Archive | Animal Abuse RSS feed for this section

Sleep With the Angels, Buddy: Photographing the Death of My Friend

3 Nov
Buddy left us forever today

Buddy left us forever today

Preparing Buddy to go to a better place. He was sedated and sleep alive, but he was near sleeping. The Dr. prepares the drugs that will cause his heart to stop, when he will die.

Preparing Buddy to go to a better place. He was sedated and sleep alive, but he was near sleeping. The Dr. prepares the drugs that will cause his heart to stop, when he will die.

My old friend, Buddy, left us, forever, this afternoon. Below, I am listening to Buddy’s heart stop beating. He took a last,deep gasp, an inhale of breath. It was the sound of death. I have heard it many times before. I knew Buddy was gone. He lived a good life and died a good death.

buddy32He died painlessly. He was surrounded by love when he went to wherever good dogs go.

Buddy, surrounded by love from his family

Buddy, surrounded by love from his family

We said goodbye. Buddy, a few minutes before he went away, forever, today.

The doctor released him from his suffering

The doctor released him from his suffering

Buddy gets the final, loving death drug that stops his heart

Buddy gets the final, loving death drug that stops his heart

My friend, Buddy, a few weeks ago

My friend, Buddy, a few weeks ago

The doctor came over and eased him from his suffering. Buddy lived a good, fulfilled life.

buddy2He is no longer suffering. Buddy had departed a few minutes earlier. But here his body departs his house. His ashes will come back to me and I  will keep them, forever, in a special place, with me always

Written the evening before Buddy was eased out of this world:

Good Bye, Buddy, My Friend. Thank You for Making Me a Better Man

By Nate Thayer

November 2, 2013

Good bye, Buddy, my friend. Thank you for making me a better man.

My enduring, very important, exceptionally wise, unconditionally loving friend, Buddy, has made me a better man in the ten years and five months we have known each other.

Buddy and I had a long talk today.

He told me that he has had a very worthy, very fulfilling life, full of fun and joy and meaning, has had special friends who he knows have loved him very much, and a full breadth of mostly happy and all meaningful and important adventures and experiences.

He told me he loved me. And I told him I loved him, very much, and I wanted him to know that having him in my life has made me a better man.

But, today, he told me that the flame of his inextinguishable candle, which has made his life glow and shine on this earth, has been irreversibly, increasingly flickering in recent months, and he asked me if I would be with him to gently blow it out.

The time has come, he said, for his this life to end, and he asked me to help him go gently, with dignity, into the good, permanent night.

He said that he has been in a lot of pain and it has sabotaged his ability to be joyful.

He cannot muster the strength, after a lifetime of his maximally used muscles, to rise after he needs to lay down and rest, which is now most of the time.

He cannot walk without a great deal of pain.

He cannot see the things and people who have brought him delight and pleasure and make his life worthy.

He cannot hear the sounds and voices of pleasure and love that have surrounded him, without pause, for more than a decade now.

He cannot eat much and he is weak.

And he told me that it frightens him to feel the steady march of the erosion of his mind.

He asked me to help him to go gently, surrounded by love, from this world to a different, unknown place. Even if that place is no place at all, he said he has had a good life full of meaning and joy.

I told him, as he has known has always been true, I would do anything for him, as best I knew how, that will help make him more satisfied, more content, that would give him more pleasure, that would make his heart warmer than one of the already warmest hearts of any of God’s creatures.

He kissed my face and I kissed his forehead, for a very long time. I promised him I would do my best so he would feel better, soon.

Tomorrow, Sunday November 3, a doctor will come to Buddy’s house and I will be holding him tightly in my loving arms as she eases him into a permanent, good, better, final, irrevocable night, and in my elusive dreams and hopes and fantasies, a sunnier bright new dawn where his heart would only smile and be smiled upon.

I want my friend, Buddy, to know this:

Buddy, you have been one of my oldest, closest friends, ever since you were given a reprieve from death row a decade ago and came to live with me.

Buddy has lived with my brother the last couple of years, where he has a backyard and three young whippersnappers who love him.

Buddy you have had a good life, and you have made this world a better place because you have lived. And you have made my life much richer by sharing yourself with me.

You are an older guy, now, Buddy. Glaucoma clouds your eyes and your hearing is worse than mine. You cannot now muster the strength in your well used legs to get up.

I have had to carry you down two flights of stairs so we could amble ever so slowly to the dog park.

The other day, it took us 23 seconds to cross the street. We had to stop and retreat several times because we wouldn’t have made it to the other side before the light turned green.

But you have been, still, very happy, despite your increasing challenges.

These things happen to all of us, Buddy.

I have been so pained to have watched them happening to you now, increasingly diminishing the joy you have had from, and respect you have accorded, simply being alive.

These are some of my thoughts for you, my friend, Buddy, now.

My tears of sadness are clouding my ability, as I write these words, to say goodbye.

But they are exceeded by my memories of the joy and meaning you having been part of my life and this world has brought me:

To my friend, Buddy:

I remember when I first heard of you.

It was at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting in a rural church basement.

Someone—a volunteer at a local human society—stood up and said he loved you but you were scheduled to be executed the next day because you did not have a home.

The man said you were a good dog and you just needed someone to love you.
That was in May 2003. I had just gotten home from Iraq. And I needed someone to love me too, Buddy.

So I told the man “Stay the execution, the boy has a home.” We hadn’t actually even met yet, Buddy.

I came to the dog prison and you were hiding at the back corner of your jail cell. They opened the door, and you came out reluctantly but with dignity, but looking humiliated and defeated.

They said you had been a bad boy. They were very wrong, Buddy.

They said that you would run and run and run, and that you demanded to live a free life and that the hated Dog Police had arrested you umpteen times and they had had enough.

So they captured you and put you in a cage.

And then, when nobody wanted to give you a home, they sentenced you to death.

You came out of jail and, once out the front door, you broke free from me, because you didn’t know me then Buddy. I would have done the same thing, if I had been you, then.

You ran and ran and ran from the jail. We had to chase you down the rural roads of Maryland’s Eastern shore until we captured you again.

And then you came home with me, Buddy. That was 10 years ago last summer.

And Scoop, my pal from Bangkok, who we both know had a pea brain but a big heart, and we both know, Buddy, really considered that she was an entitled Princess, was also part of your new family. To be honest and generous, she sometimes was a bitch. She was not very nice to you, Buddy.

But, after all, she was born in a fetid sewer on the streets of Bangkok and now had her own waterfront estate in America. She had had a hard life, too, Buddy, and you understood that.

But you were then, as you are now such a good, tolerant boy. You put up with her snarls and growls—just standing there and letting her have her fit.

And you told me: “It’s OK, Nate. If you have enough room in your heart for me and Scoop, I have enough room in mine for you and Scoop, too.”

You taught me to think of others before myself and that anger and ego and revenge and grudges rarely make anyone happy or improve any situation.

I love you for that, Buddy. You taught me how to be a better man.

Scoop wouldn’t let you sleep on my bed for 6 years, but you would come smooch me each night and then you would sleep blocking the bedroom door. I knew you were trying to protect me, Buddy.

So many nights you would bark at what you suspected was some bad guy, and you were right more than a few times.

Do you remember nearby there was a minimum security juvenile prison and how many times those poor fellows escaped? But the problem was there was only one road out to freedom because we lived on that long peninsula that was surrounded by water. It was nine miles to the nearest store and so, many times, the escaped prisoners would sneak across our farm fields and try to steal my truck to make their getaway.

And you would have none of that, Buddy, would you?

So you barked and barked and ran to the door and back to me until I paid attention and we went outside, together Buddy, with my 30 odd 6 and fired off a few very large, very loud rounds their way. And then they would go away. You were, rightly, very proud of yourself, Buddy.

You sympathized with them, but there were certain red lines for you in life that just could not be crossed. I learned which of those red lines were important to you, Buddy, and made some of them part of my own. Thank you for that, you made me a better man, Buddy.

And you forgave me when, another night, you were convinced something or somebody was outside who shouldn’t be and you barked and smooched me over and over, insisting I pay attention and go see what the ruckus was all about. I stumbled out of bed to the front door with the 45 automatic pistol we kept by our bedside, with no bullet in the chamber but the ammunition clip inserted partially in the weapon.

In truth, I may have been half drunk, Buddy. At the front door, before going outside to investigate, I tried to put a round in the chamber but I couldn’t lock and load because the bullet wouldn’t chamber and remained in the clip.

So, like the idiot I can be sometimes, I tried to load it by pulling the trigger and BOOM, I shot a hole through the wall in the front hallway and that round whizzed right by your head.

I was embarrassed for the accidental discharge and you had the bejesus startled out of you, Buddy.

But you still loved me even when I was an idiot, Buddy. I learned this quality from you, too, Buddy: Unconditional love. You made me a better man.

You were such a happy boy. You loved that big farm. You were free. All 70 acres were yours. The waterfront was yours to frolic, which you did every day. And I remember how happy you were, running full speed round and round and round the swimming pool and the deck. You were celebrating and reveling in just how happy you were to be free.

I learned that being free is very important, from you, Buddy. Thank You for making me a better man.

You are such a loving boy, Buddy.

When Scoop died in my arms, her head resting on my shoulder, in my bed, you smooched her one last time. Even though she never smooched you, once, in six years.

You saw how devastated I was and you smooched me, too, and you put your paws over my heart and your head on my neck. And you crawled up into my bed and you never left me in the years since.

You taught me the importance of tolerance and empathy, Buddy. You made me a better man.

That was the first night you slept all night in my bed, and you did every night afterwards. You were understanding, forgiving, and loyal, Buddy. I learned that from you, too, Buddy. Thank you for making me a better man.

And you smooched me and took care of me, Buddy, when I was sick for a very long time. You would curl up by me every night to protect me, Buddy and you would flow towards more loving when I would ebb towards sicker. I know it wasn’t much fun for you then, Buddy, but you always thought empathy towards others was more important than your own pleasure, in times when others needed you, Buddy.

I learned from you the importance of this, too, Buddy. You made me a better man.

I remember the night when the barn caught fire. You barked and barked and ran up and smooched me and ran back to the front door and back again to my bed, until I woke up and saw what the commotion was all about. You were so proud of yourself. As you should have been, even though the barn burned down.

You believed that you can not try and certainly fail, or you can try and you may succeed or fail. For you, Buddy, it is more important to try and fail than not try at all. I learned that from you, Buddy. You made me a better man.

You were the perfect guard dog, and your unqualified loyalty to those you love and those who loved you never wavered. You are the perfect friend, Buddy.

I love you Buddy and I know you love me. We love each other with all our hearts.

I want you to know that those hated Dog Police Nazi’s who sentenced you to die ten years ago because they said you were a bad dog were wrong, Buddy. You are a very good dog. The world is a better place because you lived.

Then I got sick again, Buddy, and you were such a loving boy. Every night, curling next to me and kissing and licking me. You would wait there, by my side with me, till the morning when I woke, making sure I was OK, before you went out for your long stroll and swim and frolicked, just thankful to be blessed to be alive, to celebrate your freedom. Every day.

You knew what freedom was because you had experienced it denied to you, Buddy. I learned how important it is to remember that, Buddy, from you. Thank you for making me a better man.

I love you Buddy.

You are an older guy, now, Buddy. Your eyes are clouded from Glaucoma.

You still are such a tolerant fellow, Buddy, such a very loving, very, very good boy.

Now, you let Lamont annoy you and you understand. You let him play his childish puppy games and you even let him eat your food.

And, now, Lamont lies next to you staring up at you, wondering how he can be the man you are.

You have shown others a code to live by, by your example, Buddy.

I am very happy and proud to tell the world what a beautiful boy you are, Buddy. It doesn’t matter to me if they can’t understand.

I learned that when you are saying the right thing, believing the right thing, behaving the right way, it doesn’t matter how different people may interpret it. I learned that from you, Buddy. You made me a better man.

These are just some of the many ways you have made me a better person than I was before you blessed me with sharing your life with me, Buddy.

Now, you are still as wise but you are more fragile, Buddy. Now, when you come and sleep next to me it is the time for me to show you how important you have been in my life.

I love you Buddy. Thanks for being my friend. I will miss you very much Buddy.

But I will celebrate your life and how lucky I have been to have you share your wisdom and character with me, because you deserve to be remembered with a smile and warm feeling in my heart.

Because, while you are a better man than I, Buddy, you have made me a better man than I was before I was lucky to have you share your very important, special self with me.

Goodbye, my friend.

I love you now and I will love you forever, Buddy.

I will be holding you very closely, tightly in my arms full of love, as you go gently away from me and from all those who have been lucky to have crossed your path, tomorrow, forever.

But, I want you to have no doubt of this: you will remain alive forever.

You represent the better part of who I am today.

Goodbye, my Friend, Buddy. Thank You for Making Me a Better Man

2 Nov

Good Bye, Buddy, My Friend. Thank You for Making Me a Better Man

By Nate Thayer

November 2, 2013

Good bye, Buddy, my friend. Thank you for making me a better man.

My enduring, very important, exceptionally wise, unconditionally loving friend, Buddy, has made me a better man in the ten years and five months we have known each other.

Buddy and I had a long talk today.

He told me that he has had a very worthy, very fulfilling life, full of fun and joy and meaning, has had special friends who he knows have loved him very much, and a full breadth of mostly happy and all meaningful and important adventures and experiences.

He told me he loved me. And I told him I loved him, very much, and I wanted him to know that having him in my life has made me a better man.

But, today, he told me that the flame of his inextinguishable candle, which has made his life glow and shine on this earth, has been irreversibly, increasingly flickering in recent months, and he asked me if I would be with him to gently blow it out.

The time has come, he said, for his this life to end, and he asked me to help him go gently, with dignity, into the good, permanent night.

My Friend, Buddy, in recent months

My Friend, Buddy, in recent months

He said that he has been in a lot of pain and it has sabotaged his ability to be joyful.

He cannot muster the strength, after a lifetime of his maximally used muscles, to rise after he needs to lay down and rest, which is now most of the time.

He cannot walk without a great deal of pain.

He cannot see the things and people who have brought him delight and pleasure and make his life worthy.

He cannot hear the sounds and voices of pleasure and love that have surrounded him, without pause, for more than a decade now.

He cannot eat much and he is weak.

And he told me that it frightens him to feel the steady march of the erosion of his mind.

He asked me to help him to go gently, surrounded by love, from this world to a different, unknown place. Even if that place is no place at all, he said he has had a good life full of meaning and joy.

I told him, as he has known has always been true, I would do anything for him, as best I knew how, that will help make him more satisfied, more content, that would give him more pleasure, that would make his heart warmer than one of the already warmest hearts of any of God’s creatures.

He kissed my face and I kissed his forehead, for a very long time. I promised him I would do my best so he would feel better, soon.

Tomorrow, Sunday November 3, a doctor will come to Buddy’s house and I will be holding him tightly in my loving arms as she eases him into a permanent, good, better, final, irrevocable night, and in my elusive dreams and hopes and fantasies, a sunnier bright new dawn where his heart would only smile and be smiled upon.

I want my friend, Buddy, to know this:

Buddy, you have been one of my oldest, closest friends, ever since you were given a reprieve from death row a decade ago and came to live with me.

Buddy has lived with my brother the last couple of years, where he has a backyard and three young whippersnappers who love him.

Buddy you have had a good life, and you have made this world a better place because you have lived. And you have made my life much richer by sharing yourself with me.

You are an older guy, now, Buddy. Glaucoma clouds your eyes and your hearing is worse than mine. You cannot now muster the strength in your well used legs to get up.

I have had to carry you down two flights of stairs so we could amble ever so slowly to the dog park.

The other day, it took us 23 seconds to cross the street. We had to stop and retreat several times because we wouldn’t have made it to the other side before the light turned green.

But you have been, still, very happy, despite your increasing challenges.

These things happen to all of us, Buddy.

I have been so pained to have watched them happening to you now, increasingly diminishing the joy you have had from, and respect you have accorded, simply being alive.

These are some of my thoughts for you, my friend, Buddy, now.

My tears of sadness are clouding my ability, as I write these words, to say goodbye.

But they are exceeded by my memories of the joy and meaning you having been part of my life and this world has brought me:

To my friend, Buddy:

I remember when I first heard of you.

It was at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting in a rural church basement.

Someone—a volunteer at a local human society—stood up and said he loved you but you were scheduled to be executed the next day because you did not have a home.

The man said you were a good dog and you just needed someone to love you.
That was in May 2003. I had just gotten home from Iraq. And I needed someone to love me too, Buddy.

So I told the man “Stay the execution, the boy has a home.” We hadn’t actually even met yet, Buddy.

I came to the dog prison and you were hiding at the back corner of your jail cell. They opened the door, and you came out reluctantly but with dignity, but looking humiliated and defeated.

They said you had been a bad boy. They were very wrong, Buddy.

They said that you would run and run and run, and that you demanded to live a free life and that the hated Dog Police had arrested you umpteen times and they had had enough.

So they captured you and put you in a cage.

And then, when nobody wanted to give you a home, they sentenced you to death.

You came out of jail and, once out the front door, you broke free from me, because you didn’t know me then Buddy. I would have done the same thing, if I had been you, then.

You ran and ran and ran from the jail. We had to chase you down the rural roads of Maryland’s Eastern shore until we captured you again.

And then you came home with me, Buddy. That was 10 years ago last summer.

And Scoop, my pal from Bangkok, who we both know had a pea brain but a big heart, and we both know, Buddy, really considered that she was an entitled Princess, was also part of your new family. To be honest and generous, she sometimes was a bitch. She was not very nice to you, Buddy.

But, after all, she was born in a fetid sewer on the streets of Bangkok and now had her own waterfront estate in America. She had had a hard life, too, Buddy, and you understood that.

But you were then, as you are now such a good, tolerant boy. You put up with her snarls and growls—just standing there and letting her have her fit.

And you told me: “It’s OK, Nate. If you have enough room in your heart for me and Scoop, I have enough room in mine for you and Scoop, too.”

You taught me to think of others before myself and that anger and ego and revenge and grudges rarely make anyone happy or improve any situation.

I love you for that, Buddy. You taught me how to be a better man.

Scoop wouldn’t let you sleep on my bed for 6 years, but you would come smooch me each night and then you would sleep blocking the bedroom door. I knew you were trying to protect me, Buddy.

So many nights you would bark at what you suspected was some bad guy, and you were right more than a few times.

Do you remember nearby there was a minimum security juvenile prison and how many times those poor fellows escaped? But the problem was there was only one road out to freedom because we lived on that long peninsula that was surrounded by water. It was nine miles to the nearest store and so, many times, the escaped prisoners would sneak across our farm fields and try to steal my truck to make their getaway.

And you would have none of that, Buddy, would you?

So you barked and barked and ran to the door and back to me until I paid attention and we went outside, together Buddy, with my 30 odd 6 and fired off a few very large, very loud rounds their way. And then they would go away. You were, rightly, very proud of yourself, Buddy.

You sympathized with them, but there were certain red lines for you in life that just could not be crossed. I learned which of those red lines were important to you, Buddy, and made some of them part of my own. Thank you for that, you made me a better man, Buddy.

And you forgave me when, another night, you were convinced something or somebody was outside who shouldn’t be and you barked and smooched me over and over, insisting I pay attention and go see what the ruckus was all about. I stumbled out of bed to the front door with the 45 automatic pistol we kept by our bedside, with no bullet in the chamber but the ammunition clip inserted partially in the weapon.

In truth, I may have been half drunk, Buddy. At the front door, before going outside to investigate, I tried to put a round in the chamber but I couldn’t lock and load because the bullet wouldn’t chamber and remained in the clip.

So, like the idiot I can be sometimes, I tried to load it by pulling the trigger and BOOM, I shot a hole through the wall in the front hallway and that round whizzed right by your head.

I was embarrassed for the accidental discharge and you had the bejesus startled out of you, Buddy.

But you still loved me even when I was an idiot, Buddy. I learned this quality from you, too, Buddy: Unconditional love. You made me a better man.

You were such a happy boy. You loved that big farm. You were free. All 70 acres were yours. The waterfront was yours to frolic, which you did every day. And I remember how happy you were, running full speed round and round and round the swimming pool and the deck. You were celebrating and reveling in just how happy you were to be free.

I learned that being free is very important, from you, Buddy. Thank You for making me a better man.

You are such a loving boy, Buddy.

When Scoop died in my arms, her head resting on my shoulder, in my bed, you smooched her one last time. Even though she never smooched you, once, in six years.

You saw how devastated I was and you smooched me, too, and you put your paws over my heart and your head on my neck. And you crawled up into my bed and you never left me in the years since.

You taught me the importance of tolerance and empathy, Buddy. You made me a better man.

That was the first night you slept all night in my bed, and you did every night afterwards. You were understanding, forgiving, and loyal, Buddy. I learned that from you, too, Buddy. Thank you for making me a better man.

And you smooched me and took care of me, Buddy, when I was sick for a very long time. You would curl up by me every night to protect me, Buddy and you would flow towards more loving when I would ebb towards sicker. I know it wasn’t much fun for you then, Buddy, but you always thought empathy towards others was more important than your own pleasure, in times when others needed you, Buddy.

I learned from you the importance of this, too, Buddy. You made me a better man.

I remember the night when the barn caught fire. You barked and barked and ran up and smooched me and ran back to the front door and back again to my bed, until I woke up and saw what the commotion was all about. You were so proud of yourself. As you should have been, even though the barn burned down.

You believed that you can not try and certainly fail, or you can try and you may succeed or fail. For you, Buddy, it is more important to try and fail than not try at all. I learned that from you, Buddy. You made me a better man.

You were the perfect guard dog, and your unqualified loyalty to those you love and those who loved you never wavered. You are the perfect friend, Buddy.

I love you Buddy and I know you love me. We love each other with all our hearts.

I want you to know that those hated Dog Police Nazi’s who sentenced you to die ten years ago because they said you were a bad dog were wrong, Buddy. You are a very good dog. The world is a better place because you lived.

Then I got sick again, Buddy, and you were such a loving boy. Every night, curling next to me and kissing and licking me. You would wait there, by my side with me, till the morning when I woke, making sure I was OK, before you went out for your long stroll and swim and frolicked, just thankful to be blessed to be alive, to celebrate your freedom. Every day.

You knew what freedom was because you had experienced it denied to you, Buddy. I learned how important it is to remember that, Buddy, from you. Thank you for making me a better man.

I love you Buddy.

You are an older guy, now, Buddy. Your eyes are clouded from Glaucoma.

You still are such a tolerant fellow, Buddy, such a very loving, very, very good boy.

Now, you let Lamont annoy you and you understand. You let him play his childish puppy games and you even let him eat your food.

And, now, Lamont lies next to you staring up at you, wondering how he can be the man you are.

You have shown others a code to live by, by your example, Buddy.

I am very happy and proud to tell the world what a beautiful boy you are, Buddy. It doesn’t matter to me if they can’t understand.

I learned that when you are saying the right thing, believing the right thing, behaving the right way, it doesn’t matter how different people may interpret it. I learned that from you, Buddy. You made me a better man.

These are just some of the many ways you have made me a better person than I was before you blessed me with sharing your life with me, Buddy.

Now, you are still as wise but you are more fragile, Buddy. Now, when you come and sleep next to me it is the time for me to show you how important you have been in my life.

I love you Buddy. Thanks for being my friend. I will miss you very much Buddy.

But I will celebrate your life and how lucky I have been to have you share your wisdom and character with me, because you deserve to be remembered with a smile and warm feeling in my heart.

Because, while you are a better man than I, Buddy, you have made me a better man than I was before I was lucky to have you share your very important, special self with me.

Goodbye, my friend.

I love you now and I will love you forever, Buddy.

I will be holding you very closely, tightly in my arms full of love, as you go gently away from me and from all those who have been lucky to have crossed your path, tomorrow, forever.

But, I want you to have no doubt of this: you will remain alive forever.

You represent the better part of who I am today.

Rape, Child Abuse, and Animal Cruelty: Women’s Sexual Freedom and Respecting My Pal Lamont

19 Jan

Rape, Child Abuse, and Animal Cruelty: Why Everyone’s Sexual Pleasure Requires Women Have Sexual Freedom

And Why That Means You Have to be Nice to My Pal, Lamont.

 By Nate Thayer

Warning: If you are disturbed by explicit sexual content or disturbing descriptions of violence do not read further

I recently posted a story outraged at those who force animals to fuck them. I said it was, like fucking a child, an unacceptable crossing of the boundary that all sex must be consensual; where all parties are capable and willing to consent, free from coercion, manipulation or force. With animals and children they simply don’t have the capability to give consent.

Importantly, I at the same time absolutely defended, and demand for myself, that all erotic desires be freely explored and are healthy to express. That none are better suppressed. But some must never be acted on, and some should be left to fantasy and role-play either by oneself or with a consenting partner.

 

The two inviolable guidelines are that we should all be free sexual beings, without judgment or shame or guilt. And you cannot deny anyone else that exact same right.  To carry sexual fantasy to action every participant must both give, receive, and exchange, full, clear, and non-coercive consent. We all have the right to explore whatever sexual desires we have. And none of us have the right to deny that in another.

This post will not make your pussy wet or your cock hard. If that is what you are seeking at the moment, and probably what I would prefer to be writing than this post, I would urge you to click the computer button and move on. You can find that in thousands of other stories posted online. If you want my take on why some things turn you on or whether fantasies are healthy to act on and some are not, you might—maybe–want to continue reading.

Below is an excerpt from an earlier missive I penned in response to some people who believe it is OK to fuck my dog titled “Except for One Obvious Exception…” I believe there are no limits to exploring sexual fantasies or desires by you or with anyone who consents to sharing them. I don’t care if anyone thinks mine are perverted, immoral, or simply has no erotic appeal to him or her. And I don’t judge the many I have no desire or even understanding of the sexual arousal and pleasure it brings to them. Who knows why we all have distinct sexual urges that drive us to unbridled frenzy? Who cares why? But exploring through shared fantasy and role-play and exploring through experiencing them are two very distinct things. This is my reaction to a question posed online earlier:  “Has anyone ever let a male dog fuck them?”…and the question poster continued “My wife had our German Shepherd fuck me like I was his bitch. Has this ever happened to anyone else? I was really sick feeling at first, but now I really like it and want him to!!”

There is a reason why non-consensual sexual acts are defined as rape and sexual assault. Animals cannot by definition consent. This is also fact for children. If you have erotic fantasies of non consensual sex, which I submit is common, normal, and shouldn’t be repressed for the many that do, then either by yourself or with a person or persons who share that sexual desire and fantasy, role play and explore it within the boundaries of fantasy. But to experience it by forcing it on another who isn’t willing or consenting is, and should be, unacceptable.  

 

Virtually any other sexual desire fantasy or fetish can be achieved and experienced consensually. I am aroused by many things others are not and who find no erotic pleasure in those I do. So if it is consensual and doesn’t involve animals and children, then I truly hold no judgment and defend your right to pursue without restriction fulfilling your own erotic needs.  I also understand when others see no erotic appeal in what turns me on and don’t impose my sexual menu of lust on others who don’t share them.

But to the above question poster I say: You should be arrested for animal cruelty, face the consequences of the full weight of the law, never be allowed to be around dogs, and will forever be the focus of my utter contempt.

 

And the same applies to those who force children to experience your selfish choice to force your desires on those incapable of consenting to choose to participate in them. Anything can be played out in role play and fantasy but to force an unwilling or incapable person or animal to serve your interests, regardless of knowingly ignoring, and refusing to respect, and choosing to abuse, and therefore deny that right to someone else, is firmly beyond defense. Of course you are ashamed of and beneath contempt for denying to someone the choice that you are demanding for yourself. You cannot deny the sexual freedom to anyone in order to achieve sexual pleasure. It is the sexual repression and denial of anyone that hurts everyone.  Full stop.

The response to this was civil and posed many questions that took issue, saying it was oversimplified. Many argued that sex with animals was separate from sex with children. “I don’t think it’s a consent issue and I’m not even sure it’s a animal cruelty issue. I’m absolutely certain it’s not appropriate to bracket it with child sexual abuse. All of that may be skirmishing around the fringes: I absolutely agree with your view that we cannot be held culpable for what turns us on, only for acting on it in a way that is likely to hurt or damage others.” And “I think consent or non-consent is a human attribute. To apply it to animals is a bit of a double standard…I mean, if animals can never consent, do you feel bad about killing and eating them, the way you feel bad about having sex with them? Which do you think is worse: eating an animal? Or giving them an orgasm? Why do we feel we have dominion over the animals?”

The arguments contended that there is a long history of bestiality. That if one was to use ‘consent’ as a rule guiding action towards animals than we should all be vegetarians.  “Consent is not the answer, unless you are prepared to follow it the whole way, which means veganism.” And “What is worse—killing or fucking an animal?” “It just becomes a matter of personal distaste at the thought of it; it’s a perversion to satisfy your carnal urges with a different species. But then again hunger is a carnal urge as well. Food, water and sex drive every species on the planet. So if its o.k. to eat a lesser species to satisfy your carnal hunger… why would it be wrong to ‘eat’ a lesser species to satisfy your carnal lust? 😉 ask them which they would prefer.”

Most agreed that the idea of fucking a child or animal was deeply offensive to them. But is being offensive to someone a justification for judging someone else’s or making an erotic urge illegal? 
”I asked for a reason bestiality was wrong, from a strictly legal and philosophical standpoint, and all I get is people calling it and me disgusting,” said another respondent. “I ask a question which you have failed to answer. …You and everyone else’s comments are nothing more than statements of how disgusting you find the act. But you have not yet explained the moral or philosophical reasoning behind why having sex with an animal should be illegal.” And “your comparison between child molestation and bestiality is a false premise. They are not ‘wrong’ for the same reason of ‘non-consent’. It is impossible for an animal to give consent, period. Cows aren’t even smart enough to understand the mortal danger they are in and greyhounds never really get the nefarious plot to chase a hare that never moves. So what exactly is ‘wrong’ with bestiality; besides that it is as gross to me as those people who claim to find their poop and pee sexually exciting?”  Others brought up the issue of exactly when a child is defined as old enough to consent.  “So the question about sex and animals is interesting. What is it that makes that behavior taboo not just for Vegans but also for, in practical terms, everybody? Is it just that we have hang ups about sex? Probably. Sexual morality and logic are, appropriately enough, not very comfortable bedfellows…. But don’t put someone who sexually abuses my children in the same bracket as someone who sexually abuses my dog. 

But let’s be clear – child sex abuse is not really a consent issue. If it is, we will have people trotting out “the exceptionally mature pre-pubescent argument”. And we will have no answer to them. There may well be children who have the maturity to consent to sexual activity with adults but I don’t want to live in a world where we let them.”

Still others said “what about incest?”

 

All these questions, and others, are legitimate and the debate could go on endlessly. “(Thayer’s) thesis about the underlying rationale being lack of consent is superficially attractive but is simply wrong and I will hold to that until persuaded otherwise. The problem is that the only suggested alternative, which is that some things are just inherently wrong and that it is innate in us to recognize them, doesn’t appeal to his (or my) rational mind.”

So here is my more thoughtful response.

We all have sexual desires, urges and fantasies that are the result of the complex wiring of life experiences, social conditioning, religious and cultural influence, repression and guilt, many based on painful as well as pleasant memories that form the architecture of our erotic minds.

 

Like, snowflakes, everyone one of us is different.

Specifically, without restriction, every one of us should be encouraged to embrace and explore whatever menu of sexual urges, desires, and fantasies make up the erotic menu of the buffet from which we can freely choose which dishes appeal to us.  I make absolutely no judgment on any sexual desires that gets anyone off or turns any one of us on. It is meaningless and irrelevant if I find some perfectly repulsive, or hold no erotic appeal for, or simply find baffling that it is included on anyone else’s sexual urges of choice. And I demand that there be no interference in my right to derive pleasure and explore those lusts desires and sexual kinks that make up mine. . There are many that we each find a distinct turn off, simply have no interest in, or find wincing at the thought of participating in. I have my own list in both categories as well. But clearly there are many who share each of ours and to find others with common sexual interest and to explore them together is a joy, a right, and a gift.  But to take that to one step further—to experience or act upon—has another set of very clear inviolable boundaries for all of us.

It is consent. And the issue is the guidelines for acceptable rules of human sexual behavior. It has nothing to do with whether humans eat animals, or whether animals are lesser beings. Or whether some children mature earlier than others. For the same reason whether many women have sexual fantasies of being raped. Coerced and non consensual sex not just forces others to participate against their will. It forces many not to participate in sexuality they in fact desire.

 

For many, if not all women, there is a blatant double standard that if they freely express their erotic mind, they will be judged and condemned. So they are restricted to not be able to express what they want, but are pressured to not object to what they don’t want.

 

And for far too many men, they want a woman who presents no sexuality in public to be exactly the opposite in private—but only with them. Our desires don’t control our actions.  Desires may be beyond our control, but our actions are within our control. As are our attitudes towards our sexual partners.

So I will extend the connection here to sex with animals and children being unacceptable for the same reason that repressing women’s ability to be free to express their unedited erotic selves is unacceptable and is connected to being forced to not being allowed to refuse, or to be forced to participate with those that do not, and equally being forced to not be free to participate, initiate or consent in whatever is erotically appealing to them.

These are rules that define sexual conduct between adult consenting humans. They are not guidelines for non-sexual human relations or interspecies relations. We all, in our universal quest for sexual satisfaction, deserve to be free to choose to express our desires and lusts and kinks and fetish’s as we want. Without exception.

 

Except one: When it denies another the ability to pursue that same choice.

The connection is in fact not an issue of sexuality, but one of force and control–an imbalance of power, where one of the involved parties cannot, or is denied the right to, consent to or communicate in their sexual actions and choices.

 

Both involved parties must be conscious, fully informed, and positive in their desires in order to be able to give genuine consent.

 

The bottom line is – if you fuck animals, or engage in any other form of sexual contact with them, you are engaging in nonconsensual behavior with a creature that is unable to consent.

It also delves more deeply into these connections with the known interaction of animal sexual abuse with violence against people and child sexual abuse. All three are not about sex.

Rape is about power. Rape isn’t about a man getting carried away with passion and desire. It is about controlling the victim and removing their autonomy, control, decision making powers, and humanity.

Consent is when one can say no, and that no is accepted. And equally, but more nuanced, when one is empowered to be free to not just say yes, but ask that their desires be equally free to be requested to be fulfilled. Consent demands not only giving it but also receiving and exchanging it.

 

Clearly animals cannot do that. Bestiality and sex with children are model cases of demanding sex without consent, denying that to another, while also confusing affection and acquiescence for consent.

Guess what the single largest reasons people engage in bestiality is? The fact that no negotiation is required. In other words no negotiation means they eliminated the issue of consent. Or, even more offensively, chose to demand that only one person’s desires mattered and they imposed them on another.

 

A study of those who had sex with animals found that 74% gave the reason as no need for negotiation.  Another study of juvenile sex offenders found that of those who had engaged in sex with animals, 96 percent admitted to sexual abuse against humans as well. Those that sexually abused animals also had a much higher rate of sexual abuse against humans than other sex offenders. So the connection between sex with animals and rape is established.

Abusing an animal is a way for a human to find power and fulfillment through the use of a victim they know cannot defend itself.

 

Now let’s break down a human crime, say rape: If we substitute a few pronouns, it’s exactly the same. Rape is a way for a human to find power and fulfillment through the forcible use of someone against their will who cannot defend themselves. Now try it with sexual abuse of a child or spousal abuse: Child abuse is a way for a human to find power and fulfillment through the forced use of someone they know cannot defend themselves.  The line separating an animal abuser from a child abuser to a rapist is much finer than is comfortable.

 

People abuse animals and children for the same reasons they abuse people. Some of them will stop with animals, but enough have been proven to continue on to commit violent crimes to people that it’s worth paying attention to. Virtually every serious violent offender has a history of animal abuse in their past. The connection gets more alarming.

Studies of prison inmates show 75% of violent offenders had early records of animal cruelty. 30% of convicted child molesters and 48% of convicted rapists admitted animal cruelty in their childhood. 71% of abused women report that their batterers have threatened to hurt/kill their pets or have done so. 32% of battered women with children report that their children have hurt or killed pets. 25%-48% of battered women delay leaving an abusive situation for fear of what will happen to her pet if left behind. 48% of rapists have committed acts of animal cruelty as children or adolescents. 30% of child molesters have committed acts of animal cruelty as children or adolescents.
15% of all active rapists also rape animals. 40% of animal abusers committed brutal crimes against people.

Cruelty toward animals is a marker for violence toward humans.

 

If a person behaves violently towards an animal, this is violent behavior that, in all likelihood, is not confined to animals.

 

Children exposed to domestic violence are 3 times more likely to act out animal cruelty than children in nonviolent homes. 88% of New Jersey families with physical abuse in the household claimed animals were abused as well. 12 different independent studies show 18% – 48% of battered women delay leaving abusive situations out of fear for the safety of their animals.

 

Violence against small, helpless, or non-threatening creatures unlikely to retaliate is a precursor to assaulting children, women, and the elderly, disabled, or other vulnerable victims. Batterers who hurt animals resort to more types of violence and controlling behaviors to humans than batterers who do not abuse animals.

It gets even more ugly.

Every serial sex rapist ever recorded has a history of animal abuse.

 

Ted Bundy, Son of Sam, Jeffrey Dahlmer, the Boston Strangler, William Gacy and on down to the less infamous.

 

Dennis Rader, the “BTK” (Bind-Torture-Kill) murderer in Wichita, Kansas, confessed to strangling cats and dogs prior to his sadistic spree raping and torturing and murdering untold numbers of women. His day job? An animal control law enforcement officer for the city.

 

Washington D.C. convicted serial killer Lee Boyd Malvo stalked and killed cats with a slingshot. “This was probably the most serious problem…in a strikingly obedient child,” his court psychologist testified. Malvo once had a pet cat but grew to hate animals, a psychologist testified at his murder trial, because his mother would beat Malvo when the cat would sleep in Malvo’s bed and soil the sheets. “If he saw a stray cat he would become angry and shoot the stray cat. He hit some of the cats, and probably killed some of the cats,” she said.

 

Columbine High School shooter Eric Harris smashed the heads of mice with a crowbar and set them on fire.

 

Russell Weston Jr., tortured and killed 12 cats: burned and cut off their tails, paws, ears; poured toxic chemicals in their eyes to blind them; forced them to ingest poison, and hung them from trees. He later killed 2 officers at the U.S. Capitol in Washington, DC.

Jeffrey Dahlmer impaled frogs, staked cats to trees and decapitated dogs. Later he dissected boys and kept their body parts in the refrigerator. He raped and murdered 17 men.

 

Kip Kinkle shot 25 classmates and others in Springfield, Oregon. He killed his father and mother. Before that, he blew up a cow, set a live cat on fire and dragged it down Main Street of town. Classmates rated him as “Most Likely to Start WWIII.”

 

Albert De Salvo, the “Boston Strangler,” placed a dog and cat in a crate and after starving the animals for days; he watched them kill each other. Later, he raped and strangled 13 women.

 

Richard Allen Davis set cats on fire before he killed all of Polly Klaus’ animals before abducting, raping and murdering her when she was age 12.

 

11-year-old Andrew Golden and 13-year-old Mitchell Johnson tortured and killed dogs before, in Jonesboro, Arkansas, they shot and killed 4 students and 1 teacher during a fire drill at their school.

 

16-year-old Luke Woodham stabbed his mother to death, killed 2 classmates and shot 7 others. He later confessed to bludgeoning his dog, Sparkle, with baseball bats and pouring liquid fuel down her throat and set fire to her neck. “I made my first kill today,” he wrote in his journal. “It was a loved one…I’ll never forget the howl she made. It sounded almost human.”

 

Ted Bundy, executed in 1989 for at least 50 murders, was forced to watch his grandfather torture animals. Bundy later piled animal bones on human graves.

 

Gary Ridgway, the Green River killer, suffocated a cat as a child years before kidnapping, raping and murdering more than 40 prostitutes in Washington State.

 

At four years old Michael Cartier dislocated the legs of rabbits and hurled a kitten through a closed window. He later shot a woman 3 times in the head.

 

Henry Lee Lucas killed numerous animals and had sex with their corpses. Later he killed his mother, wife, and several other people.

 

Edward Kemperer hacked to death 2 cats. Later, he killed his grandparents, mother, and 7 other women.

 

Richard Speck threw a bird into a ventilator fan. Later he killed 8 women.

 

Randy Roth taped a cat to a car’s engine and used an industrial sander on a frog. He then killed 2 of his wives and attempted to kill a third.

 

David Richard Davis fatally shot 2 ponies, hurled a wine bottle at kittens and shot randomly animals. Later, he murdered his wife for insurance money.

 

Peter Kurten, the Dusseldorf Monster, tortured dogs, and practiced bestiality while killing animals. He murdered or attempted to murder over 50 men, women and children.

 

Richard Trenton Chase, “The Vampire Killer of Sacramento,” bit the heads off birds, drained animals for their blood, killed animals for their organs, and later killed 6 people in random attacks.

 

“The Kobe Killer,” a 15-year-old boy in Japan, beheaded a cat and strangled several pigeons before he decapitated an 11-year-old girl. He also killed a 10-year-old girl with a hammer, and tried to rape 3 other children in separate attacks.

 

Richard William Leonard’s grandmother forced him to mutilate cats and kittens when he was a child. He later killed someone with a bow and arrow and murdered another by slashing their throat.

 

Tom Dillion murdered other people’s pets. He later shot and killed five other people.

 

Nine-year-old Eric Smith strangled a neighbor’s cat. At 13, he bludgeoned a 4-year-old to death after luring the boy into the woods, choking him, sodomizing him with a stick, and fatally beat him with a rock.

 

David Berkowitz, the infamous “Son of Sam,” poisoned his mother’s parakeet out of jealousy before shooting 13 young couples, men and women.

 

Arthur Shawcross repeatedly threw a kitten into a lake until the kitten drowned from exhaustion before killing a young girl. After 15-1/2 years in prison, he killed 11 more women.

 

Michael Perry decapitated a neighbor’s dog. Later, he killed his parents, infant nephew and 2 neighbors.

 

Jason Massey’s killing resume began with cats and dogs; at 20 he decapitated and disemboweled a 13-year-old girl and fatally shot a 14-year old boy. He claims to have killed 37 cats, 29 dogs and 6 cows.

 

Patrick Sherrill stole neighborhood pets, tethered them with baling wire and encouraged his dog to mutilate them. He killed 14 co-workers and himself in 1986.

 

Keith Jesperson, the “Happy Face Killer,” bashed gopher heads and beat, strangled and shot stray cats and dogs. Later he strangled 8 women. He said: “You’re actually squeezing the life out of these animals… Choking a human being or a cat — it’s the same feeling…I’m the very end result of what happens when somebody kills an animal at an early age.”

 

Carroll Edward Cole, executed in 1985 for 35 murders, confessed that his first act of violence was to strangle a puppy under the porch of his house.

 

Robert Harris murdered two 16-year-old boys, doused a neighbor with lighter fluid and tossed matches at him. Earlier he was caught by police killing neighborhood cats.

Defenders of sex with animals use the same arguments as those who excuse or defend sex with children and rape of women.  They split the conduct into two categories. Desiring to fuck and to be fucked against their will. Open practitioners of sex with animals say they would never hurt an animal and the animal willingly wants to fuck them. “As a self-confessed zoophile, I personally have no interest in abusing, hurting or torturing animals. I do not go around, breaking into people’s houses and having sex with their pets. Most people with zoosexual tendencies are very sensitive to the needs and body language of their pets. One who knows their animal can quite easily tell if they are stressed or unhappy by a given situation. Simply to say they cannot speak does not, and never has, meant an animal cannot communicate. There’s certainly a grey moral area when it comes to men sticking their cocks in female or male animals, and I don’t show any of that on my website – it feels too close to rape,” says one, 
“But a dog fucking a woman is a different situation entirely. A male dog won’t get an erection and actively take control of humping a woman unless it wants to.”

 

It is this same self-deluded, self-justification argument which is used by pedophiles; that it is a mutual act of affection to fuck a child just taken to the next step.

 

And how many women reading this are familiar with the argument that “She wouldn’t have dressed that way or been in that place alone if she didn’t want to be fucked?” Would a candlelight dinner, champagne, romantic music, gifts, etc be considered coercion or trickery? A friendly smile? She—like the children and animals are expressing non-verbal approval to be fucked regardless of whether the offer verbal consent, according to this line of argument.

Rape is sexual assault that is initiated by one or more persons against another person without that person’s consent. The act may be carried out by physical force, coercion, and abuse of authority or with a person who is incapable of valid consent. “Victim blaming” is holding them to be in whole or in part responsible for the crime, that certain victim behaviors, such as flirting, or wearing sexually-provocative clothing, may encourage rape, suggesting victims are  “asking for it”, simply by not behaving demurely.

 

That power is reserved to men whereas women are meant for sex and objectified, that if women want sex it is the equivalent of wanting forced sex, and that male sexual impulses and behaviors are uncontrollable and must be satisfied.

 

To take it one step further, rape has throughout history been viewed less as a type of assault on the female, than a serious property crime against the man to whom she belonged, typically the father or husband. The damage was done to the husband, or father if she was unmarried, severely depreciating her value to a prospective husband. In such cases a demand for financial compensation from the rapist, payable to the woman’s household, whose “goods” were “damaged”, was the penalty. The woman was a piece of property.

Under biblical law, the rapist might be compelled to marry the unmarried woman instead of receiving the civil penalty if her father agreed.  And it isn’t ancient history. In every U.S. state it was legal for a husband to rape his wife until 1975, when South Dakota finally made it a crime to force your wife to have sex against her will.

As the gruesome facts above show, rape is not about sex. Rape is about power, control, objectification, and ownership. Rape is not about a man getting carried away with passion and desire. As is made intentionally disturbingly clear above, rape is not about sexual attraction at all, but rather about controlling the victim and removing their autonomy and humanity. The rape of a woman, as with sex with animals and children, is an act of power and control through force and violence, rather than one of sex.

In 2008, the United Nations recognized the connection between rape and power, officially declared rape to be a weapon of war. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.  From Roman history and the Mongol empire right through the colonization of the Americas, rape was not held to be a crime. Rather, rape was one of the spoils of victory of power through violence. Under Spanish law in colonizing America, native women could be raped because they were considered Pagan and not Christian.

 

Throughout history, the rape of women has been regarded as a recognized, legitimate spoil of war, ancient enough to be mentioned in the Bible. The systematic rape of as many as 80,000 women by the Japanese soldiers during six weeks the Nanking Massacre in China is an example. During World War II an estimated 200,000 Korean and Chinese women were forced into prostitution in Japanese military brothels, as so-called “Comfort women”. 200,000 women were raped during the Bangladesh Liberation War a few decades ago by the Pakistani army. Serbs raped 20,000 Bosnian Muslim women during the Bosnian War in the 1990’s. More than 200,000 females living in the Congo today have been raped during the recent wars there.

 

In 1998, the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda found that systematic rape was used in the Rwandan genocide. It said: “Sexual assault formed an integral part of the process of destroying the Tutsi ethnic group and that the rape was systematic and had been perpetrated against Tutsi women only, manifesting the specific intent required for those acts to constitute genocide.” 500,000 women were raped during that 1994 Rwandan Genocide.

So rape as an instrument of control and power and violence seems rather indisputable.

 

As is sex with animals.

 

 

And as is sex with a child.

So let’s move on to sex with children. It is rape, sexual assault, and unacceptable because a child has no ability to consent. Everyone knows a child saying ‘yes’ does not mean s/he wants to or enjoys it or agrees. It, too, is a form of coercive and manipulative abuse of power over someone incapable of freely determining whether they are acting by consent. It is because they cannot, on an equal basis, say ‘no’, that they are targeted.

But where most common sex takes the form of willing manipulation, child abuse is coercive: the abuser preys upon a child’s intellectual helplessness. The abuser gets all the self-satisfaction he or she wants and in the process leaves the child with a life-long legacy of having been manipulated into aspects of eroticism well before having developing any defense mechanisms to cope with the psychological and sexual assaults.

Studies of child sex offenders show that pedophiles use psychological manipulation to meet personal needs, justifying abuse by making excuses, defining their actions as love, and using the power imbalance that is always fact in all adult-child relationships. They also defend their actions saying the children they raped enjoyed it and were sexual beings, or that they weren’t responsible because of uncontrollable sexual urges, and felt they were entitled to their sexual desires fulfilled.

The connection between child abuse and animal abuse and forcing women to both act against their sexual will–and be forbidden from acting according to their sexual will–is also clear.

 

30% of convicted child molesters and 48% of convicted rapists admitted animal cruelty in their childhood. Another study showed 40% of persons convicted of child abuse admitted they abused animals and 30% of persons convicted of rape confessed to prior animal abuse. Studies also found that a history of animal abuse was found in 25% of male criminals, 30% of convicted child molesters, 36% of domestic violence cases and 46% of homicide cases.

The connection between sex with animals and children and rape and sexual assault of women has far less to do with sex than it does with sexualizing power and control to deny or target those who can’t say ‘yes’ to act out selfish demands.

 

It is exactly the absence of consent that is what the offender lusts after.

 

It doesn’t matter whether physical harm occurs. What matters is that one participant is not able to be fully informed, communicate consent, or to speak for themselves.

 

For consent to be exchanged both participants must be conscious, fully informed and positive in their desires.

 

The animal or child is unable to understand the act or even understand it at the physical level. This is similar to having sex with a mentally handicapped adult. It is taking advantage of their inability to comprehend.

Even if the animal or child physically ‘consents’–as in does not resist the physical advances of an adult human– they still cannot be said to be consenting. There is no contract as such between both parties.  In an act of rape the potential exists for reciprocity, but it is not fulfilled. Only one party – the rapist – derives any pleasure from the act, while the victim is denied the option to choose what pleasures her or him or, in the case of animals, it.

Consent is the exchange of voluntary, sober, wanted, informed, mutual, honest, and verbal agreement. It cannot be coerced or imposed. Consent cannot be coerced. It is a process to be asked for every step of the way. If you want to move on to something else, just ask.

 

Consent is never implied and cannot be assumed. The absence of a “no” doesn’t mean “yes”. It always requires that both participants be equally involved in any sexual decision or activities to have sex.

 

This destroys and eliminates myths such as the stud vs. slut stereotype. It frees everyone to find and choose without restraint what he or she both want and don’t want.

 

It means every individual is responsible for not only their own sexual conduct but requires them to engage in mutual sex with those who have and can take the same responsibility.

 

Communicating with your partner about sexual needs and desires liberates for women and men to both want and enjoy sex. Knowing your personal beliefs and values and respecting your partner’s personal beliefs and values allows us all to be free to explore and free from judgment.

 

Your desires may be beyond your control, but your actions are within your control.  Sexual excitement does not justify forced sex.

As a corollary, only each us can prevent rape or sexual assault–by not doing it.

 

A lot has been said about how to prevent rape. Women should learn self-defense. Women should lock themselves in their houses after dark. Women shouldn’t have long hair and women shouldn’t wear short skirts. Women shouldn’t leave drinks unattended. Hell, women shouldn’t dare to get drunk at all.

 

What utter bullshit and profoundly counterproductive to all men who are seeking sexual fulfillment.

 

Instead, if a woman is drunk, don’t rape her.

 

If a woman is walking alone at night, don’t rape her.

 

If a woman is drugged and unconscious, don’t rape her.

 

If a woman is wearing a short skirt, don’t rape her.

 

If a woman is jogging in a park at 5 am, don’t rape her.

 

If a woman is in a coma, don’t rape her.

 

If an animal can’t say ‘yes’, don’t fuck it.

 

If a woman changes her mind in the middle of, or about a particular activity, don’t rape her.

 

If a woman has refused a certain activity, don’t rape her.

 

If a woman is not yet a woman, but a child, don’t rape her.

 

If your girlfriend or wife is not in the mood, don’t rape her.

 

If your stepdaughter is watching TV, don’t rape her.

 

If your friend thinks it’s okay to rape someone, tell him it’s not.

 

Tell your sons and grandsons, sons of friends it’s not okay to rape someone.

 

Don’t tell your women friends how to be safe and avoid rape. Don’t imply that she could have avoided it if she’d only done this and not done that. Don’t imply that it’s in any way her fault.

 

Don’t accept a culture that tells you that you have no control over or responsibility for your actions.

So, for me, that takes care of the issue of the actual act, or experiencing, sex with children and animals.

 

It in no way denies or judges that many people have sexual urges and fantasies of underage sex, being raped or raping, sex without consent, and yes, sex with animals. It is only when acted on that each of these crosses the acceptable boundaries.

Coerced and non consensual sex not just forces others to participate against their will; it forces many not to participate in sexuality they in fact desire.

 

For many, if not all women, there is a blatant double standard that if they freely express their erotic mind, they will be judged and condemned. And, for far too many men, they want a woman who must repress their public sexuality but act the opposite in private—often only with them.

 

So never assume before you proceed. A good lover is a good listener. A bad listener is at best a bad lover and at worst a rapist.

 

Whether a sexual desire or fantasy is natural or perverted does not depend on what organs are used or where they are put, but only that mutual consent guides the sexual encounter.  It just needs mutual agreement of response to the other’s sexual arousal.

 

Consent by definition is the exchange of mutual agreement. If one is going to engage in sexual activity with another not only should they have consent they must exchange it. Not only is it someone’s right to give consent but also it is equally your obligation to receive consent.

 

Because animals are not capable of saying ‘yes’ or ‘no’ is exactly why you cannot fuck them, period. And by extension, why it is essential that you not only offer consent but you receive consent in any sexual encounter. This question of whether non-sexual human relations with animals is a consensual one is spurious. We are referring to human sexually activity with a partner—in this case wo(man) or beast.

Which leads us to the difference between fantasy desires and actions: There is a difference between sexual desires of fantasy and brutal, violent reality. There also is a difference between the fundamental right of choice in one’s fantasy and the loss of control as a victim of sexual assault.

The most common fantasies for men and women are reliving an exciting sexual experience, imagining sex with a current partner, and imagining sex with a different partner.

 

The next most common fantasies are oral sex, sex in a romantic location, sexual power or irresistibility, and forced sex.

 

45.8% of men in a 1980 study said they fantasized about being raped by a woman and 44.7% of fucking a woman who “pretends resisting” and 33% of raping a woman.

 

More than half of women fantasized of being raped or coerced forcibly into sex.

 

The top women’s fantasies include older women fantasizing about sex with a much younger man, or a man of a different ethnicity, or a man who is lower than them on the social scale, like the fantasy of the pool man or the delivery boy; Quickie sex with a total stranger, often on a plane or train; being overwhelmed and taken against their will or raped (but not painfully or violently); sex with another woman, even if they don’t consider themselves to be lesbian; sex with someone who cares for them such as a doctor or priest.

 

For younger women, “Daddy” fantasies about older men are common. Older women fantasize about their sons much younger friends. Sex with someone who is a blur.

 

More women than men fantasize about location and setting like making love on the deserted beach of a beautiful island.

Fantasies are frequently used to escape real-life sexual restraints and to imagine dangerous or illegal scenarios.

 

Fantasy is a normal, healthy part of sex for men and women. A rich fantasy life leads to better sex. One of the attractions of fantasy lovers — even when your fantasy lover is actually your current partner, as often happens — is that they’re right beside you, and they know just what to do to make you feel good. And you can enjoy fantasy sex with someone other than your partner without repercussions, because it occurs solely in your mind. Fantasy gives you an outlet for all of the wild, lustful, often forbidden urges that you’ve always wanted to do.

Now to digress and insert the Internet as a way of expressing sexual fantasies and how it is healthy and contributes to decreasing—not promoting—unacceptable sexual conduct.  In 2001, the four states with the lowest per capita access to the Internet were Arkansas, Kentucky, Minnesota, and West Virginia. The four states with the highest Internet access were Alaska, Colorado, New Jersey, and Washington.

 

Next look at the figures for forcible rape compiled by police reports for the years 1980 and 2000. In the four states with lowest Internet access, the increase in rape was 53%. The four states with highest Internet access the decrease in rape was 27%.

 

The same phenomenon has followed changes in pornography laws when eased around the world. In Japan the laws legalizing pornography were met with a stark decrease in sexual violence over the period of change, sex crimes in every category, from rape to sexual assault against children significantly decreased. Despite the wide increase in availability of pornography to children, not only was there a decrease in sex crimes with juveniles as victims but the number of juvenile offenders also decreased significantly. These same findings were seen with the rise of sexually explicit materials in Denmark, Sweden and West Germany. In West Germany, from 1971 to 1987 group rape rates decreased 59%. Rape by strangers decreased 33%.  In Japan the number of rapes committed by individuals known to the victim, decreased. Since rapes by strangers or groups are more likely to be reported than date or marital rapes, again there is little doubt these findings in Japan represent real differences.

While pornography does arouse people sexually, it leads to legal sexual expressions through fantasy. Couples might have increased their love making frequency, artists might have created newly inspired works of art, multitudes might have used the pornography as vehicles for sexual self knowledge and many used the material for reading or viewing pleasure and masturbation.

 

All of these are positive, legal and constructive, or at least nondestructive, social outlets.

 

Erotic fantasies expressed, not repressed, are a way to relieve the sexual suffocation we all are victims of and promote healthy expression, rather than the unacceptable acting out of behaviors that violate others right to their own sexual freedom and choices.

So the point of all the above overflow of dry facts and academic analysis of fucking, lust, perversion and desire is that it is all normal.

 

Think and lust how we all want to.

 

But never deny another that exact pleasure by forcing them to satisfy yours by denying them theirs. All sexual acts and sexual crimes begin with fantasy.

A perfect example of where fantasy allows full pleasure without denying others their own is found in the edges of the forbidden corners of the BDSM community.  Many, both women and men, find deep and pure sexual pleasure in being dominated or submissive—including fantasies of purely non consensual sex. Many include domination, control, humiliation, pain, injury, and violence, or a combination of these themes, as a means to elicit suffering. As the fantasies vary, so does the degree of violence. But there are clear rules on how those are satisfied. Sexual role-playing of rape fantasy is self-defined as ‘ravishment’ or ‘forced sex role-play’. To make the distinction between consensual role-play and non-consensual assault. Though consent is absolutely paramount the illusion of non-consensuality or rape is important to maintaining the fantasy. Crossing the line is rape and assault. One or more “safe words” are used to communicate being consenting partners. All participants agree what will transpire beforehand. Limits are respected and made very clear, to maintain consensual play.

Who knows why we all have different desires and sexual tastes? Who cares? The only way that we can each seek and enjoy and satisfy the demands of our often fiery, sweltering, turbulent, and ecstatically pleasurable and sometimes disturbing lust in the forbidden corners of our erotic minds, is to ensure no one restricts them.

 

And that means we cannot restrict or deny the same in others.

 

So, I say feel free to fuck who, where, how, and when you want. As long as you do not deny me or anyone their pleasure in doing the same. And having both the right and ability to say exactly what that is.

 

And that means, by definition, stay the fuck away from my dog, Lamont.

%d bloggers like this: