Erotica Threat Level: December Sunburn Pink

I wanted to make sure that during a zombie apocalypse that people listen to my girlfriend. She is very smart and always advocates shooting people once they get bitten. She also looks really good in a tight t-shirt.

I saw The Spirit yesterday and I highly recommend it. Insane is the best way to describe it. At first i was worried that Frank Miller was just making Sin city 2 but as I recognized more and more scenes, I began to understand that Miller has been inspired by Eisner for a very long time. I almost look at Sin City as a Spirit tribute now.

Besides, Eva Mendes and Scarlett Johansson are screen melting hot in this movie. Dayum. There was a lot of 40's noir visual porn on that screen.

I leave for Puerto Rico this morning. I will be there till the end of the year. It will be awesome and I am dying to take a ton of pictures. I am also thrilled to get away from a keyboard for a solid week. Wehoo!

When I return, I plan to start posting the bdsm werewolf story and start working on a new long story. I'm flipping between a Sword and Magic fantasy porn epic or the sequel to the bdsm story. I could go either way but a long vacation has an amazing power to focus what you really want to do when you come back from paradise.

Fiction: Fucking Elves

I don’t have a beef with Santa Claus. The old man is okay. I got that Star Wars Snowspeeder I wanted more than anything when I was a kid and let me tell you, I still have that beaten up piece of plastic. Santa is all right in my book.

It’s those sexy elves of his that are driving me crazy.

There are two of them. One of them is called Cheer while the other one is called Joy. I can’t tell them apart. They both have huge tits and they both have red and white striped stocking caps over their long brown hair. They also only come for me at night, on Christmas Eve. It’s hard to get a good look at an Elf when she’s stuffing her tits in your face and grabbing your cock, you know?

The first time they came for me, I just thought it was another wet dream. Shit, I was 16 and I was having wet dreams like every night. Usually I dreamed about Monica Staylor in Geometry class or sometimes on a real lucky night I dreamed of Lita Ford. Two hot chicks at the same time was a whole other level of horny.

Sure, they were dressed a little odd for my usual wet dream. They had on these white fur bikinis that smelled like peppermint candy. Their legs were wrapped in thigh high stockings that slid over my skin like silk. They had no underwear at all; just tiny mistletoes tattooed above their bare pussies.

What tipped me off of course was how real it was. You just can’t imagine a blowjob till it happens. I never dreamed that a tit would be so damn soft on my face. In my wildest dreams, I never guessed how it would feel to have a woman ride my cock while her friend sat on my face.

Their pussies tasted like hot chocolate.

I must have fallen asleep while they fucked me. Hell, getting your brains fucked out can wear you out. I awoke on Christmas day thinking it was the greatest dream ever but I was wrong of course. I was so damn wrong.

They came back every year. Every damn year. Fucking elves.

One year I was twenty and I was staying at my grandparent’s house for my Christmas break. I was sleeping on the couch because the entire family was camped at their house. I had three cousins snoring on the floor beside me while I was trying to sleep.

The elves appeared and I begged them to go away. I didn’t want Aunt Alice’s eight year old son to wake up and see me getting a blowjob. The elves ignored me. They smiled at me with their licorice red lips and yanked my underwear down. Right there on my grandmother’s couch, one Elf sucked my cock while the other elf sucked my balls.

I tried to climax as fast as possible. I hoped if I came they would be satisfied and go away. When I shot my load into Joy’s (or maybe it was Cheer’s) mouth, that seemed to only encourage them. They sucked my cock till I got hard again and then they mounted me. They rode my cock till I made both of them come.

At one point, cousin Freddy got up and I thought I was going to have a heart attack right there. One of the elves was on my cock and she just kept humping. Freddy didn’t seem to notice her. He got up and stumbled down the hallway to the bathroom.

While he was there, I begged her to get off my cock. I begged them to hide somewhere. My begging only made them laugh. The elf that wasn’t riding my cock bit my nipples till my begging was replaced by moans.

Freddy came back to the living room and got back into his sleeping bag. How could he not see the elves? Shit, the Christmas lights were illuminating Cheer’s (or maybe Joy’s ) nude body as she humped me. Her bouncing breasts would flash green then red then green again.

Fucking elves.

Another time, they appeared the Christmas that I moved in with Deena. I had been worried about them all night so I slipped out of my bed as soon as I was sure Deena was asleep. I didn’t want them to attack me with my girlfriend right there, you know?

They found me in the living room. They jumped me from behind and tied my hands with silver garland. When I tried to argue they would stuff their breasts into my face. One of them bent over while the other pushed me into her. I fucked them both doggy style that year. The sound of my hips smashing into their firm asses echoed all through the house and I was terrified Deena would wake up.

They finished with me shortly before dawn. I crawled back into bed and tried to get as much sleep as I could before Deena woke me up. The living room smelled like sex and cookies but she didn’t seem to notice.

No one ever notices. One year the elves bit my neck and my mom said it was a bug bite. Another time I got a bruise on my chest where one of the elves wrapped her thighs around me and Deena said I got it from sleeping wrong. Every year Cheer and Joy fuck me, bite me, kiss me, smother me, ride me and use me and no one ever knows.

Fucking elves.

Last year Deena came close. We had just moved into our house and we were both pretty excited. Deena was really drunk on eggnog and high on life. I tucked her into bed and she feel asleep in seconds.

As soon as she started to snore, the elves appeared. I was a little drunk myself so I didn’t even fight them. I didn’t say a word as they pulled off my pants and sucked my cock like a candy cane.

I had my eyes closed so I didn’t know Deena was awake until a third mouth kissed my cock. I sat up and saw Deena’s short blonde hair in between the red stocking capped elves. Her mouth was licking and nibbling just as fiercely as the elves were.

I didn’t know what to do, so I did what I always did. I did nothing. The elves were more than happy to share. One would lick on the tip of my cock, while another would suck on a ball while the third would wrap their lips around the width of my cock. Back and forth and trading places they covered my cock in tongues, lips and spit. I think one of them might have even made out with Deena while the other deep throated me. I didn’t say a word.

Eventually I came on all of their faces. That was when I knew Deena was really drunk. I mean, she had to be drunk to be laughing as I soaked her face. The elves giggled and it sounded like bells jingling.

Deena rolled away after and fell back asleep. The elves had their way with me like they always do. They must have cleaned her face at some point because she woke up the next morning there were no traces of what had happened. I asked Deena if she had any weird dreams and she blushed and said no.

This year, it is going to be different. I told Deena about the elves. She didn’t say anything but tonight, she’s staying up with me. We have a pot of coffee ready and we’ve been munching chocolate cookies. I’m not sure if she believes me but at least she’s going to be awake when they come. She’ll see them with her own eyes and then I know I haven’t been making them up all these years.

I just don’t know why she had to bring down her vibrator collection to the Christmas tree.

Fucking elves.

Dr Otto Von Madd Says

"Gentlemen, give your special lady the gift that will last a lifetime this Christmas. Buy her the new Von Madd Everlasting-ClitRocket Vibrator today. The plutonium battery and state of the art vibration engine will ensures that this gift will last long enough to pass down to your grandchildren."

Two Silver Trees by Calexico

It's the holiday season so I give you the gift of a beautiful song.

Apocafuck Hessle Index

Apocafuck (uh-pok-uh-fuk)- A universal disaster brought about by or resulting in an orgy of sensual fornication.

Apocafuck experts in the summer of 1967 were terrified by the events of the time. Over a hundred thousand people converged in San Francisco to try a new way of life. Rejecting the commercial patriarchal trappings inherent in American society, these drug taking, rock and roll listening peace freaks knew there had to be a better way to do things. As spontaneous gatherings occurred in other major cities around the world, Apocafuck Scholars collectively shitted bricks.

Professor William Hessle was one of these shitters. He had a background in European History and also happened to be in a rather sexless marriage. He was personally threatened by the wave of hippes as the sight of long haired men did strange things to his almost extinct libido. He realized that the Apocafuck might be happening right now and if that was the case, he didn't want to miss on some man on man loving before the world ended.

To determine whether the Apocafuck was really happening or not, Professor Hessle decided to come up with a formula. He lacked an understanding in mathematics but he was fortunate to find another closeted homosexual professor who shared his interests. Combining Hessle's historical knowledge of the Apocafuck with a statistical index, the two created a fairly useful formula much in use to this day. The Hessle Index is the recognized standard among Apocafuck Scholars although it is sometimes mistakenly called the Hussy Index.

The name of this professor is lost to history but we know from Professor Hessle's notes that he was a devout Baptist, was fond of pipe smoking and had shoulders like a Greek God.

One of the impressive things about the Hessle Index is how encompassing it is for a formula written in 1967. For example, the Hessle Index shifts into a higher scale for when abortion is legal in the United Stats. Another example is the 80 point bump for when quote "Teenage singers are flashing their naughty bits on a weekly basis". Apocafuck Scholars had a second round of the shits when item 782 (A big black tit decorated with cool jewelry is show on national television) came to past.

Of course not all the events in the Hessle Index have come to pass yet. As of yet, 'Group marriage shall be legal if all participants are hot chicks' has not happened. Neither has item 322, 'A man can legally jack his cock on the bus if he has nothing better to do'. Some Apocafuck Scholars feel it is just a matter of time.

As for how the index works, it is quite convoluted. The math involved deals mostly in imaginary numbers and quantum functions. In fact, the number of people known to actually be able to accurately calculate the Hessle Index is currently seven. Fortunately the writers of this blog are in constant contact with one of these seven mathmeticians and will update the Hessle Index for the good of the public.

Right now, the Hessle Index is at 5623, which is enough to make some Apocafuck Scholars stock up on Pepto Bismol. If the Hessle Index ever reached 6969, then the Apocafuck will be happening right now. A difference of 1346 might seem like a safe distance, but in the convoluted math of the Hessle Index, we are one incident of 'a totally awesome orgy on the White House lawn' away from utter destruction and sex.

Stay tuned to this blog for the latest updates of the Apocafuck Hessle Index.

Fiction: The Island Princess and the Parrot Prince

Once upon a time, there lived a magnificent Island Princess. She was the most gorgeous Princess in the entire world. Her hair was as black as a winter night while her eyes were as bright as a spring day. The fullness of her breasts were greater than a summer sun while her waist moved with the grace of a falling Autumn leaf. She was the greatest natural wonder of the Island, if not the world.

Now the Island Princess was always looking for new treasures. Her father, the Island King would buy her almost anything because he loved his daughter so much. Merchants knew this and would sail in on their boats loaded with jewelry, art, clothes and chocolate cookies. The Island Princess would inspect these wonders and buy only those prizes that were as beautiful and unique as she was.

One day, she saw a wonderful parrot locked in a cage of gold. The parrot was very large for his size and his feathers were as brilliant as the rainbow. The Island Princess most admired his blue eyes. They kept staring at the dark globes of her breasts no matter where she moved. If there is one thing the Island Princess loved more than anything else was another admirer.

She bought the parrot for the sum of a hundred white pearls. Her servants carried his great cage back to her room. As soon as she closed the door, the parrot shook his golden cage.

“Island Princess, I have waited years for this moment!” the parrot said.

The Island Princess was flattered. “You are quite clever for a bird!”

“I am not just a parrot,” he said. “I am in fact a Prince from a faraway island! Once, years ago, an evil witch cursed me into being a parrot. She said that I would never be a man again until I was kissed by the most beautiful Princess in the entire Ocean! I flew around for years before a man captured me and locked me in this cage. Please kiss me, Island Princess, and I will transform back into a handsome prince!”

The Island Princess considered this. He was a very striking parrot. People of Royalty often have trouble with jealous witches so his story was very plausible. On the other hand, a person of her stature can’t be going around kissing just anybody, even if they were a Parrot Prince.

“You said you were handsome?” she asked.

“Very handsome!” the Parrot Prince said. “When I was a Prince, I would bed a different woman every night and sometimes a different woman in the morning.”

“That’s very impressive!” the Island Princess said. “But a Prince could have any woman he wanted. Did your women enjoy the experience?”

The Parrot Prince puffed his chest. “Every woman I took to bed screamed with pleasure and fainted with delight!”

“Oh my!” the Island Princess said. She took off her cloth girdle. “Tell me, if you were a man again, what would you do with my breasts?”

The Parrot Prince bobbed his head as he tried to look at both breasts at once. “I would squeeze them with my powerful hands before I took a tender bite with my teeth. I would lick each nipple before covering your breasts in kisses.”

“That sounds very nice,” the Island Princess said. She slipped off her grass skirt and turned her bare bottom to the Parrot Prince. “And would you show my ass the same respect?”

The Parrot Prince rattled the cage. “I would grab your perfect ass with my hands as I held you to me! Light taps I would give you, never in anger but with love. I would warm your bottom every morning until you begged me to stop.”

“That sounds even nicer!” the Island Princess said. She turned around and her hand moved between her thighs. Standing naked before the Parrot Prince, she touched her royal garden.

“And what would you do to me here?” she asked.

The Parrot Prince tried to stick his head through the cage bars. “First I would slake my thirst, for it has been years since I tasted a woman there. I would lick, drink and have my fill of your most sacred place. I would find the special part of a woman that few men know and I would lick that part till you scream.”

The Island Princess’s fingers stroked the part he spoke of. She was very impressed. She thought only the wise servants who washed her knew about that part. Her breathing became faster as she imagined what he would do there.

“And then?” she asked.

The parrot Prince stared at her fingers. “When you are as wet as the ocean, I would take my royal manhood and enter you. I would open you and fill you with all of my might. I would make up for years of being a parrot by making love to you for seven days and seven nights!”

“Would you make love to me on my bed?” the Island Princess asked.

“Yes!” the Parrot Prince cawed.

“Would you make love to me on the floor like an animal?” the Island Princess asked.

“Yes!” the Parrot Prince cawed.

“Against the wall?” the Island Princess asked.

“Yes! Yes!” the Parrot Prince said. “On the beach, on a table, on a boat and all over the damn Island! My royal manhood would take you over and over until your throat was hoarse from screaming!”

The Island Princess screamed right there. Listening to him and imagining his need pushed her over the edge. The Island Princess massaged her climax out of her damp garden. Knowing the Parrot Prince was watching her just made her orgasm all the more powerful.

The Parrot Prince had no release of his own. Excited, he kept talking.

“And once I am a man again, I will make you my favorite slave! You will wait on me hand and foot as I take charge of your boring kingdom and make an Empire of the Ocean! My army will sail forth and bring the treasures of the world to us and you will be dressed in the finest gold chains! So kiss me, Island Princess! Kiss me now and begin your lifetime of servitude to a real man!”

“Excuse me?” the Island Princess said.

The Parrot Prince did not notice the change in the Island Princess’s tone. “Do not fear! You shall be my favorite concubine when I conquer the Ocean! I will have a hundred lovers but you will be the one I love first every night.

“Hmm,” the Island Princess said.

“Now kiss me!” the Parrot Prince said.

“Maybe later,” the Island Princess said. “Maybe much, much later. For now though, tell me again how much you want to taste me.”

And so the Island Princess teased and kept the Parrot Prince talking. His passionate words were the only affection she would accept from him. She never kissed him and he kept telling her about the wonderful things he would do if he was ever a man. For you see, the Island Princess was as wise as she was beautiful and she knew one simple truth: a sweat-talking bird in a cage is worth more than an asshole Prince in the bush.

Betty Page RIP

Bettie Page passed away last Thursday at the age of 85. A lot of eloquent things have been said about her but what interests me is how much information I have read about her has been wrong. I have read articles that have implied Betty was personally discovered by Hugh Hefner himself while other accounts focus on her turn to religion as if it was some sort of huge contradiction to the person she was.

I guess it is to be expected. She existed to millions of people as an image. Like any great piece of art, people brought their own interpretations to Bettie's beauty. In the BDSM community she is often embraced as a symbol of the playfulness of BDSM. To others she is a queen of glamor. Artists have copied her likeness to their own works and perpetuate her legend independent of what Bettie made. In far too many cases other people made far more money from Bettie than Bettie did. I guess that is what happens when you tap into something so many people recognize. You become public property like any good myth.

Bettie Page in my mind is a modern goddess. I have full faith that ages from now, archeologists will be trying to figure out who this sexy dark banged girl was. Their theories will be outlandish, fantastic, mythic and ultimately correct. Her sexuality is universal.

Instead of talking about Bettie's life, I thought I would mention a few things I know about Bettie Page that seem to be omitted from the obituaries I have read. There are so many fascinating parts to her life that the truth is far more interesting than what I have been reading.

1. She made a lot of her own costumes. What we often equate as Betty Page-like fashions were things Bettie made herself. Weird bikinis and odd colors were hand sewn by her. It's one thing to be beautiful but I have always admired the creative sort more.

2. She wasn't crazy about the movie of her life, 'The Notorious Bettie Page'. She felt it was outright wrong in quite a few places and openly heckled parts of it at a screening.

3. Bettie Page had a revival in the 80's as many artists appropriated her likeness, but it was Dave Stevens who made a point of searching for her to see if she was alive and could receive royalties. He helped her cash in on her own fame, which helped live a comfortable life in retirement. That is a lesson for all of us. It is one thing to be a fan, but it is another thing to take care of the thing you love.

4. Bettie went through a lot of shit from her family and her boyfriends all her life, yet somehow managed to be a sweetheart to everyone who met her. That takes an amazing heart.

5. My favorite Bettie quote was about her status as a role-model. "I wasn't trying to be anything," she insists. "I was just trying to be myself." That's why I think we love her so much.

Writing and Scripting

My friends have a nasty accusation about me that is totally true. They say that I always take the hard road. If we are playing a game and the choice of characters is between a handsome powerful archeologist or a man in a wheelchair who has asthma, I will always pick the gasping paralyzed man. When I play Team Fortress I pick the slow ass Soldier because no one else will. As soon as I realize there is a logical safe choice, I opt for the harder to play choice. It's like success in itself bores me.

On DeviantArt, one of the artists there is about to start a web comic about sexy pirates. He's having a contest where people send in scripts. Part of me suspects that he is at a loss himself on what to write with his characters. I mean, can you imagine me soliciting short stories about my BDSM werewolf before you guys have even read one of the stories about him?

Plus, writing a comic strip is a big learning curve. You're not just writing dialogue, you're scripting static visuals. You're counting on an artist to convey what you can more easily do with a paragraph. It also has to be flirtatious with implied sexiness without nudity. Shit. It would be so much easier just to write a story about my own damn characters and do as much sex as I like. The whole contest is one gigantic pain in the ass.

Which is maybe why I am doing it. It is a form of writing I haven't tried before. I can poke at it and curse and sweat and get frustrated and then produce something. It might stumble along like a one legged turtle who's near sighted but that extra difficulty just makes it interesting.

Messing Things Up

I'm updating my template this weekend and in hindsight, maybe working on it at midnight was a bad idea. For example, I seem to have lost all of my link on the side but I did get labels working for once. Hopefully this will all be presentable by Monday.

Scarlett Drake's Gift Guide

Listen up landlubbers! This is Scarlett Drake with some crucial holiday gift advice!

NO FUCKING GIFT CARDS! If it is for a coworker, sure, but if it is for someone you plan to ever have sex with, do not buy them a damn gift card! Buy them something personal, jackass. You know what never happens? A woman never says "Oh, one year Bob got me a gift card for Borders and that was the greatest Christmas ever!"

If you buy your loved one a gift card, do not be surprised when you wake up being ass-raped in the middle of the night. That's all I am saying.

Also, when buying for the special cabin girl or boy in your life, buy them something as if you were still dating and haven't been at sea for 18 years already. That means no vacuum cleaners, no blenders and for the love of Neptune, no DVD's of movies you want to watch. Cocksucker, buy some romantic shit!

You know what else you need to do or you will be walking the plank? Wrap the god damn thing! If you have to pay other people to do it, fine, but get that fucking thing gift wrapped. If you give them something still in the store bag, you deserve to have your ear cut off.

Finally, rum, jewelry and threesomes are always the perfect gifts. You can't go wrong there. Yo ho ho and have a merry Christmas.

Scarlett Drake drawn by the ever cool Shyft9

Fiction: Personal Cheerleader

Dr. Ben Harris was confused. He looked down at the Von Madd Laboratories assignment order and then back up at the woman said she belonged here. This couldn't be right.

The woman was a cheerleader. She had two fluffy pom-poms; colored purple and white. She had on a very short purple skirt and that barely came down over her ass. Wicked thigh high leather boots covered most of her legs. The white top was one of those half shirt things where you tie it in the sweet spot of her cleavage. Her generous breasts were being held back only by the miracle of knot dynamics. Even her hair was cheerleader quality; golden blonde locks that came down her back.

"Yes," the woman said. "My name is Amber and I am a Personal Cheerleader."

Dr. Harris nodded. "Yes, I get that. But why are you here in Stress Test lab 17?"

Amber smiled. "I'm here to help you of course, silly!"

Dr. Harris frowned. He certainly could use the help. There were 750 Extendable Vibrators Version 3.0 to test before it could be mass produced. They had passed through Customer Pleasure Testing and Personal Satisfaction Testing and now they were due for his department. That mean he had to place each one inside a machine that applied simulated vaginal and anal muscle force until they broke. He would record what pressure broke the vibrator and then put another one in breaking. Due to an unfortunate personnel reshuffling, he was the only person assigned to his lab. That meant hours and hours of watching vibrators crumble under interesting pressures.

"So, do you have an engineering degree?" he asked the blonde.

She giggled. Dr. Harris noticed it made the knot on her top vibrate.

"No way," Amber said. "I have a Bachelor's in Physical Ed."

Dr. Harris kept frowning. "Do you have experience operating a Vag-Ass Press 3000?"

Amber shook her pom-poms in a negative manner. "That sounds dirty!" she giggled. "I am contractually forbidden from operating any laboratory equipment actually."

Dr. Harris scratched his head. He was new to Von Madd Laboratories. He finally got his Masters in Engineering and was snatched up by a very attractive headhunter within a month. He knew Dr. Von Madd had some unorthodox methods, but Dr. Harris had spent too much time in the Stress Test Lab to really get an idea of how things worked here.

"I don't understand then," he said. "How can you possibly help me?"

Amber did a jump in the air. She split her legs out wide and her skirt flew up. Dr. Harris had an eye level understanding about her lack of any underwear. She landed on her feet and struck a pose with her pom-poms.

"See?" she said.

"Umm?" Dr. Harris asked. He was finding it very hard to think straight.

"I'm a Personal Cheerleader, silly!" she said. "I can do a hundred different cheers to keep you in a good mood while you work. I can also make cheers up. Here, I'll show you. What are you working on?"

"I am measuring the pounds per square inch upper limit on a new brand of vibrator prototypes," he said.

Amber tilted her head to the side. She scrunched up her nose as she thought.

"I got it!" she said.

"Clap your hands, stomp your toes, Dr. Harris is going to break some dildoes! Go Dr. Harris!"

Amber then kicked her right leg in the air high enough to flash Dr. Harris again.

"Okay," Dr. Harris said. "That was very umm, interesting, but I have a lot of work to do and think you would be too distracting. I'm a serious scientist with some serious work to do."

Amber frowned. "What's the matter, don't you like cheerleaders?"

"Actually, I don't," Dr. Harris said. "The cheerleaders at my college always dated the football team and had no time for real students."

Amber nodded. She dropped a pom-pom and stepped up to Dr. Harris. Looking him right in the eye, she grabbed his crotch. With amazing accuracy, she gripped his cock through his pants.

"So you've never had a handjob from a cheerleader, right?"

Dr. Harris groaned. His cock hardened in anwser.

"And you've never sucked on a cheerleader's tit? You've never held a cheerleader's head down while she sucked on your cock? You've never seen a cheerleader do a handstand while you eat her pussy? And I guess that means you've never had a cheerleader chant your name while you fuck her tight little ass?"

He couldn't anwser. Her fingers were doing something amazing below his waist. How could she stroke him so perfectly through his clothes?

"Pom-poms really develop your wrist muscles," Amber said to his unspoken question.

She did a twist with her hand and Dr. Harris climaxed. He held onto her as came, his hands going to those amazingly fit shoulders of hers. Amber took his weight easily as she milked him dry.

"See?" amber said when she let go. "Do you feel happier about your work?

"Oh god yes," Dr. Harris said.

"Good!" she beamed. She snatched up her pom-pom and clapped them together. "Now let's get to work and see how many you can test by lunch time. And I'll tell you what, keep working till lunch without a single break and next time you come it will be on my breasts."

Dr Harris was feeling motivated already.

Erocana

Wand of pleasure rests
between cups of flesh delight
spilling forth white coins
into the sword of her tongue

Update

My brother woke up last week. His eyes can't focus so he can't see and he has slurred speech. What is really interesting is when he realizes a family member is in the room, he launches into imaginative obscenity laced rants against the present family member. They have him restrained because he is having episodes where he tries to hit people. He reminds me of one of the infected in '28 Days Later'. The doctors say the rage is a side effect of the drug he over dosed on and he should calm down sometime next week. I wonder. I mean, if I tried to commit suicide and survived I would be pissed as shit.

Sometimes he denies he overdosed and sometimes he describes his preparations in detail. The doctors say he is out of his mind and the medication has to cycle out of his system. They don't know if the blindness will be permanent. It has become a family waiting game where they take turns listening to his abuse and hoping for some sign of improvement. I swear it reminds me of some twisted Telenovela except for the lack of busty nurses.

My own rage broke on Friday. I realized that what I resented most of all was the attention he was getting. The fucker was the favorite child when I was a child, and even as an adult his half ass suicide attempt summons the family from the four corners of the country. I know it's petty but I hate him for that, and once I realized how jealous I was, it all went away. I've been lucky that way I guess. Once I know the source of an emotion it rarely holds power over me. It seems silly to be angry, jealous or really anything about him. I have my own life and I want to get back to it.

Of course, who knows how I would feel if he had died, but since he didn't and now social Services will be taking over his case, I feel like it's safe for me to move on. Hell, I feel like it is important for me to move on. The past week has been one long flashback to my childhood and I am done. I want to write and tell stories. I want to be silly. I want to value my own life.

Hiatus

So here's the thing. My brother tried to call me yesterday. I didn't anwser because 1) He's my brother and the last time I talked to him he was upset about his girlfriend of 6 months breaking up with him and he was comparing it to my ten year marriage. Get that? and 2) I was doing really well at Team Fortress 2 and I wanted to savor the moment. I mean shit, I was dominating 2Forts with a Soldier. You know how hard that is?

So my brother, upset that no one answered when he called me, my mom and my sister, decided to commit suicide. He overdosed on his seizure medicine, got cold feet and told his ex-girlfriend the dosage. He passed out and was taken to the hospital where they pumped his stomach.

Here's where it gets iffy. My sister told me what his condition was but when I called the hospital they told me he was doing a lot better than my sister thought he was. He's either brain dead or sleeping it off depending on the person I talk to. It's very frustrating but I guess I should take the nurse's view that he will pull through.

What surprises me is how angry I am about the whole thing. My family life growing up was Hell, and part of the reason it was Hell was that my brother was the favorite son of the evil stepfather so he was a child accomplice to my step-father's abuse. Like, I know he was only a child and can't be held responsible for the shit things he did at 8 but damn it, me and my sister had the awful childhood and you don't see us killing ourselves.

I feel like the worse brother in the world because I am just pissed. I've seen what suicides do to families. It's like an act of violence on a families' sanity. My mom is already crying a river because she didn't pick up the phone and I'm thinking,"that's the point!" We're supposed to feel bad because we didn't anwser one damn call.

Anyway, I'm venting because I'm taking the week off from blogging. I just can't think straight right now so I will limit the things I think about. I am mostly just screaming obscenities right now anyway so you're not missing anything. I suspect the asshole will pull through and be under social services' care where hopefully he'll get the help he needs. If not, I'll be going to North Carolina to bury my brother and try to keep my sister and mom together.

Nostadamus and the Apocafuck

Apocafuck (uh-pok-uh-fuk)- A universal disaster brought about by or resulting in an orgy of sensual fornication.

The Apocafuck was hinted at in certain Chinese scrolls and on some Egyptian pots, but one of the most famous predictors of the Apocafuck was of course Nostradamus. Nostradamus wrote about the Apocafuck in his book, Les Propheties, but due to the orgiastic nature of his prediction, the quatrain referring to the Apocafuck was censored from published editions. It wasn't released until after his death in 1567. At this point publishers were eager to profit from any scrap of his writings. His prediction about the Apocafuck was finally printed in the omnibus edition of Les Propheties in 1568 but later copies frequently have this part censored.

The original Quatrain was written in French with Greek verbs and Latin punctuation. The most commonly agreed upon translation reads as follows:

"When men and women lay with each other and with themselves
The world trembles with the moans of pleasure
Every sin of the flesh will be committed and celebrated
The last climax of the Apocafuck will be the end of us all."

Some Nostradamus scholars have argued that this quatrain was not meant to be a prophecy but was in fact his own version of a dirty limerick. They point to the lack of esoteric symbolism and clarity of his message as proof that this was not a serious prophecy. Some scholars have made the convincing argument that because you can understand what is happening easily, it can't possibly be a true prophecy.

What is ambiguous is that it is difficult to tell if Nostradamus is predicting that a great orgy will be the cause of a disaster, or only a symptom of a great disaster. Few of his other quatrains about the end of the world refer to sex although there is one that is either about byzantine political plots of the 1600's or predicting hentai.

"Coils of snakes wrap around mothers of purity
The West falls and rises on tentacles of lies
hundreds of snakes lie in the church
assaulting our youth as they cry for more"

This has not stopped moralists from trying to use Nostradamus' Apocafuck quatrain for their own purposes. In 1721, Puritan philosopher William Couge warned that Nostradamus was describing the end of the world if divorce was legalized. In 1853, John Puskin argued that the Apocafuck would happen if women were allowed to have orgasms. In 1964, Edgar Hoover wrote in a memo to the President that the Apocafuck would happen if African Americans had sex with white people. As recently as 2007, Reverend Billy Jobson declared that the television show, 'Desperate Housewives' proved that the Apocafuck would happen within as few as five years.

It is the opinion of the writer of this blog that Nostradamus saw the future and was not in fact warning us of it, as much as he was letting us know it was destined to happen. Be telling us about it, he was hyping up our anticipation of such a world changing event. In our opinion, Nostradamus was engaging in some Apocafuck foreplay.