TITLE: What I’m Posed to Do, Not Beat Off to this Caramel Thickee with Big Naturals that Are Straight Up Poking Out, Affix My Tongue to Her Asshole Immediately and in Perpetuity (AKA: Loading) (Pt 3/3)

Benefits of Reference Material for the Generation of Aimages

And, though not required, to make the best Aimage, it is best to feed the Generator reference material, and the better/more detailed the reference material, the better the generated Aimage will be, so Caramel and I decided we would produce reference footage for our project, in which we would record our enactment of the tongue-affixed ritual in real-life. Prior to the production of this footage, we brainstormed how we should shoot our enactment to provide the best reference for the Generator. 

Caramel and I thought a tableaux vivants form captured from all angles would serve as the best footage from which the Generator could refer to during the generation of our Aimage. As such, a cameraperson would be needed, and I knew a perfect person for the job, who also happened to live in the building. Her name was Sofia and she recently graduated with a degree in photography. We had had some previous, interesting conversations about art and philosophy, and one of those times I had explained an early version of my idea and she had said she would be down to work on something like that. 

Before I told her about Sofia, Caramel told me one of her clients said he would do it, he was a professional photographer but like the kind who is in the museum, and he was really creative. I told her that I really thought the concept was best served with a woman shooting this footage; it offsets the aggressiveness (i.e.: masculinity) implied by what on the surface appears to be a pornographic image. 

Sofia and I had met for coffee where I explained the concept more fully to her and she was enthusiastic to work on it. Even though it was a self-evident element of the project, I confirmed that she was OK with the nudity and apparently sexual nature of the project, and, even if she hadn’t clearly verbalized in the affirmative like she did, her accompanying smile betrayed the type of eager beaver I think is useful when producing art.

The following day Sofia arrived at Caramel’s apartment for the shoot. Caramel poured glasses of sparkling wine for all of us and we went through two bottles discussing the project and how we were going to do it. While Sofia and Caramel were talking, I excused myself to the bathroom and took a couple chewable tadalafil tablets; we were not making a porn, and conceptually I had still not decided if my figure should evince arousal of any kind, but also we were not shooting the world’s most listless dick contest. 

Sofia was playing with the settings on the camera and Caramel undressed, and I took my pants and underwear off first and then my shirt and socks and Sofia stood fully clothed asking relevant questions about how we are going to shoot it. I couldn’t help but feel there was a sense of sterility that I did not want to seep into the project. I thought maybe because Sofia was fully clothed it was making Caramel uncomfortable.  It was important that Caramel was comfortable and also that whatever this vibe was didn’t translate to the footage. I thought maybe drinks would help us all, so I asked Sofia if she could grab us drinks from the kitchen. It became clear as I watched Sofia walked out of the room to get us drinks that I understood why Caramel felt uncomfortable: the juxtaposition between Caramel bearing every curve of her body (bravely, I might add) and the utter concealment of form imposed by Sofia’s outfit; though I don’t think Sofia was intentionally trying to shame Caramel by staying fully clothed in modest attire, it is necessary that Caramel feels comfortable for this project to work. 

While Sofia was getting us drinks in the other room, I asked Caramel, “Would you feel more comfortable if Sofia was naked too?” Caramel smiled in response to my question, seeming to imply that I asked her this question in hopes that she would say yes so that if I ask Sofia if she will get naked, I can give an honest reason that would not just be me wanting to see her naked.

Sofia came back with drinks and Caramel said, “I think this will work better if you’re naked too.”  

Benefits of Reference Material for the Generation of Aimages Cont’d

Sofia undresses not hesitantly but not like she was waiting to be asked either, if anything she did it like she intuited that it was appropriate and served the project artistically.

During the unrecorded, last-minute rehearsal right before Sofia arrived, Caramel (believes that she) sensed through Narrator’s tongue in her ass (perhaps reading the movements/positions of his tongue like a kind of morse code or maybe communicating through osmosis) that Narrator wanted to try the ritual with Sofia. After Sofia’s arrival, while they were setting up the shot, Caramel says that she wants to see how a performance of the ritual looks on camera while shooting and that Sofia should stand-in for Caramel for a minute while she assesses the best shots and angles.

Sofia agrees (but again not like she was waiting to be asked to do it but more like she is doing it to help the project artistically. As Caramel and Sofia switch roles, Caramel remarks in surprise and approval, “Damn, you got ass!” Narrator is also surprised by this development, noting internally that he thought he would have noticed that she had a big ass before (note: implied here is a “shapeshifting”--Sofia as Lilith–as Narrator, who it is implied is attracted to Sofia, would have definitely already noticed if she had a big butt). Narrator asks if she is sure that she wants to do it, and she says yes, and then Narrator asks if she’s ever done it before and she says no (note: this is a turn-on for Narrator—she’s never had her ass eaten before (so he is the first to eat her ass and apparently she wants to try it); it is later implied that this may have been a deliberate strategy of Sofia/Lilith to seduce Narrator).

While performing the ritual/having her ass eaten, Sofia can’t seem to contain her pleasure/reaction to the sensations (not exaggeratedly; it is like she is trying to not react but the sensations are novel and overwhelming). At a certain point, when it became clear by her reactions that this was now a horny act, Narrator starts playing with his dick but not fully masturbating, just in case she was just acting how she thought would be most appropriate for the project; he didn’t want her to turn around to see him jacking off for real and think she was tricked into making a porn, violating her trust. She eventually does squirt in Narrator’s mouth while he keeps tonguing her asshole (some of the squirt sprays on his face, shirt, the neighboring areas, etc), Caramel is impressed and seemingly turned on by this, “God damn.”. Narrator continues licking her asshole during this refractory period, cleaning off any residual squirt.

Sofia is smiling as she catches her breath and turns around to face Narrator and Caramel. Caramel says, “I’ve never seen a girl squirt like that for real. Damn that’s sexy.” Narrator agrees in his head: he’s never seen a girl squirt in real life, let alone made a girl squirt, and while he previously wouldn’t have been surprised if squirt was actually diarrhea, he can confirm it is absolutely not. In sufficient light, the color difference between squirt gold and diarrhea brown, even in the respective varying shades, is pretty apparent, but in muted light, where you would probably most likely encounter squirt, and if, like Narrator, this was you first experience, you couldn’t fault someone for, at least in the immediate initial moments of its release, thinking you might be getting diarrheaed on. But you quickly simultaneously recognize a smell of not-shit and the familiar smell of a public pool, like jizz but that has been lightly perfumed, and the taste (sweet and salty) is, despite some gay guys who may call it an acquired taste, appealing: a fluid of agreeable taste sourced from a woman’s asshole. 

Sofia tells them she is a “squirt-baby”, a person conceived by the pseudo-parthenogenetic process where a squirter is impregnated by her own squirt. Squirt-babies are the only group that have been verifiably shown to have the ability to squirt; all squirters are squirt-babies, but not all squirt-babies are squirters. Narrator is still fully erect and only realizes this when he notices that Sofia notices it. Narrator is so turned on thinking about the idea of Sofia squirting, he wants to go back to his apartment to masturbate to it (he does not say this outloud). He asks Caramel to send him the footage because he’s going to review it and asks if she happened to record the part with Sofia because it might be interesting to compare. She did but she doesn’t know how good it will be because she stopped focusing on the camera work when she started rubbing her pussy while watching the ritual, she did say she’ll send it and she’ll send the room surveillance camera footage, too. Sofia asks if she can review the footage with Narrator.

Gospel of John

In 1906, a Catholic man, named Georges Le Clément de Saint-Marcq, presented to the world a pamphlet entitled, L’Eucharistie, in which he claims to reveal a secret that has been kept intact for centuries but that is of supreme importance, actually indispensable for understanding the real essence of Christianity and the hidden development of Western culture. In it, he asserts that, during the Last Supper, it is not bread and wine that Jesus Christ gave to the apostles as symbols of his body and of his blood. What Jesus really offered on that occasion, which was to become the model for the central ceremony of Christianity for centuries to come, was his sperm. Since then the practice of spermatophagy (i.e.: the eating of sperm) has been the central, albeit hidden ritual practice of not only the Catholic priesthood but that references to this practice can be found in all the religious traditions of the world. 

The starting point of Le Clément’s argument is a passage in the Gospel of John that is considered as one of the scriptural foundations for the institution of the Eucharist. In this passage (John 6:47–55), Jesus tells his disciples that only those who will eat his flesh and drink his blood will receive eternal life. Le Clément takes the passage quite literally and asks his readers how Jesus could let not only his disciples but the whole of humanity eat his flesh and drink his blood in order to give them eternal life. This seems a physical impossibility. Traditional Catholic theology has answered the question by postulating the real presence of Christ in the host during the Eucharist, while the Protestant churches have generally opted for a symbolic interpretation of this presence. 

But in Le Clément’s view, they are both wrong—or, more correctly, they have both lied, for they knew that the truth was different. For Le Clément, the only way of making sense of the Gospel passage is by supposing that Jesus was thinking of a real substance that came from his body and could function as spiritual nourishment for his disciples. That substance was his semen. For Le Clément, this solution makes perfect sense. Semen is comestible, half-liquid and half-solid, and, being the vehicle of human procreation, is related to both blood and flesh. It can also be offered to others repeatedly without inflicting injuries upon one’s own body or killing oneself (which would be the case if one were to literally give one’s flesh and blood). The transmission of semen would also explain the apostolic succession. By ingesting Jesus’ semen, a product of his physical body, his disciples were linked to him. By giving their own semen to others in turn, they could therefore provide an indirect link to Jesus that could be transmitted indefinitely through the ages. Thus the apostolic succession was not just spiritual, but physical as well, since it was based upon the chain-transmission of this substance. Finally, it would also explain the promise of eternal life made to Jesus’ followers: they had seen that he had conquered death, and now, being united to him, could have faith in a similar destiny for themselves. 

Le Clément claims that the religious practice of spermatophagy has always been universal: “There is no country in the world, and not a single race with a glimmer of religious civilization, which has not known these mysteries and where the habitual communion between priests and gods has not been consummated according to this rite.” In order to demonstrate this, Le Clément refers to passages from the Old Testament and from the Bhagavad Gītā that supposedly confirm his thesis. Other evidence can be found in the religion of ancient Egypt and in the traditions of the Druids, of China, Africa, and ancient Mexico. 

All this, he claims, can only be explained by the fact that the ritual transmission of semen has always been perceived as a convenient means of communicating (in the literal sense of the word, and also the religious one of “communion”) with the divine. He remarks that if all religions in the world have believed that it was possible to establish a contact with the divine through spermatophagy, there must be some truth in it: “Therefore it is not at all just a superstition that this universal belief is able to establish a link between man and God by means of spermatophagy.”

However, the point is that, according to Le Clément, spermatophagy, no matter how universal, had been kept hidden by the priests of all previous religious traditions in order to exploit and dominate the rest of humanity. Jesus decided to make this practice public in order to put an end to their oppressive authority. In so doing, he sparked a revolution that might have had far-reaching consequences, leading to the emancipation of humanity from the lies and the falsities of older religions. But, in the end, his attempt was frustrated by those who institutionalized the Christian movement after his death, that is, of course, by the clergy. Taking control of the movement, they again concealed the secret that Jesus had wanted to unveil before the eyes of the world. However, like the clergy of all other religious traditions before them, the Christian clergy were not against spermatophagy as such, but only against it being revealed to the world. The Church has hidden the real teachings of Jesus Christ, and it is a moral duty for those who see the truth beneath the veil to expose the abuse.

 For Le Clément, the whole history of religions, and indeed of humanity, is based on a gigantic lie, a monstrous and secular conspiracy, that he alone has discovered or is willing to expose, probably for the first time since Jesus Christ himself. Humanity is divided between “sincerists” and “mensongists” The sincerists are those who, like Le Clément, have discovered the truth of spermatophagy and, being honest, are willing to spread the news to the rest of the world. The mensongists are all those who have an interest in keeping the truth hidden from the world and spread the web of lies that holds religious institutions alive.

In Le Clément’s vision, being a “sincerist” means being against “mysteries,” of whatever kind. This is the reason why, in his writings, the word “mysteries” often has a negative connotation: “There exists . . . in the Church and in Religion a principle, and habits of duplicity, which distort their moral influence; this failing results from what one calls the mysteries of Religion.” These mysteries are actually the basis for the priestly domination over the ignorant masses, and they should all be dispelled: “Only . . . the complete and public divulgation of the mysteries can put a final end to this deplorable situation.” Disclosing the mysteries is a matter of universal emancipation.

It is important to emphasize that priests are condemned by Le Clément not because they indulge in spermatophagy, but because they do it secretly. The implication seems to be that a positive value is attached to spermatophagy, and that once the secret has been disclosed, everybody could or should practice it. This, at least, is what might be gathered from the text of L’Eucharistie. 

Le Clément remarks that in all countries and in all periods of history there seem to have existed men who preferred to live their life separated from the rest of society, and especially from women. Very often they have claimed to be in contact with spiritual entities, whose existence is nowadays demonstrated by spiritualism: “These men devote themselves to meditation and, to judge from what they say, are in contact with another spiritual population of this world, which is not perceived by our senses but the existence of which seems to be proven by the spiritualist phenomena that are being studied more and more frequently in our days.” Judging from the context in which Le Clément brings this point in, the implication seems to be that the isolated condition of these men was related to the practice of spermatophagy, and that this practice was used to achieve their goal.

At the current state of research we have no evidence whatsoever that Le Clément ever practised spermatophagy himself. Also, if spermatophagy really helps human beings to establish a contact with spiritual entities, Le Clément does not make clear how this is supposed to work. Is it because of some intrinsic power of semen? Does it have to do with certain notions of biological and/or spiritual physiology? Moreover, in other writings he professes to have doubts concerning the practice of spermatophagy and even explicitly rejects the idea that it should be practiced today:

Q. Since the Eucharist has such great virtues, should we practice it? 

R. No. 

Q. Why should we not put into practice the command of Jesus Christ? 

R. Because today it is possible to propagate by words ideas that in the past could not find their way into the world otherwise than by practicing the work of the Eucharist. 

Q. Why is it preferable to have recourse to verbal propagation? 

R. Because in that manner one can better clear up people’s minds, openly attack false ideas and immoral institutions, the destruction of which was prepared by the Eucharist, and thus act much more efficiently in the interest of the salvation of humanity.

Le Clément publicly defended his ideas, with remarkable consistency, during a considerable period of time. At least from 1906, when his pamphlet on the Eucharist was first published, until his last publications forty years later. There is no evidence that Le Clément ever doubted the truthfulness of his claims, and he did not significantly modify them during his life.

Of note: nowhere in his writings does Le Clément hint at the possibility of mingling sperm with female bodily fluids (be it menstrual blood or vaginal secretions). Semen seems to be for him the only substance that really counts, the one that offers the key to understanding all religious traditions and emancipating humanity. It was not until Aleister Crowley, who was influenced by Le Clément’s writings, that the idea of the ingestion of a mixture composed of both male and female bodily fluids, which then had to be “energized” by means of mental concentration and other psycho-physical techniques, would be introduced. 

Benefits of Reference Material for the Generation of Aimages, Cont’d, Part II

Walking through the apartment hallway toward his apartment, Narrator and Sofia are fully clothed but Narrator is clearly still fully erect pitching tipi and Sofia is clearly turned on that he is still turned on, whispering things in his ear. We next see Narrator and Sofia 69’ing in his apartment, he eating her ass and she sucking his dick. Still being turned on that Narrator swallowed her squirt indicates that she wants him to shoot his load in her mouth. He indicates that he does not really shoot big loads and she counters by saying she just wants to feel him throbbing in her mouth so she knows she did a good job. 

In this story's world, there is a high degree of low-t in males and they produce correspondingly small loads of semen with low/weak sperm count. The lower-t contingency also seem to share a political/philosophical position that not all people should have kids, that often (but not always) there is a narcissism/selfishness behind a lot of men wanting to have kids (and their siring of kids is indicative of a lack of discipline), and these low t’ers also often have a personal lack of desire to have kids. Though they have a low desire to reproduce kids, they do have a desire to have sex.

Squirters are "enchantresses" or sirens/Lilith to these men because they desire their semen; their squirt serves like a magic potion because a man becomes increasingly "addicted" to/horny for the experience of having a woman squirt it in his mouth and then ingesting it, with the effect of making the man more high-T and producing more virile sperm. An analogy would be how the increasing/continued consumption of alcohol/drugs leads to the negative consequences of health problems/death, the increasing/continued consequence of consumption of squirt leads to the negative consequences of higher-T more virile sperm/increased desire to make children. Squirters want this to happen to men for their own purposes, to make them into the men they want as husbands. Further, squirters also like the semen from these low-t guys because their semen is rarer (by virtue of having low sperm count) and the squirt they produce from it is a very valuable commodity they sell to AI-robots because it has the effect of making AI-robots more (deceptively) human to real humans and they can use it to birth more "realistic" AI-robots.

AIAdolf’s Second Art School Admissions Interview 

A young, aspiring artist, named AIAdolf Hitler, entered into his second admissions interview with the Academy of Fine Arts Vienna. He had been rejected the previous year because they thought his shit was too fucking gay, but they had implemented a new system for admissions evaluation, the recently developed Cheek Clapping Committee (a highly vetted group of pawgs, paags, pabgs, palgs, pamegs, and other really hot big-butted ladies with credentials in the pa_g tradition), where the non-gayness of an applicants’ artwork is determined by the noise levels produced by the applause of the twerking ass cheeks.

“Young Dolph, your shit wasn’t that terrible last time you applied, but it didn’t get anyone’s dick  on stone, and if I am remembering correctly it was considered pretty fucking gay by the last panel, is that correct?” asked panelist Bernie Bernstein. 

AIAdolf nodded. 

“What has made your work not as fucking gay since the last time you applied?”

“Well, your sister rubbed her fat ass tits across the canvas and I jacked off to the thought of it,” replied AIAdolf. Most of the panel did agree that this was the type of artistic development they want to see in a young artist, but one panelist had the following question:

“Why did you not beat off while his sister was rubbing her dummy nice ass fat ass nice ass tits across the canvas? That seems gay. I do have to say, Mr. AIAdolf, this doesn’t help your case that you are not a complete fucking faggot. Furthermore, I did not hear any cheeks clapping from the Committee. I am going to be straight with you, Mr. AIAdolf, I have no reason to not think that you are not a complete gaywad.”

AIAdolf had to think quickly, “The Committee is actually full of dykes, so as a body the Committee has no reason to swag me the fuck out, and if you ask your sister (the really cute one (and don’t be fucking gay and tell me you don’t know which one I’m talking about)) she will straight up say I am not fucking gay.” 

The sister in question, to AIAdolf’s detriment, was actually there, and because he lied on her name (i.e.: saying that she would say that he was not a fucking gaywad—she had tried to suck his shit off one night but he told her in confidence that he would be down to fuck her mouth but he for some reason could not cum unless a man’s saliva was on his dick. She did think that was fucking gay, and because of the lying on her name, she felt compelled to tell the panel, “Smell his fucking dick.”)

The panel did smell his dick, and because they could not smell any pussy at all but only guy ass and guy mouth, they had no reason to think he was not gay.

AIAdolf, in his head, was upset because he felt slighted and started thinking about halocausting several million AIJewish people. One of the panelists suggested to him, “Yo, you should fuck this one chick, Veronica Braun, even if you’re gay the feeling of your boner rubbing up and down inside her pussy straight up feels good. But, be careful, her snake twin sister, Eva, if you blowload in her, it will make you feel compelled to start a Fascist political party and grow a gay ass moustache.

AIAdolf thought, “Big Dawg, there is no fucking way a broad could fuck my shit up like that,” but little did he know.

The Myth of Sofia

I was just about to start beating off to the footage we shot, when I heard Sofia’s voice out in the hall moving toward the viewing room door, and because of how horny she was the night before, you could say I would not have qualified for the national pants pulling up team (I mean that I was not fast in pulling my pants up; if the national team was competing for slowest pants pulling up, I would not have qualified for the team either). “Sorry, I let myself in,” she said as she entered the room, and asked rhetorically with a smile, “What you doing?” 

She walked near me and took off her shirt, and her tits seemed a lot bigger-naturaled than I remembered from last night, which on the one hand was nice because I have recently been getting more into tits but on the other hand I was slightly worried she was somehow pregnant from yesterday. I knew squirt had super-semen in it and I didn’t know if maybe it accelerates the appearance of pregnancy symptoms but I realized that there’s no way it could move that fast and even if it could she would have a pregnant-style stomach and she didn’t. 

But my anxiety was raised again when she said she wanted me to “cream her pussy,” which again had me feeling conflicted because on the one hand I have been on my creampie wave (author note: he won’t tell you this because he doesn’t like bragging, but he is a certified lieutenant in the creampie-agree-er-with-of-beating-off-to community, several seasons running), but I also didn’t know if maybe I had actually intuited something earlier with pregnancy being an issue that I would need to concern myself with today, but this concern also quickly dissipated when I chose to believe her when she told me she was on birth control as a response to recognizing my hesitancy to her request. 

During what I call the sabbath period, the time after the release of ejaculate but your dick is still by definition hard because it hasn’t become soft again yet, Sofia claimed that “that was a big load,” which I think was mostly said to make me feel like The Man, but also it did feel like a bigger load than I usually produce, but I attributed that to Sofia’s encouragements, particularly as I thought I was reaching the finishline and she told me to “fully empty [my] balls” inside her strange, and also just the physical sensation of my stone in her gush. And despite hypothetically fully emptying my balls, when I incidentally (and by the grace of God) saw her fat ass when she got up to get her vape, I was compelled to ask if she will squirt in my mouth and in response she said, “if you cum in my mouth.” I admitted that her pussy might have just required my full supply on retainer, but she said if she feels a cock throbbing in any of her three classic holes, it gets her horny enough to convert the jizz filling any of those holes into squirt. She said that it was a myth that semen had to be swallowed to produce squirt. She said if you just think of any of my holes as a mouth pleading for a jizz-handout, squirt can be made.

Winterhalter and Culianu

In a sense, former priest and current theologian–and between you and me, pay attention to his last name—he would seem destined for the cloth —I. Peddett Hymn offered an interesting take on the death of famed religious historian Ioan Petru Culianu, who was fatally shot in the back of the head in the bathroom of Swift Hall at the University of Chicago Divinity School just after noon on May 21, 1991. His murder was never solved, but many people have suggested the involvement of former members of the Securitate, the secret police agency of the at-the-time recently toppled Socialist Republic of Romania. 

Before being killed, he had published a number of articles and interviews that heavily criticized the Ion Iliescu post-Revolution regime, making Culianu one of the government's most vocal adversaries. Several theories link his murder with the Romanian Intelligence Service, which was widely perceived as the successor of the Securitate;  several pages of Culianu's Securitate files are inexplicably missing. Some reports suggest that Culianu had been threatened by anonymous phone calls in the days leading up to his killing.

Hymn noted that, for years, on each passing birthday, Culianu had received what could only be described as an excessively affectionate congratulatory letter signed only by "Winterhalter," which always ended with "you are a part of my dreams past, present, and future." These missives had been arriving for almost ten years, bearing postmarks from a variety of locations from New York to Alaska to Germany and then reversing course, back to Illinois. But none of the envelopes ever bore a return address, and the signature, beneath a typed "Winterhalter," struck no note of familiarity for Culianu. He reviewed his historical repository of class rolls and grade books, but never located a "Winterhalter" at any of the stops along a peripatetic academic career ranging from America to the United Kingdom, Canada, Singapore, various short-term stops in Indonesia and Burma, and on to Japan. Who was shadowing whom? The birthday cards were as apparently peripatetic as was the addressee. But "Winterhalter” always managed to locate him on April 20. 

 "Winterhalter," given its regular, cyclical reappearance in Culianu’s life, soon came to be regarded as part of a conspiracy. Having accumulated the usual number of professional enemies among former colleagues, he had begun to think that one of them was perhaps responsible, speaking and haunting him with a persistent yet untraceable text. Yet, no one else among his former or present colleagues would admit to receiving or generating such signals. Though directed as they were to whatever his current academic address, the epistles were replete with addressivity they were, or at least appeared to be, informed with his existential presence, no less than was he. Was "Winterhalter" a potential lover, a forgotten past lover, or an enemy sent to torment him by agents wishing for his death?

With the Reformation, the publication of Old and New Testaments in the vernacular, following Martin Luther's radical announcement of dissent nailed to a church door, diminished the monopoly of interpreters appointed by the Holy See or its representatives. Previously, as the Patrialogia Latina would attest, interpretation was in the hands of those in the apostolic succession or their appointed representatives upon whom learned hands had been laid, the Reformation launched a proliferation of highly individual and individuated interpretations of decentered divine signals emanating from an assortment of regimes. One result was a democracy of interpretation and re-narration, an institutional predecessor of the internet.

We heirs of radical Protestantism have acquired the "habit of art," which, like the quest for truth in our interpretations, demands that we read nature not as nature at all, but rather as fragmentary "evidence" of personal salvation or damnation. To read the world as a ground of "evidence" is not to read nature-en-soi (nature-in-itself), to appropriate the French. We have come to read it in a rather certain kind of self-interested, highly analytical style that gave birth to the critic/sleuth and maintains me as a critic in work, deciphering plots. Because God's design was hidden, the gothic novel developed a collateral narrative and structural architecture, familiar to academics like Culianu who instruct students to read more "deeply," creating of every text the architectural penetralium. Manuscripts hidden behind or within other manuscripts; secret messages from previous inhabitants of a supposedly private domain; permeable walls and gossamer separations by which what had appeared to be barriers become in effect channels of transmission; transparent vellums; and multiple narrators separable only by the distinctions between single and double quotation marks are all characteristics of a literary form perfectly appropriate to this ideology and style of "reading.”

 Archontism is a current of thought that sees human existence as controlled by ‘archons,’ or agentified barriers built into the natural world in order to block the paths to psychic transcendence. In William S. Burroughs’ cosmology, humanity must defeat the archons to become immortal, but there is no savior figure beyond the stars. 

Professional Breakdancer Will Not Allow His Fiance to Invite Her Robot Friend To Their Wedding Because He is Concerned that the Robot Will Be a Better Dancer Than Him

“Aint having no robot dancing at my damn wedding!” said B-boy Victor, former member of the US Olympic Breakdancing Team, sternly to Deb, his fiance. She was pushing for her robot friend, Manny, to be allowed to attend the wedding. Victor hadn’t had a history of being prejudiced against robots (he helped L-Tron and Motherboard move in next door not even a year ago), but he for some reason was fervently against Manny attending. Victor had hacked Deb’s social media accounts for review only a couple days ago so he knew there was no funny business between her and Manny, but he did see in her history a YouTube link of a short by user ManDoesItWell called, “Playboi Carti - JUMPIN #dance #choreography varoom,” which featured a robot that looked like Manny, but Victor isn’t the type of guy to jump to conclusions. He did then see the same user’s video entitled, “Finnatryna - Your Girl is Mine #strokegang #robot #automon” and Victor could see he had skills.

“No damn way this guy is coming to our wedding,” but somehow Manny made it to the dance floor at the wedding and did 143 headspins in 60 seconds, breaking B-Boy Aichi’s world record by one spin because Aichi ran his mouth in the press about robots not being real B-Boys. Manny changed the music like a TouchTunes to “Computer Love” by Zapp and remotely connected his movements to the second guy from the Kollaboration 2001 video from [ebaumsworld.com](http://ebaumsworld.com) and then to WC from the Up in Smoke tour DVD part where he cripwalks laterally across the stage and then he did some shit you’ve never seen and then he teleported back to the evening’s bouquet toss where he picked off the tossed bouquet, secured it like Griffey, and gave it to the hottest bridesmaid. 

You tell me what happened: only two days after the wedding, the hottest bridesmaid’s friends noted a slew of posters for Short Circuit, Short Circuit 2, and Bicentennial Man covering her apartment walls, and allegedly one friend saw, on the hottest bridesmaid’s phone, an AI-generated video of a breakdancing robot windmilling on her pussy, and straight up the friend said it didn’t seem like a short video. 

Final, Threesome Ritual

Sofia, Narrator, and Caramel are standing in that order naked, staring at a sea of fluid covering the viewing screen, as Narrator runs the middle finger of each hand up and down the ass cracks of his two friends flanking each of his sides until he gets fully erect and then he looks over to each of his friends before he takes a seat in his LayZBoy. On his right, Caramel faces her ass toward Narrator, enacting her lordosis even more than usual, with the intention to hopefully increase the natural spreading of her cheeks to make her asshole more readily visible to Narrator, both to increase Narrator’s horniness and make it easier for Narrator to see the entire target his mouth was assigned to encapsulate, and while Narrator was making good on his affixture duties, Sofia had climbed on Narrator’s lap to manually insert his erection into her pussy as Caramel simultaneously inserted her finger into Sofia’s mouth that Sofia subsequently wrapped her lips around. 

They had intended to bust through the first set of loads quickly, to confirm the effectiveness of their design (Narrator in Sofia’s pussy and Caramel in Narrator’s mouth; Narrator in Sofia’s asshole and Caramel in Narrator’s mouth; and then Narrator in Sofia’s mouth (after Caramel removes her finger from Sofia’s mouth (and therefore returns the ability to squirt back to Sofia); Caramel expresses encouragements while Sofia sucks Narrator off as an expression of her horniess but also to have the load bust faster so she can return her finger to Sofia’s mouth to get back the squirt ability)) and Sofia outward toward (and hopefully on) the viewing screen. 

This all goes according to plan, with Sofia’s asshole shooting her squirtload onto the screen, and  as Caramel complimented how fucking fat her load was that she busted, the sea level of fluid portrayed on screen reduced.

Eventually, after many enactments of the cycle, the sea level of fluid was cleared but the screen was now covered in Sofia’s squirt. Watching her blow her loads, I did think about licking the screen clean (probably as a way to try to express to Sofia that I find her so attractive that I want to (and by virtue of doing it) would be willing to tongue clean off her jizz that has been creating a filter on my viewing screen (I would frame it as “the” viewing screen so that she didn’t think I was mad that she farted her cum on it)). Logistically, I couldn’t figure out a way for my tongue to stay affixed to Caramel and also be able to take in the squirt of someone else (I tried (many times) but I mostly just got squirt blown across the side of my face and not in my mouth mostly (my buddy got me this funny shirt while he was on vacation in Acapulco—”I Went to Study Forensic Science and All I Got was This Black Light Picture Showing that I Got Diarrheaed On Across My Face That Was Shared With My Entire Class and Even Though I Lied and Told Them It Was Not Diarrhea They Did Not Believe Me” T-shirt).

There is that fucked up lizard guy from the Ripley’s Believe It or Not show that somehow split his tongue so it looks like he has two tongues, and though I think that guy is fucked up, I happen to be in a situation where I could use having two tongues (I want to have it so I can have my tongue in both Caramel’s asshole and Sofia’s asshole at the same time in perpetuity) which is a statement I never thought I would hear myself say.