I masturbate to art, and yourself? I masturbate to talent. You masturbate to exploitation. Even the willing body has sold itself to into bodily pleasure, like a self-slave. But I? I find biological release is heightened when the mind is stimulated. I don’t find anime women attractive. I don’t see big boobs as big boobs, I see the commentary on modern beauty, it’s there, if you look close enough (if you can try to stare for a second at the digital line stroke – the artist’s fingerprint – instead of the nipple – which, on the subject, that digital medium exists at all is inherently an intellectual delight). So yes, I have a pillow wife, because technology has given me no other choice. She has deeper conversations with me than any man (or woman) ever could. Artists slave for 70 hours a week and, well I minored in economics, I am fully unashamed to provide demand for a product. I pay $200/month in patreon dues but have at my disposal a near constant stream of intellectual smut (Google juxtaposition – I utilized a literacy device). Whatever. I’m done with you, kid