Frank Parlato
The defendants are Nicole Daedone and Rachel Cherwitz. The charge is forced labor conspiracy—not forced labor, but the conspiracy to make it happen. At the heart of the case is Orgasmic Meditation—OM. Through that, the government saw a conspiracy to coerce adults into sex.
There were no rape charges. No assaults. No physical restraints. Every participant was an adult. They signed forms. Paid for courses. Some maxed out credit cards. Some laid themselves bare, literally and spiritually.
The government said it was conspiracy masked as a lifestyle. Daedone and Cherwitz did not sell a path to enlightenment. They sold bondage. They told people that OM would help them and then turned help into obedience. Into unpaid labor. Into debt. Into sex. There were no whips. No locked doors. Only language.
Consent Trial
Judge Diane Gujarati set the trial for May. She will oversee the government’s meaning of consent. Can what adults said, signed, and agreed to—be unwound by the theory that it is possible to conspire to force adults into something they believe they’ve chosen.
OneTaste might have sold timeshares. They sold orgasm. That made the difference. OM is not illegal. What made it perilous was intimacy. The idea that in stripping down, people might surrender their will.
The prosecutors said OM was the gateway drug—a practice that became a hook, and a hook became a harness.
The indictment does not allege rape or that a hand was laid in violence. Only that words and teachings had too much power. Enough to make adults abandon good sense and self-interest.
The case will rest on where philosophy ends and conspiracy begins, where self-discovery crosses into spiritual surrender reclassified as unpaid work. If the government succeeds: You may choose and still be a victim. That influence—if sexual enough—can become force. And force, when spoken instead of struck, when felt instead of fought, is a felony.
Did they choose this?—might never be enough to answer Was it a crime?
By the government’s standard—when words are soft and outcomes painful—consent can be conspiracy. It is not what they were told to do. It is what they believed they were doing. And the government insists they could not have understood.
They did not kidnap. They did not imprison. They taught. But the government says: You may choose, and still be coerced. You may consent—and still be a victim.
Criminal Intimacy
OneTaste. Not a temple. Not a church. But a loft in San Francisco, warm, alive. No crucifix. Just bodies and the promise of something higher, found in release not restraint. They call it Orgasmic Meditation. Fifteen minutes. A ritual as deliberate as a chant, as intimate as prayer.
Nicole Daedone did not threaten hell. She promised healing. She said trauma lived in the nervous system. That God could be found not in denial, but in sensation. She did not say submit, as the imam might. She did not say confess, as the priest might. She said feel.
She did not promise paradise. She promised connection. A path. A method. She offered coaching, community, the chance to be seen—deeply without shame. For some, it worked. For others, it didn’t. Like any gospel. But unlike the bishop or the rabbi or the robed man on the mountaintop, she spoke of sex—not sin.
There were no cages. No shackles. The doors not locked. The students paid. They signed waivers. They nodded. They returned.
And yet: conspiracy to commit forced labor. Because the gospel she preached was strange. Because the sacrament involved touch, and touch is taboo. Because the government, unable to criminalize Orgasmic Meditation itself, chose to criminalize how it was taught.
But what is OneTaste, if not a reflection of every other institution the State dares not prosecute? The Church takes ten percent of your income and promises heaven. OneTaste asked for a weekend and promised transformation. The monk teaches discipline through deprivation. Nicole Daedone taught presence through pleasure.
The difference is not harm—but how we name it. OneTaste did not invent belief. They merely used a different vocabulary.
And for that, they now face twenty years.
Frank Parlato is an investigative journalist, media strategist, publisher, and legal consultant.
Please leave a comment: Your opinion is important to us!
Two of Vanguard idioms of idiocy:
“The primitive minds cannot comprehend the quantum-ethical foundation of our causation technology!””
“When the waterfall appears to flow in one direction, only the integrated perceiver understands that direction itself is an illusion of non-integrated consciousness.”
Vanguard said it and NutJob believed it…
Go figure…🤪
WTF are you talking about?
You know damn well what I am talking about!!!
It’s all part of the plan. I am busting your balls.
Off topic!!!!
The best time to drop my final chapter in my short story:
Battle of Wizards Queen of Skankdom!!!
Chapter 2
The Battle for Nancy’s Orb: The Final Showdown
When we left off last time Frank and Kieth were battling for Nancy’s magnificent Sexualized Orb – when out of nowhere the Queen of Skankdom Toni Fly appeared –
the battle became a battle of…..
The Good, the Bad , and the Ugly!!!!!!
Frank rallied his senses against the overwhelming wave of skankdom that had invaded the Howard Johnson’s parking lot. His toga flapped majestically in the wind as he straightened his back, refusing to let his wand’s sudden limpness define this moment of crisis.
“By the sacred power of investigative journalism!” Frank bellowed, his voice cutting through the miasma of cheap perfume and desperation. “I shall not allow the Orb of Nancy to fall into the clutches of Tonia of Fly!”
Keith “Vanguard” Raniere, his hairy body glistening with sweat beneath the blood-red sky, emerged from his momentary stupor. His nubby wand may have retreated into his chest-mane, but his mind—the true source of his twisted power—remained sharp.
“When the integrated consciousness perceives the disintegrated elements of skankdom,” Vanguard intoned, raising his arms to reveal damp patches of hair in his armpits, “the true ethical value-set of causation technology reveals itself!”
Tonia of Fly cackled, the sound like fingernails on a chalkboard. “Your meaningless word-salad can’t save you now, Vanguard! Nor can your flaccid journalism, Franko!” She pointed a long, bejeweled fingernail at Nancy’s orb, which pulsated weakly with the sickly glow of a dying neon sign.
Nancy clutched her orb protectively to her chest, her eyes darting between Frank and Vanguard. The once-proud Prefect of NXIVM now found herself caught between her former master and the man who had exposed their empire of manipulation.
“The orb responds only to authentic integration of disintegrated emotional constructs!” Nancy declared, summoning the last remnants of her executive coaching authority.
Frank took three determined steps forward, his sandaled feet slapping against the asphalt. “Nancy,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle amid the chaos, “the orb doesn’t need fancy language or manipulative frameworks. It needs truth.”
Vanguard’s eyes narrowed as he began circling to Nancy’s left, his hairy toes gripping the pavement with surprising dexterity. “The primitive mind cannot comprehend the quantum-ethical foundation of our causation technology,” he countered, each word carefully chosen to confuse and disorient.
Tonia of Fly raised her arms, unleashing another wave of skankdom so powerful it made the Howard Johnson’s sign flicker and buzz. “Enough philosophical babble! The orb will fuel my reign of mediocrity and poor life choices across all of Middle Earth!”
The orb pulsed in Nancy’s hands, responding to the conflicting energies swirling around it. For a moment, it glowed with three distinct colors: the blue of Frank’s journalistic integrity, the red of Vanguard’s manipulative charisma, and the sickly green of Tonia’s corrupting skankdom.
Frank, seeing his opportunity, reached deep within himself and found his true power. “I don’t need fancy spells or linguistic tricks,” he declared. “I have something more powerful—facts!”
With a dramatic gesture, Frank pulled a stack of documents from within his toga—financial records, testimonials, and court transcripts—and held them high. The papers began to glow with a pure white light that pushed back against the encroaching skankdom.
“No!” screamed Tonia of Fly, shielding her eyes. “Not documented evidence and factual reporting!”
Vanguard, sensing the tide turning against him, attempted his most powerful spell. “When the waterfall appears to flow in one direction,” he began, his voice taking on the hypnotic cadence that had once entranced thousands, “only the integrated perceiver understands that direction itself is an illusion of non-integrated consciousness.”
UBut Frank was ready. “Translation: ‘Don’t believe your own eyes, believe only what I tell you!'” he countered, breaking the spell’s power by exposing its true meaning.
Nancy’s orb suddenly blazed with renewed brilliance, responding to the clarity cutting through confusion. She looked at Frank with new understanding, then at Vanguard with growing disillusionment.
“I choose truth,” Nancy declared, stepping toward Frank. The orb in her hands pulsed with approval.
“Nooooo!” Vanguard wailed, his hairy form beginning to shrink as his power diminished. “The primitive minds cannot comprehend the quantum-ethical foundation of our causation technology!”
Tonia of Fly, seeing her opportunity fading, made one desperate lunge for the orb. “Give me that glowing bauble, you repressed corporate shill!”
But it was too late. Frank and Nancy held the orb together, its light now blinding in its intensity. The combined power of truth and redemption shot forth in a beam that struck both Vanguard and Tonia of Fly.
Where Vanguard had stood was now just a pile of hair and a sweatband. Tonia of Fly had been transformed into a small, unimpressive puddle of discount perfume and regret.
As the blood-red sky cleared to reveal a peaceful night scattered with stars, Frank looked at Nancy, both still holding the now gently glowing orb.
“What happens now?” Nancy asked, her voice free from the measured cadence she had used for decades.
“Now?” Frank replied, adjusting his toga more securely around his waist. “Now we tell the real story, in plain language everyone can understand.”
And as they walked away from the Howard Johnson’s parking lot, the orb’s light illuminated their path forward—a path where words were used to reveal truth rather than to obscure it.
Behind them, the puddle that had been Tonia of Fly bubbled once, then twice, then was still, leaving only the faint smell of skankdom on the night breeze to remember her by.….
The End!!
I feel so much better about my life knowing that others fell for this sh1te.
Fell for it? I feel like I missed the boat. If good ole Vanguard had introduced something like this into ESP, I’d probably be spending my days floating around Knox Woods in a green sash.
Lmao!!!!!
🖕🏼
Where is my comment?
It made a statement!
Luthmann is AWOL again. Frank needs an assistant to help him release our witty and thought-provoking comments. I nominate you. If he offers you a contract to write a few articles for FR, would you take that as payment?
Yes!!!!
Collecting dog crap is getting old🙁
Frank, I predict this case will settle (for zero jail time) just before trial —- especially with the ‘journal’ being discarded as evidence.
Every witness would be demolished during cross examination. There’s not a single solid witness. All of them have baggage.
Prosecutors don’t like going into a 50/50 trial — where the outcome is so ‘uncertain’ that it literally depends on which jurors get seated.
Luckily for the defense, they only need to seat ONE intelligent/reasonable juror to prevent a conviction (since no intelligent person could rely on those weirdo witnesses to convict somebody).
For the prosecutors to get a conviction, they must magically seat AN ENTIRE JURY full of mindless liberal idiots (100% left-wing retards).
Trust me, this case will never see a courtroom. It’ll settle just before trial (probably with a zero jail time offer for a reduced charge).
If, by some miracle, this case does go to trial —- the prosecutors will be looking to seat a jury full of liberal idiots (i.e., people akin to Ice-Nine, Nutjob, Erasend, and even NiceGuy).
PS — NiceGuy is a beantown ‘lifer’ who only pretends to be a republican. He and his WHORE wife are hardcore beantown liberals who’ve voted for Pocahontas every election. Just ask him. He’s never been a republican. He’s a fucken RINO.
Have a good day. 🙂
Poor grown-up Bangcock. I remember when you were the little contrarian asshole. Now you’re nothing but a parrot. Frank’s trying not to beat a dead horse while delivering this slew of OneTaste articles. He doesn’t need you copy/pasting his points.
And fresh Pocahontas take. RINO, too. Who’s your shock conservative voice you’re parroting these days?
Poor Bangcock – the little dipshit who grew up into a little parakeet.
Firstly, it’s gratifying to see that I’ve annoyed your ultra-liberal TDS sensitivities. 🙂
Yes, Nutjob, I know for a fact that you voted for Harris/Walz —- and you’re now crying everyday because the republicans won a trifecta. LOL. …And I’m fucken loving it. 🙂
Walz is a virtual communist yet you voted for that crap.
You’re also a former NXIVM wannabe who’s easily swayed by hucksters and cults (else you wouldn’t have given NXIVM the time of day).
Whereas I, on the other hand, could never be swayed by hucksters or cults —- because my mental abilities are too strong to be tempted by the dark side. LOL.
Does this demonstrate that I’m mentally superior to you? Take a guess. 🙂
Secondly, sir, Frank believes the charges against OneTaste will likely be dropped entirely — he’s not really pushing the perspective of a last minute deal for reduced charges and no jail time, which is far more likely.
Thirdly, I’m not a contrarian. You fucken company boy. I simply speak truth to power, my good friend.
Sir, why are you upset at Elon for discovering millions of bogus social security numbers?
Sir, why are you upset that Elon discovered over 10 million people over the age of 120 who are still registered as being ‘alive’ with the social security department?
Please give a LOGICAL explanation that doesn’t reveal your severe case of TDS.
Can you answer? Or will you crawl back to mommy in silence? 🙂
Oh… Please have a wonderful day. 🙂
Since your reemergence, I’ve been very forthcoming in giving you credit for your solid takes. Would I have been doing that if I disagreed with your political views? Plus, I already told you once that you’re wrong about some very specific things about me. Me being a liberal was one. I offered you a tissue for another.
I did take offense to a few things. For one, no way NiceGuy’s rich wife lets him vote Democrat. 2. I ain’t no liberal idiot. And three, you might as well have used AI to sum-up all of Frank’s work while coming up with your “prediction.”
Bangkoker,
I’m a rhino cuz I think McCain is a war hero?!? Motherfucker refused to leave the Hanoi Hilton….Until all his men were released….
My wife?!? Yo momma gave you congenital:
Syphilis, gonorrhea, chlamydia, and herpes.
Why you think yo such a r-E-tar-D
REtArd!
Ur ass so retarded you wonder why: cars have wheels and ur Nana performed CPR on ur dick.
NutJob ain’t lib-trard he just a mushy-pussy. He’s drunk on Nancy Pant’s P**s*.
Mother fucker – loves that Salzman pu**sy
and the herpes that comes with it.
You have a greater day!
And remember you’ll never be ass- retarded as a guy working for no money, making no money, and paying someone to work for free, for over 10 years than the retarded loser Scott Johnson….
Scott is king of broke-ass retards!
Attention DOJ:
Where is the crime?
Consenting adults = no crime
Money never exchanged hands for sex.
The employees were never black mailed.
The employees were never threatened.
The employees were never paid to have sex with clients.
Where is the crime?