Millions of homeowners are getting huge savings on their monthly mortgage bill thanks to Freddie Mac Flex Modification, and not surprisingly banks aren’t too happy about that.
I just read the information in the previous paragraph on Twitter. I want to do my part for the Honolulu readers who support me and the city that gave me all my stories. If you are a homeowner you can find out within 2 minutes if you qualify for this government program. Check it out!
I am going to make broad statements based on my opinion and limited experience. I cannot back up what I say with any facts. Still interested in reading my benefit
thoughts on men & lesbianism after reading that disclaimer?
It’s commonly thought that men are more accepting of female homosexuality than male. I say, men in truth do not accept same sex unions that shut them out. No. Instead men imagine their role in all female sex scenes. For many men women are sexual beings who exist for men’s pleasure. A typical man views lesbianism as women he finds visually appealing putting on a sex show for his benefit.
A second option that interests your average guy is two or more women cooperatively working with each other, united in their mission to satisfy his desires.
Said average guy sees all women through a sexual filter. For example: yes I want her no I don’t want her, maybe I could have her, wish I could have her, no way that’s my mom, bet she was hot when she was younger, etc., etc…
A woman not connected to sex is irrelevant and invisible. Non-existent in his thought life.
Men cannot understand lesbianism as female sexuality apart from men so they change the truth of exclusively female sex into the lie of women in service to men’s desires. That’s the stuff of fantasies in many porn movies, and has nothing to do with tolerance.
[ In the writing below you will find confidently stated opinions that I express as though they are facts. My statements are not evidence based but experience based. My experience is, naturally, limited to little me. I cannot back up what I say with any proof. Still interested in reading my thoughts on men & lesbianism after reading that disclaimer? Be my guest. I just encourage you to be aware of the author’s point of view, especially when reading online.]
Men like lesbianism. Not bc they accept their own exclusion from sex but bc they imagine that they do, or could, have a role in all female sexual situations. For many men women are, primarily or exclusively, sexual beings who exist for men’s pleasure. A typical man wants lesbianism to be about him. He visualizes women he finds appealing putting on a sex show with each other for his benefit. That is why men often look at each other knowingly when the topic of lesbianism arises. They know how those same sex unions would suit them.
A second way our average guy defines lesbianism is: two or more women cooperatively working on him or for his sexual pleasure. Lesbianism has nothing to do with women’s relationship to each other outside of how well they cooperate to satisfy him.
Men do not accept Lesbianism if it means their sexual exclusion. In it’s purist form men’s exclusion is a prerequisite. Therefore your average guy doesn’t accept female homosexuality any more than male homosexuality. It’s just that your average guy cannot fit sexually unavailable women into his thought process. The big exception is, of course, incest. But even female relatives pass quickly through the filter of sexuality when men think “no way, that’s my mom, sister, daughter, etc…”
Sexually unavailable women are irrelevant and invisible to the average guy. In order to grasp lesbianism as a reality men must make it about them, thereby changing it’s truth into a false ideal.
According to studies, the #1 sexual fantasy for men and women is the same: two women.
–a guy told me today after I waited in vain for him to make good on a promise he had earnestly delivered.
Am I supposed to feel better knowing that I hadn’t been forgotten? To me, it is worse knowing that the person is well aware of his obligations but simply does not bother fulfilling them. There is a deeper truth to being remembered an ignored. At least if I had been forgotten, well, I could believe that the person did care in his heart of hearts. Forgetting a commitment might be entirely innocent, unless you are one of those people who believes that there are no such things as accidents–if you step on someone’s foot, lose a phone number, or forget a promise, such things are always done subconsciously, on purpose. To remember what you are supposed to do for someone but just not do it for no good reason–now that is disheartening.
I am right in the center of your mind’s eye, but you can easily look away from thoughts of me with a flippant, “I haven’t forgotten you!”
“I haven’t forgotten you. You are on my mind. I simply do not care. Thinking of you does not motivate me.”
–The real truth behind a common excuse made by people who fail to keep their commitments.
It is no wonder I am angry about my experiences with racism. Yes, I know I see slights that aren’t there. Sometimes. But overall, the hostility I fight against is not imaginary. On March 11, 2019 I read the article you will find if you click on the link below. women used to die in childbirth routinely, in previous centuries. But I expect better results in this century and I am correct to expect those results. It is unacceptable to me to hear that black women are twice as likely to die in childbirth than women of other races. Including educated and informed black women like me. Why? People don’t care about us, people hate us, and we avoid the trauma of this treatment by giving up on help. And we die as a result.
BLACK WOMEN ARE DISMISSED WITH ENOUGH HOSTILITY TO DRIVE THEM AWAY
Take a gander at the following statements. All of the statements were made by people who were service providers or authorities I had to turn to in order to get something I needed.
“What are you going to do, knock off a liquor store?
“What’s a black woman doing on this floor at all hours if she’s not there to clean?”
“Don’t do anything you can get arrested for.”
“I don’t know anything about these so-called threats to your safety. I don’t know how someone would break into your window. I’m not the criminal.”
“Tamika is here and she doesn’t have the money.”[My name is not Tamika]
“A lot of people think I don’t like black people but it’s not true. Some of my best friends…are you sure you are the same Caroleena I spoke to on the phone?”
“The police aren’t going to put their donuts down to help someone like you.”
“We don’t want certain people in this profession. Murderers. Rapists. Child molesters. And prostitutes.”
I am not saying everyone is racist, all the time. I am saying these hurtful experiences do real damage, especially in life and death situations. That’s why I keep fighting every injustice, no matter how small. I fight for all the people who can’t put on the Uber bitch exterior the way I can. I want things to be easier for all of us. We don’t deserve to die simply bc there are people who don’t think we deserve to live.
The movie Fresh is about a black kid who runs dope and somehow uses the game to save him and his sister from the life. I say “somehow” because the first time I saw it I knew nothing about drugs and didn’t understand half of what was said. How times have changed. Gone are the days when I didn’t know the difference between base and smack. I feel all grown up and sophisticated. Not bc the movie glorifies drugs. It doesn’t. And I certainly don’t live a life of guns and violence. Information is as close as I want to get to that life. So why do I feel so self congratulatory. Hmm…I guess I feel…worldly with my graduate degree in drug use.
I lie because I don’t know what kind of truth to tell you
“MEN LIE AND I DON’T KNOW WHY. THEY JUST DO.”
That’s what I said when I was sitting with a man watching a show about male and female relationships. The woman said “He is a compulsive liar.” The man said “I lie to spare her feelings.” I laughed because I have heard this line before. Charlie Sheen said to his very thing on the show Two and a Half Men. Charlie Sheen’s character was schooling the young kid on how men need to protect women. The man beside me said:
“I LIE BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW WHAT KIND OF TRUTH TO TELL YOU.”
He further clarified his point by saying: “Should I tell part of the story? Can I tell her in a way she can understand? Once I know a person I know the best thing to say for her sake. Some people call it manipulation but it’s really helping the person. It’ll all be the truth if it comes from me. It may just sound different than what I tell someone else.”
So, he lies we he doesn’t know a woman well and he lies when he knows a woman well. Either way his lies are for the best–her best. Extraordinary, that’s what I think, an smaxama justification for dinner. Opinions, anyone?
February 06, 2018:. “PRETTY FOR FREE” In the beginning of this century there was a part of urban Honolulu that was a virtual open air 24 hour sex market. In “Town” sex workers were women and men dressed like women (colloquially known as “mahus”) who were addicted to crack, crystal methamphetamine (ice), heroin (boy), alcohol, gambling, or some combination of all of these diversions. I never saw young kids on the run from abusive homes contrary to what I had read about areas with high rates of prostitution. I saw people old enough to make their own decisions looking for the quickest way to get the next fix. Money was never saved but entirely consumed by the addiction(S). Once they were zero balanced they’d go back to the “track” or “stroll” to wait for a car to pull over. According to my wristwatch I waited about a minute before a car pulled over driven by someone who had money for me. Not much money. High dollar girls worked in Waikiki and turned the entire $200/date over to my pimps, who seemed to be mostly black for some reason I could not fathom. People with addictions are terrible providers. Our pimps weren’t people. Our addictions were the pimps to whom we turned all of our $20-$100/date. But I digress. The money was so quick and easy the 30 or so providers who walked the street back then did not compete with each other. Each of us made between $300-$500 a day, every day. We just had to be out there. As far as I knew men had no system for sharing information about the quality of providers in the days before ubiquitous internet access and participation. Many girls stole and word did not seem you travel because they continued to work. I did not steal but I did not try very hard during the car date. I’d “go away inside of my head” once we pulled over to a concealed spot within a 30 second drive. A brief 15 minutes later I was freshening my lipstick and race walking to spend my money. When my purchase was consumed in the domicile of the man of the moment who shared my interests and shared my product. My welcome wore out when the stuff ran out. If I wanted a temporary roof over my head I had to get enough money to have something to offer someone else and maintain my altered state. Back to the stroll to make money again, my days, years, life, an endless cycle: zero balancing myself, hustling the money with various antics and adventures, spending all my money with nothing tangible to show for my efforts. For some reason I mostly enjoyed “The Life.” One night I was in my favorite spot sitting on a low brick wall near a facility that hosted anger management classes for men with domestic violence convictions. I liked my perch because I had had a book in my hand since I was age 3. I felt more like my true self when I was enjoying classic American literature while I waited for a “date.” I read by the glow of the streetlight while watching the traffic in both directions. A two lane street of slow moving traffic doing about 30 mph. The through way was lined by apartments on one end, terminating with a mid sized Safeway supermarket and a Longs (CVS) drugstore on the other. Traffic didn’t move so fast that drivers missed seeing providers and it was easy for a driver to pull over to give a girl a ride. If the traffic was too slow every driver’s actions might’ve been embarrassingly obvious to some who would not want others to know their hobbies. The street light illuminated my face, out of which my sparkle-lined sunken, sleep deprived eyes sought to lock on the eyes of male drivers. My practice was to make eye contact, then gesture with a clear but not exaggerated tilt of the head to signal for the driver to pull over. If the driver was agreeable he would slow significantly and pull over to give me a chance to saunter up to the passenger side door. If the window was down I greeted the guy and asked for a ride. One night I saw an older man making a beeline on foot to an older provider. Confident that he would prefer me to a woman about 55 years old, I put myself in his path. Sometimes when guys approached on foot they lived within walking distance. Better than a car date. More comfortable, guaranteed privacy so no cop could roll up. I would take advantage of the shower, I had thought, already making plans for the resources I expected to access. “Uncle,” I called, using the local standard respectful form of address when speaking to an older person, “Uncle, don’t you want me?” The man had his doubts. “You? What do you know?” I knew how to make a perfectly obvious point, that’s what I knew. “But don’t you think I’m pretty?” I was smug because I knew the answer. Or so I thought. I was about to be schooled in another even more obvious point. “What do I have to pay you to be pretty for? You pretty right now. Pretty for free. I want her because she knows what she’s doing!” He did not permit any further discussion and I watched them leave together, envious that she was closer to her next high than I was. Thus, I was introduced to the idea that service mattered, maybe even more than looks.
I could not argue with the old man’s unassailable logic. How stupid was I? Offering him a chance to see what he was already looking at–my face and body! No, I wasn’t nude, but I wasn’t overly dressed so there wasn’t much left to the imagination. Never again did I ever tell anyone he should date me because I was pretty.
I experienced every day on the street as a referendum on my attractiveness. I wanted the men to stop their cars for me. I loved the catcalls from men driving by who didn’t intend to stop but who had seen me. I did my best to keep up appearances while bouncing from one addicted man’s low income apartment to another’s. Not so easy. On the outside, I looked good, I thought. As long as I stayed out of direct lighting and did not let anyone see me up close. My feet were dirty and bare inside of my high heels but no one could see that I was a member of the so-called “black-foot tribe” as the down and out homeless were called. The money I did not spend on rent I spent on high quality makeup. Not everyone wanted to deal with a good-looking woman. There were those men who liked the women who had confidence issues to exploit, as if he is doing her a favor just by being with her. One man said to me:
“I would not want to be with you because you are too pretty for your own good. give me a Mongoloid and she will be so happy she will suck my **** for an hour for $10. That’s my kind of girl.“
Potential Client, 2002
I was not his kind of girl. Every time a car pulled over I thought it was an affirmation and I was proud of myself. I had never had affirmation from people with any consistency so I really enjoyed getting votes of confidence every day. Just goes to show, reality is in the eye of the beholder. I have never heard anyone refer to street prostitution as a “vote of confidence” for the woman. But for me, that was what I needed and that is what I experienced. I know what happened to create that terrible insecurity. More on those events later….
If the president can’t get no h**d there’s no hope for the rest of us.
I’m shooting from the hip in this post and extracting my info from memory rather than pulling up the article. But hey, it’s the internet. I don’t have to have my facts straight. If memory serves me, there’s a strip mall in Florida that has an establishment fronting as a non-sex business, but offers sex on the d.l. The cops raided it and a prominent NFL guy caught a case. Maybe he owns the Patriots, some real football VIP.
No Sex Slavery
Let me say upfront that if those women were held in that establishment against their wills as sex slaves, I am totally against that. And yes, the police and all of the powers-that-be need to move in and help those women. The rest of my post is going to be written under the assumption that the women were not sex slaves but were making a living.
Are you kidding me?
Please tell me that Florida has no unsolved murders, etc. I do not want to think that limited time and resources had been devoted to halting mutually beneficial arrangements rather than solving real crimes and keeping the public safe. The real reason behind the police action: people who are in no way involved or impacted wouldn’t like it if they knew what was happening.
The very rich are different from you and me. Here’s an example.
I’m reminded of the Bill Clinton situation. My beloved late friend, Swann, had been a medic in Vietnam and he spent his well earned retirement in hedonism. When he wasn’t doing something he was talking about it. Of the Clinton cigar scenario. He said:
Swann believed and I concurred, that men behaving badly was the most desirable state of being for most men. Why do Americans pretend otherwise, especially the men. I am not saying that every man would have visited the Florida strip mall, or used the oval office for shenanigans, but I am saying that just about every man would want to do so.
“There ought to be a law”
Have you ever heard the expression “there ought to be a law”? It means that there is a problem in society, a bunch of people are doing something way too much and we have to stop them because the desired actions are hurtful. Look at the laws regarding sex and you will see a list of things that people really want to do but for some reason are forbidding themselves and others
I said earlier people wouldn’t like knowing about the sex but maybe the disapproval is rooted in jealousy. When this list does not involve hurting another person but instead involves feeling pleasure, I have to ask myself why are the men in our society denying themselves the sex they want?