*The Ultimate Adhesive

YT

 Baboonpalooza.

 Bruce Jenner's original plan.

 Imagine, Capri pants at this time of year.  How gauche.  

 Cheshire Cat in a mood.

Yeah. Good one.

 More proof for Evolution.

Likewise.  It's science. 

 Wait an hour after eating loaves and fishes.

 Only a flesh wound.

Like, um, am I having an idea?

 Nice boobs.  

Unbridled passion.
 (I've never understood why it's called French kissing...they're not poodles.)

 What're you lookin at?

 I believe I can fly.

 I believe I can touch the sky.

And when I finally arrive...

The yearning of my secret heart. 

J

* Suck It Up, Buttercup

YT

The great political question of the day found its most eloquent formulation as a rhetorical metaphor first made public in these very pages. “Which would you rather, eat your own poop or someone else’s puke?”

Given our increasingly and mandatorily inclusive culture, there could never be anything other than gay, exuberant celebration of those courageous extroverts who opt for or are born into that subgroup of peoplekind in which it is a genetic necessity to eat one’s own poop or the puke of another. Heaven forfend that we should be judgmental about lifestyles or states of birth. That’s a crime against peoplekind.

Alack, were the metaphor only slightly different, the solution should be obvious. It really is no unendurable thing, to swallow back a bit of your own up rising gorge. I myself am not immune or inured to the occasional bout of dry-heaves, as when I have had to clean up after animals, or accidentally visualize sundry very normal and not at all perverted paraphiliae. 

Whereas coprophagy, be it auto- or alio-, might or ought to be found in all but the newest, politically-corrected DSM editions.  The professional psychology manual for mental illness if there is any such thing, now, mental illenss. Maybe it's all just the way you're born, and you being you. You know, freedom 

Thus have I written, however, and thus it shall be. One’s own poop, another’s vomit.

 

It's like politicians.  Trump then, for us, in this metaphor, is the poop. biden is the vomit. Sadly, I will never knowingly eat poop. And I shall never vote for biden. Well, I made my choice in a previous election, and the poop was okay.

So now I will throw out all this forgoing  unassailable logic, and rearrange the premises of the implicit syllogism. “Would you rather eat your own vomit or someone else’s poop.” Ah. Now the paradox is resolved. Distasteful and disgusting though it be, puke-eating as it were has its necessities.

 

The origin of the trope, Suck it up, buttercup, is buried in obscurity. No one knows. Only theories remain to cast light in the darkness. “Suck it up, buttercup.” 

It's used to encourage someone to persevere through hardship. The best theory -- and there is no real need of a theory -- is that it originated among fighter pilots, who might at high altitude disgorge into and foul their breathing apparatus, thereby losing consciousness. It's Life or death. The Best advice would be to suck it up. The gratuitous “buttercup” explains itself.

For reasons later to be examined, a fourth Obama term is undesirable. Biden,    the b word, is a known quantity. Or rather, a null set. He's not even a vacuum, a great sucking void.  He's antimatter. Destoying everything he touches. He's not the Beast of the Apocalypse. He's it's lapdog.  

 

It's always the lesser of evils, with politicians.  Almost always. But it's very clear. Comparatively, it's not good verses evil. It's radiant visions of beatific perfection -- that is, anyone who is not biden or his ilk.  Verses a depravity so anti human that even satan would be impressed.  You know, biden and his ilk.

The election is months not years away.  Things are going to get so chaotic and perverted that even you, stupid stupid americans, who RE elected obama, and then again, with biden.  Stupid.  But even you may grow tired of walking through feces and being robbed and imprisoned --  tired enough, to vote in a NOT stupid, stupid way. 

You did this.  You did it. Buttercup.

America: God shed his grace on thee, then removed it.

 

So. Dig in. The vomit’s fine. Delicious.  Delectable, by comparison.

J

*Pornography

YT

When Ted Bundy was busy raping and murdering his victims, I was a youth in my salad days. If there was a big media celebration of his fame during his trial, I missed it -- I was out of the country. By the time I came back, he was just a tidbit of cultural literacy, and it took me, actually, a few years to figure out what exactly he’d been up to. Oh, another serial killer. Ho hum. I display a shocking indifference and lack of curiosity – almost Bush-like … almost Reagan-like – to details that don’t add something to my worldview. What, more evil and chaos? Knew about that already.

But eventually the info dribbled in, and a sort of picture was completed. Here’s what I took away from Ted Bundy. When he was a twelve year old boy, wandering down some country road or alley or some such, he chanced upon a box, filled to overflowing with glossy pornographic photos. He was a twelve year old boy. That means innocent. But he was, after all, a twelve year old boy, and no one was watching, so he did what we might expect. Stowed beneath his bed, perhaps - or in back of the garage – or in a tree. Who knows – but he would return to those images, time after time. Images of a man and a woman, having sex. How interesting. But images, also, that he cared not to look at – disturbing, disgusting, to his young eyes. Two men and a woman, or just women, or just men … or something that resembled but was not sex … or creatures other than men and women. And so on. Disturbing. Disgusting.

But time passed for young Ted, and the familiar images no longer satisfied his eyes. And he looked at those other pictures. And time passed, and those images also were not enough. And he took to the night time streets, peering into windows. Which wasn’t enough. And he entered houses. Which wasn’t enough. And he raped. Not enough. And he killed. It wasn’t enough, but it was all that was left.

It started with a box by the side of a road.

There isn’t anything more fragile, more delicate, than the sexual instinct. It is the most easily diverted of currents. What touch, what word, what look it is that sets it in a new course we cannot say. But it happens, and more and more, nowadays, what with so many words and images and touches in our society. And our interest, as children, which runs for the most part to our playmates – our same gender playmates – has to make a leap across a great and perilous divide, at a certain age. When we ourselves are become fully sexual beings, part of the maturation process is to shift some significant part of our interest away from our same-sex pals, and onto that other sex. If this shift doesn’t happen, we retain our childish interest in our own gender, but that interest now has the added dimension of sexuality.

Don’t like that theory? Well, maybe we’re just born this way.

In any case, sexual energy can be attached not just to genders, same or opposite, but to virtually anything. Leather and rubber and shoes and chains and I don’t even know what all. Not my thing. Ted Bundy fixed his on death.

Let’s shift the scene, away from America and the West, to the Middle East. I recall reading of the fourteen year old Moslem boy who wanted to be a suicide bomber because he wanted the virgins. It’s one of the really sad things I’ve heard. That poor boy. How desperate. Maybe some folks don’t know, but I do, how powerful these instincts are. In his wretched culture, the only hope he imagined he had, to vent this energy, was to murder and die. So, is Islamist culture a Ted Bundy culture? I wonder – being me – if his shaving off his pubic hair, in preparation for meeting his virgins, was really a sexual, rather than ritualistic act. Well, again, not my thing.

Again, in August of ’04, the terrorist “Mahdi Militia” gang of Muqtada Sadr took over the Imam Ali Mosque in Najaf. They got their asses handed to them for two weeks, then fled under a negotiated withdrawal. (I can say “asses,” right?) The point? As Austin Bay reminds us, Iraqi police “found pornographic magazines left by Sadr's men inside the mosque.” I can only assume that these people, these gangsters, think of themselves as the army of Allah. Even if they’re just pigs, they must think of themselves that way. Yet there they are, busy masturbating inside a most holy site of Islam. Couldn’t wait for their virgins, I guess.

We are, all of us, every one, regardless of culture - austere and repressive or permissive and profligate – subject to instinct and its passions. Some have more, some less. Some are born and some made to be eunuchs … I won’t say they’re lucky, but they must have fewer distractions. In any event, it’s something that has to be dealt with. Jesus could still the storm. We have to suffer its surges, calmly or in panic as the case may be.

A final little tale. In 1993, Westley Dodd was hanged. At various times he'd found young boys by the roadside or in parks and picked them up. Raped and murdered three of them - hanged one of them in his closet - kept polaroids, to aid his memory. Well, he finally got justice. Hanged. No cameras allowed, though. A year or so prior to his execution, I saw a Frontline documentary detailing his case. I watched it with a sort of remote horror. But I was moved during his interview by the deadness in his eyes. People who torture little boys to death have dead eyes. But I, idiot that I am, was moved so much that I sat down and wrote him a letter. Sent it to him care of the Washington State Department of Corrections. Never got a reply. But a few years after his death, I heard about his last words. He said, “I was wrong when I said there was no hope, no peace. There is hope. There is peace. I have found them both in the Lord Jesus Christ.” I wept like a baby when I heard that.

But outside the execution area reporters heard the father of two of the victims release a slow, long hiss. We weep for him, too.

The waters are muddy, you see. Somewhere the Bible assures us that though our sins are as scarlet, we shall be white as snow. White as snow? When so filthy? Dodd loved to be interviewed. Maybe it was just more pornography for him. In prison he took to writing anti-molestation pamphlets. Gee, thanks for the advice, Westley. “I believe what the Bible teaches," he told a reported toward the end. "I’ll go to Heaven. I have doubts, but I’d really like to believe that I would be able to go up to the three little boys and give them a hug and tell them how sorry I was and be able to love them with a real true love and have no desire to hurt them in any way.” How shall we take this? There's something so wrong, so creepy about that image. That he could ever touch them again. You'd think there'd be a restraining order, even in heaven. But no. Forgiveness has consequences, too. In so many ways, forgiveness is the opposite of justice.

No, the story’s not over. A few years after that, I was the guardian of a boy from Juvenile Hall. The most damaged person I’ve ever known. Upshot: in the course of some conversation, I mentioned Westley Dodd. “Oh, Westley Allen Dodd,” he said. A fan, apparently. I told him the story I’ve just related, and he was moved.

What I like to think is that, for all the evil of the world, for all that there are young boys found on roadsides by monsters, and just as there are boys who find on lonely roads boxes filled with images, and in the finding, are lost – so might there be words, mere words that carry within them enough truth and sincerity and love that their memory echoes unceasingly, sometimes soft and sometimes loud, but somehow, finally, sufficient to make a difference. I like to think that my letter reached Westley Dodd, and made a difference. I like to think that my words and everything they embodied somehow eventually made a difference to that boy that I once knew. I like to think that these words, or others in my little blog, might make a difference. But rarely can we know of such an effect. No tragedy, in not knowing. The tragedy lies in not speaking.

Eve was tempted by seeing that the fruit was good to eat. The lust of the eyes. Pictures. We are saved by the hearing of the word. The Word. It’s probably a coincidence, an artifact of my glib mind, this conflict between image and word. But the Islamists, like all of us, have the images. And we’ve seen what images do - there is no difference between us and them, in this.

They do not have the Word.

Let the terrorists be saved, and I will weep for joy. But they are not saved, and I do not weep for them. I hiss. Ah. So many tears.

J

*How to Deal with Murder Cults

YT

Mostly it's people who have no power or influence, who have all the answers.  Well, no, I guess I'm wrong.  Influencers have all the answers.  My diction is imprecise.  It's that everyone has opinions, duh, the same as everyone has nose hair.  I think everyone does.  Doesn't get talked about as much as it should.

   

What to do, what to do.  Scum, rising to the top.  It's like fermentation, rising and sinking.  The pattern of history, decadence and renewal.  So Hamas and their pro-terror protesters, enablers on campuses and the media.  

And Israel, once again, and again, with its back toward the sea.  

They did not see it coming.  Well, if you see the monsters coming, you kill them before there's a problem.  Doesn't even make the news.  So maybe Israel has been doing a fantastic job, protecting pregnant women and school children from hamas.  It's just THIS time.

Planning planning planning.  Eternal vigilance.   

My take is obvious.  Wars, security, vigilance, these are messy, like making sausage.  The most necessary step is butchering the pig. 

Same with war. They  don’t go according to plan.  FDR had a plan that didn’t work, and Churchill had a plan -- but the matter was resolved in the particular by firebombing Dresden and killing 200,000 civilians, and nuking Japan, twice. 

My take on plans, is  that we don’t open up the Bible and find all the answers in, say, Psalm 23 -- to pick a random example. Wisdom is found where it’s found, and doesn’t appear in the index. Plans are necessary, but sometimes the opposition demurs.

My take is that fighting terrorism is like fighting crime. Sometimes “society” is all for giving convicts   wifi   and sensual massages, and sometimes it’s for solitary confinement for life. It goes in cycles, and neither one is wisdom. Is prison about rehabilitation? -- about punishment? -- about warehousing undesirables? Whatever.

Same with terrorism. Define it, and work out a competent-seeming plan, but understand that one size does not fit all, and that for all the care we might put into definitions, it’s really more than one thing.

There’s that 10% on the bell curve of human aggression, that will just be vile, given any excuse. 

The islamist terrorist knows that Allah wants violence! They'll  bring it to you. These are the Holy Martyrs and great heroes  of the Lesser Jihad -- you know, the one that makes the news.  And a heroic lot they are. Takes a real man to knife open pregnant women. 

Then there are the camp followers, the blackguards, the mixed multitude, the cheering by-standers. In Islam, that’s about 89%. That the 10 percent monsters, and the 1 percent decent enlightened civilized courageous humane moslems.  

As for that core islamist 10 percent, that ten, that minyan, I’ve said it before: some people simply need to be killed. By the beneficial example of their violent demise, others are chastened. If we can kill them under color of authority, with a clear path from cause to effect, a primal instinct is addressed in the human psyche, enough to evoke   that cowardice necessary under some circumstances to survive. If you make bloody examples of the wolves, the goats will be tame. 

The tag-along quasi Hamas fanboy will reconsider his allegiance to that sect, and he will convert on the spot to something more moderate and human. This is how liberals become conservatives: they get mugged. By reality. Because there is no race that is genetically fanatical. Given a choice between clearly different outcomes, negative or positive -- it’s a focuser of the  mind. He  can blow himself up while murdering Jews, and as a result his  father also will be hunted down and killed … or, he  can live and let live.

Maybe I’m not very American in this opinion. Maybe this isn't actually a serious and deeply thought-out opinion.  But it does seem to be my opinion. For the  moment, for purposes of this discussion.

I do not want an American Empire. But the British Raj, in India, wiped out the horror of Suttee (Sati, where a widow was expected to immolate herself burn himself alive on  the funeral pyre of her dead husband).  And the British Raj wiped out the Thuggee cult of Kali (the Hinduist murder cult which at its height yearly strangled 40,000 innocents, totalling perhaps two million murders.  

A Murder cult. Like the action wing, of islamism. The islamist Allah, it seems, is Kali with external genitalia -- a death god.

Suttee and Thuggee were extreme religious practices, certainly as deeply-ingrained and as evil as anti-Semitic Hamas and its several islamist clones. The price of wiping out monstrosity is that a certain brutality must be employed.  You do not talk a demon to death. Informants, pardons and many public executions wiped out the Thugs, stranglers for Kali.  Persuasion and criminal charges eventually dampened the ardor for Suttee, widow burning.

Maybe such measures couldn’t work today, what with CNN and the NY Times running interference for hamas and Iran and nameless and unnamed ghouls that support terror.  Maybe such measures wouldn't work. But they usually work.

All sorts of things have been tried, the one that never works,  over time, is appeasement. A glib but perhaps effective idea has to do with, of course, money.  Greed and self interest might work. Oil independence, of course.  Stop paying the enemy, or the people who enable the enemy.  Money money money.     

Sort of a passive, an indirect way, to deal with terrorists.  Gently starve them of their petrodollars.  Like boiling a frog, slowly.  They wake up one morning, and find themselves only millionaires, rather than billions.  Humility, then, would be humanizing.  

I'm just making this up, though.  Very glib.  Just going with the sound of the words.   But that's what plans are … first one thing, and then another, and hardly any of them are the right one.  Turns out, we know what was wise only after the fact.  

J

*islamism Uber Alles

YT

Just another of my sententious truisms: There are five world religions. Christianity (yee-haw!), Judaism, Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism. I will brook no quibble, that Judaism and Hinduism are not world religions (Judaism seeks no converts and Hinduism is primarily a national religion, like Shinto – and if so, why exclude Confucianism?). Just shut up and play along. 

Each of these systems has had, at various periods in its history, secular power. That such power has been abused, in each instance, is beyond debate. (Buddhism? Has there never been a Buddhist army?) So what?

Come on. Which one of these things is not like the others?

Judaism and Islam have a powerful commonality. Both were, um, developed by their respective prophets, Moses and Mohammad, as theocracies – as systems of social governance. But with Judaism, the system improvised by the rabbis has long since supplanted the sacrificial plan outlined in the Torah. Okay, blahblahblah, get to the point.

Islam thinks it needs to rule the world. It was invented by a conqueror during the glory days of his expansion, and he imagined that it must always be so. Egypt was a Christian land ... conquered by Islam. Syria was a Christian land ... invaded by Islam. Asia Minor ("Turkey") was a Christian land ... taken over by Islam. 

Well, bully for Islam, of course – survival of the fittest and all that. But when the Temple of Solomon was razed and lawful sacrifice became impossible, the Jews adapted, and made a sacrifice of their good works. (Hope that works out for you, fellas.) When Islam lost its Caliphate, well, they’re planning on just getting another one.

Whenever a religion thinks it needs to be a government, nightmare follows. The Aztecs. Not so horrifying, the Puritans in Massachusetts – much more decent than ignorant opinion would have it (thanks, Mencken), but The Scarlet Letter wasn’t an entirely unfair portrait. And what’s this thing about burning women with PMS at the stake? – I think I heard something like that. 

The Roman Catholic Church – I have no problem with it, but when it thought it was a government ... well, the Inquisitio Haereticae Pravitatis Sanctum Officium did have its excesses. In the last century, Nazism and Communism exemplify the problem: absolute systems, with all the answers, which claim to know the meaning of history. Noted for an excess of enthusiasm, with regard to genocide.

Which brings us, again, to Islam. Islam needs to be a government. It divides the world into two parts, Dar al-Islam, and Dar al-Harb -- the House of Submission, and the House of War. (Hmm. Now let me ponder upon the matter ... where do I fit, in this scheme?) That Islam has been quiescent, in this essential, for the past few centuries, reflects no change in philosophy, but only its failure to master modern technology. Oil has provided a remedy to that backwardness, and now Islam is poised to regain its footing and resume its advance.

Europe was a Christian land ...  America was a Christian land.

J

*"I think never killed."

YT

We saw this almost 35 years ago.  Tiananmen Square. 1989.  A spontaneous groundswell, a great yearning for freedom. Sometimes Asians yearn to be free.

And why not? There is such a thing in the world. We have it. We are an example. A beacon.
It is our heritage.


We are an inspiration.

Because  this was so long ago, I can talk about it. Because words have meaning, and actions have consequences. Because sometimes things don't go according to plan. Sometimes life seems more important than liberty.

Hm. Why are these young men hiding from those soldiers?

A student. In the process of being beaten to death.

A grad student.

It has the rough beauty of skewed symmetry.

When the tanks start rolling.

This is a human body.

This is grief. And courage.

Between 200 and 10,000 killed. Sort of a big margin of error, but it wasn't quite yet the internet age. Well, no matter. If there's one thing the world has plenty of, it's chinamen. If they don't value their own people, why should we.

Maybe I'm young, but I'm sorta sick of all the meaningless governmental protests. We are aware of the situation.... We are concerned.... We are monitoring events.... 

We are busy calling republicans white supremacist extremists. 

Maybe ... a two state solution?

So we have the talkers.

Then we have this young man. This man.



We've seen what tank treads can do.

Let's look at him.
What's that in his hand? A clarinet case?

And this, in his right hand --
--his shopping? No, a jacket.

Let's study him. Because it's not so often that we get to see a hero. Maybe we'll learn something.

Ah. That's what heroes do. Know what he's saying? "Go away. My city is in chaos because of you. Stop killing my people."

Some claim his name is or was Wang Weilin, a student, age 19. Some reports have him as shot within weeks of this event. Some have him hiding in China or Taiwan. When asked of his fate by Barbara Walters in 1990, Jiang Zemin, CCP General Secretary -- that's like what Stalin was -- said, "I think never killed."

Anonymity swallows him like death.

Before the tanks really started to roll, the art students built a 30-foot plaster statue. The Goddess of Democracy.
She needs both hands to carry the torch. Liberty doesn't start out strong.

Those poor naive children. It was ground to powder by the tanks.

This statue, this one, 

should be on our money.

Instead, we have this

 

And this 

    

This is the latest upswelling. 

Like a boil.  Like a paracite.

Hatred.    It's only a word.

Until it's not.

J

*Solutions and Their Problems

YT

I'm not obsessing about it.  But I do wonder, comparatively speaking -- which is what being socialized is all about, other people.  It's not so much diligence as curiosity.  How does it work.  

So I looked a bit into the actual details of the neovaginoplastic surgery. And I have been correct. There may be other techniques, but what seems most common is that the penis be inverted. The corpus cavernosum, the erectile tubes are removed, and all that remains is penis skin, like an empty glove, or a deflated animal balloon (Biden 2024!) like the weener dog a birthday-party clown might make.

This skin sac is pushed in, between the urethra and the rectum, and sutured in place so it doesn't prolapse — pulled back outside the body, inside-out like a sock.  Of course it's not really inside-out.  It was outside-out as a normal penis, then it was outside-in as a neovagina, and if prolapsed it would be outside-out again.  It's sort of a möbius-strip thing -- there's only one side.

How successful is this surgery?  To my skeptical mind, it sounds like not-very.  Prolapse is called "rare".  Huh, should be plausible, coming from disinterested medical professionals.  But let's look at, say, this study from 10 years ago -- an 8-year followup of 43 "reassignment" cases.  (Indeed, that is accurate -- healthy genitals are reassigned to transgenitals.)  

Only 37 of these neovagina men identified as "regularly sexually active".  These are our persons of interest.  The other 6 were not sexually active.  Why not? -- information not available to us.  Their neovaginas would be symbolic rather than intercourse-functional.  Socially speaking, they are functionally asexual, and presumably not at-risk for prolapse, given the vigorous to and fro, the tugging and pushing and friction of penile sexual activity.

Of the 37 sexually active transexuals, no "significant prolapse of the neovagina was noted, 11 patients had a grade I cystocele, rectocele or apical descent that was asymptomatic." [sic]  Okay, so three medical problems, but what does all that mean?  It means thirty percent had prolapses (eleven out of 37).  The significant word is "significant". 

In grade 1 cystocele, the traditional-vaginal wall and bladder drops "only a short way" into the vaginal canal.  In such cases, intercourse would hit, displace, or a best vigorously palpitate the bladder with each, well, thrust.  Grade 2 is when the bladder drops into "the opening of the vagina" -- so, visible --  and grade 3 is when "the bladder bulges out of that opening."  Both are debilitating, in terms of physical blockage of sexual access, and of normal bladder function.  All this would apply to neovaginas as well.

In rectocele prolapse, "the front wall of the rectum sags and bulges into the vagina, and in severe cases, protrudes out of the vaginal opening."  The authors would not have any of this categorized as "significant". Need I say, a rectum intruding into a vagina seems significant to me.

Apical descent is the lowering of the top of the canal -- sagging, slumping or collapsing 2 cm down into itself.  In neovaginas this seems to manifest as a shortening or crimping of the opening, more horizontal, less vertical.  I'd just have to say, not very vagina-like. 

The authors' usage of "asymptomatic" is typically poor academic writing style.  Is it all three problems that are asymptomatic, or just the final item.  Let's just suppose it's all three.  (Sloppy, that we have to suppose.)  

When they say the eleven neovaginas are "asymptomatic", they must be excluding the phenomena themselves as symptoms.  A rectum or bladder intruding into a neovagina is in itself a symptom, of a prolapse.  A looser yet smaller, saggier or baggier neovaginal canal is a symptom.  Having pronounced and constant urinary or rectal sensations during intercourse must be a symptom.  Likewise, to me, all this seems "significant".  

But I have different standards.  My purpose is not to trivialize or minimize or normalize this mental disorder, oops, I mean spiritual disorder.  A female spirit misincarnated into a male body.  God or karma messed up.  Yet, it is a mental disorder as well, and a real one.  But it is forbidden to say so.  

Because terms have definitions, it is NOT body integrity dysphoria (more properly body integrity identity disorder), suffered by able-bodied people who desire an actual disability, whether physical or sensory -- eg, an amputated arm, or blindness.  

By definition, BID specifically excludes genital issues.  Such issues would be diagnosed as gender dysphoria ... formerly gender identity disorder, but that's hateful and racist, calling it a disorder.  

The foolishness and brazenness of the double standard is foolish and brazen.  Indefensible, the way all hypocrisy is.  My thing is good, but even though your thing is just like mine, it's bad.  If a man can identify as a woman ... no, sorry: if a male can identify as a female ... but that's not it either.  If a male can identify as a woman, then why can't an able-bodied person identify as transabled (yes, that is a real word -- as real as transgender).  

Why?  Well, they can and they do.  But it's a disorder, sick.  It's sick, the way we're not allowed to understand transgenderism is sick, because transablism is not sexual.  Sex is why young men get a job and buy a car and play guitar.  Not every individual is wired that way, but that's the reason there's a Gen Z to be messed up by a Gen X.  There are generations because genitals generate.  Gender has nothing to do with it.  post

There are fetishists who obsessively masturbate to amputation porn, or pay beaucoup dollars to git wit someone with, please pardon me, a stump -- acrotomophilia.  The way you and I feel about that is, first, irrelevant, and second, it's how we used to feel about gay marriage and sodomy.  We disapproved.  The Supreme Court has educated us out of our tradition-bound ignorance, but so far we're still allowed to be acrotomophiliophobic.  Maybe it's acrotomophiliopugnic.  In any case, it's still a right.

So, acrotomophilia is about sex, but transablism is not about sex.  So transablism is a disorder.  By this reasoning, acrotomophilia should only be a dysphoria.  It's who they are.  I agree, it's confusing.  

Maybe medical technicians do some electrolysis on the inverted penis we've been talking about.  That wouldn't be a surgeon's job.  Electrolysis, because post-puberty penises have been known to have hair some distance along the length.  I am certain that no woman would want hair growing inside her vagina. No transexual either, in his neovagina.  Really ingrown hairs -- that would be a fourth medical problem.  Probably only grade 1 though.  Wouldn't be grade 3 until a gigantic matted hair plug was pushing out 4 or 5 centimeters past the neolabia.

There is a point to all of this.  The life-long medical and pharmaceutical dependency that transsexuals have to endure seems debilitating to me.  The soul-crushing defensiveness, constantly to be battling biological reality and simple common sense -- the effort must be herculean.  It is not brave in a moral sense, but it's brave in a social sense, facing down scorn and repugnance or even simple disapproval or incomprehension -- not to say physical violence. 

Some heroes do this, stepping up no matter the cost, and they are right.  But not everyone with emotional pain is a hero.  Self-loathing is not admirable.  Whatever fortitude it takes to be castrated and reconfigured, this is not the sort of self-sacrifice that is ennobling. It is as self-asserting an act as can be imagined, and the opposite of generosity. 

Me first.  God got it wrong.   

J

*Burn

YT

 

The wind blows, clouds flow, rain falls, sunshine, moonlight, wind, rain, hot, cold. We blink through it like coming out of solitary confinement, or stare it down like a mad dog, or find a hand to hold and stand side by side, for a moment or through the decades.

Yes, time is a fire. We don't want to put it out or slow it down though -- time is what life is made of. We burn through it, understanding there will be pain, and scars. There are caresses and embraces and quiet smiles and rollicking laughter and the swelling of our hearts with love and pride and tenderness.  So it's more than worth it, the pain, if we do it right. Wait long enough and everything is calm.

More pearls from the clam of my wisdom.

J

*Identity as Rape

YT

Even the Greeks would be shocked.  Sodomy, to them, was just a matter of doubled opportunity (or tripled, given that females also have anuses).  Rosy-cheeked boys, like rosy-fingered dawn, meant simply that a man would be rising. Heh. You know, for boy-sodomy.  Giddit? That's just who they were, but not as an identity -- so I should say it's what they were.  Sodomites.  Not that there's anything wrong with it.  

Every culture falls, after all -- name one that hasn't -- an old one, I mean, and I mean degenerates rather than falls.  I guess it started with Sodom -- the first culture to fall, if being stoned from the heavens counts as falling.  

It's summed up nicely, what I'm saying -- perfectly, in fact, by Aristophanes, in Thesmophoriazusae.  He had the coldest eye ever for observation.  And sure enough, here comes Agathon, dressed as a woman. 

Mnesilochus sees him coming and is bewildered.  "Are you a woman? Then where are your breasts?"

Agathon is never at a loss for words.  "Old man, old man, I hear the shafts of jealousy whistling by my ears, but they do not hit me. My dress is in harmony with my thoughts." A prim smirk, and a saucy flick of his skirts.  "What we don't possess by nature, we must acquire by imitation."  And he tosses his head.

Mnesilochus is an Athenian, so it's only the transvestitism he objects to.  Otherwise, quite inclusive: "When you are staging Satyrs, call me; I will do my best to help you from behind, if I can get my tool up."

Heh.  Giddit?  Well-dressed fools and well-dressed follies.  It's not that pigs wear lipstick -- at least never self-applied.  It's that women wear nose rings -- formerly, in our culture, reserved for pigs, and cattle.  Heraclitus was referring only to physicalities when he said everything is change.  Human nature never changes.  Hence the recurring need for degeneration.  That there might be the change of reformation.  

Pascal starts by dividing minds into mathematical and intuitive -- he rephrases this later by observing that the most powerful cause of error is the conflict between reason and the senses.  Nietzsche thought he'd come upon a clever idea by dividing cultures etc into Apollonian and Dionysian.  Hegel was glutinous with self-approbation when he synthesized thesis with antithesis.  Whether religion or philosophy or psychology, it's always some version of This, not That.  Even if This has to become These ... or HE has to become tHEy.

So it's not that they don't have a religion, the atheists, the Left, the wokesters.  It's that the god of their religion doesn't have intelligence.  The zero-sum game of random pantheism just barely manages to be a mushy dualism -- but certainly not Manichaean because that's patriarchal or intolerant or whatever.  It's a mere mechanical blending of something, whatever, into the virtual foam of an always theoretical but necessary brahmanistic sea of nothingness.  

That's the religion they think they follow, utterly relativistic, while ignoring how much they hate the other side.  

Relative, quantum, brahmanic, manichaean.  Whatever.

This is too religious a way of saying it, but their short-term eschatological prophecies keep on failing -- overpopulation and nuclear infernos and catastrophic climate meltdowns.  One of my problems with their religion is that they should pick one and only one apocalyptic horseperson, and keep the faith.  They switch horses like a circus acrobat.  Nobody respects an apostate.  

So the Greeks didn't have our particular (now increasingly peculiar and fading) outlook on a number of things.  But they would die free rather than be slaves -- the point of the Persian Wars.  Individuals mattered.  That's their contribution to the world.  Their science and art and philosophy follows from it.  

The opposite is marxism in its myriad protean forms.  Socialism has nothing at all to do with the Polis.  Athens and Rome each had tribes -- it's where the word Tribune comes from.  But their tribes were mere organizations, as a justification for clubhouses.  I simplify.  The fanatical and fantastical segregationism of marxism leapfrogs further back than Classical or Ancient history, far past Civilization itself -- practically to ape troops.  

So sodomy is individualistic.  Me and just you, consenting and there's nothing wrong with that.  Transvestitism is about me -- well, not me, but me and everyone else.  You all have to affirm me.  Not all sodomy is rape, but all wokism is rape.  You will be forced to obey my sexual will.  Identity fascism. 

I said I would not title this "Identity as Rape".  But I have to.

Like our Soviet Nazi Totalitarian past, and our islamist and wokist present, our future is a boot stomping on a human face, forever.  Nose-rings and tattoos notwithstanding -- these are just Party Cards with a low number.  Badges expire.  The Old Comrades were purged, because loyalty has nothing to do with it.  Nothing divides faster than the cells of a revolution.

They came for the Jews, then the Christians, then the deplorable ultra maga republican supremacists, then the wokesters.  Just because they could.  

But maybe I'm wrong.  I don't like it when people tell me what my motives are.  I will tell you.  My motive is to see things as they are.  Objectivity.  I can't really say why they do and will do what they do.  I have only history, experience, observation and common sense to guide me.  

My dog identifies as a cat.  My cat identifies as human.  Humans identify as whatever the eff they feel like.

Giddit?

J