Don't get me started on Christmas.
I don't know about you, but I'm fucking sick of it.
"Scrooge!' Some people may be shouting. 'Killjoy,' call the rest. Well, let me tell you why I dislike this celebration to end celebrations, why it really ought to stop right now.
Gluttony. That's just one reason. Greed is another. If he were alive today, Jesus would be turning in his grave. Except he's not in his grave. And he is alive today. Well, if one is a Christian, that is what one is led to believe. So, our Saviour, the chap who suffered for our sins and died in horrific agony nailed to a tree (for that is likely what happened. He would have carried his own cross-member up the hill and not the whole thing. If you've ever tried to get wooden furniture upstairs, I'm sure you have probably wondered how one man - already half-starved and badly-beaten - is supposed to have carried a quarter ton cross up Golgotha on his own. Or did you think it was balsa wood?), this terminally kind and benevolent creature, is gazing down on his billions of followers, nodding his serene head and smiling a beatific smile? Is he fuck. The guy who implored us all to live simply, to give our worldly goods away? The chap who said (in modern erotic parlance) that a rich man has more chance of shagging the eye of a needle than he has of getting into heaven? He's not smiling at all.
Let's consider that one word: rich. What would that have meant to Jesus? From his perspective, the stuff we collect about us today is the stuff of gods. For example, many people will receive a mobile phone this Christmas. Look at the power they give us. Think what they cost us. A third of the world lives on about a dollar a day, yet we wield such incredible-though-unnecessary devices as if we somehow deserve them. Humans don't need mobile phones. They don't make our lives richer. No, they don't. Think about it. They water us down, spread us out too thinly, take away our here-and-now effectiveness, and distract us from what really matters. They are indeed the work of Satan (Satan: Santa - an anagram too funny for words), the Lord of the material. He tempts us and we follow, poisoning the planet with the process of mass production, while he laughs his demonic head off.
So, just to be clear: we are all rich. All of us who own a phone are not going to Heaven.
And gluttony? What of that once-deadly sin? On the day we celebrate the birth of Christ, we stuff our faces with all manner of food - the individual portions capable of sustaining a family of four for a couple of days - while half the world go hungry. On Christ's birthday we do this. Christ, you know, that bloke who...? Remember? That 'rich man, eye of needle' bloke? You gluttonous bastards.
But it's not just the greed and gluttony of individuals. That's not even half of it. It's the greed and gluttony of corporations. In our capitalist culture, so dependent on constant consumerism, we are bombarded by images of smiling families gathered around trees, by smiling children opening their presents, by candle-lit tables full of sumptuous food and sparkling wine. Buy, buy, buy. Consume, consume, consume. It has to stop. It has to. Stop. The world is sick. We are sick. Stop. Stop. Stop.
What is this 'Christmas' for anyway? If it is no longer a religious ceremony, let's ditch the Christ bit, ditch the mas bit too, and call it World Gluttony Day. Let's celebrate the fact that we can celebrate. That we are so well off. That we, in the West - in Britain, Europe, America, China (for no matter how East you think they are, they are West if you go far enough west) - are top dogs. The world is ours. Its resources are ours to rape, and to hell with the future. To hell with the starving, the sick, the expoited.
I warned you to not get me started. Christmas is shameful. I have felt it since I was first able to think for myself. So why can't you? Or maybe you do. Maybe you do, but turn your back on it. If so, shame, shame, shame.
Damn.
I don't even feel horny now. 24/7 horny girl has just gone 24/6. I'm not even going to masturbate today. Yes. In honour of all those who live their lives in deprivation, I am going to deny myself my lifeblood today, go without my daily staple and walk a day in their shoes. If they had shoes. Today, my fingers will travel no further south (except for necessary hygiene functions, of course) than my shoulders. It's going to be painful, uncomfortable - perhaps deliciously so - but I feel the sacrifice is worth it. And I'm doing this for all of you, nailing myself to the cross of celibacy, for your sorry sakes and for your sorry soul-less souls. Feel my pain, my frustration, and perhaps join me in my suffering. Deny yourself your daily wank. Unite with me and take a stand against the depraved pornography that is Christmas, by not stroking yourself to orgasm.
No more of this today for me!
It's going to be hard. Very hard. And wet. Very, very wet. But I will not dip in. Will not even nip in. I don't often make a promise, but when I do, I generally keep it.
This is torture. Thirty seconds and my fingers are twitching, my pussy is dripping. Tie me up. Tie me down. Fuck, I don't think cold turkey was such a good idea after all...
But wait! Remember that guy I told you about? The one who made me climax simply by breathing filth into my eager ear while nibbling its diamond-studded lobe? What a train journey that was. What was his address? What was his number? If it's you, if you are reading this, call me. I'm going to need you later; by this evening, I'll probably even pay you for it.
They say the Lord moves in mysterious ways and so it has proved: I didn't know where this was going till right at the end (which is how those anal sex fetishists always get me), though knew it was going somewhere. Listen! I have a dream! And it's brilliant. Let's start A World Celibacy day, a day in which neither semen nor vaginal lubrication is spilled, to remind us all not to waste the natural resources we have. A day to think of others and not just ourselves. A day to give without thrusting; be one without conjoining. All I need now is the UN on board. Leave it with me.
See you later, masturbator,
Alexandra :) xxx
No comments:
Post a Comment