We can’t help what we like. Personally, I enjoy running my thumbnail underneath my toenails. Can’t get enough. Gross, right? It gets to the point where I become fixated on it every time I am sitting around without socks on until I finally walk into the bathroom and clip them. It’s the same idea as a junkie flushing the last of his stash down the toilet and declaring proudly, “Never again.” And when I do clip the nails, I basically try to erase them. I’ll clip my pinkie toenail down to a stub that looks like it could either be the remnants of a nail or possibly a shiny wart. Nothing more than a nub on the end of the seemingly useless, but actually essential, toe at the short end of the line.
Everyone has little quirks and proclivities which are innate and inerasable that we aren’t particularly proud of. We can’t help what we like. I like booze, even though it’s bad for me. Some people like huffing. Some people pay street-walkers for handjobs underneath an overpass. We don’t do these things because we think other people will think us “cool,” quite the opposite in some cases, but we can’t help it. That’s the way we’re built. It’s with this in mind that I have grown a pity for a section of society that continually gets shit on unanimously in civilized societies: Pedophiles.
The inherent misuse of trust, psychological torment, and physical pain that can be involved with pedophilia is unable to be ignored. It’s terrible. Boinking a kid is bad, no matter which way you look at it (unless it’s an 18-year-old high school senior having sex with their consenting 17-year-old high school senior partner. That’s totally fine and should not be considered a “sex crime”). Let me be clear that I don’t support pedophilia and am not making excuses for it.
Now that that’s out of the way; I feel bad for pedophiles. You can’t help liking what you like. Feeling the inclination to fuck a kid and actually fucking a kid are quite a bit different from each other, though. People who like the taste of meat can still be vegetarians. There are ways around many things. Vegetarians can buy hamburger meat made from soy and still whip up a tasty burger. Likewise, pedophiles can fuck a twink that looks like he’s thirteen while actually being 25.
But the physical act is not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the desire. There are people out there, working a normal 9-5 office job before going home to their family in a quaint three-bedroom ranch-style house and kissing their wives goodnight all while picturing an eight-grader bent over the hood of their station wagon. It happens. Probably a lot more than we think. And that would be absolutely terrible.
Picture this: Cheetos are made from the eyeballs of South American indigent children. They taste fucking great, but being seen eating a bag of them is met with scorn, ostracization, and prison sentences. You find yourself eating Doritos, but you can’t stop thinking about how fucking great Cheetos are. All snacks you find can’t match up to it. You fixate on it. Even finding a picture of someone eating Cheetos might satisfy your hunger, so you scour the internet, getting deeper and deeper into the dark side until you get a computer virus and your monitor explodes. Then what do you do? You either fly to Mexico and speak with a coke dealer outside of a whorehouse after the donkey show trying to secure a bag, or you sit uncomfortably throughout your life knowing that you’ll never experience the true happiness that your are hard-wired to desire.
That sounds pretty terrible, right? Ever seen Lord of the Rings? Remember how Golem lost his fucking mind looking for that goddamn ring? Fucking a kid is the ring to a pedophile. They know it will only destroy them, but they can’t help wanting it.
My roommate just sent me a link to this story in The Onion that sums it up pretty well. Apparently I’m not the only pedophile-sympathizer. Wait, that sounds really bad. “Sympathizer” might not be the correct term. I’ll say that while I don’t “sympathize” with them, I can at least see where they are coming from. Wait, that doesn’t sound right, either. Shit.
Honestly, I don’t want to fuck kids.
I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I don’t want to fuck kids. I DON’T WANT TO FUCK KIDS. I DON’T WANT TO FUCK KIDS. I DON’T WANT TO FUCK KIDS. I DON’T WANT TO—