I've been trying to figure out why the ballgags are so FEROCIOUSLY TORTUROUS to me. Most people, even among the sane folks who know that the entire monstrous project is nothing but an exercise in demonic evil, don't have the same wild allergy to the ballgags.
It reduces to two separate aspects of my innate nature and history.
1. Prison PTSD. In 1969 I shared a cell with a psychopath for six months. This gave me some useful survival strategies, and it also left me with an instant HARDASS defensive response to any hint of forced confinement or constraint.
2. A peculiar innate dislike of any object on my neck and face
. Back in 4th grade I got eyeglasses for myopia, but refused to wear them until required for driving at 16. Neckties are equally anathema. Two of my jobs nominally required neckties, but I managed to get away without the tie by performing loyally and competently. My lifetime total of Days Under Necktie is countable, probably about 20.
I don't mind seatbelts because they constrain the chest and waist. Just once I rode in a VW Rabbit with an automatic motorized NECK BELT.
As soon as it grabbed my neck, I screamed. The driver didn't understand.
= = = = =
Females seem to enjoy the ballgags, for two reasons that are the exact opposite of my two reasons for hatred.
1. Karen types were the first to voluntarily
self-strangle. Karens view themselves as submissive courtiers
seeking the favor of the Alpha Lords. Psychopathic demons like Fauci are the ultimate Alpha Lords. Look at me, Your Highness! I am wearing 100 ballgags at once, hoping to be Pleasing In Your Holy Sight. May I be privileged to bathe in Your Holy Radiance, Lord Fauci?
2. Ordinary sane women are accustomed to putting stuff on their neck and face. Makeup, earrings, piercings, wigs, choker
necklaces. No big deal.
Labels: #WholeOfSociety, Jail mode, TMI