Sneaker Quest Masochism

Last week, King asserted that "for [every DREAMer] who's a valedictorian, there's another 100 out there who weigh 130 pounds -- and they've got calves the size of cantaloupes because they're hauling 75 pounds of marijuana across the desert." That ugly, hateful language has no place in our debate about immigration. Period.-- Steve Israel

And yet, the Democratic Party doesn't seem to care, doesn't connect my public email address that it spams with thirty emails a week, to my use of pejorative language on this Blogger account. I have had little to offer on immigration issues, that porous movement of the masses, but I do not feel Congressman King has crossed any line in his characterization of drug trafficking, not with the aggression I struggle with daily through having been so wounded by identity politics, not when I detail how Kmac's erotic appetites had their effect on any healthy sexual satisfaction as a disabled woman that I have failed to experience. LiveJournal allowed me to lash out at the lesbian harassment I experienced in the field, and it was too torrential, but my early drafts usually are, just as in Stardust I am behaving like a jackass, skirting around an auto erotic attraction (mostly imaginary) rather than simply admitting that I would not mind going on kinky.

Not that I can heal trauma through vivid dissection, not that I want to bore you as the man who has been busy getting amputated might, but petting games as an outlet for life long frustration would only succeed in continued unhappiness. Breast nipples and clitoris engorgement do not hold any appeal for me. I have asked my alter ego about it-- and this is where the public LBGT activists have to be called out, om the fact that homosexuals engage in duplicitous predation. I've been damaged by it, from my clients at Matrix Research, on through the mixed race paraprofessional who enveloped me in her suggestive complicity of seductive behavior. It made me nauseous, and I have few ways to defend against it as I age and may have no choice if an abuser is going to exploit me, treat me like a fuck bag. Case managers offer classes! I have published articles about classes, but they do not protect the vulnerable from opportunists.

If I were to ask Tim Gilmer a hard question, it would be why his survival as an ailing paraplegic, or my uncle Joseph's survival as a demented, mildly menacing greaseball, is worth so much money. I personally would rather be dead than deal with paralysis generated gangrene  or being bedridden, not cognizant, talking to the dead. Can we afford this medical model indefinitely  as we head to population totals pushing 11 billion? 

I face the future prospect of losing part of my left leg. Like the jogger victim in the classic gothic camp, we could all sacrifice ourselves for stronger models, so euthanize and lets move on. Two immediate goals I need to complete:

1. buy new shoes
2. get to Penndot before the end of August

My imaginary audience is my baseline.