| "As a _______ I find this offensive" |
[Jun. 27th, 2009|01:50 am] |
This is the most horrible phrase ever. One should not have to be something to find something offensive.
If I insult Christians one would expect Christians to be angry. But to hear this trumpeted out "AS A CHRISTIAN I FIND THIS OFFENSIVE" afterwards is irritating. This holds true for every group whether they are religions, minorities or fans of something.
If something is offensive and you find it offensive chances are you were its intended target to begin with there is really no need for you to to say this. Not to mention that by saying this you make the claim that everyone in your particular group will find it offensive. While this may be the case in most instances it is still quite presumptuous of you. If someone made a joke about a man getting anally raped and someone stood up and said, "As a gay man I find this offensive" you are making the claim that every gay man will find the joke offensive. Are you sure that this is that this is true? Probably not.
This statement lends the announcer authority they might otherwise not possess. The announcer is suddenly given more right than others to feel aggrieved over the incident meaning that others are not given the same amount of time or credence.
Everybody and everything will be insulted at some point in. You should not lay claim to being wounded more because of your orientations. Laying claim to hurt because you are something is redundant if you group was the target to begin with. |
|
|
| the rest |
[May. 11th, 2008|08:36 pm] |
John woke up in a brightly-lit room.
“Oh god where am I?” he asked no one in particular.
As his eyes started to adjust, he notice that the room wasn’t as bright as first thought. It was just that everything was panted or covered in a blinding shade of white.
“Oh God I’ve died and I never got a chance to say something great. Maybe they’ll let me go back so I could say something like ‘You sons of bitches, give my love to mother’ no wait that one was taken.”
“Mr. Parkers,” A lady wearing a very prim and proper white dress said.
“Yes,” John looked up a little stunned not entirely sure if he was still on the couch sleeping, dead or somewhere in between.
“Mr. Williams is ready to see you,” she said politely.
“Oh… yes of course. Um… where would I find him?”
“Straight down the hall and the last door on the right.”
John stood up and nodded, “well I be off then.”
How did I get here, who the hell is Mr. Williams and what the hell am I doing, the thought whirred around John’s head.
Before he knew it John was in front of the door that he was lead to believe belong to Mr. Williams. He knocked and was called in.
“Er… hello Mr. Williams, I apparently have an appointment with you,” John said cautiously
“Yes Mr. Parkers, your dog, one Maltese Terrier named Tiddles. Went missing yesterday afternoon in a park. Cause of disappearance unknown. Is that correct?” The man behind the desk asked.
“No actually a giant porcupine with something that looked like a dirty fork shot it out of existence so I think it may be dead,” John explained deciding to go along with it.
“A giant porcupine you say. Well I am happy to inform you that your dog is not dead but in a zoo on the planet Zarft the home of the giant porcupine creatures, Zarftians. You may want to give up there though, as they have a non extradition law.”
“So I’m not going to get the dog back?”
Too much had happened to John for him to entirely understand what was going on and he found this rather distressing.
“No. I suggest you get a new dog and forget about it. Now if you have nothing else you wish to find I have other clients,” Mr. Williams said by way of dismissing the matter.
“No wait I want to get a few things straight. How did I get here, what exactly do you do and why can’t I get my dog back?” John asked, balling his fist.
“All right if you feel it will put your mind at ease. You came here through a teleportation transmission made by us with the use of your TV. Sort of like Wonka-vision but backwards, we here at Specson deal with the finding and retrieving of lost articles and you can’t get your dog back because on the planet Zarft they have a law against removing people, things or animals from that planet. Does that answer your questions satisfactorily?” the man answered rather exasperated.
“Not all of them but that will do for now I suppose. Just one more thin though how exactly do you get to the planet Zarft?”
“From here you would have to go to the red hallway and ask for a transport visa, then to the green hallway to purchase a ticket. Are you going to say good-bye to your dog?”
“Yes some thing like that.”
Waiting for the transport, John wasn’t sure what exactly he was getting there, John found he was starting to rethink his decision, then the thought of his wife’s enraged face and condescending manner. He was going to go through with it just to prove her wrong.
He stood up as he heard his boarding call, took a deep breath and set out on a mission.
Chapter 2
A Planet of Cages.
The trip was much like the one to Specson, with the whole dissolving, Wonka-vision teleportation. It made John feel rather sick and he theorised this had something to do with him being awake for it this time.
“Welcome to Zarft. Home of the largest zoo in the universe,” an automated welcome box said over and over and John, not having ever been anywhere off the planet Earth, wasn’t about to argue.
His head and stomach still spinning John decided to sit down a while and let it pass. Then it something finally seemed to click.
“What the fuck am I doing? I’m on another planet looking for a dog that apparently has become the new exhibit in a zoo for giant porcupines. Would someone mind telling me how no one on my planet, known as Earth, knows anything about this?” John yelled out, frightening the new arrivals.
Many of the creatures in the area began to whisper, some of them openly, others behind their hands or what appeared to be use as hands.
John looked around in hopeless confusion, slowly shaking his head before sitting down and resting it in his open palms.
“John is that you? What the hell are you doing in a place like this?” a voice called out from the crowd.
John looked up in shock to find one of his coworkers walking towards him.
“Martin what the heck are you doing here?” John voice still hadn’t lost the angry confusion it had before.
“Well it’s quite a funny story actually. Well not so much funny as it is confusing and even the not as confusing as it is scary,” Martin had a tendency to ramble and as a result many of the good ideas he had in the work place got ignore because people just stop listening to him.
“Get to the point Martin,” John said rather tersely.
“Oh well you know the new dog I got that’s part wolf, part German shepherd and that stupid joke I made about it being a human but it becomes a wolf whenever there is a full moon in the solar system at the last corporate picnic. Well…Um… hee hee hee it turns out it was true and yesterday it became human and well I couldn’t very well get rid of the guy so I made him some porridge and we had a long conversation about how it happened and it turns out…”
“Can you hurry this up I have a few things I have to do?” John interrupted.
“Oh well yeah anyway we’re in the middle of the conversation when this big porcupine thing showed up and shot him with a spoon. This was quite upsetting as I had really gotten to like him. Then last night I was sleeping and I must of left the TV on when I was woken up but a weird advertisement for a lost and found agency. Then before I know it I’m in this office talking to a man who told me I couldn’t get my dog back but I should check out this zoo where he was taken as it was the biggest in the universe and well here I am.”
“Mine was a fork.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing”
“Oh okay. Why are you here?” Martin asked.
“Getting my dog back so I can shut my wife up,” John answered flatly.
“Sounds like a mission. Can I help in anyway?”
“Maybe you can,” John told him. Not believing that he could help in anyway but the fact that there was something familiar gave him a little comfort.
“Where do we go first?" |
|
|
| more story-ness |
[Mar. 23rd, 2007|11:28 pm] |
John looked at his wife’s tearful face and almost started crying himself. John was petrified of his wife that was half he reason he married her, she scare him into it.
“How could you…sob… lose him, he always comes when you call? Go back to the park and look for him. Now,” his wife ordered him.
“Well I severely doubt that I am going to find him,” he muttered to himself.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, nothing. I’ll go look again; maybe a female dog just distracted him.”
“Well get going.”
“Yes darling,” he groaned.
John had been married to Andrea for almost twenty-two years and had never had the upper hand in an argument. If it ever looked like he was going to win Andrea would start crying and whining ‘you don’t love me’.
On his third trip around the block John started to really hate the dog. His little fluffy tail that would never wag again, his annoying little bark that always happened in the middle of the night and his little neck that he never got a chance to wring.
Sighing, he decided it was finally time to go home. He trudged slowly, hoping to postpone the yelling and accusation that were sure to come. He played the scene over in his head knowing exactly what she would say, how she would wave off what she called his pitiful excuses. Unfortunately when next he looked up he found himself in front of the home his wife lorded over and he was privileged to reside in.
“Did you find him?” his wife called from the front door.
John’s stomach sunk, “No. I asked around but no one saw him.”
He prayed that she wouldn’t smell the lie. Andrea had a gift for tracing a lie, but obviously the stress of losing her prized pooch was overwhelming.
“Well, I guess he’ll come when he wants,” she shrugged.
This sudden change in her attitude shocked John, and at the same time frightened the shit out of him. Wearily, he walked up the stairs and into the house.
“Dinner will be ready in about half an hour so would you mind setting the table?” Andrea asked as he walked in.
“Ah…yeah sure. Um…what are we having?”
“Tofu salad and pigs brains.”
“Don’t clang your knife and fork together, you know I hate it when you do that.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t grunt like that, you sound like cave-man.”
“Sorry.”
‘Don’t keep apologising like that.”
“Sorry.”
“I mean it, I’m not in a good mood and I would appreciate it if I could have a nice peaceful dinner.”
“You’re always in bad mood.”
“What was that?”
“I said, ‘you’re always in a bad mood!’”
“Well I’m sorry. I mean all I do is clean the house, cook dinner and do laundry, I’m not allowed to be in a bad mood at all,” Andrea yelled.
“That’s not what I meant at all and you know it. You are always in a bad mood and frankly I am sick of it. I want to have a quiet dinner once in while too!” John roared.
Andrea looked shocked, not once in their twenty-two year marriage had John ever spoken to her like that before.
“Oh…um… Well I’m not always in a bad mood. I…you… You just over-exaggerate.” She stammered.
John looked at his wife, holding back a smile.
“I don’t over-exaggerate. Every meal I have to sit through all your complaining and muttering. Once, just I would like a meal I can keep down. What the hell is tofu anyway?” John said this calmly knowing it would rankle his wife even more.
Andrea’s face had turned a rather bold shade of red.
In a quiet voice Andrea told her husband that she wasn’t hungry and she was going to have a lie down, she suddenly had an insufferable headache.
After the unexpected exit of his wife, John looked helplessly around the dining room trying to decide what to do. Clearing the table he realized, to his dismay he didn’t know how to work the dishwasher.
Finally, after one most infuriating hour, he had at long last managed to get the dishwasher to work, though he was not entirely sure how(1).
The doorbell had rung and John was surprised to find a pizza guy standing there:
“Pizza,” he roared, “mouth watering, artery clogging, life shortening PIZZA.”
“But I didn’t order any pizza,” John said rather confused.
The pizza man held out the box for John to see. ‘So Your Wife Hates You Pizzas’ in bold two inch high lettering was printed across the top.
“But my wife doesn’t hate me,” John said doubtfully.
“’Fraid she does. After you lost her dog and couldn’t find it that made her pretty mad, but the thing you did at the dinner table really pushed her over the edge. Right now she is upstairs plotting how she can kill you and get away with it. Pretty crafty woman if you ask me. By the way I’d steer clear of her beetroot soup, not only does it give you heartburn it may kill you as well.”
With a puff of smoke the pizza man ran down the front path and into the street.
Eyes watering from the failed mysticism, John closed the front door. As he wandered his way towards the lounge room he wondered about the pizza man’s bizarre statement.
He plopped the pizza down on the coffee table thinking there was no sense it going to waste.
“Meat lovers,” he exclaimed upon opening the box.
Taking a piece out of the box, John’s mouth watered at the sight of the stringy mozzarella cheese. He chewed the first bite for a while, relishing the taste. After a few mouthfuls John thought that some TV would go nicely. Andrea had had Foxtel put on but had also locked out the entire entertainment side leaving just the news. But unbeknownst to Andrea John knew the code to unlock lock the channels and was soon happily watching Will and Grace.
“What do you think you are doing?” Andrea’s voice call from the lounge room doorway.
“I’m watching a little TV is all,” John said defensively.
“But that isn’t the news. That a…a sitcom,” Andrea passed the word sitcom through her teeth like it was poison,”and pizza you’ll clog your arteries with that gunk.”
“Well I happen to find them quite enjoyable.”
“Why on earth would you want to watch a show about two gay people, whiny interior decorator and a rich, drunk tart?”
“Andrea, would you mind telling me how exactly you know so much about a show that you have never watched.”
“Umm…” Andrea’s mouth opened and shut like a goldfish, “the girls all talk about it during coffee and biscuits(2).”
“I’m so very sure, and monkeys have business meeting in fruit bars.” John’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“What does it matter what I watch anyhow? I’m my own person,” Andrea’s voice hit a whole new pitch.
“It doesn’t. You’re the one who seems to care who watches what.”
Andrea’s face returned to that livid shade it had been at the dinner table a couple of hours before, her nostrils flared and she stormed out of the room.
“Good night honey. Sleep well and don’t let the bedbugs bite,” John said to rattle her a little more.
A little after midnight John decided to go to bed. He turned off the TV and, not wanting to start another fight, got a spare blanket from the linen closet to set himself up on the couch.
Curled up under the blanket and using the arm of the couch as a rather uncomfortable pillow, John fell sleep.
“Have you lost something? A special trinket or even a pet? If so come to Specson where we will find all your lost goods. Located in solar system B in the Milky Way, ninth planet from the sun. For transport for outer solars consult you next info-mercial. First consultation free,” the TV yelled waking John up and setting too many cogs whirring for two in the morning.
Maybe I should look into that, John thought groggily, the sat up as he remember he turned off the TV before he went to sleep.
“Wow you sure do take a while to get through to,” the TV complained.
“Well I was asleep,” John said, still a little slow on the up take.
“Anyway, now that I have your attention, do you want to find that dog or not?” the TV continued.
“Wait a minute, what the hell is going on?” John asked, finally catching on.
“I am trying to help you. Do you want to find that dog or don’t you? We kind of need an answer now. We’re running out of transmission time.”
“But how and wha…? Could you explain what is happening?”
“No, not really as I said before we are running out of transmission time,” the TV said rather impatiently,” are you coming or not?”
“Um… yeah I guess so. When will I have to leave?”
“Now. There may be some discomfort.”
With that the TV went a sickening shade of baby pink and started to make a high pitch whistling sound.
John covered his ears. He noticed his body being sucked into the TV, Jamungi style.
He started to moan and said aloud, “Why couldn’t you tell me what was going to happen first, its far to early in the morning for this…”
* * * * *
(1)The dishwasher was actually never used. Andrea had only bought it to show up her neighbors.
(2)Though this was true, Andrea had taken to watching it to keep up with the gossip, along with Desperate Housewives and Love My Way. |
|
|
| The Story Begins. |
[Mar. 21st, 2007|08:44 pm] |
I am back. Here to rule my domain of insanity I begin the story.
The Story of How That Happened.
Chapter 1
THE LOST DOG.
One day there was a giant dinosaur that really doesn’t have much to do with this story but does play a vital role in the creation of sandflies. Scientists are not exactly sure how, but it did any way.
Our story begins with the Great-great-great-great-great-great, well you get the picture, grandson in-law on his mother side twice removed by his uncle but the little bugger kept coming back of the first sandfly ever. His name is Beak, who just happens to have nothing much to do with the story either, except that he bites our main character’s left knee then promptly dies of a nicotine over dose, causing his sister to go into a suicidal spiral, join an obscure cult that had something to do with lettuce and committing mass suicide with Kool-Aid.
…Um,
Anyway, meet John Parkers, the poor victim of the sandfly bite. Currently he is smoking his twentieth cigarette of the hour, sitting in a park reading ‘Joys of Motherhood’ upside down while eating the last blueberry muffin from Bell’s Bakery, which closed down at least a good three years ago. He is forty-two and has lost 46% of his hair. John is going through what we now call a mid-life crisis. He is trying to compensate for the fact that he is old and that his job is much more suited to a young handsome man that has lots of abbreviated qualification and a dog with some tough name like Tyson(1).
At that particular moment, with his ‘Joys of Motherhood’, his loud Hawaiian shirt and a rather angry-looking welt on his left knee (courtesy of a now deceased drug addict), John was hiding. From whom we couldn’t precisely say, as even John didn’t know the answer to that one but hiding no the less. He had been taking his wife’s dog, a yapping Maltese Terrier named Tiddles, for a walk when a large bulldozer-sized porcupine shot the insufferable git out of existence with a rather dirty fork.
Needless to say that this event went unseen by all the other park-goers as they were either throwing Frisbees or kanoddle-ing under the oak trees that are apparently very fashionable this year(2). This was convenient for the porcupine but very unfortunate for John, who thought it best to be on his way after his wife’s beloved pooch ceased to be a tension on the end of the leash.
Puffing and panting John sat down on one of the park benches. Feeling rather conspicuous he was relieved to find a large book beside him. Unfortunately he did not look at the title, for if he had he would have found the book ‘Joys of Motherhood’ would have made the forty-two year old a little more noted than before. He was nervous and when John was nervous he ate, so he pulled out a muffin he found in his pocket along with a packet a cigarettes.
John’s mind was in a stir, occasionally throwing furtive glances behind between mouthfuls of muffin and drags on the cigarette. Either looking for the men in the white coats or the porcupine thing, John didn’t really know which nor did he care, one of them was coming.
Time past and when John eventually realised that neither the porcupine nor the men with the nice fitting jacket were coming for him he decided to go home. He placed the ‘Joys of Motherhood’ book beside him and picked up the leash.
“Shite!” he breathed, “what the hell am I going to tell my wife?” John was suddenly terrified to go home. “Well honey this giant porcupine came out of nowhere and… um… well somehow made Tiddles vanish with the use of a fork. No I can’t say that lest I want to be scratching my back for the rest of my life.”
John began to pace back and forth muttering under his breath. This frightened the little kids playing on the play equipment nearby as occasionally he would burst into fits of “it was a horrible dog anyway” and “I wanted a cat”.
Then something struck him. It was a little kids black school shoe. John turned around to find a group of children staring rather more bug eyed than usual at him.
“What’s your problem?” he roared at them, “every time I come to the park you kids stare at me. Am I wearing something of yours? Or maybe you think I stole something from you. Stop using your imagination it ill get you nowhere in life except dead.”
One of the bravest of the children shook his head,” it’s not any of those Mister, you’re just ugly.”
“Piss off,” John hissed at the offending child.
The kid stared at John for a while then crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. John mimicked the boy, making him laugh hysterically, doubling over and struggling for breath.
“I hate kids.” John huffed as he started on his way home.
“Well we don’t much like you either,” the boy shouted after him.
(1)…by wearing loud, Hawaiian shirts and his hair in a ponytail.
(2)This was unfortunate for the ashes last year because they were all dug up to plant the oak. |
|
|
| You have no business being here. |
[Oct. 8th, 2006|07:37 pm] |
Uh huh, yes, whatever, NO I DID NOT EAT THE GERBLE!
The eggplant is not talking to you, niether is the grapefruit.
Futher more we would like to tell you that you feet are explosives and they will detonate in four....three....two...one....aww look there they go.
Nevermind the dog, beware the owner.
Chickpeas are not food!
Chicken taste better dead...sometimes.
Violence can lead to anything. Just because it is usually death does not mean a thing.
I am only here because of the free food. What do you mean there is no free food? Fuck that I'm leaving.
Be thankful you are not related to me. If you were I'd want to kill you.
I want to know what human taste like. I hope it doesn't taste like chicken, I'm really sick of chicken.
They've taken all my swear words. All I have left is "bullocks" so plase don't tell them what it means and yes I will pick up my rock.
The cheese say it will give it's answer earlier that expected.
Bye for now. *dances* Never piss me off!!!!
Yeah that stuff too. Good bye! |
|
|
| What's he building in there? |
[Sep. 16th, 2006|12:53 pm] |
What are you doing here? Go awya you are not welcome.
What? You said you wanted the green one yesterday. What do you mean it is the wrong shade of green?
Interspecies Erotica!
You are all PORCH MONKEYS!!!!
Never tell them who you are. They will steal you thoughts.
Nevermind the donkeys just move that horse.
That calvery dont arrive till six. Then the shooting starts. After an hour of the we shall sit down to tea.
NOOOOOOOOO the duck didn't say that. It told us to kill that guy.
Never tell me I am short. I may prove that you are shorter. But first I will tell you that you really don't need you knees.
Over and out from me and the sea-monkeys.
Endorsed by the people that brought you oxsophetonylimun |
|
|
| That damn obese cat. |
[Jul. 21st, 2006|02:38 pm] |
Hello to all those people who are still reading my LJ. Why, I am not sure but maybe it does things to you.
There is no fine line between anyting. I know I looked.
One day there will be a race to the end of the Earth. When all the competitors finally arrive they will find: two ham and chees rolls, a flag sayin 'here be dragons', a disembodied head and one obese cat.
I will go no further. That ship is cursed.
So how long have you been here? Really. Oh I stoped listening when your mouth opened.
No I haven't had my coffee yet.
So what? I have one too. And I'm pretty darn sure mine is bigger.
Leaving the rest up to the obese cat.
You have an imaginary friend too. I just think mine is better.
God had nothing to do with that baby surviving. The doctors did. Would you have sued go if it hadn't of lived. I thought not.
Emo rant. Emo rant.
Whine, whine, whine.
So have you seen that movie? Yeah that one. With those people in it, and that one who was really hot. Yeah, that was a good movie.
Anywho, I have to go now. see you all at a date that may or may not be later than this.
Lady_Anarook
P.S. The cheese has held bach it's explaination for another five or six years. |
|
|
| Flying food. |
[Jul. 18th, 2006|09:32 pm] |
La la la la
I think i will turn my LJ post into a story thingie...
Or maybe i won't.
Umph, it's all up to the cheese.
Random Hitchcock reference, yay.
Emo rant Emo rant Emo rant.
i would whine but I can't be bother...
Yeah the dog, 'splain it.
Make the little green men come back. They were so much fun.
So yeah thei story idea, if you think it is a good idea then let me know.
The cheese will answer us all one day.
*dances* tralalalala.
Sing out, off and down. Lady_Anarook. |
|
|
| Being paranoid |
[Jun. 21st, 2006|08:26 pm] |
HAHAHAHAH
The little people are watching you...
Make love, not belts.
the cows are me friends.....
ceiling cat is watching you...
Hee Hee Hee
If your still reading this your weird.
Isn't it funny that just because someone doesn't talk to you all that much you instantly think they don't like you. Funny eh...
Still reading this you idiot.
Hahahahahah
EMO rant EMO rant EMO rant
whine whine whine...
EMO rant EMO rant... |
|
|
| Mmm chicken. |
[Jun. 14th, 2006|09:32 pm] |
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.
Dances. Hee Hee Hee.
TOO MUCH COFFEE!
Hee Hee Hee.
Pounce. Jump. Spin. Twirl. Hee Hee Hee.
If you are still reading this your stupid. Brain melting.
//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\// *Jiggle* |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
lady_anarook's journal