Just because I used an expression from my late-80s, art-school days as a title, I've really got to link to the Wikipedia page for llama. I love the picture at the top!
Anyhow, I just ran into the Wikipedia page for the United States of America. For a large part of the world population, this is an important page, and I wonder how many people have consulted it, looking for answers. There's so much there and so much missing. I love my country, but I recognize that we're one of world history's most brutal empires, and that we hold unprecedented power.
I admit that I shed a few tears at the mention 0f 9-11. And the picture of the Rotunda at UVA. That's where my second ex wife is getting her PhD right now. She just has her dissertation left. I won't even mess with the personal/national continuum.
Oh, and pictures of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr always make me cry. And President Barack Obama. And... and... and every other generalization and picture.
Fortunately, there's that map at the top, showing only those parts of the world that are recognized as states of the USA, ignoring possessions, US-controlled regimes, and the overwhelmingly vast sphere of corporate control. I'm reminded that there are two Americas: the one constructed by my own country's propaganda, and the ugly fact of life that affects billions of people right now. This is an American page, after all,and I know of no country that freely criticizes itself.
I may identify most strongly with anarchist ideals, although I consider myself truly liberal in that I accept what seems like the substance of any ideology, but I refuse to suppress a deep streak of national sentiment. Only moralists repress vital parts of themselves for the sake of ideals, and moralism is something I will never accept. I refuse to place any portion of cultural production under the heading of entartete Kunst. Free speech is one of the truly good achievements of my country, even though it's always under fire.
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Friday, June 26, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Get Her.... Knocked Up?!?! Really?
No pill culture in Japan, I guess! I mean no offense to my global friends who interpret this with ease, but in my sex-removed-from-reproduction culture this is a mystery to me. Oh my!
It's called culture shock. The fact that I can have access to this very different perspective is testimony to the relative freedom of the internet, at least if your country allows unregulated access. In the USA there are people trying to control our access, and similar personality types in other lands have gotten away with it, I know.
Not long ago, a former member of one of our more corrupt regulating forces, the FBI, suggested creating a second Internet, "more secure," I suppose, in that it allows for greater state control somehow. We've already given away a little too much as it is, thank you, in the name of "protecting our children."
A little like this fellow. Isn't that all cozy?
Yep. If we give in to fear peddling, meant to target voter's weak points, and surrender too much in the name of safety, we could become another China. I feel that I can say that because I haven't gotten a single hit from the vast and populous country, in spite of worldwide attention for my blog.
And you know that if I can reasonably criticize a country from within the Great Satan itself, there must be a problem!
So hurrah for nasty Internet pics!
It's called culture shock. The fact that I can have access to this very different perspective is testimony to the relative freedom of the internet, at least if your country allows unregulated access. In the USA there are people trying to control our access, and similar personality types in other lands have gotten away with it, I know.
Not long ago, a former member of one of our more corrupt regulating forces, the FBI, suggested creating a second Internet, "more secure," I suppose, in that it allows for greater state control somehow. We've already given away a little too much as it is, thank you, in the name of "protecting our children."
A little like this fellow. Isn't that all cozy?
Yep. If we give in to fear peddling, meant to target voter's weak points, and surrender too much in the name of safety, we could become another China. I feel that I can say that because I haven't gotten a single hit from the vast and populous country, in spite of worldwide attention for my blog.
And you know that if I can reasonably criticize a country from within the Great Satan itself, there must be a problem!
So hurrah for nasty Internet pics!
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Son (or Rather Daughter) of Interesting Nipples
Attractive or not? You decide!
You know, they generally don't stay puffy, and could settle into nice, big dark ones by middle age. A good prospect for marriage, physically at least. I don't know the young lady personally, so that's all I can say.
"The puffiest in Manila," I'm assured. Does that come with a guarantee? This copy doesn't help any either: "Can you believe these angel faced filipinas have become cock sucking little devils?" Ehhh, as if the terribly imperialist Spanish-American War weren't bad enough! Allow me to personally apologize for my country.
But she's pretty. The body means more than borders.
You know, they generally don't stay puffy, and could settle into nice, big dark ones by middle age. A good prospect for marriage, physically at least. I don't know the young lady personally, so that's all I can say.
"The puffiest in Manila," I'm assured. Does that come with a guarantee? This copy doesn't help any either: "Can you believe these angel faced filipinas have become cock sucking little devils?" Ehhh, as if the terribly imperialist Spanish-American War weren't bad enough! Allow me to personally apologize for my country.
But she's pretty. The body means more than borders.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Progressive's Flo is Out of Touch with Her Own Sex Appeal
"Is it her fabulous comic timing, her over-the-top facial expressions, her cute-as-a-button retro flip? Or is it the slight hint of a bad girl that lies just under the surface? The promise of a tattoo under that checkout girl uniform? The possibility of a motorcycle parked out back?" asked one blogger late last year.
Witness her famous tricked-out name tag:
That other woman seems as if she's met a hidden side of her own personality in Flo, does she not? The side of her that never worries about the neighbors doubting her middle-class status somehow? Yet she has met her savior! Half-whispered revelations have redeemed her. This anonymous woman, who, I suspect, has often said "not now, honey, I just fixed myself up," has had the Flo side of her self stirred up by the interaction, and so her husband will have red, sleep-deprived eyes at the office tomorrow morning. And a sore sense of satisfaction deep inside his underwear. Promotion can't be far behind with such an attitude!
Flo herself, AKA Stephanie Courtney, fails to understand her own potency.
"I don't know what it is. The way I play her, she's pretty much the most asexual thing on TV right now. I think the Geico lizard puts out more sexual vibes than Flo does. But I do think the cavemen are totally crushable," the lady herself is quoted as saying. LA girls! Even transplanted ones! It's almost embarrassing to apply the adjective, "superficial," although that is the quality that drove this blogger out of the area.
Then she also says, "Flo could be one of my improv characters, always on and sort of cracked in a weird way." Then again, "It's me at my silliest," she says. "You start off with a script, but at the end they usually let me put a little zinger in there. We put a little mustard on it. That's when it gets fun."
What can I say but "duh?" That's the mustard of pure womanhood! Must I call up the ghost of Freud, long-dead, in discussing hot dogs? I'm happy, at least, that Ms. Courtney can express her repressed humanity on stage.
I was glad when that question was answered. Flo went through a tame period in which her somewhat-restrained enthusiasm disappeared, and I wondered whether the horrid transformation was at the behest of the actress, formalized in some new contract meant to further her career.
I'm now happy to conceptualize her appeal as the spontaneous humanity of one woman winning out over the oppression of corporate America, and thriving within its context, even. That's a turn-on! Flo is a hero that commercialized post-post-feminism could never grasp. Behold, her return to enthusiasm with full force! Lo, the sacred reference to tacos, and the rapport with a male customer:
Come on, now; that's sex! Desire is not a momentary sensation, but something to be consciously maintained. Whenever I'm stuck sitting with a TV junkie, with no excuse to run away and experience the world around me once more, I can only hope for a little redemption in the form of Flo's sexual-angelic presence.
You know, I think her retro/Bettie style is at least part of the key to her appeal. Where have all the rock-a-Betties gone, long time passing? They've all gained even more weight, and somehow they all look even more like ultra-hot Betty Rubbles. The old wisdom that people who like food also like people survives. They have kids, a husband, and fellow PTA members who pointedly glare at their tattoos within their peripheral vision. Why? Because Betties always liked men. They were one of the truly good things about conservative America in the 2000s. Sorry, though, they've all been claimed. Is a repulsive generation of Andrea Dworkins to follow? I wouldn't be at all surprised.
We lose. Insert an 8-bit, humorous end-of-game screen capture meant to help us ease our pain through humor. Try to conceal the anxiety that the Middle East knows more about sex appeal, which is absolutely vital to the continuation of humanity. In spite of the few "gurus" who have been very poorly socialized in terms of gender, and so stomp on sexual differences.
Part of the secret is that she seems available. She hasn't been claimed yet. There's still a woman out there who's looking for a man, who will not flake out after years of marriage, and who will be worth struggling through life with. Few of them may be found today. Thus empires fall.
Yes, oh anti-essentialists, cloistered in the best universities of the USA, out of touch with reality, the rest of us are looking for some support in perpetuating our kind. You're doing your job miserably.
Therefore Caligula unites with Drusilla. Thus empires fall. And historians make their reputations with bizarrely convoluted theories of your fall involving the latest axe-grinding anxieties of the personality types that are attracted to academic jobs.
I can't help but think that if Flo fully understood her own appeal, the great tremor in history centered on the USA would last longer, and would thrive longer too. If the continuation of humankind depends on sexual diplomacy, and if that art has long broken down in our culture, how could we possibly hope to limp along for many more years?
Me wanting Flo, me feeling HOT HOT HOT!
Witness her famous tricked-out name tag:
That other woman seems as if she's met a hidden side of her own personality in Flo, does she not? The side of her that never worries about the neighbors doubting her middle-class status somehow? Yet she has met her savior! Half-whispered revelations have redeemed her. This anonymous woman, who, I suspect, has often said "not now, honey, I just fixed myself up," has had the Flo side of her self stirred up by the interaction, and so her husband will have red, sleep-deprived eyes at the office tomorrow morning. And a sore sense of satisfaction deep inside his underwear. Promotion can't be far behind with such an attitude!
Flo herself, AKA Stephanie Courtney, fails to understand her own potency.
"I don't know what it is. The way I play her, she's pretty much the most asexual thing on TV right now. I think the Geico lizard puts out more sexual vibes than Flo does. But I do think the cavemen are totally crushable," the lady herself is quoted as saying. LA girls! Even transplanted ones! It's almost embarrassing to apply the adjective, "superficial," although that is the quality that drove this blogger out of the area.
Then she also says, "Flo could be one of my improv characters, always on and sort of cracked in a weird way." Then again, "It's me at my silliest," she says. "You start off with a script, but at the end they usually let me put a little zinger in there. We put a little mustard on it. That's when it gets fun."
What can I say but "duh?" That's the mustard of pure womanhood! Must I call up the ghost of Freud, long-dead, in discussing hot dogs? I'm happy, at least, that Ms. Courtney can express her repressed humanity on stage.
I was glad when that question was answered. Flo went through a tame period in which her somewhat-restrained enthusiasm disappeared, and I wondered whether the horrid transformation was at the behest of the actress, formalized in some new contract meant to further her career.
I'm now happy to conceptualize her appeal as the spontaneous humanity of one woman winning out over the oppression of corporate America, and thriving within its context, even. That's a turn-on! Flo is a hero that commercialized post-post-feminism could never grasp. Behold, her return to enthusiasm with full force! Lo, the sacred reference to tacos, and the rapport with a male customer:
Come on, now; that's sex! Desire is not a momentary sensation, but something to be consciously maintained. Whenever I'm stuck sitting with a TV junkie, with no excuse to run away and experience the world around me once more, I can only hope for a little redemption in the form of Flo's sexual-angelic presence.
You know, I think her retro/Bettie style is at least part of the key to her appeal. Where have all the rock-a-Betties gone, long time passing? They've all gained even more weight, and somehow they all look even more like ultra-hot Betty Rubbles. The old wisdom that people who like food also like people survives. They have kids, a husband, and fellow PTA members who pointedly glare at their tattoos within their peripheral vision. Why? Because Betties always liked men. They were one of the truly good things about conservative America in the 2000s. Sorry, though, they've all been claimed. Is a repulsive generation of Andrea Dworkins to follow? I wouldn't be at all surprised.
We lose. Insert an 8-bit, humorous end-of-game screen capture meant to help us ease our pain through humor. Try to conceal the anxiety that the Middle East knows more about sex appeal, which is absolutely vital to the continuation of humanity. In spite of the few "gurus" who have been very poorly socialized in terms of gender, and so stomp on sexual differences.
Part of the secret is that she seems available. She hasn't been claimed yet. There's still a woman out there who's looking for a man, who will not flake out after years of marriage, and who will be worth struggling through life with. Few of them may be found today. Thus empires fall.
Yes, oh anti-essentialists, cloistered in the best universities of the USA, out of touch with reality, the rest of us are looking for some support in perpetuating our kind. You're doing your job miserably.
Therefore Caligula unites with Drusilla. Thus empires fall. And historians make their reputations with bizarrely convoluted theories of your fall involving the latest axe-grinding anxieties of the personality types that are attracted to academic jobs.
I can't help but think that if Flo fully understood her own appeal, the great tremor in history centered on the USA would last longer, and would thrive longer too. If the continuation of humankind depends on sexual diplomacy, and if that art has long broken down in our culture, how could we possibly hope to limp along for many more years?
Me wanting Flo, me feeling HOT HOT HOT!
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
An Unpleasantly Generational Experience
Okay, I was introduced to this show by a couple in Phoenix, Arizona, with whom I crashed while touring the country, whose daughter's autism may have been due to their extreme hipness at the time of conception. Their living room featured a painting from the wedding, in which Mr. Husband was in full Al Jourgensen mode. Yes, they were married a while ago. More recently, Mrs. Wife, "The Greatest Punk Rocker" according to a close friend of mine, signaled the end of the relationship by physically abusing her husband. Suffering is, indeed, an integral part of life. Spouse abuse by a woman is an act far ahead of its time. Anonymity in blogging is irritating.
The show is called Yo Gabba Gabba.
It helped that the couple got rid of their daughter for a few minutes, using some pretext or other, and smoked me out.
Common wisdom would have me reject the label, "Generation X," but am I more GenX if I accept the label? After all, it comes from that fool Billy Idol's original band, which is responsible for the mind-expanding observation that even people in the Pentagon use Kleenex. Like wow man! We're all one!
So anyhow, I found myself with remote control in hand today, and I chose said show. As if it weren't bad enough that the program seems to have been formulated to appeal to GenX parents, who will instill a taste for the show in their offspring, I found myself eating (vegan) cereal out of the box while I watched it. I have been programmed, and I'm always trying to find the new Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! so that I can eat sugary cereal with a lotus-eating movement from box to mouth, inducing a deep, spiritual peace. There will never be another. It's pretty sad, particularly considering the mercenary attitudes of the "classic" show's producers.
I have not become a GenX parent, by the way, but I can feel sorry for myself about two divorces. Can you? Eh? Huh? Huh? Am I justified now?
Have I encapsulated all I feel in a concise, quick-witted, blogger's manner? Never mind, just check out the video. Note, particularly, the cyclops dildo. One-eyed. Yep.
That's right! The characters are action figures! Tell mommy or daddy to stop playing World of Warcraft long enough to order some from " the computer!" "Waste-o-Time Warcraft," the abusing spouse called it in an email to me. Zing! And who played with the slowed-down "Quiet Village" from the Pee-Wee's Playhouse intro? And while we're at it, who invited the Paul Frank monkey to the party? Hadn't that primate already enslaved a nationfull of Southern Californian minds?
As if life were not already characterized by confusion, how about a little Elijah Wood, so to speak?
I'm not sure I've made my point, but the time comes when one must let go. I'll leave you with this. Biz Markie's gonna getcha if you don't watch out!
By the way, I liked Phoenix.
The show is called Yo Gabba Gabba.
It helped that the couple got rid of their daughter for a few minutes, using some pretext or other, and smoked me out.
Common wisdom would have me reject the label, "Generation X," but am I more GenX if I accept the label? After all, it comes from that fool Billy Idol's original band, which is responsible for the mind-expanding observation that even people in the Pentagon use Kleenex. Like wow man! We're all one!
So anyhow, I found myself with remote control in hand today, and I chose said show. As if it weren't bad enough that the program seems to have been formulated to appeal to GenX parents, who will instill a taste for the show in their offspring, I found myself eating (vegan) cereal out of the box while I watched it. I have been programmed, and I'm always trying to find the new Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! so that I can eat sugary cereal with a lotus-eating movement from box to mouth, inducing a deep, spiritual peace. There will never be another. It's pretty sad, particularly considering the mercenary attitudes of the "classic" show's producers.
I have not become a GenX parent, by the way, but I can feel sorry for myself about two divorces. Can you? Eh? Huh? Huh? Am I justified now?
Have I encapsulated all I feel in a concise, quick-witted, blogger's manner? Never mind, just check out the video. Note, particularly, the cyclops dildo. One-eyed. Yep.
That's right! The characters are action figures! Tell mommy or daddy to stop playing World of Warcraft long enough to order some from " the computer!" "Waste-o-Time Warcraft," the abusing spouse called it in an email to me. Zing! And who played with the slowed-down "Quiet Village" from the Pee-Wee's Playhouse intro? And while we're at it, who invited the Paul Frank monkey to the party? Hadn't that primate already enslaved a nationfull of Southern Californian minds?
As if life were not already characterized by confusion, how about a little Elijah Wood, so to speak?
I'm not sure I've made my point, but the time comes when one must let go. I'll leave you with this. Biz Markie's gonna getcha if you don't watch out!
By the way, I liked Phoenix.
Monday, June 1, 2009
I Promise You I've Been Trying to Stay Positive
It's just so hard to search the Internet for good material when a ton of terrible crap comes up. This fiendish so-and-so, shit-smelling-face-acting and all, came from the same high school that I did. There was a whole political thing with limited parking spaces for students, and kids whose daddies could afford to get them nice cars. She probably had the best spot, which is why she was cast as a queen. Looking at this picture, my gag reflex is triggered. I really can't explain it, but I wonder whether Jehovah personally threw a couple of airplanes at the Twin Towers, knowing that we were harboring a Natalie Portman somewhere.
It sounds like class hatred, I know, but there's a universal quality I can't explain easily. Let's just say it fits into a historical perspective that would be very boring in a blog about sex. My father went to prep school in the 50s, making the issue more complex than you may think. Yep, an original preppie! Do I really have to go into details? 4.53% of Earth's population consuming 1,000,000% of resources and all? Most of the Southern Hemisphere of an entire planet being a ghetto. I won't even talk about Syosset High cheerleaders! It's just too, too terrible! I am a man of delicate sensibilities after all! Ack! Gag! Choke!
It sounds like class hatred, I know, but there's a universal quality I can't explain easily. Let's just say it fits into a historical perspective that would be very boring in a blog about sex. My father went to prep school in the 50s, making the issue more complex than you may think. Yep, an original preppie! Do I really have to go into details? 4.53% of Earth's population consuming 1,000,000% of resources and all? Most of the Southern Hemisphere of an entire planet being a ghetto. I won't even talk about Syosset High cheerleaders! It's just too, too terrible! I am a man of delicate sensibilities after all! Ack! Gag! Choke!
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Among the USA's Finest
"From 1996 to 2001, these individuals participated in a cell of approximately 20 individuals that were known as the 'Family.' They conducted a range of criminal actions through the western United States in the name of the Animal Liberation Front and the Environmental Liberation Front. Their criminal actions included vandalism, animal releases, arsons and attempted arsons across Oregon, Washington, California, Idaho, Wyoming, and Colorado. Specifically, this cell was responsible for at least 25 domestic terrorism criminal actions totaling over $48 million in damages, including the largest eco-related arson in history, which was a $26 million arson at the Vail Ski Resort in Vail, Colorado. Additionally, the cell committed the only Y2K action in the U.S. when several members sabotaged a high voltage tower outside Bend, Oregon...
"With increased law enforcement pressure associated with this investigation and grand jury evidence, the cell was dismantled in 2001 and the remaining members dispersed. However, until they are apprehended, their potential for additional domestic terrorism action and destruction remains. Any way you look at it, these individuals are considered as terrorists. Regardless of their political or social message, their actions were criminal and they violated federal laws."
-Michael B. Ward, Deputy Assistant Director, Counterterrorism Division, FBI
Now I'm certainly not the type of person to do anything like these people did, but, considering the helplessness of individuals before the power of huge corporations, made worse by the backing of our own government, they seem like heroes to me. They took great risks and broke laws in order to be heard; their acts of destruction are nothing compared to the torture of an unimaginably great number of animals every day, or the rapid razing of great tracts of ancient forest for momentary profit.
Am I the only one who's disturbed by the fact that the FBI cites losses of money as justification to hunt these people? So the US government is the guardian of the profits of private interests? We can never get lobbying out of Washington, can we? Voters don't seem to be their representatives' main concern, so businesses can depend on the government to protect them from us more than we can depend on the reverse.
I don't want to sound paranoid, but am I causing trouble for myself just for posting this? Well the FBI can read my emails if they like. They'll have to suffer through my recent tendency to complain to my friends and feel sorry for myself, which is perhaps punishment enough for invading my privacy!
Although we're ostensibly protected from abuses by law enforcement, they happen every day. No harassment please! I'm just some guy blogging at a computer, people!
Am I the only one who's disturbed by the fact that the FBI cites losses of money as justification to hunt these people? So the US government is the guardian of the profits of private interests? We can never get lobbying out of Washington, can we? Voters don't seem to be their representatives' main concern, so businesses can depend on the government to protect them from us more than we can depend on the reverse.
I don't want to sound paranoid, but am I causing trouble for myself just for posting this? Well the FBI can read my emails if they like. They'll have to suffer through my recent tendency to complain to my friends and feel sorry for myself, which is perhaps punishment enough for invading my privacy!
Although we're ostensibly protected from abuses by law enforcement, they happen every day. No harassment please! I'm just some guy blogging at a computer, people!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
A Manifesto of Sorts
Dildos! Always dildos! Why?
Quite frankly, I have no desire to see pictures of real penises, so why do I want to look at a substitute? I have one, you see! And sample this tantalizing copy: "Stella shows us how hot Winx sex can get, using one of her many dildos to drill her wet clam on her bed, while she fantasizes about having a wild gangbang lesbian orgy with the rest of her sisters and the Trix! Now that’s something we’d all love to see!"
What!? "Drill her wet clam?" Seriously? Okay, I can feel the uncontrollable urge to pay for your site rising up from deep within me! I am a slave to my instinctive urge to fumble for a credit card!
That's the problem, you know. It's money. "Interest," as the founding fathers called it. The urge to survive and to thrive. Stinky ol' greed.
Porn is ridiculous fake sex because capitalism is about man's (and woman's too, especially the more feminism earns women access to the same level of degradation as men) relationship to things, not to other people. Substitutes are offered for even the most basic and freely-accessed life experiences, forcing pilgrimages to malls that raise profits for all, or at least for a very small minority. Porn is a product.
So here and now, for the sake of my soul, at least part of which resides in my nuts, I announce my rejection of the porn fakeness!
Dildos: Nope, sorry! I won't buy photos of manufactured objects. That's doubly fake.
Silicon Implants: Evil evil evil evil evil. Any man who finds himself looking upon absurdly buoyant spheres with longing could masturbate while browsing a geometry textbook. Desiring such distortion, such brutal mutilation of natural female beauty, costs a man his soul. Breasts hang, folks, and the only problem is that you expect something else!
Lesbians: This one I can respect just a bit, as an interesting outcome of the idealization of sex, but I would definitely never endorse it. Pictures of women staring at the camera and hanging their tongues out as if they were ever going to lick anything pretty much exemplify the silliness of porn "lesbians." All the woodenness of a Mapplethorpe bondage picture with none of the art! I guess if we have alcohol-free beer and caffeine-free coffee...
My sister is a lesbian, and if I ever see her in any situation anything like the ones I've seen in porn I think I'll be an unhappy person. It may do some other men, the ones lost in the fake, commercial space of porn, some good to see the real thing though!
Money Shots: Do I have to say anything about the name? There's nothing inherently erotic about watching a man ejaculate, and particularly not when he aims his stuff at parts of a woman's body. These shots grew out of the development of porn, for the benefit of audiences bored of tedious, softcore bump-and-grind, where sometimes a limp, uninspired penis accidentally flashes into view.
And how, exactly, is it exciting to make a mess of a woman? The guy stops having sex and masturbates on her. Is he so absorbed in his own masturbatory world that this is the only way he can finish? Is she expected to lie there until the sticky stuff hardens on her, or is she supposed to go shower? Maybe it's trick to get her to leave so he can turn on the TV and avoid after-sex cuddling. Any way you look at it, it's pretty anti-erotic!
The Language: My fellow men, do you really get excited when a woman who is obviously not is called a whore? I find pictures of a sweet, middle-aged housewife, and she's called a "whore who can't get enough" or something equally preposterous. And she probably has a dildo too. Does all the silly slang drive you wild? Are you so angry at women that you need to hear her described so crudely? Would "look at this pretty girl" not do it for you? I... I just don't know what to say. Your language shapes the contents of your heart.
What the...?!: Okay, I've mentioned the ever-irritating dildo surprise. Now how about "white girls fucked mercilessly by two huge black cocks." WHAT? Who thinks about things like that? Is it delightfully shocking for members of different groups to have sex? And "shemales!" Ack! It's fine for people born that way, but why would I seek out pictures? I hope those who find hermaphrodites exciting find and marry them, and they have nice lives together. But I just don't fantasize about women with dicks. And people smeared with poop. And on and on.
What it comes down to is that real sex is much better than all this. The more extreme your fantasies get, the deeper you're falling into the porno abyss, and the more you depend on them to get excited. This makes you a lousy lover. Good lovers are deeply engaged in the immediate experience of sex. Adding role playing and all is just an enhancement, and if it becomes a desperate need, you need to get yourself into the world around you a little more.
There. It's negative, but it's something like a manifesto. Or not.
Quite frankly, I have no desire to see pictures of real penises, so why do I want to look at a substitute? I have one, you see! And sample this tantalizing copy: "Stella shows us how hot Winx sex can get, using one of her many dildos to drill her wet clam on her bed, while she fantasizes about having a wild gangbang lesbian orgy with the rest of her sisters and the Trix! Now that’s something we’d all love to see!"
What!? "Drill her wet clam?" Seriously? Okay, I can feel the uncontrollable urge to pay for your site rising up from deep within me! I am a slave to my instinctive urge to fumble for a credit card!
That's the problem, you know. It's money. "Interest," as the founding fathers called it. The urge to survive and to thrive. Stinky ol' greed.
Porn is ridiculous fake sex because capitalism is about man's (and woman's too, especially the more feminism earns women access to the same level of degradation as men) relationship to things, not to other people. Substitutes are offered for even the most basic and freely-accessed life experiences, forcing pilgrimages to malls that raise profits for all, or at least for a very small minority. Porn is a product.So here and now, for the sake of my soul, at least part of which resides in my nuts, I announce my rejection of the porn fakeness!
Dildos: Nope, sorry! I won't buy photos of manufactured objects. That's doubly fake.
Silicon Implants: Evil evil evil evil evil. Any man who finds himself looking upon absurdly buoyant spheres with longing could masturbate while browsing a geometry textbook. Desiring such distortion, such brutal mutilation of natural female beauty, costs a man his soul. Breasts hang, folks, and the only problem is that you expect something else!
Lesbians: This one I can respect just a bit, as an interesting outcome of the idealization of sex, but I would definitely never endorse it. Pictures of women staring at the camera and hanging their tongues out as if they were ever going to lick anything pretty much exemplify the silliness of porn "lesbians." All the woodenness of a Mapplethorpe bondage picture with none of the art! I guess if we have alcohol-free beer and caffeine-free coffee...
My sister is a lesbian, and if I ever see her in any situation anything like the ones I've seen in porn I think I'll be an unhappy person. It may do some other men, the ones lost in the fake, commercial space of porn, some good to see the real thing though!
Money Shots: Do I have to say anything about the name? There's nothing inherently erotic about watching a man ejaculate, and particularly not when he aims his stuff at parts of a woman's body. These shots grew out of the development of porn, for the benefit of audiences bored of tedious, softcore bump-and-grind, where sometimes a limp, uninspired penis accidentally flashes into view.
And how, exactly, is it exciting to make a mess of a woman? The guy stops having sex and masturbates on her. Is he so absorbed in his own masturbatory world that this is the only way he can finish? Is she expected to lie there until the sticky stuff hardens on her, or is she supposed to go shower? Maybe it's trick to get her to leave so he can turn on the TV and avoid after-sex cuddling. Any way you look at it, it's pretty anti-erotic!
The Language: My fellow men, do you really get excited when a woman who is obviously not is called a whore? I find pictures of a sweet, middle-aged housewife, and she's called a "whore who can't get enough" or something equally preposterous. And she probably has a dildo too. Does all the silly slang drive you wild? Are you so angry at women that you need to hear her described so crudely? Would "look at this pretty girl" not do it for you? I... I just don't know what to say. Your language shapes the contents of your heart.
What the...?!: Okay, I've mentioned the ever-irritating dildo surprise. Now how about "white girls fucked mercilessly by two huge black cocks." WHAT? Who thinks about things like that? Is it delightfully shocking for members of different groups to have sex? And "shemales!" Ack! It's fine for people born that way, but why would I seek out pictures? I hope those who find hermaphrodites exciting find and marry them, and they have nice lives together. But I just don't fantasize about women with dicks. And people smeared with poop. And on and on.
What it comes down to is that real sex is much better than all this. The more extreme your fantasies get, the deeper you're falling into the porno abyss, and the more you depend on them to get excited. This makes you a lousy lover. Good lovers are deeply engaged in the immediate experience of sex. Adding role playing and all is just an enhancement, and if it becomes a desperate need, you need to get yourself into the world around you a little more.
There. It's negative, but it's something like a manifesto. Or not.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
I'll Call Myself Undecided
These nipples look a whole lot like factory-farmed sausages, cooked using the water-in-the-bottom-of-the-pan method recommended on the back of the box, and perhaps a bit poorly done. The word "ambivalent" describes my reaction very well.
It all comes down to the personality of the woman, doesn't it? That's a pretty esoteric idea for a man, but it's true. Many men, when they say that a woman is irresistible physically, are accounting for personality without realizing it. Personality is part of the perceived black magic of women. It's a real turn on, actually!
I really couldn't tell you unless I met her and talked to her. Does that seem radical? Considering that sexual and gender politics probably determine more outcomes in life than any other determinant, I'd say... YES!
The belly button ring though... mutilation of sexually attractive parts of the body seems a little too Puritan for me. Erich Neumann's spiritualizing of the body and all, you know? Every time I'm startled by such unattractive deformity I wonder whether highly-advanced societies are pathological. It really wouldn't be surprising.
Frankly, I would rather live the life of a man who idealized the empire of the USA after it had fallen, much as my burgeoning country idolized Rome at its imperial height, than to live the actual life of a citizen in 2009. But still, as "recession" increasingly seems like a euphemism for "depression," I appreciate that I'm living in a unique, privileged historical moment.
And as for the nipples... well, she has a lovely face. I'd have to get to know her.
It all comes down to the personality of the woman, doesn't it? That's a pretty esoteric idea for a man, but it's true. Many men, when they say that a woman is irresistible physically, are accounting for personality without realizing it. Personality is part of the perceived black magic of women. It's a real turn on, actually!
I really couldn't tell you unless I met her and talked to her. Does that seem radical? Considering that sexual and gender politics probably determine more outcomes in life than any other determinant, I'd say... YES!
The belly button ring though... mutilation of sexually attractive parts of the body seems a little too Puritan for me. Erich Neumann's spiritualizing of the body and all, you know? Every time I'm startled by such unattractive deformity I wonder whether highly-advanced societies are pathological. It really wouldn't be surprising.
Frankly, I would rather live the life of a man who idealized the empire of the USA after it had fallen, much as my burgeoning country idolized Rome at its imperial height, than to live the actual life of a citizen in 2009. But still, as "recession" increasingly seems like a euphemism for "depression," I appreciate that I'm living in a unique, privileged historical moment.
And as for the nipples... well, she has a lovely face. I'd have to get to know her.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Free Free!
Okay, now it's time for a little bit of radical politics. I'm not much for destruction of private property, but Jeff "Free" Luers, as a political act, set some SUVs on fire (with no one in them, mind you) about ten years ago, and he'll be getting out of jail soon. Here's the man himself, in the most-used internet image. I'm not even sure where I found it myself:
Now this blog will probably end up being full of disclaimers about what I'm not, because people generally can't or don't want to understand interest without affiliation. However, I must state that I'm not an anarchist. I may be indulging in a bit of sexual anarchism here, a touch of Foucauldian activism, in that, although I'm making the subject even more visible, I'm defining myself more by a journey through all interests and images that suit me at the moment of posting rather than choosing an identity that's easily reduced to consumer demographics. Interest without affiliation, folks! Get it?
While I'm not an anarchist, I do recognize that anarchism can produce results. Terrorism is a pejorative term, and really, destroying commercial goods for the sake of making a political point? You mean the Boston Tea Party? A "direct action protest" only because the British lost the war that followed.
And I identify with a destroyer of large cars not only because I'm disturbed by how my country abuses the natural environment, but because I've been treated very rudely by drivers of the vehicles. Call it karma if you wish, but it seems that the possession of such large vehicles with such powerful engines has a negative impact on many drivers. They are like kings and queens on huge, moving thrones, and yet they're just average people. Many do not cope well, and become impatient, arrogant, and aggressive.
SUVs and other large cars symbolize, to me, a corruption of humanity as well as the environment.
So I've sent a little donation via this site, and I'm getting a nice t-shirt that advertises it. Jeff Luers will be released in December, 2009, so, after reading a little about him on Wikipedia and the site run by his parents, you may feel moved to make a little donation yourself. Help the fellow adjust to the outside world again, and encourage him to get involved in some activism, won't you? It only takes a few minutes and a few dollars to make a difference!
Oops, I went a little hypertext crazy in that last paragraph.
Now this blog will probably end up being full of disclaimers about what I'm not, because people generally can't or don't want to understand interest without affiliation. However, I must state that I'm not an anarchist. I may be indulging in a bit of sexual anarchism here, a touch of Foucauldian activism, in that, although I'm making the subject even more visible, I'm defining myself more by a journey through all interests and images that suit me at the moment of posting rather than choosing an identity that's easily reduced to consumer demographics. Interest without affiliation, folks! Get it?
While I'm not an anarchist, I do recognize that anarchism can produce results. Terrorism is a pejorative term, and really, destroying commercial goods for the sake of making a political point? You mean the Boston Tea Party? A "direct action protest" only because the British lost the war that followed.
And I identify with a destroyer of large cars not only because I'm disturbed by how my country abuses the natural environment, but because I've been treated very rudely by drivers of the vehicles. Call it karma if you wish, but it seems that the possession of such large vehicles with such powerful engines has a negative impact on many drivers. They are like kings and queens on huge, moving thrones, and yet they're just average people. Many do not cope well, and become impatient, arrogant, and aggressive.
SUVs and other large cars symbolize, to me, a corruption of humanity as well as the environment.
So I've sent a little donation via this site, and I'm getting a nice t-shirt that advertises it. Jeff Luers will be released in December, 2009, so, after reading a little about him on Wikipedia and the site run by his parents, you may feel moved to make a little donation yourself. Help the fellow adjust to the outside world again, and encourage him to get involved in some activism, won't you? It only takes a few minutes and a few dollars to make a difference!
Oops, I went a little hypertext crazy in that last paragraph.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Foucalult, Rant, and Other Words in a Title that Turn a Reader Off
Okay, it seems to me that an intelligent blog writer with any sort of intention other than to indulge in the reflections that get lost in life's daily processes will be haunted by the specter of the "successful" blogger. I'm sure that Google submissions, using cannily-chosen permutations of search terms, will yield a depressing perspective on self-conscious blog posts about posting on blogs. These writers are the sycophants in the courts of communication technology.
Having explored many blogs, I've learned something important, something horrifying about humanity: most "exceptional" people say the same damn shit when given a free forum. "Free," I say, evoking the concept of freedom's first corruption in the USA: capitalism. This mess came over here with the fucking Puritans, perhaps seeking religious freedom as a pretext, justifying the little fish's desire to jump into an even smaller pond. Soon two-atom beings will seek one-atom ponds.
Free of charge. Equal to the freedom to choose one's leaders of course! Ha ha! Damn straight! I'll shoot your somewhat-imperfectly-washed asshole with a Remington I-Saw-It-In-A-Movie, you Osama-worshiper, if you suggest that opinions require reflection!
Uh oh! Too many quotation marks already, alienating to the reader who's eager to support the motetization of debilitating crap! A groveling spoiler! Elitism at its worst! And about those hyphens? Doomed to death row and an eternity of expensive appeals!
Foucault. Calling the subject into question. Lately passed into obscurity because of the fact that all philosophy justifies someone's job, Structure-of-Scientific-Revolutions style. But, you know, even though genomes drive some unfortunates to seek glorious reputations, we should really not judge the quality of ideas.
Mr Foucault, dead of AIDS before some lE3eEt readers were born into mommyless existences, had a good point. One should not listen to sixteen-year-olds in the democratic processes of the Internet. Those who troll YouTube in search of specimens even more wretched than they are should be thrown on the tracks before the trains that work 24 hours a day to carry coal from Wyoming to wherever we need electricity to do our blogging. Why do we put sentimental, kind-hearted terrorists in Guantanamo Bay when these perpetrators of the worst crimes of humanity are allowed to crush souls via their parents' old computers in their tract-home cloisters? In spite of Karl Marx's overwhelming failings, I can't help but want to search his writings for some explanations.
The danger of the rant, at least for me, is that a person will get locked into particulars. Have I mentioned what Michel Foucault said, and how it affects my own perspective? Not at all. It's not my fault, though, it's Andrea Dworkin's. Her neglect-stench has debilitated me, and stolen from me the capacity for reason. It's this same stinky stank that forced Eve to take the unidentified fruit. Let's start a group to counter its ill effects! If nothing else, it's this that forced an unwilling right-wing backlash.
Do not get trapped in the rant!
Michel Foucault asserted that nature and common sense are merely cultural constructs. There is a division between sex and gender, and sex crosses much more into the realm of personality than those with a vested interest in their own emotional pressures, universalizing them as the political interests of a sex, would allow us to admit. Lobbying is very powerful.
Yet, a great deal of what we identify in ourselves...
Wait a minute! This post is less concise than the blogs on blogging will allow! If I hope to make a living I had better invest great amounts of money in books telling me how the innovators of 10,000 years ago did it! Sell plant-eating to dinosaurs! I had better lick yellow shit off the shoes of those who gain momentary attention!
Whew, that was close! I almost felt like a living being for a second! I must go buy McDonald's in order to redeem myself. Or maybe I'll be rebellious and buy Wendy's. It's waaaaay better than fast food, after all!
Having explored many blogs, I've learned something important, something horrifying about humanity: most "exceptional" people say the same damn shit when given a free forum. "Free," I say, evoking the concept of freedom's first corruption in the USA: capitalism. This mess came over here with the fucking Puritans, perhaps seeking religious freedom as a pretext, justifying the little fish's desire to jump into an even smaller pond. Soon two-atom beings will seek one-atom ponds.
Free of charge. Equal to the freedom to choose one's leaders of course! Ha ha! Damn straight! I'll shoot your somewhat-imperfectly-washed asshole with a Remington I-Saw-It-In-A-Movie, you Osama-worshiper, if you suggest that opinions require reflection!
Uh oh! Too many quotation marks already, alienating to the reader who's eager to support the motetization of debilitating crap! A groveling spoiler! Elitism at its worst! And about those hyphens? Doomed to death row and an eternity of expensive appeals!
Foucault. Calling the subject into question. Lately passed into obscurity because of the fact that all philosophy justifies someone's job, Structure-of-Scientific-Revolutions style. But, you know, even though genomes drive some unfortunates to seek glorious reputations, we should really not judge the quality of ideas.
Mr Foucault, dead of AIDS before some lE3eEt readers were born into mommyless existences, had a good point. One should not listen to sixteen-year-olds in the democratic processes of the Internet. Those who troll YouTube in search of specimens even more wretched than they are should be thrown on the tracks before the trains that work 24 hours a day to carry coal from Wyoming to wherever we need electricity to do our blogging. Why do we put sentimental, kind-hearted terrorists in Guantanamo Bay when these perpetrators of the worst crimes of humanity are allowed to crush souls via their parents' old computers in their tract-home cloisters? In spite of Karl Marx's overwhelming failings, I can't help but want to search his writings for some explanations.
The danger of the rant, at least for me, is that a person will get locked into particulars. Have I mentioned what Michel Foucault said, and how it affects my own perspective? Not at all. It's not my fault, though, it's Andrea Dworkin's. Her neglect-stench has debilitated me, and stolen from me the capacity for reason. It's this same stinky stank that forced Eve to take the unidentified fruit. Let's start a group to counter its ill effects! If nothing else, it's this that forced an unwilling right-wing backlash.
Do not get trapped in the rant!
Michel Foucault asserted that nature and common sense are merely cultural constructs. There is a division between sex and gender, and sex crosses much more into the realm of personality than those with a vested interest in their own emotional pressures, universalizing them as the political interests of a sex, would allow us to admit. Lobbying is very powerful.
Yet, a great deal of what we identify in ourselves...
Wait a minute! This post is less concise than the blogs on blogging will allow! If I hope to make a living I had better invest great amounts of money in books telling me how the innovators of 10,000 years ago did it! Sell plant-eating to dinosaurs! I had better lick yellow shit off the shoes of those who gain momentary attention!
Whew, that was close! I almost felt like a living being for a second! I must go buy McDonald's in order to redeem myself. Or maybe I'll be rebellious and buy Wendy's. It's waaaaay better than fast food, after all!
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Just What is It That Makes Porn So Stupid?
Okay, I'll confess that I grew up on porn, specifically of the softcore variety. I fiddled with knobs in order to get the Playboy channel, and sat patiently through uninspired, chopped-up hardcore movies, waiting for the one scene that would stir up the feelings that a precocious child is doomed to struggle to understand, at least in a prudish society. The few boring shots that could be used were always looped three times, so I knew I was doomed to talk back to the screen until I was handed a shred of passion to work with. You may have guessed that I developed a very critical perspective on porn.
I had access to the excellent UVA library a few years ago (a long story involving an ex wife; forget it), and me being me, I read anything I could about sexuality. I got very used to hearing about Foucault in the first few pages. It was particularly interesting to read that, because pornography is a business, it tries to appeal to as many customers as possible, so it tends to include as much as possible. Apparently, I was not the only one who felt that the pornographic experience is primarily one of patient watching and boredom, hoping that my number will be drawn in the demographic lottery once more. But that's not my complaint.
When I feel that my life desperately needs an infusion of humanity, I sometimes do a Google image search for some naughty topic or other. I like to create the illusion that some dark and forbidden corner of the human psyche has not yet been commercialized. I mean, consider: the past demand for "news" on Michael Jackson's case even intensified the commercialization of illegal desires. Television was trying to compete with the relative freedom of the internet. Try as you may, those frightening freaks are still exchanging pictures somewhere, thereby justifying a lot of superfluous and expensive FBI jobs. Pandering to the worry inherent in modern life also serves to increase government power. Sometimes, the evening news suggests "your children are at risk" in every other story, gaining the government's imprimatur. And family values seemed so good. C'mon, I like social stability as much as anyone who has to deal with daily experience.
Invariably, I find that whatever I've been looking for has been mixed up with pseudo-lesbians, dildos, and other nonsense that I see no need for at all. What a great, steaming load of idiotic, commercialized crap. The subject has been made very visible, to be Foucauldian about it. It sucks, to be very Beavis and Butthead about it.
Men whose desires have been invested in breast implants have sold their deepest parts for a few quick thrills.
My life has involved a quest from sex as ideal to sex as a very intense reality. Frankly, it's better to experience the burst of passion first-hand than to try to impose ideals on reality. The second option is just like using a woman as a souped-up right hand. I'm well past the epiphany stage, and so perversity is a useful tool.
My point is that many men never get to that stage. They'd rather accept the capitalist product, a safe and emasculating replacement. President TR was the poster child for such wretchedness. Capitalism, after all, substitutes the relationship of people to things for the relationship of people to people. Men's desires have been sold to the plastic surgeons who mutilate women's bodies to create the illusion that breasts don't hang. They do hang, and it's impossibly sexy. Nothing could be hotter than a non-objectified woman, than her personality over her body. As Thomas Kuhn would possibly have us understand, though, a lot of people's careers depend on our never realizing that.
Viva la Revolucion!
I had access to the excellent UVA library a few years ago (a long story involving an ex wife; forget it), and me being me, I read anything I could about sexuality. I got very used to hearing about Foucault in the first few pages. It was particularly interesting to read that, because pornography is a business, it tries to appeal to as many customers as possible, so it tends to include as much as possible. Apparently, I was not the only one who felt that the pornographic experience is primarily one of patient watching and boredom, hoping that my number will be drawn in the demographic lottery once more. But that's not my complaint.
When I feel that my life desperately needs an infusion of humanity, I sometimes do a Google image search for some naughty topic or other. I like to create the illusion that some dark and forbidden corner of the human psyche has not yet been commercialized. I mean, consider: the past demand for "news" on Michael Jackson's case even intensified the commercialization of illegal desires. Television was trying to compete with the relative freedom of the internet. Try as you may, those frightening freaks are still exchanging pictures somewhere, thereby justifying a lot of superfluous and expensive FBI jobs. Pandering to the worry inherent in modern life also serves to increase government power. Sometimes, the evening news suggests "your children are at risk" in every other story, gaining the government's imprimatur. And family values seemed so good. C'mon, I like social stability as much as anyone who has to deal with daily experience.
Invariably, I find that whatever I've been looking for has been mixed up with pseudo-lesbians, dildos, and other nonsense that I see no need for at all. What a great, steaming load of idiotic, commercialized crap. The subject has been made very visible, to be Foucauldian about it. It sucks, to be very Beavis and Butthead about it.
Men whose desires have been invested in breast implants have sold their deepest parts for a few quick thrills.
My life has involved a quest from sex as ideal to sex as a very intense reality. Frankly, it's better to experience the burst of passion first-hand than to try to impose ideals on reality. The second option is just like using a woman as a souped-up right hand. I'm well past the epiphany stage, and so perversity is a useful tool.
My point is that many men never get to that stage. They'd rather accept the capitalist product, a safe and emasculating replacement. President TR was the poster child for such wretchedness. Capitalism, after all, substitutes the relationship of people to things for the relationship of people to people. Men's desires have been sold to the plastic surgeons who mutilate women's bodies to create the illusion that breasts don't hang. They do hang, and it's impossibly sexy. Nothing could be hotter than a non-objectified woman, than her personality over her body. As Thomas Kuhn would possibly have us understand, though, a lot of people's careers depend on our never realizing that.
Viva la Revolucion!
Saturday, May 9, 2009
@&#%!! Cat
I try to keep all I do online pretty positive, but I'm in such a rotten mood I can barely catch my breath.
I don't usually lose my temper, and when I do it's a very controlled release, but I have to try hard to keep it back now, because a little cutesy-pie fuzzykins is filling me with feelings I've never really wanted to have.
I won't go into details, but I've found myself in a living arrangement in which I have to share a bedroom with a cat. This is for her own protection because there's a half-pit(bull, I refuse to talk like a pet person) in the house, which can become a murderous cutesy-pie at the sight of smaller, more helpless, weak, and vulnerable cutesy-pies. Delightful. So the poor cat is in prison for a good part of the day, and I share her cell at night. If the cat were mine, I would give her away so she could enjoy a little more freedom.
Yes I'm a compassionate person, so I try to ease the pains of the poor beast's life sentence, but somehow, along the way, she started looking at me as Mommy Cat. You know, imprinting, like the non-anthropomorphic, newly-hatched chicks that follow the anthropomorphic animal in countless cartoons? She seems to look at me as her benefactor, her mommy.
I don't want to be #$@&%!! mommy to a %*#@$?! cutesy-pie fuzzykins! #%?@!$!!!! $#@%&*!!!!!
I feel for this beast but I don't want to play mommy. It seems sick to me that we breed lions and tigers to be small and dependent on us, acting like kittens all their lives. It's disgusting!
I may be 41, but I still like sex. Not compulsively. I'd like to believe that it's still a part of my life. I'm a man, and I value certain things over certain other things.
&^%$#$@!!!!! pets and children are the opposite of sex! I don't want to cuddle anything with more than two tits!!!
%&*@!#^!!!
I'd rather save my energy for a future girlfriend and possible prospective wife. At least humans can give back a little.
I want to be kind to the @$%^&! animal but then I want to destroy! It drives me insane when she follows me around and stares at me. I'm always repressing my irritation, and repression is very much against my nature. She rewarded my efforts earlier by having a hairball before sunrise when I needed to sleep off yesterday's ten hours of work. @#$%^&*!
This is going to kill me.
Ahem. Okay, that's the first time I ever lost my temper online. Pardon me. I'll go get a diet energy drink, wander the internet for funny cartoon porn, and maybe settle down a bit.
I don't usually lose my temper, and when I do it's a very controlled release, but I have to try hard to keep it back now, because a little cutesy-pie fuzzykins is filling me with feelings I've never really wanted to have.
I won't go into details, but I've found myself in a living arrangement in which I have to share a bedroom with a cat. This is for her own protection because there's a half-pit(bull, I refuse to talk like a pet person) in the house, which can become a murderous cutesy-pie at the sight of smaller, more helpless, weak, and vulnerable cutesy-pies. Delightful. So the poor cat is in prison for a good part of the day, and I share her cell at night. If the cat were mine, I would give her away so she could enjoy a little more freedom.
Yes I'm a compassionate person, so I try to ease the pains of the poor beast's life sentence, but somehow, along the way, she started looking at me as Mommy Cat. You know, imprinting, like the non-anthropomorphic, newly-hatched chicks that follow the anthropomorphic animal in countless cartoons? She seems to look at me as her benefactor, her mommy.
I don't want to be #$@&%!! mommy to a %*#@$?! cutesy-pie fuzzykins! #%?@!$!!!! $#@%&*!!!!!
I feel for this beast but I don't want to play mommy. It seems sick to me that we breed lions and tigers to be small and dependent on us, acting like kittens all their lives. It's disgusting!
I may be 41, but I still like sex. Not compulsively. I'd like to believe that it's still a part of my life. I'm a man, and I value certain things over certain other things.
&^%$#$@!!!!! pets and children are the opposite of sex! I don't want to cuddle anything with more than two tits!!!
%&*@!#^!!!
I'd rather save my energy for a future girlfriend and possible prospective wife. At least humans can give back a little.
I want to be kind to the @$%^&! animal but then I want to destroy! It drives me insane when she follows me around and stares at me. I'm always repressing my irritation, and repression is very much against my nature. She rewarded my efforts earlier by having a hairball before sunrise when I needed to sleep off yesterday's ten hours of work. @#$%^&*!
This is going to kill me.
Ahem. Okay, that's the first time I ever lost my temper online. Pardon me. I'll go get a diet energy drink, wander the internet for funny cartoon porn, and maybe settle down a bit.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
