Once upon a time, there was a feminist that enthusiastically protested outside of a prison where a convicted serial killer of women was to be executed. There was no doubt he was guilty, but the feminist and other SJWs friends proudly shouted their chants and waved their protest signs.
The feminist was saddened when she told her friends she had to leave early. She explained that she had an appointment later in the day to get an abortion. She felt so empowered to have control over her own body.
After the abortion, she stopped by the animal shelter and picked out a rescue dog. The dog was scheduled to be put down that very day. The dog was so cute. She went out and splurged on little toys, chew bones and a comfy bed for her new arrival. She had saved that dog and made a home for it. She went to bed that night feeling really good about herself.
The End …of principles, reason, compassion, and an innocent life
She still seems pretty compassionate to me.
(Getting an abortion doesn’t mean a person doesn’t have compassion or reason if that’s what you are trying to imply, and they are not hypocrites if they went to get a dog. If you’re trying to conflate the two or imply something else, it didn’t really work.)
Are they implying that adopting a dog is something immoral?
Apparently adopting a dog that was close to being euthanized is bad because she is anti death penalty (even if the dude’s guilty of a crime without a doubt) and got an abortion. She saved the life of an animal, but let a criminal not die on death row and didn’t let a fetus use her body.
Oh for fffffff-no, no I am not creating crystal discourse. I’ve had it the fuck up to here with other holistics breathing down my neck for months. Drink your fucking “mineral water”. It’ll probably still taste better than kool-aid.
It’s $80 per bottle. What the entire fuck.
What
wh
whuat
can someone,,, Explain why this is bad
(anyone, really)
It’s not gonna HURT you
But if you want a bottle of water with a rock in it you can buy a bag of polished quartz or rose quartz or smokey quartz for, like, $10 and throw a rock in a thermos of water WITHOUT paying $80 a bottle.
Oh god I went to their website because I wanted to see what was up an
1. At least they strictly use varieties of quartz, which is inert in water.
2. The Citrine quartz bottle is sold out.
3. THEY SOLD OUT OF $80 BOTTLES WITH ROCKS IN THEM THAT THEY CLAIM WILL HELP YOU LOSE WEIGHT
From their website
Citrine is the crystal of manifestation. This golden, yellowish calming stone encourages fullness of life, fresh beginnings, and new pursuits. Its frequency increases and awakens creativity and imagination. Often called The Merchant’s Stone; Citrine is a crystal of abundance and manifestation used to attract wealth, prosperity, and all things good. It also encourages generosity and sharing. Citrine is prized as a weight loss stone for its ability to increase mindfulness of the body and recognition of internal hunger cues in the body.
Bolding is mine.
Also,
Our namesake SOJI, was born from the ancient spiritual practice called Soji. Soji is a Zen word relating to the practice of “Temple Cleansing.”
The practice is simple. After morning meditation, all members are assigned a basic cleaning task on the Temple grounds (Sweep the hallway, clean the walls, polish the windowpanes). After about 20 minutes the work leader rings a bell signaling the end of all work. If the hallway is half swept, if the walls are not complete, if the only 5 of the 15 windowpanes are polished – it does not matter, as the “destination” or “completion” is not the intention. The goal was not to complete the task, but to be present during the task.
Approaching everyday tasks the Soji way redirects our energies not towards the future goal, but into the present process. It reminds us that life is not about finishing, but more simply about doing. If we adopt the mindset to own the present journey rather than the elusive destination we may be more mindful and grateful.
FELLOW WHITE PEOPLE WE NEED TO HAVE A FUCKING TALK
These horrific, sexist, racist paragraphs – screenshotted and shared for posterity by James Smythe, to whom we are all indebted – are the work of one Liam O’Flynn, a writer and English teacher. Evidently, they come from his book Writing With Stardust: the Ultimate Descriptive Guide for students, parents, teachers, and lovers of English, and are intended as examples of good writing.
UM.
Dear white male writers: DO NOT DO THIS SHIT. IT IS SUPER GROSS AND FETISHISTIC AND ALSO TERRIBLE WRITING. THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS.
Like I just. “Her virility-brown eyes -” WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN? How can you have an “Amazonian figure”ON a “wafer-thin body” when “figure” is a word that describe’s a body’s shape, and Amazonian means pretty much the DIRECT FUCKING OPPOSITE of “wafer-thin” in the first place?
What the shitting fuck does ANY of this mean, apart from “I am only nebulously familiar with the concept of women and completely at a loss if I can’t compare their various bodyparts to jewels, animals and footstuffs”?
STOP
GO TO WRITING JAIL
GO DIRECTLY TO WRITING JAIL, DO NOT PASS GO, DO NOT COLLECT $200
tag yourself i’m the two beryl-green jewels in the snow
if her ears frame her nose do they like, grow directly beside her nose? how does she see from them?
*facepalm*
“
Writing With Stardust: the Ultimate Descriptive Guide for students, parents, teachers, and lovers of English
“
lovers of english
oh my goddddddd
i can’t get over this fucking post
“I loved her nebulous, eden-green eyes which were a-sparkle with the ‘joie de vivre’. They were like two beryl-green jewels melted onto snow.”
1. what the fuck is joie de vivre
2. melted jewels?
3. beryl green
eden green:
WHICH ONE IS ITTTTTTTTT
@laughlikesomethingbroken “Joie de vivre” is a French phrase that literally translates to “joy of living”, while it IS one of those phrases that gets used in English in this context it is SO EXTRA AND UNNECESSARY OH MY GOD. Don’t use French to make yourself sound sophisticated when you’re NOT
I don’t know where to even START. Curvilinear waist? Sugar candy-sweet? What the FUCK are seraph’s ears? Voguish clothes? What the everloving fuck is “constellation blue” supposed to mean??? Like forget the objectification, this writing is horrifying enough before we even get to the embedded sexism
seraph’s ears are ears that you can’t see bc they’re hidden behind her 6 wings
Oyster white teeth?
holy purple prose batman
Female writers do this too. Have you read a Mills and Boon novel? Have you read high school girls’ yaoi fanfics?
Uh oh, we were focusing too much on how a grown man is selling this shit and not enough shitting on teenage girls. Egalitarians here to put an end to that shit.
Guess what? I’ve read A LOT of Harlequin novels and a LOT of fanfic and I have never ever seen anything this horrible at description.
Also, none of those stories were trying to hold themselves up as high examples of the craft
You guys here is the description of the book on Amazon.
If this is the description I cannot think how bad the inside is.
I never ever want to hear anyone make fun of fanfic writers again
NEVER EVER
Lord god almighty. I’ve been feeling really down about my writing lately, but this is a confidence boost. 8I
if we have a meme for shitty male writing, we really need one for shitty thin writing because holy s h i t
who wrote this atrocity i want names
this is the book:
it’s ten years old (published in 2008) and i recently found it on my bookshelf with a $1.99 clearance sticker and no memory of ever purchasing it, lmao (can’t even figure out where i bought it)
i brought it to work because ive been bored in the downtime and it was just. so bad i couldnt even get past this page, which was like page 2 (not even joking)
at least it’s got a bunch of shitty reviews on goodreads. one of which says “
Leave it to Garton to treat Lycanthropy like a STD. Abuse, Rape, Fat Shaming, Adultery, and plenty mo’ raping to go around. Good times.”
When a customer says some Weird Shit in the middle of check-out,
Okay, so very recently, I was cashiering for Publix, and it was late at night, and I actually didn’t wanna be there, go figure. So this woman walks up, buying about 15-20 items, which is a pretty clean run for me, so I’m scanning her groceries, and we carry a small conversation.
During this conversation, she asks me if I’m in school, and I say yes. I tell her about how exams went, as they were near that period, and told her I had a Biology exam that was over genetics. And she looks me straight in the eyes, with seriousness of a heart attack being read in every wrinkle of her white soccer mom face, and says: “Oh, I’m a Christian, I don’t believe in genetics.”
Flabbergasted. My eyes do that spinny rainbow thing that Apple computers do when theyre buffering. A second goes by. I’ve gone through all stages of grief at this point, but haven’t reached acceptance. I have to say something, I have to say SOMETHING. If I just stare at her through this, she’ll know I think she’s fucking dumb and she might get angry, and I don’t need that. Two seconds have gone by. I have stopped scanning groceries at this point, and am just being violently shot back and forth between two sections of the galaxy. I can feel my body taking leave of my soul. Three seconds. I have to say something.
“Anyway, I did well on my accounting exam, so that’s something. Do you have any coupons?”
I would like to share this beautiful passage with all of you, it’s long, but worth it. And I swear to god I didn’t alter any of this.
….
Her long hair, still wet from the shower, had been combed down her back in a wet swath. Hilda was sitting on the floor, her round, wet boobs still wet from the shower’s water. She dried off the water with a towel, which then became wet.
Hilda gasped when she saw a reflection in her bedroom mirror: through the slightly open door, she caught a glimpse of the chiseled abs and square jaw of the mysterious stranger who shared her cabin. She stood and spun around, her breasts swinging heavily with the momentum. She grabbed the door and flung it open, revealing shirtless Torolf (which is seriously his name) quivering with desire in the hallway.
Torolf was ashamed at being caught, but his shame made him even hotter – hotter for sex. He stepped into the room, and his bulging abs accidentally smushed into Hilda’s rich chest.
As Hilda’s buttermilk bosoms squished up against his granite abs, Torolf almost had a dick aneurysm. “Hilda,” Torolf murmured thickly, his throbbing meat wand pressing against Hilda’s warm thighs. “There is a secret I need to not tell you: You are my forbidden desire.”
Hilda had been waiting to hear these words. Her heart was lifted on golden wings and soared toward a radiant sun of perfect joy. She saw herself and Torolf happy together, bathed in the golden light of love. Her snooch got all warm, too.
“Torolf,” Hilda moaned, her lush teats straining with desire. “I need you.” Torolf, coarse abs pulsing softly in the moonlight, stood silently. Hilda looked at him expectantly. “Oh, sorry,” she added. “Torolf, I need you – sexually.”
At hearing those beautiful words, Torolf flexed his rough-hewn abs and Hilda found herself being guided to her soft bed by the sheer force of Torolf’s undulating midsection. She parted her thighs in anticipation, exposing the soft pink petals of her clunge.
Torolf entered her like she was a lottery. His engorged pecker pushed inside her and she felt fulfilled with sexual fulfillment.
Hilda clutched at the bedsheets with lust and ecstasy and her hands. Her spongy love mountains hurled to and fro with each pounding. Her body was like a beautiful flower that was opening and somebody was pushing their dick inside it.
Then Torolf moaned, arched his back, and suffered from dick Parkinson’s. He pumped in all of his hot pearlescent sperms as Hilda spasmed with so many orgasms!
The two lay still for a moment as the stinky scent of lovemaking billowed around the room. Hilda got out of bed, still shimmering with orgasm. She glowed with contentment, like a cat who ate the cream of the crop.
She walked across the room and picked up her towel, still wet with shower water. “Torolf,” she said softly, “there’s something I have to tell you…”
But her bed was empty.
Torolf was gone, escaped out the bedroom window. In the distance, Hilda heard the fading sound of galloping abs.
….
DICK
ANEURYSM
GALLOPING ABS
Who told this lady she could write?
Why did she ever stop?
IT GETS WORSE THE FURTHER IN THE PASSAGE YOU GO OMG
It’s called The Pearl Royale,
and its appearance suggests it’s fit for a queen. Created by Australian
jeweler Colin Burn, the made-to-order piece is composed of solid
platinum and bejeweled with pink and white diamonds, blue sapphires, and
South Sea pearls. Stylistically, its crown-shaped top connotes royalty
– or, say, something that would be perfect for the paramour of a
Russian oligarch. The South Sea pearl at the top of the device functions
as a key to operate it or can be detached and worn as a necklace. If
you want all your friends to know just how fancy you like your bespoke
love, the custom tool comes in a wall-mountable display box.
Love too surf the internet at 2 in the morning.
They also have a £138,000 king cobra-shaped platinum cock ring (“Thought to be the most exclusive cock ring in the world”), but I hear the silver one works nearly as well in terms of ostentatiously preserving your vile tumescence.
Granted, I’m only 40% certain they’ve ever actually sold a single product.
“RECENTLY THERE’S BEEN A LOT OF PEOPLE ONLINE CHALLENGING EACH OTHER TO CHEW THROUGH WATERMELON. IS THERE ANYONE WILLING TO CHALLENGE ME??” *smacks head three times with plate* “[UNINTELLIGIBLE]” *gross wet chomping noises*
Urocyon's Jaunts 2.0 
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