go fuck yourself, Google

OK, so it’s bad enough that Google knows all my private conversations and preferences in pornography (have I told you about my Lutheran deaconess fetish?*). And then there’s this creepy NSA collaboration business. Since when is a surveillance agency in the business of cybersecurity anyway? (Although it’s not really a huge surprise.) And how about …

babyfur

Here’s a poem I wrote in like 5 minutes, about a year and a half ago, about that magical subculture where furversion and adult baby fetishism intersect. It’s pretty terrible, but you’ll like it better when I turn it into a song. I’m thinking of programming it in Pure Data and making it sound like …