On Schooling A Bitch
The same goes for IML, Hustlaball, and every other epic, organized fuck-fest. If you’re a closet case living in a little town in a square state somewhere and the Black Party is the only time you get to have sex all year, I can understand being excited and planning ahead. Fine.
But seriously, if you live in Manhattan and you’re this excited about seeing two men piss on each other, you’re obviously not taking advantage of all that city life offers. Making this big of a production about kinky sex isn’t an affirmation of your radical desire. In fact, planning your weekend around a sex party - not to mention spending 140 fucking dollars on a ticket, not to mention flying to New York especially for this party and taking days off work - affirms nothing so much as your willingness to subordinate your sexuality to the economic circuits and rhythms of bourgeois normativity.
Wear those ass-less chaps to work on Monday, then I might be impressed.