Since, like all people like this, the concept of editing for conciseness or clarity is far beyond their weak kung fu, so I'll take the liberty of fixing that.
So here's a story about murder but she made it boring somehow, I don't know. Her conclusion is that it's "probably for the best" that a guy who killed three people doesn't get out of jail. Taking a controversial stance, I see.
One day my son is going to ask me about the ugliness in the world and he'll ask me how it is one person's actions can destroy so many lives, and why there isn't more done to stop it.
"Read the short story (or watch the movie, whichever) 'Minority Report' and check back with me."
Actually read the story. I won't do anything pretentious like say "it's better than the movie" but it does feature 100% less Tom Cruise.
I think a teenager kinda sorta flirted with me in Wal-Mart today. If he was a day over 18, I'll eat my hat.
The really sad part is I saw him later with his mother, and then I realized why he looked so damn familiar. I know his older brother from high school, and I even went to his house once. His older brother was two years younger than me.
I feel like a dirty old woman. Seriously, wtf?
Way to go, grandma!
We're so completely incapable of respecting women that we don't realize the heroic odds against which women labor to lead full lives.
Maybe it's because I'm a huge mythologfag but I kind of resent the term "heroic odds" in application to average existence.
Even if you hit fifteen royal flushes in a row in poker it's-- actually that'd be pretty awesome, come to think of it. Yeah, when that happens you can call yourself a hero.
And, God, I'm so damned sick of idiots who whine, "But don't you believe women should take basic precautions?! All it is is locking a door....or wearing pants....or not drinking....or not having a life......:"
Having played with a woman character in FFXI for going on a year now, I'm convinced you're fully capable of defending yourself. Just make sure your pants are Byakko's Haidate and you're toting a blau doch (German grammar ahoy! [brotip, SE: it should be baluer doch]) or something.
Remember: someone always has the upper hand, so make sure it's you!
Here's the precautions that people think women should take: don't wear mini skirts, high heels, walk at night, keep your keys poked out between your fingers, don't park in ramps, don't wear overalls, long hair, ponytails, drink with guys, go to parties, and in short, don't have fun.
It's probably my unique advantage of being a white man (and am therefore more likely to do the raping than be raped) but all of these sound like perfectly reasonable conclusions. I mean look at Shaolin monks: no one is raped less than Shaolin monks, and it's because they're bald and masters of kung fu.
Live in fear, ladies, is the message, and then people will gloat because, hey, somebody's got to suffer, and isn't that women are supposed to do?
Live in fear is sound advice, actually. People are far too trusting of other people. This applies to men as much as women, but women are more likely to be raped, so it's probably safe to take some precautions.
Never once have I heard my male friends warned to look over their shoulder, to walk with their keys ready to fend off an attacker, to keep an eye on a drink at a party lest someone slip something into it, etc.
I do all of this shit just because it pays to be alert. I also watch the drinks of others. Nothing gets through on my watch.
Haven't caught anyone slipping anyone a roofie but I have caught someone SNEEZING ON SOMEONE'S DRINK GROSS.
Also the CIA keeps emailing me about a job fair. Coincidence? Hell no, they know about my super spy powers.
On the one hand, I really dislike religion and its trappings. I'm nowhere near an atheist, but I tend to be far more spiritual than anything else,
No not reading this.
It's frustrating. For a long time I felt nothing, then a few months ago I mentioned wanting to get back into the whole pagan deal, but nothing ever came of it.
Ha, ha, ha, ha llllllllllllllllll.
You know, there's many a night when I lie in bed and ask myself questions. The questions range from the mundane (Did I turn off all the lights? Did I put the kiddo's folder in his backpack for shool?) to the spiritual (Is there really an afterlife?) and the philosophical (Is this the real life, or just fantasy? Am I caught in a landslide with no escape from reality?*). But in all honesty** there is no question I ask myself more than this: "What's the precise percentage of skin a woman should expose in order to attract a male partner*** and not look like a cheating whore?"
I don't usually ask myself questions so much as wonder what life would be like if sleep worked like the Elder Scrolls games. You know, a bar just pops up and empties and suddenly 9 hours have passed?
A local dentist, someone I went to when I was the kiddo's age, shot and killed himself the day before yesterday.
True story: dentists are three times more likely to kill themselves than any other occupation.
Now here's the world's longest post that is way too much fucking personal information, but it's totally awesome.
Guess how many mental breakdowns she's had? At least one!
I...I think I'm starting to like Lady Gaga, guys. I might even purchase her albums...
>buy
>music
Now there's a series of Tweets that she seriously overestimates herself if she thinks I'm reading.Good day, all.
