  So if you've noticed, I haven't paid a lot of attention to media criticism the past couple days (months... whatever). That's because I've been too busy to read the news over the last few weeks. I can't get my head out of my ass long enough to get fresh air.
So I won't be commenting on the mainstream media tonight. I want to comment on the practice of infantilism, or becoming a man-baby. While walking through the Chicago Institute of Art, my mind wandered to babies. People had babies in their arms, babies in strollers, all over the museum. And I wondered, what would be the museum goers' reaction to me being pushed around in an oversized stroller in a diaper. I asked KP if she would grant me this fetish. I think I saw it on Oprah when I was little. Unbelievably, KP said that she would not take me anywhere in a stroller. But I couldn't drop it. I imagined myself on the streets of Paris, at a tiny outdoor cafe on the Seine, in a stroller. I would kick and pout, throw my bottle, while my "nanny" would smile at the older couples, smoking cigarettes from a long cigarette holder and sipping absinthe.
Nothing sexual, just the public humiliation. Everybody's got a dirty fantasy. I just found mine. KP says she would never do this. She thinks that I have a general contempt for humanity, that I don't care what people think because I think I'm better than everyone else. But KP misreads the behavior. It's a cry for help. Not for me, but for all the world to realize that nothing matters.
If you want to wear depends, drink white russians out of an Evenflo bottle, and wear pastel cotton diapers... fuck it. I'm feeling crass tonight. I apologize. On a more relevant and serendipitous note, I picked up a number of "independent" weeklies in Chicago over the last week. The city has more free local news sources than any other city I've been to. The Chicago Reader gets a big thumbs up. A regular feature of the Chicago Reader is Savage Love, by Dan Savage. And Dan happened to be covering my personal topic of the moment, Infantilism. So there is some sort of sick order in the universe. 
