Shorn Enough

*author's note: My original title was 'Jesus donkey-raping Christ: Post Modern Hobo'. It has a better flow to it, a more eloquent cadence. However, were such a man to succumb to the lustful yearnings of bestiality (and, given the time period and abundance of said options, who wouldn't?) I'd like to think that ol' J-dog would be a considerate animal lover. Now I know that it's widely debated among top scientists & my relatives as to whether or not consensual love-making can exist between man and beast, but that's not what we're dealing with today. The issue is, if Jesus Christ were to place his erect member into a nearby cloven creature, he would no doubt do so tenderly, and with consent. Believe me, if there's one thing Christ-y McNichol stood for, it's NO raping (this is why SVU’s Det. Stabler has a tattoo of Captain Miracle on his arm).
Also, all the donkeys in Jerusalem were total sluts.

My mind is capable of going pretty far down some pretty dark roads. I can indulge long, complex, detailed thoughts of many horrors that Republicans spend hush money on without hesitation. There are, however, certain topics; certain landmarks, traffic signs, roadside attractions, which when come upon during said travels down said dark roads, cause rapid deceleration, or even the immediacy of the mental emergency brake. This intrigues me.
Like bestiality. There is a very limited time frame with which I can give bestiality my rapt attention. Sure, I can begin to imagine a sheep's vagina, and I can picture myself standing behind it, contemplative, aloof.... but that's about it. I can take the exit, stop at the light, look in either direction, but then it's right back on the interstate.
Incest is even worse. I see the approaching off-way for incest, and I glance at it, but I can't even slow down to properly read the signs. Meaning, I picture a close relative and the word floats past their head, and suddenly I go blind for 8 seconds and my asshole explodes.
Now it's probably for the best that these built in fail-safes work so well. Your body is supposed to keep you from making these mistakes. The scent of your immediate family's body odor and waste is meant to turn you away, as opposed to the way that a potential mate's natural musk can arouse you. I'm not saying that without these safety mechanisms I'd be knocking out the extremely local ass, but just that my mind doesn't respond to mere attempts at peering into these torrid worlds without an onset of Stevie Wonder diarrhea.

What I find odd are the areas where the roadblocks do NOT appear. If I were to delve into daydreams of trespassing and theft, I wouldn't blink at the mass of creative insight. I don't even need to begin to go into the levels of compromise and depravity certain sexual fantasies are capable of realizing. The one I find most disconcerting is the depth of the exploration of murder.
I can think about murdering someone for far too long, and in far too much detail. The preparation, the kill, the clean-up... and not just the basics. There could be levels of torture involved, provided I imagine the victim as deserving (according to the arbitrary standards of morality in my head movies). Not just physical, but emotional and sexual (I could make a quick visit to a rest stop, to mix the metaphor with reality), maybe grinding on the man's lap and nibbling his ear between slaps and ripped toenails (please ignore this), and my mind would continue said viciousness until I got bored or was interrupted by that commercial where the hamster is playing drums on the street.

A person should absolutely be able to imagine making love to a sheep before they can think about killing someone. This seems like a no-brainer (actually, I guess it's very much a brainer). People have been fucking sheep since the beginning of sheep (or people), and it is a pastime that has survived every form of civilization we've created. Human beings have been fucking their relatives throughout history as well, sometimes to great success (with the exception of Charles II of Spain). I'm not trying to encourage bestiality or incest, and I'm far from an advocate of either. What I'm struggling to arrive at is that Jesus would have mounted a sheep before he took a life (or at least he should have, if I'm reading it right). And maybe he did.
Old Floaty Toes was an odd duck. People were unsure about him, this drifter with a posse and propensity for the meek. I suppose he was by definition a hobo (tramps only work when forced to, and bums don't work at all), as it seems that he worked in carpentry most of his life. I mean, he probably had more going for him than most other kids in the neighborhood, but look where it got him.

Imagine the brief excitement that followed Christ throughout the biblical ghettos. The way a child is foolishly told that they can be president, there must have been a time where it was almost practical to believe that you could be the Messiah. That could have been nice. There aren’t many tangible dreams for poor kids.

It amazes me how people are continually incapable of comprehending the lack of options presented to those born into poverty. Your first few years, whatever you see around you is an utterly absolute portrayal of the world. Once that is indelibly ingrained into your psyche, you progress into actually learning what said surroundings mean, how they work, what your function is within them. By the time you're getting your shit together, seeing the real world, possibly attending a broken school long enough to be discouraged, then it's time to join the ranks of a society that has predisposed notions of your lack of ability and self respect. Lower class kids don't stand a chance, and when your viable options are next to nothing, then you could start murdering & fucking your cousins & pets.

That's not fair. International royalty has probably defiled as many kinfolk and critters (although when it comes to Charles II of Spain there's not much difference, Whammy!) as the downtrodden have throughout time. Well, probably not by sheer numbers, but there's just so many poor people. How are they supposed to grow out of it?

The fact that these indiscretions have survived as they have means nothing. Human beings haven't grown or evolved, not really. Oh sure, every once in awhile we create new ideas of civility and propriety, and adapt whimsical facades of domestication, but all in vain. We've mastered the art of advancing our toys and distractions from mortality, and created an almost never-ending, perhaps Ouroboric, progression of technology and industry... but it's the wrong kind of progress. Human evolution has become a failure for the simple reason that we haven't evolved our humanity. Ideals of community and shared experience and flat out common decency have been defeated by modern capitalism. Christ-ina Reach-y hangs his head in shame (as do I for that painful Jesus pun).

Where can it possibly go from here? Try as I might to access an area of my imagination where optimism for humanity makes sense, I just can't. Too many roadblocks. Here, I'll try again... no, nobody will properly fund green technology... no, people love their cars, mass transit won't catch on... get that sheep out of here... nuh-uh, military bases provide too many jobs, what else... ... oh, hey Aunt Sue, what're you- gah, I'm Helen Keller and I can't stop shitting!

When I consider all of this; that the current evolution of our species disinterests me; that the sick and the poor will likely be left to suffer and die; that human beings can more easily imagine taking a life before relinquishing their property; that people who fuck animals and their relatives are shunned without any attempt at understanding... I can't help but realize that it kind of comes across like I really want your permission to fuck a sheep.