Topic: List of things colored people do better than white people
+Anonymous A — 13 years ago #26,521
Dance
Run fast, and far
Box
Throw a ball into a hoop
Plays blues and jazz
Satisfy white women sexually
Play golf
Govern America, and African nations
Run fast, and far
Box
Throw a ball into a hoop
Plays blues and jazz
Satisfy white women sexually
Play golf
Govern America, and African nations
+Dr. Autphag !FaiGWhdD4g — 13 years ago, 5 minutes later[T] [B] #312,673
Africa under White colonialism was more economically active, vivacious and industrious than under negroid independence.
Obama is running America into the ground.
Tiger Woods is technically part Causco-chink.
All the competent musical negroids are typically mullatoids.
Any negro successful in a non-physical field is going to be riding off the back of racially gerrymandered heritage.
Obama is running America into the ground.
Tiger Woods is technically part Causco-chink.
All the competent musical negroids are typically mullatoids.
Any negro successful in a non-physical field is going to be riding off the back of racially gerrymandered heritage.
·Anonymous A (OP) — 13 years ago, 8 minutes later, 13 minutes after the original post[T] [B] #312,675
@previous (Dr. Autphag !FaiGWhdD4g)
Black people are doing all the things in the OP while you spend your late middle age on an internet forum 20 hours a day. In this light, your unhappiness and anger towards other people is understandable.
Black people are doing all the things in the OP while you spend your late middle age on an internet forum 20 hours a day. In this light, your unhappiness and anger towards other people is understandable.
+Anonymous C — 13 years ago, 33 seconds later, 14 minutes after the original post[T] [B] #312,676
@OP
> Dance
Michael Jackson
> Run fast, and far
Niggers win here but their motivation is usually because of being chased by a white person.
> Box
Rocky Marciano is the only heavyweight to ever go undefeated.
> Throw a ball into a hoop
Made up sport invented by a white man played by niggers and who are payed by Jews.
> Plays blues and jazz
Elvis
> Satisfy white women sexually
Bill Clinton
> Play golf
Tiger Woods
> Govern America, and African nations
Elvis, Bill Clinton
> Dance
Michael Jackson
> Run fast, and far
Niggers win here but their motivation is usually because of being chased by a white person.
> Box
Rocky Marciano is the only heavyweight to ever go undefeated.
> Throw a ball into a hoop
Made up sport invented by a white man played by niggers and who are payed by Jews.
> Plays blues and jazz
Elvis
> Satisfy white women sexually
Bill Clinton
> Play golf
Tiger Woods
> Govern America, and African nations
Elvis, Bill Clinton
·Dr. Autphag !FaiGWhdD4g — 13 years ago, 2 minutes later, 16 minutes after the original post[T] [B] #312,679
·Anonymous A (OP) — 13 years ago, 1 minute later, 18 minutes after the original post[T] [B] #312,680
+Anonymous D — 13 years ago, 6 minutes later, 25 minutes after the original post[T] [B] #312,682
Also work the squeegee like nobody's business.
·Anonymous C — 13 years ago, 38 seconds later, 25 minutes after the original post[T] [B] #312,683
@312,679 (Dr. Autphag !FaiGWhdD4g)
You are on a lot, usually as part of your silly little stimming routine.
You are on a lot, usually as part of your silly little stimming routine.
·Anonymous C — 13 years ago, 1 minute later, 27 minutes after the original post[T] [B] #312,684
@OP
> Dance
> Run fast, and far
> Box
> Throw a ball into a hoop
> Plays blues and jazz
> Satisfy white women sexually
> Play golf
> Govern America, and African nations
> Getting shot by George Zimmerman
You forgot one.
> Dance
> Run fast, and far
> Box
> Throw a ball into a hoop
> Plays blues and jazz
> Satisfy white women sexually
> Play golf
> Govern America, and African nations
> Getting shot by George Zimmerman
You forgot one.
+FuckAlms !vX8K53rFBI — 13 years ago, 2 hours later, 3 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,757
@312,676 (C)
MJ was a nigger who wanted to be white.
But then, I'm not sure which of your responses are jokes and which are counter-statements.
MJ was a nigger who wanted to be white.
But then, I'm not sure which of your responses are jokes and which are counter-statements.
·Anonymous C — 13 years ago, 2 minutes later, 3 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,763
@previous (FuckAlms !vX8K53rFBI)
I'm not entirely sure either. I feel pretty strong about them but they also seem pretty ridiculous so I am in the same boat as you. We are in a boat together. You and I. In a boat. I'll bring sprite.
I'm not entirely sure either. I feel pretty strong about them but they also seem pretty ridiculous so I am in the same boat as you. We are in a boat together. You and I. In a boat. I'll bring sprite.
·FuckAlms !vX8K53rFBI — 13 years ago, 2 minutes later, 3 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,768
·Anonymous C — 13 years ago, 3 minutes later, 3 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,773
+ !NoGoD1GamE — 13 years ago, 53 seconds later, 3 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,778
Stealing bikes
·Anonymous C — 13 years ago, 28 minutes later, 3 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,796
+Anonymous G — 13 years ago, 1 hour later, 5 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,820
+A...... — 13 years ago, 10 hours later, 15 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,875
CHEESE SLICE MELTED BETWEEN MY BALLS&COCK LICK IT OFF STICK CHOCOLATE MOOSE ICE CREAM UP MY ASS MIXING IT WITH MY FECES THEN FUCK MY ASS GIVING ME ENIMA SHITS MIXED WITH ICE CREAM MEANWHILE LICK&SUCK THE ICE CREAM MIXED WITH MY SHIT OUT OF MY ASS LIKE CHOCOLATE MOOSE POO-POO MILKSHAKE FROM MY RECTUM!!!!!!
·Anonymous A (OP) — 13 years ago, 37 minutes later, 16 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,882
+Anti — 13 years ago, 12 minutes later, 16 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,885
@previous (A)
"I must make one confession," Ivan began. "I could never understand how one can love one's neighbours. It's just one's neighbours, to my mind, that one can't love, though one might love those at a distance. I once read somewhere of John the Merciful, a saint, that when a hungry, frozen beggar came to him, he took him into his bed, held him in his arms, and began breathing into his mouth, which was putrid and loathsome from some awful disease. I am convinced that he did that from 'self-laceration,' from the self-laceration of falsity, for the sake of the charity imposed by duty, as a penance laid on him. For anyone to love a man, he must be hidden, for as soon as he shows his face, love is gone."
"Father Zossima has talked of that more than once," observed Alyosha. "He, too, said that the face of a man often hinders many people not practised in love, from loving him. But yet there's a great deal of love in mankind, and almost Christ-like love. I know that myself, Ivan."
"Well, I know nothing of it so far, and can't understand it, and the innumerable mass of mankind are with me there. The question is, whether that's due to men's bad qualities or whether it's inherent in their nature. To my thinking, Christ-like love for men is a miracle impossible on earth. He was God. But we are not gods. Suppose I, for instance, suffer intensely. Another can never know how much I suffer, because he is another and not I. And what's more, a man is rarely ready to admit another's suffering (as though it were a distinction). Why won't he admit it, do you think? Because I smell unpleasant, because I have a stupid face, because I once trod on his foot. Besides, there is suffering and suffering; degrading, humiliating suffering such as humbles me-hunger, for instance-my benefactor will perhaps allow me; but when you come to higher suffering-for an idea, for instance-he will very rarely admit that, perhaps because my face strikes him as not at all what he fancies a man should have who suffers for an idea. And so he deprives me instantly of his favour, and not at all from badness of heart. Beggars, especially genteel beggars, ought never to show themselves, but to ask for charity through the newspapers. One can love one's neighbours in the abstract, or even at a distance, but at close quarters it's almost impossible. If it were as on the stage, in the ballet, where if beggars come in, they wear silken rags and tattered lace and beg for alms dancing gracefully, then one might like looking at them. But even then we should not love them. But enough of that. I simply wanted to show you my point of view. I meant to speak of the suffering of mankind generally, but we had better confine ourselves to the sufferings of the children. That reduces the scope of my argument to a tenth of what it would be. Still we'd better keep to the children, though it does weaken my case. But, in the first place, children can be loved even at close quarters, even when they are dirty, even when they are ugly (I fancy, though, children never are ugly). The second reason why I won't speak of grown-up people is that, besides being disgusting and unworthy of love, they have a compensation-they've eaten the apple and know good and evil, and they have become 'like gods.' They go on eating it still. But the children haven't eaten anything, and are so far innocent. Are you fond of children, Alyosha? I know you are, and you will understand why I prefer to speak of them. If they, too, suffer horribly on earth, they must suffer for their fathers' sins, they must be punished for their fathers, who have eaten the apple; but that reasoning is of the other world and is incomprehensible for the heart of man here on earth. The innocent must not suffer for another's sins, and especially such innocents! You may be surprised at me, Alyosha, but I am awfully fond of children, too. And observe, cruel people, the violent, the rapacious, the Karamazovs are sometimes very fond of children. Children while they are quite little-up to seven, for instance---are so remote from grown-up people they are different creatures, as it were, of a different species. I knew a criminal in prison who had, in the course of his career as a burglar, murdered whole families, including several children. But when he was in prison, he had a strange affection for them. He spent all his time at his window, watching the children playing in the prison yard. He trained one little boy to come up to his window and made great friends with him... You don't know why I am telling you all this, Alyosha? My head aches and I am sad."
"You speak with a strange air," observed Alyosha uneasily, "as though you were not quite yourself."
"By the way, a Bulgarian I met lately in Moscow," Ivan went on, seeming not to hear his brother's words, "told me about the crimes committed by Turks and Circassians in all parts of Bulgaria through fear of a general rising of the Slavs. They burn villages, murder, outrage women and children, they nail their prisoners by the ears to the fences, leave them so till morning, and in the morning they hang them-all sorts of things you can't imagine. People talk sometimes of bestial cruelty, but that's a great injustice and insult to the beasts; a beast can never be so cruel as a man, so artistically cruel. The tiger only tears and gnaws, that's all he can do. He would never think of nailing people by the ears, even if he were able to do it. These Turks took a pleasure in torturing children,-too; cutting the unborn child from the mothers womb, and tossing babies up in the air and catching them on the points of their bayonets before their mothers' eyes. Doing it before the mothers' eyes was what gave zest to the amusement. Here is another scene that I thought very interesting. Imagine a trembling mother with her baby in her arms, a circle of invading Turks around her. They've planned a diversion: they pet the baby, laugh to make it laugh. They succeed, the baby laughs. At that moment a Turk points a pistol four inches from the baby's face. The baby laughs with glee, holds out its little hands to the pistol, and he pulls the trigger in the baby's face and blows out its brains. Artistic, wasn't it? By the way, Turks are particularly fond of sweet things, they say."
"Brother, what are you driving at?" asked Alyosha.
"I think if the devil doesn't exist, but man has created him, he has created him in his own image and likeness."
"Just as he did God, then?" observed Alyosha.
"'It's wonderful how you can turn words,' as Polonius says in Hamlet," laughed Ivan. "You turn my words against me. Well, I am glad. Yours must be a fine God, if man created Him in his image and likeness. You asked just now what I was driving at. You see, I am fond of collecting certain facts, and, would you believe, I even copy anecdotes of a certain sort from newspapers and books, and I've already got a fine collection. The Turks, of course, have gone into it, but they are foreigners. I have specimens from home that are even better than the Turks. You know we prefer beating-rods and scourges-that's our national institution. Nailing ears is unthinkable for us, for we are, after all, Europeans. But the rod and the scourge we have always with us and they cannot be taken from us. Abroad now they scarcely do any beating. Manners are more humane, or laws have been passed, so that they don't dare to flog men now. But they make up for it in another way just as national as ours. And so national that it would be practically impossible among us, though I believe we are being inoculated with it, since the religious movement began in our aristocracy. I have a charming pamphlet, translated from the French, describing how, quite recently, five years ago, a murderer, Richard, was executed---a young man, I believe, of three and twenty, who repented and was converted to the Christian faith at the very scaffold. This Richard was an illegitimate child who was given as a child of six by his parents to some shepherds on the Swiss mountains. They brought him up to work for them. He grew up like a little wild beast among them. The shepherds taught him nothing, and scarcely fed or clothed him, but sent him out at seven to herd the flock in cold and wet, and no one hesitated or scrupled to treat him so."
"Quite the contrary, they thought they had every right, for Richard had been given to them as a chattel, and they did not even see the necessity of feeding him. Richard himself describes how in those years, like the Prodigal Son in the Gospel, he longed to eat of the mash given to the pigs, which were fattened for sale. But they wouldn't even give that, and beat him when he stole from the pigs. And that was how he spent all his childhood and his youth, till he grew up and was strong enough to go away and be a thief. The savage began to earn his living as a day labourer in Geneva. He drank what he earned, he lived like a brute, and finished by killing and robbing an old man. He was caught, tried, and condemned to death. They are not sentimentalists there. And in prison he was immediately surrounded by pastors, members of Christian brotherhoods, philanthropic ladies, and the like. They taught him to read and write in prison, and expounded the Gospel to him. They exhorted him, worked upon him, drummed at him incessantly, till at last he solemnly confessed his crime. He was converted. He wrote to the court himself that he was a monster, but that in the end God had vouchsafed him light and shown grace. All Geneva was in excitement about him---all philanthropic and religious Geneva. All the aristocratic and well-bred society of the town rushed to the prison, kissed Richard and embraced him; 'You are our brother, you have found grace.' And Richard does nothing but weep with emotion, 'Yes, I've found grace! All my youth and childhood I was glad of pigs' food, but now even I have found grace. I am dying in the Lord.' 'Yes, Richard, die in the Lord; you have shed blood and must die. Though it's not your fault that you knew not the Lord, when you coveted the pigs' food and were beaten for stealing it (which was very wrong of you, for stealing is forbidden); but you've shed blood and you must die.' And on the last day, Richard, perfectly limp, did nothing but cry and repeat every minute: 'This is my happiest day. I am going to the Lord.' 'Yes,' cry the pastors and the judges and philanthropic ladies. 'This is the happiest day of your life, for you are going to the Lord!' They all walk or drive to the scaffold in procession behind the prison van. At the scaffold they call to Richard: 'Die, brother, die in the Lord, for even thou hast found grace!' And so, covered with his brothers' kisses, Richard is dragged on to the scaffold, and led to the guillotine. And they chopped off his head in brotherly fashion, because he had found grace. Yes, that's characteristic."
"That pamphlet is translated into Russian by some Russian philanthropists of aristocratic rank and evangelical aspirations, and has been distributed gratis for the enlightenment of the people. The case of Richard is interesting because it's national. Though to us it's absurd to cut off a man's head, because he has become our brother and has found grace, yet we have our own specialty, which is all but worse. Our historical pastime is the direct satisfaction of inflicting pain. There are lines in Nekrassov describing how a peasant lashes a horse on the eyes, 'on its meek eyes,' everyone must have seen it. It's peculiarly Russian. He describes how a feeble little nag has foundered under too heavy a load and cannot move. The peasant beats it, beats it savagely, beats it at last not knowing what he is doing in the intoxication of cruelty, thrashes it mercilessly over and over again. 'However weak you are, you must pull, if you die for it.' The nag strains, and then he begins lashing the poor defenceless creature on its weeping, on its 'meek eyes.' The frantic beast tugs and draws the load, trembling all over, gasping for breath, moving sideways, with a sort of unnatural spasmodic action-it's awful in Nekrassov. But that only a horse, and God has horses to be beaten. So the Tatars have taught us, and they left us the knout as a remembrance of it. But men, too, can be beaten. A well-educated, cultured gentleman and his wife beat their own child with a birch-rod, a girl of seven. I have an exact account of it. The papa was glad that the birch was covered with twigs. 'It stings more,' said he, and so be began stinging his daughter. I know for a fact there are people who at every blow are worked up to sensuality, to literal sensuality, which increases progressively at every blow they inflict. They beat for a minute, for five minutes, for ten minutes, more often and more savagely. The child screams. At last the child cannot scream, it gasps, 'Daddy daddy!' By some diabolical unseemly chance the case was brought into court. A counsel is engaged. The Russian people have long called a barrister 'a conscience for hire.' The counsel protests in his client's defence. 'It's such a simple thing,' he says, 'an everyday domestic event. A father corrects his child. To our shame be it said, it is brought into court.' The jury, convinced by him, give a favourable verdict. The public roars with delight that the torturer is acquitted. Ah, pity I wasn't there! I would have proposed to raise a subscription in his honour! Charming pictures. But I've still better things about children. I've collected a great, great deal about Russian children, Alyosha. There was a little girl of five who was hated by her father and mother, 'most worthy and respectable people, of good education and breeding.' You see, I must repeat again, it is a peculiar characteristic of many people, this love of torturing children, and children only. To all other types of humanity these torturers behave mildly and benevolently, like cultivated and humane Europeans; but they are very fond of tormenting children, even fond of children themselves in that sense. it's just their defencelessness that tempts the tormentor, just the angelic confidence of the child who has no refuge and no appeal, that sets his vile blood on fire. In every man, of course, a demon lies hidden-the demon of rage, the demon of lustful heat at the screams of the tortured victim, the demon of lawlessness let off the chain, the demon of diseases that follow on vice, gout, kidney disease, and so on."
"This poor child of five was subjected to every possible torture by those cultivated parents. They beat her, thrashed her, kicked her for no reason till her body was one bruise. Then, they went to greater refinements of cruelty---shut her up all night in the cold and frost in a privy, and because she didn't ask to be taken up at night (as though a child of five sleeping its angelic, sound sleep could be trained to wake and ask), they smeared her face and filled her mouth with excrement, and it was her mother, her mother did this. And that mother could sleep, hearing the poor child's groans! Can you understand why a little creature, who can't even understand what's done to her, should beat her little aching heart with her tiny fist in the dark and the cold, and weep her meek unresentful tears to dear, kind God to protect her? Do you understand that, friend and brother, you pious and humble novice? Do you understand why this infamy must be and is permitted? Without it, I am told, man could not have existed on earth, for he could not have known good and evil. Why should he know that diabolical good and evil when it costs so much? Why, the whole world of knowledge is not worth that child's prayer to dear, kind God! I say nothing of the sufferings of grown-up people, they have eaten the apple, damn them, and the devil take them all! But these little ones! I am making you suffer, Alyosha, you are not yourself. I'll leave off if you like."
"Never mind. I want to suffer, too," muttered Alyosha.
"One picture, only one more, because it's so curious, so characteristic, and I have only just read it in some collection of Russian antiquities. I've forgotten the name. I must look it up. It was in the darkest days of serfdom at the beginning of the century, and long live the Liberator of the People! There was in those days a general of aristocratic connections, the owner of great estates, one of those men-somewhat exceptional, I believe, even then-who, retiring from the service into a life of leisure, are convinced that they've earned absolute power over the lives of their subjects. There were such men then. So our general, settled on his property of two thousand souls, lives in pomp, and domineers over his poor neighbours as though they were dependents and buffoons. He has kennels of hundreds of hounds and nearly a hundred dog-boys-all mounted, and in uniform. One day a serf-boy, a little child of eight, threw a stone in play and hurt the paw of the general's favourite hound. 'Why is my favourite dog lame?' He is told that the boy threw a stone that hurt the dog's paw. 'So you did it.' The general looked the child up and down. 'Take him.' He was taken-taken from his mother and kept shut up all night. Early that morning the general comes out on horseback, with the hounds, his dependents, dog-boys, and huntsmen, all mounted around him in full hunting parade. The servants are summoned for their edification, and in front of them all stands the mother of the child. The child is brought from the lock-up. It's a gloomy, cold, foggy, autumn day, a capital day for hunting. The general orders the child to be undressed; the child is stripped naked. He shivers, numb with terror, not daring to cry... 'Make him run,' commands the general. 'Run! run!' shout the dog-boys. The boy runs...'At him!' yells the general, and he sets the whole pack of hounds on the child. The hounds catch him, and tear him to pieces before his mother's eyes!...I believe the general was afterwards declared incapable of administering his estates. Well---what did he deserve? To be shot? To be shot for the satisfaction of our moral feelings? Speak, Alyosha!"
"To be shot," murmured Alyosha, lifting his eyes to Ivan with a pale, twisted smile.
"Bravo!" cried Ivan delighted. "If even you say so... You're a pretty monk! So there is a little devil sitting in your heart, Alyosha Karamazov!"
"What I said was absurd, but..."
"That's just the point, that 'but'!" cried Ivan. "Let me tell you, novice, that the absurd is only too necessary on earth. The world stands on absurdities, and perhaps nothing would have come to pass in it without them. We know what we know!"
"What do you know?"
"I understand nothing," Ivan went on, as though in delirium. "I don't want to understand anything now. I want to stick to the fact. I made up my mind long ago not to understand. If I try to understand anything, I shall be false to the fact, and I have determined to stick to the fact."
"Why are you trying me?" Alyosha cried, with sudden distress. "Will you say what you mean at last?"
"Of course, I will; that's what I've been leading up to. You are dear to me, I don't want to let you go, and I won't give you up to your Zossima."
Ivan for a minute was silent, his face became all at once very sad.
"Listen! I took the case of children only to make my case clearer. Of the other tears of humanity with which the earth is soaked from its crust to its centre, I will say nothing. I have narrowed my subject on purpose. I am a bug, and I recognise in all humility that I cannot understand why the world is arranged as it is. Men are themselves to blame, I suppose; they were given paradise, they wanted freedom, and stole fire from heaven, though they knew they would become unhappy, so there is no need to pity them. With my pitiful, earthly, Euclidian understanding, all I know is that there is suffering and that there are none guilty; that cause follows effect, simply and directly; that everything flows and finds its level-but that's only Euclidian nonsense, I know that, and I can't consent to live by it! What comfort is it to me that there are none guilty and that cause follows effect simply and directly, and that I know it?-I must have justice, or I will destroy myself. And not justice in some remote infinite time and space, but here on earth, and that I could see myself. I have believed in it. I want to see it, and if I am dead by then, let me rise again, for if it all happens without me, it will be too unfair. Surely I haven't suffered simply that I, my crimes and my sufferings, may manure the soil of the future harmony for somebody else. I want to see with my own eyes the hind lie down with the lion and the victim rise up and embrace his murderer. I want to be there when everyone suddenly understands what it has all been for. All the religions of the world are built on this longing, and I am a believer. But then there are the children, and what am I to do about them? That's a question I can't answer. For the hundredth time I repeat, there are numbers of questions, but I've only taken the children, because in their case what I mean is so unanswerably clear. Listen! If all must suffer to pay for the eternal harmony, what have children to do with it, tell me, please? It's beyond all comprehension why they should suffer, and why they should pay for the harmony. Why should they, too, furnish material to enrich the soil for the harmony of the future? I understand solidarity in sin among men. I understand solidarity in retribution, too; but there can be no such solidarity with children. And if it is really true that they must share responsibility for all their fathers' crimes, such a truth is not of this world and is beyond my comprehension. Some jester will say, perhaps, that the child would have grown up and have sinned, but you see he didn't grow up, he was torn to pieces by the dogs, at eight years old. Oh, Alyosha, I am not blaspheming! I understand, of course, what an upheaval of the universe it will be when everything in heaven and earth blends in one hymn of praise and everything that lives and has lived cries aloud: 'Thou art just, O Lord, for Thy ways are revealed.' When the mother embraces the fiend who threw her child to the dogs, and all three cry aloud with tears, 'Thou art just, O Lord!' then, of course, the crown of knowledge will be reached and all will be made clear. But what pulls me up here is that I can't accept that harmony. And while I am on earth, I make haste to take my own measures. You see, Alyosha, perhaps it really may happen that if I live to that moment, or rise again to see it, I, too, perhaps, may cry aloud with the rest, looking at the mother embracing the child's torturer, 'Thou art just, O Lord!' but I don't want to cry aloud then. While there is still time, I hasten to protect myself, and so I renounce the higher harmony altogether. It's not worth the tears of that one tortured child who beat itself on the breast with its little fist and prayed in its stinking outhouse, with its unexpiated tears to 'dear, kind God'! It's not worth it, because those tears are unatoned for. They must be atoned for, or there can be no harmony. But how? How are you going to atone for them? Is it possible? By their being avenged? But what do I care for avenging them? What do I care for a hell for oppressors? What good can hell do, since those children have already been tortured? And what becomes of harmony, if there is hell? I want to forgive. I want to embrace. I don't want more suffering. And if the sufferings of children go to swell the sum of sufferings which was necessary to pay for truth, then I protest that the truth is not worth such a price. I don't want the mother to embrace the oppressor who threw her son to the dogs! She dare not forgive him! Let her forgive him for herself, if she will, let her forgive the torturer for the immeasurable suffering of her mother's heart. But the sufferings of her tortured child she has no right to forgive; she dare not forgive the torturer, even if the child were to forgive him! And if that is so, if they dare not forgive, what becomes of harmony? Is there in the whole world a being who would have the right to forgive and could forgive? I don't want harmony. From love for humanity I don't want it. I would rather be left with the unavenged suffering. I would rather remain with my unavenged suffering and unsatisfied indignation, even if I were wrong. Besides, too high a price is asked for harmony; it's beyond our means to pay so much to enter on it. And so I hasten to give back my entrance ticket, and if I am an honest man I am bound to give it back as soon as possible. And that I am doing. It's not God that I don't accept, Alyosha, only I most respectfully return him the ticket."
"That's rebellion," murmured Alyosha, looking down.
"Rebellion? I am sorry you call it that," said Ivan earnestly. "One can hardly live in rebellion, and I want to live. Tell me yourself, I challenge your answer. Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last, but that it was essential and inevitable to torture to death only one tiny creature-that baby beating its breast with its fist, for instance-and to found that edifice on its unavenged tears, would you consent to be the architect on those conditions? Tell me, and tell the truth."
"No, I wouldn't consent," said Alyosha softly.
"I must make one confession," Ivan began. "I could never understand how one can love one's neighbours. It's just one's neighbours, to my mind, that one can't love, though one might love those at a distance. I once read somewhere of John the Merciful, a saint, that when a hungry, frozen beggar came to him, he took him into his bed, held him in his arms, and began breathing into his mouth, which was putrid and loathsome from some awful disease. I am convinced that he did that from 'self-laceration,' from the self-laceration of falsity, for the sake of the charity imposed by duty, as a penance laid on him. For anyone to love a man, he must be hidden, for as soon as he shows his face, love is gone."
"Father Zossima has talked of that more than once," observed Alyosha. "He, too, said that the face of a man often hinders many people not practised in love, from loving him. But yet there's a great deal of love in mankind, and almost Christ-like love. I know that myself, Ivan."
"Well, I know nothing of it so far, and can't understand it, and the innumerable mass of mankind are with me there. The question is, whether that's due to men's bad qualities or whether it's inherent in their nature. To my thinking, Christ-like love for men is a miracle impossible on earth. He was God. But we are not gods. Suppose I, for instance, suffer intensely. Another can never know how much I suffer, because he is another and not I. And what's more, a man is rarely ready to admit another's suffering (as though it were a distinction). Why won't he admit it, do you think? Because I smell unpleasant, because I have a stupid face, because I once trod on his foot. Besides, there is suffering and suffering; degrading, humiliating suffering such as humbles me
"You speak with a strange air," observed Alyosha uneasily, "as though you were not quite yourself."
"By the way, a Bulgarian I met lately in Moscow," Ivan went on, seeming not to hear his brother's words, "told me about the crimes committed by Turks and Circassians in all parts of Bulgaria through fear of a general rising of the Slavs. They burn villages, murder, outrage women and children, they nail their prisoners by the ears to the fences, leave them so till morning, and in the morning they hang them
"Brother, what are you driving at?" asked Alyosha.
"I think if the devil doesn't exist, but man has created him, he has created him in his own image and likeness."
"Just as he did God, then?" observed Alyosha.
"'It's wonderful how you can turn words,' as Polonius says in Hamlet," laughed Ivan. "You turn my words against me. Well, I am glad. Yours must be a fine God, if man created Him in his image and likeness. You asked just now what I was driving at. You see, I am fond of collecting certain facts, and, would you believe, I even copy anecdotes of a certain sort from newspapers and books, and I've already got a fine collection. The Turks, of course, have gone into it, but they are foreigners. I have specimens from home that are even better than the Turks. You know we prefer beating
"Quite the contrary, they thought they had every right, for Richard had been given to them as a chattel, and they did not even see the necessity of feeding him. Richard himself describes how in those years, like the Prodigal Son in the Gospel, he longed to eat of the mash given to the pigs, which were fattened for sale. But they wouldn't even give that, and beat him when he stole from the pigs. And that was how he spent all his childhood and his youth, till he grew up and was strong enough to go away and be a thief. The savage began to earn his living as a day labourer in Geneva. He drank what he earned, he lived like a brute, and finished by killing and robbing an old man. He was caught, tried, and condemned to death. They are not sentimentalists there. And in prison he was immediately surrounded by pastors, members of Christian brotherhoods, philanthropic ladies, and the like. They taught him to read and write in prison, and expounded the Gospel to him. They exhorted him, worked upon him, drummed at him incessantly, till at last he solemnly confessed his crime. He was converted. He wrote to the court himself that he was a monster, but that in the end God had vouchsafed him light and shown grace. All Geneva was in excitement about him---all philanthropic and religious Geneva. All the aristocratic and well-bred society of the town rushed to the prison, kissed Richard and embraced him; 'You are our brother, you have found grace.' And Richard does nothing but weep with emotion, 'Yes, I've found grace! All my youth and childhood I was glad of pigs' food, but now even I have found grace. I am dying in the Lord.' 'Yes, Richard, die in the Lord; you have shed blood and must die. Though it's not your fault that you knew not the Lord, when you coveted the pigs' food and were beaten for stealing it (which was very wrong of you, for stealing is forbidden); but you've shed blood and you must die.' And on the last day, Richard, perfectly limp, did nothing but cry and repeat every minute: 'This is my happiest day. I am going to the Lord.' 'Yes,' cry the pastors and the judges and philanthropic ladies. 'This is the happiest day of your life, for you are going to the Lord!' They all walk or drive to the scaffold in procession behind the prison van. At the scaffold they call to Richard: 'Die, brother, die in the Lord, for even thou hast found grace!' And so, covered with his brothers' kisses, Richard is dragged on to the scaffold, and led to the guillotine. And they chopped off his head in brotherly fashion, because he had found grace. Yes, that's characteristic."
"That pamphlet is translated into Russian by some Russian philanthropists of aristocratic rank and evangelical aspirations, and has been distributed gratis for the enlightenment of the people. The case of Richard is interesting because it's national. Though to us it's absurd to cut off a man's head, because he has become our brother and has found grace, yet we have our own specialty, which is all but worse. Our historical pastime is the direct satisfaction of inflicting pain. There are lines in Nekrassov describing how a peasant lashes a horse on the eyes, 'on its meek eyes,' everyone must have seen it. It's peculiarly Russian. He describes how a feeble little nag has foundered under too heavy a load and cannot move. The peasant beats it, beats it savagely, beats it at last not knowing what he is doing in the intoxication of cruelty, thrashes it mercilessly over and over again. 'However weak you are, you must pull, if you die for it.' The nag strains, and then he begins lashing the poor defenceless creature on its weeping, on its 'meek eyes.' The frantic beast tugs and draws the load, trembling all over, gasping for breath, moving sideways, with a sort of unnatural spasmodic action
"This poor child of five was subjected to every possible torture by those cultivated parents. They beat her, thrashed her, kicked her for no reason till her body was one bruise. Then, they went to greater refinements of cruelty---shut her up all night in the cold and frost in a privy, and because she didn't ask to be taken up at night (as though a child of five sleeping its angelic, sound sleep could be trained to wake and ask), they smeared her face and filled her mouth with excrement, and it was her mother, her mother did this. And that mother could sleep, hearing the poor child's groans! Can you understand why a little creature, who can't even understand what's done to her, should beat her little aching heart with her tiny fist in the dark and the cold, and weep her meek unresentful tears to dear, kind God to protect her? Do you understand that, friend and brother, you pious and humble novice? Do you understand why this infamy must be and is permitted? Without it, I am told, man could not have existed on earth, for he could not have known good and evil. Why should he know that diabolical good and evil when it costs so much? Why, the whole world of knowledge is not worth that child's prayer to dear, kind God! I say nothing of the sufferings of grown-up people, they have eaten the apple, damn them, and the devil take them all! But these little ones! I am making you suffer, Alyosha, you are not yourself. I'll leave off if you like."
"Never mind. I want to suffer, too," muttered Alyosha.
"One picture, only one more, because it's so curious, so characteristic, and I have only just read it in some collection of Russian antiquities. I've forgotten the name. I must look it up. It was in the darkest days of serfdom at the beginning of the century, and long live the Liberator of the People! There was in those days a general of aristocratic connections, the owner of great estates, one of those men
"To be shot," murmured Alyosha, lifting his eyes to Ivan with a pale, twisted smile.
"Bravo!" cried Ivan delighted. "If even you say so... You're a pretty monk! So there is a little devil sitting in your heart, Alyosha Karamazov!"
"What I said was absurd, but..."
"That's just the point, that 'but'!" cried Ivan. "Let me tell you, novice, that the absurd is only too necessary on earth. The world stands on absurdities, and perhaps nothing would have come to pass in it without them. We know what we know!"
"What do you know?"
"I understand nothing," Ivan went on, as though in delirium. "I don't want to understand anything now. I want to stick to the fact. I made up my mind long ago not to understand. If I try to understand anything, I shall be false to the fact, and I have determined to stick to the fact."
"Why are you trying me?" Alyosha cried, with sudden distress. "Will you say what you mean at last?"
"Of course, I will; that's what I've been leading up to. You are dear to me, I don't want to let you go, and I won't give you up to your Zossima."
Ivan for a minute was silent, his face became all at once very sad.
"Listen! I took the case of children only to make my case clearer. Of the other tears of humanity with which the earth is soaked from its crust to its centre, I will say nothing. I have narrowed my subject on purpose. I am a bug, and I recognise in all humility that I cannot understand why the world is arranged as it is. Men are themselves to blame, I suppose; they were given paradise, they wanted freedom, and stole fire from heaven, though they knew they would become unhappy, so there is no need to pity them. With my pitiful, earthly, Euclidian understanding, all I know is that there is suffering and that there are none guilty; that cause follows effect, simply and directly; that everything flows and finds its level
"That's rebellion," murmured Alyosha, looking down.
"Rebellion? I am sorry you call it that," said Ivan earnestly. "One can hardly live in rebellion, and I want to live. Tell me yourself, I challenge your answer. Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last, but that it was essential and inevitable to torture to death only one tiny creature
"No, I wouldn't consent," said Alyosha softly.
·Anonymous A (OP) — 13 years ago, 1 hour later, 17 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,892
·FuckAlms !vX8K53rFBI — 13 years ago, 1 hour later, 18 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,907
@previous (A)
this looks like a good time to post textual_excrement.txt
(all misspellings and unbroken contractions should be read literally for best effect)
> "B'loody Mary was standing there. "Hajimemashite gurl." she said happily (she spex Japanese so do i. dat menz ‘how do u do' in japanese). "BTW Willow that fucking poser got expuld. she failed al her klasses and she skepped math." (an: RAVEN U FUKIN SUK! FUK U!)"
> ""NOOOO PLZ!1111" Lumpkin bagged as Serious started 2 suk his blood. I laffed statistically. I tok some photons of him and Snap bing torqued. (ok I no dis iz men but fink abot it ppl dey r pedoz nd Snap trid 2 rap dem and neway sadiztz rok haz any1 seen shrak atak 3 lolz)"
> "AN: fuk off PREPZ ok! Raven fangz 4 helpin agen. im sory ah kudnt update but I wuz derperessd n I had 2 go 2 da hospital kuz I slit muh rists. PS im nut updating til u giv me 10 god revoiws!
> XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX666XXXXXXXXXX
> WARNING: SUM OF DIS CHAPTA IS XTREMLY SCRAY. VIOWER EXCRETION ADVISD."
> "Sire are dads have been shot!" Draco said while we wipped sum tears from his white face. "Enoby had a vision in a dreem."
> "They were going to St. Mango's after they recovered cause they were pedofiles and you can't have those fucking pervs teaching in a school with lots of hot gurlz."
> "Dumbledore had constipated the cideo camera they took of me naked."
> "Petulus merengo mi kremicli romacio imo noto okayo!"
> "Snap was spying on me and he was taking a video tape of me! And Loopin was masticating to it!"
> "U c, Enobby," Dumblydore said, watching the two of us watching the flame. "2 c wht iz n da flmes u mst find urslf 1st, k?"
> ""OMFG! NOOOOO! MY SCAR HURTS!" and then..... his eyes rolled up! You could only see his red whites."
> "We started tiling of each other's cloves fevently. He took of my blak thong and my black leather bar. I took of his black boxers. Then........................... he put his trobbing you-know-what in my tool sexily."
> "I did sum advanced Biology work. I was turning a bloody pentagram into a black guitar. Suddenly the guitar turned to Draco!"
> ""Draco please come!" he began to cry. Tears of blood came down his pail face. I wuz so turned on cuz I love sensitive bi guyz. (if ur a homophone den fuk of!)"
> ""Oh Draco, Draco!" I screamed while getting an orgasm when all of a sudden I saw a tattoo I had never seen before on Draco's arm. It was a black heart with an arrow through it. On it in bloody gothic writing were the words............ Vampire!
> I was so angry.
> "You bastard!" I shouted angrily, jumping out of the bed.
> "No! No! But you don't understand!" Draco pleaded. But I knew too much.
> "No, you fucking idiot!" I shouted. "You probably have AIDs anyway!""
> "Suddenly, Gerard pulled off his mask. So did the others. We gasped. It wasn't them at all. It was.,............................. Volsemort and da Death Dealers!"
> ""NO." he muttered loudly."
> ""Yah u wouldn't believe how many posers ther are in this town man! Yesterday loopin and snap tried to buy a goffic camera pouch." He shook his head. "I dint even no they had a camera."
> "OMFG NO THEIR GONNA SPY ON ME AGAIN!" I cried, running out of the changing room wearing a long black dress with lots of red tulle coming out and very low-cut with a huge slit."
> ""What do you know, Hargrid? You're just a little Hogwarts student!"
> "I MAY BE A HOGWARTS STUDENT...." Hargirid paused angrily. "BUT I AM ALSO A SATANIST!"
> "This cannot be." Snap said in a crisp voice as blood dripped from his hand where Dumblydore's wand had shot him. "There must be other factors."
> "YOU DON'T HAVE ANY!" I yelled in madly."
> "I TOOOK OUT A CIGARETE END STARTED TO smoke pot."
> "And then............... suddenly just as I Draco kissed me passionately. Draco climbed on top of me and we started to make out keenly against a tree. He took of my top and I took of his clothes. I even took of my bra. Then he put his thingie into my you-know-what and we did it for the first time.
> "Oh! Oh! Oh! " I screamed. I was beginning to get an orgasm. We started to kiss everywhere and my pale body became all warm. And then....
> "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MOTHERFUKERS!"
> It was............................................................Dumbledore!"
> "B'Loody Mairy Nodded ENREGeticALLlY. "Omfg totally lets go shopping."
> "In Hot Topic, right?" I asked, already getting out my spshcial Hot Topic Loiyalty carde.
> "No." My head snaped up.
> "WHAT?" my head spuin. I could not believe it. "B'Loody Mary are u a PREP?""
> ""Yeah but everyone is in love with me! Like Snape and Loopin took a video of me naked. Hargrid says he's in love with me. Vampire likes me and now even Snaketail is in love with me! I just wanna be with you ok Draco! Why couldn't Satan have made me less beautiful?" I shouted angrily. (an" don't wory enoby isn't a snob or anyfing but a lot of ppl hav told her shes pretty) "Im good at too many things! WHY CAN'T I JUST BE NORMAL? IT'S A FUCKING CURSE!" I shouted and then I ran away."
> "I cried sexily I just wanted 2 go 2 the commen room and slit my wrists with mi friends while we watched Shark Attak 3 and Saw 2 and do it with Draco but I knew I had 2 do somefing more impotent."
> ""I luv TaEbory." he whispered sexily and den we fel aspleep lol."
> "I ran to the bathroom angrily, cring. Draco banged on the door. I whipped and whepped as my blody eyeliner streammed down my cheeks and made cool tears down my feces like Benji in the video for Girls and Bois"
> ""What's wrong honey?" asked Draco taking off his clothes so we could screw. He had a sex-pack (geddit cuz hes so sexah) and a really huge you-know-what and everything."
> ""Kawai." B'loody Mair shook her head enrgtically lethrigcly. "Oh yeah o have a confession after she got expuld I murdered her and den loopin did it with her cause he's a necphilak."
> "Kawai." I commnted happily . We talked to each other in silence for da rest uv da movie."
> ""You fucking bustard!" yelled Draco at Vampire. "I want to shit next to her!1""
> "der wuz also a goffik blak Beatles calander with a picture of the beetlez werring iyeliner and blak cloves. On it said '1980.'"
> "Then he put his thingie into my you-know-what and we did it for the first time."
> "We went on the bed and started making out naked and then he put his boy's thingy in mine and we HAD SEX. (c is dat stupid?)"
> "Then........................... he put his trobbing you-know-what in my tool sexily."
> "We started freching as we climbed into the cofin. He put his spock in my you-know-what and passively we did it."
> "We started 2 mak out lik in Da Grudge. He pot his wetnes in my u-know-what sexily. I gut an orgy."
> ""Konnichiwa everybody come in." said Proffesor Sinister in Japanese. She smelled at me with her gothic black lipstick. She's da coolest fucking teacher ever. She had long dead black hair with blood red tips and red eyes.""
> "I smelled happily and went into a dark room."
> ""Yah siriusly." I said drinking sum beer. Satan started 2 drive da car. I smelled happily.""
> ""My name's Harry Potter, although most people call me Vampire these days." he grumbled.
> "Why?" I exclaimed.
> "Because I love the taste of human blood." he giggled.
> "Well, I am a vampire." I confessed.
> "Really?" he whimpered.
> "Yeah." I roared."
> ""Hi." he said back but his face was all sad. He was wearing white foundation and messy eyeliner kind of like a pentagram (geddit) between Joel Madden and Gerard Way."
this looks like a good time to post textual_excrement.txt
(all misspellings and unbroken contractions should be read literally for best effect)
> "B'loody Mary was standing there. "Hajimemashite gurl." she said happily (she spex Japanese so do i. dat menz ‘how do u do' in japanese). "BTW Willow that fucking poser got expuld. she failed al her klasses and she skepped math." (an: RAVEN U FUKIN SUK! FUK U!)"
> ""NOOOO PLZ!1111" Lumpkin bagged as Serious started 2 suk his blood. I laffed statistically. I tok some photons of him and Snap bing torqued. (ok I no dis iz men but fink abot it ppl dey r pedoz nd Snap trid 2 rap dem and neway sadiztz rok haz any1 seen shrak atak 3 lolz)"
> "AN: fuk off PREPZ ok! Raven fangz 4 helpin agen. im sory ah kudnt update but I wuz derperessd n I had 2 go 2 da hospital kuz I slit muh rists. PS im nut updating til u giv me 10 god revoiws!
> XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX666XXXXXXXXXX
> WARNING: SUM OF DIS CHAPTA IS XTREMLY SCRAY. VIOWER EXCRETION ADVISD."
> "Sire are dads have been shot!" Draco said while we wipped sum tears from his white face. "Enoby had a vision in a dreem."
> "They were going to St. Mango's after they recovered cause they were pedofiles and you can't have those fucking pervs teaching in a school with lots of hot gurlz."
> "Dumbledore had constipated the cideo camera they took of me naked."
> "Petulus merengo mi kremicli romacio imo noto okayo!"
> "Snap was spying on me and he was taking a video tape of me! And Loopin was masticating to it!"
> "U c, Enobby," Dumblydore said, watching the two of us watching the flame. "2 c wht iz n da flmes u mst find urslf 1st, k?"
> ""OMFG! NOOOOO! MY SCAR HURTS!" and then..... his eyes rolled up! You could only see his red whites."
> "We started tiling of each other's cloves fevently. He took of my blak thong and my black leather bar. I took of his black boxers. Then........................... he put his trobbing you-know-what in my tool sexily."
> "I did sum advanced Biology work. I was turning a bloody pentagram into a black guitar. Suddenly the guitar turned to Draco!"
> ""Draco please come!" he began to cry. Tears of blood came down his pail face. I wuz so turned on cuz I love sensitive bi guyz. (if ur a homophone den fuk of!)"
> ""Oh Draco, Draco!" I screamed while getting an orgasm when all of a sudden I saw a tattoo I had never seen before on Draco's arm. It was a black heart with an arrow through it. On it in bloody gothic writing were the words............ Vampire!
> I was so angry.
> "You bastard!" I shouted angrily, jumping out of the bed.
> "No! No! But you don't understand!" Draco pleaded. But I knew too much.
> "No, you fucking idiot!" I shouted. "You probably have AIDs anyway!""
> "Suddenly, Gerard pulled off his mask. So did the others. We gasped. It wasn't them at all. It was.,............................. Volsemort and da Death Dealers!"
> ""NO." he muttered loudly."
> ""Yah u wouldn't believe how many posers ther are in this town man! Yesterday loopin and snap tried to buy a goffic camera pouch." He shook his head. "I dint even no they had a camera."
> "OMFG NO THEIR GONNA SPY ON ME AGAIN!" I cried, running out of the changing room wearing a long black dress with lots of red tulle coming out and very low-cut with a huge slit."
> ""What do you know, Hargrid? You're just a little Hogwarts student!"
> "I MAY BE A HOGWARTS STUDENT...." Hargirid paused angrily. "BUT I AM ALSO A SATANIST!"
> "This cannot be." Snap said in a crisp voice as blood dripped from his hand where Dumblydore's wand had shot him. "There must be other factors."
> "YOU DON'T HAVE ANY!" I yelled in madly."
> "I TOOOK OUT A CIGARETE END STARTED TO smoke pot."
> "And then............... suddenly just as I Draco kissed me passionately. Draco climbed on top of me and we started to make out keenly against a tree. He took of my top and I took of his clothes. I even took of my bra. Then he put his thingie into my you-know-what and we did it for the first time.
> "Oh! Oh! Oh! " I screamed. I was beginning to get an orgasm. We started to kiss everywhere and my pale body became all warm. And then....
> "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MOTHERFUKERS!"
> It was............................................................Dumbledore!"
> "B'Loody Mairy Nodded ENREGeticALLlY. "Omfg totally lets go shopping."
> "In Hot Topic, right?" I asked, already getting out my spshcial Hot Topic Loiyalty carde.
> "No." My head snaped up.
> "WHAT?" my head spuin. I could not believe it. "B'Loody Mary are u a PREP?""
> ""Yeah but everyone is in love with me! Like Snape and Loopin took a video of me naked. Hargrid says he's in love with me. Vampire likes me and now even Snaketail is in love with me! I just wanna be with you ok Draco! Why couldn't Satan have made me less beautiful?" I shouted angrily. (an" don't wory enoby isn't a snob or anyfing but a lot of ppl hav told her shes pretty) "Im good at too many things! WHY CAN'T I JUST BE NORMAL? IT'S A FUCKING CURSE!" I shouted and then I ran away."
> "I cried sexily I just wanted 2 go 2 the commen room and slit my wrists with mi friends while we watched Shark Attak 3 and Saw 2 and do it with Draco but I knew I had 2 do somefing more impotent."
> ""I luv TaEbory." he whispered sexily and den we fel aspleep lol."
> "I ran to the bathroom angrily, cring. Draco banged on the door. I whipped and whepped as my blody eyeliner streammed down my cheeks and made cool tears down my feces like Benji in the video for Girls and Bois"
> ""What's wrong honey?" asked Draco taking off his clothes so we could screw. He had a sex-pack (geddit cuz hes so sexah) and a really huge you-know-what and everything."
> ""Kawai." B'loody Mair shook her head enrgtically lethrigcly. "Oh yeah o have a confession after she got expuld I murdered her and den loopin did it with her cause he's a necphilak."
> "Kawai." I commnted happily . We talked to each other in silence for da rest uv da movie."
> ""You fucking bustard!" yelled Draco at Vampire. "I want to shit next to her!1""
> "der wuz also a goffik blak Beatles calander with a picture of the beetlez werring iyeliner and blak cloves. On it said '1980.'"
> "Then he put his thingie into my you-know-what and we did it for the first time."
> "We went on the bed and started making out naked and then he put his boy's thingy in mine and we HAD SEX. (c is dat stupid?)"
> "Then........................... he put his trobbing you-know-what in my tool sexily."
> "We started freching as we climbed into the cofin. He put his spock in my you-know-what and passively we did it."
> "We started 2 mak out lik in Da Grudge. He pot his wetnes in my u-know-what sexily. I gut an orgy."
> ""Konnichiwa everybody come in." said Proffesor Sinister in Japanese. She smelled at me with her gothic black lipstick. She's da coolest fucking teacher ever. She had long dead black hair with blood red tips and red eyes.""
> "I smelled happily and went into a dark room."
> ""Yah siriusly." I said drinking sum beer. Satan started 2 drive da car. I smelled happily.""
> ""My name's Harry Potter, although most people call me Vampire these days." he grumbled.
> "Why?" I exclaimed.
> "Because I love the taste of human blood." he giggled.
> "Well, I am a vampire." I confessed.
> "Really?" he whimpered.
> "Yeah." I roared."
> ""Hi." he said back but his face was all sad. He was wearing white foundation and messy eyeliner kind of like a pentagram (geddit) between Joel Madden and Gerard Way."
·Anonymous C — 13 years ago, 3 minutes later, 18 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,908
@OP
Eat fried chicken and watermelon.
Eat fried chicken and watermelon.
·FuckAlms !vX8K53rFBI — 13 years ago, 2 minutes later, 18 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,911
·Anonymous C — 13 years ago, 1 minute later, 18 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,913
·Anti — 13 years ago, 5 minutes later, 18 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,914
BUT I AM ALSO A SATANIST!
+Anonymous J — 13 years ago, 8 minutes later, 18 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,915
+kook !!u4KQvs2JM — 13 years ago, 59 minutes later, 19 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,919
·kook !!u4KQvs2JM — 13 years ago, 2 minutes later, 19 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,920
The women can fucking fight, starting from a very young age.
·kook !!u4KQvs2JM — 13 years ago, 1 minute later, 19 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,921
Also, smoke copious amounts of marijuana without passing out.
·Anonymous C — 13 years ago, 3 minutes later, 20 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,924
·kook !!u4KQvs2JM — 13 years ago, 15 minutes later, 20 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,932
·Anonymous C — 13 years ago, 48 seconds later, 20 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,934
·Antikhristos !M6R0eWkIpk — 13 years ago, 34 minutes later, 20 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,957
·kook !!u4KQvs2JM — 13 years ago, 3 minutes later, 20 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,962
·Antikhristos !M6R0eWkIpk — 13 years ago, 9 minutes later, 21 hours after the original post[T] [B] #312,968
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