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Why is it that men cheat? Brad Pitt was married to the woman idolized as everyone’s best friend Jennifer Anniston and the next thing we know he’s coming out of a mud hut in Namibia carrying Angelina Jolie’s 2 children. Hugh Grant was with the most beautiful woman on earth Elizabeth Hurley and the next thing you know the police find him in the back seat of a Chevy with a hooker who looks like Marvin Hagler wearing a wig. Elizabeth Taylor has been cheated on by so many husbands that she needed the pain medication more for her depression than for her aching back. The classic example was Marilyn Monroe who was treated like Kleenex by more Presidents than George Bush. Why do so many Presidents have names that sound like female sexual organs? How many organ grinders does it take to change a monkey? It seems like having supernatural beauty, fame and success drives men to cheat. How could this be? Why are men running away from the women most desired by hordes of men?
Barbara Holdmee works in the web cam business in Amsterdam. She nude video chats with strange men all day for $4.99 a minute. According to Barbara, “I used to be a high school English teacher. The hours were long and the pay was lousy. I learned that Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus and teenagers are from Uranus. But this web cam business has really opened my eyes. When you watch Tucker Carlson on television men seem so intelligent, so sophisticated. In the nude video chat sessions you get to see what men are really like. Before nude chat I seduce the men by chatting in a negligee. All day I listen to a constant stream of instant messages from men like “Show me your rear end, show me your boobs, oh BB you’re so hot, and Oh yeah BB. Why do men feel the need to put on this air of sophistication in public? Why can’t they be themselves in public? Why are married men spending an average of 7 minutes a day engaging in sexual relations with nude models over the internet? Who threw Natalie Wood to the sharks? Could the reason that men cheat simply be that in truth they are just wolves in sheep’s clothing, evil liars?”
Sigmund Freud, the father of modern psychiatry had a long term affair with his mother. He cheated on her with his sister. Dr. Freud divided the human brain into the ego and the id. There is so much id theft on the internet now that identity theft has become the leading industry in Africa. In the past week alone I have inherited over $356 million dollars from total strangers overseas. I have more parents and grandparents than the descendants of the Messiah. How are there so many paintings of the Messiah when the Gospels do not contain one single word of description of Jesus Christ? Which species was created by a Jewish born Rabbi whose best friend was a hooker? Had Jesus lived to be 85 the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel would be decorated with paintings of a long bearded black hatted black coated Hasidic Rabbi Messiah and Christianity would never have gotten off the ground.
Speaking of the Bible Eve has been smeared for 3,000 years for giving Adam the apple. This Bible story is symbolic. The one eyed snake who told her to do it was Adam’s phallus. The penis is the root of all evil. How else can you explain the level of promiscuity in Africa when the obvious cure for AIDS is monogamy? How else can you explain the male stampede for Viagra and Cialis when these drugs are known to cause blindness? Does everyone believe that they will die tomorrow and so there is no need to consider the consequences of their actions? Fortunately Merck has just invented a vaccine for cervical cancer and the human papiloma virus. Get down! Get down, get down, get down, get down, get down tonight baby! “Why dost thou seeketh to be that which thou are not?”
Most men have a body, a mind and a soul. Lets look at the body first. A good example would be Michelangelo’s The David. Dr. Freud said that men have a sexual thought every 3 seconds. This would explain the Holy Trinity. With the constant production of semen going on in the testes and the male reproductive drive to keep our species going men are unto coitus machines careening out of control.
Now let us look at the human mind. The id is the part of the brain that constantly wants food, sex, money etc. In the old days the strongest cave man just beat the object of his desire over the head with a wooden club and then dragged her into a cave and raped her before lighting up. There were no $200 dinners where the cave man pretended to like her.
The reason that men cheat is the male ego. The male ego is the root of all evil. The male feeling of desire and lust and infatuation and desire to conquer the woman and the newness feels exactly like love only it is infinitely stronger. This is why prior to the conquest men whisper such endless baloney into our ears. “Oh my God you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life. I could care less about sex. I love you for your personality.” The micro second that the man ejaculates inside of you without a condom because his passion was so overwhelming and his promises that he was in perfect health were so convincing it’s all down hill even for the Holy Wood starlets. This is because the woman will never again be able to give the man the one thing he wants most in life – the conquest of her - the need in the male mind to say to himself and to his locker room buddies, “Yes, I nailed her!” Nailed?
Every single woman that I know today is engaged in internet dating. If a woman has the slightest flaw, like no jaw for example, or God forbid a crooked nose, men have an endless supply of internet sites and internet women to replace her. The fantasy is better than the reality but the reality is worse than the phobia.
Now let us examine the spiritual reasons that men cheat. According to the famed psychiatrist M. Scott Peck M.D. in his books “People of the Lie” and “Glimpses of the Devil”, in addition to the holy white angel spirit in every person all of our bodies are also containers for evil spirits that resemble the alien monster in the movie Independence Day. Inwardly we are all monsters who sacrificed our first born children alive by fire as the drummers beat their drums loudly to drown out the terrified screams of our burning babies which we sacrificed to the God Baal, Beelzebub, Satan on fire altars in Gehenna just south of Jerusalem for thousands of years up until 2,000 years ago on a planet 5 billion years old. Our ancestors were murderous freaks and we are their clones and this is the reason men cheat.
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I remember when I was in eighth grade in school years ago and listening to Pink Floyd. I heard a song way back then that became a favourite of mine at the time and still is today. It was called Comfortably numb. At the time of listening to it back then, I thought it was all about heroin abuse.
A year or so later I heard another song by an Australian band called the Choirboys that had lyrics that said: “You don’t need anyone, no you don’t need anyone; when you run the paradise.” Once again I saw this as the paradise that is found by the injection of heroin.
In the movie Pulp Fiction, just a few years ago, I saw the absolutely mind blowing rush one can get from the injection of a needle, and how heroin really is like the big daddy of them all. For even the name itself boasts of its awesome ability and power and how it should be worshipped. We all know about branding and the power of a brand name, if it’s used properly. Just think of Coke, Mc Donald’s, and Disney and suddenly you have an emotion and hopefully a positive emotion come to mind. The word heroin is no mistake. It’s available when you need the ultimate peace and numbness, and you put the father of all drugs into your arm like a doctor gives medicine, you go and put the Hero in.
I am fortunate in one way. I am sure it was an act of God and nothing short of it. As I was growing up, our house was a halfway house for recovering heroin addicts. They came around to our house on rainy Sundays for lunch and when they were healed often stayed with our family until they could find a permanent place of accommodation. They came to us raw and fresh out of rehabilitation. It was their words, and their tears that showed me heroin had its costs on a personal life and wasn’t just the hero in these guy’s life, but their master for many years. They who worshipped the drug and fought, begged borrowed and stole to inject it, were broken individuals who readily cried and told of the horror the drug demanded of them.
Yes, heroin is a powerful drug and I’ll admit that it will make you leave this world we are in, and you will float and kick back into a comfortable numbness. Yes. You won’t need anyone when you run to paradise. But it comes with a price.
I thank God I saw the pain in the drug and never injected it myself. Oh boy I came close and yes I mixed in all the right circles, but I never succumbed to its tantalizing beckoning. And how glad I am that I didn’t! But that isn’t to say those who do are bad people. I just found a better way for myself to find a release.
If it’s comfortable being numb…how can there be comfort in pain?
This was the confusing part for me to work out. How could I enjoy the release which was very pleasurable sleeping with prostitutes, and yet still enjoy the pain of it all in eating breakfast cereals and milk for days because I had no money left?
I read an interesting article once in a psychology magazine. I had never picked one up before that day and have never picked another up since. But in this magazine on this day, whilst I sat in some Doctors surgery for half an hour, I truly learnt the key to the whole puzzle.
We who have addictive tendencies, don’t get a choice in what we become addicted to.
What? I hear you say. Yeah well its strange isn’t it? It’s not all that hard to grasp really. You know that song that you hear and you just can’t get it out of your head. Every time the radio plays it, you spend half a day singing it to yourself. Even years later when “Run to paradise” comes on, I still get caught up with the emotions I was feeling that day. I absolutely love that song.
Well that’s how a habit is formed. Repetition. The more I hear it, the more stronger my emotional response, the more I am addicted to it, or attracted to it. Even if it’s a not so pleasurable experience. Even if that experience is being beaten by your father in a fit of rage. The more he does it, the more I emotionally respond, the more I begin to crave that negative emotion. You become addicted to the pain. And in some ways when life is going along fine, if you are missing that pain in your life, you actively seek it out.
It's sad really. That’s why a woman stays with a man who beats her up. That’s why a junkie sells his soul for the junk he puts up his arm and that’s why a person will ritually cut themselves to feel the rush of pain. We are addicted to the pain, just as much as to the pleasure. And just like light follows darkness, after the pleasure we seek the pain, and when we are in pain we seek the pleasure, and we continue to exist.
We all enjoy feeling comfortable. We all enjoy being safe and secure where we are. Take us away from what we know, take us to another state or city suddenly and tell us to deal with it and we have a problem. We need to change slowly, but given the choice we like to stay with what we know. Why else would a country approve of a president who blatantly lies to his people? We don’t like change and we only do it if forced upon us. It’s only when a wife is beaten so very badly that the authorities step in and keep her from her husband by locking him up, that the wife accepts separation. But she has no choice in this matter. So she quickly goes out to a pub and finds another guy to beat her up.
She can’t help it. She doesn’t like getting beaten up. And her friends can’t understand her for going back. But that’s the only sort of love she knows and that’s the only love her daddy taught her. He regularly beat her mother up and in between beating her he made love to her mother and brought her presents home from work. And if he was a fine example of an alcoholic father he even made special visits to his daughter’s room to comfort her and run his filthy hands over her and molest her.
Oh yes She remembers the love, and she remembers the pain, and somehow they melded into one, and that was called life. To her, or to the heroin addict or to you the reader, life is all about feeling comfortable with our lot and coping as best we can in the circumstances.
How do I know about pain….
Have you ever had a man shove his penis up your behind? I mean shove it right in there so you can feel the tears flowing down your cheeks. Have you ever had to lay down and push your bum in the air and let a beast put it into you with all his might? It’s not fun. Its not love, and if you’ve been there, it’s not something you forget real easy. Worse still is the guilt you feel for putting yourself in the position that allowed it. Oh what a fool you were. If only you weren’t so craving pain in your life, things like this wouldn’t happen. And soon you believe it is all your fault. And then you begin to take comfort in the pain.
One day you are seeking the pain. One day you become comfortably numb. You go through the motions, you allow the lightning pain, and you switch off to it by a sheer act of will power. It seems as you lie there and let a man rip your insides with his penis that Pink Floyd may have been singing about this pain when they were singing. Maybe it wasn’t heroin, but the pain, and you’re switching off to it all, that makes you numb. Maybe you weren’t as smart as you thought you were when you are young, and the wisdom of a life half lived has served to give your life a richer and more rewarding tapestry.
It’s a sad cycle. The addicted are addicted to the week of poverty and no food after one night down at the pokies or one night with the prostitutes. We feel lonely, hopeless and we have no hope in life, so we confirm what a sad person we are when we live in poverty and prove with cheap clothes a free charity meals that we really are a loser like everyone things we are. It’s not fun eating cereal for a week. It’s not fun nursing a black eyes once very few weeks, it’s not fun having to go up the street everyday saying can people spare you change for a bus fare, it’s not fun, but we are so useless and we are so lacking in self worth we just love the feeling of shame, guilt and stupidity and we beat ourselves up with it. We make all our promises. If he beats me up one more time I will leave. If that girl does not kiss me this time I am never going to see her again. If this jockey does not ride that horse in next week that is it for me and punting. We are weak, we are hopeless and we are addicted to feeling that way.
The hardest thing about not sleeping with a prostitute for three months is not feeling the week of guilt after we have partaken of that sin. Especially when you are a Christian. It’s fine not to get the high, but how am I going to get that rush of guilt each week that I am in love with and addicted to?
And then there is the high. It’s in the paper ringing private escorts working in their own rented apartments and interviewing them one by one a few days before you get the money. You narrow it down and pick one and then five hours after you have been paid you are in bed with her. No matter how much you cry to God about your wicked sin, here you are trying to bring pleasure to a professional so that you can feel like a man and have a good time, and if she’s a professional she’ll have you convinced you did bring her to orgasm. If this is all to crude for you, you can jump to the next paragraph. In twenty years of this addiction, I have only been convinced of about three orgasms of the prostitutes I have been with. And boy, twenty years worth of once a week, or once every two weeks of seeing a sex worker, you do the maths, that’s why I don’t own a house.
You see I am poorly dressed and poor in assets and have never had any reason to really write a will because most of my life my addiction kept me broke.
Boy I can relate to people in addictions. The only way I came out of my addiction the time the original of this piece was written in 2005 and now in 2006 my two successful times of reprieve from the addiction was when I repented with many tears before God with all my heart and not wishing with all my heart to ever go back to these ladies. I had to love the girls and stay away and not abuse them, I had to love God enough not to break His heart with my sin with sleeping with a girl I was not married to, and I had to love myself enough not to degrade my self esteem by becoming a sex starved brute.
The only way out of my addiction was to hate it.
The problem with many of us is this addiction to the highs and the lows.
Oh I know about the rush of horse racing I did that for many years. There’s nothing like buying a car from your winnings one week. There’s nothing like seeing your horse win the race and it’s because you were a smart little punter watching all of that horses races since it first started racing and knowing that it can only win certain races at certain distances according to the track, the rider, the breeding and the time in the current campaign it is in. There’s a skill of knowing which race the owner and trainer are wanting to win with the horse and what races the horse is only racing to stay fit. There’s knowing which jockey will ride the horse when the horse has got to look like its trying to win the race and it’s the race favourite, but the owner, the trainer and the serious in the know punters connected to the stable want it not even to run a place and definitely at all costs do not want it to win the race. There really are so many factors to consider as a horse punter, it’s no wonder big high profile people in the business world are kings and respected for placing million dollar bets.
Racing stroked my ego on the high side when I won, and when I had a big loss on a big punt it made me feel like the loser I was when I lost. So how could I lose? lol
And what about today five years on?
I am comfortable and I am not addicted any more. I attend a church where I am loved and I have began to preach in a few churches. My Lord Jesus trusts me today to help strangers find their way to Him and to healing and I am in love with myself. I am quite impressed with what articles I have written five years ago and a lot has happened in my life since then. I have been Baptised and now have some giftings that Jesus has given me so that I can better witness to people. He has given the ability to "Know" a person's pain and their struggle and know things about them that they haven't told me. He gives me the ability to give strangers a message from Him and that just makes me so happy to be out and about doing that.
I have not seen my son in six years and that is sad but it was his mother's wish and I didn't fight it. I have had another breakdown and now am wiser and have stayed on my medication for four years without a serious incident. It seems the more hard balls life throws at me the more confident I am in the power and the love of Jesus to pull you through anything.
I really enjoy sharing a message with a person through prophecy when Jesus speaks through me as I really enjoy seeing Him speak. He is such a magnificent, wonderful, caring and patient God that was man. It is so good to have a God in heaven called Jesus who thinks and reasons like a man but with all the power of God behind Him.
Jesus is just so real to me. I have seen Him in visions close to ten times now and some of them have been so very memorable. He told me once that I was his hidden treasure and if you are reading this I am sure He would tell you the same also. He is so sweet, I do not need another person to sustain me. He is my everything and He is such a loyal and honest and caring friend.
With much love,
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A plumber came round to my house today. This in itself was all well and good. He was a lovely guy by the name of Dennis, clearly very experienced, and he got the job done in an unexpectedly short couple of hours. I'd been bracing myself for a hot-water-free weekend, so it was a very pleasant surprise to have the problem fixed so quickly.
In order to assist Dennis in finding the information he needed to mend my water heater, I looked up the manufacturer's details on the Internet, with Dennis looking over my shoulder, helping. Within a few minutes, Dennis had called his boss, who called the manufacturer, who explained the solution to Dennis's boss, who explained the solution to Dennis, who fixed the problem. Presto.
Dennis and I were quite pleased with ourselves, and congratulated each other profusely on our combined ingenuity.
After Dennis had left, I got back to my laptop to find that the two websites that I'd been editing before he arrived had been clearly on view throughout his visit. These websites were, let's just say, 'in the experimental stages', and were designed to draw a large number of hits, thereby generating a bit of advertising revenue for this pauper of a writer.
One was called 'Living Sober - Without AA'.
The other was called 'Free Penis Enlarger'.*
I'm not embarrassed about it though. It's a simple mistake which anybody could make.
* I feel obliged to add, for the sake of my own self-esteem, that this site was in fact devoted to images of beautiful women!
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‘Big Chest and the Lion’ [Prelude to After Eve II: Big Chest]
By Dennis L. Siluk
The Man-eaters, as they were known, otherwise called the lions, jaguars, tigers of the ancient days, were not much different than, the new breed, so named by Short-legs as “The Stone-Builder’s,” the reason being, they had no second thoughts about killing the members of the Horde, nor the Branch-People; rather they seemed to harbor thoughts and acts as if they were summoned to do so, a duty that had to be announced; thus, all the inhabitants in these two areas were beastly trophies to them. The Folk in the Horde, along with several others of the Branch-People were terrified in a way of the new invaders of the land, the new neighbors, and their fathomless predator style of hunting. They were a threat more serious than the famine or the plague that had vanquished the land in the past.
◊
I had seen one time Big-chest walk into a campsite of theirs, the Stone-Builders that is, I tried to tell this story to my brother Stern-toes, once, but I never could explain it right, but I think he got the jest of it, if not the seriousness, we did both laugh at the Stone-builders for hours on end, afterwards. As I was about to say, Short-legs and Little-eyes witnessed this whole happening from a distance of course. The Stone-Builders were full of what they called ‘wone, or wine,” something along that order, some sounds take me back a bit, they had new sounds all the time, ones never heard of before their arrival on the scene. Well, Big-chest, noticed in the evening, they had killed a man-either; there were four of them at a campfire, just laughing, and drinking, and being playful like a group of little cubs. Actually they did get a little over physical with one another, like the wild boars after one of us, wanting to eat us for dinner, and then settled down again. It was winter so there was a chill in the air, and not much leafy trees to hide us, but we remained in the distant woods nonetheless, with a pile of leaves at our knees in case we needed to camouflage ourselves more.
As always, Big-chest was confident of his abilities, he stood in the woods, no shadow, just a big blob of muscle, fuzzy hair and sharp beady small squinty eyes, pinned on the four individuals, and their lion. He was actually blocking our vision a bit, but I think he did that because he wanted to show his audience, who was the king. Then unsuspected, he walked into the camp, among the four, he had seen their weapons by the fire, where the lion was. He was swaying his body like huge trees in a storm. Closer and closer he came to the fire, no one noticed, can’t figure it out, could they not hear him, for I could, way back in the woods. His fingers almost touching the ground, he had long thick arms, fingers, and perturbing muscles. Then all of a sudden two of the four turned their necks to see what was in back of them, and almost went into shock, the other two stood up, all four were some fifteen feet from their weapons. The two who were squatting, were closest to the fire, the other two where a little farther away, standing, I think one was releasing himself, he made a puddle and was trying to cover it up, we just went, wherever, and whenever we had to.
Big-chest took his right hand, hit the head of one of the squatters as he was about to stand, and his head flopped like a dead fish out of water; flopping back and forth, as if to jump back into the creek. The other one tried to get to his weapon, but Big-chest picked him up by one leg, his penis showing, they all liked covering them up for some reason, and Big-chest just laughed, and tossed him into the fire, after twisting him about for a few seconds, breaking the leg in several places I expect. Then one of the two standing routed himself through the woods yelling something like, “hhhh eel pppp...!!” Not sure what that meant. The last one, I call him the brave one, pulled out a sharp object, about the length of his hand, and stood in front of Big-chest as if he was going to fight him. He looked similar to a banana compared to him. I asked myself, ‘is he crazy, run! And run fast, while you can.’ Big-chest just looked dumfounded at the figure in front of him, and picked him up, picked up the seven food lionesses, and put her over his shoulder, the crazy Stone-Builder charged at him during this event and Big-chest with a quick turn, knocked the man on the ground with the man-eater still well balanced over his shoulder. Then like a dead fish, he kicked him in the mid section, sweeping him into the fire. He could not move.
Early winter
We had no way of knowing which winter would be good to us or bad for us, and winter this one year had come early, and therefore our food supply was depleted rather quickly. When Little-eyes and I returned back to the cave that evening we had told in our symbolic way, at the Banana Cave, the entire horde how Big-chest killed the Eve people. And you could hear the laughing for miles around. I think Big-chest had taken his trophy to a cave in our area, and was having dinner at the time. We liked anyone who could out smart the Stone-people, they were smug and we were helpless compared to them, most of the time. And so it felt good if anything. But our surprise would come in the morning.
Morning
In the morning when several of us looked out our cave, in the center of the canyon style area, we seen half a lion torn open, in the center, it was a treasure, and all of us quickly ran to eat what meat Big-chest had left for us. Big-chest was not always so generous, but for some odd reason, he knew we were starving for some protean, and our bodies where starting to show our ribs. Aimless to say, this never happened again, but we all gave Big-chest a smile as we walked proudly out of our cave-canyon.
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Same sex relationships aside, which have their own sources of wonder, the relationship between a man and a woman is so intriguing and amazing because we understand so little about the opposite sex.
A man hears about another man's penis being cut off and goes into paroxysms of distress in empathy for the victim. Upon hearing the same news, most women simply wince but have no visceral reaction. A woman hears about a rape and reaches out to the victim in pain and empathy. Even the most non-violent and liberal male has a tendency to think that it's no big deal: "Well, it's not like she was killed or anything."
The divide is that our experiences differ, our anatomies and our relationship with our physical attributes differ, and our perceptions of our interactions with the world differ. In a sexual sense, men give and women receive. In traditional societies, men act and women accept. Despite the rise of feminism and the cultural equality of women, many physiological disparities remain.
The strangeness of each other's physical makeup is a significant portion of the tension aroused in a male-female relationship. The alien nature of the partner's anatomy is an unending source of fascination and delight. Men can spend hours looking at their mate, or watching pornographic movies, in a total obsession with female attributes: breasts, vagina, clitoris, anus, and labia. A woman sees such body parts as something best hidden, despite the delight they may bring when aroused. Women are in awe of a man's ability to wax and wane as his levels of desire change. A woman can seduce a man but rape is virtually impossible.
A woman worries about the size of her breasts whereas men accept a variety of sizes and shapes, all equally appealing. A man worries about the size of his penis whereas a woman is less concerned with size than how the appendage is used.
For two such different creatures to enter a permanent fulfilling relationship, a great deal of exploration is required, both in terms of understanding the other as well as understanding the self. Mutual exploration can become a vessel that explodes the level of intimacy enjoyed.
It starts with communication - the discussion of oneself and what is arousing on a personal level. Such an exchange of personal turn-ons can then evolve into the identification of what new techniques, positions, or approaches may be mutually exciting. Each partner may have very different ideas of what they would like to try.
In an atmosphere of trust and devotion, almost anything can be valuably experienced once. Try to work out a loose schedule that allows each partner to implement a new technique once in a while. Afterwards, a discussion of whether the new activity was satisfactory can ensue and the partners can decide whether to eliminate it, use it as an occasional change of pace, or incorporate it as part of their standard routine.
The key is to mutually accept the exploration, agree to honest feedback about its utility, and establish a standard of equality in the partners taking turns in suggesting new techniques with an acceptance by the other of implementation on a trial basis.
Because of the uniqueness of our physical attributes, what works for one may be counterproductive for the other. Just the exploration of new techniques, in itself, forces the partners to focus on their sexual activity and can generate a more intense intimacy because of that new awareness and concentration on the act of making love.
