silverie-stitches:

lusoric:

gallowscalibratorh3h3:

……WHATS SAD IS I HAVE SEVERAL GREAT GUYS I GAME WITH AND THEYA RE SWEETHEARTS AND NOT THE ASSHOLES WHO MAKE FUN OF FEMALE GAMERS
AND I ONCE DID THIS AND OMG I WAS LIKE COVERED WITH AMO AND I LAUGHED ALL
'AWW YEEEA MY MAN WHORES KNOW HOW TO KEEP MAMA HAPPY'
AND I SWEAR THEY LAUGHED SO MUCH ONCE CHOKED ON A CIGARETTE LKSDHFLHK

At first I thought this was going to be one of those “gamer girl” posts about how “girls suck at video games lolzor” and I was like ugh, running out of ammo is a normal thing it doesn’t make you bad gamer and being a girl doesn’t make you a bad gamer. THEN I SAW THE REST OF THE GIF OMF

silverie-stitches:

lusoric:

gallowscalibratorh3h3:

……WHATS SAD IS I HAVE SEVERAL GREAT GUYS I GAME WITH AND THEYA RE SWEETHEARTS AND NOT THE ASSHOLES WHO MAKE FUN OF FEMALE GAMERS

AND I ONCE DID THIS AND OMG I WAS LIKE COVERED WITH AMO AND I LAUGHED ALL

'AWW YEEEA MY MAN WHORES KNOW HOW TO KEEP MAMA HAPPY'

AND I SWEAR THEY LAUGHED SO MUCH ONCE CHOKED ON A CIGARETTE LKSDHFLHK

At first I thought this was going to be one of those “gamer girl” posts about how “girls suck at video games lolzor” and I was like ugh, running out of ammo is a normal thing it doesn’t make you bad gamer and being a girl doesn’t make you a bad gamer. THEN I SAW THE REST OF THE GIF OMF

There exists a sub-section of men who literally cannot sit through a discussion of structural misogyny without receiving constant and emphatic reassurance that no one is accusing them personally of being a misogynist. This is a derail and an attempt to shut down debate. Because, to quote “Sometimes, it’s just a cigar”:

“Suppose you disagree with women about whether rape is part of the structure of our society, used to reinforce patriarchy. Do you make that debate possible by standing on your wounded pride, and just insisting that the debate must start with a disclaimer that says you’re not a rapist? Forgive me, but that’s nothing more than narcissism.”

The conviction that you have never participated or been complicit in structural misogyny is dubious to say the least, no matter what your gender. But even if you are resolute that you, personally, have managed to transcend the system you were born and raised in and now stand as a shining beacon of gender equity outside the mire of patriarchy? Good for you, but structural misogyny still exists and we still need to have a conversation about it. If you think you have nothing to learn, go play elsewhere on the internet.

You know you’re old when the meanings of words change drastically within your lifetime because so many ignorant people have misused them that they lose their original meaning. For instance, it is rare to find anyone who can tell you the difference between “will,” and “shall,” these days.

Don’t worry, it’s happening to your generation, too. “Literally” is now acknowledged by some dictionaries as a synonym for “figuratively,” so you may as well toss “literally” out of the airlock and resign yourself to longer having a term to easily indicate when you’re being, well… literal. “Couple” is now a synonym for “few,” and “peruse,” which once meant to pore over something thoroughly, now means both that and its opposite—to give something a quick glance.

So if someone tells you that they’re literally dying from their allergies, and there are just a couple of things they need you to peruse, you cannot be assured of having any fucking idea what they’re talking about.

Because that sentence can mean they are in the hospital dying from a rash, and have two things they need you to look at, but they need you to do so in great detail, or that they’re just not feeling well, and have a small unspecified number of things they need you to glance at. It can also mean anything in between.

I don’t mind languages changing and growing; it’s when a language shrinks that bothers me. As in, when it loses specificity because not enough people know what words mean, but use them anyway until they mean their opposite (in which case they lose their meaning altogether), and we no longer have terms with which to refer to certain objects or ideas.

Lack of specificity in language means lack of specificity in thought and communication. Soon, we in America will be communicating solely through grunts, whistles, and peeing on things. In other words, we’ll all be suitable cast members for an episode of “Jersey Shore.”

boazpriestly:

"This is the last one, sir." James set the girl down on at my feet and then stands up straight with his hands behind his back. 
"Stop doing that," I tell him. "We’re not at war anymore. We’re just clearing a warehouse." He doesn’t change his stance. I shake my head and click my tongue. "I wish i could fucking reprogram you," I hiss, wishing my words would hurt him somehow. 
I kneel down and turn the girl over until I can see her back more clearly. The tattoos look like birthmarks, having grown on her skin as she aged. I want to say she’s about fifteen, maybe sixteen, but with all the renewal shit on the market, there’s no way to tell. Her only saving grace is that she’s organic; no one’s messed with her DNA yet. 
"You sure she’s the last one?" I look up at James as he nods. He used to be like her, all thin and fragile. He was never organic though, when I got him he’d been tested on and mixed with machines and animals. He’ll never get the feeling back in his left hand like I had hoped he would. But he’s a good kid, and I trust him to tell me the truth, "Pick her up and let’s head out, yeah?" 
James does what I tell him to, lifting her with ease even though he’s probably only a year or two older than her. She starts coughing and gasping the second she’s in his arms. Her eyes open wide; she looks around wildly like a feral animal in a cage.
"Shit," I swear, reaching out to touch her throat where he pulse is. She pulls away from my hand. "She wasn’t supposed to wake up, yet. Are you sure she’s the only one left?" 
I look around the room we’re in, my heart thumping hard. There has to be someone else hidden; they only ever wake up like that when they’re about to be separated. 
"Stay here," I order. 
"Yes, sir." 
I hobble past James and the girl, toward a pile of boxes. The girl begins thrashing around, trying her damndest to get out of James’ hold. She reaches out toward the opposite side of the room, whining loudly like a cat wanting its missing kitten. 
"Fuck. There’s a kid in here." 
I limp as fast as I can to where the girl is reaching out. It’s just an open area except for a metal crate sitting on top of a metal grate on the floor. I touch the crate and the girl shakes her head. I look down at my feet and inhale deeply. Two pairs of eyes stare up at me from the darkness, 
"James get the fuck over here and move this!" 
He’s next to me in seconds, the girl still in his arms, and shoves the crate to the side like it weighs nothing. “Rip up the grate,” I demand. The children and the girl all flinch at the sound of the metal being torn from the floor. Then James reaches down, without me telling him to and pulls the kids — twins — out of their hole. He lets the girl go and she wraps her arms around the boys immediately. 
I run a hand through my hair and stare at the tattoos on the boys’ backs. “Three organics in the same place?” I’ve been working this unit for twenty-three years and I had never encountered such a thing. Humans just didn’t reproduce the way they used to, the way the history books teach it. It’s barbaric and unsafe. But these kids were obviously her, if the stretchmarks on her belly were any kind of indicator. 
I looked around the room again, making sure James and I were the only ones of our unit who knew about this. “We need to get them somewhere safe,” I said. “Not our house either.” 
"The cabin?" 
"For now. Until we find something better?" 
James nodded and kneeled down next to the woman. “We need to leave now,” he said softly. “We need to get you to a home. Do you understand?” 
"Y-yes," she stammered. "P-p-please help us?" 
"Yes," James said. The woman smiled briefly and then turned back to her boys. "Is the transporter ready, sir?" 
"Two seconds." 
"Sir, there are two unit officers coming. They will be here in less than that." 
"Fuck. Fuck!" I stepped toward them and and twisted the dial on my wrist. "Let’s see how far, half a charge will get us, then." I slapped the dial down and let the five of us be enveloped in a wash of blue and green. 

boazpriestly:

"This is the last one, sir." James set the girl down on at my feet and then stands up straight with his hands behind his back. 

"Stop doing that," I tell him. "We’re not at war anymore. We’re just clearing a warehouse." He doesn’t change his stance. I shake my head and click my tongue. "I wish i could fucking reprogram you," I hiss, wishing my words would hurt him somehow. 

I kneel down and turn the girl over until I can see her back more clearly. The tattoos look like birthmarks, having grown on her skin as she aged. I want to say she’s about fifteen, maybe sixteen, but with all the renewal shit on the market, there’s no way to tell. Her only saving grace is that she’s organic; no one’s messed with her DNA yet. 

"You sure she’s the last one?" I look up at James as he nods. He used to be like her, all thin and fragile. He was never organic though, when I got him he’d been tested on and mixed with machines and animals. He’ll never get the feeling back in his left hand like I had hoped he would. But he’s a good kid, and I trust him to tell me the truth, "Pick her up and let’s head out, yeah?" 

James does what I tell him to, lifting her with ease even though he’s probably only a year or two older than her. She starts coughing and gasping the second she’s in his arms. Her eyes open wide; she looks around wildly like a feral animal in a cage.

"Shit," I swear, reaching out to touch her throat where he pulse is. She pulls away from my hand. "She wasn’t supposed to wake up, yet. Are you sure she’s the only one left?" 

I look around the room we’re in, my heart thumping hard. There has to be someone else hidden; they only ever wake up like that when they’re about to be separated. 

"Stay here," I order. 

"Yes, sir." 

I hobble past James and the girl, toward a pile of boxes. The girl begins thrashing around, trying her damndest to get out of James’ hold. She reaches out toward the opposite side of the room, whining loudly like a cat wanting its missing kitten. 

"Fuck. There’s a kid in here." 

I limp as fast as I can to where the girl is reaching out. It’s just an open area except for a metal crate sitting on top of a metal grate on the floor. I touch the crate and the girl shakes her head. I look down at my feet and inhale deeply. Two pairs of eyes stare up at me from the darkness, 

"James get the fuck over here and move this!" 

He’s next to me in seconds, the girl still in his arms, and shoves the crate to the side like it weighs nothing. “Rip up the grate,” I demand. The children and the girl all flinch at the sound of the metal being torn from the floor. Then James reaches down, without me telling him to and pulls the kids — twins — out of their hole. He lets the girl go and she wraps her arms around the boys immediately. 

I run a hand through my hair and stare at the tattoos on the boys’ backs. “Three organics in the same place?” I’ve been working this unit for twenty-three years and I had never encountered such a thing. Humans just didn’t reproduce the way they used to, the way the history books teach it. It’s barbaric and unsafe. But these kids were obviously her, if the stretchmarks on her belly were any kind of indicator. 

I looked around the room again, making sure James and I were the only ones of our unit who knew about this. “We need to get them somewhere safe,” I said. “Not our house either.” 

"The cabin?" 

"For now. Until we find something better?" 

James nodded and kneeled down next to the woman. “We need to leave now,” he said softly. “We need to get you to a home. Do you understand?” 

"Y-yes," she stammered. "P-p-please help us?" 

"Yes," James said. The woman smiled briefly and then turned back to her boys. "Is the transporter ready, sir?" 

"Two seconds." 

"Sir, there are two unit officers coming. They will be here in less than that." 

"Fuck. Fuck!" I stepped toward them and and twisted the dial on my wrist. "Let’s see how far, half a charge will get us, then." I slapped the dial down and let the five of us be enveloped in a wash of blue and green. 

There’s a double standard when it comes to Israel. Basically, anyone who doesn’t support Israeli public policy is painted as “anti-semitic,” as is anyone who, you know, reads Hebrew scripture and points out that the land of Israel was originally given to the Hebrews by their god as a reward for inventing genocide.

Much as Europeans took the Americas as their “reward” for genocide against the native population. Does the phrase “manifest destiny” ring a bell? It was basically early American code for “God says we should kill all them savage injuns and move in where they used to live.”

And yeah, the ancient Hebrews took exactly that same philosophy with the Canaanites. “God says this land should be ours, and all we have to do is kill every man, woman, and child living there now.”

What Nazis did to minorities in general, and especially to Jews, gays, and Romani (and what they’re still trying to do) is deplorable. And let’s not forget the Catholic atrocities against the Jews, nor that the founder of Protestantism, Martin Luther, advocated state action against Jews. (Hitler used Luther’s writings as justification for killing Jews, by the way. He was a huge fan.)

And nothing—NOTHING—can ever justify any of the above.

But for some reason, it’s “anti-semitic” to point out that the ancient Hebrews INVENTED genocide.

As a former religion major, I find it ironic that part of the rationale behind the modern state of Israel (and its current policies towards Palestinians) is that, according to Judeo-Christian scripture, the Hebrew god (who would be later adopted by Christians and Muslims) gave that land to the Israelites as a reward for inventing genocide, and for carrying out the first recorded genocide, against the original inhabitants of that land.

But that instance of genocide was okay because God told them to do it?

No. No, it wasn’t. Hitler claimed that the Christian god demanded the extermination of the Jews (his views were based in part on those of Martin Luther, founder of Protestantism and author of various anti-semitic works).

So is whether genocide is evil or not a matter of whose god commanded it? If the Hebrew god commands genocide, it’s A-Okay, but not if the Christian (specifically Lutheran) god commands it? What about other gods? If Thor says we have to kill the English, does that make it okay? What if Isis demands her followers destroy all Canadians?

Can we get a list of gods in whose name it is okay to commit genocide? We have both Christian and Muslim extremists claiming it is the will of their imaginary friend that they force everyone in the world to accept their religion, on pain of death.

What do you do when the same god tells two groups of his followers that they have to wipe out all of the other group? Do all members of each group have divine authority to slaughter at will and be rewarded for it?

No. Genocide is evil, no matter who is doing it, and no matter what alleged “god” commands it. It was evil when the Nazis did it to the Jews. It was evil when the Europeans did it to the Native Americans. And it was evil when the ancient Israelites did it to the Canaanites.

But in the aftermath of WWII, modern-day Israel was established, in part as a reinstitution of the reward God supposedly gave the Hebrews for inventing and committing genocide. And now we’ve got groups inin Israel who want to finish the genocide their ancestors started, by wiping out the Palestinians.

Now, what’s done is done. We cannot go back and undo what Europeans did to Native Americans, not what Nazis did to Jews, nor what the ancient Hebrews did to the Canaanites. The Europeans are not going to give the Americas back to the remaining natives, nor are the Israelis going to give Israel back to the descendants of the original Canaanites. (But come on, would it kill you guys to let them have a homeland? You know, the way YOU wanted the one back that you killed their ancestors to get?)

Thing is, we need to be aware of this cycle of genocide, stop pretending that certain genocides never happened, and put an end to the cycle.

And if you don’t find all of this both ironic and deeply disturbing, I question your ethics and morality.