You Never Know When It Is Truly The Last Time ... Until Later

I was young. I had a female friend much older than I. We did not exactly have sex, but did some heavy petting and then some. I very much appreciated her. She knew that I was not in her future. I also realized that I would develop other relationships with girls more my age. Still, the relationship sufficed under the circumstances.

“Will you see me next Sunday?” she asked.

“Nothing would keep me from you. I would love to do again what we did not quite do this time.”

“Why, you sarcastic horny little dick. Don’t expect much. Still, it is good to be with you.”

Then I became involved in a situation outside of our relationship. That situation was the cause of a complete change of my future. The planned Sunday tryst was impossible. Soon after that I left the country. I never did satisfy my commitment to her.



We may have a satisfying relationship. The normal is where one or both of us get what we want. Then we have a need to escalate, because normal becomes commonplace, no longer exciting. So we ratchet our needs and wants, and beg, plead, or press for more. Sometimes we get it, and all is well for a while. The sex we had some time back is now more exciting, it is on a higher plane. We coast with the joy and remembrance. We tend to skip over episodes because they are easy, with us at a whim. We don’t realize that the last great sex we had together could be truly the last.

Things happen that simply make it impossible to continue. Then days, weeks, and months later we remember how good it was, and that it was truly the last.

If only we could know, we could make it more memorable, somewhat like in the song, If You Go Away. But it is too late. We have had our last episode. Nothing will be like that again.

Once you miss the next episode, you miss it forever.

Cum Shots

I have been pissing off people lately. It is an attitude that I seem to have from time to time, and this is the time. I am being brave. I am willing to walk out before you without my body armor and wait for you to take your best shot at me. I may duck, but I will be out there!


I have bitched about pornography before. If you get off on it, fine. I have gone through some, and, without a scientific measure, I conclude it to be total crap. Yes, I know, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” The problem is, I keep looking, but I see no beauty.

Some of you will say, “Yeah, shithead, you watch porno like we all do, so quit bitching.” Ok, I don’t know the amount of time you spend on it, the frequency, the intensity, or the type of material, so it is difficult to compare. I just have some real problem with about a tad below 100 percent of the stuff that I have seen.

I absolutely do not want to see women mistreated by men regardless of the situation. Yet, about fifty percent has to do with violence against women.

I tolerate a woman mistreated by another woman in some circumstances, but I never get sexual satisfaction out of it.

The ordinary fuck and suck videos don’t do anything for me, which accounts for another forty percent or so. As much as I love to see the naked female form, hump and blow scenes leave me cold.

That leaves some really raunchy stuff I don’t want to mention.

The above items take care of about 99 percent of pornography. The remaining one percent has to do with fake female dominas mistreating fake male submissives against fake dungeon-like backdrops mostly having to do with cocks and balls in some kind of bondage.

Visualize a skinny anemic unattractive female with a sneering attitude whose every second or third word, if she can speak at all, is “fuck” or “fucking”. She wears the requisite idiotic platform shoes and hopes she does not fall off and break two ankles. She wears a rubber or plastic outfit. She wears “nurse” outfit, or “military” outfit or ”Mistress outfit” that are produced by some home-shop in Shang-Wien in China. She wields whips, paddles, quirts, and appears to be in charge of a stupid male already in bondage. It is not known why he would go along with it. She suspends him from impossible hooks and chains in impossible positions, and proceeds to impale his mouth with the largest dildo ever built. She rapes him with a dildo the size of an elephant dong, and orgasms as he does in the process.

Have I turned you on so far with my depiction of pornographic methods and paraphernalia? If not, then maybe we think alike.

Some idiots out there obviously assume that depicting ugly men and women in prurient or violent portrayals of sexually suggestive scenarios are potentially lucrative. Perhaps they are right, otherwise they would not continue doing it. Are you paying for this? Are you supporting it? Which part of this is erotic?

I would rather use my imagination and jerk off in my bathroom. I am not condemning one’s preference for things. You know, some folks like gas masks, rubber suits, enema apparata, ballet boots, whips, paddles, chains, hooks, and so on. Pleasure and pain are relative. Shape, size, age, and scenario are to be preferred for the moment. Male or female, or a mix of the best is appreciated based on one’s needs. Two’s threes, or groups can be enticing. To each his own. But, damn, there is nothing original and attractive out there! It’s just more of the same crap. The captions to depict the contents are written by morons, and in many cases using an English-XXX dictionary.

Personally, when it comes to flavor, texture, and scenario, I like freshly baked sourdough rye bread. If all I see is doughnuts, chocolate cakes, ice cream, I feel disappointed and avoid it.

Similarly with the professional dominatrix scenario, I like the earthy well-built and experienced females as opposed to the typical thin femme fatale with no curves or muscles. If one of these thin wannabes has the means and determination to really whip my ass (figuratively) I might give her a chance assuming that MW would allow it. As I always say, “It’s not what you have, but what you do with it.” Alas, most of these professional mistreatesses don’t know what the hell they are doing. If they did, they would not be in front of a cheap camera with an asshole behind it. The purveyors of the genre assume that I don’t exist. Am I a minority?

What I really would like to see is real people doing real things in an erotic set. Real conversation, real story, real reactions to real events. They could get erotic, sadistic, masochistic, or realistic to fit the scenario. I would be willing to skip violence except maybe in tightly controlled situations where they are just part of what eventually becomes the ultimate orgasm (I like S/M when it fits the scenario. I have been known for having my ass whipped as I reported on my blog).

And yes, “Aarghhh, I’m comin’….!” Not to be included.

Getting back to the cum shot idea in the title. This is blatant. I am a man, I have masturbated, I have been masturbated by my female partner. All that was pleasant to a certain extent depending on the circumstances. Then there are the “cum shots” of pornography.

Can anyone tell me why a man would masturbate in the presence of an attractive woman and spill his juice over her face or body? I am as horny and virile as any man, but if a woman is willing to share her body, attention, and love with me, and we have an agreement of mutual pleasure, the last thing I want to do is to spill my sperm on her face. The whole idea is fake, stupid and demeaning to the woman!

I have masturbated. I do it when all else fails. But if I am in the company of a willing female, I would feel like a moron to culminate my pleasure by jerking off over her body. Who the hell came up with this lame theme?

Even worse are the pornographic videos of fucking and sucking until the last moment when the stupid male schmuck withdraws from whatever orifice and spills his load on some usually expected female surface. Give me a fucking break! Are there any of you out there who would do that? Male or female?

What would a woman get out of that? I know how a man would feel: an aborted or ruined orgasm! Unless the woman is enforcing that, and I would go with that, the idea is stupid. The people filming these videos are idiots, and the men getting off are just jerkoffs. Maybe they never learned to pleasure a woman with her satisfaction in mind. Maybe they learned sex watching these stylized pieces of crap and never had real sex. Maybe they don’t know love and satisfaction where it counts. They obviously have no respect for women. Similarly, the women have no respect for themselves or the men. What pathetic existence!

The Way We Perceive Ideas

Prologue

Her Majesty's Plaything posted an interesting view of playing at home or doing the second best thing without straying: the Internet. The blog is apparently well read, for there were many comments. I did not leave a comment, for being late, and much of what I would have said had been said. I like his blog. In many ways we are alike. I don’t have the experience of dealing with professional dominas, but that may be just something that I tragically missed in my naïve younger days. As for the rest, he is a good writer and a person I could have as a friend. I want to present my view that in many ways coincides with his. I have posted on the subject of evolution with respect to ideas, ideals, and expectations. Because the Internet is rich in ideas, experiences, feelings, and pornography, I want to say a few things that represent mine.

Naïveté

I started my blog in 2007 when my Mistress Wife (MW) and I fully realized the significance of a Female Led Relationship. I could not read enough to satisfy my thirst for femdom, FLR, serving women, and the various aspects that are now fully explored issues: chastity, CBT, cuckoldry, etc. As you can tell by the above words, it was mostly sexual.

I was naïve. Most of us begin with that characteristic, for I doubt that any of us are borne with full knowledge of the subject. Everything that I read was fun, exciting, fascinating, and sexual. See my list of favorite books on this blog to get an idea.

After a while I began to be more discerning in my evaluation of what I read, but kept increasing my list of blogs that I revisited. I was thrilled. I did not have enough time to explore all that, but I tried to be efficient at it. This brought me to the next stage of being: discerning.

Discerning

I began to identify signs of falsehoods that enabled me to separate fact from fiction and consequently dismiss the crap. Some blogs were mostly factual, but had posts that were either clearly or partly fictional. I began to resent such. The reason was based on the premise of my own blog: truth, unless explicitly stated otherwise.

I have no problem with fiction and fantasy. I write short stories, and books that are fantasy. But within my blog I remain truthful. I expect the same unless the author states otherwise.

I also began to do what I referred to back then as pontification. My assumption back then was that I was smart, experienced in the subjects I discussed, therefore, I had the right to pontificate. Well, maybe.

During these two periods of development I wrote about how MW and I did things, some of which I would not want to share with friends and relatives on account of subsequently being embarrassed. Nothing shameful there, just that some issues need to remain unsaid or unpublished among friends and family.

Jaded

My interests ranged all over the FLR realm, and I found occasional gems. As time went on I kept reading about things that I had read before although posted by different people. I was interested in actively debunking fakery and applauding real dedication to FLR. The various fringes of FLR still interested me, but that is where I usually found silly claims and attempts at presenting obvious fantasy as reality. As I said, I like fantasy. Just don’t try to sell it as reality.

Disillusioned

I still love the idea of FLR. I want to spend my life serving a deserving woman, such as MW. However, I have a real problem with many of the issues, such as female supremacy, slavery, total control, cuckoldry, extreme chastity, etc. I am not dismissing any of this at all. They all are fascinating games that two or more people can play, and I would love to play some or all from time to time.

My problem is when some readers or writers comment on the issues as if we all should be that way and sound like they have it all figured out. I have written about all of these, and probably will again. The thing is, there is no one rule that will fit more than just some of us and only occasionally at best. It is fun to read it, to write it, and especially to experience it. But it is just a game. I have never met a willing or unwilling slave, for instance. He or she may have played at it, but on the long run, they don’t exist.

The Way It Is

One can make a lifestyle real for a short time assuming willing partners. And then things change. Interests diverge, economic and health issues show up, obligations kick in, and then what was a neat game is no longer viable. You expect some of this. If you are smart you plan for this, and handle the changes one by one and will hang in there being wiser.

If you are naïve or stupid, you don’t know what hit you, and will begin to repeat an attempt to recreate the failed relationship. Good luck! You will die trying.

If you have an otherwise stable relationship, then you get over these hurdles and either improve your aim or admit failure and try something else. In the words of my Patriotic Friend, “’Nothing’ is perfect. Whereas, everything else is not.” Since we are dealing with everything else, we see imperfection all around. In my mind, that is a challenge to improve whatever I am doing.

In Closing

I assume that a person with more intelligence than mine could have transcended the stages that I had to travel to come to my conclusions, and zero in on it at the start. My excuse could be that I was exposed to malnutrition and lead (both in paint and bullets) as a child, so the experience had handicapped me.

However, I am not using an excuse. I despise excuses. I either do or I fail to do. If I fail, then I take the consequences. The only allowed excuse is being dead. By the latest measure, I am still alive, so I have no excuse. However, I will admit to being less intelligent and less smart than some people I have known and admired. That is an admission of my relative standing. It is being realistic.

Then there are people who are not smart enough to realize that they are not smart. Pity.

Pathetic

I enjoy reading Mistress Kathy's Blog. She is benign, and does some things to her husband that turn me on sexually, although I am not too sure that she is real: it could be one man’s fantasy. I also get a kick out of some of the discussions as a result of her postings. The latest that got me off on this kink was Money Of His Own. You will have to read it to understand my reaction to some of the comments.

Come on, guys, this is really pathetic. Aren’t you adults? Do adults need some other adult to check your exact behavior from minute to minute? So what if you buy an extra cheese burger? Is that a friggin’ sin?

I don’t understand the mentality of needing to be controlled to this extent other than the sexual part. Maybe you never grew up to be an adult, and you need the extra care. If that is the case, you should not be allowed to marry, form an adult relationship, have children, have a reasonable job, or drive a car.

This thing about not having financial means, or having a tiny allowance to buy your weekly chewing gum is ridiculous. Either you are a responsible adult, or you are a moron. I have a distant nephew who is a moron. He works at a WalMart retrieving shopping carts to earn a living with some help. He is proud of it, and I don’t think that sex is part of his enjoyment of his accomplishments. Whereas the rest of you who need care, well, I am sure that much of that is in your sexual fantasy. If you are lucky, some woman provides that by giving you one dollar a week to get your dental floss or such. As for practicality or reality of the situation, it is ridiculous. Your mother is no longer in charge of you, so get over it! If you are that stupid to deal with real things, what the hell is some assumed intelligent woman doing with you? You should be in an asylum. This whole thing is a damn fantasy.

Playing sexual games including money and other such real things is fun, and many of us do that. Just don’t tell us that it is real. Real soon you or your partner gets tired of it, and then it is over. So all the crap you wrote no longer applies. Any of us who belived in you are left with disappointment. Shame on you.

Chenoweth

I was introduced to a person in my professional space whose last name was Chenoweth. I found the name unusual, not having heard or seen it before. The name sounds somewhat feminine, some name that I would give to a female child who would grow to be a magnificent female. Alas, this person was male, stocky, and entirely not my type when it came to sexual preference. He was also a very competent engineer in the computer science realm. I assumed that he was of Irish heritage, so I was on his side from the beginning. Let me explain this.

Some years prior while I was a budding engineer of electrical and computer science I held a part time job driving a commuter bus for extra earnings. OK, maybe I was not very smart, but it was some extra income that I could use to support my growing family. On one occasion I drove a group of citizens to some theatrical play in a nearby city. While they were viewing the performance I did some studying as I was still between degrees of BS and MS. By the way, “BS” stands for “Bachelor of Science”, not the other thing. During the ongoing performance while I sat in the driver’s seat of my bus a couple of the denizens of the group entered. Apparently they did not care for the fare offered by the theatre, so they decided to spend the last hour in my company. I nodded as they took seats and returned to my textbook on Fluid Dynamics.

The woman was slightly older than I, the man somewhat younger. He made no impression on me. But the woman, well, let’s say, I was more than impressed. I was newly immersed in the English language with an American tutelage, so listening to the woman talking was a new experience. Although I was in love with my wife, I could have gone with this woman anywhere. I correctly guessed her strong accent to be Irish and I loved it. We talked and enjoyed the wait for the rest of the troupe about an hour thence.

Later I read a book by L. Ron Hubbard, “Battlefield Earth”. It was somewhat two-dimensional; nevertheless, I enjoyed it very much. Although set in an American future scenario, by far the best part was the Scottish folk who became a major part of events downstream.

So much for the background, and now back to my erstwhile colleague, Mr. Chenoweth. I love everything Irish, Scottish, and British. I miss the opportunity to have immigrated to England when I ended up in the United States of America instead. I would now be speaking with a British accent otherwise. Now, of course, I know that I was fortunate due to circumstances of my background and have an American accent with a European flavor. Still, I love the various accents the people have from these parts of the world. In all, Scotts are my favorite people. After my encounter with this engineer of exotic name I did some research, and found that the name may be of Cornish origin. Well, Cornish is not exactly common outside of the UK, so most of us would assume Celtic. You know, somewhat like when you hear a Hungarian name and you assume it is Polish: close enough, since they are all alike anyway.

That was the only time I encountered the name Chenoweth. Are there any of you out there who know someone by that name? Let's hear from you.

I Am With Stupid

I recently ran across a bad cliché that began many years ago. I recall a picture on the Internet that had started a multi-million dollar industry with every entrepreneur copying it in some fashion. It depicted a woman walking toward the photographer. She wore a tee-shirt somewhat like this I am with stupid. To her left and slightly behind her walked a man carrying purchases apparently for her. The arrow was pointing to him, and their position in the situation was perfect as far as that went.

On first glance I was amused at the apparent humor. Then I quickly became irritated. Now, many years and millions of dollars cashing in on the “I am with stupid” phrase by people (not me) not connected to the original idea I feel the need to say this. I would never advertise being with a stupid person. If he or she were indeed stupid, I would try to minimize the effect and try to pass as a normal person. The reason is, I would not want to embarrass the stupid person or the on-lookers by pointing out this fact. On the other hand, if he or she were not really stupid, then I would be doing a cruel thing by calling this person stupid. In either case, it is not something that a reasonable person would do. I know that the basis of jokes and humor is cruelty, but this is not one where I would go.

The premise of this humorous depiction is flawed. It is impossible to tell which person, the woman or the man is stupid. Interestingly, I have never seen a depiction of the stupid arrow pointing to a woman. I guess that would not be politically corrrect, although it would be just as stupid as the arrow pointing to a man. If the man is stupid, at least he has an excuse to be exploited by a supposedly smart female. She can flaunt her smartness by claiming her man’s stupidity. In any weak scenario we can try to look smart when standing next to a stupid person. That works about as well as in political campaigns where one accuses the opponent of bad deeds, and by comparison, the mudslinger looks good. We all know how well that works.

In the original picture, if the woman is smart, then why is she dealing with stupid? Is it because she needs someone stupid next to her so that she can look relatively smart? Is it because she is stupid and can’t figure out the implications of this lame depiction? As I said, the premise is flawed.

If there are any of you out there who received one of these tee shirts or posters as a gift you might consider burning them.

Growing Old

I spent some time with My Patriotic Friend on the Fourth of July, our American Independence Day, our most important national holiday. He appeared less jovial, and more introspective than usual. We tried to make light conversation, but it seemed shallow. While I did not want to intrude on his mood, I was curious and tried to be emphatic. After sharing some wine he volunteered as if he had sensed my need to comfort him, or at least to understand his grief. The following are his words as accurate as I remember.

“I read a poem when I was a boy. It was an allegorical reference to a man growing old. Although the man was still virile, he knew the signs of age as he reflected on his life: the things he cherished, the things he had done, the things he was still doing, the things he had not done. Perhaps you remember it … 'September's End'“

He named the poem, and indeed I did remember! Alas, I cannot show it here, for it was not in English. I could try to translate, but the poem would be ruined in the process. He continued.

“Those of you who are still young but may be feeling your youth slipping away know what I mean. You notice hairs growing on body parts that you did not know existed. You used to work a full day of hard labor, and maybe you still can, but the next day you are on your ass for you would rather not get up and groan with pain. Your former daily workout of an hour or more is now a small part of that. Your skin is not as tight and supple as it used to be. Your favorite clothes no longer fit. Your shape seems to have shifted from your and shoulders and chest to your waist and ass. You will have to buy longer belts.

“You now have to trim your nose hair regularly else it be mistaken for a mustache. Your eyebrows tend to be thicker than what’s left on top of your head.

“You still look at young women of your favored type, but try to do it furtively in case they are offended by it. You no longer think that you would have a chance with them before they shriek, 'You dirty old geezer, get away from me!'

“Your partner still puts up with you but much of what the two of you used to do is narrowing to … well, you fill in the options.

“You still don’t take crap from most men, but at some point you think, ‘Maybe I should just grin and bear it.’

“I have had these thoughts for a long time. Now, however, they are becoming real. I still need to take care of those who depend on me. At the same time I am thinking that some day I will not be here, so they must learn to fend for themselves. I watched my father go through this and saw his concern, and in a small way, I felt his pain then, but I was cocky and full of myself. Yet, I knew that some day I would have to deal with what he faced then. I am not quite there yet, but I now have a taste of my future, and I am not enjoying it.

“There are fewer opportunities to be manly, to be beautiful, to be brave. I have done some good things. I have done some exciting things. I have done dangerous, fascinating, sexual, sensual, loving things. But there are many things that I have not done and I know I never will. Pity.”

Damn! I am younger than he, but I am heading toward the same place. There are many things that I still want to do before I get there. Will I?

We drank more wine and talked politics and current events. His comments and logic were impeccable as ever. I should spend more time with him. There is much he can teach me. He is a national treasure, a mentor, and a true friend.

Who Is In Charge?

I was reading the comments on “God Told Me”, June 27, 2010 at "whatevershesays" The comments have to do with a wife’s obedience to her husband and the so-called 50-50 relationships. I have no more problems with a wife totally obeying her husband than I have with a husband totally obeying his wife. In either case something is way out of whack, or the one or both of them are not quite sane.

Back in the dark ages including the fifties men used to think that they owned the world. Well, some did, or at least part of it, others were not that well endowed by power or riches. But all along, women ruled. They did not do so blatantly except in some cases. Generally they got their way by manipulating men. Even the stereotypical wife of the fifties TV crud did. You just had to look past the crisp aprons and high-heeled shoes that they wore while vacuuming the living room.

Now it is out in the open. Women still manipulate, but the men love it. If it is blatant, they love it even more. This is what FLR is about. However, the thing that has not changed is that not all women want leadership in a relationship. Some want input into decisions over the family, some just want to be told. Men never had a chance to give up leadership because of the socially accepted norms: man was in charge, if not, there was something wrong with him. Regardless of how much of an idiot he was, he was expected to be the head of the household.

Today we still have idiots of all genders. If, by some unfortunate turn of events they get to be in charge, they will muck up the relationship. Being an idiot or not wanting to be in charge is not gender specific. That is where marriages fail, and people end up with litters from various liaisons draining their energy and wasting attention rather than raising their children produced by one steady, responsible marriage.

I know I am pissing off a lot of you, for most marriages today are second and third. That is not my fault. So, be sensitive about it if you like. At least up to the fifties there was such idea as commitment: you made a decision, and you honored it, rather than go sniffing after another pussy once the one you got did not put out.

Then there is this politically correct (PC) idea of the so-called 50-50 marriages, which is the only PC alternative to FLR. I have some experience in civilian, military, and law enforcement management. In all cases a reasonably functioning organization had one person in charge. With the idea of 50-50, people would have been milling around without taking or accepting responsibility. In a 50-50 relationship nobody is in charge. When stuff happens, one does one thing, while the other does another, potentially mucking up the situation. People either must make rules, or follow them to a large extent. This is no different in a marriage.

In my marriage, I rely on my ability to honor my commitments. My only wife and I have children, and need not deal with ex wives and husbands or litters from former relationships. We don’t agree on everything, but we know that life is full of compromises, since nothing is perfect. I would love to be her total subject, one who belongs to her. I would love to be her love slave. I would love to serve her in all ways. Alas, that is no more than a sex fantasy. She makes decisions based on our mutual understanding of the facts, not because of what she has between her thighs. I could be in charge if I needed to be, but I defer to her. She is more intuitive than I am, so in most cases she makes the right decision about our family. As for finances, home repairs, dealing with the Sheriff, she gives me the opportunity to decide. Unless I am really unable to decide, I take care of them. She knows that our mutual benefit is my priority. She knows that she can override any decision I am about to make. She also knows where she is out of her element, and then I have to decide. This is not a 50-50 relationship. It is a rational and logical FLR. As for the bedroom scene, well, I would do anything to satisfy her. The way we have it is not quite satisfying for me. However, that does not mean that the FLR is over. As I said, nothing is perfect, but we work at it.

Up Only When I Don't Need It

MW and I have not been having sex lately having to do with her long procrastination over her planned surgery and then subsequent surgery and recovery. Not that I find that a reasonable excuse to not having fun on the side. We could have all kinds of fun together in other ways.

The little guy turns on me during the night and the early morning hours. He becomes the big guy and entices me to do things. Damn! I don’t want to get up during the night and go to the bathroom to satisfy him. He is an unreasonably demanding ass!

I could have fun all by myself, as most of you have done so. The problem is, there is no challenge. Most of the times that I decide, “I will pleasure myself, and be done with it, and then attend to whatever MW needs or wants,” is only partly satisfied. Yes, I can attend to whatever MW needs or wants later, but I have a hard time getting it up without provocation.

The problem is psychological, not physiological. Since I spend most of the night with a raging hard on, I know that the equipment works. Trying to get it up while fantasizing about this and that ends up fizzling out. It still works once in a while, but not as regularly as it used to do. Of course, with MW’s help it would be more workable.

Forget pornography! It sickens me. I have absolutely no use for the shots of fuck-fuck-fuck, suck-suck-suck, and the usual kinks on the side. It’s not that I would not participate if the occasion arose, just that, watching insidious and blatant fornication in any form leaves me cold. The purveyors of pornography have taken the essence of the experience out of life, and presented it as the only thing. Meanwhile, life goes on without the essence. Reminds me of the cartoon movie, “The Dark Crystal” in which the supernatural entities were split between two opposed characters: the evil, rotten, deserving to be destroyed skeksies, and the benign but boring and useless mystics. Apart they died of needing their other half. At the end, they re-formed, and together, they lived.

Pornography is the skeksies of our reality. The goodness is missing. Yet, without the skeksies’s input the mystics are also doomed. Love, warmth, and goody feelings will fix some problems, but will not move the world for you. You need to mesh your evil and good sides to get anything done.

MW and I have become mystics, and without our evil counterparts we are doomed. We need to get some evil things going.