SMASH STREET BOYS BLOG

 

we call him legs/ i mean, isn’t it fucking obvious, the kid has legs/ we go to the clinic visits together/ you know, pussyboys who have to hold each other’s hands/ we hate the clinic/ we hate the people who work there who are keeping us alive/ we hate them touching us/ we wish we were dead but we keep going back/ it’s not a life/ legs and i are sitting in that butt ugly waiting room where some cunt comes out in her rayon whites and calls our names like she’s chewing dragon’s testicles/ and legs turns to me and says i hate that fucking punkaas bitch/ so, yeah, me, too/ and she’s still standing there in her titties calling our names when we walk out the door/ running down the street laughing in our sunglasses/ fuck her, fuck all of them/ don’t you think there is something wrong with people who torture other people every day and call it work/ i think there is something very wrong with them/ after the clinic visits that we totally blow off, legs dances if you can call break dancing dancing which i guess you can/ and i film it even as pieces of us fly around the room in fragments and molecules of shit and blood/

Моя мать была проституткой — is a video of human sex trafficking. Considering that it was constructed by ten-year-olds, who know sex trafficking all-too-well, it goes to a lot of places ten-year-olds do not usually visit.

Post-traumatic-stress is not the term I am looking for. Do not send me a list of scientific terms. It will not help. It will only piss me off.

I do not care what you, the audience, understand.

I care about what they understand.

It’s not about you. It’s about them.

Your experience is not their experience. At the age of ten, men did not appear at your house to take you by the hand, and lead you upstairs so they could fuck you.

Your mother did not sell you.

What they know would not be what most ten-year-olds know.

But to know it is to see it. To know it is to hear it, too.

This is a note to them. No one else matters. The public that sees this is utterly irrelevant. They do not exist. Your so-called audience isn’t going to understand.

The haters do not matter. You are safe from them.

Take that idea — your audience will not understand — and wear it in your brain. Take that idea and wear it in your heart. Take that idea and wear it in your eyes and when you cry. Take that idea and put it like a wound inside your gut. Take that idea and make it your own because you will find it will be the truth.

When most men return from horrible wars, they are mainly silent.

They know. No one will understand.

We cannot know.

Adults have jerked you around all your life. It will not end.

Not until the day you recreate yourselves and the culture will fight you every inch of the way.

Your war is not over. It has only begun.

They will attempt to shape you into the innocent images they want children to be.

It will not fit. You already know that. You have been thrust into the adult world now long enough to know that. You know how to play the part of the little boy, and all too often, the seductive little boy to get what you want.

I am here to tell you that you can be you.

It might be the only magical thing you ever find.

The only way you will believe it is when you know you are in a safe place.

You have never had that.

That is why you look at other boys your age with rage and hatred.

Some have had that. Most not.

You, too, are making assumptions. That other children get all the breaks; that other children have always had everything they want, and the soft life.

You are as wrong as they are.

I will show you. Because I can.

We will make a lot of art.

When you need to do that at 4am, just do it.

When you need too grab a camera, just do it.

You do not need me to give you permission. You have permission.

You three want to beat everyone up.

You cannot beat everyone up. There are too many of us. We are everywhere.

You want to beat me with your fists as well.

How dare I love someone as damaged and as ugly as you.

Go ahead. Try it. I have stopped bigger boys than you. I will hold you hard. You are not going to hurt anyone. I will not allow it.

I feel a heaviness in your video as if you are removed but carrying something that is a burden.

This is your viral load. This is the HIV speaking. We will make it undetectable.

I feel a lack of music. Only sounds. We will make music.

I feel people shooting guns at you.

Nobody will shoot guns at you anymore.

I feel the power of machines.

These are the adults. Hovering over you with violence.

No more violence.

I feel that sex for you is a filthy autonomic painful requirement.

You may never want it in your life again. You may never escape those images in your dreams. They are only dreams. They have no power over you. It’s just baggage. Everyone has baggage. Everyone.

I do.

Sex will not control you.

You will control what you want to do with it.

It is okay if you choose to leave it far behind.

It is not a monster chasing you anywhere.

Your war is over. You do not believe it yet. But you will be safe and your war is over.

Strange people coming to buy you will not be coming to your house.

Strange people taking you to bedrooms will not be coming to your house.

Strange people bigger than you are who force you to do things will not be coming to your house.

Strange people who arrive to hurt you will not be coming to your house.

There will be a fence in the back yard.

It is not just for the dogs.

Strange people will not be invading where you play.

No adults but me will come inside the fence.

The medicine will make you dream, but when you wake up, we will all be there.

There will always be someone to listen.

I promise to listen. I promise to make time.

You will not kill yourself.

You will not need to.

There will be too many things to discover. There will be too many things to see. There will be too much fun not to have. You will begin to laugh.

There will be food. Not garbage.

No one will ever fuck you again. No one will ever go inside you again. It belongs to you. You belong to you.

Or your video would be pathetic.

It is powerful. It has a voice. It is you.

You will have respect.

You have mine.

You will not want a gun to sleep with.

This will be our manifesto. This will be what we do and what we believe. When we hug, we will mean it.

Вы умны. Вы творчески. Вы сильны. Вы не вещь. Вы ценятся. Вы слушаете. У вас есть долгий путь исцеления перед вами. Мы возьмем его вместе.

The plastic syringe now accounts for the majority transference of HIV in Africa. There are safety syringes. But many hospitals refuse to use them. The safety syringe retracts once it has been injected. It cannot be reused. It prevents medical personnel from being stuck. There are over 100,000 accidental punctures of medical personnel in the US in one year. All of them could have been prevented. The plastic syringe is a relic from the past. Yet in places like Uganda, children are paid a penny per syringe they find in the junkyards. Clinics in Africa then reuse these syringes. HIV-by-syringe has far outpaced HIV-by-sex. A plastic syringe cannot be made sterile. The plastic would melt. Clinics that claim they are sterilizing used plastic syringes are lying to your face. How can they talk about a cure when they themselves refuse to protect the people who work for them. The medical system is evil, corrupt, and is now responsible for the spread of HIV, not the ending of it. 

There are no realistic statistics kept by anyone — not the UN, not agencies for refugees, not the CDC — that track the relationship between HIV and human trafficking. This in light of the fact that everyone agrees: the numbers of people involved in sex trafficking are in the hundreds of thousands. How do we begin to understand how the virus moves and mutates if we aren’t following it’s geographical trajectory.

Anyone who says they count these numbers is lying because anyone who counts these numbers and attempts to figure how how and where they move around the planet would have to be testing the people who have been trafficked. And no one is. People who have been bought and sold and are infected with HIV have no lobbyists and they have no advocates and they have no presence at the Republican convention in Tampa. Mitt Romney does not answer questions about AIDS.

Considering the numbers alone, and the numbers of people who are unaware they’re infected, in reality we have no concept of where this virus has, in fact, been, or where it’s going. We don’t even test people who have been trafficked. We deport them and that includes children. We do not want to know if they have HIV because we don’t want to pay for it. Often, what we do is deport them right back to the environments and families that sold them into trafficking in the first place. Until we are willing to recognize that human sex trafficking has a demographic, we will never really have a fundamental picture of how the virus is able to move around the planet with impunity.

Investigators will (and do) ask: who gets trafficked. It is a viable question, and one that there is a definitive answer to. The vulnerable get trafficked. The vulnerable. To throw up our hands and claim we do not know who they are is a lie. To think that human sex trafficking has no bearing on the geographic history of HIV infection, and it isn’t even worth testing people who have been trafficked, is just plain stupid.

So how do we begin to test this enormous number of people.

First, you remove human sex trafficking wherever it exploits populations mired in poverty, and then you begin testing them and counting them.

It’d be a Big Girl job. It would require new ideas. Big Girls only need apply. Republicans, just stay in Tampa. It was the Republican Party that ended slavery in America.

Sure, they did.

And if you believe that, I have some land for sale in Romania I would sell you at a bargain.

 

demented and solved/ why is it important that you understand/ what you understand is almost nothing/ infinitesimally small/ stuff/

how do we become undone/ he had always studied love/ intricate/ our guides the sounds men make as they drown harder and harder/ breaking winter’s back even as the stars move dead inside our eyes/ where i carried you through passages while other men are fraught with sadness on their knees in the glow alone/ i have outlived them all like an oil painting at the vanishing point just dust/ their sacrifices were another trap and then, as many times as it takes, it snowed behind us ice and windshield wipers and dark-stained engine gloves of blood where we have fixed the places with our wrenches of revenge and glass/

 

Dear Tim Barrus,

Aren’t you going to piss off the traffickers by putting video on the Internet of the boys who were being trafficked? Isn’t that dangerous?

Anonymous

***

Tim Barrus: It is my experience that human traffickers are a gutless lot. They’re cowards. I want them to know that their power is ephemeral. They are not intimidating anyone here. Intimidation is their specialty. If people fight back, they can be rendered powerless.

To that end, Etienne, Lucas, and Jonah (all of whom have been trafficked as toddlers) are making a film about human trafficking from their perspective.

They shot some footage with Aleksandr today.

They did a bit that in a thousand years I would never have thought of.

Bubbles.

As young children they were attracted to playing with bubbles with the traffickers. You could keep a toddler happy.

I don’t think we will post that much this week. As most of us want to help them with this project. No name yet.

Will the traffickers see the video.

Bet on it.

Not only can your property be removed from you, but the boys have voices.

We are fighting back.

They want to capture something of what was done to them. It will only be a representation. But that is what art does. Art can be a fighting back. Art can imbue them with a voice.

My instinct is to step back and let them loose. But still be there for them if they need me. So I might not be available for much until this project is done.

They want it to have the dimension that portrays the reality that when the life is done with you, the life puts you back into the street (if you are still alive) where all you know is sex work.

It gives us a lot around here to chew on.

Again, art is what we have to fight back with.

WE are the ones who are dangerous. We have voices and no one is going to shut us up.

 

I have been getting a lot of questions lately in terms of what do I mean by the idea of a safe house.

I am not going to leave you with the image of a house. I am going to draw you into the feeling of precariousness when you swim with sharks.

A safe house is also about what a safe house is not.

I am always amazed at the extent to which people want to connect to the boys. Usually, all the wrong people.

The Internet is not safe any way you look at it. There are the haters who go for our throats, and while they do that in public ways, behind the scenes, they’re attempting to make contact with boys.

In the old days, they were successful, but I have since learned a lot about making access to the boys very difficult, indeed.

The boys, too, are much more apt today to disclose if they are being harassed; being harassed means being asked for sex. A lot of play for pay.

It’s hard for some of the boys to turn down all that money. But they do. They understand the swimming with the sharks.

It’s dangerous.

Many of them have been beaten senseless while doing sex work.

Why any adult male would want to have sex with someone who has HIV is beyond my ability to comprehend. But there it is.

A victim is supposedly a victim.

A safe house is a place where no one is victimized.

The tricks don’t see it as harassment. Although it is harassment.

A few times, men have shown up at our door.

They chastise us on the Internet, and then they solicit sex.

These are men who are CONFLICTED.

It is not unlike the trick who fucks the boy in the ass, pays extra not to use a condom, and then after he’s cum inside the boy, some swell of anger erupts, and he becomes violent, and takes it out on the kid.

It always starts out as ordinary Internet hate. Then, it morphs.

Swimming with sharks involves a lot of risk. They can suddenly turn on you.

So we’ve become quite serious about making sure that only people who have to know where we are, know. It is not unlike a battered women’s shelter; it’s just boys. Boys with HIV, and in some cases HIV/AIDS.

The Smash Street Boys are in contact every day with the people who care about them. That does not mean the address is out there walking around like a neon sign. That would be irresponsible. This is a hard concept especially for the haters to grasp, but the reality is that it can be IN YOUR INTEREST to not have information you can feel pressured to disclose. I DON’T KNOW is often the truth. 

I probably get a hundred requests in any week asking me to release the individual emails of the boys. I have never done such a thing, nor will I ever. You could aim a loaded gun at me, and this has happened with pimps who have lost their human trafficking property, and I am still not going to tell you zip.

Pimps are some of the worst sharks. I wish I could count the number of times when I’ve had to cut some kid down from an S/M scene some sick pimp has imposed upon a boy as punishment for having abandoned the pimp.

Pimps are like the backbone of human trafficking. Many of the Smash Street Boys have been trafficked.

Prove it, Barrus. I hear that dog and pony show every day.

You are something of the audience on the Internet. That is all you are, and frequently, you’re the sharks in the water as well. Why would I care what you believe. I just don’t care what you believe or do not believe. I am not compelled to hold you with any regard at all. The haters feel I owe them something. The idea of it is patently absurd. I owe the boys to keep the sharks out of the water. I owe you nothing. I am not soliciting anything from you. Not support. Not anything.

In the past, the haters, pimps, relatives who have been jailed for crimes against individual boys, and the not very incognito wannabe tricks have shown up at the doorbell.

But not this time.

I know what blood in the water means.

A safe house is a place where the kid can be a kid. A place where he doesn’t have to stress about what might happen in the next minute when the door gets kicked in and some pimp wants his whore back.

I have had relatives of the boys point shotguns at me because there were boys in the house who were going to be testifying against them.

A safe house removes the boy from the sharks because it is itself removed. That is how it works. That is how it will continue to work.

The fact that might not sit well with you is completely irrelevant.

SEX-TRAFFICKING PEDIATRIC MALES

Tim Barrus (Creative Director, Smash Street Boys Art Collective/ Show Me Your Life/ Real Stories Gallery):

click the chacha in the middle of the box…

for the video…

what box…

the russian box inside the box inside the box…

Let us pretend. Someone is dancing in the box as fast as they can.

Twins. Nizhneangarsk.

Decisions. Decisions.

Would you take them.

Away from criminals who are selling them. By force.

What criminals.

Ordinary criminals.

They would appear to be two grandmother types.

Each grandmother holding one twin’s hand. Or would you not get involved.

Wait. Let’s go back to grandma. Grandma is not a criminal.

These two are. Who you gonna call.

After all, you have your own lives to live. The world is a big place and what can you do.

Call the authorities.

There’s the stock generic answer.

This would be one for the authorities (I never quite know who the authorities are, there are so many).

Dial 911.

Twins. Nizhneangarsk.

I know right away (this information or rather lack of information is deliberate) that if there really are twins, they are not from Nizhneangarsk.

I know Nizhneangarsk.

Not much there outside of an airport. Which tells me a lot.

But let us pretend we know nothing about Nizhneangarsk.

What box do we fit this story in. Maybe the stupid box.

Or maybe there’s a theory we could box up and send off to Nizhneangarsk. A place that cannot be real because it doesn’t sound like a suburban community near Peoria. Peoria would never tolerate human trafficking. Peoria is a nice town with nice people who have TVs.

Twins. Nizhneangarsk.

Would you take them.

Do the authorities go to Nizhneangarsk to save the twins from being sold into human trafficking.

Let’s pretend we call it by its real name: sex trafficking.

Two twin boys are for sale from Nizhneangarsk.

So John le Carré. What would Lord Cornwell do.

How would he write this.

Two little Russian boys with no shoes shivering in the cold in a lonely airport with one old suitcase. Outside, a blizzard.

What box, what spy novel does this go in.

Must be fiction.

Yes, I said let’s pretend. Let’s pretend it’s fiction.

Twins. Nizhneangarsk.

Who takes them.

The authorities you have just rang up on 911.

Yes, the authorities will fly right over to Nizhneangarsk and save the day. Hi ho, Silver.

Two words.

Twins. Nizhneangarsk.

What this tells me is that they are just using the airport. Probably to fly the boys out of. Аэропорт Нижнеангарск is a major hub for human trafficking. Almost no security.

I wonder why that is.

There is no security at Аэропорт Нижнеангарск that means anything because the people who decide such things are bribed to decide nothing.

Right away, we have enigmas you don’t understand because you’re stupid.

Grandama and sex trafficking. And deciding nothing.

Deciding nothing is what human traffickers are really good at facilitating. This is not America everyone gets paid off.

Or this is America and everyone gets paid off. Take your pick.

The only really amazing thing about human trafficking is how open it is.

But these are not girls with badly bleached blonde hair (they used real bleach) bound for jobs as maids in Stamford, Connecticut.

These are two ten-year-old twin boys bound for being fucked.

Twins. Beverly Hills.

Two words.

Twins. Nizhneangarsk.

Money talks. The twins don’t speak English.

You don’t speak Russian. No need.

They could be from anywhere.

Question: how does it matter where they are from.

Answer: it only matters to the extent we don’t have to imagine two ten-year-olds being fucked. Oh, I wonder where they’re from.

Lord Cornwell would know the cabin in the woods. Where poor Hansel and Gretel (whoever) work as woodcutters and they’re so poor they have to sell their children.

In St. Petersburg, there are over a hundred thousand homeless children alone. Who gives a fuck about one sad kid.

I don’t believe it’s twins and I don’t believe they are from Nizhneangarsk.

I would have to see the kid before I believed anything.

Where would I take them from the grandmothers.

LAX.

Guns?

Don’t be silly.

You’re confused.

Is it twins or is it one kid.

Confusion works for everyone.

Why.

Because it always leads to doing nothing.

But you don’t speak Russian.

How do you know I don’t speak Russian.

This is what you know. This is a world where you know not a fucking thing. You’re more lost than the twins.

I thought you said it was one kid.

I didn’t say that.

I said only short flights fly out of Аэропорт Нижнеангарск. That means they will have to change flights. Istanbul.

The kid will be drugged. The passport will be fake.

But why would the grandmothers give up the kids.

I can’t tell you that you are only the audience.

The ones who will call the authorities at a pretense.

You’re confusing me.

No shit, Sherlock. Works for me.

What would you do with the twins.

Hand them over to the authorities.

What authorities.

The authorities who will send them back to Hansel and Gretel who have moved to a nice apartment in Moscow.

Are twins worth that much.

More.

Gretel got ripped off. Stupid bitch.

Why would they go back.

No one wants them.

They got HIV doing sex work in an orphanage. I don’t know what else to call it. Warehouse?

Are they sick.

Drugged and sick.

Who would want them.

A man who would be pulling up to outside baggage claim about right now.

But what about the grandmothers.

Criminals come. Criminals go. They were paid half upfront. They do what good criminals always do. They blend. They disappear. They spend the weekend at Disneyland.

And you think I am writing a comedy of errors.

How did you get the kids from the grandmothers.

Trade secret.

You threatened them.

Perhaps.

So you do speak Russian.

No, I speak French, and so do they.

This is too complicated for me to take in, and besides we all know Tim Barrus would make it up.

Maybe. Why would he.

To confuse us.

Babycakes, you’re already that.

Tim Barrus, I hate you.

Everyone does. You don’t know me.

I can read Wikipedia. What happens to the kid.

You tell me. If he goes to any clinic, he’ll get returned to Russia. Social workers like crows. They don’t call 911. They call immigration.

What happens if they are returned.

Sex work.

You mean, they’re fucked whatever they do.

Probably. Maybe not.

What does maybe not mean. I’m sure he will receive medical care in Russia.

Sure, they will. Peut-être ne signifie pas que je danse aussi vite que je le peux. Ne nous laissons pas faire semblant.

Mettez ça dans la boîte yoiur et il fume.

Two words.

Twins. Nizhneangarsk.

Decisions. Decisions.

 

Laundering the Money

Dear Mr. Barrus,

I have been reading what you call your orbitlogue for a couple of years now. I will a admit it’s addictive. You frequently write yourself into a corner where hopelessness seems to be the dominant theme. It’s obvious that you do know a lot about human trafficking. But once again, what you leave us with is the feeling that this kind of crime is inevitable. I refuse to believe that. Couldn’t you just once look objectively at the problem, and explore solutions that good people could embrace versus, your term, kicking us in the balls. I would very much like to hear from you on this.

Anonymous because you do scare me some

***

Dear Anonymous,

I am not unclear about what tools work. I am unclear about our willingness to use them and I do not mean confronting violence with violence.

The system couldn’t work without the complicit relationship traffickers have with the international big banks. Please don’t groan. It happens to be true.

You could punish the banks.

It’s not like they don’t know who they’re doing business with.

Banks have the capability to recognize patterns. In fact, banks will call me on the phone to confirm that credit card purchases were actually made by me. If they can establish my banking patterns, they can do it with traffickers. It’s called following the money. At point A, a purchase was made. At point Z, a payment was made that far exceeded the purchase price. It’s rather easy to do. There is little will to do it when the banks are the traffickers.

That is way too simplistic to sum it up, but it does sum it up.

The problem is systemic.

Organized crime has a lot of talent, but it also has a weakness and that weakness is greed.

Follow the money. I would pose the question: who owns the banks.

Because human trafficking crosses borders and currencies, banks are employed to launder the money.

You could put an end to human trafficking this afternoon if you punished the banks.

But banks don’t get punished. For anything. Ever.

Because they’re international cartels.

They do not all follow the same rules. Far from it.

Banks abhor violence where paper trails lead back to them. I know for a fact that there are executives at big banks who suspect, and who have every reason to suspect, that traffickers with accounts at their institutions are, indeed, trafficking. Organized crime likes to hide its spots and its tail, but people who manage banks know who they are doing business with. Especially when they are doing business with themselves.

Punish the banks. There is no doubt whatsoever in my mind that the bigger banks have archived paper trails themselves where banking officials have red flagged accounts. The reasons for the red flags are always articulated. Because the banks fear no one. But when you follow the money, and you come across red flags put there by bankers, it isn’t that hard to facilitate the Big Girls to squirm and squeal.

It goes like this: It’s not our fault. We’re just the bank. They’re the ones committing crimes. Not us.

Vis-a-vis, do not punish the innocent banks.

If banks were punished for not only laundering the money, but if they were also punished for financing human trafficking, organized crime would divest itself of human trafficking within the hour.

Like I said, there are solutions. In fact, there are solutions that would preclude violence and things like busting low-life scumbags. Busting low-life scumbags is part of how the game gets played. When Mr Lowlife Scumbag is going to jail, the men who pull his strings are not going to jail. It’s not complicated. But when you are suggesting that Russian banks, and Thai banks, and Nigerian banks, and Italian banks all coordinate the kind of international banking policies that would punish banks for making money from human trafficking, I wish you luck on that.

You would be executed within a week.

You’re right. It’s hopeless. It cannot be done.

Put all the cultures together, and you won’t find one that is ready to acknowledge that out of the millions of people who are trafficked, there is a single male child among those millions. They’re all women from the undeveloped world. I would go so far as to suggest that with that kind of attitude or point of view — or spin — you will find a lot of people who think that such women, and in their little minds they think it only happens to women, should actually feel sort of lucky that they can now earn a living at all. 

We have a long way to go before we put even a slight dent into human trafficking. I do not believe it is either likely or possible.

Dear Mr. Barrus,

The pornography you have posted that you have seemed to connect to human trafficking (I speak and can read French) in some strange and twisted way is entirely inappropriate. Human trafficking has nothing to do with sex. I have complained to Tumblr that you have done this.

The visual depiction of sex has no place in the opposition to human trafficking. I, too, am opposed to human trafficking. I think you should  leave Tumblr because they are going to shut you down.

Anonymous

 

Dear Anonymous,

Human trafficking is ABOUT SEX, you stupid bitch.

I’m really over “liberals” like you.

I thought long and hard about it. Behind the reasoning I do, an awful lot of things are about the issues of the boys I deal with.

Since many of them have been trafficked themselves, it’s not just some little liberal cause they can write a check for and send it to Change Dot Org.

It’s personal.

In my gig with what got posted, I wanted to put some hard dicks in your fucking face.

Why.

Because I wanted to characterize the reality that there are people who are off the stereotypical grid to whom the opposition to human trafficking means DOING something about it with their BEHAVIOR and their physical SELVES versus sitting around and cluck clucking that isn’t it terrible.

My point is about hypocrisy.

Mr and Mrs Hypocrisy never get personally dirtied or involved. Their shit don’t stink.

They might even write a check to support a gay cause.

I really don’t give a fuck. Causes do not have sexualities. People have sexualities.

The gay men I know who oppose human trafficking do so with more viability than simply sitting around on their asses and cluck clucking. They are doing something about it. I wanted the images of them to suggest a moral intransigence that is far more down to earth than the stereotype of who the gay male is thought to be.

I wanted his hard dick in your face.

These are the men who understand how a boy (the word boy means one thing to you and another thing to them) can be utterly destroyed by traffickers who sell such children for SEX.

I would suggest that this is not just a liberal cause. It’s a human cause because it’s slavery.

These are the men who open up their homes to gay boys who have been bought and sold.

Please point out to me where your social service agencies are not coming to this issue with a focus that returns the kid right back to the environment where he was trafficked in the first fucking place.

They are to BLAME for human trafficking because the traffickers know that at some point the boy will be sent right back into their lovin’ arms, you stupid fuck.

It is my pornographic opinion that it’s the system that is to blame for the existence of the traffickers. Because it keeps the marketplace alive.

Do you really think that upper middle-class white men — sexuality is not relevant here — are going to open up their lives and their homes to such boys who have been removed from trafficking. Get real, bitch. These boys are whores. Frequently, they have HIV, and they can arrive with major fucking addictions.

The men I work with GET addiction. They understand how it works.

They have a fundamental understanding of how removed the liberals are from the grit of almost any issue.

They have constructed what is essentially an underground railroad that moves these kids as far away from the traffickers as you can get.

Since you bring it up, allow me to address that issue. I will try to do in fucking English.

Human trafficking is as old as prostitution.

Children are not immune. In fact, young boys bring in the most cash. Far more than anything a female can be bought for.

Supply and demand.

In fact, I can’t think of a single person who you would refer to as belonging to “mainstream culture” as even knowing that the trafficking of boys exists.

The mainstream media doesn’t go there. It would be a very difficult story to get for two reasons. 1.) Since the boys represent a high market value, the security around them is very, very tight. We are talking guns. Women who are trafficked are for the most part simply terrorized and there are no guns around because no one needs a gun. Basically, for the most part, women do what women are told to do.

Boys require guns because boys are worth a ton of money. Quid pro quo.

2.) The media can’t get this story because it’s not a story you can get on the telephone looking for a few quotes from your cubicle at work. The media likes their desks.

You think I exaggerate. Think whatever you fucking want to think. How do you think most stories you read about are constructed. Publishers don’t like the idea of their journalists leaving the office. The old paradigm of punching a clock is still alive and well.

You would have to do more leg work to get this story than most journalists have. Even investigative journalists are not able to turn to their usual sources because this is an area of organized crime where it’s even marginal for organized crime. It’s one of those crimes where even the people making the real money do not want to know the particulars about. All they want is the money. The buying and selling of boys is just a fact of life to them. The kid was just born in the wrong place. It’s a bad thing, but bad things happen.

Sex tourism could not exist without these people. Either could human trafficking.

Get a clue.

There are people who are crazy enough to remove kids from traffickers and by force if they have to and usually they have to.

I would have no idea who these people are as I only hear about these things.

I am told that law enforcement is ineffective. Human trafficking is a bad thing on their list of bad things.

But it’s not a priority. It’s not a question of more laws. We have laws. It’s a question of priorities.

Example: Geographic etiology.

If you were to walk into the UN office of UNAIDS, and you were to say: what about HIV and human trafficking, the people at UNAIDS would say: what the fuck.

They already have a big enough job to do. It’s hard when you are not allowed to leave your desk. Ask any suit.

No one wants to look at exactly how a disease moves around and how that is directly connected to the slave trade.

It’s a question as old as Rome.

It’s never been answered, and it never will be answered.

To wit: are any (and I mean a single one) of the small sampling of children who ARE removed from traffickers EVER (in the history of human kind) tested for HIV.

It’s a question.

Watch my lips: Not a single child ever removed from the world of human trafficking has ever in the entire history of humanity been tested for HIV.

Then how, you might ask and since you don’t I will, do we understand how disease moves from let us say Russia to let us say, Los Angeles.

We do not know how it works because we do not want to know that children are trafficked for sex. We do not want that reality in our face.

So some idiot (like me) comes along and puts hard dicks in your face.

Get over it.

I would strongly suggest (not that I would actually know anything whatsoever about this subject) that it’s exactly such men (again, sexuality being irrelevant) who would be far more apt to DO something versus nothing at all except wring their hands.

Most people who think they belong to the mainstream culture can’t even bring themselves to recognize that a gay child (since children do not have sexualities until the day they turn 21 at midnight) can even exist.

It’s right up there with men in prison do not have sex.

And we’re going to cure AIDS.

Not.

Not in this lifetime.

It is my impression that many of the men who are, indeed, involved in removing traffickers of their property are men who have a direct connection to having been abused themselves.

Thusly this tends to be an area of very strong opinions. Strong enough for some people to put their lives on the line.

And who do you think law enforcement is going to protect.

The kid?

But no. Children have no rights. The United States hasn’t even ratified a single UN resolution on the rights of children. The only other country with such a miserable track record is Somalia.

Law enforcement will protect the property of the trafficker.

So will every social service agency in the boojk with all the little social workers who work in cubicles where they sit behind desks with telephones and a ton of paperwork.

Why.

Because thew focus is to return the kid.

Back to the family that sold him in the first place.

Organized crime simply takes back its property. And the game begins all over again.

I know boys who have been trafficked a dozen times. Their parents would PAY (versus get paid) anyone who would take this kid.

I would suggest that there are people who, again, fundamentally, have a low tolerance threshold for the abuse of boys, and that some of those people would be gay men who have been abused themselves.

Who else is going to get their hands dirty.

Yes, I put hard dicks in your face, and not the hard dicks of boys paid by pornographers to fuck and suck.

They are the hard dicks of real men.

Erections. What do you think being a real man means.

Please, I don’t want to hear from women on this. I don’t care if your men don’t get erections and that it’s just fine with you.

It’s probably not just fine with them, but they’re pussywhipped, so there you have it.

Being a man in this world, in this existence, means putting yourself out there in one way or another.

There is a reason why human trafficking exists.

Most people are afraid.

Limp dick syndrome.

I assume there are pills. But not everyone can take them.

If I want my cock to get hard, I want it to get hard because of me.

If I want to make to make a difference to some kid who is losing his humanity and his life, I want that difference to be as hard as I am to end the status quo that keeps human trafficking alive whether it has existed for as long as humanity has been able to walk upright or not.

I want you to stand up.

Hating Tim Barrus because he uses imagery you cannot tolerate is so yesterday. It’s been done to death.

I suggest you try to find another way.

I am Tim Barrus and goodnight.