Length 01:24:39  Date: July 24, 2021

by Dr. Susan Block. 

Slightly shocked and greatly affronted by our recent, ridiculous, groundless and rather prurient *police raid,* we hop on the Love Train to begin sharing the story.

I say “begin” because, like so many innocent people’s experiences with police and city “inspector” harassment, it’s a long story, parts of which are almost too dull to share, such as the endless baseless “inspections” we’ve already endured that have uncovered evidence of absolutely nothing.

The rich are human beings like the rest of us—they’re just morbidly obese with money.

We also have other exciting subjects of sex and politics on the menu for this hot summer ride on F.D.R., so named for our 32^nd U.S. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, whom I’m honoring via my vintage New Deal Rhythm Band tank top, as well as standing for our sex-positive, socialistic, bonoboësque motto, “Fuck Da Rich.”

The rich are human beings like the rest of us—they’re just morbidly obese with money.

I guess that’s why they’re called “Fat Cats.”

Consider this show a weight-loss program for Da Rich. It would be good for their health as well as the health of society, if they could shed some of those money-pounds and surrender some of that filthy lucre. The problem is they can’t or won’t do it without our help.

Thus, some say “Eat the Rich,” but we’d prefer to Fuck Da Rich (out of their money) than eat them (ewww!).

Whichever metaphor you prefer, we all need to tax those bitches before they come down with money diabetes, aka “affluenza,” as the rest of us simply starve.

Bezos Shoots Load of Crap into Space

Speaking of billionaire dicks, Bezos finally shot his load into space, and that Blue Balls (Elon Musk’s name for Blue Origin) rocket looks even more like a little penis—or a vibrating dildo (a Pocket Rocket?)—than Jeff does. It’s kind of funny how he let his hair grow a little on the sides so his skull would look less like a glistening dickhead, but there’s no missing his phallic obsession.

READ “BILLIONAIRE DICKS IN SPACE RACE” on COUNTERPUNCH

As a sexologist, I can say from 30-years of experience that it’s normal to be obsessed with your dick or dicks in general (most guys are). What’s not normal is to spend billions on it.

In a way, this is not completely Bezos’ fault—even though he is a complete dick. It’s our out-of-control capitalist/oligarchical system and its enablers that have given this one dickhead billions, while robbing the populace, and We the People have to somehow reverse this trend. We have to Fuck Da Rich.

Most people wanted Bezos’ silly ego-propelled cock-rocket to stay up there and get Lost in Space. Unfortunately, he returned to Earth only to rupture our ears by proclaiming his very personal “appreciation” to all the Amazon workers he abuses and to all the customers he monopolizes because we are the ones who make it possible for him to shoot his silly dick into space. In summary, the world’s (second?) richest dick chortled, “You guys paid for all this.”

What an obnoxious, insensitive statement, the worst part of which is that it’s true.

Not to be outdone, Musky Elon’s wench Grimes (who swears her billionaire boyfriend doesn’t support her musical career, which sounds like a virtue-signaling side effect of sudden-onset affluenza) announced her baby-daddy is buying a planet. Apparently, he is purchasing (with Dogecoin?) this giant rock (bigger than Jupiter) for Philly rapper Lil Uzi Vert, so will it be the Planet Uzi?

The excessively outrageous meets the insensitively ridiculous… in space. Such a waste.

Breaking News: Jon Stewart came out with his awesome video, “The Problem with Dicks in Space” AFTER we broadcast our “Billionaire Dicks in Space” F.D.R. show (as well as this one) and I published this article and last week‘s, so I’m honored that he copied me. JK, great, progressive, silly minds think alike.

I also talked about the Billionaire Dicks in Space Race, sperm wars, sexology, sex therapy, the Bonobo Way and our latest little police raid (as well as 20-years-ago LAPD raid, after which I sued the invaders and won a nice settlement) in a fun quickie interview on Washington Babylon with Counterpunch co-founder and veteran investigative journalist (LA Times, Vice, Harper’s, etc.), Ken Silverstein. 

Check it out here or here!

The Torrid Tale of the Grindr Priest

Also on this Love Train Ride: Three Cheers and a Cherry Garcia Beer for Ben & Jerry’s, my fellow Jews for Palestine, for pulling out, that is, discontinuing sales of their ice cream in Israel’s illegally occupied Palestinian territories. Most say it’s “just ice cream,” but apparently, some of those settlers need their Chocolate Caramel Cookie Dough as much as their AR-15s, calling the boycott “economic terrorism” and Israel’s new PM Naftali Bennet threatening “serious consequences.”  Wow. What’s he going to do? Bomb their cows? 

In another corner of the great Jewish diaspora, we say R.I.P. to Jackie Mason, the very politically incorrect last of the Borscht Belt comedians (whom we met briefly through our late friend Lynn Redgrave), gone at 93.

Of course, Judaism is not the only crazy, abusive, organized religion. Actually, they all are, partly because they are all vainly but destructively attempting to channel the full multi-colored spectrum of human sexuality into one tiny beige compartment: married heterosexual intercourse for procreation purposes only, that is, to create future members of the faith.

Oh, and there’s another respectable option for expressing your sexuality, especially if you’re Catholic: celibacy.

This brings us to one of our central topics of this podcast: The Grindr Priest. The torrid tale of Monsignor Jeffrey Burrill, top administrator for the US Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB), is a perfect storm of issues. The distinguished priest resigned from his position this week following the Catholic news site Pillar’s revelation that he regularly used the LGBTQ dating app Grindr and frequented gay bars.

The Monsignor’s plight brings up a full range of sexual issues, privacy issues and hypocrisy issues. I’m not a fan of Father Burrill, who loudly opposed allowing U.S. President Joe Biden, a pretty devout Catholic, to receive Communion because Joe, though he is personally against abortion, favors a woman’s right to choose.

We live in an Age of Digital Surveillance at a whole new level of nonconsensual voyeurism.

I offered Joe a friendly round of Bonoboville Communion instead, but he hasn’t accepted. Maybe Dr. Jill is putting her foot down, and I respect that choice. We’re all pro-Choice here, except Father Burrill who shouldn’t have gotten on his high horse and denied Joe regular Catholic communion… especially while he himself is out there on Grindr grinding away. See what I mean by hypocrisy issues?

At the same time, I feel sorry for the lonely priest who longs to find love and/or lust with his fellow man, but that simple normal desire goes utterly against the Church’s strict and strictly insane demand for celibacy from its priesthood. So, in order to keep his “calling” and his job, he covers up his love life, and probably overcompensates by acting even more anti-gay than his colleagues. I have many sex therapy clients leading double lives similar to Father Burrill. Most manage not to get caught, but some do, and it can be devastating.

I’m also very concerned about the privacy issues raised when personal texts can be so easily unearthed, but I can’t say I’m surprised. As it gets easier to communicate, secrets get harder to keep. I’ve long warned my clients, as I warn our listeners on this show, that anything they text to someone—especially, though not exclusively, through an app—is vulnerable to discovery at any time, even if the messages are erased. Whether you’re sexting secrets or not, it’s disturbing that all of our texted correspondence is viewable by anyone with the right spyware technology, but this is where we are. We live in an Age of Digital Surveillance at a whole new level of nonconsensual voyeurism. That’s some Peeping Tomfoolery right there.

So, when it comes to keeping secrets in the digital age, good old-fashioned private in-person meetings are the safest—though make sure that smoke alarm isn’t bugged. However, in these international, Coronapocalyptic times, in-person meetings are not always feasible or desirable, which brings us back to our fickle devices. All things considered, without an elaborate security system (that can always be cracked), the safest, least vulnerable way to communicate virtually is through talking—not texting—over the phone. Though texting is easy to track (especially with apps), voice is not, unless someone is deliberately recording you as you are speaking.

So whatever dirty deeds you want to do… do them on the phone! Oh, and our phone sex therapists are standing by, Monsignor Jeff…

Sexual Intuition, Smooching Bennifer & Incel Issues

As usual, we have too much to talk about on this ride. We mention, but have no time to do justice to the ugly subject of ammosexual incel violence, spooked by recent planned mass shootings and bombings by self-confessed incels (involuntary celibates, somewhat like those priests) that thankfully didn’t go off as planned. Another show, we’ll explain more (and we already have); suffice it to say (for now) we should follow the Bonobo Way; there are no incels, let alone incel murders in Bonoboville.

We also talk about how wild it is that through JLo and Ben Affleck getting together, breaking up, having kids with other people, getting back together and now kissing on a yacht, Capt’n Max and I—libertines that we are—have stayed married (to each other!), though we have too done our share of kissing on yachts.

And we’ve thrown some amazing bacchanals that might even make Bennifer blush—though they’d probably just enjoy themselves—such as this week’s throwback: Sexual Intuition & the Motorbunny, featuring Susanna Brisk, author of How to Get Laid Using Your Intuition, wild and super-fun porn star Elle Voneva (who rides the Motorbunny to several Earth-shattering orgasms), fabulous FemDom Jenna Rotten and my lovely assistant Phoenix Dawn.

We also interact with listener comments about polyamory; how we all need to get vaxxed AND wear masks with the Delta Variant on the loose; the sex lives of F.D.R. and Eleanor, DomCon coming(!), the difference between socialism and communism and why we need to Fuck Da Rich (tax-wise at least) for the good of all.

Pervy Police Raid

Throughout the ride, we share parts of the story of Bonoboville’s recent police raid along with the surprise inspection of our building and our bodies.

To say our rights were violated is an understatement. Though it wasn’t as bad as our LAPD raid (for which I sued, “pro-bonobo”, won a good settlement and received Mayor Dick Riordan’s sheepish public apology), nor what many other people are going through (like Julian Assange and this poor tased 75-year-old), it was certainly abusive, uncalled for and a violation of our 4^th Amendment rights.  

Yo Yo It’s the Po-LICE! Photo: Author

It was a surprise inspection, which is like surprise sex, but for buildings, and we all know surprises can be dangerous, especially when guns are involved. Fortunately, no one got killed or hurt, and for that we are grateful. Just a little light molestation under color of law. I did give my consent to the lady cop’s request to “pat me down,” but I didn’t expect her to frisk me so intimately as if she expected to find a semi-automatic weapons hidden in my bra or knives in my pussy. I’m a sex therapist who has been intimate with a few strangers in my time, so being molested by a lady cop (who wasn’t half-bad looking) didn’t feel like a “big deal.” Then I saw her do it to a volunteer, and I was pissed. Later, I realized what Madame Policewoman put us through was a form of coercive molestation.

Plus, we weren’t engaging in this bit of forced outercourse inside, but out in the parking lot in front of all of our wonderful, nosy neighbors and morning rush hour traffic. If the true purpose of this bogus raid was to generate a little ill will-tinged excitement in our nice neighborhood, that was achieved.

Later, perhaps as a sort of canine retaliation for the infringement of his humans’ rights, our dog molested one of them.

It was actually very strange. There we all were, being illegally detained by these folks with guns (though at least they didn’t point them at us), first in the parking lot, then sitting around the conference table, when we were permitted back inside. There we waited patiently for the inspectors to finish inspecting our studios, offices, storage closets, lounge areas and dressing rooms, facemasks falling off their faces as they huffed and puffed around, Inspector Amber Abeyta filming select moments and art pieces.

This police raid also included a panty raid. As soon as they were done, we ventured back into our offices and saw they’d gone through our drawers, leaving many open, including my underwear drawers. Honestly, I’m afraid to check if they left any *gifts* in those panties… Well, the good news is they didn’t touch our confidential client records.

Meanwhile, as we all sat there, tense, pissed and wondering what the hell’s going on, our precious Pomeranian Chico wandered over to the Chief Inspector, a tall dude’s dude in shorts, and started licking his legs. I don’t mean just a kiss hello, I mean Chico was giving some kind of intensive canine-to-human oral sex to the Inspector’s bare, slightly hairy shins. The Inspector didn’t seem to mind. Though we’ll see if he answers our complaint about his pervy police officer frisk-molesting us by retorting that our dog molested him. On the surface of a weird situation, he appeared to enjoy the attention, exclaiming, “I usually get this from cats.”

Maybe Chico smelled those pussies on the inspector’s legs or perhaps this was his way of inspecting the Inspector. Then again, he might have been using a little bonoboësque attention to the human he perceived to be in charge of this massive invasion of our private office space in order to diffuse the obvious tension in the room. Hard to say.

What we do know is that this was the proverbial climax (we hope) of a pattern of harassment, partly due to the history of the building, and partly due to me being a sex therapist and Left-leaning host of a sexuality show who collects and occasionally sells erotic art.

In the Coronapocalypse, when everyone is working from home or just making themselves at home in their offices, we are not so strange. In fact, the world is catching up to our way of doing things.

These inspectors also seem to be confused by our slightly strange but perfectly legal, extremely ethical, responsible, pleasant and sustainable way of conducting business. Our telephone sex therapy service operates 24/7 as calls come in from all over the world to our offices where real people, volunteers who operate our switchboard in shifts, answer the phones and put clients through to our therapists who are also located in various countries all over the world. Meanwhile, other volunteers are editing new podcasts, archiving old shows, coding our websites, creating music, art, graphic design and more. Some days, we *work* 16 hours at a time—or maybe several days in a row—so we provide a full kitchen, bar, laundry room, showers, a garden to relax in and beds to lie down on. The inspectors seemed to be especially concerned about the beds, some of which are used in our shows, others to take naps.

What zoning law or any kind of law says you can’t take a nap in your office? Especially in the Coronapocalypse, when everyone is working from home or just making themselves at home in their offices, we are not so strange. In fact, the world is catching up to our way of doing things. On a personal note, Capt’n Max, having survived cancer and a quadruple bypass, needs to take a couple of naps a day here at the office. We also enjoy the occasional afternoon delight and find a bed more amenable for that than straddling office chairs or bending over the desk, charming as those positions might be.

Is that not allowed? Are we in Guantanamo? Or are these invasive Inspector Clouseaus just following their own sanctimonious noses, twitching from their repressed libidos, seeking clues that lead nowhere except as flimsy excuses to harass us again and spend more of your (but not Bezos’) tax dollars?

Brandon Sanchez, the lawyer representing the inspectors, assured us he was available to answer our questions and concerns, cordially giving us his email address. However, when we tried to email him later that day, we were blocked. How cordial! How professional.

Listen above or below for more of the story, stay tuned for continuing developments, and let us know if anything like this has happened or is happening to you.

Like, have you ever slept in your office?

©July 24, 2021 Susan Block, Ph.D., a.k.a. “Dr. Suzy,” is a world renowned LA sex therapist, author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure and horny housewife, occasionally seen on HBO and other channels. For speaking engagements, call 213-291-9497.