#374

Well, good job the state of New York, this is a step forward. Expanding the definition of rape is good and overdue.

Of course, any wild-eyed lunatic of any gender sitting next to me--on, say, a bus--could still shove their hands down my pants, grasp the base of my penis with two fingers, massage my testes with two more, send the last one exploring, and the legal definition would leave me out of the rape equation as long as it didn't find my actual anus.

I hate that. I get that it's all about protecting women, and that is essential. I want to more than anything, basically. But we will continue to have to protect women from a disporportionate amount of masculine assaults and the rhetorics designed to buttress it for as long as the problem of the rape of men and boys continues to be diminished and invisibled in the conversation and the collective psyche.

You couldn't--you seriously couldn't consider the word "genital", rather than the word "vagina"? Rape can only happen to your junk if it's coded female in your primitive-ass, lie-worshipping, fucking sub-monkey society? Nonconsensual cock touching = what? A boyish prank? Natural curiosity? What are you going to tell me--that it's so much easier to grab, we don't want to get into that can of worms?

Fuck you people. 

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It is time...for me to stop reading the news for awhile. It's like every few months I go from eating a little slice of lemon with breakfast for the important benefits to squeezing double handfuls of  halved lemons into a bowl and shoving my face in, both eyes open. Why? No fucking reason. Helps no one, least of all me. It's how I am. 

Oh, I'll have a puff, just part of this one cig. Ope! I'm smoking three at once? Hm. Well, better finish 'em. 

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And yet, do I have more sour, vicious things to say here, now? I do! Oh jeezus howdy, do I ever.

-If you read the words "human-grade" on some pet food, the only possible way you can come over all "oh, how good, this will be a good thing to buy" is if you have no fucking concept, no idea what we will feed to one another and legally call it food, nowhere more than here in the U.S.A.

-Why am I still recycling plastic? We have known since the nineteen nineties that this shit is fake, Magic School Bus Special notwithstanding (it is indeed possible for the Magic School Bus to lie--the nineties Lost in Space movie told more truth), and does more harm than good, and it has been proved more conclusively and publicly in the last two years than ever, and still, here I am, having to listen to someone tell me how important it is to wash and sort your plastics to make it easy for the poor heroic fucks running the PLANET-KILLING WATER-FUCKING MICROPLASTICS ENGINE that knowingly and in full possession of the actual results bills itself as a "recycling" center. Is it still better than a landfill? Is it really? where the fuck did you hear that. same place you heard it was going to save the planet? well???

-Jesus, what a waste of both our times. Fuck me running at a rolling donut. Fuck me to the moon. I need to be ashamed of myself today, dear reader, that is certainly true, but you know, maybe consider that if you got to these words here, you waded through many you could have easily lived without, and ask yourself why you spent precious seconds that way. I dunno, maybe you're a kid or teenager and this kind of counterculture pissing and bombast is blowing your mind. 

Well, lemme tell ya something. After even an extended and standout career being angry in a cool way, sadly, you will still live in the same world. So it's kind of a waste of time, and all you've done is train yourself to be reflexively outraged at what you are powerless to change, raising your cortisol for nothing. That's why trolls grin so smug when they piss you off good. They raised your cortisol and kept theirs low. That's why your parents are so unforgivably boring and same-as. Raising your own cortisol indefinitely is no way to live. They represent the finished product of a system designed to grind human beings into uniform, homegenous paste, and nothing gets sanded down or covered up like anyone trying to stand up or out. 

I'm not a bad example actually. I don't even know how the algorithm let you get on here. Even my facebook friends back in the day, all seventy of them, used to not get to see the posts I made to my own wall. I checked and tested. It raised my cortisol, and somewhere deep in the bowels of that devil-haunted ass-company, a troll smiled. 

My advice is to stop reading this blog and learn to grow and wildcraft your own food all by yourself or with a partner. Also make and sustain various kinds of shelter. Consider a nomadic lifestyle. Way things are going, people capable in this sense of things will have to repopulate our vicious colony of virus-brained apes from scratch. It's not the best advice, but it's kind of reasonable. Alternate take, don't repopulate shit. Let rats or cockroaches take a shot at dominance; maybe octopus or squid.

Best advice, reserved for myself, is to write into this blog and other text fields while the world burns around me, as my house collapses, as my asshole falls out of my body. It's not fine, and I know it's not. But I do not care, mind, or think of it as a bad ending.

--JL