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Category: God

Though I obviously have no proof of
this, the one aspect of life that
seems clear to me is that good
people do whatever they believe is
the right thing to do. Being
virtuous is hard, not easy. The
idea of doing good things simply
because you're good seems like
a zero-sum game; I'm not even
sure those actions would still
qualify as 'good,' since
they'd merely be a function of
normal behaviour. Regardless of
what kind of god you believe in - a
loving god, a vengeful god, a
capricious god, a snooty
beret-wearing French god, or
whatever - one has to assume that
you can't be penalised for
doing the things you believe to be
truly righteous and just.
Certainly, this creates some pretty
glaring problems: Hitler may have
thought he was serving God. Stalin
may have thought he was serving God
(or something vaguely similar).
I'm certain Osama bin Laden was
positive he was serving God.
It's not hard to fathom that
all of those maniacs were certain
that what they were doing was
right. Meanwhile, I constantly do
things that I know are wrong;
they're not on the same scale
as incinerating Jews or blowing up
skyscrapers, but my motivations
might be worse. I have looked
directly into the eyes of a woman I
loved and told her lies for no
reason, except that those lies
would allow me to continue having
sex with another woman I cared
about less. This act did not kill
20 million Russian peasants, but it
might be more 'diabolical'
in a literal sense. If I died and
found out I was going to hell and
Stalin was in heaven, I would note
the irony, but I couldn't
complain. I don't make the
f*cking rules.

Category: Poetry

Maria, lonely prostitute on a
street of pain, You, at least,
hail me and speak to me While a
thousand others ignore my
face. You offer me an hour of
love, And your fees are not as
costly as most. You are the
madonna of the lonely, The
first-born daughter in a world of
pain. You do not turn fat men
aside, Or trample on the
stuttering, shy ones, You are
the meadow where desperate
men Can find a moment's
comfort. Men have paid
more to their wives To know a
bit of peace And could not walk
away without the guilt That
masquerades as love. You do not
bind them, lovely Maria, you
comfort them And bid them
return. Your body is more
Christian than the
Bishop's Whose gloved hand
cannot feel the dropping of my
blood. Your passion is as
genuine as most, Your caring as
real! But you, Maria,
sacred whore on the endless
pavement of pain, You, whose
virginity each man may make his
own Without paying ought but
your fee, You who know nothing
of virgin births and immaculate
conceptions, You who touch
man's flesh and caress a
stranger, Who warm his bed to
bring his aching skin
alive, You make more sense than
stock markets and football
games Where sad men beg for
virility. You offer yourself
for a fee - and who offers himself
for less? At times you are
cruel and demanding - harsh and
insensitive, At times you are
shrewd and deceptive - grasping and
hollow. The wonder is that at
times you are gentle and
concerned, Warm and
loving. You deserve more
respect than nuns who hide their
sex for eternal love; Your fees
are not so high, nor your prejudice
so virtuous. You deserve more
laurels than the self-pitying
mother of many children, And
your fee is not as costly as
most. Man comes to you
when his bed is filled with brass
and emptiness, When liquor has
dulled his sense enough To know
his need of you. He will come
in fantasy and despair,
Maria, And leave without
apologies. He will come in
loneliness - and perhaps Leave
in loneliness as well. But you
give him more than soldiers who win
medals and pensions, More than
priests who offer
absolution And sweet-smelling
ritual, More than friends who
anticipate his death Or
challenge his life, And your
fee is not as costly as
most. You admit that your
love is for a fee, Few women
can be as honest. There are
monuments to statesmen who gave
nothing to anyone Except their
hungry ego, Monuments to
mothers who turned their
children Into starving, anxious
bodies, Monuments to Lady
Liberty who makes poor men
prisoners. I would erect a
monument for you - who give
more than most - And for a
meager fee. Among the
lonely, you are perhaps the
loneliest of all, You come so
close to love But it eludes
you While proper women march to
church and fantasize In the
silence of their rooms, While
lonely women take their
husbands' arms To hold them
on life's surface, While
chattering women fill their closets
with clothes and Their lips
with lies, You offer love for a
fee--which is not as costly as
most-- And remain a lonely
prostitute on a street of
pain. You are not immoral,
little Maria, only tired and
afraid, But you are not as
hollow as the police who pursue
you, The politicians who jail
you, the pharisees who scorn
you. You give what you promise
- take your paltry fee -
and Wander on the endless,
aching pavements of pain. You
know more of universal love than
the nations who thrive on
war, More than the churches
whose dogmas are private vendettas
made sacred, More than the tall
buildings and sprawling
factories Where men wear
chains. You are a lonely
prostitute who speaks to me as I
pass, And I smile at you
because I am a lonely man.

Though I obviously have no proof of
this, the one aspect of life that
seems clear to me is that good
people do whatever they believe is
the right thing to do. Being
virtuous is hard, not easy. The
idea of doing good things simply
because you're good seems like
a zero-sum game; I'm not even
sure those actions would still
qualify as 'good,' since
they'd merely be a function of
normal behaviour. Regardless of
what kind of god you believe in - a
loving god, a vengeful god, a
capricious god, a snooty
beret-wearing French god, or
whatever - one has to assume that
you can't be penalised for
doing the things you believe to be
truly righteous and just.
Certainly, this creates some pretty
glaring problems: Hitler may have
thought he was serving God. Stalin
may have thought he was serving God
(or something vaguely similar).
I'm certain Osama bin Laden was
positive he was serving God.
It's not hard to fathom that
all of those maniacs were certain
that what they were doing was
right. Meanwhile, I constantly do
things that I know are wrong;
they're not on the same scale
as incinerating Jews or blowing up
skyscrapers, but my motivations
might be worse. I have looked
directly into the eyes of a woman I
loved and told her lies for no
reason, except that those lies
would allow me to continue having
sex with another woman I cared
about less. This act did not kill
20 million Russian peasants, but it
might be more 'diabolical'
in a literal sense. If I died and
found out I was going to hell and
Stalin was in heaven, I would note
the irony, but I couldn't
complain. I don't make the
f@cking rules.

Category: Sex

“Did we have sex?" he asked
directly. For about two
minutes, this might actually be
fun. "Eric," I said, "we had sex in
every position I could imagine, and
some I couldn’t. We had sex
in every room in my house, and we
had sex outdoors. You told me it
was the best you’d ever had."
(At the time he couldn’t
recall all the sex he’d ever
had. But he’d paid me a
compliment.) "Too bad you
can’t remember it," I
concluded with a modest
smile. Eric looked like
I’d hit him in the forehead
with a mallet. For all of thirty
seconds his reaction was completely
gratifying.”

Related Tags:

Time House sex Fun Family Dating Architecture Humour Home

Category: Sex

Having sex multiple times on the
first sleepover does not count as
more than one date...

Related Tags:

Date date sex Times Time Dating History

Category: Sex

You told me I was the best sex
you'd ever had in your
life...You couldn't get
enough...At one point you were so
loud I thought sure hotel security
was going to beat down the door.

Category: Politics

Because we’ve been lied to
and lied to, and it hurts to be
lied to. It’s ultimately just
about that complicated: it hurts.
It denies you respect for yourself,
for the liar, for the world.
Especially if the lies are chronic,
systemic, if hard experience seems
to teach that everything
you’re supposed to believe
in’s really a game based on
lies. Young Voters have been taught
well and thoroughly. You may not
personally remember Vietnam or
Watergate, but it’s a good
bet you remember ‘No new
taxes’ and ‘Out of the
loop’ and ‘No direct
knowledge of any impropriety at
this time’ and Did not
inhale’ and ‘Did not
have sex with that woman’...
It’s depressing and painful
to believe that the would-be
‘public servants’
you’re forced to choose
between are all phonies whose only
real concern is their own care and
feeding and who will lie so
outrageously with such a straight
face that you just know they have
to believe you’re an idiot.
So who wouldn’t fall all over
themselves for a top politician who
actually seemed to talk to you like
you were a person, an intelligent
adult worthy of respect?

Category: Romance

Let’s start with this
statistic: You are delicious. Be
brave, my sweet. I know you can get
lonely. I know you can crave
companionship and sex and love so
badly that it physically hurts. But
I truly believe that the only way
you can find out that there’s
something better out there is to
first believe there’s
something better out there. What
other choice is there?

Category: Sex

When authorities warn you of the
sinfulness of sex, there is an
important lesson to be learned. 
Do not have sex with the
authorities.

Matt Groening

Related Tags:

sex Dating

Category: Sex

My wife is a sex object.  Every
time I ask for sex, she objects.

Les Dawson

Related Tags:

Wife Time sex She Marriage Dating Wedding Woman Mothers

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