DR. FREELOVE! DR. FREELOVE!

☮️☮️☮️☮️☮️ "Dr. Freelove, Dr. Freelove, set us free---we want super-powered loverment: for our own bodies!"

The '60s got FREE LOVE wrong. WRONG, WRONG, WRONG. Sure, sex got crazier---crazy good. BUT ALSO: crazy bad. The good crazy: a more morally acceptable, freer and funner environment of sexual experimentation had been established. The bad crazy: an unfortunate legacy that's been littered with STDs and underprepared parents here and lots and lots of squished, stomped broken hearts there. Bummer, man. Oops, with a capital O-shit. That "FREE" LOVE was, and still is, w____a____y overpriced. FREE RECKLESS HELL, maybe, but there never was any actual FREE LOVE. Not really.

But that was then and this is now, and this gen's most merciful, most forgiving and most right-on SENSIBLE FREE LOVE has finally arrived: Neptune Sex, Telepathic Mind Sex, Multiple Smartners and Sexual Soulmates, all with the super superb mandate of hundreds and thousands of sex fantasy maxed Big Os, all exquisitely fulfilled, and all with way less, near 0, ZERO, 000.000 repercussions.

 This time, let's get liberated with A TRUE SEXUAL REVOLUTION, shall we. The fucking fucked-up fuck stops here. Freedom for the freaks, freedom for the freaks, freedom for: The Freaks!

...Fantasies will set you free...

X!X!X+++! Johnny Neptune, The Grand Groin Guru. Service---with a smile. March 21, 2013  reviso 3.24.2021 I cast this "message in a bottle" out into the vast Wet and Wild World Wide Web Sea. Godspeed, Johnny Neptune. Godspeed indeed.

Uh, oh. I feel a rant coming on, OMG!, OMG!, here it comes, here it ...

p.s. bonus: 

THE NEW HIPPIE DOWNLOAD

 

THE 

NEW, NEW, NEW, NEW, NEW, NEW, NEW 

HIPPIE DOWNLOAD,

that is.

 

 CALLING ALL LOST HIPPIES*

Restarting the Sixties doesn't mean waiting until the 2060s. Calling all hippies, older and new, it's time to start putting your money where your ... great big beautiful open minds are. The best of the '60s is: NOW. The Spirit that embodied and animated those times is still here---today. Yes, somewhere along the line it got coldcocked right in the kisser, and all of the dreamers who didn't flop to the floor went scrambling for the exits. Get up, goddammit. Get up---right now. Patty-cake and pussyfoot time are over; get back up on your feet and GET BACK INTO THE GAME. Our Paradise season is back on---full steam ahead. Dig this: get to work. Hippy Show, Take 2.


*Human beings who are hip to The Big Family---The Super Duper Uber Family of Families


"A movement is not finished when it is defeated, it is only finished when ... ... ... it quits." "Quitters never win, and winners never quit." "Failure lies not in falling down, but not in getting up"---off our asses. "The greatest mistake in art and life: thinking IT'S TOO LATE." It's never too late to start again, but this time, dear sweet merciful heavens, hopefully a whole hell of a lot wiser. Extract the best, loogie out the rest. WAKE THE FUCK BACK UP, hippy dippys. Yeah, man, surrrrprise, we were right: we should fight hard to CHANGE THE WORLD. But we were also wrong---very wrong: we had to change our world first. We should of completely ignored the naysayers and done it ourselves. We didn't trust ourselves---ENOUGH. We got juked. We zigged, when we should of zagged. We thought we needed them---we didn't. And we still don't. We only need: us.

 Protesting and pointing at others, telling them how bad they stink, is like blaming the caboose for not pulling the rest of the choo-choo along, when WE, EACH AND EVERY ONE OF US: T.H.E.  D.R.E.A.M.E.R.S.---INDIVIDUALLY---COLLECTIVELY---EN MASSE---ARE THE ENGINE ON THIS SUPER-EMPOWERED DREAM TRAIN. WE, I, YOU, ME, TOGETHER is The Spark, The Power Source: THE BIG FREAKIN DREAM COME TRUE TO LIFE. Deep and abiding friendships are the thrillitary advantage. The ALL ACCOUNTABLE ANGELIC ORGASMIC ARMY of ASS ON EARTH. Empowered ... enough. A call to charms! It's up to us to start DRIVING the bus. ...come on, baby, take a chance with us... ...The CARNAL-KALEIDOSCOPIC-ALL-COLORS-IN-THE-COSMOS BUS ... is calling us...


People, people, all are created ===equal=== . ... Yeeeah ... but it eventually dawns on most (or should) that, HEY!, we really are <<<LESS<<< equal than The >>>>>>=Special Few. Hey!  "WE---THE NICE PEOPLE," The Justifiably Outraged, are finally fed up and pissed off, and "we're not going to take it anymore." WE---the indignant "meek," will inherit nothing; WE---will WORK AND EARN our just and fair share of the earth pie. Diligently and non-stupidly.  WE---wait not for a supposed "silver savior platter" to come floating down from above---someday---someday---to haul our shitty woes away. WE---be the """""Jesus""""" that we so tenaciously seek. WEsus! WE---the devoted: to an actual living, learning, and loving experience with ALL of creation, will no longer park it in the phews while remaining neutral to all the crap. WE---will begin by shoveling our own 💩.


WWJD? A serious collective ass whoopin of the indifferent decent citizens; that's what He would do. Parably speaking, He would super-plunge-flush right straight down into the sewers those highly over-holy-rated, cherished pews, piece by putrefying piece, while snatching the faithful by the scruffs of their necks, and 'encouraging' them directly into their ... ... ... hearts, "Stand up! Get moving! Get to work!! Serve and worship with your hands! Your arms! YOUR BRAINS!!! Not with just your butt cheeks!!!" That's what He would do. Should do. "And the same goes for the apathetic agnostics, atheists, and all the "holy" or "unholy" rest!"


The revelation of self-responsibility is way more empowering than rights or saviors. WE---believe: in ourselves---to be able to fix what needs to be fixed. WE---save: ourself, ourselves. WE---have faith in ourselves, our friends. Blessed ... by badass friends---HERE ON EARTH. WE!---are the reason for the season. WE---are the messiah mothership. OUR---sweet and beautiful wills be done. WE---will never, ever, never let anyone take our dream away---again. ...WE---won't get fooled again... ...Meet the new "boss"... not like the old boss... because he's u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-s!


We will demonstrate that we know how to get our act together by applying a can do attitude within our own lives. Lordy, lordy, lordy, social AND personal accountability!, what a novel concept for a spiritual-political movement. A mother-trucking new, never before seen, unlike all the others, and way long past overdue spiritual-political movement, that is. Separation from: the BS. Adherence to: the beautiful. "When is the best time for beginning a PARADISE REVOLUTION? 50 years ago. The second best time? Today."** Independence, day after day, after day...  It's never too late for a revolutionary date. Put not all your hopes into the vote. Vote for this: With shovel firmly in hand---together we stand, greater and grand.

Peace? No, No, No. Not if you chump the deuce without really understanding its meaning, its ideals and its possibilities as you merrily clippity-clop along on your blissful, blindered way. Not if all you do is plant your whupped and waffled couch potato beeehind while believing that there is absolutely nothing you or anybody else can realistically do to start unraveling any of Earth's unfortunate events. Wa-aaa, the problems are too big. Wa-aaa, there is NOTHING! that I can really do. WA-AAA, I want my pacifier. "...I-m-a-g-i-n-e ... there's no..." bullshit. OH WHY, OH WHY, OH WHY? It seems so IMPOSSIBLE---wa-aaa---not even gonna try. And the self-fulfilling, saddest song: remains the same. Packers win---we ALL lose. "If you think you can't change the world, ... you're right." And you are also wrong. Very, very wrong.


Still not a believer? OK, well, let's try it another way: We can't be peacemakers---SITTING ON OUR ASSES! Are you just going to keep on rolling over and continue to take it up the proverbial ... ass? Now, just how helpful is it to anyone to keep on throwing up your hands and declaring, "Oh, that's just history repeating itself."? Hairy, historical horsepuck!, let's toss that worn-out broken record, and instead play for ourselves a less resigned and far more emboldened bang and beat for today and the ages to come. Prune that doomed tune, and riff on this: BE the historical ball. Be indifferent no more ... to the chronically inferior results from our supposed professionals, and rekindle the indignation, Indig Nation. When good women and men do diddly-squat, the assfaces prosper---at OUR expense. End your defense of the fence, hop off, and declare your singular contribution to a powerful---STRENGTH IN NUMBERS---interdependent independence. A single twig snaps, but a bundle of twigs ... is strong as fuck. Stick together. SolidiFLY. ...All together now... Less yackety-yack, more act.


If WE "can't be trusted with governing ourselves," then WHO EXACTLY is going to do a better job? Company tools or political pol-holes? "And you think you're so clever, classless, and free, but you're still f-ing peasants, as far as I can see." ...Oh, say can you see... a nonhypocrisy democracy?... It's time to 86 those "democratic" gyps with all of their naughty hidden tricks called politics, and unstick The Spirit of '76 from off its crucifix. Sack that corpulent corpocratic hijack, and put the freedom train back on track. Come on, get wise, to another sunrise of bad govt 'n' mgmt "surprise," and o.r.g.a.n.i.z.e..


The practical, ethical, challenging, law-abiding, NONviolent (duh!), ggggGGrrrrRRaaaaAAddddDDuuuuUUaaaaAAllllL-a-little-piece-here-a-little-bit-there, viral-quantum-leaping, spiritual revolution IS! ...not being televised. Tune in, turn off, and rock out. TUNE IN: to your guts, TURN OFF: your empty, hollow, programed, rat-cheese life, and ROCK OUT: The Paradise. BE the must see history you were meant to be. Tune in to Neptune... and turn me on.

Peace??? For Pete's sake, YES! YES! YES! Absolutely affirmative, if we use this rallying cry as our mantra to carry on the march and dance in our mind-body-and-spirit power empowerment. LEAVE NOT PEACE TO CHANCE. Plan it. Engineer it. Make it. Fully. Intentionally. Wisely. Detail ... by delightful detail. More and more. Day by day. "We don't know exactly where in the Orwellian hell we're going---but we're on our way." Build! Build peace. Build Paradise. Neptuno. Neptuno! NEPTUNO!!! Opportunities out our asses. The new moral orders: Millions moving, grooving, making, shaking, and baking---as one. One Soul---inhabiting a buttload of bodies. War: FOR!!! War for your friends, war-for-iors. All dream-boots: on the ground. Inseparable: fairness + utility, hip-to-hip, let it rip. 


Great Goddess!, when will we finally uncouple and ashcan the last of the seemingly endless pity party excuses for why we can't change the world? How ... about ... right ... now. And The Dream Train---rolls.

And rocks. What were they thinking, you can't kill ROCK 'N' ROLL. ...The day the music died... Psych! ...Rock's not dead. Rock's not dead! Rock's NOT dead!!!!... It didn't expire in the sixties, nor slip away in the seventies---no! The spirit of ROCK 'N' ROLL, the command presence of ROCK 'N' ROLL, is present and accounted for, right here, right now. All of those upbeat melodies, the kick-assed jams, the groovy vibes, the great gatherings and the blooming participation was only just the beginning of the beginning, a brief tantalizing warm-up for the really Big Kahuna that's heeeeeeeeeere noooooooooow.


I'm not finished. ROCK 'N' ROLL is a determination for ever turning the very best of our imaginations into: reality. ROCK 'N' ROLL tackles all of our problems, whether ugly or unkind. ROCK 'N' ROLL is a powerful people perspective that we SHOULD PROCEED WITH AND FOR EACH OTHER, and not over any other. Power IS the People. We---The Peeps, We---The United Dreamers Who Dare to Make Things Right IS the Power. BE! THE! Power. The nonneutered, nonpuppeted BENEVOLENT, Great & Grand Power, that is. Claim your very own divinely given free will of sovereign space. "With great power comes great responsibility" ... and one helluva way to live our lives. ...Don't let it rest on the President's desk... ...Don't let it rest... with Mr. Money Man's power-obsessed conquest. We who are about to serve: salute---ourselves. We have just been duly served: ROCK-AND-ROLL is here to stay. It's not End Times, it's FRIEND Times. Mend, defend a la bad-ass friend times. And if rock & roll isn't all this, well, sh*t, d*mn, f*ck: it should be. My People!!!!!!!


. . . rock never stops . . .

 

 SEX, DRUGS, & ROCK-AND-ROLL?

SEX? Yes, oh lovers, yes!, still say YES to sex---but to a safer, saner, and far more interesting way.

DRUGS? We have thoughtlessly pissed to the wind an ocean's worth of adventure-man-hours while being numbed and dumbed out on "recreational medications." Of course, each and every high is a most welcomed step-off from the plate of ... THE BITCH LIFE, but they are also a dream-weeping shame of wasted opportunity for beginning the betterment of our way. Sure, on the upside, chemically induced "experiences" do give us a glimmering, shimmering, hazy ray of hope of a possible MOTHER BUZZ OF A REAL LIFE. "Give us this day our daily" artificially manufactured joy-"bread." Better than nothin at all, but huff and puff on this: Drugs and alcohol are not THE problem; our problem, THE problem, is the widespread infestation-invasion upon this planet of a shoddy façade of a culture, AKA The Zombie Shuffle. A culture that basically doesn't give a flying fuck about people. To simply exist, sustain, or survive is not enough. OK is not OK. Just living an "Oh, OK" life is no longer good enough. I'm not saying "Close the bars!" I am saying "Raise the bar." Expect a life worth living, dammit. Demand it, dammit. ...If I were president of the land of monotonous strife, I would declare total war on THE BORING LIFE. Goddamn the boring life... Join the anti-boredom campaign. Make glory---not bore.

r u doa fr rx, fr "life"? f that sht! TOGETHER---Neptune Style---"we are drugs"---legalize us. If we do it my way, your way, OUR way, we can "BE THE DRUGS," go beyond the drugs; we can DESIGN-MAKE-CREATE the !!!*** far-out experience ***!!! which we so determinedly seek. Is it wrong to consider the rest of humanity to be a part of our family? Or the entire globe, our home? Or to desire to better each and all of their conditions, as well as our own? Could it be that in this calling ... the adventure-enterprise lies?---the cool, quiet, ever-knowing, ever-persevering "intoxication" of a life filled with: A PURPOSE, A MISSION. Or is it just too plain wacked to want to be on board for a thrilling, drilling discovery of billions and trillions of Kaleidoscopic Hard-Ons of the Cosmic Queen, buried somewhere, everywhere, high, low, within, upon mystery-packed Mother Maiden Daughter Sister Earth and her multiple passengers, one and all? If not, then welcome, welcome aboard, soon to be formerly bored mates, and trip with a big ol' hit of The Big Kinky Vibe Tribe. Welcome to the exploring of how to do things by and for ourselves---turning ourselves on---with our big-kink bandmates and all the other sex-tribes at large, no matter where they may be, at home and away---24/7, LIVE, LOVE, LEARN, WORK, and PLAY. There's much to be done. Build love, not bore. 

ROCK-AND-ROLL?
Oh, hell, no! Rock-and-roll is not just about music. Rock & roll is about so much m_____o_____r_____e. Rock & roll is beyond the music. Rock & roll---this new and improved incarnation---is the "music" of SUPER-COOPERATION. [Perpetual Peter Pan playboys and playgirls who exclusively practice complete and undivided attention to their selves and personal partydom: need not apply.] The next metamorphic rebel revolution of rock, the kind that the parents will unnecessarily fret, and the System will robotically sweat, will be the putting of our own sweet asses on the line by living, loving, learning, working, and playing: together, NEPTONIAN FREAKOVILLAGE style. Kindly. Kinkily. And magnificently.


To sing our song or play our piece, our "musical" instrument of choice, our talent, our gift, need not be guitar, drum, nor voice, but our best thoughts, our minds, our ideas, our dreams, our visions, our efforts, and our achievements. WE, yes, WE, individually, collectively, are the freakin, flyin rock & roll stars, enchanting us all with our latest rock "songs," BEING US, OURSELVES, doing whatever our thing may be, playing our unique musique, performing our original and plugged-in contributions to our vibe tribe, our world, everybody's world. We---be, BE!!!, be ... the music.


Roll over, Sex, Drugs, & Rock-and-Roll, and make way for ............................................... Freako, Eco, & Godlike Powers. Just folks. Freaky folks. Yeeeeeeeah, baby, I smeeeeeeell hippies! :) :) :) 😊😊😊 The good ones, that is. The alive ones.

 



X!X!X!+++ Johnny Neptune, The Love Drummer Boy. Throwing from ... the heart. Adding time back onto the clock. Young enough. Audible. Go deep. Hail Merry. Hail Many. Hike! NEW MORAL ORDER, NEW MORAL ORDER, NEW MORAL ORDER!!! Have plunger, where's the 💩? Bold digger. Revisa March 31, 2021 I release this "peace dove" from off the deck of the Mothership Neptuno. Fly!, little peace dove, FLY, FLY, FLY! ... and find Commander Coinslot's safe havens, my, oh, my. NEPTUNE, the man, the myth, the movement is about SELF-and-GROUP-SUFFICIENCY. Hello, anybody out there?  I have said my ☮️.




**Numerous credits, blog-wide, for influential and inspirational quotes: look them up, you got Google. "One small hunch for a man, one giant sexed-up vision leap---for mature mankind." Neptuno! The delightful, rightful arrival of a vital, viral vision. And Earthian civilization begins a wide, sweeping arc towards ... the crazy-good side. Where there is no vision that the people cherish ... they perish. Where there is no vision of kinder hanky-panky---the people get ... cranky.

THE MIGHTY MASTURBATION MANIFESTO: THE ORIGINAL BIRTH CONTROL

Mature women of Earth!, I come in peace. NEWSFLASH: Johnny Neptune spontaneously tsunamis the next great Women's Revolution, the "5th dimensional wave," with the merciful downloading of The Mighty Masturbation Manifesto.

Listen up, girlfriends, and menfolk as well, for I, Commander Neptune, Interplanetary Sex Cat, have got something to say. Although in this incarnation I find myself parked within the body of a man, what I concern myself with seeks right to the heart and core of vital women's issues. Honored and adored Amazonas, you have a huge boyfriend on the outside who eagerly desires membership into "The Club." Smile, my freedom loving friends, because after you buy what I'm selling, that dreary and damned albatross-cross called BIRTH CONTROL will never cloudy-foul your sunshiny days, ever again. History, herstory, her' she goes ...

Here is a granite slab of truth upon which our born can firmly stand: The hand that spanks the monkey ... is the hand that: rocks the world.

Uh, of  course, uh, yeah, yeah... I don't masturbate ... and certainly YOU "would never commit such a sick and despicable act." Uh-huh, uh-HUH! So apparently this little jewel and pearl of wisdom must be for the other billion plus, rest of the planet who ... "don't do it" either. But should. And more often.


Children, children, tax not my patience any longer, you "messy doodlers in the nursery of wisdom." Most of you need to grow up about the subject of sex as you are not in 3rd grade anymore, and you should of gradiated out of that just plain and ignorant age of sexual shame and stupidity a long, long time ago. You all, feminines and masculines, need to herk and jerk off more intelligently in order to reduce your risk of reproductive accidents to: zero. Of course, enjoy the flesh, but save your eggs and control your seed for well considered parental adventures only.


Sure, even though you people have a huge buttload of problems down here, still, think about it: If somehow you were able to responsibly control your Earthian human breeding---in as little as 1 or 2 generations---you could actually improve life on your beautiful, though fouled, home planet ride. You could: TURN YOUR SHIT AROUND. Amazing, eh? How simple. How ... I know, I know, I KNOW!!!... IMPOSSIBLE. Maybe. Please, please, please don't make me get out all of those boring-assed but jaw-dropping statistical forecasting charts for your planet's population growth so that I can get you to: wake THE FUCK up. Don't make the "sad and unfortunate things which most likely occur in a less than optimal home life" be your 21st century companions. See the beauty, see the vision of making a conscientious, voluntary life choice. Be a player, not a pawn---take control of your own life. Chart your own course.

Let me repeat: Masturbation will save your world. The right handling of sex prevents a lot of problems. Can't you see, can't you feel the superheated angst vibe warning signs that are thrashing and contorting from off many of your way too young, underprepared, overburdened, totally exhausted, or supremely stressed-out mothers and fathers? Are you deaf, dumb, and blind, man? Can't you hear their silent but still screeching second thoughts? "I should of beat off! I should of beat off! Oh God! ... I should of beat off!"

Take it easy, baby, and heed Johnny's great and wise advice. Do what Johnny does. Do it my way. On one hand I can count all of the women I have ever done. But with the other hand---I've "done" ... thousands. Get it? Do it. Spank it! Be "the Master of your own domain." "Queen of the castle!"


Grow up: first. Live a lot, learn even more. Find out what you are BEFORE---or IF---you procreate. Careless, sloppy, and accident laden sexplay needs to become part of your ancient, distant past. It's OK to wait, WAIT, W... A... I... T... until you're ready, ready, really ready for parenthood. No worries---the seemingly infinite waiting list of unborn, eternal souls can peacefully chill for one brief, tiny cosmic minute more. Why shoot them into an unprepared family ride down here on your sphere? What did they ever do to you? What's the rush? It's YOUR time too. Ink in some ME TIME---into YOUR life. You, here, now---is the future. YOU are the future. Run this kooky, odd one through your noggin: Let Humankind, Animalkind, The Planet, The Plants, The Stars, Civilization, and You-Yourself be your "child." Create with your DREAMS, Dream Queens and Dream Kings, not with just your pussies and dicks.


Oy gevalt, pardon my sweaty extraterrestrial testicles, but YOU have 7 billion munching and crunching souls on your orb, and you are super-uber-light-zipping to what will SOON seem like---7 gizillion. Yep, that is correct, it's time for you to take your foot off of the population pedal, pull over, and take a wee-bitty potty break on your "BE FRUITFUL AND MULTIPLY"  mad drive into HELL. Let me off at the next exit. This rapidly overripening "fruit" will soon, if it hasn't already, rot your peace of mind away. I don't know whether you've noticed this or not, lusty lovers, but you-all are not taking proper care of the people who are already here now---and you want to go out and make more, or risk making more. Now just what the hairy, horny, heartbeats is going on here!?!

Procreation in today's world should be a secondary! priority. Procreation should, now and for a long, long while, be ranked behind a person's freedom, a person's thrill of Earth-discovery, of self-discovery. That's right, Buckos, you need to do a major, ass-kicking overhaul on how you carry out your child creation and your sexual playtime. The two should not be brutally cornfused together. 

Attention. Attention. Do not have sex like a rat. You are not a rat. You have the ability, the reason, the right, the sovereign free will, and, yeah, babe, THE DUTY to procreate NOT 1 SECOND before you are 100% willing and ready. Do not have sex like a roach. You are not a roach. Your fate is firmly in hand. Don't let it get out of hand. It's all in your hands. Roaches don't have hands. Do not have sex like a rabbit. You are not a rabbit. You are a human being. And highly developed human beings of a Great and Grand World embrace their reproductive responsibilities with a thoughtful and NONdumb-bunny-like attitude. Ye freedom may be fleeting with thee fuzzy fornicating.


Do not let brainless passion and "God's" Vaginal Vegas decide YOUR destiny. Is it, in truth, God's will that YOU got horny, which caused YOU to screw, which then---"Oops, it must be God's will!"---out pops YOUR baby, without YOU being fully geared up for taking on the guardianship of another sacred being? Is it ... really? Well, if so, then your "God" must be some sort of a royal, jack a-hole ... or worse.


Of course, each and every child is a gem, and Mas and Pas, Protectors of the House, and, hopefully, Friends of the Home, THANKS FOR SERVING. Your honorable service for your children and your family is absolutely commendable---but PLEASE STOP! That's right, STOP MAKING BABIES!!! Females of Earth, younger and older, DON'T GET PREGNANT. Earthmales, of any age, DON'T GET YOUR PARTNER PREGNANT. "Be fruitful and multiply" applyeth not to YOUR times. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. THE TIMES---YOUR TIMES!!!---HAVE CHANGED, AND THE WRITING ON THE WALL IS BLARING OUT, LOUD AND CRYSTAL CLEAR: YOU ARE FAST RUNNING OUT OF RESOURCES FOR THOSE WHO ARE HERE NOW! Oh, I'm sorry, did I not get the memo where you all banded together and collectively declared your intention to see just how quickly you can desertify and lay waste to the Earth's entire ecosystem, and, oh yeah, completely destroying yourselves in the process? Tut. Tut. Tsk. Tsk. Tick. Tock. Ding. Dong. Almost, nearly, virtually: out of time. Hands: on twelve. Your careening, consuming culture: unsustainable. Uninhabitable Mamma E? Noooooooooooo!, say it ain't so. YOUR Ma Gaia, YOUR life support: critical. Emergency. Really. Truly. You-all in ... deep deep doo doo.


P__L__E__A__S__E  stop. At least until you can restore what you've taken and have regrouped your troops. At least until you have rejuvenated ALL of you, AKA: YOU, the people, the masses of harassed asses, and all of your other creature buddies upon your globe, the beloved but besieged. TAKE THE LEAD, MAKE THE LEAP, and join THE EARTH FAMILY. Mentor others, or others' kids. Take a fertility furlough and enlist in the Earth Army, The Big Family, and mother Mother Earth! Change the world, not just diapers. That is a NEW MORAL order.

We have an OVERPOPULATION problem. No, no, no!, it's not that we have too many babies or too many children or even too many people, but it's the fact that we are overpopulated by a smelly, primitive way of life that refuses to offer any better viable alternatives than to encourage its populace to pollute, pillage, and plunder: like pigs. Oink, oink... Yoink!!! Beam me up, Scotty, the backward ways that be on Planet Ma E are ... fouling the boat.


In the interest of clarity: Depop not (depopulate not, i.e., kindly avoid rapid and harsh population decrease). Take not the creepy bait mandate to eradicate, exterminate, and depopulate. Deviate around all the hate, and begin to educate, activate, and emancipate a great way to co-create and regenerate.


Earthfolk, why don't you hop up onto the helm and commence with putting the civil back into your "civilization?" How about it? ...What are you waiting for?... It's all about the Q.U.A.L.I.T.Y., earthdudes, not just the quantity. "The quality of life should rule #1, over and above, the quantity of life." Our guidepost for an ideal planetary population shouldn't be a ridiculously small number, nor a short-sighted, clearly cuckoo "marching off the cliff to a pontificating Pied Piper's la la tweedledee toot toot of more, more, more, more, more, more ...," but an attitude, a philosophy, a state of mind---on just how GREAT AND KIND---we can treat every being's behind. Jeesh, it's not about being anti-baby. It is about being anti-ungreat-home-life, ... anti-crappy-world. It's mostly about being PRO-AMPLY-PREPPED-
PARENTHOOD.


The Super Smart Solution
So, if you're a little horny or even if you're a lotta horny, by all means, go and groove with that happy dancing Pan in your pants, but, at the bare minimum, can you please just consider the kindest recreational sex choice of them all: just jerk it. She-bop a lot. IT'S 100% FAILURE-FREE BC. Wonderfulwomen, wax that canoe. Gentlemen, choke Mr. Chicken. A spunk ounce of prevention is worth, uh, oh, roughly, seven and a half pounds of kicking, crying "cure." Palmed Parenthood. ...Play... magic fingers!... Hey, man, it's entirely your call---either a little discipline now: VOLUNTARILY, the lightened load road, or a lot of discipline later: FORCED BY NECESSITY, the unready, heavy duty, Mommy & Daddy sacrificial shuffle.

And, also, just as importantly: DON'T FLY SOLO, but do it Telepathic Mind Sex style by inviting along one of your safest-sexual polyplaypals in order to launch a raunchy, responsible rendezvous. TMS: mighty powerful, mighty fun--the bravest, the wisest, and the CRAZIEST, SANEST SEX choice of them all.


X!X! Johnny Neptune, from Beyond, Off-Planet, At Large. SpaceXXX. Visiting Intergalactic Citizen to Planet Earth, temporarily stationed: USA, Ohio, Columbus. August 18, 2010 Mind and hand over matter, it's sup-ah sex on a platter! Putting power back into the hands of the People. reviso 3.31.2021  Reverse the NON-WELL-PREPARED birth curse. He took the issue (masturbation) up on his own. Man, tr                                                                                                                            ust me, let me tell you: NOT the most popular issue.