rosszul őrzött

Herzl redesigned the city and trusted the world. Ben-Gurion distrusted the world and tried to redesign the Jew. Each was right where he did the work and wrong where he made the assumption.

There is one expectation both men held, and it is the one that failed most completely.

Herzl believed, explicitly, that a Jewish state would end antisemitism. Normalize the Jew, he argued, and the ancient hatred would lose its object. Ben-Gurion was less romantic but shared the premise in his bones: The diaspora was the disease and sovereignty was the cure.

And here we are in 2026. The Jewish state exists. It thrives, in its loud, improbable, croissant-eating way. It has a tech sector and a space program and a beach culture that would make the Baron Rothschild blush. All while us Jews in Toronto are still discussing security protocols at our children’s schools. The flag did not end the hatred. It gave the hatred a new vocabulary.

The failure has a pattern, and once you see it, you see it everywhere. Herzl said the old language would not survive the marketplace. Well, it survived, and conquered the marketplace. Ben-Gurion said the old faith would not survive the state. It survived, and now helps steer the state; there is a mezuzah on the doorpost of the nightclub, and some of the scantily clad men and women kiss it on the way in.

And both men said the old hatred would not survive Jewish normalcy. It survived too, fluent in a new vocabulary within a generation. Everything the founders marked for extinction refused to die. The state was an act of will. The country is an act of inheritance.

Neither man had a plan B for this. Much of their architecture assumed the problem was Jewish homelessness, and that solving the homelessness would solve the rest. The homelessness is solved. The rest is still here. That is not a reason to think they failed. The city and country currently around me is the most persuasive counterargument to despair that the Jewish People has ever constructed.

még Milu is elkunyerálta a sárgarépák és fehérrépák egy részét

Descriptions of subs who wake up soaking wet because their pussies remember what their Masters did to them the previous night.

Hearing his voice, a growl, and feeling yourself react before you can think. Leaning into him reflexively, spreading your legs. Rubbing against him, his skin. Seeking him before your brain has caught up.

Taking in his smell without realizing that your own little noise of arousal and contentment just released from your throat.

Humping and grinding against him in the absence of thought; when you’re sitting below him, when he’s holding you in bed, when you’re in an Uber and he grabs your leg, hard. Your body just knows.

Embracing this dynamic means giving each other permission to be animal and honest; to connect to instinct and all the things we feel before we’ve had a chance to intellectualize them, a subversive act in itself. We don’t have to worry about niceties or convention or the insanity outside the window, we can just be.

It's usually attributed to Poe, but it was written by Sade Andria Zabala. (Even dead men manage to take credit for women's work :)

It's always been a favorite of mine, especially as it relates to the people I care about which, of course, includes people l've practiced kink with. Learning someone's dark needs and wants, holding them with safety and trust, is a unique kind of intimacy.

It's hard enough to admit to yourself that violence feels erotic, that degrading or being degraded is a turn-on, or that the things you touch to are less than PC, let alone to admit this to someone else. Maybe your kink is "gross" or unglamorous or strange. Maybe, like me, it doesn't align with how you want to be seen.

I find arousal and comfort in my autonomy being diminished; in being conditioned and trained to fulfill someone else's wants and needs. Like a possession. Like a slave. I crave that ownership. I always have. It's a deeply held desire, closer to instinct than fantasy. And that's really just the beginning. I struggle with it, but it is true and real, and it won't be going away. I know there are people I cannot share this part of myself with, people who would respect me less, question my values, take advantage, or never look at me the same way again. I know who those people are, and I know they will never see me fully.

I know they would not love me anyway.

That place - that knowing - is also where we keep the monsters inside us. The shame, the guilt, the fear. And it's why finding someone you can safely introduce to your monsters can feel like breathing for the first time; like a poison has been cleared. People who will hear us without judgment, honor our truths, embrace them. Someone you can show your darkest parts - kinky or not - and then get coffee with. The people who will love you anyway.

The people who will say:

Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, ever thought, ever felt, ever wanted. The shame, the guilt, the fear.

2002. március 23, Kövér László Békéscsabán, az ifjúsági ház nagytermében tartott Fidesz-fórumon.

8873 napja hangzott el a "köteles beszéd". Kövér László ezután eltűnt a politikai süllyesztőben. Alámerült és kibekkelte....

...lófaszt tűnt el: 2002-ben pártja országos listájáról szerzett mandátumot, a nemzetbiztonsági bizottság elnökévé nevezték ki, frakciójának helyettes vezetője lett. Ugyanebben az évben a Fidesz országos választmányának elnökévé választották...

2010 és 2026 pedig között az országgyűlés Elnökeként, részeges viceházmesterként osztogatta a milliós büntetéseket...

És ezt a komcsi szart kellett volna tisztelni mint házelnököt...

the old Goff tree in Hobsonville, one of the Auckland finalists for Tree of the Year