ellauri106.html on line 403: Religion was a lie that he had recognized early in life, and he found all religions offensive, considered their superstitious folderol meaningless, childish, couldn´t stand the complete unadultness — the baby talk and the righteousness and the sheep, the avid believers. No hocus-pocus about death and God or obsolete fantasies of heaven for him. There was only our bodies, born to live and die on terms decided by the bodies that had lived and died before us. If he could be said to have located a philosophical niche for himself that was it - he'd come upon it early and intuitively, and however elemental, that was the whole of it. Should he ever write an autobiography, he'd call it The Life and Death of a Male Body.
ellauri133.html on line 468: I don’t want to repeat King’s utter creepiness and describe this in too much detail (shit, I would but there is not enough space), but there are some elements of the scene that deserve mentioning. Again, functioning in misogynist misunderstanding of female sexuality, for at least one of these encounters Bev “feels no physical pleasure, but there is a kind of mental ecstasy in it for her.” When she does feel “some pleasure, dim heat in her childish unmatured sex,” she thinks of birds and resolves that having sex “is what flying is like.” The penis size of the character of Ben is commented on (“is he too big, can she take that into herself?”) and she eventually has an orgasm with him. Steve looks on with his little droopy wiener in his hand. I bet Mustafa had a biggish "It", and Tabitha King (the other one with the curves going in instead of out) has an even bigger one. They are like the little goat, the middling goat, and the big big goat that can suck the big bad wolf all the way in, balls and all.
ellauri264.html on line 492: Ladies and Gentlemen: There are five hundred reasons why I began to write for children, but to save time I will mention only ten of them. Number 1) Children read books, not reviews. They don’t give a hoot about the critics. Number 2) Children don’t read to find their identity. Number 3) They don’t read to free themselves of guilt, to quench the thirst for rebellion, or to get rid of alienation. Number 4) They have no use for psychology. Number 5) They detest sociology. Number 6) They don’t try to understand Kafka or Finnegans Wake. Number 7) They still believe in God, the family, angels, devils, witches, goblins, logic, clarity, punctuation, and other such obsolete stuff. Number 8) They love interesting stories, not commentary, guides, or footnotes. Number 9) When a book is boring, they yawn openly, without any shame or fear of authority. Number 10) They don’t expect their beloved writer to redeem humanity. Young as they are, they know that it is not in his power. Only the adults have such childish illusions.
xxx/ellauri027.html on line 309: Wilber’s eventual response to many of these critics was nothing short of childish — a dozen-or-so page (albeit extremely well-written) verbal shit storm that clarified nothing, justified nothing, personally attacked everyone, and straw-manned the shit out of his critics’ claims.
xxx/ellauri193.html on line 342: He opposes death penalty except for dog fighting, gun control and the assault weapons ban. Australian gun laws are for the "insane" and "childish". From 2009 through 2015, Carlson was a funny senior fellow at the Cato Institute, a laissez-faire think tank.
xxx/ellauri410.html on line 241: That his bawdy verse was not published anywhere was a continuous joke in Eliotʼs correspondence. When they were finally available to the public in 1996, they received diverse labels: “scatological,” “scabrous,” “obscene,” “pornographic” and “x-rated,” “politically incorrect,” “racist” and “misogynist,” tending towards “coprophilia,” and “grotesquely graphic. In their childish and sordid sexuality these poems have little to do with one of the root meanings of ribald, which is amorous. Instead, they are "descriptions of huge penises, defecations, buggeries and group masturbations." Twenty years later, Eliot was writing Cats, and forgive me, I prefer the kink.
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