Reading the Bible

  Many Christians haven’t really read the bible, only selected, edible parts. Quite a few actually become atheists after having read all of it.

  Hardcore Christians and Christian apologists don’t care one way or another, no matter what their holy book says, not deviating in any way from what they want it to say, but there are those reacting strongly to passages like these:

  Slaves, obey your earthly masters with deep respect and fear. Serve them sincerely as you would serve Christ. Ephesians 6:5

  You may purchase male or female slaves from among the foreigners who live among you. You may also purchase the children of such resident foreigners, including those who have been born in your land. You may treat them as your property, passing them on to your children as a permanent inheritance. You may treat your slaves like this, but the people of Israel, your relatives, must never be treated this way. From Leviticus 25:44-46

  Kill every male among the little ones, and kill every woman who has known man intimately. But all the girls who have not known man intimately, spare for yourselves. Numbers 31:17-18

  This should give anyone ignorant a certain idea what the Bible is truly about.

Cool couple

Bill and Hillary Clinton as students 1972

 Look at that cool couple. It is a photograph illustrating in excellent ways everything that has gone wrong with the world since 1972...

A bubble in the world

  We rested in bed afterwards, making out at a slow, languished pace, enjoying each other’s skin and touch. The night almost turned into morning before we fell asleep. Days and nights flew away, until we were forced to leave the real world and return to the fake and ugly.

  Sis and I began dressing the same. We aren't twins, but are born in the same year and attended the same class, so it became quite visible. We dyed what was blond and brown hair black. By using the same makeup we very much resembled identical twins. And we stayed together more. A lot was implied by our behavior, even though we weren't obvious about it. We were very aware of how what society and the public would do if the truth was revealed.

  I've always been quite fond of the nonverbal method, at least to a point. We revealed it without revealing it, and we turned our proud face at the world, and the world disliked a lot. Today’s society doesn't appreciate pride in general and when pride comes from breaking one of the most extreme taboos there is the world becomes seriously pissed. We thought we were prepared, but our optimism was quickly exposed as the ivory tower it was.

  Time passed and even if there were lots of ugly stares and bullying we dealt with it with a superior arrogance. Those judging us didn't know for sure, but the suspicion alone was sufficient in their eyes. That is often so. We hadn't been bullied before, but now we were. Tove called it «our new Era. To us that new era had a beyond positive connotations, because we were together. The bad and downright ugly stuff didn't really matter that much compared to that.

  People have, completely serious told us that we are at fault, that we are to blame, and that we can’t expect being treated differently when we «behave the way we do». In our darkest moments we agree with them. That’s the true horror of bullying. It makes its victims question their very core. We know intellectually that those being treated badly aren't responsible for people’s cruelty, prejudice and intolerance. We know that stupid laws and silly morality gaining support long before we were born have or should have nothing to do with us. But doubt haunts us. We are, like everybody else a product of the society we grew up in, and shame has been beaten into us from an early age.

  We left our home and hometown as soon as we possibly could, and moved to the big city and student life. We did so willingly, «voluntarily» because we were finally fed up, but in truth we couldn't have kept it going for much longer. Now, we hardly hide ourselves at all and enjoy that immensely.

  We live in sin and incest and it feels great beyond words.

Dreams of the Human Being

«Dreams can’t die, but they belong to the night».

This is the most thoroughly radical book I’ve ever read, and I’ve read quite a few. I would say, until anybody convinces me otherwise that it is the most radical novel ever written. I know others have compared it to the Monkey Wrench Gang by Edward Abbey, but that one doesn’t quite measure up, either.

Dreams Belong to the Night by Amos Keppler is a novel all true activists & radicals should read.

Everybody should read it, because very important issues are discussed there, but those that truly want to change society should definitely read it. It’s a book for advanced rebels, about rebellion in the true sense of the word.

In most stories about rebellion I’ve read and movies I’ve watched people stumble into it. They don’t have true awareness of their situation or the subjects involved. In short, they’re usually described as weak-minded idiots, which is clearly a part of the ongoing deception.

The people in the revolutionary movement the Green Rose make deliberate decisions to break away, to go to war against society. This is a kind of book I’ve wanted to read for a long time.

It’s a great story and well written, very intense and engaging. You can’t help caring about the characters and their issues.

Do we feel anything anymore? Is there any humanity left in us? Are we alive or no more than organic machines fit for the slaughter?

The book follows a group of beyond radical activists, from their first, initial conflict with the oppressive society to the beyond powerful, explosive peak. To say it is a great ride doesn’t feel in any way adequate.

I enjoy the pace, enjoy the slow-moving train of the story, how it’s slowly picking up speed and momentum, how the characters and the story itself are dominating the stage.


One thing among many I find great about this book is the casual way it portrays homosexuals. This isn’t a story about homosexual or bisexual activism, though, which is perfectly all right. The three, of about a dozen main characters are described as people, pure and simple, which is rare. I have personally struggled with society’s distorted view of bisexuality throughout my teens and feel this is one of the few books I’ve read without prejudice on the subject.

All in all, many controversial or perceived controversial subjects are touched upon and the story doesn’t shy away from asking any important question or challenging any grave imposition modern humans is subjected to. Yes, this is a book of books.

I can’t help fearing it will be overlooked, like so many great stories are in this day and age.

It will most certainly be condemned if it ever sees the light of day of public and official opinion. In case you’re wondering: that’s a strength, not a weakness.

It should be acknowledged, should become a part of humanity’s public consciousness, because in a way it already is. Dreams Belong to the Night is an underground publication to end all underground publications, roaming the subconscious web of humanity like an intense fire burning in the gray, sordid light that is the modern existence.

Memories of a horny night in June

My sister Tove and I were in our middle teens. We writhed in bed and couldn’t sleep. It was hot and humid outside and inside. We were camping, the two of us alone. That wasn’t unusual. We had done that since we were ten. The cabin was far into the woods and the mountains. We had cell phones and mommy called every ten minute or so during daytime.

Aside from that we had a great time, and it was about to turn even better.

Tove stood up from her bed and stumbled through the twilight towards the john. I watched her body in the moonlight and felt strange all over the body. It wasn’t like I didn’t know what this was. I had had it for a while, now, now and then. But it still felt strange, eerie.

When I turned in bed and stared at the wall it took a turn for the worse. I squeezed my thighs hard against each other and it turned very much worse. The gasp slipped from me no matter how much I did to prevent it. The sound from the toilet when sis took a leak sounded like thunder in my ears and I begged all non-existent gods that it would be loud enough for her not to hear me.

I pushed my right hand in between my thighs and my entire body turned rigid. My teeth gritted so hard in the attempt at keeping the sound in my throat from escaping that I feared I would ruin them. I began rubbing myself, back and forth, back and forth and everything just… faded away. Nothing existed but my hand and the beast down there.

A hand touched my shoulder. I shook and twisted around, and looked at Tove with an incredulous, dazed expression in my face.

- It’s so hot, isn’t it? She said, very cryptic.

She grabbed the blanket and pulled it aside, making room for herself, pushing herself at me.

- It itches, she whispered, - itches like hell.

She kissed me on my lips wet and hungry.

- Scratch me, she whispered. - Please!

My hand slowly sought down between her thighs, into the hot and wet bush. She released a slow moan, twisted her body and kissed me time and time again, and I finally returned her affection, twisted around until we lay chest against chest.

- What are we doing? I asked and shook at the high-pitched sound of my own voice.

- What difference does it make? She shrugged. – It isn’t like we are making babies or anything.

She grabbed my hair and pulled my head close to hers. This time the kiss was hard, demanding. I first felt the other hand on one of my breasts and then that it slipped down my belly, until it roamed my bush, my wet, warm bush. I moaned in need. She released a short, hard laughter.

- I knew it, she giggled darkly, - knew what a horny and eager bitch you are. I’ve listened how you’ve played with yourself at night, until you fall asleep.

- And what about you? I retorted angrily.

- I did it out in the hall the first time, right outside your room, she admitted. – I couldn’t even get back to bed in time and was terrified that mommy or daddy would come.

I caressed her cheek and she kissed my hand. I imagined her standing on her knees in the hall at our house and rubbing herself, until she fell hard on the floor and crouched there, breathing, breathing, breathing.

We started rubbing against each other. She kissed me on the neck and kept seeking downwards until she found a breast and started sucking on the nipple. It hardened in her mouth.

I threw the blanket out on the floor and we were able to watch each other, study each other for the first time without shame. Both of us were working out and were muscular and tight without being skinny. I imagined how an invisible observer stood on the floor, just a few steps away and was drooling at the sight of us and I turned even wetter. Sis felt it instantly and rubbed herself in added ardor against me.

- It’s happening, she murmured. – We’re doing it, actually doing it.

I squeezed her breasts, squeezed hard. She moaned aloud. I chuckled wickedly.

- You enjoy this, don’t ya?

She nodded with big and wet eyes. I kissed her hard and greedy, and started biting her shoulder and her neck and every possible place, really. She howled in joy.

We looked at each other with hazy eyes. Talk faded. Consciousness and thought waned to virtually zero as movements turned ever more aggressive.

What had started out hesitant and reserved grew slowly but surely in intensity and creativity. We knew what to do, had heard more than enough about it, and the rest instinct took care of. The stench of sweat and hot water and joyful howls filled the old cabin. I knew, knew beyond doubt, as we writhed in each other’s arms that this would continue, continue for a long time, and that no one, not family or friends could make us stop.

The dam keeping most of the hot water at bay broke, and we were overwhelmed by an intense sense of happiness, and everything became just indescribably joyful and huge.