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Julian's America II: Electric Boogaloo

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Julian, Forum COGNOSCENTI:
It's fully possible to appreciate Julian's America as a genuine cultural phenomenon. It's also fully possible to appreciate Julian's America as a metaphor for what it takes to become a genuine cultural phenomenon. Either way, for too long, Julian's America has registered as an anachronism, a nostalgic reminder of times long past when people only wore seersucker sincerely, never ironically. For too long, Julian's America has seemed to lay dormant like a vintage 1980's wide diagonal-striped Jean Paul Gaultier tie sitting in the back of a magnificently oak-lined closet awaiting the day it came back in style. No more.

For the past few years, I have heard from Julian Americans all around the actual America, western Europe, and the Maldives asking the same question: "where are you now, in a post-didn't elect Hillary world, when we need you most?" Allow me to answer in a short parable. One day a man is walking along a beach and has a vision of myself. He sees scenes of his life and two set of footprints in the sand, one he identifies as a pair of Prada docksiders and one as a pair of Bottega Veneta captoes. At the particularly troubling points, he notices only the footprints of his beloved Prada docksiders and he turns to me and asks, "Why is it at the lowest points of my life did you cease to walk with me?"

To which I answered: "The one set of footprints you see ... that is when I took off my Ferragamo's -- which you quite inaccurately identified as Bottega Venetas -- because I did not want the sand of the beach to wear away prematurely at the leather soles." Think about that: I did not want the sand of the beach to wear away prematurely at the leather soles.

Julian's America has always remained alive in the hearts and minds of all true Julian Americans everywhere. Its alive in the hearts of young children, hiding under their palatially arranged 1000 thread count sheets with a flashlight to sneak peaks at L'uomo Vogue and n+1. It was alive walking beside you all this time, telling you which way to go in its trademark still, small voice; it just did not want the sand of the beach to wear away prematurely at its shoes' leather soles. Its time again to rejoice and highlight the things that make life great, the things that make life worth living! It's time to leave the summer vacation of our collective discontent and enjoy the cool autumn breezes in Julian's America!

stevewizzle:
wat

kosmo vinyl:
Don't ask

James Ford:
Isn't it funny how julian reappears just as atomicfront leaves the country?

Yada:
i'm a biker living in london UK, and i've discovered 3 major ways of pozzing up unsuspecting negs. the first i discovered by accident when i was fucking a guy and the condom broke. i said i was sorry, and i was. but later on it made me smile. then i was doing another guy, and the condom broke when i put it on. i fucked him anyway, feeling guilty and horny as hell at the same time. then i started pricking the rubbers in their packets, so that when i started fucking, they'd split. but this doesn't always work, so now, to be extra sure, i go to clubs with a pair of nail scissors, pick up a handfull of condoms, go to the loo (john), sit down and carefully cut open the packets, remove the condoms and snip a bit off the tip. the i roll it back up and slide it back into the packet. then i look for guys who are into safer sex only. i've done 100's of guys using this method over the years.

the second method is more work, but more fun. i chat up negs on-line who want to bareback with other negs, i say, 'i tested neg 1 month ago. i think because i only top, i've always tested neg'. if they want, i tell them i'll pull out before shooting. i never do. there's loads of guys into being fucked by a guy in bike leathers and crash helmet, so i do them like that the first time, then i get more intimate, smiling, and kissing passionately. i make sure i fuck them at least 5 times, then i stay in touch with them to see how they get on. i've done about 20 guys using this method over the years, and i've only failed once. when they tell me they've tested poz i say, 'o god! how did that happen? do you think i should get tested too?' thank god for chat rooms. they can't see how much i'm smiling.

the third method is the most dangerous and the hottest. i had a biker mate, and for a while we'd go round together using the above 2 methods. one nite we couldn't find anyone so we rode up to hamstead heath, London's cruising area. we wandered about till we saw a cute young asian guy. he was a bit drunk, i think it was his first time on the heath. we smiled, said hello, and led him to a quite part of the heath. i started kissing him while my mate pulled down his pants. then my mate pinned him to the ground, and using just spit for lube, raped his ass. i held him down and pushed his face into the mud to stop him screaming. when my mate finished it was my turn. after we'd finished we both pissed on him and told him we both had hiv. we left him there, sobbing, soaked in piss, with our poz loads in his cunt. i still get a hard on thinking about it.

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