My friendly conversation with some homophobic misogynistic pro life nutcases.

My friend Tara was involved in an argument over Twitter with some pro-life nutcases. They were the standard misogynist/sexist/homophobic morons who couldn't give any semblance of a decent argument. I decided to fight ridiculous fire with ridiculous fire by just giving inane stupid replies to them. Here are 18 snippets of this 'debate'.
(You might want to scroll all the way down and work your way up, the order is a bit iffy due to the way I uploaded them.)

Leaked Songtitles from Taylor Swift's new album

BOYS ARE THE BEST THING TO EVER EXIST.

Grammy award winner, teen idol, and 'death of female integerity' Taylor Swift is releasing a new album, unfortunately (for her) the entire track-listing has been released online.

1) Romantic fable allegory to pander to insipid adolescents with too much mascara.
2) I wish I was a cheerleader because they get all the boys.
3) I'm in love with a boy who doesn't notice me because I don't talk to him and I don't know what the problem is.
4) Having a boyfriend at 15 determines whether or not you'll become an irredeemable failure in life.
5) I'm ruining relationships for actual young adults by turning them into gaudy saccharine MTV nonsense (Feat. Chris Brown)
6) I'm basically an anorexic Adele.
7) I love how love is lovey love love loved lovey love love lovey love largh
8) Teenage girls need to pander to boys and base themselves entirely on the male sex.
9)Lonely people are just like me (minus the wealth, accolades and superstar status)
10) My date with my 25 cats
11) Politically charged narrative about communism....(Just kidding! It's totally about the prom!)
12)Waiting for phone calls and unicorns and sunsets.
13) I never make the first move because women should never take action
14) (Hidden track) Love and dating and kissing and love love love dating love.




Keep up the good work Taylor.

A poetic analysis of 'Drunk as Fuck' by Ludacris

Today I will be anaylsing perhaps one of the most significant literary pieces that I have encountered in my professional (non professional) career as a ‘blog joke person’ that I just this very moment made up.
This bastion of lyrical prowess is the musical piece ‘Drunk as Fuck’ by Ludacris, seen here with sideburns clearly made out of pen.

That earring cost more than your university tuition.

So with haste, let us analyse the opening stanza of this piece.

Everybody With Me Drunk As Fuck,
Break It Down And Roll It Up.
Everybody With Me Drunk As Fuck,
Break It Down And Roll It Up.

With this Ludacris (Or Luda as his ‘homeboys’ are wont to frequently label him) has immediately given us a situation. He is intoxicated, as are everybody around him. This situation will be ‘broken down’ (not to be confused with the ‘breaking down’ of oils into their more concentrated forms), a self aware device reflecting on the minimalism of this piece and Luda’s preference for more quiet laidback affairs. After ‘breaking’, the situation will then be ‘rolled up’, perhaps meaning ‘wrapped up’, as in that Ludacris has a schedule to keep, and will be ending the party at a responsible and considerate time for all involved.
What is interesting is that there appears to a minimum limit for the amount of drunkness involved. Ludacris is no lax dandy, he is a professional, striving to ensure a rigorous equilbirum is maintained throughout this ordeal.

“Excuse me, how drunk are you?”
“I am shitfaced my good sir.”
“Unfortunately that is not enough, ‘fuck’ is the minimum at this soiree.”

Ok now let’s see the next verse of this epic.

Everybody With Me Drunk As Fuck,
Break It Down And Roll It Up.
Everybody With Me Drunk As Fuck,
Break It Down And Roll It Up.

Well, there’s nothing wrong with repetition, it’s a good way to enforce a point or recurring theme, so good on Luda for employing this device. Anyway, let’s see what we have next.

Everybody With Me Drunk As Fuck,
Break It Down And Roll It Up.
Everybody With Me Drunk As Fuck,
Break It Down And Roll It Up.

Really...? Again? Part of me is wondering what motive is here, intense postmodern self awareness, or just...bloody laziness. Ok, one more chance Luda, let’s see what this is leading up to.

Everybody With Me Drunk As Fuck,
Break It Down And Roll It Up.
Everybody With Me Drunk As Fuck,
Break It Down And Roll It Up.

Oh for fucks sake....
Anyway, with that preamble over, let us begin to discuss the more diverse lyrics of this piece.

Everybody Got Their Quilas With 'em,”

With this, Ludacris is stating that everybody at this party has their own individual ‘quilas’ of ‘tequila’ bottle, as such this is clearly a BYOB event, and everybody has politely obliged to maintain this. Perhaps Ludacris also means ‘quills’, (although in his own African-american vernacular manner of speech) and everybody will proceed to get drunk ‘as fuck’ and write various forms of free verse, a manner routinely employed by T.S Eliot.

Who wants to fucckkkinng fight theeen?! I'll fuccckiinng have anyyy of you!

Eight Figures In The Bank And I Pull Your Rank.

Mr Cris is clearly a fan of rare antique figurines, perhaps of bears or marigolds, and as such he has accumulated 8 so far, storing them in a safe place in order to preserve their well being. A wise move.
He also seems to be indicating that he is in quite a high position in the armed forces, a notable trait considering the time he dedicates to his rap career, clearly multitasking is integral to this man’s livelihood.

Big Body Cadallic, Women In The Back Seat,

Clearly Ludacris is no stranger to social engagement, and as such has the correct automobile for when he is chaufering his numerous companions around. Perhaps as the designated driver. And who said chivalry was dead!

Bitches be tripping when I respect their emotions.

Get Your Cake Up, Get Your Weight Up, Way Up To The Top Till You Can't Go

Cake? Perhaps this is a catered event, whereby the ‘drunk as fuck’ partygoers will be able to dine on the finest pastries and desserts. And apparently in such a large quantity, due to his demand that the ‘weight’ be increased. Or perhaps he is merely stating that the more cake you eat, the fatter you will get, a clever double meaning from this illustrious wordsmith.

These Bitches Is After My Riches And Yes I Smell Blood And Murder.

But hark! Listen! A twist most foul has been bought upon Luda! His female companions are intending to murder this hard working man for his well deserved riches! Or perhaps Ludacris is suffering from PTSD, and cannot remove the stench of battle from his nostrils, this would make sense considering his early revelation of being in the armed forces.
These ‘Bitches’ as he labels them (quite apt considering their motives), are onto Luda, how will he react?! What cunning Machiavellian reaction shall he employ?!

When I Cock Back-
Better Drop That-
Can't Block That-
Lock That-

Clearly Ludacris is at first distracting these women with a cockrel, it’s hearty crowing a loud distraction for his next move. Yes, dropping to the floor, a great way of evading blows and, if Luda has the leg strength, an ample position to defend oneself via the Brazilian style of ‘capoeira’, a martial art that combines dance and music.
He clearly uses this effectively, as his attackers cannot block ‘that’. And all that is left to do is ‘lock’ that. ‘That’ clearly being his attackers, as they are locked behind bars. Hussies incarcerated, where they shall never maliciously assault a well meaning rapper in the armed forces.

And how does Luda celebrate such a well executed escape?

Everybody With Me Drunk As Fuck,
Break It Down And Roll It Up.
Everybody With Me Drunk As Fuck,
Break It Down And Roll It Up.

Ahh, full circle, a clever lyrical device that gives the piece a rounded finality yet an ethereal timeless circle of energy.
Be drunk as fuck good sir....
You have earned it.

Romeo and Juliet re-enacted with food.

I make stuff like this...

Between a Rock and...a social metaphor.

Did you get candy, or are you one of the kids who keeps getting rocks? (Also ghost outfits?...Well done...how original. Charlie Brown you boring fart)

People who know me, or are aware of me, or listen to EVERY SINGLE JOKE I make, may be aware that I'm not the most socially successful human being of my age group. I've got a rejection list longer than a Charles Manson Parole, and I often fluctuate between 'serial killer awkward' and 'other serial killer dead silent'.
Some people get pissed off if I acknowledge it (as in, MY LIFE), but I'm the one who has to make due and do my best to deal with it. Just like plenty of other people of my age group, I'm not asking for sympathy (SAVE IT YOU HACKS), but using this as a set up to a particularly interesting analogy a friend of mine raised on the matter.

Via gratuitous Copypasta, this is pretty much what she said.

"Because you're actually the guy with a backpack of rocks

• you're wearing this backpack of rocks

• and everybody else is running and doing flips and swimming and stuff

• and you're like

• why can't I do that

• but nobody else has the bag of rocks"

Now, like any great writer I am taking a concept that isn't remotely my own, and expanding on it as if I have the right to because I'm all 'Urgh...I should have thought of that.'

I stole all my ideas from homeless people who I murdered in turn.

These rocks can be anything, depression, unemployed, lonely, a virgin, socially rejected, eating issues, religious difficulties, varied political differences. A whole myriad of metaphorical rocks. Some smaller and more easy to deal with, and others incredibly difficult, that actively get worse over time. Some people have a few, and a minority are forced to deal with a lot of the more heavier ones (So whichever rock-ratio governing committee decides that, piss right off)

You might only have one of these things, like a handbag (or a *gratuitous air quotes* 'manbag') with a few pebbles in. In which case, good for you! Have...a reward or something. I don't know, I'm not...Argos.
Unfortunately a few people tend to have an entire rucksack of stones (is that...a sex...pun? I don't know), and I know plenty of people like that, myself included.
But I'm REALLY good at kerplunk, so you know, Swings and Roundabouts.


It's pretty much EXACTLY like this. Just with sticks and marbles.

People with a lot of these *synonyms for rocks* tend to feel frustrated among people of their age group, especially in an enclosed environment like University or an enforced labour camp. You might be uncomfortable with socialising with people or even forming a relationship with somebody who you know is already rid of one of the more notable stones in your bag. You don't like the idea of them having to slow down and take some steps back because you're struggling to keep up. You feel as if it'll piss them off, or that you're not on their 'level'. And hell, some people don't want to deal with people like that, because they're fartnargling arseholes. I've had people find it difficult to have conversations with me or even been uncomfortable around me for various things (I'm naming no names, this isn't a self satisfied Witch Hunt....I'm not 1658, or North Korea).

(I'm also worried this is turning into a saccharine 'motivational' readers digest style YOU CAN DO IT, post. I'd never be that patronising or ignorant of such complicated issues, so to lighten the mood here is a video of Alison Brie from Community.)


Words...cannot...describe. Also Donald Glover, he's pretty nifty.

Are you unfortunate enough to have this bag of rocks? Then let people know, I'm not saying yell it in their noses like a street-based religious Zealot, or use it as a 'get of jail free card' for every single occasion. But if you could calmly let people know (via a Haiku or a forest song accompanied by a carved wooden flute) that you have difficulties and some issues, they'll be a lot more understanding than if you just...expect them to guess.
I know there's been times when I've felt like a 'lesser person' or been actively envious of people who've managed to get rid of certain stones (when this metaphor gets churlish and tedious let me know...) with great ease, whilst I still get an enormous amount of difficulty with certain basics most people were done with years ago. (Every time I see a facebook profile picture with two happy people in I feel like the result of somebody who lost a bet at the face factory)But I realised it doesn't mean you're worth any less, you just got dealt a shitter bag of rocks from whichever fiends are in charge. FIENDS I SAY. *Lightning hits a church roof*

Or maybe you don't have a bag and you're lucky enough to be able to perform a triple pirouette (metaphorically) and you know somebody who constantly carries this metaphorical bag? If you could slow your pace by a couple of steps and, not even helping them out, but merely acknowledging what they've got, then it would benefit everybody involved, and maybe loosen a few stones in that bag. (You'd also not look like a dick, so that's a plus.)



I'm not quite sure what this post was about, but I need to be inspirational and 'not awful' about once a year or I'll turn into a 19th century child slave owner. With fiendish moustache and...trade connections in Russia.

'Mind' the gap...in logic.

I'm doing a survey, an interactive survey if you will.
It comprises of one question, and that is merely this.

Have you ever used the phrase 'I speak my mind' in a way that is not ironic/sarcastic/parodying the very insipid pointless truism of the phrase itself?

If you have, then I want you to lift open your palm as if you're eager to high five an inspirational 80s life coach, raise your hand and then smack yourself in the forehead, the place where 'YOUR MIND' is located. I want you to do this for about 8 minutes, or until you realise this wasn't a survey at all, but a rigorously planned trap to reveal absolute dross human beings.

I loathe this phrase, I want to hurt its arms, I want it to take me out to dinner and then offend it by offering to split the bill, I want to use Medieval thumbscrews on it, I want to beat it with a burlap sack full of snooker balls and rubix cubes, I want to run over it's feet in a Segway and then give it a ride home, making it look a complete arse.

The people who use it? Well, I can't help but immediately feel nothing but cold chilled contempt for them, as if I'm Judge, Jury and socially skeptical executioner.

It's such a trite self-evident phrase that has somehow, under the cover of a darkened night, effortlessly slipped into accepting civilised society from whichever ill-fed, diseased caravan park it resided.
People throw it about as a motivational quality, a positive trait or something that makes them 'unique', and people nod along and murmur agreement as if it's every brilliant feature concisely explained.

IT IS NOT.
IT IS A FUCKING RIDICULOUS PHRASE, AND IF YOU SAY IT I WILL WANT TO HURL DISGUSTED GUTTURAL BELCHES LIKE AN ENRAGED MOTHER APE.

And here's my reason why. Who else's sodding mind would you speak? How are you unique in that you verbally enunciate electronic signals and messages sent via your frontal lobes?
You're not a rare breed or a bastion of social advancement because you can 'speak your mind', it's how the human race has advanced for hundreds of thousands of years (that and doorknobs.)
You speak your mind? Oh wow! I am reeling with shock, because here I was thinking you were speaking somebody else's thoughts, that they were thinking of things which were then relayed towards your mouth via a system of tubes, that you then verbalised on their behalf like a human text to speech program.

You may as well be highlighting your uniqueness in 'converting protein into energy' 'walking with my feet' or 'blinking with my eyes'.

You're not special, you're not unique. Don't substitute a lack of talent or appeal for a basic physiological fact.
All it does is prove what a bland, colourless human being you are, lacking any original or inspiring thought. And with a mind like that, the last thing you'd want to do is bring attention to it.

Unabashed adoration for Dogs (Mostly mine)

I love Dogs. This is not sarcasm. They're bloody terrific.
Dogs are fantastic, they're the zenith of unbridled happiness and admiration. Dogs are always happy to see you, regardless of the quality of your day, be it winning the lottery or maimed on a Trench in Lyons (What you're doing in WW1 era France I'll never know), a dog will always be absolutely delighted to see you. They're like sentient prozac.

My Dog can cheer me up by simply existing, she's the opposite of say....me. Har har har.

So Ruby, this rambling almost pointless post is dedicated to you, you fantastic Dog.