Miss Modular
May 12th, 2005, 07:56 AM
From James Wolcott (http://jameswolcott.com/archives/2005/05/dirk_diggler_to.php)
According to a shock claim by Larry Flynt and Hustler magazine, trumpeted on the Raw Story site, Bolton was a paid visitor to Plato’s Retreat, which in the seventies brought together many people of differing viewpoints, penis and bra-cup sizes, much as the United Nations has done since its founding. Perhaps Bolton went (if he indeed went—we must preserve the benefit of doubt) for the excellent buffet, of which the owners of Plato’s Retreat always expressed pride. I understand the conversations in the buffet line could get quite racy. ("Hey, this salad dressing tastes funny...") Or perhaps it was the aromatic atmosphere he couldn’t resist as he padded around in a white towel and flipflops. According to one former enthusiast, "One of the things I'll never never never forget -I think it was Plato's Retreat - it was walking in and having a waft of red energy, but it had no thorns in it, everyone was there consenting to be there. Everyone was there for the same purpose. It was so hot and so heavy."
It doesn't matter now what his motives were as long as he kept his whistle clean and followed the punctilios of swingers’ etiquette (i.e., no climbing aboard without permission from whomever’s at the bottom of the pile). I just hope Bolton didn’t try to browbeat his wife into sharing his boogie-nights bacchanals, much as senatorial candidate Jack Ryan was alleged to have done to his former wife, the divine Jeri Ryan, whom many of us will always treasure as Star Trek: Voyager’s catsuitted 7 of 9.
I'm not entirely sure what to make of this, but I find it utterly hilarious.
According to a shock claim by Larry Flynt and Hustler magazine, trumpeted on the Raw Story site, Bolton was a paid visitor to Plato’s Retreat, which in the seventies brought together many people of differing viewpoints, penis and bra-cup sizes, much as the United Nations has done since its founding. Perhaps Bolton went (if he indeed went—we must preserve the benefit of doubt) for the excellent buffet, of which the owners of Plato’s Retreat always expressed pride. I understand the conversations in the buffet line could get quite racy. ("Hey, this salad dressing tastes funny...") Or perhaps it was the aromatic atmosphere he couldn’t resist as he padded around in a white towel and flipflops. According to one former enthusiast, "One of the things I'll never never never forget -I think it was Plato's Retreat - it was walking in and having a waft of red energy, but it had no thorns in it, everyone was there consenting to be there. Everyone was there for the same purpose. It was so hot and so heavy."
It doesn't matter now what his motives were as long as he kept his whistle clean and followed the punctilios of swingers’ etiquette (i.e., no climbing aboard without permission from whomever’s at the bottom of the pile). I just hope Bolton didn’t try to browbeat his wife into sharing his boogie-nights bacchanals, much as senatorial candidate Jack Ryan was alleged to have done to his former wife, the divine Jeri Ryan, whom many of us will always treasure as Star Trek: Voyager’s catsuitted 7 of 9.
I'm not entirely sure what to make of this, but I find it utterly hilarious.