The Year in Fuck

To be brutally, completely honest, I find some satisfaction in the fact that you were “violated” whilst feeling untouchable. See, we don't have it both ways. We can be beaten by others and then it's just violence. If we're attacked by others, it is still violence. Just violence.

If we are raped by these plugged up beasts it is just sex, and illegal sex at that, and we are as culpable as the rapist in the act. Doesn't matter how we dress. So fuck off, bitch, and suck it up and survive or die. Welcome to the real world. You have no rights. And neither do I. It is an illusion.

A list:

1. If you sleep in the same area (bed, pile of trash, etc) with a male human, the male human will be very inclined to have sex with you (regardless of biological sex). Why is this surprising? And I have slept next to very beautiful women, many of whom would have been former girlfriends instead of frustrations had I had the nerve to “rape” them.

2. Rules are nearly meaningless. That the rules exist in the first place is interesting and that any kind of litigation exists that one may invoke is irrelevant. In any given situation, there ARE NO RULES. This applies to all human life and activity, sexual or otherwise.

3. Human women, for as long as it matters (think of it as a major historic era, e.g. the Cambrian Age) will be the ones that human men will want to have sex with. If we're gay or bi, we might vacation with the same sex, but it will be vaginas that we are interested in for the most part.

3.5 Women who think that they are doing womankind a favor by being in “burlesque" shows or doing things that are barely crossing the line of total whoredom are the worst of all. Take your burlesque and shove it up your often plump asses. I have been hurt by these women. At least have some courage or don't walk the line in the name of "liberated women" ever. Please. You make me and my neighborhood vomit. I use burlesque because it is an easy target. There are many more women like this. I could list them. I won’t. I know you know who these horrible saps are.

4. I loathe these pristine, good, unassailable, beautiful, delicate, well-coifed, powdered, primped, American-Appareled, perfect, good, lovely boy slugs that I see every night. Their opinions are absolutely meaningless to me, a confirmed nothing. I would rather scrape away at my genitals with a blunt object than listen to their blather for one more minute. It is actually excruciating.

5. I have sold my body. OOOOH bad. So sorry. Hmm . . . it seems that vaginas are more bearable when bought and sold. Why is that? A question for the ages.

6. Yes, I hate men. If you buy Plath's bullshit then I don't need to elaborate. But then you'd be just another clone. I want men to know that when I hate them I hate them personally. It is a vicious, visceral hate. I hate you. Not “mankind” or some abstraction. I hate you. You. You fucking disgusting troll.

7. About “Daddy”: Well, it was from my (rabidly Christian) father that I learned the details of male-to-male rape, as well as male-to-female rape, and that if I went anywhere I would eventually have a penis forced into my mouth. Oh, I was spared no detail! Men are evil! I still agree, despite the evidence! And, according to him, I am derived from a marriage of cousins. Does it matter if it is untrue? Not if you and your family are made up of nuns and drug addicts apparently.

8. Men are stupid wastes. Almost every man I have ever met, a few exceptions aside, are interested in what I call “bullshit”. Gabriel Garcia Marquez = Bullshit. McSweeny's = Bullshit. Nick Drake = Bullshit. I could go on and on. The worst thing is, when you call them out they can't deal with it. If I like bullshit, I admit it.

13. Get a venereal disease, for Christ's sake. I have about 20. At least then you will make a difference. You will be a walking weapon. Right now, you're an unarmed set of genitalia. With an STD you might at least affect the world.

14. Fuck off.

15. How many numbers are there?

15.5 Oh yes . . . it never ends does it?

16. I hate myself, but I love humanity. Weird huh?

17. Don't you see how ineffectual it all is? What is the point of your (or my) blathering? There is none. All is statistics to your kind. I laugh maniacally whilst your towers crumble. I laugh because there is nothing else left to do. All imaginable atrocities have been committed; all acts of good have been suggested. There is no answer. Die, I love you, die.