I think I'll go out of town for a few days. See you in about a week.
Before I go, Becky appropriately asked why I always leave out the girls when I've talked about molestation.
I've answered her, but I should say it publicly.
The molestation of little girls is even MORE deplorable than the shame of diddling little boys.
In this case of priests, while I'm sure there are some who've made young females their prey--I never hear about them.
As for my rant(s), I wasn't actually talking about molestation in general, but the very specific hypocrisy of the clergy and other professions of power in my not-so-limited exposure to this problem.
For the record--
Fuck Mark Foley. Fuck any man or woman who uses the wisdom of age to overcome the innocence of youth.
If you are a letch of any stripe
Fuck you too.
It's harsh language, I admit. But I'm not a gentleman when it comes to this.
If there is a place for political correctness--a discussion about the care and concern for our children isn't it, unless they're participating in the conversation.
So if you happen to be reading this blog, and you've spent any part of this week fondling, diddling, caressing, or otherwise inappropriately communicating with some child under your influence ... FUCK YOU!
Know that there are those of us out here who don't give a damn who you are, or how close you're supposed to be to God, human power, or monetary wealth.
You are the bane of our civilization, and a shit-stain on humanity.
And yes, I understand that you have a problem, you're not wired like the rest of us, some shit-stain molested YOU as a child blahblahblah.
That's called a cross to bear. We all have one. Mine is an unholy obsession with round asses. But I've identified it, live with it, and manage to walk to and fro on the earth without grabbing all the ones I think are amazing and trying to talk to them with my penis.
Pick up your cross, Strap it on your shoulders, and strain under the weight like the rest of us.
Give these unfortunate children a chance to mature and discover what a fucktard you are before they have to decide whether or not they want to have sex with you.
Everybody out here isn't looking for polite way to say you don't deserve to live.
I curse you, and call on the Creation powers of nature--and WHOEVER holds them-- to use the next time you chew or swallow as an opportune moment to take back the breath you have mistakenly been loaned, so it can be given to a more useful vessel.
I for one have a consistent, and direct message for you. It won't change next week, and it won't be any different when I'm an old man. And if I have to scream it from the top of some mountain, all by myself, forever, I'm dressed for that trip.
FUCK YOU!
And no, I don't know what it's like to be molested. But I do know what it's like to try to hold a decent relationship together with a woman who can barely sleep because she's afraid you're going to try to rape her while she's sleeping--like her daddy did. I know how hard it is to depend on a worker who has nightmares at night. I watch the stunted emotions you leave in your wake. I see the impact on my society from the fallout of your criminal behavior.
And if you need more practical advice, I suggest alt.com
There's a whole community of people a bit more adjusted than you who love to dress up like and be treated like children. Exercise your proclivities there, with other grown-ups who can decide what parts of you they want touching what parts of them.
* * * * * *
To everyone else--have a great week. See you next time.
Peace, prosperity, and pleasure ...
--Stew.
Before I go, Becky appropriately asked why I always leave out the girls when I've talked about molestation.
I've answered her, but I should say it publicly.
The molestation of little girls is even MORE deplorable than the shame of diddling little boys.
In this case of priests, while I'm sure there are some who've made young females their prey--I never hear about them.
As for my rant(s), I wasn't actually talking about molestation in general, but the very specific hypocrisy of the clergy and other professions of power in my not-so-limited exposure to this problem.
For the record--
Fuck Mark Foley. Fuck any man or woman who uses the wisdom of age to overcome the innocence of youth.
If you are a letch of any stripe
Fuck you too.
It's harsh language, I admit. But I'm not a gentleman when it comes to this.
If there is a place for political correctness--a discussion about the care and concern for our children isn't it, unless they're participating in the conversation.
So if you happen to be reading this blog, and you've spent any part of this week fondling, diddling, caressing, or otherwise inappropriately communicating with some child under your influence ... FUCK YOU!
Know that there are those of us out here who don't give a damn who you are, or how close you're supposed to be to God, human power, or monetary wealth.
You are the bane of our civilization, and a shit-stain on humanity.
And yes, I understand that you have a problem, you're not wired like the rest of us, some shit-stain molested YOU as a child blahblahblah.
That's called a cross to bear. We all have one. Mine is an unholy obsession with round asses. But I've identified it, live with it, and manage to walk to and fro on the earth without grabbing all the ones I think are amazing and trying to talk to them with my penis.
Pick up your cross, Strap it on your shoulders, and strain under the weight like the rest of us.
Give these unfortunate children a chance to mature and discover what a fucktard you are before they have to decide whether or not they want to have sex with you.
Everybody out here isn't looking for polite way to say you don't deserve to live.
I curse you, and call on the Creation powers of nature--and WHOEVER holds them-- to use the next time you chew or swallow as an opportune moment to take back the breath you have mistakenly been loaned, so it can be given to a more useful vessel.
I for one have a consistent, and direct message for you. It won't change next week, and it won't be any different when I'm an old man. And if I have to scream it from the top of some mountain, all by myself, forever, I'm dressed for that trip.
FUCK YOU!
And no, I don't know what it's like to be molested. But I do know what it's like to try to hold a decent relationship together with a woman who can barely sleep because she's afraid you're going to try to rape her while she's sleeping--like her daddy did. I know how hard it is to depend on a worker who has nightmares at night. I watch the stunted emotions you leave in your wake. I see the impact on my society from the fallout of your criminal behavior.
And if you need more practical advice, I suggest alt.com
There's a whole community of people a bit more adjusted than you who love to dress up like and be treated like children. Exercise your proclivities there, with other grown-ups who can decide what parts of you they want touching what parts of them.
* * * * * *
To everyone else--have a great week. See you next time.
Peace, prosperity, and pleasure ...
--Stew.
(10 Oct 2006)
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