Consuming Strife, Perpetuating Envy & Ultimately Relegating Tribalism (Your Washing Machine Jerusalem)

As humans, we're hard pressed to not become more and more biased / cliquish as we age.  Why?

Advancing forward year to year inevitably compiles situational biases as life is lived out.  And even the most high-spirited of us, whilst cornered, will divulge their private prejudices (if oh so subtlety).  

How might one resist this inevitability / slow down it's wane (infection) on our grey matter?

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I believe your greatest weapon against this is curiosity.  A true commitment to staying genuinely curious towards other human beings, their lives and viewpoints.  And this curiosity must be a driver of questions, and definitely NOT to incriminate by proving contrast (between yourself & someone else) but instead as my young friend Bobby would wield it.

Bobby is the son of one of our church elders.  He's in his late 20s, but has the intelligence / emotional maturity of a 10-12 year old.  As such, life for him is fresh and new every day because he doesn't have the intelligence (confidence / obliqueness / memory) of an adult.  And Bobby isn't one of these shy "kids".  Instead, he's vibrant and full of life, constantly on the edge of a demure adolescent outlook though never achieving that milestone.  

Bobby never meets a stranger, and if he has any inkling that someone's willing to engage with him, he's going to work hard to satiate his curiosity by interrogating.  But due to him having the outlook of a 10-12 year old, it's readily apparent that there's no underlying self-seeking motive within his approach.  Instead, he's genuinely programmed to learn (what his limited brain will allow), and though it can be disconcerting at times to always be on the receiving end of that, Bobby's approach stands to reason for me as a Christian.

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Removing oneself from social media is another step towards maintaining a point of view that's centered on wholesale love in its purest form.

Westerners wholeheartedly put their faith in corporations.  Moreso than in any other institution (think government, family).  And this faith is very difficult to shake unless longstanding corporate brands begin to habitually disappoint and therefore lose their coveted brand luster.

Technology companies, due to the almost miraculously sophisticated work they do, gain and maintain corporate credence much faster than their Blue Chip brethren.  For a software application / online "world" appears light years more mystical than a washing machine or automobile.  

Therefore, we get lazy as consumers and hooked into "worshipping at the thrones" of these massively overvalued social media companies by giving them enormous amounts of attention / time.  Attention / time with digital creations that our minds simply weren't designed to handle / engage with sans tremendously negative influence.  For social media's one purpose is to generate strife / dissonance amongst its users (primarily through envy).  And this strife isn't, of course, face-to-face.  Instead, it's one step removed since it's solely catalogued online where avatars represent and, in turn, tribes are reinforced.

Are there good intentions behind many of those who engage in social media?  I think so.  But social media's main goal is to deeply hook with the one goal of "learning" as much as they can catalog about their billions of users.  For this data is very, very valuable in terms of actively manipulating via advertising.  

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When you purchase a washing machine, you bring it home, plug it into the wall and start washing clothes.  It's a closed loop transaction.  If the machine performs / holds up to your satisfaction, you may choose to purchase another from the same corporation years into the future.  As such, there's a clear divide between you and the corporation since your decision to buy was one and done.

Imagine a washing machine that's free and seemingly the most sophisticated available, but since it costs you nothing, the corporation that provided it has full discretion to gather all manner of data about its use by your catalogued household.  And that corporation readily sells that data to other corporate entities from every conceivable corner of the free enterprise system.  At the same time, the clothes you wash in the machine (along with all the inevitable soiling therein) become entangled / enmeshed (& vice versa) in light of your chosen washing machine Jerusalem.   

Hence, if you've got a ton of dirty laundry to clean, that amounts to an awful lot of granular details being loosed into the plumbing at various pressurized degrees.  Inevitably, your clothes, because they're "communal cleaned", don't look nor wear as they did prior to washing, and that's due to the residue / bleed over that's impossible to avoid with the free washing machine / its communally plumbed system.

But over time, and due to the (seemingly overnight) billions of free washing machine user base, you quickly grow into wearing clothes that look, feel and smell like everyone else's (solely within your Jerusalem, right?).  For they're "everywhere / being worn by everybody".

And, oh my goodness, let's not forget that the washing machine is free!

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Earlier this year, I had dinner with my aforementioned, low intelligence friend, Bobby.  Unfortunately, my work day (it was a Friday) was the absolute worst it's ever been (since coming to work for my parents in 2013).  How I wish, in light of this, that I'd simply postponed our time together.

But instead, I followed through, meeting Bobby as we'd planned in spite of my foul mood.

In light of my frustrating day, my tongue became sharper and sharper throughout the meal.  I cut Bobby down easily with my cruel quips / "observations".  

As you can imagine, my friend is easily confused by any form of sarcasm.  As such, if he's a target to enough of it, he'll quickly shut down in frustration.  By the time I had him back to his parents' abode, he was sealed tight (lipped).  

From there, I drove to the Y (for an early evening swim) feeling like such the louse.  For I knew that juncture would change the course of our friendship forever.

Yet, come Sunday morning, Bobby immediately made a beeline to Rob in order to let me know how he'd forgiven me for being such the asshole two days prior.

I remember thinking it was too soon.  And it was.  But Bobby valued the friendship / relationship more than his feelings.  In other words, he put those aside - immediately - in light of lost time / opportunity if our friendship were to completely go south.  

And I realize Bobby isn't a typical late 20s adult.  Nonetheless, I can learn from him and his approach both as a curious bug and a forgiving, faithful companion.  

As such, this is what I know.  I must remember too steer clear of situational strife (to the best of my ability) prior to engaging with him or others in light of my tendency to be influenced negatively therein.  For it truly does bleed over / change me, for the worse, from the inside out.

Dead End. For Now.

A very prominent (superstar) gay porn actor was recently indicted for possession of copious amounts of child porn.  As so many convicted criminals are who dabble within this particular illegal activity, he was caught via a ruse.  Federal agents posing otherwise online coaxed this porn actor to share illegal content.  From there a law enforcement search of his home ensued and much more illegal material was uncovered within the man's apartment (thumb drive).  

There's a boatload of relevance to this turn of events, and I'm going to attempt to summarize therein within this post.

This gay porn actor is in his early 40s.  He's a very affably attractive (6'-4" / 265lbs) white man who could easily sub for an action TV star on any popular streaming service's bloated screening menu.  

According to published interviews, he's only been associated with sharing / creating gay porn since 2020, and back then, it was the pandemic's vocational pressures that positioned him to take the plunge (he'd been working successfully as a retail salesperson).

Him creating a microsite on OnlyFans garnered instantaneous attention, and in turn, fistfuls of cash.  For he apparently had copious amounts of homebrewed solo porn vids that served to satiate his newfound stardom online.  This eventually led him to contract with a gay porn studio and another and another.  His ascent to fame / fortune within the industry was apparently hypersonic.  As such, of all the men who've ever bowed to this level of debauchery, he arguably was the first to successfully and steadily bridge the mainstream gap by spearheading content that in no way smelled of creep or fake or most importantly - stereotypical gay man.  This is what allowed him to stand apart, garnering him award after award.  From there, illustrious recognition followed suit along with unimaginable / unprecedented influence as a porn actor.

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Let me expound further.

Watching this guy have sex with other men is akin to having a front row seat at the Olympiads.  He's a "natural" lover of men.  

Specifically, there's a tenderness to his moves that in no way implies "gay for pay".  This combined with an absolute comfortableness whilst being in front of the camera elevates the smut to new heights.  

And this, undoubtedly, is where his popularity took root and was continuing to thrive feverishly online.  It was honest to goodness recognition for doing something no one else has / could with steadfast aplomb.

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Throughout the years, I've met my fair share of men who've had sex with other men.  Many of them are frank regarding their disappointment in the experience.  Much of that is centered around the notion of "pity sex".  This being finding an attractive man to have sex with, but soon realizing that they're only involved out of remorse (pity or perhaps curiosity) versus true interest.  

Also, on rare occasion, I've been told stories of men who've been seduced into bed with another man only to find the mood shift unexpectedly towards aggression / assault whereas they were easily taken advantage of.  

And then, of course, there's simply the unattractiveness of the stereotypical gay man as a whole.  Taking into account their unfortunate penchant for mental health issues (much of it the result of trauma / neglect) combined with a propensity for epidemic proportions of promiscuity (normalization of recreational sex) combined with the subsequent sexually transmitted diseases that go along with those behaviors.

It's overall an ugly, broken populace that tries desperately to canonize its radicalized normality.  This in line with threats / accusations of hate, hate, hate towards anyone who's even slightly critical of the stupidity.

But then, homegrown "Austin Wolf" came along to serve as the theatrical exception.

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Western culture, for the most part, embraces the rights of the individual.  This combined with America's undeniable melting pot of citizenry has, throughout the past, favored sympathy towards the downtrodden and weak.  And these are good things.

When you read that, it sounds so noble and holy.  But one cannot deny our free enterprise system and how it tends to exploit the sweet by and by for its own gain.  As such, it's very much a not at all blindly symbiotic relationship that too few even mildly comprehend (& thereby fall victim to).

I screened "Million Dollar Baby" with my father back in 2004.  Back then, I was often looking for opportunities to funly spend time with my dad.  This film seemed like a surefire bet.

All in all, I came away from the film impressed, but also a little confused.  For I'd never known of female boxing being a real thing.  

Our 'hood (81 lots) likely has as many dogs residing within as humans.  Many homeowners have multiple dogs.  We either hear them barking whilst out in the yards, or we see them leashed / being walked through the 'hood like clockwork.  

I have friends who believe men who're dogless should have their heads examined.  Especially if they're men with children.

Sports is big, big, big business as is pet food / supplies / training / kenneling / grooming and so forth.  There's a lot of money to be made therein.  In turn, this perpetuates / normalizes the activity behind the economics via popular opinion and marketing influence.  

The gay male resides within a MASSIVE economic sector, but it's one of the trickiest to normalize (make mainstream).  Why?

...there's simply the unattractiveness of the stereotypical gay man as a whole.  Taking into account their unfortunate penchant for mental health issues (much of it the result of trauma / neglect) combined with their propensity for epidemic proportions of promiscuity (normalization of recreational sex) plus the subsequent sexually transmitted diseases that go along with those behaviors.

It's overall an ugly, broken populace that tries desperately to canonize its radicalized normality.  This in line with threats / accusations of hate, hate, hate towards anyone who's even slightly critical of the stupidity.

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But then, homegrown "Austin Wolf" came along to accidently serve as the bridge.

I would argue that had Justin Heath Smith not recently been locked up, awaiting his soon to be arraignment and eventual trial, he may very well have served to successfully plant the seeds of reset of the public's perception of gay men.  And not simply due to his onscreen presence / actions but via his uninhibited persona / greater good approach to the gay porn industry as a whole.

If you don't believe me, I challenge you to do some research on your own regarding this massively influential individual.  For this guy (over the past four years) seemingly was the Dale Carnegie of the gay porn industry.  And what I mean by that is ambitious, collaborative wrapped within a deeply sincere package.

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We are witnessing the beginnings of the elevation of the gay male as equal to the straight male in terms of interpersonal / relational respect.  And all of this ultimately is hinged on the complete normalization of homosexual activity between men.  As a result, it won't be too much longer 'till parents celebrate / anticipate their children moving into the homosexual lifestyle to the same degree that they do the hetero.

The front door for this pivot resides within these truths. But the ultimate fumigation of our cultural structure will fall on men who provide the public with a face that's buyable.  One that represents what collectively is labeled as "what I might aspire to be / become".  

This is where the American Dream pauses in a big way to reconsider its future direction as a nation of equalized diversity.  

Who might we see next, take up this mantle, on behalf of these and will they even marginally realize the significance of their role therein as it pertains to this paradigm shift?       

Resist Being Relationally Territorial Within Samson Society. Remember, You're Only "Brothers" In Concept Alone. Nonetheless, Never Stop Considering The Relational "What If?"

Being an only child helps me in this regard.  I've no siblings to mar my relational outlook.  

What I mean by that is, (as a child) I always had to placate myself to the expectation that any and all friendships would be unpredictable / nonpermanent.  This point of view allowed me to stay hopeful, putting more energy towards the "What If?" versus the "Please don't leave me!".

(For I desperately needed friends.)

How did I do this?

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My favorite rock band throughout my childhood was Heart.  Had the two female band members not been sisters, I doubt the allure would have been nearly as strong.  Through Ann and Nancy, I vicariously enjoyed having / observing a sibling(s).  

What was so obvious to me about these two was the "order of operation" baked into the relationship.  Now, for those of you who know Heart well, you're privy to the fact that Ann wasn't the oldest child within the family.  There was an older sister still who just happened to not be a musician.  But if you know anything about these two rock 'n roll superstars, there's a definitive hierarchy combined with a steadfast, implicit value anchorage.  

In essence, Ann Wilson was the lead, and both sisters recognized the fact that they were far more valuable as a pairing than individually.

Both Ann and Nancy Wilson have recorded solo work.  In fact, Ann did so firstly by agreeing to perform within a rock duet (movie soundtrack from the mid '80s).  Eventually, Nancy did the same, though her efforts felt much more unsyncopated (in spite of the song's airplay) / unnecessary.    

When both sisters partner as song composers, they credit a pseudonym, "Connie" within the liner notes.  I've always like this.  It implies the seamlessness between the two, both carrying equal weight.  And that's cool.

In the not-too-distant past, Ann and Nancy Wilson had a public falling out.  This resulted in both women rocking (recording / touring) separately for a season.  Now they've made up and are once again together as if it never occurred.  

Why?

Because they're family.  As such, there's simply too much historical alikeness / sensibilities to not effectively keep them together.  

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I'm leery of friendships within this community that feel contrived.  I've been down that road with Samson brothers who're interested in befriending me, having received no indicators that I feel the same.  

Taking risks for Rob = feeling masculine.

This is my / many men's secret sauce pertaining to acting on the "What if?".

Personally, I especially like strong intelligence, but the rarefied attraction between two potential brothers involves identifying and acknowledging (being sympathetic to) his zone.  And doing so in a way that solidifies his trust in you / your trust in him.  This acknowledging will undoubtedly take creativity and a whole lot of deliberateness.

His / your zone = Whatever keeps a man up at night

Maybe it's work or children or his / your health (recovery?).  Whatever it is, if you / he can find a means to support him / you therein, doing so creatively and very intentionally, he's / you're demonstrating two things.

Firstly, your understanding of who you are / he is.  Secondly, your / his willingness to do the work needed to be "brotherly" in that regard.  

Ann Wilson loved music well before starting her band.  Not long after, Nancy joined too, bringing her guitar-playing skillset, songwriting ability, but mostly, she brought her willingness to support sis within an endeavor / "zone" that was no doubt her first love.  

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In closing, Heart's success as a rock band went into stratosphere during the MTV era of the 1980s.  And much of that had to do with the production team they agreed to work with.  A team that understood the era / cultural impact of music video production and how integral it was becoming to influence fandom (drive record sales / airplay).

Putting the dolled-up sisters on display, never too far from one another onscreen, did wonders to intrigue audiences (me).  For not only did they look similar, but there was simply a sibling rapport that was unmistakable.  Not to mention the fact that they were a lot easier on the eyes than Eddie & Alex or Chris & Rich.

Decades of time together, supporting / showing love whilst making entertaining music for all of us to enjoy = success all around. 

Your close brotherly friendships within Samson Society should be just as celebrated.  For they're no doubt similarly influential / entertaining to observe (despite the differences in last names).

A Hard Funeral(s) To Sit Through

Out of respect for my father, I attended a funeral (unrelated to family) today.  This wasn't the first time I'd done this.  When I was in high school, I attended a funeral with him.  I remember it clearly, for the deceased had killed himself via suicide, leaving behind a boy who was only one or two years older than I (the boy went to my high school and the divorced dad had attended church with us).  

That was my first hard funeral due to the tragedy tied to the cause of death.

This one today was tough, but mostly it had to do with the tragic, longstanding narrative tied to the deceased's family life.  

The pastor who officiated (who was a family friend of the deceased) beat the drum of his dead mentor "loving Jesus" to the maximum.  We mourners heard this over and over again.  All the while, everyone there knew the dead man, nor his family members had not darkened the door of the church in decades.  And the setting clearly spoke to this dichotomy.  For the wake and funeral was held in a tee-ninny suburban funeral home parlor where the overflow crowd of mourners were all squeezed in like sardines within the repurposed pews.

At the outset of the service, the officiating pastor cited the book of Samuel, quoting scripture which captured David eulogizing Saul (post his suicidal death).  That was fitting, but I don't believe many mourners picked up on the subtleties therein (is there no more anticlimactic Biblical figure than Saul?).    

Not long after that opening salvo, the pastor used the word chaos to describe the deceased man's family, doing so right there in front of his widow, two daughters and all the grandchildren / great-grandchildren (they were all packed in too).  He even went so far as to specifically cite the bastardization of the man's first grandchild (borne from his youngest daughter) as if it was yesterday's news.

Most of those in attendance likely knew the family when that particular shit hit the fan.  The year was 1989.  Understandably, his daughter's future (& their family's trajectory) was forever changed as a result, but what had to have made the greatest specific impact was the unshakable stigma they were now saddled with.  Particularly considering their place as a well-established, upper-class Jacksonian family.

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What I'm going to say next is going to sound like a cop out, but I'm going to say it anyway because I believe it (& lived through it).

The 1980s weren't good to any of us white folks, and this family was (like so many) right within its crosshairs.  I'm not blaming this decade of excess for their specific missteps, but you must realize that families were hit from two (if not more) sides during this decade.

1.  Enormous economic success that was unparalleled.  Especially for those who were put together and Dale Carnegie extroverted (as the deceased had been during that era).  Most professionals were making money hand over fist (both earned & unearned) which precipitated enormous buying power for these.  Constraint / "quiet living" along with temperance were ideas from the past that were outright mocked during this era.  Everything, and I do mean everything was hinged on excess and immediate gratification, no matter the risk.

2.  Massive shift in societal norms as it pertained to the prioritization of class / cliques / relational circles of influence.  Autonomy was so very out.  Country club status quo was everything and everywhere in the '80s.  There was more chrome and hairspray, Porsche and Winnebago than had ever been seen prior here in America.  For all of these veneers / brands screamed, "LOOK AT ME!"  Arguably, all of the upper / middle-class family's identity was classed directly to these pleasurable platitudes, leaving it particularly vulnerable to headship neglect / distraction. 

Considering both of these, time and energy to play within this particular arena massively downplayed what once was the bastion of familial importance:  

The husband / father's role as protector.  And not just via shielding but via exposure / knowledge / insight that's used to educate / shrew the family of cultural / societal deception risk(s).

The familial chaos cited by today's funeral pastor, I'm convinced, found both its origin and virility during this powerfully influential decade.

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Two distinct funerals.  Considering both this one today and the one from my teenage years, both were tremendously hard to sit through but for different versions of tragic.  

My dad thanked me at the conclusion of each for taking the time to attend.  Because I was there to stand with him, I'm glad I did.   

Hi Mate! (Reciprocal Mover & Shaker)

Sledge was his Internet pseudonym.  It didn't take but just a few days before he divulged his real name, Scott, to me.  Scott was a mover & shaker.  Brilliant, creative, funny and full of hope and joy.  And what made our friendship truly unique was his nationality.  Scott was Australian, having lived in Brisbane all of his life.

We became fast friends thanks to "Yahoo! Groups" back around 2008.  I'd posted a couple of sentences within a group dubbed G0YS or somesuch, and my post clearly stated my intentionality towards making a friend who could relate to my situation.  

Within 24 hours, he responded.  We were the same age, evangelical Christians, both same-sex attracted & married to wonderful women with multiple young children.

And though Scott was living (& had been for some time) a double-life (his wife wasn't privy to his sexuality), he found in Rob someone who was living proof that there was another way.

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Yet, I wasn't cognizant of any of this.  I'd made that post in desperation.  Having never met another man who shared my story, here in Mississippi or otherwise, I was fast approaching making some very poor choices / compromises relative to the faithfulness I'd owned up to via my (then) 11-year-old marriage vows.  

Meeting Scott was like a dream come true.  I walked on air for months afterwards, and before long, he was telling me he loved me at the end of each phone call / email.

I'd never had another man speak those words to me.

It was surreal, and it meant so much for such a time as that.

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My friendship with Scott soon propelled me to open up about my sexuality with local men.  Namely men within the pastorate.  And surprisingly, it was well received.  "In-person" friendships developed overnight, and from there, I found myself well positioned to truly begin discussing / writing about my issue with gay porn.  This was a critical step for Rob that I believe fell directly in line with God's will.

All the while, Scott and I began growing apart, and much of it had to do with his unwillingness to open up to local Aussies regarding his sexuality.  I believe too, whilst looking back, that he absolutely (still) enjoyed chronicling his digital travails (online) searching for (illicit) "fun" in the form of "Sledge".  

It's important to know too that Scott wasn't completely opposed to normalizing same-sex relationships that involved physical intimacy whereas I disagreed wholeheartedly therein.  His position was founded in both sympathies combined with a very liberal / libertarian view of society at large.

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The day that I told Scott (via email) that I was needing a sabbatical from our friendship, he replied - at length - almost immediately.  It was such the beautiful sendoff that was full of tremendous grace.  From there, I deleted every digital exchange we'd made and moved forward with a thankful heart.  

I knew one year sans communication between us would pulverize our relationship, but I was willing to go forward with that knowing that I had become his crutch more than anything else.  

It had quickly become apparent to me that one-on-one friendships like the one I had developed with Scott grow surprisingly fast but can also develop their own kind of implied loneliness due to their pseudo co-dependency therein.  

After our formal decoupling, my friendships with local men continued to expand / thrive.  In fact, I found my first "Silas" just one year or so later.  And that relationship sprung forth from both of our individual desires for sanctification (primarily from compulsive sexual sin).  

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Fast forward sixteen years to today.

This past January an Aussie appeared within one of the Zoom thumbnails during just another "Brain Changers" Samson Society meeting.  And wouldn't you know it, but he too was - no doubt - a mover & shaker.  Brilliant, creative, funny and full of hope and joy.

Sound familiar?

This time though, my new Aussie friend is from Perth.  I remembered Perth because Scott's best friend lived there (she was an architect).

What's comforting to me regarding this new platonic opportunity is how much I distinctly remember learning from my long, long-distance friendship with Scott all those years ago.  As such, I have to wonder, what's God got in store for me now, taking my newfound friend into consideration? 

There's something magical about befriending someone from Australia.  I mean, it's just cool.  But especially so seeing the similarities between the past and the present.

I'm hopeful this one outlasts what Scott and I so enjoyed for those +/-18 months.  I'm thinking there's a good chance it will, taking into consideration the baked in Samson community that surrounds us both, combined with the relational seasoning that's occurred within me, in large part due to my involvement within Samson Society.

  

Mutilated Genitalia (Certification Of Merit?)

Things have changed within the "mainstream" ("higher-end" production value) gay porn landscape.  

When I first gained access to the www, back in 1998, I was immediately transfixed via the anabolic-steroid enhanced bodybuilders, spray-tanned and posing in all of their naked glory.  And it was their bodies, photographed completely naked, that stood out.  I'd seen plenty of bodybuilders / fitness models photographed semi-nude (newsstand) but nothing like this.  These models had no doubt seen the monetary gain in shedding what little clothing they had left, and many of them went on to partake in "gay for pay" roles that, no doubt, brandished them a sizable payday.

Let me provide some commentary regarding that last sentence.

"Gay for pay" consists of heterosexual men who're willing to engage within gay sex (solo masturbation scenes, homosexual fellatio and / or homosexual sodomy scenes) onscreen so long as the profit margin is to their heterosexual liking.

As such, with the properly prescribed erectile dysfunction medication within their systems, these bodybuilders were off and coming (no matter their sexual orientation)! 

And obviously, the audience was there to consume these images / videos (like me) due to the unbelievable vision of it all.  Despite the fact that all of us consumers knew - deep down - that everything we were watching was fictionalized.  In other words, none of these beautiful men were actually sexually aroused by any of these other men.  Instead, wet vaginas and beautiful breasts combined with a slender / hourglass feminine figure is what they truly desired.  It's just that didn't pay nearly as well.

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Fast forward to 2024.

Today, gay porn seems to now fall in line with gay for gay.  As such, these videos consist of actual gay men having intensely authentic gay sex (solo masturbation scenes, homosexual fellatio and / or homosexual sodomy scenes) on camera.  

Though prescription meds are certainly still a go-to as erectile insurance, much of what you see today within these videos is legitimate lust between two men.  This represents a 180-degree about face from content that's decades old.  

And many of these men aren't vying for recognition as anabolic-steroid enhanced bodybuilders.  Not at all.  And that's due to the fact that a sizable number of them are outright physically beautiful men who're simply in tiptop (natural) shape.

So, what's behind this change?

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The Internet is what's brought the same-sex attracted male into community and that community has demanded normalization (zero bias) through and through.  And it's achieved this primarily by normalizing gay sex.  Prior to the Internet, the tiny minority of same-sex attracted people were confined to wherever they found themselves on planet Earth.  As such, the notion of sodomy (or any other form of same-sex sex) only served to (mostly) disgust mainstream culture.

Today's (20–30-year-old) gay porn model has been reared online.  Hence, they're living homosexual lives that are as mainstream as apple pie.  Gay sex equates to hetero sex equates to gay sex equates to hetero sex.  That's how they've been taught to see our world.

Gay men typically seek out multiple sex partners in line with their typical modus operandi.  Monogamy isn't usually of interest to them.  This is a fact.  By definition, porn is anchored in the expectation of actors engaging with countless sex partners.  

What better candidate is there then for gay porn than naturally great looking, same sex attracted men who've been brought up into this digital age?  Gay sex equates to hetero sex equates to gay sex equates to hetero sex.

There's none better.  Yet, I would argue, witnessing "the real thing" versus the fantastical from decades past, can be jarring.  Read on.

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Have you ever seen gay porn models - beautiful, healthy, great looking gay porn models - who're sporting cock piercings?  Again, I'm referring to gay porn performers who're extremely handsome, great looking, same-sex attracted men versus creepy looking sadist-types with ink from stem to stern.  

I have and it's absolutely shocking to witness.

Do you know what I'm referring to when I type cock piercing?

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Why would I ask this question?

The very existence of cock piercings (and ultimately proliferation of) serves as testimony to just how mainstream homosexual sex has become.  

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A man's penis isn't meant to be pierced for any conceivable reason.  Not only is it a profoundly unremarkable organ aesthetically (hanging their unassumingly between men's legs), but its anatomical purpose is tied to the most important component of civilization's very existence - reproduction.  

The penis isn't like an earlobe which symmetrically frames one's face.  Instead, it's a more like a 11th finger that 99% of the time stays "deflated" and stowed.  

By having the penis mutilated with a piercing is to not only denigrate its very purpose, but it places tremendous visual emphasis on a portion of a man's body that's purely functional.  Not to mention the tremendous health risk involved with this procedure. 

But this is obviously not the point of view of gay men.  Particularly gay men who're having sex with other gay men onscreen.

And that's what's beginning to become apparent within today's gay porn.

The penis is now the earlobe of the gay porn actor.

There's a lot that's truly fucked up about that.  So much so, that it sheds a tremendous amount of light on the today's gay porn industry.

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I so wish I could sit down with some of these men and find out how they came to the place where they're at.  I'd like to know what thought process they went through to choose to mutilate their penises via piercings.  

And ultimately, I'd love to know of those men who came to that place where they suddenly realized the bill of goods they'd been sold before fleeing for help.

Pray, dear readers, for these men and their salvation.  Versus the demise and eternal death that awaits them (& all of us) if we're not rescued from our depraved selves.

Once More, A Boiled Toad

Being same-sex attracted has always been my sexual norm.  I've never known anything different.  When I began dating my future wife (mid-'90s), I was far more attracted to her holistically than likely other potential suitors might have been.  And this springboarded off of our childhood friendship which became far more important than either of us realized 'till we began dating.  Angie was tender.  Her touch was soft and consistent.  Plus, she was loyal to a fault.  I could go on, but my point here is I had the benefit of being able to easily look beyond the sole opportunity to lay with her (intercourse), as her husband, in regard to potentially marrying.

Another norm for me is the Deep South culture.  A big portion of which basks in college football competition / rivalries.  This one too is experienced by Rob in ways that don't necessarily fit the typical Mississippi redneck.

It's important to know that Mississippi is all I know relative to a home.  As such, it's a hotbed of football-loving and has been for as long as I've known it.  My dad, Robert, Sr., grew up immersed in this Southeastern Conference culture.  As such, it's as definitive as the very blood type that circulates through his veins.

I joined the marching band (clarinet / drum major) in middle school out of curiosity (& as an escape route from PE class) more than anything else.  As such, Friday nights during each of my subsequent fall semesters were mostly spent back on the private academy's grounds - at each and every football game. 

From there, I segued into my college's marching band where again, I spent every fall weekend (along with three bowl games!) supporting the team, but this time, I was wearing a maroon & white band uniform.  At the conclusion of 1994, my tenure as a Maroon Band member bittersweetly came to a close.

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Whilst looking back, regarding football, I really was like a submerged frog in a pot of gradually heated water.  Yet, there were two confounding constants:  1) how undecipherable the game was to me as a teen & subsequently 2) the reality that every matchup occurred under the cover of darkness.  

For I'd certainly never played the game.  Therefore, having only very rarely tossed a pigskin with my father, I found myself sitting in those rickety wooden stands feeling more like a comatose queue (on standby to march during halftime) than an actual spectator.     

But now, as a 51-year-old, I can comprehend the game well enough to follow the action.  Nonetheless, even if I squint my eyes closed, I have the ability to keep up with the plays with relative ease.  

And this leads me to the following realization:  Football players, after all these years, are now becoming recognizable as individuals.  And not just for their specific assigned positions on the field.  Their names on the back of their jerseys, specifically, are beginning to register within my brain, proving to me that these are real men.

Some of which are very physically attractive men.

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Today (specifically regarding the past three seasons), I've interloped yet again into the routine of supporting football games.  And this is in line with my oldest daughter being a pep squad member at her collegiate institution of choice with me (& Angie) being the supportive parent(s).   

Disappointingly, her college's football team hasn't performed well during the majority of these seasons, therefore it's been absolutely no fun to attend the games - from that perspective.  

Hence, I have found myself, throughout these 4+ tedious hours, doing everything in my power to simply endure the mercilessly horrific gameplay.

As such, this has led me to take note of one player in particular, who just happens to station himself almost directly in front of our seats.  And all I know to say about that is, thanks be to God for beautiful men.

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At this stage in my recovery, I don't consume gay porn in order to lust.  Why?  I simply see that approach as past tense for Rob.  Nonetheless, when I do choose to delve into it, it's in pursuit of two things:  1) videos / photos of guys who fit my masculine archetype being sexual - to some degree or another, and 2) these same guys displaying acts of physical tenderness towards each other.

There's not a lot of porn out there that fits this bill because...

A sizable number of porn models who participate onscreen in homosexual sex aren't actually same-sex attracted.  The vast majority are simply guys who're enduring, not unlike I tend to be whilst attending the aforementioned culturally ubiquitous college football games.  Many of these models certainly have a track record within the gay porn industry, but it's exclusively that reputation that they build their simulated performances on as they contractually agree to collaborate within countless (sometimes hundreds, if not thousands) mechanizable features. 

I too have a football game track record that (either as a pep squad / band member or spectator), for me, now spans decades of my life, but it doesn't mean I have today or will ever have in the future any real interest in football.  

The big money for attractive, muscular, masculine (straight-acting) porn models is within the production of gay porn.  Why?  A lot of folks (particularly same-sex attracted folks) consume it very, very regularly.  And yes, that includes women who're completely uninterested in seeing women within their porn palette.  

But the quagmire here is can these straight, college / pro football player-like men display genuine tenderness - towards each other - within this genre?  Especially considering the fact that tenderness is absolutely uncalled for within heterosexual porn features.

Mostly no.  Thankfully no.  & most of the time, if they make the attempt, it looks incredibly forced.

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I'm fortunate to only have one additional year of college football spectatorship that I must endure (my pep squad daughter will be a senior next year!).  From there, my plan is to never attend another college football game unless someone leads me into one at gunpoint.  For I have truly had my fill of it for a lifetime.

And thanks be to God that there's so little online - today - relative to gay porn that captures my interest.  I suppose I've literally become, yet again, a boiled toad in this regard as well.  

Hamstring Yourself (For Your Own Good) While You're (Still) Young. This Will Best Prepare You To Re-Prioritize Entertainment Tech Well Into Middle-Age.

I broke my Californian Morman Silee's heart last night by bearing down on him for recently snapping up the latest & greatest pocket computer.

He couldn't answer logically why he'd justified the purchase.  Instead, he just laughed nervously as I continued to interrogate.  

So, why exactly should he be scorned for owning the latest, most advanced smartphone?

To make him think.  So few people actually do this anymore.

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This is why I'm a card-carrying Samson guy:

There is nothing on Earth I enjoy more than watching videos of gorgeous, hot guys having sex with each other.  Particularly hot guys who are really into each other's bodies.  All along, giving the impression, to the audience (me!), that they have a love for each other that's being expressed sexually.  Too, it's icing on the cake if these videos are well lit ("high" production values), and the set (where the sex is taking place) is seemingly well designed.  

To take it a step further, I like following certain gay porn models by watching video after video of them having sex with various other men or mens (or just themselves).  It's a way for me to privately "get to know" / form a "relationship" these men who're dedicated to their field.  Especially from the standpoint of how they specifically engage with their onscreen lovers.  

In all honesty, watching these muscled, hairy studs orgasm is the zenith of pleasurable experiences for Rob.  Seeing this is like winning the lottery!  Especially when the camera captures their countenance as they're climaxing.  Seeing their eyes roll back into their skulls as they hold their breath / moan in ecstasy...losing all semblance of respectable cool.  This is what I (my flesh) live to see!

And as you know, dear reader, the Internet is / was designed for PORN!

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The absolute first line of defense that I have against satiating my fleshly craving to consume videos of men having sex is to pull back far enough to attack the problem via access.

You cannot run if you're crippled.  It's as simple as that.

Hence, in order to properly advocate for myself, I had to willingly hamstring relative to tech.  And this approach has served me incredibly well.

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So, who am I exactly relative to tech?

The Turners don't own a television other than a 27" Sony CRT that I purchased back in 2000 ($549.99 at Best Buy) when I passed the Architectural Registration Exam.  It's in an entertainment cabinet at the foot of our bed in the master bedroom.  It isn't tied to CATV or an Internet streaming service.  All this behemoth is capable of doing is playing DVD video at 480i resolution (it does have a 16:9 widescreen viewing mode).

My wife, Angie, bought an Internet tablet years ago, but I don't have the passcode to unlock.  We do not subscribe to any Internet streaming service nor are we a member of Amazon Prime.

My smartphone is so antiquated that it's really only suited for calls, texting, and navigation.  It will take photos / videos, but it has so little memory that it won't hold too many.  I am not engaged in social media at all.  The notion of using my pocket computer to make video / photo selfies sounds about as interesting (& productive) as watching (or starring in) episodes of Teletubbies.  

I do not and would not ever own a computer watch.  

The laptop I have at home (to engage in the virtual Samson Society group, "Brain Changers", on Sunday afternoons) is a dinosaur.  Surfing the Internet is possible, but it's very laborious.  I often get the "High Memory Usage!" warning whilst having multiple tabs open within the browser.  

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I came to adjudicate early on as a young man (pre-Internet) that it would greatly benefit me to become a contrarian to westerner's passionate pursuit of media consumption if I wanted to live any form of a fulfilling, Christ-centric life.  Having been reared within a household where television broadcasting (CATV) was consumed nightly (weekdays & weekends), it didn't take me long to wake up to how much precious time I'd wasted staring at my parents' 20" Toshiba CRT television.  

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Be smart, dear reader.  If you enjoy lust as much as Rob does (& are as convicted as I am relative to its spiritual toxicity), put yourself on a very short (hardware / software) leash today.  It's your first line of defense against being normal.  

From there, use your time to read or write a book / poetry, play or compose a song on a musical instrument, exercise, volunteer, visit a friend, plant / tend to a garden, etc.

Anything is more respectable than staring at a screen, consuming mind-rotting content that will do you no good down the road.  

Lagniappe

Being Inspired By That "Normal" Samson Guy

I've been thinking back on my tenure as a Samson guy.  

The second local Samson Society meeting I regularly (2017) attended was consistently graced by the presence of a man who simply didn't fall into the assumed / typical "Samson Society guy" categories.  This man didn't struggle with sexual sin or alcohol / recreational drugs.  His marriage was flourishing, and he had a steady income via a longstanding career.  And this had been the case throughout his life.

The reason he was so loyal to the group was how impressed he was relative to the authenticity of the men involved.  

This man was middle-aged (at the time), and overall, his demeanor was quiet / reserved.  I recall he was a burly guy, clean-shaven, and moreso blue versus white-collar (he was likely not a college graduate). 

This man was a deacon at the church where the meeting was hosted.  He'd caught wind of the meeting at its outset, was intrigued and decided to attend.  From there, he never ceased attending each and every Sunday evening.

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If you attend a Samson Society intensive or National Retreat, there'll not be men there like this guy.  No indeed.

But there are guys here locally who support this ministry simply due to their hunger for authenticity / circles therein.  

Mississippi, being essentially the buckle of the Bible belt, is scant relative to supporting safe spaces for men to open up (about whatever's on their heart).  

I'll never forget that guy.  

Thanks Randy.

You made me feel more normal than you'll ever know.

Is Lusting After (Social Media) Imagery Generated Via Artificial Intelligence Sin? Remember These Aren't Real Women. They Have No Parents & Cannot Be Your Neighbors. They Only Exist Via A Screen As A Result Of Soulless Software.

Happy Independence Day!

We Americans enjoy many inalienable rights, one of which is freedom of speech.  

Be encouraged Christian Samson men to speak up about your faith.  Specifically, as it pertains to your need for this community of men.   

Why?  

As Christians, there should be a zeal towards evangelism.  What better way to spotlight Jesus Christ than relaying your story to a new / old friend, in hopes of planting a similar glorification seed within their heart?

To God be the glory.

How Might Chronic, Sexual Sin (Adultery) Impact A Man's Long-Term Physical Health?

Prologue:  I'm more interested in adultery here versus fornication because typically the latter is tied to younger men, and younger men are usually overall physically healthier.

Too, adultery (chronic or standalone event), if successful, requires a husband to be deceptive.  Deceiving one's spouse (in tandem with going against one's internal moral compass) takes coordination and a willingness to break vows.  This cheating will instigate a strong physiological response.  I believe, for some adulterers, they're (sickly) more drawn to this response than the sexual trysts themselves.  

Fornication typically represents a pattern of sexual sin that's in line with one's "youthful" paganism.  In other words, it's not at all out of sync with a bachelor's "culturally expected modus operandi" as a playa.

Adultery, within western culture, (thankfully) is still strongly frowned upon for spouses to participate within.  That, I believe, is what could make it all the more deadly (for both the marriage and the adulterer).

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Adultery being rooted in deception / lies relative to how a spouse is spending their "down" / free time cannot be underestimated in terms of its debauchery potency.  For not only does it, by definition, involve lies, but it loops in a third individual (by definition innocent) whose life is also being intimately affected.

So what does this do to a man's physical body when adultery, particularly chronic adultery, occurs?

Firstly, there's the obvious.  The potential to becoming infected with a sexually transmitted disease. 

Besides that, I'm really wanting to hone in on the moral dilemma / fallout / stress (& all the physical ramifications therein) that adultery brings to bear. 

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Russian husbands are culturally expected to be adulterous.  Mistresses = masculinity within that country alongside being inebriated via vodka (prolonged weekend binges).  In fact, I'd argue that it could be one of the latter's primary purposes - to chemically mask over the former's moral heartburn.

Based on my observations, regarding husbands residing on domestic soils, more often than not, they're quick to confess their moral failings (to their wives) in order to:

1.  Hopefully acquire immunity to becoming a repeat offender

2.  (Within their mind), most efficiently reckon with the overtly burdensome guilt / shame resulting from their actions.

Taking into account an American husband who's constantly repeating his sinful shenanigans, whether it's prostitutes, massage parlors, phone sex, anonymous hook-ups, and so forth, could his lifespan be tremendously shortened as a result?

I believe so.

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When the brain is rutted towards adulterous behavior, the culprit therein is a false identity that's taken hold of the husband.  An identity that's somehow feeding off of the man's need relative to identifying himself as worthwhile / valuable.  

If a husband's primary desire is respect, wouldn't that desire firstly be rooted in self-respect?  What more efficient (read:  fast), more masculine way is there to achieve that than via chronic adulterous behavior - especially taking into consideration the seduction dance, acknowledgement of attraction, and ultimate sexual experience (all of which can be successfully pulled off within a matter of hours)?

I realize it sounds animalistic, but the point here is to focus on the false identity.  

And it's this false identity (hypocrite) that's so polluting.  For when it's in control, it's hijacked the rationale of the husband.  Therein lies the high-risk to his health / well-being.  For it's grounded in counterintuitively misaligned values which then promulgate a roller coaster day-to-day existence (constantly being on the lookout for illicit sex opportunities).

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I have a divorced & remarried Samson friend who's in his mid-60s and his health is failing.  The majority of his life, he was the chronic adulterer, having had illicit sexual trysts with hundreds, if not thousands of women.  

The origin of this brain rut, for him, was a sexual relationship he developed (freshman year in college) with the mother of his then girlfriend (who also happened to be the wife of his pastor).  

The false identity (that I cited above) was borne out of this reprehensible amoral relationship (which took flight whilst he was a young man).  A sexual relationship that continued to thrive for close to a decade.  Hence, this false identity became Godzilla-like relative to deeply rutting this man's psyche.  

Could the damage done via this - Godzilla-like false identity - be what prematurely ushers him to his grave?

It's important to know too that the pastor's wife had many teenage young men suitors (similar to my friend).  

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This question comes down to the following:

Are our bodies negatively impacted via morally despicable behavior?  Particularly morally despicable sexual behavior?

The Bible speaks to this.  For it cites sexual sin as "sin against the body" which sets it apart.  It also mentions our bodies being vessels for the Holy Spirit.  

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If my retired Samson friend HAD NOT participated within those illicit adulterous sexual relationships as a result of him refusing the initial advances of his girlfriend's mother (his pastor's wife), would he today be a physical healthier man?

I'm convinced he would be.  Yes.  Absolutely.

 

Me Being At Peace As A Mississippian & My Pity For Our Misfits / Outcasts

I've been dubbed "Mississippi Rob" since I chose to join "Make Thursdays Great Again" back in December of '21.  I like the moniker, but mainly due to how it's grounded me instantly within this hopelessness-saturated corner of the USA.  

Silas 2.0 had small town Mississippi deeply entrenched in his persona.  The best takeaway I received from him was in regard to sort of a vernacular kinship.  A kinship which definitely declared that I too was just as deeply rooted, and there was nothing to be ashamed of therein.

I've been ruminating a lot recently on one of my high school friends and her family, all of which have long since vacated the Magnolia State for more hope-filled pastures.  Beatrice and her clan had settled here from the west coast back in the late '70s / early '80s.  Her father was an attorney who'd began his career in the Navy.  With his brother (Beatrice's uncle) well established within the Jackson Metro, therein lay the motivation to plant themselves here (in order for him to practice law).

I befriended Beatrice and her best friend, Hoppy, out of need but also (unbeknownst to me at the time) pity.  For neither of them had a chance in hell of thriving in Mississippi (& this extended too to Beatrice's entire family).

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Years ago, I urged our neighborhood homeowners' association board to contract with a local property management company.  Upon doing so, the management company's assigned rep (to our 'hood) became fast friends with Rob.  I vividly recall her telling me how she one day witnessed (unexpectedly) her next door neighbor packing up a moving truck in their driveway.  After inquiring as to what was going on, they gleefully announced to her that "they'd had enough of Mississippi" and that "she could keep it!"

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On a similar note, once or twice a year we run into my oldest daughter's college roommate's folks whilst on campus (where she and their daughter are students).  The last time this occurred, the dad (who's close to my age), slyly let me know that he was "counting down the months" relative to his retirement.  A retirement that he "will gladly be taking outside of the state lines of Mississippi".  From there, he concluded by telling me that I "can keep - all I want of - Mississippi".

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Circling back to my high school friend, Beatrice, and her clan, the tip off for me (as a teen) that they weren't "from here" came in the form of flooring material (of all things).  The house they lived in was sprawling (for the '80s), and both the kitchen and breakfast room were tiled in a most stunningly beautiful material (Mexican tile) that was unlike anything I'd seen prior.

Another tip off relative to their "pariah-ness" had to do with her dad's choice of vehicle (which he'd handed down to Beatrice as her daily driver).  I'd never seen too many one these in 1988.

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Beatrice had a funny way about her that Hoppy (again, her best friend) enjoyed attempting to guilt her about.  Frankly, her aloofness served to mask this peculiarity pretty effectively.  Hence, I likely wouldn't have taken note of it had it not been for Hoppy (who spent far more time with her than I did).  And that was her refusal to acknowledge (the existence of) black people.  

In other words, she lived here in Mississippi as a teen, but pretended like black people weren't here with her.  And I suppose she picked this up from her parents / siblings.  It was a peculiarity that made her seem exceedingly ditzy (almost to the point of ignorant fool).  Now, for those of you who've no clue as to what the racial makeup of Mississippi is, know this:  there're a boatload of black people here.  

Beatrice lived this illusion out as follows:  she maintained strict (private) protocols regarding where she traveled and whom she chose to interact with.  Too, she refused to be entertained by black artists, no matter their popularity.

And now that I'm thinking through this, she too executed this approach regarding rednecks (country folk) as well.

By my observation, it was an insular experience that allowed her to maintain some semblance of comfort over her world (as she chose to see it).  And I'm assuming it all was rooted in her inability / unwillingness to engage / process / confront the abject hopelessness that's so in-your-face relative to the majority of blacks / rednecks here within The Magnolia State.  Hopelessness that's grounded in ignorance relative to so many rudimentary facets of the human existence.

Now, it's important that you do know that Beatrice's closest female friend during our high school days was Hispanic.  But this Hispanic girl wasn't a Mississippian.  Instead, she was an (lovely) exchange student who Beatrice met at our respective high school.

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In closing, having been reared here in Mississippi, I have a certain degree of emotional resilience towards the setting.  And that resilience has not had the opportunity to diminish via me dropping anchor elsewhere - for even the shortest stint(s).  

And it is emotional resilience / endurance that I'm describing.  Not racism or feeling entitled.  Instead, it's this integral understanding of pain that's pervasive enough to eventually make peace with (or else).  Pain that you know isn't going away / slated to someday be (re)solved, therefore you choose instead to give it the respect it deserves in order to face it head on.  Day after day after day.  

My high school friends left Mississippi for a number of reasons, but I'm convinced their unspoken motive was one of unwillingness / inability to reckon with hopelessness.  For to make a home here, you must face that giant, or choose instead to live an illusory existence that's nothing more than one massive emotional safety net.

It's overwhelmingly sad / a shock to your system to witness the hopelessness that's birthed out of ignorance (financial illiteracy / radical misunderstanding surrounding sexual reproduction, etc.).  But if you yourself have "grown out of / sprung forth from" it besides (to one degree or another), there's a certain comfort level there that neuters it a bit.  And this contrast can certainly humble those of us who can no doubt look left or right and see where we once were (with solid hope that future generations will do the same - no matter their race).

God bless Mississippi and "Mississippi Rob" (as funny as it is, beholden to this unique place). 

Tribal(ism). America (Samson Society?) As Uganda / Haiti.

Tribalism is a word I never had any use for 'till recently.  Nonetheless, I believe it's becoming more and more relevant to present day western society.   Tribalism is a word that's rooted in survival.  That makes it quite different from other words that pertain to groups / grouping together.  A tribe is a unit that you depend on for sustenance.  Hence, it's overall exceedingly important to maintain / support / identify with without substantial loss occurring.

I have no idea why our society has become tribal.  Especially amongst Christians.  But, it most certainly has.  Perhaps social media is to blame.  If I were to take an explanatory stab at it, I'd start there.  

If America was like Uganda or Haiti, I could understand this tribalistic outlook, but that's not the case.  America is nothing like Uganda or Haiti.  Yet, many folks behave as if we are.  And this is a really, really weird development that's taking our society into uncharted territory.

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The primary (mothership) Samson Society face-to-face group I attended (beginning in August '14) here within the Jackson Metro eventually spawned an internalized tribe of Samson guys.  These men weren't just BFFs.  No, it went beyond that.  

Tribalism, of any ilk (here in America), within Samson Society or otherwise is nauseating to me.  And the reason for this is how retarded / lame it looks from the outside in.  Not to mention how it builds a difficult / intimidating-to-breach perimeter around said internalized group whilst instigating invisible rank.

I suppose you could feign me envious as an outsider of said tribe (gang?), but I assure you that this isn't the case.  

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What's even weirder about all of this is how we Samson guys are supposed to be loners.  Guys who find solace within isolation by default.  

I don't know.  I don't know what to think about this.

As an aside, our MTGA ("Make Thursdays Great Again") virtual Samson Society group is showing signs of "tribing up" similarly.  Interestingly enough, this sub-group uses social media ("Marco Polo") specifically to communicate "round-the-clock" internally.  

This is my critique:  I feel as if this tendency to be tribal puts too much unnecessary / wasteful emphasis on the group within the group.  Particularly outside of the bounds of regularly scheduled programming (Samson meetings).  

I'm not convinced that recovery really happens within connected-at-the-hip groups of guys because I haven't seen it firsthand.  

To Rob, recovery happens inside you yourself and alongside other SINGULAR Samson men.  Oftentimes, speaking personally, numerous INDIVIDUAL Samson men.  Over a lengthy period of time.  As friendships come and go.  Ebb and flow.  Over the course of many, many years.

Maybe the tribalistic approach (Marco Polo, etc.) is an attempt to accelerate / turbocharge that one-on-one walk nontraditionally.  

I just don't know how you intimately rub shoulders with so many guys simultaneously and clearly hear God's voice therein.  To me, it's like an orgy, and therefore, too many body parts to keep up with.  

Yuck.  No thanks.  Tribalism feels too much like American politics.  Or...brainwashing.  Versus thinking / analyzing one's recovery critically and with great intention.

"Yea, Though I Walk Through The Valley Of The Shadow Of Death"

Grindr names a new CEO as it prepares to go public | Fortune

Once this occurs (public offering), with the magnitude of cash that will come as a result; cash that will be pouring into this tech company (as IPO shares are sold), there will be an explosion of usage that's far beyond what's cited within this article.  And the reason for this is as follows.  Publicly traded companies, no matter their ethical / moral roots, gain significant legitimacy amongst the throngs.  Overnight legitimacy.  This, in contrast, to privately-held companies.  That baked-in legitimacy drives usage / consumption of whatever product / service said company sells.  Even if it's gay sex.

With usage will come an almost exponentially larger number of anonymous hookups, and with anonymous hookups will come regret / shame / STDs.  From there, a patron is just another push / notification / swipe away from repeating the cycle.  Over & over again.

God help us.

Freedom To Outmaneuver Political Extremists (Why I'll Likely Never Attend Another Face-To-Face - In Mississippi Or Anywhere Else - Samson Society Meeting)

I don't feel comfortable around political extremists.  Especially within Samson Society.  I realize that everyone has a right to their opinion on politics, and that the amount of time / energy they devote therein is their business, but these folks creep me out (& especially so if they're professing Christians).

During my four-year tenure facilitating the Lakeside Pres Samson Society meeting, I found myself face-to-face with one of these individuals when he boasted of participating in the January 6, 2021 election protest at the US Capitol (he executed this boasting the Saturday immediately following its occurrence).  Though he himself (according to his personal narrative) didn't join in with his fellow protestors and storm the building, just knowing that he'd hooked up with other extremists via social media, carpooled to Washington D.C. and joined in the protest really unsettled me.  

This Samson brother had been faithful to our face-to-face group almost since its inception.  Overall, he was no "odder" than any other Samson guy, and as such, this development really put me between a rock and a hard place.  I remember simply having my synapses charred when he boasted of what he'd participated in (either during the meeting itself or the after-meeting) since all of us at the time were still emotionally overwhelmed with what actually had occurred as a result of the insurrection itself.

And, I will admit, whilst looking back, that I had prior to this fateful day / Samson Society meeting insisted that he forgo the political rhetoric during his share time.  And each time I needed to do so (which wasn't all that often), he'd respectfully comply.  Keep in mind that this man was very intelligent / articulate (typical Samson guy).  A guy who landed here in MS (20+) years ago from New York (his childhood home) by way of California.

Yet, what was I to do?  Ask that this longtime friend remove himself from our group?  

Americans certainly have a right to protest, and that's all he'd done.  There was no denying that.

Yet, it was the boasting of his participation therein that changed my mind completely.  Especially considering what grew out of said protests.

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One of the primary advantages of virtual Samson Society meetings (via Zoom) is down in the right-hand corner of the screen.  Therein resides the "Leave Meeting" red button.  I've taken note of a number of Samson guys over the past eight months who've made a discreet exit from "Make Thursdays Great Again" via this button.

Some of these men (if I've befriended them), I'll follow-up with afterwards.  Most don't volunteer a motive for leaving prior to the meeting's conclusion, but my guess is, it has something to do with someone else's presence.

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There's no way to control who attends a Samson Society meeting.  It's open door, baby, and that's the way that it should be.  But with the multitude of virtual Samson Society meetings available to frequent, leaving one meeting behind and jumping onto another (a few hours later) is of expedient convenience.  Plus, it can be done with discretion (if the group is sizable).  

I like that.  A lot.  Especially considering my aforementioned rock & a hard place experience (with certain individuals) within face-to-face meetings.

And not just for my sake but for the sake of others.  For I know there're plenty of Samson brothers out there who reflexively reach for that "Leave Meeting" button when they spot Mississippi Rob. 

You simply cannot do that within a face-to-face paradigm.  And that, in my opinion, is unfortunate.