Rehosting "Game of Cathartic Sanctioned Disappointment"

In the game of thrones, no matter who wins, you all cum

originally posted May 14, 2019

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I haven’t watched Game of Thrones since the show overtook the books. The nose dive of dialogue and plot quality was too much for me. I thought to myself, well, maybe I’ll read the books, if they ever come out. I simply felt no desire to keep up with it. I'm more of a practical, interpersonal, and less of an abstract, artistic, pervert.

I didn’t feel a desire to see how it all ends — until now. I spent maybe 5 hours yesterday just wallowing in the aftermath of what was a pretty obviously telegraphed plot development to anyone with half a brain. Now I'm into it again. I sort of want to watch. Just for the schadenfreude.

But I'm not going to. Who has the time? Everything is going to shit. I'm never going to own a house.

Game of Thrones has always been about disappointment. That’s what people like nowadays. “Subversion” is a false idol. No one cares about subversion. No one wants to, and no one tries to subvert your expectations. What men like George do, is try to disappoint you — because that’s what you truly want.

This is of course difficult, even in plain language, impossible, since as soon as if get what you want, you cannot simultaneously be truly dissatisfied, right? It’s a contradiction in terms.

Wrong. Getting what you want is always a disappointment. Because even when you know what you want, you are pathological about it, and wrong. It’s not that “you do not know what you REALLY want” — it’s that you know what you really, truly, deeply want — and THAT is a disappointment. You wish you’d want something better.

Like a better job. A better family. A better economy. A better gender. Everything you truly want, your dreams coming true, would only lead to further disappointment. You have fully internalised new age Buddhism, and you know that your own desire is the enemy. The only way to be free is to be free from desire, so you desire things ironically, because that’s a lot easier than to actually stop desiring, and since it’s irony, it doesn't count, and technically, you’re a genius.

To feel disappointment now, well, that would mean you were a stupid idiot.

Luckily, you don’t have to. Instead, you can watch Ned Stark get killed. Or Luke Skywalker. Or any other guy or gal you happen to like. And you can project your primal existential dissatisfaction towards a fetish, a little doll to contain your suffering. And you can beat your doll up.

Have you ever seen a little girl, who is a child of divorce, play house? That’s you, dude.

The fantasy space of media, doubly so “fantasy” genre media, is no longer a place for adventure and going on a trip to have a nice time. It’s a place where you can indulge in masochistic release. Game of Thrones is only the best example of this, as it actually IS overtly sexualized. It’s explicitly using what is only a metaphor in similar franchises as world building. The fantastical part is not the dragons, or the gods, or the magic. It’s the torture.

What I enjoy about watching people get angry online about a show about titties, is what those people like about the show about titties. This is what I mean about me, sitting alone reading a computer screen, being a more social pervert.

Thousands of people are currently reading social media takes of women being angry that Daenerys turned out to be an accurate depiction of a woman scorned, and scratching their heads, wondering:

“What did you expect? How did you not see this coming?”

There are enough geniuses out there who will explain why Daenerys being the progenitor and face of the “yes kween slay” zeitgeist was, as the character, born doomed to come crashing down in failure, piss and shit. They are all, like yours truly, currently enjoying themselves very much.

But what only few of these geniuses will tell you, is that this was no accident.

Jerk off fuel and tears can’t melt valyrian steel beams.

George RR Martin is a genius and a pervert. He is the first fantasy author to fully master the art of edging. When you’re dissatisfied for long enough, eventually the density of disappointment is so overwhelming that it effectively feels like a strong orgasm. And that’s the only way you can partake now. Because you’re a genius. It takes a very high IQ to be a sexually enlightened genius like you.

You knew this was coming. You didn't think you knew, you never articulated it. Because you didn't want to want this. But you do, and you did.

Deep breath. Feel that? That’s catharsis. It’s going to last for about a minute. Then you’re going to start all over again. There is no escape from desire.

W-well, it’s not like I even want to be free from desire in the first place, baka!

- You, dude.

Everything is going to shit. It’s looming in the back of your head. You can taste it in the air. Tastes like choking to death on plastic. You have no meaningful relationships with anyone, because even your closest friends would stab you in the back for the chance to fuck, once. There is no shared social fabric left. Your parents live in a fantasy world and have no clue how close we are to the collapse. You think it’s a mercy to let them die innocent.

You are never going to own a house. You are not going to have a career, only a series of “gigs”. You are lonely. No one respects you. No one likes you, unless they have to. Compassion is an obligation, and you’re tired. You’re so fucking tired.

But everything’s going great. We are Progressing. We are on the Right side of History. Things are Only Getting Better. And if you act as if that wasn't the case, for a second, it all comes tumbling down. You lose face. You lose followers. You lose your job. You lose your girlfriend. You lose everything.

If only there was some place, some dimension, you could escape to, some other world, where you were allowed to feel disappointment. Just for a moment. Just for a second. Just for a single instant of release. Not even a moment of pleasure. Just a moment of freedom from the desire to feel pleasure.

If only there was some way for you to cum, so you didn't have to feel this way.