The Beginning of Something Interesting
Excerpt 1: It is of absolutely no surprise that the modern European woman is the least afflicted, possibly not afflicted at all, with the conception of the Errol Flynn-esque nature of the way a man should act that is present in America. This is of course because of greater Enlightenment in general, growing in cultures which teach women their equal value to men, and more specifically education of the fullest and richest sort, has reached more women. It is nothing to have one woman who thinks she can be a doctor when she is taught to be a housewife-give me the cause of why she would have ever thought otherwise, gotten herself or been forced into such an epistemological lawnchair, lounging about this world of knowledge. But as long as educated women know or see a cultural stereotype, the majority constituent of which can be described as a bland, sexless marriage with some tax attorney, minding to the children as they wail and the woman gets her sexual energy dispensed of while watching the Montel show, she will see that as the norm, for better or worse, and getting out of it proves difficult. Therefore, the European woman is not only more prone to be better educated, she is more prone to be swayed by more and more educated women surrounding her, as is natural. It also helps, and this cannot be said enough, that the sort of social construction morality of Christianity proves to be something to be paid homage to, respected, even adopted externally, but ultimately ignored as far as their own happiness and duty in life. Therefore, respect for the individual and not the god is the center and the core of the European female morality. For much of the 20th century, it was neglected under a pall of communism and ill will, bitterness, atheism, or even anarchism, but as freedom has returned, the woman looks at the man and respects him, sees his individual worth as a human being, and grows to love that individual. She also takes seriously the duties prescribed to her by this reason, that it is precisely not that she try to deign what would make her or him a good person, but that she have a set decision procedure to go about finding the correct action, and what the way he should act towards her should be. Everywhere reason grows, humans worry less about perfecting themselves, and more about perfecting what they do to one person in one situation at one time, relative to each of those things. And everywhere where reason rests unvalued, the appearance of propriety before the multitude is all in which faith can be found, and all who see that appearance as a mirage of morality are victims of self-doubt caused by that ignorance, anywhere it persists.
Excerpt 2: It is not proper to be bitter towards women-it is that many are unspeakably bitter to the world, and that no one should particularly appreciate that. And what is this cause of feminine anger? Everywhere, women of the world are angry, like they were promised a rose garden that turned out to be just carnations. And really, that is the way most women views the vast majority of men-as carnations, as identical tuxedoed rentals with tiny pricks, sexual animals on the mating plain, and it being just a matter of time before another rolls down from the glacier onto the beach to tussle for her prize. A man’s ideality to a woman is worth ten times his reality. If men can feed on their ability to think about what they might make them into, there is success in that. Presenting who you actually are, plainly, is like presenting a “Better Homes and Gardens” magazine to a woman looking for how to design her new bathroom. It doesn’t matter that it’s on the cover of the magazine, that millions of women (and men) would kill to have that bathroom; something is wrong with it-the color scheme, or the towel rod, or the wainscoting. Something is off-something is different from the way she wants it. This is the way most women think about men. But some women look at the same men like that cover, but as much worse off-as a restroom one might find in a baseball stadium: rank, filthy, grimy, but nevertheless, something they must use to satisfy natural ends. And so they’re angry that they have all that much more work to do to make things copasetic. It is one thing to look at something that is almost perfect and criticize, and work on making it more like you’d want it, and it’s another thing to have to start from scratch. The illusion women buy into so frequently that it pains me is that they can look at men like the cover of the magazine, something they can just tweak a little bit. No, every man, in his natural condition, on all six populated continents, is a restroom at a baseball stadium, and if you ever think you can start yourself off with the “Better Homes and Gardens” cover, sans castration, you had better think twice. The truth is that the women who are angry about this do not make a mistake in being angry, but in what they are angry about-they have unrealistic expectations, fed by their lack of desire to do hard work, and by traditional social standards, which asks men to ask women to clean themselves up. If you think you have a man who is as good as a bathroom that could appear on the cover of a magazine, and you didn’t put in the work to get him close to that point, you have to ask who did-and then you have not married out of love for him, but out of convenience and a pathetic wandering terror for anything that might deviate from what your friends and parents were impressed by-you haven’t married him, you’ve married his pedigree; you might as well register your man in the Kentucky Derby and see how he “performs”.
Excerpt 3: The blowjob is the kiss of our generation, an ostensible party favor bestowed in the most unpredictable of places and with a number of scenarios for mystery and for understanding numerous things about a person that really tell you nothing about that person-does she, or he, swallow the ejaculate, spit, or merely stop fellating and manually masturbate? What can be read into this, how often can I discuss it ad infinitum until those around me are convinced that I’m really enjoying it as much as I can. It’s what tea was to the British 19th century-a casual imported mid-afternoon snog, best if it’s raining out; the equivalent of a stripmall retail outfit for sex, always one step ahead of the times of the local retailer; supremely stripped of intimacy, yet with all the flash of a Pierre Cardin, constantly making an impression on Susan in accounting, yet tying an inevitable noose around the receiver; tightening its grip around his sexual reality like his hands in her hair under the conference room table after hours. Like the movies, or the theater, it has become one of pedestrian events, one of those activities, where you learn all you want to know without speaking if you wish to not. Thus, those who perform oral sex have always, since the dawn of civilization, not had much to say. Opposite the woman, the bonobo performs oral sex like a male homosexual. The homosexual has confined himself to the act of the blowjob not because it’s demeaning, not because it has any purpose-the majority cannot even ejaculate from it-one could lick the homosexual’s finger and get the same result from him, even if he ejaculates-because to the homosexual, ejaculation is drinkable urination, getting rid what he views as the most wasteful parts of himself, and casting them into the biohazard box, or the other ‘person’. But how can we ask a dog why it licks its testicles? It is not merely that it can that it does, but that in the best of possible worlds, it would lick its testicles with some frequency. Male heterosexual fellatio is an entirely different matter. The animal analogy will help here in a moment. To the male heterosexual, oral sex is the Ashram-there is nothing more tranquil than this, more peaceful, more serene. And the reason is clearly a certain form of dominance that is enjoyed from the act. But the male is so uninhibited because the female is so reluctant to do it. And why is that? To women, fellating a man represents the base level of her sexual being-she can’t get any lower (morally, if she has such convictions), but certainly not sexually. But clearly they are incorrect about this. If a female dog goes up to a male dog and licks his genitals, it is as if she licked anything else on the male dog’s body. But if we see two dogs humping, we relate to that as a more serious act, and not just for the procreative possibilities, but because of the type of reciprocated action occuring. One of the most interesting things about male heterosexual oral sex is that it effectively stops the woman from speaking-and perhaps this is all the dominance the male could ever pray for. Her concerns are finally shelved, and the only way she could possibly express herself negatively is by stopping, the way he thinks the entire world should work-that is, people should abstain from things they don’t want and leave a wide default set of experiences there open, expressing their concern only by abstention, so that things don’t have to be worked for once they have been agreed to beforehand. It works the same way for a woman-she obviously doesn’t want to relinquish her ability to speak. It is not as if the smart woman is going to bring up the late-blooming forsythia from her garden during vaginal sex, but she wants a space to do so if those damn flowers are really blooming late and she needs to talk about it with someone. With oral sex, it’s about the ability to refrain from speaking without stopping-like a shark having to always swim forward or die. When a woman fellates, it is if the shark has stopped moving. She doesn’t die, but it’s as if the man did die-and went to heaven. And not because the knows the shark won’t attack him, but because he can see it 4 feet from him, stone-cold expression of fear-inspiring terror on its face at your flailing member, and it can’t do anything, can’t sink its teeth into him even as it opens its powerless mouth for him. It is not just that swimming without being attacked is sublime, it’s the ultimate in relaxation to know that one can’t be bitten while being in the mouth of the enemy. Such is the powerlessness of oral sex for women, to be in the water, going nowhere, effectively dead.
Excerpt 4: How in the world have we ended up here with sex? It is something that both drives us and repulses it-it has forces moving forward into time, into areas not discussed, and forces moving backward, into new things yet undiscovered. Of course, even sex cannot withstand technology. Technology is what is given to us to replace our own reason, and with ‘good reason’, as it were, because we never think that our reason quite gets us as far as technology. Sex is absolutely, one hundred percent, bounded, because sex is tied to the body. Most of what we know of technology is bounded, as well. Even from the first Nintendo, Mario could jump a thousand ways on top of the pipes, depending on the order of the previous jumps, and a number of other factors. This is surely bounded, however; it is finite. As you switched screens, the little enemies would pop up at the same time again, just like sex, over and over, the same place, as soon as you pass from one chapter to the next and then back and forth as it creates a sort of internal nausea that eats away at us. We don’t need to be reasonable about that-we just use logic, a logic of sex, a logic that if the same thing happens over and over and over again, we can infer that it is most likely that it will do it again. It remains to be seen whether or not technology itself is bounded-that is, if it can be, it will not be current man who will supply the shackles. Technology in a sense is the only thing other than autonomous man who, when he is shackled, has to have some role behind being so bound. And thus the integration of technology and sex is the only role in which mankind has opportunities opened for it by sex, and thus what the technology is then holds a great importance. You can see why reason receives such a poor ‘rap’ in this respect-it can only originally conceive of things done over and again, the basest form of pleasures, what someone else did long before you. And so, we get frustrated by this repetition, and for better or worse, turn to technology. It is clear that while technology is itself a giant form of repetition (at least so far), but we believe that somehow, these repetitions will make it better. And so designs are made and plans drawn to make sex more technological. This integration is really the moral quandary which will present itself. For it is one thing if technology gets a person an enhanced phallus, and he uses that for pleasure, boasting etc. That doesn’t change the soul, or the reasoning person, or whatever one wishes to call it, at least not in direct senses. But let us say that it was scientifically possible to create a state of Continuous Female Orgasm (CFO). And so, from birth, all females were wired in such a way that their entire waking lives, they were, in a sense, orgasmic. At this point, she cannot reason, she can only writhe in moments of complete passion, and when she needs to go to sleep, she does, and dreams orgasmically, and then wakes up. And let us say there was also, M, a way to manage the biologically effects this would inevitably have, such that it produces constant contentment. What would this life be like? Would it be harder to reason, and would we find Plato right about the basic idea that intellectual reproduction is better than sexual reproduction? Maybe not all people are like this, but I think that as we grow to like and welcome technology more and more, most would grab onto anything that functioned in a new way to make them content, forgetting the distinction Mill made, among others, and thus making ourselves hedonists. What must not be forgotten is the negative part of the equation: that people should have the right, as autonomous beings, to choose to take the chip out, to opt out of these new technological inventions. At least now, technology is not alive, but we can give real life, what we experience, how we experience it, to technology, and if we do that to the end, we cede our autonomy perpetually; we cede the part of us that is most human in installments until the end of human life itself, with no will to go back even if we could, which we couldn’t because technology would dictate it. The hero of this story, and there must be a normative element naturally, is human reason; that we, now, as autonomous creatures, can create boundaries, and limit the life of technology in a way that we won’t be able to do in quite the same way as tomorrow or the next day. And with sex, we make the simplest of choices on occasion-we like someone’s eyebrows, we like another’s smile or abdominal muscles, but we must learn to love sex first, and most. If we love technology before sex, sex doesn’t stand a chance. Already, it is one of the most pedantic exercises one can engage in, in terms of discovery. Axillary intercourse, frotting, we know it all. The only form of sex discovery left is intersubjective internal discovery-no couple walks into a bedroom and holds a press conference afterwards because they discovered something new-and yet, they may talk to their best friends about it as if they had. Reason is so problematic for technology to attack, of course, because it cannot be manipulated, it is not socially conditioned, it is not subject to the whims of anything but its own parameters of purity. But the emotions we have about sex, the general inclinations most of us have, these are attacks by custom, by social conditioning, by technology, by anything and everything-and these emotions quickly are hardened by these factors and we don’t get why we can’t escape them, and we sometimes feel so trapped that we are being suffocated by the rest of the world. What allows man to breath while being choked by these factors, is reason, shining forth. And so, with sex itself, we must dispense with custom. We must find an ethical framework, whichever we believe, to guide us through correct sexual practice. If we cannot lay out our reasoning onto a sheet, and show the different steps of logic and general inferences we are making; if we cannot get technical about the decisions we make and the actions we eventuate, we are getting as lazy with sex as the husband who doesn’t care about his wife’s orgasm; who then proceeds to go down to the local store and gets a vibrator. Nothing wrong with her getting a vibrator: but something very wrong with the reason why she’s getting one in this instance. Our goal should be to be able to say why we put our left hand on her clavicle at minute 3, second 42, of intercourse: anything less, and technology will beat us to it before we can even think about what is pleasuring us-we will just zero in on pleasure itself.
Excerpt 2: It is not proper to be bitter towards women-it is that many are unspeakably bitter to the world, and that no one should particularly appreciate that. And what is this cause of feminine anger? Everywhere, women of the world are angry, like they were promised a rose garden that turned out to be just carnations. And really, that is the way most women views the vast majority of men-as carnations, as identical tuxedoed rentals with tiny pricks, sexual animals on the mating plain, and it being just a matter of time before another rolls down from the glacier onto the beach to tussle for her prize. A man’s ideality to a woman is worth ten times his reality. If men can feed on their ability to think about what they might make them into, there is success in that. Presenting who you actually are, plainly, is like presenting a “Better Homes and Gardens” magazine to a woman looking for how to design her new bathroom. It doesn’t matter that it’s on the cover of the magazine, that millions of women (and men) would kill to have that bathroom; something is wrong with it-the color scheme, or the towel rod, or the wainscoting. Something is off-something is different from the way she wants it. This is the way most women think about men. But some women look at the same men like that cover, but as much worse off-as a restroom one might find in a baseball stadium: rank, filthy, grimy, but nevertheless, something they must use to satisfy natural ends. And so they’re angry that they have all that much more work to do to make things copasetic. It is one thing to look at something that is almost perfect and criticize, and work on making it more like you’d want it, and it’s another thing to have to start from scratch. The illusion women buy into so frequently that it pains me is that they can look at men like the cover of the magazine, something they can just tweak a little bit. No, every man, in his natural condition, on all six populated continents, is a restroom at a baseball stadium, and if you ever think you can start yourself off with the “Better Homes and Gardens” cover, sans castration, you had better think twice. The truth is that the women who are angry about this do not make a mistake in being angry, but in what they are angry about-they have unrealistic expectations, fed by their lack of desire to do hard work, and by traditional social standards, which asks men to ask women to clean themselves up. If you think you have a man who is as good as a bathroom that could appear on the cover of a magazine, and you didn’t put in the work to get him close to that point, you have to ask who did-and then you have not married out of love for him, but out of convenience and a pathetic wandering terror for anything that might deviate from what your friends and parents were impressed by-you haven’t married him, you’ve married his pedigree; you might as well register your man in the Kentucky Derby and see how he “performs”.
Excerpt 3: The blowjob is the kiss of our generation, an ostensible party favor bestowed in the most unpredictable of places and with a number of scenarios for mystery and for understanding numerous things about a person that really tell you nothing about that person-does she, or he, swallow the ejaculate, spit, or merely stop fellating and manually masturbate? What can be read into this, how often can I discuss it ad infinitum until those around me are convinced that I’m really enjoying it as much as I can. It’s what tea was to the British 19th century-a casual imported mid-afternoon snog, best if it’s raining out; the equivalent of a stripmall retail outfit for sex, always one step ahead of the times of the local retailer; supremely stripped of intimacy, yet with all the flash of a Pierre Cardin, constantly making an impression on Susan in accounting, yet tying an inevitable noose around the receiver; tightening its grip around his sexual reality like his hands in her hair under the conference room table after hours. Like the movies, or the theater, it has become one of pedestrian events, one of those activities, where you learn all you want to know without speaking if you wish to not. Thus, those who perform oral sex have always, since the dawn of civilization, not had much to say. Opposite the woman, the bonobo performs oral sex like a male homosexual. The homosexual has confined himself to the act of the blowjob not because it’s demeaning, not because it has any purpose-the majority cannot even ejaculate from it-one could lick the homosexual’s finger and get the same result from him, even if he ejaculates-because to the homosexual, ejaculation is drinkable urination, getting rid what he views as the most wasteful parts of himself, and casting them into the biohazard box, or the other ‘person’. But how can we ask a dog why it licks its testicles? It is not merely that it can that it does, but that in the best of possible worlds, it would lick its testicles with some frequency. Male heterosexual fellatio is an entirely different matter. The animal analogy will help here in a moment. To the male heterosexual, oral sex is the Ashram-there is nothing more tranquil than this, more peaceful, more serene. And the reason is clearly a certain form of dominance that is enjoyed from the act. But the male is so uninhibited because the female is so reluctant to do it. And why is that? To women, fellating a man represents the base level of her sexual being-she can’t get any lower (morally, if she has such convictions), but certainly not sexually. But clearly they are incorrect about this. If a female dog goes up to a male dog and licks his genitals, it is as if she licked anything else on the male dog’s body. But if we see two dogs humping, we relate to that as a more serious act, and not just for the procreative possibilities, but because of the type of reciprocated action occuring. One of the most interesting things about male heterosexual oral sex is that it effectively stops the woman from speaking-and perhaps this is all the dominance the male could ever pray for. Her concerns are finally shelved, and the only way she could possibly express herself negatively is by stopping, the way he thinks the entire world should work-that is, people should abstain from things they don’t want and leave a wide default set of experiences there open, expressing their concern only by abstention, so that things don’t have to be worked for once they have been agreed to beforehand. It works the same way for a woman-she obviously doesn’t want to relinquish her ability to speak. It is not as if the smart woman is going to bring up the late-blooming forsythia from her garden during vaginal sex, but she wants a space to do so if those damn flowers are really blooming late and she needs to talk about it with someone. With oral sex, it’s about the ability to refrain from speaking without stopping-like a shark having to always swim forward or die. When a woman fellates, it is if the shark has stopped moving. She doesn’t die, but it’s as if the man did die-and went to heaven. And not because the knows the shark won’t attack him, but because he can see it 4 feet from him, stone-cold expression of fear-inspiring terror on its face at your flailing member, and it can’t do anything, can’t sink its teeth into him even as it opens its powerless mouth for him. It is not just that swimming without being attacked is sublime, it’s the ultimate in relaxation to know that one can’t be bitten while being in the mouth of the enemy. Such is the powerlessness of oral sex for women, to be in the water, going nowhere, effectively dead.
Excerpt 4: How in the world have we ended up here with sex? It is something that both drives us and repulses it-it has forces moving forward into time, into areas not discussed, and forces moving backward, into new things yet undiscovered. Of course, even sex cannot withstand technology. Technology is what is given to us to replace our own reason, and with ‘good reason’, as it were, because we never think that our reason quite gets us as far as technology. Sex is absolutely, one hundred percent, bounded, because sex is tied to the body. Most of what we know of technology is bounded, as well. Even from the first Nintendo, Mario could jump a thousand ways on top of the pipes, depending on the order of the previous jumps, and a number of other factors. This is surely bounded, however; it is finite. As you switched screens, the little enemies would pop up at the same time again, just like sex, over and over, the same place, as soon as you pass from one chapter to the next and then back and forth as it creates a sort of internal nausea that eats away at us. We don’t need to be reasonable about that-we just use logic, a logic of sex, a logic that if the same thing happens over and over and over again, we can infer that it is most likely that it will do it again. It remains to be seen whether or not technology itself is bounded-that is, if it can be, it will not be current man who will supply the shackles. Technology in a sense is the only thing other than autonomous man who, when he is shackled, has to have some role behind being so bound. And thus the integration of technology and sex is the only role in which mankind has opportunities opened for it by sex, and thus what the technology is then holds a great importance. You can see why reason receives such a poor ‘rap’ in this respect-it can only originally conceive of things done over and again, the basest form of pleasures, what someone else did long before you. And so, we get frustrated by this repetition, and for better or worse, turn to technology. It is clear that while technology is itself a giant form of repetition (at least so far), but we believe that somehow, these repetitions will make it better. And so designs are made and plans drawn to make sex more technological. This integration is really the moral quandary which will present itself. For it is one thing if technology gets a person an enhanced phallus, and he uses that for pleasure, boasting etc. That doesn’t change the soul, or the reasoning person, or whatever one wishes to call it, at least not in direct senses. But let us say that it was scientifically possible to create a state of Continuous Female Orgasm (CFO). And so, from birth, all females were wired in such a way that their entire waking lives, they were, in a sense, orgasmic. At this point, she cannot reason, she can only writhe in moments of complete passion, and when she needs to go to sleep, she does, and dreams orgasmically, and then wakes up. And let us say there was also, M, a way to manage the biologically effects this would inevitably have, such that it produces constant contentment. What would this life be like? Would it be harder to reason, and would we find Plato right about the basic idea that intellectual reproduction is better than sexual reproduction? Maybe not all people are like this, but I think that as we grow to like and welcome technology more and more, most would grab onto anything that functioned in a new way to make them content, forgetting the distinction Mill made, among others, and thus making ourselves hedonists. What must not be forgotten is the negative part of the equation: that people should have the right, as autonomous beings, to choose to take the chip out, to opt out of these new technological inventions. At least now, technology is not alive, but we can give real life, what we experience, how we experience it, to technology, and if we do that to the end, we cede our autonomy perpetually; we cede the part of us that is most human in installments until the end of human life itself, with no will to go back even if we could, which we couldn’t because technology would dictate it. The hero of this story, and there must be a normative element naturally, is human reason; that we, now, as autonomous creatures, can create boundaries, and limit the life of technology in a way that we won’t be able to do in quite the same way as tomorrow or the next day. And with sex, we make the simplest of choices on occasion-we like someone’s eyebrows, we like another’s smile or abdominal muscles, but we must learn to love sex first, and most. If we love technology before sex, sex doesn’t stand a chance. Already, it is one of the most pedantic exercises one can engage in, in terms of discovery. Axillary intercourse, frotting, we know it all. The only form of sex discovery left is intersubjective internal discovery-no couple walks into a bedroom and holds a press conference afterwards because they discovered something new-and yet, they may talk to their best friends about it as if they had. Reason is so problematic for technology to attack, of course, because it cannot be manipulated, it is not socially conditioned, it is not subject to the whims of anything but its own parameters of purity. But the emotions we have about sex, the general inclinations most of us have, these are attacks by custom, by social conditioning, by technology, by anything and everything-and these emotions quickly are hardened by these factors and we don’t get why we can’t escape them, and we sometimes feel so trapped that we are being suffocated by the rest of the world. What allows man to breath while being choked by these factors, is reason, shining forth. And so, with sex itself, we must dispense with custom. We must find an ethical framework, whichever we believe, to guide us through correct sexual practice. If we cannot lay out our reasoning onto a sheet, and show the different steps of logic and general inferences we are making; if we cannot get technical about the decisions we make and the actions we eventuate, we are getting as lazy with sex as the husband who doesn’t care about his wife’s orgasm; who then proceeds to go down to the local store and gets a vibrator. Nothing wrong with her getting a vibrator: but something very wrong with the reason why she’s getting one in this instance. Our goal should be to be able to say why we put our left hand on her clavicle at minute 3, second 42, of intercourse: anything less, and technology will beat us to it before we can even think about what is pleasuring us-we will just zero in on pleasure itself.