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.

SEX RELIGION! SEX RELIGION! SEX RELIGION!

SEX RELIGION! SEX RELIGION! SEX RELIGION! 
Telepathic Mind Sex + Sexual SoulmateS + Multiple Smartners = NEPTONIAN UTOPIAN PARADISE ON EARTH. 

Hear ye, hear ye, come one, come all, for this planet's most hottest and sanest recreational sex religion has arrived. Greetings, horny earthlings, Neptune, on board. Sex, sex, sex IS spiritual. Spirituality IS sexual. Spirituality IS sensual. Yes, oh yes, ... oh yeah.

Be the Divine Animal you were meant to be.

Let's find our fantasy. Let's free our fantasy. Let's fall in love with The Impossible Life.
 
Let's get engaged to an erotic restoration of Ma Gaia.
 

Let's marry our: sex fantasy. Take the voluptuous vows. Wed the World, and make her our wild and wonderful wife. Over the threshold ... to a real life.

Obey .......................

our

hearts.

Honor horniness. Never ending wedding days---all the days of our lives. Cherish countless consummations, to have and behold, from this day forward. Honeymoons, Neptune style. Uncover and discover our passions and passion, sexual and otherwise.


Let's be loyal to L.O.V.E.. Promise to be ever faithful to THE ETERNALLY YOUTHFUL JOURNEY. Dare to be devoted ... to our dreams. Fall in---and up---into our dreams. Good times. Better times. For greater. For grander. For richer. For thicker. Forbid forevermore: the dull life that brings boredom and times of bad.

Let's make Creation ... and a billion, billion beautiful experiences be our baby.

Conceive:

 P.R.A.G.M.A.T.I.C.  

P.A.R.A.D.I.S.E.
 

Make abundance---the generation, the reaping, the sharing of it---the true, the new, and the renewing, everlasting covenant. Get a clue, be true to the Earth Zoo.
 
Let's welcome thousands upon thousands of our MATURE, sex-tuned friends into our higher fun-family. Friend Times. Responsibly raise a better world, a little more here, a little more there, each and every day. Become a disciple to daily improvements, in all of our lives.
 
Let's follow, worship, and listen to the authentic divine authority residing within our very own chest cavities.


As below, so above? Is there sex in Heaven? In eternity? If not, then "Heaven" is a hell, and we will not be in attendance. Instead, we will stand proud and erect SEX HEAVEN right here, right now.

And let's believe this: the kindest part of this Sex Religion: it's not cranky, old-fashioned, and rule-driven religious but is more of a cheerful, unifying BIG PICTURE vision which lightly and brightly travels alongside all of our eager adventures. Friendly, free-willed, yet firm---not angry, insular, nor stern.


With this Scene, I thee wed. You may now be kissin: The Paradise Dream V*I*S*I*O*N.


Awake, awake ... and cut the Cosmic Cake.


Alottawomen.

xxx Johnny Neptune, All Galactic. Lost in Time---but found in Columbus. Ohio, that is. ...He nabbed a name from the ancient gallery... 2013, draft #48  3.31.2021. Rebirth the Church of Earth.

p.s. bonus
Resonate to this, kind and powerful lovers:

10 STRONG-ASSED CONVICTIONS


1. I am a tiny but mighty spark-outpost from off THE BIG BEING. I allow my very own heart, mind, spirit, and behind to be my command. I live my dream. I build paradise. FUN is #1. I don't need no stinking, interceding preacherhood. I wave goodbye to all that Holy Writ jive.

2. Jealousy blows. Safest and sanest NEPTONIAN SEX PLAY rocks.

3. Fuck guilt. I summon whatever courage and strength that I have, and try, try, again and again, to become evermore useful. I never forget---but always forgive---including and especially ... MYSELF.

4. I remember: Work like a machine, sleep like a log, and play like a stark, raving, happy, madly determined little girl. My BODY is a  sacred temple---I abuse it not. How can I enjoy wealth---without my health?

5. I honor THE BIG FAMILY: everybody and every living creature and thing. I help the little families have the time, the means, and the enthusiasm for it, as well.

6. I shall not kill ... my spirit---by doing things I do not love. I shall not invade---but proactively extend ... many a bridge. I leave not PEACE to chance. I insure that PEACE is a safe bet by diligently engineering plenty of delightful things and experiences for as many as I can---peace by piece.

7. I shall commit to being a sexually mature adult. I SMARTLY SHARE and share some more---things, thoughts, LOVERS, loves, and dreams---among my empowered and empowering, sexually soulmated CITY of BAD-ASSED FREAKO ECO FRIENDS. 

8. Thou shall not steal ... my soul and stuff. Economic slavery: BULLSHIT! Poverty sucks boo-boo. Well-earned wealth for my spiritual and economic health.


9. I accept and nurture the power and freedom that personal and social accountability provides.

10. Once my sex-tribe's needs and goals are met, I gladly share my time and abundance to MOTHER EARTH and her MANY MYRIAD MULTITUDES of TRAVELMATES.

BACK TO THE GARDEN!!!

Freako ecos unite

Freako ecos take flight

Freako ecos ... deeeeeeelight!
 

Hey!, where's my Woodstock? Hey!, where's your Woodstock? Hey!, where's OUR Woodstock? Where is our new and improved Woodstock? Way improved, that is, Woodstock 2DAMNZILLION.0. You know, the one that's less mud, less muddled minds. The one that's a long-standing, never-ending, everyday an original day, ever-spiraling, up and up, groovier and groovier, empire of exotic, erotic, eco-friendly enclaves.

Hey, hey, what do you say WE turn our stewed, used, and abused toxic-waste-dump-of-a-planet back into an Eden styled Garden Paradise?

Where the overflowing cornucopia of Mother Nature pleasantly breezes and shines into each and every life, each and every day.

Where MATURE inhabitants super playfully and responsibly enjoy the sweetest fruits of life. Where they guiltlessly go at each other in a delectable and naughty, safest sexual  TELEPATHIC LOVE DANCE. "Eve, whose eye darted contagious fire..."

Where intelligence and knowledge spews forth---bursting and expanding every mortal soul, every human heart---with Godlike gifts and Godlike dreams.

Where w!i!s!e!l!y guided new forms of technology allow many of Earth's riders to resign, ASAP, as its captive crap diggers, and soar as its true hero co-creators---all alongside one another---and not over any other.

Where we take better care of ourselves ... and others. Much, much better care.

Hey! ... Huh? What do you say? What do you think?


G...r...e...a...t  idea? or grand foolish lunacy? A possibly intriguing and interesting way to live a new life, or just something so ridiculously far-out and idealistic as to not merit any further consideration?


Let's stop shuffling to a sad, sorry, weepy, weary blues of a helpless, hoping, praying and waiting for Heaven, for Christsakes, and let's start focusing and channeling our NRGs into planning and building a heavenly Heaven ...right here, right now. What are you waiting for?...


Build my dream, love-warriors! Make. It. Happen. No more peering endlessly down the tracks, waiting, waiting, waiting for The Dream Train to somehow magically appear, all decked out, and all ready to go. Our efforts and hard work to create our very own Heaven---with our very own hands, hearts, minds, guts, and butts---is the freakin "spontaneous" miracle.

That is correct, ladies and gentlemen, I am 7.6 Billion % bound and determined to build Paradise on Earth, one piece at a time, brick by brick, and ass by beautiful ass. Yep, I'm a King of Fools ... but I am not fooling around. And maybe, just maybe, someday, after you, I , and the rest of us have finally created something that we can all be proud of, we could invite JC, ET, Moses, Muhammad, Buddha, Confucius, and all the angels, aliens, and saints on over for a great big ole fat, rocking and rolling, worldwide Johnny Luau.


So, who's with me? Who's with your cheerful brother, the nice-guy-next-door. Who's with the Grand Groin Guru, your Paradise-building, Pan pal, Johnny Neptune? Who's with your Sex City Salesman Showman, the Prophet of Consensual Deep Quantum Leap Peep? Do ya feel me? Do ya got my back? Don't leave me hangin... "You want to join me band?"

I am your thoroughly honored Entertainment Guide, aboard the cosmic cruise liner, Mighty Ma E. And then there was Neptune.......

Co-creator daters!, I want my Garden of Eden, goddammit. What are YOU going to do about it?  Be late to The Picnic no more. ...Back to the Garden!!!...

xxx Johnny Neptune. Dreamer. Barker and builder for Paradise. Anchoring The Goddess. Get to work! Release The Feast. Wishin is for fish, and hopin is for dopes, but "if you can conceive it---and BELIEVE IT!---then you can >>>> achieve it."
December 22, 2009. revisee 3/31/2021