I got my lips pursed kissing the mascarons

Pornography is inherently exploitative. So is prostitution. But if someone freely chooses to do either, I don't find it inherently shameful. Or bad. What IS bad is the lack of any filter or guidance for people too young to even grasp consequences let alone have a healthy perception of their body and sexuality. I'm sixty-one. I grew up seeing Playboy, Penthouse, Hustler magazines. I also understood that what I was seeing was staged and not realistic. Health class explained sex (and STD's) and parents explained love and sex and relationships. On top of that I never saw anybody in real life who looked like the people in porn. Now there is exposure to images that are guaranteed to make young people insecure. The women are all flawless, the men all well hung. Porn doesn't portray reality. There is no real intimacy, passion, or sensuality. It's a distortion but it's how many young people think sex should be. It's like the difference between fast food in an ad and what you actually get when you order it. Fast food just poisons your body though. Not your self-esteem and ability to have healthy relationships.

The magatt infestation grows more and more Nazi even as it's failures become more pronounced. Amerikkka continues to show its colors. The comparisons are valid. Look at the leaders of the "Master Race". Hitler, who wasn't blonde haired and blue-eyed and who had an unhealthy relationship with a niece, never married (Eva Braun doesn't count. Fucking please!) had no kids and was on Elvis levels of prescription drugs. Heinrich Himmler, the man in charge of the SS, incredibly nearsighted and with no chin. Hermann Goerring, a bloated sadistic drug addict. Josef Goebbels, minister of propoganda and clubfooted. The fact that none of these people could match the standards that they insisted upon and yet people followed them? Lying hypocrites screeching hate. Yup. That checks.

All of you naive bumblefucks driving Teslas to "save the environment" clearly don't understand battery technology or power generation, but your boy Elongated Muskrat, besides being a drifter, druggie, shit dad, ahit husband, shit human and, oh yeah, a fucking NAZI, has already stolen your personal data and lied about the cameras in Tesla vehicles, and he's pushing data centers that literally use as much power as a small city each! Yay Earth?

The stress of having ethics, a conscience, and well established morals, while living in the U.S., more than offsets my 'freedom'. Which, BTW, is the freedom to overpriced healthcare, perpetual debt, a political system that is openly for sale, a broken justice system, a police state that never reforms itself because fuck you we ARE the law, legalized weed and gambling because that's the new retirement plan, a minority of religious zeolots forcing their religion into my laws, and a good chunk of the population who always believe in whoever shouts the loudest and the most.

The U.S is turning 250 years old. There are stalls in the bazaar of Tangiers that have been owned by the same familea for eight hundred years. I stood in the crypt of the Mainz Dom in Mainz, Germany, and saw the foundation stone that said 908 A.D. St. Augustine FL (U.S.) was founded by the Spanish in 1565 A.D. 210 years before the United States itself. I'll wager that most people in England have had a pint in a pub that's older than the United States.

The United States celebrated its Bicentennial 31 years after taking part in a World War to destroy fascism. 50 years later on and it's run by fascists. Really fucking stupid fascists. Fortunately for them the majority of the population is easily distracted and willfully and deliberately ignorant.

Back in the 1960's-1970's we had Norman Borlaug, "Father of the Green Revolution", the "Man Who Fed the World" and Nobel Prize winner whose work on increasing agricultural output and creating drought resistant crops is estimated to have saved a billion lives. 1,000,000,000 lives. He didn't patent his research and use it to get rich. He helped the poor and hungry because he could. What do we have in 2026? Cunts and con-men. Billionaires doing not one fucking thing to make the world better.

Just so everyone knows-the world had an economy before stock markets existed. Without stock markets companies would actually have to make a profit! An actual legitimate profit from the business itself! Crazy huh?

Use a.i. all you want. However you wish. Provided you're willing to admit that you're insecure, incapable of individual thought or creativity, and are so gullible that you will believe whatever you're told just so that you don't have to actually think for yourself. Just admit and acknowledge that a.i. is a massive scam by techbros who don't give a fuck about anything except making their dreams of creating a trillion dollar market come true.

The difference between the internet and an actual library of books is that nothing has to be vetted on the internet.

As far as "Mars Colonies", beyond the sheer logistical lunacy and pointlessneaa of such a thing, look up "winter over syndrome". Yeah.

Fortunately for the world, my favorite hand of doom, CMEs, are likely to annhilate any a.i. based society. I'm definitely Team Sol.

Socialism is bad. For greedy fucks. Who's rhetoric of 'stifled innovation' forgets to finish that up with 'that benefits shareholders and eliminates competition to ensure that economic disparity remains perpetual". There. Fixed it.

If your God needs YOU to carry out It's will, are you sure that your God is omnipotent? But remember! If God is omnipotent then everything is exactly as it's meant to be. So shut up with your "Sinner!" bullshit.

John Lennon was a nasty, misogynistic twat, but he had talent. Listen to The Beatles- discography and you'll hear the evolution of their talent. That's what actual human creativity does.

Tom Waits sounds better than any fucking autotuned, pitch corrected abomination.

Rock and Roll might not be dead but it's currently a childless old git mumbling to itself in a park.

Featherstone wanted to begin 'removing layers'. Gareth couldn't heal if he didn't come to grips with the damage done. That was fucking hilarious. Heal. If Gareth had possessed any confidence or the slightest sense of self-worth he might have actually laughed. Heal. From shit that was worse than the living hell he could already remember? It really didn't matter who was to blame if those fucking memories were permanently in your head.

He mentioned to Dr. Azzawi that he felt that things were being rushed. She agreed. Until she had a talk with Featherstone. Then it changed to 'If it becomes too uncomfortable, tell him.' and that was a betrayal that hurt him badly. She knew he was incapable of being assertive. She knew. She had tried to reassure him by pointing out that Featherstone was one of the very best. Apparently nobody understood that Gareth O'Shea had justifiable reasons to be afraid. He had a horribly clear memory of his tenth birthday. Of spending the day being gang raped by his grandfather and his friends. Of being forced to have sex with a dog.

If he remembered that, just what exactly was there in his past that he couldn't face? How or why would anybody want to find that out?

.

"Zeus, how is any of this going to fucking heal me?" Gareth asked as they drove towards a dreaded session. Only his meds kept him from just collapsing entirely. "I'm not seeing how finding out even worse shit was done to me is going to make me less anxious or depressed!"

"He's an expert. He knows what he's doing. I mean there's clearly a reason to it." Zeus said but didn't sound entirely confident either. "Maybe it's necessary to, you know, give you new tools. For coping."

Gareth accepted defeat. He was already a burden to his partner. He had a thousand and one quirks. He was triggered by so many things that he literally couldn't keep track. Zeus was patient beyond all reason and incredibly generous with his compassion and love. He deserved better than Gareth was currently capable of giving. It would be selfish on his part to not take steps to become who Zeus deserved.

.

"We need to address some of these things that trigger negative reactions but for which you seem to have no explanation." Featherstone told him as they prepared for an absolutely bizarre 'field trip'. "I'll be right there. It will be safe. We will face this together."

Gareth didn't say just how stupid that statement was. Featherstone didn't have a physical aversion to the smell of diesel exhaust, grease, and oil. He wasn't the one who would feel nausea. He wasn't the one who would vomit if they stayed around the smell for long. Gareth already knew how to deal with this 'issue'. He stayed the fuck away from truck stops and rest areas.

So here they were getting ready to go to the 76th Street Diner. But not to the part Gareth was comfortable in. No, of course not. They would be going out back, into the truck parking area. It was a chilly September day. Trucks would be idling. It was going to be bad. That wasn't a self-defeating or counter-productive mindset. It was acknowledging reality.

He went along against his will. But most of his life worked that way. He had gone through the 'excercises' meant to balance him during the drive over. He grew increasingly upset as they drew nearer to the diner. By the time they were pulling into the lot he was mentally paralyzed. His mind knew nothing but dread. He didn't have fight or flight instincts. Neither had ever been viable. Instead he was frozen inside. Knowing there was no escape.

Not a single coping skill helped him when he stepped out of the car. His heart was already hammering and his bowels were cramping. Nevertheless he obeyed directions. Because that was HIS survival tactic. Do nothing to antagonize. Submit and hope there would be less pain that way.

Then he saw The Man. An ordinary trucker. Lanky, in jeans with a leather vest. Dirty hair in a ponytail and scruffy beard. Gareth didn't feel his bladder release its contents. The trucker looked his way and Gareth collapsed like he'd been poleaxed as he was hit by the worst panic attack of his life. His vision became bright flashes and blurred colors, there was a ringing in his ears, he began hyperventilating, and curled into a ball upon the dirty pavement. His muscles contracted so tightly he could feel his bones creak from the strain.

He was dying this time, he was finally dying and all the pain would finally end. He was going to Hell and and there would be a whole new set of pain there and he didn't care. He was going to Hell where he belonged. God must have finally grown tired of inflicting misery on Gareth O'Shea. He had never been a good boy. He had always been evil and filthy and foul. He had been doomed all along. He had never stood a chance.

He heard himself screaming and wondered how he had the breath for it. He could also hear his mother laughing. Laughing and laughing and laughing because although Gareth O'Shea begged God for mercy a thousand times there never was any. His mother was what God had given to him so that he would never forget just how bad he truly was and she loved his suffering just as much as she hated her only child.

.

Featherstone was fired by Zeus after Gareth was admitted to the psychiatric unit again. Having undergone a trauma induced psychotic break. And this one was far worse because this time a door had opened and what it let through was an ugliness that nobody should ever have to face.

He was trapped in a nightmare facing a monster far worse than his grandfather. He was there with the monster that had prepared him for, and given him to, his grandfather. He was there with the beast that had tortured him relentlessly in every possible way.