------------------------------------

           molester babe of the year

--------  Who is Winning ?   ----------


           by   me.,.  h  ol y   jo e


         YouÕd think with the presidential race dragging on and on, the media 
would cover this story.  I mean, in the past, CNN and Fox were always 
ready to go into lavish detail about the exploits of some so-called 
Òmolester.Ó  Perhaps theyÕve all been arrested. 
         All except one, that is.  You may not care who Perply picks as 
Òmolester babe of the yearÓ, for lack of a better title, but I do.  Besides, if 
I say nice things about his contest, he lets me read his porn.
         So today I went over to PerplyÕs, and there he was, standing in his 
little apartment, staring at his wall.  Perhaps I should capitalize that.  His 
Wall, his ÒWall of FreedomÓ, as he calls it in his grander moments, 
comparing it to Democracy Wall in China.
         ÒPerply!Ó I said, pulling a kleenex out of my pocket to try to stop his 
drooling.  ÒHavenÕt you decided yet whoÕs your favorite little girl of the 
year?Ó
         ÒNo,Ó he said, in a kind of awed voice, still staring at his wall.  ÒBut 
IÕll tell you what, Joe, the contest is narrowing.  At least it is with regard 
to the girls on my wall.Ó
         ÒWhich one do you like best?Ó I asked.  ÒOne of the 12-year-olds, one 
of the 11-year-olds...Ó
         ÒThe six-year-old is really cute!Ó he exclaimed.  I followed his gaze.  
He was looking at the girl on the cover of Offspring and a big smile had 
appeared on his face.  She smiled at him, he smiled back.  It was a 
touching moment.  The same thing happened, a little later, when he shifted 
his gaze to the Color Gear girl.  ThatÕs the girl on the back of the toy purse 
that he bought at Target.  Again, the big smile appeared.  Again there was 
that moment of silent communion, of shared intimacy, as two souls, 
frozen in time, communicated, somehow, across the age-segregated 
barriers of our society.
         And I must admit, I am in agreement with Perply, with regard to 
picking which girl is the best on his wall.  The Summer issue All About 
You blonde, who is blowing bubbles, is quite attractive.  But thereÕs a 
coldness to her, a remoteness.  Perhaps sheÕs meant to tease, but itÕs a 
little too frigid.  She doesnÕt let you into her life.  She just blows some 
bubbles at you and, perhaps, most likely in fact, you are some guy hundreds 
of yards away photographing her with some sort of telephoto lens.
         Then there is the Hanson girl, for lack of a better description.  The 
Winter issue All About You, on newsstands now.  And thatÕs where she 
looks best, in fact.  I saw her again today, in the supermarket, as I was 
waiting to check out.  She was down on the very last rack, under all the 
other magazines.  ItÕs a perfect location, I guess, for a magazine directed 
at little girls.  IÕm sure IÕm the only man whoÕs ever passed through that 
store and seen her.  But of course I did see her, and she looks very cute 
staring up at me from the lowest shelf of the magazine rack.
         But in my house, I mean, in PerplyÕs apartment, she is up high on the 
wall.  She sort of floats there, Adonis-like, looking a little too tomboyish.  
Cute but a bit too masculine.  I like her youth, her blonde hair with an icy 
wind in it, her snuggly clothes.  But I also feel as if she is, you know, an 
older girl.  Not quite a pesky big sister, like the girls in Virgin magazine, 
or Barely Legal.  But still Older, you know?  This is the sort of girl whoÕs 
at an age where things start to get serious.  I once rode bikes with a 12-
year-old girl and she was full of Older opinions and questions.  Then I 
would get to play with her 9-year-old sister, her littlest sister, and 
everything was FUN!  It was ice cream, and teddy bear Pac Man, and making 
the worldÕs worst cookies in my motherÕs kitchen.  With a 9-year-old girl 
itÕs like, you know, Razor scooters.  With a 12-year-old girl itÕs Riding 
Bicycles, and Big PeopleÕs bicycles at that, 10-speeds or whatever.
         Excuse me.  My mind seems to have drifted.  I was stocking the liquor 
store again today (yes, IÕm employed now).  I didnÕt drink any of the stuff 
but one of my chores, in addition to putting all the bottles where they 
belong, is to clean out the bathroom.  Officially, if you ask out front, at 
the counter, our store has no bathroom.  ThatÕs because the manager 
doesnÕt want anyone using His toilet.  Even me, I have to go across the 
parking lot and use the toilet at Bel Air.  I guess everyone has his 
particular fetish, and his is a clean toilet seat.  (How was I supposed to 
know he would mind if I didnÕt lift it?  I mean, heÕs a guy for Chrissakes.)
         Which brings up another point.  Really, I am so grateful to my fellow 
Americans for making it impossible for me to have a girlfriend.  I mean, it 
is hard work having a girlfriend.  IÕve never had an official girlfriend of 
course, somebody that I could Ôdo stuffÕ with, but at least I used to get to 
occasionally, in a roundabout way, meet up with a little girl.  And let me 
tell you, it was hard work.  I spent HOURS riding my fucking skateboard up 
and down the street, up and down, up and down, up and down, up and down, 
WAITING for that fucking 9-year-old Candyland girl to finally come out of 
her stupid big house.  And then, when she would come out, half the time 
she insisted on playing with her sisters, or with some other girl, leaving 
me out of it!  So I was back to riding my skateboard some more, which 
burned up a lot of the time that I should have been spending doing my 
postgraduate homework for college.
         So anyway, then Eventually I would get to play with this girl, for a 
little while, and we would play Pac Man, or if I was Very lucky I would get 
to actually play hopscotch or something with her and one of her 
girlfriends.
         Now, I donÕt have to waste any of my time on those things.  I can 
spend all day sitting at home, jacking off over porn.  I have no guilty 
feelings, no worries at all.  Before I would have felt guilty.  What am I 
doing sitting around at home looking at porn, when I could be with a REAL 
girl?  And a real, live virgin at that, whoÕs beautiful and never been 
kissed?  But no, those awful days of guilt and struggle are over.  Now I am 
in the lap of luxury every day, receiving constant (self) pleasure, as I read 
Tight, Barely Legal, Finally Legal, Live Young Girls (who are regrettably 
two-dimensional), Larry FlintÕs Virgins (what a joke), Playboy, Penthouse, 
Club, Club International, Club Confidential, Mayfair, Oui, Nugget, Playboy, 
the Playboy Newsstand Specials, and Taboo.
         And I get to prosteletize about little girls on the Internet!  I would 
have no time to speak to millions, to you, the unconverted masses, if I was 
busy with my 9-year-old Candyland girl.  I would be too busy helping her 
to enjoy Pac Man, instead of shouldering the burden of spreading the Good 
News of Pedophilia.
         Fortunately, God has made it possible for me to be with you today.  
Because of my personal misfortune, millions of future men will have the 
opportunity to learn about the saving grace of little girls!
         For indeed, to have a proper relationship with a little girl sheÕs got 
to like you.  And that takes work.  That takes skateboarding.  That takes 
keeping up with all the latest fads and fashions, so that you donÕt seem 
like an out-of-date bozo when youÕre talking to her.  There is no time for 
being a jerk-off, let alone a talkalot jerk-off, when a real, live beautiful 
virginÕs at stake!
         But here, in my outhouse, I can devote 100 percent of my time to 
saving AmericaÕs men.  The men, indeed, of the world!  So I thank my 
fellow Americans.  Thank you, America!  Why, if Jesus had been married, 
do you think heÕd have had time to wander around preaching?  Heck, no!
         Now it is important to point out that, even as the contest between 
the girls on the Wall narrows, three additional contestants have been 
added.  These are smaller photos, too small to put on the wall.  So I keep 
them in Ultra Pro 9-Pocket Trading Card Pages.  The pages are made to 
keep baseball cards in, being Archival Safe and Acid Free.  But of course I 
keep pictures of little girls!
         Who are the three new contestants?  Well, first there is an exchange 
student.  Her name is Monique.  I guess sheÕs 15 but when I got the 
newspaper that sheÕs in, not knowing she was in it, and then found out she 
was, I liked her so much that I rushed back to get another copy.  And what 
an ordeal it was!  I had noticed that there were very few, perhaps just one, 
copy of that newspaper left.  I didnÕt know where else to go if the papers 
had since Òsold outÓ.  ItÕs a free paper, Mt. Morris Gazette.
         Well, let me tell you.  There was just ONE copy left.  And I was late 
for work, getting it, and got bawled out by my boss.  I knew IÕd get bawled 
out, but what was I to do?  Monique was just too beautiful for me not to 
go back and get a second copy.  As insurance, in case I accidentally spurted 
something on the first copy.
         Whew!  I managed to get her, I mean the second copy of her, and she 
later inspired my story Sexxxy Exchange student.
         Then thereÕs the girl from another newspaper.  She was in a strange 
paper, the Wall Street Journal or something.  I was paging along, living my 
stupid Adult life, reading dumb articles about the adult world, when, all of 
sudden, as I turned the page, there she was!  Long blonde hair, long blonde 
pigtails no less, smiling at me.  Fetchingly.  I guess sheÕs about 12, 
judging from the size of her tits.  SheÕs reaching out at me, handing me 
some kind of electronic device.  It looks like a toy.  What it was doing 
being advertised in the Wall Street Journal, I have no idea.  ItÕs a music 
player or something.  Unfortunately I cut her out, and put her in Archival 
Safe plastic, and threw away the rest of the ad.  But if you go searching 
through major U.S. newspapers of several months back youÕll probably find 
her.  IÕll call her the ÒPortable MP3 Player Girl,Ó for lack of a more 
accurate description.
         The last new entrant is not actually a real girl.  SheÕs a painting, on 
the cover of a book titled FortuneÕs Rocks, by Anita Shreve.  All I can say 
is, What a Girl!  She has blushing red cheeks, with matching red bows 
holding back her pigtails.  SheÕs looking over her shoulder, wearing a 
pretty red dress, and looks as if sheÕs just about to be eaten by a beguiling 
wolf.  I suppose the book is the usual feminist claptrap about some girl 
being Molested by some wicked man.  In any event, itÕs a great cover.  Ask 
for the book at your bookstore.  You will not be disappointed.  If, that is, 
you are one of the Enlightened, a Worshipper of little girls!
         Surely there must be one left, somewhere?  Or am I the Last 
Pedophile, the Omega Man of the era of Pretty Baby and free love?  I 
suppose everyone else has been purged, cleansed, sanitized, from our great 
Puritan bullshit nation.  Everyone else is marching in lock step to the 
drumbeat of Age Segregation.
         My mind is clearing.  IÕm going to have to say something to the 
manager tomorrow about that bathroom cleanser heÕs having me use.  
Perply was going on about his girls, as usual, and I was catching the 
occasional drool.  Eventually I took my leave of him, and stepped out into 
the night, but I donÕt think he even noticed.  He was looking at the 
Offspring girl again, and she was gazing back at him, the two in a kind of 
silent communion.  Perhaps someday I will write another column like this 
and, though I might be old by then, Perply will hopefully still be young, or 
young at heart.  And with luck, that column will be titled Confirmation.
         (Hey, if Whitley Strieber can use the title, so can I.)

30

         oh, yes.  IÕm supposed to have a story in order to post to this group.  
Or something other than my random gargling, yes?  Hmmm.  
         There was a girl.  She was very lonely.  There was a dog.  He was 
very lonely.  Then one day they met and fell madly in love.  They even 
sniffed each otherÕs butts.  And so she went home with him and they lived 
happily ever after in his doghouse.

         THE END

         Oh yes!  Wait!  I have one more contestant.  One more girl that Perply 
brought up while I was visiting him today.  The girl in the new T.V. version 
of Oliver!  Wow, what a babe!  Sure, sheÕs a little older, but I still think 
sheÕs very cute.  At first I didnÕt think she was, when I saw her in the ads.  
(IÕm always alert to Ôlittle girlsÕ on T.V.  Hell, I still remember 12-year-
old Olivia Barash, in that late 70Õs show, living alone with a man and 
wearing her long black boots!)  Anyway, I saw the Oliver girl in the ads and 
thought, ÒHmmm, sheÕs okay, but not worth sitting through umpteen hours 
of British drama for.  Let alone British Period Drama.Ó  But then I bumped 
into the end of the show one night, waiting for The NewsHour with Jim 
Lehrer to start.  Jim Lehrer or something like Jim Lehrer.  You know, one 
of those fucking grown-up shows you wind up watching when you donÕt 
have a 9-year-old Candyland girl to keep you company.
         And there she was.  God, how beautiful she looked.  Unfortunately I 
havenÕt gotten her name yet but she is very much like a modern Brooke 
Shields.  Perfect face, perfect lips, perfect poise, perfect gaze.  Too bad 
sheÕs cluttered up with 18th century garb in the show.  I couldnÕt really 
get a good take on her tit size.
         Gosh, now that I think about it, thereÕs even one other great girl IÕve 
seen on T.V.  ThereÕs this new ad, telling people to stay out of the sun.  The 
girl is lying on a chaise lounge, next to another girl.  (They are, 
unfortunately, not both in the same chaise lounge together.  This is a 
public service announcement on PBS, after all.)  Anyway, this girl is 
wonderfully cute and young.  I guess sheÕs wearing braces, but it doesnÕt 
spoil her looks.  In fact, it enhances her youthfulness.  SheÕs about 12, 
maybe 13.  SheÕs wearing a blue bathing suit.  Now, her body is not 
absolutely one million percent perfect, but for a girl-starved pedophile I 
must say it is a damn nice body.  Plus, sheÕs in a bathing suit!  ThereÕs a 
part of the ad where it stops, I mean she is frozen on the tape, in order to 
remind her to put on sun tan lotion.  (Actually, to put up a sun umbrella, so 
the sun doesnÕt burn her skin.)  Of course, I stop the tape myself, at that 
point, as well as some other points, in order to admire her.  But in that 
particular pose, you can get a really good look at her body.  ItÕs a shot 
from the side, as she is attempting to put up the umbrella.  Such nice 
thighs!  Such a nice torso!  Such a nice girl-figure!!!  I think Perply 
masturbated over it but I didnÕt, I just looked at it.
         So, that brings our contest up to date.  We have the Oliver girl, the 
Sun Screen girl, the MP3 girl, the FortuneÕs Rocks girl, the Monique Sexxxy 
Exchange Student girl, the All About You Summer girl, the All About You 
Winter girl, the Newsweek girl, the Color Gear girl, and the Offspring girl.
         Who will win?  I am panting and waiting.  Soon Perply will make his 
final decision.  He told me he feels a little bit like Hugh Hefner, having to 
pick the Playmate of the Year.  Unfortunately Perply doesnÕt get to party 
with the girl he picks.
         But that gives him more time to start choosing next yearÕs girl!  
Always one must look on the bright side in these matters, otherwise youÕd 
go crazy.  I suppose thatÕs how Oscar Wilde felt.  Burdened by the society 
he lived in, but liberated too, in a back-handed sort of way, knowing that 
he was blessed with a knowledge of how Future Man would view things, 
even if his own world could not.
         For, indeed, has not the negro gone from slavery to liberation?  Has 
not the Indian gone from desperation to redemption (admittedly, through 
bingo).  Has not even the woman been liberated, going from the tortured 
Suffragettes to the Women as Feminist Persecutors of today?  Indeed, the 
entire history of America has been one of gradual liberation.  The first to 
be liberated were the males of American Revolutionary times, liberating 
themselves from the British Government.  Then other groups as well, from 
ethnic groups to women to blacks to (some) gays.  So it is only a matter of 
time, in my opinion, before the current press of oppression passes away, 
thrown in the same gutter that now holds such things as scarlet letters, 
and slave chains.
         But, really, my bossÕs toilet cleanser has really gotten to me.  I 
think I wrote a story just now, or something.  ThatÕs what happens when 
they give you unlimited Internet access, you just sit and type away, not 
really knowing what youÕre typing.  ItÕs worse when you can stream Alice 
in Chains at the same time.
         So long, friend, whoever you are, whoÕs reading this crap.  IÕm sure 
we will meet again soon, and hopefully by then we will know who is the 
best girl of the year 2000!

         Huh?  What?

         30

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