Uncle Larry was wheeling his way back to the castle in his polished black 1959 Morgan Drophead right after his usual stop at Walmart for filterless cigarettes, a large bottle of Jack Daniels, a Fruit Roll-up and an extra-large tube of water-based personal lubricant. He had just unzipped his black-leather mask and removed his ball-gag to light up one of the smokes when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the number that was displayed. He didn't actually have to, because he knew who it was that was calling him, and she was right on time.

He had met Mrs. Davis, a extremely large breasted yet conservative looking woman of about 35 years old, at the local polling place during the last election. Although she couldn't see it at the time due to his polished leather mask, Uncle Larry had grinned wickedly when he had noticed that she was a practicing Republican. With their twisted Judeo-Christian morality and pent up ethical frustrations coupled with their dark and unspeakable sexual hungers, they always made for the most interesting and entertaining supplicants.

"Hello, Mrs. Davis."

"Good morning, Master."

"Yes, it is morning, good, Mrs. Davis. Are you ready to serve me?"

"Yes, Master." Mrs. Davis's voice conveyed her totally submissive phone status.

"Good. Now, may I ask, are you familiar with the existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre?"

"I am not, Sir."

"You unsophisticated beeotch. Are you Braless?"

"Yes, Master, just like you ordered."

"And your shirt, is it a soft cotton, a rayon, or a polyester blend?"

"Yes, Master."

"Well, which one?"

"What?"

"Your shirt, is it... ah, skip it. Ahem. Your nipples... they are firm and flinty?"

"Yes, Master. They are always that way when I talk with you," Mrs. Davis admitted.

"Fine. Now then, listen to me very closely, it is widely accepted that Sartre's philosophical career develops an ontological narrative of what it is to be human." Uncle Larry held the steering wheel, the Fruit Roll-up and the cell phone with one leather-coated hand as he leaned over and fished in the glove compartment for his buckskin driving goggles. "The main feature of this ontology is the defective and obstinate autonomy which distinguishes the human condition. This is contrasted with the sure and immutable being of the world of things. Now then, pull on your things."

"Yes, Sir." Mrs. Davis eagerly obeyed his demand. "Ohhhhh," she moaned as she toyed with her breasts and teased them like a frustrated cat with poor eye sight toys with a rubber mouse. She twisted and moaned in obscene gesticulations of prurient zeal as she considered the sexual implications of Uncle Larry's dissertation concerning Sartre.

"Ah, are you feeling lascivious? And Naughty?" he demanded.

"Yes, Master," she breathed, "please tell me more." Her voice insinuated that her titillation level was starting an even higher upward skyrocket.

Uncle Larry took a deep hit on the bottle of Jack, wiped his mouth on the back seat and then quickly glanced at his last year's tax return. "Very well. Sartre concluded that emotion originates as a degradation of comprehension when faced with specific circumstances. The natural cognizant grasp of any situation, which distinguishes an emotion, involves what Sartre describes as a 'magical' transformation of the situation. Now, I want you to put a clothes pin on each of your nipples."

"Ooooo, yes, my Master." Mrs. Davis located the two clothes pins she had placed near the phone in obedience to Uncle Larry's earlier telegram which demanded she have them ready when she called. Uncle Larry could hear her deep conceptual moan as the penurious jaws of the clothes pins closed and subjugated her obsequious yet reluctant bosoms. He shifted into second gear and smiled widely inside his caliginous leather vizard as he waited for her pick up the phone again.

"They are in place, Sir," she confirmed. "Please Master, tell me, is Sartre suggesting that when you are faced with an object which poses an insuperable quandary, we endeavor to view it contrarily, as though it were mysteriously transformed? Like when I sometimes faint when you threaten to duct tape me in the freezer of a second-rate convenience store, is this so that I place the basis of my fear where it is no longer within my conscious reach?"

"Partly, you unenlightened hirsute harlot. Or, in the case of wrath against an unmovable obstacle, you may strike it as though reality were such that this action could lead to its elimination. The essence of an emotional state is thus not a normal feature of the mental world, but rather a psychological modification of the subject's viewpoint towards the world. A conscious mental state which does not include this self-conscious dimension is incoherent, since it would be an unconscious conscious state. Now, are those wooden ones?"

"The clothespins?"

"No, your breasts... sigh... of course the clothespins you hebetudinous strumpet."

"Why yes, they are sir."

"Good. I now want you to contemplate the concepts of Being and Nothingness. On the one hand, Sartre stated that there is the being of the object of consciousness, and on the other, that of consciousness itself. These define two types of being, the in-itself, what he called the en-soi, and the for-itself, the pour-soi. To bring out that which keeps them apart involves understanding the circumstances of nothingness. This reveals sentience as fundamentally characterized through its power of contradiction, a power which plays a key role in our existential form."

"Oh yes!" Mrs. Davis was now writhing with molten pleasure. "I am yours, Master, in being!" Mrs. Davis breathed as she enjoyed both the pain and pleasure her truncated breasts were receiving. "But Master, how are the two transphenomenal forms of being related?

"Are you even listening? You impious red state miscreant! Just as the being of the phenomenon transcends the phenomenon of being, consciousness also transcends it! The deliberate composition of consciousness is in principle unexplainable in causal terms. If that supposition is granted, then it follows that consciousness cannot get its essential intended content from the physical world; in which case, if there is to be an explanation of any kind for it, it is tempting to have recourse to a fundamental self-consciousness, though this requires the dubious assumption that the content of this self-consciousness is itself unproblematic. Sartre argues that if there is perceiving, there must be a consciousness doing the perceiving ... oh, I will have a number three with a large coffee."

"What?"

"Oh, not you, Mrs. Davis, I'm going through the drive through. Anyhoo, Sartre introduces a relation of being: he denies that consciousness is a substance at all. Instead, the distinction is one between types of fact. Consciousness, in a pre-reflective form, is directly related to the being of the phenomenon. This is Sartre's version of Heidegger's ontological relation of being-in-the-world. It differs from the latter in two essential respects. First, it is not a practical relation, rather, it is simply given by consciousness. Second, it does not lead to any further question of Being. In other words, physical facts satisfy ordinary classical logic: 'they are what they are'. But, according to Sartre, the same logic does not hold of consciousness: here things 'are what they are not' and 'are not what they are'."

"Oh God," she breathed. She closed her eyes and felt her body racing towards a corpulent climax. Uncle Larry listened to the change in her breathing and, sensing the time was right, he commanded "The capacity for negation is an intrinsic characteristic of the intentionality of sentience, you burnished parvenu cocotte!"

"CHICKEN MCNUGGETS™!" Mrs. Davis screamed, as she immediately exploded in a fetid, saturated and clothespin influenced aberration of ardor.

Uncle Larry suddenly slammed on his brakes, screeched to a halt and then rapidly backed the Morgan up to the drive-through window again. "Hey," he called to the girl through the little window, "Gimme a large order of chicken fingers and some extra hot-sauce... I just got a great idea..."
CONTINUED WITH MEMBERSHIP...