My mind is awash with things at the moment.  I just got back from my LOTR class.  It is a rather pleasant distraction, for rarely have I been given the chance to study what I love with those who share similar interests (especially with this average looking but extremely intoxicating Asian woman; I don't know who she is or why she's there, but just conversing with her both challenges and compliments me).  Tolkein may not have been the greatest writer of his time, but he is a storyteller second to none, on par with the legends such as Homer.  Rare is the story that can transcend the ages with powerful and poignant messages, that can make such a fantastic world seem so familiar, or that can make the "literati" cry.  Thank you, Professor.

Jericho: Well, well.  She's finally moved on.  Finally we can stop moping and get to it again.

Diego: I'm really starting to hate you, Jericho.  She was the only thing keeping us grounded, the one we loved.

Damien: It isn't healthy to be stuck like this.

Daniel: We aren't stuck.  We made up our minds a long time ago.  What's done is done, and we can't change the past.

Jasmine: You should have tried to stop her.  Love isn't something so easily given up.

Me:  I never gave up on her.  I loved her.

Diego: We fucked it up.  We fucked it up big time.  I mean, when the fuck are we going to get something like that again?

Jasmine: Sexist punk....

Diego: You know what the fuck I meant!

Me: Calm down.  We're here to do this civily.

Jericho: Hahaha!  Civil?  Us?  Come now.  Can a dog keep himself restrained when the bitch is in heat?  Admit it.  We want to break free.  She's held us back, and now we are free.

Daniel: The only thing that held us back was our own inability to let go.

Jasmine: But why did we have to let go?

Me: Because she was leaving.  I can't  hold her back.

Jericho: Don't you mean so you wouldn't be held back?

Damien: For once, the little chimp has a point, John.  Your motivations were rather selfish.

Me: Bullshit.  Every goddamn one of you knows that I always put her before me.  I came second the whole fucking time.

Jericho: Aww...a little angry at something?

Diego: Fuck you!

Me: I can speak for myself.  And fuck you, Jericho.

So the conference was unproductive.  My emotions are a little torn.  Hehe....sometimes I feel like running to Virginia to sweep her into my arms, but I'm no prince, and this is no fairy tale.  Its done, its over, and from this point, I'm moving on.  She has someone else, and I think I've wallowed in the memory enough.  Christ, this is starting to sound like an Evanescence song.
 

A wise old sage once told me this:

(on a side note, this wise old sage appeared as a tiny, crazy, chinese woman )

I assume too much.  I've been assuming that people think like I do, that my experiences are common place and that people hold at least part of my world view.  For this, I am sorry.  No joke.  You better right that down, because I don't apologize much.  

For this reason, it seems that I have infringed upon others, that I've begun that crime of overstepping my bounds.  Hehe...that's the funny thing about me.  I don't talk much to people I'm not intimately familiar with (and no, I don't mean sexually), but if I do get the sense that I can open up to you, I have a problem shutting up.

It raised an interesting question in my head.  How much should I hold back?  I mean, with a few select people, I've discussed my inner most fears, my demons (figurative and literal), my loves and my idiosyncracies.  But what if they don't want to know?  It is entirely possible that, with them being nice people, they sit through my torturous moanings about life...hehe.

I'm told frequently to be open, that I'm too closed off from the world.  My personality in general is aloof and quiet.  I'm the kind of person who sizes up everything, friend, foe or otherwise.  Judging everything from the sake of appearances and yet wondering why they are scared of me   But it is times like these that vindicate my decisions.  I mean, haven't I been betrayed enough, pushed to arms length, or been shunned enough?  

I don't look at this in an emotional state though.  I'm refusing to allow myself to look at it through emo-teared glasses.  One thing I can be confident in is my cold, calculating mind.  I'm going to analyze this as if I were another person, to come to a true and objective answer.  Maybe then I can spare some of you the rather awkward nights of listening to a grown man cry :D

The best part?  I'd love to know what these people think when they know how sappy I can get and yet I act like a tough guy in public.  Must be a course in moronic irony  

Talk about a wonderful day.

Yesterday, the wind blew furiously at my house.  But this wasn't an all day thing.  Maybe for an hour, and that was it.  But is came on so suddenly that I didn't think to set down the portable basketball hoop.  I went outside to check to see if the mail had come yet.  As I'm there, the little girl Melanie, who lives across the street from me (she's maybe 3 years old) was standing in my driveway with NO supervision.  I walk over to her to pick her up and take her home when a huge gust of wind blows, catching the broadside of the hoop's backboard and rocketing it down towards Melanie and I.  By God's grace, I caught the damn thing.  Had I not been there, Melanie would most likely have been killed.  Seriously, the fucking metal rim was aimed straight for her pretty little head.

Then during my pre-cal test, my brain freezes and I can't remember how to find the inverse of an equation with multiple and varying powers.

To follow it up, part of our fence gives way and buckles, which is doubly ironic because I've been spending weekends, including this upcoming one, building fences for other people.  So I had to spend the late afternoon and early night ripping out destroyed rose bushes and hauling 100 lbs sections of fence into the garage.

Soon after, I have it out with my old man.  And why, you ask?  Because of milk.  See, I drink all the milk in the house.  That's just the way it is.  Nobody else fucking drinks it, and I can go through 2 gallons in as many days.  (And people wonder why my bones are so goddamn strong )  But I try to stop for the week after there is only half a gallon left.  This leaves plenty for people who want cereal, cholocate milk, or whatever.  But then they don't drink it.  And it sits there.  And I'm stuck with my cravings, twiddling my thumbs.  So I drink a little.  And then a little more.  Then I finish it.  Not five minutes after, my pops wants cereal.  Fucking great.  So he asks me why I haven't gone to get more milk.  I tell him because I finished five minutes ago- I haven't had a chance.  But apparently, his was a rhetorical question that was meant to remind me how much of a dumbass I am.  So we get into a huge fight about the fact that neither one of us thinks the other is using the proper respect.  He says that I'm challenging his authority in his house, I say he's treating me like a child of half my age.

So, its 9:30 at night, I ain't  got shit to do, my internet is down and the only people I could have called to talk to I'm too worried about bugging yet again with my goddamn problems.  So I clean the kitchen and go to sleep.  I'm lying in bed, sweating because my fan isn't working, and just before I finally get to sleep, my brother slams into the wall on the other side, because he's horsing around with my sister in the hallway, and the bulletin board above my bed falls on my head, sticking my cheek and chest with several push pins.

Oh, and this morning, I had to carpool into work with a father who can't stand me, going to a job under a boss who nags the shit out of me.

All in all, awesome.

Damnit, I'm trying not to get my hopes up.  When I do, I usually get massively disappointed.  But I may be less than 3 hours away from a Playstation 3 and hours upon hours of Resistance: Fall of Man.

I've had a rough week, and I'm not the only person who thinks I deserve this  

"Safe Passage" from the ost to The Last Samurai.

Yes, I still hold the dream of dying like a warrior of old.  I hope in my heart that I will never abandon the codes of honor, chivalry, and duty.  When I stand face to face with God and my fathers, I desire only to be worthy to join their ranks and be at peace once and for all.

Overall, 7/10.

Graphics: Gorgeous. 9/10 NBA 2K7 and Resistance: Fall of Man are just beautiful on the machine, and better than the best I've seen on the 360 so far, not to mention the Wii games.  We may not yet be at "Killzone" quality yet, but if its looking this good at launch, imagine what we will see in the immediate future   I mean, look at the PS2.  At the beginning, the dreamcast blew it out of the water, and by the end, we had Shadow of the Colossus.

Games: Yuck. 4/10  Frankly, this sucks.  I mean, Resistance and NBA 2K7 are basically the only decent games, and we have to wait another month or two for FEAR and Ninja Gaiden.  And until late this year or early next for MGS4.  So far, we get destroyed by Bill and Miyazaki.

Control: Very nice.  8/10.  Everything is good, especially since I was a fan of the PS2 controller and they improved it in the two ways they needed to: wireless and no rumble (though it was very sexy watching my ex use the thing as a joke vibrator).  I knock it down two point because the network setup was annoying.  If you aren't a techy, it can be difficult.

I was hit with a rather terrible vision today.  The team, which I have consulted with on several occasions, had been brutally murdered.  Lifeless bodies and blood were only matched in hideousness by the terrified eyes of the dead.

The only one standing there was a man in white.  He was attractive and fit, with the most confident and cold eyes I have ever seen.  It took me a minute to realize that this man was me, or rather, me as I could have been and in truth, have wanted to be.  He was simultaneously fascinating and horrifying.  Every rational thought within me told me this man was to be feared and not trusted, and yet part of me wanted to meet him, to become close to him, to know what he knows.  We locked eyes and I could see my own death, a sniveling sycophantic wretch, trying so hard to stay in comfortable favor that I was never truly happy.  I saw my glory, women and gifts thrown at my feet, all there to satisfy my every whim.  He was an unspoken promise given form, daring me to become like him in order that my current situation be made blessed, at the potential cost of my sanity and love if I proved weak.

I've always been a curious one, and I cannot help but look into a possibility for my future, even if it could be wrought with lies. 

In hindsight, especially now that he has left me momentarily, I do believe he slaughtered the group.  I don't hear the voices in my head anymore, whether it be the group or the demons.

Only my own voice cuts through the darkness, and the echo now sounds foreign.

I can interpret this every way known to psychology, but one simple truth is I fear this man.  When he returns, will I take his hand or not?

I fucked up big time a few years ago, ended up costing my parents 16 grand.  I dropped out of school, quit my job, and became completely lethargic.  My parents had never been more disappointed and hurt, especially because they saw me with such potential.

Now, I'm in school and have a steady job, working harder than ever at and away from home.

And nothing has changed.

My old man doesn't trust or respect me.  Every move I make is laced with suspicion in his eyes.  My mom just follows suit.

I can deal with being hated, even by those I love.  I have little self respect anyway, so its no big issue if I see looks of disdain reflected back at me.  But to see this thin veil of attempts to go back to the way it was...to see them stand me out of little more than feelings of parental obligation...

I want to say fuck it and not care anymore.  I want to say huzzah and revel in the hate.  But all I can do is sit here and talk to a computer, or annoy people who can't or shouldn't have to comprehend it.

Most people would say I live a comfortable life.  I say you try living life where every pair of eyes seeks to stab you in the heart.  Comfy, ain't it?

I'm a very good debater, given a few basic needs are met, like knowledge and understanding of the subject matter.  I know how to charm people (believe me, with my looks its the only way women every fucking pay attention to me) and I know how to empathize and sympathize with those I care for, and really mean it, not just pretend and give them an echo when they need an actual person to talk to.

Well, for all my pride and skill with words, I learned a humbling lesson today.

I was talking with Karen, over a rather overblown and ridiculous issue concerning the guild, and for all the silver in my tongue, her rapid fire delivery and firm belief in herself, her boyfriend, and various other things broke through my guard in the debate.  In short, I was beaten.

But like a true warrior, I learn from my defeats.  I know that I'm not invincible in debate with my peers.  Even if I focus on a single objective, I can be derailed, crossed up and overwhelmed.  Also, and more importantly, I've learned that sometimes, my opinion isn't important.  However right or wrong I believe the counterpoint to mine to be, sometimes I must shut up and listen.  My opinion isn't always important or valid and forcibly interjecting it can make things worse.

To Karen: my friend, I earned a new respect for you today.

Not in terms of you ability to argue, your loyalty, or the CONSIDERABLE strength of your personality.

I earned respect for you in a different manner.

I used to think you were wishy-washy, that when the time came, you were too indecisive and afraid to, more than anything, make a change when it needed to be made.  But I was wrong.

Mark that down folks, cause I don't say it often

I was wrong.  You showed me a fire in you today for what you believe in.  A strength in your little body that I didn't think could have existed.  For this I applaud you and thank you.  I'm glad that I got the chance to meet you, and what's more, count myself as your friend. 

Edit: hehe...its 20 after midnight, and since I posted this bitcj of an entry, I'm broken my vow of no drinks, and to much saisfaction, I'd say.  My brother keeps telling me to go to bed...I think he said "Dude...you're piss drunk." But for all his bitchinnn, I don't here the voices anymore.  Always a good thing xD

Original post: 

Well, it appears its true that you learn more with each passing day.

Women are a moody bunch.

If it weren't for my insurmountable pride, I'd have given up trying to understand them a long time ago.

Sometimes I couldn't hold them in higher esteem, so much so you'd think I was some damn militant feminist man-hater. Other times they show stubbornness and cold steel emotions that rival mine.

And no, for those few of you who've inspired my little rant here, please don't take it too personal. For as submissive as I can be around you, I'm allowed as much frustration as you are. And you know damn well I'll be my normal soft, insecure self soon enough, so let me have my moment. It isn't just you, or you, or you, or you, so don't go get your pitchforks and torches just yet. If there's one thing I deserve in this world, its a temporary stay of execution.

I suppose a lot of it is arrogance on my part. I honestly do believe myself capable of anything. But a problem has reared itself in that I'm so confident in my own talents of persuasion that I either don't make myself clear enough or am too eager to accept what people tell me, specifically when they patronize me and tell me what I want to hear.

Its been a rough week. I've had to deal with apprehensive adults, arrogant youths, and more than my share of idiots. When the two most gratifying things of the week were my own humbling by a friend and having to violently instill fear into people, it hasn't been the best of times.

Hehe, it was a good fight though. Aside from horrible bruises, a broken arm for one guy, and several bloody noses, the group my brother and I destroyed limped away with the distinct stink of fear.

My brother used to be a picked on kid. He grew big and strong though, more so than I even, and earned, if nothing else, respect. However, some people never learn. They thought they could bully him. They thought they could intimidate him. Now they know better. Now they know the taste of pain. Now they know my brother is a herculean beast, and he has a psychotic brother who enjoys inflicting pain upon the unrighteous. Hehe, when the last one of them fell before me, I screamed to the heavens in rage and victory. I'd like to think I looked like some battle crazed warrior of old, though I probably just looked like some maniacal killer to them.

I have found some relief. Between the fight, God of War 2, and watching Last Samurai and 300, my bloodlust is temporarily satiated and my testosterone stores spent. I must say, its a good feeling. I've found comfort in fantastical bloodthirsty tales of heroes and terrors.

In Sin City, Dwight describes Marv as having the "rotten luck of being born in the wrong century." He says Marv would be right at home "swinging an axe into the face of other warriors like him." Though it really doesn't apply to me, there's always that bit of wonder of what it would be like.

To sum it up, I've got conflicting feelings of frustration and empowerment. And even destroying the greek gods can't placate me.

As I'm told, it goes like this:

 Apparently, I got hammered last night, on scotch, considering the bottles on the floor.

I demanded to see Erica, to give her a lecture on not being so moody.  My brother had to physically restrain me from taking the car, and he called Erica who came over and took me for a drive.  I guess my grand lecture never happened, because I passed out in the car.  She calls in her cousin who helps haul my ass into a bed in her house.  She thought of calling my brother, but she wanted to spare my parents of the sight of me last night.

I wake up this morning, confused and with a massive headache, the only comfort being the familiar smell of Erica's room.  I was in her bed, and she was in her sister's, who was at a friend's house for whatever reason.  Down to my boxer-briefs, I ask what the hell I'm doing there, cause let's face it, I'm to hungover to know wtf is going on.  She says I was piss drunk and circumstances led me to being there (such circumstances were later explained obviously).  I asked her if I hurt her or anyone else, and she says "probably not."  She asked me what the hell I had gotten drunk for, and I went into an explanation of this shitty week, which can be read more about below.

So there I was, confident I had a sympathetic ear and someone who would agree with.  She gets straight out of bed, walks right over, and slaps the fuck out of me.  She says I'm an arrogant, obnoxious asshole who's too selfish and absorbed in my own delusions of grandeur to notice when to stfu.  I grabbed my washed clothes, and tried to leave.  I really couldn't say anything or do anything.  And then she tells me she's going to Florida with her sister, transferring to the school very soon.

I've never liked the notion of God punishing people.  To me, shit happens and we get on with life or we don't.  Its hard to feel that way now.  I have blood on my hands, the smell of drink on my breath, and the women I love are being taken from me, one by one.  Even those that haven't left me completely yet feeling nothing but anger towards me now.

I had such good intentions.  Where did I lose them?   Where did I lose myself?  Am I such a bad person that the almighty is forced to take those I love from me?  All I wanted to do was be loyal and true, to be loving and helpful.  And I look in the mirror and I see none of it.  I'm hypocritical and sycophantic, insensitive and arrogant.

I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry.  I prostrate myself before those of you I've maimed and God herself, and ask for forgiveness.   I swear I'm trying, trying to be a good man.  For all of you. 

A brutal workout usually clears my head, and so it has again.  Obviously, I'm still concerned, but properly applied pain is an excellent focal point.

Hour after hour, the punching bag, the weights, running with the dogs.  You burn and burn and burn until you can't go anymore.  Hehe, I think I overstressed my quad.  Hopefully tomorrow will see it healed.

xD You should have seen the look on my mom's face when I finally went inside.  My knuckles were bloody, I was covered in sweat and dirt, and my breaths were coming slowly and purposefully.  My face was, I think, contorted in pain, mostly from my quad.  I must have looked like some filthy, brutal animal.  Though when I saw her looking at me, I flashed a smile and joked that in my filthy state I was going to give her a big hug, and she laughed and hugged me anyway.  It was a good feeling.

I'll tell you one thing about my mother: if you can't get along with her, you're more than likely thoroughly stupid or evil.  She's literally the nicest person I've ever known.  I don't get it either.  Its difficult for me to grasp how someone can be so warm and caring, but that's probably cause I like swords.

The thing that struck me most though was just before the workout started.  I was standing there, almost in tears and I looked up at the sun.  I could feel it warm the cold in my bones, burn away the last of the hangover.  I felt strong again.  For all the emotional pain, I felt like me again.  I'm a fighter, damn it.  I never submitted to the pain before (though came very close with a butcher knife once ) and I sure as hell ain't gonna do it know.

Erica: Thanks for slapping me.  I mean it.  If nothing else, it focussed me a little.  Enjoy yourself in Florida.  You're a doll, and if you ever warm to my gender, the man that gets you will be a lucky one.  Of course, he must know some form of self-defense and the history of the women's suffrage movement to have a chance with you, but hey, that's what makes you who you are, and if nothing else, promise me you won't change for anyone.  Let's give a try to staying in contact.  I'll be damned if I completely lose someone important to me without a fight.

Karen: Well, I don't have too much to say that I haven't said a hundred times.   I hope our little tiff doesn't mark our friendship.  We've had them before and worked through 'em well enough, so I hope feelings can be smoothed over.  I apologize for forcing you to watch a big dumb brute try and be sensitive and caring for once in his....what's the word....selfish....existence.   Understand that because of the wisdom and knowledge I see in your counsel, I may come to you with a problem, but I won't be so melodramatic or whiny from here on.  You deserve better, and I shouldn't be a sissy.

Maria: You and I have to get our wave lengths in sync again.  I know you were mad at your boyfriend, and I know you told me what he did, but you need to understand something: I fought him because he attacked my brother.  My brother fought him, and he didn't learn.  In fact, he brought more guys to overwhelm my brother.  So I put an end to it.  I'm your friend, I always have been, and regardless of what happens I will be, so you know I would never intentionally harm you.  Turn your anger from me towards your "boyfriend".  He's the one mistreating you and attacking good people.  Out of anyone in his spiteful little world, he'd listen to you first. 

Man, the world wide web is REALLY pissin' me off lately.

First off, Time Warner has bought out practically every cable internet provider in so cal, so they feel like they don't need to provide us with decent service.  Dick wads.

Second, emoticons are a cheap-shit substitute for tone.  I much prefer conversing in actual audible speaking, but apparently, its a rare thing amongst my fellow nerds.  Its not that chatting is all that bad, just that I can't understand what the fuck people mean when they say things dependent on tone.  So I question what they meant, and depending on the scenario, they get offended or confused at what I'm trying to say by questioning them, and a huge mess gets started.  And neither one of us intended to fight, etc, so it just makes the whole thing look ridiculous.

Third, you busy, busy nice people/mother fucking assholes out there with torrents this totally ambivalent message is for you: SEED THE FUCKING TORRENTS!

Fourth and hopefully last, hotmail is fucking with my account and my messenger, so I've been forced for the better part of three weeks to not converse with a cute british girl who deserves better than my fleeting presence.

In other news, the Senate passed the bill with the time limit, so maybe our President can stop throwing troops in the meatgrinder.

...the weed never dies. Rule of thumb in gardening.

Man in white visited today. Two days ago, I saw him stab me through the gut with a rusty spike. I ripped it out and jammed it in his brain. I thought he was done for. And then, hehe, the cold reality hits: as long as I'm here, he's here.

But for once, the resignation that I can't destroy him as I want to didn't feel like giving up. It was actually encouraging in the sense that I must still be sane if he's too weak to stand up to me. Makes me feel...oh what's the word...virgified...to think that I had been so afraid of him.

Today, I almost collapsed when he flashed into my brain. I haven't yet figured out the pattern, but I think there is one. If there is a cause then his appearances can be isolated and expunged. Again, more hope.

Hehe, I felt like Atlas today, the preverbial weight of the world and whatnot, but more and more I'm becoming inured to it. I realize my mind is exaggerating it, but I really do have too much on my plate (through my own doing too, interestingly enough).

Enlightenment would be good, maybe an understanding to why the world works the way it does. But then again, I'm told by some that its only for the Buddhists. I've chalked it up to God's design up till now. Not the blind faith type. The real faith type. To me, a real Christian doesn't believe in God because he has been told God exists. He believes in God because he's come to that conclusion through rigorous questioning, studying, and self-admittance.

I'm a student of logic, and while I bullshit very well, I don't like it much. Through logic, I believe one HAS to come to the conclusion that there is some superpower behind everything (intelligent design and whatnot). How you see that power is up to you. Personally, I've talked to God, and She says that we Catholics are closest to the idea She's hinting at, though still way off.

Anyway, I've chalked it up to God's design, because She's God and I'm not. I'm human, and I can't understand why She does what She does all of the time. Hehe, see Karen? Even my ego has limits. I still do believe God's plan works through me and for me. It just hurts to not know why. Hehe, in school, at least they have the common courtesy to warn you about a test. God's designs won't get revealed to me unless I look for them, this I know, but I get rather frustrated with getting checked every time I make a move. I'm 0-4-1 in relationship attempts this year. I find myself having (or maybe choosing) to settle issues with violence. I get more hurt by a friend telling me to stop being an idiot than by a drop kick to the ribs.

A friend once told me "all you have is strength." Its all I've ever needed up to this point. Just go further than your opponent. Be stronger, and be better.

Its 9:30 and I want the sun to come out. I want to bathe in the light, make myself feel strong again. Perhaps it makes me succumb to my arrogance, but its better than feeling weak. I hope to Heaven and Hell that it doesn't make me a bad person, but I can't deny that I'd rather be strong and arrogant than weak and humble.

Okay, summary time: All of that string of consciousness leads me to 3 conclusions-

1) stop complaining; heroes do not wait and whine, they win and dine, with champions like themselves. God does not need complacency, She needs action. If you want to win, you have to take it by the bull by the horns.

2) return to your books; self awareness is not found by looking inwards, it is found by standing on the shoulders of the giants that came before you, learning from them, and preparing your shoulders should someone need them.

3) no more goddamn bad jokes; sure, you get the occassional laugh and maybe even a gem or two, and you can easily make fun of yourself in reference to your terrible humor, but ultimately it hurts you. Leave the humor to the professionals.

Today, we debate the pros and cons of hentai.  "Uh-oh!  We have a pervy otaku on our hands!"

In this, I will argue both for and against hentai.  I am trying to be as objective as possible, and if you want my actual opinion on the matter, please ask me yourself   I will not be concerning myself with loli or shouta, because child pornography in any form is wrong.

For: Sex is good.  Cartoons is good.  But seriously, the porn industry is there for a reason.  We like to look at naked people fucking.  It turns us on.  It makes us imagine the feelings of ecstacy were we in there instead of the actors.  Same goes for hentai.  As much as the idea of watching "cartoon" porn may sound repulsive to you, its because the word "cartoon" gets associated with children, and "cartoon" porn makes the not too difficult jump in your mind to child porn.

MOST people find a parituclar anime guy or girl cute/attractive.  The guys are almost always thin, fit, and either dashing or klutzy in a cute way.  The girls are usually busty and attractive, and either innocent and sweet or aggressive and seductive.  Either way, they are drawn that way because people find them sexually appealing.  That is an unarguable fact, and as a result, makes them no different then pornstars, who modify their bodies to have the same appeal as hentai characters.

We all have our fetishes, our own secret and not so secret sexual desires.  Everything from the missionary position to anal sex to tentacle rape.  Hentai, as with other types of porn, allows us to visit these fetishes in a way that respects the privacy and rights of other people.  One should be glad that a fictional character is forced to undergo sexual bondage so that the person getting his rocks off to it doesn't force someone in real life to do it.

Final point is the misconception of the hentai viewer.  To non-anime fans, hentai viewer is an anti-social fat white/asian guy who has no luck with real women so he must turn to women who can't object.  Couldn't be further from the truth.  Many anime fans are hentai fans, and many different types of of people make up both groups.  See that guy next to you?  1/3 chances he's a hentai fan.  1/15 he likes tentacles.

Against: First, one can argue that porn itself is wrong.  It objectifies the people acting it out, most often the women, and dehumanizes something that is supposed to be an intimate sharing of affection between two genuine lovers.  When two people make love, it is an opening up and bonding that does not take place (usually) between family, friends, rivals, whatever.  It is a beautiful act that is tarnished by the abuses shown in pornography, real or animated.

Again, as with all types of porn, hentai ventures into dangerous and morally wrong areas.  Rape? Bondage? Beastiality? These are coagulations of the dark side of human desires, the representations of unchecked hedonistic lust-slaking.  It is wrong to openly or silently condone such perversion of the wonderous things that are the human imagination and sexuality.

Hentai, aside from other porn, has considerable downfalls.  What kind of a person is so sexually desperate or misguided that they need to alleviate themselves watching the illusion of sex, and not even the real act itself?  Are they so afraid of the consequences or difficulties of actual sex that they can't even manage to titilate themselves when it is acted out by real people? 

And what's more, the characters within hentai are so grossly misrepresentative of the human populace that they are nothing short of alien.  Women that look like barbie dolls gone pornstar.  Men that look like sexual predators of the worst kind.  The thought of what these people would look like were they given actual life is both horrifying and repulsive.

There.  I've outlined both sides of the debate with impassionate speech.  Drop me a line and let's debate this through and through.