Susie Bright's Journal

CGI vs. Porn Stars: Which Is Which? Only the FBI Knows

 

Today, on my In Bed audio show, I look at an exposé from reporter Debbie Nathan, who just got back from a research convention of The Academy of Forensic Sciences  to discover what the geeks at the FBI have learned about the relationship, and potential, between "real" and "computer-generated" (CG) pornographic images.

The police's particular interest, in this case, is child abuse. Sexualized images of real children are illegal, but computer-generated images are not prosecuted in the U.S., as yet, because they don't show actual kids.

This debate has gotten hotter, because it's now difficult to tell what's real— computer-editing programs are facile enough to turn anyone, theoretically, into an amateur touch-up artist.

Many questions arise from the Feds' investigations. Do virtual pictures attract people with ill intent or actions toward children? Or is this a bizarre, if preferable, method of harm reduction?

Nathan writes:

Back in the 1990s, the government outlawed CG images of sexualized children.

But a few years later, ruling in a case called Ashcroft v. Free Speech Coalition, the Supreme Court said CG child porn is legal... the general consensus was that the technological state-of-the-art for CG human images wasn’t so good anyway.

If you concocted a CG image of a child having sex, the thinking went, it wouldn’t fool anyone, because it was too low-tech to seem real.

Within a couple of years, though, people caught with child porn images were going to court and claiming they didn’t have anything real, only CG — and that if the government thought otherwise, it would have to prove it.

The government developed several responses. One: find the actual child depicted in the pornography, and bring that real child into court, or bring in the cop who handled her case. This would show beyond a doubt that the defendant’s material was not CG.

Another strategy is to match the images in evidence to others previously collected by the feds, then show that the whole set dates to pre-Photoshop times, back when anything that looked like a photograph of a real kid really was real.

But what if child victims and old photo sets aren’t available? A third government technique is to tell courts that the average person (an FBI agent, a jury member) can still distinguish what’s real and what’s CG, just by looking with the naked eye.

Is this true? The government would like us to think so. But in point of fact, the boundary between real and CG is getting fuzzier by the year – and the feds are nervous.

  Listen to an excerpt 

Listen to the whole show at Audible.com: LINK

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Check out Debbie's site to see more incredibly realistic (G-rated! of course) CG images,  and to read the rest of her story...  it's a science fiction novel come to life:

"After [the experts'] presentations, it seemed clear that the technology exists to make real child porn look fake. And — much more significantly — to make CG porn which looks genuine enough to fool ordinary people.

An obvious question that comes to mind, then, is: how much of this sophisticated child CG is already on the Internet?
 
My sense from attending the workshops is: Probably hardly any.

But the scarcity has little to do with technology. The digital world is now rife with graphics professionals and hobbyists who spend lots of time creating reasonably real-looking virtual people as still images – adults and kids. CG adults (especially women) often look “sexy.” Sometimes they’re even having sex. But virtual kids are not portrayed sexually (though teen girls often look “come hither”). CG kids remain chaste, probably, because there’s no commercial market for child porn and thus no significant money to be made by doing virtual renditions of the stuff.

Hobbyists, of course, don’t need money to pursue their passions. But even they are probably reluctant to do CG child porn. It’s not like they can post it on graphic arts websites and get props from fellow artists.

Plus, virtual child porn is legal in the US, but it’s outlawed in many other countries. If an American’s CG smut got emailed overseas, he could get in big trouble.

Given the above, I bet most defendants and their attorneys who raise the CG defense are bullshitting. They’ve probably been caught with the real thing..."

Also on my show, today, I get the dirt on a couple of cranky citizens from the Greek Island of Lesbos who aren't happy sharing their name with lesbians.

A court date has been set to stop a Greek gay rights organization from calling themselves lesbians... it seems Jerry Falwell's spirit lives on, in every nook and corner.

Let us quote Sappho, the most famous Lesbian citizen of all, in both senses of the word:

I have not had one word from her

Frankly I wish I were dead
When she left, she wept

a great deal; she said to me, "This parting must be
endured, Sappho. I go unwillingly."

I said, "Go, and be happy
but remember (you know
well) whom you leave shackled by love

"If you forget me, think
of our gifts to Aphrodite
and all the loveliness that we shared

"all the violet tiaras,
braided rosebuds, dill and
crocus twined around your young neck

"myrrh poured on your head
and on soft mats girls with
all that they most wished for beside them

"while no voices chanted
choruses without ours,
no woodlot bloomed in spring without song..."

Frankly, I'd be honored to live in a place inspired by her work, and I'm sure many Lesbians and lesbians, are!

Last, in my audio show mailbag, a listener writes in who's having a hard time meeting girls in the cadre ranks of the anti-porn, anti-violence campaign he belongs to.... I've been this lad's shoes, myself!

Don't forget, you can send your confidential questions, feedback about the show, and requests for girly cards to [email protected] (Episode 341, May 23, 2008)

Photos: Computer-Generated examples from Debbie Nathan's story.  Sappho bust from Musei Capitolini.

Sappho Translation: Mary Barnard

Coffee, Tea, or... The Best American Erotica?

Dear Loved Ones,

I've been meaning to make this offer for quite some time, and I'm finally ready to step into my coveralls, slip on the leather gloves, and get down to it:

Any of you who are currently-paid subscribers to this blog, I'd like to treat you to a signed copy of The Best of Best American Erotica 2008.

It's my last edition of the series, and it's a humdinger. I chose all my favorite erotic stories from the past fifteen years, plus my favorite new writers who I thought could stand right up to the competition.

Just send me your address by this weekend, with the Subject Line: BAE08,  and I'll get cracking in my "shipping department," on Monday. I won't stop until the packing tape runs out!  And yes, the postage and lipstick smudges are on me, as well.

Let me know if you'd like a PDF, or a paperback copy, and email me your proper address to ship, or email,  your book to.

If YOU would like to be a sponsoring subscriber to Susie Bright's Journal, and get presents in the mail like this on a regular basis, here's how:

You pay $5 a month, or $60 for a one year subscription. There's more than one way to do it.  You can cancel whenever you want. But hopefully you will be pleased as punch!

Whenever I have a new book out, or a some fun new toy, like my Clits Up! buttons, or Girly Cards, I will always spread the luv!

But more than that, by pressing a few coins in my palm, you support the ideas and writing of this blog, which I'm sure you know, are not remotely available in the mainstream media— what's left of it.

Sometimes the numbers here stagger me. I've written 700 stories for my blog, edited and published almost 8,000 comments, and passed the five million visitors mark some time ago. Yet honestly, the engine doesn't turn over without...you!

Writers didn't used to busk on the Internet streets for income, when there was a thriving magazine and newspaper business. Less than ten years ago, I would've pointed my readers to my latest story in Ms. Magazine, or Rolling Stone, or Playboy. No reader would have thought it odd to pay for a periodical. The publishers expected to pay their writers; what a concept! 

Sure, beginners struggled to get in the publishing world, but once you were in the trade, it was as believable a craft and profession as being an... autoworker. Or a lumber mill worker. You get the the idea. It's like the La Brea Tar Pits.

Writers today are trying all kinds of crazy things to stay alive— blogging, like I do, is one of those endeavors. My work is read, and duplicated and downloaded by millions today— and truly, all I need is a few hundred of those readers to buy me the equivalent of a cup of coffee and a cookie once a month.

I've written on the publishing crisis before, but if you're familiar with what's happened in other "disappearing" American industries, you understand the general storyline. At every level, from the airport-bestseller novelists to the struggllng first-timers, there's been a massive drop in sales and opportunities to earn income as an author. The great middle is the group who's in the most shock, because they were accustomed— for a century!— to making a modest living with their skill and talent, and now, they're feeling like "Beauty School Drop Out."

I know, it feels odd to send a token payment directly to a writer. We're used to paying the distributors, the  middlemen, the supermarket tabloid. But I'm a changed woman. Every time I feel like picking up the National Enquirer, I pinch myself, go home, and Paypal the same amount to a blogger I love! 

And the response you get when you do.... we're so grateful. You'll never get a tongue bath from the tabloids like you'll get from an independent blogger!. We send you our new books, we write personal letters, our eyes light up to face another day.... Uh oh! Better not lay it too thick! But it's all rather painfully true.

Meanwhile, as I get out my autographing fountain pen, let me know if any of you want a book by Sunday, okay? I'll be doing a big ship-out early next week.

Susie

Lineage, and Snowflake Pudding

I was invited last week to discuss my lineage. What does that mean? The word sounds so pompous, yet intriguing. Is it where I come from, or what I leave after I'm gone?— or both?

The occasion to address the subject was a performance piece directed by E.G. Crichton and Lauren Crux, at a festival hosted by U.C. Santa Cruz's Art Department, called Intervene! Interrupt! Rethinking Art as Social Practice.

Our female audience, all twelve of us, were also the stars of the performance. It was a "private choreographed conversation," as E.G. put it.

One by one, we were led by tuxedoed waiters to a formal dinner table on a green lawn, and presented with embroidered napkins, each with a different question stitched into the linen.

We shared our replies in turn, between gulps of champagne and servings of snowflake pudding with raspberry sauce, a recipe from EG's mother. 

There were also some common questions, for all of us to address, which highlighted the tremendous difference in our ages (20-70+), cultural backgrounds, and sexual histories.

We never wanted it to end!  (See a photo gallery here).

This Memorial weekend, when one might appreciate a study in memory and lineage, I thought I'd  ask YOU the same questions!

Wanna play?

(These are personal queries, and if you don't feel like sharing your real name in the comments, just post a fake name, and fake email, like "[email protected]" My blog will accept such deceptions; you just have to plug in something into those boxes!)

I'd love to see your replies. I'll post mine as a comment too, so I don't distract you from your first, spontaneous responses:

The Hors D'oeuvres: Yes or No?

Do you come from a family of seven or more?

Have you ever had a close family member in prison?

Have you ever been disinherited?

Do you have possession of  family photographs from the 19th century?

Women: Have you never been pregnant?
Men: Have you never impregnated someone, as far you know?

Do you come from a family where two or more languages were spoken at home?

Have you ever written a will?

The Embroidered Napkin Questions:

What family secrets will be told?

What do you collect?

How had marital status affected your life?

What is your legacy?

What has been your favorite age?

What's a favorite photograph of yourself from the past?

When did you know you were a girl?
When did you know you were a boy?

What is your inheritance?

What is your relationship to the closet?

What remains invisible?

What is your most precious object, and what will become of it?

What is your lineage?

Who do you wish you could hear answer these same questions— whether dead or alive, known or not known to you?

Photos: This dessert picture isn't our snow pudding; it only reminds me of the taste and elegance of our occasion!  EG's documentation of our performance is archived at the GLBT Historical Society of Northern California, where Crichton is currently Artist-In-Residence. All event photos by Dana Ashton.

 

Turning Women's Lib Into a Menacing Reality!

Here's the poster! And here's used VHS copies of the movie, for those of you who can't get enough. Yes, this came out after the Manson murders, in 1969, hence the forehead branding. Here's how I found this nugget: I was singing along to "West Side Story," and started wondering what happened to Russ Tamblyn, the leader of the Jets!

Getting Real... On Brain Tumors and Ted Kennedy

When I heard Senator "Teddy" Kennedy had a seizure last week, I stopped breathing for a moment.

Part of it is my generational response: if you're an Irish Catholic like me, who was alive for John and Bobby's assassinations,€” you grab onto the nearest rail whenever you hear something calamitous has happened to the Kennedys. It's like they're first cousins to our entire immigrant group.

Yet my eyes teared up for another reason: if Ted's seizure wasn't a stroke, it was probably a brain tumor, and a glioblastoma, to be exact, if it was the typical BT diagnosis.

This is what my dad, Bill Bright, died from, a couple years ago. He was diagnosed in the summer, and died in October.

Today, in the NYT, we learn that this is Kennedy's ailment as well.

The little-publicized fact about brain tumors is that our medical community doesn't know how to screen for them early, as we do with some other cancers. By the time a doctor finds a tumor in your head, it's probably very, very bad.

What the newspaper isn't saying, and what Kennedy's family might be encountering, is that the prognosis for this cancer is dismal— and mysterious. He will be encouraged to have surgery, chemo, and radiation, but the sad fact is that these procedures will do little or nothing for him, and are more for the research and benefit of others.

Doctors, by and large, are reluctant to take the initiative with you, and say, "It's over, let's talk about pain and seizure relief, and the dying process."

Why not?

It "does harm" to raise false hopes by not being frank. I had to pry the truth out my father's nurses, first. The nurses are more candid, because they don't take the heat for the treatment process or the prognosis.

But even with them, if  I hadn't said the word, "hospice," it wouldn't have come up. Once I spoke the secret word, it was as if I entered a new world, where health care professionals could be honest with me.

Why won't physicians address the realities of terminal illness, particularly around cancer diagnoses? The notion and expectation that there's a cure, survivability, and that you're going to be the statistical exception... it's dishonest. 

Pain management and comfort will take on giant meanings in the days to come for the Kennedy family. To die free from pain and distress is what we would wish for ourselves, and what we need to offer for everyone.

Are there experimental cures? Oh sure, you can read all about them in the voluminous comments on the NYT Kennedy story. I wish more people realized how science-fiction it is for one of these "experiments" to pan out-- and if one did, it would become mainstream virtually overnight. There is no conspiracy to keep successful brain cancer treatments underground.

The greatest advantage that could help Kennedy now is youth, which he does not have, and no alternative treatment will change that. It's tragic.

If Kennedy's tumor is a typical case, his life expectancy is in weeks, maybe a few months.  He will change radically every day now. Whole abilities will disappear in a matter of twenty-four hours. Aspects of what we think of as someone's "character" and "soul" just go POOF. You realize, "Wow, that was the brain, a part of the brain that is gone."

What would I wish for Ted Kennedy? Well, this is a big order for a devout Catholic family, but I hope they pass on "fighting for his life," and instead, fight for his dignified and loving death. There's a lot of visionaries among his relatives, so maybe they'll be willing to break a few rules.

What do I mean by fighting for one's death? Well, it starts with calling the hospice caregivers in their community, and embracing their philosophy. It's palliative care, not curing care. It's midwifery for dying.

Instead of taking a meeting for a new procedure, or figuring how to "beat this thing," I wish Kennedy could take his apparently good spirits and figure out how he wants to go. I hope he says the most important things today, not a moment to spare. I hope he has family who will stick up for him enjoying his last days with the music, memories, and affection he enjoys.

I mention music, in particular, because one of the weird things about brain tumors is that you'll sometimes lose your primary language or speech, but music still makes perfect, beautiful sense to you. I sang to my dad when he couldn't form coherent sentences anymore, and he finished the lyrical line!

Brain tumors have gone from being one of the rarest illnesses anyone heard of, to a more common cause of death, and Kennedy's high profile is going to bring a lot of controversy out of the closet. Everyone who's lived through this is asking about the environment, our food, air and water supply, our technology. Brain tumors aren't in a massive upswing because there's some new hereditary link--€” it's a modern way to die.

To my amazement, when I was seeking information about my dad, I only found ONE web site for families of brain tumor patients that had a "get real" attitude, with resources and explanations of what you can expect, day by day. It's called: Seeking Peace, Brain Tumor Hospice Care, which sounds like a platitude, but by the end of this  ordeal, you will realize the title is literal:

THE JOURNEY with a brain tumor is an emotional roller coaster for patient and care-giving family alike. Anyone who has been a part of this experience understands the difficulty of these ups and downs. But no matter how long or hard the journey...no matter what the grade or type of tumor...when the road narrows and it is time to think about end-stage comfort, no one feels truly ready for the letting go.

No kidding. I'm still in shock from what happened to our family and friends, and this is why Teddy Kennedy's announcement presses in so close. He's been such a personal figure with a very big public message. If his story can now encompass a national discussion about environmental causes of cancer, and the right to die with self-determination, it will be a heartbreaking, but overdue look at the truth.

Illustration: Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts

Can Masturbation Save Men From Prostate Cancer?

The next guilty teenage boy you see on the street... buttonhole him, and whisper, "You're not doing it ENOUGH! You better beat off like your life depended on it!"

A new study shows that regular masturbation can reduce the risk of developing prostate cancer. Seriously.

The Australian researchers who carried out the tests found men who ejaculate more then five times a week were better off then men with more modest numbers. And the younger you start, the better the results.

  Listen to an excerpt 

Listen to the whole show at Audible.com: LINK

Get the show free for a month: LINK

 

Also on today’s show, I take a look at one literary author's secret success in writing erotic novels. Writer Rupert Smith takes on the "nom de porn" as James Lear as he writes steamy gay porn fiction.

I think that erotic literature serves the same purpose as other genre fiction, but with a more literal outcome. A good crime novel, be it by Agatha Christie or Alexander McCall Smith, provides a failsafe formula of crime, investigation and solution. The porn parallel is encounter, seduction and sex. While a whodunnit plots this pattern across an entire book, a porn writer must repeat it several times within one novel, allowing the reader time to recover before revving up the engines again. The reason why dirty books remain in the shadows is very simple: the book trade is not comfortable with masturbation. Books in which children are abused, women murdered and men brutalised crowd the shelves of WH Smith. Books in which consenting adults enjoy each other for the healthy entertainment of literate wankers do not.

Finally, in my Try This at Home mailbag, a listener reminisces about her debauched youth in New Orleans, in our continuing conversation about why we love this city so much!

Don't forget, you can send your confidential questions, feedback about the show, and requests for free show coupon cards to [email protected] (Episode 340, May 16, 2008)

Photo: Tomorrow's Man! From Homobilia

From Tight Sweaters to the Pentagon Papers

When my good friend, and mentor, Sally Binford, died in 1994, I thought I knew the entire story of her life.

Sally was one of the gate-crashing feminist sexual liberationists of her generation; I couldn't get enough of that! She was a great storyteller, and I loved to listen to her.

But sometimes it feels like you never really get to know anyone... until they're gone. They tell their story to someone else, and you learn something altogether new.

When Sally was 50, she decided to "live life to the fullest" and then arranged to "checking out," at age 70, regardless of her health. That was 1994.

That decision, to plan her own death, was my first experience with someone choosing their own exit without any, as they say, suicidal tendencies. She let all her dear friends and lovers know her intentions, and wrote a letter to  us the night before she said adieu.

Now, years later, I've discovered something more, a detailed story of Sally's life I hadn't heard before.

A historian and poet named Janet Clinger published a remarkable collection of interviews Our Elders, Six Bay Area Life Stories.

All the subjects of Janet's book are the kind of largely-unsung heroes who made leaps in American history that still take your breath away.

Sally, for example, is famous as an era-changing anthropologist, but her life as a feminist and sexual pioneer was perhaps, more revolutionary in her time.

From Sally's Interview:

“Not a Jewish princess”

“I was born in Brooklyn in 1924. My parents became upwardly mobile and moved to Long Island when I was nine. I was supposed to be a Jewish princess, but something went wrong. It never quite worked out that way.

"I went to a very small private school from fourth grade through high school. Played a fair amount of field hockey, studied a lot of French and Latin.

"When I was in the second grade in public school in Brooklyn, this little boy and I had a real crush on each other. We were caught passing notes back and forth. When the teacher came to dinner at our house, I remember hearing her and my parents laughing, their being so amused and snotty about it, because this little boy, whom I had a crush on, was Chinese. I was just furious. What was wrong with his being Chinese?   ....

When The Lesbian Met The Lol-Cat

There are two things I always swore I'd never post on this blog.

One of my bans is gossip about The L Word— because the writers have ripped off my work and biography without redemption.

If I had a nickel for every time someone said, "Oh, did you see the latest episode where they stole your chapter/article/life story/barely-concealed name from Blah-Blah?"... well, gee, I'd start my own cathouse. First one to fire: "Phoebe Sparkle."

Secondly, I never got LOLcats. Never laughed, could barely read them, didn't fit my own pussy obsessions.

But now, I must concede.

This above photo is from a  site devoted to L-Word-inspired LOLcats, called The LoL-Word. The whole site is hilarious, even if you've never watched a single episode of the soap opera or indulged in anthropomorphic Internet joke fests.

If you're lesbian, or bitchy— or  you have a soft spot for bitchy dykes— I'd say it's just your cup of cheeseburger!

Thanks to Holly for the tip!

Update: Look what Holly, my original tipster, made for me!

You and Me in a Dark Room

In my recent travels, I've become an afficionado of downloading movies to my computer, either to rent, or purchase. Talk about instant gratification!

Let me show you my recent favorites...

There Will Be Blood 

The trailer for this movie was not made by the director, or else I would've seen it on opening weekend and sat through several repeat screenings.

It's not just, "Oh, Daniel Day Lewis, what a legendary actor." Nope. This film opens with about 15 silent minutes of action, not one word spoken, and you'll be sitting on the edge of your seat. When the last line is uttered, you gasp out loud. It's not good versus evil, or Religion vs. Capitalism. It's more like two charismatic closet cases in the most vicious fight of their lives. An tomcat brawl, as orchestrated by a homo-perverse genius, and not to be missed.

In the Valley of Elah

Tommy Lee Jones, a career military man, gets a phone call that his active duty son, just home from Iraq, has gone AWOL. Jones doesn't believe it— and drives to the base to investigate for himself, where he is thwarted at every turn. It's a great mystery, and without saying a single line of exposition about "the war," it says you everything you need to know about what's happening in Operation Bullshit.

The Darjeeling Limited

I am going to ride this legendary train, to the tea plantations of the Himalayas, if it's the last thing I do. Director Wes Anderson is endlessly inspiring. I watched the movie, bought all the music, went to the "India Trains" Web site and plotted my own reservation. Then I watched all my Wes Anderson movies all over again and listened to all the soundtracks. This one is especially touching to me. Be sure to watch the "short" before the main feature; it explains quite a lot!

Margot at the Wedding

Some members of my family were afraid to watch this film because they feared they couldn't sit through a microscopic examination of a shocking dysfunctional family. Ha! I found it catnip.  This director does "narcissistic prick" forensics like no one else. Jennifer Jason Leigh and Nicole Kidman are superb. Definitely gets the Mo Movie Measure Seal of Approval.

Blame it On Fidel

A little rich girl in 1960s France who's being raised as the Perfect Little Aristocrat is shocked out of her mind when her parents suddenly decide to support the Cuban Revolution, fire her nanny, and move into a revolutionary commune with atrocious food. To see 1968 through her eyes is precious, funny, and very moving.

Eastern Promises

My boyfriend, Viggo Mortensen, naked, without even a towel, fighting for his life in a Turkish spa, against two knife-wielding Russian mobster sadists. Jesus! Do you need to know anything else?

Little Lord Stuck Pants

Do you remember when Eldridge Cleaver designed those  "Penis Pants" that— shall we say— blemished his career as a sane person and ardent revolutionary?

Well, I've found his evil twin, in Jakarta.

A massage parlor operator and Project Runway Wanna-Be named Frank has designed "Chastity Pants" for his female workers, that have sewn-in padlocks across the zippers. He has the key, and uses it every shift.

The nouveau chastity belt is his response to a religious Fundie "crackdown" on immorality in the Indonesian tourist districts. I'm sure they'll vanquish prostitution in no time at all! But, in the meantime, I think Frankie may be getting some orders from abroad...

 

  Listen to an excerpt 

Listen to the whole show at Audible.com: LINK

Get the show free for a month: LINK

 

Also on today’s show, an indignant (yet curious) girlfriend finds porn on his boyfriend's computer... and lives to tell the tale! The best part is when she discovers her own unforeseen nocturnal habits, thanks to her candid conversation with her lover.

Finally, in my Try This at Home mailbag, I get a letter from a swinging couple who have questions about sex with someone with a serious disability.

Don't forget, you can send your confidential questions, feedback about the show, and requests for free-subscription girly cards to: [email protected] (Episode 339, May 9, 2008).

Thanks to Johnathan, Derrick, for the news tips.