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588                                     Jack Fritscher, Ph.D.
            day took place in an ancient pagoda. A crowd of civilians was present,
            apparently invited to witness the humiliation of the American “air pirate.”
            As the interrogator asked questions, guards slipped the rope loops around
            the prisoner’s shoulders turn-buckling them tighter. He was made to climb
            onto the seat of a chair. An end of the long rope that held his shoulders in
            torture was tossed over a rafter and pulled taut. The interrogator turned
            to the audience, smiled, waved an arm, and the chair was yanked from
            beneath the prisoner, who hung in the air by his agonized shoulders. The
            torture continued, and the interrogator began to masturbate . . . .
               Such realities both cause the Navy to prepare its men for sexual abuse
            and cause civilian belief in the secret details coming to light: the spit-
            ting, pissing, shitting, masturbating, all juicily excused as preparation for

            For relief, comic and cockwise, Burt Reynolds wins the Wet Oscar for
            Best On-Screen Piss in Semi-Tough when he inserts his dick into a rubber
            hose, straps it down his leg, and pisses into a metal flask strapped inside
            his boot. The loud soundtrack outdoes rain on a hot tin roof. Pasolini, in
            his version of Something for Everyone, called Teorema, films the humpy
            teenaged son pissing off the family balcony. In Kenneth Anger’s Scorpio
            Rising, a classic gay version of The Wild One, the lead biker stands on an
            altar in a church and pisses into the chalice of his helmet, and finally pisses
            down on all the worshipers gathered around him.
               In prison plays and films like Miguel Pinero’s Short Eyes or Kenneth
            Brown’s The Brig, the piss scene is obligatory. Experienced cons usually
            take to shoving a new dude’s head into the cellblock toilet in an initia-
            tion as time-honored as the Hell’s Angels’ initiation of pissing on a new
            member’s colors. And his leather jacket. And his jeans. From then on an
            Angel pulls off the road strictly for a good shit. Piss just goes off like a
            rocket in his pocket.

            SOME LIKE IT HOT

            Ancient warriors bathed in piss. Victorian athletes rubbed themselves
            down with piss before a good cricket match. Health addicts for years
            have claimed piss perfect for brushing the teeth. India’s Prime Minister
            Norarji Desai announced recently: “For the past five or six years, I have
            drunk a glass of my own urine–about six to eight ounces– every morning.
            It is very good for you, and it is even free. Even in the Bible it says drink

          ©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved—posted 05-05-2017
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