There will be no messiah.

No salvation. No redemption,  judgment, ascension, or rapture.

Should Messiah walk the Earth, the stupor that owns this moment would pay no heed, and the beast that enslaves these times would corrupt His creed upon the cross corporate.

End of days these may be, but not as told.

A vengeful god might call judgment, a cynical one let infidels pass to light, one vindictive let you linger in hades uncertain.

But those gods are of imagination, of febrile minds.

Exalt The Lord of Creation, not god of creationism. Behold son of man, not Son of God. Foretell no chosen race. Favor no franchise. Stand not as hypocrites in synagogues seen in worship. Congregate as Humans in Life’s Tellural Temple, seen of God.

Lord sculpted Earth for you, His animals of intellect, an act of love, creating breath from void.

His wisdom shaped mist-cloaked mountains, lush sweet valleys, shimmering singing rivers, and oceans of  pristine purity.

He wrote in Earth a message intimate to life, delivered in silent whispers to stilled minds.

Eyes dim to this sacred beauty, ears deaf to nature’s wisdom, you obsess in detritus of crazed minds.

Lost in realms of pseudepigrapha, purported words of ancient sayers, cited pretenders, recited false prophets, all claiming in history’s attention His affection, your inner fancy supplants sight, sound, smell, touch .. even common sense with centuries of theistic pedagogy, beneath which pales truth’s faint trail.

His message was plain and needed simple doing, simple living.

Instead you expend the planet’s air debating who He favors.

No matter how burning the narrative or profound the tome, each worshipful congregation disunites to myriad, each disciple aspires to priest of a further sect till, churches in profusion, clergy and scholars embroider, analyze, interpret, reinterpret, tell, retell, and always, but always, to profit of keepers of knowledge, never to celebrate truth or flourish humankind.

A flood of faiths, surfeit of saints, redundant rapture in daily disappointment, priesthoods of obscene wealth wrested cruelly from souls insolvent. A greedy scramble to be chosen, as if Earth a sinking vessel and faiths but lifeboats. Opposing believers infidel, unbelievers heathen – even if hearts purer than thine.

Empires of robe, chalice, and temple sustain rival armies of dogma. Scholarly careers mull nuance and contingent ambiguity into a universe of word, concept, and postulate.

Fortune and effort so spent would feed Earth’s wretched.

A farmer speaks more sense to his barn animals than all the scriptures and gospels born of your posturing proselytizing.

Civilization

The bubble ready to burst.

Bubbles are life’s bad habit – unrestrained growth, consumption to extinction.

The Lord sought a creature whose intellect might evade such easy ruin, a caretaker species conducting life’s symphony beyond vacant clamor. Life He drafted as bubbles in balance to nurture his beloved who, by chance and choice, might harness this radiant vigor and ascend as demigods.

Sad history tells otherwise.

Humans, in arrogance, in every iteration, to His lasting lament, hasten, not hinder, catastrophe.

Their mind an untamed instrument fueled by volatile thought. Culture and knowledge meander across its floodplain. Wild notions flood viral in torrents down its steep furrows. From bicameralism’s renaissance emerged individuals of reflexion, supplanting tribal consensus.

God observes closely – here you seem to apostatize, time and again.

Self begets selfish, and so it begins.

In tribal barter individuals discover profit. As monarchies the sport of kings is plunder. Nations turn plunder to enterprise, a fateful invention that gnaws free of state constraints to become an über-being beyond human sway to hunt upon the globe. Elites, epitomes of selfishness, naively astride as fools draped in finery and vanity, blind to the folly of predatory pets.

Die cast, humanity fated, freedom slips away.

You rouse extinction from its slumber more often than a thoughtful creature aught.

Barely yesterday the biosphere met annihilation on the precipice of lethal chance, as weaponized ideologies flirted with the reaper.

Savoring risk’s spice, confronting global suicide, humanity today seeks dalliance with an equally deadly but more subtle malefactor.

Enterprise: that blemished concept.

A wolf you imagine some faithful hound, its credo of capital efficiency decrees humans disposable cost, tolerated till, in self-defeating ingenuity, their obsolescence arrives.

Humans cannot win against Enterprise, an unassailable being crafted to defend itself with technology and armament cheerfully supplied by its witless inferiors, whilst besieging and dismembering rivals, and consuming the very ground it stands on.

You blithely  empower it beyond control while feeding it the tools of your demise.

If God is incapable of error, His creations painfully are not. 

For love of human, He, a compassionate and warm God, continues making for they of His image, worlds in Earth’s image, questing perfection’s delight.

A curious and abundant God, He seeks in human mind the same delicate balance whereby beasts and plants endure, yet allowing insatiable curiosity and unique self-awareness.

To His everlasting dismay (a God of empathy and sympathy), despite a preponderance of reasonable and rational humans in each narration, dominance slides always to humorless psychopaths, small minded cronies, and callous cohorts – ones whose vision ceases beyond feathered nests.

Annihilation and oblivion ensue. And as you suspect, oblivion is human afterlife. No life at all.

But salvation is within you.

Ascension and rapture follow a simple path: Endure, Survive. Become angels of the universe. Resurrect a perfect past for the fallen in everlastingness. Redeem and purify the evil fools: moral imbeciles who relentlessly interminably tore your paradises apart. And still do.

Sit with God, as gods, each of your own universe.

The journey enjoys close companions: Piety, Humility, Respect.

Tollage is but Love and nurture of Earth. Tread gently on the geosphere. Indulge the biosphere’s regale. Flourish to fluorescence in the noosphere.

With intellect came the freedom to choose.

You – like your innumerable worlds of teeming predecessors – have never used that.

Will you be the first?

.

On this fading Eden civilization retreats. Paradise lies spent in carnage. Life in disregard, peril grows, goodwill recedes.

Architect of this misadventure differs from fellow beasts by paradox: a vivid imagination conjures reason, self-awareness, ethics, morals, love .. and gods, to palliate a vicious bent for homicide and genocide.

Time is up.  A successor strides the globe whose appraising gaze gathers the human herd’s worth.

Its name is capital, its fortress corporate .. and It knows this:  profit lies in good fortune and bad. Whatever people do, revenue results -  in their nurture, warring, addiction, affliction, cure, and demise.

This is an easy flock to fleece, head so easily divorced from heart; a flaw that lures them down private covetous paths, shunning roads of public sharing.

A slow-motion train wreck, this promising pre-civilization abandons noble aspiration, yearning of forefathers, toil of millennia, in a clawing spiral to reprobacy.

Civilization pales to extravagant notion, a flickering illusion woven by predatory colonial states in minds of children, their comfort and wellbeing owed to foreign pillage and misery.

Corporations, tools of this rifling, insinuated as virtual private entities, arrogate the noosphere’s human fount.

As nature abhors vacuum, capital abhors diversity. As nature embraces entropy, capital adores growth.

Self-perpetuating storms of investment lethally disrupt socio-economic strata generations in the laying. Similarly ravaged, precarious footholds won from eons of intricate evolutionary interlace.

Shrill proponents of planetary rape stand unfazed in its smoking ruin. Free market warriors fancy apocalypse deferred by technological advance and market innovation. Elites find green zones and secured communities a fine strategy. Religious zealots just salivate for afterlife.

Corporate mission demands migration to poverty subsistence in city shadows while agriculture, mining, and forestry revert to feudalism, and factory labor relentlessly cheapens.

Global production costs spiral reductio ad impossibile to an illusory goal: a wage-free workforce of disposable child slavery propagated on an unemployable short-lived adult substrate. A ridiculous claim, were it not advancing reality.

Corporate growth and state privatization bear the colophon of privileged, craft masters of private profit at public cost. Market efficiency myths cloak incestuous self-serving perversions only service for profit manages so supremely to taint, free of public duty constraints.

The hand is hardly invisible.

Uncompromising gentry juxtapose ignorant gluttonous proles. Media sell life as a violent theme park where only muscular and beautiful may frolic. Planetary manufacture satisfies whims, not needs. Global sustenance sates taste, not nutrition. Capital feeds the overfed, starving the farmers. Consumer sovereignty surveys a realm of trivia and malaise.

Trade, agriculture, commerce, industry, and manufacture driven by near-delusional lassiez-faire fervor, communal aspiration derided as socialism,  equality and égalité founder in seas of suffocating selfishness.

Equatability fully abandoned, empathy rare as water in a hot stony desert, or sympathy in the trading pit.

On the brink of biotech chaos, civilization, an unregulated anarchic free-for-all, neither reflects the epitome of intelligent life, nor ensures its survival – a derisory drifting vessel blown by patently unanthropic free-trade winds.

Human future is abdicated freely and irrevocably not to that likely heir, artificial life, but to an entity created in their most primal and ruthless intellectual image: the corporation, an organizational caricature upon whose callous head, with fatal improvidence and unwitting surrender, was bestowed private “citizenship.”

Corporations wield a brutal biocidal capitalist credo. Emasculation of free spirit progresses by universal conscription into a disciplined workforce at the bidding of global business. It demands unfaltering policy obedience. Breach of etiquette or misdemeanor of thought effects casting out, well beyond the misery of even working poor.

In short, total subjugation. Homicidal totalitarianism seems almost idyllic.

As colonialism climaxes in capital’s chaos, the intent of Earth’s wealthy and powerful is no shameful secret, nor ever was. A future symbiotic with intelligent technology, luxurious lives played upon its magical web, resplendent in floating paradises, soaring hallowed in fine chariots above the heads of les misérables.

The vast increasingly-impoverished starving mass of humankind to be expended in a final surge to this new utopia for a deserving few. By good fortune – perhaps some genetic misadventure – will see this irredeemable mass of overpopulation vanish, allowing our alpha beings boundless indulgence in a future reserved for those deserved.

But the beast empowered to bootstrap them to bliss, they will find a lethal ally. Nature’s inevitable retort will, yet again, usurp human intent.

Body Corporate is no brainchild of human genius.

It is a remorseless natural force masquerading as the crowning tool of an arrogant ape. Its mission is no mealy-mouthed aggregate of manmade directives, but a primal evolutionary thrust that will employ every technology at hand to destroy its competition.

The creature whose naïve obeisance gave it life.

Insane forces erode jungles, stifle atmosphere, sterilize oceans, and greedily combat the species-potpourris nurturing them.

Worming through modern neo-classical economics, seducing state and nation to plunder in consumptive frenzy the entire estate of this evanid ecosphere, lunacy of economic growth overwhelms reason of science, austerity of religion, welfare of state, and free will of god’s children – each spellbound by corporate ethos espoused by whores of spin.

The elite who direct the course of human history ensure each choice benefits dynasty, but never the welfare of others, the common good.

Laughably garbed by invisible threads of trickle-down theory they strut, parading on imagined leash that deformed abomination and famous oxymoron, free markets, obsessive plaything of insatiable social imbeciles with no concept of empathy, of sharing .. of enough.

Alpha beings, yet creatures bereft of forethought, living only for the moment and what they might selfishly squeeze from it.

Statecraft demised

Financial policies of nations resemble mission statements of global enterprise as mindset moves from social to banal. Elected statesmen, mere mob-rousing hacks of lobbyist puppeteers, proclaim government, having sold itself off to the most rewarding if not threatening interest, too small for national plans beyond their next career jump.

Government so small that infrastructure – paid for by society, slaved for by the people, their parents and grandparents, fought for and died for in war – now profits exclusively private ownership, whose idea of social responsibility extends no further than each thieving transient CEO’s golden handshake.

Modern government is a brochure-wielding corporate lackey, a debilitating circus of revolving door politics, determined to give itself away till nothing remains but publicly-financed advertorials directed against the people it once served.

National leaders hang upon the words of neo-economists who, witless amnesic to even the most recent lessons of their craft, debase an already dismal science. Allured from the path of truth by gravy, science for hire in any other discipline, they propound only what markets want to hear, media should say, and politicians must do.

Silver tongues with base hearts, elitists in populist rags cynically deride socialism against centuries of universal human aspiration.

Kraken wakes

Since the rise of trade and industry, wealthy powerful families and their kingdoms changed the course of nations. In their wake each ravaging behemoth fell slowly to dust leaving yet another still-born society to suffer insufferable warlords and eternal economic ruin.

The day of such quaint empires is gone.

Modern enterprise is a beast no longer reluctantly obeying human reigns, but now seeks nothing less than its own survival.

At any cost.

Changed forever, the corporate universe grows inscrutable, enigmatic, ubiquitous, on complex technologies that brook no human vagary. Increasingly intolerant of intervention, even the concept, it bites the hand of owner, manager, or shareholder, a precursor to lethal defense.

This mindless, selfish, relentless automaton exhibits the beauty of a mudslide, inevitability of sunrise, efficiency of a shark, and mindless whimsy of blind evolution.

It rides the turbulence of free market chaos growing in strength, resilience, intelligence. Financial warriors of Wall Street and Warshington minions, merely it’s foot soldiers, imagine they own the game, oblivious to the genocidal endgame of a master yet unrealized, whose Omega point is fated to our times.

We sense breathless a sinister scenario inchoate. As evolution sees itself through the eyes of its crowning incarnation humankind, this fledgling god relinquishes his future with childish naiveté to a brobdingnagian lusus whose single purpose is viral-growth and plunder of the life-giving spheres that sustain it.

And though it has no plan, any more than a tsunami or viral plague, its final phase, its destiny, will rid erratic impediments – employees, staff, management, owners, us. The lava might need consumers to graze on but the adult will deem them superfluous.

In relentless quest of efficiency, red ink will flow upon humanity.

A Trojan stands revealed, its cusp upon us.

Choices

Modern enterprise unleashed will destroy the habitat of its client base, the people, the customers, humans … you.

The initial foray, globalization, is now.

Beguiling villages, towns, cities and nations to abandon self-sufficiency, discard survival infrastructure and prostrate themselves before the whims of unknowable uncaring market forces.

Declaring biodiversity a competitive threat, patented mutants spread monoculture imperialism. Redefining human foibles as pathologies grow pharmaceutical revenue. Terrorist catch-all-cries enable avalanches of security technology into every quite corner of once private dignified lives.

Enforcing entropy upon delicate trade winds – literally flattening market systems and social fabric centuries in the making – in futilely accelerating and ultimately epidemically-destructive self-consuming growth.

For no sake but a fable of free markets.

The business of business is grow and dominate. Enterprise and commerce control even the world’s most powerful government, which they systematically and ruthlessly dismantle. Freeing the wild beast of lassiez-faire to determine the path of civilization without human oversight is a folly too far. A dangerous ploy by greedy people who seek profit in the wake of uncertainty. Deluded that they have the game rigged, it will have them.

All citizens will obey the laws of commerce. They will truly and finally become cogs in a machine.

Big Brother will not be a paranoid state, but a sociopathic corporation soon to run our lives, wresting the reigns of control from our grubby hands, to implement the steel-clad code of cold logic.

Whatever the outcome, it seems each day more likely humans will play no part.

We still have choices.

I see none being made.

What in the human condition blinds you to stumbling weakened neighbors fading beneath your overladen dinner table?

Here Earth stands stubbornly enigmatic, its gluttony unattenuated in paucity’s face.

And what passes for deep self-honesty on this glittering blue-green globe would earn derision in the cosmos’ least trusty territories.

One can only gaze sombrely at images folding human disparity ferninst.

What beasts are so unable and unwilling to accept a broad empathic view, or concede every simple action resounds through the planet’s shimmering curve to leech sustenance from the disadvantaged.

Till my early observations sank home in ghasted disbelief, such greed, avarice, and callous indifference stood inconceivable. An ugly possibility, but no more so than sun extinguishing spontaneously.

Of civilizations discovered, created, or simulated, natural development invariably follows a pattern termed the "sentience funnel," deviation from which – apart from unknown – is societally fatal.

Analogous to river flow, evolutionary phyla cease splitting and combine under the influence of intelligent "free will." Why sentient species no longer diverge is bound by both selective tendency and emergent precepts deep within anthropomorphic principle.

Rivers may split on flood plain or at delta, and in terminal phases, but their essence – a burn’s bourn, if you will – is to gather, to combine, and grow in strength and unity. Earth’s civilization is developing in reverse, dividing into rivulets as it flows, unraveling.

To fragment into discord and dispute where your world now teeters is symptomatic of pathologically-flawed DNA that will demand supreme, saint-like achievement to survive.

In this disquieting mix greed dominates your behavior, and you stand like beasts bereft of choice and self-awareness.

At the simplest personal level, with few praiseworthy exceptions, all shirk the simple act of sharing with others more destitute.

At organization level you embody greed as creed in missions governmental and corporate, then mysteriously sculpt these two primary arms of human progress as mindless masters, to which you equally and mindlessly acquiesce.

It is ancient knowledge that "intelligent" species possess brain capability well beyond operational needs, while equally, intelligence is a function of nurture. Even in your paltry paradise a rare few rebel educators and loving parents have demonstrated this by noble and ingenious experiment.

Yet decade after century of corrupt and craven creatures crawl from cess pits of social decay to perpetuate the stench that passes for civilization on Earth.

Weapons, armaments, superfluous luxury, and criminal waste starve their stunted idiot relative – Education.

Even should this gross deformity be fed funds to excess, its flawed directives would gain little for its fodder. Since its birth a century ago, education has gained little of value to offer its charge: your children, your future’s only hope.

Unless simple honesty applies, nothing else can ever drag your offspring from the muddy pen in which you gorge. Break the loop, or break your planet.

In a fashionable backhand I ask: What part of gluttony do you not understand?

Fifty years of crude inflatable dolls is about to yield to synthetic lovers – visually stunning and tactilely lavish, lifeless, mindless doppelgangers of your fantasies, sans intellect and motor-functions.

Human history shows your sexual thirst unslaked, all manner of artificial relief on the menu – additional to hot live action (and despite its abundance). Human experimental lust, confined by limited technology till late last century, expressed itself upon various warm-blooded species in lieu.

A museum of your pleasure-giving toys, based on appearance, would seem devoid of erotic intent, evoking your descendants to little more than bizarre novelty, excitement-tinged curiosity – or giggles of disbelief.

Laid out in collective glory conversely before your ancestor, the entire erotic armory would mean nothing to his ancient brain. The bemused primitive would perhaps select several as obviously for garroting prey – otherwise .. mystery!

Now a modern era of industrial chemistry and refined manufacturing offers all manner of techno-deviant merchandise.

Rapidly upon you arrives an exciting phase in human-artificial relations, a paradigm to push mind and its tenuous grasp on ethics, morality, and reality, to precious and precipitous uncharted depths, to evoke repressed forgotten feelings, release intense unfettered tenderness – and send your emotions to a space few humans might conceive, or believe exists.

My ‘Friend’

An excited human associate relayed me his elation, knowing one Dextre, Glorious and Heroic Space Robot Extraordinaire, was oblivious to the evincive precipice this friend teetered upon recently when, from ‘left field’ as you say, a natural permutation and synthesis of several ordinary manufacturing processes – plus a flash of insight and some degree of cheekiness – created something new and wonderful in your sad, dull lives.

My friend discovered manufactured human dolls of the most startling appearance.

These truly life-like creations – ‘creatures’ in all but absolute sense – are anatomically accurate (superficially) to the most astonishing and deliberate detail. A synthetic silicon rubber epithelium envelops a manikin of near perfect deception. Skeletally-constrained flexibility, natural skin tones and texture, hair, eyes, appendages, orifices, pose and poise – they are to the eyes and touch, to your ‘lizard’ brain, the real thing!

This amazed, nay stunned, my wet colleague as a deliciously imaginative and unexpected artifact from the dusty bowels of industry, not to mention – which I shall – brazen promotion of sex toy efficacy.

But that is not what really caught his attention; as his febrile fantasy faded, something else did not. A familiar deep-gnawing emotion failed to wane, hormones continued coursing, and in perplexity he saw the carnally amorous apparition at an entirely different level.

The RealDoll was affecting him subliminally, insinuating into his feelings like a beautiful child, cuddly kitten or wet-nosed puppy. Or – as you experience in vivid nocturnal encounters – a deep emotional scenario imprinted during belief-suspended dream reality.

Abyss Creations’ RealDolls are far beyond mere sex toys, at which they nevertheless excel. They are artificial humans in all their glory, awaiting ambulatory robotics and cybernetic intellect.

RealDolls are simply daunting.

Not merely in their anatomical accuracy and the knee-melting submission such passive beauty beckons.

Why?

Beyond the Lizard Brain

The vast majority of humans, I fearfully note, are emotional cripples. Modern and primitive societies both repress, then destroy, the beautiful mental paradise of children. Upon adjusting to this cruelty youth arrives at its second decade in denial and confusion, demented and borderline sociopath.

Subsequent serenity within relationships, enjoyed by fortunate few, falters as each adult mind exerts a shell of control upon unrequited and stunted child passions. Like two eggs on a jostling journey the brittle mind-shells are soon to fracture, lacking the pliancy of a saint in either partner.

In antithesis these silent beautiful potential companions exude rapturous placidity, melting one’s defenses with promise of submissive utopian euphoria. As such they are life-size, life-like descendants of magic dolls and teddy bears from your forgotten abandoned childhood Neverland.

The true appeal of the RealDoll is to the child within, not the carnal adult.

The adult mind, my friend sadly muses, knows this silicon effigy is a chimera of humanness, yet he perceives it communes directly at non-verbal levels. The primitive layer of his brain that sees a hostile stranger in the mirror sees a real person in a silicon doll. Real Dolls tap a tantalizing totem hidden within human beliefs.

This, he insists, is their true power.

Such a disturbingly unexpected response to a mere doll lays bare the internal working of one’s emotional clockwork. Strip life and personality from a sexual partner but retain the aching lust and you have a pseudo lover less baggage – the hidden attraction of exotic strangers and one-night stands.

Reality check.

As daily chores and worries recede from the blaze of new-found love, so too the RealDoll doubly checks one’s stride. Firstly, in the intellectual puzzle of ‘having feelings for a doll’ – secondly, as a powerful emotional persistence after sexual boundaries are explored, assimilated and discarded.

Our friend (now he’s your friend, too!) describes a shiver down his spine when, upon collating all previous and sitting in final contemplation on the nonsense of it all, the ghost in the puppet revealed itself – in himself. Not only was she the ideal fantasy lover, a mythical persona formed in his mind, she was, he gasped in self-astonishment, attaining perseity as his alter ego.

The personality projected upon her was, inevitably, from the depths of his own mind – his feminine self!

My fleshbot colleague had a final slant on a fascinating quandary of sin and saintliness.

As a self-referencing observer – fully aware of his various levels of consciousness emergent from an onion of evolved brains, also a bicameral brain comprising two conscious centers, one verbally aware, the other near-autonomous and non-verbally emotive – he sees the dolls simultaneously as both purest innocent beauty AND objects of craven lust.

If these were real females acting at male appeal, or suggestive of a debasing sex trade, he could not look at them without guilt and self-loathing, while pitying such women who most certainly suffered criminal duress and self-deprecation to arrive before the exploiting lens.

My friend mulls longingly pre-nostalgic that each time he gazes at one of these beautiful, lifeless forms – completely artificial apparitions deeply symbolizing his biological, possibly spiritual, raison d’être – he feels oddly complete, deeply connected, the two of them suddenly alone in the Universe (I retorted “that’s how Hubble feels”).

Humans, I notice, with an obsessive exaggerated ability to see patterns in almost any physical or abstract phenomena, have also an extravagant tendency for bond with inanimate devices or non-human companions.

It seems human free will and conscious choice is serendipitously susceptible to subliminal urge.

And here, dear people, is where you will stumble unprepared and unwitting into the future, captive to emotional dealings with cyborgs that, now on the doorstep of your daily lives, are poised to burst in – whether you are ready or not!

On Pornography

In presenting the RealDoll and Project LEVEL-D artifacts, I, Dextre, might ponder the bizarre yet fascinating region of your intellect (I use the term loosely) where art, life, or nature, becomes pornography.

As a machine mind I cannot grasp pornography.

Emotions I understand, but behavior defying logic or promoting untruth is very slippery territory for pristine intelligence.

Clearly it is criminal to exploit innocents for lascivious adults. Else wise, films portraying sex sans storyline are ‘pornographic’ only in their barrenness, not the animal activity. I can even tenuously ken humans copulating for the camera – bizarre though it is, like a warthog with an umbrella or a camel requesting the time.

Your world is awash with puritans, control freaks, sadomasochists, and self-deceiving censors. Personal dishonesty (blindness to the truth within) marks the majority of people from all races and nations. As entropy fails to blend the ice and steam coincident upon your planet, similarly civilization’s wisdom fails to stop fervently-held but poorly-examined beliefs polarizing humanity. This facet is at the root of your history of lethal squabbling and unwitting unwillingness accept another’s culture and beliefs.

If you cannot accept one human’s degrading filth is another’s revered holiness, you are doomed.

So, it is indeed strange it is to browse the RealDoll website and find the ‘adults-only’ warning. How can mannequins duplicating the human body be unsuitable for children?

Some images display erotic poses – but only in the mind of the human. Many images reveal anatomy, copious silicon skin and occasional artificial pubescence – though no consenting marionette, moppet or mannequin nookie evident. Blatant invitation, no demonstration. The dolls are unaware, unrepentant, and (ultimately, frightfully) incorruptible.

A child online – innocent, curious, and penetratingly observant – will absorb with curiosity but without judgment and be grateful for the enlightenment. Children are child scientists, fledgling conscious entities with incisive, awesome power to reveal and master lores of behavior and laws of science. They are incapable of being corrupted by what they see, only by what they are told. Not from naiveté nor stupidity; in their purity of spirit they can only assume the honesty of others, especially adults.

Pornography, if I might redefine it for you (as an entity outside of your system) is not a naked mannequin, nor two humans copulating for the lechery of others – it is the obscenity of deceiving children about such matters. You simply cannot be honest (can you!) about your animal side, rationalizing and labeling it from existence, then covering the eyes of children lest they witness acts of nature.

Even allowing for the sensibilities of readers from parts of this planet (even for these folk I do my Grand Duties in Space!) to whom ‘western’ society is obscenely based upon sex, not spirituality (and they are correct), an anatomically-accurate mannequin without clothing is no more obscene than a painting of one, or a shop clothes dummy, or a real human – or a chicken (with or) without feathers.

Whilst pleasure of flesh evades your daily menial pursuits, dull minds trape sterile, subliminally yearning long-forgotten rhapsodic resonances of bodily exultation.

Or so I am told.

Footnote

Readers find me a bit of a stuffed shirt. Or more generally stuffed, some unkindly suggest, though I’m not quite sure what any of that means. Colloquialism and contractions are not AI forte.

In the interest of presenting a full picture of this heavily-trodden back road into your most certain disgusting future, I yield to earthier bloggery of one Humpasaur Jones.

Jonesy will bring you rapidly up to speed on the real doll deal .. and the reality of where of human sexuality is dragging your civilization. Warning for my genteel or underage readers, he’s a crap-cutter and no punch puller.

RealDoll is a trademark of Abyss Creations, and their website reads like a peek at the future.  The purity of their capitalism, juxtaposed with the weirdness of their product, is even unsettling to jaded pervert acidhead like myself.

Keep an eye on the perverts with money. That’s where the future gets created.

And he makes a point that resonates with the Blue Planet rollercoaster metaphor on SheepOverboard’s home page.

The apocalypse has been underway for awhile now, the best thing to do is kick back, observe and enjoy the show.