Thursday, November 08, 2018

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Wednesday, October 17, 2018

Spot the Language 19

Максим (Кроха) практически не скрывал своих противоестественных страстей. Никого не стесняясь, он заходил к очередному любовнику и принимался за черное дело. Свидетель такого цирка, оттого ушедший из МП, тогда неосторожно заглянул в помещение и, увидев, чем занимается правящий архиерей, сказал:

- Паскуда, хотя бы панагию снял…
В свое время еще существовавший Совет по делам религий был обезкуражен многочисленными неблаговидными выходками одного Члена Синода. Поводом послужило несколько письменных заявлений уборщицы. Суть заключалась в следующем.

- У меня – строгий рабочий день,- сообщала глупая тетка.- В 19.00 я оканчиваю работу и ухожу домой. По трудовому договору я обязана до этого сделать мокрую уборку в помещении. А я захожу в митрополичий кабинет – а они там безобразят.

- Как это? – испуганно интересовались чиновники.
- А так,- не сдавалась представительница пролетариата.- Они друг дружку употребляют прямо на письменном столе и мешают уборке. Я им говорю: «Кончайте быстрее. Мне надо убираться и уходить». А они – ни в какую, только сопят. Ну, я их мокрой тряпкой попыталась разогнать. Так они мне стали угрожать увольнением. Я так это дело не оставлю!..

Но особенно хорошо:

Вспомнилась мне, когда-то прочитанная стенограмма одного заседания в обкоме КПСС, кажется, Волынской области. Там что-то сильно требовались зоотехники, скотники, доярки и т.д. Речь шла, если помню правильно, о селе Торчине. Но каков официальный ответ местного партийного руководителя:

- Зоотехникiв немаэ. Абу пип, абу милиционэр. Скотникiв тэж немаэ…

И вот так везде - абу пип, абу милиционэр, а скотникiв немаэ.
To mother! Mother! Holy Mother! Glory to Mother!

It was 1910-1914. It was before King-Crane already, yet the cruel imperialists were already carving up and feasting on Arab lands, and Mother sat down to eat. Dining on Ottoman's choice cuts, as she had always lustily dreamed. The hate, the hate for Ottoman, the burning hate.

Well, no man will stand for being eaten alive, and in Ottoman's mansion, a great mutiny arose with the finest of his sons, the Young Men. There was a rising on the Bosporus and they had murder in their eyes.

Little did history realize the significance of those days, the rise of the Young Men, that it would lead to a war that shattered all things, the Great Imperialist Slaughter as the Left snorted amid heaves, half a decade hence. Who today yet connects the two tremors? Ah, but it is true. The War, the war, the maddest of all the horrible wars, a war for no reason!

It was 1914 and it was 1915 and it was war, the worst war the world pretended it had ever seen.

Mother was beaten and nearly died at Tannenburg and Masurim Lakes as a Hun went mad.

Mother crawled back scrambling to the Hinterland, where no man could ever beat her for good. With her, a 100,000 man Czech Legion, traitors to a one, rallying to the cry of their own flesh and blood. There was war in Galice, in the Pallid Lands. There, in a Sallow Land, the fight stalemated for years, and a million of Mother's sons never did breathe again.

Brusilov, in 1916, opened the door, and Mother grabbed the tallest Carpathian peaks. In reaching for the sky, a million more sons were trampled dead. At home there were riots and frustration with the dying, the long dying and the sadness of the dying. The monarch toppled and the people dreamed that they ruled. It was March 1917, and the world was shaking.

Mother was dragged to Brest-Livotsk, raging and snarling all the way and clawing with her nails. At gunpoint, she signed, and they cruelly hacked away her flesh. "Mother! Holy Mother!" the people cried, as they always did in this cruel enraptured land.

"For land, for bread, for peace," the wild peasant crowds longed and roared, and revolution shook the land. In Red and White, the blood ran across the wheezing land for years.

Wrangel and Denikin grabbed the South, and Kolchak grabbed the East. 40,000 Czechs, turncoats in the Great War, changed colors again and the rails were seized.

It was 1921, we were at a seaport, just us. We watched in terror, you and me, as the sailors raged and burned, and 400 brave ones fell. We ran from the flames and the soldiers bullets mowing down men.

Agile and adaptive as a snake, from privation, the state went to NEP and won the bloody war. The people had no food, they shrunk, huddled and then died, and no one knew how many starved, but starving was a normal way here, like the endless forests and the mean soil.

Everyone from other lands pitched in to the fight, everyone against Mother, as usual, but in the end the People prevailed as the peasants cheered. To this day, the Ruling Class of the World trembles with rage at this horrible blow.

The saga of Mother, the strange, sad, terrible and beautiful saga of Mother, so proud but so backwards and full of rage, like a wild woman living in the woods with her head held high, does not end here, but here we shall end our tale. Even today, she rises again, and no one can figure her out.

Those wily Eastern ways, and the eternal resentment of the West. The icy wind blows, she throws back another hard drink, and listens to her great composers. The bookshelves heave with her authors, the greatest lettermen that walked on soil. Her pride and her pain and her rage. She tosses back another drink as the wind howls.

It is late, she is beautiful, blond and blue yet alone again, and she rages at the snowy drifts fighting her sills. Mother is horny and she wants sex again and again, wants the world, wants to do the world, and the men are all drinking again, drinking and singing, drinking and fighting, drinking and sleeping. There is death everywhere, but there always is and always was, as death is part of Mother as dear as her very heart.

She will rise again.

Like her or not, always respect Mother. The way you respect a Grizzly Bear. Imperious yet crippled, she demands you look her in the eye and give her her due.

The War Project Versus the Nice Project

The War Project is interfering with the Nice Project. Here I am, sitting and practicing being nice while no one is around in the middle of the night, and memories of war shake in my bones.

Upstairs, it's the War Channel. It's on most nights. Screaming and yelling bloody murder. Hate and rage, crashing and smashing, mad screams of insane people. This is normal. The War is normal.

There's an Hispanic couple upstairs who are at war. There may be others at war too. I think people are on drugs. I hope no one is armed. I hear them screaming and yelling bloody murder at each other, crashing and burning across the room, like a herd of antelope on an African plain. The cops got called. A couple of times.

Inquiries are met with smiles. There are no blows exchanged, the woman is a fighter, everything is fine. Don't believe it. When people scream like that, fists and objects fly. They are trying to kill each other. Nothing will happen until some day, someone may end up dead. This is how these things tend to end.

Next to them, upstairs, are Black people. A young Black woman and her huge Black boyfriend are trying to kill each other, or at least trying to beat each other up.

It was on earlier tonite, the Fights. You can turn on the Fights here just about any nite. Just open your ears.

The war went on on the sidewalk before, earlier in the night, but I looked outside and could not see. Only voices, I heard, disembodied voices. Fighting, fighting, yelling and fighting.

The war went on outside, earlier in the evening. The police pulled up outside my window, three cars, stayed there half and hour, talking to some young Hispanic men. I opened the window and watched the friendly people in blue.

The news just came in, two local kids locked up, the War goes on, two soldiers off the streets. You cheer for the blue men who take away 16 year old POW's. Where? Anywhere but here. Anywhere.

The gangster rap pounds away a good part of the day, from computers and radios. It's not exactly a message of peace and love. It's a message of hate, rage and crime, sociopathy packaged as art. It gets into your bones if you're not careful, your inner psychopath emerging in your tensing veins.

You shut all the windows and tell everyone not to look outside. The world out there and the world in here, and never the twain shall meet, or at least not tonight.

Dammit, I'm trying to be nice.

How can anyone be nice in a place like this?

Video killed the radio star, and the War Project is killing the Nice Project. What's a guy to do? Pour another glass.

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New Sex Poll

A sex poll came out 2 1/2 years ago, but I am only just now hearing about it. Oh, well, it seems like sex is always leaving me standing at the station these days.

The articles on the poll deal with teenagers having lots of oral sex, apparently instead of intercourse. The article all act like this is horrible, but I actually think it is good. Despite my feast or famine bachelor life, I actually do love sex, and I am a sexual liberationist. The articles mostly fuss on and on about all of the diseases one can acquire from oral sex.

First of all, this is part of an insane national neurosis we have long had in this nation about sex. Europeans have long commented on it. We are Puritans yet we demand that Americans be having sex continuously. Even if they are not married. Even if they are not 18.

Yes, it is true. There's a $6 billion dollar a year porn industry and we are in the midst of a Mass Hysteria called Child Molester Hysteria. Although there are reasons to worry about adult sex abuse of children, I really fear that this is part of our neurosis about teenagers, especially teenage girls, having sex.

Child Molester Hysteria, the way I understand it, pretty much makes it illegal for teenage girls to get laid. If she does it, the guy's a molester, no matter what his age is. It is understandable that conservatives, Christians, married men and vaginized males of all types would be behind this Protect Our Teenage Girls! bullshit. What doesn't add up is that the feminists are behind it too.

Yep, feminists, the very women who ought to supporting teenage girls who choose to have sex, who ought to even be urging girls to learn to have an orgasm by age 15 since science shows waiting longer increases the odds she will never get one, are leading the charge of this preposterously chivalrous, putting girls on a pedestal nonsense.

Anyway, on the article . Article says, teenagers not screwing so much, good. Having oral sex instead, bad. Why is it bad? Because, the article worries, you can get VD. What sorts of VD can you get? Well, syphilis, warts (HPV), gonorrhea and herpes. Well, let us look at this notion.

As far as cunnilingus goes, it would be quite hard to catch much of anything from doing that. You would be better off to worry about getting hit by a meteor. So go ahead and do it! To your heart's content! She'll love ya for it, guys!

Now, onto fellatio. It is true that one can get gonorrhea of the throat from doing this, but it's not a common problem, except maybe in the gay community. Syphilis is quite rare outside the gay community, and you always just very noticeable symptoms. So it's not much to worry about.

About herpes, well, one out of every six adults has it anyway and it won't kill you. It comes on strong at first, then it fades to an annoyance, and there are drugs that take out the flareups. So no worries.

HPV is much more troubling here since research shows that you can catch it in your throat, and it apparently can lead to throat cancer. I'm at a loss for words about this, but I don't think it's the worry of the century.

Lesbianism got a lot of writeup in the study. Apparently 14.4% of young women aged 20-24 have tried it with another female. That's interesting, but it's got to be higher than that. Only 6.5% of males that age have done it with another guy. Those figures have got to be wrong.

What's interesting is that whenever they go out and do these face to face surveys about sex and dope, they come with some very low figures for both gay sex and dope. No one wants to fess up to being a fag or a doper, even if they were only gay for a day, or if they didn't inhale.

But recently a new study allowed persons to answer questions about sex and dope anonymously via computer in a locked room. They were assured repeatedly that there would be no way to link up their computer answers with their actual selves, since the testers themselves were not grading the tests.

As one might expect, scores for sex and drug use for young Canadians were much higher when the answers were submitted via computer privacy than via face to face.

The authors considered that maybe people were making stuff up on the tests, but then rejected that. Testers had been closely questioned before about the importance of being honest on their answers. If they were inclined to make stuff up, they were asked not to take the test.

The numbers for current homosexual behavior among this group of young Canadian males were about 13-14%. Most of it seemed to be what we would call opportunistic homosexuality, or bisexuality, among especially single males. I don't intend to have sex with males myself, but as a young men I saw epidemic levels of opportunistic male homosexuality all around me among young males, especially single ones.

This was in Southern California in the late 1970's and early 1980's.

Other studies have shown some fairly high levels of males experimenting with homosexuality. Kinsey got 37% lifetime, but his work has been questioned. The Playboy Survey of the 1970's got 25% lifetime, and I always thought that was about right.

The same computer surveys above also found remarkably higher drug use among respondents than face to face surveys found, especially of hard drugs like PCP or heroin.

One of the major findings of the study was that more and more straight folks are getting into anal sex. 40% of men have tried it, and 35% of women have. That's about double previous surveys. Gay men have always gone in for this kind of sex bigtime for obvious reasons. I'm not going to say much about this for myself except to say I don't have much interest in that sex act.

Porn has made anal sex very popular, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's a good idea.

As a sexual liberationist, I really don't care how people do it. I think people ought to consider that there may be a health downside to this type of sex. I have seen reports on bulletin boards of women aged 30 or so who had lots of anal sex in their 20's who know have to wear a type of diaper because they have lost some control over their bowels. That's called anal incontinence.

I don't know how much anal sex you have to have before something terrible like this happens to you, but it's something people might want to think about before they jump into anal sex too much.

There are all sorts of gay rights types and sex educators that say there is no way this can happen to you if you practice anal sex the right way, but I wish they would spell out their theory in clear science so it's something more than a crap shoot.

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Crazy Women Ahoy, Pull the Anchor and Leave

Ah, crazy women! I suppose if I were really nuts, I would not mind a crazy woman. After all, I would probably deserve her, right? Sad thing is, I am hopelessly prejudiced against crazy women. I don't like em. I discriminate.

I also require that all females be no more than 5-10 pounds overweight and in my age bracket, that rules out most of the females. So I don't really date that much these days, but hey, at least I have pride, dammit.

Women find out I am fat-prejudiced and they go nuts, I mean ballistic. Beggars can't be choosers and all that. Hey, look, I have to have sex with this creature, so I have to be able to tolerate your unclothed appearance enough to be able to do that, and at 50, it ain't a walk in the park anymore, baby.

I have enough problems of my own to deal with without crazy women on top of everything else.

I remember this one crazy woman, I broke up with her, and she goes and punches a hole in the wall! Whoa, baby, hold onto your horses! I broke up with you? Hell, you should be happy!

She used to swallow handfuls of acid tabs (like five hits at once) when we went out on dates. She drank like a fish. She would smoke any kind of weed you gave her and probably take any kind of drug too. All her friends were fags and she specialized in the sickest fags of them all, the ones in Hollywood who loved masochism.

She regaled me with their tales of how these guys require welts raised two or three inches before they were satisfied. Her idea of a good time was going to an LA fag bar. That was what she did most of the time, as she was almost a full-time fag hag. She also had straight boyfriends, apparently, as she did like men and sex. Going to an LA gay bar is not my idea of a good time.

One night she was drinking like a maniac and she grabbed four or five tricyclic antidepressants and tossed them down. I protested and she cried out that this was all of the misery that she was in. So she was deeply psychiatrically ill, as you can see. Diagnosis: borderline schizophrenia, which nowadays goes to Borderline Personality Disorder for the most part.

She had a weird way of talking and we would go out and it seemed that she would act so crazy and weird in public that I would be embarrassed to even be seen with her. She spoke in weird metaphors and it really started annoying me. I'm kind of like neurotic, staring off into space like a weirdo nuts, but I'm not stark raving acting out bats like that. Forget it.

I told her, "Hey, look, you are just too nuts for me," and she freaks. I wonder if she is still alive. She was also quite a masochist as far as sex went, but I could not really get into that too much. Anyway, most females are like that to some degree or another, let's face it. It goes hand in hand with being female.

She was always telling me about stories where she was meeting guys who would pull knives on her, rape her, threaten to kill her, torture her, etc. One time it was a whole group of guys and she gangbanged them all. Whopeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Except they were all pulling knives on her and trying to torture her and threatening to kill her at the time.

She was quite proud of her gangbanging experience, but my best friends heard about it and were totally freaked out and appalled, saying she was a disgusting slut pig whore. That was true, but that's not necessarily a bad thing in a female. In fact, one could knock on my door right now and even at age 50, I might not even mind too much. Maybe I might not even call the cops if she is nice enough.

She also liked women a little bit, but only a little. She really loved young boys, as she called them, and delighted in having sex with teenage boys, especially around 13 years old. Her Mom was schizophrenic and had tried to stab her to death in her sleep when she was a little girl, and I guess it was all downhill from then on.

She had all these weird seemingly different personalities that she would fade in and out of all the time. Now, I'm into channeling myself, but this sort of thing really ought to be controlled in order to work best, otherwise you just seem like a street person or a potential maniac.

Later she accused my best friend of hitting a baby in the EEG lab where he worked. According to everyone else, it never even happened, but she insisted and insisted. I think maybe they fired her, but I forget.

I saw her once later, she came over to the folks house in the daytime, and you know how that goes. I was 27 years old, graduated USC with post-BA degree, back living at home again, teaching school full-time, smoking lots of dope, going nuts, but couldn't get it together enough to move out. How stupid, huh?

The culmination of the sex act on my end left her all pissed off, but I thought it was funny that when I kissed her goodbye at the car, I swear some of the middle aged neighbor ladies were laughing and smiling and giving me the thumbs up?

One housewife even sneaked outside and gave me a great big beaming smile. Who says women don't like guys who score?

Women ain't all bad, guys.

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