Always being politically correct and appropriate

. . . . . . . The past, hovering over our shoulder like a ghost, burnt to a reddish color, comes back to haunt us when we least expect. People know keeping your nose clean and not being an outsider is important, but they keep doing foolish things, including politicians and their scandals. The truth is dragged out of us reluctantly, and is brought into fresh air to be aired for all to see.

. . . . . . . Imagine you’re a corporate dude who put on blackface as a high schooler and pretended to be a negro. And somebody finds that picture 20 years later. You’re fucked. {cont.}

. . . . . . . Nobody wants to hear explanations of why things were done. In today’s world, my lovelies, there is a constant witch-hunt atmosphere, funded by the state and pushed by socially liberal thinkers. (It’s funded by the state because government gives money to institutions like schools which monitor personal behavior among staff and students.)

. . . . . . . The saying goes that no man is an island. But I think this is a bit of a stretch. Some people really are basically isolated with the minimum land bridge going from their isolated “island” to the mainland, and they abhor contact with the mainland. And is there any wonder? They risk getting burned.

. . . . . . . This is why it sucks to live in today’s world. In addition to being an incredibly dull place (when it could be a fantastic place to live), it’s dangerous to be yourself. Time after time on my pro blog, I find myself censoring myself, afraid to go too far ahead and lose my viewers.

. . . . . . . I push the truth-agenda as far as I can reasonably expect to go, but still I am straitjacketed by the need to be respectable, to be “normal.” And I am hardly alone.

. . . . . . . The average person is a colossal liar. “I love that outfit you’re wearing.” “Oh, I trust you.” “Sure, I want to play Dungeons & Dragons, let me get back to you on that …” He could no more start a blog than he could fly to Neptune in a pair of Doc Martens boots.

. . . . . . . The circle of acceptable ideas is getting narrower and narrower.

. . . . . . . Although freedom of speech still technically exists, in polite company you can only go so far.

. . . . . . . There used to be room for eccentrics to spout their craziness; now the eccentrics are being shut down (viz. Alex Jones). Eccentrics perform a vital role in mass society. They define informal limits to conversation. When the perimeter of speech is pushed back toward the politically-middle center there is a corresponding drop in men willing to speak their minds freely. It’s just too risky.

. . . . . . . In today’s world we find monitors and tattle-talers everywhere we look, around every corner, in every nook and cranny. To get a little pat on the head, men are incentivized to inform on other men. There isn’t much hatred behind the act, either; it would be better if there were. At least then emotions would play into the picture, and emotion is a real thing. No, it’s purely for a little approval that one gets nailed. A false chimera. A bit of vapor.

. . . . . . . Although life is short, it’s made shorter by stress and anguish. Our past deeds, when they come back to haunt us, are like explosions in our face. Once I tried to start an escort service as a university student at a tech university, and the school paper found out about it and published a leading story on it. I was never so shocked as when I turned the page and saw a blurry picture of myself with my name liberally sprinkled throughout the poorly written piece. I had become page fodder for a bored institution of overly privileged brats. The chagrin I experienced was incredible.

. . . . . . . Trust is gone. You can’t even go to a church and trust your fellow churchgoers. (Presently I’m an atheist.) I sympathize with the churchgoer who wants to confide his problems in life to someone else, thinking church was the one place he could do it, and finding out that gossip rules the roost.

. . . . . . . What kind of society can last without the bonds of trust? Societies fragment into singular pieces as their modus operandi is shoveled aside and ridiculed by the actions of trust-rapists. The rape of trust is the biggest social problem of the First World, worse than the rare incident of crime. Because the lack of trust impacts on everything from whether people vote to whether we even end up meeting our new neighbors.

. . . . . . . Conformity has never gone away. For a while in the Sixties, it was possible to be a little different, but even then it’s striking how often people ran into the latest trend or fad. It’s like the average person is a rat that can’t find its way home without sniffing for the trails that other men left for it.

. . . . . . . Home: home is dissolving before us.

. . . . . . . Home: home is running from us.

. . . . . . . Home: home is chasing its own tail to the point of exhaustion.

. . . . . . . We are never home when we can’t relax and put up our feet. A single step out of our own doors brings the scrutiny of the lame world upon us. Attempts to fend this off by wearing unusual clothes or changing our hair-style are lame shields against the unwary unwieldy.

. . . . . . . Conformity returns again and again. The past is never dead. An undead past and a supercharged conformity combine to form a frightening present-day reality.

. . . . . . . When will the pressure let go? Do we have to become tyrants in our own lands (or our own personal lives at least) before we can be ourselves?

. . . . . . . The good news is that by harvesting girls and controlling them we can find a measure of peace & relaxation. Girls make wonderful toys and they WILL serve if treated properly. It’s been said by players that training a dog is good practice for training a girl but I find a fearsome willpower in her face is all that’s necessary to make her crumble and bow her head before you.

. . . . . . . This is just one of the many benefits of girls. And it’s the primary reason I don’t hate them. A girl in true love is infinitely malleable. When she gets nervous around us, trying to please us, trying to anticipate our needs, then we’ve found true pleasure and paradise. I would never enter a relationship where I wasn’t top dog. And women love that. Love it.

. . . . . . . I think that speaks to one of the great truths of the world: Compensate for society’s defects and flaws by building a miniature world of your own.

. . . . . . . The hardest world to build is the large-scale one, but you can always have a circle of a dozen friends and bitches who’ll agree with most of what you agree with.

. . . . . . . It’s one of the advantages of starting a blog. Sooner or later you run into like minds. I have a vague sense that there may come a day when I meet a circle of special guys through this Cradle endeavor of mine. If that’s the case, we’ll found our own conformity and establish a set of norms that are vastly different from the wider society’s.

. . . . . . . You know, I wouldn’t mind the scrutiny, the conformity, the stultitude of it all if it was at least planned by somebody strong and powerful, but it seems to have been evolved naturally, like a parasitic creature. Everything I rail against is just a fucking accident of the times. How can this be considered justice? As I live in the world longer and longer, I come to realize more and more how much this world is a series of jinxing motions on a plane that’s just randomly piloted as it swerves right then left through clouds that blur the vision of the auto-pilot. It’s hell-on-wings.

3 thoughts on “Always being politically correct and appropriate

  1. I’ve been trying to find info on you that I can use to bring you down because you write better than me. When I find it my blog is going to be better than yours. (In fact, most of what you wrote on this posting spoke for me – it’s getting harder to breath outside. Excellent!)

    1. Aw, hey, Bruce. Don’t think that way. It’s not a competition between writers. In all honesty, we each bring a unique perspective that no one else can match. Your way of writing is something I could never duplicate, and the world would be missing it if it were gone.

      1. Well Catxman – you haven’t fully cottoned on to my silly sense of irony yet! Nor have I cottoned on in all probability. I enjoy reading your blog(s) but in reality have enough confidence in my style not to be jealous (except of Janet Frame a NZ novelist who knows how to write like none other!)

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