Wednesday, January 13, 2016

The Word

by Daddy X

In the beginning was the Word.

And the boy believed the Word.

Then the boy listened to his friends’ words. And their words became stories. Real stories. Gleaned from real experience.

That if one fooled with it enough—that a spurt would rise.

That an accompanying sense of exquisite wellbeing would overcome the senses, engulf the spirit and afford a new satisfaction.

But Keepers of the Word harbored other thoughts. That the boy would learn shame.

And the boy came.

And it was good.

But Keepers of the Word told the boy that he would go blind.

That he would grow hair on the palm of his hand.

That his eyes would cross. (Before or after he went blind?)

That the boy would not enjoy a worthwhile life. That he would learn to satisfy only his base desires, which would surely produce a wasted mass of protoplasm unfulfilled by any normal relationship.

That the boy would render himself queer, attracted only to the male appendage of which he’d grown so fond.

So the boy told his sin to the confessor. “I have committed adultery, father. I have pleasured myself.”

And of course the holy man, full of fate and ire, a man who’d taken a vow of celibacy would be the most obvious choice to offer clarity for the boy’s sexual conundrums.
Ignorance of a subject would have no bearing on the Word.

So the lad would not be told the difference between masturbation and adultery. T’was all the same to a Man of the Word.

The boy was told no matter the form, youthful sex always ends up a disaster. That if this sort of thing progressed …  the boy would have no regard for the church or its teachings.

That he just had to stop jerking off.

Said a man who insulated himself against the very world of experience to which the boy deserved answers.

That the boy would burn in hell forever for some sordid thrill.

That the boy would say a penance of five rosaries.

And the boy went on his way, duly convinced that he didn’t want to burn for eternity.

That he’d better damn well say his five fucking rosaries.

When the boy finished his penance, he realized the confessor was correct on one score:

That the boy would lose his religion.  

That his punishment was not only a foolish waste of fleeting time, but heaped upon young shoulders, it made for a capricious and senseless burden.

And the boy would realize what a fraud it all was.

Within his soul, he found faith that no benevolent God would have issue with any earthly pleasure the boy accomplished alone with his own body.

That the Word had the value of the excrement of a bull. That he should trust his own instincts.

The boy had encountered critical thinking.

And the boy questioned not only the Keepers, but the very vacuity of foundation the Word rested upon.  

He learned to question aspects of what he was told by teachers, by adults and by the media.

And the boy discovered obvious answers to subjects not provided by the Word’s limitations.

Without the Word’s influence, he would learn the positivity of an evolution of all living things. None of the Keepers had ever told him that. In fact, the Word declared evolution not a fact.

And so the boy learned that he, more than others, went through life satisfied with his lot in life. Well-balanced.

That he had his head screwed on where others lost theirs to guilt, confusion, contradiction and despair. Unhappy with their own desires.

He found that he can jack-off, jerk-off, stroke it or wank.

He can polish wood, choke the chicken, spank the monkey, pound Sam, wax the cucumber or stoke the dragon. He’d be sure to whack Willie to experience the full spectrum.

It all comes back to one thing:

Having faith in one’s own sense of cause and effect, rather than relying on willful ignorance to determine the value of any phenomenon. 


7 comments:

  1. Amen, Daddy!

    Funny, though. I came under the influence of a deeply Catholic friend when I was a kid. I also grew up thinking masturbation, or any kind of sexual stuff, was "adultery".

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  2. I love this line: "That the Word had the value of the excrement of a bull." Very true. Daddy X, I'm so glad that you (like my spouse Mirtha) survived a Catholic upbringing without going completely deranged.

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  3. Very cleverly written. My dad used to joke that he asked the minister if he could "just do it until I need glasses?" BTW, he called it "pulling his pud." But to him, the idea that a female would be moved to do the same was anathema. Boy, did I prove him wrong!!

    At one time he wanted to study to be a Presbyterian minister. He and my mom, an ex-Catholic who called nuns "black cows," told me that if I wanted any religion in my life, it was my own problem to get my ass to church...or where-ever. Consequently, I dabbled a few times, even attending a Jesus convention in downtown Chicago as a very young teen, but I was put off by the hypocrisy of fellow teens who would profess to the most devout of beliefs in front of the adults, while I had questions, then they'd want me to sneak off into the woods after services to get high, drink and screw with them. I finally figured out that if that was all I was going there for, as obviously it was what they were all there for, then I was better off just being honest about what I was looking for.

    I grew spiritual after I had my first baby. Now I feel any spirituality is between the life force and me. Nobody else's business. I want no part of any organized religion, which seems to be simply a rationale for men to wage war upon other men, each claiming that THEIR invisible protector in the sky is more powerful and vigilant than the other guy's. But alas, fate is capricious, and sometimes evil wins and good is punished.

    So yes, let's all just whack off to feel good, then go about our business, happy that at least we don't have to worry about how "something that feels so good can be so wrong." It's not. It's just good.

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    1. My dad used to joke that he asked the minister if he could "just do it until I need glasses?"

      Haha hilarious!

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  4. Elegantly put! Really! If only more kids were led to independent critical thinking in reaction to such oppressive foolishness.

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  5. I love how you constructed this, Daddy. Aside from the commentary about religion and critical thinking, I was also struck by how for me the discovery of masturbation was a mysterious, mythological story I put together from clues I was able to discover. The biblical language works for that, too, I think.

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  6. Thanks all, for your comments. Yeah- as time goes on, I hope everybody can escape from foolish dogma.

    And thanks for the comments on the construct. I was kinda happy with it myself. A rare burst of creativity. :>)

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