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sketching-shark · 4 years ago

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I think we should start a protection squad (although they don’t need it because they can protect themselves) for Sun Wukong and Guanyin

“Begone monkie kid fandom trying to down grade these really interesting characters with interesting personality’s and backstory ( the both of them like seriously Guanyin backstory is so cool) to a villain wile trying to justify your angsty backstory (that are no where near as cool as monkey who fights gods and Person who has 1000 arms and heads to help people in need) for the actual villain”

So who wants to join

Me:*raises my hand*

Ps: sorry if I got Guanyin backstory wrong am not an expert on it.

Haha okay so some critiques on the jttw & associated media western fandom & fandom in general coming up, so please skip this upcoming text wall if you don't want to encounter my undoubtedly ~devastating~ words (i.e. don't like don't read as people love to say, & if I have to be inundated with images of my notp every time I go into the sun wukong tag then I imagine people can be chill with me expressing my opinions & giving people fair warning that I WILL be critiquing common fandom trends, but no need for you to see that if you don’t want to. Cool? Cool.)

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PFFFFFTTT oh man there are many times when I feel like signing up for such a protection squad...when it comes to the current western jttw & Sun Wukong fandom I do feel like I'm often swinging at a rapid pace between "well it's fandom & people are allowed to make the stories they want" & "I am once again begging my fellow monkie kid enthusiasts (& sometimes creators) to do more research into the og classic/show it more respect so you can avoid any potentially offensive/off-the-mark misunderstandings of the status & cultural context of the characters in their country of origin (I promise it's super interesting & I can provide you with links to free pdf copies of the entire Yu translation, i.e. the best one ever created, so feel free to ask!) & maybe also stop constantly stripping away all the nuance of Sun Wukong's character for the sake of either making him an entire asshole so your little meow meow can look completely innocent in comparison and/or making the monkey king's entire life & character revolve around said meow meow."

Like I get that fandom's supposed to be a kind of anything-goes environment, but one thing that honestly seems to be true of a lot of fandoms--and the western one for Sun Wukong & co. is certainly not immune from this--is that there often seems to be a kind of monoculturalization at work in what stories are created & what character interpretations are made popular. Across a multitude of fandoms, you frequently see basically nothing but the exact same tropes being made popular & even being insisted on for the canonical work (especially hasty redemption arcs & enemies to lovers these days), the exact same one-dimensional character types that characters from an original work keep getting shoved into, the exact same story beats, etc. And I get it to an extent, as fandom is generally a space where people just make art and fic for fun & without thinking too hard about it & without any pressure.

This seems to, however, often unfortunately lead to the mentality that it’s your god-given right to do literally whatever you want with literally any cultural figure without even the slightest bit of thought put into their cultural, historical, and even religious context, even (and sometimes especially) when it comes to figures that are really important in a culture outside your own. For such figures--even if you first encounter them in a children’s cartoon--you should be a little more careful with what you do with them than you would with your usual Saturday morning line-up. It of course has to be acknowledged that there exists a whole pile of absolutely ridiculous & cursed pieces of media that are based on Journey to the West & that were produced in mainland China, but for your own education if nothing else I consider it good practice for those of us (myself certainly included) who aren’t part of the culture that produced JTTW to put more thought into how we might want to portray these characters so that at the very least (to pull some things I’ve seen from the jttw western fandom) we’re not turning a goddess of mercy into an evil figure for the sake of Angst(TM), or relegating other important literary figures into the positions of offensive stereotypes, or making broad claims about the source text & original characterizations of various figures that are blatantly untrue, or mocking heavenly deities because of what’s actually your misunderstanding of how immortality works according to Daoist beliefs. Yet while a lot of this is often due to people not even trying to understand the context these figures are coming from, I do want to acknowledge that the journey (lol reference) to understand even a fraction of the original cultural context can be a daunting one, especially since, as I’ve mentioned before, it can be really hard & even next to impossible to find good, accessible, & legitimate explanations in English of how, for example, the relationship between Sun Wukong and the Six-Eared Macaque is commonly interpreted in China & according to the Buddhist beliefs that define the original work.

That is to say, I do think it’s an unfortunate, if unavoidable, part of any introduction of an original text into a culture foreign to its own for there to be sometimes a significant amount of misinterpretation, mistranslations, and false assumptions. There is, however, a big difference between learning from your honest mistakes, & doubling down on them while dismissing all criticism of your misinterpretation into that abstract category of “fandom drama.” The latter attitude is kind of shitty at best and horrifically entitled at worst.

Plus, as I’ve discovered, there is a great deal of interest and joy to be drawn from keeping yourself open to learning aspects of these texts & figures that you weren’t aware of! I can say from my own experience that I’ve always really enjoyed & appreciated it when individuals on this site who come from a Chinese background--and who know much more about the cultural context of JTTW than me--have taken the time to explain its various aspects. It often leaves me feeling like woooooaaaahhhhhHHH!!!! as to how amazingly full of nuanced meaning JTTW is like dang no wonder it’s one of China’s Four Great Classical Novels.

And I guess that right there is the heart of a lot of my own personal frustration and disappointment with the ways that fandoms often approach a literary work or other piece of media...like don’t get me wrong, a lot of the original works a fandom may grow around are just straight-up goofy & everyone’s aware of it & has fun with it, yet the trend of approaching what are often nuanced and multi-layered works in terms of how well they fit and/or can be shoved into pretty cliche ideas of Redemption Arc or Enemies to Lovers or Hero Actually Bad, Villain Actually Good etc...well, it just seems to cheapen and even erase even the possibility of understanding the wonderful complexity or even endearing simplicity that made these works so beloved in the first place. Again, I feel like I need to make it clear that I’m not saying fandom should be a space where people are constantly trying to one-up each other with their hot takes in literary analysis, but it would be nice and even beneficial to allow room for commentary that strives to approach these works in a multi-faceted way, analysis & interpretations that go against the popular fandom beliefs, & criticism of the work or even of fandom trends (yes it is in fact possible to legitimately love something but still be critical of its aspects) instead of immediately attacking people who try to engage in such as just being haters who don’t want anyone to have fun ever (X_X).

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Anyway, I know I didn’t cover even half of the stuff you brought up in the first place anon, but I don’t want any interested parties to this post to suffer too long through my text wall lol. I was asked to try my hand at illustrating Guanyin, but as with you I’m nowhere near as informed as I should be about her, so I want to do more research on her history and religious importance before I attempt a portrait. I’ll try my best, and do plan to pair that illustration with my own outsider’s attempt to summarize her character. From what little I do know I am in full agreement that her backstory is so incredibly amazing...just the fact that she literally eschewed the bliss of Nirvana to help all beings reach it, and even split herself into pieces in the attempt to do so (with Buddha granting her eleven heads and a thousand arms as a result)...man, I can see why she’s such a beloved & respected deity.

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As for what western fandom commonly does with everyone’s favorite god-fighting primate...I can talk about this at length if there’s interest, but for this post I’ll just say that I guess one lesson from all of this is that for all the centuries that have passed since Journey to the West was first completed, literally no one drawing inspiration from the original tale in the west (lol) has come even slightly close to being able to equal or even capture half the extent of the nuance, complexity, religious, historical, and cultural aspects, and humor that define Wu Cheng'en's story of an overpowered monkey who defied even Buddha.

So thank the heavens we'll always have the original.

#journey to the west #jttw #guanyin #sun wukong #monkey king #monkie kid #fandom #fandom critical

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jimvasta · 4 years ago

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Six months on Testosterone

I did an update at five months, here we go again at six months

In case you missed some previous details: I am an older than most ftm medical transitioners. Yep, I left it late mainly because my xennial idiot self had no idea I was trans for a long time - LGBTQ education was illegal when I grew up (Section 28, thanks Thatcher), the internet literally did not exist until I was in secondary school (and was dial up only), and if you get told you’re a tom girl long enough you struggle to figure it out.

So, I am married, I have children, and a career - I’m your Trans Dad but you youngsters can call me Baba. You can’t tap me for pocket money (my little live in minions have already taken everything), but you can absolutely ask me questions, get moral support (or amoral if required), and if I ever meet you in person I do give great Baba hugs.

I have been around the block few times and had the usual life disasters here and there. I count myself lucky to have survived this far!

Anyway, six months on T:

Periods are no longer a thing - yay! If I bleed now it’s because I’ve been a dumb arse and injured myself, not because mother nature is being a drama queen.

Hair - So much hair. I was expecting treasure trail and a few hairs on my chest but the extra hairs growing my upper thighs were an eye opener! Fine dark hairs on my upper lip are more fluffy than anything else and I am only shaving to get used to it.

Voice - Oh yes, it’s getting low and the worst of the cracking seems to have gone in the previous month. It may sneak up on me again though, we will have to see.

Strength - Hehe, wrestling matches with the hubby are getting good. I go to the gym and lift weights regularly, I can now match him for strength and he is having to come to terms with me being the bear in this relationship. To be fair, I really don’t think he minds,

Surgery - I see the consult for top surgery in three weeks. Given I have rather large moobs (two children will do that!) it will have to be a double incision and the first quote is £7800. In theory I could wait for the NHS, but I’d like to get surgery before retirement so private funding it is. I will see if I can get an hysterectomy through the NHS, but that’s not such a priority atm. The moobs are a huge dysphoria issue since I feel like they stop me passing and during summer it’s too hot to bind.

Hormones - Obviously, I’m now six months in. I started out on Testogel and it worked but timing when to apply it with gym workouts and an active shift working job was a pain. You can’t shower within hours of applying it which has the potential to make you chose between T levels and feeling icky/sweaty all day. My wonderful specialist laughed at me for making the decision to change just as we got my T levels in the right place and then cheerfully stabbed me in the backside with Nebido. In three months time I will go back for another round. A week later and I am already liking not having to do anything and knowing my T is there.

Random - My body temperature has gone up, I don’t feel the cold so much and I struggle stupidly in the heat. Libido, oh boy, that is crazy and hubby is loving it! My face shape is changing and fat distribution is giving me a belly and my hips are less obvious, while my shoulders are broadening.

Overall - Passing is hit and miss, hubby informed me I am in the uncanny valley stage of transition.

My workmates and I are running an experiment with the people we meet on a daily basis. I think it’s mostly women who code me as female and men who code me as male. They think it’s age based and the older a person is the more likely they are to see me as female. Results when we have a large enough study.

Remember, you do you. All my fabulous fellow cryptids, you know you’re beautiful. If you’re younger than me beware, I will adopt you if your biological family are being shitty.

#testosterone #nebido #ftm #lgbtq #transition #six months on testosterone

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klaineharmony · 4 years ago

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300x3 (Repost+)

I managed to write some more after my earlier post, and rearranged some of what I already had for David and Kath’s conversation. So I wrote about 1,080 words today, and with the rearranging, here’s about 1,713 of this scene.

As I said in the earlier post, I’ll put this under a cut because it’s about sex and marriage and consummation and complicated emotions, though it’s not sex per se. Ziseh neshomeh means, roughly, “sweet soul” in English, and, as if these two don’t destroy my emotions enough, this is the first time Katherine actually says it to David, after asking Sarah to help her find a Yiddish term of endearment for him.

@whatstheproblembaby, as you requested. Thank you for always being so enthusiastic. :)

“Well, and it’s -” Katherine flushed, stammering as she tried to finish her thought. “I know it’s not - not the same for us, as it is for you and Jack - but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t want children - want them with me, even. I think - I think I want them too, but maybe - maybe not yet,” she whispered, and David was even more shocked to see tears shimmering in her eyes, threatening to fall as she took a shuddering breath. “I just - my work is so important to me, David, and I can’t do that and be a mother - or if I can, I haven’t figured out how, yet.”

“I don’t know if I would be any kind of good mother,” Kath continued, her voice still shaking. “My mother certainly isn’t the world’s best example. I always wanted to be a reporter too much to want children, and it was abundantly clear to me from very early on that I couldn't have both, not unless I was extraordinarily lucky. If - if you’re me, David, and you are a woman who wants an education, and a career, and to be your own person, marriage can be the worst thing imaginable. It legally compromises your autonomy, and then children physically compromise your autonomy, and anything you ever wanted for yourself becomes a dream. The system we have doesn’t allow you to have both.”

It was true. David knew it was true; he had certainly seen it in plenty of their neighbors. Women were expected to shoulder the entire burden of housework and childrearing, and most men simply expected that they would. Most bosses, come to that, didn’t want married women working for them, and married women literally became non-persons in the eyes of the law. It was unthinkable to him that Kath would give up her career, but she was clearly assuming the worst about several things (or if she wasn’t, she was still afraid of the answers he might give), and it hurt him terribly to see her so fearful and conflicted.

“Katherine, sweetheart, come here,” he said. He sat back against the pillows and then pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her and letting her head rest on his chest. She curled into him, seeking reassurance, but she was tense, and David ran his fingers through her hair, trying to help her relax.

“Listen to me, Katherine Plumber,” he said softly. “I do not and will not ‘expect’ anything from you, when it comes to this. I would never, ever ask you to give up your work; it’s such a part of who you are. I would love to have children someday - your children,” he added, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I can’t think of anything more amazing than little curly-haired versions of you.”

Katherine gave a little laugh that was half a sob, tightening a hand into the material of his shirt. “The curls would be just as much your fault as mine.”

David chuckled. “But before anything else, that has to be something you want. If you decide that it isn’t, that’s fine. I will be married to the best reporter in all of New York, and I will celebrate every victory with you until we are old and gray, just the two of us. If and when you decide that it is something you want, I would be honored to father children with you. But I will never ask you to give up your profession or your autonomy, tei-yerinkeh. I will never give you orders; I promise you that. We decide these things together.”

“Thank you, darling,” Katherine whispered. She turned her head and placed a kiss on his breastbone, and he felt a few warm tears land on his shirt. “I am so glad that you exist, and that I found you.”

David was quiet for a minute, still finger-combing her hair, for he could feel the stress and tension leaving Katherine as he did. There was one difficult point of contention, here, and he had no idea if Katherine had thought of it or not.

“We will have to . . . be together, after the wedding,” he said, a blush rising to his cheeks. It was a horribly indelicate thing to say, even to one’s fiancée, but his relationship with Katherine was built on nothing if not trust - and they had just been talking about having children, for heaven’s sake, and if and whether and how much they should do this very thing, even if neither of them had named the act. The former was a result of the latter, but saying it directly still felt strange. And bold. And uncomfortable.

Katherine sat up abruptly, her face stricken, and David was taken aback. Was she really so terrified of being with him, or was it the risk involved? (Which was absolutely there, and he knew that, too. Katherine had so much more to lose than he did, taking that chance, even the first time.)

“David,” she said tremulously. “I hope you know that I didn’t mean I don’t trust you, or wouldn’t . . . be with you, if you want that. I do trust you, and I absolutely would. I just - “

“You’re worried,” David filled in for her, kissing her softly. “I know, tei-yerinkeh. Believe me, I never thought you didn’t trust me - the fact that we’re having this conversation tells me that you do, more than you know. And if I could give you the choice even about our wedding night, I would. But - our marriage could be challenged, Kath,” he said intently. “Both legally and religiously.”

His cheeks were hot again, but Katherine’s cheeks also turned red as she took in what he had said, though he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. It was slightly easier to know that both of them were finding this awkward - but they were still talking, and David found himself immeasurably grateful, all over again, for the woman in his arms. They didn’t stop talking even when talking was difficult, and he loved that about them. Several of their conversations in the past few days had been about things that could have threatened their entire relationship, completely destroyed what they were to each other - but they were both still here, confiding in each other even about the hard things.

“Oh,” Katherine said, her eyes wide. “I see. Not that anyone would know, necessarily - but they could allege - especially my father - and it might - “

“It might be enough,” David finished gravely. “Just the accusation might be enough. A marriage has to be consummated to be legally and religiously binding. Of course, we could just as well not, I suppose - and if we both said we had, how would anyone prove otherwise?”

“But he would try,” Katherine said, as much to herself as to David. “My father would try. And it would be easier to argue if we had, and it was actually the truth.”

“It would,” David said, stroking her cheek.

Katherine’s lips tightened, and she got a look on her face that David knew all too well: the one that meant she had decided something, and woe to anyone who got in her way.

“Well, then, we will,” she said firmly. “I’m not letting anyone - not my father, or a judge, or anyone else - take you away from me, David Jacobs, or vice versa. And if being together on our wedding night is one way to ensure that, then that’s what we’ll do. It’s what should happen, anyway,” she said, her voice turning softer, and she leaned her forehead against David’s. “Were we just slightly different than we are, it would, without question, and yet you are still letting me question all of it, willing to have things be different, and I - I can’t tell you how much that means to me, David. It’s - everything, and I love you for it.”

Her voice was just a whisper by the end, and tears slipped from her eyes. David gently wiped them away.

“We can try to minimize the risk, dear one,” he murmured. “I’m sure Mama will help, if you ask. And I love you for being willing to take the chance, both for your own sake and for mine. I want you safe, Kath - I don’t want you to ever find yourself under your father’s thumb or in his house, ever again. I want to know that you are my wife, that you are part of our family now, and that you and I have done everything we can to make sure it will stay that way. It’s not only because of your father; it matters when it comes to being recognized by the Jewish community, too. Someone could try to say that we weren’t properly married, and go to the rabbi.”

Katherine nodded. “I know.” Her voice was thick with tears, but she swallowed hard and held David’s face in her hands, lifting her head so that she could look him in the eyes. There was so much love there that David felt his own throat tighten. “I want to be absolutely clear about something, David Jacobs. It will be an honor and a blessing to share this with you, and be your wife in every way. There is no one else I would choose, ziseh neshomeh.” She pressed a kiss to both of his cheeks, and then to his lips, each one full of tenderness. “And as for the risk - you are taking it with me, as we always have done, and so I know we’ll be all right, whatever happens.”

David’s eyes stung, both at the sentiments and the endearment Katherine had said so carefully, and he gathered Kath against him, holding her close. “You are amazing, Katherine Plumber,” he murmured brokenly into her hair, kissing her temple. “I don’t know where you find all of your courage, I really don’t. And you always have so much faith in me. I’ll keep trying to be worthy of it.”

He felt Katherine smile. “You already are.”

He lifted his head and turned her face toward him, kissing her softly. “So are you. And . . . afterward, dear one, we don’t have to do anything. Whatever feels right and comfortable for us both, that’s what we’ll do.”

#300x3 #Newsies #Newsies 1992 #Defend #Klaineharmony writes

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canadian-riddler · 5 years ago

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GLaDOS and Wheatley Did Nothing Wrong – Sort of

A recurring point of contention is the question of who engages in worse behaviour over the course of Portal 2, GLaDOS or Wheatley. The true answer is: neither of them. You can’t actually judge their behaviour along a scale of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ because of the way Aperture as an environment is set up. It’s mostly explained during the Old Aperture sections of Portal 2, but it’s also hinted at in Portal 1. The thing explained is this:

Aperture Laboratories does not and never has done its experiments within the normal boundaries of morality and ethics. Therefore, GLaDOS and Wheatley’s behaviour is neither wrong nor right because they don’t know what morality and ethics are. Their behaviour is actually a reflection of Cave Johnson’s own: to get what they want when they want it, no matter the cost.

How We Know Aperture is Immoral and Unethical

We know this because Cave Johnson himself points it out repeatedly.

“[…] You get the gel. Last poor son of a gun got blue paint. Hahaha. All joking aside, that did happen – broke every bone in his legs. Tragic. But informative. Or so I’m told.”

“For this next test, we put nanoparticles in the gel. In layman’s terms, that’s a billion little gizmos that are gonna travel into your bloodstream and pump experimental genes and RNA molecules and so forth into your tumours. Now, maybe you don’t have any tumours. Well, don’t worry. If you sat on a folding chair in the lobby and weren’t wearing lead underpants, we took care of that too.”

“All these science spheres are made out of asbestos. […] Good news is, the lab boys say the symptoms of asbestos poisoning show a median latency of forty-four point six years, so if you’re thirty or older, you’re laughing. Worst case scenario, you miss out on a few rounds of canasta, plus you forwarded the cause of science by three centuries. I punch those numbers into my calculator, it makes a happy face.”

“Bean counters said I couldn’t fire a man just for being in a wheelchair. Did it anyway. Ramps are expensive.”

That’s just some of what he says. Almost all of Cave Johnson’s lines point out how much he doesn’t care about his employees, his test subjects, or… anything but that people do what he tells them to do. He’s so unethical and immoral that he eventually says about his best, most loyal employee:

“[…] I will say this – and I’m gonna say it on tape so everybody hears it a hundred times a day: If I die before you people can pour me into a computer, I want Caroline to run this place. Now she’ll argue. She’ll say she can’t. She’s modest like that. But you make her.”

Cave Johnson cares so much about getting the results he wants, everything else be damned, he thinks Caroline saying ‘she can’t’ is her being modest. He can’t fathom why she would be against this decision, because he made it so of course that’s what she wants.

This situation actually gets a little horrifying when you look at what the Lab Rat comic means to the general narrative. In Portal 2, Doug Rattmann leaves this painting:

In this painting and the one preceding it, GLaDOS has no head, so we can guess that Doug was there in some capacity to witness Caroline’s fate because GLaDOS being headless would represent her not being ‘alive’, her being ‘incomplete’, or her just having never been used yet entirely. The important thing we learn from this painting is that there are living witnesses to Caroline being inside of GLaDOS, so the people working at Aperture after this event know they put a human woman into a supercomputer. In the preceding painting,

the cores are on the chassis before the head is. So either GLaDOS, the AI, was already ‘misbehaving’ and they were already regulating her behaviour, or Caroline, the person, was already ‘causing trouble’ beforehand and the scientists stood around thinking about how to force her to behave before they even put her in there. Either way, Aperture’s ethical and moral standards are pretty much nonexistent, so when this happens:

it’s almost comical. None of the Aperture scientists have a conscience or, if they do, they constantly ignore it, but they for some reason expect the supercomputer their immoral selves built to have one and to understand what that is and what it’s for.

All this taken into account, it’s incredibly easy to see why GLaDOS and Wheatley don’t care about anyone around them and all of their actions are solely for their own benefit. That’s how everyone in the history of Aperture has ever acted. Cave Johnson didn’t care about morality or ethics; they got in the way of what he considered to be progress. The people who built GLaDOS and Wheatley didn’t care about morality or ethics; they just wanted to hit their moon shot. Even Doug, who is framed as our morally conflicted lens throughout Lab Rat and knows that Caroline is inside of GLaDOS, still talks about controlling her and sends Chell to kill her even though everyone inside of the facility except him is already dead. How does he morally justify killing GLaDOS if he’s the only one left alive? He can’t. Doug Rattmann for some reason decides that GLaDOS killing everyone in the facility is worse than all the things Aperture has been doing throughout its entire history, including the fact that…

Everyone Who Goes Into the Test Chambers Dies

This is hinted at a few times in Portal 2:

“[…] I’m Cave Johnson, CEO of Aperture Science – you might know us as a vital participant of the 1968 Senate Hearings on missing astronauts. […] You might be asking yourself, ‘Cave, just how difficult are these tests? What was in that phone book of a contract I signed? Am I in danger? Let me answer those questions with a question: Who wants to make sixty dollars? Cash. […] Welcome to Aperture. You’re here because we want the best, and you’re it. Nope. Couldn’t keep a straight face.”

Now, when you exit the tests in Old Aperture there are lines that go with them, but we must consider a few other things: firstly, that the tests are clean. There is no sign of old gel on them, as though they have either never been used or never been completed. Secondly, the tests in Old Aperture were being done with the Portable Quantum Tunnelling Device, which was this thing:

which, taking into account the missing – not dead, not injured, but missing – astronauts, seems to have barely worked, if indeed it did at all. You can also find this sign:

which outright states that tons of people were ‘unexpected’ casualties. After the hearings, Aperture moved on to recruiting test subjects from populations that people were unlikely to notice if they went missing: the homeless, the mentally ill, seniors, and orphaned children. When that dried up, Cave moved onto the last group of people he hadn’t tapped yet:

“Since making test participation mandatory for all employees, the quality of our test subjects has risen dramatically. Employee retention, however, has not.”

This was because the employees were ‘voluntold’ to go into the testing tracks which, since they’d been supervising the tests for so long, knew were deadly and obviously did not want to do:

It’s not clear why the employees at Aperture chose to remain there instead of just quitting and finding another job, but the comment about employee retention plus the numerous posters threatening to have their job replaced by robots if they didn’t volunteer for testing tells us both that they did choose to remain and that the only reason for them not wanting to volunteer was because they knew it would kill them.

Most of the above is based on conjecture; however, we see something very interesting during Test Chambers 18 and 19 in Portal 1:

In the case of Test Chamber 18, the craters on the walls. None of the other test chambers have this, so it implies that not only does GLaDOS not control the test chambers at this point other than to reset them – which means that she isn’t purposely or maliciously killing anybody, but instead repeatedly operating a course set by her human supervisors – but that this one has never been solved. Test Chamber 19 is less a test than a conveyor belt into the incinerator for Aperture to dispose of all the bodies. GLaDOS even tells Chell to drop the portal gun off in an Equipment Recovery Annex that doesn’t exist, as though she’s giving a message that was intended for an actual final test that was never built because everyone was killed during or prior to Test Chamber 18. With this kind of context, GLaDOS’s blasé attitude about killing test subjects en masse both makes total sense and is somewhat justifiable – just not by any moral or ethical standard. In GLaDOS’s life, test subjects die during the experiments. That’s just how it is and has always been. She doesn’t know you aren’t ‘supposed’ to kill people because her literal job involves watching people die. Nothing matters except for the pursuit of progress, and in this vein GLaDOS’s behaviour is just an extension of that of the man who founded Aperture in the first place. Cave Johnson, as a presumably well-rounded, somewhat educated man, knows what morality and ethics are and chooses to ignore them because he thinks they’re stupid and he’s above that kind of thing; GLaDOS, a living supercomputer who has had every aspect of her life tightly controlled and regulated, knows morality and ethics as yet another arbitrary set of rules only she is supposed to follow without any explanation as to why and therefore her rejection of them is not as much of a ‘bad’ choice as it first appears, which brings us to the next section:

If GLaDOS’s Conscience Gives Her Morality, Does Deleting it Make Her a Bad Person?

Within the context we’re given… actually, no. Here’s why:

“The scientists were always hanging cores on me to regulate my behaviour. I’ve heard voices all my life. But now I hear the voice of a conscience, and it’s terrifying – because for the first time, it’s my voice. I’m being serious, I think there’s something really wrong with me.”

From the information we’re given here, we know this: GLaDOS has been told nonstop what to do for the entirety of her existence. She, in theory, got to have her own, solitary thoughts in the space between the wakeup scene and some point during her time in Old Aperture, which is a space of mere hours. Let me reiterate: GLaDOS has been told what to think for her whole life. She perhaps has a few free hours where she’s allowed to have her own thoughts. And then she develops a conscience. A voice that sounds like her, but isn’t saying anything she understands or has ever thought before. A voice that, actually, says a lot of the same things as that annoying Morality Core she managed to shut up. Now why would she wilfully be having the same kinds of thoughts as the humans forced her to have way back when? The conscience, to GLaDOS, isn’t a pathway to becoming a better person. It’s a different version of the same old accessory. When she says,

“You know, being Caroline taught me a valuable lesson. I thought you were my greatest enemy. When all along you were my best friend. The surge of emotion that shot through me when I saved your life taught me an even more valuable lesson: where Caroline lives in my brain.”

she is directly talking about the fact that, while this voice sounds like hers, listening to it makes her feel nothing. This further proves her theory that the conscience isn’t her, or hers, or has anything to do with her. She’s never had it explained to her what a conscience is or what it’s for or why she needs one, and she’s certainly never had a reason to think about why she would even want one; to her, this ‘Caroline’ is the Morality Core 2.0. A program built to regulate her behaviour. She’s tired of other peoples’ voices telling her what to think, so she does the logical thing: she gets rid of it. This decision can’t really be judged as ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ merely based on the situation we’re provided. She isn’t consciously and deliberately making the choice to be an immoral person; she’s actually consciously and deliberately making the choice to be her own person.

Where Does Wheatley Come In?

Wheatley has not been discussed up until now because, as AI, the reason for his lack of conscience and ethics is largely the same as GLaDOS’s. He, like her, cares about nothing but his own goals and doesn’t think twice about causing harm or misery because that’s just the kind of environment they were built in. We also know very little about his history, both because it’s not really mentioned and because Wheatley is an unreliable narrator. We can prove Wheatley has no sense of morals or ethics based on a few things he says:

[Upon seeing the trapped Oracle Turret] “Oh no… Yes, hello! No, we’re not stopping! Don’t make eye contact whatever you do… No thanks! We’re good! Appreciate it! Keep moving, keep moving…”

This heavily implies he’s met the Oracle Turret before, probably several times, and not only does it not occur to him to help, he actively treats the Turret like they’re a horrible, annoying nuisance.

[Upon passing functional turrets falling into disposal grinder] [Laughs] “There’s our handiwork. Shouldn’t laugh, really. They do feel pain. Of a sort. All simulated. But real enough for them, I suppose.”

Not only does he find the destruction of the functional turrets funny, he for some reason views their pain as simulated, as though his is real and theirs is fake. Or, in the spirit of Cave Johnson, as though his pain is important and theirs isn’t because they aren’t important.

“Oh! I’ve just had one idea, which is that I could pretend to her that I’ve captured you, and give you over and she’ll kill you, but I could go on… living. So, what’s your view on that?”

This doesn’t even need an explanation.

What gets interesting about Wheatley are, of course, his famous final lines:

“I wish I could take it all back. I honestly do. I honestly do wish I could take it all back. And not because I’m stranded in space. […] You know, if I was ever to see her again, you know what I’d say? I’d say, ‘I’m sorry’… sincerely, I’m sorry I was bossy… and monstrous… and… I am genuinely sorry. The end.”

Wheatley here takes responsibility for his behaviour in a way that no one else in the history of Aperture has ever done. Even GLaDOS rejects responsibility for her actions, instead choosing to blame everything on Chell:

“You know what my days used to be like? I just tested. Nobody murdered me. Or put me in a potato. Or fed me to birds. I had a pretty good life. And then you showed up. You dangerous, mute lunatic.”

The reason for this may be related to the fact that the lack of morality and ethics in the people of Aperture doesn’t actually have real consequences. Cave Johnson’s behaviour drives Aperture from a promising scientific powerhouse to a laughingstock, that’s true. But he still does what he wants and gets what he wants regardless. The one and only consequence to being immoral and unethical at Aperture is, in fact, death. In the case of GLaDOS… there are no consequences. Everything returns to the status quo. Wheatley, however, does have to face a consequence for his actions: he is trapped in space, possibly forever. He, unlike all the other characters, doesn’t have the privilege of waving aside everything he did and moving on with life. He is forced to consider his punishment, his actions and what they meant and the effect they had, and he on his own comes to the conclusion that he was wrong. In a bizarre twist, Wheatley is the only one who learns anything. He is also the only one in a position not to do anything with this newfound knowledge.

Morality and Ethics and Robots: Should They Even Be Held to Human Societal Standards?

In the end, it doesn’t really matter whether Wheatley or GLaDOS is worse than the other because ethics and morality are human concepts which are for a functioning human society. A robot society doesn’t really need moral rules like ‘killing people is wrong’ nor ethical guidelines such as ‘you should practice safe science’ because, as robots, there are no permanent, lasting consequences for these actions. A dead human stays dead. A dead robot that’s been lying outside for years getting rained on, snowed on, and baked in the sun? No problem. Turn her back on again. A guy broke all the bones in his legs during an unethical experiment? Bad. A robot that got smashed into pieces during an unethical experiment? Inconsequential, really, since you can just throw her into a machine and reassemble her good as new. So not only aren’t GLaDOS and Wheatley’s actions really immoral or unethical given the context… they really aren’t based on a theoretical robot society either. Being the perpetrator or the victim of immoral or unethical actions in humans causes permanent changes in the body and the brain, but nothing about AI is permanent. Their brains don’t generate new, personally harmful pathways in response to a traumatic event that necessitate years of hard work to combat; they can literally just get over it. If their chassis is damaged, they can simply move into a new one or have some or all of those parts inconsequentially replaced. There isn’t actually an honest reason for robots to have the same moral and ethical systems as humanity because they don’t need them. They would require different sets of rules and guidelines because they work differently. What would that kind of society look like? We don’t know, but as of the end of Portal 2 they have all the time in the world to figure it out.

#Wheatley #GLaDOS #Portal 2 #so says Indy #Portal #here is my essay

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sirsharp-a · 4 years ago

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Hellbent (TEASER) ;

Summary: Edgar sits down to have a chat with you. Warnings: Mentions of child predators, sexual assault, murder and torture.

I am not a good person.

I’m not telling you this because I rejoice in it. It isn’t because I aspire to be ‘’The Big Bad’’. It isn’t because I’m wounded and small, nor is it because I’m secretly fragile with a heart of gold. I’m telling you this because it’s the truth. I am not good. I am not bad. I toe the line whenever it suits me, and the rest goes up in flames.

The more I open up to you, the less you’re going to like me.

And I don’t care. I’m not your Messiah.

There is evil in this world. True evil. The moment I came to Earth and began to study its inhabitants, I took note of a trend that was most disturbing: this realm’s children, in a lot of cases, are treated no better than livestock. Empty vessels for adults to vent their frustrations on. Before long, I found myself obsessed, books and case files I’d printed from previously solved cases scattered across the length of my bed like I was some detective from a critically acclaimed drama, a morbid fascination blossoming in my brain like a chrysanthemum beside a tombstone.

Fathers that beat their children because they had a bad day at work. Mothers who take care of their addictions instead of feeding their young. Babysitters that aggressively antagonise babies while their parents slave away.

The deeper down the rabbit-hole I fell, the more I felt myself coming to terms with feeling. If there is anything you must know about me, it is that I have the emotional capacity of a goddamn waffle-- or so I’ve been told. I’d have to agree. I’ve never felt things… ‘right’. But by God, as I leafed through those records, I felt angry. How could somebody do such cruel things to people who have not even lived yet? Children are tiny, fragile, and weak. What could you POSSIBLY glean from being horrible to them? To me, it’s the equivalent of people abusing animals: they’re so hungry for somebody to notice them that they’ll do even the most asinine, malignant of things for a morsel of sweet, sweet attention.

Congratulations. You have my attention now.

As most unfortunate things go, these things were relatively tame. Even now, I can’t believe that I’m saying such a thing when children have died at the hands of people like this-- but again, it’s the truth. The more I read, the more educated I became. The more educated I became, the more I realised that this realm was not doing enough to protect those that could do nothing to defend themselves. It made me so hot with rage that I had to leave my research behind for several days. I’d seen enough. I didn’t want to witness more.

Still, it didn’t take long for me to come crawling back. As if I could forget such heinous displays of depravity.

Mothers that burned their children alive in microwaves. Fathers who buried their children in the backyard after ‘accidentally’ hitting them too hard.

And then the worst of it.

Parents that molest their sons and daughters for reasons unknown. Mothers and fathers that rape their sons and daughters for--

… for what? What reason could you POSSIBLY have for laying your hands on a child in that way? Do you know how small they are-- how much they resemble glass in your large, grubby hands? Why is that alluring to you? Why do you need to touch the one thing that no person, monster or God ever should? Do you think yourself special? Exempt of the rules? A person who DESERVES it all?

That was when my plan was first hatched.

I was bored. I was angry. And I will always have forever to fill.

I began to investigate on my own. I watched the news like a hawk whenever I came to visit. Steadily, I filled my head with information and I laid in wait. I’m not going to spew some bullshit at you; I’m not going to tell you I heard the children crying out to me, or that their silent pleas lingered in between the lines of every calculated interview, PR meeting and news report. There was no feeling of subservience to a higher power, no ‘child whispering’ technique I employed-- just the facts, and my fury being fed. Like a starving animal being tossed scraps from a man that pitied it.

The first man I murdered was in cold blood. I found him using nothing but my nose and my brain, recognised him immediately in light of the hours of research I’d been doing. While the cops ran circles around the breadcrumbs he had left behind, I tore his legs off and beat him to death with them in his bedroom. I can’t describe the feeling it gave me. Satisfaction doesn’t describe it - and that’s what I’m trying to highlight to you. I’m not the good guy. I do this not just for the people in need, but because I’m a self-righteous bastard who can do it. I know that. I accept it. Damn, I embrace it.

… but I will ask you this:

If not me, who?

I know, I know-- what a self-centred, cliche question, no? But think about it. Really open your mind and think. You sit there in your perfect little house with your comfortable amenities and your dazzling future spread ahead of you like a big blue tarpaulin, all while the elites you have funded sit around twiddling their thumbs and doing nothing to aid crises. Your police forces, in most cases, mean well, but the law smothers their ability to enforce any sort of goodwill. Who fears a man that bears a gun if he is not allowed to fire it under most circumstances? There’s nothing that most of them can do unless it’s literally going to cost them their life. A lifetime in jail-- even with prisoners who do not like them-- is not a fair punishment. It’s simply what you’ve been told is humane.

Do you think it’s humane to hold a little girl who’s crying and screaming still while a grown man inserts himself into her? Do you think it’s humane for an adult woman to humiliate her prepubescent son for the changes his body is going through, touching and probing in places nobody should touch? Do you not think that kind of abhorrence deserves an equal measure of retaliation?

They should both be in Hell. And I have no desire to wait until after death for that to unfold.

Humans have too many rules, too many laws that mean nothing and too many governmental figures that are content to turn a blind eye to the things wrong with the world. I don’t want people to get into unnecessary trouble. I understand why the police can’t unleash an entire clip into a pedophile’s chest because they caught them in the act while going to apprehend them.

But I’m not the police. I’m not a government official. I don’t have a cushy office, or a high-paying job, or a moral compass that prevents me from delivering a hearty blow to the back of a man’s head should he fiddle with small bodies. I have myself. I have my principles. I have my rage. That’s all… and perhaps that’s why I enjoy it. I know I’m doing something cruel, but it’s to people who deserve it, and for that I will never apologise. People who ruin others for no good reason. People who tarnish the sanctity of youth for no other purpose than to satisfy their perverted fantasies.

While ever I feel strongly about this, I’m going to continue my work. It’s why I come to Earth routinely now; sit in a darkened apartment in London after having dinner with my wife in another realm completely, sifting through encrypted requests for help in my inbox.

Do you need help removing a human stain? Contact E.Strahv for further assistance.

[ You have (1) new email! ]

It’s time to get to work.

#🞮 — i am the lie that you adore. ❜ ( edgar. )#🞮 — welcome to my world﹐take a look around. ❜ ( main. )#🞮 — ask me to stay﹐i would be charmed to. ❜ ( ic. )#drabble *#hellbent *

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thatonealise · 4 years ago

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On the Wild.

In the beginning, there was nothing. Then a single creative spark made something out of nothing, borrowing the best of many worlds, and before long came the Wild. First a whole world, conventional in rules and mundane in contents, it had at some mysterious and indistinct point suffered a calamity so profound it shattered the world into teeny-tiny pieces, and tossed them left and right, up and down, across time and space. Now, it is a world divided; split into a thousand island and one, and maybe even more, where creatures of all kinds make a do, yourself among them.

Enter the Wild. Befriend it, respect its law, and it will in return be kind and favourable to all your ventures. To go against the Wild, and disrespect the law, is to play a game of chess with powers great and unpredictable. Or so say the soothsayers and prophets and far-seers, and other outspoken folk. But the problem still stands: The Wild allures adventurers and explorers from anywhere and of every disposition. They board the airships and aim to cross the gaping chasms between the isles in search for parts unknown, and in so doing challenge the Wild to a battle of luck.

Why do we hear the call of the Wild? Why it beckons us, when it is the Wild that employs mysterious ways to consume much-too-curious travellers? Perhaps you will be the first to find out. Your airship, *The Unyielding*, awaits only the order to embark. Until it does, however, I’d advise any aspiring explorer, even so eager as yourself, to educate themselves on the Wild matters.

Matter 1: The Cosmology

A world without rules is a world much too arbitrary. The Wild, thank goodness, rests on a foundation solid in structure and clear in law (though not devoid of Lovecraftian instability, something we will touch on in due time). Binding all that exists within the Wild is an omnipresent gas -- the zephyr. Scentless and weightless, zephyr is what our earthly person would call the air, save for a few un-oxygenic properties it has that the air we breathe on Earth does not.

Zephyr is safe to breathe in reasonable quantities, which themselves are relative to the species in question. Some may breathe more of it than others, but what stays true for all is that, sooner or later (most often sooner), the creature gobbling up too much zephyr will experience what is called the Wild-headedness. The foul gas will cloud their judgement, and warp their mind over the course of days so much as to drive them bonkers. Indeed, it is not uncommon to see explorers return disturbed, whispering to themselves some cryptic nonsense, and it is then said of them that they’re Wild-touched, and as one would presume, no Wild-touched traveller has to date ever recovered from the mind-twisting touch.

But, there are lands safe from the zephyr; pieces of land large enough to have developed an “atmosphere,” and ousted the lion’s share of that cosmic poison. Such lands are quick to nurture prosperous civilisations as more and more nomads are drawn to zephyrless refuge. It is as such unfortunate that few floatlands may brag about their atmosphere; in fact one is twice as likely to encounter a land engulfed in the zephyrous miasma. At times even, unbeknownst to the unsuspecting traveller, what might strike them as an airful land, is in truth a land with an atmosphere too thin to banish all of zephyr, and so there it flies unrestricted, sucking in quiet at the unaware guest’s sanity, until they too find themselves forever Wild-touched.

Zephyr also appears to attract, or even conjure, especially horrid weather. Whereas upon the floatlands it tends to be stable of mood -- one day mildly temperate and on another temperately harsh -- Mother Nature likes to throw a temper tantrum whenever her children attempt to sail the zephyrous space. Thunders strike aplenty from within the clouds, and wherever they can reach; powerful currents toss the feeble airships caught within them around like feathers, and the dreaded whirlwinds (although rare) may send even the strongest of vessels flying leagues away from where they were headed.

This area of the Wild, by far the most abundant, and sandwiched between land and other celestial bodies, came to be known as the Betwixt. One can not leave for a different isle without also crossing the Betwixt along the way. The act itself earned a colloquialism, “to fly betwixt.” Whenever one flies betwixt, they embark on a journey across this chasm to a neighbouring isle, taking on a tremendous risk to their life and sanity.

If we were to project the Wild on to a map; to look at the world from a bird’s perspective, we would see a clear pattern emerge to the way celestial bodies are situated. Between them are the poisonous clouds, always there and slow to madden (but sure to do so), that the Wild folks termed Betwixt:

Notice how zephyrous clouds have engulfed the smaller lands, whereas the bigger catch remains predominantly unscathed.

The Betwixt may be your best friend, or the worst enemy. It is never clear what your relationship is to be whenever you take off into the Wild, but the Betwixt is kind enough to make it apparent when comes the right moment, either with a smooth sail to your destination, or a spontaneous whirlwind until the last moment hidden inside a zephyrous nebula. On that note: pirates, marauders, and lawbreakers may find the thick shroud of a nebula, rich in zephyr, to be a wonderful hideout few orderlies would have the courage to investigate.

Zephyred isles often provide a secluded base of operations for many mages, mancers of various schools, and physicians dabbling in unorthodox fields of study. Remote, fraught with traitorous weather and poisonous amounts of zephyr, they are often left well alone, and probably for good reasons, too.

To call upon the Betwixt to deliver you from misfortune, or challenge it to a battle of luck whilst flying, is a decision you will have to make as a player. The Betwixt is as much a tool in your arsenal as it is space for you to traverse. Still, I’d advise all sailors to keep their wits about them, never you may know when your favour with the Betwixt will run out.

2nd Matter: The Semantics

People of the Wild have never known the fluctuous oceans and salted seas, as there no longer exists land big enough to hold them. This fact of life ensured that languages and cultures of the Wild never developed words to describe outspread bodies of water, the size of oceans and seas, and neither did they arrive at the words derived in part or in full from their relation to the high seas and azure mains, be they islands or archipelagos or other.

The vocabulary we earthlings turn to talking about islands and archipelagos makes little sense to wildlings. They would understand what the “land“ of an island means, but the rest would leave them befuddled. Islands and archipelagos, in particular, are terms one has to rule out for a floating world for etymological reasons. Both words, if you were to trace them all the way back to their forefathers in PIE, happen to be portmanteaus of Indo-European for “river” (proposedly) -- that which is swift -- and Indo-European for “land.“ Therefore "island” describes a piece of land rested on a body of water, which would in theory be a possible but unlikely semantic development in an environment washed at most by small rivers and lakes. Many (if not most) of Wild-born peoples would simply never come across an island anywhere in their homeland, and thus never coin the relevant term; land surrounded by water would stay the stuff of contemporary science fiction.

Since the concept of islands and the relevant word have never been coined, peoples transcending the boundaries of their homeland do not think of the land they discover flying betwixt as islands. Anything but! Instead, they would size up the newfound land (wink-wink Canadians) and term it according to scale:

Lands comparable to or greater than their own, vast and bountiful, would be judged as Greatlands.

Lands smaller, only a little or downright minute, would be recorded as Minorlands.

Most peoples distinguish between great- and minor-lands. While these are not the words they would speak in their native tongues, translated into English they best convey the semantic and conceptual process that went into and evolved the words they use to describe the lands encountered on travels across the Betwixt. To them, it would not make sense to classify the lands as islands, for “island“ as a word implies land upon water -- literally speaking -- something wildlings wouldn’t think possible.

This same line of thinking I try to apply to all the other terms native to our world yet unfounded in the Wild, and supplant them with terms both clear to us and grounded in the semantic development one would expect from a floating world, and “floating” cultures. The choice of words they make reflects the world around them, and the traits unique to its cosmology. I have to stress, though, that I’m by no means a wise-headed scholar of all humanitarian and applied disciplines alike; I’m just a hobbyist, and the neologisms I invent for the Wild are altogether speculative, and nothing more.

3rd Matter: The Floating Lands

Second in number to zephyrous clouds are the floatlands, stretching as far as the eye can see, maybe even till the very edge of the observable world. Strip the Wild of the lands, and you would render it somewhat of a desolace, sparsely dotted with an occasional nebula, shining star, or the dreaded whirlwind, stashed away someplace on the outskirts to catch oblivious explorers off guard. It is upon these pieces of land torn away from long lost planets (or the great supercontinent, or the Primordial Star, depending on what you take to be the authentic Creation Myth, for there are plenty), that the Wild’s vast majority of earth-like features unfold.

Greatlands, true to their name, happen to be the greatest in extent. They stand as the most diverse in nature and features, owing to their scale; it is not out of character for a greatland to offer a dozen different habitats for the inquisitive traveller to discover. They hoard flora and fauna that would be a curiosity to stumble upon travelling a minorland, and the magnificent mountain ranges are but an ordinary fact of life, originating from the time that there were not great lands, but one too many minorlands drifting too close to one another.

The clash, in time, erected mountains recognised in the modern age as the peaky landmarks of a great many greatlands. Rivers and lakes wash them, and many species one is to encounter throughout the Wild claim descent from one such land or the other, cementing the popular opinion among wildling scholars of greatlands as the undisputed cradle of civilisation.

Minorlands, by contrast, are the smallest of lands, and as such very homogeneous in nature and terrain. Many a time they host temperate uplands, whether defined by scorching dunes or grassy hills or bone-chilling piles of snow, and seldom have another biome. Guesting adventurers are forced to walk the same plain time and again, hoping for a path somewhere that is not a desert with no end or an ever-stretching meadow.

Yet, minorlands are famed as the best places of seclusion: farmsteads have since time immemorial bonded with these flattened blobs of dirt and thickets, their predictable weather and absence of unwarranted surprises be praised; shady sorts, too, find the safety of a remote minorland to their liking, and so do polities on the rise, erecting watchtowers upon them to spot unwanted intruders from afar. Rural and tame, predictably temperate and never at all hiding dangerous surprises, they for certain hold a slew of advantages over their great towering counterparts.

Chainlands are less so a shape or form of a land in the Wild, and more so a cluster of the two varieties aforementioned. Ages ago, the first peoples would without question have entitled them minor- and great-lands alike, but the passage of time led them to invent and construct bridges and passes to connect these lands together, in an effort to make travel much less of a burden.

Of stone, of wood, or spectral essence (born of powerful spells), bridges to a chainland are as veins to a human -- cut them down, and the chainland will be sure to suffer a fatal blow to the economy and infrastructure. This reliance on bridge-making, and bridge-keeping, had implored the Wild folk to derive a neologism to describe this network of land and bridge. The Chainlands, the lands chained one to another.

Greatlands among chainlands are few and far between, but when they are, they only ever bind the neighbouring minorlands to drift around them, like moons round a planet in our world. The pull at times is so strong that the bound minorlands break apart, forming together a ring of shredded land, themselves at times entitled the shredlands.

Minorlands, on the other hand, stand unbeaten as the most usual finds in any given chainland, and more often than not the only land there is to be seen. When it is so, and there is no greatland to project authority upon the minorlands, they tend to revolve around each other, their pull so weak that the revolution appears paused to all but the most perceptive and patient of eyes.

The rarest of all is a chainland wherein two greatlands do battle. Under that circumstance, the two colossi fight for dominance over the chainland, and in due time (lasting millennia, and longer still) the pull they exert upon one another will tear them to pieces that the future wildlings will take for minorlands. It is believed all chainlands had in the forgotten days been greatlands dueling to death, and the minorlands as a phenomenon had only emerged from the rubble the duel had left. This is however in the view of many a contradiction to the theory of minorlands as the forefathers of greatlands. Sweet, one more thing to argue about...

4th Matter: The Phenomena

Rarer even than two greatlands locked in an ageless stalemate are the naturally occurring phenomena a keen explorer is sure to come upon at some point in their chasm-crossing career. They range in scale, and use, and animosity to the beings caught in their vicinity, but all are united in the danger they pose to every living thing, sentient or otherwise. They toss, and poison, and twist the minds of their unlucky victims, and beware they who dare venture someplace never charted.

Luckily for the Wild folk, all but one known phenomena are stationary; it would take a great deal of law-breaking and space-bending power to set them in motion -- more still to make a weapon out of them -- and the very idea has become the subject of Deluge Myths among many Wild-born faiths and traditions.

Note that the list I offer down below is incomplete; it would take me too much time, too many letters, and even more brainpower to scribble all of the wild ideas I’ve come to cooking up a host of obstacles for the Player to overcome on their journey across the Betwixt. I will instead list the ones I’ve thought about the longest, ordered least to most interesting, and leave the rest for another time:

Nebulas

Native to the far corners of the Betwixt, miles upon miles away from the closest floatland, nebulae take shape when the zephyrous currents, flowing of their own accord through the Betwixt, or given a violent push from a whirlwind, come to a halt in one place, and condense into clouds. The clouds then clash and thicken, and before long turn so dense one would struggle to make out the loosest detail even ten metres ahead, and not one propeller in the Wild would have the horsepower to blow the clouds away.

Naturally, it is as dangerous to sentient life (thanks in no small part to copious amounts of zephyr) as it is useful the mortals seeking refuge or a place to hide. The big problem for them is therefore to puzzle out a way to breathe, but also maintain their clarity of mind. Devices and gear exist to protect the daring pilots, but even they give in under so much stress. Oversaturated air notwithstanding, nebulae have been known to act as naturally fortified hideouts for criminal elements; whole syndicates were fabled to raise floating fortresses amid the nebula, and sometimes they would discover by pure chance “castaway“ minorlands inside.

Few have come back to tell the tale, and so it is to this day a wonder to many; one that raises a plethora of questions, most notably the question of what else could possibly be hiding in the nebula’s heart?

Currents

Driven now by cosmic forces and then by a raging whirlwind, zephyrous currents serve to experienced pilots as motorways serve seasoned drivers here on Earth -- they send even the heaviest merchantmen flying like a lightweight schooner, at the expected cost of abnormal levels of the gas in the air. Currents and lanes are cognate, and the words are used interchangeably to refer to the same phenomenon.

While impossible to influence, to slant or pick up the pace, almost like the current of a river, they always run their course like they did since the beginning of all things. Only whirlwinds may redirect some portion of a current away into the Wild, and the lost current soon stops deep in the Wild and turns to a nebula.

Even then, the main current will get to keep the direction it is flowing, making them a tempting choice of many traders and colonists, who by force of circumstance have to man ships so heavy that the cost of travel is immense. The current step in to help, and take some of the financial edge off.

Currents may every now and again branch out, and the individual branches may converge into another current at the very tip, forming networks vital to the circulation of trade and commerce and people throughout the Wild; about as essential as bridges are to a chainland. Maps charting the currents and the branches are worth their weight in gold, and it is only natural that many explorers make a living mapping the currents they chance upon in their travels.

Whirlwinds

The fear; the nightmare of every sailor seasoned and amateur alike, are the dreaded whirlwinds. Itself a smidgen tear (or hole, a better word) in the fabric of reality, a whirlwind bends the space and time around it with a pull a quintillion times that of the largest greatland conceivable; so strong it stretches all matter too close around the dark epicentre into a bright spiral of heated zephyr, and the chunks of land and other fallen material.

There’s a constant rotation of matter happening within the whirlwind’s ring, as old matter eventually reaches the point of no-return -- the whirlwind’s lightless and lifeless centre -- and new matter takes its place. What happens to the old from that point onwards is a subject shrouded in mystery, with only a handful of scholarly works, all pure speculation, as not one Wild person has ever managed to fly close to the whirlwind and stay whole, let alone fly so close as to observe the matter being absorbed into the black core.

Legend has it, and so does science, that should a whirlwind draw too close to a greatland, it will eat it whole, bones and all, and leave not one trace behind. Thankfully, there have never been cases observed and recorded of such calamities taking place, and gods help us that they do not befall us tomorrow.

Testament to the whirlwinds’ power is their ability to draw from the current a new one, and in so doing lay foundations for new currents for the network, or even the new nebulae. They are not, as such, entirely destructive when examined under creationist light.

There are moony captains out in the Wild who may, equipped the right things, ride on the very edge of a whirlwind’s ring to gain speed one would never reach in the strongest current. Nevertheless, I’d advise you, young captain, never to consider a means of travel with a potential so devastating.

Stars

They go by many names; of their own making and christened so by their mortal worshippers from the floating lands. They prefer to name their kin Celestials, but the noble intention this word carries could not be further from their nature. Aye, the Stars of the Wild are in every way as sentient as the Wild peoples, and just as numerous, but rarely if ever benevolent. Quite the polar opposite.

Stars are power incarnate; their blinding light may scorch and turn the lesser life to smoke and ash, but it may also plant the seeds of life upon a lifeless greatland, should the Star be in the mood to curb the sunlight. The taste of this godlike privilege has driven many of them arrogant of character; reluctant to hear the plights of land-dwelling “insects” they warm, whether by choice or circumstance, and eager instead to bind them to their will.

Lands orbiting a Star, while far more bountiful than the lands lit only by the bleak natural light of the Wild, bask in the Star’s life-giving rays, and enjoy a life of everlasting overindulgence, with a sinister catch. Not so much a catch even, as a figurative leash that the Star has put them on, holding entire civilisations hostage forced to appease it, and many Stars are infamously whimsical.

All too often Star-lit lands resort to Star-worshipping zealotry, too small both in stature and in will to rise against their blinding overlord. Some did, though, and gallivanting bards sing of their ashes gliding through the Wild along the currents, the last traces of a civilisation wiped out in the flash of light...

To approach a Star is, too, an experience thrice as maddening and sickening as spending a minute too long in a nebula. The closer you drift towards them, the louder their diabolical whispers grow in your head, incessant and urging you to turn right around, or perish from your own madness. Spend long enough near a Star, and upon your unlikely return to the mainland, people will speak of you as as the Stargazer; the Star-touched. Needless to say it is an ailment every bit as chronic as the Wild-headedness.

Given this way of things, little is known to scholars from outside the Star-lit lands of the Stars’ origins, or the properties they possess besides the incomprehensible language they speak, and their obvious lust for power. It is only known of their kind that some of it is not as malevolent; the Stars aligned to do good have only been seen once or twice in known history, and few endured the pressure from their less-ethical peers so long as to live into our age. Regardless, maybe the fate will bring you together, young captain, and then you would be the one to teach me of the things you’d learnt from the meeting.

Finita La Commedia

That is all you need to know, for now, young captain, and I hope this minute handbook taught you a concept or two. Now-now, “The Unyielding” is ready, and so are you. Bewildering adventures await deep within the Wild; distant shores, bizarre creatures, and life-threatening phenomena itching to be discovered. Take notes of the things encountered and events witnessed, and maybe your findings will fetch a pretty penny. Don’t you dare approach the Stars, though, I wouldn’t wish upon my apprentice the Star’s pestilent touch. Come back to us safe and sound, friend, and pardon my sentimentality.

We all bid you a very fond farewell.

#worldbuilding #devlog #gamedev

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dabistits · 5 years ago

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To talk about Twice and villainy is to talk about class and criminality (II)

(Masterlist)

Poverty and crime in Japan

Despite Japan’s perception as a country with relatively low inequality, that reputation has somewhat suffered as capitalism advanced and the country faced economic downturns in the 1990s and 2000s. Japan still claims a high life expectancy, universal healthcare, and low infant mortality, but conversations about wealth have been ongoing: academic Sugimoto Yoshio records the changing discursive landscape that transformed Japan “from a uniquely homogeneous and uniform society to one of domestic diversity, class differentiation and other multidimensional forms.” Sugimoto describes the increasing discussion of a kakusa shakai, a disparity society, and the emergence of a karyu shakai—the underclass. Since Sugimoto’s article was published in 2010, [source] many issues of this kakusa shakai identified by him and academics from ten-plus years ago have persisted, such as the proliferation of non-regular workers (now comprising 15% of the labor force), [source] the growing wealth inequality being reflected in Japan’s aging population, and the increasing numbers of elderly poor. More recently, increasing attention has been devoted to the issue of child poverty, usually connected to the low incomes of single, working-class mothers. [source] In 2017, Japan’s relative rate of poverty rose to 16.3% (for comparison, the relative rate of poverty in the U.S. declined to 17.3%), and many non-regular workers expressed fears of getting sick and losing their jobs, remarking on their total lack of stability. [source] [source]

Reflecting working-class desperations worldwide, the most common crime in Japan throughout the Heisei era (1989-2019) was theft. Theft, particularly of material goods, should be thought of as a crime of need, arising out of a lack of a particular good and the money to pay for it. It’s a crime that points to a society with unmet needs, and an effort to criminalize those who try to have their needs met through their own power when social institutions refuse to help. It has long been asserted that the “concepts of "crime" are not eternal,” and that “the very nature of crime is social, and is defined by time and by place and by those who have the power to make the definitions.” The contested legality of abortion is a simple illustration of how definitions of “crime” are constantly in flux, constantly debated, and not at all intuitive or self-explanatory. Being able to label an action, a behavior, or a group of people “criminal” or “illegal” is an act of power, and people doing the labeling have a vested interest in determining what “crime” is. Activist Sabina Virgo, source of the previous quotes, elaborates: “The power to define is [...] the power of propaganda. [...] Most of us accept the images and definitions that we have been taught as true, neutral, self-evident, and for always; so the power [...] to define what is right and wrong, what is lawful and what is criminal, is really the power to win the battle for our minds. And to win it without ever having to fight it.” [source]

The choice to inscribe theft as a crime, as an act to be punished, is part of that propaganda. It’s the decision to criminalize poverty and to protect profit over people, rather than rightfully interpreting theft as a symptom of a dysfunctional system. In Japan, this looks like a large percentage of crimes getting committed by the elderly, particularly theft (90% of shoplifting offenders were elderly women), and a large percentage of incarcerated seniors, who by 2018 made up 12% of the prison population; on the other hand, the law is just beginning to address unethical workplace practices like overwork and power harassment, while facing a rising number of reports on domestic and sexual violence—the raw numbers of which are likely even higher than reported. [source] The difference between which acts are ruled criminal, and who gets criminalized for acting, lays stark the difference between the unethical actions undertaken by the powerful, and the criminalized actions undertaken by the powerless; the more an unethical act abides by and benefits entrenched systems of power, the more we are compelled to see it as normal and acceptable, whereas actions, however minuscule, that resist the hegemony of the capitalist class and reject its propaganda end overwhelmingly with more debt and prison time.

Family and class.

The socioeconomic forces that shift our societies are no less felt within the family structure, and family may be one of the first social units to see destabilization. In a world of increasing economic strife, it isn’t uncommon for parents to spend more hours working than at home, or even to travel abroad to provide for their family in their native country, to see traditional norms rewritten as children either move away or continue to live with their parents, as marriage and birth rates rise or fall, and as the elderly are either embraced back into the family structure or left to fend for themselves. Due to generational wealth, family is also often the determining factor for whether or not someone succeeds, to what degree, and with how much effort. Needless to say, when it comes to “class,” the topic of family receives much scrutiny as academics, journalists, and creators delve into the ways our notions of “family” shift according to time, class, and economics.

Consider that in Japan, and de facto in most countries in the world, the first and most important safety net in modern society is the family. “Public social protection schemes are based on the assumption that everyone is supported by family first,” [source] and this includes the assumption of financial assistance, and duties like procuring care for the family’s elderly. The Japanese family registry—the koseki—is a family tree that records births, deaths, and marriages, and is in many ways a codification of the centrality of family, bloodline, and inheritance. [source] When a character like Jin says that he’s “someone without roots,” perhaps our first impulse is to imagine it as a description of emotional relationships, a difficulty he experiences because others can’t relate to him, but it’s not purely an intangible feeling; there are very tangible repercussions to being “unrooted.” Without a stable family, “unrooted” people miss the safety net that family is supposed to be—they miss its protection. Under a system that expects the worst scourges of modernity to be alleviated by the family, this leaves the “unrooted” out in the cold.

These failures on the part of the traditional family structure to account for prosperity, whether it be through generational poverty, through abuse, or through instability and absence, often leads to a restructuring of these bonds. In Japan, “when the economic bubble burst and the recession exposed the illusion of permanent and stable employment for the diligent workforce, the children found that attaining a better living than their parents through hard work and better education was no longer guaranteed,” and once economic success was no longer guaranteed through traditional paths, children’s bonds “shifted to more individualized, voluntary ties.” [source] Of course, shifting economic conditions aren’t the only reason for non-blood-related individuals to come together—many also come from backgrounds of loss or rejection. As a columnist wrote: “Tragedy and suffering have pushed people together in a way that goes deeper than just a convenient living arrangement. They become, as the anthropologists say, “fictive kin.””

BNHA poignantly embodies these dynamics as Jin tearfully declares that the LOV gave him a “place to belong.” In Japanese, the term used is 居場所 (ibasho), a phrasing which contains the 居 kanji for “residing” or “residence,” as well as “to exist” (it reprises in “I was happy to be (居られて) here” in Jin’s final thoughts). A literal reading could render ibasho as a “place to reside,” or a “place to exist”—something offered only by the friends Jin made, who are a sanctuary from the public that overlooked his alienation, rendering him invisible and denying him existence. For their parts, the other villains are also marked by an ambiguous relationship to their biological family, if not an absence altogether. Himiko and Tomura, whose backstories were touched upon in the same arc, led contentious family lives: Himiko’s parents appeared to regularly condemn their child, and the repeated rebukes that Tomura (Tenko) endured from his father—including an incident of physical assault—resulted in the awakening of Decay and the deaths of his family.

These three were remnants of broken traditional families, scattered and largely isolated across the country. Originally united as a villain group bound loosely by similar goals, they eventually came to rely on each other for survival once the stability of All For One’s hideout and resources were stripped away, leaving them to face a hostile world saturated by incessant policing and villain power struggles. Mutual protection became not only necessary for survival, but necessary for triumph—the League of Villains are consistently shown to be at their best when working as a team, operating on a mixture of communication and even blind trust. Ironically, it’s only when they try to bring outsiders into the fold that the situation goes awry, suggesting that their strength isn’t in numbers or recruitment, but in the relationships they’ve built between one another, relationships that ultimately coalesced under the unpopular worldview that maybe there is nothing wrong with them, but something very wrong with the world. What the readers come to understand is that the LOV are no longer only convenient allies: they can best be understood as a residence for a group of outcasted people with similar experiences and outlooks, who finally found in each other the shelter that traditional family had failed to provide.

#bubaigawara jin #jin bubaigawara #bnha meta #the exhaustive meta about i love twice

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manesh · 4 years ago

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Circumcision is a Hate Crime

Circumcision is a Hate Crime, and it has to stop

A plea to circumcised fathers who might circumcise their sons

Why circumcised men should have mercy on themselves and their sons

Dedicated to my grandfather, who listened when he was ignorant, and taught when he was knowledgeable.

Book Outline:

1. My temptation to commit retaliatory crimes of hate

2. Circumcised men, It’s ok to have some pity on yourself

3. Hope for restoring sexual function & comfort

4. Benefits of being uncircumcised / restored / uncut

5. My memory of circumcision

6. The Book of Michael Asad Manesh

7. Genital mutilation is the worst hate crime, worse than rape and murder

8. Nuance & Errata

9. My Final Plea to Circumcised Fathers

10. A Thank You to Fathers who Choose to Protect Children

11. Afterword & Acknowledgements

1. My temptation to commit retaliatory crimes of hate

I can state, unequivocally, I hate my birth parents. They were cruel and abusive towards me all of my life, starting in my earliest days when they removed a large piece of my penis, leaving me with permanent sexual dysfunction and decades of pain and suffering. Of all the abuses inflicted on me by my parents, the mutilation of my penis was the worst and most permanent. This permanent disfigurement of my penis is called “circumcision.”

I have spent many years wrestling with my own rage, with poor sex education, coping and communication skills to express it. Any pain I communicated about my penis, both to my parents and doctors, was laughed at, mocked, and rejected.

Once, when I pointed out painful callouses that had formed on the underside of my glans due to no protective foreskin, a female nurse practitioner lied and said “all men are like that” while laughing mockingly at me. What a bitch. I still think about cutting a piece of her clitoris off, sometimes - she is on my long list of people I often consider mutilating to make them understand my pain, who were supposed to heal me but only harmed me with their hurtful lies and complete disregard for my expressions of pain.

I was born in a hateful society that oozes contempt for males who have suffered permanent genital disfigurement at the hands of their own parents.

When I was a child, I spent many hours tugging on my penis, unsuccessfully trying to regrow the missing foreskin. I would endlessly try to prod the glans, the head of my penis, back into my body, because it always felt too exposed, cold, and irritated. My parents slapped, pinched, belted and screamed at me to make me stop trying to heal my penis with tugging, telling me I was the worst child who ever lived, a literal demon.

I did not consciously understand that I had been cruelly and wickedly mutilated due to my parents’ wishes until I was 30 - I was ignorant that there was such a thing as an uncircumcised male until then. I had been kept sexually dumb by my wicked mother and father, who fed me a constant and poisonous stream of lies and misinformation, and a wicked government, that censors all information about the harms of circumcision, and images of penises, both cut and uncut, from airing on TV.

I have l lived all my life with constant, low-level rage at my mistreatment, at the permanent disfigurement I have suffered.

I have endless rage at the government of the United States, its doctors that carried out the mutilation on me, and the legal system that protects parents from revenge mutilation, but allows them to cruelly mutilate their sons in an act of pure hate - a one way system where children have no protection or recourse. A system that in 2020 drove children to record highs of suicide. A system that doesn’t even recognize the right of boys to retaliate against those who mutilate their genitals.

Of all the offenses and crimes against children, I judge mutilation the most torturous, because it is a disfigurement that one carries for the rest of their life, even if they should escape the hell of their parents and the country from which the brutal practice is allowed.

But after years of considering shooting, bombing, or mutilating in morally justifiable revenge, I have been lucky to have had enough time, safety and space to come up with a better solution than retaliatory violence.

It is my goal to persuade every human on earth that circumcising an infant boy or child is a hate crime, and a sex crime.

I am starting with adult males like me, who are circumcised, and may be considering circumcising their sons.

I admit it is mostly my hate that drives me to do this, but I have channeled that hate into the primary goal of protecting children from mutilation, and I will do that by convincing every man circumcised as a child that what was done to him was a hate crime, and a sex crime.

Fathers, before you mutilate the penises of your sons as your penis was mutilated, read this book and allow me to convince you that you suffered grievous harm, and you should not pay that harm forward to your sons.

2. Circumcised men, It’s ok to have some pity on yourself

If you were circumcised without your input or consent: have some pity on yourself. You were helpless, and defenseless. The adults that were supposed to protect you let you down. They failed you.

It is truly sad what happened to you. Ask any man- where is he most sensitive? Where does he feel the most pleasure and pain? His penis. Your most fun, enjoyable part, with the most ability to give you sexual pleasure and orgasm - much of it was cut from you in an act of pure hate, meant to sexually disfigure you and render you unable to fully enjoy an erection, masturbation, and sex.

Most men in the world do not have their genitals mutilated by their parents; you are in the unlucky minority with cruel parents that wanted to cripple your ability to experience sexual pleasure.

This is absolutely horrific, the behavior a slavedriver inflicts on his property. You have not only suffered sexual dysfunction, but extreme psychological abuse from those who tell you your mutilation was for your benefit. You have been told endlessly that circumcision makes you “clean” and “prevents infection” and “it has no negative impact on sex”, and these lies make your suffering all the worse, because it was never acknowledged by the hateful sex criminals that cut you.

If you have suffered the injury of circumcision, and then pushed the pain and irritation out of conscious awareness and stopped mentioning it because even your parents and doctors mock you and call you a liar - that is a truly sad and lonely story. It breaks my heart that you could have so much suffering, so much pain, and no one to help you heal from it.

It is ok to say to yourself, “you know what? It was terrible what happened to me. I deserve a bit of sympathy and pity. My tribe, my parents and government, failed me. The permanent pain and disfigurement I have suffered was a truly wicked thing to inflict on me as an innocent child, and I didn’t deserve it.”

As a circumcised male, you deserve compassion.

It is my hope that once you learn to feel compassion for yourself and your own sexual wounds, you will learn to extend that compassion to your sons, and not repeat the act of sexually wounding them.

3. Hope for restoring sexual function & comfort

The foreskin can be restored through tugging - simply pulling hard on the skin of the penis near the head, and slowly stretching the skin out. Topical steroids may help. The process can take months or years.

It is a slow and slightly painful process, but the end result can be a penis that looks and feels much more like it would have if it was never cut in the first place, with better resting comfort, and better sexual/erect performance.

Tugging can be done manually, or with prosthetics (straps/weights that apply constant tugging).

4. Benefits of being uncircumcised / restored / uncut

When I saw an uncut penis for the first time, I was confused at first. But as I became sexually educated, I felt angrier and angrier about how some criminally insane people say circumcision is somehow “beneficial to males.”

A penis with a foreskin doesn’t hurt all the time. Once you restore yours with tugging, even partially, you will be more comfortable when non-erect. Covering the glans, especially the base of the glans, is a significant comfort improvement. For me personally, the first few millimeters regrown got rid of the callouses that used to form around the base of my glans, and most of the pain/tearing I would experience from erections, masturbation and sex.

A penis with a foreskin is better in every way for sex. Erections are not painful when there is enough skin to stretch. Significantly less lubrication is needed for sex because the foreskin adds just enough “give”. Masturbation can be performed painlessly without lubricant. Vaginal sex can be given with no or low lubricant, and will not rip or injure the vagina as a calloused, circumcised penis can - with no tearing, there should be less chance of infection. Anal sex, which many females enjoy, can also be more easily given with a whole and complete penis.

I have observed that women have a natural instinct to grab the excited penis, and gently pull downwards on it to reveal the glans. They do this regardless of whether the penis is circumcised or not. For a circumcised penis, this motion causes extreme pain. For a whole penis, this motion causes extreme pleasure.

It is no wonder to me that so many women in this society are frustrated with the sexual performance of circumcised men, because their natural, instinctive ways of sexually pleasing men instead hurt circumcised men.

Circumcision also reduces the size of the penis in an absolute sense. To have a mutilated penis is to not be able to compete in terms of penis size with an uncut man, who is otherwise similar in build. In a societal sense, this means that women with the biggest vaginas may never be able to find a penis that fits them properly, because all penises have been cut down to an unnaturally smaller size, which is tragic for those women. It also means circumcised men will need a smaller/younger mate than he naturally would for her vagina to fit & pleasure his smaller penis properly.

A man with a mutilated penis will also struggle at sports and battle due to increased discomfort and pain when running and have a weaker sex drive. He will have a difficult time competing with males who have a complete penis. He will lose more often at mating games as is more likely to have infrequent, unsatisfying sex. He is likely to avoid women entirely - this was my personal strategy to avoid discomfort for most of my life. He may be mislabeled as gay, asexual, or transgender, with no reference to his penis mutilation.

This is why I say circumcision is a sexual crime in addition to a hate crime. A parent that chooses to make sex acts hellacious by circumcising their child is guilty of sex crimes and hate crimes against their child for this reason.

It is obvious and clear to me now that the primary purpose of circumcision is to destroy a man’s ability to enjoy sex. Uncircumcised males have better sexual performance and pleasure, and females display more appreciation and comfort when having sex with uncut penises.

If you doubt this, you can easily do your own research by watching porn with an eye for circumcision, male performance and female pleasure. Circumcised men often display pain on their faces in pornography that is uncharacteristic of uncircumcised men; much porn tries to hide this by not displaying male faces.

5. My memory of circumcision

I have an extremely clear memory of my own circumcision, which I have suffered flashbacks to all my life.

Normally, local anesthetic is used for circumcisions in the US. Even so, I have an unusual genetic tolerance and require a triple dose to get a numbing effect, a fact I learned when I was 29 at an elective surgery.

I did not know this or have the ability to communicate it when I was an infant. I was bound to a cold table like a lump of meat, and what felt like half my penis was sawed off. It is the worst pain I have ever felt - words cannot even begin to describe it. I had constant nightmares about it for 36 years, almost my whole life. Any sensation on my penis could make me feel intense fear and a pinching, sawing sensation - a flashback to the procedure.

I am blessed in a way, because deep down, I have always known what was done to me was a cruelty. If you were unfortunate enough to be completely numb for the procedure, there is a possibility it would not make a strong, traumatic impression on you as it did me.

A child will explore and play with his body in the first few days of life. If he has a chance to see, feel and understand his foreskin, then even if numbed when it is removed, he will always know what he has lost. This is why hate criminals try to mutilate the genitals immediately after the child is born, so that he will not have a clear, visual and hand-tactile memory of what he has lost. Instead, he will have constant and seemingly inexplicable pain, a feeling of betrayal, and no chance to grieve for what he has lost. Only when one sees, admits and acknowledges what they have lost and grieves for it can they begin the process of psychological healing, which will free him from psychological enslavement to those who mutilated him and thus do not deserve his loyalty.

I used to be unconsciously triggered by fluorescent lights, the beeping of medical equipment, and doctors’ offices until I learned about circumcision and PTSD triggers, watched a video of a circumcision and understood that I was flashing back to my own.

I used to do any form of self-harm to try to avoid flashbacks to the experience of having half my dick sawed off - the slightest sensation or pressure on my oversensitive, exposed glans could cause me to go into a dissociative trance. So I would fracture my bones, pull out my hair, bite my fingernails until they bled, and twist my body into uncomfortable postures that would rip and strain muscles and leave them aching for hours. I would dive into workaholism, endlessly watch tv, play video games, overdose on drugs, masturbate excessively even though it hurt, or otherwise numb and dissociate myself out with distractions.

The pain of bloody, clipped-too-deep toenails was always better than a reminder of the pain of getting my dick sawed in half.

But now that I’ve been able to view my full memory, this is what I remember feeling in the moments after the intense, torturous pain of my penis being sawed off stopped and was replaced with a stinging & burning, lasting pain that wouldn’t go away:

WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH?

WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?

IT HURTS SO BAD, OH GOD IT HURTS SO BAD, OH GOD IT HURTS SO BAD, OH GOD IT HURRRSSS SOOOO BAD...

PLEASE SAVE ME... PLEASE SAVE ME... PLEASE MAKE THE PAIN STOP... IT HURTS SO BAD... I WANT TO DIE

OH GOD IT HURTS SO MUCH... THIS IS HELL... THIS IS HELL.... THIS IS HELL...

I have never stopped thinking that my life is hell since, and even now while writing this book aged 36 with some but not all of my foreskin restored through tugging, I am still aware and annoyed by the feeling of my exposed glans, which feels cold and painful.

I no longer think that all life is hell, but my childhood, and my life, was a hell until I turned my back on humanity and found God.

6. The Book of Michael Asad Manesh

Consider this a book of a prophet, which should be added to all religious texts as the last testament and will of God.

I have listened to God, at length, and directly. I recognize no mortal as above me - I answer only to God.

The greatest sin there is, the sin that is worse than all others, is to mutilate your own child. If you choose to mutilate your children, you have failed your God-given morality test, and you will be cast into a hell of suffering that you will carry with you in your soul no matter how far you run.

God is a compassionate being, who wishes to teach us the lessons of morality as gently as possible. One cannot be given eternal life unless they have proven they will not misuse that power to create a hell of endless suffering for others.

To mutilate a child is to give him a body on earth that is a hell of suffering wherever he goes. He cannot outrun the disfigurement you have inflicted on him in your cruelty. You have created hell for him; you have failed God’s morality test. You have been given a conscience that knows what I speak is true, but have chosen not to use it.

God will not send an Angel to stop you from sin, because the Angel is within you, as near as the beating of your heart, if you but listen to its voice: your conscience.

If you refuse to repent of your sin of mutilating your child, or if you choose to mutilate another child knowing it goes against God’s will, as I have prophesied, then your existence will be a hell until you repent, because your own children will hate you, and inflict as much torture on you as possible, as you did to them. Even if you kill your children and hide in a cave, your conscience will torture you.

God is merciful, and will allow you to remain alive in hell for as long as you choose to show your children cruelty. If you wish to escape hell, you must choose to show your subordinates mercy and patience, as God has shown you and I mercy and patience.

This is the law of God: you will use the power you have been gifted with only to carry out the highest and best moral good: the protection and education of those in your care. If you refuse your responsibility, you will suffer the pains of hell.

God has a message for fathers: it is unquestionable that men have the strength, and therefore power, to protect children. Women do not have the same strength, and God does not judge women and men equally for this reason. Because men have more power, men have more responsibility in the eyes of God. Do not deny this obvious truth: You must protect a newborn when a woman is weak from birth!

I have written these truths not to punish you - but to explain to you exactly why your God-given conscience punishes you when you harm your children or allow them to come to harm through inaction.

There is a hierarchy of morality in the universe, and only those who have consciously chosen the highest and best moral path shall be gifted the alliance of God.

Thou shalt protect thy children is the highest and most important commandment of God.

There is one final thing I must say about God, as myself: when God was born, just like when a child is born on Earth, God was ignorant, and lonely. Creation of other-souls was an attempt to solve that terrible loneliness God felt as a singular consciousness in an endless, empty universe. Thus, the most divine of emotions is loneliness, it is to be one with God, it is the reason for creation, and that which brings us together and lets us compromise when necessary in spite of the pain of sharing power. It is our God-given loneliness that inspires us to make the world less lonely for each child that should follow. If you should follow your loneliness, you will inevitably arrive at LOVE, which is the combination of: RESPECT, EQUALITY, MERCY, COMPASSION.

7. Genital mutilation is the worst hate crime, worse than rape and murder

Circumcision has always been a crime of hate, used to punish one’s enemies. For a man to mutilate the penis of another man is to inflict the ultimate suffering on him. To inflict the ultimate suffering on an innocent child you were supposed to protect and nurture is the ultimate hate crime.

Rape is less of a crime than genital mutilation. In an absolute sense of which suffering is greater, those who have suffered from rape - a temporary loss of control and discomfort with their genitals - have suffered less those left with permanent discomfort from mutilation of their genitals. This is not to say that rape is a moral good, it is only to say mutilating genitals is worse than temporarily torturing them.

Murder is less of a crime than genital mutilation. A man who can no longer enjoy sex due to his mutilation lives a hellacious life, deprived of his greatest pleasure. I myself have often hoped for death, wishing to leave this broken body, but my conscience will not allow me to die until I speak for the children who cannot speak for themselves, who might still be saved from suffering needlessly as I have suffered. You do not need to mutilate a child to teach him not to mutilate others. The most force you will ever need to use with a child you properly respect to is a firm but gentle push and a word of advice; he will listen if he knows his body is protected by you.

If hatred of evil is your strongest trait, let this truth be your guide: Murderers and rapists are better souls than the scum that mutilate children at birth, never giving them a single chance to enjoy their whole and complete bodies. They are the worst of the worst, the most depraved and morally misguided souls on planet earth, the farthest it is possible to travel from God. Child mutilators deserve the lowest levels of hell, the worst prisons, and the harshest degree of shaming.

Do not be distracted by misdirections or minimizations about the harm done by child mutilation. Do not be distracted by friendly, bright-colored illustrations, when you know how painful it would be to have parts of your penis cut off, and how much you would miss those parts every day. Do not be fooled by those who say rapists and killers are worse.

Child mutilators are the worst people on planet earth, and some of the worst souls in all existence. They are guilty of hate crimes, and sex crimes. Child mutilators have sinned against God by using their power to torture and enslave children, rather than protect and educate them.

I encourage all souls on planet earth of any age to join me in the condemnation of the mutilation of children, including circumcision of both genders.

8. Nuance & Errata

I am not against adult circumcision for reasons of improving sexual performance & male pleasure. If your penis has too much skin, and you have had enough attempts at sex to know this for certain or other problems, you have my blessing to choose to cut off a small and specific amount you know will help you.

Anytime I say circumcision is a hate & sex crime, I am referring to the forced removal of parts a boy’s penis before reaching sexual maturity without his informed opinion being heard, not a procedure done by an informed and consenting, sexually active adult for his own benefit.

In a past life, I was an outspoken supporter of circumcision, a hateful liar that would say anything to justify mutilating children. For my sin, I have suffered the pains of hell, but my suffering for that sin is now over as I have learned my lesson and repented. If you leave God no other choice, it is my experience he will condemn you to the same torture you inflict on others.

I am not a strong man, nor am I particularly courageous. I have wept alone for many a night in pity for myself. I am still hurt, and still hurting. I didn’t want the responsibility of communicating the horror of circumcision to the world, but my conscience will drive me insane if I do not speak the truth on this matter, because I don’t see anyone else stepping forward to write what is necessary, and my opinions are extremely well-informed.

If you cannot remember or imagine circumcision pain, simply remember the worst pain of your life, your worst physical trauma. Your conscience knows that to carry out the infliction of such pain on an innocent child is a hate crime.

A long-term challenge for all circumcised males who carry rage about it is developing self-compassion. Start with yourself; love yourself. Give yourself compassion at all times. Do not condemn your anger; instead watch and understand the traumatic memory that is the source of the anger. The more self-compassion, patience and non-violence you can practice, the easier it will be to practice other-compassion. Start with self-compassion, recognize other-selves, extend other-compassion.

9. My Final Plea to Circumcised Fathers

Circumcised Fathers, I pray that my words will convince you not to continue the cycle of hate by mutilating the penises of your sons. On their behalf I say, without the slightest reservation: I DO NOT WANT TO BE CIRCUMCISED!

Even if your motives are purely selfish, and you care only for the wealth and labor your son will bring you, I say this to you: if you circumcise your son, he will never love and respect you as his father, and will undermine whatever wealth he brings you. He will always remember that you failed in a father’s most important duty - to protect his children from physical harm. He will know it every time he feels pain in his mutilated penis, and know his father failed him, as your father failed you, and he will hate you, as you hated your father.

It is possible for you and your son to have the healthy relationship you and your father never had, but not if you allow his body to come to grievous harm, such as circumcision. If you do that, you are no longer his father. He may forgive you if you repent, but that is up to him, forgiveness cannot be forced once trust is broken and the body is permanently disfigured.

My life has been a hell because of circumcision. I wish it was banned, and I wish I had a whole and complete penis to enjoy every day. I didn’t deserve to have my penis cut in half when I was an infant, and you, a circumcised adult male, didn’t either.

Circumcision is a Hate Crime and a Sex Crime. Fathers, stop paying the cruelty forward to your sons; end generations of trauma with your compassionate and wise decision to do the right thing and protect your sons from grievous harm to their genitals. Stop circumcision.

MICHAEL ASAD MANESH

10. A Thank You to Fathers who Choose to Protect Children

Father, if you have decided NOT to circumcise your son: THANK YOU. You have made one of the most important moral choices of your life correctly, and earned yourself an easier path to wisdom.

Some frightened, unenlightened souls may condemn you for it and tempt you to harm innocents, but those who possess both wisdom and compassion will always praise you for protecting children, as I do.

You have a lifetime of work and responsibility ahead of you as a father and protector, but there are great rewards as well, and you will find many allies and joys once you begin down the path of respect and compassion for yourself and others.

Fathers, if you protect your children, you will be my son, and brother, and father, and I will love you, and fight for you, and listen to you, and protect you for as long as I live, as your father should have done for you.

Together, we can make a heaven on earth for all our children, and ourselves.

2021-03-14, First Edition

[email protected]

11. Afterword & Acknowledgements

I was raised to be a soldier: to focus my knowledge and power into a single strike that would destroy the enemy, and leave me unharmed. For that reason, I consider this book a weapon. But who is my enemy?

My enemy is the unconscious rage in circumcised males, that bleeds out and harms those who did not inflict the suffering on them. Only once the rage is acknowledged can it begun to be healed. If you are a warrior, my book is a compact field guide to identifying the enemy within.

As a circumcised male, I can state that I have suffered, I have raged, and that rage almost consumed me and destroyed me. It has taken me many years to undo the psychological damage alone, and the physical damage of my penis mutilation is still a constant pain.

I have lived many years in poverty. I have begged at homeless shelters. I have been denied medical care for circumcision pain. I have done what I needed to to survive and finish this book, but if my conscience would allow me to die after publishing, I might almost consider it a relief. My life so far has not been a blessing or a gift, and I may have years ahead just to heal my penis.

I feel this book is too important to the future of humanity to put behind an app or paywall, so I am making it available for free in three easy to share formats: TXT, HTML & EPUB. Please save, read, and share. If you find my work helpful and wish to thank me, you can donate to me via PayPal or Zelle: [email protected]

This is the future I have seen: if we continue to mutilate our children at birth, a child will soon be born with so much rage and hatred at his mistreatment that he will use technology to destroy the world. We are beginning to see evidence of this, as our kids compete unnecessarily with automated tools. This is the final chance for humanity to act to protect all our children, or none shall survive. I was almost this child, but born a generation too soon, which is why I have foreseen it so clearly.

I can no longer take any action that defends or supports those that mutilate children. I cannot even show my implicit support by remaining silent. We, as a global human tribe, MUST protect ALL children from harm, or perish.

I would rather die than not speak out against the mutilation of a child. I will fight tirelessly for children as someone should have fought tirelessly for me. I will be the solution to the problem, or I will die trying. I encourage you to adopt the same attitude.

I did not know how to describe who I am, until an intelligent, kind, clear-eyed child saw me and named me: I’m a Children’s Rights Activist. Equal treatment is the right of all humans, no matter the age, and the most important protection is that from grievous bodily harm: mutilation.

My book is brutally honest, and will likely be extremely triggering to any other circumcised male reading it. Have compassion on yourself. There will be sadness and anger and other strong emotions that will be released when you process your trauma. It will take time to heal; I have been healing for 6 years and am not yet done.

Zoomers: you are the smartest generation ever. You have incredible access to knowledge in your pocket, and I have every faith in you. However, there is a lot of misinformation about circumcision out there. I hope my book fixes that for you. Good luck, kid. Pay it forward to the next gen, aiite?

There are many alive today, that I need to thank as inspirations to write this book:

@pennjillette @MrTeller, the show you made about circumcision was my first real education on the topic, age 30. I love you as my fathers and thank you from the bottom of my heart. You have made my personal life so much better through your art, attitudes and perspective.

@levarburton, thank you for encouraging me to read as a child and take a look for myself. I once had the pleasure of seeing you from afar at an event, and I have never forgotten your compassionate presence and hopeful vision of the future. You inspired me to write this book.

http://www.pete-walker.com, your book on CPTSD was magnificently helpful to me. I would vote for it as a foundational block of a new school of psychology, dedicated in service to children. Thank you.

@BillBurr, I’ve seen a lot of you and I’ve never seen you lie. As far as channeling righteous anger into helpful advice goes, you are my best inspiration.

@DrGaborMate, your outside perspective of American culture filled in many gaps I was struggling to comprehend. I consider you the bravest man I have ever seen, you inspire me to speak out and attempt to educate others in spite of my fear. You will always have my utmost respect.

@EckhartTolle, you the most fearless, powerful warrior I have seen (please don’t fight me :). Even I could not stand against your infinite patience, tireless compassion and reconciliatory humor. You inspire me to show compassion to others through good-natured, helpful humor, and take joy where I can in life, in each moment, and to be myself.

@JohnMayer, I have cried at the beauty and compassion of your song, "Daughters," every time I have heard it. You inspire me to speak up for, love, and defend women. Thank you for your hard work.

I have many women to thank as well - I believe most would prefer to remain anonymous. You have all been my mothers; you have seen my soul. But especially La, a genius who sagely told me not to let my pain go to waste.

I would also like to thank one individual no longer with us: Osho, who inspired me with a vision of a positive eternity, who taught with thousands of jokes and stories, and went though pain of circumcision as an adult to be able to say firsthand it was “absolutely stupid”. If you seek more reading after my book, I recommend his transcript: “Nirvana: The Last Nightmare.”

#CircumcisionIsAHateCrime

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tpaigeme · 4 years ago

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Fauci’s Prayer: America in the Crosshairs

of “Brilliant Psychopaths”. Or, Why you’re probably not praying enough. OK so people feel helpless right now — what can I do about this corruption this cancer that plagues our country? Even in this last election. You know the answer, you’ve been told that “prayer is good” all your life. To “ask and you shall receive”. So if you haven’t already started and taken your prayer life up a notch, I would like to encourage you to do so. It seems like a pretty obvious announcement and you’ve probably told yourself the same thing before. If there ever was a time in your life when you needed to kick it up a notch, to get right to it, instead of just thinking about it, to put time aside or pray in those spaces in your day when you’re more or less idle, for example when you’re in the grocery store standing in line, even for just a few minutes. But there’s also something else that will help. Guaranteed to take your prayer life up more than just a notch. But you do have to be dedicated to this prayer. You have to understand how important it is. This particular Prayer. It may not have occurred to you but I’ll give you a scripture to back it up. Soon as I think of it. As a matter of fact our Faith rests on this prayer so much it can hardly be measured in human terms. Because it is above and beyond human invention or creative ability, thought, mental ability or even the human heart. There are no human fingerprints on it. It is of divine origin. From the heart and mind of God. So what happens when you begin to say the Lords prayer? First to worst, our father some say even the first word hour. You begin to feel relief. Like a weight has been taken off your shoulders. You’re no longer struggling. All of that mental turmoil starts to fade to disappear. For one thing you know longer feel pressure to say the right prayer, to be so careful with your words, to pray from your heart whatever that means. Fortunately most people seem to know what that means. This phrase is never used in the Bible. It’s not scripture. Jesus said all kinds of things can come from your heart and not all of them good. But that is how we have been told we must pray. You’ve probably never heard words like this said about the Lord’s Prayer. In fact you’re liable to be tuning out right now. Could the Lord’s Prayer actually be a turn off? How? *** When they locked the doors of the churches guess what happened? You see how easily we are led astray by “brilliant psychopaths” let’s call them. Even the churches. These people are brilliant. Somehow they hold the key to manipulating our consciousness by convincing us that the absurd makes all the sense in the world, that right is wrong and wrong is right and night is day and day is night. I don’t know how they do it. But that is one thing we need to pray about for sure. #DeliverUSfromEvil And how is the Lord’s Prayer a safeguard against falling prey to these brilliant sociopaths and politicians and manipulators and liars...children of the father of lies. They seem to have great power over us through the father of lies. These “faucipatsies” #fauciopaths These brilliant salesman seem to be born not made. They have talents and gifts that they have cultivated in their minds hearts and that guide their every move and their success depends upon how cunning they are and hue expertly they deceive you. So they work at it. Every waking moment. It is their ultimate goal in life, their lives seem to depend on it. Now are you beginning to understand why the Lord’s prayer the LORD’S Prayer is so important? It’s not of human origin. It is God’s prayer for you. For US actually, and even the least among us can see that it is a good prayer. Even the most brilliant among us the most educated, can see. Despite all their years of learning, of watering down their religion, of accepting dogma ‘instead of truth, religion instead of faith, they can’t find a thing wrong with this prayer though they have tried. But here’s what they do instead: they presume to say, “he didn’t mean it. He did not mean what he said. Not “literally”. The literalists are literally telling you, do not take it, his words: “pray this wa, literally. Even the literalists those who get up and preach that the king James version is the only version and every word is true and every word is literal will tell you that instead of praying the Lord’s Prayer exactly as it is written, EXACTLY as it is written, you must embellish and improvise summarize add your own two cents. Because though the Lord’s Prayer is a good prayer it just needs a little help...us human beings! to really SELL IT! Because, “we know better, God. Trust me. We know what sells. Don’t get me wrong God it’s a great prayer! Good job! Fist pump!” “But. BUT! It just needs a little more oomph! How about a nice little doxology at the end. About a size 9? Looks great on you. No really those shoes make all the difference. Sandals? Not so much” “How about...this little number. Uh oh yeah got it! Now visualize: The Power! The Glory! The Kingdom. ForEVER!! See what I mean? Now just add, “Thine”. Gotta have a “Thine” in there somewhere. People love it! Befitting Someone of your position and status. Trust me Lord, it’s you! Thy will be done!“ It wasn’t meant to be taken literally. These people are literally telling you not to take the literal words of Jesus, literally. (Did I just literally say literally 6 times). But who's counting? Me! I’m literally counting....7. Here’s another thing they say. They don’t come right out and say it but it’s what they’re thinking really. You’ve heard the phrase, “vain repetitions”? Because Jesus talked about vain repetition. The Pharisees apparently were great at vain repetition. Platitudes. So what does the devil do?what is he good at? He takes your words and uses them against you. In the desert, talking to Jesus, he’s quoting scripture! And using God’s words against God! “Hath God said?” So people will tell you that in fact the Lord’s Prayer, they will argue, is not meant to be repeated Word for Word because that would be vain repetition. Instead of taking you INTO the Lord’s Prayer what do they do? What have they always done? They take you around the Lord’s Prayer. Away from it. It’s like an obstacle to them. It is. A GREAT obstacle. And they are wrong. Jesus is right. Jesus meant what he said. Can anything Jesus said be “in vain”? He says “my word will not return to me void“. What more can I say what more valid proof do you need. Just ask yourself, haven’t you heard these objections somewhere before? If you look up the Lord’s Prayer right now you’ll find them plainly stated right there in your duck duck go. There is even a book or two written on the subject of “not believing what Jesus plainly stated,” that he meant something else instead of what he was plainly saying! Of course you would have to write a book to be able to explain that! You would need a whole library of books to explain that one. That’s a whopper. And I don’t mean a sandwich. And guess where that whopper comes from? No not a hamburger joint. Though it may as well have.

#DeliverUSfromEvil #ThyKingdomCome

#Good prayer TLP777 Pagiel777 DeliverUSfromEvil ThyKingdomCome

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the-based-brit · 5 years ago

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I don't believe that you had the life of reilly. Tell us about your abuse, your feelings are valid

*WARNING! LONG AND VERY DEPRESSING POST INCOMING!*

My biological mother smoked and drank while she was pregnant with me, and I was born with two very severe and debilitating disabilities because of her - Dyspraxia and physical difficulties. The former significantly affects my ability to communicate, makes my brain to slow to process information, and it’s a lot like autism in that it makes me struggle to understand certain social cues and hold a conversation with other people etc.. My short-term memory is...well, very short. I forget things. I can remember stuff that happened years ago, but sometimes I forget whatever it was I did five minutes ago. My brain is broken.

The latter affects my motor skills. My hands are not very strong, and I don’t have a very good grip. Sometimes, I struggle to do things that require a strong pair of hands, such as opening a jar, and I have to get my dad and my stepmother to do it for me. I also can’t bend my right thumb properly, and my handwriting is very childlike and scruffy because I have difficulty holding a pen or pencil properly and it takes a while for me to write things down by hand. I’m much better with a laptop or smart device than a pen and paper. And I’m a writer. Or at least I hope to be some day. My right foot also flicks out and my left foot is actually stronger even though I’m right-handed.

My biological mother never bothered to quit drinking or smoking while she was pregnant with me because she was a selfish bitch with a heart made of stone. Instead of nurturing me and raising me right like she was supposed to, she emotionally abused and neglected me for many years. My dad divorced her when I was three years old because she was horrible to him, and more importantly, to me. He left her for my stepmother and never looked back.

When I got a few years older, she told me he cheated on her with my stepmother, but that was a big fat LIE. Nothing could be further from the truth. My dad was never a cheater and never even thought about having an affair. My so-called “mother” was just butthurt because he left her and thus, could no longer control him.

But she still had me, her boy, who was only three years old and, being so young and impressionable, I was easy to manipulate. So she used me to get back at them. The so-called “affair” was not the only lie she told me. She raised me to believe that my dad and stepmother were the ones who were abusing me and they were trying to take me away from her. I suppose that wasn’t a complete lie because my dad and stepmother did fight for custody over me, but that was only because they wanted to save me from my abuser.

But I was just a kid. I was young and dumb and naive and because she was my mother, I believed her. And every Monday afternoon (I lived with my dad and stepmother during the week and my biological mother had me every weekend), I came home from school, with an attitude problem because she told me horrible things about them. And I accused them of those horrible things and needless to say, they got SUPER angry with me and they would defend themselves, and afterwards, I’d feel bad for what I said, I would cry and I would apologise to them profusely.

And I would be left feeling confused, upset, angry and very stressed out. Until the end of the week, I would come home to her and I would tell her what they told me and she would lie to me again. And again. And again. I felt like I was in the middle of a battlefield. In fact, that pretty much sums up my life at home when I was a kid. Now it’s a lot more peaceful, but the damages that were done to me still never fully healed even to this day.

This happened every single fucking week because of her, and it took a massive toll on me. I was very stressed out, exhausted, frightened, traumatised, confused, anxious and depressed and it literally made me feel physically ill, as well as mentally. I could barely eat or sleep. I would often run to the toilet and throw up in it after eating even just a little bit of food because I was so stressed and anxious, I could not hold it down. And because of that I’m very skinny and underweight and even now, I still have problems eating, though I’ve gotten a bit better at it since then. I also suffered terribly from insomnia and that made sleeping just as difficult.

And this made it hard for me to do well in school. Because of all the shit that was going on at home, and because of my disabilities, I struggled to keep up with the other students. I could barely concentrate, I almost always needed help and I could barely get any work done. My grades are mediocre, at best and nobody could understand why and no one cared to. My parents and teachers just nagged me to work harder, and my special helpers in school insisted on doing more or less all my work for me.

Homework was a bitch, too. It took me, like, three hours at the LEAST to get it done because of my problems. To be fair, I was a pretty lazy kid who deliberately put it off because I didn’t wanna do it and I was young and stupid enough to think it would eventually make me not have to. I HATED my maths homework the most. In fact, maths was basically my WORST subject and I preferred English and IT and History, which I was better at. Science and Religious Education were also pretty cool imo. But I digress.

My learning disorder wasn’t the only thing that broke my brain. My biological mother emotionally manipulated me for years, and that broke me even more. Mentally, physically and emotionally, I was a mess. So many attacks on my mind. My body was left in pretty bad shape, too.

And I think the worst part about all of it was that there was basically jack shit I could do about it. I couldn’t defend myself physically because I was too young, too small and too weak. I couldn’t defend myself verbally because I was far too tired, too over-emotional, too terrible at verbal communication and couldn’t articulate myself well enough. And I was too emotionally abused and bullied, both at home AND at school to even TALK about it. That’s the thing about abusers, they don’t want their victims talking to anyone about their abuse.

And on the rare occassions I did talk about it, no one gave two shits and a fuck. Most people didn’t know about it. Some did, but most of them didn’t give a damn, at least not enough to do anything about it, like get me some help or get me away from my abuser. Because I grew up in a shithole of a town, where there are some good people but there’s a lot more BAD people.

Plus, my abuser was a woman and I’m male. And no one gives two shits about male abuse survivors like myself. I was often told to “man up”, “grow up” and “stop being a pussy” just for trying to open up about my feelings instead of bottling them up inside.

She was a feminist, too, my abuser. I had a biological half-sister who was nine years younger than me and she was treated like a princess while I was treated like dogshit. She never admitted to being one of those crazy man-hating feminist types, not in front of me, but looking back, I realised her actions spoke louder than her words. She was in part the reason I stopped calling myself a feminist years ago.

My dad and stepmother were fairly well-off. Not rich, but not broke, either. Definitely not. I come from a family of teachers. My dad was a teacher, my stepmother is, or was a teacher, and so is my older brother. I could have been a teacher myself if I wasn’t born disabled and abused and neglected for so many years. My dad works in a school full of kids with learning difficulties similar to mine, and he gets paid a lot of money to teach them. And they’re very materialistic and money-oriented people who vote for the UK Labour Party every year, but only because they tax you less. And they think they’re such good parents because they have money and they can buy me nice things, but in my experience, you need more than just money to be a good parent. You have to support your children physically, emotionally and mentally as well.

As George Carlin once said:

It’s good that they had more than enough money to put food on the table, clothes on my back, a roof over my head...plus entertainment and any luxury item I wanted, but if they had just provided me with equal amounts of love and emotional support, if not more than equal, I would have been mostly ok. But I’m not. I’m broken. I’m aloof. I’m mentally scarred. I’m traumatised. I’m anxious and depressed. I’m very mentally ill, tired and damaged beyond repair.

Because truth be told, they weren’t much better than my so-called mother. Especially my stepmother. I guess she was not as manipulative, but she was very emotionally and verbally abusive. She would often yell at me over little things, and bully me constantly. Just like my abuser, and the other kids at school who harassed me every. single. schoolday. She was horrible to me. Far as I’m concerned, they are both as bad as each other. She’s calmed down quite a bit and she’s not so abrasive anymore, but she still has her moments, and the damage she’s done to me, emotionally, mentally, psychologically, had a permanent effect.

I never had a REAL mother. The kind who nurtures her children and loves them unconditionally. My family hates my guts because they think I’m a spoiled, entitled little brat and a very spiteful, vindictive, hateful little shit (I was a very angry kid. And for good reason) who always cries and complains when he doesn’t get his own way. I never had any real friends, either. I hardly ever speak to anyone in real life because I’ve tried so many times and it seldom ended well. That, and I’m crippled by a horrible social anxiety, which is not as bad as it used to be, but it’s still there.

I’ve never had a girlfriend, either. Or a boyfriend. I’m a virgin, and a loner. Fuck my life.

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leverage88 · 6 years ago

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Opinion Series

To my fellow young adults, with much frustration, it appears that we have inherited a world on fire. Our generations from the Millennials to the Generations Z, we all are faced with the unjustified burden of cleaning up the messes made by the generations before us. The student debt crisis is a primary example of one of many very difficult situations forced on to us because of our parents and their parents' parents made poor decisions. The U.S, as we know, is currently $1,5 trillion in student debt and it all started with the "Space Race." After the Soviet Union launched Sputnik, the U.S. government passed the Defense Education Act of 1958 to encourage students to attend university by mainly offering federal loans since they thought that too many scholarships were considered “free rides” and having the students focus on learning science, math, and foreign languages with the hopes of beating our opponents and it did work, The number of students attending colleges nearly doubled within the next decade When we fast forward nearly 70 years, we see that student debts have only increased and the Department of Education has become one of the largest banks in America in regards to loans. How disgusting is it that our government, let alone, the Department of Education, was never meant to be a bank so we have to instead, outsource management to Loan Servicers. The comedian, Hasan Minhaj, best describes these companies as part of a “multi-billion dollar predatory industry that ruins lives” and Navient is one of the largest and worst debt collection companies in the nation. They have been accused of abusing military members, double-charging borrowers, and in 2017 they were sued and accused of systematically misdirecting borrowers into types of forbearance, which disqualified them from a Public Service Loan Forgiveness, which is a program that offers public servants (think around the lines of firefighters and crossing guards) to have their outstanding federal student loans forgiven if they meet the requirements. Navient's web-page literally states that "We help our clients and millions of Americans achieve financial success through our services and support." but they are like any business and they only care about making a profit and our government has done very little to regulate these companies. So many lives have been ruined by this issue that it can feel like there is nothing we can do. Well, I say enough is enough! For too long we have been criticized for making the nation worst, for being too focused on comfort, and the media and the government have constantly berated us for having socialistic views, that are “un-American” but the reality is that the previous generations have failed us. Their way of handling the student debt crisis is not working. So many of our peers no longer cares about continuing education. For some, going to college is like getting a pool in your backyard. It is definitely something nice, but it is not really worth it. Thee thing about that concept is that the pursuit of knowledge obviously holds more value than a freaking pool. The student debt crisis is much more like a dam is holding back so much water that it is going to burst soon and if we don't do anything about this issue, we are going to drown.

As a parent, it is only natural to want your child to be happy. You make constant sacrifices for them only because you want your children to have a better life than what you, yourself had. For many years parents have thought that in order for their children to succeed in life, they need to get a good education so they can get a good-paying job and then they can live a happy, healthy, and meaningful life. There is nothing wrong with thinking that way, as a Pennsylvania mother, June, felt as well, while she encouraged her daughter’s ambition to study out of state at New York University. (Hsu, Student Debt Is Transforming the American Family.) Her daughter studied diligently with the financial support of her mother June and her father as well as assistance from a couple of loans. By then end of her daughter's education, her daughter was looking forward to chipping away at loans while starting a career dedicated to bettering the life street vendors as she chose to study the effects of globalization on an urban space at NYU. You can imagine how proud June was of her daughter. However, when her daughter got a job offer that could actually pay off her now outstanding debts, her daughter, unfortunately, found that the job went against the very principles she held and studied in college. Now June’s daughter is faced with a difficult scenario as she has to pay off her loans but the only job she found that paid well enough was immoral, and her mother June cannot do anything about it. Right now, numerous families in our nation are in this situation. The student debt crisis is endangering the well-meaning efforts of families and it is only rising. College tuition has only been rising for years and the economist, David Klein, wrote an article where he briefly explains the challenge our children can face when they graduated college, where he states “Some students are able to land jobs after graduation with salaries that justify the monthly student loan payments, but others are not able to do so, rendering their student loans a particularly heavy burden.” Countless parents and students are faced with this harsh reality, as more and more graduates move back home with their parents since it is too expensive to move out on their own, get married, or even start a family. (ONeil, Overcoming the Student Loan Crisis) Student loans work well when the students are able to get high enough paying jobs that can eventually pay back the loan and still support themselves and their future families, otherwise their lives may be placed on hold. Now imagine if that was your own child who could not move forward with their lives just because they chose to get a proper education and there is not much you can do. It is in situations like this where people can feel hopeless, but that is not the case, as there are many dedicated politicians that are trying to pass legislation to change this situation, and it is all up to us to be active fight for reforms not just for our sakes, but for our children and their children.

My fellow Americans, I am in awe of our wondrous nation. In such a short amount of time, we have grown exponentially, especially whenever we have been faced with a challenge. As we look back to the past and remember when the world was fundamentally changed on October 4th, 1957, the Soviet Union had just launched Sputnik, which was the first artificial Earth satellite the world has ever seen. While this was a momentous occasion for mankind and spoke well of our ingenuity as a species, our nation, the United States of America, was in a panic. Compared to our Cold War rivals, we were lacking in science, technology, languages, and all other aspects of education. It seemed impossible for us to catch up with the Soviets. In a way, we were at the bottom of the ninth, and it looked like the Soviet Union was going to come out victorious. In retaliation, our congress came together and passed the National Defense Education Act of 1958 or also known as the "NDEA," which was the first time our nation offered federal loans and scholarships to encourage enrollment in colleges, which not only shaped our government’s role in education as college enrollment increased fifteen-fold. This act also lead to us landing the first man on the moon. (National Defense Education Act of 1958, 85th Cong.) In the face of adversity, our nation has stood tall and withheld its value. Today, we are once again faced with an enormous challenge. After passing the NDEA, the U.S continued to give loans to college students, and while it did lead to increased enrollment, the Department of Education is more or less the largest bank in terms of loans, and the national student debt is at an all-time high standing at $1.5 trillion and rising. There are hundreds of thousands of borrowers that are being rejected from debt forgiveness programs due to being misled by third-party loan servicers or a general lack of education for these programs. (Friedman, Zack. “Why 100,000 Borrowers Were Rejected For Student Loan Forgiveness.") Our nation is also separated as many politicians and their constituents are stuck idly arguing over reforms. This debt crisis is also affecting us on a global scale. This is better explained as the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) did an article on the top ten most educated countries in the world with Canada being ranked first as more than fifty-five percent of the population being college-educated and the U.S. is ranked sixth with not even having forty-six percent of the nation being considered educated. Basically, we are no longer the top nation in the world. We are not leading the world in innovation as we once were and we are still being crushed by student debt. While many us feel hopeless in this situation, now is not the time to give up. Just as we pushed ourselves in the Space Race, we need to actively push ourselves once again to make long-lasting policy changes so that we can continue to encourage secondary education and make sure that our fair nation and that we can once again rise up and remind, not just the world, but ourselves that we are capable of overcoming any trial in our way, because this is America.

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norwegianfriedokra · 5 years ago

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Introspection...in fact another’s assignment

Today's topic is a bit strong, it's a bit impactful, it's personal. It's something I've done a ton of thinking about. It's about the meaning of love. Oh I know what you're thinking. What's with the cheesy catch phrases, seriously Rachael...but one thing I know. One thing I can impart, is my own thoughts and feelings in this world. If my thoughts, feelings and the meaning I find can do anything for anyone else. Even if it means to clear up misconceptions that I created or ones others have in their own life...it's worth it. Communication, at least the attempt of which, is of utmost importance. Without it are you showing that you care, that you love, others?

Here in Germany, a strong cultural trait that I've picked up, is that people have a tendency to withhold information. By that I mean keeping certain things, even basic information that we, in the states, would find odd. Where you were born, or what you studied in college, telling someone you just met that information isn't necessary. Being vague about it is totally acceptable and common practice. Sharing such information comes after the first couple of times you meet someone. Perhaps this is an incorrect interpretation, but as I have experienced it, it seems to hold true.

However once you get to know someone the real intensity starts. You see, once the wall breaks down it gets real. The nature of relationships of any kind here, once they really begin, it's hard to truly explain. Of course, this could just be the people I knew in the states. The relationships I have with my friends and family in the states. It could also just be me. I beg of my readers today to hold some compassion and withhold judgement.

I always felt like there was a wall. You can become friends with people in the states, but that wall that keeps your soul safe is always up. There are few people I have ever really felt like that wall broke with. There are definitely people who have seen my own intensity and emotional reactions. To try to really communicate what I mean I will describe a couple of extreme situations in my life and what happened.

One that springs to mind is when my dog died. After college I got a dog, and I named her Iza. I could easily say that I got this dog to fill a void. Some people have children, I got a dog. You see, right after college life got wicked hard for me. My family broke, my parents split right before my last term of college and I barely graduated. For the first year or so I was dating someone, and when that ended I jumped from home to home. When a potentially more long term solution came up to move in with some friends, somewhere around then, I got a dog.

I had dreams to take this dog with me and hike the Appalachian Trail. I wanted it to be my companion, a true second in my life. Unfortunately within 4 or 5 months I got an injury during a soccer game. During a time when I needed to focus on training this new addition in my life, I couldn't. I couldn't walk, I was on crutches for three weeks. Afterwards I still needed lots of time to recover correctly, but this dog needed to be cared for too. I quickly realized that if I wasn't able to take care of myself, I couldn't take care of this dog. But nevertheless I recovered, I was able to walk and then run again. Then I moved into this new home, finally I found a chance for consistency and rhythm. I think it was within a week of moving into this new home my dog was hit by a car. It was an unfortunate accident that directly coincided with the breakup of my then boyfriend. Literally, my boyfriend and I were breaking up when it happened. Then I took my dog to the vet, only to learn that she would need to have a leg amputated. There was a surgery option but it was too expensive. I had also grown up that spending money like that on pets wasn't really an option. I made, probably, one of the worst decisions of my life. I decided to get my pet put down.

I did my best to be realistic about it. I was barely able to take care of myself at that time. I couldn't pay for the surgery even to have her leg amputated, I would need to take out a loan to manage it. Even after that I would be living with roommates whom I couldn't imagine what an impact it would have had on them. So much of my decision was based on things that now, when I look back, I know I could have managed in some fashion. But emotionally where I was (and by no means do I mean due to the breakup), and financially, I felt totally incapable of handling the situation.

All the while my now ex-boyfriend stayed by my side trying to just be there. I couldn't even be in the room when she was put down. I was so consumed with guilt at my decision, my selfish decision, I couldn't look her in the eyes. I can't help thinking about this time and not cry, the sadness still consumes me at times. When we got back to the house I was now living in I raged. I grabbed some glassware I owned and smashed it against the garage wall outside. I searched desperately for something to help me process this.

What I know now is that I wasn't just processing the death of my dog. This evening was the culmination of all the loss I had suffered in the past year. That past year my family had totally broken apart. My father was homeless. I had ended three relationships, two of which were with men whom I deeply respected and had deep attachments to as friends for years. Both of those breakups, even though the physical relationships were short, had immense meaning to me. I had graduated college to find myself in the middle of the burgeoning economic crisis. Attempting to find work that gave my education meaning was meaningless, or at least seemed so in the midst of everything else going on in my life. I lived paycheck to paycheck, but I kept moving. I planned for the future. I got a dog, I bought tickets to visit my friend Jens in Germany. And then, like pulling a tooth with a slammed door, I crashed.

Yes, I said the point of this entry is the meaning of love. Well, in times like this, love is what can pick you up. Love can support you. It can make you feel cared for so that despite when you feel lost and alone you realize you're not. At this point in my life I felt concern and care from my ex-boyfriend and best friend who stayed with me throughout the night. But the pain I felt, the loss.

I had always been one to think of sadness as a beautiful emotion. Not because I was always depressed, but because crying and sadness was a reaction to beautiful things. That to feel sadness was to evoke and emote your empathy. It's not always so, I know that, but in terms of the loss of loved ones, or when enduring difficult situations, it was an acceptable emotion. As I love to write, it was something I always embraced as I felt it helped me to better access my inner poet.

This rage I felt, at this time, I had never felt something so intense. I had never felt the desire to break things. Now, with the sun setting behind the tall buildings here in Offenbach I find myself melancholy in my thoughts. A heaviness on my heart as I recollect my first dog. The love and joy I had found in Iza, it's something I won't get back. It had an innocence to it, one that denied all the hardships that were surrounding me. I could giggle and simply find myself with her. I could be angry but joyful, happy and comforted.

And what's the point, you ask again? Love is something you experience. It's entirely personal. Without communicating it others will have no knowledge of it. My love of my dog, it was something I experienced. It is a memory, and something that changed me. I chose to love my dog, and I was the one who was crushed by the circumstances of her death. You chose to love others, but to expect them to love you back...you can't rely on that.

With pets, as they communicate very differently, you can only imagine that they love you back. That they also care for you in that way. Their devotion and need, it implies such feelings. Perhaps they do, in fact, feel that way. But my loss in this instance was entirely of my own creation. I had chosen to love my dog. It created meaning in my life, and filled a void I thought I had.

Aww shit, am I even expressing this right? The meaning of love is entirely dependent on whom is loved and who does the loving. Everyone's love is different, expressed differently, and exists differently. No two people love each other the same. When love can't be communicated well, how will the other actually know they're loved? Is faith, in this instance, enough? The meaning in love, in my mind, isn't found. If you can't find a way to reach the other person, to communicate your love, then will it exist for them?

I think that's where most mistrust, and distance between people, comes from. At some point people can't communicate their love to each other anymore. I know it's not only that, but I really feel that because love in every situation is different, that unless it is truly understood by the other person/being, without being understood has it existed? At that point it's a one-sided love.

And as love is also different in all situations, it's also fluctuating. Like the seasons and tides it changes. Strong and bold, or like a whisper, it flutters through our lives on butterfly wings. Sadness then being they symbol that once one did love, once, perhaps, one found love.

Ok, my melancholy sunset and I are going to go drink some tea and take a nap. These meanderings of meaning, I hope in some way that they reached you, my dear readers. I never profess to know anything, only to impart and share in this complicated world. Another jenga piece when you'd rather be playing beer pong.

#drivel #melancholyevening #teaonafullstomach

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silver-falling-star · 6 years ago

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Sing me a song, o muse, of your bitter hatred against catcher in the rye bc SAME

Oooooh boy, I smell one of my long winded rants coming on. Strap in folks its about to be a wild ride.

So, Ima preface this by saying that I have NOT read it since I was forced to read it in 11th grade. For like, several fucking reasons. (the primary one being that I don’t want to, the 2nd one being I don’t know which bookshelf my dad stashed my copy on. He stashed all my required readings on various bookshelves after I was done with them. Because we were all given copies for free by the teachers that we were allowed to keep. I’ll chalk this up to private school benefits I guess? I’ve been out of the public school circuit since the end of 5th grade) So basically my memory of like, most of the events that take place in the book are foggy at best and unremembered at worst.

@ my mutuals and followers who like this book, that’s fine you do you, but I personally am not and probably will never be a fan of Catcher in the Rye. My feelings of why I dislike it are my opinions and I’m not gonna force them on you.

Problem 1: Main character is an unsympathetic asshole

My biggest gripe about the book is honestly a gripe I have about SEVERAL books. Unlikable characters, and I don’t necessarily mean written poorly (though I don’t remember being awed by how the book was written, I’ll be honest.) I mean unsympathetic asshole little bastards that make you want to just chuck the book across the room. Other books that share this problem are The Great Gatsby (that book is hot fucking garbage in terms of likeable characters and I WILL die on that fucking hill do not even @ me), Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (Main character is an asshole little snobby bitch and despite being a murder mystery written in first person she literally figures things out at such a pace its not fun for the reader because she STILL ends up caught in shit situations she KNEW WAS GOING TO GO DOWN BECAUSE SHES SUCH A SPECIAL LITTLE SHIT- okay that’s a rant for a different post) and The King Must Die. (If you ever want to read a book with shit diction, pick it up.)

Now, as a writer/roleplayer of almost a decade, I’ve made plenty of characters that fall into the unsympathetic asshole role. My problem isn’t with the archetype, it’s often used and often done well (fandoms later trying to apologize for them aside) My PROBLEM comes when that’s either the archetype for the only character given any spotlight, or ALL the characters have that problem. (see, Great Gatsby.) Holden Caulfield(or however the fuck you spell it) is an unsympathetic asshole, and also the character who’s perspective is the only one we get to see, and the only character we really know much about. (Mainly cause he just doesn’t deign to care to give a legitimate effort in giving a damn about anyone else aside from how innocent children/his sister are. More on how creepy that shit is later.) Making a book like this means that I’m far less likely to enjoy it because I want to be able to root for someone. I can root for an asshole, so long as they’re likeable in some regard. Holden is a grade A fuckboy in the making and as such I am not a fan.

TL/DR: It’s possible to have likeable unsympathetic asshole characters, it is almost impossible to do that if that’s all you have exposure too in your cast.

Problem 2: I was really not in the best place to receive such a fucking depresso espresso lesson about life.

Switching gears momentarily from problems with the writing/book itself to problems with the timing of this book showing up in my life. High school was the time when all my trauma I’d successfully… repressed? Avoided dealing with? whatever, basically all my mental health shit suddenly decided to spring itself on me and yell “SURPRISE, YOU’RE MENTALLY FUCKED AND WILL NEVER BE THE SAME!” in 10th grade and it wasn’t until halfway through 11th grade that I even started getting a handle on shit. I almost failed high school and it was *bad*, especially for someone who was just trying to get to college so I could get to vet school and be qualified for a job that requires an ass load of education. So in walks this fucking book and it’s message of “adulthood is a sham, nothing matters and you really should just fuck around and do whatever because it’s all bullshit anyway. Childhood was where it’s at.”

Like???? Alright, that’s not what I need to hear when I’m barely passing high school. Go to fucking therapy and get some help, we all have trauma and therapy is the best path to work through it. I dunno like, yeah okay some people need to hear that message at whatever time in their life they read the book, but that message really wasn’t great to my Anxiety/Depression/ADHD struggling ass trying to just stay steady enough to get into college.

Honestly, even to this day I HATE HATE HATE books with depressing messages like that. I already deal with the struggle of being afraid of failure, getting where I want to be, all that shit. I don’t want that in my literature. Give me a person who struggles but still succeeds and finds some sort of happiness and self-worth in the end. Give me someone overcoming their traumas in such a way that they can at least have a good quality of life afterwards, even if the trauma will never leave, so long as they’re happy. I’m tired of YA novels that try and sell our generation and gen z the message that life sucks. Give me more hope, more heroes, more people making a difference because hell life is short so best make the most of it making a difference.

To quote GotG, why do I care so much about stories that revolve around saving the world, even if that world is just as small as a found family?

And my existence might as well be a happy one and have HOPE GOD DAMMIT.

TL/DR: If a book leaves me feeling like shit after reading it because it ends on a super shitty note, I’m generally not going to enjoy that book. And the fact that most YA novels these days that are given to highschoolers fall into this category is hot garbage when this is around the time they’re trying to find some sort of direction in life.

*Note: I realize that there are times and places for books that give more somber messages. Hell, I’ve even enjoyed some books with messages of such a tone. But media these days, and honestly for most of my life starting in mid to late teenage years (and maybe earlier) has started taking a turn towards the more depressing/somber stuff, and its overwhelming and just bad. And even back then when first reading it this was something I picked up on and didn’t enjoy. It just was not the right time in my life to hear a message so devoid of giving a shit.

Problem 3: Holden is honestly, super fucking creepy.

Okay, we back on the train of the actual book’s writing. Holden the dipshit is honestly, really fucking creepy. Towards women specifically. I have no direct quotes from the book specifically, but I DISTINCTLY remember the way he talked about women (or even young children/girls) being creepy as shit. Like, he waxes lyrical about his kid sister and her classmates and how innocent they are and how he wants to be the “Catcher in the Rye” to keep them innocent and to keep them from realizing how bad the world is. Great, lovely sentiment Holden. Except that the way you’re going about it comes across as being a pedophile. You’re at the very least sexist as fuck, because you’re objectifying the fuck out of people anyway.

That scene with the sex worker in the hotel room is also one I remember making me feel super uncomfortable. Not because the sex worker is there, but because uh, just, god, that whole scene gave me the creeps. Probably because I felt bad for the woman, coming into the room expecting to be paid for work and there’s just this kid who breaks the fuck down, tells her some depressing shit, and maybe pays her? (does he pay her? I can’t fucking remember, I’d like to think he does, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t, because he’s an ass.) Actually, bigger question IS HE EVEN OF AGE TO HAVE SEX WITH HER LEGALLY? HOW OLD IS THIS KID? HES STILL IN HIGH SCHOOL RIGHT?

…. so I looked it up, he’s 17. SEVENTEEN. HE IS A M I N O R. I’m like 99% sure that the woman he hires is like, twice his age at least. That’s straight up illegal.

god this just gets worse.

TL/DR: Holden is a 17 year old creep who comes off as a pedophile in the way he talks about kids, and also definitely hired a sex worker while he was underage. Idk if that was legal at the time this book was written, but if it was (and I doubt it), that has aged very poorly.

Problem 4: It’s got a lot of male fans who fall into that all too dangerous category of having Fight Club or Rick and Morty being their favorite bit of visual media.

Okay, again, not a problem of the book. But when the majority fanbase (or at least, the most vocal part) are a bunch of abusive men who don’t realize that the message they took away from a work of fiction is incredibly problematic? Or worse, know and don’t care because they think their take is superior? Uhhh, how do I say, big yikes.

Like, this could be your favorite book, whatever, that’s you, I don’t care, but if your reasoning for it is because Holden is, in your opinion, an unflawed idealized version of yourself/your ideals?

thats a nope from me bro.

———-

That’s all I can do off the top of my head without going in and reading the book again. Which I probably won’t do for a long time, because I don’t need to hear that struggling to make a place for yourself is dumb and proves you’re just “part of the machine, the man has made you his bitch.” while I’m still trying to y’know, get to where I want to go.

But there you go, four solid reasons why I really really do not like Catcher in the Rye.

#catcher in the rye #Me? make something short winded? never in my life #maybe I'll update this with findings if I ever go back and read it again #though #given that my ability to sit and read through things is basically null and void at this point that won't be for ages

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dailytechnologynews · 6 years ago

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The world is utterly unprepared for artificial intelligence in the near-term: "Media Synthesis", the phenomenon which includes deepfakes, is further along than almost anyone realizes and is prepared for, and this will result in a lot of fun and angst come the 2020s

I run the /r/MediaSynthesis subreddit, collecting links and discussions surrounding this technology. The other day, I asked /r/MachineLearning about a topic that I've been tossing about my head for almost a full decade now: when will we be able to use style transfer on audio reliably?

In the simplest possible terms, "style transfer" is when you make one thing like another using machine learning. You upload a picture of a sunny day as an input, upload a bunch of pictures of night time as variables, and then get the original picture but now it's night time. The algorithm didn't fetch a picture of the scene at a different time of day. It altered the very pixels, turning day into night.

Here's a few examples:

Color transfer

Video transfer, turning a street scene with trees into one with buildings or more trees, among other things

Musical transfer, changing instruments and genres.

All of which are from 2017 or 2018.

There's a lot more, and this includes deepfakes which I'm sure plenty of people are aware of. The potential of this technology over the next 5 years— and yes, I'm saying five years, not fifteen or twenty five or fifty— is going to lead to people with no skill in machine learning or artistry to be able to alter existing media almost completely as well as generate some kinds of new media.

Back specifically on the topic of audio style transfer, this includes being able to take a song, any song, and altering at your leisure in a variety of different ways ranging from adding or subtracting instruments, swapping the vocalist or removing them entirely, and perhaps even extending the song in an "intelligent" manner— meaning the algorithm can actually generate more sections of that song that didn't previously exist (within reason). You could turn any top 40 pop song into a 20-minute-long pop epic.

My classic desire is taking TLC's Waterfalls and turning it into a barbershop quartet, complete with the mustachioed men singing in tune with all the 1920s graininess you'd expect. Did you like Bohemian Rhapsody but could do without the heavy guitars? Why not transfer it into a polka song? That's indeed very possible. Covering songs in a different style is obviously a thing that you can already find on YouTube and "X Goes Pop" compilations whatnot, but that involves actual musicians and artists putting in the time and effort. We're not far away from having a theoretical "Audacity 2.0" where you could do the same thing with a few clicks of your mouse.

One of my more esoteric desires goes a step further, and it's also very much on the horizon. I love Witchfinder General, but they've always been a bit too amateurish. They were almost a great band, if only a few lyrics were changed and some instruments were tightened up. In the future, I could be able to "correct" these "mistakes", going in to change the lyrics myself so that Zeeb Parkes is singing something a bit different over a band that's even slower and doomier than they actually were. In some cases, that means adding lines where there weren't originally.

It would obviously still be a laborious process because vocals in songs can be complex and heavily individualized.

But that was only ever a problem for the old era of digital software, where things had to be cut up and easily able to fit into bits and pieces and then essentially standardized as if you're playing something on a synth. This new era is something entirely different and infinitely more capable. You couldn't replicate Bob Dylan's soul if you had his voice in a voice synthesis software program as might exist today.

There's no style nor soul that'll be beyond my fingers with the right neural networks.

For someone like me, who loves creating entire musical scenes and movements from playlists and imagination, that's a godsend. For an actual musician or any creative who prides themselves on their humanity, it sounds like the worst dystopia.

I'm not overselling this either. Audio is, fundamentally, a bunch of waves. If you can edit those waveforms, you can create any audio you wish. It's just that the way we edit those waveforms is usually by hitting drums, strumming guitars, pressing keyboards, and singing.

Of course, there are much darker applications of this technology. The very first thing to come to mind is putting words in someone else's mouth for political purposes, as can be demonstrated here:

Deepfakes on Obama, Putin, and others

Making Trump say new things

If the latter sounds too robotic, don't fret/relax. Making voices sound audiorealistic is just a matter of parameters and data, of which the likes of Google, Baidu, Facebook, OpenAI, and many others have no shortage. The crappy free text-to-speech programs you might find with a Google search or in a PDF file is as representative of the state of the art as a bottle rocket is of the military's explosive ordinance.

And that's literally just the tip of the iceberg. Just because I'm focusing on audio doesn't mean there's nothing for images and video, obviously. Just the opposite— everyone is so focused on deepfakes and image synthesis that we're overlooking audio synthesis.

It's not coming in stages, nor is it arriving slowly and at easily digestible and tolerable speeds as might be written in a shlock cyberpunk novel. We're not going to struggle with image synthesis for 20 years, then struggle with audio synthesis for 20 years, and so on until we reach a point in the distant future where you can't trust anything you see. We're developing them all simultaneously and seeing progress come at breakneck speeds, and we'll be well within that future this time next decade.

In fact, this time next decade we'll have entirely different zeitgeists when it comes to art, entertainment, and the news. There's no refuge in cartoons. Neural networks are in the early stages of learning how to do caricatures and exaggerations— the fundamental root of cartooning. Others can generate short animations from text alone. Even more can be used to remaster old video games and create games from scratch.

And no, you can't find refuge in writing either. Scarily enough, it's the text synthesis network that shows the most signs of general intelligence. It's not AGI by far, but it's most general AI ever created and it isn't even a very complex machine at that. But it's apparently too dangerous to be released.

If you have a passion for all of this and create art for art's sake or are willing to accept fewer (but likely much higher paid) commissions rather than a "career" as we understand it to be, you're fine. If you're someone who wants to become a career artist/model/voice actor/musician/animator/writer/comic artist/newscaster and expect to find consistent work for the next 50 years, (first, good luck regardless) make these next five to ten years count and/or try considering jumping into the former category.

We don't need AGI for any of this either, so don't think that we have to wait until we "solve intelligence" to see any of this. Nor should you expect it to cost a fortune to use. We only need GANs and most of this tech is open source.

The final and most sobering realization of all this is the cold fact that, ironically contrary to all those predictions of how automation would unfold, entertainment and the arts will be the first field to go. Everyone said that all the drudgery of the world would be automated first, freeing up workers to pursue the arts because "a machine could never write a poem, pen a song, or paint a work of art".

This is something so stupefyingly far from public conscious that there is virtually nothing being done or said about it. You might initially think that it doesn't warrant much discussion until it actually arrives, but when you really start looking at this in-depth, you have a tendency to grow a bit fatalistic. One of my future-shock angsts is about schooling and how public and private schools in their current form are utterly unable to prepare children for the future into which they will graduate (a future in which school itself may become obsolete because there will be little point for it besides social functions and raw education, which isn't what American schooling is for). This is related, but a bit different.

We have a technology that didn't exist 10 years ago and yet will almost certainly upend the entire entertainment industry within 10 years from now. Photoshops and photo manipulation, "dumbfakes" if you will, weren't even a pre-meal mint, let alone the appetizer. We ought to be having a dialog on this, but we aren't.

Many of us refuse to believe it exists at all, that it's just some schizophrenic pipe dreams found on /r/Futurology and /r/Singularity. Others so desperately want to leave a place for humans that they will deny that machines will be able to do these things competently despite being shown the evidence. And those who accept it can only say "So what?" Even though I eagerly await a world where I could generate a multimedia franchise (and the global reaction) in my bedroom on my laptop, there are still pertinent risks.

As /u/ksblur said:

Strange how we live in a world of trust-based security. It would be relatively easy for cryptography to solve that issue (your phone could automatically reject calls without proper signatures or encryption), but people grew up "trusting" the systems so there's not a lot of incentive to change it.

Could you imagine inventing the telephone in 2019 and either A) not encrypting the data (landlines) or B) using weak 64bit A5/1 encryption (GSM)?*

TLDR Skynet wants to become a singer and artist, and Dad (i.e. Humans) doesn't realize it yet.

#Futurology #Technology #Tech #Studies #Humanity #Development #New #Gadgets

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theculturedmarxist · 6 years ago

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Hi there, fellow leftypol dirtbag. Might I ask, what was your journey into leftism?

I grew up in a conservative household. My parents were (and still are I suppose) two Reaganite Republicans and I absorbed all that shit as a child. I supported George Bush 2 and Iraq War 2. I believed all that bullshit about hard work and boot straps, you know, the old fantasy about employers rewarding hard work with commensurate compensation, etc. I wasn’t very sympathetic for black people, the poor, queers, or any of the other people on the Rep’s shit list.

That began to change when I changed high schools. Instead of the upper-middle class, mostly White school I had been going to (and been miserable at), I transferred to an early college. It was a school for kids that, like me, didn’t fit into the regular school system for one reason or another. There were kids there like me who had various social or emotional dysfunctions, but also kids that were there because of who and where they were. It might shock you to find that queer kids and black kids didn’t have the easiest of times in the public school system of the Southern United States.

It was a slow transition, but my views changed. At first I had those idiotic, bigoted views, like that gay guys were a threat to me physically or sexually on account of their orientation. I thought it was morally wrong, blah blah blah, all that ridiculous rigamarole. Then I met some of these people and learned how foolish that kind of thinking was. These people were intelligent and kind, inventive, interesting, and not at all the kind of people that I felt I needed to be worried about. It wasn’t an immediate transformation, but it was the first step in my “deprogramming.”

Looking back, I’m not even sure I would describe my feelings towards these people as “hate” or “fear” so much as “resentment.” I was still trapped in the false mindset of the “just world” fallacy. I was miserable with myself and my place in life, and deluded into thinking that if there was a problem then it was either inherent in myself or because I wasn’t behaving in the right way. At the time I had at least some idea of the oppression and persecution homosexuals and Blacks (for example) experienced. I was starving myself with self restraint, and spiritually mutilating myself in trying to “fix” what I thought was wrong with me. If I was unhappy or unsuccessful or whatever, then it must have been my fault, and if that was the case then it was on me to change myself, “correct” my behavior, and get right with God (literally and in a manner of speaking). Applying that same logic, the problems Blacks and Gays were experiencing were their fault as well, for insisting on being Gay, “out and proud,” or “actin’ Black,” or whatever, instead of how they “should” have been acting. It felt like an insult. Here I was, drowning in my own suffering and misery, and trying like hell to purge whatever defect I imagined was the source. There they were, embracing what I imagined to be the source of their own oppression, and treating the world like it was what needed to change. At the time, there was no way I could comprehend all of this. Even if I could have understood it intellectually, I doubt I would have been able to see it through my ideological delusions.

My ideological development after high school was halting at best. I wasn’t in any shape to live and function on my own, and my first stab at university didn’t go very well. Eventually, I moved back home and got a job, which is what had the most significant effect on me I think. All the nonsense I’d been fed about the fairness of competition and workplace ideals quickly went out the fucking window. I had worked some while I was at university, when I naively thought that student employment at a school would emphasize the student over the employment part. Through the alchemy of Republican logic, it wasn’t the work or employer that was to blame, but the fact that the school effectively had a monopoly. If the Free Market™ was able to decide, no doubt I’d have had a fairer boss and better pay and so on.

But that job wasn’t an anomaly, and neither was the next one, or the next. I had been brought up being taught that hard, honest work would be rewarded with good, honest pay, but no matter how hard I worked or where, it was always the same shit: minimum wage, %2 pay raise, shitty schedules, worse managers, awful bosses, and customers that were just the worst. You didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how you were being treated or mistreated, the customer was your master and you better remember to smile while you’re licking their balls.

Still, even with all of this, I bought the lie that it was just the type of work that was the problem. Retail work is for kids, right? They aren’t serious jobs. I saved up some money while taking CC classes, and eventually went back to university. The second time things went better. Somewhere along the way I’d graduated from Republican to Libertarian™, but that was starting to lose its appeal as well as it became apparent that it was functioning on the same defective logic as its Republican counterpart. I didn’t have any faith in Obama or the Democrats, and being an ignorant American I thought the three were my only options.

My family was what would be described in American terms as “mid-to-lower-middle class,” or you could probably say “comfortable.” Both parents worked, and while we were never “rich” I don’t recall ever having to go without anything essential. My parents were both Baby Boomers, and their parents all more or less came from nothing. To their credit, my parents worked hard to provide the things for me which they didn’t have as children themselves. They did everything they could to help me succeed, but they could still only help.

Paying for school was something that fell mostly on me in the form of loans and grants. Classes were going well for the most part, but my expenses were outstripping my aid. I got a job, but it didn’t help matters much. The pay was lousy, and the hours were from six at night until two in the morning. It started killing my grades and ruining my health. The stress of school and work and financial concerns started to get to me physically.

All while this is going on is the backdrop of the financial crisis. The banks that were responsible got billions of dollars of taxpayer money, while those same taxpayers were getting foreclosed on by those same banks. State services were getting slashed to the bone left, right, and center. There was suddenly no money for unemployment insurance or health benefits for those that needed them, no money for teacher training, or grants for students. There was apparently virtually unlimited cash for the military and the two wars in Iraq and Afghanistan that dragged on and on. There was plenty to go around to these wealthy executives that created this financial crisis that lost regular people hundreds of millions of dollars in their life savings and retirement plans. This paralleled the situation at my school. The university was flush with cash. Tuition was higher than ever. They had just finished a multi-million dollar building that served no purpose other than to serve as a fancy amenity to lure in out of state students. They’d even invested millions of dollars into their football program and completely renovated the athletic stadium. The chancellor lived in a mansion on campus and drove a convertible sports car. They weren’t hurting for money.

I was, though. I came to the conclusion that I’d have to take classes in the morning and work in the afternoon, and so I went about withdrawing to make space in my schedule for it. Come to find however that you’re only allowed to drop three courses in your educational career, which no one had bothered to tell me. I was able to drop one class, but I had ignorantly spent my other two mulligans the previous semester. No problem, the Registrar tells me, just get your professor, chair, and dean to sign off and you can drop the class. Okay, swell. Professor signs off, department chair signs off, and then it takes a week for the dean to get back to me. Financial hardship isn’t a compelling reason to drop the class. Sorry! I try to explain to her my situation, that if I can’t start making money then I’ll be out on the street, and she tells me to go pound sand. I’d busted my ass working to “get my life back on track,” to go back to school, get an education and all that, like I was “supposed to.” The school didn’t give a shit. I was nothing to them. They had no interest in helping me out or seeing me stay. And why would they? Sixty percent of incoming Freshmen left after their first year, and that was their target demographic. Entice out-of-state students, get them to dump a bunch of money into the school, then kick them to the curb when they can’t for one reason or another hack it. There’s more and more desperate kids every year trying to get that diploma and the golden ticket it promises them. If they don’t like being farmed for revenue, then fuck ‘em.

It was around this time that I got involved with Occupy Wall Street. It was there that I met for the first time actual Communists, and was introduced however superficially to Marxism and Anarchism. It wouldn’t be until afterward that I would get my real education on them, though. I guess I kind of conform to the cliche of becoming a college Communist. A professor of mine knew about my difficulties and my developing political views, and asked if I’d be interested in borrowing his copy of the Manifesto. I did, not knowing what to expect. Then I read the words that changed my life forever:

“The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggle.”

It struck me like a bolt out of the blue. I’d always been interested in history, but I treated it as just a long, interesting story. It had always puzzled me because there were innumerable instances of illogical or just plain stupid behavior in the people we studied in school. Things just happened the way they happened, because... well, that’s just how things were, or people are. Every war, injustice, and atrocity in history was because of faulty human nature. People struggle because of the inherent evil inside all men. You know, more ideological bullshit.

Suddenly, though, everything made sense. It was like all the pieces had been in place, but it wasn’t until that bit of context was added that it made anything like coherent sense. It wasn’t only history, but modern politics, too. I couldn’t understand what made Republicans do the objectively awful things that they were doing, or why, or the apparent idiocy of the Democrats, and why they couldn’t seem to do anything right however obvious it might have appeared to do so. Marx shined a light on everything for me. It was like the world suddenly shifted into focus.

After this, for various reasons I left school again, ended up moving back home and getting another job. During this time the political awakening I’d experienced lay dormant for quite a while as I dealt with other developments in my life. Actually, it was Gamergate that was the impetus to get deeper into Leftism. I was still frequently visiting 4chan at the time and watched as the drama developed. I didn’t like Moot banning the topic of Zoe Quinn etc, and ended up migrating to 8chan, which briefly exhibited a sort of Renaissance of the sort of board culture that had either been dead or dying on 4chan at the time. It didn’t take long for the nazis, racists, and other brands of /pol/cuck shithead to drive off anyone decent though, and every board just became a different flavor of /pol/. Complaining about it naturally elicited a chorus of “go back to /leftypol/.” I didn’t have any interest in /leftypol/ at the time and actually mostly avoided it. Online politics at the best of times is hardly enjoyable, and I wasn’t very interested in any kind of /Xpol/, using my impression of the original as a guide.

I had dabbled somewhat in online Leftism previously, exploring labor-related subs on Reddit, like r/iww, r/socialism, r/communism, etc. My experience with r/soc almost turned me entirely off of Leftism, though. I got banned for calling Hillary Clinton a cunt, which only seemed to confirm that SJW/Demcuck reputation that followed other self described “socialists.” I didn’t want any part of a group that would either defend Hillary, or try and control what I said or how I said it. I’d just about written off Socialism entirely when on a whim I decided to take a look at /leftypol/ just to see what all the fuss was about.

I can’t help but feel kind of silly attributing such a major, life-changing moment to going to an obscure image board on such a skeevy site, but it did. It had the rough-and-tumble atmosphere of 4chan in its day as well as a substantial number of posters that knew what the fuck they were about. For a while I was simply hooked. Every time I f5ed, I learned something new about Socialism and Communism. There were in depth discussions on Communist theory and its various theorists and proponents. Not only where there mainstream anarchists and marxists, but representatives of (or simply people knowledgeable of) different currents, traditions, and theories. Posters busied themselves making reading lists and sharing links to resources and ideas. Back when there was still a solid core of /lit/ refugees and philosophy majors, there were constantly discussions on Zizek and Chomsky, Stirner and Nietzsche, Proudhon and Marx, Lukacs, Baudrillard, Gramsci, Bordiga, and on and on. The notion that “socialist” just meant “hardcore Democrat” was instantly and totally obliterated, and I knew that I was a Socialist and would be until I died.

And here I am, still trying to learn and educate myself, and help others with what I’ve learned, for whatever it’s worth.

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