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"Lookism" Continues Despite 20 years of Feminist Progress
About ten years ago someone in NAMBLA got the bright idea of
suggesting that NAMBLA go out of business. Their complaint was that,
since NAMBLA had failed to achieve its goals, having come into being about
1980, when all the feminist fundamentalist terror got going, they might
as well quit. My response was that it took Christianity 300 years to win
over the population. If Jesus Christ needed 300 years to convince people
of the benefits of Christianity, it was perhaps slightly presumptuous of
pedophiles to think they could get the job done in ten.
So here I sit in 2001, feeling somewhat exasperated that the
pedophobia of the modern age is still going strong. In two days I found
two separate articles in the Financial Times of London about pedophiles.
And though I was disappointed to see the articles, I wasn't surprised. As I
thumbed through each issue I felt, subconsciously, before I even found the
articles, that there must be amidst all that news on stocks and Alan
Greenspan something about pedophiles. It seems there's always an article
on pedophiles, whether the publication is Newsweek, T.V. Guide, or the
Financial Times.
In the case of the Financial Times, nobody had been "caught" doing
anything, which is par for the course in 2001. No, it was simply fear, or
the fun of hatred. A new National High-Tech Crime Unit came into being in
Britain, according to the first article I read, and what was top of the list
of so-called "criminals" that they planned to go after? Pedophiles. I
suppose murder and terrorism are somewhere further down on the list,
although they actually weren't mentioned at all. A murdered child is safe
from "abuse", I suppose.
The second article was a proposal that all applicants for the
priesthood in Britain should be entered into and screened by a national
database, since, in the course of their duties, priests are sometimes in
the vicinity of children. Another proposal was that each church parish
should appoint a child protection officer. If feminist sanctimony can
reach any greater heights, I can hardly imagine it. Perhaps someday soon
each checkout clerk at the grocery store will have to be screened in
advance of employment, since children sometimes pass through the store.
And each store will have its own child protection officer. "I stock the
lettuce and protect the children," some woman will have written above her
plastic employee name tag.
At least the "missing" children milk carton ads are gone. This is
actually something of a disappointment to me. There were some cute girls
on some of those cartons. And what was even better, if the child was ever
"recovered", she would be returned home. Her home, as well as her vital
statistics, were printed right on the milk carton! Perfect for a desperate
pedo like me looking for another cute girl to kidnap.
Had you there for a minute, didn't I? In fact, though, it was the
grocery store where I saw one of the cutest girls of my life, yesterday.
She was a real live dream girl. I saw her in the parking lot, while I was
still in my car, pulling into a stall. She was all the way on the other side
of the lot, but my "little girl radar", which brings little girls to my
attention even in my dreams, spotted her immediately. She was walking
into the store with her mother, not by herself or with a friend her own age
(or, God forbid, a boyfriend), which is a good sign since a girl who visits
the grocery store with her mother is undoubtedly still a virgin.
This girl was about 14, at least from the vantage point I had from
inside my car, on the other side of the parking lot. Fourteen's a little old
for me, but she was so spectacular-looking that I thanked my lucky stars
and followed her into the grocery for a closer look.
Actually, I walked into the grocery's other entrance, looking as
casual as I could. I go there a lot and store security has probably long
since identified me as a "dirty old man," or some such thing, since as luck
would have it I see a lot of little girls there.
Whether or not store security had noticed me, I found I had a
problem. As I rolled along with my cart, gazing down each aisle, I realized
to my increasing dismay that I had lost the girl! Where could she be? I
searched desperately, and my agony mounted when I reached the other side
of the store, the last aisle, and found that she wasn't there! She had
looked so beautiful-- how could I have lost her so quickly?
I finally found her. She was still by the store's entrance, with her
mom, gazing at the donuts that the store keeps right next to the front door
for people getting something quickly on their way to work. Unfortunately,
the second I saw her, even though I was far away, she saw me! Our eyes
met, and for someone my age that is not a good thing. She glared at me,
obviously put out and suspicious. Of course I was swept away by her
beauty, and only trying to admire it, but in our Puritanical age girls are
taught to mark this down to some form of horrendous "abuse." I imagine if
this continues someday we will be saying, "There was a beautiful sunset
today, but I didn't look at it because it would abuse the sun."
Of course her anger at having me look at her did nothing to lessen my
desire. The girl, even from the distance that I was observing her, was
incredible. I did my best to interest myself in some cheese sitting in a
freezer bin in front of me, but the girl remained highly suspicious of me,
and kept looking in my direction. Finally she and her mother wound their
way over to the meat section, with me, of course, following their progress
all the way, trying to admire the girl and yet trying to seem interested in
everything else in the store except her. What, after all, could be more
interesting than day old wrapped cheese and decaying, plastic boxed
"quickie" salads?
As the girl and her mother inspected the meat, I again positioned
myself in the best possible way to drink in the girl's beauty. And this
time, even as the girl kept looking annoyed and in my direction, I got a real
shock. It was my first reasonably close (i.e. more than 20 yards but less
than 40) look at her. She had perfect big juicy breasts, perched on a small
frail childlike frame. The ultimate in female beauty.
"My God! Look at her tits!" I gasped to myself. It was amazing. They
just stuck out there, despite the girl's under-sized body, which was
clearly still that of a child. Then she turned, and I admired her ass. It
was utterly perfect, a slender yet flaring pair of hips, atop long legs.
I realized there was little I could do to get a closer look, with her so
anxious about my presence. So I let them go, for awhile, and when I
spotted her later she was checking each aisle as she and her mother rolled
past it with their cart, as if expecting me to jump out from behind the
cereal, for instance, and grab her and run off with her. Finally they got to
the other side of the store, a big open space, and I guess God must have
decided to do me a favor because I was able to more or less stare at the
girl (while pretending to be interested in bags of peanuts), without her
being too put out that I was looking at her.
And then they checked out of the store and left, shortly after. For
some reason I never see girls like this a second time, but I will forever
cherish her memory. She was so perfect. Well, her face was just average
perfect, by which I mean it was cute but not spectacular. Really, the
great thing about her, which I mentioned to myself even as I was looking
at her, was her body! Slender, frail, small, delicate, like a new grown
flower, but with those young wonderful tits growing out the front of it.
What was even more amazing was that, even though she was wearing a
bra, her nipples were standing up. If you can imagine a young innocent girl
with perky nipples, atop deliciously big breasts, you will have a pretty
good impression of her. The thing that made her so wonderful was how
slender the rest of her body was. Her torso, for instance, even when
viewed from the side, was probably no thicker than my arm. But her
breasts were big enough to make a woman proud. Yet they weren't
gargantuan breasts, just nice and big, while still having a newgrown
tender appearance to them.
Yes, I was smitten by her body. I'm sure she would have many
interesting and wonderfully childish comments to make if I knew her, and
her face was sweet to look at, but in the end it was all body- body- body.
Not the flamboyant "look at me" strutting, slutty body of an 18-year-old,
but the still nervous and uncertain body of a girl who is 14, or perhaps 13
or 12. She had such a frail look (except for her tits), it was impossible
for me to pin down her exact age. Every movement she made was like
watching something incredibly beautiful, more beautiful than the best
thing you can imagine, a butterfly or a dappled fawn. I stood in awe in the
store as I watched her leave. It is amazing to me that more men don't
notice young, beautiful girls. Especially the unsullied child girls. Instead
they seem to fantasize endlessly over commercially manufactured women,
Pamela "slut" Anderson, or the mature man-hating Britney Spear(ed).
Britney may be a better idol than Mr(s). Anderson, but she's still a long-
since deflowered female, and one that is being sold as relentlessly as
toothpaste. No, I'll take the girls who are still uncomfortable with their
developing bodies, who have yet to experience their sexuality. Whether
they're eight (which is great, since they never notice me), or 14 and
sullen, they are vastly preferable to the mass-marketed bitches. Besides,
in 20 years there will still be Britney Spears crap floating around, stuffed
into every closet and attic on three or four continents. But this girl, who
will probably never be photographed by anyone except her mom, will have
passed into the anonymity of adulthood, a struggling mother somewhere,
burdened by children and age, her beauty lost forever, except in this essay.
And the thing is, she didn't even like that I was looking at her.
- Tom in Hokkaido
holy joe replies:
Dear Tom, you are very sick. You should seek treatment immediately.
Everyone knows that it's okay to be a fag, transvestite, negro, Indian,
feminist radical, or bondage freak, but not a pedophile.
AND IN THE END...
The Destruction of the Buddhas of Bamiyan -- and "Kiddie Porn"
"Somewhat rarer is the direct destruction of art objects as a way of
making a political point."
- The New Yorker, March 19, 2001, pg. 45.
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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-- Naked little girls/politics: http://www.AlessandraSmile.com
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http://www.aclu.org
-- Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427)
is copyright 2001 by Andrew Roller. Dreamgirls, Naughty Naked
Dreamgirls, and NND are registered trademarks of Andrew Roller.
All rights reserved.
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