(no subject)
This is an entry from a wonderful book called Cunt. Yes, I said Cunt.
Offensive? Maybe, but this is my pulpit, and I'm gonna scream from it. Thought provoking? God, I hope so.
As a dick is a finite structure, with a visible beginning and end, so too is the potential for a male orgasm. As a cunt is infinite - how many bloody mysteries and future generations are hiding up there, somewhere? - so too is the potential for a female orgasm. I'm setting my imagination free to roam here, but if I were a man, and had no biological idea what it was like to have such a complex orgasm mechanism as a cunt - with so many intricate, endless and fascinating possibilities for achieving pleasure - I'd be pretty nervous making love to a woman. And I might find millions and billions of ways to camouflage my nervousness, rather then be like Jesus and just humble myself.
Aristotle opted to obsessively devote his live to the creation of an elaborate belief system based on total cuntfear, rather then simply face reality. That seems like pretty nervous behavior to me. Ditto Sigmund Freud - the Rush Limbaugh of our society actually takes seriously.
You might as well throw pretty much all the male politicians, military leaders, industrial revolution kings, mafia dons, bankers, artists, and executives too.
After all, if Rockefeller, for instance, knew how to please a woman, he'd hardly have transferred so much nervous sexual energy to proving his virility - in the guise of Standard Oil - to every woman, child and man on the planet.
In this culture we preserved the words, laws, codices, artwork, religions, music, and mergers of a bunch of nervous, insecure lovers. Evidently, there is no shortage of them. Then we went and hailed them as Geniuses of Our Time.
Men have gone to exorbitant lengths to camouflage - rather then reckon with - their cuntfear for thousands of years. The naked female form is idolized, obsessed over and blamed for any maltreatment it meets. There is a veritable surplus of references that state how sinful, impossible, miraculous or wrong it is for women to experience sexual pleasure.
Retarded male sexual power is expressed in maneuvers people have come to look upon with unerring respect, such as warring, ruling or becoming heads of production companies in Hollywood.
In offense to women who positively refuse to remain silent, some women are placed on pedestals in poses of righteousness for holding our tongues (no pun intended) in religious, political, artistic, economic, and legal arenas. The women on the pedestals, then, provide a twofold service: a) presenting physical evidence that men have no interest in holding us down, and b) serving as a point of reference for other women who want to be "heard: in this society.
This isn't to say that there aren't countless numbers of women fighting our hearts raw in all of the aforementioned arenas. If we're vocally pro-woman or speak in favor of healthy human sexuality, our silencing (i.e., the end of our careers, a la the brilliant, courageous, stunning Dr. Jocelyn Elders) is imminent.
Since we are invalidated for speaking our truth, or worse, mute from the get go, men never face how amazing our cunts are, and further, never reckon with the infernal jealousy the have that we can come in so many ways, so many times in succession.
We young women of Arabia recognize that the men of our land would never pursue social change for our sex, that we would have to force change. As long as Saudi women accepted their authority, men would rule. We surmised that it was the responsibility of each individual woman to ferment desire for control of her life and other female lives within her small circle. Our women are so beaten down by centuries of mistreatment that our movement had to begin with an awakening of the spirit. (Sasson, 1992, 75-6)
Things are gonna change, and cuntlovin' ladies all over the world are gonna make it happen. Just as soon as we accept the fact that our cunts are the Holiest of Grails, the Hopefulest of Diamonds, the Goldenest of Medals.
Offensive? Maybe, but this is my pulpit, and I'm gonna scream from it. Thought provoking? God, I hope so.
As a dick is a finite structure, with a visible beginning and end, so too is the potential for a male orgasm. As a cunt is infinite - how many bloody mysteries and future generations are hiding up there, somewhere? - so too is the potential for a female orgasm. I'm setting my imagination free to roam here, but if I were a man, and had no biological idea what it was like to have such a complex orgasm mechanism as a cunt - with so many intricate, endless and fascinating possibilities for achieving pleasure - I'd be pretty nervous making love to a woman. And I might find millions and billions of ways to camouflage my nervousness, rather then be like Jesus and just humble myself.
Aristotle opted to obsessively devote his live to the creation of an elaborate belief system based on total cuntfear, rather then simply face reality. That seems like pretty nervous behavior to me. Ditto Sigmund Freud - the Rush Limbaugh of our society actually takes seriously.
You might as well throw pretty much all the male politicians, military leaders, industrial revolution kings, mafia dons, bankers, artists, and executives too.
After all, if Rockefeller, for instance, knew how to please a woman, he'd hardly have transferred so much nervous sexual energy to proving his virility - in the guise of Standard Oil - to every woman, child and man on the planet.
In this culture we preserved the words, laws, codices, artwork, religions, music, and mergers of a bunch of nervous, insecure lovers. Evidently, there is no shortage of them. Then we went and hailed them as Geniuses of Our Time.
Men have gone to exorbitant lengths to camouflage - rather then reckon with - their cuntfear for thousands of years. The naked female form is idolized, obsessed over and blamed for any maltreatment it meets. There is a veritable surplus of references that state how sinful, impossible, miraculous or wrong it is for women to experience sexual pleasure.
Retarded male sexual power is expressed in maneuvers people have come to look upon with unerring respect, such as warring, ruling or becoming heads of production companies in Hollywood.
In offense to women who positively refuse to remain silent, some women are placed on pedestals in poses of righteousness for holding our tongues (no pun intended) in religious, political, artistic, economic, and legal arenas. The women on the pedestals, then, provide a twofold service: a) presenting physical evidence that men have no interest in holding us down, and b) serving as a point of reference for other women who want to be "heard: in this society.
This isn't to say that there aren't countless numbers of women fighting our hearts raw in all of the aforementioned arenas. If we're vocally pro-woman or speak in favor of healthy human sexuality, our silencing (i.e., the end of our careers, a la the brilliant, courageous, stunning Dr. Jocelyn Elders) is imminent.
Since we are invalidated for speaking our truth, or worse, mute from the get go, men never face how amazing our cunts are, and further, never reckon with the infernal jealousy the have that we can come in so many ways, so many times in succession.
We young women of Arabia recognize that the men of our land would never pursue social change for our sex, that we would have to force change. As long as Saudi women accepted their authority, men would rule. We surmised that it was the responsibility of each individual woman to ferment desire for control of her life and other female lives within her small circle. Our women are so beaten down by centuries of mistreatment that our movement had to begin with an awakening of the spirit. (Sasson, 1992, 75-6)
Things are gonna change, and cuntlovin' ladies all over the world are gonna make it happen. Just as soon as we accept the fact that our cunts are the Holiest of Grails, the Hopefulest of Diamonds, the Goldenest of Medals.