A little cow humor.

November 19th, 2015


Writers from science fiction author Larry Niven to the late Dr. Jacob Bronowski have claimed “Female animals don’t have orgasms.” Even marine mammalogist Dr. Susie Shane told me this many years ago, when we were both undergraduate students at New College.  I don’t know whether she has reversed her opinion in the intervening years; if so, she has not communicated it to me, although I asked her. (In fact, although we are Facebook friends, she hasn’t communicated with me at all.)

I’m not sure how they all can be so certain, since very little research has been done on this subject.  In science this is known as an “unprovable negative hypothesis,” since one example to the contrary is sufficient to disprove it.  I do know my dolphin partner had an orgasm when we made love, because she vocalized under water, and I could hear her.  And because afterward she hugged me with her flippers and stared into my eyes in what I took to be gratitude.  None of these observations is sufficient to convince a scientist, however.

But it must be asked: if female animals don’t experience some kind of pleasure from sexual penetration, what’s in it for them?  Why is the cow in the above unaltered photo mounting the bull?  Is this purely a functional evolutionary signal that she is in estrus, or does she derive some intrinsic pleasure from the experience?  How can we tell?  Furthermore, why does the bull apparently submit to it?  Does he know she derives pleasure from it?  Does he know it will lead to pleasure for him?

In other words, how does courtship in the animal kingdom proceed?  And do female animals experience orgasm?  I believe they do, but it depends as much on who’s mounting them as how. A study of some species of monkey showed the females were more likely to show features of orgasm when they were being mounted by a high status ranking male.

A female dog isn’t particularly demonstrative during sex, but she certainly has the capacity for orgasm under the right conditions.  If you look at a lot of dog-on-dog sex video, as I do, you learn several things about the canine sex act.  Dogs get stuck together because of their unique genitalia.  When the male dog’s penis is fully inserted in the bitch’s vagina, the base of it, just inside the bitch’s outer labia, swells up in a matter of seconds into a huge, rock-hard spheroid called the bulbus glandis.  This enormous bulb, which is three or four times the diameter of the shaft of the penis, causes the bitch’s outer labia to go into spasm, locking the penis bulb in place between the inner and outer labia, and locking the happy couple together for the duration of their affaire d’amour.


While waiting for the bulbus glandis to deflate, the male may try to remain on the female’s back, but this isn’t usually successful.  What he must do, if he wants to be truly comfortable and secure (as comfortable and secure as he can be with his penis locked inside another independent organism), is swing one of his legs over her back as he dismounts and turns around, bringing them tail to tail and initiating that phase of mating known as the copulatory tie.  As you would know if you viewed a lot of dog sex videos, it is at this point that the female frequently collapses for a few seconds, with the male’s penis still embedded in her, before rallying and regaining her footing.  What has happened?  She’s had an overwhelming orgasm!  Why? Because the swollen bulbus glandis is pushing on her clitoris.

Mating dogs stuck 1

When I had sex with my late, beloved female dog Pixel, I could tell when she was having an orgasm because her vagina would gently squeeze me.  It was usually simultaneous with my orgasm.  A male dog, locked inside her, would experience this squeezing as a sensation of being milked.  These involuntary contractions are what sex researchers Masters & Johnson defined as the female orgasm in humans.  Of course, scientists don’t know this, because they aren’t having sex with their dogs, just philosophizing about it.

Or let’s look at cats.  Female cats are supposed to experience pain during mating, because the male cat has small spines on his penis. (It’s a really tiny penis, BTW, maybe about a half-inch long fully erect.)  When a female cat is penetrated, she emits a low growl that turns into a piercing scream, then turns and strikes at the male cat for “hurting” her.  He pulls out abruptly and jumps off her back.imgres

Supposedly the pain of intercourse causes the female cat to ovulate, making her what scientists have dubbed a “shock ovulator.” But female cats have had millions of years to adapt to this arrangement.  If the spines actually penetrated the walls of her vagina, the resulting wounds could be a potential source for infection and would create scar tissue, which is less elastic than normal tissue.  Since cat vaginas need to stretch to get kittens out, the spines don’t penetrate, they merely rake the walls in what I would describe as a scratchy feeling.  It feels no different than having a cat lick you with its barbed tongue.  The female cat’s clitoris is protected under a layer of skin.

A female cat in heat behaves very lasciviously.  She rolls around in front of the male cat and mews.  When the male cat pounces on her and bites her neck to get a grip, she raises her rump in the air in a position called “lordosis.”  This aids the male cat in penetrating her.  Furthermore, the slightest stimulation of the fur around her swollen vulva causes her to push backwards.  The female cat actually impales herself on the male’s spiny penis, and she will do it over and over again every 15 minutes or so, for hours!  Does this sound like the behavior of a creature that finds mating painful?  If so, what masochistic drive could possibly impel her?


Many years ago I came across a book for cat owners entitled “Help, My Cat’s In Heat!” (I should have bought it, as I can no longer find a listing for it.)  The author described the original scientific work, done in the 1930’s, that helped establish that cats are shock ovulators.  To meet scientific requirements (and avoid a lot of unwanted kittens), the scientist (a man, btw) used a kitty dildo, a smooth glass rod.  Inserting this rod into the female cat’s vagina provoked the same screaming response, and the same ovulatory behavior, as regular feline intercourse with a spiny penis!  So the spines on the male cat’s penis are not what provoke the screaming response, nor are they necessary to induce ovulation.  So why are they there?

Can I suggest it’s because female cats, in spite of what looks to us like a painful response, actually enjoy the sensation of being penetrated by a spiny penis?  Can I suggest the spiny penis in male cats evolved because female cats selected for it by preferentially mating with male cats that had spinier and spinier penises?  It’s known that the penis spines are directly related to the male cat’s level of testosterone, and a castrated male cat loses the spines after about two weeks.  And judging from my viewing of cat mating videos, a lot of the female’s postcoital strikes at the male are feints made with the claws retracted.

Can I finally suggest that, if we think the female cat is screaming in pain, we are being anthropomorphic?  Female cats enjoy the sex act, which explains why they will do it over and over and over.  It takes at least four matings before a house cat in heat ovulates, and a female lion, who is subjected to the same kind of spiny male penis, may mate thousands of times over a month before she finally ovulates.

I would like to discuss the sex lives and orgasms of other animals, including dolphins, rams, bovines and birds,  but for the sake of length I will take those up in another entry.  Suffice to state my conclusion that female animals have orgasms, they just often lack what I would call an external orgasm display.

DDOS attack!

November 17th, 2015

As some of you may have noticed, the web site has been down.  Thanks to the efforts of my web host, Dreamhost, the site has been restored.  Dreamhost pulled the plug when the web page wetgoddess.net got 2 million hits, and this blog got 500,000.  So it seems that somebody out there doesn’t like me!

This is the second time I have received a DDOS attack, the first time on the Web.  The original time was on my cell phone, right after my appearance on Bubba the Love Sponge in 2011.  People who wouldn’t answer kept ringing me for hours on end.

It remains to be seen whether the vandals will repeat this attack.  Stay tuned!

Bad news, good news

September 18th, 2015

I’ll give you the bad news first: there won’t be a longer version of the film Dolphin Lover in the immediate future.  The producers’ deal with a sponsor and distributor fell through.  They had planned to add more footage by interviewing people who might be able to comment on my experience with Dolly the dolphin from a variety of viewpoints: a marine mammalogist, a psychiatrist specializing in zoophilia, an animal rights activist and members of my family, among others.  It was to be released on the Internet.  Sadly, this will not happen.  The film remains in play at several film festivals and the producers assure me it will be released as a short in the near future.

The good news is, there may soon be a Russian-language version of Wet Goddess.  Some time ago, I was contacted by a fan in the Russian town of Nikel who told me, with some trepidation, that he had translated my novel into Russian and printed out a couple of copies so his friends and family could read it.  From what he tells me, he did a lot of research on my very idiomatic use of the English language.  I was enormously flattered that anyone would go so far, and I recognized that his labor of love might have commercial possibilities, so I gave him the go-ahead to try and publish it.   He has found a print-on-demand publisher who will print and distribute the book for us.  I have always felt that Wet Goddess would have to gain some traction overseas before a domestic publisher would pick it up; perhaps this is that opportunity.  More details to follow!

UPDATE: Wet Goddess is being read by a major Russian language publisher.  We should know something in about a month.  Stay tuned!

On the perversity of dogs

August 11th, 2015

Two street dogs mating. Seattle, 1984.

I spent literally all day trying to get two dogs to fuck, without success.   You would think this would be an easy thing to accomplish.  A female dog in heat is a sex machine, and any male dog who catches a whiff of her erogenous odor is turned into a horn dog.  If you watch a lot of dog porn on YouTube, as I do, you know that nothing can stop them: not differences of breed, size or temperament.  They will copulate through a chain link fence, if necessary.  Anything to get that penis stuck in that vagina!

So why have I spent hours recently driving to and from the not-so-nearby town of Barstow on what seems like a fool’s errand?  To help out Nancy, a friend who used to be a girlfriend (it didn’t work out).

Nancy, bless her, breeds Yorkshire terriers, or “Yorkies” to their fans.  Now I myself am no fan of small dogs.  I don’t like their yapping, high-pitched barks, and I think that breeding a dog that can fit comfortably in your average shoebox is a terrible thing to do to a wolf.  Furthermore, even though my second wife was also a dog breeder (of shi-tzus), I don’t approve of dog breeding when the humane shelters in this country are overflowing with unwanted companion animals.

I make an exception for Nancy in my mind because she is a retired senior living on her Social Security check.  She’s a farm girl raised in New England, been breeding dogs most of her adult life and I don’t think she’s about to stop now.

So on Sunday, we drove to Barstow, which is east of Tampa, so Nancy could mate her little bitch Sophia with a stud named Wilby.  Since Sophia is a virgin, and somewhat larger than Wilby, this involved  Nancy holding Sophia as still as possible while Wilby’s owner, a nice woman named Theresa, held Wilby up high enough to penetrate his prospective mate.  It was, shall we say, a heavily assisted mating.

But the little male dog, for all his vigorous thrusting, couldn’t penetrate, and Theresa said Sophia wasn’t quite ready yet.  She wriggled like a worm in Wilby’s embrace, making her vulva a moving target.  Nancy reluctantly decided to leave Sophia there, hoping that, if they didn’t copulate in the meantime, they might when we came back to pick the bitch up today.

But today Wilby, who had at least tried to mount Sophia on Sunday, couldn’t even seem to get that interested.  Turns out Theresa had let him expend his energies on Sophia earlier in the morning, before we arrived.  But being by herself, she couldn’t fulfill all the roles necessary for the engagement of his engorgement.  So the little fella got burned out with no result.

Nancy says she’s going back on Thursday for another try.  I won’t be able to help her with the driving this time, so I wish her luck.  It all leaves me wondering, just what does it take to get two dogs to fuck?


August 9th, 2015

Dr. Albert Duvall, the man who molested me and hundreds of other children with their parents’ consent.

Whereas it took me years of fumbling to write Wet Goddess, I managed to write Orgone Box in six short months.  It was like one long scream for me, but the creative process drove me onward and through it.

This was not the case recently when I re-formatted the book for publication as an e-book through Smashwords.  The process of re-formatting some 300+ pages of text was mindless and boring, which left me plenty of time to dwell on the contents of the book, which was the horrific things that happened to me as a child.

It wasn’t like I grew up in East Africa or something, I don’t mean it like that.  I enjoyed lots of privilege as a kid: white privilege, middle-class privilege, suburban privilege.  From the outside, everything looked wonderful.

But Reich’s “orgone therapy,” as administered by that twisted sadist Dr. Albert Duvall, was a terrifying ordeal that my parents kept sending me back to on a weekly basis.  Aside from the sexual abuse, which was definitely NOT what Reich had in mind, Duvall had a license from my parents to painfully poke, prod or squeeze any muscle on my body that he thought betrayed “armoring,” or a chronic muscular tension that indicated a corresponding neurosis.

I was stark naked, only five years old at the time these memories start, literally protoplasmic putty in the hands of a man who was as sarcastic as he was cruel.  When I complained, even when I revealed the sexual abuse, my parents didn’t listen.  They were “true believers.”

And now, the memories and the rage won’t let go of me.  The lie beneath the surface like a crocodile, waiting for any weakness in my emotional condition to rear up and snag me.  I wish I had as an adult gone and killed Duvall, he richly deserved it, not only for what he did to me but to hundreds of other children entrusted to his care.

I thought maybe writing something about this process and these feelings would be a good thing, but I’ve dwelt there long enough for now.  I just wish I could make the tortuous memories go away forever, but the time for “moving forward” with my life is over.  I think my most productive years, the years when I needed the human interaction skills that Duvall’s abuse largely destroyed, are over.

Now I am in the time of survival.

A new dolphin book

August 5th, 2015


Susan Casey, author of “The Devil’s Teeth,” speaking on NPR’s program Fresh Air about her latest book, “Voices In The Ocean,” about the world and lives of dolphins: book link.

Inhumane slaughter in the Faroes

July 26th, 2015

A letter to the Danish Embassy, Washington, D.C.:

It is shocking to see the violent and brutal “grind,” the annual pilot whale slaughter in the Faroe Islands.  A beach is not a slaughterhouse, and whales are not cattle.  No cowman ever deliberately terrorized his cows to bring them to market – quite the opposite, in fact – but this terrifying “drive hunt” is standard operating procedure.  Never mind that the whales, as all the most recent scientific research has shown, are self-aware, intelligent, curious creatures like ourselves.  Unlike cows, their meat is also tainted with mercury and synthetic chemicals which make it unfit to eat.

The uncivilized atmosphere of this gore-fest is best expressed by words of one grind participant: “I hate the taste of whale meat, but I love to kill.”

What is even more shocking is to see the full might of Denmark’s naval power thrown behind the whale-killers when a few members of Sea Shepherd, armed only with cameras, protest the hunt.  To see the Danish warships “Triton” and “Knut Rasmussen” called in to “protect” the whale murderers has convinced me to write this letter.  Rest assured that until this barbaric and utterly unnecessary practice is forever ended, I will never visit Denmark or buy Danish products, and I will do everything in my power to convince others to boycott you.

The European Union, to which Denmark belongs, has banned whaling, so you are in violation of international law.  No country which supports indiscriminate drive hunts of marine mammals can consider itself a civilized realm.

“Dolphin Lover” wins in LA!

June 18th, 2015

Dolphin-Lover-This-Man-PosterI am flabbergasted to receive the news that Dolphin Lover took the prize for Best Short Documentary at the 2015 Los Angeles Film Festival!  Producer Joey Daoud said “The jurors were fascinated with your story.”  They must have been, but the dramatic way that Daoud and director Kareem Tabsch chose to present it adds immeasurably to its appeal.  I think it will be difficult for Hollywood to ignore this film, and with it, my story and the situation of dolphins in general.  What exactly the fallout from this will be remains to be seen, but I have high hopes.  This is much, much bigger than picking up an honorable mention at Slamdance (although that was a well-earned and well-deserved honor!).  It would be nice to have some representation, even a publisher.  Would that be too much to ask?

The end of “Wet Goddess”?

June 12th, 2015

It is June, and book sales aren’t just slow, they’ve stopped entirely.  Last June, I managed to sell 21 copies of Wet Goddess; this month so far, zilch.  It’s discouraging and I’m wondering why.  According to my own official count, WG has sold just over 1,200 copies worldwide.  (I don’t have exact figures because I didn’t track the number of books I gave out to family and friends or sent out as promotional and review copies, but it was around 30.)

Sales traditionally slow in the summer, I don’t know why.  You’d think people would want something romantic to read on vacation.  Sales were slow last summer, too; after June I sold 13 copies in July and only 5 in August.  Sales picked up slowly after that, rising to a frenetic 43 copies in February and 25 in March, shortly after Dolphin Lover premiered.  Explanation: I was doing a lot of radio interviews.

So what does it take to sell my book?  Is the market for a human-dolphin love story saturated?  I really don’t know.  I will of course hang on to the inventory I have on hand, 15 copies.  But unless demand increases, I don’t see myself doing another printing.

Could “Wet Goddess” be an animated movie?

May 27th, 2015


Dolphin Lover, Kareem Tabsch and Joey Daoud’s short documentary film about my love affair with Dolly the dolphin, will be showing at the Los Angeles Film Festival on June 15.  I have high hopes (perhaps unjustifiably so) that somebody in Hollywood will pick up on the story, option the film rights to it and drop a cool lump of money in my lap.

I would use the dough to replace this rotting trailer and its dilapidated work shed.  And drill a new well while I was at it, the water here is barely better than sewage.  I really, really need to do all that, but as a self-published writer living primarily on my Social Security check, I clearly lack the means.  Hell, I’m finding it hard to replace my truck, which has 235,000 miles on it.

So I have these fantasies about being “discovered” by Hollywood, which could actually lead, in an ass-backward fashion, to a book deal.  Stranger things have happened.  Not that I care for the fame, I am actually a rather withdrawn, reserved kind of guy who hates drawing attention to himself, and obviously I wouldn’t be doing all this if it wasn’t for the message about the dolphins.

If somebody takes out an option on a work like a book or a screenplay, it usually means they have the intention of making it into a movie.  So if somebody wanted to option Wet Goddess, what kind of movie would they make from it?  Well, I happen to have some rather strong ideas about that, ideas that would make or break any film deal.

First, no real, live dolphins should be used in the making of the film.  Why?  Because I’m against the idea of keeping dolphins in captivity in the first place, secondly against exploiting them for entertainment, thirdly bothered by the stress they would be subjected to doing multiple takes for a movie, and finally I would be jealous of any lead actor playing the character Zachary Zimmerman who got to spend more time with a dolphin playing Ruby than I did.

There is the very real danger that a live dolphin would become emotionally bonded to a human actor under those intimate circumstances, much as Dolly did to me, and that could prove to be a psychological hazard when the filming ended and the two had to part.  The dolphin might become depressed and suicidal, like Dolly did, and I don’t want the responsibility for another dolphin death on my hands.

For all these reasons, I would be opposed to filming the movie with real, live dolphins.  The alternative is to do the dolphins with a combination of life-size animatronic models and computer generated imagery (CGI).  Ah, but real water effects are notoriously difficult to pull off in CGI.  I just have the feeling a live-action version of Wet Goddess done with CGI dolphins would be insanely complex to pull off, although that doesn’t mean somebody isn’t stupid enough to try.

However, I would suggest an alternate solution, based in part on the fact that at least two segments of the movie — where the stoned Zack is “astral tripping” with Ruby in her underwater world — would have to be animated to adequately express what is being described in the novel.  The first sequence involves the sensation of swimming in open water at high speed.  The second and longer sequence, described in chapter 19, “Outside the Fence,” involves a gathering of several hundred bottlenose dolphins engaged in intense sexual play.  Obviously it is going to be difficult, if not impossible, to get the necessary live-action film of such a congregation of dolphins.  I do not know if bottlenose dolphins even form such large mating groups as the one I describe, I was simply reporting on what I experienced without trying to subject it to what psychic Ingo Swann calls “analytical overlay.”

Since those sections of the movie would have to be computer animated, why not just animate the whole damn thing?  Make Wet Goddess: The Movie the 21st Century equivalent of Ralph Bakshi’s Fritz the Cat, an R- or even X-rated animated feature film where everything — the tacky amusement park, New College, all of Zack’s stoned fantasies — is animated.  (Although let me make it clear I don’t want to get shafted the way poor artist R. Crumb, creator of the original Fritz comic, says he got screwed by Bakshi.)

This might free up the story in several ways.  It would save having to find a real animal abusement park to stand in for the tacky Florida Funland of the novel.  There would be no problems with resentful, uncooperative dolphins who, for some inscrutable reason, don’t want to do 35 takes of the same scene.  It would allow for some great interpretations of the story, which as published is almost self-satirizing in a way.

So that would be my advice to any prospective film producer who wants to option Wet Goddess: we basically do this as a large scale CGI cartoon, on the level of something Disney or Dreamworks Animation would do, or we don’t do it at all.  I don’t think I’m being too demanding and fussy there, do you?