The Scoop of Poop
Source: Rones. OpenClipArt.org.
Somewhere out there, in the world, is a person I hate. I’ve never met this person, but I hate him or her just the same. I do not allow the fact that I don’t know the person’s identity to slow me down.
I know what they did. That’s enough for me.
It all started and ended (literally) when my wife brought home a cat.
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An open letter to Anita Sarkeesian #gamergate
Sarkessian with some of the video games used to research Tropes vs Women in Video Games. “Anita Sarkeesian + Research Materials” by Anita Sarkesian is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
Note: I have chosen to include the “gamergate” hashtag with this post. Am I using it correctly? I don’t really know. I don’t have a friggin’ clue. I am not a gamegate scholar. I don’t have the time or inclination. I don’t really care if I’m using it improperly. That’s not what this post is about. IMHO a lot of people are trying to control, define and co-opt the term based on their own bias, point of view and/or agendas. I’m not taking sides in any gamergate wars. Any offense you perceive as you read the following is your own. –Ed.
Dear Ms. Sarkeesian,
May I call you Anita? I hope so. If not, that’s okay, too. Either way, no offense is intended.
I’ll be honest. I look up to you. I think you are a true modern day hero. When I say “hero” I mean that in the grandest sense of the word. You rock.
Wikipedia says that “[a] hero (masculine) or heroine (feminine) refers to characters who, in the face of danger and adversity or from a position of weakness, display courage and the will for self-sacrifice—that is, heroism—for some greater good of all humanity.” Two different words for “hero” based on gender? Isn’t that part of the problem? Whatever. Either way, I believe a “hero” is you.
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Grand Unification Theory of Reproduction
Four out of five doctors recommend removing that leech from your neck. You’re supposed to apply them outside the body. That’s our key action point of the day.
I stylishly removed my fedora and flung it like a frisbee. No phone booths were to be found. I was about to write something for the Daily Diatribe, a major metropolitan daily in the uber city of Grabham. And I was their intrepid reporter.
Yeah, it was something like that when I had my latest epiphany.
We all know parents are the worst people to have children. But why?
The idea came to me when watching the birth of a little baby deer. Plop! It landed on the ground. Gross. But in a few minutes it struggled to it’s feet. It was already walking!
A few more minutes and it was able to prance. And, by the very next day, it was able to beat an average University of Portland student at ping pong. But what did this mean? (Besides the fact that UP students can’t play ping pong for shit.)
Oh, yeah. Now I remember. Human babies are slow at survival and being able to fend for themselves. Our species may be the most intelligent (heh!) on this planet but it comes at a very high cost. We all start as utterly helpless lifeforms.
And therein lies the rub.
Love Warcraft Style
I can show you the world … of warcraft.
Have you met that couple? You know the one. So oogly moogly in love that they shout it for all to hear, whether they want to know or not. “Look at us,” they emote. “We are the world’s greatest lovers. We’ll be together to infinity … and beyond!” Then comes more mushy stuff than you can shake a stick at.
Gag me.
They say that the stars that burn the brightest have the messiest divorces. (Or something like that.)
So how do you go from endless love to histrionics like this? (My emphasis added.)
Filled with absolute dread as I’ll soon be near that son of bitch in court.
–Social media update
I think it helps if you originally met in World Of Warcraft, the massively online multiplayer game.
I’ll never forget the day we met. The sun was setting as I rode hard across the Arathi Highlands. Stromgarde Keep was my goal. I was going to kill that usurper Lord Falconcrest once and for all. Involuntarily my exposed bones shivered at the mere thought of that son of a bitch. “For the Horde,” I screamed into the night.
But I did not yell alone. Surprised, my hand dropped warily to the hilt of my halberd and I turned and saw you. I looked into those dull, cow-like Tauren eyes and was gone. Totally gone. Together we stormed the keep and never looked back…
Bonus points if you get the Aladdin reference.
We Are The Hurled
The Law of Biology states:
An organism will do anything it can.
The hypothetical and highly imaginary Law of Ethics states:
Just because you can do a thing doesn’t mean you should.
BZZT! Shock administered to test subject. The word “should” is disallowed. You lose a turn. Go back to START.
Okay. How far back should I go?
Hmm. No need to be excessive. How about the day your slimy species grew legs, became amphibious and hauled itself up out of the primordial ooze and lay panting on the beach?
So yeah, the other day I became embroiled in a discussion on Twitter about free speech. It all started when a person I follow stated they were under attack by some haters. Not only that, but she had just written a piece about how the haters were attacking her supporters, too. Hate by proxy, I guess. Adding my two cents, I responded with this pearl of wisdom:
“You have the right to your voice. Online harassers shouldn’t be allowed to operate with impunity.”
Naturally, as if to prove her point, I picked up some criticism of my own. I then got involved in a surprisingly civil discussion about the perils of too much free speech and what, if anything, constitutes “hate speech.” I began by asking my new-found critic a simple question: Where do YOU draw the line on anonymous online free speech?
His reply? “I don’t. Sticks and stones…”
No limits on free speech? None??? Such is the world of absolutes that some find friendly. This got me to thinking. Twitter, alas, was too limiting of a medium to try to explore some complicated concepts, so this post was born.
What would a world with no limits on free speech look like? Warning: This isn’t going to be pretty.
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Everyone Loves A Charade
So I went to a parade the other day. I was curious to re-experience the phenomenon since it had been quite some time. The last time I saw a parade was from within as a member of the high school’s marching band playing my trombone.
Yeah, it’s really been that long. I avoid public events religiously. I recently lived ten years in a small town. During that time I successfully avoided all the parades, county fairs, classic car shows and even the yearly carnivals festively known to the locals as “dirt bowls.” I’m a hardcore avoider and parade dodger.
The parade started with the police and fire departments showing off their rides. Meh. I grudgingly gave them a pass since this is apparently the traditional way to start a parade. I fleetingly wondered how much it was costing me.
Then came some beauty queens riding in the back of convertibles. Meh. Mildy amoosing.
This was followed by the “citizen of the year” aka a person I don’t know in car.
At last, the grand marshal. A person in a car. I was starting to swoon from … too … much … excitement. Suddenly I realized I could have been back at home watching Star Trek: The Animated Series on Netflix.
In case you missed it, the theme of the parade was “Undying Love For The Internal Combustion Engine.”
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Thar Be Trolls
I find myself still thinking about yesterday’s story about road rage and the trolling its spawned in comment sections galore. Mostly consisting of death threats and hate. That seems to be who we have become as a people.
I found a post I like on the topic of healthier responses to trolls. It offers three key points on how to view trolls in a different way. I think the points make sense although they might be a skosh overly optimistic on humanity itself.
It also includes an extremely disturbing example of religion-based extreme trolling that took my breath away. Wow.
This is my reblog of the week.
Jana Riess – Religion News: The care and feeding of Mormon trolls: A guest post by Stephanie Lauritzen
Shouts from the Abyss 
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