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I am sorry, I am going to talk about pornography again. Of course, if you are not interested, feel free to skip this article. A few people have asked me why I occasionally talk about porn, after all DOMAI is not a porn site. That is true. I know that, you know that. But they don't know that. As has been demonstrated many times (we lost both Paypal and Bitpass as billing providers for example), all nudity-related material, more or less, is regarded as porn by the great unwashed.

And even if this was not so, I would still talk about it, because porn is one of those things that many, many people use, but almost nobody will actually stand up and defend when it is attacked. This makes it a sitting duck in the war against free speech.

A few decades ago the censor-crusaders did not have to make many excuses. Porn was "obscene" and that was that. Nobody argued. Since then porn has been legalized in most of the western world (I think Norway is still an exception), and it has moved out of the shadows. So they can't just say that anymore. What they do now is to say it is to "protect our children".

The latest initiative proposes a 25% tax on online adult-content sales! If it was the first of April, I would not even bother to read about it, I'd be so sure it was a joke. Sadly, it seems to be real.

This proposed bill does not have high chances of going through. But just that fact that it can be proposed and be taken seriously by some people sickens me. It would not "protect" anybody, children or otherwise. It is no more than protection money, similar to what gangsters do. "If you don't pay me, I have force and I will use it".

They can only propose it because pornographers have no friends in high places. At least no friends who will admit so in public. But think about this: who will be next? And next? And after that?

In the unlikely case that such a tax come to pass, it will probably not affect DOMAI, since we are not based in the US. But wrong is wrong. Even if porn actually was a social evil like they say, it would be wrong. But porn, according to all studies, has been shown to lower r-a-p-e statistics where ever it has been legalized and deregulated.

Eolake Stobblehouse

by Maurice Ogden

Into our town the Hangman came
Smelling of gold and blood and flame
And he paced our bricks with a diffident air
And built his frame on the courthouse square.

The scaffold stood by the courthouse side,
Only as wide as the door was wide;
A frame as tall, or little more,
Than the capping sill of the courthouse door.

And we wondered, whenever we had the time,
Who the criminal, what the crime,
The Hangman judged with the yellow twist
Of knotted hemp in his busy fist.

And innocent though we were, with dread
We passed those eyes of buckshot lead;
Till one cried: "Hangman, who is he
For whom you raise the gallows-tree?"

Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
And he gave us a riddle instead of reply:
"He who serves me best," said he,
"Shall earn the rope of the gallows-tree."

And he stepped down, and laid his hand
On a man who came from another land,
And we breathed again, for another's grief
At the Hangman's hand was our relief;

And the gallows-frame on the courthouse lawn
By tomorrow's sun would be struck and gone.
So we gave him way, and no one spoke,
Out of respect for his Hangman's cloak.

The next day's sun looked mildly down
On roof and street in our quiet town,
And stark and black in the morning air,
The gallows-tree on the courthouse square.

And the Hangman stood at his usual stand
With the yellow hemp in his busy hand;
With his buckshot eye and his jaw like a pike
And his air so knowing and businesslike.

And we cried: "Hangman, have you not done
Yesterday with the alien one?"
Then we fell silent, and stood amazed;
"Oh, not for him was the gallows raised..."

He laughed a laugh as he looked at us:
"...Did you think I'd gone to all this fuss
To hang one man? That's a thing I do
To stretch the rope when the rope is new."

Then one cried "Murderer!" One cried "Shame!"
And into our midst the Hangman came
To that man's place. "Do you hold," said he,
"With him that was meat for the gallows-tree?"

And he laid his hand on that one's arm,
And we shrank back in quick alarm,
And we gave him way, and no one spoke,
Out of fear of his Hangman's cloak.

That night we saw with dread surprise
The Hangman's scaffold had grown in size:
Fed by the blood beneath the chute
The gallows-tree had taken root;

Now as wide, or a little more,
Than the steps that led to the courthouse door,
And tall as the writing, or nearly as tall,
Halfway up on the courthouse wall.

The third he took, we had all heard tell,
Was a usurer and infidel;
And "What," said the Hangman, "have you to do
With the gallows-bound, and he a Jew?"

And we cried out, "Is this one he
Who has served you well and faithfully?"
The Hangman smiled: "It's a clever scheme
To try the strength of the gallows-beam."

The fourth man's dark, accusing song
Had scratched our comfort hard and long;
And "What concern," he gave us back,
"Have you for the doomed -- the doomed and Black?"

The fifth. The sixth. And we cried again,
"Hangman, Hangman, is this the man?"
"It's a trick," he said, "that we hangmen know
For easing the trap when the trap springs slow."

And so we ceased, and asked no more,
As the Hangman tallied his bloody score;
And sun by sun, and night by night,
The gallows grew to monstrous height.

The wings of the scaffold opened wide
Till they covered the square from side to side;
And the monster cross-beam, looking down,
Cast its shadow across the town.

Then through the town the Hangman came
And called in the empty streets my name --
And I looked at the gallows soaring tall
And thought, "There is no one left at all

For hanging, and so he calls to me
To help pull down the gallows-tree."
And I went out with right good hope
To the Hangman's tree and the Hangman's rope.

He smiled at me as I came down
To the courthouse square through the silent town,
And supple and stretched in his busy hand
Was the yellow twist of the hempen strand.

And he whistled his tune as he tried the trap,
And it sprang down with a ready snap;
And then with a smile of awful command
He laid his hand upon my hand.

"You tricked me, Hangman!" I shouted then,
"That your scaffold was built for other men...
And I no henchman of yours," I cried,
"You lied to me, Hangman, foully lied!"

Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye:
"Lied to you? Tricked you?" he said. "Not I.
For I answered straight and I told you true:
The scaffold was raised for none but you.

For who has served me more faithfully
Than you with your coward's hope?" said he,
"And where are the others that might have stood
Side by your side in the common good?"

"Dead," I whispered, and amiably
"Murdered," the Hangman corrected me:
"First the alien, then the Jew...
I did no more than you let me do."

Beneath the beam that blocked the sky
None stood so alone as I;
And the Hangman strapped me, and no voice there
Cried "Stay!" for me in the empty square.

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