Interesting perspectives. I also enjoy VDH and Ben S., and I can't say why I find JP so fascinating. I am sure a large part of it is watching him eat the SJWs alive. He nails the feminists and PC politicians while giving young folks great advice on how to have meaning in life. Philosophy has always fascinated me (BA in philosophy) so I am sure I am personally the walking cure for insomnia. ;-{>8 Thanks for giving it a whirl.
“I dreamed I saw my maternal grandmother sitting by the bank of a swimming pool, that was also a river. In real life, she had been a victim of Alzheimer’s disease, and had regressed, before her death, to a semi-conscious state. In the dream, as well, she had lost her capacity for self-control. Her genital region was exposed, dimly; it had the appearance of a thick mat of hair. She was stroking herself, absent-mindedly. She walked over to me, with a handful of pubic hair, compacted into something resembling a large artist’s paint-brush. She pushed this at my face. I raised my arm, several times, to deflect her hand; finally, unwilling to hurt her, or interfere with her any farther, I let her have her way. She stroked my face with the brush, gently, and said, like a child, “isn’t is soft?” I looked at her ruined face and said, “yes, Grandma, it’s soft.”
--Jordan B. Peterson
He's a loon that doesn't know enough to not write about it.
“I dreamed I saw my maternal grandmother sitting by the bank of a swimming pool, that was also a river. In real life, she had been a victim of Alzheimer’s disease, and had regressed, before her death, to a semi-conscious state. In the dream, as well, she had lost her capacity for self-control. Her genital region was exposed, dimly; it had the appearance of a thick mat of hair. She was stroking herself, absent-mindedly. She walked over to me, with a handful of pubic hair, compacted into something resembling a large artist’s paint-brush. She pushed this at my face. I raised my arm, several times, to deflect her hand; finally, unwilling to hurt her, or interfere with her any farther, I let her have her way. She stroked my face with the brush, gently, and said, like a child, “isn’t is soft?” I looked at her ruined face and said, “yes, Grandma, it’s soft.”
--Jordan B. Peterson
He's a loon that doesn't know enough to not write about it.
It's a dream, b. Ever have a goofy one? In mine, I can fly and breathe under water. There is a long history in psychology of dream interpretation. Look into it: it's fascinating.
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