Lesbians teaching women how to exist "without men," I can understand. But then there are older drunks teaching younger drunks how not to be drunks, older gangsters teaching younger gangsters how not to become gangsters, and hypermasturbatory porn addicts teaching other hypermasturbatory porn addicts how not to be, uhh, hypermasturbatory porn addicts...?
Naturally, you can buy either astrolube, testosterone cream, or both, from the same sites. But that's not the point. Is it a by-product of the make-believe ego, id, and super-ego, that makes us think we can mathematicize our non-mathematical minds, and that we can only do the resulting "proofs" by measuring the unmeasurable; by, as it were, following the blind into the same swamp out of which they never managed to get themselves?
The more I see of things here, the more impressed I am by Nabokov's utter destruction of Freudian insanity. And he did it in so beautiful a way, worming Ada and Lolita into popular culture like mere pornographic interludes, then hiding various pieces of damning evidence in plain sight. It was neither adult nor childish, nor fulfilling nor unfulfilling, to have Dolores writhing under you; after all was said and done, and done, it broke no barriers and validated no higher selves, leaving you saddled instead only by another consumerist bimbette reading L'oreal ads and blabbing about her media-gorged feelings. How pitiful, Sigmund--did you really believe it, or were you just trying to waste a century on rainbows and young throats dot com? Truth be told, I'd take the latter pair in place of all the blood money in all the endowed psychology chairs across the many lands. But neither option is satisfying; the whole thing smacks of Pandaemonium, like marrying Bonnie Rotten and then watching her age without makeup.