Romanian bloggers, part 2

You maybe recall how I said recently that Romania has pretty much no bloggers left at all, since that other guy switched to English. Well, it's not exactly correct : there's a third dude, but he's a little bit of a special case. He's clever and clearly educated (psychology), he definitely understands that the mob is neither people nor worth a spit. That realisation however runs into hardcore socialistoid impactions he's clearly picked up in schoolⁱ, yielding exactly the lulzy results you'd expect. So, not another Christos Ballas (our guy's not old enough, either), but instead stuff like this :

Varvara, capitolul 2ⁱⁱ
sâmbătă, 21 iunie 2014

Upon turning 16, the prince of Atlantida was introduced to The Ritual. They told him all about how The Council of Subterranean Racesⁱⁱⁱ saved the island about 3`000 years ago from its shitty existence on the outside of the planet, bringing it in to the inside, where everything's more abundant and finer.^iv Where it's never cold and where the core of Earth lights friendly, without causing 1st degree burns and skin cancer.

They told him how, out of the goodness of their heart, the subterranean races gifted the Atlants luxury tech and immortality. However, under the ground there's a finite amount of room, so in exchange for immortality the Atlants accepted to not exceed a headcount of two millions^v, forbidding normal procreation and replacing it with some in-vitro alternative, strictly driven by necessity. And so appeared The Ritual, through which just as soon as they consider themselves to have reached adulthood, the Atlants give up the sexual side of their life, as a sign of devotion to rules and in thanks for the opportunities of immortality.

And the Prince inquired, like all boys his age, upon finding out what The Ritual actually was :
- But do I actually have to cut off my cock and balls ?! Couldn't I just promise not to have kids and like, squirt outside ?
- It's a symbol, in the shit^vi, explained his father, the King. You have to experience real loss to understand the importance of respecting the subterranean world and its rules. It's not easy to do. That's why when someone does it, he's considered truly an adult and counted with people. Until then his notions don't matter. I know what I say may seem absurd to you, but then again one day you'll be prepared, and willing to cut off your cock and balls. That day you'll become a man. ^vii

Upon turning 20 the Prince of Atlantis was brought The Ritual.

It was a thin dulap.^viii With a small glass dome above protecting a vial of orange substance at roughly crotch height, the dulap had a hole roughly big enough to fit a crotch. Once inserted, the automated process automatically started: the place was anesthetised and the cock and balls were severed rapidly, hygienically, and healthily. Then the place was sprayed with a layer of liquid skin so it healed in a smooth mound like a plastic mannequin's. At the same time the dome opened and the future full-fledged Atlant received the liquid that made him immune to any disease or aging process. The dulap was disinfected and ready to be used by the next man-to-be. Every ten cuts the blade was changed.

The king came with a handyman and had the dulap installed in the Prince's bathroom.^ix the Prince, wouldn't it be easier to get a vasectomy ? If the only purpose of The Ritual is to prevent pointless procreation wouldn't you say we're exaggerating a little ?

The King scratched his beard, deep in thought.
- Yes, you bring a very logical point. Unfortunately, your point doesn't matter because you haven't yet cut off your cock and balls. And if you've not cut them off your opinion doesn't matter. Do you understand yet how this works ?

The Prince bowed his head and ground his teeth. He didn't really understand. The father put his arm on the Prince's shoulder.
- Look, seriously. There's no rush. I realize you're not ready yet. You can do this now, you can do this tomorrow, you can do it in five years. You can do it when you're 40, like me. But honestly, my recommendation as a father and as a King, is to do it as soon as possible. As a father I tell you it is much better to be immortal in a 20 year old body than in a 40 year old body. I get tired when I climb stairs, I don't see so well in the distance, and if I play basketball for more than half an hour my knees hurt. And as a King I tell you that you are the heir apparent. It would show a lot to the world if you had the strength of character to go through The Ritual as a young man.

The Prince sighed.
- But I like my cock. I really like it. And my balls. I'm not even sick of rubbing it yet.^x
- I know, kiddo. I liked my own cock. I liked it from the bottom of my heart. And I know that at your age, you have the impression that you couldn't live without it. But look that when I was 25, I was already sick of jacking off. By 35 I was already sick of cunt. I'd be dropping it to cunt now and again, softly, for the record. So I would feel good that I've done my sex life before giving it up. For the last 5 years I stuck to it by force of habit. And so I wasted 20 years, piling up bodily deterioration that I have to carry with me for my entire life. I wish I'd cut it off when I was 20.

The Prince looked up at the 40 year old man face that was his father's. The man was 486 years old. For a moment, the old man thought he saw spite tears in his son's eyes. But whatever it was it didn't last.
- I understand. I think I really do understand. But I'm not ready. Maybe next year.

His father smiled contently.
- You will see it's not as bad as all that. You lose something that honestly you get tired of. The quicker you're rid of it, the quicker you can concentrate on better stuff. Such as drinking. Working out. Walking and hating things that changed since you last saw them.

In the middle of the night, a day before the Prince turned 25, The Ritual alarm went off.

Dazed and stumbling in his peacock feather kingly sleeping robe, the King propped himself in the doorway, which gave way. He picked himself off the floor, sighing. His son was on his knees in a corner, completely naked, and with the empty vial in his hand. Next to him, a chair leg and broken glass. His cock and balls, still in their place. The King had a suspicion that it would end here, but had hoped it won't be the case. His hand drained down his face, wiping it of the last droplet of sleep.
- Are you fucking stupid ?

The kid smiled, completely relaxed in his nudity.
- That fucking vial was haunting me. Every day there, so I'd see it and be spited. There, next to that fucking mirror in which today I've seen those dark circles that I used to occasionally get and now I pretty much have all the time. Do you know my hair has started to thin out ?

The King sat down on the bed and let out a sighful bellow.
- That's why it's there, you fucking idiot. So it tempts you. So you stick your cock in and schlllllt. That's what it is.

The Prince stood up with the chair leg in his arm. He was decided.
- I don't stick my thing into machinery. Only into chicks. It's a combination I like. You really don't get it ? Those two seconds when you stop breathing, squeeze your butt in spasms and make a dumb face are really worth it.

He proudly remembered the 5 chicks he fucked and the fatty that had jacked him off. These were quite some accomplishments, especially because on their 2 million inhabitant island the sexually apt population was relatively small. People died rarely, a procreation permit was the stuff of legend and by his calculations at no point were there more than 10'000 sexually active women on the whole thing. Taking out the ugly ones and the ones in relationships there weren't really much left. Five lays was a pretty decent figure.
- You dumb fuck, you really think that if it were that easy, just break the dulap and drink the vial everybody wouldn't be doing it ? This thing has an alarm. What did you think, that's it, you've tricked the system ? Who do you take after, this fucking stupid ?

For a moment the Prince's face fell to the floor. But his arm clenched on the chair leg. He was pumped.
- Good. At least I know I didn't give it up willingly. At least one head I'm still gonna crack.

The King sighed from the bottom of his heart.
- There's still time. I think this shit might still be working.
- No! screamed the Prince, with eyes bugged out. He was taking it much too personally.
- Listen, dummy. There's no way you can enjoy life if you have cock and balls. Nothing good ever came from cock and balls. They make you want to measure up to others. To prove things. To mark territories in your head and defend them like a monkey, as if something being yours in your own head makes it be yours for real. Look at yourself!

The Prince looked in the mirror. Indeed, as he was, angry, naked and with a chair leg in his hand he looked like a prehistoric man. As if he had just climbed down from a tree under the impression the universe should be impressed with this.
- Look! That's not you. You're not like that. That's just the cock in you. It controls you. It makes you protect it and try to prove things when really there's no need.

The young man let the chair part drop and fell back to his knees in the corner.
- You're right father. But it's still a retarded and pointless Ritual. It makes no fucking sense. There's really no reason to believe the way to control population is making everybody cut their cock off. Who the fuck came up with this retarded plan ?
- Exactly! It's a stupid and pointless ritual. It's entirely retarded and idiotic to cut your cock off. Nobody should have to do something like that.
- So then why the fuck do you keep insisting ?!
- Do you know how cool immortality is ? It's so relaxing to know you're not getting sick and not growing older!

Immortality was a rather incorrect term. While it was true they didn't get older, Atlants only had a life expectancy of about 800 years or so. By that age, statistically speaking, half were already dead. Either through stupid accident or done in by other Atlants on matters of principle, or by suicide. One of three Atlants that crossed 800 didn't get to a thousand. After half a millennium you can get pretty sick of being and by 800 years, just not shooting yourself in the head first thing in the morning required a constant battle. The Prince's grandfather on the mother's side was closing in on 900 and he spent about half his day playing with a loaded gun. The other grandfather slipped on the bathroom mat at the tender young age of 200 years, hitting his head on the tub. Generally women came to terms with it more easily. After a time they plunged into silent apathy and concentrated on knitting.

- Not even immortality is permanent, let's not eat our own shit, said the Prince.
- If you don't do it, what are the others gonna say ? Not like you can glue their cocks back on. They've cut them off already. And here you come, snotty hotshot, and say you don't need it. What's that supposed to mean, you're better than us ? You're too fucking tall to go through a Ritual everybody before you went through ? Maybe you're the bellybutton of the world and I have no idea!

The Prince puffed, like youths puff when they think they know all.
- I don't need their approval!

He was stupid.
- Yes you do, you idiot that are being an idiot. How the fuck will you fit in a society that you're too good for ? They'll hate you passive-aggressively and slander you in private until you shoot yourself in the head. You'll gather gallons of spit in your food each year. Do you think your grandfather could live with it ? How do you think he'd look at you ? How do you think others would look at him, knowing he's related to you ? How'd they look at me as your father ? I'm a King, I can do a lot, but let's not fucking exaggerate, it's a constitutional monarchy, in the shit!

The Prince scratched his head. The situation had no way out but he refused to understand.
- Maybe I don't want any place in this society.

Not so very bad, in the end. Would you say ?

1. You know, that place where bright young minds go to get raped. [↩]
2. I have no idea wtf this is, it doesn't seem related to the content and I don't really follow it close enough to figure it out. Nevertheless, I took the "2nd chapter" tail upon myself, which is why this is "Romanian bloggers, part 2" without there existing a part 1. [↩]
3. Always with some sort of surrogate of the absent father, these people. [↩]
4. Smart Romanian kids, such as for instance myself, and such as for another instance all my friends, had computers (at home) at a time most of these kids weren't even born, and their fathers were pushing a pickaxe up and down. Because in the Soviet lands, metallic machinery was for a long long time more expensive than organic machinery.

   As a result we used English keyboards, because nobody was yet trying to make money out of the localisation scam, because the endless legions of white collar bionic office drones were still fucking pickaxemen in the dirt on the side of the road. Their daughters are now living the dream doing PR tho, it's quite outta sight. Such are the workings of progress that three of them doing Saturdays and overtime, living together in a crummy apartment bring home almost enough to cover EU standard social security benefits. None of them's had a good fuck since the days their mothers still shaved down there, but hey - this story's about castration for a god damned reason.

   Anyway, time went by, progress occurred, now a bunch of schmucky kids pretend like there's room, need or cause for such a thing as "proper" Romanian on the Internet, and so they do stupid shit like "diacritics". The whole thing's fully debunked, but that's okay : they don't do it for a reason, they do it to satisfy a need. Yes, that one.

   The stunted individuation doesn't just stop with adding pointless squigglies to latin letters*. They also translate expressions. Like, you know, "the battle dwarves do 300 damage" becomes "Piticii de batalie fac 300 de stricaciune", roughly about as hysterical as "The warlike midgets make 300 of breakings." Because while Romanian is this language which happily treats a string in any other language as if it were a badly written Romanian string (so no, there's no difference between people speaking Dutch and iliterate gypsies speaking whatever bar-bar-bar they do, as far as the Romanian language is concerned), iliterate and acultural fucktards imagine that they really need to translate things, ending up with a sort of Romanian that works just like bad French. (For more on this lulz, see here.)

   In contrast with all that crapolade, this kid is trying - and mostly by himself as far as I can see - to use sane words for sane purposes. "Fin" in this context is a fine example, as far as I can discern. So yeah, props.

   ---
   * Hey dummies, ever considered that English can apparently do "cut" and "put" without the retardation of cùt and püt ? How can this be! How do they manage to not read "put" as "pat" ?! Iiiiincredible what is possible if your brain didn't fall out of your skull at birth, huh.

   Obviously it could be /kʌt/ and /pʊt/, but if you're not going there might as well not do the typically retarded Romanian halfway shit either, naimean ? I guess if you weren't Romanianly retarded appeals to reason might even work, huh. [↩]

5. See ? A Malthusian Internationalist, whatever could be stranger than the result of undirected self-education ? [↩]
6. Sorry, we apparently have the converse problem now. Unlike literate Romanians who are fluent in any language there is (by the definition of literacy), and so can directly parse strings in any other language, you don't know Romanian, and so I'm stuck translating it for your benefit, which makes it look really fucking stupid and grating and annoying for anyone who doesn't have the same problem you do. [↩]
7. Absurd, isn't it. And yet... are you of the opinion that getting married is when one truly becomes a man ?

   Because here's the thing, I myself am not married, nor will I ever be. I keep slaves, which you may or may not consider equivalent for the purposes of manhood, at your option, but which also means that if I proposition a girl I kinda-like in a bar, or if someone I'm even vaguely curious about propositions us, I'ma fuck her in the loving arms of any one of a bunch of... practically speaking, wives. Do you ?

   How does your life go, as a man, if a hot coworker wants to fuck ? Does your wife lick her out first ? Have you cut off your cock and balls yet ?

   So yes, it's absurd. What I don't understand is why the fuck you're living it, or to quote an angry comment from random-frustrated-castrato discussing my earlier piece about patriarchy :

   I never thought I'd think in terms of a modern-feminist but this cunt is a classic alpha male who thinks it's his sovereign right to dominate all others especially women, because you know, he's a badass and everybody wants him, this kind of douchebag is what gives the feminist movement so much support against men.

   You really bought that becoming a man is all about cutting the manhood off, did you ? Herp. I have another one for you : becoming an investor, truly, for real, is all about giving up all your capital. Ballas (whom I heart) has the details :

   Remember that the "culture" she thinks she speaks for, including those that hate her-- "the startup culture"-- is premised on starting a business in order to sell the business to someone else. Of course the idea is to get rich-- which sounds like capitalism, if you're retarded, but observe the message that is being taught: that the necessary correlate to getting rich is to give all the capital to someone else. The power is traded for the fetish of power. That's not capitalism, it is madness, and apparently Davos and Randi think women especially will heart it.

   And if you buy those bridges you're just fine for building socialism with, as you can be trusted to buy an infinity of them, which is exactly as many as are needed. Forward, Fuckwit! [↩]

8. This would mean armoire in English, but the Romanian word has become a sort of private joke among some friends and so I'm leaving it as-is for their benefit. [↩]
9. Any woman of above average intelligence that has spent any time with teenage boys has perforce noticed that the best approximation for their cock-handling strategy is roughly speaking sticking their cock into any available hole. Like so:

   

   Nature itself takes a very tolerant view of the phenomena - and so there are no goats or other random animals with teeth down there nor does there exist a parasite making its living out of looking like a cuntrock and eating penis literally. Nevertheless, the notion of putting a forbidden hole right in the bathroom shows aptitude, because the job of the artist is to know where to diverge from the wisdom of nature.))
   - There's no rush, son. From now on, whenever you decide to become an adult, you stick it in this hole and schllllllt.
   - But Father, argumented ((How do you call it when somebody brings some arguments that are relevant in their own mind much like a dog would be bringing you items it has for itself determined you need ? [↩]

10. Is this how it goes for you too ? I tell you honestly I don't see it. The girls that like me like my cock and balls, and it's obviously quite earnest. I sometimes manage to see it through their eyes but it never lasts very long. As far as I'm concerned it's just that clunk of meat there. [↩]