Shame, the movie, and how Porn is killing the World Soul

Shame is best left chained to a wall in the basement of an old lighthouse, and occasionally sung to. Arias only. Disfigured disfiguring a weight on the whole family, the wet chupa in the middle of the floor at a house party when the lights go on.

Or a movie about a sex addict, America Psychotic, who beats his penis to death but, when it comes to meaningful intimacy, flaccid as a turkey neck. The thing they left out is that sex addicts have beat up dicks. By beat up I mean rubbed raw and perhaps even bent. That’s what constant fapping does to your dick.

disfigurement. twisted and roughed up.

From the small to the medium, penis to the soul, to the large, a society, stay with me now.

NOFAP is a movement and that is something to think about. Shame, a movie about fapping and porn, is a work of art and a statement. When once a flash of foot sent men into paroxysms, now it takes close-ups of Sasha’s caverns, smeared face, and even then ED, the deadly soul crushing disease of the porn fiend, robs like MDMA, the high that never stops taking. Beating up the pleasure nub until its raw, disfigured, and tired.

A society can have its centers of lust reduced to fleshy lumps, a shrinking nerve core at the rotten center. We’ve always loved it, who couldn’t? With a woman’s insides the texture of liquid velvet, and those moments when nothing else exists but the sweet taste of a man, the cries of a woman, and the rhythms that move the earth, right?  love it. Makes us what we are and keeps us hanging around. But still, we weren’t beaten with it. I can’t say that Rome’s porn halls were less disfiguring than our sticky theaters, or that Caligula’s buggery and general orgery killed less nerve cells than the Marquis du Sade’s excesses, which pale in comparison to our own shelves of fat asses getting pounded by fat dicks.

But I’m saying it. I’m saying this whole porn thing is out of control, and its not because of porn per se, but access to porn.

I just think porn, like literacy, has been democratized. And bringing the masses into the fold, well, just lowers the bar a bit. Authoritarianism, that’s what the porn industry needs. Some exclusivity. All VIP All the Time. But when the cat is out of the bag, its a real bitch to get her back in there. I tried it once back in August 2008 and it ended badly. I still hope that feral mama made it out of Flower Town, but truly, I don’t hope much at all, I just imagine her life as a stray anthropomorphized feline who remembers me the way I remember Ms. Ewart from Arnn Elementary.

Porn in your living room like an escaped cat. Killing your will to get down, robbing you of your ability to get down, disfiguring notions of “good sex” and just making everyone a bit anxious and insecure about the quality and quantity of hot dirty loving they be getting.

A total rebuttal of the horrible influence of porn is necessary right now, thus, I give you:

Stoya

I saw Shame, I am guilty of fapping way after a boy should have stopped with such nonsense, but I have yet to take a deep look into porn and sex and the numbing of the senses, I only feel it and drop it and then edit afterwards when I’ve had a minute. Stoya, on the other hand, is deep inside, clawing her way into the living room, mewing sweetly, purring. Arched back and grinning.

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