A CONSERVATIVE ANALYSIS ON SEXUAL SELF-GRATIFICATION

As I was turning through the pages of The Rockford Gazette, a bizarre headline seized my attention.  In bold letters, at the top of page three, it read, “Masturbation is Murder: A Conservative Analysis on Sexual Self-Gratification”.  Intrigued, I read on with the hopes that I may acquire some deep, philosophical insight into the ways of our world.  Not necessarily enlightened, I was, nevertheless, intrigued and decided to reproduce the article in it’s original edition.  I hope the reader may find the contents entertaining.

Beware! Miscellaneous lunatics on college campus

MASTURBATION IS MURDER:

A CONSERVATIVE ANALYSIS ON

SEXUAL SELF-GRATIFICATION

By Reverend R. Wallace

In apocalyptic numbers, life is unnecessarily escorted to death’s front door.  Women, men, and children are massacred with every tick of the clock—slain by the blade, bullet, and bomb.  Innocent lives are tragically lost in the ubiquitous famished-stricken nations around the globe.  And with the escalation of toxic chemicals in our precious ecosystems, we concurrently see a rise in cancer rates amongst an otherwise healthy population.  But that is not what this essay is about.  Nay!  For there is one factor that is never accounted for; a factor that is consistently ignored by our nation’s statisticians; a factor that should be considered abominable by any compassionate Catholic: the lives lost through masturbation.

Every time a man masturbates, he essentially aborts thousands, if not millions, of potential children—children that could have grown up into a new generation of business executives, bankers, priests, and politicians; children that could have potentially contributed to the improvement and progression of our morally decrepit civilization; children that could have been amongst a whole new breed of Catholic, conservative warlords.  But this is often ignored!  And what I find most unfortunate is the myopic nature of the anti-abortion movement.

Indubitably, to abort a human being is dreadfully sinful.  And the genocidal Jezebels and heartless heathens responsible for the epic annihilation of fetuses deserve nothing less than eternal damnation in the fiery lakes of Hell.  What is more, physicians—the conductors orchestrating the fetal massacre—should be publicly castrated and burned at the stake.  But let it be clear: we must not, and will not marginalize the other abortionists: the masturbators!

These self-indulging delinquents will never have any regard for the life they habitually throw away.  And the shameful treatment that they bestow upon their human potential is utterly insolent—condemning countless innocent lives to the horrendous confines of toilette bowls, trash receptors, and tube socks.  At best, this is to add insult to injury.  At worst, it is sheer disregard for human life—murder in the first degree.

Thence, if we fail to properly indoctrinate our nation’s masturbators into the morally sound world of Catholic American culture, then they should receive the same gruesome treatment that they so eagerly bestow.  And if you are a conservative activist or a state executive, I implore you to act!  Aye!  Act and bring justice to the unjust!  Ergo, allow me to make some suggestions as to a suitable course of action.

First and foremost, masturbation ought to be prohibited and deemed a federal offence.  Secondly, parents should be encouraged to discourage their children from masturbating.  Let them know that God is always watching, even under the sheets.  Tell them that excessive amounts of masturbation will always lead to blindness and impotency.  If one, however, catches their child in the act, I would recommend reporting them to the police or Catholic Church, whereupon the child could be institutionalized in a psychiatric ward.  The perpetrator could then undergo proper psychological treatment, including shock therapy, amongst other things.  If the individual continues their abhorrent behavior, then let them be burned alive!  Let them feel the unmerciful wrath of righteous indignation!  And let the anti-abortion movement reach beyond its limited agenda!  For even potential life is Life!

Sources:

Wallace, R.  ”Masturbation is Murder: A Conservative Analysis on Sexual Self-Gratification”.  The Rockford Gazette.  Vol. 789.  Issue 11.  Pg. 3-4.

THOUGHTS & IDEAS FROM JUNE-JULY, 2008

GENEROUS VEINS

June 17^th, 2008

Listen!  Listen!  Listen!  And hear the agonizingly arrogant voices of fat, philistine radio celebrities.  Listen as they spew their rancid rhetoric and irrational ethos like some Third Reich parcel of propaganda.

Listen and experience epiphanic enlightenment!

Yes!  Listen!  And Learn!

Learn to love.  Love a tank.  Love your car.  Love oil.  And love to drill.

And then Drill!  And Drill some more!

Yes!  Drill & Learn!  Learn TO Drill!  And then Drill in ANWR!

Is this a shortsighted proclamation in patriotic pretention?  Perhaps!  But, God damnit!  Drill anyway!  Fuel this ghastly machine of cancerous filth!  ‘Tis a patriotic pledge to nationalistic sovereignty.

And O, what a marvelous proposal: decimate our wilderness and linger as a bourgeois cancer on this sad and solemn planet!

Then Listen again!  Listen as the middle-aged jocks jeer and cheer—eager to fill their bourgeois tanks with gasoline at two dollars a gallon!  Merriment!  For Lo!  They shall forever dominate the automotive tarmacs in a vulgar display of wealth and social status.

Then plug your ears!

Don’t listen to political queers!

Don’t listen and let us pretend that hydrogen fuel cells and grease engines never existed!  ‘Twas merely some obscure hiccup in some nightmarish dream!

But Listen as I say thus: You’ll only be dreamin’ of Sovereignty and Freedom so long as liquid gold flows from the generous veins of our glorious planet.  For our nation of flag totin’ freedom lovers shall forever suck the petroleum pecker of plutocratic politicians.

RED FLAGS OF LIBERATION

July 1^st, 2008

A propitious notion resideth amongst us—

transcending mere chimerical frivolity;

a certain revolutionary splendor of scarlet magnificence—

wielding its hammer and sickle whilst breaching squalid fetters of oppression.

Capitalists trembleth in fear!

Bellicose Communists whimper, for behold!

Red Flags of Liberation shall flutter in the violent winds of proletarian might!

ODE TO MY PRINCE!

June 17^th, 2008

Ye prince of the republic, squanderer of ore, brusheth they shoulder of proletarian dust—burdensome parcels thou art obliged to reckon with.  Ye hath naught but unwithering contempt for those of subordinate stature—filthy beasts ceaselessly toiling in loathsome burden under thy podium of aristocratic autocracy.

Alas, my Lord!  Ye scoffeth in an air of tremendous patronization towards the milieu of proletarian squalor.  The vile stench of serfdom!

And O!  This fire growing in my soul!  How intolerable!  Inextinguishable!  O, how I wisheth upon thee the woeful misery of indigence and poverty!  For only then will ye meet the true Burdens of Life.

DEAR BRAZIL, MY SECOND HOMELAND

Upon the soils of distant lands, thousands of miles from home, one may be startled to find that humans are virtually identical.  Our nature, tastes, behavior—everything that defines who we are—transcend beyond distance, culture, and national boundaries.  Oddly enough, most of us are compelled to believe that life is considerably different on foreign soil.  Though, in my opinion, our human nature is, in and of itself, the common denominator uniting our otherwise disjointed world.

During my days in South America, for instance, I was perpetually reminded of the degree in which Brazilians appreciate international art.  The weekend I arrived, Chuck Berry performed at a packed concert venue down the street from where I was staying.  Although I missed his performance, I did get the opportunity to see another rock & roll legend: Mr. Jerry Lee Lewis.  And what a night that was!  His opening group was simply spectacular—a real class act with a rock & roll style of the 1950s.

The entire room was jumpin’ and the cats were all swingin’ to the beat.  And with the final piano key came a flood of applause.  The noise subsequently transformed into discourse as the audience stood and waited—impatiently anticipating the Killer’s killer performance.

Some 30 minutes had passed until an old man was slowly escorted to the seat of a black, seven-foot grand piano.  As the fellow opened up with “Lewis Boogie”, the crowd went hysterical—moovin’ and groovin’ to the contagious rhythms of good, old-fashioned rock & roll.  As great as the Brazilians are at dancing, none of them seemed to know how to Twist.  But they sure could sing, which was perfectly apparent during Lewis’s closing number, “Great Balls of Fire”.

Notwithstanding the profound Westernization of Brazilian society, there are innumerable aspects of their culture that are distinctly endemic.  One can simply walk through the weekly hippie fair and witness a spectacle of Brazilian art, music, and dance.  On a filthy sidewalk, near a fowl-smelling sewage gutter, one may see a couple old-timers strumming and singing some traditional Moda de Viola, Brazil’s blend of country folk music.

Then under a canopy of thick, broadleaf trees, one may see a group of men and women dancing capoeira, the deadly martial art invented by slaves during Brazil’s colonial era.

As far as music goes, I am often inclined to say that the classical composers were the only ones who knew how to do it right.  That being said, I, along with some 400 audience members, welcomed Mozart’s “Symphony #40 In G Minor” with open arms and delightfully attentive ears.

But as the orchestra fills my heart with wonder, the jazz cats rock me off of my feet.  The “I Love Jazz Festival” was, undoubtedly, the greatest concert I have ever been to—and I’ve been to many great concerts. Judy Carmichael, who I had the honor of meeting a week prior, was phenomenal.  When she gets her fingers on the 88s, her charisma simply spills all over the room.

Interestingly enough, Carmichael’s performance paled in comparison to the New Orleans Joymakers, who were utterly explosive.  Never before have I seen a group that could make 4,000 people dance with hypnotic ease.

Indeed, beautiful, hospitable people grace every stretch of land.  Unfortunately, scoundrels and thieves balance the behavioral equilibrium.  This is the trend that currently exists throughout the entire world.  That being said, it is imperative that we shun the decrepit elements of humanity while contemporaneously embracing the good—which, as far as I am concerned, consists of artistic creativity.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.