I've lost my mind, have given up on doing anything else.
I bought the bike this morning, must run now to find my initial ecstasy, before it too goes.
Once we roll back political correctness to pre-Obama levels then we can rationally discuss liberals being allowed to form their own nation again. A small undefended nation perhaps back where liberalism probably came from, like Europe. How the fuck did we ever let liberals join the military?
The act of sex has long ago ceased to have meaning for either. The male's presence during this transfer is merely incidental, though he has no way of knowing this until many years later when the money has established its one-way flow, no longer requiring the unpleasant complications of coitus. Blinded by the fury of his once vigorous set of hormones, the male may submerge himself in the pernicious rote dissatisfaction of labor and toil, or perhaps with weekend hobby projects conducted in places like the garage, where they can be kept safely out of site of the local domestic queen.
For the male worker, now falsely believing that an increase in resources will bring about a return of the pleasurable state of anal intercourse, the lone act that caused him to commit to a life of servitude and subservience, he is destined to live out his days with the vague but clenched memory of anal abandon.
The female is capable of growing a fresh, new, untouched anus from which she can then also attract other suitors. By keeping this behind-button hidden beneath an elaborate veil of mystery the previous male will continue to work away, dreaming perhaps of a one-day return to the fountain of paradisal love.
When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it's your world for the moment. - Georgia O'Keefe
The really fascinating part (by which I mean the really depressing part) is how this effect reinforces itself. The more likely it is that you're dead, the less your genes care about you. The less your genes care about you, the more likely it is that you're dead. And this has been going on throughout our evolutionary history, so we've accumulated all sorts of weird malfunctions that kick in late in our lives. The human genome is riddled with them, and most of the genes involved are also part of normal development and reproduction. These malfunctions cluster around a certain age: the age when evolution stops caring about us because, statistically speaking, we're already dead.