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Showing posts with label nazis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nazis. Show all posts

Saturday, October 30

Virtual 13th Step 12 Steps Meeting: The Search for Ether Absolute.

 It’s a challenge; discovering life as a circumcised individual, in sobriety contexts. 

On one hand, I didn’t even know that I was circumcised, to begin with. A former friend queried me, one day, during my early teenage years, and he popped the question upon me. I probably said something like, “huh? Oh, well, umm… yeah, it’s like… uh, that, I guess.” He replied, “that’s sick!” For my foreign countries readers, in the last appearance of a society’s generation (this was the time of Generation X; now we are in the Millennial Generation, I would suppose), saying “that’s sick!” could be tantamount to “that’s so awesome | cool!” or it may just be a ruse to implicate analytical sarcasm and disinformation, upon the recipient. The guy has a “sickening” habit of speaking disingenuously, and callously. We’re no longer friends, because he ignores responding to things that I ask him, whereas he seemed to be significantly engaged in torturing my loved ones, as well as myself; as if I could possibly be dumber than he is, in simple remote-sensing perceptions. 

Once, I got talked in to (in my head) sending the guy a photo of me, with my pants down. Nowadays, I have an xvideos quick take on myself, contextually xvideos… <_<, and anyone is free to discover that stuff. From then until now, I had, (or would) hardly conjure up, in my mind, just as I had been, as a youth, as an adolescent - I’d been unaware of this “difference” about me. I’d been flashed pee-pees of other guys, and they were “different,” too, but different from me, (I only really saw one of them, the other was inside of pool water, and the guy tried to make a deal of that we both do it, together, but I wasn’t really in to it, because I was taught not to do that sort of thing). What had become of some of these guys? A Dick Big Now? out of them, or something? Back then, a Dick Bigg would have been the ultimate. Nowadays, given some years in to adulthood, and some private time, left alone, who could claim that they hadn’t indulged all sorts of sexual fetishization amusement and erotic moments, based upon seedy-seeming niches? - whereas the Dick Bigs were a youthful transgression, and imperative demand, upon a future lover, of that their dick big now status would consummate of that they were over, and not possibly made of a little dickie fetishization, of their “still” pornography-indulgent minds - that’s what I figure: a dick bigg now kind of guy couldn’t possibly, over a large average of individuals, comparatively, be all that much better off, in abstaining from temptation, given certain circumstances, such as having no partner, incurring internalized criticism, rebuke, and humiliation, at the hands of peers or authorities, or, even within the structure of a heterosexual romantic relationship, of that the female leaves, while the male is still consummately a drug addict, and abuser, and he, in turn, in moments such as this, would inevitably, at least sometimes, still turn to pornography, for his satiety. 

I never got a requited dick photo from these guys, in return. 

Nowadays, in dick-centric circles, a bwopp-dick faggot sort of profile gets a lot of fluff, and respite, from the participants, who imagine, and live down - vastly illegal and intoxicated sorts of mindsets about “outing” the guy with an uncircumcised penis, sort of thing, going on (goes on). The hazing, drunken groups gathering, the remote-sensing stalking, the interrogations and accusations (witch hunting), the targeting of connections to the individual (isolation and casualties), the threats of public strangers, who show up to target the individual (gang stalking), and the disavowal and threatening of victims of the opposite sex (human trafficking, sexism, and bullying) - all of these things, and even at that, perhaps it’s not all and everything said, on the matter. It’s upsetting stuff, at issue, here, and the depravities are stacked one upon the other, quite richly. The guys establish an entire lifestyle basis of a claim, in superiority, of that, and this; this and that, and they decide, collectively, amongst themselves, that their claims, demands, and all-extents considerable - courses of action, are justified, of an un-Christian decree, and basis, whereas they had done themselves a dick bigg, through hormonal and supplemental augmentation. I had not known about any such stuff, whatsoever, until I became schizophrenic at age 30, and the angry confessions, after years of having been veiled, under abuses that I burdened, and at some point, I became aware of the fact that these individuals really are - at least, in some, or many instances, conceivably, and believably - certainly doing these things to me; to my figurative and imaginary self. They found themselves a sort of no rebuke to be seen, nor consequence. 

Sometimes, these players, in life, circle themselves amongst the psychiatric community, or the local fire station, and they demand the material resources of anesthesia, or some sort of carbon monoxide concentrate; as a perfumer, such concentration and specialty is otherwise known as an absolute: in this case, it would colloquially be known as ether absolute, from an etymology bearing upon Johnny Depp and Guillermo Del Toro, in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, based on the writings of Hunter S. Thompson. Sometimes, in a downwind position, in life, an ether faucet would be unfurled, or some sort of strange, sadistic, ritualistic establishment, of strangeness, under the care of a strange-minded person (reiterative, but I could speak worser names upon people) - I’ve come to understand this sort of passive-aggressive intent unto dominance, over me, as a relegation and rebuke of the fact that I happen to have been circumcised, as a child. I simply have the mind of that I just “didn’t know” any different, and by the time I figured out that people had been abusing me over the matter, in private and collusive groups, and of a callous and calculating mind, that it were, half of a lifetime, or “most” of a lifetime, perhaps, so to speak, had passed - age 14 when I discovered that I was different, and age 30, or later, when I had begun hearing voices, and years gone on, after that, that I had discerned that this sort of penis envy issue - which is supposed to be a female’s plight, in early childhood, according to the literature, was significantly, and commonly an issue of dissent, and of attrition towards me. 

What more could I offer the people? Aside from my pornography, when I became good enough and ready to do it? Hmmpf. The demands of people for whom all of pornography is not, had not been - not been good enough for them, or that they had begun to claim that they cannot satisfy themselves - me, as simply just different, yet I scarcely receive “valid” (forensically analyzed) claims, of merit, of that women are displeased with my manner and attitudes, as well as my behavior, potentially being at issue. I figure that the ones who do complain, had been taken in, by the men, of the abusive clarion call decree, in society, and they act out, in a Stockholm Syndrome manner, within this context at issue. 

I’m not sure what else to say. Sometimes the words simply fail to have any meaning, and people enter in to abusive and inferior types of relationships possible, with such a person as that would do such a thing to me.

Thursday, May 3

Some take on the notable real aficionados moments notions of a real pigeon aficionado (jogging, - feeder; bum type, with reasonable religiously austere concessions of discipleship)

iPigeon.institute entry 4/30/18

With a mind like yours, son, you should be leading a society.

Thanks, dad. One day at a time. At least, for tonight, I’ve got a big belly. 

I’ll think about that; a bit. See where it could fit. I’ve got no mind for outthinking such as have with at it.

Sleepless nights. That’s what this young man has at it, for what he’s with came to for. For endless pages of thoughts out on paper, this man has sleepless night at about him. That’s what I see. For endless thoughts out on paper ought be, sleepless nights are before him on iPigeon tablet dot institute discourse was integral foray of the night’s afternoon forthwith aught forthright coming today’s earlier on, and with that, it was a discussion of dot com disambiguation from notable internet search term foray of dot pigeon dot com not excluding the i pigeon dot something not com since that’s taken for racing pigeons internet site, so it was decidedly iPigeon.institute for all discussion’s sake. Stupidity aside, it was discourse enough to not verge on how bout it tryna fuck’s sake, for interest’s worth, that’s what’s left, been unsaid. 

That being said, it was better than the basest of conversation’s sake. Obviously necessary, given that I don’t likely think better of most guys. 

HTML 5 https blogger google domains $20 dot institute currently, at $60 .io you’d be better get your worm’s worth dot institute for a dot anything, without swearing, that’s the goal. Using all sorts of language utility without verging on swearing or sex, that’s a serious problem that I encounter all the time that iPigeon.institute can definitely overcome, in and of itself, from what’s its aught to be made of: pigeon fluff and good things, to considerably do, for pigeons: Taylor Swift pigeons of young America, late night pizza Pulitzer Prize pigeons biopic, waffles and syrup pigeons of continental breakfast America pigeons, all sorts of standard life pigeons ostensible, it’s the stuff that love is made of. 

Try it, but not without feeding the pigeons from out of the garbage one day, they’ll love you for it, for finding them food.

If all else fails, get them real butter and bread, they’ll not unthankful be aught for forthcoming efforts, for food’s sake, real butter and bread is what they’re good for, no doubts about it. Definitely warmed butter, all sorts of butter and bread. All sorts? Yet butter, component. Check. Bread? Is it edible? Check it, no mold on the edible, it’s good. Don’t feed pigeons unthinkable food, that’s just gross.


I have to go out and feed the pigeons reasonable food. Smelling a cozy nest bird is reason enough to let them aught poop on a person, and let it fly. It’s not that gross, if they’re fed well, and some say it’s good luck, if a bird happens to poop and perhaps if they’re perched, it was definitely meant to be. For bird lovers, it’s definitely within bounds. I might venture to state that people opposed to it would not make good parents, obviously. 

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