I brought this on myself

Screenshot anime Chuunibyou (Rikka Takanashi is worried)

“…my heart races so fast I can hardly bear it.” Evidently this is a familiar problem for young people. Somehow most of them survive. So did I, although with less margin.

This is quite possibly the worst tachycardia (racing heart) episode I’ve had yet, and I brought it upon myself. The Light warned me already the day before, repeatedly, but I joked it away. That may sound like a weird thing to do, but I just did not want to listen. When I get an idea in my head, I can be stubborn as a mule.

In my fictional Lightwielder universe, there is a saying so common among the Servants of the Light that they can say it without thinking: “The Light informs, warns, protects and heals.” Of course, that is a fictional world, but loosely based on my own experience and that of others, just transposed into a more literal or physical form. Yesterday, and today, the warning was unsettling in its clarity. But I decided to take the chance, thinking perhaps that the Light would protect me when it could no longer warn me. That’s not exactly how it went. Or perhaps it did, but not as much as I had anticipated.

My pulse was over 200 at the highest … 204 or 205 according to my pulse watch. That should not even be physically possible at my age. The rule of thumb is  220-(age), so in my case 165. That’s pretty close to what the cardiologist found on the bike test last year. So basically my heart was not entirely beating in the ordinary sense, but starting to fibrillate – the final stage before it stops, although people can endure various degrees of this for various lengths of time. A young friend of mine who was born with a reversal of the heart chambers sometimes had a pulse of 400, if I remember correctly. Eventually he died from it, in his teens. But it is a lot more than me, so, who knows what I may or may not survive.

I’d like it to not become a habit though. That probably means I shall have to listen to the Light before things get out of hand like that. I’m just not a very good Servant of the Light in real life, I’m afraid. But that which does not kill us makes us scared, so that is a step in the right direction.

The main attack lasted for about 5 hours, but it was above max pulse only when I walked. Perhaps I should just not do that. Or perhaps I should not take stupid pointless risks to my body and soul in the first place.

“Humans with breasts”

“Men… As long as they see huge breasts, they don’t care who it is?” That is actually true on one level, but far from true on another level.

When I make my way through the city, my peripheral vision just registers people as vaguely humanoid shapes when I don’t look directly at them. But sometimes, and that included today, some of them appear as vaguely humanoid shapes with breasts. That is to say, even though I don’t look at them directly, some kind of breast detection module of my brain still manages to notice, even while I am thinking of something else. And I usually am – I am long past the years where a man would walk through the city thinking about breasts. Well, this kind of man at least. Your man may vary.

So we could say that on this level, which is close to actual instinct and operates automatically, it is true that a man does not care who it is. Important details like breasts and birthing hips are registered by what we may imagine as an separate circuitry of the brain, to use the computer metaphor.

It is a completely different thing to obsess over it. Seriously guys? It is a completely different thing unless you are lacking most of your brain, or it is there making your head heavy but it is not working.

This awareness that some humans have breasts is like level one out of five:

1) Aware

2) Considering

3) Willing

4) Wanting

5) Decided

In order for the species to continue into another generation, at least one of the parents have to reach level 5, and ideally the other should be from 3 upward if we don’t want to have a criminal case on our hands.

So in that regard, being simply aware of the physical differences between the sexes is pretty far from getting it on. It is certainly in itself no threat do my celibacy. Your celibacy may vary, depending on whether you are a complete idiot with bad habits. In which case your celibacy is probably not voluntary. Long may it last anyway.

That said, there certainly are situations already in this life where it would be preferably to simply see the other person as a human, and not as a human with breasts (or with the thing women become aware of, as I am pretty sure they also are aware of the opposite sex).

I am cautiously disagreeing with the Norwegian government when it decided to mandate by law that corporations needed to have at least 40% board members of each sex. (In Norwegian we have the same word for sex and gender, so I am not sure what they do about gay and lesbian directors. Do they qualify as 40% of each?) While I am sure that women have many ideas they can contribute in the boardroom, I am also certain that men are likely to lose some of their ideas, and power of thought in general, in the presence of a multitude of women.

In America I hear they are taking this idea even further, and writing laws that mandate 50% men and 50% women in each marriage. Well, I suppose that is taking things to its logical conclusion. An extreme case of government meddling in people’s affairs. You start in the boardroom and end in the bedroom. Darned leftists can never get enough government!

In Heaven we won’t notice people’s breasts. (Or lack thereof.) Or that’s what the voice in my heart tells me. In that regard, I am in Heaven pretty often. But not yet all the time.


Sex-starved writer

There would be impure thoughts everywhere!” Even in my fiction, I’m afraid.

I had a scene for my latest story written in my head, more or less, but I refrained from writing it down today. I feared, almost certainly with good reason, that it was influenced by the general high tide of sexual consciousness that has been in my life the last couple days.

Even though I am over 50 and quite comfortable with my celibacy, the body-mind seems to have its own tides and times when it comes to sexuality. This is a more general atmosphere. It is not like I actually go out and buy drinks for lonely women in the hope of sexual favors, or indeed go out at all. But there is rather a general hunger for physical intimacy (to use a somewhat flattering but not quite misleading name). Or perhaps more starvation than hunger, in a certain sense.

I do not have experience with starvation in the East African sense, I am happy to say. But after a virus destroyed my ability to digest (or possibly metabolize) fat except in small quantities, it took my body several months to rebuild my digeston to live off carbs instead. During 9 months I kept losing weight, until I was a “thin client” indeed, as my coworkers joked. (Thin client is a kind of computers we used in our line of work.) Having lost my fat reserves, my body reacted with a different form of hunger.  You may think starvation is an extreme degree of hunger, but that is not really true. If you go a couple days without eating, you will probably experience an extreme degree of hunger. After a while, the stomach stops screaming for food, leaving only a dull ache.  Starvation is a hunger that permeates your very being. Even after I was able to eat large meals, I felt hungry deep inside. Before eating, during the meal, even afterwards when my stomach was so full that I more than half wished I could throw up. It was a hunger that came from the brain stem, not from the stomach. Ever present, until my body had recovered a ways.

The high tides of sexuality are like that. It is not something that stops if I wake up from a wet dream in the morning, for instance.  It will recede in its own time, but until then, it colors my perceptions, pulls at my thoughts and my feelings, and of course my body. It is not so much urgent as persistent. That is how it is for me, at those times.

In later years, I have had longer and longer periods of complete freedom from sexual impulses, as if that part of my life was something of the past. Only a couple weeks really at that level, but very enjoyable weeks. But always it comes back. I am not sure whether it is tied to the moon phases (it seemed like it when I was younger, but less so now), or some other kind of internal rhythm. There may also be an element of enantiodromia … whenever there is a strong impulse in your life, there will be countercurrents at best, possibly outright rebellion. It would not surprise me if my recent interest in the life of St Gregory would trigger some kind of active resistance.

Whenever one moves a step forward into contemplation or some related area, it is a safe bet that the mind parasites will stir up distractions. What these are can vary from person to person and over time, ranging from computer games to compulsive gambling to full-blown panic attacks. OK, I actually haven’t tried the compulsive gambling, but it is a classic example. I assume this could be something along the same line.

In any case, it is sure to be temporary. And in the meantime, I have to be very careful about what I write, whether fiction or otherwise. I have read some fiction where it is painfully obvious where in the book the writer has gone through a horny phase. I like to think that in my current story, what little flirty banter there is would actually be a natural part of the situation. But just to be sure, I won’t let my characters out more than necessary until this has blown over.  And the same should probably apply to some of my non-fiction.

In the computer game The Sims 3, sims with the personality trait Good have the option to donate to various good causes, exchanging some money against 24 hours of some extra happiness. One of the options is “Donate to Starving writers.” In the case of sex-starved writers, however, I think it is better for all involved if you don’t donate pictures of an explicit nature, as has happened (very rarely) in the past with overly helpful online friends.  Chick pics with beaks are OK though – I am not that starved!


Horny days are here again

In Japan, it is evidently common knowledge that guys get horny when tired. Here in the west, on the other hand, I have never heard it from anyone except my own journal. And I doubt I have had a significant impact on Japanese culture yet…

Feminists may be right when they say that the brain is the body’s largest sex organ, but for us males it is rather the other way around.  There seems to be a primordial rivalry between our two heads, so to speak: When one falls asleep, the other wakes up.  Healthy men have erections during 80% or more of their REM sleep, even when the dreams are not explicitly sexual in nature. Basically, unless the dreams are scary, they will be accompanied by sexual arousal.

It should not really surprise anyone, then, that lack of such sleep is followed by an upswing in sexual temptations.  Actually, this is not entirely unique for sexuality:  People are also known to gain weight if they don’t get enough sleep.

In my own life, I notice my running low on sleep by getting dry eyes, cold sores, and the women in the city becoming sexier all at the same time. Well, many of them at least.  Also, writing at such a time is not necessarily a good idea.  I realize that the last chapter of my current novel may need a serious rewrite or there will be a PG warning.

So yeah, the brain really may be our largest sex organ, but it can be put to better use than that, in my opinion.

Luckily I am not in a life situation where I can actually “make serious mistakes with regards to the opposite sex” to quote our favorite Venusian. Watching myself with detached curiosity, I may even learn something about human nature again. Well, about a rather unusual human’s nature perhaps.

Or I could go get some sleep, I guess.

Why not make love?

“What truth and joy is there in love that can be redone?” asks this girl from WW2 in the anime Natsu no Arashi. Your mileage may vary.  Some would ask “why not make love as much as possible in a world so lacking in love?”

I think that is a reasonable question, when you see life from a higher perspective. After all, the vast majority of adults have a fairly strong mating instinct. This is an intelligent design indeed because otherwise we would not have been born in the first place: There are so many other interesting things to do, that taking on the long and arduous process of raising a new generation would probably not find many volunteers if there was not an enticement to get started. So there is.

Now we know that fulfilling other people’s needs is generally considered a good thing by the world’s religions and philosophies.  Surely then when a man and a woman – or a sadist and a masochist, I guess – can give each other enormous amounts of pleasure by using their minds and bodies, few if any expenses required, it would be bordering on cruelty to not do it, right?  Certainly it should be considered a good deed, like feeding the hungry or giving the weary a bed to rest on, or visiting the lonely, or restoring dignity to the downtrodden.

And yet, when you read for instance Jesus’ list of good deeds that were done to him through doing them to other people (this is a really important point in its own right, but I have to skip it today, but let us say that this does not just apply to Jesus but to any Enlightened person, not that I’m saying Jesus was just some guy or anything) – Jesus goes “I was hungry and you fed me, I was naked and you clothed me” and so on, but there is a conspicuous absence of one phrase: “I was horny and you made love to me.” Why is this excluded?

The Catholic answer is probably that Jesus was never horny, so it would make no sense to include that in the list. But it is not just Jesus. All the great lights of history, the ones who created the world’s civilization, seem to have taken a dim view of fornication.

Scientists will tell you that marriage came into being so men could know which babies were theirs, and not throw them out with the bathwater. So the societies that did not have a system of exclusive mating rights would see rather few children survive, and be overrun by those who had such a system. Evolution in action, baby!  Of course, by “scientists” in this case I mean tenured nerds seeking to explain why they could not recognize a happy home if they saw one, much less create one.  To all right-thinking people there is a more obvious answer.

In mentally healthy people, making love creates an emotional bond. In fact, even the thought of making love to someone creates a one-sided emotional attachment, a fact that makes for hilarious anime but somewhat disturbing real-life headlines. Obviously then, if you make love to a random number of people who have very little else in common, you will experience a kind of emotional fragmentation. You will be pulled in different directions by the bonds (attachments) you have created.  This is going to be painful for all involved, but especially if you are the one true love of someone who is just one of a baker’s dozen to you.  This opens the gates of Hell, and I don’t necessarily mean only in the afterlife. There are also smaller infractions.

In light of  this, there are some who decide to live free of attachment, or attached only to the Lord or to Dharma or to Tao perhaps. Even if this means denying themselves and another some of the joys of earthly life, they believe it is worth it in order to maintain a joyful freedom to live a spiritual life here in this world. I respect that.

I am not one of them, though. I just happen to be moderately misshapen in body and soul, so that attempting to make love would not be a particularly pleasant experience for anyone involved.  I also happen to be particularly well suited for living alone: I enjoy solitude and can take pretty good care of myself.  So my opinions on this matter are not very intense.  Maybe they can still be of interest to some, though.

Recalibrating the sexometer

Being a teenage boy is living with the risk of acute embarrassment. But then it gets better – or does it?

This entry is not for children. Well, it may not destroy their innocent minds forever, but I’m not sure. It is about sex, after all.  Well, not how to have sex, more like how to not have sex. You’d think that would be the easiest thing in the world, at least for a man, but the life of numerous congressmen and preachers show us otherwise.

Anyway, for some reason a small number of us choose to not bind ourselves to the powerful instincts that encourage reproduction.  This is no small choice, for remember that we literally are the children of those who did reproduce (which means they had sex, and probably lots of it since it does not make children every time). And the same for their parents again, and their grandparents and so on back to the dawn of time, whether you count Adam or Amoeba as your ancestor. (OK, so amoeba don’t have sex, but your genes would still have around 800 million years of sex before they came to you.)

Apart from us certified weirdos, there is a much much larger number of people who try to not have physically intimate relationships with more than one person, whom they are married to or planning to marry in the near future.  I think that is a little different, but there may be some similarities some of the time, especially since the average man has a stronger sex drive than the average woman up to the age of around 35-40, and again when the woman reaches menopause.

OK, onward to my observations!

The young male body will not take celibacy lying down. It will go into a state of sexual readiness at improper times or even with no encouragement at all, seemingly just on a whim. Given the slightest encouragement, even if only in the mind, it will get overly excited.  At this point, most young men will take the matter in their own hands, as it were, to cause a release of the mating urge without an actual mate.  (This behavior is also seen in some caged animals.)  A few God-fearing souls dare not do this, but eventually their nightly dreams will show them the true power of their instincts in this regard as well.  So one way or another,  a certain balance is struck.

This excessive sensitivity fades gradually as the years pass, but perhaps particularly from around the age of 35 or so.  (I guess this may vary – some people live their lives more slowly than others.) We find that we can hang out with women and not embarrass ourselves no matter what.  No matter where we look, our pulse does not race until we flip that mental switch.  We can look at women to admire them without desiring them. Paradise at last?

But how long was Adam in Paradise.  I suppose that varies from one Adam to another, and specifically I suspect the next change only happens to religious or very nearly religious people.  Basically it is an instance of the understanding that “I am not my body”.  While I have felt on this for a while, I did not get the right words to describe it until I read some of the books by Ryuho Okawa, founder of the “Happy Science” religious movement.  He compares our mind to a compass needle, and mentions various things that can get that compass needle to point in another direction than the way we intended.  So if I say that an attractive woman makes my compass needle move, it is a metaphor, not an euphemism, as it would have been when I was 18.

Another concept that he stresses is the difference between love that gives and “love” that takes.  (Japanese does in fact have two words for love, which I have seen explained like this: “Koi is always wanting, Ai is always giving.” This is again something I noticed several years ago (and which has cropped up in at least one of my unfinished novels):  When I look at someone, do I look with eyes that take or eyes that give?  People can often see this difference, even if we may look the same otherwise.

So this is the meaning of the title.  I think this is a voluntary thing, that most people probably don’t even think about, because they feel hidden in their flesh, much like one would feel hidden in wide, loose-fitting clothes.  As long as other people can’t see anything, we can do what we want.  But the flesh is temporary, but bad habits are forever, I suspect.  So I may not have all the time in the world to recalibrate, not only this sensitivity but many others, like anger and envy. Is it enough that nobody sees it, or that my blood pressure does not go up, or will I continue to judge myself (self-reflection) until the compass needle of my mind points steadily toward my highest aspiration?  Or die trying, most likely.

Pedophilia and unicorn hunts

I came across this story via the blog “Unfiltered Perceptions“, which ironically is in Norwegian for the most part. International readers can use their favorite translation service (such as Google Translate) to find out more. Anyway, the story in short: A policeman logs on a chat room with the nick “Pernille12” (Pernille being a Scandinavian name more typical of the child generation than the parent generation, names being subject to fads even here).  He then waits until a middle-aged man contacts him, and leads the guy on until he gets him to masturbate in front of a web cam, presumably believing the policeman’s assurance that he is indeed a 12 year old girl and not a gay man, as the other first suspects. The masturbator is then formally accused and sentenced for the two men’s shared activity.  The judge briefly reflects on the fact that you just don’t get evidence this way, but sets this concern aside because of the severity of the crime.

Since laws vary a bit from nation to nation, even in the somewhat civilized world, it bears mention that in Norway you can’t use this kind of evidence-gathering, thus the pause of the judge. But the rules of due process only count for real humans, evidently, not for pedophiles.  These predators must be caught even when they are hunting unicorns – that is to say, something that is not really there.  As the blogger points out, it is hardly a given that a real 12 year old would lead the man on like that.  What exactly does this say about how the police, the court, and the society view 12 year old girls?  Please, if there are girls who are that desperate to see a guy masturbate, they are going to find some way, even if it means enlisting a classmate or their stepdad.  Perhaps we should have policemen passing as pedophiles so we can arrest the girls too? For their own protection, of course.  They are much safer behind bars, as are we all.

But as I said yesterday (and occasionally over the years), there is a reason why we habitually suspend law and decency when pedophilia is involved.  That reason is that pedophilia is commonplace, to the point where almost everyone has been either involved personally or had a close friend or family member involved somehow. And even for those of us who have somehow escaped this ubiquitous scourge, there is ever the risk that we may be seen as criminals or at the very least aiding and abetting the crime unless we scream “death to the infidels!” at least as loudly as the guy next to us.  Oops, wrong geographic location, but the same principle still applies.

Or in other words, pedophilia and incest have just recently been criminalized, so no one knows for sure just where they begin and end.  In real life, off the Net,  it can be hard to tell whether a girl is 12 or 16, depending on her physical development as well as clothes and makeup.  In Norway, it is legal to have sexual intercourse with a 16 year old, but it is illegal to have pictures of them that may be sexually enticing to a lonely old judge. On the net – or on mobile phones – they are children, and must be protected at all cost; but in bed they are men or women.  More fun with human sanity!

I may sound like I have something to defend here, and I do.  Once we have established that due process does not apply to pedophiles, any man who had ever been alone with a child is utterly at the mercy of said child (even after it is grown up), its mother and its therapist or basically anyone who can convince the former child that the problems in its later life must come from SOMEONE having done something terrible in the past. And when they come for me, there is no one left to speak up for me.

Pedophilia, a brief history

So Michael Jackson died. I personally never liked him nor his music, but he was supposedly one of the greater artists of the previous century. He also did things for race relations in the USA that not many could do. Without Michael Jackson there would probably not have been a President Obama. But all some people can think to say about MJ is that he was a pedo.

I don’t know about that. More importantly, neither do you. He was not judged by a jury of his peers (how many peers did he even have?) but by the press and the rumor mill. And so heinous was his crime that allegations were enough – no need for a fair trial, no innocence until found guilty.

More importantly, pedophilia is such a heinous crime that we are willing to perforate the Constitution and put in place technical systems that can, at the flip of a switch, be used to track down and silence political dissidents when that becomes expedient.

Given the gravity of the crime, you’d expect it to be found prominently among the Ten Commandments, but actually there is no mention of it anywhere in the Law and the Prophets. Jesus does not mention it with a word. Muhammad the Prophet married a girl he would not have been allowed to look twice at today. It is as if the notion of pedophilia only decades ago descended into this world.

That is actually a pretty fair description. The word itself harks back to the 1950es. Even the notion of childhood itself did not appear until the Industrial Revolution. In earlier history, infants (babies and toddlers) were recognized as different from adults, but children were not. If you read any ancient text, you will find that the word “children” is not used about an age group, or if it is, refers to small children. Usually it simply means offspring. In the agrarian society, children would start farm work or apprenticeship from the age of 5 or so. The notion of childish innocence was absent, and not least: Consent was not really something people worried about. The person who was in a position of authority made all decisions, and that was that.

During the early years of the Industrial Revolution, children were an important part of the workforce. Geography is history to some extent: There are still countries where child labor is taken for granted. And returning to the topic of pedophilia, there are still countries where prepubescent girls are married off, although it is going underground more and more as the concept of childhood is still spreading around the world from its epicenter in France and Britain. Jean-Jacques Rousseau, for all his faults and the pernicious rot his philosophy has introduced in the western world, may have been the first thinker to have a clear vision of childhood as a distinct life phase, or at least he was near that point in time and space. The industrial revolution itself made it possible, for the first time, to let children spend their days in school and play, as their labor was no longer needed on the farm . Yet it was only with Piaget that we finally realized the length and depth of each human’s growth and development. Or at the very least he deepened, formalized and popularized the topic like no one before him. By then we are squarely within living memory: I had recently got my job when Piaget passed from this world.

So the notion that children cannot consent to a sexual relationship is itself very new. It is also far from obvious. In fact, it requires a certain degree of faith from all involved, since children actively seek not only attention but intimacy. This makes things hard to see clearly, not only for the pedophile, but also for the victims.

Humans are unique in that our instinctual knowledge is extremely rudimentary, compared to what we need in life. Kittens may spend time playing, but they are mainly just unfolding their existing cat nature. In contrast, a small child cannot develop into a human being without downloading its human-ness from those who have gone before it. To accomplish this, children have a literal biological need for attention, just as for food and warmth. Experiences from early communist-era child-rearing centrals showed that children who were simply fed and sheltered but not given attention would soon sicken and die. Children need to bond with adults; if they cannot, then the conditions for life are not deemed to be present.

On the other hand, children are amazingly tolerant of their adults. They will cling to you even if you are a drunkard, a scoundrel, a thief and a liar. Or a pedophile. They do this because it is a necessary part of their programming, which has served their ancestors well through the millennia. (The definition of “served well” when it comes to evolution is the very fact that they became your ancestors.)

The pedophile who jumps out of the bushes, abducts a child, rapes it and kills it (or occasionally the other way around or both at the same time) is sure to get publicity, but this is exceedingly rare. Most pedophiles are extremely subtle and at least as much in control of their impulses as the average straight person. There is a sliding scale from bleeding-anus sodomy to cuddly behavior that is so perfectly normal that you would never know anything was going on unless you actually check the pedophile’s genitals for signs of reaction.

(We interrupt this scientific essay for an amazing WTF moment from the author’s personal life: In my late teens I actually had a 10-12 year old girl suddenly grope my groin, very obviously checking on the state of my male member while I was playing with her younger siblings. I guess that makes sense, but it is rather impolite. It also made me kind of wary about the internal workings of that family for a time. Now, back to our regular programming.)

By sheer synchronicity, I read an article some hours before the Jackson incident: “Not unusual to forget childhood sexual abuse“, by Harvard Science. The somewhat startling conclusion is that to most children, sexual abuse – even when physically painful – was not seen as extraordinary, traumatic or seriously threatening at the time. As such, it was forgotten, or at least ignored for many years, not because of some desperate attempt to shield the fragile self, but because children generally don’t go around remembering things that are not reinforced through repetition or conversation. So temporary sexual abuse was not seen for what it was until later, when their own sexuality had developed and they realized what had been done to them. That’s when the trauma set in.

And a big part of the horror of being a victim of this crime is the feeling of being an accomplice to it. Or so I’ve heard. This is why it is so important to realize that the instincts of children are different from the instincts of adults, even when they sometimes seem to meet halfway. Cuddling up to a molester is a perfectly normal, healthy behavior for a child. This applies EVEN IF the molester has already done something secret or humiliating or even painful to you. You should NOT have known better. You were NOT leading them on. The child’s need for adult contact takes priority. It may look very differently when that instinct is pruned from your brain by puberty and replaced by the adult sex drive. But you cannot rewrite the past. Neurotypicals have this unfortunate tendency to always try to do just that, because they believe in consensus reality: That the things people agree on are true, and the things they don’t agree on are not. But this is exactly the power behind child abuse, the power of well-placed silence, closed doors and things only hinted at.

And this is of course also why you cannot defend yourself from accusations, even if you are Michael Jackson and have the best lawyers money can buy. Because the things you would do if you were a pedophile and the things you would do if you just loved children are largely identical, at least as long as there are witnesses present and sometimes even if not.

Do Arabs love their children too?


In Japan, relatives may “facilitate” a future marriage to be agreed on some time before it can legally be consummated, and the young person may feel some degree of pressure, which we may have a hard time relating to here. But it is still pretty mild compared to some other places, and almost all other times.

Don’t read this if you are a child. Seriously, it is not good for you. It is hard enough for grown-ups.

During the Cold war, Sting famously sang “Russians love their children too”. Which is probably true, and even with a fairly similar love to what we expect around here. But this is not so everywhere, and was not so for most of our history. That is not to say that mothers did not love their children, but it was often a twisted and broken love, like the one they had received themselves. We see echoes of this when a Palestinian mother beams proudly in the background as her schoolboy earnestly tells the reporter that he wants to become a “martyr” (suicide bomber).

I don’t say this to demonize them. For one thing, they are indeed in hell, but as tortured souls rather than demons. Worse than the desperation of their outer circumstances is the desperation of the twisted and broken structures of their mind, as they were raised with the same madness as they exhibit today, if not more so.

Nor is this unique to them – this was the shared fate of mankind for a long, long time. Indeed, it was worse than pretty much any place on the globe today. In ancient Greece, at the time when they invented philosophy and democracy, it was still not only possible but actually practiced to kill babies by throwing them down off a cliff. This was the father’s privilege, admittedly. But it obviously does something to a mother as well to know that her child may be here today, gone tomorrow. Due to infant mortality, this was actually a common attitude until less than two centuries ago. Mothers were advised against getting too attached to children, as most of them would die anyway.

The notion that one should not have sex with children is also fairly new. Perhaps that is why it causes so intense feelings in our society, where the mere suspicion of pedophilia is enough to strip a man of any human rights, including the right to be considered innocent until guilty. (I refer you again to the trial in Kristiansand, the city where I work, where the suspect was depicted with photographs in the newspaper well before the trial, and as a consequence sentenced despite no evidence of guilt and some evidence of innocence.) The exceptionally intense fear and loathing is, I believe, caused by the fact that sexual abuse of children is still secretly practiced by many and remembered by many more, directly or indirectly by the irrational agitation of their own parents at the sight of potentially erotic play by the small child.

Geography is to some extent history, and returning to our Arab relatives, today we can celebrate the news that an 8 year old Saudi girl is granted a divorce from her 50 year old husband. If it sticks this time. Again I am not demonizing the Arabs – there is no need. A society in which such a thing can even happen, much less be endorsed by the courts until diplomatic relations are at stake, is already pretty demonic enough, at least for small girls. It may be paradisical for 50 year old pedophiles, perhaps, but I’m not sure that counts. Again, this is not because they happen to be Arabs, it is the original human culture.

See, this is why multiculturalists need to be put out of their misery, or at least kept away from small girls. No, all cultures are not equally valid. Even the best of today’s cultures have only come this far by millennia of painful climbing toward the light, and our foothold is tenuous even today.

If you have a strong stomach, you may peruse the Psychohistory website and see what child abuse of all kinds have done and may still be doing to society. Lloyd deMause is a rabid leftist, unfortunately, but still reasonably sane when writing about things outside his own country and century. Not recommended for pregnant readers. OK, actually not recommended for anyone but the most hardened and cynical misanthrope who expect every human to be a bastard-coated bastard with bastard filling until proven otherwise by a trial of fire. If you have children or have memories of having been a child, don’t read it, or at least not past the front page. Any link you click will take you on a tour of Hell proper.