Bill Maher on the criticism he’s received for his views on religion, his film, Religulous, specifically.
White dude in St. Louis named Kevin Miner was wanted for burglary.
He eluded police officers until they conducted a search of a resident’s home and found him.
He attacked both officers, breaking one cop’s hand. The media even alludes to Miner being forced to “fight back” against the police because of how he was being apprehended!
Miraculously, the cops managed not to punch him in the face repeatedly, put him in a chokehold, or shoot him six times including once in the face and once in the head.
He, in fact, barely had a scratch on him.
The next time someone says to you:
"BUT IT’S NOT ABOUT RACE (Patent Pending)!"
Throw your tea dead in their face Dominique Deveraux-style and pump on away from them like Naomi Campbell.
It’s furgeson with the problem. Not the state of Missouri. Not saying furgeson is not a race issue, but why St. Louis?
If you think abusive cops are limited to one town in Missouri, then you are not paying attention.
apostrophes are really the tears of the words you horrifically merged together. there are no right or wrong places to put apostrophes. there is only pain
Let’s sit around the campfire, because it’s story time c;
3 years ago I was a very different person. I wasn’t very happy with my body, or my job, or my life in general. I found myself in a place where I could either try to change or give up completely— not only with writing, but everything. The only thing that made me happy was writing, but I never finished anything, ever. I had a dozen half manuscripts and a handful of first chapters— but nothing else. I didn’t want to give up, it didn’t feel right. I realized I wasn’t the person I wanted to be— so I decided to change. I disappeared from the world for a few months. I let go of people who didn’t love me, or cared about me. I searched for my real self— and I decided I would finish a book for the first time.
How did i do it? I bit my lip, sat my ass down on the chair, and I wrote recklessly. I wrote without fear for the first time in my life. I told myself that I wanted to finish a story. I wanted to be an author. I didn’t want to ‘aspire’ to be a writer— I wanted to be a writer.
I wrote a book called ‘Wonderful Emotions,’ a story of an ex-psychic soldier who attends group therapy with a bunch of monsters in order to prove that he is healthy enough to be a regular citizen. It was about 60K words long, and I wrote it in 14 days. I was on fire. When I finished it I kind of ‘woke’ up— like someone who had ran away from home and realized they’d been running so fast they had made it across the country without knowing.
But I finished something. It was scary— but it was also liberating.
- Write recklessly. Don’t care what people will think of you. And don’t care if you think the writing is not good, you can always fix it later during the second draft.
- Remember that this is a story that you, and only you, can tell.
- Lastly, you may find this hard to believe, but someone out there is going to need your book to get through a hard time in their life. You may never meet them in person, but I can promise you that they will read your book— and find within the answers to their questions.
I know I did :)
As a final piece of advice, I have previously answered an ask about how to stay motivated on a story— and it’s seriously what I use to stay inspired and keep writing. I would recommend you give it a try c;
I hope this helps! If you (or any of the writerly cuties reading this) have any questions, please send them my way~ ♥︎
i would have no use for this
there’s not a reason in the world i could ever come up with to use this product
but i want it
You don’t understand, I work at a craft store, and we’re basically promoting this amazing stuff right here, we even have a case of it up by the registers so customers can become hypnotized by it’s sheer AMAZINGNESS. and when there’s a slow period, and if you are the cashier, you will just play with it, it is so fucking calming, like this stuff should be used in therapy!!!
Do you expect me to talk?
No, Ms. Bond. I expect you to die!
THOU = “YOU” WHEN YOU’RE FUCKING DOING SOMETHING.
THEE = “YOU” WHEN YOU’RE HAVING SOMETHING FUCKING DONE TO YOU.
THY = “YOUR” AND “YOURS” WHEN THE THING YOU OWN BEGINS WITH A FUCKING CONSONANT.
THINE = “YOUR” AND “YOURS” WHEN THE THING YOU OWN BEGINS WITH A FUCKING VOWEL.
IF YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE SHITTY EARLY MODERN ENGLISH TEXT POSTS, DO IT RIGHT.
in the iliad helen speaks the last lament for hector. the only man in troy who showed her kindness is slain—and now, helen says, πάντες δέ με πεφρίκασιν, all men shudder at me. she doesn’t speak in the iliiad again.
homer isn’t cruel to helen; her story is cruel enough. in the conjectured era of the trojan war, women are mothers by twelve, grandmothers by twenty-four, and buried by thirty. the lineage of mycenaean families passes through daughters: royal women are kingmakers, and command a little power, but they are bartered like jewels (the iliad speaks again and again of helen and all her wealth). helen is the most beautiful woman in the world, golden with kharis, the seductive grace that arouses desire. she is coveted by men beyond all reason. after she is seized by paris and compelled by aphrodite to love him against her will—in other writings of the myth, she loves him freely—she is never out of danger.
the helen of the iliad is clever and powerful and capricious and kind and melancholy: full of fury toward paris and aphrodite, longing for sparta and its women, fear for her own life. she condemns herself before others can. in book vi, as war blazes and roars below them, helen tells hector, on us the gods have set an evil destiny: that we should be a singer’s theme for generations to come—as if she knows that, in the centuries after, men will rarely write of paris’ vanity and hubris and lust, his violation of the sacred guest-pact, his refusal to relent and avoid war with the achaeans. instead they’ll write and paint the beautiful, perfidious, ruinous woman whose hands are red with the blood of men, and call her not queen of sparta but helen of troy: a forced marriage to the city that desired and hated her. she is an eidolon made of want and rapture and dread and resentment.
homer doesn’t condemn helen—and in the odyssey she’s seen reconciled with menelaus. she’s worshipped in sparta as a symbol of sexual power for centuries, until the end of roman rule: pausanias writes that pilgrims come to see the remains of her birth-egg, hung from the roof of a temple in the spartan acropolis; spartan girls dance and sing songs praising one another’s beauty and strength as part of rites of passage, leading them from parthenos to nýmphē, virgin to bride. cults of helen appear across greece, italy, turkey—as far as palestine—celebrating her shining beauty; they sacrifice to her as if she were a goddess. much of this is quickly forgotten.
every age finds new words to hate helen, but they are old ways of hating: deceiver and scandal and insatiate whore. she is euripides’ bitchwhore and hesiod’s kalon kakon (“beautiful evil”) and clement of alexandria’s adulterous beauty and whore and shakespeare’s strumpet and proctor’s trull and flurt of whoredom and schiller’s pricktease and levin’s adulterous witch. her lusts damned a golden world to die, they say. pandora’s box lies between a woman’s thighs. helen is a symbol of how men’s desire for women becomes the evidence by which women are condemned, abused, reviled.
but no cage of words can hold her fast. she is elusive; she yields nothing. she has outlasted civilisations, and is beautiful still. before troy is ash and ruin she has already heard all the slander of the centuries; and at last she turns her face away—as if to say: i am not for you