and 3 only.
#1 kudos! way to go! I’m a vegetarian slash vegan and fuck yeah! (followed by the thumpthump of self back-patting).
#2 so? i will still eat what i want. it tastes good and isn’t that all we ask of our food? fuck yeah! chicken nuggets (followed by hoarse coughing due to illness)
#3 BULLSHIT! you’re SO wrong! i saw on reddit/snopes/whatevermadeupwebsite that this was bullshit. you’re a complete fucking dick and should be sued and shot and set on fire you fucking scumball pig motherfucker (followed by gentle grunts as the man slips his hard cock up their naive ass…oh, baby).
To all 3 of you I say please, for the love of satan, fuck off!
My ask box is full and I have over a 100 new followers.
Many, many people are pissed at me.
The picture is from Fooducate: http://www.fooducate.com/blog/2009/08/03/guess-whats-in-the-picture-foodlike-substance/
The info is from the Omnivore’s Dilemma, which is a book. I’m not looking up the page numbers for you, you lazy fucks.
I know everyone always talks about how they LOVE READING AND BOOKS on Tumblr, but maybe you should stop saying it, put down the tv remote, and actually read Omnivore’s Dilemma.
Now, blow me.
And I was a morning person, like I am to this day.
So I woke up and turned on the news. One plane had crashed into the WTC and they were covering it live, as if it were a tragic airplane accident.
The camera was fixed on the Towers. One had a gaping, flaming hole. The other one was fine.
Then the other plane hit it.
There were screams and sounds of shock, but all the reporters shut up at the same time. Chattering reporters made instantly speechless. Such a thing has never happened before or since.
For over 30 seconds, they couldn’t speak, an infinity in live television.
Then one of them said: “This is no accident.”
I’m going to cram a Saguaro cactus up his fucking ass. Then I’m going to slaughter his children and eat them in front of his bawling, tied-up wife, whom I will later rape repeatedly.
On the the green. On the golfcart. On my friend’s clubs. I’m gonna piss in those little holes where the balls go. They’ll yell at me: “Hey! Only little white balls go in those holes!” And I’m gonna say: “Fuck you! Piss goes in them as well!” And then I’ll fucking smack him upside the head with my big iron club. I like a sport that provides me with weapons. Golf maybe perfect for me. That or hockey. Come on, motherfuckers, let’s man it up!
And I’m not getting older. People who are getting older are actually getting old and lying about it.
I don’t like being discounted or minimized.
Like, someone will call me weird. I used to actually dig this when younger. Now it pisses me off.
I’m like I’m weird? Fuck you.
When someone calls you ‘weird’ they got a box all picked out for you to fit in.
Fuck them up the ass with a baseball bat, is what I say.
I’ll fucking show you weird you boring gray everyday uninteresting piece of shit.
What does that even mean?
I just think people decide to react negatively to something in their external environment. They say they get offended by something, which implies they have no control over it. They are victims! The poor sensitive little pussies!
They react negatively to it. It’s a choice, nothing more. A choice made by the bored and therefore boring, but more likely a choice made by the controlling. They react negatively to something in an effort to control the behavior and/or expression of other people.
Piss off, you’re not offended. You’re just another asshole.
Best day ever.
"Is that a suitcase?"
"You’re damn right it is."
"Where’re you going?"
I’m pretty good with words. I went to college and majored in English and even made it on the dean’s list one semester.
I don’t know how to type, however. I can type almost 90 words a minute with two fingers, though. I hunt and peck at breakneck speed.
I fucking hate texting. Hate it. I hate the little keyboard. I hate how hard it is to say a simple goddamn sentence.
Everyone who has ever texted me thinks I’m a colossal asshole cuz I rarely if ever text back. In reality, I’m a nice guy. Though I wouldn’t give you the shirt off my back, I will point out some nearby clothing stores.
I’m not texting back. Never. And I’m sick of feeling guilty about it. I will alter my service so I no longer have texting.
I mean, shit, we both got phones. Fucking call me.
Stuck that bitch in the oven on 425, just like a pepperoni pizza.
As soon as the screams die down, I’ll have some fucking peace.
I’m really doom and gloom about this country. I don’t think it’s “free”. I don’t think “the people” control it, but big corporations. When you read about a photographer getting harassed by the police for taking pictures of a BP refinery….well, it’s very telling. Sure, we have freedom of speech in this country, as long as you don’t say anything you’re not supposed to.
But then I read an article yesterday and I thought Maybe. Maybe I shouldn’t be so pessimistic.
And the Civil Rights Movement of the 40s, 50s, and 60s. I can be a proud American when I consider that. Obviously, racism is not a thing of the past. It’s 2010 and I still run across openly racist fuckwads every once in a while, but at least it’s not official policy anymore. Hey, did you know that nine months before Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat to a white dude, Claudette Colvin did the same? You don’t hear much about her, though. She was braver if you ask me because Rosa Parks was 42 years old when she stood up for herself (and people), a grown woman. Claudette was only 15 years old!
And today, everyone engaged in the fight for gay rights…that gives me hope. Clearly, we’re in the middle of a new Civil Rights Movement, but for gay folks. Hopefully, 20 or 30 years from now this country will be very different because of it.