Most of our readers can still remember that February morning back in 1929, when members of Al Capone’s non-governmental community development organization were involved in a steamy little incident on Chicago’s north side. In a very adventurous form of S&M involving machine-gun fire, the submissives — the so-called ‘subs’ — from Bugs Moran’s volunteer community action team apparently had more than just “la petite mort” at the hands of those hot dominant ‘doms’. Complete death does occasionally or usually occur during these sexy encounters, so the high death rate in this particular tryst was not surprising. It’s important to remember, though, that good S&M always involves loving consent between partners, and this get-together would certainly have been no different. The lusty subs really wanted nothing more than to be penetrated by sexy high-speed bullets — they were just aching for the hot, searing sting of those naughty little high-velocity metal slugs.
Nonetheless, Capone’s men couldn’t help but wonder afterward whether things had perhaps gotten a bit out of control at some point. Tommy Two-Toes and Vinnie the Elbow argued inconclusively over whether Bugs’ boys had uttered the ‘safeword’. Everyone had agreed that the safeword should be ‘antidisestablishmentarianism’, as per usual. Tommy and Vinnie both agreed afterward that they had heard the first several syllables of the word, but there was a bit of ambiguity since the subs also loved to talk dirty — and you know one of the sauciest words around is ‘antidisestablishmentarian’. So of course, when the subs were shouting whatever word it was they were shouting in a very excited manner, sounding very impassioned and aroused, and meanwhile bullets are flying and ricocheting around… some confusion ensued, followed by a certain amount of death.
These kinds of cases provoke some to question whether S&M can really be as healthy as its adherents claim. Perhaps these people have these kinds of apparently perverted sexual preferences because of early, conflicted sexual experiences? Nothing could be further from the truth. Preferences for S&M are perfectly healthy. It’s true that Bugs’ men did have young formative experiences where nascent erotic discovery was mingled with a certain amount of gunshot wounding, but that’s completely irrelevant. The truth goes beyond that — both Capone’s and Moran’s men were deeply conscious and sexually liberated — they were holistically in touch with and embracing of their sexuality’s completeness, including its ‘shadow side’. They understood that to experience true eroticism and love, to experience the transcendent spirituality that only comes paradoxically through fully embracing one’s immanence and intrepidly exploring the dark and hidden corners of one’s concupiscence, one must commit to a degree of surrender and trust that can only be found in more adventurous paths, even if these paths seem scary and extreme to stodgy risk-averse namby-pamby sniveling milquetoast vanilla types who are so bland, conformist, and frigid that they prefer to live their lives blindly, corpse-like, wearing brown paper bags over their heads and wrapped up immaculately in sanitized plastic wrap… hey, they’re kinkier than I thought! Oooh, that’s hot.
An interesting aside about Tommy Two-Toes: he came by his very classically-styled gangster nickname following an accident where he lost a toe on one foot. Even more interestingly, Tommy was a three-toed sloth. There’s some dispute as to whether he lost the toe in a leaf-foraging accident or from an overuse injury from his ballet practice, where he stubbornly insisted on relentless hours of brutal practice en pointe. As for Vinnie the Elbow, the disconcerting lack of alliteration in his name reveals a story of its own. He had previously had two other body-part-based monikers based on the form “Vinnie the X”, where X is some body part beginning with the letter ‘v’. Unfortunately, his macho, tough-guy image suffered when people addressed him publicly with these somewhat feminine-sounding names, so he was eventually compelled to abandon his love of alliteration in order to adopt a more manly moniker.
So, ever since that sultry February morning back in 1929, people the world over from Mali to Mozambique have celebrated St. Valentine’s day in honour of those who have fallen while fighting for their freedom in the noble calling of S&M. Nowadays, though, there’s a bit more emphasis placed on the soft and fuzzy staid strait-laced chocolate hearts and red roses and pink lace monogamy stuff. It’s a romanticized view of romance, as it were. And while it may seem commendable to celebrate the state of being in a relationship, there is a less-acknowledged, darker side to the day: being alone is devalued, even denigrated. People who are unlucky in love, who just can’t find someone who will love them back, who are fundamentally unlovable or who are just plain losers — all these weird, despicable pariahs are somehow made to feel like outsiders. On this day, the constant parading, promenading, and public-sexing about of people happily in new love, or agonizingly in any other state of relationship, can make the loneliness of the lonely and the emptiness of the empty even more acute. That’s quite a bummer for them.
But back to more important matters. On this Valentine’s Day — a day becoming more and more commercialized by the year — remember that you needn’t spend, you needn’t even have worldly riches to show your love to your lover. Do you remember the tale of the pauper and the waif? Allow me to recount. There once was a young couple in love — he, a pauper; she, a waif. Neither of the two had a penny to their names. But oh, how they loved each other! And he knew how deep was her secret desire for a simple golden ring; she knew how he furtively dreamed of owning The Clapper. But poor as little churchrodents, what were they to do? Valentine’s Day came, and still, both were destitute as doornails. But love triumphed: he gave her ringworm, while she gave him the clap. And they lived… ever after, until their deaths. The point of the story is: to truly show your love, sometimes you have to improvise a bit. It goes without saying, though, if you’re not poor, you can show your love with flair and style, and without being forced to make gauche compromises.