IT'S A DIFFERENT WORLD

All I need these days is access to the internet. For starters, and most importantly, it allows me to write. Since my identity is etched in words, I wouldn't exist if I couldn't publish my thoughts.

Much has changed since my youth. As a boy, little compared to getting my hands on a Playboy and staring at the foldout. Only Greek goddesses could have tits like these.

The internet has banished that beauty forever. I can get to the internet and view every sexual act imaginable. I'm not a frequent visitor, but a brief view of creampies and a 100 mg. of Viagra and I can assure myself a pleasant fuck with a happy ending.

I was surfing the net and I encountered the image of a sicario holding a knife against a woman's neck. A caption described the video as a decapitation. As the killer pressed his weapon into the woman's throat, I stopped the footage.

Sperm flowing from a woman's pussy excites me, but blood gushing from a person's neck is too much for even a pervert like me. I sought refuge in the soothing serenity of classical music in order to recapture my breath.

During the night my youngest son, who is addicted to the internet, messaged me that he had just seen a mass murderer gunning down scores of Muslims at a mosque. He wrote:

"Be grateful for life. Over 40 dead in New Zealand as of now. A crazy terrorist shooter walked into a mosque and started firing. What a world we live in. Saw the video. Truly disturbed. Be grateful for life. I love you."

He is a beautiful and loving little boy who dreams of being a great football player much like I dreamed of being a great baseball player when I was his age, the only significant difference between us is that he has been exposed to the internet his entire life while the internet didn't exist in my childhood.

I thought about suggesting a violin concerto or a piano sonata, but classical music holds no interest for him. Instead I wrote:

"Check out the latest compilation of creampies. They will clear those terrible images from your head."

Growing up in a devout Catholic family, we never mentioned the word sex. The internet has changed everything.

"Did you take my advice?" I asked a few days later.

"Sure did, Dad."

"Did it help?"

"It did. Thanks."