B!tch you

 

Hedonism ii

 

The King’s perspective

  If you read Colleen Hoover’s book, Without Merit, I’m pretty sure you would have come across this story, The King’s perspective. This story narrates:

“There is a story of a King, and this story is very true. Some say it’s just a rumor; some say it’s just a ruse. They called the man King Flip, but that wasn’t really his name. His name was Filipileetus, but that’s too hard to say.

King Flip had a penchant for a really expensive things. He liked anything shiny, and anything with bling. He had this nicest castle out of all the lands. But that didn’t stop him from wanting one even more grand.

So he bought a town called Perspective. And made the people build him a castle at the top of their highest mountain. He didn’t care if it was hassle.

When the work was finally done, he decided to go inspect it. But when he arrived in the town of Perspective, it was exactly as he’d left it. He couldn’t find a castle; it wasn’t on the mountain; it wasn’t on the beach; it wasn’t on the mainland.

He immediately grew angry, and sought his just revenge on all those who had fooled him. On the town, his army did descend. When the people were all dead, a red cardinal then appeared. “King Flip, what have you done? You killed good people, I do fear.”

King Flip tried to explain that the town deserved to die, for his castle was never built, or he would see it with his own eyes. The bird said, “But king, you merely assumed. You didn’t even try to look from a different perspective. Don’t just look from your own two eyes.”

The bird then led him over to where the castle should surely be. He then moved aside a boulder, and King Flip fell to his knees. For inside the mountain was the castle. The most magnificent one ever built. King Flip couldn’t believe his eyes. He quickly became wrecked with guilt. He had killed so many people. People he should have protected. Simply because he couldn’t see the castle from their perspective.

“Hide their bodies!” King Flip yelled. “Hide every last one! Put them inside the mountain. And then close those doors for good!” The king’s army hid the bodies, and King Flip fled the land. He went back to his old castle and never spoke of Perspective again.

Some say this story isn’t true; some say the town never existed. But look at any map and you’ll see there is no longer a town called Perspective.”

On the hostage situtaion in Gaza

 Wanting your family safe is NOT GENOCIDE! It simply is NOT GENOCIDE! What have the Jews done wrong? What is their crime that makes Planet Earth hate them so much? Why does planet earth pursue them so? Come on, guys! The Jews just want to live! Why is that a crime? Come on, guys! The Jews just want to be allowed to breathe air! Why is that so horrible? Why is wanting your children to be allowed to breathe air so "terrorist like"? What makes that so horrible? I am not cheering for anyone. I don't want anyone on planet earth to lose! My pom Poms are burning up in a trash can! I weep! I never cheer!

Believing in Reality doesn't make you a biggot

 Believing in truth does not make you a bigot! It just doesn't! You can believe in the existence of reality all that you like! That does not make you a Nazi! That does not make you a Klansman! You can know what gender that you are! That does not mean that you worship Hitler! It does not mean that! Go ahead! Believe in reality! Go ahead and do that! You don't need to worry about that making you a member of the kkk! 

Counting in Russian

 

Counting

 

Counting BY MARGARITA ENGLE

  Counting

BY MARGARITA ENGLE

Harry Franck, from the United States of America - Census Enumerator

I came to Panama planning to dig

the Eighth Wonder of the World,

but I was told that white men

should never be seen working

with shovels, so I took a police job,

and now I've been transferred

to the census.

I roam the jungle, counting laborers

who live in shanties and those who live

on the run, fugitives who are too angry

to keep working for silver in a system

where they know that others

earn gold.

When islanders see me coming,

they're afraid of trouble, even though

I can't arrest them anymore—now

all I need is a record of their names, ages,

homelands, and colors.

The rules of this census confound me.

I'm expected to count white Jamaicans

as dark and every shade of Spaniard

as semi-white, so that Americans

can pretend

there's only one color

in each country.

How am I supposed to enumerate

this kid with the Cuban accent?

His skin is medium, but his eyes

are green.

And what about that Puerto Rican

scientist, who speaks like a New York

professor,

or the girl who says she doesn't know

where she was born or who her parents

are—she could be part native, or part French,

Jamaican, Chinese ...

She could even be part American,

from people who passed through here

way back

in gold rush days.

Counting feels just as impossible

as turning solid mountains

into a ditch

Objective truth

 Truth exists! Truth exists, even if you don't like that fact! Truth exists, even if you don't believe in truth! Truth will just keep on existing! What you believe has not one single thing to do with what is real or what is unreal! Your opinion, your beliefs influence nothing about the existence of truth! What is truly truth simply is what it is! Nothing you say or do can affect truth at all!

vampire

 

 

The Giaour [Unquenched, unquenchable]

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George Gordon Byron

1788 –

1824

. . . Unquenched, unquenchable,
Around, within, thy heart shall dwell;
Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell
The tortures of that inward hell!
But first, on earth as vampire sent,
Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent:
Then ghastly haunt thy native place,
And suck the blood of all thy race;
There from thy daughter, sister, wife,
At midnight drain the stream of life;
Yet loathe the banquet which perforce
Must feed thy livid living corse:
Thy victims ere they yet expire
Shall know the demon for their sire,
As cursing thee, thou cursing them,
Thy flowers are withered on the stem.
But one that for thy crime must fall,
The youngest, most beloved of all,
Shall bless thee with a father's name —
That word shall wrap thy heart in flame!
Yet must thou end thy task, and mark
Her cheek's last tinge, her eye's last spark,
And the last glassy glance must view
Which freezes o'er its lifeless blue;
Then with unhallowed hand shalt tear
The tresses of her yellow hair,
Of which in life a lock when shorn
Affection's fondest pledge was worn,
But now is borne away by thee,
Memorial of thine agony!