One Labor Day weekend, through a series of lucky accidents, I hosted a bluegrass band at my house, following their local debut.
They were from South Carolina, had never been to California before, and only had a dim idea of what I do for a living. The drummer was interested in what I had in my library, and before he left, I gave him a suitcase of all my books on sexual politics, covering everything from anal intercourse to Clarence Thomas.
I didn't know if I'd hear from the band again, but the drummer wrote me a month later when he landed back home. "I really liked reading your books on the road," he said, "and there's so many things I'd like to talk about.
“But let me just ask you this for now— have you ever experienced electricity during sex?"
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