"Christ As A Cancer And My Obsession With Reversal"
Well, it looks we’ve gotten a little snow here in Indiana-Land, the land of cornfields, basketball players, Michael Jackson’s birthplace, and, of course, morbid masturbators; and, of course, the snow will make the traditionalists happy, I suppose. I haven’t talked to a single human soul today except for, a few hours ago, I went to the convenience store and saw that they had a whipper-snapper working, didn’t know his age, and I asked him if he was 21 so he could sell me some beer. I’ve exchanged a few e-mails back and forth with people today but that hardly counts as human contact for me. I get e-mails and pics from cute girls and it is torture. I gave up on seeking real, human contact from the InterNet a long time ago. I’ve touched two girls whom I originally met on-line and I think that is probably enough for a life-time. I did it. I met girls on the InterNet and fucked them. Big whoop. I’m a lot different than I was then, though, a lot more creepy, a lot more jaded and a helluva lot more disturbed. I’ve imprisoned myself here in this town and in this town I will find her heavenly hooters and drink her lactational lusciousness if ever at all. I’ve imprisoned myself, yeah, that’s for sure.
A little while ago, I held my gorgeous cock and morbidly masturbated over and over again to his video file I down-loaded. I down-loaded it from this cute, black eyed, black haired, Latina chick’s amateur web-site. In the file she was going up and down on her husband’s cock. Her sweet, round ass (this chick is like, really, so cute) was going up and down; she was riding her man’s cock as she had her back faced toward him. Her husband had such a great view, and so did I, of the cock sliding in and out of the pussy so slowly and so majestically. You don’t see her husband’s face so it seems like YOU are the one she is riding, riding, and I was just sitting here, mesmerized, totally ignited by the strange phenomenon of this chicks beautiful plump ass going up and down on a cock, looking at her sweet asshole hidden in the darkness. And I thought to myself, is this it? Is this the true meaning of Christmas? This cute chick’s ass going up and down, riding a beautiful hard cock as it penetrates her pussy? I pondered this, and then in a slightly melancholy realization I said “Yep, that’s it.”
It has always been so fascinating to me how the sexual impulse is- by all observation- a “subconscious” urge to commune with another, lose one’s individuality, essentially DIE (please see an entry below regarding the distinction between “death” and the loss of individuality) and, ironically, when the gorgeous, white holy steaming cum of a male blasts into the wet, tight vagina of a lovely woman- in a human effort to fucking DIE, really, it is the case so often that a fucking BABY (sweet golden love of life!) is born and THIS what leads to my dissection of how this relates to Christmas. Irony. It is all about the urge to die and irony. I say “irony” because that is the best word I can use right now; it goes a lot deeper, I suppose; it can get a lot more metaphysical and epistemological and philosophical, but it really makes me frustrated when shallow minded people look at what I write, see that I am obsessed (and I am) with sex and morbid masturbation and say that I am therefore vulgar; that I am therefore crude and that I take the most beautiful things our culture has to offer (such as religious beauty and sublimity) and FUCK IT ALL UP by putting a fucking cock and a cunt into the mix and I say where were YOU when they crucified my Lord? You were sitting somewhere opening up your Christmas presents while I sat at home- like I am now- jerking my cock because, the truth is, Christ wasn’t born in December. December was when he was CRUCIFIED, you dumb dollywoods! HAHAHA! Christ was crucified in December and three days= three months in the tomb and, voilla! He resurrects with the sun, of course, on Easter and the spring-time because that it what Christ is (on a fundamental natural level, disregarding theological, political, metaphysical, artistic, aestheticly ideological and whatever else for now)- he is the SUN , blah, blah, blah, and everyone knows that. I’m not pretentious enough to try to make an original contribution concerning all of this stuff, but what I AM here to do is say that I am so PISSED that since ever since Kris Kristofferson came out with that hit country song, “Jesus was a Capricorn” everyone has bought into the idea that Christ was born in December when, in actuality, Christ was born in JUNE! HAHA! And he was therefore a CANCER- which is Capricorn’s polar opposite (oh sweet delicious irony!) as any astrology-phile immediately recognizes. I don’t care about Saturnalia and pagans and non-pagans, so please.
Libra is when Christ “gave up the ghost,” everything dies, it all makes sense and it is also when I like to CUM! Often, when I cum, I imagine that my cute little white pretty semen splatters are little ghosts, like Christ's, when he died, and I sometimes eat them, put them in my mouth and fall into fits of subtle seizures. HAHA! Anyway, I covered Libra and Autumn so leave me alone about that.
Christ was a Cancer. Isn’t it ironic? There was actually a group of people, the Mandeans, in ancient Iraq (ooooooh . . . IRAQ!), who agreed with this, but that is beside the point for now, really, and the irony, the DELICIOUS (I fucking hate that- when some dweeb speaks of irony being “delicious”; that’s because they are generally used to eating POOP, so I can imagine) irony is that, while all of you blessed traditionalists are sitting around the tree, opening your presents, celebrating the BIRTH of Christ, the Morbid Masturbator, the MaStUrBaT, the Cancerian and TRUE living, breathing Christ is being CRUCIFIED, sitting here at home alone. Without any family. Without any friends. Without any ass and lacking gifts of pleasure or any sort of holiday spirits whatsoever except for this wretched BEER I’m guzzling.
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