I have never read Harry Potter.
But I have read a lot of King's novels.
They are obviously not something kids should be reading.

Because King's books are not appropriate for kids. Period.
But Harry Potter is?

Whatchoo talkin bout, King wrote children’s books too
Melton1 Wanted for Pedophilia:
https://i.ibb.co/6cnPmJVr/IMG-0830.jpg
https://m.youtube.com/shorts/Zjxk307CND0

Because King's books are not appropriate for kids. Period.
They can read those on their own time and money. If their parents want them to.
Are you just trolling?

Why should the tax payer be funding any of the other ****ing fiction books at the school library? Duh!
Why pick on Stephen King. He's not hurting anyone.

None of these books were available in our school libraries.
And why would they?
Doesn't mean these students can't go to any bookstore, purchase them and read them.
But why should we, the taxpayer, be funding Stephen King books in our schools?
They are often fun books but hardly great literature.

They live in their own headspace.

Sounds like Florida is becoming the new Massachusetts.
You've seen Guy Standeven in something because the man was in everything.

I had to immediately stop what I was doing to masturbate while I read that. Now I'm getting arrested for indecent exposure and my boss fired me for jerking in the office. I hope you're happy now, jerk.
My password is password

That /. should be banned for posting a CP story
Agreed.

That /. should be banned for posting a CP story
My password is password

You know what? I've made my point as clear as a whistle. You are just trolling me and Stephen King anyway. Bye

I never said that children having sex with each other was right or wrong or even sexy.
CHILDREN HAVING SEX IS WHY THEY BANNED THE BOOK IN SCHOOLS DONNA
JFC why are you so stupid?
My password is password

I'm just saying that IT isn't pornography. You haven't even read the ****ing book. So stfu.
It's just a fictional novel about a monster from outer space killing children.
I never said that children having sex with each other was right or wrong or even sexy.

She's 11, Donna.
You're really gross.
My password is password

Oh please. Gimme a break. 1,138 page book. 2 pages of that part with the TEEN having consensual sex with those boys that were her friends.
So your issue is actually about Stephen King and less about that brief part in the novel where the boys are having sex with
No mention about the violent nature of the book at all?
Just that one sex part.

An old creepy white dude fantasizes about a gang bang with children, realizes he cannot just publish the thing on its own, so he proceeds to write 1000 pages of tripe to bury it in.
He proceeds to call the book "It".
My password is password

It's not that bad. In the real world, children **** each other!!
Where have you been living? On the ****ing moon?
You didn't know that in real life children **** each other?

Those are CHILDREN in a ****ing GANG BANG.
Can you even read? Maybe you should go back to elementary school and learn.
But yeah, let's not raise our kids in a vacuum.
How are your grandkids doing? Have you shown them Pornhub yet?
How are you this dumb?
My password is password

What would the rating be if that were a movie?
My password is password

That's tame. Do you think that kids don't hear their parents ****ing each other? Or see people kissing? His books aren't in elementary schools. Middle school and high school libraries.
You can't raise a kid inside a vacuum. Besides, your typical adult romance fiction is way more graphic than Dtephen King. He doesn't write romance. He writes horror.

Her thoughts broke off as she realized that Eddie
comes to her first, because he is the most frightened. He comes to
her not as her friend of that summer, or as her brief lover now, but
the way he would have come to his mother only three or four years
ago, to be comforted; he doesn’t draw back from her smooth
nakedness and at first she doubts if he even feels it. He is trembling,
and although she holds him the darkness is so perfect that even this
close she cannot see him; except for the rough cast he might as well
be a phantom.
“What do you want? ” he asks her.
“You have to put your thing in me, ” she says.
He tries to pull back but she holds him and he subsides against
her. She has heard someone—Ben, she thinks—draw in his breath.
“Bevvie, I can’t do that. I don’t know how—”
“I think it’s easy. But you’ll have to get undressed. ” She thinks
about the intricacies of managing cast and shirt, first somehow
separating and then rejoining them, and amends, “Your pants,
anyway. ”
“No, I can’t!” But she thinks part of him can, and wants to, because
his trembling has stopped and she feels something small and hard
which presses against the right side of her belly.
“You can, ” she says, and pulls him down. The surface beneath
her bare back and legs is firm, clayey, dry. The distant thunder of the
water is drowsy, soothing. She reaches for him. There’s a moment
when her father’s face intervenes, harsh and forbidding
(I want to see if you’re intact)
and then she closes her arms around Eddie’s neck, her smooth
cheek against his smooth cheek, and as he tentatively touches her
small breasts she sighs and thinks for the first time This is Eddie and
she remembers a day in July—could it only have been last month?—
when no one else turned up in the Barrens but Eddie, and he had a
whole bunch of Little Lulu comic books and they read together for
most of the afternoon, Little Lulu looking for beebleberries and
getting in all sorts of crazy situations, Witch Hazel, all of those guys.
It had been fun.
She thinks of birds; in particular of the grackles and starlings and
crows that come back in the spring, and her hands go to his belt and
loosen it, and he says again that he can’t do that; she tells him that
he can, she knows he can, and what she feels is not shame or fear
now but a kind of triumph.
“Where? ” he says, and that hard thing pushes urgently against
her inner thigh.
“Here, ” she says.
“Bevvie, I’ll fall on you!” he says, and she hears his breath start to
whistle painfully.
“I think that’s sort of the idea, ” she tells him and holds him gently
and guides him. He pushes forward too fast and there is pain.
Ssssss!—she draws her breath in, her teeth biting at her lower lip
and thinks of the birds again, the spring birds, lining the roofpeaks of
houses, taking wing all at once under low March clouds.
“Beverly? ” he says uncertainly. “Are you okay? ”
“Go slower, ” she says. “It’ll be easier for you to breathe. ” He does
move more slowly, and after awhile his breathing speeds up but she
understands this is not because there is anything wrong with him.
The pain fades. Suddenly he moves more quickly, then stops,
stiffens, and makes a sound—some sound. She senses that this is
something for him, something extraordinarily special, something like
. . . like flying. She feels powerful: she feels a sense of triumph rise
up strongly within her. Is this what her father was afraid of? Well he
might be! There was power in this act, all right, a chain-breaking
power that was blood-deep. She feels no physical pleasure, but
there is a kind of mental ecstasy in it for her. She senses the
closeness. He puts his face against her neck and she holds him He’s
crying. She holds him. And feels the part of him that made a
connection between them begin to fade. It is not leaving her, exactly;
it is simply fading, becoming less.
When his weight shifts away she sits up and touches his face in
the darkness.
“Did you? ”
“Did I what? ”
“Whatever it is. I don’t know, exactly. ”
He shakes his head—she feels it with her hand against his cheek.
“I don’t think it was exactly like . . . you know, like the big boys say.
But it was . . . it was really something. He speaks low so the others
can’t hear. ”I love you, Bevvie. ”
Her consciousness breaks down a little there. She’s quite sure
there’s more talk, some whispered, some loud, and can’t remember
what is said. It doesn’t matter. Does she have to talk each of them
into it all over again? Yes, probably. But it doesn’t matter. They have
to be talked into it, this essential human link between the world and
the infinite, the only place where the bloodstream touches eternity. It
doesn’t matter. What matters is love and desire. Here in this dark is
as good a place as any. Better than some, maybe.
Mike comes to her, then Richie, and the act is repeated. Now she
feels some pleasure, dim heat in her childish unmatured sex, and
she closes her eyes as Stan comes to her and she thinks of the
birds, spring and the birds, an

Again I cannot emphasize enough that it is republican driven legislation that is seeking to censor free speech and impose book bans.
And all lead by Donald Trump. Donald Trump, the dude that hung out with sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein. The guy with 34 felony convictions.
The guy that wants to undo all the progress America has made in the last century.

Complaining and forcing legislation are 2 different things.