The Nevada Brothel Workers

Brown FanWhen I was young, somewhere between the ages of 11 and 16, on Friday nights, my mother used to take me down to Hollywood Boulevard, so we could visit the different little shops they had there. My mother bought me a lot of turquoise jewelry back in the day, at those shops. On Saturday nights she would drive me down to Sunset Boulevard, so I could see the prostitutes. Not just me though, my girlfriends too. And not just female prostitutes, but also male prostitutes. I think maybe that’s one of the reasons I don’t pay too much attention to someone’s lifestyle choices. If you’re happy, and you’re not hurting anyone, then I’m happy for you. First do no harm, then be free.

I remember hearing Dolly Parton on the radio once, saying when she was young, she thought the prostitutes were beautiful and that’s what she wanted to look like when she grew up.

She was a single-parent and a junior-high school teacher. She worked in what they called a war-zone, for the Los Angeles City School District. Sometimes she’d bring one of her female students home with her, only to take them off some place else for a little bit. I found out much later, the girls she brought home, had been raped by a family member and were pregnant. She was helping them, because no one else would.

Without going into too much more history, let me just say, my mother was pro woman, in the strictest sense of the word. A suffragette. She’s a definite reference point for me when I voice my opinions. Mostly because she gave me her’s and I refined them for myself, to make them mine.

I moved to Las Vegas when I was 33 and I lived there for 2 years. There were too many transient people there for me, and not enough culture. For the whole state of Nevada, there are only three things to do. 1) Get drunk. 2) Gamble. 3) Have sex. Now by prescription, you can also do drugs and I have no problem with any of these things, as long as they don’t affect my immediate reality and for the most part, they don’t.

I remember coming out here and not being able to find the supermarket. It was my first time out and I came in through the north end, because the guy on channel 3 news, told me the south end was washed out. Actually, it was the other way around. That ought to have been my first clue, about how much Las Vegas pays attention to Pahrump. They look down on us apparently. We have legalized prostitution. They think it ought to be outlawed, outright.

Let me be one of the first to say, I don’t believe any human being ought to be marketed for sex. Now let me be one of the last (hopefully) to say it’s been around since ancient Egypt and it’s not going away. The only thing that makes it “bad” in my opinion, is the predominantly male, Judaeo-Christian, fundamentalism, that pervades society’s general attitude towards it.

Some 10 years ago give or take, the Nevada brothel workers, offered to pay taxes on their income, they were denied. This is during a time when Harry Reid was trying to get more corporations to move to Nevada, thus bringing us more jobs. According to what I read then, Harry was going to try to rid Nevada of brothels because that’s what the corporations demanded, in order to relocate here.

Also from what I read, if the brothels were allowed to pay taxes, it would make them legitimate businesses. and of course we can’t have that.

Before that, there was some odd religious group here in Pahrump, who had coalesced a 20 or 30 member group, who wanted to shut down all the brothels outside the Township limits. That failed miserably and there’s an ongoing feud between whomever the County Commissioners seem to be and one of the local brothel owners. I like the brothel owner, he’s a very nice man who contributes to the community. He donates to the high school, the middle school, etc.

Another thing about Pahrump, the people here love their guns. I have a gun. My father gave it to me. He used it in WWII. I know how to shoot it and I’m a very good shot. It stays in my night stand, next to my bed.

Pahrump is mostly quiet. There’s a Wal-mart mini superstore here, redundant I know. Some mom and pop stores, two supermarkets and two drug stores. More churches than you can shake a stick at and 5 or 6 brothels outside the Township line. The first drive-by shooting here, was some kid on a 10-speed bicycle with a be-be gun, he shot a window out of someone’s house.

We don’t call them prostitutes anymore, we call them sex-workers. In the brothels, they are protected, they are seen by a doctor and they’re paid a really well, for the services they choose to perform. Some of the crime is worse now. Some father shot his daughter’s boyfriend, because his music was too loud. The corner market has been robbed at gun-point 3 times. There’s a lot of illegal drug use out here, but the one thing we don’t have is, street-walkers.

Tax The Testes

It has come to my attention, that several states across this great nation of ours, are doing their level best to impede Woman’s Civil Rights. I have an answer for that! In as much as men (for the most part), are behind these actions, to take our nation back to pre 16th century standards of  living, it occurred to me that the easiest way to bring about some form of fairness, would be to tax their testes.
Women come with a predetermined amount of ovum, wherein which to produce progeny. Easily counted with the types of invasive technology we have today. Women could set up a payment plan for taxation of the “eggs” and have it paid off in no time at all. Men however, are the gift that just keeps on giving. These types of men want to, tax and audit women in the doctor’s office, invade their privacy, subject them to psychological testing and spiritual battery. Therefore in my opinion,  turnabout is fair-play.

Imagine the possibilities!

It would take a small government stipend to equip every wife, sister, daughter, mother and grandmother, with a small black-light for body scanning and an infrared camera to photograph the evidence for cataloging. Black-lights to illuminate the “Spillage”, photographs for inspection. At the end of every month, tally up the total and send it to the I.R.S. for proper taxation, at the end of every fiscal year. It wouldn’t even involve a doctor’s office or extra I.R.S. agents. Unless something happened at those offices.

A lot less privacy invasive too, since women that are central to men’s lives, would be in charge of counting for taxation. We as women, could come up with a Nationallly Standardized packet, which would include a psychological profile checklist for men, who are over zealous about their emissions and recommendations such as, churches that are local to the area, to remind them that God frowns on “Spilling Your Seed”.  Then refer those men to psychologists and psychiatrists that specialize in the “Spilling of the Seed” wantonly.  Followed up by a visit to the I.R.S. office to report on their “progress”.

For the really egregious  offenders, non-profit, public speaking engagements, which would feature power-point presentations that included, apologies, the King James version of the evils of wasting one’s “Seed”, a list from Hammurabi’s Code of consequences, should the matter have to be taken up more than 3 times, and of course, pictures where the crimes were committed, confessions, closing with a recrimination segment, by the public at large, in attendance . All to be recorded and documented, kept in an online, publicly accessible file.