Srormy Daniels Full Disclosure
a review
by Gabriel Orgrease
When I was up to page 58 in Stormy Daniels' book, nothing much salacious had happened, but my preliminary conclusion was that if Trump ever learned to background vet people then he would have never ever have tangled with her. In short, she has more smarts, grit and class than he will ever have. I now purchase books on pre-order for political reasons, that I want the sales to go up on the charts by my one AG-Fa (against fascism) vote.
One quality with Stormy Daniels' writing is that she has a post-DH Lawrence kind of freshness about her body, and about sex. I remarked recently how some Christians seem to think that something happened to atheists to make them that way, when the reality is that with most atheists they simply never had a life to make them feel guilty or sinful or in need of salvation. Stormy is like that with sex. One after another. Like, who cares?
For a whole world of people that have either stuck up sexual attitudes, or endured a growing up of sexual repression, or feel a need to secretly do kinky stuff, she simply does not exhibit in her prose any guilt, angst or regret.
She even does not seem to regret meeting up with Trump's dong (it is not gold gilt). Though I did read recently that she regrets having made fun of how it looks. She is more concerned about his behavior of months of leading her on about a potential but never realized appearance on The Apprentice. She relates the non-relationship as kind of on the level of being bit by a nasty cockroach in the vitals every month or so for a few years. A nuisance readily forgot once hung up on. But one that keeps calling with coy but inane nothing much to say.
The scandal does not seem to be with Stormy, but one that is generated by a host of people that think there should be a scandal. Pretty bright lady. Though I'd not go so far as to say she is writing high literature, it is worth reading for contemporary context. If she comes out with a book of sappy poetry I'll reconsider.
I experimented by reading her book on the train. When surrounded by a gaggle of chatty young preppy ladies I put it away, but otherwise I have nothing much to report for the social science.
A friend who knows about these things says the he once paid her twenty dollars for a lap dance. I asked my friend if he was participating in the Make America Horny Again Tour. This friend also says that he can pay a hooker in Key West $100 to call my wife and say something incriminating. I’m still waiting.
In chronology, Christine Blasey Ford’s recent encounter with Kavenaugh came after Stormy had written her book. There is a whole lot of reflection on the manner in which a noticeable number of males in our culture behave like little shits.
When I was younger, and lived in Maryland, we had a friend who was in the habit of crawling all the strip joints he could find in DC. Since he knew where all the good, and bad, places were I would on occasion go out with him and he would show me around. Fourteenth Street headed up from the Capital was always busy at night. What interested me though was that the closer you got to the Capital the more stunningly beautiful were the ladies of the night. Breathtaking.
My stepfather it was said, by some and not by others, spent some time in California working on set for porn movies. I always imagined that he had an important support job, like a fluffer. But growing up pornography was what showed up in the brown envelope in the mailbox, was often black n’ white, or those little eye tubes you could look in and wiggle while the naked lady danced, some exotic stuff hidden in secret places, or the Marquis de Sade, which is not recommended on my list for pre-teen readers.
I end off after reading
Stormy’s book much
more interested
about her horse
stories.
XXX