#male bullshit stories

[mudelebentru]

I honestly think that men can't handle the harsh truths of life, they have been protected and pampered for so much time that the mere discovery that women are people too gives them a mental breakdown.

Blackpill for men: women like attractive men, women have eyes, women are human beings that can choose.

Blackpill for women: most men would rape women if they could get away with it.

Guess which blackpill is a matter of discussion and pity on the mainstream

[recoveringsoulsposts]

First Men were claiming Women are no longer desirable at 35,30,25 NOW ITS 22!

So first they say Women are no longer desirable bale at 35, then 30, then 25, then 22. The age keeps getting lower and lower. These nasty creeps. They really love lying to themselves, this CREEP really said Women are no longer “desirable after the age off 22”. I MEAN the mind games these worthless expendable incel creatures will play on women to just lower the self esteem of women to make themselves feel better about their miserable purposeless existence just because they’re societal REJECTS. This incel really said it like it was some sort of “objective” truth to make himself feel better about the fact they have NO VALUE. It’s a way men artificially increase their value because men know they HAVE NONE. By putting women down and enforcing extreme standards on Women they make themselves feel better about their worthless lives. They’re so fucking miserable and hateful. Males are obsessed with women’s value and “mate worth” because THEY KNOW they have NONE. Women are valuable at every age and that’s why they’re BIG MAD.

The funniest PART OF this is that the most searched porn categories are MILF. 😂 it’s the most contradictory part of it all. Genuinely, like why don’t these men fuck each-other or get their robots and fuck off. They really think when they hit their 30s, women will be checking for them😂 like give me a BREAK. These Men will fuck corpses, animals, literally anything that has a hole. And they claim to have such “high standards”, men can’t have standards because in order to have standards you need to have options and the vast majority of men don’t even have options because women don’t fucking want them. And why on Earth would a Woman even want to be with a male that thinks this way, who thinks you’re no longer desirable after a certain age? What’s the point? You’re better off single. What is this male offering you?

These nasty foul disgusting creatures think they’re immune from aging. Most men look ugly at every age. WHO told these males that they were special? WHO told them they age like fine wine? Becuase they don’t. Most men are ugly, grotesque and BROKE and they stay like that their entire lifetime. In any time in human history these subpar incel losers would’ve been annihilated at war, but yet here they are existing and roaming this earth like literal disgusting parasites with no purpose.

NO woman WILL EVER and IS EVER checking for some miserable incel scrote. Why don’t they get this through their thick braindead skulls.

Thanks for letting me rant.

[thebubblesareevil]

A much better Snow White movie

I might actually write this out fully later but I work at a movie theater and I’ve walked in way too many times to not get ideas.

So just like maleficent this would follow the evil Queen, but to be clear, she is evil no redemption. For the sake of this I’m gonna refer to her as EQ

When the eq was young she was always surrounded by suitors but the one she loved never looked her way. He loved another, one the eq believed was beautiful and it filled her with jealousy.

One day, a traveling merchant comes by and sells his wares. Among them was a simple mirror and eq flirted with the merchant and he gave her the mirror to gain her favor.

She gladly took it, and later while she was in her room brushing her hair, she can’t help but comment that she would give anything to be as beautiful as her rival.

The mirror replies, saying there are many paths to success. While at first she’s frightened she’s also intrigued, so she asks it how. The mirror teaches her all about potions and poisons, and when the beautiful girl that stole her love away fell ill and died. No one suspected a thing.

Unfortunately, the boy she loved was never the same after that and eq quickly lost interest. With the help of the mirror and its potions, she more beautiful everyday. He was always happy to tell her what she could improve and what she needed to do to look more and more beautiful.

And the more beautiful she became, the stronger the mirror got, growing in size.

Soon, as she grew into herself, eq began to catch the attention of successful men, traveling lords and wealthy merchants began vying for her hand, inviting her to balls and showering her with gifts.

One day she goes to a ball and falls in love with the king, unfortunately he’s married and deeply in love.

But that never stopped her before.

It took some work, but soon enough the kings wife fell ill and died, leaving behind the grieving king and his daughter.

She was more than happy to attend the first ball after the queens death, where she immediately ditched the lord she arrived with and made her way towards the king. She played her part of a mournful guest perfectly and she even gained the favor of the princess.

Soon she was invited to visit once again.

The mirror was always happy to council her in ways she could get closer to the king, how she should apply her makeup or what dress would garner her attention best that day.

Soon enough, the kingdom celebrated their new Queen, surely she would bring them prosperity.

But much to eq’s disgust, the king, just like her first love, lost that spark that first drew her to him.

It was unfortunate, but she had ways to handle it. She waited about a year before the king was struck my the same illness as his beloved and fell.

The kingdom mourned, their only solace was that the princess wouldn’t be alone in her grief.

Unfortunately with the death of first the Queen and now the king, enemy nations decided that it was the perfect sign to strike.

No one expected the Queen to lead them, but to the shock of the masses she was brilliant, but also cruel.

There were rumors that eq herself participated in the torture of her prisoners.

No one mentioned the heartless corpses, no one dared to protest when the Queen struck back harder and razed her enemies to the ground.

No one wished to have her ire turned on them.

But that didn’t stop the rumors.

As for the princess?

Eq didn’t care much for the girl, but she was certain she would be of use some day. At the least, the girl would be worth something in a political marriage.

She was a strange girl for certain, while her looks were fair, you couldn’t tell through the dirt that marred her face most days. She was insistent that she help the staff.

Eq wasn’t stupid, she knew her reputation and knew that the girl was key to placating the masses. So while she was firm with the girl, she didn’t get rid of her.

When the king from the enemy nation finally kneeled before her, he pleaded for her mercy and she gave it.

At a price of course.

Happy with the promise of peace, he praised the Queen for her mind and beauty, announcing to all present about how she was truly the fairest in all the land

Eq happily accepted the title.

Not long after the king returned home, a plague befell his kingdom, wiping out their crops. Luckily they had such close and gracious neighbors that were willing to help.

Soon the young prince could be seen visiting the castle with gifts for eq, and she happily accepted, admiring the handsome prince.

All the while the young princess grew into a beautiful young woman.

Perhaps she would have married the princess off, perhaps she would have lived a long and happy life.

If only she hadn’t tried to take what eq wanted.

She happened upon them by chance, the were talking in the gardens with a familiarity that enraged the Queen.

Worse though, was when the prince dared to tell the girl that was more fair than even her step mother.

This enraged the Queen, so she consulted her mirror once more. Only for it to confirm her fears, for while the Queen was beautiful, time aged even her.

She refused to accept it, and with the mirrors help she brewed potion after potion to restore her beauty. But after everything, the mirror solemnly told her that the princess was fairer still. Luckily they was a way to capture the girls youth for her own

Clearly she would have to go, but she needed to remain pure, so eq hired a huntsman to take the girl out into the woods, to kill her and to bring back her heart.

He returned to her soon enough with her prize, and she set to work. She followed the recipe to the letter, she mixed in the heart, turning the potion such a lovely shade of red.

She would need drink the potion every night for a week for the magic to take hold.

The mirror told her in that time that so long as she made it perfect, she would become more beautiful each day, but every day the mirror would show her only her flawed self. She raged, certain she was lied to.

So she asked the mirror once more, who the fairest in the land was.

Through eq, the mirror had grown far stronger than ever before, Gone was the small mirror she once held in her hand, in its place a magnificent mirror that held a place of pride upon the wall. It could now see far beyond her borders and so it told her the truth.

That Snow White still lived.

First she dealt with the traitor, then eq used her magic to disguise herself, taking with her a magic apple.

The girl was far too trusting.

Unfortunately those wretched dwarves arrived before she could take her prize from the girl, and eq returned to her castle.

She spoke with the mirror daily now, desperate for its help to fight back the toll of time, but no matter what she did, she always found another flaw.

Pressing a hand against the mirror, she despaired.

She begs the mirror, pleads with it, for something, anything that will save her from such a cruel fate.

She places a hand upon the mirror and eq is startled when a hand pushes out of the mirror. She quickly backed away as a figure emerged from the mirror.

She looked upon the woman before in shock and awe, before her stood none other than her own reflection but also so much more.

She was flawless, and she reached out for eq s hand. Gently it lead her in an elegant as it whispered promises of attaining this incredible beauty, how it could all be hers, if she only wished it.

Desperate, eq agreed. She wished it with her entire being. She put her entire soul into her wish.

And the mirror was more than happy to accept it.

——-

The disappearance of the queen did not go noticed for long. Soon enough the princess returned to her home with her beloved in tow.

But no matter how they searched, there was no sign of the Queen.

Soon enough Snow White and her price were married and they took their place on the throne.

Snow White decided that eq s rooms should be cleared out and the treasure be placed in a vault.

They were all diligent in their work.

One pretty young maid was cleaning out small desk when she opened a drawer to reveal a small mirror.

It was such a small and pretty little thing.

Surely no one would miss it?

[mudelebentru]

If you believe all men had a partner in the past, you agree with incel ideology

If you believe "male loneliness epidemic" is real, you agree with incel ideology

If you believe "women are choosing better nowadays", you agree with incel ideology

Incelwiki "graph" on an article about "Hypergamy"

STOP REPEATING INCEL LIES

Please reblog instead of liking if you agree

[mudelebentru]

"The only thing we have ever said IS STOP FUCKING SABOTAGING OUR MEETINGS."

I hope you are not talking about that Warren Farrel conference that happened 10 years ago(?

There are plently of meetings that are done by mental health professionals about mental health issues in general, and both sexes nowadays can go to therapy. No one is holding men back from going, there is no law against it, and it's the same process for anyone.

MRA itself is obsessed with telling men that therapy doesn't work for them, btw (@juliesque04 )

Some men expecting women/feminists to be the ones to advocate for "men's mental health" is so crazy to me because THEY'RE the reason mens' mental health is so awful😭 men are literally each others worst enemies yet for some reason we have to be the ones to advocate for them

[buggzrfaeries]

death of the author doesn't mean 'ignore all of their horrible beliefs and actions bc i like the story they wrote so im gonna keep giving them money' it means when an author has published something their original intentions and meanings they put into the work are not final.

reader interpretation can differ from the works intended meaning but that doesn't mean its a wrong interpretation. ffs

[mudelebentru]

That stat is only true because the sex ratio of dating apps is 3:1, and sometimes is even more skewed.

There are three times more men than women there. Men themselves decided to stop going outside and stay at home staring a screen with the hope of getting a hook up in the easiest way.

It's a 100% self inflicted issue. And despite what they say, the average male user of dating apps is HAPPIER than women there. Their tantrum is the fakest ass shit on earth and you shouldn't spend a second debating such nonsense. It's fake, is a performance, they could go outside and treat women like people. They don't want to do it.

men would die if they spent 1 day as an ugly woman or 1 day as a gay woman

[dollypopup]

y'all can all cancel me (again) for this, but if there's even a SHRED of 'who should I pick?' from Penelope in season 3, I am tuning out SO fast because like. . .sorry not sorry, there IS no choice. Debling is some crusty OC suitor she barely even knows and Colin is a man who she has been so supposedly in love with to the point where she'd ruin her entire family's reputation to have a potential love story with him. Penelope and Colin have background, years of knowing each other, intimacy that few people in the Ton can boast of having (letters, conversations about purpose, fights and arguments and makeups) and her and Debling have. . .a dance or two at a ball because he's a rebound for Penelope's broken heart. he means nothing. he has no nuance, he has no weight to the story, he is such an afterthought to me. either I wanna see Penelope going 'you know what? I don't even LIKE this dude. he's. . .fine, but I don't care about him even a shred as much as I care about Colin' or the INSTANT Colin's like 'you know what? we should get married' if it's not an immediate 'say less, you're already my husband, try returning me without the receipt, Debling whomst?' then I don't want it!

like. . .it's just so frustrating to see all the 'I hope Debling sweeps her off her feet and she rejects Colin's proposal and she makes him work for it and and and-' nonsense from the fandom and it's always tagged and no matter how many times I block it, it just keeps popping up. I go into the Polin tag for POLIN. I don't give a SHIT about a male love interest other than Colin. Not one. Not a shred. Not an iota.

and also. . .Debling has the 'benefit' of not having depth, or character traits, or HISTORY, so peeps can project onto him however they want, but I'm calling it now, there is NOTHING he could do or be that would make me like him more than Colin. Colin will always hit different, and I will always love him more. and if Pen's not on that same page? lol bye

you want me to believe Penelope and Colin are soulmates and it's romance for her to hem and haw about how difficult a decision it is for her to marry a stranger who knows barely anything about her. . .

when Marina was out here dropping banger lines like 'You were the only man with which I could see myself being happy' and 'I do not care about any of these men, where is Colin?'? like hello??? and she wasn't even fully in love with him!!!! but we'll demonize her until the cows come home in our fandom and make her the villain in Polin's love story for DARING to get in between Polin, yet Debling, a white man, is a darling dear perfect prince for getting in between Polin? existing in our fandom solely so Penelope can be like 'lol, Colin ain't shit, let me entertain any and everyone else'?

if that's the direction it goes then, ten toes down and on my mama, she doesn't deserve Colin and she can move because I'm on my way to court him my damn self

and that's that on that

[flugame-mp3]

what do you fucking mean that's how charlie dies. THAT'S HOW CHARLIE DIES??? i mean i know the show has a penchant for killing off every character who's not a winchester brother or an angel of thursday but good god. what the fuck. charlie was such a good and enjoyable recurring character, and she had such a fandom impact that i've seen, and she's only around for THREE SEASONS?? (sidebar: it's amazing she has the presence she does for only being around for a couple episodes in the long run!) but: was this necessary? and she just dies offscreen after her skills are utilized to progress the plot of decoding the book of the damned?? oh my god. what in the actual fuck. i'm finding myself getting genuinely very upset at her death. she did not fucking deserve that. and i can absolutely see why the fan response to her death is what it is now. completely fucking unjustified and throwaway and useless.

[thesmokinpossum]

I can't believe y'all almost made me pay to go watch po*r th*ngs in theater without telling me that the whole thing revolves around a hardcore born sexy yesterday trope with a side dish of pseudo necrophilia where a woman with the brain of a litteral foetus who don't have periods or body hair (but do have boobs!) find joy and freedom by having a lot of sex with a bunch of men, shoving a apple up her vagina for some reason and joining a brothel (but it's a cool socialist brothel and all the girls looove being there, don't worry guys), all of that written and directed by two men, I'm never gonna trust you guys after this one lmao

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Death of the Author by Ronald Barthes (1967)

Full disclosure, I've never really liked this essay. That said, I do like Barthes' other arguments. But I always found this one lacking, not in its central thesis that readers also matter, but I find that the lines of evidence are really poor. People worship this argument far too much without examination of why it has no citations and no one seems to be willing to question the argument in full from other viewpoints of things like, does it make philosophical sense?

But then people often use this essay as a crutch to say they don't need authorcism, and in fact go towards 100% readercism and then skip out on other critical theories. This isn't exactly what it argues, but I also feel like it doesn't argue the points it wants to make well. And truly, if I handed something like this in as an undergrad to my English classes, I'd be marked down hard. I think we need the same level of scrutiny towards the so-called masters as we do towards students and don't make excuses for "Because he's well-liked". This wasn't a new idea like he suggests. Authorcism goes further back than he suggests–but because people don't want to challenge these notions (and apparently don't read all the way through Poetics?) they think he's brilliant?

Dude gave no citations. Seriously. All his assertions are on weak ground.

Man, sometimes I think being born a white straight male means never being questioned when you make wild assertions and no one will ever fact check you ever. Well, I'm fact checking this thing, and it's not coming up the way he wants.

Original file: (translated, 1977)

No one wants to say this is racist or challenge the whole, "In ethnographic societies the responsibility for a narrative is never assumed by a person, but by a mediator, shaman or realtor whose 'performance' the mastery of the narrative code–may possibly be admired but never his 'genius'."

The core idea that the "author" is a modern figure is disputed by Aristotle, when Aristotle goes on and on and on about how much of a effing genius Sophocles was. I mean that Homer dude, that Homer dude wasn't good for anything and is a distant second to Sophocles. (Why do I remember this? Because I read the whole of Poetics and *cough* Aristotle waxes on poetic about Sophocles and barely mentions anyone else.)

No one wants to challenge how this basis and core of his thesis is coming off racist?

It's reading as those "primitive" people in that effing functionalist snobbery where some civilizations are "more advanced" than others storytellers aren't lauded. Ummm... OK, prove it, buddy. Your anthropology is faulty.

Often shaman, the keepers of the stories of the tribe/organization are lauded in their communities as important. If this was NOT true, the British Empire wouldn't have specifically gone after and tried to KILL those people. If he's arguing that the author was less important in those stories, that those people said, which is an interpretation, because he's not directly saying it, then the problem with that is there is a difference between losing the author, and what we'd call resonance of the words. And then you have a whole semantics question here on how much do stories outlive their authors, and how much there is over attribution issues to people that should not be lauded.

And then that's a whole other question than authorcism v. readercism. Because even those stories without the original author who might have shifted over time, still have other ways to read the text. Those are historicism, cultural relativism, race theory, etc. All of which, BTW, did exist by the time Barthes was writing. To pin his hopes on readercism, and say something this effing racist, that copyright does not matter to tribes, without textual evidence, when Kung! do respect copyright ideas, at the very least, is trying to kill the author, but also bury everything else in literary discourse, which was an issue I had with Percy Lubbock, to be fair, because I thought his way of thinking was far too reductive.

There's no citation?

The explanation of a work is always sought in the man or woman who produced it, as if it were always in the end, through the more or less transparent allegory of the fiction, the voice of a single·person, the author 'confiding' in us.

I disagree, it's an overstatement at this point in time. Selden Lincoln Whitcomb, did do some of this, but he also looked at other things to explain the text. And there was Percy Lubbock who introduced Readercism (not the coinage, but the concept) in 1921. (yes, 1921, eat it, it sounds like plagiarism....). The absolutist idea that it was always sought through the author before this point isn't true. 'cause I effing did my reading.

Percy Lubbock said it was ultimately up to the reader to know the context, etc. Earlier critics have also suggested things like partnership between audience and creators. This would be writers such as Bertolt Brecht, who was around by the time Barthes was writing and gets half-hearted cited, no less. TT I did a ton of reading. There was a ton of effort in the early 19th century to give more context to plays like Antigone. Even that jerk, Freytag tried to give context to Aristotle, though wrongly. He uses (wrong) Historcism in order to illuminate Aristotle.

Though the sway of the Author remains powerful (the new criticism has often done no more than consolidate it)

What? As I outlined, I don't see that. He's making assertions without citation. And then people aren't challenging it. Why? I would be 100% be required to give citations for either assertion.

In France, Mallarme was doubtless the first to see and to foresee in its full extent the necessity to substitute language itself for the person who until then had been supposed to be its owner. For him, for us too, it is language which speaks, not the author; to write is, through a prerequisite impersonality (not at all to be confused with the castrating objectivity of the realist novelist), to reach that point where only language acts, 'performs', and not 'me'. Mallarme~s entire poetics consists in suppressing the author in the interests of writing (which is, as will be seen, to restore the place of the reader).

Stéphane Mallarmé was born 1842. No citation of the essay. TT Again, I'd be required to cite the effing essay. No one wants to challenge this? Intertextual evidence is missing. For a guy who says the reader is most important, he isn't doing a lot to prove it in his own work.

Instead, Barthes gets lauded by later writers by interpreting what the author meant when the author didn't say it?

It was largely by learning the lesson of Mallarmé that critics like Roland Barthes came to speak of 'the death of the author' in the making of literature. Rather than seeing the text as the emanation of an individual author's intentions, structuralists and deconstructors followed the paths and patterns of the linguistic signifier, paying new attention to syntax, spacing, intertextuality, sound, semantics, etymology, and even individual letters. The theoretical styles of Jacques Derrida, Julia Kristeva, Maurice Blanchot, and especially Jacques Lacan also owe a great deal to Mallarmé's 'critical poem." --Barbara Johnson, "Translator's Note" to Stéphane Mallarmé, Divagations, trans. Johnson, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007, pg. 301.

Isn't this against what he's arguing for? He didn't leave it on the page. He didn't say any of this. Barthes left no evidence. Reader with no context wins?

To be fair, here, I've seen Barthes other work and he does know how to do citations, but Johnson is flat out trying to explain the author for him and I don't like that. If you're arguing for readercism, then the author's intentions shouldn't need to be explained.

By putting it behind a veil of "Well, he did no citations, so we need to interpret what he meant" when he doesn't leave it on the page, that's authorcism, ironically. Makes me cranky when white men get away with doing no citations to prove their thesis.

Barthes cites Valery is Paul Valéry b. 1871, also no citation. I'd get lambasted if I did this. Ah, white male privilege.

No intertextual evidence for his assertion here, either. While I don't love Lubbock 100% and I thought he oversimplified, at least he put *effing citations* on the page to prove his assertions.

Where are the citations? He doesn't need them? Why?

Proust gave modern writing its epic.

There's no proof for this assertion. I don't think it's true either. Epic of Gigamesh. It was translated in 1875, not by Proust. Barthes knew about it. He's not giving the context well in the text either.

There's no citation for his assertions of Proust either. He makes opinions, but where is the textual evidence?

The removal of the Author (one could talk here with·Brecht of a veritable 'distancing', the Author diminishing like a figurine at the far end of the literary stage)

He cites Brecht, not the particular work?? But also Brecht argued for partnership between audience and author a bit at least?

Urrrgghhhh I HATE writers like this. Have I not gone over how much I dislike people who do assertions without citation and then get lauded?

The Author, when believed in, is always conceived of as" the past of his own book: book and author stand automatically " on a single line' divided into a before and an after. The Author is thought to nourish the book, which is to say that he exists before it, thinks, suffers, lives for it, is in the same relation of antecedence to his work as a father to his child.

Barthes, citation? No citation?

You asserted it was a "New idea" that the author reigned supreme. Prove it. Show the work that says that. Because Aristotle, nope. Aristotle worshiped the living pants off of Sophocles.

Look, Lubbock did a better job supporting his assertions in this area. He actually cited living works and did intertextual evidence. I agreed that his assertions are reductive like Virginia Woolf, but at least the man cited Tolstoy. He didn't make wild assertions about Tolstoy and then hoped that someone would get the references, and then cite no works.

In complete contrast, the modern scriptor is born simultaneously with the text, is in no way equipped with a being preceding or exceeding the writing, is not the subject with the book as predicate; there is no other time than that of the enunciation and every text IS eternally written here and now.

Modern from when? What time period? If you're trying to argue anyone before Stéphane Mallarmé existed, again, effing Poetics. Not to effing mention the whole of Aelius Donatus's entire treaties on how plays should go was based on a single author: Terence. In what time period are you talking about? Author worship goes way back in time. Effing reading about Aelius Donatus loving the hell out of Terence's play with r*** made me cranky for a week. He found it sooo funny. And I was struggling with the Latin too.

The fact is (or, it·follows) that writing can no longer designate an operation of recording, notation, representation, 'depiction' (as the Classics would say)

which ones, Barthes, which ones? Give me an effing citation. 'cause I can't see that the "depiction" reigned supreme over the "author" through Aristotle literally ranking Sophocles as better than Homer. Aristotle kept going on and on about it. Plus you just cited Brecht earlier, who hates Aristotle's ass. So, make it mesh together. Which parts of the "Classics" are you citing, and which parts of Brecht are you taking from? Brecht HATES Aristotle, and most of the time when people talk of Classics, they are talking about Greek plays. You need to delineate which parts you are taking and which you leave behind.

rather, it designates exactly what linguists, referring to Oxford philosophy, call a performative, a rare verbal form (exclusively given in the first person and in the present tense) in which the enunciation has no other content (contains no other proposition) than the act by which it is uttered - something like the I declare of kings or the I sing of very ancient poets.

No citation again. I'm cranky. No citation or quotes for all these pages. For an author whose supposedly arguing for "readercism" and "simplicity" by leaving it on the page, as the critic earlier, Johnson, is saying, he's not doing either, honestly.

Having buried the Author, the modern scriptor can thus no longer believe, as according to the pathetic view of his predecessors, that this hand is too slow for his thought or passion and that consequently, making a law of necessity, he must emphasize this delay and indefinitely 'polish' his form. For him, on the contrary, the hand, cut off from any voice, borne by a pure gesture of inscription (and not of expression), traces a field without origin - or which, at least, has no other origin than language itself, language which ceaselessly calls into question all origins.

Honestly, there is more burying of citations.

He's saying in the fanciest of words to make it sound like he's smarter than he is, that "You aren't dumb 'cause you don't understand the author." If he's arguing for simplicity and leaving on the page, he's not practicing the same himself. So I don't know if the earlier argument by Johnson works in his favor at all.

We know now that a text is not a line of words releasing a single 'theological' meaning (the 'message' of the Author God) but a multi-dimensional space in which a variety of writings, none' of them original, blend and clash. The text is a tissue of quotations drawn from the innumerable centres of culture. Similar to Bouvard and Pecuchet, those eternal copyists, at once sublime and comic and whose profound ridiculousness indicates precisely the truth of writing, the writer can only imitate a gesture that is always anterior, never original.

I have issues with this from a philosophical PoV.

The question of originality, is certainly something that rose with industrialization, but that's more of an individualism, rather than an authorcism, I would argue–given how much that Aristotle, Aelius Donatus and others around the world tried very hard to preserve authorship. An argument of lost authorship overtime is a totally different affair, and one I've been dealing with as people over attribute, and I find that quotes are wrongly attributed because people don't remember the author or are too lazy to look up the texts they are talking about (I'm staring at you Barthes).

Individualism, is well, well argued to have risen with industrialization. Off the top of my head, though not in Barthes' time, you have Lucy Worsley, who in A Very British Romance argued that individualism in Romance is a very modern notion (argued, first episode within the first few minutes). Not to mention a lot of social sciences, in general, argue for this type of individualism, and then that argument, in general, leading to the arguments for why industrialization often leads to loneliness. To be contextually fair to Barthes, he didn't have the bit about loneliness yet, since that's a more recent sort of studying, but the scholarship on individualism as a part of industrialization should have been emerging in his time period, IIRC. This might have spurred this essay, but the notion that historicism and other ways of examining the text along with the author did not exist is a farce, at best.

One could argue the Butterfly effect, which is Henri Poincaré, prior to Barthes' existence of his essay, would disprove the idea of originality, but we're getting neck deep into physics and philosophy here. I am a nerd and interdisciplinary, so...

Say huip is a new thingy. It weighs 200 lbs. It does a bunch of new stuff–very theoretical. It doesn't matter. Someone newly buys this object that can do new stuff. It is a result of culture. Yes? Interwoven culture, as Barthes describes.

Bob has bought this huip thingy, and drops it down some stairs and finds that it rolls, not doing the original intended function. This is his particular life experience with huip. He thinks that 200lbs being able to bounce down stairs is awesome. I mean, dude, it defies all physics and is able to go down and turn on stair landings.

Bob posts this information somewhere, puts it into text, and then his interpretation, is by writing it, it is fun.

Sally, say, does the same thing, but kills a cat.

The first ripple is that it has killed a cat. Oh no, Sally's interpretation of huip is that the cat is dead and she's getting sued.

Isn't Sally's interpretation of huip and this thing it can do, but wasn't designed for novel as Bob's interpretation? If they both post about it, they are authors of a new experience.

If the manufacturers of huip say, but Huip isn't supposed to do that and do a total recall of the product and start doing things like making it so it can't roll, or weigh that amount, then the experience of the object changes. A new novel experience happens.

So the philosophical question is "What is then new?" in this scenario. If Barthes says "nothing" then it becomes an issue. Because humans aren't the same over time. And if you say that the author, Bob of the huip meme, didn't have a novel experience, dude, it is 200 lbs of menace and he discovered something new.

The fact that Sally interpreted it and then it ran over the cat and killed it... who is liable in that scenario? Bob, who didn't follow the instructions and accidentally found out and memed out what huip can do, the manufacturer, or Sally or all three?

Something clearly new happened.

BTW, I randomly pressed letters to come up with said object, huip.

If the experience is always anterior and not original, then how come witnesses never agree on anything? I don't think Barthes thought this part through completely. It's missing some key French Philosophers.

His only power is to mix writings, to counter the ones with the others, in such a way as never to rest on anyone of them.

Writers go outside and do things like experience seeing a new animal. Saying that a writer only mixes previous writing and cultural functions... meh, I'm not quite sure about this.

If his total argument is culture shapes the writer, and the writer has no free will, and the writer is merely mixing other writers, thus there is nothing new, this is more like an argument for determinism over free will, which runs into philosophical problems as I illustrated with Bob up there. Bob had a novel experience he wrote about. It wasn't the intention of the manufacturer, but gravity is not manufactured by culture. Stairs are manufactured by culture. Did an accident with gravity and a manufacturing error shape Bob into writing and memeing what he did with the huip? Or was it really Sir Issac Newton whom Bob never bothered to read, but loosely heard about once in Science Class for a test and he can't bother to remember the numbers for gravity.

Writers have experiences outside of books. The filter might be culture, but the filter doesn't always shape everyone's opinion exactly the same. Perspective, worldviews, and experiences do, and that's what's novel.

Barthes further argues that because the author has a dictionary, they are caught in culture. Urrggg. I made up huip on the spot. You still have no idea what the primary function of the object is. I'm sure someone is trying to make up one in their head. Or I typed that up and someone is making it up. But I don't particularly need to know much in order to make up that context. I need stairs, some name, and a mythical object I banged my keyboard for. Gravity is a natural force I personally experience. Especially when I was struggling to put an air conditioner in my window, heard a cat and then wondered what would happen if said air conditioner landed on the cat and then posted about it on Nanowrimo in 2008-ish.

Barthes might argue that I got it from literature somewhere. But the filter of words had nothing to do with the initial experience. I didn't have to put it into words. No one else was there.

Where did I get 200 lbs? Uhhh... random number.

Where did I get the runs over cat–from the original experience of worrying about the air conditioner falling from the window.

Where did I get magically rolls down stairs? I had an experience with a friend of mine that liked to roll down stairs. It was a novel experience for me. She liked to bounce around corners. (Hello, Libbie). If writing is purely words, culture, not nature, experience, worldview, opinion, Barthes has an issue with the treaties here.

My novel experience with the air conditioner and feeling like a weakling and hearing a cat though cat is not a controllable object in my framework, lead me to post about air conditioner falling from my apartment window into a roof, killing a cat, and typing it into Nanowrimo's boards.

Is Barthes saying the entire incident is mediated purely by words? That's a lot of coincidences, don'tcha think?

Gravity isn't a cultural experience and not everyone thinks in words either. In order to write you have to use words, certainly, but the initial experience still is not necessarily mediated by words or culture as he'd expect.

Classic criticism has never paid any attention to the reader; for it, the writer is the only person in literature. We are now beginning to let ourselves be fooled no longer by the arrogant antiphrastical recriminations of good society in favour of the·very thing it sets aside, ignores, smothers, or destroys; we know that to give writing its future, it is necessary to overthrow the myth: the birth of the reader must be at the cost of the death of the Author.

Untrue. Aristotle spends a HUGE amount of time on it. HUGE. !@#$. (We need the play to have negative reinforcement on the reader in a morality PoV–he spends a lot of his treaties on this. How do you achieve this as author. About how the audience should feel. How plays are inferior if they don't achieve this. About how Homer was a poor writer for not doing it correctly and the impact being wrong.) Aelius Donatus even talks about it. (We Latins this. We Latins that. What does the audience think. What's the difference between 'us' Latins and the Greeks? Should we account for the differences?)

His idea is that in the past authors were never worshiped, until the "modern era" and copyright didn't matter. (Untrue, Aristotle). And that the reader has forever been ignored in literary criticism before him. (Brecht, Aristotle, Aelius Donatus?)

We should ignore the author because the reader is the ultimate decider–honestly Percy Lubbock did a better job arguing this in 1921 with less convoluted language.

That everything is mediated by culture for the author and previous texts. (Didn't read Raw and the Cooked by Claude Levi-Strauss? Levi-Strauss, BTW, was French and published before him) And that copyright didn't exist in those all oral tradition tribes. TT Kung! Anyone?

Because you see, according to him, writers don't experience or mediate it through their own lives. Only through texts.

I think the better argument for readercism would follow like this:

Readers have their own experiences and worldviews. This will not be universal or resonate reader to reader because inherently no two people will agree on anything. Despite that there is a sort of cultural agreement to tame what seems like chaos. Writing comes into this chaos and tries to pull meaning from it.

The writer and reader's experience will not close to always match, so the impact of the writing is not going to be the same no matter what you will do. The best you can do is mediate your experiences, whether it's with culture, nature or your personal experiences through writing which is interpreted by others.

As Lubbock said, the text doesn't come alive until a reader reads the text.

To me, Barthes' argument is far, far more poor than Lubbock's argument for the same. At least Lubbock's argument for the same wasn't effing blatantly racist. (I give more leeway to Lubbock in 1921, before the 1960's than Barthes in 1965 who is also French and has clearly access to Levi-Strauss and even talks about ethnographies) It's based on assumptions, the majority of which aren't backed up. Plus he has more to work with if what he says is true. D- argument. He doesn't argue for what to replace it with, doesn't talk about the other critical theories at all. Urgghh. He's done better. But I know, I'm not supposed to question the greats when people worship them. But it irks me that he gives one citation, maybe, and then we blindly believe everything else he wrote. Why? I want some critical thinking here.

For the record, I hated Derrida too. His major flaw for me, BTW, was that he said everything is mediated through words, which is not true. Functionalists suck. Structuralists suck less, but are still effing prone to racism.

Sometimes I wonder if academics purposefully like to teach convoluted texts like this without citations, rather than a cautionary tale, of what will happen, but because it sounds smart and convoluted and because they don't check the assertions as true or not and plus there is a bonus points for the level of racism they can force their students to read, but they gloss over it and say ignore it. I mean, you absolutely need to read Emmanuel Kant, even if you can't with his hatred of women and you're supposed to ignore that part because there are no substitutes in the world that might have said the same things he said better. Urrgghh. Do you purposefully choose the most uptight racist white men to teach and tell that they are lauded? Lubbock made a far, far better argument. Lack of citations and blind worship because of lack of citations+white maleness makes me cranky.

[mudelebentru]

I have been thinking on something, and it's the whole "trad" thing as a concept. People tend to picture women at home, taking care of the kids, and men working and providing, and one can also fall into the ilusion of that idealistic picture, I was there at some point in my youth.

But as a grown up, I started to think in my family history, and that trad fantasy quickly died. This is what "tradition" looks like for women in my family:

To be required to take care of everyone once you are old enough to be self-aware

To be told you are impure when you are menstruating

Arranged marriage as a minor w a man 10 years older/legal adult

Being raped

Having kids against your will

Being beated to the point of having a broken nose

Working in the field under the sun all your life

Scaping of your husband/family once you have enough resources for yourself

Keep working

Returning and keep taking care of everyone

Dying in your kitchen floor all alone, forgotten by everyone anyway

It's ridiculous for me when men try to scare women with the "you will die alone" bit, because I have seen that after a life of breeding against your will and enduring men's bullshit, you still can die alone, forgotten and exploited specially by your parasitic male children.

Those are the "good ol' days" for women, child marriage, rape and mistreatment with little to not returns.

[moonlightfoxes]

sumire is a good character on paper and if i wrote her in fanfiction i think i could become a Liker of her but as it stands for literal years since royal came out ive always hated her because of how obvious it is that she exists in the video game persona 5 royal to reach a heterosexuality quota.

its not her fault shes written specifically and explicitly to appeal to the male gaze while also trying to criticize the sexism women have to endure in trying to appeal to the male gaze (really have your cake and eat it too moment) but because her writing is so bland because the game isn't confident in her character yet really wants you to like her i dont like her.

not because i dont like her actual character but because i dont like how the game wants this literal 15 year old to appeal to the male audience so fucking bad, its gross.

[mudelebentru]

These are the findings of an analysis of incel forums made by Counter-Hate:

What a study found after Alek Minassian's attack:

Can somebody point out the instances of radfems calling out for mass murder, pedophilia and rape towards men and that receive massive support from other members of radfem communities?

Can somebody name at least three radfems who commited a mass shooting against innocent people in the last decade?

Meanwhile, the posts questioning men's humanity don't remsemble incel communities, such ideas can be found in beloved philisophers and all kind of authorities through all history, to not mention most religious teachings, expressed by men about women, who even today in some countries lack basic human rights.

Misogyny deprives women from their rights, misandry hurts men's feelings and make ignorant people do dumb comparisons between incels and radfems.

all men are the same, tbh. Women have highly individualized thoughts, feelings, and experiences. Men experience the base-human emotions and that's about it- anger, lust, joy, and sadness. It's like living in grey scale compared to the experiences women are able to feel.

[arolesbianism]

Every now and then I have to remember I got into oni for the gameplay. I bought the game solely because the gameplay looked interesting to me. Even once I realized there was lore I actively decided I didn't care enough to go through it. I fell down the rabbit hole on Accident. And it's all because I read scientist Bubble's journals and realized that onis story was the most me bait thing I've ever seen Ever

[infoglitch]

Horizon: the divine descent.

Ch. 0 & 1

Chapter 2. The unholy encounter.

Dante could barely walk by the time he reached the source of the pungent scent, its smell flowed out of the guys bathroom as along with it came.. words? Someone was talking but he couldn't understand it.

“איפה אתה? הראה את עצמך, שקית בשר, אין סיבה לפחד מהשטן"

That.. that tongue he almost recognized it, he never heard it in his life but he swore he knew the words.

Dante despite his better judgement stepped in despite every neuron in his mind telling him to RUN he couldn't deny his curiosity, he grasped the straps of his backpack before pulling them off, he readied it in front of him, preparing to swing it at whatever was in there. 

“Hey! Whoever's in here, show yourself before I decide to-” Dante soon went quiet as there stood a massive red skinned being, with rippling muscles practically tearing from his skin, the beast was massive, its head barely reaching the ceiling of the 60 inch tall bathroom. Dante felt his face go pale as the hulking brute turned to face him.

The being looked at him with dead black eyes, he couldn't see anything in them, not even a glimmer of light, just a cold inky black filling the entirety of its eyeballs, until a single golden slit appeared as it glanced at Dante.

Dante could hear his own heart beat thumping- no- POUNDING in his eardrums, as Mochi hissed at the beast. Dante felt his breath quicken, his body began to shake, his feet couldn't move despite most loud his brain was yelling at them to move.

“שקית בשר... היית רשע ללכת אחריי.. היית צריך להשאיר את זה ככה, עכשיו אתה הופך לארוחת הערב שלי" 

The abomination spoke, its mouth opening to reveal rows of gnashing teeth, all waiting to sink into Dante's flesh. 

Dante couldn't even think before he chucked his backpack at the beast, his feet started to move, slamming into the ground and pushing him forward, down the long hall of the school as all his mind could think of was running, running from school, from that- that- THING! All he could focus on was surviving, but as Mochi meowed Dantes mind began to refocus, he began to feel off, the scent, it wasn't getting less and less pungent, he wasn't getting closer to the hallway door, he wasn't even getting.. anywhere.

Dante stopped running as he looked around him, he was still at the school but the lights were out, the people who roamed the hallway were gone, and any light he would have seen from the doors.. weren't there, but above all there was a strange black fog, rolling across the floor as it went up to his ankles.

Dante gulped softly as he soon heard the beast beginning to walk, its footsteps shaking the very building with its weight.

Dante’s eyes darted around trying to find something that could help him but the only thing around him were the lockers and the doors he could never reach. 

Was this it? Was he gonna die to some monster? He can't die here! He won't. He had a life to live! HE HAD A MOTHER TO HELP!

Dante took a deep breath as he closed his eyes, he reached for mochi and carefully took him out of the pouch. “Go, hide” Dante spoke softly as Mochi looked at him, before quickly skittering to somewhere safe from the beast's view. 

Dante stood tall and prepared himself, he didn't know how, but he had to face that thing, he couldn't die here. 

Not when his Mère was waiting on him.

The beast soon appeared as it charged at him, it roared, sending shivers down Dante's spine.

“Remember Dante.. remember what Faust taught you about fear… fear is born from sin, cast your sins.. and you shall be fearless.” Dante uttered to himself, before getting into a fighting stance.

Dante was gonna be honest, he wasn't that religious, but right now? He was praying for a miracle. 

The beast kept charging at him and when it got close, it lunged towards Dante, its jaws wide open, and its sharp teeth ready to pierce.

Dante closed his eyes but before feeling the grasp of death… he felt, warmth, and the sweet scent of honey and wine, he opened his eyes and saw-

Chapter 3: Virgil the Blue Angel.

Virgil knew something was up, the Collective hadn't received a call for an exorcism in weeks, so when he flew to one of their members childs highschool, he could smell it, the repugnant scent of sin. 

What he expected to find was an infestation of imps and goblins, lesser demons were prevalent in places of youth and innocence- like the filthy hell spawn they are- but what he didn't expect was not an infestation, but instead a middle rank demon marking an entire highschool as it's den. 

But now here he is about to face down an ork when some kid pops out of the bathroom freaking out- probably a brat who tried to summon one, what is with the youth and summoning demons?- but then he saw something he didn't expect.

It was faint but when the boy talked about fear and sin, he saw it, a glimpse of.. magic? It didn't feel like hell magic, nor divine magic, it was something else.

But regardless he almost on instinct got in front of the demon and the boy. “Maro, pulse!” Virgil spoke before summoning his staff, it crackled with electricity before he shoved one of the ends into the orks mouth, sending it back.. and maybe burning the inside of the beast's mouth, divine lightning tended to do that to unholy flesh.

The beast whimpered before releasing a bellowing roar. Virgil could feel the ground tremble beneath him yet he stood still, he knew demons tricks, they survived off of fear… and he wasn't about to give any vile devil an inch.

As Virgil twirled his staff he soon looked at the boy. “You, mortal, your name and your church.” he questioned as the boy looked at him confused. Now that Virgil was looking at the boy- dear Radiant father he thinks he understands what Mary meant by “theme your clothes” because the Boys outfit was horrendous, black pants, red shirt barely being visible as it was covered by a zipped up white jacket. And worst of all the boy had nothing covering his head revealing his brown hair which hung loosely framing his face as well as its only contrast being his green eyes.

“Uh.. what do you mean by my church?” The boy asked as Vergil snapped back to reality before sighing. 

“I mean what church do you go to? I need to know just in case you summoned this demon, that way I can make sure that corruption isn't spreading throughout the rest of the home.” Virgil answered rather bluntly. He could tell the boy was a little taken aback by how Virgil acted but at this point.. if he could care less, he would.

“W-well for starters I didn't summon whatever THAT is, second my name is Dante.. and third I go to first Baptist Church of Florence.” The boy- Dante replied looking at Virgil.

Faust's church.. so the kid knows that old lamb, at least that puts Virgil's mind at ease for a little while. Virgil turned to face the demon as Maro crackled with electricity.

“Well, now that that's settled for a bit, time to do some exorcisms.” Virgil claimed as he walked towards the beast Maro at the ready, his very being humming with power but also exhilaration.

The creature stared him down before running at him, its hands glowing before summoning a giant rocky club. 

Virgil took a breath before readying himself. One foot forward, one foot back, staff at the front to brace for any attacks and then counter attacks, simple as the days back in Eden.

The ork reared back its club before skidding to halt and slamming it down, bringing it down right on Virgil's head.

CR-ACK-CK-CK

The club was blown back as Virgil stood unfazed, his staff pointed upwards to the ceiling, before the lightning crackling around it began to take shape.

“You've gotten your one free hit hellspawn. Now it's my turn.” Virgil uttered in an almost cold voice, with the lightning forming around his staff to become a rather large sword of pure lightning. 

Virgil prepared himself again, getting into a new stance, the beast brought down its club again only to be stopped by Virgil slicing through both the club and the ork. 

The demon roared out one final time before it turned to ash. Virgil just sighed as soon the fog disappeared and the lights returned.

Virgil turned back to the boy as he felt his staff vanish. “Now. Take me to where that demon spawned, and then I'm going to have a word with your head of the church.” He directed, with Dante simply nodding as he gulped softly.