Spiritual Quest

I am often lately inspired by this writer, even though I am not a Christian, and here is his latest: Framing Marriage; Feeding The Dog.

Although I’ll never say never when it comes to conversion to Christianity, particularly given my admiration for its legacy: in terms of likelihood, especially with an American Christian, it’s pretty low. Hopefully however, Artisanal Toad’s great work will trickle down to my level, eventually.

I’m still working on designing some sort of ideal situation for yours truly. Not planning to reveal it in a public forum, but the advice Toad provides is invaluable, in my view. Toad, I accept you as my second tier spiritual leader, for now. (Rupert Sheldrake is still top…dog…LOL). I may have to do a little mix-and-match in the spirituality department along the way in order to figure out where I am. It’s not going to be with “The Breeders” nor “The Carpenters”.

This sticks out for me in terms of Toad’s comment advice to a woman bent on challenging him:

I suggest you team up with a couple of girlfriends, get in shape and offer yourselves as a package deal. That’s probably the only way you’ll get the kind of man you really want and while you’re looking for him, you can take care of each other.

This advice represents an eternal dilemma for me, by the way. By that I mean that lots of women in my life have desired to attach themselves to me and have temporarily done so as a means of attracting men. I won’t say how many men there are in this world with “unbelievable” tales of two young hot women seducing and abandoning them for which I can take credit, only that it would seem that each one of the other women ended up worse for the wear as a result. Therefore, I stopped doing that, “married” in the modern civic sense rather than in the Biblical one that Toad describes so well, (and I live to regret that last every day).

I also gave up lesbianism as easily as a snake sheds a skin.

Perhaps it was my destiny to live in a situation about as close to The Garden of Eden as imaginable, complete with snakes, witches, and a window into Hades.

Some of those men who were gifted with a surreal unbelievable dual-female seduction, were also outright gifted with my protegee, only to discover that without me making up the triad, it went stale. At least two of my former protegees are now Lesbians, and at least one of my female mentors is. None of them have bothered to attempt to contact me directly and I’m not so hard to find.

I’m scary.

Therefore, the notion that I would take on yet another female protegee in that regard offering something completely in opposition to the guaranteed outcome most women expect doesn’t square with my conscience. At least it won’t be an American woman. I’d do it with a European woman, maybe, and I’m not talking about some child of Third World refugees now bestowed the title, “European” for political reasons.

Breeding counts!

Besides, all that most women want from me is “beauty advice” which is like magic spells put into the wrong hands and something like “Fantasia” results with infinite brooms carrying buckets.

I’m not so hot but rather merely appear to defy certain age metrics which women notice and comment on hoping I’ll just spill all my tips as freely as a television talk show host and that those tips will be universally applicable to all phenotypes from all geographic origins. They’re not.

However, in order to avoid being captured yet again by yet another cult and then having to escape that cult yet again (a pattern in my life), I wonder if I should just give in and start my own cult a la Tina Turner and the Pig Wrangler in the uncut unedited version of Mad Max. The figurehead of any enterprise being the de facto leader of that enterprise is one of those illusions which just keeps right on giving sucking in all gullible wee little broken children who never grow up, or as I describe here.

I’m partial to “ugly” men, by the way, but they be “toads” rather than “frogs” in Toad’s parlance, and ideally cruel but not whiny; however that is not to say that I don’t enjoy a ride on “handsome” but only if I’m treated cruelly rather than with adoration; Jabba the Hut rather than Yoda. Darth Vader rather than Obi Wan Kenobi. I’m Hades’ errant bride rather than Zeus’, but that means that I get at least 6 months of top world life. Perhaps I belong in Tasmania.

Christians on the other hand, given my understanding of your religion, would probably rather see me stoned, burned, shelled, or shut up in a tower, fun house, or Milgram Experiment, but deep down know that my character exceeds the majority of theirs and so God isn’t likely to reward them for this project. Such a reward hasn’t happened yet…

Considering how well the Puritans did in terms of how the U.S. is doing today—welcome to Utopia folks, isn’t it grand?—then gynocentric grass-roots crone-o-cide might look like a viable utopian genesis to vampires, however, Vampires be Vampires.

Such is as it has always been.

9 thoughts on “Spiritual Quest

  1. I appreciate the praise, but you left off the *reason* I said what you quoted:

    That way you won’t have to deal with any unattractive men.

    I think she is suffering from the beta males she’s got and what she needs is to get away from unattractive men. Her problem is she can’t attract an attractive man and I suspect her problem is completely within her power to solve, she just hasn’t been forced to. The best way to force herself to do so is to expose herself to the competition of other women.

    Competition is a form of accountability that’s killed in “modern” exclusive monogamy, which is a monopoly structure for women. With no competition they have no motivation to do anything they don’t feel like doing. In other words, they have no accountability. Men suffer and children are injured as a result.

    And then you go throwing rocks again.

    Christians on the other hand, given my understanding of your religion, would probably rather see me stoned, burned, shelled, or shut up in a tower, fun house, or Milgram Experiment, but deep down know that my character exceeds the majority of theirs and so God isn’t likely to reward them for this project. Such a reward hasn’t happened yet…

    I resent that. Just because kissing me won’t turn me into a prince doesn’t mean I’d be adverse to turning your rear end a delightful cherry red if that’s what you needed. But only after you earned it. Burn you? Been there, done that, still got the scars and I learned not to play with fire. Unless I’m holding the flamethrower. Then it’s OK. But, flamethrowers are for the battlefield, not the bedroom. Even I know that.

    The problem with your understanding of the “Christian religion” is that it’s correct when you identify what you see as a religion, but it’s not an understanding of Christianity, which is a faith-based relationship. In terms of sexual morality the religion is a blend of pagan beliefs, stoic philosophy and roman law that was put in place by the early church around 400 AD and has been taught as doctrine for 1500 years. Less than 100 years ago, giving your husband a blow job was a criminal offense in every state in the US called “oral sodomy.”

    But none of that crap is actually in the Bible and that isn’t what the Christian faith is all about. It starts with the fact that everybody has questions, like “who made me?” and “what is my purpose in life?” and “what is truth?” and “who will save me?” Of all the teachers and philosophers that ever lived, the only one who had reasonable answers was a guy called Jesus of Nazareth.

    From there you get to make a decision. “Who will be my master?” Because everyone is a slave, the only choice is in deciding who, or what, our master will be.

    • I have no argument with your logic and appreciate it. However, I’ve already experienced the pinnacle of mastery as determined by own diminishing sexual value, better than I deserve, actually. From here on in, philosophy is my medicine, at least in the U.S., is how I see it. I’ve had enough of the environmental bullshit and am fed up with the sort of thing that seems to be my lot in terms of being its resident heretic, having recently, yet again, been held prisoner against my will as some sort of hybrid “intervention” combined with attempted extortion of my servitude. (My substance abuse issue is with adrenaline, for which, there is no 12-step program).

      Not going to happen again. I’ve got insurance.

      Besides after achieving my pinnacle sexual experience, celibacy has a distinct appeal. Spanking at this stage in my life isn’t likely to even keep me awake. Thanks. It’s a nice offer but I’ll stick with philosophy and my own style of worship and ritual. Not a lot of complaints.

    • Thanks. Very cool poll. 🙂 I picked #3 because I’m insane in terms of my understanding of the calculation of odds. However, given I think your mug is sexy (no fair using that perspective!), are you going to call me late for dinner? :*

      • Someone will always get you. The odds are better than ya think.
        I would like to call you late for dinner, but I ain’t got yo numbah.
        But seriously folks,
        What is the secret of unlimited motivation? I know that when I’m really happy everything seems effortless, and when I’m really angry I can be really focused. Soooo. How can I be happily angry all the time, without it becoming normal and lose interest. Then it just becomes the same shit different day and I begin to fantasize about extra terrestrials coming to earth and showing us a different perspective.
        Being happy is just a combination of a few circumstances, and having someone who gets you is one of the numbers on that combination lock.

      • LOL! How do you know that I am thinking at a level lower than my odds? I could be thinking at a level of precision that would make you happily angry. Should you ever be wherever I’m going to be living soon–still unknown but probably either the Florida Panhandle or Europe just to put a fine point on it–I’d be delighted to check out how the underside of your chin looks in different lighting conditions. Cheers.

      • Being that I’m regularly mistaken for a Ukranian (who knew?) I’m game. First I suppose I ought to get to know some Ukranians. Are they suffering a shortage of overaged sluts who fancy themselves as writers in Ukraine?

      • Damn you~!!! You’ve discovered my one weakness, overaged sluts. 🙂
        On a different note but completely related; Florida, Las Vegas, and Phoenix, were my choices to buy houses when the economy collapsed in 2009. Hurricanes kinda scared me about Florida. Vegas centered around gambling. So I settled with Phoenix. It’s worked out pretty good, but you get tired of looking at dirt all the time. I’ve been waiting for the economy to crash again, maybe find some little town, with lots of green grass and trees. Buy the whole thing and appoint myself supreme leader.

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