Karen Finley - "Belgian Waffles". Make no mistake: Karen Finley is angry. She has every right to be. What other emotion is appropriate when you hear the story of a drug-addled man on a rampage during Thanksgiving smearing yams on his grandmother's buttocks? Don't expect a catchy hook here. As one of the infamous NEA Four, Finley was and may still be regarded as vuglar and obscene. Whether that's the case is purely subjective. But her intent isn't to titilate.

What she is interested in, however, is, among other things, unveiling abuse of power, racism, sexism, age-ism, and male dominance in sexuality. How does she do this? By saying "cock, "clit," and "shit" a lot; by writing an entirely serious book of erotica; by performing impromptu lapdances on audience members; and by covering her body with everything from honey to candy hearts to chocolate syrup. Laugh if you want. But don't laugh for the young woman she's comemmorating—Tawana Brawley, a 16-year-old black woman in upstate New York, who was found dumped in a garbage bag with feces covering her body, who said she was sexually assaulted by four white men [including a cop], and who was later accused of making of the scenario. Even if the whole thing was a hoax, when you're sixteen and poop is your last resort—your final method of communication—something's clearly wrong. Karen Finley's making shit, dick, and clit the first options—inverting perversion, speaking out for our First Amendment rights.

[To Jessie Helms:]

I want those weiners in my cock.
Oh, I've got a cock, too!
Ooh, It's called a clitoris,
And you never knew what,
Ooh, boy, get me off, off, too.
Ooh, I'm swimmin' in my piss,
And I'm gonna shit in your ears.
Ooh, shit, boy! Just shit in my mouth!
Ooh, fuck me, you bastard-bitch!
Ooh, you don't own me!