The Meaning of Life

Life is the meaning of life. Simply put, the meaning of life is not anything outside of life, nor any particular kind of life, or one way of living one’s life. It’s simply just life itself.

However, this presents a paradoxical absurdity when contrasted against other apparent facts about the universe. Albert Camus suggested that what is absurd about life is the confrontation between two facts regarding us and the world. First, the rational human mind demands social order, justice, and comprehension about the universe. Furthermore, we have the capacity for great intelligence, as demonstrated by the exceptional minds of humanity. Within these same perimeters, we generally care about what happens to us and other people. Second, the natural world—and therefore the universe—does not care. It is indifferent to us and how we act. We make our demands and the world is indifferent. It is what it is; nothing more, nothing less.

“But wait,” many will ask, “Isn’t there a God, and therefore, isn’t the idea of an indifferent universe incorrect?” Not really. Even if there is a God, the fact that the problem of evil exists—that bad things happen to innocent people—means that God doesn’t care. It can’t care about our actions or how we decide to live life, and like nature and the universe, it is probably indifferent to life and death. Anyone can still believe in a “higher power” of course, (I don’t believe in any deity for several reasons, which I will address later), but whatever higher power may or may not exist, again, I think remains indifferent to the outcome of our human events. In this universe, we are just a dot, on a dot, on a dot, on a dot, and perhaps ad infinitum.

To this end, our rationality and demands for justice are problematic. Our situation is absurd and always will be absurd. It is difficult to objectively observe our lives, for when we do, the absurdity consumes us and life appears ridiculous.

So how do we reconcile this absurdity? One answer is unsatisfying. That because of the absurdity, it all means nothing. What we take great pride in—namely our intelligence and consciousness—ironically becomes a problem. In this sense we tend to live in tragedy, for we are aware of what plagues us, but are unable to make the change that we think might make this world, and hence our human existence, match our perfect and Utopian ideals. Yet we try.

So what can we do? We can live our lives and accept our fate. We can value life—for life and in life—itself. We can enjoy the process of living and live for that process, and hope to avoid a life time wasted in futile and repetitive labor.

To this end, we have two choices: We either find the meaning of life in our lives, or we never find that meaning. My suggestion is to enjoy life, live life to the fullest, and engage oneself in a meaningful existence of one’s choosing, that at the same time, doesn’t harm other people.


Why Philosophy

Hello kindred minds and fellow cyber travelers. I’ve been “offline.” Initially, I was only going to take a short hiatus from blogging, which I needed to focus on finishing school, enjoy the recent holidays and plan out my next life projects. In that process I finally earned a B.A. degree in a field that—even though I greatly admire and respect philosophy—it doesn’t “pay the bills.”

Yes, I was aware of the lack of high demand for philosophers. My choice of education was not a means for earning a constant source of income, but rather, a means to becoming a better, well-rounded, and rationally minded human.

From my studies in philosophy, I’ve gained a perspective that I wouldn’t have gained otherwise, and one that is by no means complete, all conclusive, or absolute. Yet my philosophical perspective serves as a crucial key in understanding the very meaning of life, and at the same time, avoiding the often dogmatic, wrongheaded, and romanticizing ideals of religion.

Setting aside its often heady subjects, the nuts and bolts of philosophy saves me the trouble of wading through too much bullshit in a life that we only live once.

So what is the meaning of life? I know it, but at the risk of appearing as an over-intellectualized kook (which I’m not), I’ve decided not to express what I think is the meaning of life. Not yet—another trick if you will—because of an effective literary method for creating intrigue and mystery. In other words, saying what I think is the meaning of life, might rob me of your continued interest. In time you’ll know, but for now I’m purposely being a tease. I’ll leave a hint, if you know anything about existentialism, there is a key concept within the existential framework that is money in the bank for figuring out the meaning of life.

At any rate, my plan for this blog is to continue, in more or less, the direction I initially outlined. I will publish on every hump day.

I’m back in the groove.


Forward.

This blog is mostly about my sexual determinism, but I want to set that aside today and say that I’m relieved that Obama won another four years as President. I was up most of the night celebrating and also finishing a draft for my senior thesis, so I’m all written out. Nonetheless I couldn’t miss my  blogging hump day.

Four more year!


Boy Scouts of America Sex: Perversion files

Boy Scouts of Amerika

Recently the Boy Scouts of America (BSA) released thousands of documents detailing sexual abuse (BIG surprise!!!) spanning from 1965 to 1985.  I think it is worth pointing out that the release of the “perversion files” was not voluntarily by the BSA, but by order of the Oregon Supreme Court.  The BSA fought very hard to keep these files private. Kelley Clark, the attorney representing the sexual abuse victims in suit against the BSA, commented on his blog:

First, some background.  As we proved in Portland in 2010—through the introduction of over 20,000 pages of these files, representing approximately 1200 child molesters just from 1965-85—the Boy Scouts of America has long kept confidential records of child molesters and pedophiles within its ranks. Testimony in the Lewis trial was that BSA started keeping these files as early as the 1920’s and has kept them ever since.  Ostensibly begun as a way to make sure that accused molesters were kept out of Scouting, it was plain from the evidence in the case that, certainly by the 1960’s and 70’s, BSA was taking active steps to keep even the existence of the files secret from the public.  The fact that BSA national was keeping a list of pedophiles was something that not even many lifetime Scouts and some professional Scouters—heads of the local Boy Scout Councils—knew about.  The files themselves were, and are, kept in segregated and locked filing systems at BSA headquarters. BSA never has voluntarily released the files, and has always fought tooth and nail to keep them from law enforcement, as well as from abuse victims, their parents and lawyers. (Kelley  Clark 2012)

One more organization that blatantly covered up the sexual abuse of minors. However, I suggest that sexual abuse permeates all organizations, especially organizations based on authority, i. e., girl scouts, religions, armed forces, etc. I would be very surprised if anyone could find an authoritarian organization or institution that has not been plagued with sexual abuse.

Within any organization, a cover up of sexual abuse should not, under any circumstances, be tolerated. However, an open policy of disclosing and publicly announcing sex offenders is not the only, nor the best solution. I think the problem is much broader than the Catholic Church, Boy Scouts of America, Mormons, Jehovah Witnesses, the Armed Forces, or your perverted uncle Bobby.

The problem is not because the organizations or private individuals are inherently corrupt or evil. Sexual abuse expands beyond organizations; it is problem for all societies, especially here in America.  The Rape Abuse Incest National Network reports that within the United States, over 270,000 people (age 12 and over) are sexually assaulted every year. 54% of which are never reported to police.

 I hinted at what I consider as part of the problem in an earlier post regarding the institutionalization of sex (for control) and marketed sex appeal (for profit). Yet, there is a graver issue underlying the problem of sexual abuse, and this is caused by what I consider our fundamental error.

The fundamental error is the ignorant perspective of who we are, and this perspective affects the dynamics of our cultural moralities. This perspective is the belief that we are “created by God, in his image” and therefor superior and distinct from all other life. If the majority of society believes in this ignorance, I argue that our morality becomes skewed and based on fantasy instead of reality.

When dogmatized, the ignorant perspective denies that we and all other life share a common ancestor; that we have evolved. Essentially, we are still primates and engrained with the natural instincts that drive us–and all other life–to copulate and replicate. Human societies are permeated with sexual abuse because our stock and trade “herd” moralities portray open sexuality as a damnable taboo. This causes people to pretend that we are above the perfectly natural and primate sexual desires.

We’re bad off when our sexual drives are repressed, worse still when our traditional society refuses to openly discuss our sexual drives and fantasies. It is undeniable that the majority of religions, especially here in Mormonland, repress the natural instinct to copulate. In the case of pedophiles and sexual offenders, I further argue that sexual repression from fallacious codes of morality prohibit open, healthy, and mature sexuality, and therefore, it is part of the reason for sexual abuse.

Perhaps part of the problem, also, is that we fantasize and have unrealistic expectations of sex and the mutual roles of healthy sexual relationships. What begins as a fantasy about rape and/or sex with a minor, may eventually lead to the acting out of the fantasy. These fantasies might be easier to alleviate if we have a culture that openly accepts sex, and one that doesn’t vilify individuals who harbor distasteful fantasies. Society should encourage open discussions about sexual feelings and fantasies, irregardless of how perverse. By encouraging open and healthy sexuality, I think it would be easier to overcome and prevent sexual abuse from occurring.

I’m not an Idealist, as I too, am part of the problem. I tend to objectify sex. I, like many other men and women, have the tendency to objective the sex potential of other attractive primates. I fantasize about sex encounters and my kinkiness is only as limited as my imagination. Furthermore, I keep most of my fantasies for affairs, one-night stands, and other debaucheries with adults secret from the one person that I should be the most open with: my wife. Yet, at least I’m aware of my fantasies and I recognize that they could be a problem. I’m attempting to talk about them and I’ll have to disclose my own perversions and fantasies with my wife… at a yet to be determined date.

At any rate, I’ve attempted to blogout what I think causes sexual abuse and provided some suggestions that may alleviate sexual frustration, repression, and abuse. I’ll recap my suggestions (and add a few more):

  1. Accept and admit our primate evolution.
  2. Never prohibit the natural impulse for sex (unless it violates the harm principle).
  3. Allow sexual discourse and overcome the ant-sex talk mentality.
  4. Encourage people, perhaps beginning after puberty, to safely explore their sexuality, but not through objectification.
  5. Encourage those who harbor dangerous fantasies (i.e., rape, incest, etc.) to seek help, but make it known that forced and illegal sex acts that cause harm will not be tolerated. Society must be protected from those wishing to deliberately cause harm.
  6. Finally, not everyone is equally attractive, so it may be necessary to allow for safe prostitution that, at the same time, strongly discourages sexual objectification (if possible).

One last note: I was a scout, but I was never harmed. To the best of my knowledge all of my scout leaders were, overall, good people. I do not have a vendetta against the BSA, but the BSA administration and leadership should have never covered up sexual abuse. Shame on you BSA.


Love Sack

On Sunday night my wife was in a playful mood. She was flirtatious and teasingly irresistible, to the point where I had no other choice but to play along. For it is true, after all, that I think with my cock and feeling the need to satisfy my horny desires takes precedence over studies (as a side note, my sexual appetite probably explains why I have a 3.0 GPA). There was no time wasted, nor for that matter did she put up a hard chase, as I quickly chased her down the hall, and upon catching her, threw her down on the love sack conveniently located in our living room.

We kissed; our tongues danced. I fondled the breasts and enthusiastically enjoyed the treat of pinching her teats. I unzipped my restrictive pants, letting free the manly power of a hard erection. To my delight she instantly grabbed my hard cock. I had stayed the previous night in a hotel and had had to use cheap motel soap on account of forgetting to bring body wash, so I joked and asked if it smells like mexican bar soap. She sniffed, licked, and stated no.

Her mouth worked its usual magic. I love the motion of her head bobbing up and down on my cock as she sucks. Often she’ll attempt to deep throat, and every time she almost gags. She likes it that way, and I like it when she tries and nearly gags. We kissed again, this time she joked about me kissing my own cock. I didn’t mind, with a smirk.

The love sack, if you’ve never sat in one, forms a near perfect and shallow bowl of sink-and-relax-comfort. But in terms of sex, it provides one of the best forms for hip placement, maximizing the pleasure felt by both parties, in particular for the woman when the man is on top and thrusting in with full force. I wasted no time flipping her around after some deep fellatio.

I ripped her sweat pants off, pulling with them her green and white panties. I don’t like to waste time licking or fingering her already moist pussy. What I have is a hard cock that feels great for me and especially great for her. I rubbed my head against her vaginal lips and plowed in. There’s a good reason why she calls me the penetrator.

Blood rushed to her heard because it hanged off the edge of the love sack. Every thrust I made was deep and hard, and I unsystematically varied the pace from fast to slow to fast again. I enjoyed looking down on her and listening to her moan and squeal in sync with my penetrating thrusts. We repositioned to a different angle, this time with her ass squarely in the bowl and head resting on the side.

When I really get into fucking, I like to wrap my hand around her throat and squeeze. Not too hard, but enough to be restrictive. I squeezed her throat with one hand and pulled her hair up, lifting her head further into the choke hold. She really began to squeal as my cock fulgurated; hips gyrated. The smell of her orgasm intensified my fucking, like a coke induced high that intensifies confidence and good times.  

Sperm

I reached the point of no return: the erogenous zones of my cock are fully stimulated and millions of swimmers were dying to be the winner of the great ovum race. I held the pressure for as long as I could, really just a few seconds, before I exploded inside her luptuous canal.

We cuddled for a little while, but my overworked sex organ retreated to normativity, and I pulled out. She cupped her pussy, keeping cum from dripping out and onto the love sack, and ran off to the bathroom.


Sex Potential


I have a deep seated belief that everyone has sex potential. At wide scope, I mean the whole package: attractiveness, mental maturity, physical health, and sexual interest. In the narrow scope, I specifically imply women and their potential for copulation.

Now before I continue, I argue that it is not the case that I think women are only for my sexual amusement. On the contrary, I have great respect for women and consider them as equals. Furthermore, males are not superior—physically or mentally—over females. I also think that women have a perspective of the world that I probably lack, but consider that statement in the same tone as the difference of my world perspective contrasted against Christopher Nolan’s world perspective. I would say the only two obvious differences are sex organs and the resulting emotions and physical features. I have a cock; women have vaginas and can nurture new life.

So when I see attractive women, I instinctively and biologically want to act. Of course with having a civilized society I can’t go around fucking every attractive homo sapien with pussy and boobs. But I’m very curious to know the sex potential that may or may not exist. What do your breasts look like? Do you have small or large nipples?  Would you ever be sexually interested in me? What turns you on? Can I smack your ass? How does your pussy feel? Do you just lie like a dead fish, or are you a kinky dominatrix with ball gags, anal beads, and whips? Do you find sex gross, or do you too love and fantasize about having sex every day? When I look at an attractive woman I wonder what she thinks about sex and I wonder if she is as equally curious about my sex potential, even if for only a moment.

I believe I have great sex potential, and although I’m certainly not Hugh Jackman, I would like to think that I still have game. At thirty I’m experienced, clean, and really want to explore new potentials before I’m old, wrinkled, and require Viagra for physical stimulation.

It is very disappointing that our dominant American culture downplays real liberal sex. Intercourse is institutionalized; free sex is discouraged, especially here in Mormonland. But I think that most people have a closet sexual obsession.  We crave it, we idolize it, we want it, and when we can’t have it we either force our sexual impulses into submission or fantasize and use explicit porn or cheap romance novels as a sub-par outlet for our sexual frustration. On the other hand, mass media and big fashion sale sexy apparel to women, especially young women: high heels, short skirts, blouses and wonder bras that make your boobs perk out, and tight jeans that mold to the sensual curves of femininity. I see publicly displayed sex options and I can almost hear women scream, “I’m sexy! Fuck me!”  The Irony is that I can’t. The joke’s on me.


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Mutually Assured Pleasure

Reflections of a Sexually Hard Determinist

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