Post by Raenius on Sept 16, 2009 20:45:34 GMT -5
Nyx and Stones…
They say that cats can see in the dark. Must be a handy skill, wouldn’t you think?
I mean, how many people do you think suffer from Nyctophobia? It boggles the mind to think about how many people worldwide are afraid of the dark. Let alone how many children are.
Got me to thinking, though. How many people are scared of the dark… compared to being scared of the unknown?
Perhaps it’s not the darkness, or what goes on in the darkness that frightens us, but the fact that we don’t know. Could be nothing. Could be something. Would be great to have a cat’s eyes, hmm? Maybe we wouldn’t want to see what was going on. Maybe it would scar us to see.
I looked it up, briefly, the fear of the unknown. You know, there isn’t a name for it?
The closest one can get to the fear of the unknown is Xenophobia. Which, technically, means “a dislike and/or fear of that which is unknown or different from oneself.” Or maybe the closest term would be would be Panophobia. Fear of everything.
They have a name for the fear of Friday the Thirteenth. “Paraskavedekatriaphobia.”
They have “Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia” as the term for fear of the number six-six-six.
Yet they don’t have a specific term for the fear of the unknown? Jokers.
I think that I’m afraid of Raenius because of this. Just since I don’t know him at all, really. I never have. By the looks of how he operates, I doubt I ever will. And I remember what Kiri used to say about him. That every single day he wakes up with a blank slate. Every single day he reinvents himself based on the goings on around him at any given time. Thing is, he’s been living this life that he’s chosen for a long time and, mostly, it turns him into the same man day in and day out. But sometimes…
Sometimes, who knows what he’ll be.
Kiri used to say that she had to get to know him every single day, and only at the end of every single day could she say whether or not she liked him.
Never once did she dislike him.
You know the term for the fear of long words? Fucking “Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia”.
I’m not bullshitting, look it up. The poor sons of bitches who suffer from it can’t even tell people what it is that they suffer from.
Charles Darwin said, “Fear is often preceded by astonishment, and is so far akin to it, that both lead to the senses of sight and hearing being instantly aroused.”
Living this life with Raenius keeps me aroused…
--------
The Wages of Syn
“Silent Screams” is what it was called, I believe.
Pictures accosted me and I found that I looked at them, not out of shock or perversion… but simply out of curiosity. Since I found out that Raenius watches BDSM pornography most nights, not to pleasure himself sexually, but mentally, I’ve been a tad fascinated about it. When I walked in on him sitting in his armchair, PC hooked up to the 43-inch wide screen television before him, watching an Asian woman being hung by the throat on a rope that was, quite skilfully it seemed, wrapped around her neck, breasts, waist and vagina all at once. There he sat, watching away at the brutality of the woman get slapped around the face and tits by three men and spinning helplessly in circles… just drinking a beer. Took me a couple of horrific seconds to realise that he had his eyes closed and wasn’t, in fact, masturbating or even touching himself in the slightest.
When I saw that the door was open last night, a dull glow emanating from the room, I knocked softly and asked if anyone was there. No response. So, like anyone would, I walked on in and to hell with the privacy of my employer. No Raenius, just empty beer bottles, his Kabuki mask and a bucket hat. No pervert is complete without a trench coat and a bucket hat, he’d told me before.
I looked at the screen and couldn’t help myself but scroll down and have a look.
A woman having her head held back while some man pissed on her face and breasts. All the while pissing on the man’s hand that was holding her.
Some sort of suction device over an Indian-looking woman’s cunt, making it bulge outwards and fill a see-through, cup-like device.
Pierced fanny flaps being pulled backwards so that a purple, rubber set of cock and balls can be inserted roughly, no doubt destroying the cervix.
Two cocks, each the size of my arm, entering a woman’s mouth and forcing her to gag. Mousetraps on her tits.
A man wrapped in rope getting his penis stabbed.
A girl whose six-studded nipple had a syringe sticking through it, and two hands being inserted into her up to the wrists by two men wearing Nazi uniforms. While a woman in the same uniform placed a plastic bag over the girl’s head because being double-fisted just wasn’t enough, it seems.
Meanwhile in the background, two different windows playing two different videos together, some porn star named Lea Lexis gets “fucked on a billiard table” and a thing called “cage fisting” where some Japanese woman gets an arm up her to the elbow and thrown around a Hell in a Cell type of structure that was a bed rather than a wrestling ring.
I began to shut down the computer and turn the screen and speakers off. Though, as I did my managerial duty – which means, at least as far as Raenius is concerned, cleaning up his messes, forcing him to remember that he’s a human being, interacting with other people on his behalf because he can’t be trusted not to be a dickhead for any longer than thirty seconds at a time and basically running his life for him – I couldn’t help but think of Travis Roberts.
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Any time Roberts speaks to anyone, it’s… well… weird. It feels perverse to watch and listen to. Like I’m watching some teenager having awkward, first-time sex in his bedroom, trying to be quiet so that his mammy wont hear downstairs.
But for all of his third-person rambling and egotistical assholeitry, he’s been the best around here for a long time. Raenius is no stranger to main events or titles or being an asshole… but his mental state has changed so much over the past two years and it’s difficult to see where he’ll end up.
I have faith in him, our Devil’s Advocate, even though I know that Nyx doesn’t. She thinks he needs to be the evil he used to be way back when in order to succeed more. Thing is, though, and it’s a thing that she doesn’t understand… he doesn’t need to succeed. This, to him, isn’t a career, or therapy or anything. It’s just who he is. It’s something that cannot be changed.
So all we can do is our job.
And clean up his messes.
---
Heresy Whore
The Koran starts off by telling people that it was written, by God, for those who “believe in the unseen and are steadfast in prayer” or some nonsense. The very first line is “This book is not to be doubted.”
It then goes on to say that unbelievers are so forever and that cannot be changed, and not to try to tell them the word of God because;
“God has set a seal upon their hearts and ears; their sight is dimmed and grievous punishment awaits them.”
So. We’re fucked, then. So much for being converted or being saved. Nope. That’s not on, says Allah. We’re fucked from day one and nothing can change that. Because God has shit upon our hearing and our eyes. Awful beneficent, hmm? But still Muslims go about converting people and preaching the name of Allah and the ways of Islam.
Makes you wonder what other epic cock-ups religion has wrought, doesn’t it?
No, me neither. But I did consider for about fourteen or fifteen minutes today while I drove to the shop for more beer that… what if Jesus Christ wasn’t the messiah at all?
For argument’s sake, for shits and giggles, for whatever reason, let’s say that the Bible is all one hundred percent true. Jesus turned water into lemonade, turned a fish and a loaf into a family bucket from KFC and all that other good shit. Then big Judas shafted him up the asshole.
Jesus suffered for a bit, died, came back to life and handed out Easter eggs to people in a bunny costume, y’know, living the life. While Judas? He suffered after his conscience kicked in. He suffered so much he offed himself. His money falling to the ground in an epic slow mo, film-like motion. Then? Hell. For eternity.
But apparently this was all preordained. All events led, inexorably, to that situation. Jesus? He gets the bitches, the rides and the moneys. Judas gets to lick shit off a giant, hairy cock in Hell forever and ever. If God made Judas do that because he controls all and it was necessary in order for Jesus to die, rise again, then vanish, beginning a whole mess of religions around the guy, then why the fuck should Judas be punished so? Shouldn’t, in fact, he be the messiah? For doing God’s bidding, single-handedly bringing about God’s son’s fame and notoriety? For suffering and sacrificing all in order to do His will?
And nuns? Nuns are, supposedly, brides of Christ.
How many fucking wives does the guy need!? And I’m only allowed one!? Fuck that, man, I call bullshit on that.
That’s the part where I had to shift my concentration to getting my wallet out and forking over obscene amounts of money for even more obscene amounts of booze.
The guy at the counter asked me if I was nervous about taking on Robert Travison or whoever the fuck.
I don’t think I answered him.
They say that cats can see in the dark. Must be a handy skill, wouldn’t you think?
I mean, how many people do you think suffer from Nyctophobia? It boggles the mind to think about how many people worldwide are afraid of the dark. Let alone how many children are.
Got me to thinking, though. How many people are scared of the dark… compared to being scared of the unknown?
Perhaps it’s not the darkness, or what goes on in the darkness that frightens us, but the fact that we don’t know. Could be nothing. Could be something. Would be great to have a cat’s eyes, hmm? Maybe we wouldn’t want to see what was going on. Maybe it would scar us to see.
I looked it up, briefly, the fear of the unknown. You know, there isn’t a name for it?
The closest one can get to the fear of the unknown is Xenophobia. Which, technically, means “a dislike and/or fear of that which is unknown or different from oneself.” Or maybe the closest term would be would be Panophobia. Fear of everything.
They have a name for the fear of Friday the Thirteenth. “Paraskavedekatriaphobia.”
They have “Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia” as the term for fear of the number six-six-six.
Yet they don’t have a specific term for the fear of the unknown? Jokers.
I think that I’m afraid of Raenius because of this. Just since I don’t know him at all, really. I never have. By the looks of how he operates, I doubt I ever will. And I remember what Kiri used to say about him. That every single day he wakes up with a blank slate. Every single day he reinvents himself based on the goings on around him at any given time. Thing is, he’s been living this life that he’s chosen for a long time and, mostly, it turns him into the same man day in and day out. But sometimes…
Sometimes, who knows what he’ll be.
Kiri used to say that she had to get to know him every single day, and only at the end of every single day could she say whether or not she liked him.
Never once did she dislike him.
You know the term for the fear of long words? Fucking “Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia”.
I’m not bullshitting, look it up. The poor sons of bitches who suffer from it can’t even tell people what it is that they suffer from.
Charles Darwin said, “Fear is often preceded by astonishment, and is so far akin to it, that both lead to the senses of sight and hearing being instantly aroused.”
Living this life with Raenius keeps me aroused…
--------
The Wages of Syn
“Silent Screams” is what it was called, I believe.
Pictures accosted me and I found that I looked at them, not out of shock or perversion… but simply out of curiosity. Since I found out that Raenius watches BDSM pornography most nights, not to pleasure himself sexually, but mentally, I’ve been a tad fascinated about it. When I walked in on him sitting in his armchair, PC hooked up to the 43-inch wide screen television before him, watching an Asian woman being hung by the throat on a rope that was, quite skilfully it seemed, wrapped around her neck, breasts, waist and vagina all at once. There he sat, watching away at the brutality of the woman get slapped around the face and tits by three men and spinning helplessly in circles… just drinking a beer. Took me a couple of horrific seconds to realise that he had his eyes closed and wasn’t, in fact, masturbating or even touching himself in the slightest.
When I saw that the door was open last night, a dull glow emanating from the room, I knocked softly and asked if anyone was there. No response. So, like anyone would, I walked on in and to hell with the privacy of my employer. No Raenius, just empty beer bottles, his Kabuki mask and a bucket hat. No pervert is complete without a trench coat and a bucket hat, he’d told me before.
I looked at the screen and couldn’t help myself but scroll down and have a look.
A woman having her head held back while some man pissed on her face and breasts. All the while pissing on the man’s hand that was holding her.
Some sort of suction device over an Indian-looking woman’s cunt, making it bulge outwards and fill a see-through, cup-like device.
Pierced fanny flaps being pulled backwards so that a purple, rubber set of cock and balls can be inserted roughly, no doubt destroying the cervix.
Two cocks, each the size of my arm, entering a woman’s mouth and forcing her to gag. Mousetraps on her tits.
A man wrapped in rope getting his penis stabbed.
A girl whose six-studded nipple had a syringe sticking through it, and two hands being inserted into her up to the wrists by two men wearing Nazi uniforms. While a woman in the same uniform placed a plastic bag over the girl’s head because being double-fisted just wasn’t enough, it seems.
Meanwhile in the background, two different windows playing two different videos together, some porn star named Lea Lexis gets “fucked on a billiard table” and a thing called “cage fisting” where some Japanese woman gets an arm up her to the elbow and thrown around a Hell in a Cell type of structure that was a bed rather than a wrestling ring.
I began to shut down the computer and turn the screen and speakers off. Though, as I did my managerial duty – which means, at least as far as Raenius is concerned, cleaning up his messes, forcing him to remember that he’s a human being, interacting with other people on his behalf because he can’t be trusted not to be a dickhead for any longer than thirty seconds at a time and basically running his life for him – I couldn’t help but think of Travis Roberts.
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Any time Roberts speaks to anyone, it’s… well… weird. It feels perverse to watch and listen to. Like I’m watching some teenager having awkward, first-time sex in his bedroom, trying to be quiet so that his mammy wont hear downstairs.
But for all of his third-person rambling and egotistical assholeitry, he’s been the best around here for a long time. Raenius is no stranger to main events or titles or being an asshole… but his mental state has changed so much over the past two years and it’s difficult to see where he’ll end up.
I have faith in him, our Devil’s Advocate, even though I know that Nyx doesn’t. She thinks he needs to be the evil he used to be way back when in order to succeed more. Thing is, though, and it’s a thing that she doesn’t understand… he doesn’t need to succeed. This, to him, isn’t a career, or therapy or anything. It’s just who he is. It’s something that cannot be changed.
So all we can do is our job.
And clean up his messes.
---
Heresy Whore
The Koran starts off by telling people that it was written, by God, for those who “believe in the unseen and are steadfast in prayer” or some nonsense. The very first line is “This book is not to be doubted.”
It then goes on to say that unbelievers are so forever and that cannot be changed, and not to try to tell them the word of God because;
“God has set a seal upon their hearts and ears; their sight is dimmed and grievous punishment awaits them.”
So. We’re fucked, then. So much for being converted or being saved. Nope. That’s not on, says Allah. We’re fucked from day one and nothing can change that. Because God has shit upon our hearing and our eyes. Awful beneficent, hmm? But still Muslims go about converting people and preaching the name of Allah and the ways of Islam.
Makes you wonder what other epic cock-ups religion has wrought, doesn’t it?
No, me neither. But I did consider for about fourteen or fifteen minutes today while I drove to the shop for more beer that… what if Jesus Christ wasn’t the messiah at all?
For argument’s sake, for shits and giggles, for whatever reason, let’s say that the Bible is all one hundred percent true. Jesus turned water into lemonade, turned a fish and a loaf into a family bucket from KFC and all that other good shit. Then big Judas shafted him up the asshole.
Jesus suffered for a bit, died, came back to life and handed out Easter eggs to people in a bunny costume, y’know, living the life. While Judas? He suffered after his conscience kicked in. He suffered so much he offed himself. His money falling to the ground in an epic slow mo, film-like motion. Then? Hell. For eternity.
But apparently this was all preordained. All events led, inexorably, to that situation. Jesus? He gets the bitches, the rides and the moneys. Judas gets to lick shit off a giant, hairy cock in Hell forever and ever. If God made Judas do that because he controls all and it was necessary in order for Jesus to die, rise again, then vanish, beginning a whole mess of religions around the guy, then why the fuck should Judas be punished so? Shouldn’t, in fact, he be the messiah? For doing God’s bidding, single-handedly bringing about God’s son’s fame and notoriety? For suffering and sacrificing all in order to do His will?
And nuns? Nuns are, supposedly, brides of Christ.
How many fucking wives does the guy need!? And I’m only allowed one!? Fuck that, man, I call bullshit on that.
That’s the part where I had to shift my concentration to getting my wallet out and forking over obscene amounts of money for even more obscene amounts of booze.
The guy at the counter asked me if I was nervous about taking on Robert Travison or whoever the fuck.
I don’t think I answered him.