Contrary to popular belief…

… I do show restraint when it’s called for.

There is a big difference between some classless, clueless fuckwad getting in my face, and people who mean well but their words don’t come out quite right. In the latter case, I am measured and kind. I look at the intent rather than the actual verbiage.

I went to a spanko munch last week, which was a lot of fun. Everyone was friendly. It was a little weird for me, because they all knew each other and I felt like the odd one out, but they were welcoming. Then a very nice young woman asked me, “So Erica, what was the L.A. spanking scene like back in the day?”

Um…

I don’t know if I’d call twenty-five years ago “back in the day,” but I suppose when you’re thirty, that’s exactly what it is. I just said that back then, the people who ran Shadow Lane lived here and they had their finger on the pulse of all that was going on in the local spanking scene, so if you were connected to them, you had an in.

I resisted the urge to say that we all used to meet up in each other’s covered wagons. (sigh)

Last Friday, a woman wrote to me on FetLife. She said she loved my writings on Fet, and asked if I would like to join her group.

The name of the group? “Grandma Needs Love Too.” You know, for “mature” spankos.

Every fiber of my being was screaming, “Are you @#$%ing KIDDING me right now with that name??” But I kept that to myself. I wrote back, politely declined joining the group, but thanked her for the compliments on my writing.

And then this morning, another very nice young woman reached out to me, and during the correspondence, she said, “Full disclosure — I had no idea who you were.” Then she apologized and said she didn’t mean that as an insult.

I know she didn’t.

So I answered, “It’s okay. ‘Were’ is the operative word here.”

JFC. No chance of having an inflated ego in these parts.

In an attempt to find a silver lining (and no, I’m not talking about my freaking hair roots), I’m kinda grateful and relieved to be older now. I really, really, really wouldn’t want to be a woman of child-bearing age right now, not with SCOTUS and the GOP up in my uterus and demanding that I be a baby factory, or else. It was nice, enjoying the peak of my youth in a time where I had other choices besides “reproduce or keep your legs closed.”

Meanwhile… this ain’t yer grandma’s butt. :-Þ

OT — I Kissed a Far-Right Republican

Yeah, I know. Shocking. But it was a long time ago.

(Just for the record: people think I’m a far-left liberal, but I’m really not. If I had to define myself politically, I’d identify as center left. But yeah… after the past five years, I am strongly anti-right.)

When my dad passed away in 1998, he was living in a high-rise condo complex in West Hollywood. A few of his friends and I spent several days clearing out his unit. One time when we were heading back and forth and were outside my dad’s place, the elevator door opened and a man with a distinctly recognizable face came out. He saw us and approached, asking about my dad. I asked if they were friends, and he said more like building acquaintances, but he’d always liked my father. He was sorry to hear about his passing, expressed his sympathies, and asked if we were having any sort of memorial for him. I said yes, told him where it was, and then we went about our business.

Cut to a month later, at my father’s memorial, a well-attended function with a lot of TV writers and a few well-known faces. I suppose some would say this crowd was the Hollywood liberal elite; so be it. After the speeches and tributes were given and people were milling about, I was making the rounds through the room and saw someone hovering alone in the back of the room. I approached, and saw it was the man from my dad’s building. He seemed kind of hesitant and shy, hanging back there, just quietly observing. I came up to greet him, and asked him if he’d like to get something to eat or drink. He said, “No, thanks… I just wanted to pay my respects to your father.” I took his hand, and impulsively, I leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much,” I said. Shortly after that, he slipped out.

So…. who was the mystery man?

Ben Stein.

If you don’t know who Ben Stein is, Google him. He’s had quite a career, and when I refreshed my memory by reading his Wikipedia article, I cringed more than once. Iconic appearance in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” notwithstanding, he’s pretty awful. And of course, now I know why he was so reticent at my dad’s memorial — he didn’t fit in with that crowd, and he knew it. I mean, come on. Ben Stein wrote speeches for Richard Nixon… and one of the men in attendance had been on Nixon’s “Enemies List.” No lie.

Still… he liked my dad. For a few minutes, that transcended politics.

I think back on that and sigh. How times have changed. If something like this were to happen now, what would I do? Would he have still shown up? What would I say?

Probably nothing different. Probably would have politely thanked him.

But I wouldn’t kiss him.

Life is strange, and strangely sad, sometimes. Have a good weekend, y’all. Be safe. ♥

I get by…

…with a little help from my friends.

Hey, that’s catchy. Someone ought to set that to music sometime.

This happened a couple of weeks ago, but due to what was going on in the country, I figured I’d postpone it for a while.

We all know the spanking scene is a mixed bag. But one of the things I’ve always loved over the years is the solidarity many of us share. We have each other’s back(sides). And sometimes, it’s not just about playful bratting or what have you. Sometimes, the subjects are serious.

About 3 1/2 years ago, a friend of mine wrote a post on FetLife. In it, she took a bold stance: she stated that she would not play with anyone who is a Trump supporter. She listed her reasons why; it was a well-written, detailed post, no name-calling, just stating her position and why.

As you can imagine, the comments flowed. Some were supportive. Some were neutral. And of course, many others were nasty. I felt like I wanted to do something to support her, so people would see she’s not alone in this stance.

So I posted this picture:

I said I was doing this in solidarity with [her name], and I made it my avatar. Aaaaand the comments rolled in. Most were supportive. But of course, some were nasty.

And then, much to my delight, the incomparable Michael Masterson posted this picture:

He captioned it with “In support of my girl Erica Scott, who has the courage to make her voice heard, I offer you this.” My comment? “I love you, Mike.”

(Sorry about the editing, but the pic was a bit too gynecological. I figured it took away from the message.)

Anyway, cut to the present. I decided it was time to dump the old avatar and put up a new picture. So I chose this one from the end of 2019 (because 2020 was sadly lacking in play).

What is it we FetLife veterans know? No matter what kind of picture you put up, some people aren’t going to like it. And some people won’t hesitate to let you know they don’t like it, and why. You’re wearing panties. You’re not wearing panties. You’re too heavy, you’re too thin, you’re too old, you’re too young, etc. etc. The picture is too graphic. The picture isn’t graphic enough. And of course, one of my favorites: if it shows the results of a spanking, you get the ‘I could have done a better job’ comments.

Sure enough, the picture wasn’t up five minutes when I got this right off the bat:

Not red or bruised enough… just saying. 😉 😉

Really?? And is the “wink, wink” supposed to make it okay?

I mean, come on. If you’re of the persuasion of preferring more graphicly walloped bottoms, you have thousands to choose from on FetLife. Knock yourself out. Go look at the pictures of butts that look like they were pounded with a meat cleaver and then thrown on a barbecue grill, and have a wank-fest. Why bother stopping to comment on mine if you don’t like it?

Sheesh. I hadn’t put up a new picture on Fet in ages, and right out of the gate, I hear from the basement critics. But I didn’t want to start a thing on FetLife, so I didn’t reply to the comment. However, I did go on Twitter and grouse about it, saying that I really wanted to answer, “Who the fuck asked you?” but I’d refrain.

Next thing I knew, my buddy Sarah (not Gregory; a different Sarah I’ve mentioned on here, she of the full-body tackle hugs at parties) tweeted to me: “Allow me… BRB.” And within a minute, I saw I had a notification on Fet of a new comment. I went to look, and nearly fell on the floor.

Below the guy’s comment, Sarah had typed:

[His name]: Who the fuck asked you? 😉 😉

But wait, there’s more: Within minutes, the guy commented back to her. I braced myself for some vitriol, figuring I’d have to step in at some point. But all he wrote was:

Good comment. 🙂

Well, how about that. I chose to interpret that as saying, “Yeahhhh, you’re right, I guess that was kind of a dumb thing to say.” No harm done. And the picture got a lot more attention after that. Sarah, you really do rock. 😀

Not that I spend much time on FetLife these days, anyway. I’m usually there to network about parties, or post about scenes I’ve had. And what with Covid, there’s been none of that. Still… it’s nice to know your friends still look out for you. ♥ I miss everyone so much. The February party has already been canceled, but we are hoping for Labor Day.

Final note: Regarding this week’s momentous occasion, I will say just one thing and then leave it alone.

Four years ago, my stepmother, then 85 and in poor health, was in complete despair over Trump’s presidency. She wrote to me: “I was born during one the country’s darkest times [the Great Depression], and I’m probably going to die during another one.” That broke my heart. I was afraid she wouldn’t stick around; that she’d get so despondent, she’d give up and stop fighting.

Yesterday, she emailed me and said, among other things, “After Biden’s speech, I broke down and sobbed like a child.” She’s now 89. But she’s still with me. She made it. She hung in there long enough to watch us all come out the other side. And I’m so very grateful. It sickened me to the core that the Honorable Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg didn’t live to see this, but damn, this sure helps soothe that pain.

That’s all, folks. Have a great weekend. Stay safe.

Podcasts, Jillian Keenan, and…

Hey, kids. Told you I’d be back when I had something positive to talk about. So far, John and I have avoided Covid-19, and the wildfires scared the crap out of me, but didn’t impact John’s house after all. Thanks to the people who checked in with me while I took a break.

Podcasts, you say? I should give some background first. How many of you enjoy watching free videos on Spanking Tube? Have you heard of the gentleman who calls himself “agoodspankin”? He has been shooting videos of himself spanking women since 2010, and has posted about 100 of them on ST. He has quite the mystique, because 1. he has a great voice and his scolding is delicious, and 2. he never shows his face, although you can see his nice build. (By the way, ladies, I’ve seen his picture — he’s easy on the eyes.) Anyway… he and I go back a long time, maybe to 2005? He wrote some spanking books in the early 2000s, and he and I had connected online by then and he asked if I would edit his books. Of course I said yes, and he even put a “thank you” page and a couple of pictures of me at the back of one of them (“Never Too Old to Spank”). He also was instrumental in my discovering Lulu Press for self-publishing my first book in 2007.

Recently, he decided to start doing spanking podcasts. He did the first two by himself, mostly introductory stuff, and then he started interviewing people. His third podcast was of two young women from Georgia, both of whom had played with him and one or both of them, I forget, did a video with him. A couple of weeks ago, he contacted me and asked if I’d like to do an interview. Well, I’ve seen the buzz this man gets on Twitter, how the spanko bottoms go gaga over him and even the spanko tops are impressed and say they could learn a lot about technique from him — my immediate response was “I’d be honored!” He lives on the opposite coast, so we couldn’t meet in person, but he said we could do it over the phone and he’d record it through that, then he could edit it.

Long story short, we did it last Monday. He tries to keep his podcasts around an hour… but we started talking, he got to asking me questions (about growing up spanko without the internet, parties, videos, and so much more) and before we knew it, we had been talking for over two hours. He said he’s going to make it a two-parter, and today he messaged me, said he’s edited it and it sounds really good. When he posts it next week, I’ll link you guys to it. In the meantime, you can read about him (and check out some of his videos, if you’d like), here on Spanking Tube. I had so much fun doing this with him. And talking about our favorite subject was such a blast, we ended up talking on the phone an extra hour past the interview.

Oooh! Just noticed that Ronnie has included the Never Too Old podcast in her latest “In With The New.” Part One of our interview will be put up this coming Wednesday.

Next — I MET JILLIAN KEENAN! The journalist! The author of “Sex With Shakespeare”! The one who has the YouTube channel with the “Kinking Out Loud” series! A few weeks ago, she messaged me on Twitter and asked if by any chance I had some free time to join a socially distanced outdoor meeting close to me, this coming Wednesday. Say what? I said I was working, but if it were indeed near me, I could duck out for a couple of hours. She then asked what parks were closest to me, so I gave her two. Shortly after that, she said she’d checked with “the others” (I had no idea who) and everyone liked one of the parks I’d suggested, so we’d meet there at 4:00.

Mind you, I had no idea what this was about, or who else would be there, but who cares? It was Jillian! It was a chance to have some fun and actually be out among humans! Usually I need to know every detail beforehand of anything I plan to do, but this time I said screw it, just go. It was a pretty day, warm, and the park was gorgeous. Took me a while to find them (the park is huge!), but I finally did.

As it turned out, Jillian and her boyfriend were passing through California on their way back from a very long hike (one hundred eighty-five days!) on the Pacific Crest Trail, and they decided to get together with a few people from here, including a few of the patrons of her YouTube channel. And me!

We had a group of nine, sitting several feet apart from each other on the grass, all wearing masks. Jillian and Dan were so charming — warm, friendly, funny. Her patrons were all very nice. I didn’t know any of them, except for one man who came later, and he looked familiar — turned out I’d met him at a Shadow Lane party two years ago. Small world. Anyway, we all took turns talking, Jillian asking us questions, and two hours zipped by very quickly.

John had said beforehand, “You have to get a picture with Jillian!” So I made sure I did. We’re masked, but you can still tell we’re beaming, right?

What a nice break from pandemic isolation this was! And just a reminder: You can watch/subscribe to Jillian’s videos on YouTube, here.

Hmmm… there was something else. What was it… oh, who am I kidding. I can’t ignore the giant orange elephant in the room.

I suppose people are imagining that I’m dancing, laughing, jumping for joy, gloating, beaming, and so on, right about now. You know what? No. I’m not.

The past eight months have been hell. Pandemic isolation with no end in sight. No play. No meeting up with friends (except for the one time with Jillian), even for a cup of coffee. Wildfires consuming my state and threatening John’s house. Shootings. Protests. And the straw that broke my back: the death of the great Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Followed by having to watch the GOP spit in the face of her legacy, her dying wish, and shove in Amy Coat-hanger Barrett as her successor. What a disgrace. And while thousands upon thousands died (and continue to die), Mango Mussolini sat on his golden throne, ALL-CAPS tweeting, grandstanding and lying, and didn’t give a shit about any of us.

Today, Alex Trebek died. I was a huge fan. Heart is broken once again.

About twelve years ago, my dear talented friend Dave Wolfe, upon finding out that I love rain, drew this joyous caricature of me.

I haven’t felt like this for a very long time. I feel beaten down and tired. I ache — body, heart and soul. I’m sickened by what I see in a country I used to be proud of. I know Joe Biden is not the Messiah. I know there is no instant fix to what is broken. We are anything but the “United” States. Our country is divided. I don’t think I will see things resolve in my lifetime. I am still scared of the future.

But I can timidly exhale. I can go to sleep and not be afraid of what I might wake up to. I can feel like the country is in the hands of a man, not an overgrown monstrous child. A child who, as I write, is throwing tantrums, screaming “I WON” and “FRAUD” to his base, and refusing to concede. He is going to make this the most contentious and ugly transition in history. He will fight it to the death, and he will pull every trick he can. He gets his way, all the time, no matter how he has get it. So why wouldn’t he now? Therefore, no joy here. Just a very cautious hope.

Still, I feel like I’ve been offered a cup of warm, soothing cocoa after four years of nothing to drink but orange Kool-Aid laced with battery acid.

Joe Biden is asking for unity. For us to stop hating each other and heal. I would like that, but I don’t see it happening. Still, I feel like things might move in a better direction. (They pretty damn well have to.) Someday, this @#$%ing pandemic will be handled properly and we can all get our lives back. Well… not 238,000 of us, but you know what I mean. And maybe, just maybe, I will feel that unbridled joy again. But right now, I am shell-shocked. For a while, I’m just going to cry. Exhausted, grieving, and yes, relieved.

When I started this blog back up after a year of hiatus, I said I didn’t want to talk about politics. This post is an exception; I don’t plan to make a habit of it. But I have one more thing to say.

For the past four years, some folks of the Republican persuasion have taunted and insulted me. They have called me: Libtard. Retard. Snowflake. Whiner. Crybaby. Ugly bitch. Granny porn star. And more, but I think you get the idea. Posted pictures of horribly unattractive people and likened me to them. Oh, and let’s not forget sneering at me to suck it up, because Trump would be my president through 2024.

Well, you lovely people… first, shame on all of you. I hope you feel good about yourselves. And second — expending all that energy hating on me so hard had to burn a whole lot of calories. Perhaps you’d like to replenish some of them with a little snack.

Look out for the orange ones!

Godspeed, and go fuck yourselves. Because I don’t forgive you.

Hoping for better days. For those who are still hanging in there with me, thank you. ♥

A Special Christmas Parody

Those of you who have been with me for years (and thank you) know I like to write a spanko parody of a Christmas carol at this time of year. And I still might — the month is young. But for now, I have something extra.

When I restarted this blog a year and a half ago, I said that I wouldn’t be talking about politics, that they really had no business on a spanking blog. I still feel that way, so don’t worry, I’m not going in that direction. However, despite the efforts of this clusterfuck of an administration, we haven’t completely devolved into Gilead just yet, and it’s still a woman’s prerogative to change her mind. So, I present this holiday treat to you, to the tune of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

Donald the Orange Menace

Donald the Orange Menace,
Had a very slimy past,
Now thanks to the impeachment,
It’s gonna bite him in the ass!

All of his crooks and cronies
Used to laugh and call folks names
They always joined The Dotard
As he played his lying games!

Then one happy Judgment Day,
Nancy came to say,
“Donald, you’re a hopeless blight,
Please resign and leave tonight!”

All of the “snowflakes” loathed him
And they shouted out with glee
“Donald the Orange Menace,
You’ll go down in flames, you’ll see!”

As my readers know, in general, I encourage civil discourse and welcome people to disagree with me if they do so respectfully. But on this topic? Nuh uh. You don’t like this parody? Don’t like what I say about Trump? As your Führer likes to tweet, Too Bad! (He probably likes that phrase because it’s two words he can actually spell correctly.) Please feel free to go read something else, and leave me the hell alone. There is more than enough right-wing swill for you to wallow in out there.

Oh, and for those who will gloat that impeachment is a worthless joke, that nothing’s going to get him out — yeah, we may be stuck with him for another year, but the damage is done. He’s been shown for what he is: a complete disgrace, and the laughing stock of the entire freaking world.

Well, except for Russia….

I love anagrams, don’t you?

Anyway, MERRY CHRISTMAS — ah, screw that…

HAPPY ALL-INCLUSIVE HOLIDAYS, Y’ALL!! 😀

And so it goes

Hello, everyone. Sorry for the absence.

After much thought, going back and forth, changing my mind and then back again, I have decided it’s time to bring this blog to an end.

I have been in the spanking scene for twenty-one years this month, and online for nineteen. I have watched many changes in what became known as social media. In the early days for spanking chat and exploration, there were what was known as newsgroups, and various chat rooms. Often the latter devolved into a bunch of silly cyber spanking, but one could find intelligent conversation if one looked carefully. Then, around 2000, give or take a year, those gave way to chat forums, such as those on MSN and Yahoo, the old Shadow Lane chat board, etc. People posted and chatted and shared and connected. I co-managed a successful forum for a few years and had a blast.

When the forums began to run their course, they were overtaken by a new phenomenon: the spanking blog. Soon, everyone and their second cousin twice removed was blogging. I joined this bandwagon in 2005, on what used to be the hopping place (!): MySpace. My blog there straggled along for a while, trying to find its audience, but there was so much competition. But then two things happened. One, I was listed by our blog queen, Bonnie, who made a point of spotlighting new blogs in her “In With the New” column. Things really picked up for me after that, but I still had a second holy grail to achieve. The buzz in the blogosphere was about a gentleman who went by the name of Chross, who had a weekly list of what he considered the most notable blog posts. If one was lucky enough to be “Chrossed,” they would be treated to a highly gratifying spike in blog hits. But how did one get on Chross’s radar, I wondered? I finally grew so frustrated that I wrote a post called “Who Do I Have to @#$% to Get on Chross’s List?” Apparently, that got his attention. 🙂

After that, wow. Views, comments, etc. skyrocketed. Until MySpace died, and I took the plunge and started a new blog on Blogger in 2010. I flourished there for years, getting Chrossed often, sharing adventures and party stories and photos and scenes and video shoots, as well as bits and pieces of my personal life. When Blogger threatened to censor or shut down all their “adult” blogs, I migrated to WordPress. Turns out it wasn’t necessary, since Blogger backed off, but I don’t regret it.

However, things changed yet again. Slowly but surely, the spanking blog was overtaken by the Tumblr blogs: pictures. Lots and lots and lots of pictures. The lengthy blog entry morphed into quickie sound bites, gifs and jpegs. Comments became likes and reposts. The spanking models, who all used to blog, now opened Tumblr accounts. Twitter came to be, and now, instead of writing party and shoot reports, people tweeted the action as it was happening. There were some exceptions who maintained their popularity (Hermione and Ronnie come to mind, as well as some of the DD/Hoh blogs and some author blogs) but it seemed that overall, the traditional written spanking blog had gone the way of the VCR and the variety show.

Even so, I figured as long as I had stories to tell, experiences to share, connections to make, I’d have an audience. For quite a while, my views remained high thanks to being Chrossed often. But now, it seems even our beloved Chross has given up the ghost. And the annual Spanking Blogg Awards, put together by John Osborne of Triple A, finally eliminated the Best Creative Blogger category last year because it wasn’t getting any nominations. I was lucky enough to win second place in 2015, that award’s final year.

After many years and thousand of words, kids, I’m fresh out of things to say. On topic, anyway. I don’t want to hash and rehash the same discussions; there’s FetLife for that. Scene-wise, things have changed for me. I no longer have a top, and I haven’t played since 50 Freaks in February. I go to two parties a year. I do not shoot anymore, and even if someone were to offer it up, I’m not sure I would do it. I don’t enjoy looking at myself on film anymore — those HD cameras are not kind! And as for my personal life, I have been dealing with a great deal of grief and challenges over the past few months, including an ongoing situation with John that is stressful and scary. But you know, I don’t want to go into that on here anymore either. I have ranted, raved, wept, opened up and laid myself bare (physically and emotionally) in these posts over the years. I think it’s time for that to end. Everyone has problems; they don’t want to hear mine. And if I can’t post on-topic fun stuff, there’s really no point in continuing.

Also, I made the mistake, in a time of weakness, of writing political posts on here. Please. Can we all agree that there’s enough of that shit out there everywhere you look? I mean, really — using a spanking blog, of all things, to push one’s political agenda is arrogant, self-serving and a big waste of time, don’t you think? So I do apologize for that bit of foolishness.

I am not taking this blog down. I want to preserve it, because I’m proud of it. I would like people to be able to refer back to it, reread posts they liked, enjoy the pictures, etc. My life, my heart and my soul are in these pages. So it will remain intact, even though I won’t be adding to it any longer. I will always be grateful for my readers, all the comments, all the feedback. Without you guys, we writers might as well be talking to ourselves. And hey, I even appreciate those hapless dumbasses who gave me so much wonderful CHoS fodder. One more for the road? Sure, why not…

Hi I would like to spanking you hardly but it is turning me on and in the end which will be not short time I would like to have sex or atleast blowjob becouse I don’t want go away horny and I don’t want jerkoffing if you are okay with that or you have some other way to make e come and relax after when I spanking you hard and long tell me

(sigh) Some things never change, I guess. I suggest you come the way you always do — in your mama’s basement in front of your sticky keyboard. And for the last time, fuck off.

I don’t get as much of this nonsense nowadays, but I still see it. Recently, Alex got a critique on her Tumblr that she is neglecting to post pictures of her anus. She’s nicer than I am: I would have replied that if this person wants to see an asshole, they should look in a mirror.

Some of you have my antiquated (but still functional) AOL address. My gmail address is at the end of the About Me section here. I’m still out there, on Facebook, Twitter and FetLife. I have always welcomed polite and civil correspondence (and no, you do not have to agree with me, just don’t be a dick about it), and that will not change.

So what should be my last gasp? Perhaps I’ll just say screw it and reveal all… my real name, my family, the TV shows they worked on…

…

…

…

wait for it…

…

…

…

ready?

…

…

…

Come on, you didn’t really think I’d tell all that, did ya? Besides, I wanted to go out on a Big Bang. 😛

And so this hard-edged, tender-hearted, snarky spanko bids you farewell, in this venue at least. Have a great life, y’all. ♥ ♥ ♥  Thank you for reading.