25 October 2017

Suppression of Sexuality Is JesuNazis' Ultimate Purpose

And Far Too Many of Us Underestimate Their Fanaticism and Power

THE WORST PARENTAL BEATINGS I ever received as a child – a succession of three savage assaults that left me so bruised I was not allowed to attend school until the blemishes had faded to near-invisibility – were punishment for having dared study comparative anatomy with other neighborhood children. I was seven years old. My father administered the beatings as my stepmother cheered him on. The fact he was a presumably enlightened Marxist made no difference at all in the depth to which he had absorbed the sadistic anti-sexual hatefulness that is undoubtedly the darkest, most malevolent aspect of the patriarchal psychosis that defines USian consciousness – the festering Abrahamic malevolence now again gleefully resurrected and writ into law and decree by the Trump/Pence Regime, maliciously applauded by every JesuNazi voter and undoubtedly endorsed, often secretly, by an overwhelmingly vast majority of other USians as well.


Ironically I was never more than a peripheral participant in the comparative-anatomy studies for which I was so brutally punished. Pants-down research was vaguely uncomfortable for me because we – a group of kids ages six to eight, three boys, three girls  – conducted our classes in the black-widow, scorpion and poisonous-centipede infested spaces under houses raised two feet off the sandy ground in accordance with wartime 1940s Floridian construction standards. After our activities were discovered – perhaps another story for another time – I was repeatedly beaten until I falsely confessed I had been the chief instigator of such sexual studiousness as had obtained in the Lake Forest neighborhood of Jacksonville c. 1945-1947. My father beat me first with a one-inch hickory dowel, which he broke over my legs. Then he whipped me with a garrison belt. Finally, after he beat me with a steel ruler, I stopped telling the truth and gave him and my stepmother, an allegedly lapsed Southern Baptist, the I'm-an-evil-pervert confession they demanded, thereby confirming my parents' implicitly hateful Loren-is-a-monster fantasy. Thus were the punitively miserable conditions of my life determined until, as an 18-year-old University of Tennessee student, I was hired through the UT employment office as a motel night clerk. That job and my entry into newspaper journalism two years earlier were the greatest blessings of my teenage life. Journalism gave me a permanent sense of purpose, while the motel rescued me from the prison of my father's household and got me a dwelling that was truly my own.


I remember I was not surprised by the beatings. While at age seven I was certainly not sophisticated enough to recognize the wounds inflicted by the fanatical anti-sex hatefulness that defines Abrahamic religion cannot ever be healed – that wisdom was granted me by a (very) brief affair with the rebellious daughter of a Church of God preacher late in my 23rd year – I was nevertheless bright enough to recognize the total rejection expressed by my father's judicially overruled attempt to abandon me in a Virginia state orphanage after my violently schizophrenic mother attempted to murder us both. This was in 1945, eerily enough on the Summer Solstice Eve. My father's reasoning was of course that given my genetically defective mother, I too was genetically defective, and from that moment onward – despite our father-son closeness in prior years – I was literally a despised child, or as I came to think of myself after a beloved English Setter was euthanized for protecting me from a stepmotherly assault,“a dog nobody wanted.”


Such trauma – as a result of which much of my teenage sexuality was edged with reflexive fear – cannot ever be overcome, though the exquisite joy of sex had purged it from my conscious mind and presumably neutralized (most of) its crippling influence well before my 21st birthday. But the anti-sex torment the Trump/Pence Regime is sadistically inflicting on an imprisoned 17-year-old in Texas, the young woman known to the courts and the mostly porno-minded public as “J.D.,” somehow brought all that 1947 horror back into infuriatingly vivid recollection, including...

(To read the rest, go here or here.) 
 

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