Mina Button's blog

kink and feminism and stuff…formerly known as Absinthe Cocktail.

Archive for June, 2011

A Day with Garnet, Part 2

Posted in Uncategorized on June 28, 2011 by

…when we left off, Garnet had just fucked the bejeezus out of me with a very large strap-on, and I was lying on the bed shaking and recovering.  Once I was finally capable of movement and speech, Garnet offered to take the plug out of my ass, I declined and said it was surprisingly comfortable, and she told me to go draw her a bath.

Now, about the bath thing…I mentioned in the previous post that I have a huge thing for lady’s maid-ing.  I like taking care of clothes and helping people dress and with things like bathing and hair styling and tasks  like that.  So when Garnet and I started talking about me tending to her in the bath, well, it was basically like a dream come true.  I kind of couldn’t believe my luck that it was actually happening.

I went and drew a bath for Garnet, with lavender/chamomile/sage bath oil, and got out my fancy soap and scrubby stuff and a pitcher of water so I could wash her hair.  I also got out the waterproof vibrator I’d given her, since she said she might like to try it out in the tub.  And then, when it was ready, I went and got her and she got into the bath.

Now I could seriously write an entire post just about this bath.  Garnet is entirely gorgeous, and I felt ridiculously lucky to be allowed to scrub her creamy skin with fancy soap and a soft brush.  Washing her back and the delicious curves of her waist and hips…scrubbing her feet with peppermint foot scrub and going over them lightly with the pumice stone…washing her hair and combing conditioner through it.  It was heaven, the whole experience.  Pure submissive, service-y bliss of the kind I used to think I wouldn’t ever experience. And then, when she asked for the vibrator, I was right there to hand it to her.

Unfortunately, using a vibe under water muffles the strength of the vibrations a bit, and after a few minutes Garnet decided that if she was going to get out of the bath and finish up in the bedroom.  She tried the new vibe for a bit, but eventually decided to switch to the Hitachi.  New toys are great, but sometimes a person just needs something familiar to get off.  After a few minutes with the Hitachi, she told me I should help by fucking her with a dildo.  I grabbed one and lubed it up and slid it inside her, grinning delightedly the whole time.  I like helping.

I had never really used a flared-base, harness-able toy like this on anyone but myself without actually strapping it on, and I had never really realized how difficult it can be to find a way to keep a grip on the base. So I slid it into her, alternating long, hard, deep strokes for a while with shorter, faster ones, watching and listening to her response and getting more and more excited with the appreciative noises I was getting in response.  But between the lube and Garnet’s natural wetness, my fingers kept slipping off the edges of the toy.  I eventually found a solution, and made a fist and pushed against the base of the dildo, pushing into her hard and fast and watching as her body responded and hearing her moan.  Garnet’s orgasms are really spectacular, and I am extremely fortunate to sometimes get to be involved when she has one.  Her creamy-pale skin flushes, and she thrashes around and moans, and cries out my name (which is ridiculously hot, and I’ve never really had another partner who does that) and the moans crescendo into screams and it is really just one of the hottest things I’ve ever been lucky enough to see.

When she was done, we lay on the bed together for a bit, and I felt so ridiculously accomplished, like I had really done a good job.  And then it occurred to me that I still had a plug in my ass, and I asked if I could take it out.  I got permission, ran off and removed it, and when I returned I got to rub lotion into Garnet’s feet.  (I feel like eventually I’m going to have to write a post about how I’m basically a stereotypical creepy foot dude in the body of a relatively cute 20-something woman).  Eventually Roderick came home, and I made dinner, and knelt on the floor at Garnet’s feet while I ate (another huge fantasy of mine made reality and I may have died from hotness if I hadn’t been concentrating so hard on my posture) and after dinner we got ready and went to a friend’s birthday party.  Looking back, I kind of can’t believe this was my day before going out to a party.

Garnet and I are about to start serious maid training, (she’s probably working on writing up my rules and requirements as I write this post) and I couldn’t be more excited.  Hopefully there will be many more days like this in the future.

A Day with Garnet, Part 1

Posted in Uncategorized on June 23, 2011 by

So this is my first post with really explicit sexual content.  It also has some description of consensual D/s.  If either of these things are triggering or offensive to you, don’t read the rest of this post!

So last Friday Garnet was here, and what a marvelous day it was!

Roderick works a (semi) normal 9-5, M-F schedule.  I do not, so I was very excited to get to spend the entire day with Garnet in my apartment.  There were things she and I have wanted to do for quite a while that hadn’t happened yet.  For a long time, I didn’t think I’d ever be that into service, but as I’ve started to sort out how into helping people dress (in lady’s maid or valet-like fashion) I am, I’ve started exploring and discovered that in the right context, service-type-stuff is really hot for me.  Garnet pushes my service-y buttons like no on else can.

So while she was still asleep, I threw on an apron over my nightgown and started ransacking the kitchen for breakfast ideas.  Pretty much the only thing I always have ingredients on hand for is biscuits…fortunately, scratch biscuits are delicious and quick and easy to make, so I made a batch of biscuits, put them on a plate with butter, jam, and a few slices of cheese, arranged that on my lap desk (I really need to get one of those trays for breakfast in bed…serving someone breakfast on a lap desk lacks a certain amount of finesse), and brought it to Garnet along with some orange juice in a wine glass.  It thrilled me a ridiculous amount to see how happy it made her, to see her post on twitter to brag about how I made her breakfast.

After I cleared away the breakfast things, we snuggled in bed for a bit and she started playing with my nipples, and as I squirmed and moaned a little in response to this she laughed at me.  ”You just want to get fucked,” she said.  I couldn’t argue, since I exist in a near constant state of wanting to get fucked when Garnet is around.

She went to the toy chest and dug around for a minute…when she came back, she put clamps on my nipples, after removing the little rubber tips from the clamps, so that the little metal claws were digging into my nipples hard.  Then she picked up my biggest dildo and her harness and told me to harness the toy.  It took some finagling (with me whimpering about the weight of the chain pulling on the clamps the whole time*) but I got it harness and Garnet told me what position she was going to fuck me in.  I got on my knees and bent over and she slid her finger into my ass.  ”Your ass is tight today,” she purred as she reached for a plug.  I inhaled deeply as she slid the plug into my ass, trying to relax and give in to her.  It was easier than usual, and as she slid the plug into place she told me I was a good girl.

Then, she put on the harness with the huge cock in it, and she began to fuck me.

To say that she fucked me is actually kind of an understatement.  The cock she was using is terrifyingly girthy, bigger around than many people’s wrists, and I had never been fucked with it quite so forcefully before.  She pushed it into my cunt, opened me up, and fucked me hard, pushing against the base of the plug in my ass with every thrust.  It felt completely amazing, with a slight edge of pain that I kind of love.  She wound her hand in my hair at one point, pulling my head back and pulling me onto her cock, changing up the angles so that I was almost crying from how good it felt, then she fish-hooked me–that is, she hooked her finger around the side of my mouth and pulled my head back that way.  So.  Ridiculously.  Hot.  She told me to come (eventually she told me to hurry up and come or she’d fuck my ass, which really made me re-double my efforts) but no matter how good it felt I just don’t usually come without vibration, so I asked if I could have a vibrator.  She said to hand her two, and and groped for my nightstand and grabbed two of my favorite small vibes.  ”Keep one on your clit and I’ll take the other,” she said, and when I handed her a vibe she turned it on and pressed it against the base of the buttplug.

It was not long after that I came, screaming, and collapsed on the bed.  Garnet paused for a second and then kept fucking me, even though I’d tightened significantly around her cock when I came.  I love it when she pushes me past what I think I can handle, but after a little while I begged her to stop.  I lay on the bed shaking  for a long time after she was done with me, and she cuddled me and stroked my hair and told me I was okay.

To be continued…


*It has been pointed out that I whined so much here that Garnet had to take off the clamps, put the rubber tips back on, and then put the clamps back on me.  My apologies for leaving this out.

Emotional Fallout

Posted in Uncategorized on June 22, 2011 by

So Roderick cheated on me.

I don’t really want to go into detail, but he did something against the rules of our non-monogamous arrangement and then he lied to me about it.  Non-monogamy is not cheating-proof, but it also doesn’t mean that all open relationships are doomed to failure.

I’m not trying to cause drama or anything by saying this, just saying that it is a thing that happened.  If I wanted to cause drama I would have started talking about it absolutely everywhere as soon as it happened, but I didn’t because I didn’t want all our friends to hate him.  I’ve been avoiding talking about it for eight months now because I didn’t want to cause drama or make anyone hate him, but also because talking about it seemed impossible.  I only told a tiny handful of people, either because I’m especially close to them or I was drunk or both.

I think I’m mostly okay these days.  I eat and sleep on a fairly normal schedule, I go out of the apartment and do things on a semi-regular basis, I go entire weeks without crying.  But I still have good and bad days, and there’s still stuff that comes up for me sometimes, even eight months (several of which included therapy) later.  I’m only sad and angry some of the time, not all the time.  I no longer am so convinced that my body is repulsive that I can’t stand to even masturbate, and stay completely covered between the shower and getting dressed.  I even have my sex drive back!  It’s still a lot easier for me to hide in the apartment than go out, I’m still exhausted a lot of the time, I still struggle with keeping up with friendships instead of letting them all fall by the wayside.

Yesterday and today have been bad days.  Not like the bad days were back in November and December, when there were only bad days, but I’ve still been pretty annoyed and touchy and upset.  I want to be over this, I keep trying to rush being all okay again, but it doesn’t work that way and I’m not.  I’m jealous and moody and gross-feeling, and I’m getting really tired of having all these irrational emotions all over the place and feeling like I still can’t tell anyone why.

So yeah…it hasn’t gone away yet.  And I love Roderick and I’m really glad we’re still together.  But it’s really frustrating that he gets to already be over everything and have things be back to normal while I’m still struggling.  And I have gone through several really distinct phases (the not-leaving-the-house-ever phase, the going-to-every-party-and-getting-fantastically-drunk phase) and I keep thinking I’m okay again, but I’ve been slowly realizing I’m not quite there yet.  I think I’m in the I’m-almost-back-to-normal-but-still-sad-and-angry-sometimes phase.  And I guess this is something I need to talk about, especially since it’s gone on so much longer than I thought it would.

The fact that it happened, the person that it happened with, are still really big deal scary to me.  I can’t say her name, can barely even think her name, and I tend to refer to the event itself as “The Bad Stuff That Happened.”  Maybe if I talk about it more it will all lose some of that big deal scary power over me.  I hope.

PMS and periods

Posted in Uncategorized on June 20, 2011 by

So PMS.  It’s a thing.

I hate this cultural trope where people are like “Oh, hey, a lady-type-person is upset about something!  Clearly it is because hormones!”  It is incredibly frustrating to not be taken seriously at any time of the month because hormones make those irrational, overemotional women even more irrational and overemotional than usual! Women are crazy*!  Seriously, I even got in a fight with Roderick this afternoon because he said I was crying “hysterically” on Friday night and I really hate that word.

But…um…I do get really bad PMS.  Like, I think I might actually have PMDD but it’s completely self-diagnosed, and we all know self-diagnoses aren’t real, even though the main thing doctors do to diagnose PMDD is have you track your symptoms for several months and then confirm whether or not you have it based on those symptoms and when in your cycle they happen, which I’m pretty sure I can do myself.  But anyway, I often get really, overwhelming bad feelings the week before my period is due.  I feel super sad and irritable and I become convinced that all my friends secretly hate me and all my life choices are wrong.  I want to hide in my room and watch sad movies and eat macaroni and cheese and Doritos.  I become a huge cliche.

I am also not the only one who does this.  Two of my friends have said they always feel like they should break up with their respective significant others the week before their periods, and I remember the elaborate schemes one high school friend and I would come up with to deal with our food cravings.

I seriously wish none of this were true.  I also wish I didn’t get horrible cramps (sometimes so bad I throw up) and dizziness and ludicrous fatigue the week of my period.  I would totally love to be one of those period-positive, love-my-cycle type women.  I mean, I’m named after a moon goddess for crying out loud! And I try–I use a Diva Cup, I try to stay active during my PMS week and my period, I’m working with Garnet on not being ashamed and grossed out by my own bleedy-ness.  But none of that changes the fact that my period really is kind of awful most months.

And this doesn’t even really address the whole thing where people with horrible periods aren’t taken seriously, even by their doctors, when they try to talk about how unpleasant they are.  I will never forget my horrible high school boyfriend telling me that no one else at school got so dizzy they almost fell over every month, with the implication being that I must be faking or doin’ it wrong.  I still regret not telling him that the only reason for that was no one else was being guilted and manipulated by their horrible boyfriend into coming into school when they felt that shitty.

So I think what I’m saying is that there has to be some kind of middle ground.  There must be something in between going on about how crazy hormones make all female-bodied people and being all anti-hormonal birth control for everyone because it’s not natural.  There has to be a way to acknowledge that PMS and periods can be really, really unpleasant without saying that everyone who experiences these things shouldn’t be allowed to operate heavy machinery.  Right?

*This is totally ableist language and I try really hard not to use words like this, but I’m doing it here because other people describe people experiencing PMS that way, not because I think it’s a word that should generally be used.

Posted in Uncategorized on June 19, 2011 by

So while (it feels like) everyone else is living it up at Folsom East today, I have a picture that I think accurately sums up my week-end and why I need a day to just hang out and relax instead of going out and oogling leather daddies while exposing myself to direct sunlight.  I really wish I were going, but I’m super tired and worry I’d just be cranky and not have a good time.

Also, this picture actually needs more lube in it.

Vibrators and Cake Mix

Posted in Uncategorized on June 14, 2011 by

So vibrators are nowhere near as stigmatized as they have been at other points in time.  But still, people often feel a certain amount of shame about “needing” a vibrator–there’s a lot of stuff out there about how sex should be natural and magical and if you don’t reach orgasm from certain specific acts by themselves or if you need lube or use toys or even talk too much about sex you’re doing it wrong or are defective or are ruining the mystery.

Well, I’m here to tell you that that is nonsense.

Vibrators are like cake mix.  I realized this the other night while having a conversation about people who think toys aren’t “natural.”  One of my friends said that she’d heard when cake mix first debuted in stores, people didn’t buy it because it was “cheating”–not baking a whole cake from scratch, just adding water to a mix.  And she said that vibrators are like cake mix.

Now, one of my hobbies is scratch baking.  I like baking cakes and cookies and cupcakes from very basic ingredients, and I’m obsessed with buttercream frosting that is actually made from just butter, sugar, and vanilla.  Baking from a mix is not as interesting to me.  But the other night, Roderick decided he wanted cake, so he went and baked a cake from a mix and it wasn’t very labor-intensive and he didn’t need to buy special ingredients and now we have cake, and it’s delicious!  Cake mix is a great way to quickly and easily bake a consistently moist and yummy cake–even restaurants use it sometimes for that reason.

Vibrators can be like that, too.  Sometimes scratch baking just doesn’t work–the ingredients or the timing is off or you don’t cream the butter enough or beat the meringue long enough and it doesn’t work.  It’s still fun and fulfilling to mess around with, but you may not always be sure of the results.  Similarly, partner sex without toys is great!  It’s fun and playful and intimate and generally wonderful, but for a lot of us it doesn’t necessarily have a guaranteed outcome.  So when I want a reliable, consistent, relatively simple orgasm, I bring my favorite vibrator into play with a partner.  Sometimes I still don’t get off, but the vibrator makes it far, far more likely that it’ll happen.  And then there’s an orgasm!  It’s like cake–who cares how you got it, now you get to have cake (or orgasms) and that’s awesome!

And there are all different kinds of orgasms, much like there are all different kinds of cake.  People may find one particular kind of cake more delicious and satisfying than another, and that’s just chalked up to personal preference.  I like chocolatey things with raspberries, Garnet likes vanilla and strawberries, and Roderick likes lemon cake and it’s so not a big deal that I’m actually wondering why I’m listing it here.  We just have different taste buds and like different things.  People have all different kinds of orgasms from all different kinds of activities and stimulation, and no one kind of orgasm is definitely, really and objectively the “right” kind of orgasm or better than any other.  Just like there’s nothing wrong or faulty about not liking lemon cake, there’s nothing wrong with not coming from penetration alone.  Lots of people don’t.  Hell, there are people who don’t like or want cake at all, they’d rather just have tea, and there’s nothing wrong with that, either.

And while I have some tried-and-true scratch recipes, both with baking and sex, I’m working on being less of a snob about cake mix.  I wish more people (and media) would work on doing the same thing with vibrators.

STI Testing

Posted in Uncategorized on June 12, 2011 by

I’m kind of a huge hypocrite sometimes.

I will probably never forget the summer one of my friends got chlamydia.  A guy she’d had a one-night-stand with called and let her know he’d found out he had it and said she should get tested, and she had symptoms, but she put it off all summer.  I was there the whole time, telling her it wasn’t a big deal, she should just go and get tested and get some antibiotics and it’d all be taken care of–she shouldn’t be nervous or ashamed, it was totally not something to worry about.  After some back and forth about it, she did just that and everything was fine.  
Roderick and I went and got tested this week-end, after months of putting it off.  I totally have excuses for why we didn’t do it sooner–neither of us has insurance, actual free clinics are few and far between these days, I’m afraid of needles and hate having blood drawn, I get all the safer sex supplies I want for free, etc.  But excuses are shitty and I’m really a huge hypocrite, telling other people not to be nervous or ashamed when I was, to be completely honest, petrified for no real reason other than the headache of dealing with the money end of things and making appointments and all my other neuroses about needles and things.
Fortunately, the good people of NYC TNG (a group for introducing people ages 18-35 to the BDSM scene) have a monthly party called “Get Off My Lawn!” at which there is free testing available.  I figured we would duck in, pay our admission, get tested and go home.  It turns out, because of the way the whole free-testing-in-clubs thing works (also the time it takes to process an HIV rapid test), that there was a line for testing and that it took about 30-40 minutes for each person to get tested.  I realize this sounds like I’m complaining, but actually, I didn’t mind standing in line.  While Roderick and I waited, we chatted with friends, watched a friend get suspended on the nearby stage, and generally hung out.  It was actually really fun, and a much more effective distraction from the fact that I was about to get a needle stuck in me than the average clinic waiting room is.
When it was my turn, I went in, had my blood drawn (it was not a huge amount of blood and, while I looked away from the needle, I was not super distressed by it), answered an extensive questionnaire about my sexual history, and then got my little cup and swabs for the non-blood portion of the testing.  Now, at this particular club the men’s bathroom is basically right next to the room where they do the testing.  The ladies’ room is past the (juice) bar and down a hallway in a whole different part of the club.  There is something really hilarious (to me, anyway) about having to carry your urine sample through a whole club to get it back to where it needs to go for testing.  But all in all, the whole process was fairly smooth and relatively painless*.  My HIV rapid test was negative, I’ll get the results from everything else in a few weeks via e-mail.
The thing that struck me, though, was how awesomely normal it all was.  There was no shaming, no awkwardness, we were just hanging out with our friends waiting to be tested for STIs–some of us actually in line, some just hanging out near the line to be social–joking and dancing occasionally, everyone kind of tacitly acknowledging that this was a totally normal and, in fact, cool and responsible thing to do.  It was not unlike that Girls With Slingshots storyline with the testing party, only with fewer judgey puns.  And when it was over, people just rejoined the party.  It was all a surprisingly non-intimidating experience.
*Okay, so painless is maybe an overstatement.  I had a lot of blood drawn as a kid and haven’t really had it done in a long time, so I knew there was a reason I really, really hated having blood drawn but didn’t exactly remember why.  I put it down to being afraid of needles, which I sort of am, but actually what I hate is the way my whole arm, from fingertips to shoulder, was sore the entire day after getting stuck.  From what I gather from talking to other people about it, this is not a common thing, though it does happen to some people, and while it sucks a little it was totally worth it to get this testing business over and done with and taking care of my sexual health and, indirectly, Roderick’s and Garnet’s as well.

Introvert

Posted in Uncategorized on June 8, 2011 by

If you had asked me, years ago, if I was an introvert I would have probably laughed in your face.

I love going out, I love performing, I love being the center of attention.  How could I possibly be an introvert?

Well, as I’ve become more familiar with what being an introvert actually means…well…I have to admit it’s a pretty fair description of me.  I get tired out in social situations, I find being around lots of people for too long really draining and I can maybe go out for two nights in a row before I need to spend some serious time alone.  I’m also terrible at small talk, but that may have more to do with general social ineptitude than my introvertedness.

It’s actually kind of comforting to be aware of all this, to know that I’m being reasonable and normal when I’m too tired to go out, yes even to that really fun event, no matter how much I would like to.  At least now I know it’s a thing that happens to lots of people, and every time I find a quote or a post on the internet about how exhausting being social sometimes is, I do a little dance inside my head because it sums up so many of my feelings.

On the other hand, this totally doesn’t fit with my image of who I want to be.  I want to be the center of attention, I want to be popular, I want to be a charming hostess who throws fabulous parties.  There is a part of me that totally wants to be the Mrs. Sally Adams of the BDSM scene (I realize this is a fairly ridiculous thing to want), but a lot of the time I barely have the energy to go to a party, let alone host one.  So I will probably never get to wear a sparkly silver evening gown while singing about how great my parties are.  I’m working on getting over that.

What’s been frustrating about all this lately, though, is that I feel like both of my partners are way better at this sort of thing than I am.  And I never thought that one of the things I would have the most jealousy issues over is that I feel like everyone I’m in a relationship with has way more friends than I do, is way more popular, and (perhaps the most frustrating part of all) this all seems to come really easily and naturally to both of them.  I’m working on dealing with this.  Actually, I’m working on figuring out how to deal with this, and once I’ve got that sorted out I’ll be working on dealing with it.

But yeah…I hate thinking that I’ll never get to be even sort of the person I want to be because of some unchangeable personality trait I’m stuck with.  I’m trying to find ways to get around it, but I’m mostly spending a lot of time hiding out in my apartment internetting and beating myself up for not being super-social and a better self-promoter.  I need to learn how to stop beating myself up.  I’m also working on reconciling the part of myself that wants to be a glittering social butterfly with the part of myself that wants to sit on the floor at my partners’ feet and not worry about the conversations going on around me.

I realize that, so far, this has been pretty much the least sexy sex blog ever, seeing as it has mostly been about what an insecure mess I am.  I promise to rectify that soon, but know there are also probably lots more mopey introspective posts where this one came from.

Self-Centered

Posted in Uncategorized on June 5, 2011 by

I am constantly apologizing for being self-centered.  Every time I link to this blog (which has only really been what? Two times?) I feel like I should apologize for asking people to look at it.

That’s silly.

I’m writing a blog.  That’s totally a thing people do, and linking to it is also a thing that people do and not a desperate cry for praise and attention.  I’m mostly writing because I wanted to write more.  So I will link to it, and if people want to click on the links they can and if they don’t they don’t have to.  It really is as easy as that.

I don’t actually remember if I ever was self-centered.  I know one of my childhood friends used to tell me I was all the time, but I think that had more to do with her than with me.  My horrible high school boyfriend used my supposed selfishness as one of the many weapons in his manipulation arsenal–I was so selfish, so self-centered, couldn’t I see how I was hurting him?  I may actually even be a little bit…but I’m pretty sure I’m not anywhere near as bad as I think I am, if that makes sense.  I mean, I’m an only child who loves performing and actually, seriously has an attention fetish…but I’m done apologizing.

Erotica Issues

Posted in Uncategorized on June 5, 2011 by

I have written a bunch of erotica in the past six months or so.  Some of it is even posted online, thanks to the magic of anonyporn.  And part of the reason I started this blog was to write more, and actually post shit online…but…well…

I’m kind of embarrassed by it.

In real life, I’m all about negotiation and enthusiastic consent.  I have spent serious time on conversations like “x is okay, but y might be too much right now, can we table y for the time being?” and I love conversations like that.  Negotiation is awesome–negotiation is the thing that makes it possible to realize my scary fantasies, it keeps things hot-scary instead of panic-attack-inducing-scary.  Negotiation and consent are kind of magic that way.

I also really like seeing negotiation in porn.  I love, love, LOVE Tristan Taormino’s Rough Sex series for precisely this reason–the viewer actually gets to see the performers talk about what they want out of a scene.  It’s awesome.

But written erotica…written erotica is closer to an un-altered fantasy for me.  And if you’re just seeing the fantasy, you don’t necessarily get to see the part where everyone involved is an enthusiastic participant who wants to be there, mostly because the participants are made-up characters who only exist for the duration of the story.  And my problem here is that…well…a hot story can often look a lot like a fucked up story.  It’s not always clear how to tell the difference.

I’m pretty over being ashamed of my kinks.  I’ve been in an emotionally abusive relationship, I can tell you it bears only a superficial resemblance to consensual D/s.  But I worry that a lot of my fantasies look a little too much like really horrible things that actually happen to people, especially when they’re written out without the context of consent and negotiation and risk-management.  I really hate the thought of anything I write being taken by anyone as condoning or encouraging real, nonconsensual violence.

So…yeah.  Really not sure what to do with this.  Anyone have any thoughts?