Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Archive for the category “rant”

Oh, FFS…

So I told you guys before about CuriousCat and how people can ask anonymous questions there. Most of the time, it’s quite harmless. Maybe some questions are repetitive or presumptuous, but they can also be quite thoughtful and fun to answer.

However, it seems I have myself a troll of sorts on there. Someone who keeps posting unpleasant questions and comments about “DrLectr” (AKA Joe, the gentleman who organizes 50 Freaks and has now taken over Shadow Lodge parties, whenever we can have parties again). I don’t know why this person has dragged me into things; I guess he has seen that Joe and I are friends. But he clearly has an ax to grind and I don’t know just what the hell I’m supposed to do about it.

So, I’ve ignored him. Tried to reason with him. But he just keeps coming back. And yesterday, he posted a series a questions that are so wrong in so many ways, I felt the need to address them in a blog post. You want attention, buddy? You got it. Still not sure what the hell you want from me, though. But you asked, so I’m answering. And to my nice loyal readers, sorry you get to be dragged into this, but such is online BS sometimes.

Why are you and the other shadowlaners and hookers/models such pariahs and bullies to anyone who disagrees with you? Do you wonder why new comers don’t come back as much or at all? You think newbies who are nervous like being looked down upon by you and drlectr’s entourage and the models/hookers hustling all the men? Do you think newbie females like being on drlectr’s entourage’s menu and if they say no they are run off by them and you?

 

Which brings me to my first question: What the hell is wrong with you? I mean… really? We’re in the middle of a damn pandemic, thousands of people are dead, thousands more are unemployed, people are losing everything, there’s no end in sight, and we’re in the hands of a madman… and this is what you’re fixated on? Why would you even care about something like this now? Don’t you have anything else with which to concern yourself?

Clearly not. All right, fine. I’ll address each one of your points separately, and then hopefully we can be done with this. Also, I am speaking strictly for myself, not for DrLectr. I could defend Joe until I’m blue in the face, but you won’t listen to me. And I’m not going to presume to answer these questions for him. But I can certainly answer them for me.

Contrary to what you and some others may believe, I do not bully people who disagree with me. If people are civil and polite, don’t get in my face, insult me, speak condescendingly, etc., I am civil in return. I can agree to disagree. But yeah… if you give me a hard time, I’m damn well giving you one back. Or, worse, if you give any of my friends a hard time.

Here are a couple of examples, both from Facebook. On my own feed, I posted something political. I realize not everyone subscribes to my political leanings, but I figure on Facebook, if you don’t want to read something, you move on to something else. You don’t charge onto someone else’s page and get in their face. However, some clown who is a complete stranger to me came on and said that I and a friend of mine were “stuipd [sic] Communists and should stick it where the sun don’t shine.” Excuse me? I suppose I could have deleted it, but it really irked me — who asked him?? So I replied “Oh, noooo… [my friend’s name], did you hear that? We’re ‘stuipd’! Scram, fool. Nobody asked you to post here.”

Is that bullying, when he instigated it? I’m thinking not. If someone punches me in the face, I’m not going to smile, offer up my face again and tell them they missed a spot.

Another example — this wasn’t on my page, but a friend’s. Again, a political post. One of my friends got into it with a Trumpite who was insulting him left, right, and sideways, in a very ugly, personal way. Calling him a “whiny Jew boy” and a “pussy who probably got beat up all the time in school.” I saw red. Being Jewish myself, when people drag antisemitism into things, I really get pissed off. I looked at this guy’s profile. He had a girl’s name. 

So I came on and replied to the “pussy who got beat up” comment: “So says the man with a girl’s name. Projecting much, you Nazi fucktard?”

He didn’t reply. I have zero regrets and give zero fucks. No one talks to my friends like that. Would I have barged onto the page and said that on my own? No. I need a reason. Someone has to push me into it. It has nothing to do with whether or not I agree with you. It’s how you present your opinion. Your respect gets mine.

I’ve had haters say my Correspondence Hall of Shame is bullying. Um, no, it is not. I only highlight people who are rude and presumptuous, and I never identify them. As I’ve said a bazillion times, if someone writes me something that is nice, that is thoughtful, that is polite, but they don’t spell everything correctly, I am not going to poke fun at them. But hey, if they’re rude first? All bets are off.

Next — newcomers don’t come back? I beg to differ. There are more people going to parties now, not fewer. I have been going to parties for 23 years, and I remember how it was to be new. Nervous? Hell, I still get nervous going to these things. I have made a point over the years, especially after I started doing videos and had somewhat of a scene presence, to welcome new people, to be friendly. I have had many people tell me how helpful I was to them when they were new. And I don’t do a quarter of the stuff DrLectr does — hosting, planning, arranging, trying to make people happy.

And this “models/hookers” shit needs to go already. What the hell do you have against the women in the spanking video industry? Is it because you probably made such a bad impression on the ones you met that they wanted nothing further to do with you? News flash, pal: just because someone works in the industry doesn’t mean they are public domain at a party. You cannot demand their time any more than you can demand anyone’s time. They don’t owe you anything. And, like with every other person, if you are respectful and nice, they will be respectful and nice back. You don’t get to be rude and then cry “cliques! hookers!” when they respond in kind.

So knock it off with the sour grapes bullshit. I can taste them all the way over here. You want to be treated well? Be the person you would like others to be to you. And that does not include throwing anonymous potshots and insults at others from behind your computer screen.

I really don’t know why you assume I’m in the inner circle of everything and I know who did what to whom and why and all the dramas. I am not. I was out of the public scene for an entire year, and only just put my toe back into it this year. I’ve been to exactly one party in 2020 and haven’t socialized with any scene friends since February. I rarely go on FetLife. When I do go to a party, I don’t know half the people there. I’m retired from shooting videos. I. Am. Not. That. Involved.

Are Joe and I friends? Yes, indeed we are. I have known him for several years and he has never been anything but respectful and kind to me. I have enjoyed many scenes with him, and several years of his party hospitality, and I know many others who can say the same. He and his girlfriend recently contributed to a wonderful group birthday present for me, and I have seen him start many GoFundMe efforts over the years for scene people who were sick or had financial troubles. Joe has a lot of friends. If you want to call that an “entourage,” I can’t stop you. All I can say is I belong to no entourage.

If you have an issue with me, then say so and be direct about it. But if you have an issue with Joe, for fuck’s sake, talk to Joe! Why do you keep pulling me into your drama? Joe doesn’t answer to me. I am not Joe’s keeper. I don’t have any control over anyone but myself. I don’t know why you think I have so much power in this scene, but you couldn’t be more wrong.

I do not “run people off.” My friends do not “hustle” others. Again, this argument is so old, and so wrong, and yet it keeps perpetuating, thanks to ignorant people with bad attitudes. The spanking models are not at parties to make your life and your time there miserable. They are paying guests. They are working guests. They are shooting, juggling sessions, and trying to have time to spend with friends as well. They have stresses and insecurities and tire out like everyone else. They are people, not cardboard cutouts for you to objectify. They have feelings.

Sure, I don’t like everyone in the scene. I don’t like everyone at parties. So? Everyone doesn’t like me, either. If someone is a known abuser from several sources I trust, or someone I have personal bad experience with, that’s one thing. But if I don’t like someone? I don’t try to ruin their time, or ruin their reputation. I just spend time elsewhere, with people I want to be with. I really don’t think that makes me a snob or an elitist or part of a some nefarious entourage.

Life’s too short to spend time doing things that don’t make you happy or fulfilled in some way. That’s why I can’t understand why people who can’t stand my blog read it anyway. Why bother? I don’t read blogs I hate! I also don’t watch TV shows I don’t like, read books I don’t like, eat food I don’t like, and so on and on. You get my point. I hate cottage cheese. So I don’t buy it and I don’t eat it. Wouldn’t it really be asinine of me if I ate it anyway and then complained bitterly about it? So the same logic follows with people. If I don’t care for them, I don’t go out of my way to interact negatively with them. I ignore them as best I can, unless they really poke at me. (Snarking on Twitter doesn’t count. Everyone snarks on Twitter.)

Speaking of not having power over others — I don’t have any power over you, either. If you want to go on with this childish nonsense, I can’t stop you. But I suggest you seek some professional help for your rage/resentment issues, and for crying out loud, stop hiding in your little cyber tower with your little sniper rifle. You can hate and blame others all you want, but it’s about as pointless as drinking poison and hoping someone else dies. Just. Fucking. Stop. You’re making a fool of yourself, and you’re changing absolutely nothing.

(deep breath) The rest of you — take care and have a good weekend. Stay safe. ♥

Someone needs to vent…

screaming

So look out! (warning: fluent cussing to follow)

Before I get into this, I should say I am not sick. I’m not depressed. John is well. My apartment is fine and I have plenty of work. I still have the lovely memories of the party from a couple of weeks ago. So at this moment in time, I am all right.

I’m just overwhelmed with a feeling of unease and powerlessness, and like the whole damn world around me is in free-fall. We have a global pandemic that’s spreading every day. The stock market is crashing. People are freaking out and social media is a disaster area. The anger is off the charts. I feel like I’m not going to get through 2020 without losing my mind. And while I am well, I have several friends who are in various stages of illness and despair, and there’s not a damn thing I can do for them.

Finally, being a recluse and a misanthrope is going to be a huge plus. I’m not scared that I’m going to get COVID-19. I live alone, I work alone. I hate travel. I hate large crowds, for the most part. And I’m healthy with a strong immune system. However… John has a heart condition. And his immune system is compromised. And this is not the fucking flu.

The stock market plummeting on a daily basis scares the bejesus out of me. People hoarding stuff and acting crazy scare me. My finances worry me, especially since I just spent the last of my emergency cash on a hefty car repair. My computer is old AF, so are my TVs. My car is twelve years old. But I can’t afford to replace anything.

So what do I want to do in the midst of all this insanity? I want to play. I want to escape and forget all this crap for a while. I want an endorphin rush and a stress release. And I’m fucking frustrated with that situation as well.

This is party season — there’s a huge national spanking party next month, then in May, and then in June. Personally? I think going to airports and being among mass throngs of people from all over is insane right now, so I’m quite worried about all my friends going to these things, even though I envy them as well. I’m so very grateful we managed to get to our own party before this all blew up. But the local situation continues to suck, and sometimes it gets damn tiresome.

In particular, I am frustrated with the tops on Alt.com. Yeah, lots of them look at me. I can tell who’s looking at my profile, and it’s often the same guys over and over. But they don’t contact me, and I can’t contact them, because I’m not a paying member. What’s up with that? About once a week, I see that the man who ended things last November still looks at my profile. Why??? Every time I see that he’s looked at me, I want to write to him and say, “FFS, come on over and look at me up close and personal, why don’t you?” Argh. But I don’t. I say nothing. Because if he wanted to be in touch, he would be. Still, I really can’t comprehend why he’s still checking me out. What a useless exercise that is if you don’t follow up with anything.

Another one has been dancing around me for months. We met once for coffee and things went splendidly, but then the holidays happened, he had a family emergency and he went back East for a few months. I waited patiently, and now he’s back… and he’s dancing around me again. Writing brief emails, dropping hints, asking questions, commenting how he saw one of my clips… but not suggesting a concrete get-together. Dude! Life is short and neither one of us is getting any younger here. If we’re all gonna die, I want to go with a sore butt and a big smile on my face. Stop tiptoeing… if you want to play, then fucking tell me you want to play and tell me when!

And yet another one texts me every now and then and says let’s reconnect. I enthusiastically agree and say just tell me when. And then he disappears again until the next time.

I wish they’d freaking man up, turn my ass up and spank the hell out of me already, dammit!

(I know. I sound so fucking submissive. I’d laugh at that if I didn’t feel like screaming.)

But then I calm down, I work out, I sigh, and I pick up my work again. And hope for things to get better. But I can’t help feeling they’re going to get a whole lot worse first.

One of my old bosses, whenever people complained about stuff, had the weirdest saying: “Yeah, well, people in hell want lemonade.” I never quite understood what that meant. But I suppose the kinky version of that is “People in hell want spanking.” Because right now, besides the basics of shelter and food and good health, that’s what I want most.

I. Am. Scared. I know why people drink. I know why people smoke. I know why people do geographics. Escape. Of course, there is no escape, not really. There is postponement, though. There is temporary distraction. And sometimes, that sounds pretty damn sublime.

(sigh) Rant over. I will get back to work now.

Friends — be safe. Be careful. And if you have a chance to have some fun, do it. Because we simply don’t know what the fuck is going to happen.

A pet peeve about a pet peeve

What’s our pet peeve when it comes to scene pictures, kids? People who cut off the watermark of professional photos and repost them without providing any kind of credit for where they came from. This, of course, is rampant in the Tumblr blogs, on FetLife, and yes, even on Twitter.

But what really annoys the bejesus out of me? When people steal a photo, post it like it’s their own, and then make up some stupid, cheesy caption to go with it — one that has absolutely nothing to do with the original picture. They make up names, scenarios, etc. Really, do they think they’re fooling anyone? (sigh) I guess they are, when the viewers aren’t in the industry. But anyone who has even a passing familiarity with spanking videos knows when a picture is from a professional shoot.

Last week, one of my friends on FetLife alerted all of us to a Twitter poster whose entire feed was stolen pictures with cheeseball captions. She asked us all to tell him to knock it off and if he didn’t, to report him. So I went to look at this guy’s feed. Sure enough, nothing but pictures taken from various video productions, all with captions hashtagged #SpankingFamily. Scrolled down and voila! There I was, with Alex and Paul. So I commented to the guy, told him that if he wanted to make up scenarios, he should do it with his own damn pictures and stop stealing them. Several other people jumped on him as well. And then? Next time I checked, not only were the photos gone, but the guy’s page was gone too. Good riddance. If only all the others were that easily vanquished.

Those captions really irk me. I mean, for one thing, they’re usually corny to the point of being vomit-worthy. But also, it irks me that the poster thinks the viewers are that stupid.

I especially like some of the captions I’ve seen with stolen pictures of me. One read something along the lines of, “MILF Betty Sue thought she was too old for a spanking. She soon realized the error of her ways!”

Oh, go fuck yourself sideways with a 2 x 4.

My favorite was one from years ago, on FetLife. This guy had posted a picture of Sierra Salem from when she was living with Dallas, standing in front of the fireplace mantel with a bright red backside. Then the clown captioned it with something like, “Barbara learned that bad grades at school would earn her a dose of Daddy’s strap.” Oh, FFS…

I commented on the picture, “This is Sierra Salem, not Barbara. She’s not in school, and this is Dallas’s photo. I don’t think he’d appreciate you appropriating it.”

You’d think the guy would take it down, right? No… he comes back with this: “I know it’s Sierra. Her real name is Barbara and Dallas gave me special permission to spank her.”

Are you kidding me?? How stupid do you think I am, fool? I shot with Sierra. I traveled with her, sat next to her on long plane flights. I shared a hotel room with her. Do you really think I don’t know what her real name is? It ain’t Barbara.

So I did the only thing I could do — I wrote to Dallas and alerted him to the photo and its comments. You can bet that joker took it down after Dallas had a few words with him. :-Þ

Look, I know there are tons of photos floating around out there that have long since had their credits cut off and people who are new may see them and have no clue where they’re from, so they just repost them. That can’t be helped. But please, y’all. If you have any sort of idea where a picture is from, who is in it, etc., credit it properly. Do not cut the identifying watermarks off. And for the love of God, don’t make up those stupid captions. Here’s a thought — take your own freaking pictures, and then you can caption them any cornball way your little heart desires. Fair?

**rant over**

Things that make me see red, in a bad way

This jackass.

asswhooping

Who might this jackass be, you ask? He is Dwayne A. Stamper, Sr., of Muncie, Indiana. And according to this article (please read; it will infuriate you), he offers up his “services” to parents of misbehaving children. But, he’s quick to add, none over the age of 13, because “they might whoop him.”

I see a Band-Aid on his forehead. I’m fantasizing that one of those older kids snatched that paddle away from him and clobbered him.

I don’t know what horrifies me more: that this is absolutely real, that this cretin is the father of five, or that a lot of people find this funny. It’s bad enough that people spank children. But this guy seems to gleefully revel in it, publicly admitting he does it and actually offering to do it to other people’s kids as well. Who the hell does he think he is??

Seriously, fuck this guy sideways with a 2 x 4.

Apparently, Mr. Stamper believes that “kids should fear their parents a little.” Oh, sure. That’s the way to parent successfully — don’t manage your kids reasonably, just terrorize them with the fear of pain. They’ll be good little children, they’ll toe the line… until they grow up, leave your house of horrors, and act out with all the suppressed rage they’ve accumulated over the years.

Adults engage in spanking consensually. If one grown person hits and hurts another grown person without consent, it’s called assault. And yet a grown person can hit a little person and it’s called “discipline” and “parenting.” Screw that. Stop. Hitting. Children. End of subject. There are ways to avoid raising spoiled monsters without resorting to physical pain.

Yeah, I hear the parents out there. “You don’t have kids! You don’t know!” True, I do not. But I was a child. I know the fear and rage and utter helplessness a child feels when an adult hits them. I know the feelings of betrayal.

Hey, Mr. Stamper? I’d like to stamp on your tiny little man parts. And then take the non-business end of that ginormous paddle you’re wielding and shove it where your Indiana sun don’t shine. Right out there on your street, in front of everyone. See how you like being hurt and humiliated.

Arggggh. Deep breaths. Thank goodness for blogging. I can blow off steam here without finding this POS’s Facebook page and starting World War III with him there, which would change absolutely nothing and just raise my blood pressure to explosive highs.

*rant over* Have a great weekend, y’all.

Important: please do take a moment and read this

No, not my blog. Today, I am focusing on someone else’s writing. A blog post, to be specific, that highlights yet another piece of writing. Roundabout? Yup. But bear with me.

The piece I’d like you to read is by author Ava Sinclair, entitled Twisting a fetish into abuse: One blogger’s dangerous message that hurts us all. (NOTE: I have tried and tried to link directly to this post, and it’s not working. So go to her blog page, and click on the article at the top.) The writer she’s calling attention to is Matt Forney, someone you probably never heard of (I know I hadn’t, before today). This man exemplifies Every. Wrong. Notion about TTWD. When you link to her blog, do click on the link to his post entitled, “How to Beat Your Wife or Girlfriend and Get Away With It.” I guaran-damn-tee you, your blood will boil. At least I hope it does. Because if you agree with him… I don’t think you and I have much to say to one another.

Ava Sinclair writes spanking erotica (I have had the pleasure of copy-editing several of her books). She writes about women getting spanked. I read about women getting spanked, and I am a woman who gets spanked. Because I choose to. Because I love it, even though I like to pretend I don’t. It’s fully consensual, even though I admit to liking the fantasy of non-consent. No man puts me in my place, and no man spanks me because he wants to “inflict the maximum amount of pain” with “minimal risk” to himself. Any man who has that attitude really doesn’t want to be in the same room with me, because I will verbally rip off his nuts and shove them up his ass. The man I play with are respectful, kind, and are interested in our mutual pleasure. They are not misogynistic, hateful chauvinist pigs whose big fat egos mask their tiny little members.

I will speak out against people like Matt Forney until I no longer have breath in my body. Why? Because I need to. Because people need to be told that what we do isn’t about beating women because they deserve it, no matter what jerk-offs like this say.

By the way — yes, I know that Slate called Forney out as being one of Trump’s followers at the RNC. That is not, repeat, not why I’m writing this. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what this moron’s political leanings are. What I do care about is that he’s spreading a poisonous, sexist message about something I and many others love, making a sick joke of it, and I won’t stand for it.

So please, go read Ava’s blog that I linked above. Comment on it. Share it with others. Don’t let the Matt Forneys of the world taint our pleasurable, consensual fetish.

Oh… and Slate made a point of showing a picture of Matt Forney and saying that he is not married. No shit, Sherlock!

(deep breath)

Have a great weekend, y’all.

OT: May I vent, just a little?

Don’t worry. I’m not going to talk about politics, or about terrorism, or about guns. Although the circumstances of late have got me on edge and are making my tolerance a lot lower for life’s little aggravations. So if y’all don’t mind, I need to blow off a little steam here, over my First World Problems.

My mother passed away in 2012, and my stepfather in 2014. Here it is the middle of 2016, and would you believe all the details of their trust still aren’t fully resolved?? I won’t bore you with who’s who and what’s what, but let’s just say certain people haven’t been cooperating. Not responding to requests, not communicating, not providing what’s needed. And so, things drag on and on and on. Why do people have to be so damn difficult? I have my crazy stepsister’s all-caps emails and one of her drunken rants saved on my voice mail. What a piece of work. She got more money than anyone else in the will, and she’s still complaining. In her last message, she slurred, “I wish Dad were here so I could shake some sense into him.” Really? THAT’S why you want your dad here? Ick. I wish she didn’t have my address and phone number. Thank goodness for caller ID.

Also, remember at the end of last year when I had a root canal and a crown restoration? Guess how much of that my dental insurance covered? Zero. WTF is the point of having dental insurance if they don’t pay for anything? Oh yeah, they cover cleanings and x-rays. Big whoop. But as soon as you need anything besides that, they deny you. I spent a fair amount of time online researching the racket that is dental insurance, and discovered that unless I pay a fortune, I’m not getting any decent coverage. If your dental insurance is covered by your office group plan, give thanks. Because an individual paying for their own plan is screwed. Soooooo… I am now trying something different: A dental discount plan. You pay a small annual fee, and then all your dental procedures are discounted. Not free, mind you. They’re still expensive. Just not as expensive. For example, the root canal that cost me $1300 would have cost $700. I spent about forty-five minutes on the phone with an agent today who explained it all to me. The good news? No waiting period. I’m on the plan immediately. More good news? My dentist and endodontist accept the plan. So now, if my teeth continue to fall apart, at least I won’t go broke as quickly. The plan is Aetna, so at least it’s not some Joe Blow dental plan that will get bought out before I get to use it.

But what a headache. This, on top of paying over $800 a month for medical insurance. This is the downside of self-employment. Still… I wouldn’t have it any other way. Everything comes with a price.

And finally — those of you who have been with me for a while, or who read my book, know that I had the Stepmother From Hell, my father’s third wife. When he finally wised up and unloaded her, he stayed close with her son, B, who is about eight years younger than I am. When Dad passed away, B came to help me with packing up his place, and he came to Dad’s memorial. He was a decent kid, nothing like his mother. After that, we kind of fell out of touch. I knew he had married and had a couple of kids (I got the Christmas cards and the erstwhile email), but we didn’t communicate otherwise. This week, clear out of the blue, I got email from him. Said he’s been through some “crazy life changes” and would love to get together to catch up. Coffee? Sure, I said. We agreed for this Thursday. This morning, he wrote again, asking if we could do lunch instead. Said he had to do something for his son later that afternoon, and that “wouldn’t leave sufficient time for his long-lost sister.”

I know he meant that in the nicest possible way. I know I should be flattered that he thinks of me that way. But I couldn’t help it; I felt creeped out. “I’m not your sister,” I thought. “I had a brother. You aren’t him. And I don’t share any of that bat-shit crazy woman’s blood with you.” Am I horrible? I don’t mean to be this way, but you have to understand — his mother made my life hell for years. I know it’s not his fault, but seeing him, hearing from him, reminds me of her and I feel almost sort of a PTSD. I mean, to this day I still can’t stand to hear the c-word, because she called me that all the time.

And what does he want, anyway, after all these years? What are these crazy life changes? Divorce? Am I a terrible person for wondering if he needs money for some reason? Ugh. Between John’s family and mine, I’ve known way too many truly crappy people. I am suspicious, and I don’t like being that way.

So yeah. I’m meeting B for lunch on Thursday. I am curious. And my dad was very fond of him. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to meet up and hear him out. I’ll just have to brace myself to hear about his mother. Maybe the witch is dead. Ding dong! Oh, please. Trust me, B has no illusions about Mommie Dearest. Years ago, when his first child was born, he said something along the lines of “I don’t want her [his mother] to come anywhere near him.” I think she’d be somewhere in her late seventies now.

Oy. I need to get my spank on. Soon. And I am way overdue for a Girls’ Night Out. I am hoping that both will happen next week. Meanwhile, this week I will stay busy with work and do my best to maintain some semblance of sanity in a world of chaos.

If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you…

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