to all human incorporated systems, but the Media Monopoly Act passed by the lower Alliance Councils ruled that no corporations could own more than a tenth of the registered flows for any system.

      For a flow on the human channels, while technically open to anyone, a person still had to pay a registration and annual license fee, the cost of which had gradually been jacked up to be prohibitive to most people. This is how the new media corps had come into being. They offered to cover fees, advertising, distribution to other systems, and scrounge up sponsors in exchange for a lion’s share of the profits. While it may seem a rip off, the popular channels found the noticeably increased take of personal profits quelled most complaints.

     Other races had their own way of handling it. Such as the Zen Rigeln or the Eridani who had only a few tightly controlled government-run media flows. The Orions had a free-for-all with over ten trillion flows where any slob with a data pad and the desire to stutter their dim-witted ideas into it could potentially broadcast across the galaxy. And in the Cizerack states, which did not have a uniform planetary government, organizing any constant laws was impossible. What they had varied wildly from state to state and was too much of a headache for anyone to bother working on the problem.

     “Fine.”

      Hey, I’ve got your back. As long as the money rolled in. If the show was canceled, two seconds later it would be, “What have you done for me lately?” We’ve been working on a few ideas, shooting them back and forth with corporate.

      Lolly always said “we”, but Cecil had no idea how many people actually worked for him, if any did. He’d only met the man once for five minutes in New York, since then it’d all been wireless communication.

      We considered moving your marriage forward. Big splashy event. All the nobs from the fiction flows kibitzing, being fabulous.

     “No way.” Though if someone wanted to punish him for his slip up, that would be the way to go.

      Her people nixed it as well. They feel her image will take a hit by being associated with you right now.

      What a nice surprise. How many other annoying people would shun him for this? Maybe he should make a few more racial remarks, get everyone to back off.

      Well there’s the Galactic Marine Benefit Society chili cook-off in Houston

      “Nope.”

      Corporate wants it common. Your demographic is working class people who like watching bad guys being shot. Keep them on your side and you’re golden. So you’ve got to slum with the plebs.

      “Fine. Try to make it fun though.”

      Will do.

      The personal interface assistant returned offering a half a stem of wrinkled grapes. “Your air cruiser is here,” he said in a whimpering tone.

      “Pack up.”

       The assistant ran around collecting stuff. But he just couldn’t stop trying to ingratiate himself.

       “It’s not too bad,” he ventured again. “If only… if only it wasn’t the Cizeracks.”

       The man had never learned the essential art of keeping his fat mouth shut. Still, he was right. Had it been one of the truly weird alien species the public wouldn’t have cared, might’ve even cheered him on. But the Cizeracks, with their feline grace, beautiful fur, and wide comforting eyes, were adored by people. His demographic more so than most.

        Most of the Earth’s feline and canine species had gone extinct due to genetic plagues and chromosomal unspoolers from the old wars before the Alliance was formed. To many humans, Cizeracks filled in the fluffy-furry hole they found in their lives.

       Cecil tapped the AI drone.

      “Coordinate with Lolly on travel schedules and accommodations. And…and get me a new personal interface assistant.”

      He left the man behind in the dressing room, eyes pleading. The air cruiser whisked Cecil away.

 

Heil Honey, I'm Home - A Sitcom About Adolph Hitler and His Jewish Neighbors

          How about sitting down one day and watching a sitcom about Adolf Hitler living in an apartment with Eva Braun who, while running Germany at the time, was having difficulty with his Jewish neighbors? Sound insane? Well in 1990 a pilot for this idea was shot in England and subsequently greenlit for an additional eight episodes.

          Information on this show is a little tricky as most people involved seemed to have forgotten nearly everything about it. Between eleven and sixteen episodes were planned and apparently eight of them were shot before the pilot debuted in 1990, after which the plug was quickly pulled. Screams from Jewish organizations and the “bad taste” patrol shit all over it. Hayim Pinner, secretary general of the Board of Deputies of British Jews stated, “We are against any trivialization of the Second World War, Hitler or the Holocaust, and this certainly trivializes those things. It's very distasteful and even offensive.”

The material here is odd, considering it’s supposed to be Hitler, you almost want to stop yourself from laughing at it. This isn’t like in The Producers where they know the material is terrible and are presenting it anyway, the humor is presented straight up. Not at all tongue in cheek, it is difficult to know how to take the material. The comedic elements and sense of pathos for the characters are wildly misplaced. The action revolves around Hitler entertaining Chamberlain in his apartment and trying to trick him into signing a nonviolence agreement (which sort-of happened in real life), but the Hitler’s Jewish neighbors crash the party and try to set up the British Prime Minister with their unattractive niece. Hilarity sort-of ensues.

It was defended by the producers by stating that various other comedies have been set during the Second World War. Allo Allo and Hogan’s Heroes being two such examples. While that is true, in both the Nazi’s were taken various seriously. The idea of being shot out of hand by them was present in nearly every episode of both series, even if individual Nazi characters were bumbling fools. In this it was like the entire war existed in an episode of Friends.

Granted there have been a few similar shows, depicting important people in situational comedies. That’s My Bush in 2001 for example, which showed former president George W. Bush (brought to us by the creators of South Park, apparently they had an alternative ready if Al Gore won, called Everybody Loves Al). That show, along with Heil Honey, is more of a mockery of the sitcom genre than making fun the target. But both were quickly canceled. At least That’s My Bush had its eight episodes aired before getting the axe.

The entire pilot episode is below for you to judge. Enjoy and Caveat Emptor!

For more weirdness try The Foot Doctor Letters: A Serial Killer Speaks Out by Rex Hurst. Available in paperback and on kindle. 

The Stand: Complete and Uncut Editon

By Stephen King (with illustrations by Bernie Wrightson)

Publisher: Doubleday; 1st edition (May 1, 1990)

Hardcover, 1200 pages

Finished 2/1/2017

Amazon Listing 

            “There was a dark hilarity in his face, and perhaps in his heart, too, you would think—and you would be right. It was the face of a hatefully happy man, a face that radiated a horrible handsome warmth, a face to make water glasses shatter in the hands of tired truck-stop waitresses, to make small children crash their trikes into board fences and then run wailing to their mommies with stake-shaped splinters sticking out of their knees. It was a face guaranteed to make barroom arguments over batting averages turn bloody”

Where do we begin with this mammoth 1200 page extended edition tome- or should we call it “the writer’s cut”? I suppose if you are going to buy this book you might as well get the whole story. This is my first time reading it, despite truly enjoying the mini-series that came out in the mid-1990s. But that’s often the case with many of my relationship with King’s works. I have watched more TV mini-series and films based on his work than read the actual books themselves. The only other one I’ve tackled before this novel was Pet Cemetary back in 1995 or so.

Original 1978 cover

            So I cannot help but compare the novel to the series, it is inevitable. As I zipped through the pages, my mind conjured up the actors from the show and how certain things were similar or different. And honestly, the adaptation was near perfect. Everything essential to the book was present in the series, and in some cases improved upon. In fact it’s such a good adaptation that you might want to skip the book altogether. Honestly, you won’t miss much.

            A brief synopsis for those who are curious: A genetically modified plague is accidentally released from a government installation. The contagion spreads across the world and within two months, 99% of the world’s population is dead. Those who survive begins having dreams of an old woman (Mother Abigail) a 106-year-old prophet and of a Dark Man (Randall Flagg) an apostate from Hell. People begin to drift naturally to one side or another, until a final confrontation between the forces of good and evil occur in the center of Las Vegas.

The character of Randall Flagg is the most, and maybe only, interesting character in the novel. King regards him as his greatest villain and has made steps to expand him into later works - including adding a little epilogue in the expanded version. But King has done this by re-coning one of his other villains, Walter O’Dim from The Gunslinger, and merging the two characters. As I’m sure most of you know, O’Dim is the main antagonist from The Dark Tower series.

            The combining of these two characters is a mistake. The villain from The Stand is a true agent of chaos. He has no reason for what he does, he doesn’t know where he comes from, he is simply acting out a preset role. It just happens to be one he loves. He is the great fouler, who brings out the worst in people. Pre-Captain trips he traveled around extremist and leftist groups, spurring them on to commit violent atrocities. Walter O’Dim on the other hand has very specific goals. He wants to crack the Dark Tower and rule as a God. The two, as initially written, don’t measure up. C’est la vie.

The character is already identified in the story as Legion, a horde of demons whom Heyzeus smacked around in the Bible. This influence is evident in the number of names Flagg picks up in this novel alone: The hardcase, The Walkin’ Dude, The Dark Man, The man with no face, the Devil’s Imp, those are in addition to the constant variations of on the initials R. F..   And that’s what Flagg is, an influencer of destruction. He should have stayed that way.

Randall Flagg from the mini-series played by Jamie Sheridan

There are several illustrative plates in the book, an olde tyme tradition, of events in the story. Drawn by veteran artist Bernie Wrightson of Swamp Thing fame. I am a fan of his work, but the drawings here do not add anything to the reading experience. In fact, they seem pretty flat and lifeless, tossed off for an easy paycheck. They are entirely unnecessary.

King has often stated that with this book he wanted to do an American version The Lord of the Rings. And, while original in certain aspects, you can see the roots from Tolkien’s characters. Most obvious is Randal Flagg as Sauron and Mother Abigail as Gandalf. Trashcan Man can be related to Gollum, and Harold Lauder (the betrayer) is Boromir who tried to take the ring from Frodo. As for the main character himself, Stu Redman is Frodo, Glen Bateman is Bilbo, Nick Andros, Larry Underwood, and Ralph Bretner are the rest of the Hobbits and so on.

The book has been criticized as being an over-bloated novel that drags in the middle, before exploding in the end. Some of this is fair, but if you pick up a twelve hundred page novel you need to expect some of that. A lot of detail and many characters. Maybe certain characters could have been cut or merged, as in the mini-series, but this is the story of a journey. Of people travel to struggle against forces (natural and supernatural) beyond their control and to discover what makes a new normal.

Author Stephen King

Still the criticism is understood it seems like there should be more going on in this novel than actually takes place. Certain scenes take way too long (several pages too long) to develop than they should before the action takes place. They can get bogged down with too many details. You can also see why several scenes were originally cut, such as that between The Kid and Trashcan Man, in the original printing, as they really add nothing to the story but some filler. What gets my goat most though (and this is just my pet peeve) are the many many pop culture references in the text. It always dates the text, most of them are from the 70s and 80s, very stale nowadays.

On the other hand, the growth of the characters over the novel’s course is very realistic. I believed in each of them as real people with genuine reactions to the events that have enveloped them. While there wasn’t a huge amount of difference between the main characters, there was enough so that each was unique to the story. Each stood out as an individual.

Common Law Wife: Exploitation on a Very Very Very Low Budget

          A great deal of this film was in fact intended to be part of another feature titled Swamp Rose but the funding dried up. Not a man to let anything go to waste producer, Larry Buchanan, “King of the Drive-In Flicks”, stripped it of its luscious color and built a z-grade plot around it. This is easily detected as the film quality switches drastically from scene to scene, sometimes from shot to shot.

          All of the characters are in effect played by two different people. The outdoor distance shots in which the characters are obscured to prevent detection, a similar device to what Ed Wood did in Plan Nine from Outer Space. The voice over is fairly obvious as well. Even when it's the same dialogue it never syncs up properly and when it’s not the scene comes across like a Godzilla dub.

          The plot revolves around pervy old Uncle Shub who decides to dump his long term live-in girlfriend and upgrade to a younger model, namely his stripper niece, Baby Doll. The niece, being a tramp (surprise, surprise), rekindles an old fling with her sister’s husband, the local Sheriff, and a moonshiner, who supplies Uncle Shug with his liquor. Well, the tossed-off girlfriend discovers that she is Shug’s common law wife as they were living as a man and wife for half a decade, which in the eyes of the law of that unnamed state is considered a valid marriage. Complications arise as both women try to out maneuver each other over the old man’s fortune, leading to a sexy, violent end.

          Baby Doll was played by real-life stripper Lacey Kelly, whom producer Larry Buccahnon (one of the most prolific grade Z film distributors for the straight-to-drive-in circuit) picked out of a run down joint in some mid-western dump and offered to make her a star. I must admit, she does have an alluring quality. You can’t help but notice her, something that would have made her a great favorite swinging on the stripper pole. It’s mostly in her eyes. They take you in and hypnotize you like a deer in headlights. Her “career” didn’t amount to much, most of it spurred from her willingness to take off her clothes. She played the snarling white trash tramp well enough (if she actually was acting), but this movie was the tail end of her film stint. Before she had starring in a number of nudie-cuties (films with naked people, but no actual penetration shown) such as Naked Sweethearts, Nude on the Moon, and Bunny Yeager’s Nude Camera.

Lacey Kelly

Common Law Wife does sport a kick ass deep jazz soundtrack that is rife with menace and sleazy action. It adds significantly to the atmosphere giving meaning to non-events such as two people walking down a driveway and it distracts from the badly put together footage.

The actual film is not as sleazy as its premise. Most of the sex and violence is implied and keeps strangely moral grounds. What makes the film great is the nasty attitudes in the main characters. Much of it doesn’t seem faked. This is no story of redemption. This is nasty low-bottom people being vicious to each other as they fight over an old man’s money to his delight.

The scorned woman

Common law marriages are still a thing in several states: Colorado, Iowa, Kansas, Montana, Rhode Island, South Carolina, Texas, Utah, and the District of Columbia. Plus other countries such as the UK, Australia, Ireland, parts of Canada, and Israel. This collection of countries isn’t surprising as it is derived from English Common Law. While still on the books and technically allowed, it isn’t used much and nearly everyone has forgotten about it. But it still could be, so men in those areas beware!

The entire film is below. Enjoy and Caveat Emptor.

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