Microstick

If the President stands before the assembled Press and reports to them the very most important, sensitive, vital secrets, the revelation of which places the nation in dire peril, the Press has a duty,  a deepest, most sacred duty to NOT report that news.  Of course there will be traitors in the press to match the treachery of the politician.  But what does one man's betrayal have to do with another's patriotism?

We live in a culture where someone's profession is more important than his country.  Or, in the case of the Occupant, where his vanity is more important.  I cannot be bothered to inform myself of the specifics, but it seems the entire former plan to punish Assad has been leaked.  Didn't Chelsea Manning go to jail for less than this?

We cannot speak plainly.  It would be too painful to hear.  To be bloody, bold and resolute, to understand and embrace the fact that the nature of things is red in tooth and claw -- we must be both prudent and honest about reality.  The monstrous dictator?  Kill him.  If he hides behind his children, nevertheless, kill him.  If he hides behind the innocent, delay until he can be more prudently killed.  We, as moral beings, concern ourselves with the innocent.  We need not take care of the children of monsters.  That is the job of the monster.

Is what I'm saying inhuman?  It is pragmatic.  Reality and the natural order of things matter.  Life is not a zero-sum game, for all that the innocent will suffer.  Our Constitution does not allow for the corruption of blood -- but nature does: children suffer for the incompetence of their parents.  Too bad.  What we do not do is tell the monster the duration and intensity of our attack against him.

We have a most deeply incompetent Occupant of the White House.  We have a degenerating culture and the well-earned contempt of emboldened enemies.  They are energized by our decadence -- abortion and gay marriage and sexualized children (it's all  about sex, isn't it) -- and they will deserve the success of their conquest.  Success is earned, after all.  Nature is not moral, it is mechanistic; cause and effect.

The conscience of a weakling is worse than useless, as a moral guide.  It is questionable if such a thing even exists.  There currently occupies the Oval Office an occupant who feels his gravitas is magnified when he utters the phrase, "...and I mean it!"  He thinks he'll be taken more seriously, or seriously, when he chillingly warns, "...and I don't bluff!"  Generally?  Here.  Specifically, at second 21.  Brr.  One's blood runs cold.  This is a man who will, no lie, knock your mailbox over.

I have an occasional correspondence with a young former reader -- who now, it is clear, occasionally skims FP.  He has evolved over the years, and seems currently to be leaning a bit more left than right.  Never met him, don't know him, but I respect his sincerity.  It should be met with tenderness. He wondered how gay marriage affected me, that I should have such a clear and negative opinion on the subject.  I responded that the rightness of a thing does not depend on how it affects me. Because he was raised right, he understood the validity of that.

But he also observed that he'd never known anyone who talks as much as I do, about how big my dick is.  This is why I say he skims, rather than reads.  This misunderstanding, through his carelessness -- I won't say it disturbs me, not troubles, not disappoints or saddens -- it gives me an unease.

I am certain I've never explored the matter.  My actual dick is nobody's business; more importantly, I don't think dick-size is in itself funny. I think the mentality that thinks about dick-size is funny.  I know I've bragged about how much weight my dick can deadlift, and I may have mentioned my gigantic scrotum, and I've talked about my huge pubic bone.  I recall I've mentioned hardness, tumescence, semi's, and the like, but this is common to almost all men, regardless of what some are pleased to call "endowment." 

I appear to be obsessed with my abs and my blondness and all such callow vanities -- but, really, please.  You have no business not being in on the joke. I certainly over-reference my intelligence, with allusions to my high IQ.  But this is obvious, where, although I am tall, there's no necessary inference re my dick size.   Specifics, re mine?  Never.  Maybe with the adjective enormous, from the very on-the-nose parodic performance-art character, a monster of ego and delusion, that I sometimes allow to perform in these pages.  

Likewise he said I talk about how small Obama's dick is, and I'm equally sure I've never said it was small -- I said his IQ was bright average, and I suggested at a later date we'd delve into his dick-size.  My point?  Obama's dick is whatever it is, unremarkable, long and thin or fat, short and fat or thin, exotically curved, purple and piebald  -- it's a matter of indifference.

Obama speaks loudly, however, and carries, publicly, a very small stick -- which he has made our business, and which is worse than embarrassing.  While Obama was hastily backing away from some "red line" people kept inconveniently talking about, he tripped himself into a whip-it-out contest with Putin.  Because O is what he is, it is America that must lose.  Obama's tiny little microstick is just a pathetic double-take point-and-laugh shame.

No.  Wait.  I'm sorry.  I'm talking about balls.


J