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Xbox One Gaming: At an Impasse

There are times when I get on a roll gaming; I’m working through whatever game I’m playing and, sometimes, “easily” so and while I do manage to screw up something or get myself killed, eh, I got this, no problem.

Until I get to a point where no matter the game I’m playing, nothing works or goes right. For instance, the last couple of times I played Minecraft, I made the rookie mistakes of getting lost – and getting lost in a cavern I had carefully marked to make sure I could get out – and, jeez, falling into lava although, admittedly, I don’t know how I wound up swimming in lava when I wasn’t standing where I could have fallen in. I even fell into a ravine and the only thing that saved me was nudging the joystick just enough that I landed in the water at the bottom of the ravine.

I don’t know if this is a loss of focus on my part or not. I do know that in playing both Borderlands 1 and 2, I’m at parts of the games that, let’s say, historically, tend to have me at an impasse because I’m trying to massacre the bad guys with weapons that wouldn’t even kill a fly at the levels I’m currently at. Yeah, focus could be a factor since, in both Borderlands games, I walked right into a messy situation that experience told me – um, after I got slaughtered – I should have been more careful about. In this, it’s not like I’ve never played these games and haven’t advanced through the multiple game-play levels these game provide.

I knew I should have been more careful… and I wasn’t.

Usually, all it takes to regain my resolve is to not play a game that’s giving me fits or if I have something else to do in a game that’s not gonna get me killed or hopelessly lost, then doing them usually settles things down so that when it’s time to do the “hard” stuff, I’m ready to kick ass, take names, and chew gum; I can navigate the deepest ravine or the most vast cavern and return to my entry point with spooky accuracy.

Uh, um, not recently, though. And to make things worse, all of the games that are currently active on my Xbox One are games that have elements of risk, like State of Decay 2, for example. I hadn’t played the game lately so I went in there to kick some zombie ass and to scrounge and scavenge to keep my community alive and well. Appeared in the game – and outside the compound and I don’t pretend to understand that one – looked around to get my bearings, got jumped on by a Juggernaut and barely escaped.

WTF? Okay… not doing this one today; at the stage I’m in with this game, I can’t afford to permanently lose a community member. Let’s try another game. Oops – death, destruction, all kinds of mayhem like playing Just Cause 4; somehow, I managed to materialize in the middle of a bunch of bad guys – and in a place where, when I left the game, was not only devoid of bad guys but wasn’t even the same place I left the game!

I got hideously slaughtered even though I instantly reacted to the threats around me, assessed the situation quickly, and tried to get the hell out of there but, nope, didn’t happen… when I’m usually pretty good getting out of these messes.

When you can get killed playing Minecraft and in Peaceful mode, you know you’re doing something wrong. It’s frustrating, winds up having me talking to myself and kicking my own ass for making so many stupid mistakes although, with Borderlands, I’m not really making any mistakes but I’m being victimized by the gameplay itself: I just don’t have the weaponry that’s powerful enough to do what I gotta do. Like, going after Krom – again – to get the piece of the vault I need, wow, no strategy I’ve come up with hasn’t resulted in him or his boys blowing me away but Borderlands 1, well, there’s some shit going on with that game – how the fuck did Krom blow me to bits with his rockets when I wasn’t even in his supposed line of sight?

Nothing ruins your gaming more than trying to figure out how you got killed when you shouldn’t have gotten killed…

It’s not like he has the guided rockets that can be found in the other Borderlands games; you can’t really hide from those things. Yeah… sometimes I know that it’s not really anything I’m doing or not doing but knowing this ain’t making me feel any better about how I’m playing the game.

Or failing to do so. It’s not really bothering me as much as this might sound because even when playing video games, shit happens or it doesn’t so, yeah, sometimes, just stepping away for a period of time makes sense. I’ll crank up the console, do a bit of housekeeping, look over the active games in my library while considering waking up one I’ve got on the shelf, sigh, pick a game, sigh some more and tell myself, “Okay… let’s do this and get it done.”

It’s just sometimes getting it done doesn’t work out all that well and the other thing is that if you don’t play, you don’t know how things are going to work out… and that’s what makes playing so much fun.

And not so much.

 
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Posted by on 22 August 2019 in Xbox One Gaming

 

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Life, Living and Loving: Hello, World!

Between the ages of eight and sixteen, I spent parts of my summer at a YMCA camp, which was quite the different experience for me the first year my parents, maternal grandmother, and godparents conspired to send me there. I didn’t want to go; why should I go to this camp when I can stay here with my friends? I do remember my mother starting to explain it to me and my father saying – and kinda cutting Mom off – “You’re going – end of discussion.”

Okay…

That first year, jeez, I remember the ride to the camp; to me it was unexplored territory, like being in the wilderness and I was not quite terrified but I wasn’t happy. We get to the camp, get me checked in and as my parents “raced” back to the car – or, it looked like it to me – I wanted to start crying like some of the other kids who found themselves “abandoned” in this strange place but I didn’t. I didn’t want to be here but after our counselor gathered us up and we hiked a short distance to the log cabin that I’d be staying in for the next two weeks, well, maybe this won’t be all that bad… and by the time we got settled and hiked to the dining hall for lunch, not only was I just fine and dandy but had already decided that I didn’t want to leave this place and, um, the food was off the hook, if nothing else.

A bit of a side-step. When I was nine – and thanks to the YMCA membership my familial co-conspirators had arranged for me the year before – I started studying judo and, later at a local place, karate and it opened up a whole new world of experiences for me. Not only was I learning to defend myself and not be as impulsive as I tended to be, I got to go to different places, meet new people, and beat them up and even got medals and trophies for doing it.

The thing here in this side-step is that whenever I went somewhere for a contest/tournament, after all the dust had settled – and the tears of those who I defeated had dried – I’d wind up back home some hours later tired, sore, and victorious, which leads back into going to summer camp where there was no going home unless either something really bad happened or, in some cases I saw during my time there, some kid was so homesick that no one at the camp could do anything about it and he/she would get that “early dismissal” and be on their way home.

That first year was one of discovery; I met new people, learned how to swim in open water (and as opposed to how I was learning to swim in a pool back home), and I learned some stuff, from how to shoot a bow and arrow and other fun stuff – a couple of years later, I’d learn how to shoot a .22 rifle and that was always something to look forward to and those lessons seriously helped me years later when I had to qualify with the M16 in Air Force basic training. Anyway…

In my second year of being a summer camper, I was sitting on the “beach” with my swimming buddy; the rule, which was severely enforced, was that if you went in the water, your buddy went with you; you get out, your buddy gets out – a good rule even though it kinda didn’t make sense at the time.

I’m sitting on the beach with my swim buddy and we’re talking and speculating about what’s on the menu for lunch when my swim buddy says, “Hey… that kid is staring at you!” and points to the kid in question. I turn and look and, sure enough, there’s this red-headed, freckled faced (and kinda sunburnt) kid staring at me. I say hi, he blinks like my greeting woke him up and he says hi. I ask him if he’s okay and he says he is… but he wanted to ask me something but was afraid to.

I laugh and tell him to ask me and he hits me with this: “Why is your skin so dark?”

And, God forgive me, I replied, “Well, I used to be white like you but last year, I laid on the beach too long and when I woke up, my skin was dark and my hair went from straight to curly.” Yeah, I know… gonna burn in hell for that one and I prided myself on saying this with a straight face but on the inside, I was dying with laughter because the kid actually believed it.

But, yeah, I finally told him I was kidding and tried to explain why my skin was darker than his but the thing I learned from that kid that he had never seen a Black person in person before he came to the camp. Hearing this actually made my head swim dizzily; how is it that he’s never seen a real, live Black person before? It took me a while to get it in my head that maybe he came from a place where there were no Black people; unlike myself, I saw Black people all of the time.

It was an eye-opening experience for the both of us and it seemed that every year I went to camp, I’d run into some kid who’d ask me about the color of my skin or how I got my hair to be so kinky – and especially when I started growing my Afro. And while I always thought it was funny – and a chance to hit them with my “on the beach too long” joke – I was amazed and dumbfounded. In my travels, I saw all kinds of people and interacted with them in various ways… but there was always that one kid I’d catch staring at me and as if I’d just stepped off the first spaceship from Mars or something.

Let’s jump ahead to my enlisting in the USAF and finding myself once more facing the unknowns associated with basic training. The guy who had the bunk (to my left if I was facing my locker) next to me would stare at me and similar to how those kids at camp would. I noticed it but didn’t pay much attention to it because I had more important things to concern myself with, like staying off Staff Sergeant Crain’s shit list which, um, I managed to somehow get on.

As I recall, somewhere around our second week of training, the guy – who I learned was from Oklahoma – was sitting in his chair – we weren’t allowed to sit on our bunks until it was lights out time – and he’s fidgeting and looking really nervous so I ask him what’s wrong and he says, “Nothing…” at first but then said he wanted to ask me something. I’m thinking he wants to ask me to clarify something we’d learned that day but I got shocked into that dumb place when he asked, “Can I touch your hair?” – which was growing back in after I had my long and beautiful braids lopped off.

Okay… what’s up with this? I say, “Sure…” and go over to him, bend over a little and, yup, he runs his fingers through what little hair I have on my head and I’m looking at him and see this look of wonder and amazement on his face. He finishes feeling my head up and, yes, touching my face and I ask him what that was all about. What he said was… shocking.

“There are no Black people where I live,” he said. “The only time I saw Black people was on TV and, to tell the truth, I never saw a real Black person until we all got here.”

Now, our flight (as they called us in the good old USAF) only had three Black guys: Myself and two guys from Philadelphia and there were 48 of us in the flight and from all over the US. Still, upon hearing this revelation from him, it explained a lot toward how he’d behave whenever I or one of the Philly contingent would interact with him; between the three of us, we’d often talk about how weird this guy was but we weren’t all that concerned with why and I know I never gave a single thought about asking him – SSgt Crain occupied my thoughts a lot and, nope, my attempts to get off of his shit list always seemed to fail… and I still don’t know what I did to get on his shit list.

After this “life changing event,” I found myself spending our off time talking to him about our different cultures and mindsets and, yes, I had to endure some of what I call the usual questions, like the day he asked me if it was true that all Black guys had big dicks and if it was true that we all carried knives. For the second question, I had laughed and said while it was true that some Black people carried knives for various reasons, not all Black people did.

For the first, I figured the best way to answer that question was to tell him that the next time we’re all in the shower, just take a look at my dick and decide whether he thought it was big or not – but look at everyone else’s dick – discretely – because there were forty-plus other guys to compare with.

I didn’t think he’d do it but the next day, when we were all in the shower after a grueling day in the Texas heat, I saw him discretely checking out all the junk he could get his eyes on. Later, after dinner chow, we’d either have what they call “base liberty” where we could go almost anywhere on the base that wasn’t restricted or off-limits to trainees or we were restricted to the dorm and usually because somebody fucked up, got on the drill instructors’ (DIs) bad side and we got grounded.

And, no – we never got grounded because of something I did or didn’t do but whenever some shit went south for us, good old SSgt Crain would tell me he just knew I had something to do with it – and did I mention that I also somehow managed to break the squadron record for the most pushups done in a day? In my defense, I spent more time doing pushups for shit I wasn’t even involved in but SSgt Crain, well, he just had it in for me for some reason.

So my next door neighbor tells me that he did, indeed, check out all the dicks he could while we showered and came to the conclusion that, wow, everyone had dicks of different sizes… but the Black guys did, in his opinion, have the bigger dicks… and then he asked me why our dicks were bigger…. and added more pressure on me by asking if it was true that all Black people were homophobic and if it was true that none of us ate pussy.

I asked him – after I got over being shocked again and laughing, “Where did you hear this shit from?”

He shrugged and said that it was what his parents taught him about Black people and that he should stay away from “those people” at all costs; I was beyond gobsmacked when he told me that his parents told him that if he ever met a real live Black person, he was going to get raped and killed.

What. The. Fuck?

He told me that the day we got grouped together as a training flight and he saw me and the other two Black guys from Philly, he not only pissed on himself but he didn’t sleep for three days… because he just knew we were going to sneak up on him in the dark of the night and rape and murder him. He told me that his father told him that the reason why our skin was so much darker was to make it easy for us to sneak up on people at night, rape them and then kill them.

You ever have one of those moment when you’re so dumbstruck that you can’t even think of anything to say? I was so stuck in one of those moments that one of the guys across the aisle from us actually came over to me and asked if I was okay and if he had to call the CQ – the person in Charge of Quarters – for assistance. I snapped out of it and told him I was okay; today, my lady would say that my brain got stuck on stupid and that describes the state I was in almost perfectly.

When I remembered how to speak in full sentences I asked him, “Why would you even believe that shit? We’ve been sleeping next to each other since day one and, obviously, you haven’t been raped and, equally obvious, you’re not dead. In fact, no one has laid a hand on you or really gotten in your case over anything or, unlike some of these other yokels, not of a mind to pick a fight with you!”

He nodded and said, “That’s what I was taught… and now I’m feeling like an idiot because I believed what I was taught. I see now that the only difference between you and I is the color of our skin; you’re just a guy like I am.”

Then, after I told him that, first, I had no idea why our dicks were sometimes bigger; I told him that not all Black people were homophobic and that one of the guys I grew up with was very gay and one of my best friends; then I said that, yes, Black guys do eat pussy but we sometimes like to deny it and, nope, I have no idea why.

We kept talking about our differences and similarities until 2200 – lights out for us at this stage of our training – but I had a hard time getting to sleep because I just couldn’t believe that there were people – or, in my camp experiences – still people who (1) never interacted with a Black person and (2) believed all that stereotypical bullshit that goes around. For me, it was more culture shock; I knew, thanks to all the stuff I’d experienced before joining the service, that people are different and in a great many ways, from where they come from to the color of their skin, the texture of their hair, and anything else you care to add to this list.

My new best friend while in basic was a white guy from New Jersey and, holy crap, Jonesy was as tall as a redwood tree, towering over all of us. We became friends before we even left the recruiting office in Philly and during eating the bag lunch they’d provided us with. My lunch bag had a sandwich, chips, and chocolate milk; his had the same sandwich and chips but with regular milk. We’re both sitting there staring at our little milk cartons and he makes a joke about how funny it is for a white guy to have white milk and the Black guy has chocolate milk and we both cracked up… and traded milk and that made us laugh even more and so much that one of the recruiting guys who had the duty to make sure none of us escaped came over and asked if me and Jonesy were having a problem.

We’d been friends ever since. I mentioned this to the guy who slept next to me, asking him, “If you know that me and Jonesy are friends, does he look like he’s afraid of me?”

“I wondered about that,” my newest friend admitted. “I thought you knew each other before, you know, you joined up.”

“Nope – didn’t meet Jonesy until we wound up sitting next to each other after getting sworn in,” I said. “I mean, I saw him – how can you miss that tall motherfucker? – but for me, he was just one of the many white people I was used to seeing – just really tall.”

“I now wish I had grown up learning the truth,” he said. “I wrote my parents and pretty much laid them out for lying to me all this time and told them that one of my best friends here is a Black guy – and one who is anything but what they said about Black people. I can’t wait to see if they’re gonna write back and what they say… but I don’t give a fuck about them anymore.”

“They’re your parents,” I said. “My own family has their own ideas about white people, some of it good, most of it not so good. My grandmother wanted to disown me because I introduced her to my white girlfriend; it was embarrassing when she went off about white people with my girlfriend standing right there and she started berating my girl about shit that my girl had nothing to do with. People are just like that and, yeah, I guess, you believe that shit until you get out in the world like we did coming here and find out that what you were taught was a big pile of smelly bullshit.”

He nodded… then leaned over and kissed me lightly on the lips, which again shocked the shit out of me.

“What was that for?” I asked – you know, once I remembered how to speak English.

“I dunno – seemed like the right thing to do since you’ve taught me so much about a lot of things,” he said. “Besides, um, you have nice lips – why are your lips more fuller than mine?”

To date, I’ve been all over the world and I’ve seen other peoples have this eye opening revelation. I remember being in Japan and having Japanese folks stop me and just going nuts over (1) being able to practice their English and (2) talking to a real, live Black person. I’ve gone to states here at home… and have seen the same kind of thing, like one guy in Indiana I wound up talking to one night in the hotel’s bar and him telling me that he was tickled pink to finally be able to talk to a Black person – and that it was something he was taught to never do.

Or being in the very deep south – Mississippi – and listening to people I thought talked funny telling me that I talked funny or going to other states and city and having people telling me that I have an accent – where am I from? I’ve even run into people who live in this country who have, somehow, never heard of the state I live in and those who have were of a mind that my home state was a suburb of Philadelphia or a part of New York City.

I’d run across people who thought I was the luckiest motherfucker in the world and because I’ve been to NYC more times than I care to think about – it’s only like two and half hours away (and depending on who’s driving) but, to them, it’s some mystical, amazing place.

Hello, world! In ten short years of my life, I got introduced to the world around me and suffered many moments of culture shock – but, perhaps, not as much as those peoples I’d come in contact with. I mean, really – who hasn’t seen a Black person in the flesh? Who hasn’t had a conversation with a Black person? The amazing answer is there are a lot of people who haven’t and, yeah, they’ve heard all of the stereotypes and myths; after a while, you kinda get tired of hearing, “Is it true that all Black guys have big dicks?” or the homophobic thing and even the pussy-eating thing.

It makes me wonder and think about, as someone who has been blessed to be able to travel the world, how isolated and walled off some people are and even in a time where the Internet had almost literally made the world a much smaller place. And even in this, all those stereotypes and myths continue to persist like the time and on another forum, a guy from India was hyped to learn about us mythical Black people and the funny thing about that was, when we exchanged face pics, holy shit – that guy was so much darker than I was that if you didn’t know he was from India, you would mistake him as a Black man!

And, yeah… I had to tell him that not all Black guys have dicks hanging down around their ankles… sheesh.

It both bothers and delights me that, in the world of M2M, there are a lot of guys who’d probably kill somebody to be able to sleep with a Black guy… and a lot of guys who wouldn’t do that even if you put a gun to their head and if/when I ask them why, at the root of it, is what they believe and what they think they know even though, in their daily lives, they’ve never had reason to interact with a Black person other than maybe speaking when spoken to or working along side one and maybe hesitantly so since “everyone knows how Black people are.”

This scribble isn’t really a racial thing: It’s about learning some stuff about the world you’re born into, that moment when you get introduced to the world and find out how big and diverse it is and how different people are wherever you happen to go. It’s about culture shock and even dispelling all those fucked up stereotypes and myths that continue to be handed down from generation to generation… and the culture shock some experience when they find out that what they believed to be true isn’t all that true.

From my first day at summer camp, I found myself saying “Hello!” to a world I’d heard about but had never really seen. I hated going to camp that first time with a passion; it was a waste of time and someone’s money; it served no real purpose except to keep me away from my friends and everything back at home.

Today, I’m glad I was conscripted to go to summer camp; it wasn’t just to get me out of my parents’ hair or to give me something to do other than running around the neighborhood and doing all kinds of shit (like having lots of sex with my male friends, for example) – it was to teach me some shit and to provide lessons that, today, I hold dear and value a whole lot. I know people who have never been out of the city they were born in; they’ve never been out of the state they live in… and in 2019. I know Black people who have the very same inaccurate thoughts about white folks – and other folks – that I heard back in 1964, back when I was really and truly introduced to the world.

Hello, world! Pleased to have met you! I see you and you got to see me, too! Oh, and before you ask, no – not all of us have gigantic dicks; not all of us are homophobic because I’m bisexual and, yes, some of us eat pussy like fiends. Yes, sometimes I carry a knife – but not for the reason you might think; I might need it to fix something on the car or even cut my seatbelt or some other reason than to use it in an act of violence against someone else.

Why is my hair “kinky?” Well, do you have the time for me to give you a lesson in genetics or dive into how we’re all hybrids and that despite our differences and those that can be seen, we’re all actually related – we’re the same on the inside. If you really want to know, go out and really see the world and introduce yourself when the world says hello to you because it has many wonders to show you and things to teach you.

 
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Posted by on 21 August 2019 in Life, Living and Loving

 

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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Is This Trip Really Necessary?

I was reading another blog about how LGBTQ+ seems to be – or is – ignoring the B in their acronym and, as such, not helping things where bisexual visibility is concerned. The author mentioned a lack of media exposure as well and while he’s right about these things, it had me wondering if we, as bisexuals, really need this.

I was bisexual before LGBTQ+ came into existence (duh) and people were being bisexual just the same. I get that when it was established, their original remit was to shine a bright like on all that wasn’t heterosexual but even then, their main focus was on the L and G and, again, their need to get society to accept gays and lesbians was and still is an important issue.

But I gotta ask: What have they done for us lately? I read stuff other people write and they’re disgusted at how LGBTQ+ is just straight up dissing bisexuals along with my thought that a lot of this bisexual erasure shit is, in fact, coming from LGBTQ+ and the overall thought that we, bisexuals, have no place in the organization since, really, their problems aren’t really our problems.

Bisexuals are like the red-headed stepchild.

I question whether or not media exposure is necessary; we see glimmers of bisexuality showing up in movies and on TV; we see news articles where some celebrity has come out as being bisexual and the usual flak over this – are they really homosexual and faking the funk by saying that they’re bisexual?

I don’t see how this media exposure helps the guy or gal who is struggling with their sexuality except maybe to add to their confusion; TV and movies seem to portray bisexuals in ways that the writers and directors think bisexuals behave and, in my opinion, incorrectly so – but I understand there are something things that censors won’t allow to be seen but the main thing here is that bisexuals aren’t any different from anyone else except how they’ve chosen to love, have sex, and form relationships.

Otherwise – and as I’ve said over and over – you can’t look at someone and tell/know that they’re bisexual unless you’re able to ask them if they are – good luck with that one. It wouldn’t be unusual for a bisexual to categorically deny that they are and given the ongoing angst; my mother loved to say that you never give someone a stick to beat you with and bisexuals, and probably unknowingly, take this to heart and only reveal their sexuality to those they feel can be trusted… and who won’t give them a raft of shit about not being wholly heterosexual.

We talk about acceptance in and of bisexuality and, yeah, sure – I can see why it would go a long way if everyone on the planet could accept that bisexuality is real and even normal but changing the mind of the world is never an easy thing to do and while there are changes in progress, it remains a matter of fact that people are being bisexual without this high level acceptance.

Because no matter what the rest of the world is doing, people still have to do what they have to do… and bisexuals keep right on being bisexual. It seems that given our divisive and tribal nature, there will always be people who believe that everyone should be heterosexual and as commanded to and it seems to me that the more this “agenda” gets pushed and insisted upon, it gives bisexuality validity or, again, as I’ve repeatedly asked, what is everyone fussing about if bisexuality isn’t a real-deal thing?

And despite all this fussing, bisexuals are still going about their lives as bisexuals and without LGBTQ+ representation and media exposure. I don’t know and won’t speak for all bisexuals but being one myself, all I want to do is live out the rest of my life and if/when I can indulge in pussy and/or dick, just do what I gotta do to scratch that itch when I get itchy. And I can do that… and I’ve been doing it for over half a century.

And before LGBTQ+ even existed… and probably before the people who created this organization was born. We didn’t need them then… and I question whether we need them today, not that they’ve done a whole lot for bisexuality in my opinion. I recall reading something a while ago that suggested that bisexuals should divorce themselves from LGBTQ+ and form their own organization so that bisexuality issues can be better addressed and without any interference from the lesbian/gay agenda.

What do we want and need? Well, just leave us alone and stop confusing shit more than it already is for us. We want to just go on with our lives and as we see fit and not get all this static when we lean over the fence for some non-heterosexual stuff. If no one else know (or even gives a fuck) that bisexuality is real, we know it’s very damned real. While there are some who are onboard with this media exposure thing and believe that the LGBTQ+ organization really does have our back in all things bisexual, there are many who don’t give a fuck what LGBTQ+ is or isn’t doing.

They just want to go about their lives. Again, if a bisexual leans across the fence to indulge in some same-sex stuff, they just wanna be able to do it and discretely so – you never give someone a stick to beat you with and with all this angst and mudslinging going on, getting beaten is almost guaranteed.

All that’s really been done is to put bisexuals in a very bad light by applying a lot of stereotypical bullshit and bullshit that was once applied to homosexuals. Go ask a woman if she’d date a bisexual guy and listen to her go off about how she wouldn’t… but the thing she probably doesn’t know is that she has probably dated a bi guy and didn’t know it. Why?

Because bi guys aren’t really all that different from straight guys except for the dick thing. Ask a guy if he’d date a bi gal and you might get a different response and answer but some men might say that they wouldn’t… and all because of all the bullshit being stirred up and thrown all over the place about bisexuals not being able to commit to being monogamous and the implication that if you get involved with a bisexual, they’re gonna cheat on you and as a matter of course.

And, perhaps, deliberately overlooking the fact that people cheat on each other and regardless to sexuality. But I get it: If you’re trying to denounce something, you’re never going to say anything good about that which you’re trying to make go away.

They’re slamming the disease card on the table and giving everyone the impression that if you have sex with a bisexual, you’re instantly going to catch something fatal and die… and perhaps deliberately overlooking the fact that STDs don’t give a fuck if you’re straight, bi, or gay; if you get exposed to one, well, you’ve been exposed. They don’t talk about the STD rates for heterosexuals… except to infer that if it’s on the rise, you can bet your ass that a bisexual had something to do with it.

It’s so bad that people think that all bisexual men get fucked in the ass when, in fact, a lot of bisexual men don’t engage in anal sex; they’re happy campers just to be able to suck cock but all the recent drama about this implies and infers that if you suck a dude’s dick, you’re just gonna get infected with something.

And, perhaps, deliberately overlooking the fact that you can’t catch something from someone if they’ve not been exposed to it. Let’s talk about HIV for a moment. There a new category called “undetectable” and I’ll admit that when I looked into this and first heard it, it was confusing. What it means is that a person can have HIV… but there’s not enough of the virus present to become full-blown HIV. And I’m still thinking, “What the fuck? How is that even possible?”

Well, they explain it – go Google it – and, okay, it is whatever it is but it still makes sense to me that you can’t get HIV from someone who hasn’t been exposed to it… unless there’s another vector of exposure that’s not being talked about. What are they saying? Are they saying that, somehow, the virus might be present in everyone, that it’s always been there hiding in the bushes and just waiting to go live? And because it’s “dormant,” if you test someone, there’s not enough of the virus present to officially say that someone has HIV?

And if any of this is scaring the shit out you and where bisexuals are concerned, well, now you understand the shit we have to put up with… and shit that LGBTQ+ doesn’t seem to be addressing on and for our behalf. And don’t get me started on the media; they’re more likely to take stories and/or information about the rise of STDs and just run wild with it… and blame bisexuals for it.

Which, again, makes me wonder why people are insisting that bisexuality isn’t real; it confuses me to see bisexuals – who supposedly don’t exist – getting all the blame for the spread of something that has been a thorn in humanity’s side and probably since Adam laid the pipe to Eve.

There just doesn’t seem to be a point in “highlighting” bisexuality or asking society’s approval and permission for someone to be bisexual. As far as acceptance goes, sure, homosexuals have won some major battles in this… but battles that bisexuals don’t have to deal with and that gets us fingered (and not in a good way) for having a straight privilege.

And, perhaps, deliberately overlooking the fact that when we’re not doing something homosexual, we’re heterosexual and, for many of us, by default; we only act gay when we want to.

And it’s not that people can’t intelligently grasp that if there are straight people and gay people, um, there just could be some people who are both… except they can’t seem to grasp how this is possible and, to me, doesn’t speak well to our level of intelligence. But I get it: We went from “everyone has to be heterosexual” to “You’re either straight or gay!” and we want to keep believing this despite the fact that bisexuals have always been in the picture. They/we know it… and now we get into all that “pick a side and stay there” shit along with “Why don’t you admit that you’re really gay?”

Um, because we’re not really gay? I can only speak for myself and I do so without offense to homosexuals – I wouldn’t want to be 100% gay – it just doesn’t work for me because – and forgive me for crudely saying it – I love pussy too much to want to be a dick-only kind of guy.

What part of this can’t some folks understand? And, again, importantly, what does this say about our intelligence? Do you mean to tell me that you’ve been so mindfucked by the way things are supposed to be that you refuse to see that what you think isn’t really what’s happening and on the real?

And even with greater media exposure and LGBTQ+ deciding to get off their collective asses and rep us like they’re supposed to be doing, doesn’t it make sense that there will still be people who aren’t going to accept bisexuality… and any anymore than they accept homosexuality…

And because they believe that people should only be heterosexual? That what they believe will always trump the reality that’s all around them?

And do you understand why bisexuals just shrug off all of this insanity and keep on being bisexual and as needs want? I, for one and as a bisexual, don’t give a fuck about media exposure or LGBTQ+ even though I do understand what they’re trying to do. As far as acceptance goes, all I need is for those around me to accept that I am what I am if I tell them what I am. If they accept it, fine and if they don’t, well, that sucks… but it’s not ever gonna stop me from being bisexual. In fact, I’m bisexual even when I’m not doing anything homosexual and, again I am no fucking different from anyone else.

I pay bills and all that; I’m retired and disabled so I don’t have to work but, yeah, I did my 20-year career bid. I’ve done the parent thing. I watch TV, play video games, write this blog and a lot of other stuff that everyone else does on a day to day basis. The only difference is when I get my mind so far in the gutter there’s no escape, yep, I’m thinking pussy and dick – not pussy or dick. Why?

Because I learned a long time ago that this is what works for me. As an older bisexual, I am completely dumbstruck over all of this, you know, having come from a time where this shit didn’t exist for bisexuals. No one was paying any attention to us but, yep, we’ve got their attention now and it’s not in a good way and media representation, right along with LGBTQ+ isn’t doing a damned thing to say what’s good about bisexuality.

So fuck them. We don’t need them. We just need to live our lives as we see fit. They say we’re not real and, at least to me, they’re the ones with a problem because, again, bisexuals know good and damned well that bisexualit not only exists, it’s alive and well… and growing among people. Why?

Because it makes sense to be bisexual. Duh.

 
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Posted by on 20 August 2019 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: So What’s It Really Like…

…to be a guy and sucking another guy’s dick?

Nasty. Forbidden. Taboo. Some say there’s no reason for men to engage in this and that it’s a job only for women if they’re of a mind to provide this pleasure.

I can go to the forum and see what other guys say about it and those who’ve dived in absolutely love it and, I guess, because we’re not supposed to do this and outside of the “obvious”fact that it feels amazing to suck dick and take the guy’s cum.

Some “get off” on providing the, um, service. They love being submissive in this “unmanly” sexual act and to the point where having the favor returned doesn’t matter to them and, indeed, some guy’s prefer that you not return the favor.

Your pleasure is their pleasure and that just makes sense.

We talk about the taste, scent, and feel involved; we talk about how vocal – or not – the other guy is; we look forward to the moment he loses control and gives up his sperm and how it makes us feel in that moment. Even in this, we debate the pros and cons of swallowing enough spermatozoa to repopulate most countries.

Nasty. Forbidden. Taboo. Perverted. Disgustingly deviant. Totally unnecessary. And all of these things makes giving another guy a blowjob. It’s exciting in its nastiness, so frightfully liberating, so physically and emotionally pleasing. Guys wonder why some women love sucking cock and find that it’s hard to explain and I’m the guy who’d tell them that if you really wanna know, go suck a dick and find out why women and men love doing it.

Some folks believe that oral sex isn’t sex – it’s just a prelude to intercourse and I hate to say this but they’re wrong. Among men, getting poked in the ass just ain’t an option, leaving cock sucking as the only thing to do so it’s all about giving and receiving as much pleasure as possible and in the time available.

Guys have their preferences for doing this, like the bigger and fatter the dick is the better while some guys, in my opinion, are more “smart” about it when they say smaller cocks are easier. Big dicks present an interesting challenge and one, it seems, a lot of guys want to face every time they get on their knees or whatever their favorite position is to transform the dick from soft to hard and back to being soft.

Me? I learned that size doesn’t matter – it’s irrelevant. Big, fat dicks do pose a challenge but it can still be sucked and manipulated until homey unloads. Doesn’t matter to me if it’s a little or a lot, nor does it matter if he loses it quickly or not.

The whole point is did what I do to him make him cum. If yes, I get to pat myself on the back but if not, well, let’s keep going until he does or, because of a lot of other circumstances, he’s unable to.

Disappointing but not so much because the dick did get sucked. To that end, so many guys are focused on the end result instead of just being in the moment – it’s not the destination but how you get there but if/when you get there, all well and good. Guys get bent out of shape if they can’t make the other guy cum and are quick to blame themselves for something that, in men, just happens and for a lot of reasons and reasons they’re not considering.

So while a lot of guy have loads of preferences, I only have one: To suck dick; anything else is just being unnecessarily nitpicky. Indeed, one must be careful in this and I might be a rabid cocksucker… but I’m not a stupid one.

Nasty. Disgusting. Forbidden and taboo. Something best left for women to do… and if they don’t, too bad, dude. Deal with it and accept no substitutes. Ever.

Heady. Exciting. Liberating. Nasty but in a damned good way. Makes you feel slutty, wonderfully or disturbingly girly and submissive.

The thing people don’t understand is that when men give each other blowjobs, we have so much in common with women whom suck dick… and women who don’t like knowing that we know just like they do about this. Always reminds me of that question I got asked years ago:

“Why do you suck dick?”

“Well, why do you do it?”

“I like doing it!”

“Okay, you just answered your own question – what’s the big deal? I do it for the same reason you do.”

Of course, the problem is I’m not supposed to do it or like it. That’s not the way it’s supposed to be because it’s:

Nasty. Disgusting. Forbidden. Taboo. Perverted. Perhaps even trespassing and co-opting that territory that is and traditionally for women only.

And I call bullshit on all of that. You don’t have to be gay to suck cock; you don’t have to “being in love” or “be into” a guy to suck his dick and get him to empty his balls. It feels good and bad; you feel manly and quite girly to be doing it and having the nerve to be enjoying it. Maybe your own dick is quite hard, maybe it isn’t and, oddly, guys being sucked this is a sign of being disinterested when, truly, all it means is that he’s totally focused on getting a mouthful of spunk more than he’s focused on whatever his dick is doing or not.

It’s an orgasmic experience and for those who believe than men don’t have orgasm and that ejaculating is equated with the make orgasm… and I’m here today to inform you that if that’s what you believe, you don’t know anything about men. I don’t know – or could begin to tell you – how many times I’ve had amazing orgasms while sucking on a dick. It’s kinda embarrassing but I’ve even busted a nut while doing it.

Because it can be just that damned good and for something so:

Nasty. Forbidden. Taboo. Disgusting.

Some say the visual of men blowing each other isn’t sexy and sometimes I agree with that and porn doesn’t help or even accurately describe what “real guys” – and read this as not being an actor and doing it to make a living – do when they have a willing cock in their mouth. It doesn’t have to look sexy – it just has to be sexy and it really is and in all it’s nasty, forbidden, taboo and disgusting glory.

What’s it really like? It’s everything I’ve said above and it is so much fun to do and personally satisfying on many levels and one is knowing that you’ve defied conventional thinking and beliefs.

Sometimes, it’s something we have to do and as a matter of recourse or substitution, if you will. Sometimes we do it simply because it can be done and to be able to bask in that forbidden nastiness because it feels so damned good.

Women don’t “own” this and you’d think that they’d be… relieved? that some guy isn’t pressuring them to blow them and some other guy is more than willing to blow them. Again, they feel some kind of way knowing that the guy talking to them, dating them, and even living with them is just as much of a sucker of cocks as they are… or used to be… or whatever way they feel about it.

To me, this is a major point of commonality; when a woman goes down on me, I know what the deal is because I can do that and I know the good and bad of it just like she does.

But again, I digress and my apologies for doing so but I’m a fan of sucking dick (and a pussy-eating fiend or fanatic – pick one). Why?

It’s nasty. Forbidden. Taboo. Socially and morally disgusting and perverted. I spit in the face of the rules; I thumb my nose at the angst that infects sexual and sexuality. Why?

It’s exciting. Liberating. So terribly satisfying.

 
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Posted by on 19 August 2019 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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KDaddy’s General Observations: An Update

So I retyped the blog written on my iPad and I’m glad I did – I’m ashamed at how many typos and other errors I made so I got to correct them (although I did see one I missed).

I contacted support and I’m waiting to hear back from them on this matter… and that post is still trying to get back into draft status and the update keep failing. I might have to uninstall the app and reinstall it – that usually works when apps have a bad hair day.

We’ll see. The post is now available for your viewing pleasure…

 
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Posted by on 19 August 2019 in KDaddy's General Observations

 

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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Cocksucking

Okay, thanks to some shit going on with the iOS WordPress app, I’m forced to retype what I wrote on my iPad yesterday so here’s what was on my mind yesterday… and what should have been posted yesterday.

This scribble is rated R, X, XX – whatever – but as I was cleaning out the spammers in Tumblr, I was treated – or exposed – to scenes of men and women sucking cock and I though of a few things, like what are they thinking and feelings as they do it? Sure, given the sources of some of the things I saw, they could be sucking that dick because they’re paid to but, still, what’s going on with them?

I know what it’s like to suck dick; I believe, maintain, and hold true to the “fact” that the only thing better than sucking dick is eating pussy.

To those who aren’t into either thing, I mean no offense when I say to you that you don’t know what you’re missing. If you’re of a mind that this is too much work to be any fun, well, I don’t know what to tell you other than it is fun to do – you just gotta want it to be fun because it’s supposed to be.

I remember the dire warnings from my parents; my father told me to never put my mouth on a girl’s pussy… and it enticed me to find out why I shouldn’t since he didn’t bother to tell me. My mother issued he same kind of warning – don’t let a girl put your penis in her mouth… and, well, that one was quite late since I’d already had my penis in the mouths of both boys and girls.

Sorry about that Mom…

As I viewed cocks of all shapes, sizes, and colors being orally pleased, I thought about how good it feels while fully understanding thatI’m not supposed to be sucking on a man’s dick but there I am, in one position or another, making a flaccid prict into a turgid one, and then indulging in the feelings being presented to me and how all of my senses are involved.

Lots of moaning and groaning, cursing, words of, ah, encouragement; getting him to that point where fucking into my mouth is pretty much automatic and unavoidable and all the while relishing every “nasty” moment it, from the taboo and forbidden aspects and giving a few fleeting thoughts of not really knowing where his dick has been before I got it. Yeah, scary… but still exciting.

A lot of my thoughts and feelings cannot be pt into words; it is weird to be focused on what I’m doing, how he’s reacting… by my brain is multitasking the whole time. I getto a point where I want him to cum… while not wanting him to; Iknow that once he does, it’s game over for him… maybe. I can feel so good about suckinghis cock that, sometimes, I just keep doing it – carefully, of course, because I know how sensitive he is and it’s not gonna make him feel good, let alone allow him to once again hardern in my mouth.

Those of you who suck cock and like/love it knows what I’m talking about; those of you who don’t know – or don’t wanna know – you can keep reading to stop at this point.

So many thoughts; so many different yet familiar feelings. They’re good thoughts and feelings and they’re not so good – but they are what they are. What’s goingthrough the mind of the guy whose cock I’m having fun with? Is he enjoying himself? Maybe not so much? Do I need to do more to him, oh, like maybe eating all of his dick?

I know he’s watching me… and that can be exciting or of no consequence but I always wonder if he thinks I’m sucking his cock to make him a happy camper. Would it throw ice water on his mood if he knew that what I’m doing to him really isn’t about him? Yes, indeed, I want him to enjoy having his cock sucked but maybe I’m a little weird because his pleasure is secondary to my own.

I’m having fun even if he might not be. Shit happens… or it doesn’t. Still, I can feel his body reacting; his cock has been going through some changes like going from very erect to softening a bit before returning to full hardness. I can feel the little tremors running through and along his shaft; while I don’t know what’s going on inside his head, I do know that his body, as represented by his cock in my mouth, is enjoying things.

He’s like me in some ways – he wants to cum and he doesn’t – it’s a feeling I understand and know well when someone is sucking my dick… which, at least for me, makes doing this more exciting because I know what he’s feeling. Still, he’s trying not to cum while I’m working to make him cum and if I do this right, it’s a battle he’s gonna lose… not that he doesn’t want to lose, mind you.

All the while I am thinking about what to do when he does cum. Do I wanna taste his jizz and swallow it? Let him fill my mouth with it and just let it dribble out? Do I want to stop sucking him when I know he’s close to that point of no return and use my hand to finish him off and just watch his sperm flow all over the place?

It depends. See, I know he wants to unload in my mouth and if I swallow his stuff or either let him cut loose in my mouth (and spit it out), that’ll get me a lot of Brownie points with him; still, and in my mind, this ain’t about what he wants and staying “true to form,” I’m not going to make a decision until it starts to happen.

Sometimes, I really don’t know what I want to do with his stuff when he gives it up to me. It can be a confusing moment: Have I done enough “right” things to entice him to lose it? Is he one of those guys who possesses masterful control and can hold it back for as long as he wants to? Maybe he’s feeling frustrated or is overstimulated?

I don’t know… either way, I’m still very much enjoying his cock in my mouth. He’s either gonna cum at some point or he isn’t and both things are fine and not so much something I have any real control over. All I can do is to keep sucking his dick until he pops his cork or asks me to stop.

Focus on the task at hand which is to keep making myself feel wonderful while trying to make him feel the same way. He’s about to lose it and now it’s start to get real… for real. Cursing, egging me on to finish him; thrusting his dick in and out of my mouth and, oddly often, in sync with what I’m doing; maybe he’s doing too much mouth fucking for me to handle which doesn’t happen often but, sure, everyone as a limit. It’s my cue to just hold still and maybe he’s got his hands on my head to make sure I don’t go anywhere.

Things are literally coming to a head; I can feel his cock starting to grow thicker and get a little harder; I can feel those “pre-cum tremors”makinghis cock tremble in my mouth and now it’s a matter of when, not if, he’s gonna cut loose.

And he does and if I have my eyes open and his dick isn’t buried in my mouth, not only can I feel his spunk shooting into my mouth, I can see it pumping away – to me, jeez, that’s such an erotic thing to see. Even with him pumping whatever sperm he has to offer, I still haven’t quite decided to swallow or spit… but, okay, let’s swallow it and hope his stuff doesn’t give me the shits later – but that’s later; right now it’s about milking every drop from him, feeding on him in a rather vampiric way.

More moaning and groaning and he’s starting to soften – do I let go of him or do I wanna gently keep going so we can keep doing this until he shoots another load? Sucking a soft cock is just as much fun as sucking a hard one but I look up at him – I wanna see the look on his face at this point and in this moment and if he’s grimacing, it’ll be best to stop and cut him a break.

Not that I want to cut him some slack but, I, too, know what it feels like to have someone still sucking your dick post-ejaculation. That’s okay because if we have time, I can always let him rest up before going after his dick again. If he’s gonna blow me, well, it’s my turn to experience what he just got finished experiencing, which is a whole different set of thoughts and feelings on my part.

But I’m still basking in the delicious feelings flowing through me after sucking his cock and enticing him to fill my mouth with his seed. It’s so wrong while feeling so terribly wonderful. Maybe I’ll wind up burning in hell for doing this… but I’m not dead yet so there’s nothing to worry about in that regard and if that’s what’ll happen, I’m thinking that I’m going to hell for something I love doing.

Did he enjoy himself? In a way, it doesn’t matter if he did because I had fun doing it but, yeah, sure – who wants to be know as a lousy cocksucker? So whatever he says may be the truth or he’s just being polite when he says that he liked what I did.

Again, it doesn’t matter because I had fun doing it and, if anything, I’m pissed that it’s all over with… or sometimes tickled pick (if you can imagine that) that it’d doneand over with – some guys just make cocksuckingan unpleasant thing to do and it’s not alway easy to put that shit out of yur mind so you can enjoy what you’re doing… and even if you’re now wishing he was someone else.

Occupational hazard – it comes with the job.

If he’s not sucking my cock, I don’t have any real expectations – I’m grateful that he’s returning the favor because he really didn’t have to if he didn’t want to. The battle begins anew; he wants to take my sperm from me and I want him to… and not really. Even when he’s giving me great pleasure with his mouth, I’m wanting to have him back in my mouth – why should he have all the fun associated with sucking cock?

And more so if he really tasted good.

Some folks put a lot of “conditions” and requirements for this, like cock size and even how much jizz they expect to receive… but I never do. Big or little doesn’t matter; a “gallon” of spunk or just a few “teaspoons” doesn’t matter either. Did I get to suck dick?

Yeah… andthat’s the part that makes me love and enjoy it s much as I do.

The only thing better than taking a hard cock and making it soft again is eating pussy and you have no idea how much I love doing that… but I digress.

After the fact, there’s only the memories of the moment. Could I have done it better? Make it last longer for both of us? Am I really as selfish as I believe myself to be because I didn’t just spend however much time it took for him to give up his spunk (and he took mine) just to make him a happy camper. To that end, should I just set my own desires aside and in favor of his?

Fuck that. Not only no but fuck no – where’s the fun in that? Honestly, the only time I give a fuck about this is when I’m eating pussy – women aren’t easy to impress or please this way and I know that if I don’t munch on her with her satisfaction in mind, I might not get to eat that pussy and or any time soon. Still selfish in a way because, whew, eating pussy is good for the soul!

Just like sucking cock is and can be…

A postscript of sorts. Now that I’ve had to retype the blog I wrote on my iPad, I’m glad it didn’t publish or otherwise behave right – it’s so full of mistakes and typos that it ain’t funny so I got to correct them.

 
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Posted by on 19 August 2019 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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KDaddy’s General Observations: I Am Pissed!

The other day, I wrote what I thought was a damned good scribble using WordPress on my iPad. When I went to do my categories and tags, hmm, where are they? This thing ain’t acting as expected but, okay, I gotta write this before it evaporates from my conscious thoughts.

So I’m pecking away on the virtual keyboard and it’s not making me happy – it never does – because it can’t keep up with how fast I can type and that damned autocorrect function is making shit harder than it has to be and, by the way, turning it off just makes it worse. The thoughts are flowing from my brain to my fingers and I get my head emptied about what I wanted to write about… but I still have those housekeeping things to do… and I can’t do them.

Shit. Fuck.

So I save the draft and go to my computer to bring up WordPress and do what I gotta do – and something I’ve done a few times… except, the saved draft isn’t showing up – it’s like I never wrote it and I’m thinking something is very wrong. I go get my iPad, open the app, look in drafts and, yep, there it is, just sitting there waiting to be published but it’s not reflected in the WordPress that’s open in my browser.

What the fuck is going on? Now, I gotta reach out to the support people; I don’t know if what I’m seeing is an app error or, perhaps, something screwy going on with my iPad but I really need to find out why the post I wrote is “saved” on my iPad but my web thingy doesn’t know about it.

And I just hate this shit. It seriously fucks up the way I tend to scribble because the things that are on my mind at the time I’m ready to write them might not hang around for too long and, yeah, I do expect the fucking app to behave as it’s been behaving – and like it’s supposed to.

I’m going to get my iPad and look to make sure the draft is still there… and I won’t be surprised if it’s vanished from there as well… and I will be even more pissed than I am right now.

Stay tuned.

 
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Posted by on 19 August 2019 in KDaddy's General Observations

 

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