7/24/00
Conflicted Morality
OK, OK. I know what you're thinking. Conflicted morality? We're talking about Morgan Cole here! Bender, himself! This guy doesn't have any morals! Well, you're right. This entry isn't really about my morals, it's about my lack thereof and my failed attempts at being a good person.
Sometimes, I try to be a good person and do the right thing. These make me feel less like a monster and make me feel as if there is some hope for redemption. However, when I do a "good" deed, I always manage to realize the selfish undertones involved. Here's a hypothetical situation - imagine I was walking along the street and I found a man's wallet with driver's license, several hundred dollars in cash, and credit cards. I return it, feeling like an upright person. However, I didn't really return it to be a good person. I returned it just to be admired and to receive attention for my deed. I would never make a charitable donation anonymously. I need the glory.
Here's a situation, which occurs often. Whenever I am walking through school and a pretty girl is behind me, I always hold the door open for her. This holds true for pretty women in public places. Why? Because I'm trying to be chivalrous and gentlemanly? That's what I tell myself, but it's not true. I'm actually just entertaining some dilluted fantasy where the girl will be so taken with my courtesy that she will want to have hot, passionate sex with me.
There are heroes, who do the right thing because it's the right thing. There are villains, who do evil for their own personal gain. I, however, am an anti-hero, doing the right thing for my own personal gain.
I would like to talk about an incident which occured yesterday.
I was at Six Flags, Great Adventure, with Mike, Jason, and John. We were walking around and I saw an adorable little girl, probably about five years old wearing a pink dress with light brown hair in a ponytail. She was wandering aimlessly, alone, and crying. I assumed that she was lost. I knew the right thing to do was to bring her to a security station so her parents could be contacted. Actually, I didn't end up doing anything because I was trying to round up everyone and she disappeared into the crowd.
So, anyway, why was I trying to help this cute little girl when most of my thoughts involve killing and raping girls like her? Because I wanted to be a good guy, of course. I wanted to see the smiles on the faces of her parents when they were reunited. I wanted to know what I had done a good deed for the world. Maybe I'm not completely evil. Maybe there's a glimmer of hope for me.
Bullshit.
I wanted my name in the paper. I wanted a cash reward from the parents. Most of all, I wanted the parents to be so thrilled at my heroic deeds that they would offer me a chance to fuck their five-year-old daughter. They would invite me over for dinner, then mother and daughter would have sex with me for being such a vigilant, concerned citizen. Don Juan always talks about wanting to torture daughters in front of their mothers. Personally, I'd like to have an orgy with a mother and her daughters. That's my fantasy.
Anyway, I didn't do anything that day. I just watched her sexy little ass until she was gone, then continued on my way.
Why God Made Little Girls
After spending a day at Six Flags yesterday, I began to realize that God hates me. I don't know why. Maybe reincarnation is true and I was a terrible sinner in a past life. Maybe it's something I did in THIS life. Maybe I'm like Job from the Bible and I'm being tested. Maybe there's just something about me that pisses God off. To this end, He made little girls.
Six Flags was absolutely packed with young girls in bathing suits. Everywhere I looked, I saw an adorable little girl running around, practically naked. All that sweet, smooth flesh was exposed, just waiting to be touched and caressed and licked by me. At one point, a little girl accidently ran into me and I got an instant erection as I felt the skin of her thighs against my calf. I would have given anything to have all those little sweeties strip me naked and play with me until I passed out with delight.
It happens to me everywhere. The mall is another place where my pedophilia runs rampant. Sometimes, I just stand in one spot and watch a girl as she plays with the toy from her McDonald's happy meal. It's almost unbearable, to feel such sexual hunger welling up inside me, but to be unable to release it. I just want to put them on my dick and fuck them until they're bleeding and screaming for their mommies.
Based on all this, I assume God hates me and is trying to torture me by making me live in a world with so many little girls at my fingertips. Yet, He also makes the law which prohibits it. He makes left-wing, victim's rights lynch mobs who think I'm the Devil incarnate. It's unfortunate.