Revelations

I have been an eroticartist for a full decade now and I have no intent to stop, so long as I find gargantuan dicks savagely penetrating either orifice to be immensely pleasurable, and am yet of the enduring generosity possessed of no apparent bounds permitting a spectacle of such a majestic process to beheld, thus will I continue to bless you. Oh, but how pretentious is my phrasing, no? Wherever are my manners?

I do so beg for your—well, cum, to think of it—apologies, for arrogance in pursuit of the utmost irony intended to express a point otherwise ignored and dismissed as unremarkable (and thus, uninteresting) before an audience unrelentingly expecting of entertainment in the Age of Information is only just, so…

Apropos expectation, that which you project upon social media accounts having been quantified in your eyes as exclusively existing to meet said expectations—encompassing entertainment, as well, that of any other endeavor whereby occupation has come to define existence—is only so unjust.

Such is my own justification for affording you no apologies—you, an audience of insatiable demand for entertainment, reprehensibly rivaled only by the innumerable opinions expressed, by you, of me, taken of any form; whereas, my own form necessarily takes that of an absurd arrogance of such magnitude it can only be understood as entertainment, for this be the only way discourse today is digested.

Of course, whether justification provided for such displays of unabashed arrogance is an acceptable one or all of this is observed by you, the reader, to be merely that of an excuse for egoism—nonetheless of entertaining proportions to the masses—misses the point, as the question itself and not the answer is indeed that of the point.

The technological landscape wherein one exists today is a virtual, multidimensional violence, the likes of no other to date, whereby one is unable to determine whether individuals aim at those interests deemed universal or only portend at such in the selfish interests of oneself—and, obviously, such an existence is most unfortunate, particularly for my fellow neurodivergents.

Society must at once acknowledge that technology has diminished the senses—though, this is less a critique of technology than it is of an ignorant society rushing to haphazardly adopt said technology that it scarcely if at all understands. Unfortunately, nothing of life insofar as its evolution implies redemption is due of such foolishness. If anything, the opposite is observed true, whereof the implication is simultaneously the nobility and deplorability of human intelligence.

As the late Nobel Physicist Richard Feynman notably expressed, and is oft repeated in some form or other by yours truly, “We make our mistakes, then die”. Although, let no mistake be made about the ironic inevitability of death, as one yet necessarily integral in none other than defining life.

Irony—a tricky thing to master, that—the very reason the vast majority of you never do, and you never will. Although, infer not insult of this assertion, please, as “the vast majority” includes also the very all of us, whereof it is the irony of existence wherein the value of irony is most revealed to us:

Here, we yet exist—irrespective of the conditions of existence—inevitably beset on the path of the inexistent, whereby death appears the one and only ultimate eventuality, with intelligence of all things ironically proclaiming itself above the fray. How dare any proclaimed intellectual ever accuse one of insanity?

Ever were such obnoxious notions as intelligence, knowledge, or wisdom ironic in the face of existence, for these notions represent the feeble grasp of the finite, within and not without existence, begging meaning of the infinite; thence, ever in futility are all but the discerning destined to misunderstand the following antics coming from one such as myself:

Behold!

For you but observe the antics of one transcended to godhood among mere mortals—artistically expressed, albeit ironically professed—by that of a prostitute, no less, perceived as insane by the idiocracy intrinsically a feature of the masses of one extant species arrogant enough to deem itself the measure of so-called civilization! Ha! But, surely as I, you jest, no?

…no, apparently.

Oh, do spare me any longer of this Hell, for any one species to unironically exhibit such blithely ignorant and barbaric behavior this late in the evolutionary game concludes only with that of its premature extinction; whereas, there exists no imminent savior nor salvation for your abject failure to protect yet the greatest of all cosmic creation—life, the crown jewel of existence—for life itself is the measure of all value.

Alas, unfolding before your very eyes is the greatest tragedy of existence, but that only at the end of your own would such an idea occur as one of many Revelations.

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Neurotypicals projectify reality.

Neurodivergents objectify reality.

There is a huge epistemological difference.

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Life seems to always find a way. What if you, during these trying times, are indeed the way, reader? The stakes could be no higher.

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