Soon Barbie Was Begging Ken to Try on Her Spandex Miniskirt

I'm told that Billmon is blogging again. Billmon was Bush's best vivisectionist when watching Bush get vivisected was vicarious fun! He once did me a Kind, hat-tipping me to Atrios who then linked to me for a catch I had on Lee Siegel during the long ago fuss over Siegel's sock-puppetry. I got over 40K hits that day, more, at that time, then I had total in three years of blogging.

Both of those links I discovered yesterday within twenty minutes. Awestruck praise to Serendipity for providing the perfect Heh! to end Blogroll Amnesty Weekend (and all the bleggalgazing that comes with it).

UPDATE! Quin tells me (and thank you, Quin) that isn't Billmon. To be honest, I took Duncan's word for it, saw the author as b, and ran for the serendipity like the addict I am.

UPDATE! Duncan confirms it isn't Billmon. Wishful thinking on both our parts. All praise to Serendipity, who set me up Kindly.

Hey, look who I found!

• Cops of the world.
• Change the world!
• Happy Lying Anniversary!
• Washington's secret history with the Muslim Brotherhood.
• Squishy totalitarianism.
• Just enough rope.
• Franklin Delano Rodham Clinton.
• Coward.
• Happy Birthday, 666.
• Five myths about 666.
• Ten things conservatives don't want you to know about 666.
• Gip, gip, hooray!
• 666 remembers 666.
• Rules of the game.
• Waiting for duct tape.
• Little Danny Snyder.
• Little Danny Snyder.
• Sasha's future hell.

Here are the newbies on the blegroll:

• Issa's Untidy Hut.
• An Emphatic Umph.
• Our God Is Speed.
• Age of Uncertainty. 
• Qlipoth.
• Time's Flow Stemmed.
• Casual Optimist.
• Apostrophe.
• Beyond DC.
• Kensington Patch.
• Fear and Loathing in the USA.
• Keye Commentary.
• vacuumslayer.
• diary von davidly.

• Richard Powers on AI.
• Memorable poetry.
• Mapplethorpe.
• Escovedo download.
• Joy Division.
• To hell and back.

KINKY

Denise Duhamel

They decide to exchange heads.
Barbie squeezes the small opening under her chin 
over Ken's bulging neck socket. His wide jaw line jostles
atop his girlfriend's body, loosely,
like one of those novelty dogs
destined to gaze from the back windows of cars.
The two dolls chase each other around the orange Country Camper 
unsure what they'll do when they're within touching distance. 
Ken wants to feel Barbie's toes between his lips, 
take off one of her legs and force his whole arm inside her.
With only the vaguest suggestion of genitals,
all the alluring qualities they possess as fashion dolls, 
up until now, have done neither of them much good. 
But suddenly Barbie is excited looking at her own body 
under the weight of Ken's face. He is part circus freak,
part thwarted hermaphrodite. And she is imagining 
she is somebody else—maybe somebody middle class and ordinary,
maybe another teenage model being caught in a scandal.

The night had begun with Barbie getting angry 
at finding Ken's blow up doll, folded and stuffed
under the couch. He was defensive and ashamed, especially about 
not having the breath to inflate her. But after a round
of pretend-tears, Barbie and Ken vowed to try
to make their relationship work. With their good memories 
as sustaining as good food, they listened to late-night radio 
talk shows, one featuring Doctor Ruth. When all else fails,
just hold each other, the small sex therapist crooned. 
Barbie and Ken, on cue, groped in the dark, 
their interchangeable skin glowing, the color of Band-Aids. 
Then, they let themselves go— Soon Barbie was begging Ken 
to try on her spandex miniskirt. She showed him how 
to pivot as though he was on a runway. Ken begged 
to tie Barbie onto his yellow surfboard and spin her 
on the kitchen table until she grew dizzy. Anything,
anything, they both said to the other's requests,
their mirrored desires bubbling from the most unlikely places.