What a mess...

My thoughts have been evolving, as thoughts tend to do, concerning tactics to combat the perversions that are consuming the culture of the United States.  As any tactician knows an early priority is establishing a count of friend and foe, the relative number and functional strengths of those who will or might be combatants.  Somewhere in the last forty eight hours an understanding of something I've been looking at all my life dawned on me, one of those things so commonplace as to be totally overlooked and yet totally critical.

Consider what you've seen, what you've heard, of the competition between the hetero fertile willing and able to establish stable families (lets tag them the conventional) and the various and sundry of the so called alternatives who are not, they who for whatever reason choose and champion lifestyles unburdened by the effort of replacing their own lives.  Above and beyond all other considerations there is one factor that divides these two groups, and it is the criticality of that difference that has finally, finally dawned on me (I really am dumb as a fencepost sometimes). 

Mature Content Beneath the Fold...

Bang-Bang you're dead...

Social Recon Droid

Ok, anyone subscribing to the modern schools of politically correct child rearing might want to make sure the legally prescribed dose of mood stabilizing anti-depressants is active in your bloodstream before you read any further, because I’m fixing to bash and trash a fair amount of what you were taught to believe making a case linking the current explosion of individuals living degenerate lifestyles to the interference of well meaning but utterly inept adults meddling in one of life’s most absolutely critical functions, the function of children’s play.

Yes, that’s exactly what I just said.  Why?  Because another thing I’ve noticed as a common denominator of the degenerate is no matter the level of perversion entrained within their lifestyles or practiced as part of their recreations they seem to believe there’s no moral or ethical consequences so long as the activities are all carried in the bucket definition “play.”  At first I took their proclivity for calling perversion a form of play as blatant sarcasm, a deliberate insulting mockery of what is decent, but the longer I’ve observed them the more I’m coming to believe they may well be quite unintentionally speaking an absolute truth concerning their fate.  I began to question just how long has these people's play been perverted, and by what?

Fractured Love and other things...

As do most of my subjects this one arrived riding a bit of a tangent.  It comes from reading a selection of blog entries provided by a kinkster trying to justify his way of life to another fellow who is even more outspoken against such things than I am.  The blogs were all from women who were attempting to reconcile claiming dual allegiance to the seemingly incompatible realms of feminism and bdsm.  You'd think you'd get a mushroom cloud and a destroyed city should those two get in close proximity, and yet the authors maintained they embraced both in their lives.  Their claims were at best of only passing interest, beyond the fact I'm actually becoming rather impressed with the ability of the kinksters to rationalize to the point of being ridiculous anything as acceptable no matter how obviously fucked up it might be. 

No, what tweaked my attention wasn't the idea of a libber lady with a flaming red bottom who pacifies grandpa's ghost by doing penance for her feminine freedom embracing abuse in the bedroom, what caught my eye was the fact that all of the several authors expressed (in a suspiciously casual manner) a common sentiment as a part of their rationalization.  As I thought on their writings it dawned on me I've been seeing that sentiment as one of the most ubiquitous attitudes common to all the kinky people.  It's so common it might well resolve out as a true psyche marker for those at risk of going if not already gone kinky.

The fact that came to focus was this: everyone I've ever known or corresponded with of the kinky persuasion has always, always drawn a hard black line between what they identify as their "normal" self and their "sexual" self as if they'd already accepted a fragmented personality as something normal and healthy.  Now I've known a few  truly lusty ladies in my day, skilled and enthusiastic in the bedroom arts, and none of them ever expressed this dichotomy (here's to you girls, diaayamn but you were such good fun, and such good company... ).  They'd say "when I'm being sexy I like to..." or words to that effect, in essence (usually with a large and lascivious grin) taking full ownership of every element their sexuality as part and parcel of the persona they lived day to day.

Folks, that's a deep thing when you think about it.

The question that goes begging is this: when sexuality gets set off in it's own little world as something separate from the life wherein that sexuality operates what else gets segregated away into little cubbyholes where the "normal" parameters of ethics and morality become mutated, twisted and inverted compared to those that govern the public persona?  Business ethics?  The judgment parameters of the social wisdom required for a democracy to operate?  The perception and  emotional balance required to do a good job of child rearing? 

It's a total no brainer (for those who've spent any time working with reality) that once things start to fragment the cracks tend to spread every time what ever it is gets subject to any load at all.  Yet another reason to challenge the spread of the social forces that produce the kinky world, challenge and defeat those forces while there's still a society to be defended from the forces of chaos that in the end serve those who desire to destroy and enslave the United States of America.

2014... Hi Kid

the electro-octopi... what lives behind the stereo

It's a new year: 2014.  It do look like some good things are coming to pass, particularly in the realms of art.  Many of the objectives I set myself so many years ago have come to reality in those realms, I've accepted and delivered my first commissioned portrait.  Suppose I'll have to own up to being an artist now, along with all that entails.  I've been loathe to claim the title, not being entirely sure I wanted to wear the assumptions that go along with it, associate with the sort of folks society stereotypes as defining the class.  But what the whale, I've owned up to being a poet and philosopher, and I doubt those play all that much differently all things considered. Oh well.  Time tells all, just have to wait and see what develops.  It might get interesting, who knows.

There is no doubt concerning the year just passed.  The year 2013 was the year of Omega, she who named herself as the last of her kind.  It was a well chosen name, really, she is indeed the last of her kind who will ever get anywhere close to my life or heart.  It was the year of discovering the inner barriers erected in childhood to protect sanity had  eroded to the point they can be finally and fully demolished and the truth set free.  For that I do thank Omega, painful as it was it was her influence that catalyzed and enabled the final stages of that freedom even though the darker side of her influence was also the driving factor in deciding to wage war against the ultimate source of that pain.  There is no doubt she is both villain and victim of a threat that has done nothing but grow during the half century between my first exposure to that evil and now, an evil being expanded into the common culture by the will of those desiring to destroy this culture to the detriment of every life within, including and especially the Omega's of the world.   

The year 2013 saw a turning of the tide, with the falling of the inner walls came the demise  of the lies the enemy left buried in my subconscious, the lie that the seeping obscenities that had plagued my nightmares for all of working memory were the product of my own mind.  Now that the source is revealed, full known, now that I don't have to doubt myself and remain withdrawn to defend self and soul from what the bastards left buried in me like some psych slime no rape kit could ever detect it is possible to shift from defense to offense. 

A man fights with what he knows best, and I understand the nature of the collective entities that are the true power players in the modern world, I understand the nature of covert cultural warfare, I can think chink on demand.  Those are more powerful weapons than anything involving gunpowder or some manifestation of technology that I equally understand.  In the year 2013 I figured out how to attack my enemy in a manner they'll find unstoppable, utterly indefensible.  Speaking as to my enemy personified?  It's my turn now you shithead father fucking perverted freaks… it's my turn now.

It was an interesting year and a productive one, but in all truth it was a year I'm quite happy to relegate to history as a hard year survived.  It was a year of bitter heartbreak and mind numbing horror, deep regret and visceral revulsion to the point of nauseas angina, a year of scalding temptation and testing of the sort that leaves a man weary to the bottom of his soul.  I passed the test, but I am indeed weary with grief, weary from realizing and cataloging the depth of the betrayals I've known.  That was the hardest part of 2013, realizing how much my life was contaminated, corrupted and diminished of potential while still I was a child before I had any ability to defend myself.  But that was a mistake on their part, a mistake that will cost them most dearly for no money of the world, no offering of sex or sensuality or submissive servitude will I accept as penance for the crime they committed against my life and the lives of my family.  Only the total destruction of their way of life will stand as justice full served, and to that end I remain totally dedicated.

It's a new year, and it's my turn now.