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  hardie karges 7:54 am on September 20, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: love ( 49 ), sex   

  I want love without all the bullshit, 

  all the food fights, all the sleepless nights, and that eternal wet spot that follows me around the bed. Ugliness loves beauty the way sin loves purity, but still love’s better than all that, more than just desire for what you don’t have. Love can move mountains; love can stop rivers; love can change the course of history. Pure innocent puppy love is better than all the blow-jobs in the world. I love the initial eye contact, the shy smiles, the late nights, and the long confessions. Time can change all that. Take that pure innocent exhilarating love and whip it up into funny shapes, then bake at four hundred degrees for a year or until hard to the touch. Remove from oven and place on rack. Allow to cool, and then beat it up into grotesque faces, beat it down in a thousand places, beat it with hammers and anvils until you can’t hear yourself think, until it is only a pale reflection of its original glow, a woolly tumorous mass. Kill it systematically until it lies bleeding and gasping for air. Now that it’s fit for public consumption, we can get on with our lives. Now that no one can feel anything anymore, either bad or good, we’re ready for a real relationship, complete with real estate, revenge of the automatons, starring all unknown actors. What happened to the pure innocent love of youth, the pure innocent rebirth at old age? Where did we go wrong as a society that we value the things that kill us and suppress the very things that thrill us? All revolutions go too far. Roll back the clock and pull back the covers. We can never go home again, but maybe we can get halfway.

   

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  hardie karges 12:58 pm on September 19, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: gravity ( 3 ), love ( 49 ), sex   

  You need to fall in love once every five years 

  just for the Heaven of it, the pure ethereal Heaven, just to make sure that you can still feel that feeling like it’s supposed to feel. Faces lure the drifting soul like liquor on the shelf, lining passageways on the halls of memory, mirrors on the walls of home. Just the illusion of love can pick you up by the back of your neck and put you somewhere you’ve never been, no matter how many times you’ve done it before, then draw you slowly toward it like a tractor beam from a sci-fi movie, slow and steady. Love can make you do things you’d never do otherwise, things that would make people think that you’re “out of your mind”. That’s exactly the truth, of course. The trick is to change that love, that blind insane force, whatever it is, into something useful. You can use love like a gravity slingshot to propel you from planet to planet like George of the Jungle swinging though the trees until he smashes into one finally, just like clockwork. If you can let that love inspire you, propel you, gaining speed, then at the last moment fire your rockets just enough to change your trajectory and go into orbit without crashing, then you’ve accomplished something you wouldn’t have otherwise.
   
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  hardie karges 8:41 am on September 18, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: EVOLUTION ( 20 ), love ( 49 ), sex   

  Sex sells like hotcakes to hungry men, and women too, 

  
  packaged many different ways for maximum market penetration. If it keeps knocking on the back door and the side exits, waking you up in the middle of the night, then that makes it more exciting and longer-lasting. ‘Wham bam’ (‘boom boom’ in Asia) barely scratches the surface of sex’s economic potential, and it’s all perfectly legal. You’ll never see a female singer anymore who’s not absolutely stunning, especially in country music. ‘Em boys know what sells. Movies are a little better, but not much. Many a beautiful woman gets steady work while many a great actress doesn’t, because of you know what, yes, IT, the black hole from which not even light can escape. The apologists will say that it’s beauty, not sex, that’s up for grabs. Yeah, right, people call 1-900 for the beauty of cultural interface, not for the illusion of intimacy strong enough to achieve hydraulic genital peristalsis. Mai bpen rai. It’s all for evolution, the faster the better. Let’s get to wherever we’re going as a species. Let’s get there tonight, baby.

   
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  hardie karges 8:14 am on September 16, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: homosexuality ( 6 ), sex   

  The same people who say that sexuality is not a choice, 

  are the ones who go in for sex change. The homosexual claim to ‘normalcy’ is the implication that there was simply a mix-up in the delivery room and they were assigned the wrong set of genitals. Certainly they’re correct that sex centers are in the head, not the genitalia, but I suspect that choice and circumstance still play a large role in any deviation from the norm of sex. Most of the guys in prison who adjust themselves to a life without women by seeking sex with men are not the stereotypical lispy, eye-rolling, limp-wristed ‘gays’ on the outside. Sex accesses a need for power as much as sexual fulfillment. Whatever else it might access psychologically is a matter of speculation. It’s funny, or maybe not so funny, that the same word that refers to sexual fulfillment also refers to violence of the worst sort. It’s no less ironic that the same act gets used both ways. The same act that consummates love between a willing man and woman is the supreme form of violence when one partner is unwilling. What’s a rapist to do, join a singles club? Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way.

   
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  hardie karges 8:28 am on September 15, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: love ( 49 ), reproduction ( 3 ), sex   

  The praying mantis gives head like no other, 

  
  the hapless male giving new meaning to the term ‘self-sacrifice’. For those of you who don’t know, the female nibbles the male’s head off as a nutritional supplement, while it’s in the throes of orgasm and can hardly defend itself. This is one disadvantage of the missionary position. I once saw a show on BBC where a lady scientist was jerking off a pig. I feel better now. In case you don’t already know, they have penises that look like a corkscrew. Why Nature selected for that, God only knows. Anyway, the nice lady explained that the really runny liquid comes out first to have a head start for the prize Easter egg, while the viscosity thickens until finally the last portion is almost like wax, which plugs up the channel. That’s so that the sprinters don’t change their minds and back out. And that’s exactly the way it came out, she steadily pumping away on the poor creature’s forlorn member, he not complaining a bit. It was better than the horsie scene when Emanuelle went to America, which reminds one of just how bad porno movie-scripts can be. And that was the high-class porn, with a real story and everything. I never saw the donkey shows in TJ, so I can’t compare it with that.

   
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  hardie karges 8:34 am on September 13, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: mothers, religion ( 158 ), sex   

  “You’ll spoil your dinner,” my mother used to say 

  with all the conviction of a nutritional specialist issuing pronouncements on the future of the species, as though one bite of the forbidden cookie would send shock waves through the culinary establishment. Mothers are like that. They speak in parables. They speak in circles. They speak in broad terms on multiple issues. They issue directives. They issue freshly washed clothing and recipes for fulfillment. They issue love at low interest, with long-term repayment options. I loved her because I was supposed to love her, even though it was hard sometimes. No, that’s not true. It was hard almost all of the time, she rigid of bent and unyielding in her convictions, a woman of God and little else. I used to call her ‘Mother Superior’ only half-jokingly. At least we kept our sense of humor. I wonder what my father kept hidden. I doubt that he ever had good sex. Maybe he didn’t care. Hey, wait a minute! That’s me!

   
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  hardie karges 1:49 pm on September 12, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: EVOLUTION ( 20 ), love ( 49 ), reproduction ( 3 ), sex   

  Bottom line on reproduction is as clear as the line of her bottom. 

  There’s no rulebook any more and far fewer rules. We can reproduce the species without any reference to family structure if that’s what people want. We can reproduce the species without any reference to sex if that’s what people really want, though our sentimental attachment to sex seems pretty strong. The real issue, of course, is gene-splicing. Do we really want or need designer babies? Are we that dissatisfied with our current lives and that confident of our technological prowess that we’re willing to risk it all for cosmetic enhancements? Once genes are released into the environment, they are like viruses with lives of their own. The problem is that you might not even know the effects of long-term experimentation until it’s too late.

   
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  hardie karges 1:29 pm on September 11, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: Family ( 6 ), love ( 49 ), sex   

  In most species the male splits and lets the female(s) raise the kids. 

  Maybe this is not such a bad system after all, assuming, of course, that the male kicks in a big chunk of support, enough to compensate the female for her efforts, also. In the state of Nature, they don’t, of course. If the male and female can still love each other in this process, then so much the better. If not, then what’s the point anyway? Maybe too much emphasis is put on the ‘nuclear family’ and its many faults and failures, a rarity these days in countries where there’s a choice. Certainly no better is the broken family where children make rounds like the morning milkman. The lower the food supply, the more that animals seem to remain monogamous, and the male will help in exchange for the opportunity to drop his genes. When food is plentiful, fewer males are needed, and tend to kill each other for the chance to ham the harem. This phenomenon seems to apply even when a wild species becomes domesticated. The number of males and females seems to always be equal at birth, some sort of genetic law, the law of averages, the law of large numbers.

   
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  hardie karges 7:59 am on September 10, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: love ( 49 ), reproduction ( 3 ), sex   

  How much money you have when you die is not the important thing; 

  it’s how many women you’ve had that’s important. I call that the ‘Darwinian excuse’ for men’s philanderthal behavior. No other species gives even nearly as much consideration. The reproductive act all finished, the male of the species goes back to his hunting and fishing and foraging, leaving the female the joy of motherhood and the fate of the species. Tests have indicated that male baboons can actually identify their own offspring, but that’s tentative. Leave it to us great apes to subvert God’s plan by caring for our offspring. This could lead to dangerous precedents among the human species, already pussy-whipped and begging for more. Along with missionary positions and rumors of oral sex, we seem to share that guilt complex with bonobos, whose males also tend to follow their women’s lead. I guess that’s because they’re more sexual than chimps, too, the little sluts. But our technology puts us humans in a dangerous position. Once women realize they don’t need us, just a few studs, then they can organize to effectively shut us out of the deal, or worse yet, keep us as worker drones serving them… hey, wait a minute…. Isn’t that what Tang’s already doing with me?

   
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  hardie karges 7:17 am on September 3, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: EVOLUTION ( 20 ), sex, women ( 5 )   

  Women have the upper hand 

  in the meat market in the modern Piggly Wiggly. A nice-looking woman can get laid anytime she wants, foreplay optional. A nice-looking guy still has to go through all the motions, all the phone calls, all the arrangements, all the hors d’oeuvres, all the over-priced drinks, and even then has to ‘get lucky’ to get his order filled from the butcher. Still an unattractive guy can at least buy canned ham or get a face full of Spam as long as he can afford it. Unattractive women must resort to electrical appliances and divine intervention. It’s a sad fact of Evolution- the ugly ones don’t get to breed, Nature’s path of least resistance. The ugly ones don’t get to breed, and the smart ones hardly care to anymore. They just go through the motions. Sexual selection drives evolution dumber and prettier. Now that we no longer need our wits to survive, the world dumbs itself down exponentially. Still, sex is a heavenly way to ensure reproduction of the species. Having sex is looking upon the face of God, connecting to the ultimate source of space-time creation without all the unnecessary drugs, and realizing that, yes, it is good.

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    nottibits 7:37 am on September 3, 2008 Permalink | Reply

    Wow this is the exact plot of Idiocracy.

    And you have to think that the whole strategy is messed up when money enters the picture. Otherwise known as “What’s he doing with HER?” or vice versa.