Unpleasant Truths

You know why I'm depressed.

I'm depressed because my pussy hair extends well past my inner thigh. 

And I'm too embarrassed to go to a waxing place because I know those girls are going to talk. Those Korean Filipino grandmas are going to have to pull someone aside because I can't imagine they have to deal with this amount of pussy hair extending into the asshole.  I would use this opportunity to bond with the ho nobody likes. So I guess in a way, it might be paying it forward to get my down under yeti coat ripped off by a stranger. 

Yeah and my asshole is just... it's a fucking thorn bush. I question my validity as a woman whenever I have to deal firsthand with the permanent forest of ass-hairs. 

Worse- WORSE is trying to tend to it. I try to remedy the situation. I'm a problem solver. I'm a doer. I can use a razor because I'm not insane and morbidly suicidal; I'd rather die with nothing in my system and looking fucking beautiful than with a bloody, half shaved asshole sprawled in the shower. But imagine after the first day, or few hours depending on how you do you, that a magic carpet of velcro springs between your tender asscheeks. Imagine. Imagine wearing a thong with some tight jeans. When it's 90 degrees. In New Orleans. 

It's very hard, VERY hard to get excited about a guy admiring your ultra feminine butthole when it feels like learning disabled bees tried to sting you between the cheeks. 

Adding insult to injury is the fact that I just don't think my asshole is ever going to be good enough to accommodate a cock. No manner how good you suck a dick, you end up being a reflection of wether or not your asshole can take a pounding. And honestly, It makes me kind of angry to think that you're just entitled to mine or any girl's asshole because it's the 21st century. 

Like you're going to make me fake my way to sleep and then you demand entry to my asshole? Really?

If you can make me cum so hard SO HARD that I am legally braindead for 15 seconds, save your load for that 15 seconds. To fertilize my asshole with your seed. So I can give birth to a Kardashian. 

Valentine

When my love was a weapon

I led my heart to it's death;

I left my home in ruins.



Tomorrow's sun

will waste its light

on the shadow of an empire.

nightmare

Sleeping panic

in the throes of a bad dream

in the kitchen

he deceives me

I believe him

staring out the window

past the green leaves

the smeared white sky

playing memories

I can't see

from the corner of my eyes

begging for his body

beside me

 I tremble

before the dawn.

Detective Story: Mr.Carmichael

Detective: Thank you for agreeing to meet with us Mr.Carmichael. Any information concerning the recent string of murders is appreciated.

Mr.Carmichael: Oh no, it's really no trouble. Anything to help you get that devious bastard behind bars Detective.

Detective: It's men like you that keep me from giving up and kissing my wife at night.

Mr.Carmichael: Um... okay thanks...

Decetive: I mean it Mr.Carmichael. Nights where I just want to blow my loaded gun like big felonious cock, I think about a man like you holding me in his strong, oiled arms. Kissing the tops of my earlobes... gently...

MC: Detective?

Detective: Oh those nights... those summer nights...It gets me so sentimental Mr.Carmichael. You have no idea.

MC: No.. No I do not- but back to the case-

D: Of course! (shapes up and gets serious) Now, you said you have some new information regarding the latest crime scene details?

MC: Well... it's not new information so much as... um... so much as a mistake.

D:A mistake?

MC: Yeah um... look I know this guy is a ruthless killer.

D: Yes. A deviant of the most obscene proportions.

MC: Yes but... a genius. A misunderstood genius

D: Genius of baby dicks I'll tell you that much.

MC: Baby d- What- How... why would you say that? I mean not that I care. He's a piece of shit, that guy. But that doesn't mean he's not... you know... well endowed.

D: Oh Mr. Carmichael, we've been working in close contact with some of the finest criminal profilers the FBI has to offer. There have been decades upon decades of research on the matter.

Mc: On what?

D: On the baby dick correlation. Official name, Dahmernious Dongitis. There's enough been a sensational amount of research concerning the button-nose cock and serial murders. Now, that doesn't NECESSARILY prove causation. But it doesn't take a rocket scientist to raise his eyebrows and wonder...

MC: That... I mean how could- what even is the average?

D: Oh it's a hard 5. Thank god right?! Just barely made the cut Ha HA!

MC: Yeah but... the girth is probably... skewed by porn stars and the guys from Entourage

D: Nope..Nope... girth is about a standard kosher dill. Aim the bar low and make women think they have a broken clitoris- God bless the census.

MC: Okay but you can't... how did he kill all those girls then? You guys.. you guys said on that cause of death was penile suffocation. That's... I mean I would think to do that the guy must be pretty well endowed.

D: Oh but that's just the the thing we said for the press. We knew he'd probably want to write us a letter if we built up his ego. Between you and me, our coroner measured the trajectory of the cum and it didn't even hit the back molar.

MC: But it was penile suffocation.

D: Well... it was death by dildo. So we fudged a little bit. Gotta get the guy to come out of the woodwork ya know?

MC: So um that actually brings me to what I came here to talk to you about...

D: There's a second dildo? I knew it- I KNEW IT!

MC: No no, but I was thinking suppose... suppose that dildo was oh.. I don't know... on loan.

D: What do you mean?

MC: I mean... supposing the killer had maybe borrowed it from someone and offered up some form of collateral...

D: So you're saying the dildo doesn't belong to the killer?

MC: Oh I have no way of knowing but suppose... suppose maybe he borrowed it from his brother-in-law... and maybe gave his brother-in-law some damning evidence as part of the loan.

D:Right...It's still... The killer still used it as a murder weapon though- I'm not following where you're going with this.

MC: Well it's just that by saying it was the Killers...it might you know... make the brother-in-law upset.

D: Well wouldn't he come forward?

MC: Right... that's the logic of it. But suppose that this made the brother-in-law so mad that he was threatening to kill the killer.

D: Why would he do that?

MC: Chuck's got kind of a temper.

D: I'm sorry... come again? How do you know his name?

MC: Oh no! No no I don't at all. No.. I uh... I call guys I don't know Chuck.. it's my kind of my thing.

D: Okay... so you think we're gonna get our killer killed before we get a chance to see him virulently ass-raped in prison huh?

MC: That's... not everyone gets ass-raped in prison. But yeah, I just.. I don't want all the hard work you guys have put into it to go without proper acknowledgment. I would hate to see some guy get all the credit while the real heroes have to haul him away. The media would have a field day.

D: The media? But the media never skews the truth!

MC: Policeman murders serial killer-killer hero.

D: I don't think...

MC: He's black.

D: Fuck. Okay...okay but Mr.Carmichael...how can we prevent this from happening??

MC: Look... you trust me right?

D: Trust you? I'd MARRY you.

MC: Right-wait what?

D: I'd marry you... to the law. And make you captain of justice. (adjusts himself)

MC: Okay... look anyway, I was going to suggest that maybe... maybe I can kind of sneak it back onto the crime scene... My apartment is right below.

D: I'm not following...

MC: Look just give me the dildo. Tell them there was a robbery. I'll put it back were it came from, Chuck will pick it up and I- The killer will be yours to capture. But don't... uh.. don't wait for him. Let him commit a few more murders for... evidence.

D: Mr.Carmichael?

MC: Detective?

D: You must be tired.

MC: Oh... uh.. no?

D: Because you've been running around my mind all day.

MC: Can I go?

D: Yes you magnificent angel. But take this before you go.

MC: Is this... Did you just... did you just pull that out of yourself?

D: Some things are better left a mystery Mr. Carmichael.

Skeleton Argument: Guns

***A skeleton argument is an argument that is a little bit more prosaic and poetic than an outline but not fully formed, not quite fleshed-out if you will (!!!).

More than ever we need gun control.

The more narcissism runs rampant, the more unstable people are going to take bad days personally. And the more we strive to feel fulfilled by projecting our unattainable selves everywhere we go, in every insipid moment, the more hollow we become. The more hollow we become, the less we begin to think of one another.

If you weren't raised to question yourself alongside authority, you'll find yourself believing the childish truth that your moods define what's right and wrong for the world. You'll take it upon yourself to decide that your actions are more valuable than the fate of others.

Or... you'll wonder why the paradox of isolation goes out of its way to plague you, despite the hyper-connectivity of social media. How is it possible to feel so strange and alone or washed out and ignored when you see everybody else's life unfold before your screen while yours unravels. You marvel at the polished perfect BLESSED to BITS,friends in the past using humility to feed off your envy.

You'll feel like you're drowning in an inconspicuous vacuum of everybody else's moments. Panic and rage will set in and you'll find no reason to live beyond making people pay for the way you feel every single minute of every single day you had to become an adult.

But as tragedy becomes commonplace, you'll be a statistic and not a murderous martyr, no inspired strangers and their newborns mourning the loss of your broken soul. You're just a delusional, boring, and angry man.

Dangerous Spaces

What a fantastic youth!

I've never been nearly witness to a generation that is as socially enlightened, open-minded, and fiercely protective of every and all human rights. I say nearly witness because I'm an internet hermit, and I seldom witness anything firsthand anymore. 

It's necessary to proliferate ideas that seldom have a chance to heard. I won't disagree with that. There are an enormous amount of people who have suffered in silence. We have so many communicative opportunities afforded to us by a variety of mediums and it's important to have these channels utilized by people who were unable to speak in the past. Those in power, those who crafted society for their sole benefit, cannot silence the outcries of injustice with the ease with which they once did. We are able to access new views to further our worldly perspective. This is a beautiful thing. 

But I think that things can get a little dangerous when we begin to take personal offense to information. When we begin responding to facts at a visceral and emotional level, we run the risk of atrophying our abilities to effectively defend our viewpoints. When we begin to indulge our narcissism as an unequivocal right, imposing vengeance to assuage our wounded egos, we begin to silence avenues of intellectual and emotional growth. And I think that safe spaces won't change the fact that the world will always be a perilous place. Knowledge is our greatest defense, even if this is knowledge that disgusts us or enrages us. 

I firmly believe that everybody is entitled to their opinion. I also firmly believe that nobody is entitled to force-feed their opinions to their opponents merely because we feel threatened by the absolute contradiction of our beliefs. 

We shouldn't shit on people merely because they disagree. And I will be the very first to admit that this is INCREDIBLY difficult. I am guilty of disliking something because it's the total opposite of something I feel emotionally and personally bound to. 

I would like to stress that I am writing this as nothing more and nothing less than you. I am writing this because I have had the luxury of months of free time to think and observe society from a point of unexpected isolation. And I have had time to analyze my own visceral reaction to the phenomenon of safe spaces and using P.C. as a linguistic means to an end. 

Before you start ripping me to shreds, which you may at this point, know that it will only give fodder to my self-indulgent martyrdom.I am not trying to defend hate speech nor am I trying to trivialize the experiences of those who have been the target of violence and hate due to their respective beliefs, race, sexual or gender orientation.

 Nor am I saying that the only way to identify with and defend groups who have been marginalized is to have been a firsthand victim of injustice. There are people who haven't experienced the hardships of life who take it upon themselves to defend those who have been left behind by the good nature of men. These people sacrifice themselves and their comforts because they have such a strong sense of altruistic conviction that it cannot be ignored or they have been financially blessed to the point of guilt and have seen past the addiction to greed in order to offer some type of monetary relief to those less fortunate. 

I am not talking about philanthropists and school teachers, public defenders or social workers unseen and living meager, unfortunate enough to understanding the futility of their constant fight. Not in the sense of personal reward or altruistic reward, but in the sense of the bigger picture, swimming upstream against a bureaucratic current that benefits the ones already favored by fortune. These are a different breed of people, and these people are an increasing rarity in a world that caters to the profits of narcissism. 

I am talking about the students who have been given every advantage in life. Students who have managed to skirt any inconvenience and were spoiled by the entitlement bestowed upon them by enlightened and frightened parents, terrified that trauma of birth would prevent them from wholly realizing the potential of their self-esteem. Atoms preferred by the chaos of the universe, more worthy than any other in existence.

I mean the students who feel safe rather than incredibly infantilized by toys and nursery rhymes when their lectures take a darker turn. The students who scream and accuse professors of bigotry for merely mentioning the presence of racism in American History. Students who sign up for classes only to be hurt by the content, bewildered that their specific sensitivities have not been taken into consideration on the syllabus. 

Now, if a student were forced to attend an outrageously bigoted and uproariously pious university, I could understand a need for a safe space away from judgement and sexual orientation reeducation courses. But these are not the students that are demanding asylum from unpleasant ideas. 

These are students who have the privilege to receive the highest standard of education. And I believe that this isn't a symptom of societal rebellion but narcissism run rampant. 

These people have taken knowledge and studies to be true so long as they not only align with their beliefs but with their exact emotions. Appropriating suffering to reflect their own minute experience. 

We must have opposite viewpoints in order to strengthen our own with reason. We have always thought our liberal and progressive views to be ( for the sake of argument) the correct views because these were views based in a humanitarian reason, balanced by weighing perspectives of others, grounded in the belief that all human life is equal regardless of religion, sex, race, or disability. 

And we laugh at bigoted views because they demonstrate inflammatory ignorance, views based on feelings and brainwashed ideologies that do not seek science or logic to defend themselves but the name of God or some other tradition. Out-dated views that cherished punishment as our first form of entertainment. 

But attacking institutions of knowledge and professors dedicated to academics and the proliferation of education employs the same tactics we should be critical of. Instead of finding a means to arms ourselves against things that displease us or that we find morally reprehensible, we attack them in the name of the Other to disguise our egotistical indulgence. Simply reciting works of art that are controversial becomes an act of hate, silencing all and any viewpoints. Worse still is attacking an individual and reducing them to something less than human because we don't agree with them or find them to be hideously misinformed with no hope of retribution. I know it can be tempting, but if you are one to champion the equal value of human life, you cannot disregard your consideration the racists, perverts, and murderers. Otherwise, concede to your moral paradoxes. 

When we don't even want to acknowledge the existence of the opposition to our beliefs, we cannot strengthen ourselves with sound reason against what we find to be wrong. We become marred by our self-interest and lash out without reason and respect, sinking to the levels of touchy brutes. 

We are not arming ourselves against the unpleasant truth of the world. We are not learning coping skills to deal with the reality of life. We are asking to be coddled and complacent. And there will be products and services that you will purchase because they will revere your comfort and you won't have to question their origin. You will cease to question anything and fail to realize you've been taken advantage of by the ones you rally against.