Obviously I do not think Abbas is a hero. His doctoral thesis alone qualifies him as an asshole. But even worse are the murderers, kidnappers, rapists, arsonists, thieves who are being hailed as heroes by people who would not ordinarily praise murderers, kidnappers, rapists, arsonists, thieves. If they murder a Palestinian child to buy drugs then they are bad. But if they murder a Palestinian child in an effort to kill Israel then they are heroes. This kind of thinking is inhuman, antiMuslim and should be antiPalestinian.
Showing posts with label personality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personality. Show all posts
19 October 2011
02 October 2011
Mia’s Peace Plan II
But sometimes people can get together and talk about things without resorting to hostility. I am a member of such a message board. Nobody attacks anybody for having a different opinion and everybody seems genuinely interested in what others have to say. Is this not the point of a message board? Why participate if you are not interested in any voices besides your own? Places where everybody tries to yell the loudest make no sense to me. If you are yelling the loudest that only means that you cannot hear anything.
20 August 2010
More Current Events
Are most goyim antisemitic? I am not sure how you would quantify such a thing. Polling 100 people in Ohio is not the most representative sample. Nor are 100 people in Iran. If you could poll a billion people all over the world then maybe we would have something. Go to any website with a story about Israel or the IDF and if they allow comments then you will see some of the most racist things anybody could possibly say. But is the hate and idiocy online a reflection of offline attitudes or do people use that anonimity to say the craziest things they would never say in person?
12 July 2010
A Sale of Two Titties
There was never anything wrong with Joëlle’s tits. She is on the other side of 30 so maybe they do not stand at attention the way they used to but they still get the job done. Even so, time is crueler to women than men. Or maybe it is society and not time. We are taught from a young age that our sexuality revolves around our appearance. Sometimes short hair is fashionable, sometimes it is long hair. But you always have to have great tits to be a real woman. Boys seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses. And they really don’t want to get to second base and discover it is all tissues.
01 March 2010
Why You Shouldn’t Post When You’ve Had a Few
It has been brought to my attention on several occasions that I tend to ramble when inebriated. I am not a sad drunk or angry drunk. I’m a talkative drunk. I just will not shut up. My sisters say that my brother-in-law and I had our most interesting political debate after we both had a few drinks. I was much more aggressive in my opinions and he had a hard time getting his words out. That was a different experience for both of us.
01 February 2010
Reunited (And It Feels So Good)
Not quite that long ago.
Before weblogs and typing messages on Star Trek communicator pads I was a total chat room whore. At university I kept uncivilised hours and associated with ne’er-do-wells so chat rooms were perfect for me. I spent too much time in questionable rooms with people I hardly knew. Online as well. I had no company loyalty and jumped around from one server to the next. I guess Yahoo did not have chat rooms. But the largest company and the one with the most rooms by far was AOL. Anybody older than my nephew should remember a time when AOL dominated the internet. That guy saying you’ve got mail became so iconic that Nora Ephron made a movie about it.
08 December 2009
Talking Points
The robots on the commentary programme listed their usual diatribe without much thought for logic and reason and everybody enjoyed themselves for some reason. A life well spent I suppose. Later that day my friend-in-law decided to grace us all with his divine wisdom. He repeated what one of the robots said earlier almost verbatim.
It all made sense. My friend-in-law sounded like somebody who could write for one of those programmes because he got all of his material from just such people. Every diatribe where he enlightened the rest of us weaker minds probably came from some other self appointed expert. But at least they were being obnoxious for a reason. That is their job. My friend-in-law does it for free.
It all made sense. My friend-in-law sounded like somebody who could write for one of those programmes because he got all of his material from just such people. Every diatribe where he enlightened the rest of us weaker minds probably came from some other self appointed expert. But at least they were being obnoxious for a reason. That is their job. My friend-in-law does it for free.
03 November 2009
The Illusion of Freedom
Just look at a teenager’s to do list:
Go to school
Hang out
Talk on the phone
Try to get laid
Just look at an adult’s to do list:
Wake up the husband
Wake up the children
Wake up the husband again
Make breakfast for people who always want something else
Take children to school
Take husband to work because his driver’s licence was revoked
Go to work and hope a natural disaster closes the place down that day
Take son to ballet class
Take daughter to football practice
Retrieve husband’s shirt that he stained when he got drunk at the office party from the cleaners
Retrieve the car from the shop after somebody hit it because they were too stressed to pay attention
Go to the gynecologist
Go to the dentist
Go to the oncologist
Go to the proctologist
Go to the psychiatrist
Do all the grocery shopping for a house full of people
Retrieve son from ballet class
Retrieve daughter from football practice
Retrieve husband from his dead-end job
Make dinner that nobody appreciates
Pay whichever bills have the highest interest rates/late penalties
Fall asleep at 9pm because you’re too exhausted to stay awake and balance the bankbook
27 September 2009
Why Xenophobia Is Stupid
Chinese dogs bark funny and are bullies to their neighbour dogs. And there are simply too many of them. But they make good kibble and they all know kung fu.
American dogs are loud and complain too much whenever they visit another dog’s territory. They are too lazy to step away from the TV but want to control the world.
Jewish dogs control the world’s supply of bones and they all have large snouts. And they never share with any goy dogs.
Muslim dogs will bite you. Count on it. They think if they bite you they will be rewarded with 72 bitches in Valhowla.
Gay dogs love shopping and wearing girl collars. All of them will try to hump your leg. But they can pick out the best doggie sweaters and can help you decorate your doghouse.
Lesbian dogs love welding and wearing boy collars. All of them hate male dogs. But they are fun to watch when they get oiled up and lick each other’s tails.
American dogs are loud and complain too much whenever they visit another dog’s territory. They are too lazy to step away from the TV but want to control the world.
Jewish dogs control the world’s supply of bones and they all have large snouts. And they never share with any goy dogs.
Muslim dogs will bite you. Count on it. They think if they bite you they will be rewarded with 72 bitches in Valhowla.
Gay dogs love shopping and wearing girl collars. All of them will try to hump your leg. But they can pick out the best doggie sweaters and can help you decorate your doghouse.
Lesbian dogs love welding and wearing boy collars. All of them hate male dogs. But they are fun to watch when they get oiled up and lick each other’s tails.
09 September 2009
Black, White, Green, Red, Pink, Brown, Yellow, Orange and Blue
Not every bad encounter with a white person constitutes racism
By May Akabogu-Collins
Vista, Calif. – I was about to kick my white neighbor out of my house. Then the memory of my dad's voice intercepted me.
In 1980, when I was coming to America from Nigeria to attend grad school, my father told me, "Not every unpleasant encounter with a Caucasian constitutes racism. It might just be ignorance – stupidity, in fact."
When I arrived at the University of Southern California, the dynamics of black-white politics were still alien. That first semester, I received the highest score on a test. As he handed back my paper, the professor publicly announced, : "You surprised me; I kept slowing down for you, thinking you were lost." A compliment, I thought.
"An insult," said a classmate later. "The professor had presumed you were dumb because you're black." I wasn't convinced. But events moved on. Sometimes preposterously.
A year later, I was walking back to my hotel room in Baltimore when another hotel guest stuck her head out her room and addressed me: "I need extra soap and a towel." I smiled and replied, "Me, too." At that point, she flushed and disappeared. I chalked it up to rational discrimination.
Soon after grad school, I arrived at a college for an interview and introduced myself as "Dr. Collins." The secretary replied, "And I'm the president." She later apologized profusely, adding, "You look too young to be a PhD." "It's the melanin," I deadpanned, adding with a wink, "Black don't crack." She cracked up.
Never having been a target of old-fashioned, explicit racism, I still couldn't distinguish between imaginary and real racism. That changed when my sister and I entered a video store in Korea Town in Los Angeles. We were excited to find the Eddie Murphy comedy, "Coming to America." The clerk, without batting an eye, announced unequivocally, "Only Koreans." That was the turning point in my assimilation to my new environment.
For the first time, I felt the frustration of being black in America. "It's an Asian thing," a friend explained later. "They tend to be clannish." For a while I shunned Asians – and consorted with Caucasians.
In Africa we attended the same schools as the Caucasians. There was no built-up animosity and, I suppose, the Caucasians in West Africa never had a reason to draw racial lines or feel superior. Hence, I had no self-consciousness among Caucasians. The O.J. Simpson verdict in 1995, however, changed all that.
I was the only black professor at a small college in Pennsylvania. When I heard my all-white colleagues denouncing the verdict at the department lounge, I stepped outside my office to join them. The lounge immediately went silent. Everyone froze, like a still frame in a movie, and the tableau resonated with the unspoken, "You're black, therefore..." I spun on my heel and fled campus.
I'd spent 15 years in America resisting racializing my feelings, but that incident at the faculty lounge gave me a new pair of glasses.
In San Diego 10 years later, as I was walking my dogs (Akitas) one Monday morning, I encountered an elderly white woman. "They are absolutely gorgeous!" she declared. Before I could thank her, she added, "Are they yours?"
Here's the thing: After 25 years in America, as such encounters accumulate, subconsciously, resentments also accumulate. "Fat chance," I replied, "I'm dog-sitting for a rich white family." And I strode away wondering if I was becoming racially paranoid.
I was still wondering that when my white neighbor knocked on my door that same day. She was having an off day, so she took the day off and came over to vent. "It's like," she began, tears welling. "How can I put it? I feel like I've little black people inside my stomach."
Huh? I'd had three little black people inside my belly and those were the happiest months of my life. So what could I say?
"What do you mean?"
A litany of woes ensued: hubby's worsening Alzheimer's, facing foreclosure, teenage turmoil – my mind strayed.
Black market, black sheep, Black October, Black Sunday, black Monday, black weekend, the blackest day in history (9/11). Granted, those held no racial connotations – they were just terms for bad things.
People having a bad day often say they're having a black day. But little black people in her stomach? Why, that's racist! I should just kick her out, I thought. Then I heard my father's voice: "It might just be ignorance...."
"Hel-lo-o?" my neighbor reeled in my attention. "Yeah, I'm listening," I said.
She continued, but my mind kept wandering: Had I just been insulted? Should I demand an apology at least? Or was I becoming one of those "overly sensitive blacks" – you know, the ones who criticized David Howard, a former Washington, D.C., mayoral aide, for saying "niggardly" (which means "miserly") at a budget discussion in 1999?
I still can't, be certain, of course. And I'm still not convinced that kicking my neighbor out would've been wrong. Yet, I'm bothered that my feelings are now colored by race.
I now empathize with blacks born here who, due to the country's history, are sensitive to these issues. But at the same time, I sympathize with the uninformed whites who must watch their language lest they inadvertently offend our sensibilities.
That's where America is. And until whites make the extra effort to understand the source of "black rage," that's where America will remain.
Why didn't I approach my neighbor later to tell her that I felt insulted by her metaphor?
I was afraid she would consider me "overly sensitive," and that it might cause a strain between us. Race discussion is uncomfortable. And that's exactly the problem in America – the lack of trust between blacks and whites and hence the inability to engage in an open and frank discussion about the causes and effects of racism that can clarify our different reactions to the same racial landscape.
As President Obama has said, for America to progress, both blacks and whites must listen to one another with an open mind. Only then can we understand where the other is coming from. Yet it has to come from our hearts. And that requires mutual trust.
Blacks must be able to talk to whites about their fears and resentments without presuming that whites would consider them racially paranoid.
Whites must trust that blacks won't label them racists for expressing their frustrations. This is the way toward a more racially tolerant America. And in order to get there, we must be open with ourselves and compassionate with others.
Until then, these incidents will proceed with black – oops – bleak predictability: Ignorant white says something racially insensitive. Sensitive Negroes overreact. And we're all tired of that broken record.
By May Akabogu-Collins
Vista, Calif. – I was about to kick my white neighbor out of my house. Then the memory of my dad's voice intercepted me.
In 1980, when I was coming to America from Nigeria to attend grad school, my father told me, "Not every unpleasant encounter with a Caucasian constitutes racism. It might just be ignorance – stupidity, in fact."
When I arrived at the University of Southern California, the dynamics of black-white politics were still alien. That first semester, I received the highest score on a test. As he handed back my paper, the professor publicly announced, : "You surprised me; I kept slowing down for you, thinking you were lost." A compliment, I thought.
"An insult," said a classmate later. "The professor had presumed you were dumb because you're black." I wasn't convinced. But events moved on. Sometimes preposterously.
A year later, I was walking back to my hotel room in Baltimore when another hotel guest stuck her head out her room and addressed me: "I need extra soap and a towel." I smiled and replied, "Me, too." At that point, she flushed and disappeared. I chalked it up to rational discrimination.
Soon after grad school, I arrived at a college for an interview and introduced myself as "Dr. Collins." The secretary replied, "And I'm the president." She later apologized profusely, adding, "You look too young to be a PhD." "It's the melanin," I deadpanned, adding with a wink, "Black don't crack." She cracked up.
Never having been a target of old-fashioned, explicit racism, I still couldn't distinguish between imaginary and real racism. That changed when my sister and I entered a video store in Korea Town in Los Angeles. We were excited to find the Eddie Murphy comedy, "Coming to America." The clerk, without batting an eye, announced unequivocally, "Only Koreans." That was the turning point in my assimilation to my new environment.
For the first time, I felt the frustration of being black in America. "It's an Asian thing," a friend explained later. "They tend to be clannish." For a while I shunned Asians – and consorted with Caucasians.
In Africa we attended the same schools as the Caucasians. There was no built-up animosity and, I suppose, the Caucasians in West Africa never had a reason to draw racial lines or feel superior. Hence, I had no self-consciousness among Caucasians. The O.J. Simpson verdict in 1995, however, changed all that.
I was the only black professor at a small college in Pennsylvania. When I heard my all-white colleagues denouncing the verdict at the department lounge, I stepped outside my office to join them. The lounge immediately went silent. Everyone froze, like a still frame in a movie, and the tableau resonated with the unspoken, "You're black, therefore..." I spun on my heel and fled campus.
I'd spent 15 years in America resisting racializing my feelings, but that incident at the faculty lounge gave me a new pair of glasses.
In San Diego 10 years later, as I was walking my dogs (Akitas) one Monday morning, I encountered an elderly white woman. "They are absolutely gorgeous!" she declared. Before I could thank her, she added, "Are they yours?"
Here's the thing: After 25 years in America, as such encounters accumulate, subconsciously, resentments also accumulate. "Fat chance," I replied, "I'm dog-sitting for a rich white family." And I strode away wondering if I was becoming racially paranoid.
I was still wondering that when my white neighbor knocked on my door that same day. She was having an off day, so she took the day off and came over to vent. "It's like," she began, tears welling. "How can I put it? I feel like I've little black people inside my stomach."
Huh? I'd had three little black people inside my belly and those were the happiest months of my life. So what could I say?
"What do you mean?"
A litany of woes ensued: hubby's worsening Alzheimer's, facing foreclosure, teenage turmoil – my mind strayed.
Black market, black sheep, Black October, Black Sunday, black Monday, black weekend, the blackest day in history (9/11). Granted, those held no racial connotations – they were just terms for bad things.
People having a bad day often say they're having a black day. But little black people in her stomach? Why, that's racist! I should just kick her out, I thought. Then I heard my father's voice: "It might just be ignorance...."
"Hel-lo-o?" my neighbor reeled in my attention. "Yeah, I'm listening," I said.
She continued, but my mind kept wandering: Had I just been insulted? Should I demand an apology at least? Or was I becoming one of those "overly sensitive blacks" – you know, the ones who criticized David Howard, a former Washington, D.C., mayoral aide, for saying "niggardly" (which means "miserly") at a budget discussion in 1999?
I still can't, be certain, of course. And I'm still not convinced that kicking my neighbor out would've been wrong. Yet, I'm bothered that my feelings are now colored by race.
I now empathize with blacks born here who, due to the country's history, are sensitive to these issues. But at the same time, I sympathize with the uninformed whites who must watch their language lest they inadvertently offend our sensibilities.
That's where America is. And until whites make the extra effort to understand the source of "black rage," that's where America will remain.
Why didn't I approach my neighbor later to tell her that I felt insulted by her metaphor?
I was afraid she would consider me "overly sensitive," and that it might cause a strain between us. Race discussion is uncomfortable. And that's exactly the problem in America – the lack of trust between blacks and whites and hence the inability to engage in an open and frank discussion about the causes and effects of racism that can clarify our different reactions to the same racial landscape.
As President Obama has said, for America to progress, both blacks and whites must listen to one another with an open mind. Only then can we understand where the other is coming from. Yet it has to come from our hearts. And that requires mutual trust.
Blacks must be able to talk to whites about their fears and resentments without presuming that whites would consider them racially paranoid.
Whites must trust that blacks won't label them racists for expressing their frustrations. This is the way toward a more racially tolerant America. And in order to get there, we must be open with ourselves and compassionate with others.
Until then, these incidents will proceed with black – oops – bleak predictability: Ignorant white says something racially insensitive. Sensitive Negroes overreact. And we're all tired of that broken record.
02 August 2009
Vote For This Post
In looking into this blog award thing I have found there are entire websites dedicated to giving out awards to blogs. Are we really that needy? Will your cooking improve if you have the Best Food Blog? Will your children grow up happier if you are the Best Mommy Blog? Will you be a better person if you post the Best Blog of All Time? Those are all real things, although I think it might be a little too soon to know which is the best blog of all time.
I think once you are desperate for one of these awards you start pandering. Then what is the point of doing it at all? That is like only writing in your diary what you want your nosey sister to read. Guilty parties know who they are.
Soon we will have the Twitter awards, or #twitties. There will be awards for Best Smileys, Bst Abbv, Biggest Twit. Acceptance speeches can only be five words or less.
I think once you are desperate for one of these awards you start pandering. Then what is the point of doing it at all? That is like only writing in your diary what you want your nosey sister to read. Guilty parties know who they are.
Soon we will have the Twitter awards, or #twitties. There will be awards for Best Smileys, Bst Abbv, Biggest Twit. Acceptance speeches can only be five words or less.
07 June 2009
A Monumental Occasion
Woke up.
Fell out of bed.
Dragged a brush through the tentacles that are my morning hair.
Had a jog/swim/bike.
Took a shower. Sorry, no pictures.
Ate breakfast.
Paid previous day’s traffic fines.
Drove to work, ignoring all posted speed guidelines.
Went online at work instead of doing work.
Drove home in traffic.
Could have walked home faster.
Made dinner with/for family/friends.
Talked/laughed/sang all night.
Went to sleep.
Alone again.
Naturally.
Fell out of bed.
Dragged a brush through the tentacles that are my morning hair.
Had a jog/swim/bike.
Took a shower. Sorry, no pictures.
Ate breakfast.
Paid previous day’s traffic fines.
Drove to work, ignoring all posted speed guidelines.
Went online at work instead of doing work.
Drove home in traffic.
Could have walked home faster.
Made dinner with/for family/friends.
Talked/laughed/sang all night.
Went to sleep.
Alone again.
Naturally.
29 April 2009
When Pigs Flew
Mad cow, bird flu, swine flu. What do all these animals have against us? Is this their revenge for our dinners, shoes and viagra? Couldn’t they just rise up in some Orwellian fashion?
08 April 2009
For King and Country
I don’t understand putting king before country. Without the country the king is just some guy yelling maniacally at people on the street. Without the king you find a new king. The country goes on. We don’t have a king but I can’t imagine anybody putting our PM above the country. The PM’s job is to serve the people. At least in theory. A no confidence vote means little to a king but it’s essentially the same job.
14 March 2009
Happiness is a Warm Gun
So if there is no correlation between gun ownership and gun crime then what is the problem? I think it is more cultural than anything else. Even if Chinese people had guns they would not think about using them to resolve disputes. Saving face is very important to the Chinese and anybody who goes into a school and starts shooting at people definitely loses face. That is a lot worse than speaking out of turn. Americans on the other hand have a long history of settling disputes with violence. If they did not have guns there would probably be a lot of school stabbings. In fact, I think there already are.
They are fairly useless for self defence unless they happen to be in my hand. If somebody wants to rob me at the target range then they are in trouble. If somebody breaks into my house then I will confront them immediately rather than go get a gun, take it out of its case, load it and then confront the intruder, all the while hoping he was waiting around for me to get ready. If I happen to stumble into a terrorist situation and I’m armed for some reason and the terrorist is in my line of sight and I have a clear shot then yes I will take the gun out and aim for a head shot. But how often are all of those criteria met? It has never happened to me so far.
08 March 2009
All Roads Lead to Home
My conscience has always been my family. I can’t bring myself to do anything I can’t tell my mother or grandmother about. When I was a child I quickly learned that anything I did would come back to my parents. Most of my education was at boarding schools and they told my parents everything, my test scores, what I ate, who my friends were, who I teased mercilessly.
When my parents left for Israel I had more freedom than most of my friends but the school officials still reported to my parents. When a friend was caught smoking on campus I had to assure them that I was not involved. My parents were 7000km away but I was still afraid to smoke because I knew I would have to face them sooner or later. Disappointing my father was always a worse fate than not looking cool to my peers.
When my parents left for Israel I had more freedom than most of my friends but the school officials still reported to my parents. When a friend was caught smoking on campus I had to assure them that I was not involved. My parents were 7000km away but I was still afraid to smoke because I knew I would have to face them sooner or later. Disappointing my father was always a worse fate than not looking cool to my peers.
23 February 2009
Movin’ Out
This is what I don’t understand. If you are going to move to another country what is the point in trying to find one that is just like your old country? It is one thing if you are moving to avoid persecution, but if you are moving abroad to experience a different life, why pick a place that is similar to your old life? Moving from the United States to Canada is like moving from Australia to New Zealand. You have to change your phone number but it is not going to change your perspective on the world at large.
29 November 2008
How To Have Cyber Sex
[Warning: Don't read this if you're my mother.]
Gandolf419: What do you look like?
swtNsXy_18: im tall n thin blond hair 36D-24-36 wearing a pink tank top black micro shorts n hi heels what u look like?
Gandolf419: I’m 5’3”, 290lbs, balding, hairy back, coke bottle glasses. I’m wearing khaki shorts I got from Sears in 1988 and a Kiss t-shirt with sweat stains down the sides.
Gandolf419: Where are you now?
swtNsXy_18: im all alone in my room im so lonely where u at?
Gandolf419: I’m in my studio apartment overlooking the repo yard. My room smells like old tuna fish and socks.
swtNsXy_18: ur funny :)
Gandolf419: You are who you eat.
swtNsXy_18: u like vegtables?
Gandolf419: You mean gardening?
swtNsXy_18: u can say that sorta
swtNsXy_18: u wanna get sexxy with vegtables?
Gandolf419: I’d love to.
Gandolf419: I bend you over to harvest your crops.
swtNsXy_18: mmm nice
Gandolf419: I watch as you water your pumpkin patch.
Gandolf419: Can you handle my plow?
swtNsXy_18: um ok
Gandolf419: It’s a really big plow.
swtNsXy_18: how big?
Gandolf419: John Deere.
Gandolf419: At least a 10 footer.
swtNsXy_18: wow that IS big what u gonna do with that plow?
Gandolf419: I’m going to plant lettuce and cabbage.
swtNsXy_18: hu?
Gandolf419: Maybe some cauliflower.
swtNsXy_18: i was thinking like sex things with vegtabels
swtNsXy_18: can u b more sexxy?
Gandolf419: Anything for you, my sweet.
Gandolf419: I caress your lettuce as you massage my brussel sprouts.
Gandolf419: I start to gently lick the tip of your spinach.
swtNsXy_18: spinach dont turn me on im thinking like cucumers n shit
Gandolf419: I rub your cucumbers all over my cabbage.
swtNsXy_18: ur suposed to b the 1 with the cucumer r u a chick?
Gandolf419: I assure you, my dear, I’m all man.
swtNsXy_18: then get sexxy
Gandolf419: Maybe gardening isn’t for me.
Gandolf419: How about a little role play?
swtNsXy_18: ok sounds gd
Gandolf419: What do you want to be?
swtNsXy_18: ima yung n inicent skool gurl
Gandolf419: I’m a bull elephant. Strong, hung and smelling of stale urine and week-old crusted dung.
swtNsXy_18: opps i think i dropped my back pack
swtNsXy_18: lol hu?
Gandolf419: I stomp the ground and flap my ears. You’ve invaded my territory.
swtNsXy_18: i bend over 2 pick it up
Gandolf419: I spray musky urine all over the place to mark my territory.
swtNsXy_18: i start 2 unzip ur pants
Gandolf419: Elephants don’t wear pants.
swtNsXy_18: ur not a elepaphant that’s the game
Gandolf419: Elephants don’t play games. We stampede your ass.
swtNsXy_18: b serius
Gandolf419: My dear, few things are more serious than a bull elephant stampeding your ass.
swtNsXy_18: u like anal?
Gandolf419: With a mighty roar of my trunk I stampede. You are caught helpless under my towering frame. The last thing you see before you slump into unconsciousness are my huge legs crashing down upon you.
swtNsXy_18: this isnt sexxy
Gandolf419: I’m hard.
Gandolf419: Elephant hard.
Gandolf419: Spank me and call me Dumbo.
swtNsXy_18: u like bein spanked?
Gandolf419: I’d rather dominate you.
swtNsXy_18: ok i like that tell me what to do
Gandolf419: Lay down on the floor. I put on my enchanted robe.
swtNsXy_18: ok im down on the floor
Gandolf419: Now spread your arms and legs out wide.
swtNsXy_18: mmm yea im spread real wide 4 u
Gandolf419: I need my hat of wonderment.
swtNsXy_18: u want me 2 take my close off 4 u?
Gandolf419: No need.
swtNsXy_18: or r u gonna do it?
Gandolf419: I cast an Ergon Level 3 metabolic spell on you. Suddenly you’re a beautiful woman.
swtNsXy_18: hu?
swtNsXy_18: HEY!
Gandolf419: Calling out to the Inner Sanctum Demons of Tra’anfar I cast a Level 100 erospell on you.
swtNsXy_18: what?
Gandolf419: I invoke the wrath of Aeor the Magnificent and transform your vagina into an open realm of intergalactic transportation.
swtNsXy_18: this is stupit
Gandolf419: Sensing that this is a great task before me I pull the reserve Ambillant Orb from my robe and cast a Level 500 spell of Orisis on you.
swtNsXy_18: ur the worst cyber partner ever
Gandolf419: Silence, mortal!
Gandolf419: I cast a Level 1,000 spell of the Dammed and drain your lifeforce into my golden chalice. Your empty shell body withers and turns to dust.
Gandolf419: I call on the mighty forces of Wilton to blow your ashes to the four corners of the earth and beyond.
swtNsXy_18: dont ever pm me agin u loozer
Gandolf419: Mind control robots enter the room and try to steal my magic robe but they don’t know I have the Amulet of Adar.
Gandolf419: The robots want to have sex with your charred clothes, but I intervene and protect your honor. I cast a Force of Plenty spell on them and they morph into wood nymphs.
Gandolf419: General Washington rides into the room on a tall white steed and bequeaths on me a medal for my bravery. I’m Time’s Man of the year.
Gandolf419: I’m gonna cum.
Gandolf419: What do you look like?
swtNsXy_18: im tall n thin blond hair 36D-24-36 wearing a pink tank top black micro shorts n hi heels what u look like?
Gandolf419: I’m 5’3”, 290lbs, balding, hairy back, coke bottle glasses. I’m wearing khaki shorts I got from Sears in 1988 and a Kiss t-shirt with sweat stains down the sides.
Gandolf419: Where are you now?
swtNsXy_18: im all alone in my room im so lonely where u at?
Gandolf419: I’m in my studio apartment overlooking the repo yard. My room smells like old tuna fish and socks.
swtNsXy_18: ur funny :)
Gandolf419: You are who you eat.
swtNsXy_18: u like vegtables?
Gandolf419: You mean gardening?
swtNsXy_18: u can say that sorta
swtNsXy_18: u wanna get sexxy with vegtables?
Gandolf419: I’d love to.
Gandolf419: I bend you over to harvest your crops.
swtNsXy_18: mmm nice
Gandolf419: I watch as you water your pumpkin patch.
Gandolf419: Can you handle my plow?
swtNsXy_18: um ok
Gandolf419: It’s a really big plow.
swtNsXy_18: how big?
Gandolf419: John Deere.
Gandolf419: At least a 10 footer.
swtNsXy_18: wow that IS big what u gonna do with that plow?
Gandolf419: I’m going to plant lettuce and cabbage.
swtNsXy_18: hu?
Gandolf419: Maybe some cauliflower.
swtNsXy_18: i was thinking like sex things with vegtabels
swtNsXy_18: can u b more sexxy?
Gandolf419: Anything for you, my sweet.
Gandolf419: I caress your lettuce as you massage my brussel sprouts.
Gandolf419: I start to gently lick the tip of your spinach.
swtNsXy_18: spinach dont turn me on im thinking like cucumers n shit
Gandolf419: I rub your cucumbers all over my cabbage.
swtNsXy_18: ur suposed to b the 1 with the cucumer r u a chick?
Gandolf419: I assure you, my dear, I’m all man.
swtNsXy_18: then get sexxy
Gandolf419: Maybe gardening isn’t for me.
Gandolf419: How about a little role play?
swtNsXy_18: ok sounds gd
Gandolf419: What do you want to be?
swtNsXy_18: ima yung n inicent skool gurl
Gandolf419: I’m a bull elephant. Strong, hung and smelling of stale urine and week-old crusted dung.
swtNsXy_18: opps i think i dropped my back pack
swtNsXy_18: lol hu?
Gandolf419: I stomp the ground and flap my ears. You’ve invaded my territory.
swtNsXy_18: i bend over 2 pick it up
Gandolf419: I spray musky urine all over the place to mark my territory.
swtNsXy_18: i start 2 unzip ur pants
Gandolf419: Elephants don’t wear pants.
swtNsXy_18: ur not a elepaphant that’s the game
Gandolf419: Elephants don’t play games. We stampede your ass.
swtNsXy_18: b serius
Gandolf419: My dear, few things are more serious than a bull elephant stampeding your ass.
swtNsXy_18: u like anal?
Gandolf419: With a mighty roar of my trunk I stampede. You are caught helpless under my towering frame. The last thing you see before you slump into unconsciousness are my huge legs crashing down upon you.
swtNsXy_18: this isnt sexxy
Gandolf419: I’m hard.
Gandolf419: Elephant hard.
Gandolf419: Spank me and call me Dumbo.
swtNsXy_18: u like bein spanked?
Gandolf419: I’d rather dominate you.
swtNsXy_18: ok i like that tell me what to do
Gandolf419: Lay down on the floor. I put on my enchanted robe.
swtNsXy_18: ok im down on the floor
Gandolf419: Now spread your arms and legs out wide.
swtNsXy_18: mmm yea im spread real wide 4 u
Gandolf419: I need my hat of wonderment.
swtNsXy_18: u want me 2 take my close off 4 u?
Gandolf419: No need.
swtNsXy_18: or r u gonna do it?
Gandolf419: I cast an Ergon Level 3 metabolic spell on you. Suddenly you’re a beautiful woman.
swtNsXy_18: hu?
swtNsXy_18: HEY!
Gandolf419: Calling out to the Inner Sanctum Demons of Tra’anfar I cast a Level 100 erospell on you.
swtNsXy_18: what?
Gandolf419: I invoke the wrath of Aeor the Magnificent and transform your vagina into an open realm of intergalactic transportation.
swtNsXy_18: this is stupit
Gandolf419: Sensing that this is a great task before me I pull the reserve Ambillant Orb from my robe and cast a Level 500 spell of Orisis on you.
swtNsXy_18: ur the worst cyber partner ever
Gandolf419: Silence, mortal!
Gandolf419: I cast a Level 1,000 spell of the Dammed and drain your lifeforce into my golden chalice. Your empty shell body withers and turns to dust.
Gandolf419: I call on the mighty forces of Wilton to blow your ashes to the four corners of the earth and beyond.
swtNsXy_18: dont ever pm me agin u loozer
Gandolf419: Mind control robots enter the room and try to steal my magic robe but they don’t know I have the Amulet of Adar.
Gandolf419: The robots want to have sex with your charred clothes, but I intervene and protect your honor. I cast a Force of Plenty spell on them and they morph into wood nymphs.
Gandolf419: General Washington rides into the room on a tall white steed and bequeaths on me a medal for my bravery. I’m Time’s Man of the year.
Gandolf419: I’m gonna cum.
11 November 2008
Der Körper und das Fleisch
[Warning: This post contains 2 graphic images. One is from a movie. It’s fake. Mostly makeup and rubber. It’s not real. The other is from a public execution. It’s not visually graphic but some may find it disturbing anyway. Otherwise everything else is safe for all ages in my opinion.]
Acceptable for all audiences
Restricted
Legal
Illegal
Indecent
Beachwear around the world
Switzerland
Israel
South Afrika
China
Saudi Arabia
All pictures above are probably under copyright but I’m not going to bother finding out who owns what. The film stills are from Tokyo zankoku keisatsu (© Fever Dreams) and American Beauty (© DreamWorks).
Acceptable for all audiencesRestrictedLegalIllegal Decent
IndecentSwitzerlandIsraelSouth AfrikaChinaSaudi ArabiaAll pictures above are probably under copyright but I’m not going to bother finding out who owns what. The film stills are from Tokyo zankoku keisatsu (© Fever Dreams) and American Beauty (© DreamWorks).
26 October 2008
Why I’m Not a Nudist
[April 2013 note: This was always one of the most popular posts. I almost feel bad about deleting it. I suppose people who want to read it could always buy the book. No pre$$ure.]
A quiet, undisclosed location
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