Half
   ​Czarchasm
     And the good side of that, is that if I simply observe,
​I’ll see that sphincter flex and quiver right before their glorious explosion of self-gratification; their discharge destined for anointing my being, as though it be a
​blessing upon me.

Yahoo! Duh, I can either get out of the way, or, don a yellow rubber slicker complete with galoshes. It’s all part of that duck ‘n tuck (AKA duck ‘n cover) training I got as a kid during grade-school air-raid drills.
     You see, cheeks are actually rather nice, and that’s the whole problem. No matter which ones you are looking at on a half-asser, you are never sure of what you are getting. Even the smile that may connect two of the four, well, look out, you never know. It is just the other end of the same tract, a reverse chasm.

     Dat Czar, often thought of with disdain for the overbearing tendency to be an absolute asshole. Well, yeah, but in ways I appreciate an absolute asshole.
     When such a being aims themselves at me, I know I may well find myself shat upon. Duh? Cheeks spread wide, a chasm deep, that sphincteric grin of, “Oh, you know I could.” It’s all quite clear. 
​I always know exactly where they are coming from.
    It’s not about the alternative pleasures one may find in rimming, skanky scat play, butt plugging, or even the long dirty trail (road). It’s about what you see is what you get. It’s about truth. It’s about blatant honesty. 
It’s about being straight forward without games
​and lies of one’s being.
     The flip side of this is the half-ass. They are about the games and lies of one’s being. They will show
​you a cheek ​of pleasantries designed to conceal viciousness lingering nearby. They trust in their knowing that if they discharge their payload, most
​of the world is busy turning the other cheek. And, sadly, one never knows which of their four cheeks
​is presenting itself.
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     A song from my more youthful years states it quite well. “Smiling faces, smiling faces sometimes, hey, they don’t tell the truth.” “The truth is in the eyes ‘cause the eyes don’t lie, Amen, listen to what I’m saying.” “Smiling faces tell lies, and I’ve got proof.” Now I may not be recalling those verses in proper order, but they get the point across perfectly.
Related Pages:

​Snippets of Wisdom on Acceptance

​Snippets of Wisdom on Forgiving

​Snippets of Wisdom on Truth

Re Solve      A look at resolving hurt feelings
     A half-asser will never let you know what’s coming; they never let you know their truth. They manipulate, they draw you in by your love of them at best, or at worst, by the appeal of their cheek, [which might be quite pleasant in many ways]. The greatest sadness in that, is when their appeal is driven by your love of them. But it’s when they are really whipping a cheek around that they are the most dangerous.
     While both ends of the alimentary canal may be said to smile, at one end they just might bite you, hard, with teeth. At the other, once the anus is reached, you may well be smeared. A whipping cheek, especially the lower two, can hide the intended payload well. If the fecal outpour does not target you, the lack of proper wiping may well smear you. Half-assers often do
​things half ass, even wiping their ass. 
Sometimes it almost seems intentional.
     So shall I trust the half-asser? Heck no! In ways, I trust them the least. Another way to put it is, I trust me to know, not to trust them, no matter how nice, how sweet, how lovable they act or contend themselves to be. I trust them to deliver their payload the minute I’m not looking and focus on their gifts. It’s the setup, and they are good at it.
     Oh yea, I hear the voices screaming. 
I, I the naysayer, I the cassandra of the good in all, that true inner beauty we all possess. How dare I?
     Oh, the friends I could be losing here.
     And do I see the half-asser glass as half empty? No. I see it full, but in half-full segments. Teeth at best, excrement at worst shall dominate the lower half. The other half of the half-asser’s glass? Well, it’s typically full of giftwrapped, fluffy, feel good emptiness; the
​very same fluffy feel good emptiness they have for themselves, themselves and their relationships
​with others.
     The half-asser’s glass is always opaque, colored in pretense, a cloak of truth. The only way to see through the gifts that may spill over is to look into the depth of the glass from above. They desire to ignore and virtually hide the truth of their depths, that lingering assault of crap. They hide it even from themselves. It becomes their manipulation, a tool to control us, a tool of their will upon us, a tool of their true weakness. It becomes a lack of intimacy, of connection, of sharing, for those demand truth, truth of being.
     Oh yea, again I hear the voices screaming. See the good in all; say nothing of the lurking ills that lay within. How dare I contend the lie? 

​Well, read on.   
     Is it all a lie? Of course not. There must be some truth in a lie, or no one will buy into what lingers below. The half-asser does want intimacy; they want a sense of connection. They want you to dwell in their hurts, their disappointments, and their grief. They may even be willing hear the same in and of you. After all, their shared, but unresolved hurts and griefs afford a sense of commonality, a self-justification that everyone is just like them. It flies like a banner for their sense of humanity.

​The key word though, was “unresolved.” Lack of resolution begat resentment, resentment begat emotional anger, emotional anger begat the cesspool, and the cesspool shall spew.
     The point becomes this, everyone has crap, and that’s fine, it’s even part of this human experience. We have though, a learned behavior, at some point we quit wearing diapers and realized we could resolve our crap into a crapper instead
​of wallowing in it. For most of us, that level
​of understanding has led to a healthier, well, at least a sweeter smelling, way of life. On that level, we resolve our issues, and we take a dump appropriately. So much for
​our learning though; emotionally, the half-asser still wears the diaper until they spew.
     In conclusion, when I experience people who contend themselves in all their sweetness, that giftwrapped emptiness, I beware the gifts. Why? For I am not blind; no one is. It’s not that one has to fling their crap up front [although many do] just to show it’s there. It’s about people hiding and denying ones truth of that crap in the guise of themselves as a loving being. It’s about a lack of personal integrity necessary for people to deal with their stuff; deal with it and grow.
      And when I encounter one who is choosing to deal with their stuff, I will walk through it with them, willingly, willingly toward resolution. [That key word though was “resolution”] For that is about healing, intimacy and most of all truth, truth and love. Otherwise, I’ll take Dat Czar any day; he at least affords me truth. Without truth, there can never be love.
     There is a caveat to that though … when one is only willing to deal with outer layers of “their stuff,” I must also be willing and ready to walk away, for that too is truth and love, truth and love of me unto me.

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