WARNING! WARNING! WEIRD AREA AHEAD!
The closest I ever got to molested was when I was eighteen.
I was walking to Fair Lawn late at night, to cause trouble. I was thinking about Rorschach, the masked psychopath from Watchmen. An overweight creep with glasses stuck a tiny knife in my back, herded me behind a border of hedges, and tried to force me down on the ground.
I was in precisely the right mindset for this incident. It felt like a movie. He jabbed my spine and breathed, “ever had a knife in your back?” I laughed and replied, “that’s a knife?” I refused to get down on the ground, saying “I’m not messing up my pants.” They were my good khakis! Finally, he shoved me down, and straddled my head with his bare thighs.
I launched my skull into his nuts like a shotput. As he reeled backward, I jumped up and began raining fists upon him. He stumbled out of the yard, and I bolted after him, a wolverine. Without a break in stride, I jumped and loudly kicked a tin FOR SALE sign, and scooped a thick tree branch from a trash pile just outside the hedge.
I chased that motherfucker for two miles, stick in hand, until finally he got away from me. Down streets and alleys I’d never seen before. Past an ice cream parlor, where several kids from my school saw me obviously out for blood, and laughing, which they did also, nervously. There is no question in my mind that had I caught up to that fat fuck, I would have killed him. Dead.
I returned home triumphant. I called a girl I was trying to bed, and although I kept what had happened to myself, she remarked upon the unusually deep tone of my voice, caused by the adrenaline rush. I felt more like a man that night than I have for most of my life. The girl later perished in a terrible car accident.
Pedophile jokes and molestation humor are among the toughest to write properly in today’s climate. Let me elaborate with two examples: Herbert the Pervert from Family Guy, and Sgt. Hatred from The Venture Bros.
(Please note, any similarities between Sgt. Hatred and my character Kap’n Kill-Krazy are coincidence, and more indicative of parodying the same things than any sort of plagiarism.)
Both Herbert and Sgt. Hatred are considered “pedophiles”. However, in Herbert’s case, it’s something that might possibly happen, and with Sgt. Hatred, it’s happened. Big difference.
Now, keep in mind I’m using cartoon characters here, but the fact is, that’s where things get normalized. Kids watch cartoons when they’re kids. That will continue as long as adults think cartoons are for kids, meaning it will continue indefinitely.
Part of appreciating (or “getting”) pedophile jokes requires wisdom. Not the knowledge that pedophiles exist, or the knowledge of what they have done. The wisdom to know that pedophiles are an undesirable and powerless fraction of the human spectrum. It’s totally acceptable to ridicule adults who would like to have sex with the underage. I wasn’t even a minor when I was almost raped, and I went into full-blown kill-mode.
That’s primal. That’s how regular people become when children are threatened. Then there’s the elephant in the room.
Adult victims of child molestation.
Someone who’s been molested will have an entirely different reaction to a pedophile joke; they will have a unique reaction to the word “pedophile”. That goes double for actual pedophiles.
Sometimes, a political figure will do something unimaginable to a child, which has to be covered up. Cover-ups are far more insidious now, “post-recession”. Many falling stars (with highly-paid, rapacious publicists) made dying stabs at relevance by coupling with politicians, to prop up their desired fame and income. Suddenly politics and entertainment are kissin’ cousins. Every movie and television show has a visible agenda.
News channels are under no obligation to report the truth if it threatens their sponsors. They do not operate under the same ethical standard as newspapers. They could take the story I opened this article with and misuse it to call me a pedophile, if the people who pay their bills wanted me destroyed. They could “spin” it to annihilate me publicly, then delete all evidence and accept no responsibility.
Luckily, there are people out there with brains. Despite the fact that “Boy” is part of my professional name, I’d be a tough sell as a kid-toucher. I mean,
- I’ve written enough words about women’s tits on this site to make a tag appear in the cloud at right.
- Although my room is choked with Transformers toys, I would murder any child that touched them with a poison dart, from hiding.
- I hate kids. The only reason I usually keep it to myself is that I love pussy more. Adult pussy. I don’t even like it when a woman sounds like a little girl.
People with brains would know that if I was being labeled a pedophile, which I ain’t, attention should be paid to those doing the labeling. There might be a secret, dangerous person trying to destroy me, or use me as a distraction from terrible things they have done. For money. It’s always money.
Money doesn’t just buy silence. It buys a house where no one can find you. It buys a work force that orbits you like planets around a sun. If the sun dies, they die. You can build all of this without anyone ever noticing; if anyone does notice, you just buy them into it. You could put your address on the web and your enemies would still never track you down. You can pay to be blocked from satellite images.
I’m like you. I don’t have any money. I’m actually being fined for uploading this after exceeding my data limit. That’s a 21st-century problem to which you can relate. If I was moneyed, any confessions relating to underage sexuality would immediately be used against me, regardless of intent or content. I would become a human pinata. An easily-identifiable object hung for anyone to beat upon, and receive rewards for doing so.
I told you that calling “Nazi” didn’t work any more; now it’s “pedophile”. It will work for about as briefly. Right now, calling someone “pedophile” doesn’t require any investigation or proof. Meaning, it works like a charm for the rich ones with something to hide. And there’s always somebody a rich family wants hidden.
Everyone has their own personal bogeyman. It relates directly to childhood fears and harm. That’s why crying “wolf” works, at least once.