Sighinide

Last night, I saw Taylor Swift in concert.

The concert was really, really good. It was Taylor, of course! But as good as the concert was, I couldn’t help but think that the price I paid for the tickets- $600 total, as I went with my sister- was a bit steep. Taylor’s music was, after all, not aimed at thirty-something men, and it was obvious that the others there, most of whom were young girls, got more out of experience than I did.

After the show ended, my sister and I made our way out of the venue. Before leaving, I mentioned to her that I wanted to buy a program as a souvenier. After all, I had paid far too much for the tickets to allow the memories of the show to just fade away.

“Ok, but be quick. We need to leave as soon as possible to avoid the traffic jam on the way out. I’ll be waiting next to the car.” She said.

“Don’t worry!” She was right, after all. I sprinted down the hall to the souvenier stand. After getting the program, I took a risk and went down a different hallway, thinking that it would give a faster route to the parking lot.

It didn’t. I was lost. I cursed my bad luck. “Damn!” I murmed. What a waste of time! I could just feel my sister fuming.

As I wandered, I noticed something shocking- I was right outside Taylor’s dressing room! Not wanting to be caught by security, I was about to retrace my steps, when I saw Taylor walking down the hall towards me! She was strikingly beautiful. Her body and face were absolutely flawless. Her tight shorts were clinging to her. She froze as soon as she saw me.

At first, I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid that she would call security, so I explained to her that I was lost, and that I was just about to make my way out. Trying to ease her further, I told her that she was amazing and incredible on stage- and she blushed a warm red.

“Why, thank you.” She cooed, while playing with her hair. “It’s nice to know that my fans appreciate me.”

She then flipped her hair back, revealing her top. She was still wearing what she wore during her last song. The top’s sides were sheer, so I could plainly see Taylor’s soft arms and the sides of her breasts. I could almost see her nipples, which were hard and prominent from rubbing against the super tight shirt during her performance.

Taking a quick liberty, I glanced at her snug shorts, which were a form fitting black leather. I could easily see the impression of her sexy, supple legs against the tight fabric.

“You’re in my way.” she scolded- a reminder that regardless of how playful she looks that there was a distance between us that should be respected.

“Sorry. Thanks for the concert, Taylor.”

After that short exchange, I awkwardly stopped talking and started to walk by her on my way out.

And then- I’m not sure why- inspiration struck me. I pinched her- not on the butt, but on that little area right below her butt and on top of her legs. It was, of course, exposed. It wasn’t a hard pinch, but she felt it. So did I.

“OOOOH!!!” She quickly spun around, shocked and offended.

My face flushed bright red. I was terrified. Why had I done this? Surely, she would call security!

Upon seeing the look of horror on my face, she softened. Then… she giggled.

“Don’t worry.” She cooed. “I love my fans.” Then she completed the thought with a sexy little wink.

She blushed, and then skipped down the hall to her dressing room. Right before closing the door, she winked again, smiled, and blew me a kiss.

The tickets were worth the price.

I am a tyrant.

I am a tyrant not in the old sense of the word- a racial minority occupying the country of another race- but in the new sense of it; I am an unaccountable overlord.

I know tyranny. Both kinds of it. I see the old kind in Obama, a black who “leads” a nation of whites. And I see the new kind in myself- an unaccountable dictator who rules over his subject’s bodies and minds with an iron fist.

I believe I know why the ancients despised “minority rule” tyranny. It cannot help but be oppressive and cruel. People have an instinctive revulsion to following the orders of someone unlike them, so the only way to coerce them into doing so is through violence and mass intimidation. Hence the Obama administration, and the Bush administration (which I consider to have been run by Israelis).

My kind of tyranny seems to be… good, which surprises me as a natural libertarian. I had always believed that a man’s ultimate yearning was to be free, but now I see that many peoples’ cries for freedom are really complaints. Most people don’t want to be free. It comforts them to know that there is someone smart and powerful above them. My control over my subjects actually buoys them, bringing them closer to my level and propelling them to greater heights and achievements.

My college self would stop me from saying this, and I hesitate to even type it now, but perhaps George Bernard Shaw was correct, and a benevolent dictatorship actually is the best form of government. It seems that an example of greatness and transcendence is needed to bring out the best in people. It gives them something to respect and boundaries to follow. In short, it gives them a direction, even without laws.

In a perfect world, no tyranny would be necessary. People would simply achieve greatness on their own terms, without needing domination by others. But we don’t live in such a world, do we? In that case, can we have my version of tyranny in the United States, instead of Obama’s? Ah, to dream…

Since I can be sure that nobody is reading this blog, I can go ahead and use this place to vent. I think I’ll use it as a kind of online diary.

I have a twitter feed, but it’s more public than I would like. Even though I don’t have followers, I think that people still read it- which is kind of a mixed blessing. I want some people to read it (primarily my girlfriends), but I don’t want too many to do so.

I wish that life these days could be easier. I feel like I don’t have a choice but to be public with my thoughts and feelings, even when I don’t want to.

You do what you must do to survive, I guess.