While I was reading Sigmund Freud’s Civilization and its Discontents, I was introduced to the term credo quia absurdum, translated as “I believe because it is absurd.”
The phrase is usually attributed to Tertullian in reference to Christian belief.
However, I have said many times before that the mechanism of religious belief has been franchised out to other forms of belief, specifically in the political realm. This process is exacerbated by constant internet usage.
Naturally, this causes further consternation within civilization because we know intellectually that the internet isn’t real, but our relationship and understanding of the real world is constantly being shaped by it.
When this contradiction is pointed out, there’s an almost violent psychological reaction to it because it undermines our entire understanding of self and society. And to maintain this flawed understanding, we double down on our patently false assumptions.
Therefore this “credo quia absurdum” becomes the de facto mode of political/religious discourse.
Guys, I really am sorry about this story. Unfortunately, it’s only going to get worse from here 😭
I thought about Susan’s, as me, proposal.
But I didn’t want to suck a dick. Was it gay to suck your own dick? What if you’re currently a woman and suck a dick that belonged to you? But I was in a woman’s body that wasn’t my own. Was it wrong to suck a dick then? But what if you had permission, or in fact was forced, by the rightful owner of that body to suck a dick that belonged to you? Was THAT gay?
“I suggest a counter proposal,” I said to Susan. “I’ll agree to your terms IF, if, in addition to sucking your dick (that is, in fact, MY dick) you eat my pussy (that is, in fact, YOUR pussy).”
Susan, in my body, thought for a moment. “Fuck it, why not?” (s)he responded.
We both stripped down. Susan’s body that I occupied was a toned work of art. Meanwhile, Susan (in my body) removed her clothing, revealing a disgusting, hairy, and flabby body.
“So this is what it’s like to have an erection,” (s)he said.
“For fuck sake, let’s get this over with,” I replied.
I, being the woman this time, climbed on top while Susan, the man, laid beneath me. I placed this exquisite looking vagina onto Susan’s face while I shoved this pathetic penis into my mouth.
Honestly—getting your pussy eaten—pretty good experience. Almost made me forget that I was blowing myself.
“I’m about to come,” Susan, as a man, screamed.
Oh shit, I thought. I wasn’t prepared to swallow semen.
“I wanna bust in that pussy (that is, in fact, MY pussy),” she said.
Relieved, I stood up and (s)he bent me over the couch and shoved in the full 4.5 inches. At first, it occurred to me that size indeed DOES NOT matter.
“Damn it!” Susan yelled. “Your dick sucks!”
Nevermind then.
(S)he started to speed up until finally pulling out and blowing semen in between my butt cheeks.
“Gotta say,” Susan said, “it’s better to orgasm as woman.”
I laid down on the couch and covered my naked body. Was it worth it? Sure, I rationalized to myself. Too bad I didn’t come though.
After Susan washed up, she put on a suit and tie. She made me look the best I ever looked.
“Alright,” (s)he said, “let’s go find that warlock.”
Then she kicked me in the nuts with her pointed toe stilettos.
As I writhing in pain on the floor, Susan stood over me and said “I’m getting that job you limp dick bastard! Not you, not the board, not anyone can stand in my way!”
Susan stormed off and all my coworkers stood around. “I’m fine,” I said. “She barely knicked my ball sack.”
I crawled back to my office and shut the door. I took the bottle of vodka out of the refrigerator and placed it on my crotch. Bob Dickenburg came in laughing.
“Susan’s a firecracker isn’t she!” he said.
“To put it mildly,” I replied.
“Look, don’t worry about her,” Bob continued. “The board loves your work. You’re definitely getting that job.”
“I better. I’m gonna have to pay for scrotal surgery soon,” I said. I then lifted the bottle of vodka to my mouth.
“Well, we’re gonna announce the promotion on Monday. Go home, enjoy your weekend, and don’t worry yourself over it.”
I nodded to Bob as I swallowed the vodka. I didn’t get much work done that Friday afternoon. I got too drunk.
As I roared my Ferrari back home, almost hitting several motorists, I accidentally plowed my vehicle into a hooded figure. I grabbed my beer and exited the car to check on the person.
The figure laid on the ground, body parts were completely mangled. I kicked his side.
“Hey buddy, are you alright?” I asked.
The figure sat up and snapped his limbs back together. It was disgusting. Finally he stood up and removed the hood.
The man appeared to be blind. I figured that’s why he was standing in the middle of the road. He was ancient, like a warlock.
“You shouldn’t drink and drive,” the man said.
“Oh it’s okay, I’m rich.”
He then lifted his hands to my face and began chanting something in Latin, Greek, or some bullshit I didn’t understand. After standing there for a few moments, he lowered his hands and slowly wondered off.
“You don’t want any money out of my wallet?” I asked.
He didn’t reply.
I finished driving home. I stripped off my clothes, climbed in between the sheets, and fell fast asleep.
When I awoke the next morning, I wasn’t hungover. I also didn’t have rock hard morning wood. Something was amiss.
I sat up in bed and didn’t recognize the room. It was a woman’s room.
A nude man with a rubber mask came crawling in on all fours. He stood up, his partially erect penis inches from my face, and he handed over a cock cage.
“I’ve been a bad boy mommy,” he said.
“Mommy?”
I stood up and looked in the mirror. And there she was: her tall slender frame, small perky breast, and that stern resting bitch face.
I was Susan.
Or, more precisely, I was in Susan’s body. And presumably she was in mine.
“That fucking warlock,” I thought. “I hope Susan doesn’t look at my penis.”
I looked over to the nude man. “Sorry bro, I ain’t gay,” I said. I then threw on some clothes and sped over to my own apartment, expecting to find Susan in my body.
I stormed into my room, and there was me, or rather Susan as me, sitting prim and proper and drinking coffee.
“Look Susan,” I said, “I know that all of this is weird. But we can undo this. There’s a warlock I know that can put us back into our own bodies. Let’s go!”
“Why would I want to do that?” she, as me, asked.
“Well you’re me. I’m you. You know….”
“But I know that you’re the one getting that promotion. Or rather…I’M the one getting that promotion.”
“Susan, we don’t have time for this shit. We need to be looking for this warlock.”
(S)he took a drink of the coffee and slowly put the cup down. “I’ll cut you a deal,” (s)he said. “I’ll help you find this warlock, but first we should take time to appreciate this situation.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve done fellatio before, sure. But I’ve never had MY dick sucked…” (s)he said.
My heart began to sink.
“Will you suck my dick?” (s)he asked. “Or rather…will you suck YOUR dick?
It must be difficult being the greatest living actor.
From the time he recited the alphabet in Vampire’s Kiss, the world would never be the same.
Sure Nicholas Cage smashed box office records, won Academy Awards, and had sex with Patricia Arquette, but there was one thing he could never land: the role of Kal-El, aka Superman, in Tim Burton’s Superman Lives.
It’s a loss from which the world will never recover.
So our national treasure had to wonder the earth, forced to take whatever role was handed to him. But there was a gap in his soul the size of $6.5 million worth of unpaid back taxes.
But in his mind, he remains the invincible hero we all know him to be—thanks in part to prolonged cocaine use.
It’s never a good idea to drop acid around Halloween. But definitely make an exception for Highway To Hell (1991)
Is it funny?
Not really.
But then again, I’ve never laughed before.
Yet where Highway to Hell lacks in being funny, it makes up for in imagination. It’s certainly a more enjoyable journey through hell than say What Dreams May Come. (Hellraiser II slams as well)
Honestly, I don’t remember the plot. Something to do with Kristi Swanson getting kidnapped by a cop from hell and her boyfriend attempts a rescue. Ben and Jerry Stiller make an appearance. So do Lita Ford’s boobs.
But what makes this movie stand out (other than Lita Ford’s boobs) is it’s eclectic mix of genres and lack of fucks given.
The special effects are mostly shit, but who cares? Obviously they were trying and they get an easy A for effort.
Kids forget, but there was a time when people actually tried to make memorable films. Even when they are clearly taking the piss out of you it’s a more engaging experience than most Oscar bate that’s trotted year after year nowadays.
Hell, modern schlock sucks too. Just a bunch of dorks behind a computer throwing “special effects” on the screen like that’s supposed to be impressive. They don’t care anymore. As long as it makes $11 trillion at the box office, everything’s fine.
So shout out to Highway to Hell (and to Lita Ford’s boobs)
“What are you going to say now James? That you’ve never walked a step in your life?”
That is correct.
But I get the appeal.
And I’m not talking about “hiking” or “speed walking”. That’s some white people bullshit.
I’m talking about walking in a straight line on a flat plane. It’s great: putting one foot in front of the other, just wondering aimlessly because you’ve got nowhere to go because you’re unemployed and your kids won’t talk to you.
The Internet Ruined Everything 