Controlled by Gamma Light: .posted by ben on Feb 10 at 11:34:07
I like the glasses.
Dr. Octagon, paramedic focus on the East for priests my anisthetics prescribe a certain fertilizer Homegrown computer wise on the microphone Utilizing tracks inverted by animical High typical force, space sex intercourse You get lost, and memorize to the Enterprise Scotty the Captain, Mr. Spock keeps rappin 4212, the shit moves at warp speed Dynamic 7, navigation of the coppers Moving in crystals, operating lightspeed I see the plants, they're growing Blue Flowers Cyber analog through virtual reality Different colors of earth rocks in variety Medical equal, with helmets on the space people Galactic at 8, the verdict can't demonstrate You be confused, and disobeying planet rules Biochemistry, with stars for publicity Megasonic bass, with data chips in your face Nuclear lend drums, that bang hard on dark tracks Reacting reverb, concious spots on your nerve I take a break like James Brown to the bridge Sailing, takes me away To wherever I'm really going.. shoobedowop Up, up, and away! In my beautiful, balloon! Optical biofeedback, magnetic borders X-Ray you see skeletons fly North for the next day We give passes covered with dioxalyn gases Return Here's George Jetson! Back with intriguing positive minerals You enter the center search and raiding at random with no condom, no rubbers will reach the testicles and effect em, by animal means, I'm in your spectrum As I walk through the garden of orange tomatoes, I see Blue Flowers.
Chastity: .posted by ben on Feb 9 at 22:21:16
Pornography seems so stupid sometimes:
"The belt fascinated Jill. The thought of being locked up under someone else's control made her wild. The thought of trying on the belt made her excited and scared. "
The rest is here.
I read The Story of O recently. It is supposed to be a bondage classic, written by an anonymous Frenchperson in the 1950's. The story was far too violent for my tastes to retain any significant erotic aspect, but then again, it was intended for a female patronage, so maybe I was missing something. I had the same reaction to some Danielle Steele I read. Lines about "throbbing purple warriors" don't really do too much for me.
Why the hell is there no decent (well, actually indecent) pornographic literature intended for men? I guess there's always Sade, but he seems like he's trying to make some inane political statement. I got into an argument with my "writing on science and society" teacher after claiming that Sade's writing is based on the (false) assumption that women are of no use for anything save sex. It seemed a reasonable statement to me.
Chastity belts...time to get out of here...
Me Love You Long Time: .posted by ben on Feb 9 at 14:21:07
The smoking fetish. They try to kills us with cancer and semen. What a horrible death.
I go looking for 2 live crew lyrics and what do I find? Asian hardcore fucky-sucky free pics This seems amusing to me, I'm not really sure why..
The entire Asian fetish thing really gets me. Is the ideal woman one with broken feet, and an ego so utterly destroyed that the idea of being a geisha girl has some odd appeal. David Bowie would seem to concur.
"Sucky sucky... me love you long time"
Is it any wonder that when a society expects all these various things of women that everything goes to hell. Whatever happened to poor Lilith anyway? So, the research continues. Soon, I too will have a website selling dick sucking lesbian whores and all the other appitizing paradoxi of sexuality.
You can say I'm desperate, even call me perverted But you say I'm a dog when I leave you fucked and deserted I'll play with your heart just like it's a game I'll be blowing your mind while you're blowing my brains I'm just like that man they call Georgie Puddin' Pie I fuck all the girls and I make 'em cry I'm like a dog in heat, a freak without warning I have an appetite for sex, 'cause me so horny. -2 Live Crew
me love you long time. . .
It Is So Hot: .posted by ben on Feb 9 at 11:41:35
I fucked up. I guess something had to be fucked up with my new computer. The processor is here, but its presence has led to the realization that I do not have the correct heat sink and fan. I need a socket A fan and heatsink, not (as I have) a slot A. The engineers at amd need to think of better names for their stuff. What really gets me about this is that I have the correct fan and heatsink bookmarked, but somehow I didn't order (or didn't get) the correct one.
So, my computer is ready...well it doesn't have a hard drive. It does have a floppy and cd-rom though, but I can't use any of it because if I try to turn it on, the damn thing will melt.
GWG: .posted by ben on Feb 9 at 09:36:20
The onset of a new computer has reduced me to dire straights. My monitor is now running at 1024 because that is the highest resolution (at 24bit color) it can support without the TNT it was so used to.
I have also noticed another problem. To get my dual 21 inch monitors and a 19 inch to fit on my desk, all the computers are going to need to go on the floor (it's a big desk).
Now, if only my processor had arrived. . .
I'm about 3/4 of the way through Faust and liking it. The oonly problem is that I don't know anyone I can talk to about it. For that matter, I'm not sure that I know anyone who has read Faust. This is starting to become more of a problem as I attempt to digest the "classics" that nobody seems to read anymore. Pound would be deeply saddened.
The GWG (girls with glasses) fetish. . .
Music: .posted by fuzzybunny on Feb 2 at 22:04:52
Apparently, some people here have a problem with my taste in music and don't mind saying so.
How can you criticize someone else's taste in music? That's like criticizing someone for being a vegetarian, then putting pieces of meat on their plate (Norman you bastard!).
A Bite to Eat: .posted by ben on Feb 2 at 12:48:31
I woke up around six this morning, when my roommate's alarm starting going off. Started is key here, take not that I did not get out of bed until 7:30, shortly after him when the line "Trix are for kids" broke through my pillow. I hate my television. His alarm beeps once for a while, then twice, then thrice, then he usually shuts it off for a while. It goes off again about five minutes later. I enjoyed well over an hours worth of this.
I put on a shirt, a belt, grabbed my Jung and differential equations, and stumbled down to the trident after turning off the TV in the house abandoned minutes ago by my roommate. There I was greeted by the usual barrista, who I like, and some idiot woman who was letting her tea seep on the fucking counter. To give you perspective, the counter is about a foot and a half square.
From the coffee bar to my table was another delirious jog, clutching my hot chocolate florentine and a chocolate croissant. I sat in the far corner of the trident away from everyone, intent to be pissed off and alone.
Of course, this didn't work out. To my right a woman who I hate and see around town acting stupid sat down, mumbling to herself. That was annoying.
A few moments later a balding borderline retarded man sat down to my right. He proceeded to make incredible amounts of noise while slathering five cakes of butter on the exterior of an unfortunate bagel. He could have chewed a bit better too.
Then, providence smiled on me. The crazy woman moved to another table to harass some poor techie because he was near the wood burning stove. Actually, providence hates me. Two elderly sisters replaced the crazy bitch, the one nearest me was dowsed in some hideous perfume. That, and all the chocolate I was eating made me a bit ill, while taking me back to me sophomore year trigonometry class. In that class we had assigned seats, and I was forced to sit behind a girl who wore a similar smelling perfume, only more. She was pudgy, asked inane questions, and her face was a study in human skin of a pepperoni pizza.
Back to my miserable morning. . . The perfume stench incited me to devour my croissant and florentine in short order, feeling all the more ill for that much chocolate, that early. I retreated from the table, bumping the elderly sister's table in my retreat. The one farther from me, who may well have stunk as well, I couldn't tell, said "scuse you." I muttered "fuck you," sadly, I don't think they heard. I really should have picked up each of their teas, and poured them on their respective heads. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.
Wandering back to me house, I noticed my roommate's half eaten pizza bagels scattered throughout the kitchen. Then I noticed my roommate was not present. He left the house with the fucking television on, and lights on all over the house. Why? What a glorious waste of energy, as so much is.
two wrongs do not make a right, but two arbitraries make a random. ^ independent
Pets.com: .posted by ben on Jan 31 at 13:29:55
conceived from vile emotion
I want for warmth
Sock on her arm? Now I am extremely confused. It's not really that I hate Britney Spears, but more the culture from which she originates. As a member of that culture I feel somewhat responsible.
We, as a society, have instituted a number of barbaric practices, I will outline those which disturb me the most.
(i) The shaving of women's leg. This came about during the second world war. There was a dearth of nylon due to the war effort, so women were forced to make due without pantyhose. Due to societal pressures, much akin to those young Britney suffers f rom, women took to shaving their legs, and then painting the lines now absent due to lack of pantyhose on the backs of their legs with eyeliner. The practice of using eyeliner abated after nylon became available again, but that of shaving legs did not. It should also be noted that pantyhose were originally adopted by prostitutes toward the start of the 20th century, and that it took a number of years for them to gain the wide acceptance they appreciated at the dawn of the second world war.
(ii) Also pertaining to war, the practice of men cutting their hair shorter than women's. Prior to the first world war the majority of American men wore their hair long, look at a picture of Thomas Jefferson if you don't believe me. The first world war necessitated the chopping of an entire generation of hair. The second world war called for the same again. By that time, two generations of men had lived with little hair, and a trend was started.
(iii) High heeled shoes. Plainly idiotic. It destroys women's feet, makes it difficult to walk, and reminds me of the Chinese practice of binding feet.
(iv) Ear piecing also irritates me. Why are women expected, as some odd rite of passage, to get holes chopped in their ears? What purpose does it serve? For all the shit we give Africans about rings around their necks, we don't take to close a look at ourselves.
(v) Men shaving their faces? Why, do we want all men to look pre-pubescent? I also trace a desire to fuck prepubescent women to the leg shaving phenomenon. Quite disturbing really. . .
Id: .posted by fuzzybunny on Jan 31 at 11:40:18
Last night I had a dream in which I met Britney Spears at a bookstore/coffeeshop in Seattle, had a few laughs with her, then took her to this Polynesian Sushi place for dinner. That was about all that happened, since I woke up shortly after we got to the restaurant. Two things I strangely took note of though, she wasn't wearing a sock on her arm like at the superbowl last sunday, and her breasts seemed much smaller than they lo ok in pictures and on TV. Suprisingly, the sock thing had profound importance to me in the dream, though I don't really know why.
I was quite shocked when I awoke. Immediately I wondered what Ben would think about this, with his hatred for all things " Britney." Then I wondered what this must imply about my subconscious. Oh well.
Pure Thought: .posted by ben on Jan 31 at 09:35:04
Why is it that all phycologists are themselves insane? I am reading Jung's autobiography and can't really figure out what to make of it. He is currently struggling through his school years with not enough money, and saying that having to pander for money is a good thing. I don't really see how, since such a state can only detract from one's studies.
From fragment 68 by hd I envy you your chance of death, how I envy you this. I am more covetous of him even than of your glance, I wish more from his presence though he torture me in a grasp, terrible, intense.
Lexx: .posted by fuzzybunny on Jan 30 at 16:32:48
How can one not like Lexx? Half Cluster lizard and half human, Zev wanders space in a giant organic spaceship, the Lexx, which just happens to be the most powerful force in the universe. Her only companions are Stanley Tweedle, an aging security gu ard and the only person that can pilot the ship, Kai, a dead assasin that was brought back to life, and 790, a robotic drone's decapitated head, which was somehow infused with the mind of a love-slave and has fallen in love with Zev.
Tasty Fetish: .posted by ben on Jan 29 at 22:21:55
Snow falls like rain ice shines pretty I sleep
Jesus died for your sins, now I die for those of Tiny Linux. Why does every linux distribution I try hate me, or my computer? Why god, why? I didn't capitalize god, does that mean something bad for my soul? Jehova...Jehova...I am an old man jumping up and down excitedly.
Today in my miserable writing class, the teacher said some of us write applications for jobs we weren't qualified for. Seemed condescending to me. Maybe she is unhappy because the job I wrote an application for paid $100,000+ a year. A bit more than a job as some flunky for the "undergraduate writing program." I'm not bitter, really.
Tiny Linux lives! It might actually work. It's installing and showing some promise while I research fetishes on yahoo. What would freud think?
"Anatomy is destiny." -Sigmund Freud
An amusing, and insightful, discussion of pubic hair.
"The word 'Klysmaphilia' comes from the roots 'klyster' (enema) and 'philia' (liking something)."
Brandy is fairly cute, even with a tube up her ass.
From this article...
"To further cement the idea of enemas being a pleasurable thing, once, when I was about 4 or 5, I happened to walk into the bathroom, only to find my mother lying on the carpet giving herself an enema. I got an eyefull! The scene imprinted itself on my psyche, right down to her position, the type of antique enema equipment she was using and the rather-erotic expression on her face. She didn't even notice I was there, at first! Then, she noticed me and asked me to leave, which I did. Nothing more was said about the incident, except that now and then my mother would say something like, "Could you answer the phone for a while? I'm going upstairs to give myself an enema, so you know what I'll be doing". Having had so many pleasurable enemas myself and having seen the obvious look of pleasure on my mother's face as she administered an enema to herself, you can damn well bet I "knew what she was doing". She was having a good time, that's what! And every time she made a point of telling me what she was about to do, she reinforced my impression of enemas as something both sexual and pleasurable."
I'm slowly coming to the realization that there is no such thing as an odd, or unusual, sexual practice. For every fetishour mores teach us is aberrant there is a crowd of thousands who practices it regularly without the slightest guilt.
This paper provides interesting research on gay population statistics. According to it 7.7% of males, and 7.5% claim to have homosexual desires, while on 2.8% of the population identifies as gay and 1.4% as lesbian. This contrasts greatly with the Laumann figure of 10% which has gained general acceptance in the gay community. Incidentally, the Kinsey report cites the same statistic. The paper I linked does not, however, include the possibility of repressed homosexuals, and after meeting my uncle's good ol boy friends, I think repressed homosexual males might account for a considerable portion of the population. Another report, published by U Chicago, states that 2%of men and 0.7% of women are homosexuals. Thinking of people that I know, that figure seems absurdly low. U Chicago's conservative bias has made another statement. Here's another interesting paper on the subject.
And finally, well for today anyway, the robot fetish.
Haiku: .posted by graham on Jan 29 at 21:06:08
Beauty is Sunrise
In Purple, Blue, and some Pinks
Pity It's So short.
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