"This is an abortionist talking to other abortionist[s] (who, by the way, appear to agree wholeheartedly with everything she says). Do you hear that, 'pro-choicers'? Even the damned abortionists aren't trying to claim it isn't a person or it isn't killing or it isn't horrifically violent. They just think killing people is the 'most important thing they can do with their life.' Forget how utterly disturbing it is that anyone would call killing innocent people 'the most important thing' they could ever do, let's just focus on the fact that pro-aborts who use the 'clump of cells' argument do so despite the abortionists themselves saying otherwise... To review, a woman recounted killing a baby and having its eyeballs fall out of its skull. The room full of abortionists laughed hysterically and applauded. And, if you recall, these are people who fully admit the 'fetus' is actually, in their words, a 'baby,' a 'person,' and 'alive.' They fully admit it is, again in their words, 'violence' and 'killing.' Yet they find it funny and charming to hear about a dead baby's severed eyeballs...
"The stuff about selling baby parts is terrible and outrageous, but maybe it shouldn't have ever been positioned as the headline. The headline is, or should be, the simply reality of what abortion is, how abortionists themselves view it, and just the general callousness and cruelty and sadism these people exude... Pro-aborts: abortion doctors admit they are murdering human babies, and they think it's funny. How do you feel about that? Forget tissue sale. How do you feel about the fact that you are in favor of something the abortion industry itself describes as killing babies? How do you feel when you hear a room full of cackling psychos laugh and applaud at the thought of a dead child's eyeballs rolling around on the floor?"
There, I've already given it more coverage than the mainstream media. Now on that cheery note, let's move on. I don't feel inspired to write anything in particular but I'm going to force myself to write anyway, which is usually a bad sign. To wrest out of context a quote from one of my Facebook friends the other day, "I'm excited to see just how terrible this franchise can get. Because when the co-manager of the production company in charge of the film says (and I'm not making this up, it's an actual quote): 'If this is successful, we hope to include more, we'll continue this as long as we possibly can' you really can expect some quality story... right?"
One highlight of this past week was that a girl called me "my knight in shining armor", but that's not really a story, because it was just that and that was it. And then when I mentioned it to one of my other friends (Marie, for those who remember her) she said "Either you're deep in the friendzone or she likes you" and then I wondered why apparently it's okay for girls to use the word "friendzone" but if a guy says it he's the worst person in the world, at least whenever I've observed it. Like, whenever a guy posts something like "How can I get out of the friendzone?" I just wait and watch for everybody to pile on him and be like "I can't believe you're using the word 'friendzone', which doesn't exist, unironically in 2015." But when I see girls say it, no one bats an eyelash. Oh well. Maybe it's like how black people are allowed to use racial slurs against themselves.
Speaking of race... what do you notice about this chart?
Actually, society's leg-humping obsession with skin color in 2015 is stupid altogether. It's embarrassing to hear some of these people talk and realize that they're being completely serious. Nothing has changed since Booker T. Washington wrote 104 years ago, "I am afraid that there is a certain class of race-problem solvers who don't want the patient to get well, because as long as the disease holds out they have not only an easy means of making a living, but also an easy medium through which to make themselves prominent before the public."
Here's a delightful example of such BS that I encountered recently: "In America white people are conditioned to subconsciously feel superior. [Way to make a sweeping, insulting generalization.] It's possible that they feel this way and aren't even aware of it. [See, if you're white but you don't think you feel superior, you're just too stupid to know yourself. Fortunately a benevolent mind-reading black person is here to help you.] When most all major leadership positions in the US are filled with white people it reaffirms white superiority. [Yeah, because who cares that the freaking President, the most prominent and visible leadership position and so-called "most powerful man in the world", is black. He's practically invisible.] Christ taught that we are all equal. [Duh. Is this a response to the statistically insignificant "we aren't all equal" demographic, or just a straw man?] So my question is, are you willing to listen? [Condescending and patronizing.] Or are you coming here to teach? Are your views so superior that you're unwilling to hear the cries of all of Gods [sic] children? [Straw man. The only person talking about superiority is you.] Or are you coming to excersize [sic] love compassion and empathy as the lord has commanded? [Wow. Get off your high horse already.]"
And then this comment stood out. "White people on this site: if you are arguing with he [sic], then you don't get it. Go back to Black People in America 101 and start over. When your eyes are open, you'll understand empathetically and exactly what she said without feeling like you have to defend yourselves." Translation: "If your understanding of yourselves is different from our assertions about you, then your opinion is invalid. Only black people's opinions about this matter."
I feel like sharing a story, for no particular reason, mind you. One time I was out walking at night and having a great deal of fun removing the leaf piles from storm drains. After I had finished, I was crossing through the crosswalk of an empty street when somebody pulled up to it, paused at the stop sign, and then proceeded to start going again while I was directly in front of him. Like, so directly in front of him that Mr. Magoo could have seen me. But alas, this man was either blinder or stupider than Mr. Magoo. I put up my hands to indicate that I would appreciate it if he didn't kill me, and calmly explained, "HEY, MORON! WHAT THE ---- ARE YOU DOING!?" before indicating my displeasure with a choice hand signal. He just stared at me with all the comprehension of a dead cow.
Afterward, of course, I regretted these impulsive words and actions that had burst out of me in the heat of the moment. If I'd had just a few more moments to mentally prepare myself, I would have behaved differently. I would have used more swear words, indicated my displeasure with both hands, and kicked his car for good measure. His stupidity was what really made me angry. I don't know this for a fact, but I suspect that I would be slightly less angry if someone actually tried to kill me. I know there are people who would do so in a heartbeat if it was legal. What makes me angry at times like this is the prospect that I should have to become real dead because someone else is braindead. (That, incidentally, is the same reason I detest anti-vaxxers so much, though in that case at least my anger is altruistic because it's their children and the immunocompromised people I'm actually concerned about.)
As I continued home, thinking about how I hoped he would crash into a tree and remove himself from the gene pool, the thought came to me, What if he was your bishop or something? Without hesitation I retorted, I don't care if he was President Monson. He has no right to drive like that. It did occur to me to wonder, "What would Jesus do?" But I can't do what I think Jesus would do, because I think Jesus would use His powers to disable the car and take the guy out of it. He'd be like, "Sorry, buddy, I forgive you and everything, but we can't have you on the streets endangering people." Or maybe He'd even perform a miracle and heal the guy's blindness.
Between there and home I passed through a public park, and I went to use their bathroom. I wasn't sure if it would be open. The parks always close their bathrooms for the winter because no one ever has to pee during the winter. But it was still open, and right before I went in I noticed that I was actually going into the women's bathroom because someone had defaced the sign and in the dark the stick figure actually did just look like a chunky guy. But I was like, Whatever, it's late and no one's around and no one cares, so I went in. I realized afterward that this might have been illegal, and if so, oops.
Once inside, the first thing I noticed was one of the largest spiders I've ever seen. It was building a web in the corner next to the first toilet. Oh-ho, I thought, God is in a playful mood, I see. I felt sorry for it, realizing that in the near future it would probably get squished and/or flushed, and I looked around for some way to pick it up and place it outside, but to no avail. I wasn't about to touch it with my bare hands. While the mere sight of the creature didn't faze me, I was less than enthused about the prospect of it jumping onto my face. So I had to leave it there with my regrets. As I left, though, I realized that my anger and my animosity toward that stupid stranger had evaporated. It's funny how life works sometimes.
Now for a more serious and bittersweet but hopefully inspiring story that was shared with me by a friend who hopefully won't be angry at me for repeating it anonymously.
"I used to go all out and put on makeup and dress super nice, but then I noticed people wouldn't really talk to me or would make preconceived notions about who I was. They always seemed super surprised when they actually got to know me. Especially when they found out I was actually geeky and outdoorsy and not just a sissy girly girl. Because of that there was a time when I did not really take pride in who I was and therefore tried to hide in sweatshirts and sweats. I wanted people to like me and so tried to fit into the constraints they were comfortable putting me in.
"But then I had an epiphany. If I want to dress nice and express myself through my clothing, then by all means I will. I'm not going to let anybody dictate whether or not I want to look nice. The same thing goes for other things I like and believe in. I dress and act the way I do because it makes me happy. And I choose to be happy."
I can't improve on that, so no comment.
Here's a song for Halloween that I remember fondly from kindergarten. Unfortunately it's full of annoying beeps and doesn't actually go through the pages of the book, but sometimes life is like that.