The Story of O

A couple of California peace activists recently declared the Friday before Christmas — the winter solstice — as the first-ever Global Orgasm Day. Humans should concentrate on peace that day, they said, while doin' the do. They should "effect a positive exchange in the energy field of the Earth through input of the largest possible surge of human energy, a Synchronized Global Orgasm."

Tailpipe could barely contain his enthusiasm. Picture a few billion people in synchronized paroxysms of ecstasy, their energy surging upward toward the sky in purple waves. It would have to make a difference, no?

By the arrival of GO-Day, the idea actually seemed to be catching on. Organizers Donna Sheehan and Paul Reffell, who are from California's fad-conscious Marin County, got some widespread media coverage, and thousands of web surfers from São Paulo to Tokyo to Sofia checked out their homepage, www.globalorgasm.org. Groups supporting the Global Orgasm sprang up on thefacebook.com. In Lake Worth, a teacher who asked to be identified simply as Brooke decided to throw a Global Orgasm Day party of her own at her D Street home.

The 'Pipe learned that Brooke teaches by day and works as a burlesque dancer by night. This promised to be interesting. Her living room was darkened and fragrant with air freshener to encourage sensuous communication among the handful of attendees, and a video called "How to Female Ejaculate With Fanny Fatale" played on a monitor. Laughter rang out from a nearby bedroom, momentarily distracting two women who were parked in front of the television, necking like a pair of high school sophomores.

The two face-sucking women — one with straight black hair, the other with a Mohawk with dyed blond patches — separated momentarily to watch the video's money shot. It was a welcome conversation stimulator. Was the woman in the video actually ejaculating onto her partner, or was this an example of what sex connoisseurs call a "golden shower"? Tailpipe wasn't sure he wanted to know.

A guy with a buzz cut suggested sagely that females could easily teach themselves to ejaculate as this woman on the video just had. "I'm telling you," he said, "you've just got to know how to do it."

The black-haired woman fumed. "I am a fucking female," she said. "I've dissected my shit. I hate when guys think they know about the pussy."

Everyone in the room inched away from the male blowhard. Clearly, if Mr. Buzz Cut were going to partake of the GO-Day activities, it would be in the privacy of his own bedroom.

Tailpipe wondered if maybe Global Orgasm as an instrument for peace was an idea that was ahead of its time here in South Florida. Isn't every day O-Day around here? Where's the peace, people?

Brooke, in an orange strapless dress, brought an imposing panty-ripper cocktail into the living room and rewound the video to take another look, and Mr. BC quietly sneaked out.

Most of the women were burlesque dancers in Brooke's troupe. Some said they were not aware of the origin or purpose of Global Orgasm Day, but after the 'Pipe explained it, they got excited. They liked the idea that sex could be used as a political tool.

Of course, it wasn't really anything new, said one stripper, with a surprising knowledge of the classics. "In Athens in the Fifth Century BC," she said, "burlesque was born. Aristophanes wrote a play, and the play was about the women protesting the [Peloponnesian] war by strip dancing but withholding sex." The play was Lysistrata.

She was dubious that orgasmic energy forces could end the war in Iraq, but, what the hell, let's give it a go, she said. Then she turned back to her partner.

The party — by then at the point of stillbirth, Tailpipe thought — spilled out into the backyard, where Brooke had set up a dance tent. Some of the women spun one another around, and a guy named Daniel came over from the neighbor's solstice party and did some game but amateurish freestyling. But the party, ultimately, didn't have the energy to sustain itself.

The 'Pipe went home, took a shower, and thought about peace. The next day, the war in Iraq did not end, the genocide in Darfur continued, and on Christmas Eve, there was a shooting at the Boynton Beach mall.

Quality Dog

Barry Star has owned Hot Dog Heaven on Sunrise Boulevard in Fort Lauderdale since 1979. That's long enough to be able to roll his eyes knowingly at all the incursions at other establishments from paying more attention to the bottom line than to customer satisfaction. To get costs down, he says, other restaurants "started using a smaller hot dog — a pencil rather than a full frank! They won't use a seeded bun. They won't use a full pickle. You can't sell an authentic sandwich like that!" Case closed.

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