whynotshesaid-deactivated201311:

“My favorite story out of this is Malia, when she was 4, she had a little dance thing. Well, Michelle was gone that weekend so I’m taking her to ballet. And I get her in her little leotard and her little stuff. I did her hair, put it in a little bun.

We get to the dance studio and one of the mothers there right away comes up to Malia – she thinks she’s out of earshot of me and she says, ‘Sweetie, do you want me to redo your hair?’ And Malia who she’s 4 says, ‘Yes please, this is a disaster’. You know, she didn’t want to hurt daddy’s feelings.”

On The Propriety Of Punching Nazis, An FAQ

reddragdiva:

Can I punch Nazis?

I don’t know. Can you?

I am capable of the act, yes.

Then you should.

May I?

The answer to that is also yes.

My mother told me that violence was never the answer.

My mother told me I was handsome; you can’t always listen to your mother.

What happened to letting the other guy throw the first punch?

Nazis don’t throw the first punch. Nazis burn the first Reichstag.

Aren’t the Left supposed to be the tolerant ones?

Supposed to be the smart ones, too, but they keep falling for that “I
thought you were supposed to be the tolerant ones” horseshit.

What about dialogue?

Dialogue is for reasonable people acting in good faith. Dialogue is
between two acceptable positions. “Taxes need to be raised” vs. “taxes
need to be lowered” is grounds for dialogue. “Taxes need to be raised”
vs. “Jews should be thrown in ovens” is grounds for a beating.

But isn’t this sinking to their level?

That depends. After you punch the Nazi, do you espouse the tenets of National Socialism?

No.

Then you’re better than a Nazi.

But doesn’t this just give the other side ammunition?

The other side in this argument are lying fucks who can twist any
piece of information into a swastika-shaped balloon animal if you engage
them in good faith; lacking a piece of information, they’ll just make
shit up. Might as well punch a Nazi.

What about peace, love, and understanding?

Great goals, and once we get rid of the Nazis we can get to work on
them. All three are completely impossible when Nazis are about.

When should you punch a Nazi?

Whenever you get a chance. Preferably when they’re not looking.

What if they’re smaller than you?

Hit them with your fist.

What if they’re bigger?

Hit them with a bat.

Isn’t this a slippery slope?

After we defeated the Nazis in World War II, did we keep shooting people or did the troops come home and start having babies?

The second thing.

There you go. The slippery slope argument is nine times out of ten
bullshit. Human beings are good with slippery slopes: we build stairs.

What if you think you’re punching a Nazi, but you just hit a white guy with a shitty haircut?

Run.

What should you do if you hit a Nazi?

You should run then, too. Don’t get me wrong: punching Nazis is still illegal. We’re discussing morality.

But I don’t want to punch anyone.

Then get off your duff, mister, and give aid and support to the boys on the front lines. We’re all in this together. Again.

On The Propriety Of Punching Nazis, An FAQ

liyumpeyn:

temptrsent:

investigate-wellington:

badwebb:

abrotion:

cleopat-ra:

abrotion:

a 30 y/o drunk man came up to me in a nightclub the other night and said “the economy might be shit but at least we have niall horan” 

i’m having trouble believing this

i live in ireland the only thing irish men love more than themselves is niall horan 

#there’s an irisn pub near my old vocal studio and they have a framed picture of niall on the wall #not even signed or anything #just in the middle of the wall

image

“before he’s ready for it”

what about ireland shifting the date of their holy communion because one direction were performing that week

reconditarmonia:

davidmalki:

Daughters of the horse-leech, thy tempest out-thunders me.

source: Israel Zangwill, Without Prejudice, 1899. This description, at the time meant to be as absurd a set of charges and demands as could be placed in a straw woman’s mouth, today reads like a beautiful manifesto.

I like this excerpt, but you’re underestimating Zangwill. The narrator is dreaming, and as the dream continues he meets all sorts of people whom the Nation or the Market or Society or what-have-you have wronged, and his protestations that he’s just one person and it isn’t his fault are unconvincing.

More:

I saw a withered old pauper with the Victoria Cross on his breast. “I went to the mouth of hell for thee,” he said, with large reproachful eyes; “and thou leavest me to rot in the workhouse.”

“I am awfully sorry!” I said. “I never heard of thee. It is the nation.”

“The nation!” he cried scornfully. “Thou art the nation; the nation is only a collection of individuals. Thou art responsible. Thou art the man.”

–

“Shame on thee!” hissed the chorus, and advanced upon me so threateningly that I seized my hat and rushed from the room. But a burly being with a Blue Book blocked my way.

“Where didst thou get that hat?” he cried. “Doubtless from some sweating establishment. And those clothes; didst thou investigate where they were made? didst thou inquire how much thy tailor paid his hands? didst thou engage an accountant to examine his books?”

“I am so busy,” I stammered feebly.

I’m pretty sure Zangwill didn’t set out to make feminism look absurd and accidentally write a beautiful manifesto.