Facebook Impotence; Too Much Porn and Odd Masturbation

I think too much facebook makes you a Floppy Phil. You know, Slippery Simon.

“Did they like-it? Oh! I wonder if they will share-it? What? They haven’t shared or liked-it yet! I hope they see it. They better not be f*****g with me. Are they mad at me? What are they saying? I hope they know how much fun I am having. I am having so much fun, like, oh my god.”

99% of our youth are thinking this 80% of the time. Their innocence is being perpetually-spoiled by the doings of the Rembrandt of modern-day technology.

We all know his name. His first name kind-of rhymes with the dirty, stinky and ugly fish, the carp, and his last name rhymes with trucker-t**d, almost. You guessed it, he is the Prince of the New World Order’s latest art-form; mass-behavioral control.
Mark Zuckerberg. The Dopamine Hypnotist. The Sultan of Slime.

He paints his art on the inside of your forehead, radiating his caustic colors through your thick skull from the addictive and glowing canvas that you paid for, your computer.

He owns you dude. It's too late to delete it. What's done is done. The mark of the beast is in your data.

My newborn son is such a nice addition to the already existing younger generation of 4 nephews and three nieces in my immediate family. Number 8, feeling great. Never too little and never too late.

I’m glad I have had 13 years of being an Uncle to adequately prepare myself for the challenges of being a stay-at-home parent.

My wife and I are lucky. We both get to be at home with our boy. My investments and writing allows me to work at home and basically sit around all-day-long playing with our son. It's f*****g radical.

My wife is 9 years younger than me. Her parents, weirdly enough, are nine years younger than my parents. This all translates into my wife having a lot less experience with kids than me, our son being her parents' first grandchild.

My years of being a ‘present’ uncle have taught me two things in life. Facebook/The Internet is evil and, wow, do babies ever poo a lot. Oh, one other thing I learned, did you know newborns poo a black tar-like substance for the first week of life? Blew my god-damned mind with fear, which led to enlightenment, as it usually goes.

Over the years, I have seen 3 of my 4 nephews grow to adolescents. They are now 13, 11 and 10.

The 13-year-old is a classic game-addicted internet-junky who hasn’t really looked anyone directly in their eyes since 2008 because of his sockets being forever-glued to the screens. He rarely cries. He's got no time for emotions. I love the damn kid, and he is just a gem, but he'll probably end up having a hard reality-check later in life when one of his parents dies and he has to fend for himself and his 4 younger siblings. I guess he’ll probably be really good at keeping his online accounts in good-order though. We all have our talents.

The 11-year-old has been significantly-damaged, to an unknown extent, by his own intelligence coupled with his extensive-accessibility to a web browser. The kid has already probably seen porn, terrorist-beheading(s) and Facebook-streamed suicides. War-propaganda. Media-bias. He never cries. Only time will tell what damage this online hyper-stimulus will cause this intelligent child in the not-too-distant future.

The 10-year-old though seems to have it right on the mark. Rarely can you find him without a toy truck in-hand. He does s****y at school, doesn't give a f**k about much, goofs around a lot and laughs when he hears the words ‘poo’ and ‘dink’. He loves getting totally covered in mud from jumping around outside. He cries and whines a lot. He plays road-hockey and hide-and-go-seek and picks on his little sisters. He is what I thought kids were supposed to be like. I can’t wait to see what becomes of him. Truly, not concerned.

When I was a kid, maybe 12 years old, my friend Richard stole a wicked Hustler magazine from his dad’s man-cave. Then he hid it, craftfully, way up as far as his little arms could reach inside a hollowed-out tree-trunk deep in the woods next to our school. Rich only told a few of his select-friends about the shared-smut being held stolen and captive in the woods.

It was the first time I had ever seen a spread-p***y. Masturbation sure was mystical when what a vagina actually looked like was totally unknown. My little-mind exploded.

My nephews have probably seen over a thousand spread-p*****s already. Sorry for being so blunt, but it's our new way. So many spread-p*****s that their undeveloped libidos will have no mystique when it comes time for draining the pipes the first time around. They will probably masturbate over some crazy-weird s**t. Only God knows. Sick b*****d.

My kid will probably beat-off over microchips or something. Fucked if I know. Times are changing.

Facebook, and the internet in general, has become the catalyst for personal-betrayal. You know what I'm trying to say. Do we even enjoy anything anymore? Are we doing cool things for mad-likes or for expanding thyself? Maybe we have changed and are doing things for both kinds of similar dopamine-rushes. Our emotions are being toyed with.

I take pride in knowing I am old enough, albeit just, to remember times when computers were not in homes or in schools. A time when tapes were turning into cd's and everything was about to turn to s**t. A time when you had to get your smut out of a tree-trunk from your buddy Richard in the woods yo.

I'll admit it. Hyper-exposure to porn has messed up my brain a little. Hard-core s**t is what I need now. Sensual-cleavages or soft-core pictures of attractive models posing naughty just isn't cutting it anymore. This isn't 1994.

Seems I have been mildly Zuckerberged. Damn.

Luckily my wife is not only a perfect-ten, mentally and physically, but she is also a jungle-woman in the sac. She'll hate that I wrote that but it's true. Actually, she may like it. She proof-reads everything that I write so this will be good.

But imagine the poor kids of today in the future. Soon adults who have been exposed to bukakki and anal-cream-pies since grade 2, when they first learned how to Google and misspelled pencil, will be populating our workforce.

The #metoo movement could soon be the #whohasnt redundancy.

Personally, I think we are being groomed. Shaped. Molded.

Sexualizing the kids in movies and media has been a fun little game for the predator-pedophiles that have run the industry for years and eras. The pedophilia-traits have been grandfathered into the top-dogs of entertainment like heart disease destroys a family-tree.

Our world is being run, in all ways, by sociopath-villains hellbent on our passiveness being increased so that they can fancy some Orwellian-s**t upon us with less rebut.

So what do we do about this? Christ, I have no idea. Maybe we should all try and be like my ten year old nephew.

Here's hoping for the best.

Stay Clean, Stay Green.

Conshinz

Author's Note

I talk about bukakki a little in this.