3/12/96
So, Madonna. You don't want to fuck me? So, Madonna.
You don't want me to father your child? So, Madonna.
You don't even want to meet me? Well, what the fuck
am I supposed to do? Tell me. Come on. Shall I be
your slave? Oh, right. If I do that, I guess you'd
probably have to meet me, right? No. NO. I can be
your slave from a distance. Give me the orders over
the Internet and I'll follow them. Tell me what you
want me to do! I'll do it. Anything. I'll go in
the street and flash my underwear if that's what you
want. I'll tatoo your name on my ass. Just speak
the words. No, just tell the go-between to tell me,
and I'll do it. Why? Because I will do ANYTHING just
for the hope that you might love me. ANYTHING AT
ALL.
Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for listening. This
has been a demonstration. It has been a demonstration
of a grave error. This was where Adam screwed up in
the Garden of Eden. Had he not been such a pushover,
the whole mess could have been avoided. I do not
want the same fate. I want to show the world that there
are other ways of doing things. Next, let's turn
back the clock. Let's put this in place of that
last paragraph:
Hello, Madonna. Would you like to fuck me today? No?
Alright, then. Would you like me to father your child?
Oh, you've already found someone else? Well, then,
I think you're a very interesting person and I'd like
to meet you and talk for a while. Would you agree
to this? Oh, you want nothing to do with me? Ok,
I see. Well, it was nice thinking about you. I guess
I'll go on my way. Thanks for everything. Bye, bye.
That was what Adam could have done, had he been more
mature. But maybe it still would not have been enough.
See, Eve wanted somebody who could really take the
initiative, and so does Madonna. Even though this time,
we were more polite, I still took the attitude of
wanting her to make all the decisions. Let's try
again.
Hey, Madonna. Come here and fuck me. NOW! I'm horny.
You don't want to? I'll make you. I'll hire armed
guards to capture you and bring you to me. You WILL
father my child. You don't think so? You're wrong.
I'm gonna meet you, and we're gonna get really close.
I'm gonna smack you 'til you bleed, 'til you see things
my way. You'll be my slave. I'll put a leash around
your neck and drag you around in the streets in your
underwear. You'll learn to like it. Oh, yes you will.
I'll tatoo my name on YOUR ass. That way, if anyone
asks to see proof that I own you, I'll be able to show
em. You WILL be mine.
That was a novel approach. A few hundered years ago, it would've worked quite well. Today, it'll land you in jail. So, we've essentially gone in a complete circle. That is: What do I have to do to make Madonna love me, get her by my side, and keep her there? It won't work if I try to be her slave. Adam already tried that. It won't work if I act as her equal, cause I'm still a drooling fool. It won't work if I act as her master, either. Why not? For one thing, if I tried that, I'd end up exchanging stories with someone who's already tried it. I'd be doing it behind bars. Oh, and what if the law were different, like it was not so long ago? Well, that wouldn't be very satisfying either. Because a man like me needs to know that she loves me of her own free will, not because I can pin her on the floor and choke her till she submits. Now that is something I like to do. Whenever I get the urge to rape, I go out to my local toy store and buy a barbie doll. Then I rub my dick against it until my erection becomes larger than the doll. Oh, just kidding about that last part. I don't own any barbie dolls, nor do I have any desire to. I'd rather wait until I have a kid. Then I'll buy her some barbie dolls to play with, and I'll be able to join my child in her games without the guilt that would otherwise be associated with them. Aw, never mind.
What we've got here is a hopeless situation. Some very BAD people set it up that way. What's wrong with this picture, you ask? It's that, no matter what I do, I'm acting like an obsessed nymphomaniac. (I know. That word was only meant to apply to females. Maybe one of these days, I'll find an equivilant word to describe a male.) What I need to do is stop lusting after Madonna and go read a good book. Then, maybe I'll get over it.
Actually, I doubt that. In our society, people WILL fail. There's no getting around it. No, wait a sec. Let me correct that. In our society, sex freaks, such as myself, WILL fail. Why? Is it because Bob Dole is going to sign some bad piece of legislation into law? No? Oh, so it's because Bill Clinton is going to sign some bad piece of legislation into law. Yeah, I guess he's got a track record for it. That's probably why we'll re-elect him. I'm going off on a tangent again. Let's get back to the issue at hand. The one the title of this article refers to.
I am going to do just that. I am going to prove everyone wrong. According to the unwritten, unspoken rules of our culture, I'll be devastated if Madonna rejects me. A nut like me will probably go on a killing spree if he doesn't get what he wants. I'll probably end up on the FBI's list of people to keep an eye on. Let them watch me. Let them watch me go on and live a healthy life. I'd kind of enjoy an audience. Then, I could be a star too!
And if Madonna wants me? Sure, I'll take her. Who in their right mind wouldn't? I guess if you didn't want all that fame, you might not want to get involved with her. Ah, as far as I'm concerned, the stress of being famous would be worth it. And if I do get together with Madonna, I still want to prove our culture wrong. I want to prove that a couple of celebrities CAN have a relationship that lasts more than six monthes. I want to prove that two people CAN fuck each other's best friends and still stay together. I want to prove that even if we do break up, we can still work well together in other matters. I'm sick of the bullshit propaganda that spews out of the liberal media.
One other thing: I am sick and tired of our society always requiring everybody to prove something. Can't we just go about our lives, live the best way we know how, do the things we want, and if we screw up once, can't we just get up again? What's the point of all this "prove thy worthiness" crap? I'm tired of trying to refute all the unrefutable points that our leadership creates. Therefore, this article is over.