#petty shit

[a-meh]

[juliasdigitaldiary]

I love seeing people who wronged me in the past getting their karma, Im in such an amazing place and everyone who wronged me are stuck in an awful place.

Yes, Im petty. But im also just a girl.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Like so many areas of social media, the conversation of gender equality has fallen down a rabbit hole of juvenile bickering, pedantry, and cringey catchphrases most appropriate for playground bullies.

The war drum of the self-righteous beats on.

Once a noble movement, steadfast in securing women’s financial freedom, their right to vote and work, their bodily integrity, and other non-negotiable rights, each essential for women to be seen as fully autonomous humans…

The baton has since been passed to an army of terminally-online social-media-nit-wits, narcissists, and overgrown babies, who have lost sight of their own priorities, and turned the baton into a steel bat to hit men with.

For many the battle has changed to:

Women don’t have enough pockets. Siri is misogynistic. Are bearded men more sexist?

I’m not saying such issues should be ignored; but over here, the boys are dying younger in every country, in every age group, are behind at every stage of western education, and the cavalry have still not arrived.

But yes, let’s close the gap on iPhone games. On Wikipedia editors. On pot smokers.

So, whilst many advocate for equal pockets, men are left to die, fighting for the basic right just to live as long as women.

Have we lost sight of our priorities?

Have we ceded the steering wheel of advocacy to a corrupt captain?

And what might it look like, if I were to adopt such a world view?

==

When the demand for sexism exceeds the supply, and you've run out of real problems, but the grift needs to keep going. They'll often trot out the unfortunate women in places like Iran, Afghanistan and so forth, but never want to talk about the real problem there: Islam. They don't actually care, they just want to hide behind them and pretend they're the same, when they're not.

[arokel]

it wasn’t bait, don’t be so conceited . and I know the greatest generation wasn’t squeaky clean (duh!!) but as far as working hard, having good attitudes and prioritizing having a family, they were way better than the weak generation that’s being raised now.

my great grandfather actually wasn’t the classiest guy before he turned his life around at 85 years old for your info. He was a drunk and pretty wild and the stereotypical stubborn Polish man. he spent time in England and Africa repairing Liberators (look up the Caliban if you don’t believe me). I’m only telling you this because these were words by someone who actually lived back then. My mother literally asked him this question one day and that’s what he told her. other people I’ve talked to who had greatest generation grandparents or parents have said the same thing too. you have to remember. People who lived through the times are more accurate sources than modern age historian authors. it’s an unpopular opinion, but it’s true.

and being that the boys seemed like their were classier gentlemen than my great grandfather (and one of ulbrikson’s rules was no swearing) I highly doubt they used that word. You all just can’t go two seconds or paragraphs without uttering it so you justify it by projecting yourselves onto them

Alright, I’m answering it anyway because deep down I AM a petty asshole and I can’t let things go once I’ve got the bit in my teeth. Sorry to all of my followers but unfortunately this is just who I am 😔

I want to focus specifically on one part of your ask, because quite frankly the rest of it doesn’t matter to me. You say this:

“People who lived through the times are more accurate sources than modern age historian authors. It’s an unpopular opinion, but it’s true.”

This is not an unpopular opinion. I can’t stress that enough. That’s how all history works. I know people like to talk about academia through the lens of “woke Howard Zinn is trying to destroy America with his revisionist lies” these days, but I promise historians are not out to deceive you. Just because sometimes we wind up recontextualizing history and looking at our past assumptions with the benefit of new information and understanding doesn’t mean that Big History has some sort of nefarious agenda.

Contemporary first-person accounts are the historian’s holy grail. Notice I emphasize contemporary - oral histories are valuable, but human memory is fallible and we have a tendency to present ourselves in the best light. My grandfather, who was an alcoholic for my mother’s entire childhood but got sober before I was born, speaks very differently about his addiction with me than he does at AA conferences. That doesn’t mean my grandfather isn’t a reliable historical source for his own life, but it does mean that if I want the full picture then I have to search for outside corroborating evidence.

So that’s what I did.

We cannot know with any certainty the prevalence of swearing among the wider population until roughly the 1970s with the proliferation of talk radio and television programs. (If you watch Simon Roper’s video, you’ll see he mentions court transcripts as one of the few ways we can document reported speech prior to the advent of recording technology.) The accuracy of self-reporting is situationally dependent - that is, your great-grandfather or his friends may have felt social pressure to downplay the extent of their swearing when asked about it later in life. The word ‘fuck’ itself was the most versatile word in a WWII soldier’s arsenal, and swearing has a been an integral part of military self-identity since long before that.

I’m not calling your grandfather a liar. As Simon Roper says, prior to the 1960s how much someone swore was highly dependent on the individual. And in my mind, a group of rough-and-tumble logger’s boys from an upstart backwater city, spending time primarily only around each other, may very well have sworn more than a well-bred easterner. Or they may not have! That’s why I asked for headcanons.

But that brings me to my bigger issue with this ask: I asked for headcanons. I love history, and I care a lot about making sure the settings of my fics are as accurate as possible, but at the end of the day I’m writing fanfiction. Bobby Moch and Don Hume did not actually have sex in real life, so I’m not incredibly worried whether the fictional versions of them I write say “fuck” while they do it.

I totally get where you’re coming from; my tolerance for swearing is obviously higher than yours but I can think of a few fics I’ve read where the characters swore so frequently that it took me out of the story completely. But at the end of the day I’m playing in my little sandbox over by myself, and if you choose to go out of your way to check in on me and get offended then that’s not really my fault?? Go watch a Simon Roper video and maybe you’ll feel better.

Also, if you’re who I'm 98% sure you are, I’ve suspected you had alts for months and I’m pretty sure I even know their names, so if you really want to have a discussion then you can just dm me.

[cyrusarulius]

spiritomb but it’s 107 angry souls and one who is angry because Janet at the office never stapled her papers right

[adhdgoberrrrr]

CALLING ALL HISTORY NERDS!

okay so we all know that there have been some really petty things to happen over time (especially in the art world) but I just wanna know what you favorite ones are, the ones that make you sit there just like omfg all of that for THAT?! Because I love a good petty story and if it’s historical it just makes it that much better you can leave it in the comments dm me or repost I don’t care I just wanna hear about ones that other people know and like

[blessthismessforme]

low key it's funny as shit that alex went from liking everything janelle posted to unfollowing her like sir we can see you lmao

[thenotebookwizard]

It's National Handwriting Day. My handwriting is a big victory for me. I'm a left-handed dyslexic. For years, I heard all about how bad my handwriting was. I listened to teachers tell me I was some kind of failure.

Because I wrote mirror image. Or couldn't spell.

But I loved writing. I loved my notebooks - as far back as I can remember, I have loved notebooks, and the feel of pen on paper. The impossible potential of a blank page.

Writing mirror image and left-handed in the late 1980s? I had teachers carefully and gently try to find out if I was possessed (the Satanic Panic was fun as a geeky, left-handed dyslexic. Let me tell you...)

I listened to teachers get on me about using pens in the 'wrong' colors. (Colors that were only for girls! Not for boys! And stickers were a whole fucking thing.)

I got tired of listening to it. So, I practiced writing by hand. A lot. I discovered my handwriting got better when I wrote smaller. I practiced my spelling obsessively, and discovered a love for collecting words.

I battled teachers over my accommodations. The right to type instead of hand write, especially. (I had to even get accommodations to be allowed to use left-handed or non-spiral notebooks, and the right to not be trapped into writing in three ring binders - that I could take the notebook paper out!)

My vengeance wasn't swift, but it was thorough. I started writing everything in various colors of blue (because blue - as long as it wan't 'light blue' or 'teal' was an approved 'boy' color) in neat print. As tiny as I could make it.

And I can write very tiny. It drove them nuts, so they 'forced' me to type everything.

Some of my tiny handwriting came from writing on tabletop RPG character sheets. Some of it came from a desire to preserve as much space as possible in my notebooks and journals, and some of it was just that I liked having neat handwriting.

But some of it was definitively petty.

[lonesomespecter]

Whose idea was it to put me on this earth because it certainly wasn't mine.

[a-meh]

[therealteslathedog]

Btw, if you happen to make your entire account dedicated on hating someone and even make your account name based on that hate, (for example: the Anti-VivziePop Twitter account) I’m not gonna believe you being right or even justified by any stretch of the imagination. Taking bits and time and making being against someone their whole identity is just dumb at best. Go touch some grass already. Geez.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

A real god would be the one whose followers are murdered and raped less often, and who score more touchdowns and find their keys more often.

One of the easiest ways to dismiss god claims is simply to notice that if a god actually existed, it would be obvious which one.

[arokel]

this is absolutely nothing, but i want to say it, just because i think it’s worth saying. if you look at memoirs from world war one, also, they swear often in quoted dialogue, too, like there’s recorded usage of fuck, shit, et cetera. it’s been a military thing for a longgggg time 😭

no you're so right lmao, the sources are readily available!! I know google is mostly useless these days but it is possible to find stuff if you can outsmart the ai overview

[kissesofdeath]

This is like high key petty af

But I got told I could get in trouble for using my phone during open store hours

But I'm great at my job, get everything done in the time line I've been given and came in on my off days because they needed people

And I could get in trouble for checking my phone?

Trufully makes me wanna be as lazy as my coworkers

Petty? Def but I don't think i care

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Broke: Dick has no degrees and dropped out young

Woke: Dick has like 7 fully completed bachelors bc he keeps taking college courses to keep busy/ learn new skills as nightwing and ends up just having a fuck ton of credits. He simply doesn’t tell Bruce to make Bruce sad that none of his kids have graduated college.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.