This is my latest video rant. Warning, not safe for work, children, or good taste.
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http://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/news/2009/09/memes-strike-back-gerbils-gay-blood-elves-and-glenn-beck.ars?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=rss
Now, let's be honest here. No one *really* thinks that Glenn Beck raped and murdered a young girl in 1990. This is satire. It's clearly satire. However, why is the great patriot Glenn Beck going to a supposed cesspool of socialism in order to suppress the truth? Seriously, if it's not true that Glenn Beck raped and murdered a young girl in 1990, then all he has to do is offer some kind of proof.
I mean, it's really pretty easy to figure that he didn't. But why is he so worried about people saying that Glenn Beck raped and murdered a young girl in 1990? He should be able to offer a clear refutation of the accusation if he didn't, right?
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Ever feel the need to just write fluff peices that don't actually mean anything? Ever have the urge to toss all of your RPG characters into a story that has no real purpose, plot, or reason for existing? I know I do! So here is the first installment in a story that I like to call "A bunch of Nateboi's Tabletop RP characters, locked in a mall, fighting zombies". I'll update this whenever I feel the urge to write something that's not weighty and heavy (I.E., anthology stuff, work writing stuff, what not).
Brian Harper didn't leave the comfort of his bookstore much these days. He didn't really see much of a reason to. He'd done more adventuring in his twenty six (or was it twenty eight?) years that he felt more than comfortable in his simple little life. He'd traveled through the spirit lands for years, only to find that mere weeks had passed in the earth realm. He'd loved and lost and loved again, he'd fought in wars, watched all that he had rent asunder only to find it again. And now? Now he was simply a priest of no particular noteworthiness who ran a small occult bookshop. It was quiet, and at this point in his life, quiet made him happy. Of course, a bookstore can only so much comfort. Certain things, such as the latest PS3 game involving Batman, could only be gotten by venturing outside of one's comfort zone and into the local mall. Still, he was a priest of Aphrodite. He loved people. He could deal with the mall. “Then stop whining and buy the thing. This mall has the crappiest perches in the city.” The voice of his familiar echoed in his mind, and the words made him chuckle. The big black crow was his constant companion, though occasionally it was hard to keep him within eyeshot. He was a crow, after all. Brian walked into the game stop, adjusting his glasses lightly. His wooden lightsaber handle bounced against his thigh as he walked, and his carpenter's hammer weighed heavy through his belt. Both mystical items of power, both of which he refused to leave home without. If for no other reason than the spirits bound to the hammer would feel very upset if he left them at home. The mall was strangely quiet, though there were as many people as one would expect in a city mall on a Saturday morning. As he headed towards the shelf which proclaimed to hold the game he wanted, a quick motion caught his eye. Instincts learned in the years traveling the spirit lands made him turn to inspect the motion, which worked in his favor in this case. The motion turned out to be a short woman who's most noticable feature was snow white hair against a latin skin tone. The quick motion was her spinning into the store, as if dancing. He had no time to take notice of her other features, because she spun towards him, grabbed his hand, and led him in the first six steps of a waltz before bouncing away. She had such a playful air about her that it took him several seconds to comprehend precisely what had just happened. “...what the hell just happened?” Brian adjusted his glasses, looking at the woman curiously. She stopped walking away, and turned to him with a smile. “You looked like you needed to dance.” She seemed to speak quite honestly about that, so much so that Brian began to wonder if he had a sign on his back or something. “I didn't put one there, though it would have been a good idea. Kind of sad I didn't think of it.” “Shut up, Swirl.” The woman wasn't quite as short as he'd first thought, he realized as he looked at her. More about average. She was a little chubby, but carried it amazingly well, at least as far as the coveralls and tye-dyed t-shirt showed off her figure. But more than her figure, Brian found himself drawn to her eyes. They were such a bright emerald that they nearly seemed to glow. “Is this where I deliver the picture line? Because you've been staring at me an awfully long time without responding.” She smirked playfully. She didn't seem upset when she said it, she just seemed like she was giving him a hard time. Brian blinked, and then shook his head softly. “Oh. Sorry, I was...uh...sorry.” He chuckled. “You know, I'm usually a better talker. You just managed to throw me off my game. Good job on that one, not too many people can pull it off.” She shrugged lightly, bouncing as she stood there. She almost seemed like she simply had too much energy to stand still, like a four year old who's working so very hard to be polite but really wants to go play. “I do that to people sometimes. It's either the eyes, or the white hair with dusty colored skin. I can never tell which one, though.” She seemed to ponder that seriously as she stood there. Brian arched an eyebrow, adjusting his glasses. “You don't think it was maybe the fact that you randomly grab people and dance with them that does it?” She shook her head. “Nah, can't be that. So, why the hammer?” Brian was used to the question, but not the sudden topic change. Still, he was a talker, so it took little effort to grab another foothold. His response came to him at the same time he noticed what was hanging off her backpack. “I'll answer that when you tell me why you have a pink stick with a bright yellow star hanging off your backpack.” Said easily, but with the tone of a playful challenge. “Because it's my wand. Duh.” She spoke with the exact tone a disrespectful teenager might use, before giving him a stupidly cheerful grin. “I like this girl. You should bring her home to meet your wife.” “Yes, because then I could have two women giving me crap about my performance, and in stereo too. That's just what I want.” “It'd make me laugh.” “Right. Well, this has been a wonderfully pleasant conversation, but I need to pick up my game and move on.” Brian gave her a polite smile. It wasn't that the girl was bothering him, exactly, so much as he felt out of his element and that bothered him. He'd been one of the smoothest talking, manipulative bastards around at one point in his life. Now, he hardly knew how to carry on a conversation. He supposed time and wars and adventure could do that to a person, but it bothered him. “Kay. Hope you dance more often. You really do seem to need it.” She spoke quite sincerely, so much so that it actually confused him yet again. He prepared himself to give one last farewell statement, but something else caught his attention. Two things, actually, in rapid succession. The first was an intense wave of power washed over him. Someone had clearly cast a wide reaching, stupidly powerful spell. The second was that the woman in front of him seemed to have noticed it, as well. “...did you feel that?” Brian found himself asking, nearly on instinct. “Heard, technically. Though I'm more curious about the fact that there's no one else here all of a sudden.” Her words caused Brian to look around carefully. And much to his surprise, there wasn't a single person inside the store. It hadn't been packed before, true, but there had been more than zero people. “Swirl, you see anyone outside?” “That'd be a negative. Don't worry, I'm trying to find a way inside as we speak. I'd come in through the front door, but it's too heavy for me to open on my own.” “Alright. Be careful. Last thing I need is to be saving you from being stuck in an air vent.” “Oh, ha ha. That's only happened the one time, you know.” Brian was about to answer, when he realized that the woman wasn't standing in front of him any longer. He blinked, glancing around for her, quickly spotting her by the door. She was peeking her head out, looking quite curiously down the hall. “See something?” he asked, moving towards her. “Well...yes. But you're not going to like it.” She sounded strangely upbeat, even given the current weirdness. “Yes, well, there's a lot of things I don't like already. I fail to see how this is going to be any different.” He moved to the door, poking his head out. “Yeah, but you're really not going to like this.” The sight that greeted him was rather surprising. At least, he found it surprising to see what looked like five zombies shuffling down the hallway. Actually, it was less the sight, and more the moaning sound. In fact, he could swear he heard one or two of them crying out for brains. “...are those dead people? Like, actual zombies? Tell me I'm not seeing people, who are dead, shuffling down the hall.” “You know, I did warn you that you wouldn't like it.” Brian's only response was a string of Greek curses.
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I've sold 12 copies.
That's two more than the goal for me to publish a second anthology. So, I'm proud to announce that the second anthology has entered the editing stage. There is a confirmed 5 stories, with a possible sixth one, and two rant scripts. The title will be 'All According to Plan', and will involve master plans and their outcomes. Not necessarily political plans, either.
I'm not sure how much it will sell for yet, more updates as they come. Here's an excerpt from one of the stories.
“Of course it was me. Anyway, we haven't much time. There's much to explain to you, Dylan.” Dylan blinked. So not only was the sword talking, but it knew his name. He tried to remember if he'd dropped any acid at any point in his entire life, and was quite sad when he realized that he hadn't. That actually would have made things a lot easier. “Ok, how do you know my name? And how are you talking? You're a sword, you're not supposed to talk. You don't even have a mouth.” “I'm not really talking so much as projecting words into your mind. And that's how I know your name. Look, Dylan, we can discuss the whys and wherefores, but that's not going to get the job done. The important thing is that you answered when I called.” The sword's voice reminded Dylan of James Earl Jones, he decided. Without the Darth Vader rasp. Dylan sighed. “Alright, I'll bite. Why did you call me, and what's so important?” “I'll try to make a long story short. I am the sword Gladius Magicus. I was forged long ago by a great wizard. My power boosts the power of whoever wields me. But some time after I was forged, a dark sorcerer killed my master and took me for himself. Great evil spread across the land before a heroic lad slew the sorcerer and used my power to heal the land.”
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For those of you who failed to hear my show this past Wed. night, here's the rant. I realize now that I'm rewarding you guys by letting you see me without a shirt on, but, eh. What can I do?
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Kinda felt like posting a picture from work, mostly because I keep talking about these awesome pillows, and now I have a webcam!
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You know, I don't mind all the "Onoes, my baby's going to hear Obama speak in school!" franticness half as much as I mind the intellectual dishonesty about it all.
It's like, look. Just admit that the idea of them hearing anything you don't personally agree with is so frightening that you try to put the kid in a bubble. Don't try to justify it, because everything you're saying is a lie. He's not indoctrinating. It's a speech full of "Reach for the stars" drivel. He's not talking politics, unlike St. Reagan, who actually spoke on the importance of lowering taxes when he spoke to school children. It's not unprecedented, because every single president since Reagan has spoken specifically to children about education, and we could even go back to FDR's fireside chats. The whole damn problem is that you don't want your kid to hear anything that might contridict what you're saying. That's fine. You're allowed to feel that way. But be fucking honest about it. Because you're not fooling anyone.
The worst fucking part about this whole thing is that while we're having serious fuckingproblems in this country involving things like agriculture subsidies, health care reform, how our tax money is spent and worker's rights, you fucknuggets are busy yelling about a ten minute "You can do anything" speech. Yeah, *real* good fucking use of your time there, assholes.
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Justan update. I've now sold 9 copies. I am one copy away from the cemented number at which you guys get a second anthology. I'm hoping that works out.
However, since I've already made 50 dollars off the anthology (someone gave me a 15 dollar tip just because they could), there's a non-zero chance I'll do a second one anyway. Still, I'd *like* to hit the 10 copy number I set for myself.
As a teaser, here's the opener for a story who's working title is "Mage Noir". It's confirmed to be part of the second anthology, should I publish it.
The rain poured furiously from the black night sky, pelting my face and making it all the more difficult to keep my grip on my knife. The rain-slick roof was nearly impossible to keep a footing on, and for a moment I wondered how much harder it would have been if the roof had been slanted. But I put those thoughts out of my mind. The rain wasn't my biggest problem. No, my bigger problem was the two guard demons that were currently facing me down. Standard summoning, from the looks of it. Giant dog-like demons, with razor sharp teeth and horns big enough to run me through three times. I'd seen such creatures toss VW Bugs over head with their horns, and I wasn't looking forward to taking them on with nothing more than the pigsticker I currently held. My gun would have been better, but with my hand smashed there was no hope of that. The pain was throbbing, but I had to put it out of my mind. Even that wasn't the biggest problem, though. The biggest problem was across the roof from me, in the form of the wizard who was about to kill his virgin sister in order to summon a demon lord in order to garner power of some sort or another. I was fuzzy on the details, but I knew the summoning would destroy half the city. That was my biggest problem. I never should have taken this damn job.
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Some kinda fuckin' record, I swear.
Dear Customer,
Yes, we have a drawer under the kiosk that holds a small amount of stock. We mostly keep small pillows in there, because there's not enough room to make it worth trying to keep big ones in there. Not really the point.
Yes, I understand that when you asked "do you have any more small pigs?", I opened the drawer and looked while you were standing there. However, I'm unsure as to why you felt you had the right and privilage to reach into the drawer and pull more pillows out just because I Had to deal with another customer. The *proper* procedure would have been to wait the LESS THAN ONE GOD-SHIT FUCKRAPING MINUTE! that it took me to get back to your location, and ask me if we had more of a different animal. YOu're probably one of those gobshites who searches through people's dresser drawers and medicine cabinets when you're in other people's house, aren't you!?
Also? Bonus points to your vapid, air-headed, bird-brained fuck of a daughter who stood there and GOD-FUCKING WATCHED YOU OPEN THE PACKAGE OF THE PIG, and then had the fucking audacity to look at me and go "Do you have another one in a bag? I want one that hasn't been touched!". YOU DUMBSHITTER, YOUR MOTHER JUST PULLED THAT FUCKBITCH PIG OUT OF THE GOD-SUCKING BAG!
WAAAAAARRRRGHHHAARRRRBBBLLLEEEE!
...I'm a little on edge today, it seems.
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Tonight, on Rantin' and Ravin' with the All Powerful Nateboi! Apparently, The All Powerful Nateboi and The Fiancee need to talk about abortion and women's health again. Only at http://www.dementiaradio.org at 5pm CST
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So, here's the deal.
I'm a writer. You all know that. Writers tend to like to make money off their writing.
So, I was reading a forum where it was saying, because of the Kindle and other e-book readers, book piracy is becoming more popular. And not just RPG books and comic books, which have been popular to pirate since the scanner was invented, but regular, normal books. Well, that got me thinking.
I've always said that the benefit of music piracy is that musicians now have the technology to sell directly to their fans. We don't *need* a big box RECORDING! company in order to get our music. That this kind of stuff is a blessing to artists, because they can promote world wide without issue.
Well, it's time for me to put my money where my mouth is. TO that end, I now have for sale "Nateboi; The Anthology". It's a PDF with three short stories, one of which has never been read by any of you (well, maybe *one* of you), and the other two have been carefully edited and prettified. It also includes two of my rant scripts, as well as author's notes about the stories.
The PDF sells at 5 dollars, which I think is a very fair price. It's not water marked, there's no download limit (if something goes wrong, just let me know. I'll send you another copy). And I don't mind if you share it with friends. Infact, I'd like you to. I'm doing this as much to try to build up a fan base as I am to earn any money.
If you're interested in purchasing this PDF, you can send the money to my paypal account at banshee46@hotmail.com
Please allow 2-4 days for me to notice that you've sent me the money, and to get in contact with you about what e-mail address you'd like the PDF sent to. And thank you, all of you, whether you buy a PDF or not.
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| 2009-07-01 12:55 |
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Still your most dancingest seller of stuffed animal pillows in the biggest Mall in America.
As you all know, I hate it when people ask me for directions. It's a combination of factors, the main three of which are; There's a directory visible and easily gotten to from my cart, my job is not actually to give random people directions, and it presupposes that the time they'd save in actually doing something for themselves is more important than the time it takes me to try to remember where the shit a store is (because I don't shop at the Mall). My job is to sell pillows. If you have no interest in buying pillows, then really, honestly, truly, I have absolutely no responsibility to you. Now, some people are nice enough to help you randomly even if they have no reason to, but I am not one of those people. If you catch me in a good mood, I might be nice enough to point you in the direction I think the store is if I happen to remember seeing it. But really and truly, you're probably the tenth person to ask me for directions in the past hour, so unless you're buying a pillow and thus ensuring my ability to continue eating food, the best you'll get out of me is "There's a directory right over there, sir"
Imagine how much *more* annoying it is, then, when someone who is not buying anything attempts to interrupt my conversation with an *actual* customer in order to not only ask me for directions, but directions to a store that is VERY FUCKING CLEARLY VISIBLE FROM THE SPOT THEY ARE STANDING!
People who do this (and yes, I do mean that plural), you are hereby cordially invited to choke on my fuckstick.
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Ok people. I'm going to talk at you about something that has been building up for a while. It's minor, I admit, but it's one of those minor things that people keep shoveling into, eventually making it all erupt into the air like a barrel of pig shit you just shot with a shotgun.
Livejournal Cuts.
Livejournal allows for this nifty bit of HTML that allows you to cut a particularly long or akwardly shaped post (or picture) so that it doesn't screw around with the main page of your friend's page. All in all, I thnk this is a nifty peice of technology. It's polite when you make a habit of saying not kid friendly things but you might have kids on your list (not that it really stops a kid from clicking the LJ-Cut link, and if you're reading Livejournal with your six year old on your lap, maybe you should stop doing that, but I digress). But as with all nifty things, fucking *people* got a hold of it.
So let me say this loudly, and clearly. POSTS THAT ARE TWO PARAGRAPHS ARE NOT 'HUGE', AND DO NOT NEED AN LJ-CUT! You people need to get your fucking panties out of a wad. I'm tired of seeing people respond to one or two paragraph posts with "could you cut this? It's huge!". No, it's fucking NOT! If the post is a ten paragraph monstrosity? Sure, cut it. If the post contains a picture that makes a person scroll sideways? Sure, cut that bitch.
If my post is only a few paragraphs long, I don't need to fucking cut it. You need to get familiar with your god fucking scroll wheel.
Alright? Alright. We good? Well, I'm good. And that's what's important.
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I've decided that I'm probably never going to eat at another cafe style place again. I never enjoy my meals there. They always try too damn hard to be fancy, and thus end up making me sad. When I want actual food, I don't want to deal with fancy ass food that seems to be mixed with random types of vegetables, half of which I hate. Seriously, it's like when they think up entrees, they spin the Wheel O' Veggies.
"OOoh! Ravioli's stuffed with arugala and pesto!". Fuck you. Just stuff it with ground beef, alright?
"Oooh, we will make a hamburger..BUT WE'LL PUT AVACADO ON IT AND PUT IT ON WHOLE GRAIN DWARVEN BATTLE BREAD! Hell, why should we have ANY OTHER KIND OF BREAD IN THE WHOLE DAMN PLACE?! We're a fancy cafe, people *expect* whole grain dwarven battle bread!"
"Oh, you just wanted aslice of basic cheese? TOO DAMN BAD! HAVE THIS FANCY ASS FRENCH CHEESE THAT YOU CAN'T PRONOUNCE AND WE ADD TWO BUCKS TOTHE COST OF YOUR FOOD FOR!"
Tonight, I wanted to go to a chinese buffet. I was cajoled into going to some cafe style place, because they have one of my favoritest beers ever on tap. THe beer was good. But there was precisely *shit* on that menu I wanted to eat. I fnally ordered their chicken wings, which was an appetizer and not an entree, so I knew from the get go it wouldn't be enough food. THey said "cooked in balsamic vinegar". Ok, that should be at least vaguly tasty. BUt no! The cook seemed to forget that balasmic vinegar is supposed to be a subtle taste! It's not supposed to be used like fucking *ketchup*. They may have been the worst damn wings I've ever had. And given that I wasn't feeling well anyway, I couldn't even really enjoy the beer.
So, Dinner tonight = fail. Fucking cafes.
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You know, it's so convienent that WWE has finally put all their wrestlers I actually give a damn about on one show, and all their wrestlers that have been in the spotlight too god damned fucking long and I'm so sick and fucking tired of on another one. Now, I can just watch Smackdown, and I don't have to deal with *any* annoying wrestler that stopped being entertaining three years ago!
Ok, that's not fair to all the Raw wrestlers. I mean, Matt Hardy is on RAW.
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I just had this discussion with an online friend of mine, and I'M just horrendously amused at how quickly we went through the entire internet argument structure.
10:44:55 AM) bansheeish one: Hmm. Perhaps I'm not as enlightened as I think.
(10:45:12 AM) Friend X: This is entirely possible
(10:45:30 AM) bansheeish one: I'm watching Magical GIrl Lyrical Nanoha. And it's your standard magical girl anime, with all the appropriate tropes. But the main character is a grade schooler, so she's like, 9?
(10:45:45 AM) Friend X: Thereabouts, probably
(10:45:48 AM) bansheeish one: So, I breeze over the fact that she's naked during transformation. That's just how these things go, and it's not graphic, so meh.
(10:46:01 AM) bansheeish one: But apparently, the "cute fuzzy animal who's really a person who hangs out with the magical girl sees the magical girl strip down to her underwear for some reason and is embaressed" trope squicked me a bit.
(10:46:20 AM) bansheeish one: Which is weird, because it was actually stupidly tame and pretty obviously there just because it's a part of the genre, but, meh.
(10:46:48 AM) bansheeish one: I think it may be because that particular trope is always used to increase romantic/sexual tension between the girl and the possible love interest. Only...you know. She's 9
(10:47:04 AM) Friend X: And what would make you more enlightened as far as this is concerned?
(10:47:47 AM) bansheeish one: I dunno. I think being able to breeze over it with the logic of "It's pretty clearly in there because it's a trope, and it's likely the artists didn't even consider the original purpose of the trope".
(10:48:02 AM) bansheeish one: I mean, that's how I React to teenage girls wearingbondage pants. I.E., "They thought it was cool and don't know the original meaning".
(10:48:57 AM) Friend X: Well, bear in mind. It's not just in there as a trope. Certain cultures have different ideas about sex and children. They still marry female children off to adult men in India
(10:49:05 AM) bansheeish one: That too.
(10:49:19 AM) Friend X: Perfect example was I watched Memoirs of a Geisha over the weekend
(10:49:29 AM) bansheeish one: Haven't seen that, but I've heard it wa sgood.
(10:50:06 AM) Friend X: The epiphany event for this 9-year old girl in the movie is having a most-certainly adult man stop and buy her cherry ice. She decides she wants to work hard and become a geisha so she can meet him again and be part of his world.
(10:50:10 AM) Friend X: It was very good.
(10:51:06 AM) Friend X: Here's the thing - you find out later that the adult male was instrumental in the girl getting a chance at being a geisha, and at the end he comes and tells her that he orchestrated the entire thing and that he cares for her
(10:51:22 AM) Friend X: So I don't think the whole "little girl" thing is a trope. It's cultural
(10:51:59 AM) Friend X: Hell, it's pretty well known that ALL men, no matter the culture, tend to prefer women who have some child-like features.
(10:52:02 AM) bansheeish one: The "little girl" thing isn't the trope. The "magical girl undresses to her underwear in a completely innocent manner while love interest watches" is a trope.
(10:52:11 AM) bansheeish one: ...ok, now you're making shit up :P
(10:52:18 AM) Friend X: No, not really.
(10:52:24 AM) bansheeish one: [citation needed]
(10:53:05 AM) Friend X: Well, the most recent citation would be from a book on body language I'm reading. Obviously, I don't have it in front of me as I'm at work. But if you dig around some, you'll find it comes up
(10:53:29 AM) bansheeish one: Since you're the one accusing all men of latent pedophiliac tendencies, I'm thinking you're the one who'll need to provide the proof :P
(10:54:03 AM) bansheeish one: Now, it *is* true that many cultures have a thing about younger women. But then it becomes a very interesting discussion of a chicken and the egg scenario.
(10:54:36 AM) bansheeish one: Not to mention, if that's true of guys, it's equally true of women, when the sexual ideal of men is held up to be hairless and finely chiseled and other such things.
(10:57:07 AM) bansheeish one: And of course, there's still some cultural hold-over from the fact that most societies used puberty as the telling point for when people were marrying age, and we're only just now recently getting to the point where we've decided that chronological age is a better telling point.
(10:57:32 AM) Friend X: Actually, women tend to be attracted to men whom they feel can protect them
(10:58:00 AM) bansheeish one: Does that have to do with people likeing child like features, or does it have to do with cultural easiness? The younger you marry your kids off, the earlier you can stop having a burden and start getting the benefits of your kid being married.
(10:59:08 AM) bansheeish one: Now, I don't know much about your book. But in my experience of such books, any essay/writing/what not that tries to pin cultural holdovers on inborn desires is usually not full to the brim of hard, peer-reviewed evidence :P
(10:59:36 AM) Friend X: And it wasn't an accusation of pedophilia - we're not talking 3 years olds here, we're talking the young teens. It's lizard-brain stuff, really. Men want a young woman who can procreate, women want someone who can protect them and their offspring
(10:59:59 AM) Friend X: Stop and think about why men like women who shave
(11:00:13 AM) bansheeish one: Ah. Sorry, we started in the context of a 9 year old girl, so I kinda went with that :P
(11:00:15 AM) Friend X: Some stuff is just hardwired in there
(11:00:49 AM) bansheeish one: I *do* think there's something in human kind's lizard brain that goes "younger = better for mating". However, that's a far cry from "all men like a woman with some child-like features"
(11:02:06 AM) Friend X: No, it was your own personal weirdness that twisted that, m'dear.
(11:02:47 AM) bansheeish one: (10:51:59 AM) Friend X: Hell, it's pretty well known that ALL men, no matter the culture, tend to prefer women who have some child-like features.
(11:02:52 AM) Friend X: The comment stands. Men like women who look young - clear, fresh skin, shaved, most prefer someone slender (not anorexic by any means), shorter than they, etc.
(11:03:11 AM) Friend X: There's nothing wrong with the comment - YOU and YOUR personal fixations did the interpretation
(11:03:39 AM) bansheeish one: And how, precisely, is one to take the comment "All men tend to perfer women who have some child-like features"? That seems pretty straight forward.
(11:03:39 AM) Friend X: Which makes sense, given it's a hot button for you
(11:03:57 AM) Friend X: Well, I just described in factual terms what the comment meant
(11:04:10 AM) bansheeish one: ...I dunno that I'd say "hot-button". I said "the use of this particular trope seems out of place given the context of the rest of the show"
(11:04:30 AM) bansheeish one: And yes, you retreated back to a more safe position of "well, men find younger women, like, teenagers, better for mating".
(11:04:52 AM) Friend X: Hon, the subject is a hot button for you. It always has been.
(11:05:02 AM) Friend X: There's nothing wrong with that, but at least be aware of it
(11:05:21 AM) bansheeish one: No, no it really hasn't. Some people got it into their heads that because I had a younger looking character, I have some thing about younger looking women.
(11:05:34 AM) bansheeish one: Completely ignoring all the *not* younger looking characters I had.
(11:05:56 AM) Friend X: Bingo - and that's why this has become a hot button for you. You've been "burned" before by the issue, so it's triggering
(11:06:10 AM) bansheeish one: Uh...no. But thank you for the attempt at psychoanalyzation.
(11:06:26 AM) Friend X: The point is, my statement wasn't an accusation against you, or any man. You're the one who took it that way.
(11:06:35 AM) bansheeish one: I didn't take it as an accusation.
(11:06:40 AM) Friend X: Heh - you can say no, but your actions state otherwise. *laugh*
(11:06:48 AM) bansheeish one: I took it was an incorrect statement. The two are not the same.
(11:06:55 AM) Friend X: [09:53] bansheeish one: Since you're the one accusing all men of latent pedophiliac tendencies, I'm thinking you're the one who'll need to provide the proof
(11:07:01 AM) Friend X: Yes, you did take it as an accusation
(11:07:07 AM) bansheeish one: Again, you said "all men like child-like features".
(11:07:16 AM) bansheeish one: That is a statement of having some pedophiliac tendencies.
(11:07:30 AM) Friend X: No, it's not. You're interpreting it that way.
(11:08:59 AM) Friend X: But it's neither here nor there, and certainly not worth grappling over
(11:11:04 AM) bansheeish one: pe⋅do⋅phil⋅i⋅a Show Spelled Pronunciation [pee-duh-fil-ee-uh] Show IPA –noun Psychiatry. sexual desire in an adult for a child.
(11:11:17 AM) bansheeish one: Pretty straightforward there, sweet stuff.
(11:11:41 AM) bansheeish one: That being said. The safer position you retreated to, in which you stated that we're hardwired to see "young = better for mating" would be very, very hard to disprove.
(11:12:06 AM) bansheeish one: AT this point, however, it's at least as much cultural as it is genetic/instinctive. And then we get back to a chicken and the egg discussion.
(11:13:03 AM) bansheeish one: Also, liking women who shave is a cultural thing. A good number of women in Europe don't actually shave, at least from what I've been told by people who live there, and I'd be hard pressed to believe that women in places like Yemen and Iran are allowed the amount of vanity it would take to shave. Maybe they do. But I doubt it.
(11:13:47 AM) Friend X: Did you not note "child-LIKE" features? I didn't say "All men like children." Far from it. I said they like child-like features, meaning they prefer their women to have features one sees in children: like the clear, fresh skin, less body hair, being shorter, being slender, and so forth.
(11:14:43 AM) bansheeish one: Right. And that's why I used the phrase "latent pedophiliac tendencies" rather than "pedophile". One indicates subconcious wishes for things along that line, the other indicates full blown. When one is arguing semantics, one must take into account *all* semantics.
So, let's see. We have "mitigation of damage through appearance of compromise" ("well, women want someone who can protect them"). Retreat to a safer position ("men like younger teens, really, and that use of the words 'child like' was meant to denote young teens!") attack of person ('you wouldn't be acting this way if it wasn't a hotbutton topic') and arguing of semantics ('I didn't mean *child* when I said 'child like'...)
Ain't the internet grand?
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I just finished snaking out a particularly annoying clog from our bathroom sink.
Oh, that clog *tried* to hold on. It worked very, very hard to not let go. We used an entire bottle of high grade drain cleaning liquid, to no avail. The clog scoffed at our pathetic attempts to use a plunger. But I would not be denied!
With the eye of a warrior, I went to the hardware store to take up an appropriate weapon. I quickly found the shelves full of drain snakes. But no mere snake would do! No, I found a gun-like apparatus, complete with a grip and a rotating handle. Armed with what I now call "Clog-Smasher", I stepped into the bathroom. With the might of my hands, I ripped apart the pipes so as to get an easier shot at the clog.
Oh, but that clog did hold on. It was an epic, half hour struggle. The clog would attempt to shove back the snake. It hid deep within the recesses of our pipes. But I would not be denied! I shoved and pushed the length of Clog-Smasher into the pipes, the pointed-spiral of it's tip aimed at the clog like the finger of God at a trailer park in Alabama. Three times I had to pull the whole length of Clog-Smasher back out of the pipe, to pull clog-body parts off my weapon. But even being rent in half wouldn't make the clog relent in it's ceaseless clogging of my drain! So back into the fray I would leap, once more tossing aside bits of hair and whatever other gunk was part of this clog like a pissed off tornado throws around rusted out engine parts, until finally. Finally! I emerged victorious!
No drain remains clogged while I still breath! No clog can withstand the might of Clog-Smasher! I AM AS SUPER FUCKING MARIO, BITCHNUTS, AND I WILL NOT BE DENIED!
Now where's Princess Toadstool with my blowjob?
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Surreal moment. Have you ever seen something that made you think about what your life might be like if one thing had been different, and suddenly, for just a moment, you are that different person. For one fleeting moment, you see life the way they do, you feel what they feel, think what they think, know what they know. And then it's gone. And you find yourself wondering, did you make all that up? It was too real to dismiss utterly. Did you happen to share a rare moment with a worldview that was alien to yours? Or does that you exist, somewhere else, in another space and time? And if so, what are they like? Why did that one different thing make them so different from you? And what would it take for you to be that person? And then you forget about it all, because you have to get to work, and it's your turn to do the stock, and those numbers are always tough to keep track of. And you're left with nothing but a faint feeling that, for good or for ill, something else might have been.
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You know, if I was a Japanese Woman Ninja, and I had to go do ninja things, I'd wear an iron breast plate and a chastity belt.
Sure, it would make it tougher to do ninja things, but when the inevitable rape attempt happened, they'd have to work that much harder for it.
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