Moreover, I look forward to the day where I shirk the frangers and pump out some children of my own.
birthday bash, Mum took down the house with a killer speech.
In one of the many anecdotes calculated to embarrass me in front of my friends, she described a morning scene of our distant past, driving me to school in her old Corolla, where, in the static din of 3AW talkback radio, I pulled out the question: “Hey Ma… ” Ever the skilled multi-tasker, Mum deftly negotiated the peak hour snarl of Maroondah Highway while illuminating her curious eight-year-old on the virtues of self-love.
The system, eerily reminiscent of the telescreens evoked in George Orwell’s 1984, was used for experiments in automated facial recognition, to monitor GCHQ’s existing targets, and to discover new targets of interest.
Such searches could be used to try to find terror suspects or criminals making use of multiple, anonymous user IDs. Just wait till your refirgerator is online and uses RFID tags to tattle on what you're eating.
I was one of the lucky; for most of my friends, asking parents about wanking at the dinner table would have generated some serious indigestion.
Still today, an era where sex is rife, simmering in a sea of ubiquitous porn, embedded in the subtext of consumerism, the open discussion of sordid deals like masturbation remains a significant taboo.
sex and money is what they offer their managment level minions. BUT I will never underestimate these Zionist Nazis inability to keep their hunger for power and control, their predisposition to lie, steal & cheat in check. Sorry, NSA, if you want to jerk off to my private sexual content, you have to enter my home and install the hardware yourself. (Unless you have to physically plug the thing in then there is no switch, it's all software controlled) Don't think you can be targetted? does every network interface on it have a MAC address? Could you be identified, or misidentified, "visually" from CCTV footage if you paid cash?
the masses just get the illusion of someday obtaining said sex and money. Did you have a mobile phone that you have a contract for on your person when you paid cash?
It was one of the few Catholic primary school vetted sex-ed VHSs of the 90s; a miracle in itself considering that amongst its many obfuscated diatribes on hetero baby-makin’ (a step away from the ‘stork’ narrative), the dreaded ‘M’ word seemed to have slipped through the censored cut. Thanks to my old lady’s candour, I was not one of the confused.
She worked at an outer suburban health centre back then, a group dedicated to the sexual health and education of young women.
Thanks to open familial discourse, I got through my teens sans fatherhood.