Dear Rauan,…(4)
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[ helping people sometimes can be painful, yet liberating, but, as usual, I am here to help, in all my subtlety, & potency ]
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and this time we have Ariel from Denver:
dear rauan,
is it a good idea to castrate Patriarchy’s henchmen like Blake Butler, Rauan Klassnik, and Johannes Göransson? Some idiots say they’re exploring the darker side of human nature through an exaggerated male “lens” but I know in my soul that these guys are just straight-up misogynists.
I must confess, though, that one time I dreamed these three “doods” were forcing themselves on me (boot in the face, the Svelte Swede, and all that) and I woke up orgasming as hard as I’ve ever.
but tell me, dear rauan, should we castrate these vermins?
thank you in advance,
Ariel T.
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And, so–
Rauan Responds:
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Dear Ariel,
1) When I get questions like this I go outside, sit on the porch, put my feet up and hold desperately on to a quietly-rusting glass of lemonade.
2) There’s a chain-gang of God-Angels singing above the Amazon—matrons of dough—loafing about with shirt sleeves rolled up in the market’s butcher’s stalls. And I find this quite charming. And this floods through me a great trembling urge to self-castrate. And then I sit around, nurturingly, and weave some baskets.
3) Zulu warriors, fearsome creatures, believe with their semen that they are kindling fire inside their wives’ wombs. And, yet, wildfires have ravaged South Africa. And, yet, I’m the blackbird perched on the wires screaming “No! No! No!” and, sometimes, “Yes! Yes! Yes!—I don’t need these filthy balls,” blah, blah, yeah, yeah, ra, ra
4) In the twisted precincts of glaring “male” desire it’s strange what a man remembers: as a small boy I loved nothing more than when my dad took me to the equivalent of Johannesburg’s Texas State Fair. And there in the stockyards surrounded by big-blue, bleeding jacarandas I was transfixed, gorgeously, by the great spectacles of enormous God-like bulls—and their enormous God-like balls. And, o, God, they were beautiful. And, o, God, they were as smooth and cool as fountain sculpture.
5) But, let me tell you about my brother’s bris (circumcision) which I recall quite well (I was 15 at the time). The Rabbi looked absolutely famished and totally insatiate. And my brother was screaming like a bag full of bright-red cherries that the Rabbi, with immense control, ate one by one.
6) Everyone should fuck a knife at least once or twice in their life. Or shove their balls back into their body. Or rape their nipples. (then I’m sure we’d have a much happier world).
7) And, finally, consider that species of fish where the male, at the first sign of danger, sucks his spawn into the church-safety of his big, sharp mouth. (yawn)
glad I could help,
Rauan
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archives:
dear rauan 1 … is global warming making men more horny?
dear rauan 2 … how would I go about writing for htmlgiant?
dear rauan 3 … alt lit / ball-licking / tao lin … ?
Tags: Dear Rauan
You misspelled “farmisht” as “famished.”
Sausage espionage.