Jesus. I just wrote a post so objectionable that even YOU would be embarrassed by it. I won't post it, but it was fun.
It was about the "pervert" in each of us. Taboo, of course. Repressed memories.
I concluded that I would become a "spiritual advisor."
There is nothing but trouble in posting that, however. So. . . I'll restrain myself.
I feel oppressed, though. I do.
I didn't go out with the boys last night. I didn't want to. I had texts from the waitress asking if I was coming. "Nope," I said. I was making a nice meal and was ensconced in my own comfort. I wasn't sad or lonely or feeling down in any way. It is enough to asked, sometimes, just to know there is the potential for. . . something.
There are days like that, when people are chatty or just glad to see you. I went to the photo store yesterday afternoon to look at LED lighting panels about which I know virtually nothing. I want to see if I should replace strobes with this constant lighting source. I was looking for other things, too. But one of the owners was there, one of two brothers. They are from an old Gotham family. Generations. There father had opened the hobby store more than sixty years ago. His mother was a well-to-do land owner in town. The two brothers are Kiwanis Club members and seem civic minded.
But for some reason they like to chat me up when I come in. That is how I know the family history.
"Come here. . . look at this."
One brother takes me to a small door leading to a ladder up into the chimney-like facade on the storefront and begins telling me a little of the store's history.
"It was originally a grocery store. It was one of the first that became a national chain."
The kids who work in the store look on with a strange mix of wonder and fear. I look back and shrug.
Yesterday, one of the brothers said hello and followed me over to the lighting section.
"I can't keep up," he said. "I don't know about any of this."
"Yea. I'm just learning."
He launched into a story. Story led to story for an hour. I try to be careful when I talk to them. I don't want to queer the deal with these civic-minded brothers. They know every major player in town. But Brother #2. . . or maybe #1, I"m not sure. . . started getting ever-weirder. It started with stories of gambling. The store is in the Little Vietnam part of town. The shops are rife with illegal gambling games. When his father was a young man, he said, he used to run the numbers for the Bolita games. That led him to stories of his trips to Vegas. His buddies liked to hook up with prostitutes, he said. Brother #2 (or #1) looked at me pop-eyed.
"Why?" he pondered in astonishment. "I mean. . . right?" It didn't take a minute for me to get his drift which was hip deep in prurience.
"My own little village is full of it," I offered. "They sit at the high end bars with their purses beside them. I've been told that if the purse is open, they are open for business."
He was shaking his head in the negative.
"Prostitutes don't have purses. I guarantee you, if you see a woman walking down the street without a purse, she's a working girl."
Oh, fuck. . . it got weirder from there. I wanted to look at the lighting and tried, but it was useless. He was on a roll. After an hour had passed, I said, "Man. . . I've got to go," and thus we parted.
Maybe that unconsciously inspired my unpublished morning post.
"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts and minds of men?"
I do. . . but to call it "evil" might be misnaming it.
"Isn't that kind of weird?"
"It's just sex."
Rumors about the sex parties of half the wealthy citizens of my own hometown, which I am gladly missing, are rampant. I've seen photo verification of some of it. I'm definitely living in Gomorrah.
But I'm coming too close to writing what I am not posting today. I guess I'll end with this.
These apps — which have soared in popularity in the last year — allow users to upload an ordinary photo, which is then transformed to produce hyper-realistic nude images or pornographic videos.
The San Francisco City Attorney’s office is suing 16 of the most frequently visited AI-powered “undressing” websites, often used to create nude deepfakes of women and girls without their consent. These platforms allow users to upload images of real, fully clothed people, which are then digitally “undressed” with AI tools that simulate nudity.
A decent person might wonder who in the world would do such a thing. Wait for it. Here's the kicker.
San Francisco City Attorney David Chiu says the targeted websites were collectively visited over 200 million times in the first six months of 2024 alone.
And therein lies the moral of the story, I think.
If the reporting is accurate, one has to wonder why nobody is undressing boys and men in these sites. Are the statistics merely reporting "women and girls"? Do lesbians visit the site in large numbers? I don't know. I feel that a lot of questions have been left unanswered. But 200 million is a lot.
The Victorians were infamously prudish. They put table cloths on tables to hide the legs. They had code words for suggestive meats like chicken breasts. And yet. . . at the turn of the century there were over 100,000 prostitutes in London. This is verifiable. You can look it up.
When photography was first invented, the churches were against it. It was the devil's tool. Too many nudes.
I like to be open about my proclivities. I think it is the fear of moral judgement and the subsequent denial that twists people up inside and makes them monstrous. The more repressed, I think, the greater the desire.
I made spicy chicken over brown rice and lentils last night. I drank wine, but not too much, and had only one after dinner drink. I felt righteous. . . almost holy.
And of course, there was the music, sad and sweet and romantic. Why would I want to go into the world on a Wednesday night with a bunch of horny guys?
As I say. . . it was enough to be asked.
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