Friday, May 23, 2014

Being What You Eat...

I’m sick of people bitching about prejudice. I’m sick of all this talk about equality and tolerance and compassion along with any other pseudo-altruistic bullshit that people preach for the sake of political correctness. That’s all it really is for; to appear like you give a shit when you really don’t. Some are blinded by it; they really think that they care. They really think that they are human. They have the shell of one. They talk like one. Yet they just seem to follow a script. They play a role. They go along with the program. Yet they don’t even know what the program is. It’s called evolution but it just means progression by trial and error with time as the filter. What are we progressing to? Survival? Doesn’t that make evolution quite static? That’s all the progression from generation to generation is all about? Surviving the programming even though the result is an inevitable termination by the filter of time? What’s the point? What’s the point of surviving? What’s the point of any of this?

The believers say God, the non-believers say nothing, the agnostics say they don’t know. So basically we have two groups of idiots and one group that lacks the balls to take a guess and formulate a theory despite the bread crumbs being everywhere. Fuck they are made of the bread crumbs; they are the loaves. Maybe that’s why they call it a bun in the oven before they come out. Unfortunately most lack the ingredients to even make a proper sandwich. Yet they preach equality and love. What the fuck is with them and love? What the fuck has love ever given us except more shit that we take way too literally? Maybe love is the problem because it leads us to making bonds that only slow us down. They want progress yet they want to slow down. They cant even make up their minds. One second its rush then the next it’s slow down. Can we make up our fucking minds?

Maybe we are just confused and we are so obsessed about not being confused. So basically we can’t make up our minds about what to do because we are confused. Maybe that’s why there is nothing under the shells besides the innate machinery. Maybe we are just machines. The funny thing is I get called a monster all the time yet I seem to feel more than they do. I feel more human than they do. Maybe being a monster and human is one in the same. Maybe the truth is that we are meant to be monsters. We are meant to thrive on consumption. We progress by atrocity. Just over time we have found a way to feel better about it. We have invoked the concept of guilt so that we can commit atrocity in a responsible fashion. Now there’s a contradiction; atrocity and responsibility. Quite quantum isn’t it? We want to destroy in a constructive manner; yet we want to bitch about cancer.

 We are a fucking cancer that has its sights set on this ever expanding space time that expands faster than light. We want to own it and yet we think we won’t destroy once we do. It’s like we thing we are a bunch of potheads chasing a pie just to stare at it.

Maybe that’s why we should just start to eat each other. Fuck it, that really would be atrocity in a responsible fashion. It would keep the numbers down and give new meaning to ethnic cuisine. The hippies would be happy since there would be less shells chopping down the trees while sucking up the oxygen. We could have buffets of it with all of the garnishes and trimmings. It could come with Bloody Mary’s with real blood from bitches named Mary. I mean it would go well while eating fajitas made with real non-genetically modified Mexican babies marinated in Salma Hayek’s squirt juice. I say if you want to be human then you should be what you eat. Just my thoughts and appetite.

What the fuck Warner Bros? My Godzilla review

So the new Godzilla is out and I used it as a reason to use a chick I met off of Fetlife.com for some casual sex. The sex was pretty good and it gave me some more practice in consensual choking and hair pulling techniques just in case there ever is a 50 Shades of Grey "Choke a Bitch to Orgasm" sweepstakes. Maybe I'll win some ball gags and paddles or something. After the sex was over we rushed over to Cinnebarre to go see it. Well after round two of the sex was over we went to go see it. I don't know why I chose Cinnebarre but maybe it's because I like my wallet getting raped over $11 movie tickets and $11 chicken fingers that looked like they had been in the fryer longer than Mickey Rourke's face. If you wan't an overpriced Mojito then Cinnebarre is the place to go. Then again if you drink Mojitos you might as well place your own face in some boiling grease. That way you can be disabled just like your taste in alcohol.

So anyway the movie started after me and FetlifeChick were talking about how guys suck at talking to girls while they resort to rophynol or something. The film starts out in 1999 which I think was a passive aggressive way of Toho and Warner Bros. kicking Roland Emmerich in the dick for that piece of reptile shit called Godzilla back in 1998. In other words I think this was Hollywood's way of letting it go and getting back to what Godzilla was meant to do; make movie goers giddy while saying, "Holy Shit!" repeatedly like they just saw Miley Cyrus sodomize herself with a crack pipe as Rob Ford lights it up; the pipe not Miley Cyrus's asshole. 

The film starts out in the Philippines with the sight of Ken Watanabe which makes sense since if a Hollywood production has some sort of Japanese theme it must have Ken Watanabe. That seems to be the theme ever since The Last Samurai. They might as well call him Ken "This film has some Japanese shit" Watanabe. That's not to say he isn't a great actor; he's one of my personal favorites actually since I really liked the Last Samurai even if Tom Cruise survived. Watanabe and his female scientist colleague are investigating this massive fossil that appears to be radioactive. They realize that another monster must have busted out of it and they find their evidence in the form of a massive hole punched out of one of the cave walls. We are greeted to the site of what looks like a monster that dragged its ass along the ground for about half a mile before finding the ocean. Maybe it didn't wipe properly.

The next act has the one and only Bryan Cranston and his character's wife talking about some non-Heisenberg related shit and then you are greeted to sights and sounds of Cranston speaking Japanese. This only makes me wonder what Breaking Bad would have been like if Heisenberg was driving around the foothills of Mt. Fuji while cooking meth in an RV. Instead of ranting about precursors and methylamine while dodging angry Mexicans and Feds; Cranston is ranting about radiation levels and seismic readings. The science talk alone makes me think there is going to a Breaking Bad moment where Cranston brings down one of the monsters using red phosphorus. I'll be honest, one my major reasons for seeing this movie was to see Bryan Cranston. I wanted to see Heisenberg against the King of the Monsters. 

After some shit goes down at the Nuclear Plant where Cranston's character (Joe Brody) has to watch his wife die he cries and for once he isn't doing to protect his meth empire. The plant eventually completely crumbles to the ground in a sight that will obviously draw comparisons to Fukushima which will probably lead to some crack pot conspiracy theorists claiming the that US government lied about Fukushima to hide a giant monster. This is all witnessed by Joe Brody's son Ford who is just in grade school at the time.

The film flashes forward 15 years and now Ford has a military and his job is working in the hurt locker i.e. Explosive Ordinance Disposal i.e. E.O.D. i.e. defusing bombs. He may not look as impressive as Jeremy Renner but fuck it, this is about Heisenberg and Godzilla. Ford is obviously getting back from a deployment and his commander mentions something about his wife. In other words its time for Ford to get laid because I highly doubt that the US military allows for their soldiers to rape goats; maybe Iraqi women but not goats. Ford gets home and the wife is there. Ford tells his son that he'll be able to eat cake everyday which is cute because I guess parents lying to their kids is adorable in a Halmark sort of way. After they put the little gullible brat to bed Ford and his wife start giving each other "fuck me eyes". I am depressed when I realize this film has a PG-13 rating but then again Ford's wife doesn't look like she has much in the way of tits. 

Right when it looks like Ford is about to round second and go for an inside the cunt home run the phone rings and like a bitch Ford's wife stops. Ladies, you can return a phone call but it's hard to undo a case of blue balls. On the other end of the line is someone at the Japanese consulate that informs Ford's wife that Ford's dad has been arrested for being in the quarantined area of where that nuclear plant went full on Jenga 15 years prior. Ford packs his bags, blue balls and all, to head to Japan to bail his blue balling Heisenberg father out. At least he didn't cripple his wife and rig a bomb to her wheel chair to blow half of Ford's face off. I guess blue balls aren't that bad after all. That's not an invitation ladies; not one at all.

In the next scene Ford is seen in a Japanese police station waiting for Joe/Heisenberg to be released which shows that he is better son than Walter White Jr. since he doesn't bitch about shit or have cerebral palsy. Joe gets released and they go back to Joe's apartment and from all of the newspaper clippings on Joe's wall it is obvious Joe has definitely gone full Ron Paul with the conspiracy theories. Why Libertarians haven't nominated Bryan Cranston for a presidential run is beyond me. First rule of nominating a presidential candidate is to nominate someone that the majority will actually vote for. That's how both Regean and Obama got elected.

Joe/Heisenberg convinces Ford to go back to the quarantined zone that he just got arrested at and off they go. They arrive by boat and walk around in Hazmat suits that look like they were specially designed to be sold at a Military Surplus store or Goodwill. That's when a pack of dogs is seen running by, in good health, which is quite odd since the place is supposed to be soaked in lethal doses of radiation since the plant supposedly underwent a nuclear meltdown. After getting a zilch reading on his radiation detector Joe pulls the mask off and explains to Ford that there is zero radiation as well as to stop complaining like a bitch. Off in the distance they see a bunch lights and secretive military shit where the plant once stood. Maybe Joe's Libertarian sense was tingling for accurate reasons after all. They get captured by these same shadowy figures and get taken to where the plant once stood so that Joe/Heisenberg can be questioned.

It's during this questioning that Joe has his Heisenberg moment. If you watched the trailer then you probably heard part of it but for the sake of the review here's how of it goes, "The truth is that you are hiding something out there----AND I HAVE A RIGHT TO KNOW!!!!!" The rest of the scene is just as epic and is pretty much the only dialogue requiring artistic merit that is needed for a film that has monsters smashing skyscrapers like they are owed larvae support. Yes larvae is a spoiler but if you want a review that is spoiler free then go read a review from someone that doesn't use going to the movies as an excuse to get laid.

After this scene the shit hits the proverbial fan and the first monster in the film wakes up after gorging itself enough on cesium-137 to get its lazy ass up. At first I thought it was Mothra but it was later called MUTO but the praying Mantis/Insect appearance of it is obviously paying homage to the giant Moth. The spectacle is impressive and the MUTO wrecks shit in a way that would impress an ex of Tiger Wood's. It was great until he knocked out a platform; a platform that Joe/Heisenberg was on. Joe/Heisenberg falls into the rubble but the film doesn't show anything definitive until a later scene where he is shown being zipped up into a body bag. I nearly lost my shit but kept my cool since there was a girl that was fun to fuck next to me and last thing I wanted to do was scare her off. Seeing as I am at laptop now though let me vent:

WHAT THE FUCK WARNER BROS???? 20 MINUTES? 20 GODDAMN MINUTES WHEN YOU HAVE ADVERTISED BRYAN CANSTON IN THIS MOVIE FOR ABOUT 6 MONTHS NOW????? YOU KILL THE HEISENBERG AND DIDN'T EVEN HAVE THE COMMON DECENCY TO GIVE HIS CHARACTER LUNG CANCER IN THIS MOVIE????? WAS GIANCARLO ESPOSITO BEHIND THE SCRIPT WRITING???? YEAH, FUCK YOU WARNER BROS!!!

Okay, now that I have that out of the way I can go back to giving a review free of emotion. Amazingly Joe/Heisenberg dying is just the movie getting warmed up as there are a shit load of buildings that need destroying in Honolulu after the MUTO gets done eating some nuclear warheads from a submarine that it flung into the jungle on the outskirts of the city. Shit gets crazy as it begins to wreck havoc but then Godzilla shows up after after causing a tsunami. The physics of how a creature the size of a skrycraper can cause a 10 meter high tsunami isn't fully explained but then again this is Hollywood; not a lesson in fluid dynamics and plate tectonics. Godzilla and the MUTO begin a battle royale at the Honolulu airport and then the movie flash forwards to the next act since I guess enough of the city had been destroyed and the MUTO wanted to fly off like a bitch.

A bunch of drama happens involving a nuclear waste stockpile in the Nevada and Las Vegas getting destroyed by an even bigger, wingless MUTO whom is apparently in heat and is in need of some thermonuclear flying praying mantis cock. It gets even better when the monsters converge on San Francisco for the climactic battle. I don't know if the writers have some odd fetish that involves Lady and the Tramp and nuclear warheads but there is a scene where the male and female MUTOs making out with the nuclear warhead like its the spaghetti being shared before the inevitable doggy kiss between Darling and Tramp. If that is too G-Rated for you then just imagine the two german chicks from "Two Girls, One Cup" but instead them making out over a cup filled with human feces it's a nuclear warhead.

The funny thing is that isn't the end of the odd radioactive bestiality fetish that the movie has going on as in the final climax Godzilla pulls the female MUTO's mouth wide open like its hard core rape porn and shoots a load of his Thermonuclear plasma into the MUTO's before ripping her head off. Nothing like using non-human characters to avoid getting slapped with a R-rating. I definitely give the scene points for kink factor. Actually that's what I would say if I was raised in West Virginia. It was still a bad ass battle scene and I'm sure it gave some comic nerds an erection because that couldn't find a chick whose mouth they could shoot a load into before heading to the theatre.

Then the in one of the final scenes I nearly had a cynic overload because Joe has to get a boat to take nuclear bomb that was rigged to blow and kill the monsters out of the city which isn't that bad of an idea until you run the math. The boat looked to be moving at a speed of about 20 mph tops and there was only 5 minutes left on the timer before the boat even made it to the Golden Gate bridge and earlier in the movie it was said that the bomb would make the ones used in nuclear tests in the Pacific, "look like a firecracker." Amazingly though the bomb needed only less than two miles to be to put the city outside of the blast radius so either the boat had some rocket propulsion system miraculously installed in 5 minutes or the bombs that were used in the Pacific made the THEY were using look like a firecracker. Huge contradiction there but then again its Hollywood. Just imagine the scene with the nuke at the end of Dark Knight Rises and you'll understand your my cynicism.

So overall I give the movie a score of "Braggable". The dialogue did its job and it built it to a very entertaining climax just like FetlifeChick. While the plot holes are noticeable but not unforgivable; It's worth the ticket.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

When Blue Balling Goes Wrong

So either I am a terrible human being, an awesome human being, a terribly awesome human being, or an awesomely terrible human being. I am sitting here recollecting on the past 12 hours and I don’t know if what happened can be considered hilarious, womanizing, misogynistic, short-sighted, selfish, insensitive, or just Machiavellian in regards to my dick. Damn you Trayvon, damn you. Yes, I am now naming my dick Trayvon because it deserves justice and is always wearing a hoodie made of foreskin.

Here’s my thing about women; I don’t expect sex from them and I don’t expect to get blue balled either. I’m not going to be a dick about it; especially when the chick that is passed out in my bed, that is currently blue balling me, accuses me of using her for sex. I know that trick and veterinarians call it neutering. However, I know if I am patient enough she will eventually cave in. That doesn’t help me at 6 in the morning with a full on erection. If I was raised in Kentucky I probably would have already forced the sex but my dad actually raised me to be a gentleman. I suck at it but a I try. Not raping or hitting women at least gives me a C+. Maybe if I didn’t blog about my booty calls and post topless pics of them I’d be the interesting Ginger in the world or something. I think I am but everyone gets hung on this political correctness shit or as I like to call it, “blue balling the male gender at large.”

Yeah, I don’t know what it’s like being a women and getting eyed up like a piece of meat but then again women don’t know what it’s like being wired to look at every attractive women in their visible spectrum as a masturbatory aid. Never mind when all the blood goes to the proverbial small head when women don’t even have a proverbial small head; they just have, “moods”. That’s difference between men and women; women have to be in the mood for sex while men are always in the mood for sex. Women expect men to get over their genetics yet women can’t get over their petty little feelings. That might sound sexist and I really don’t give a shit. Any women that would get pissed off about this is a waste of a vagina and deserves to get cervical cancer so that we can have less prude, bigoted bitches. Fuck them; oh wait, you can’t because they aren’t in the mood to put out.

Luckily, I have options and at that very moment one was texting me about how horny she was. This was ironic since I wanted to beat up some meat flaps in a pleasurable manner as well. I asked her if she wanted to come over but gave her heads up about the blue baller passed out in my bed. She simply responded via text with, “Ughhhhhh kick her out.” After I clarified that I was her ride she refined her request with “kick her out of the bed”. This is where whatever conscience I have kicked in and I had a moral dilemma; my dick or the blue baller’s feelings. Unfortunately my dick is passive aggressive and since the blue baller wanted to teach my dick a lesson Trayvon felt it was time for some justice. Honestly, blue balling is the George Zimmerman of sex acts.

I walked into the bed room hesitantly and fully aware of the shit storm of annoying that I was about to start; all for my dick. I looked at the blue baller for a moment and took a deep breath. I tapped her on the shoulder until she woke up:

Me: “Hey, ummmm, I got another girl coming over and I kind of need the bed. Could you sleep on the roommate’s bed?”

She gave the familiar, “Are you fucking serious?” and I just looked away trying not to make eye contact my dick had already made up its mind; holding the blood and logic for my bigger head hostage. The blue baller didn’t want to be used for sex and my dick didn’t want to be used to satiate her sense of self-worth. I saw this as a suitable compromise. Then again I wasn’t the one begrudgingly walking to the roommate’s bed. I had a feeling she was trying to prove a point by blue balling me which would work with most guys but then again I am not most guys because most guys think like a guy; i.e. a fucking idiot. Yeah, I might think with my dick but my dick works on game theory. What this means is that I try to pay attention to all the chicks in my life because that increases the odds of keeping my dick in a state of perpetual satisfaction. I always want justice for Trayvon; always.

The girl came over and we fucked in my now vacant bed. The sex was pretty normal. That’s not saying anything other than normal; in and out till ejaculation while acting like I care if she got off even though I think I do care. That’s when I heard the roommate walk into the house. The roommate that I thought would be at work till about 5 in the afternoon since he is the 9-5 type. I quickly threw on some pants and darted out to the living room where he was. I made some odd small talk before threatening him with my psychopathy if he didn’t give me a few minutes to get the blue baller out of his bed without any drama. He agreed; also in a begrudging fashion. People acting begrudgingly makes me want to act like Patrick Bateman.

I walked back into my room where the girl whom got me off says I should make the blue baller go to the couch while she gets her hair and make-up done so she can go to work. The blue baller is awake at this point and she is not happy. She is even less happy when I inform her of the couch idea.

BlueBaller: “Just take me home!”

I can’t argue with this thanks to whatever empathy I have in the presence of women that have fucked me. That’s the only way to get to my feelings; my dick. It’s the only reason why I am nice to women; my dick. It’s the only reason why I don’t punch them; my dick. It’s the only reason why I don’t hate them; my dick. My dick is the reason why I can think like a women minus the hate for them.

Eventually the girl I was fucking leaves after giving me my birthday gift; a UFC encyclopedia that covers everything about the Ultimate Fighting Championships up to about UFC 112. One on end it’s a nice gift but on the other end it’s a reminder of a time in my life that has become a sore spot. It reminds me when I actually I had hope based on sentimentality. A time when I actually thought that having a dream was enough.
She left for work and I went back into the house to deal with BlueBaller. As I walked to my room she walked past me to the bathroom while avoiding all eye contact. She was making believe that I wasn’t their. I was the giant elephant in the room since the blood had left Trayvon and returned to the big head. That was my realization. All I could do was sit on my bed in silence as I knew I was going to catch some shit. I always do from blue baller for this thing that I call, “having a dick”.

She claimed that I proved her point even though her point had now changed to me just being about sex. I wouldn’t say that I am only about sex. There is about a half an hour period after I cum when I think about things that don’t revolve around me dick. It’s probably only about 85% of the time at most. I mean I do think about other things like physics, psychology, comedy, and politics not mention how I look in the mirror and going to the gym to look better in the mirror. Besides her point, originally, was that I was using HER for sex which ironically means that she thinks in term of manipulation as well. The only difference is that I am aware of that quirk; she still lives in the silly little fantasy world of sentiment or “feelings” if you will.

That’s something I have a hard time picking up on with “normal” people; their feelings; most of the time they just come off as superficial trash to me when I do pick up on them. This also means that I hurt their feelings without realizing it. I explained this to BlueBaller along with the fact that I was kind of born a psychopath so I don’t really live inside of social norms which I think shouldn’t have to be explained to a chick covered in tattoos and piercings but what do I know? Maybe one day we will have a President Albert who sports a Prince Albert. I dropped her off at her car and she made a bee line for it like I….well….kicked her out of my bed to have sex with another girl. It’s funny she tried making a point with me and I ended up making a point with her.


Thursday, May 15, 2014

The Bedroom: Bigotry's Last Stand

So everyone has been making a big deal about Donald Sterling's dumb, bigoted ass getting caught on recording expressing his views about his mixed race mistress posting a picture of her with Magic Johnson on Instagram. We all heard the recording so no point in breaking it down, but it does bring up something that is being overlooked and that is the concept of preferences. Anyone that's not Donald Sterling knows that what he said was wrong except for other rich white people. Sterling is basically a diet Strom Thurmond that is more than happy to associate with minorities, and make money off of them, but no way in hell will he be caught associating with them in any social functions where his rich, white friends might be around. In his mind it wouldn't be appropriate. To him the NBA is nothing more than a cotton plantation and him signing the paychecks of the likes of Chris Paul, Blake Griffin, and Doc Rivers is the proverbial lashing. In his mind the pen is mightier than the whip. THAT is the source of the issue as far as most are concerned.

"I'm not racist. I pay 12 black guys every year."

I on the other hand say that is the source of the issue at face value, but like any issue dealing with civil rights the rabbit hole goes much deeper. When it comes down to it the rabbit hole that is civil rights is pink and stops right at the G-Spot. Ironically that is more than likely where it truly started. Just like how hand to hand combat sports started with Pankration in Ancient Greece only to be disseminated throughout western and eastern cultures only remerge again as vale tudo in brazil, and now Mixed Martial Arts in the United States. The only difference being combat sports deals with pounding faces for the sake of inflicting trauma while sex involves dealing with a cock pounding vagina for the sake of pleasure; or an asshole for all those that like anal, hetero or homosexual. I think that's an egalitarian way of putting it.

Now I say bigotry instead of prejudice because they are actually two different things albeit with a  lot of societal overlap. Prejudice, believe it or not, is necessary for a society and our species to function. You can't treat a lion the same way you'd treat a Chihuahua. One may piss on your leg out of anger while the other will make you part of their diet if you come into their territory. Lions don't make good pets, Chihuahuas do even they think that they are lions that can shit on your rug. Without prejudice we couldn't have laws and regulation to keep a populace in check from such naughty human behaviors like rape, lynching, murder, owning a Land Rover, etc. There would be no way to keep people accountable for their actions. A society without prejudice wouldn't be a society at all; it would be anarchy and it wouldn't be the heaven that libertarians think it would be. It might be heaven for those that bang their heads to death metal and smoke meth for breakfast while kicking kittens; then again I know a lot of metal heads that like kittens and hate meth.

Bigotry on the other hand is the slippery slope to such warm, fuzzy concepts as genocide, apartheid, and Glenn McConnell's political career. It is action based and linked to toxic prejudicial thoughts that lead to such dehumanization. There is healthy prejudice and toxic prejudice; the difference is toxic prejudice makes it into history books while healthy prejudice is found in science books. So what does this all have to do with sex, bigotry, and preferences? Everything actually seeing that when it comes to sex everyone is bigoted; EVERYONE.

Personally my own bigotry towards sex has evolved over the years. When I first started having sex my preference was anyone that was consenting. Then it evolved to anyone consenting whose breasts come out further than their stomach. Then it was anyone consenting whose tits came out further than their stomachs whom are also down for choking, hair, pulling, spanking, or anything else found in 50 Shades of Grey or a Tucker Max novel. Now it is all of those on top of someone that can hold an intellectual conversation that also has a sense of humor. In other words I'm into sluts that can understand how comedy and string theory can apply to being tied up while being railed whilst in the doggy position all while having a belt a belt wrapped around the neck so that I can properly constrict their carotid arteries for the sake of orgasm. What can I say? I'm a freak.

That's just me though and unfortunately most people do not share my views; this is why most people also suck in bed. That's why rich, white girls that have preferences that doesn't include black guys also have a preference for just laying there during sex. If they would just open their minds up and take in some black dick  then they might actually figure out how to use their hips to fit the entire mandingo anaconda in. Lo and behold most of them are content with never getting a guy off and finding some frat boy to turn into another impotent pet that gets his rocks off on cocaine and hookers. It's why we can't have nice things and its why porn is so lucrative since women call it a fantasy on porn's part while I call it a lack of motivation on said step ford wives' part.

Bigotry isn't solely designated to rich, white women. For every bigoted white woman saying they only do "southern gentlemen" I'll show you a chunky white trash female that is ONLY looking for BBC; "big black cock" for those that don't frequent craigslist. For every female only looking for a "sugar daddy" I'll show you a "sugar daddy" only looking for chicks that can be paid to go away. You show me a mixed race women only interested in gingers and I'll show you a bunch of happy gingers. Ok maybe that last one is a preference on my part and even though I do love attractive beige woman I also sleep with many outside that preference. That's just the crème de le crème for me but at the same time who can turn down a twinkie?

"Think about that question long and hard if you are thinking about saying no."

Having preferences is fine as long as you understand the meaning of the word. A preference means that you like one thing more than another. At the same time it doesn't rule out options. Personally if I had a choice between Pepsi or Coke I would prefer water because I hate love handles but if there was no water I'd choose one or the other instead of going thirsty. However, when it comes to sex most people would rather be sexually frustrated thirsty instead of nourishing their thirst just because they don't have a water option. We all do it and its absurd because we would rather choose preferences over satisfaction. That is why there are, "so many problems" in the world as sexually frustrated people would say. If you want to fix the problems then get over your petty little preferences and start fucking. Don't be stupid about it; make sure they don't have a major STD or something but your not going to live forever. Do you really want to die miserable? If there is chemistry then just fuck. Fuck your brains out, fuck their brains out, and fuck their best friend's brains out if they'll consent to it. That's why bonobos have a civilized society while chmpanzees are about as civil as the Middle East despite the genetic similiarities between the two; or them and us for that matter. If Chimps wore bomb vests that is. The last time I checked Sharia law wasn't too fond of casual sex in a no strings attached manner.

Bottom line is that the progress of a society can be judged by the amount of progress in the bedroom. As long as preferences are treated like requirements with no room for experimentation then bigotry will still be in our mists and such charming fellows as Donald Sterling will be able to have relevancy in our society. If people want a society that is truly blind in its treatment of human beings and solely judges them on the content of their character then people need to get beyond their hang ups in the bedroom which would solve the problem that is the difference between the inside and outside of the bedroom. That problem being outside the bedroom everyone complains about getting fucked while inside of it they complain about not getting fucked enough. The locations are actually one in the same. What makes it a problem is us.

Lets be the solution for once.

Monday, May 12, 2014

God...No God...Is there 11 Dimensional lube?

Is there a God? Is there no God? Does it really matter? These are the questions that rule our days on both conscious and subconscious levels. It stems from our Theory of Mind which stems from our awareness of the inevitability of death. This has led to some great innovation and an exponentially vaster amount of stupidity. Then again if it wasn't for that there wouldn't be any motivation for smart people to escape the perils of obscurity so maybe stupidity isn't so stupid after all.  Maybe incompetence serves intellectual purposes especially since it would be hard to identify geniuses without some form of the sentient litmus test that can be found walking the aisles of Wal-Mart.
 
Then again in the grand scheme of things on cosmological scales we are all no better than asking if you want intergalactic fries with that. That's why Douglas Adams is a genius and Justin Bieber is nothing more than cannon fodder for TMZ. I know going after Bieber is kind of cliche but then again when you get more pussy than I do and haven't hit puberty then you're fair game. Many a pessimist would say that we are quite insignificant and if you went solely based on size they would be right. Then again smaller things tend to pack more power than bigger things. We may not be 41.7 Billion light years wide and growing at faster than the speed of light but the fact that we can comprehend that is quite remarkable. Even more remarkable is the fact that we do, in theory, have the ability spread out and be able to manipulate that some day. Colonizing Mars might appear to be a huge step, currently, but thousands of years from now our descendants will probably look upon it as child's play. Just like how a caveman would be befuddled at how we drive in carriages propelled by controlled explosions or that obesity is an epidemic because attaining food is as easy as going to a fast food drive through. They would also probably be a little shocked that people try to mimic what they ate to survive as a fad diet now, i.e. the Paleo Diet.
 
I'm not religious by any means and for awhile I was adamantly anti-religious but I was also born Catholic. For awhile I believed that there was a God and he would take care off those that did good and banished evil. I felt it was absolutely black and white; that there was no room for negotiation and that evil was evil. In other words I was Fox News. Then shit happened to me. I was falsely accused of rape, a friend of mine got murdered, I went through a couple rocky romances, sustained a traumatic brain injury which ended my mixed martial arts career, and then my dad died unexpectedly of a heart attack. My world perspective, for lack of better word, was shattered beyond recognition. Everything that I thought was true turned out not to be so. My dad wasn't going to be around forever. I wasn't going to fight George St. Pierre for a UFC title. Bad things happen to good people but what they don't tell you is what those bad things do to good people. It changes them and for some it corrupts them. They become they very evil that they wouldn't even consider becoming prior to traumatic events. It's why victims of child molestation are more likely to become sex offenders themselves; that or strippers and porn stars even though those two tend to be more pro-social than rapists.
 
The thing with institutionalized ideologies such as religion is that their goal and purpose is to instill a standard of civilized thought; programming the masses if you will. It's really just programming or a blue pill if you follow The Matrix. It gives those whom would otherwise act irrational and malicious a social construct that instills order and a sense of justice. It breeds civilization and when run efficiently can actually be quite effective on local and regional scales. That is until their are dissenting perspectives that throw the programming into a state of flux. We all want to think that we are open minded but the truth is those individuals are still quite the minority. Most homo sapiens are programmed to dehumanize when people with dissenting views, or even just appear different, come into our mists. This has led to many an atrocity since our species became the apex predators of this planet. Here's a few examples:
 
"Jews aren't cool."-Adolf Hitler
 
"They like the old Russia huh?"-Joseph Stalin
 
"They don't think I'm a God."-Kim Jung Un
 
"They are infidels."-9/11 Hijackers
 
"Lincoln freed who?"-John Wilkes Booth
 
 
Obviously there are plenty of more examples but those are the ones that jump out to me. So what's the point of all this? Programming is what. It's becoming increasingly evident that the universe runs on math in some shape or form. According to theoretic physicist Brian Greene's book, The Hidden Reality, there is philosophy that our reality is nothing more than math feeling itself. Yes, you read that right. Everything you have ever seen or felt could just be the result of reality massaging it's galactic cock in a vigorous fashion which would probably mean that math has some callouses by now. Maybe that is what Pi is; a callous on math's jerking off hand. Then again math is written; its spoken. Math is a language and the only one that we know of to be universal. It's the true programming as it regulates everything. It is everything and its jerking off. Sounds like a porno doesn't it? What if that's what all our reality is; a massive cyber galactic 3-dimensional porno and we are all the fluffers and strokers? What other beings are also doing some stroking; on a keyboard as well as using 11-dimensional Windex to clean it up.
 
Maybe our entire reality is a porno devised by horny 11 Dimensional programmers looking to get their rocks off. They got bored of watching 11 dimensional girls with 11 dimensional boobs getting their 11 dimensional rocks off while their 11 dimensional lusters/thrusters fill them up with 11 dimensional semen. That 11 dimensional semen could lead out onto 10 dimensional sheets and leave 10 dimensional stains while the thruster try to get there 11 dimensional cocks up again so they can penetrate 11 dimensional assholes after lubing them up to trim down on the friction. All this could be going on while our three dimensional selves could be wondering one those all too important existential questions:
 
"Is somebody cumming?"
 
Maybe they are content with just getting their rocks off and maybe so should we.
 
"And you thought a cigar was just a cigar huh?"