There is a Season
When answers to my questions include a wonderfully uplifting feeling of smoke blown up my ass, I quickly deduce that I need to ask better questions.
I recently had an intense emotional awakening.
When the empowerment came, I asked myself: “Why did this happen now and not some other time?”
I got decent answers.
Funny ones, anyway.
Trigger Warning
What follows will appeal to men more than women, except for those rare few who can laugh at extreme male stupidity on full display.
It’s crass.
It’s totally male.
It’s totally heterosexually male in raw detail.
You’ve been warned.
Poolside Harem
The Court Jester really wanted to show this picture, so here it is.
The Court Jester secretly hopes everyone on earth discovers through this viral post and admires Him with flattering, racy comments.
He is self-important, proud, and vain.
He also complains that Humility is overrated.
I let him show his ignorant ass, just for the giggles.
He is my court jester.
You can get away with crap like that when you write anonymously!
Realistically, if I had become empowered as a younger man, I wouldn’t have survived the hedonistic binge that would have followed.
Pardon my digression, but my court jester did entertain me with some fantastic ideas that I would have implemented as an over-empowered, testosterone-pumped young man.
I’m confident that I would have employed a harem of stunning nude call girls to inhabit my pool.
Yeah, realistically, if I really didn’t have any reason to stop myself.
I would have.
Perhaps I have them catcall to me, call me “Big Boy,” and say, “You’re the man.”
That would be fun.
G.O.A.T.
I might even take it one step further.
Why not?
I have the money. I only live once.
I would GO for it, in a big way.
Think of the Qi flow.
Wow!
My private harem of stunning nudes (their objects, not people) would have been extremely well paid to convince me — using all feminine charms at her disposal — the following Immutable Truths:
- My monstrous member goes waaaay deep and feels ecstatically overwhelming, stimulating orgasms on contact. My Wand is magic!
- As a lover, I am GOAT, the greatest of all time; not just her time, not just her best, I am the best lover that any woman ever had the privilege to pleasure. (That last part mandates deep digging for a strong performance. Method actors preferred.)
- She eagerly enjoys my pleasures, no matter how bizarre; if she really doesn’t like it, she must fake it perfectly every time, forever, or until I tire of her and desire a replacement. A melon softens with too many squeezes.
- She gushes excitedly for her good fortune and the honor of pleasing me. She is entirely selflessly devoted to my selfish pleasure — a true religious devotee willing to worship my manhood.
I would have expected Academy Award performances, and internally, I would have fostered the illusion and lived in that warped reality.
That really shouldn’t be surprising to anyone.
If any heterosexual male denies the above, I call bullshit.
Women, men, swap parts. Imagine the characters as you please. If the image appeals, the lover is believable, and they react to you by those four principles, you would like that.
It would be something you want.
There is a reason Leonardo DiCaprio has a cult of devotees who habitually spit-polish his knob.
He likes it.
Leo, My Court Jester thinks you RULE! He wants to throw a party and invite my favorite rock bands from the 80s. It will be GLORIOUS!!!
Leo, Seriously, my apologies for any offense. The performances you and Johnny Depp delivered in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape. That’s G.O.A.T. I didn’t see you. I only saw Arnie. Remarkable. That movie deeply touched my heart.
Johnny, My wife was tempted to stuff you into the trunk of her car when you consulted a map for directions in a parking lot in Las Vegas 30 years ago. She still tells the story. She’s says your hot.
Living an illusion is very tempting. With enough money, you can afford an entourage of hangers-on, like Elvis did.
You can create the illusion of who you want to be, arrange your environment to reinforce your delusions, surround yourself with “yes” men (and women, of course), and live the dream.
Unfortunately, it’s an illusion.