Inside the Labyrinth

Saturday, May 24, 2003

Denver Post

Shocked.

That's what the media were.

Shocked to find sex - not in River City , but right here in Lakewood .

It seems as though your typical TV newscaster, newspaper reporter or radio talk show host is a quite prudish character.

It's not that journalists don't know about sex. Journalists, it must be assumed by their public piety, typically spend at least four hours a day reading the Bible. Inevitably, they will come across the Song of Songs, the Hebrews' greatest gift to literature, and find such erotic poetry as:

"Thy breasts are like twin roe, which feed among the lilies. Thou art fair my love, thou art fair."

But sex in ancient Israel is one thing. Sex in modern Lakewood , we have been breathlessly told, is something else.

"Thy whips are like razor wires, which strike among the buttocks. Thou doth drip hot wax, my dominatrix, thou OUCH! doth pierce where it OWWWWW! hurts."

Alas, we live in a vulgar age, a time when the great erotica of Solomon has been replaced by the tiresome cant of Susan Wright, spokesdomme for the New York-based National Coalition for Sexual Freedom, who contended with a straight face that the entire scene at The Labyrinth was educational.

"This is not adult entertainment. It is not a strip club," Wright said. "It's very important that there are zoning categories that allow for a space like this where people can get the education they need to do SM (sadomasochism) and fetish safely. They need to get lessons," she said.

OOOUWW, OUCH, ARRRGHHH!

OK, I agree that the wrongs condoned by Ms. Wright ain't "entertainment." But if it's an education in sadistic behavior that you want, I know a place in downtown Denver that specializes in inflicting pain. And you don't have to pay $12 for admission, either.

This large, stone dungeon sits at Colfax and Broadway beneath a gold dome. It contains not one, but two torture chambers. I recently visited the state Labyrinth to observe a sadomasochistic ritual known as "redistricting."

Entering the smaller torture chamber, I observed 18 elephants and 17 donkeys formally assembled. On a dais stood the head pachyderm, clad in priestly garb and addressed as "The Great Ahn Druze."

Blowing a pitch-pipe with his trunk, the Great Ahn Druze led the elephants in their litany:

"We are eighteen, you are seventeen, you are gonna get screwed."

The leader of the donkeys, St. Joan of Fitz-Gerald, rose to reply.

"Mr. President, I would point out that under the rules of the Senate and the Colorado Sunshine Law, these proceedings are illegal because adequate public notice has not been given."

"Let the floggings begin!" the Great Ahn Druze cried.

The next 36 hours weren't pretty to behold. At last, the exhausted donkeys, prostrate on the floor, ceased their struggles and the redistricting ceremony moved to the larger chamber, the House of Horrors.

Here again was reenacted the tableau of the donkeys and elephants. But the leader of the donkeys, Jennifer of Veiga, said we could expect a kinder, gentler ceremony because the Mistress of the House was Lola of Spradley, a woman renowned for her wisdom and fairness.

A shaft of light passing through a stained glass window lit the Lola of Spradley as she spoke:

"Summon the King of Keith!"

"Not the King of Keith!" cried the donkeys.

"We are 38, you are 27, and you know what that means," the elephants chortled.

"Let the floggings begin!" the King of Keith cried.

All through the afternoon, into the night, and into the morning of the third day, the sound of the Roto-Rooter was heard in the land. Then, on the fourth day, the Great Ahn Druze and the Lola of Spradley went down the marble steps to the first floor, where dwelt the Bill of Owens.

"Sire, we bring thee a decree that doth banish the donkeys to the outer darkness, from whence they can never beset our elephant incumbents again. It isn't fair, and it isn't right, but it's politics," they said.

"Where do I sign?" the Bill of Owens replied.

And thus it was that the people of the land learned why their heralds and town criers did gather in Lakewood to cluck endlessly about suburban whipping clubs.

The media don't have the stomachs to cover state government.

Bob Ewegen is deputy editorial page editor of The Denver Post. He has written on state and local government since 1963. E-mail him at bewegen@denverpost.com .