Brandon is doing well. He will start on bottled feeds of breast milk to help him learn how to nurse properly. For the time being they are leaving his tube in until he learns to keep nursing to keep milking up. He also is liking the taste of milk and is seeking the breast / mouth-feeding even when he is being tube-fed, and was quite unhappy with not being able to taste and have the comfort of nursing. He actually managed to breastfeed twice today and did so for ten minutes and then maybe 15 minutes of actual latch-on and get milk in him.
And one day he’ll be as big and strong as Daddy…!
The neonatal physiotherapist had a chat with me today about how to help with Brandon’s muscle health and exercises. I showed some photos including the newborn ones where Brandon was sucking on his fist and had arms folded and can move his head from side to side seeking the breast. Also showed that he looks intently at things. She said that it was very good and that he is surprisingly ahead of his gestational age / expectations of development. Pretty much he is behaving like a normal full term baby.
I’m cute, I’m hungry, feed me?
The nurses tell me that Brandon is the easiest baby in the ward to take care of. He is very quiet and cries only if he is hungry, has soiled his diaper, is gassy or otherwise uncomfortable. Rhys reckons he’s content; I’d have to agree. I’m hoping this will continue to be the case when Brandon comes home!
Brandon’s facial expressions have us doubt the ‘content’ description so often applied to him. (older photo)
Spent time rocking him and cuddling him while singing to him softly. Brandon seems to like that a lot. He doesn’t mind that I don’t sing very well. I hum most of the time anyway. ^^;;;
Fluffy and warm
The ward was very cold because of the rain outside so the babies got extra blankets. Brandon got an especially cute one!
Jedi Mind tricks: “You will feed me now~!” (older photo)
On the healing front I got the dressing removed from over my stitches. The midwife says it looks very good and is healing beautifully. I still want to get some underwear in the next size up so it will not roll down like my normal undies. The belly has also shrunk a bit and my face looks a little less bloated. So it’s all good progress.
Lots of good news today! Brandon got weighed today and he gained 60g and 2cm since his last weighing. He also had the chest sticker tabs removed – they said that because his breathing was constant and normal in the last 48 hours he is taken off the breathing monitoring. He still has the little foot monitor which tracks his heartbeat and his O2 levels, but eventually he’ll be ‘downgraded’ to one that only checks for breathing apnea.
I gave him his bath today, before he got weighed and measured. After that he was able to properly nurse for about five minutes before getting tired, at which point I felt it would be better that he get the rest of the meal from his feeding tube.
I brought 13 pots of milk to the hospital, which they had to put into the large freezer because the new fridges with the glass front doors had been put in. I wonder what they do with the old little cube fridges? I’ll have to ask, if only for curiosity’s sake.
Going to have a cuppa tea to relax, then extract milk for the evening before going to bed. G’nite!
So, after the Christmas and New Year and Vincent’s Birthday marathon, I thought I’d actually get some writing done, finish Blessed Hope, which sits at something like 85% completion now and…
Seriously, Murphy, sod off.
Rhys’ faith in my tits is fully validated.
I do have a cutecute son though after all the life-disruptions, so… I guess I really can’t complain too much. The entirety of my schedule at present revolves around the production of enough milk for Brandon. Happily this is improving and my target for every time I’m not at the hospital visiting is 8 little containers containing 35 ml worth. So far I’ve managed at least that.
I need lots of milk to grow big and strong, mum!
The ward felt rather cold today, because while I was changing Brandon he started to shiver. Rhys bundled him up very nicely and we put a cap on his head, which… kind of makes him look like a little toadstool straight out of Super Mario.
Good thing these are borrowed clothes from the hospital. I don’t think he’d ever forgive us if we asked for the hat.
I noticed that lately, my hands are much weaker than before, and I’m prone to being very clumsy – I’m often dropping things or knocking things over that I would not have done before this whole pre-eclampsia-ish gravid hypertension thing. My right hand, which is my dominant hand, hasn’t been very strong in gripping things since about three weeks ago and after the last cannula was put in it’s been much worse. Even typing is a chore because I think I’m exerting enough effort to press the keys and somehow it isn’t good enough because most of the time the touch doesn’t register, which is strange because the laptop’s keys are supposed to be those light -touch chicklet keyboards. I spend a lot of time hitting backspace. So if there are more typos and missed spaces between words or missing letters that’s why. And this issue is true regardless of any keyboard I use in the house.
I also find myself constantly terrified of falling over. My legs always feel like they’re about to collapse from under me. That’s not even counting the feel of pulled muscles and strain around the hips that I feel all the time that is the main cause for my awkward limping right now.
I really hope this weird thing with my limbs goes away in time. And that my freaking sleep schedule normalizes itself in due course.
I probably will sleep much better when Brandon relearns how to nurse from the milk source and can come home with us.
Not much of a post because I am totally wiped out and still have a lot to do. Have a cute baby picture instead. Yes, we plan to have him learn martial arts. This is a given after he’s bruised my ribs with those feet from inside.
I shall consider the matter in the manner I feel it should be considered.
Funny expressions and poses! This will be fun! rubs hands gleefully
Why isn’t that chair on fire?! I was sure I got fireball right!
I have a cute kid and am not afraid to caption him.
(This is a bit expanded from a comment I made over at According to Hoyt)
I like to pick slightly uncommon names for my kids, but names that they could wear and be called by, that wouldn’t be considered too weird or strange that they’d end up bullied. To that end, I chose names that while uncommon, weren’t too outlandish. Rune, Vincent, Brandon – followed by two more names for each child, that when you suss out the meanings of the names, translates to a phrase, or a series of qualities that I feel suit the child growing in my womb, as well as accommodates Rhys’ family’s naming traditions. Rhys liked the idea of being able to yell across a schoolyard and maybe our kid would be the only one to respond. (Except for our girl, this isn’t really the case though.)
The entirety of Brandon’s name translates to ‘Raven Noble Ironspear. Yes, I have fun composing my children’s names. My daughter’s name translates to “Secret Light of Heaven” and the eldest son’s is “Precious Spirit of Victorious Youth.” To some extent their names suit them very well – my daughter Rune (the e is supposed to be accented and is pronounced ‘ru-nay’) is rather quiet, but she brightens my day; Vincent is, as Aff has described on more than one occasion, ‘an incredibly, persistently happy child’, and Brandon’s name has been noted by more than one person to be that of a fighter, a strong name – he’s surprised everyone who has been caring for him with how feisty he is, yet grave and also easy to take care of. More than one nurse has noted that Brandon sometimes will wake up, and is content to lie in bed looking around the room with his large, intent eyes. As if he were ‘surveying his domain.’ I’m told he rarely cries; and usually it’s to indicate he needs a diaper change or he wants food / mummy or he’s uncomfortable in some way.
I had hoped for twins this time, but no luck. I had a backup name though, in case I did have another boy in there, the name translates to Warhawk Dragonhammer. Awesome as that might sound, the first name is actually Gwaine.
I do this because I think names are important, and somewhere along the way I picked up on the idea that names are something of parental wishes of what they hope that their child will be like, or some type of quality or characteristic. Just pick up a name book to see what I mean. I wanted to give my children names that meant something good, as opposed to the odd mishmash of names I have.
I have six given names on my birth certificate. This is due to a superstition that a name = a life; and I was born at 7 months gestation because my mom had severe pre-eclampsia. This was in a hospital that didn’t have a neonatal ward or NICU; so the fact that I survived at all was something of a miracle. My parents kept the trend and my brothers have five or six names each.
To my father’s disappointment I did not keep the tradition of having the first name start with A, which he and his siblings all have, and they continued, but he liked that I gave my daughter a poetic name. Dad even fretted that my mom had said that Vincent looked like an apple as a newborn, decrying to Rhys and I that Apple was a girl’s name, and was vehemently writing on his pad paper what he thought of that – he was in the ICU at the time, being treated for lung cancer. I can’t remember what his reasoning was exactly right now, but he wouldn’t relax until Rhys and I assured him that Vincent would be ‘the plum’ – I know it had to do with a metaphor about achievements and quality. So, although Vincent never ended up with an actual childhood nickname, Rhys and I occasionally refer to him as the Plum.
In my family we also had the tradition of having a childhood / family nickname – basically, a nickname only our family used so that if they called, the only child who would respond out of a crowd would be my siblings or I. I did this with my daughter, but we didn’t continue it with Brandon or Vincent.
Another criterion we had for selecting at least the first name was that we could imagine ourselves shouting it, or using it to call for the child, or roaring it to get a kid to stop being naughty. If we could picture ourselves doing the above, it went on a list of potential names. This time around, we stumbled on Brandon because Rhys misheard me suggesting Ranon for a first name. We looked up the meaning and decided to keep it.
Say hello to Brandon! The WIP still has, as Aff puts it, ‘some updates to finish downloading and installing.’ Also: ‘holy crap, he has hair?!’ Picture taken Jan 24 2015.
So on the 17th, I go in for a scheduled checkup of bub’s heart rate / movements etc, and for my blood pressure to be monitored. I thought hey, I’ll be in for a couple of hours, and then Rhys and I could go run errands to make things easier for me while the bun in my proverbial oven bakes a bit more.
I end up not going home at all, and am instead admitted to the hospital, because, long story short, I’m having a c-section the next day; because Brandon’s lack of heart rate variance plus my blood pressure deciding to shoot up to something insane (I think it was 160 or so over 110) that had them decide “OK, it’ safer for you and baby if baby were born.” I was also starting to show signs of pre-eclampsia trending, so they decided to head that off at the pass. I’d also had a cannula in again for fluids. I really, really hate the things at this point, and I hope that I never need them again after I birth the baby.
Rhys hurried home to grab a few things for me (clothes, my pillow, a book, and my statue with the expectant Virgin Mary) so he could still make it back by the maternity ward’s visiting hours. While he was gone the head of the special care / NICU named Mohammed came to talk to me and gave me the warnings and cautions and hopeful words and trying not to get into hospital jargon when I interrupted him, smiled and said I was a preemie baby myself, and was born at 28 weeks at a hospital with no NICU, and I knew most of what he was trying to tell me. He looked relieved and said that well, Brandon’s chances were much, much higher than mine were back then, and that I could also likely have him home very soon if he rallies and matures fast enough. Then he also added that premature babies tend to look rather thin and not like full term babies at all. After that I was transferred to Maternity ward, where Rhys met up with me.
We were told that we were likely to get into theater in the early morning, ‘if all goes well,’ so Rhys went to sleep while he could – both of us figured he could use it – and was back 7 am. I was told not to eat anything past midnight, so one of the things I did was to make sure I ate as much as I could, stocking up on strength and… I had a feeling I’d need it.
Anyone who’s known me for a long time will know that NOTHING ever goes smoothly or as planned with me. I mean, we’re talking about someone who’d only been discharged from the hospital a couple of days before and told “We’re not worried at this point and there’s no need to monitor baby constantly.” Uh huh. Naturally on this trend, we actually didn’t end up in theater until LONG after lunch on the 18th. By this point I was ravenous, plus multiple blood samples being taken had me craving meat dishes like a crazy thing. I wanted the baby born so I could eat. That said I urged Rhys to have lunch at the Subway really quickly.
When we were finally told we were going to theater we cheered. Rhys got scrubbed up to go with me. We found out that there had been two emergency cesareans before me – one a baby who got stuck while being birthed – eeeeek!!!!!!!1 – and a couple of accidents that required the patients being airlifted in. We’d figured we’d have good reasons to be bumped down the queue anyway and since it was our turn already we had no complaints.
The anesthesiologist was very good getting my spinal block in; I barely felt anything more than a pressure on the spot. Once that was done, Rhys was allowed to come into the theater. Everyone remarked at how tiny I was, and how easy this made me to move around once I’d gotten legs numbed up. Myself, I was quite surprised at how calm I was given that I’d been all KINDS of jumpy about ever having surgery.
Rhys and I wanted to see – well, given where the cut was going to be I wasn’t going to see the actual cut but I was keen to see my baby born. I think we weirded out the doctors quite bit, and they went with ‘no, it would be too disturbing.’ Amusingly one of the younger anesthesiologists there, sitting next to me whispered that I could probably see a blurry reflection off of the big reflective light above my belly. I guess she figured out what I’d actually wanted to see. XD
They did talk out what they were doing while they were doing it though; overall the actual cut to birth was about ten minutes; counting putting in my spinal block, that was twenty, give or take a few minutes. Feeling them poke around my womb was weird. Most of the time though, it just felt like someone was shoving my lower half around trying to make my gravid belly wriggle like jello.I deeply apologize, but that’s how it felt.
About halfway through that I started having a bizarre craving for lollipops. The big, spirally round ones that you get at candy shops and fairs, and peppermint sticks, hard sugar candies and more.
I held my breath as I felt them take out my baby, breech birthing him. For the length of another breath, there was silence, then that blessed, blessed first cry. I worked HARD not to tear up – I really wanted to be able to see him! The senior obstetrician held him up briefly; I saw baby butt, legs and …equipment, and a glimpse of part of an angry infant face. I remember squeezing Rhys’ hand really hard, I was so happy. Then I told him to go with our son while he was being weighed and such, because he couldn’t decide between staying with me or going. “Go, go, go,” I said. I could not remember if he was allowed to take the camera in or not.
I was allowed to suck on ice cubes at this point, which was really, really good. I felt thirsty and my mouth finally stopped feeling dry as the ice melted in my mouth. Rhys came back, carrying our son, who was warmly swaddled and cleaned up, and very much fast asleep. I didn’t get a chance to really admire him though because they needed to get him into an incubator as soon as possible.
The next 40 minutes were spent both cleaning out my womb and stitching me up, whereupon they moved me onto a gurney and to the recovery room to wait for my legs to regain enough movement again to show I was shaking off the spinal block, a lengthy process that took more than an hour. I was allowed to have a frozen juice stick and then later, a coffee while waiting, because all I could have for a while were liquids and extremely soft foods; which is what I ended up with on my tray when I got returned to Maternity. They were basically a blended creamy chicken soup of some kind, jello, custard and something else. I wasn’t going to be able to see Brandon that night, and Rhys coaxed me to sleep and I’d see him the next day. So I did.
I got to visit him the next morning, wheeled in on wheelchair. I was a little surprised at how small he was… and how perfect he looked. He had chubby, round little cheeks, a full head of hair, perfect little long-fingered hands with the tiniest fingernails, and even his toenails were there on his minute little toes. Contrary to all the usual expectations, he looked like a full term infant, only tiny. I could football carry him in my whole arm! I tried putting him to breast and he did latch on but I had no milk and very little colostrum. He seemed happy with what he got though. I was happy to be able to hold him at last. There was lots of good news too – he was breathing completely independently and hadn’t needed any help from birth, and he was quite feisty and wriggly – he liked to wriggle himself down one side of his incubator, often removing the monitoring tags stuck to his belly and chest in the process. Other than that, he was ‘happily a very boring baby with no medical issues to take care of.’
The next day, he was game to just ‘nuzzle’ – which is what they call latching on but not getting any milk, it seems. They put in a feeding tube – that’s what that green wire like thing is at his nose – so he can be fed without being woken up and disturbed from sleep every three hours. Since my milk or colostrum hadn’t come in yet, Rhys and I decided to allow him to be fed formula. I’m a big advocate of breastfeeding, because breast milk is best for babies, but I’m not one of the ones who have near fanatical devotion to ‘breast milk only, all natural’. Supplementing a baby’s feed time with it isn’t a problem. My painful lack of much colostrum though had me worrying. Brandon was starting to become jaundiced, but that’s normal for babes and I wasn’t worried. They put him under a UV lamp.
The third day had me be affected by what they call ‘third day blues.’ Basically my hormones were coming off the pregnancy setting and I was suddenly, almost insanely depressed. I was in a lot of pain; I’d torn stitches trying to get back into bed the first day they had me trying to move around more (they put in a little platform for me to climb onto first, that made it possible for me to get into bed) and I was crying at the drop of a hat. Rhys was away most of the time because of work and I was upset that I couldn’t have my baby sleeping next to me like everyone else in the ward. I was going nuts a the thought that I couldn’t have milk and Brandon wouldn’t have the opportunity that his elder siblings had. It lasted well into the fifth day, but I was able to encourage my milk to come in.
Speaking of my milk, that’s actually no longer a worry. My boobs are back into epic modes of production and I generally am able to try extract a feed or three. The biggest amount was when I was able to extract six feeds worth of milk. I’m down to maybe two to four. Brandon seems to have thrown one of the only real crying fits he had when the doctors tried to give him the standard preemie first meal of 3 ml of milk. He ‘got right mad,’ the nurses told me, prompting the doctor in charge to say ‘just give him the full feed for his size!’ which is 33ml then (he’s up to 35 ml now.) My biggest problem is trying to keep up with the feed schedule they have, because its’ every 3 hours. @[email protected] It takes me about an hour to try get as much milk out of my breasts as I can because any longer than that and it hurts too much to try extract. I haven’t gotten the left one as empty as the right and I’m hoping that will change soon.
Brandon for his part, has the most fascinating and varied expressions I’ve seen on an infant before. He smiles in his sleep… but when he’s awake he has interestingly intent gazes around his environment, which his nurses report that he also did when he was lying in the incubator. He would periodically wake up, and instead of crying, he’d lie there and look around with his big, big eyes (which are a dark blue-gray color at the moment, and I hope he will keep!) both curious and frowning at the same time, then go back to sleep. He sleeps a lot right now. Anyway, one evening Rhys and I were holding him and enjoying the fact that he was staying awake for a while, when he suddenly started frowning as he looked around. He had his eyebrow raised again in perfect imitation of Mr. Spock, while somehow managing to look vastly displeased with whatever it was he was staring at. He had his face turned toward the doorway so Rhys and I were quite curious.
For the time being though, I need to get some rest. G’nite all.
First off, you pretentious fucking douchebag SJWs, code, of ANY type will not give two shits of a rat’s ass about your hurt feelings, who you fuck, what you chop off or stick onto you, or what political opinions you hold. You fuck up your code no amount of crying and whining and throwing ickle tanties will make it forgive you and work. I’m no programmer, but just fuck up basic HTML tags and well, we’ve all been there. Type in the wrong command – oh wait maybe most of them don’t even know that. Never mind!
But seriously now, there’s nothing more coldly uncaring of gender, race, social or economic class or any of those silly irrelevant things as programming. Either your code works, or it doesn’t. Either your program works, or it fails miserably and needs debugging – in which case fuck you, find it, fix it. All it cares about is whether or not you have the skill to make it work. It does not care whether the fingers that typed across the keys belong to a white or black or green skinned person, nor does it care whether you have a penis or a vagina, or neither, or both, or like to suck cock or lick twat or dress up in a fursuit. It does not care if you are in a wheelchair or have massive tits and swing both ways.
None of that matters. What DOES matter is the pure, unadulterated unforgiving meritocracy of being able to make the hardware and software interact in the way it needs to, to bring about a result.
Really, it boils down to the simple reality that unmasks SJWs and the left with the cold hard truth: When it comes to true, brutally blind equality, they can’t handle it. They don’t want to deal with meritocracy, or skill, or truly even ground, they want everything handed to them on demand, or tantrums, life destroying and slander shall ensue!
Boo de Q_Q harder.
Linus Torvalds does not care about your fucking little fee fees. All he cares about “is quality and merit comes first and everything else comes second, and he doesn’t care if he offends people in this regard” – and frankly, that’s pretty fucking fair of him. None of this diversity in programming bullshit – I don’t give a crap if the person doing the code or writing the program is a girl or a guy, or likes to fuck a guy or not, or what their political opinion is. I really don’t. All I care about is ‘can this person do the job? Does that shit work? Is that program legit or does it have hidden malware?’
Don’t like that? Then make your own fork or program.. oh wait, no you can’t unless you have the skills, and since there’s more Q_Qing than actual skills to make stuff happen… we’re left with people just throwing massive tanties again.
This is triply true in engineering/development. It’s not like marketing or HR where everyone is special and an all-day meeting constitutes productive work, technical work is very well-defined with quantifiable, testable results where there’s not much room for second place. The winners in this space are those who Get Shit Done, not those who have the most friends or the most politically-correct agenda. And you will not Get Shit Done if you prioritize your team’s DNA over their skillset. Seriously, social skills do not mean a damn thing here–either your robot is the biggest, baddest mofo in the room and it crushes everyone else’s souls with its godlike power, or it’s not and its your souls getting crushed by someone else’s godbot. There’s something to be said for being able to deal with other humans when necessary but it’s a secondary skill, and one not generally used as companies tend to keep engineers as far away from the customers as possible.
Linus is the ultimate non-discriminating manager. He does not care who you are or what you look like as long as you’re good at what you do, and he won’t tolerate excuses. Which is exactly why diversity fanboys hate him so much–they don’t actually want an identity-blind society, they want an identify-focused society which simply flips the discrimination in favor of gender-studies weasels. They have to tear him down because, like Trotsky to Stalin, he vividly shows that what they claim to want is vastly different from what they’re actually implementing.
Found out about another Filipino food grocery online here in Townsville and it seems they may also be a Filipino restaurant. I think I’ll unleash the Kitten Cute Eyes on Rhys when he gets home later tonight. They have the larger pots of Lily’s peanut butter!!!!!!!!!1 And Star Margarine sweet blend. And Buko Pie. I think I’ll see if I can buy one for Rhys; he never was able to try some before; and I only make my special buko pie with fresh ingredients, which I don’t know how to get here. omg. looking at the menu makes me so hungry right now. yesisoundsobrainlessrightnowidon’tcare. Tocino, longganisa and daing na banggus are pains in the ass for me to cook; the first two require boiling time then being fried; daing requires frying. Okay I grant I really am a huuuuuge wuss about frying. Otherwise I’d be having tinapang galunggung and daing. Which I’ve been hungering for since the start of this pregnancy. I hope they also have the crispy dilis fingerfish. =9
I’ll write about it tomorrow if we go ^.^
I thought I may as well blog about the Asian groceries I know about here in Townsville; it took me some looking to find but these are the ones I know of as of this writing.
Besides Sari Sari, which is located at : Shop 5 Riverside Shopping Centre 1 Riverside Boulevard corner Angus Smith Drive Douglas, Townsville, Queensland
D’kapatid Asian Grocery – Located at: 1 Forest Avenue Kirwan QLD 4817 According to the G+ page the phone number is (07) 4755 1020; but I don’t know if that phone number is accurate. They sell breads and cakes, meats and fish, as well as some of the usual Filipino canned goods and condiments and cosmetics. They’re off the road between Stocklands and Willows
I’ve shopped extensively at each of these and they’re all very friendly. The folks at Oriental Food Supplies were quite understanding and forgiving and exchanged the glutinous rice that Rhys bought by mistake once instead of the 10kg of jasmine rice I was looking for.
I’ve spotted a small little Asian Grocery between Willows Mall and Stocklands, but it seems to be located in the garage area of a set of apartments. There are also several Indian food groceries I’ve seen while we drive past, but I’m not really familiar with Indian food and spices, so folks should have a gander.
First off: I’m home from the hospital. Yay. Not so yay: Blood pressure medications are making me rather useless – as in, I’ll be asleep most of the day, unable to do more than wake long enough to feed myself, then conk right back out again. This isn’t as nice as it sounds, because I still have to try pull together the brains to do some basic stuff like ‘what will I eat and how will I cook it?’ Yes, it’s that bad, but the dosage of meds are keeping my blood pressure somewhat stable and at least the bubs’ umbilical blood flow has normalized. He’s doing well, though sluggish in terms of movement. I’ll endure this for as long as I can / he can – which is probably the next few weeks going forward, if all goes well and nothing new crops up.
Secondly, and this is also big news: Thanks to Vox Day, the several years of harassment by Yamamanama, aka Andrew P. Marston, are over. The wonderful Kate Paulk was kind enough to message me on my phone while I was strapped abed to a ctg scan, and a quick glance at my email shows a number of emails from several other wonderful people who sought to inform me of the awesome news, including Vox himself assuring me that Yama is very unlikely to be able to continue his harassment and stalking. From the post, I gather though that Yama is still going to try circumventing his new restrictions so for the near future, if anyone spots comments from him and his usual list of spewdonyms, please note the following request from Vox:
While Yama did subsequently take advantage of what I suspect was access outside his home to post a short comment on Brad Torgersen’s blog under the name of Alauda yesterday, I have already reported it to the police and they are addressing the matter. If Yama posts additional comments anywhere else, please bring them to my attention right away so that I can report them. I expect there will be a few more minor incidents of a similar fashion as Yama attempts to evade his newly imposed restrictions.
Markku kindly attributes that I “was integral in bringing Yama to justice”, but I humbly submit that it is far more likely due to Vox’s efforts, as well as my dear friend, housemate and resident web admin, Aff, who was instrumental in helping this end (since, y’know, Aff is the guy who handles the back end stuff and I’m just the writer who doesn’t manage site administration…) Read the whole post and the comments. It’s interesting, to say the least.
There are some details which, I grant, have me very curious about the affair as a whole, but I doubt I’ll ever have my curiosity satisfied (blame the curiosity about the details on the analyst in me) and if I am ever informed it’ll be months down the track. As the case is still ongoing it would be irresponsible of me to say more, but suffice to say there are a number of odd little twists in this that I think none of us involved ever expected. So for the time being, it’s a wait and see what happens.
Allow me to express bogglement at the trolls who are somehow certain that ‘this didn’t happen, it’s all a bluff’ over at Vox’s blog.
For now my current focus will be, as it has been for a while, the health of my baby and bringing him to this world.
Say hello to my little friend.
Sorry, crappy cellphone pic, but she’s one of the Christmas presents I got from Aff. The fun part is, this didn’t cost him any money. Yep, you got that right – my new portable lappy was a freebie – a prize actually, that he won from a gaming competition. She’s lightweight and runs cool, and has the keyboard type that I like and Aff finds uncomfortable. And she’s an ASUS! She comes in just in time because I’ve completely burned out my poor old netbook, which I used largely for writing on. Sadly, I don’t know if he can be revived. It may be that he just couldn’t handle the heat of local weather.
It needs requoting, but you should also read the original post on his LJ.
“Still mortified about our fallen cartoonist colleagues, but free speech will always win.”
No it won’t.
The history of the human race demonstrates /very/ convincingly that free speech is the /exception/ to the human condition, not the rule. For millennia, those who spoke out were imprisoned or killed. Hell, you could say something that wasn’t even subversive, just inept and stupid, and be destroyed for committing the crime of lese majeste.
Make no mistake. What we have today is a level of freedom and self-determination on a scale unparalleled in the history of our species. We live in what is, in many ways, a golden age. So much so that we give tremendous credit to the adage, “The pen is mightier than the sword.”
But everyone always forgets the first half of that quote:
“Under the rule of men entirely great, the pen is mightier than the sword.”
I’m not sure I know of anyplace that’s ruled by anyone “entirely great.” That adage wasn’t a statement of philosophy, as it was originally used: it was a statement of irony.
Don’t believe me? Look around. Notice that everywhere you go in the world, whoever happens to be ruling seems to have a great many swords.
Still, the idea contained within the quote is a powerful one–that intangible ideas, thoughts, and beliefs can have tremendous power. And that’s why we should be paying close attention.
After all, intangible fear can be mightier than the sword, too. Hell, it has been for quite a while now. Don’t believe me? Try getting on an airplane without taking your shoes off in the security line. While you’re doing that, try cracking a joke about having a knife.
That’s the power of fear, guys.
We. Are. In. Danger.
The threat isn’t aimed at our government or our borders or our resources. It’s targeting something far more precious–our identity. It’s changing us, who we are, how we live, and not for the better.
The Western world has got the biggest and sharpest sword the planet has ever known, yes. But the extremists are armed with a weapon just as powerful: Fear. And these nuts are really good at using it.
There is /one/ way that freedom, freedom to speak, to choose, to grow, to believe, to improve, survives in the face of violent attack.
Free men and women defend it, violently if necessary–or it dies.
It’s that simple. It really is.
If we forget that, if we forget that there are predators in the world who very much want to destroy those freedoms in the name of their god, their philosophy, their politics, if we forget that our freedoms /can/ and /will/ be taken away if we sit staring and do nothing, they are as good as gone.
Freedom doesn’t defend itself.
We have to do it.
That’s a huge contrast to Scalzi apologizing to Muslims for what happened over in France. Hat tip to Vox Day on that one, since I don’t keep track of Scalzi.
Respect for Butcher, Correia, Hoyt, and so many others +++++++ infinity. This is a freedom of speech issue. This is a Western Civilization issue. It needs defending, or we lose everything.
Yeah I know, there’re are people out there going O_o wtf at that title. It’s like saying “OMG YUMMY AIRPLANE FOOD.” (Which I have had. Emirates and Philippine Airlines international flights have delicious food, and I hear Singapore Airlines and JAL have also good inflight menus. So…yeah. ^^;;; )
So, hospital food here in Townsville Hospital? Is yum. I’m not saying that because “I don’t have a choice and hafta eat it because I’m admitted for baby-observation” but because I really do find the options delicious. Lunch was a meltingly soft beef curry with steamed green beans (that was my choice, since I get jabbed for blood tests as part of the monitoring) and I have a coffee. I chat up the lunch ladies here and they now know I ABSOLUTELY ADORE the hospital’s egg sandwiches. If someone rejects them please give them to me while I’m here. cute puppy eyes And well, extra protein for bubs! (I have some sealed fruit juices and fruit cups that were rejected and I’ve set aside to increase my vitamin C intake to help me absorb the goodness for the baby too.)
Anyway. It so happened someone rejected their egg and ham sandwiches, and the food cart lady asked if I wanted them. DO I EVER?! I love the boiled egg salad sandwiches here, but egg sandwiches in the hospital are om nom nom weakness for me. The egg sandwiches might not seem special to anyone but they’re light and creamy and flavorful eggs of perfection without being overwhelmingly eggy. Maybe next time I’ll remember to take a picture of them before snaffling them down. They’re so yummy… They have plenty of other sandwiches too, but the egg ones and the chicken ones are my faves.
There’s always a good meal too. You have the main dish (one of the meals scheduled that I picked will be chicken schnitzel with sides, and the dessert for that will be a fudge cake. OM NOM NOM, must remember to take photo). The tray will have a fruit cup, coffee or tea (I pick coffee) and often a slice of bread and options of jelly or Veeeeeeeegimite (I… prefer the jelly) and there’s often a fruit cup of diced fruit. I found out that people often turn up their noses on these things and sometimes, if lucky the fruit cups, extra sandwiches and such end up in the lounge fridge for anyone to have. If unlucky they get thrown away. Thrown. Away. HORRORS.
Now, the food served are also balanced diets. A serve of meat, carbs and steamed veg is the usual. The carbs can be mashed potatoes, rice, steamed and mashed pumpkin, or roasted potatoes or pumpkin/squash. They’re not overly salty, but also not bland. And they do serve a small packet of salt and pepper that if used, is just the right amount. Breakfast is typically cereal options, (I pick boiled oatmeal porridge), fruit cup, yogurt, fruit piece, coffee or tea, slice of bread with butter and jam option. It’s very filling, and usually afterward I walk around the ward to stretch my muscles and ensure I don’t encourage blood clots.
Mid morning, mid afternoon and about 8 pm, there’s a coffee trolley that goes around too. I look forward to these because they have the option of hot Milo with the usual coffee and tea (and yes, I can ask for a milo-coffee!) and this is where I get the chance for little saltine crackers and cheese, or a packet or two of Arnott’s bikkies or cookies. =9 The cheese and cracker option it pure delight when eaten with the supply of cherries or grapes I have here with me for extra vitamin C snackies.
Healthy little nibbles
And I’ve taken so long writing this that they’ve come up with the tea / bikkie break. I asked for a Milo-coffee / mocha, and they gave me the saltines and cheese =9
Staying hydrated isn’t a problem either. The water bottles they give out have a sweet water that reminds me of Evian (which we used to drink when I lived back in Germany.) I often find myself surprised when I empty a bottle from idly sipping while writing. I also have my half-cup juice stash of apple juice, and there’s the tea trolley, and if I want more I can just meander down to the lounge and make myself a coffee, then toddle back to my room. I can also make myself a chamomille or Lady Grey tea since I brought some teabags from the house (because I do try to cut back on the coffee to just twice a day.)
I’m quite well fed and cared for here, and I really appreciate the efforts on that. So I thought I’d write about it.
And now that I have, I’m going to eat the food.
update: dinner option:; shepherds pie, steamed veg, pea and ham soup.
shepherds pie, ham and pea soup, veg and all good and delicious!
Which has, thanks to this post, gone into FOUR PAGES of record.
Starting off my morning with this while stuck on the baby heart rate monitor. Typing is awkward.
Anyway, an update (with regards to latest online events regarding the ongoing saga of being stalked and harassed by Andrew P. Marston, Stalker of Six Years and Counting.)
It seems, rightly so, the folks at fstdt do not like being used to further a proven longtime stalker’s malicious and misogynistic stalker’s agenda, because soon after I took these screenshots the thread was deleted or meh-ed to gone. I don’t know which. At any rate, these screenshots are for me to address certain points or respond to some remarks.
Now, I don’t know for certain if Yama himself was Goob/Goomb / the person who originally quoted me out of context in that quote-post, but it fits in with his past behaviors, so it would not surprise me if Yama did, or showed the quote to someone he felt was amenable to reposting the quote out of context because of outrage / oh god this is stupid and needs to be mocked. If the latter, you were cruelly mislead and used.
This may be something of a warning to Yama’s associates online, to be wary of taking him completely on trust and on his word in the future. Be advised that Yama is known to have a long list of pseudonyms which he uses on a variety of sites, and has also been known to try impersonate other people by using their online nicknames and handles. In fact, his doing so is the main reason why I had to start commenting on Vox Day’s blog – to establish my own identity and state how I was to prove that I was the real Shadowdancer by reposting screenshots of my own comments to the Affsdiary Forums.
I looked at the latest discussions on FSTDT and one of the ones with lots of comments is critical of a crazy misandrist radfem calling for regular castrations. To be clear, this is the kind of feminist / tumblr feminist I rail against and stand against.I AM THE MOTHER OF SONS AND A DAUGHTER. That I react with proper REVULSION to such misandry MAKES SENSE because my middle boy is only eight years old and turned loose on a playground to play, plays with both boys and girls with no discrimination as children are only concerned with ‘let’s play!’ (the other is still in my womb. So, dear crazy misandrist radfem? You are a pathetic scumbag because you can’t do more than pick on children and unborn babies, and hilariously have accepted the lie that women are so inherently weak and helpless the ‘only way’ to ‘get ahead’ for women = kill men / oppress them / castrate them.)
Also, this graphic bears repeating because /facepalms so hard
To my misogynistic stalker’s mind this statement is equal to my being ‘misogynistic’, because I refuse to toe the radfem line and am a supporter for REAL equal rights, respect and treatment for both genders, groups, and regardless of skin color, not JUST women / special victim groups (because then, it’s not equal nor meritorious).
It should not surprise anyone who has read through the sticky or is aware of the six long years of harassment that Yama / Andrew will double down on his threat and continue to try justify his actions.
@pyro: no worries; apology accepted =) I’m just glad its clear now. I honestly harbor no bad feelings because this isn’t the fault of the folks at your discussion place, and the quote itself really is taken so completely out of context it’s obvious that it was deliberately done to create a bad impression. I really am sorry you guys were being dragged into yama’s campaign.
@the dude – my sticky has also discovered over the years that Yama / Andrew will deliberately go out of his way to go to non-Liberal sites (conservative, libertarian, religious group sites, blogs etc) for the explicit purpose of using them as hunting grounds for his targets of harassment. He will frequently take people’s comments out of a long, long discussion thread or post completely out of context then spread them in places like the FSTDT discussion forums, or quote them in other blogs, in the hopes of portraying the person being quoted as far more evil than the quote in context would actually be. Through this method he has attempted more than once to portray me and many others as misogynistic, racist, anti-homosexual, ‘rape apologizing’, anti-feminist, etc, to try get people to dogpile on me. He has done this both with art, words, and written works, the latter of which he will admit to never even reading but will happily deride and mock as worthless. That he is quite alone in this opinion becomes rapidly clear, so Andrew is quite desperate to try ‘prove’ that he isn’t alone in his hateful opinion of me.
I repeat that whatever he’s incoherently blabbing about regarding Andrew’s ‘friends’ I had nothing to do with it, because, quite logically why would I know or care about a hipster guitarist on youtube that Vox Day linked? My musical tastes are my own and I simply avoid the music I don’t like and waste no further time on it. Mere association with Yama does not result in my deep abiding hate or even mild dislike of a person. Why would it? I’m not Yama, who seems to automatically HATE everything and everyone vaguely associated with me and behaves as if this is ‘behavior everyone does because Andrew thinks like this’ projection.
And it seems that to Yama now, contradicting him = You Are A Vox Day Supporter If You Think That Andrew P. Marston Is A Stalker Asshole. That’s… a new level of crazy there, woah.
The thing is, I don’t mind at all if someone decides they don’t like me because I hold an opinion or POV that they disagree with. I don’t mind if someone doesn’t agree with me. If this hypothetical person doesn’t like me, then we can go our separate ways and avoid each other, or agree to butt heads over discussions as much as we like, or just ignore each other’s existence in forums where we both participate. That person doesn’t have to go to my homepage, and I avoid that person’s page. In fact, this is perfectly sensible and civilized to me; so I don’t go out of my way to frequent say, radfem sites that espouse the castration of men and hatefully rail at women who choose to have their male babies, or believe that all infant boys by default will become misogynistic raping monsters / rage at women who are in happy heterosexual relationships / lesbians who choose to become mothers. I’ll end up there if someone I know links it, but I’ll also do them the courtesy of actually reading the words before I react, if I choose to react, on my own blog.
At no point, ever, will I say this person should not have the right to say what they’re saying, since I’m a very strong believer of the maxim ‘Let him speak, so that we may know his mind/thoughts.’
At no point do I wish for Andrew P. Marston to shut up, actually. Let him speak so that people may know what he is like, that people may judge him based on his own words, actions and beliefs. He frequently claims that I am trying to silence him, but in fact I only document his own words and actions, and my place on the web rebut his lies and attempts at ink-squirting obfuscation. The fact that this sticky thread is necessary at all is not because of me, but rather necessity borne out of reaction to a crazily obsessed person living in Massachusetts taking advantage of the fact that he can openly harass and stalk a woman living in Australia, who hasn’t got any ability to try push for a court suit because I can’t afford that, and there’s this whole thing about having a continent and a huge ocean between him and me.
But also, logically, I have reasons to worry because of Andrew P. Marston’s demonstrated behavior of seeking out groups who he feels may be amenable to being directed to a convenient target of hate for harassment online. Of this I have proof – this latest attempt being clearly one.
Who is to say he hasn’t tried to garner this for RL, given that he makes repeated threats against my kids? What reassurance do I have that he hasn’t done this? And given that we’ve shown that he lies if it suits him, there is no way for anyone to hold his word as being good or remotely trustworthy. Yes, I am aware that this is, at present, mere speculation, but that is a speculation that is with some backing due to his online behavior towards myself, which I have kept a record of here.
It is also clear that Andrew resents the presence of this sticky as a record of that bad behavior. He has constantly tried to misrepresent the thing as ‘attempts to silence him’ or ‘dox him’ or other absurd claims. His words and actions are here for people to view. Other people have shown through their own records that Andrew / Yama has been doing this kind of harassments since at least 2003, which long predates my running into him in late 2009. So, no, despite his claims, I am but just one of his many, many victims, and one who has chosen in this small way, to fight back and refuse to give in.
People should also be aware that Andrew P. Marston’s campaign of harassment against Vox Day – which Vox documents at having been 56 months of nearly daily harassment; just slightly less than Yama’s own campaign of stalking against myself – is resulting in police reports to the Massachusetts PD. Regardless of what you may think of the man (or heck, about myself) that’s far, far longer than anyone should have to endure. And yes, bans, avoiding him, ignoring him all haven’t worked. See the sticky. Stalking and harassing people he doesn’t like seems to be the entirety of Yama’s whole life. At any rate, that Vox has begun these proceedings has resulted in Yama desperately trying to scrub the Internet of proofs of his past bad behavior, quotes and has him fleeing to Twitter to try get people to listen to ‘his side’. (Is anyone surprised that this pretty much translates to any rational and sane person as someone trying to clean up the evidence of his past wrongdoings?)
At no point does he try to even prove his own allegations, throwing around lies and accusations instead as if they were fact. As stated above the only reason why I have a nominal participation on Vox Day’s blog now as a commenter was an act of pre-emptive self defense against Yama trying to steal my identity (which he tried to do anyway.) I am not, despite Yama’s insistent implications, ‘Vox Day’s best friend forever’ and Yama fondly imagines that I have ‘influence’ over a person I don’t know and at best is only an ‘acquaintance’ of. This isn’t me trying to ‘disassociate’ myself from Vox Day, but rather a statement of accuracy – I occasionally read the blog because there’s the occasional interesting topic, or reference it on my sticky, but with Vox himself, there has been very little actual interaction. My own personal encounters have been brief and polite; and he was kind enough to answer a couple of questions I raised on According To Hoyt or Mad Genius club. (I don’t actually participate in the discussions on Vox Popoli because I feel I’d be quite out of my depth on the topics about history and science I find interesting. Personal assessment there, and I don’t mind admitting that I fall short by my own standards.)
I’ll stop here because 1) the heart rate monitor is taken off now and I can move again, and 2) I’m being fed lunch. Time to feed the baby so it grows strong and healthy, and as it is a beef stew, I’m quite keen because they vampired me for blood samples again this morning. I’ve had to waste enough time on Yama’s latest campaign of Epic Stupid and Epic Fail as it is. Unlike the man who has enough time to devote six years of active stalking an Asian chick on the other side of the freaking planet, I have a life outside of the Internet, responsibilities and much better things to do.
Yet, it’s Muslim jihadists that did violence, killing for their religion. There’s no way around that, no matter how the usual apologists try to whitewash and blame the victim (warning, that link, I’m told, is particularly enraging and I was strongly advised not to read it given my current blood pressure issues by a very good friend.)
Honestly, I’m somewhat surprised it took this long, since the local jihadists are plentiful and active in France, there are plenty of zones urbaines sensibles – pretty much ‘if you are not Muslim, you take your chances in these areas because the rule of law does not apply, Sharia does.‘ There’ve been plenty of other terrorist attacks that were rather ignored by the West, including an attack on a Jewish school in France some time ago, before the attacks on Pakistani schools by the Taliban – where one suicide bomber was thwarted by a brave 14 year old.
I’ll eventually write up a longer post on my thoughts on this, because I’m still in the hospital and the blood pressure meds are wreaking havoc with my ability to think straight, due to migraines and bouts of drowsiness.
T.L. Knighton also makes the very valid point that if we were, as per that idiotic feminazi’s demands, to ‘criminalize’ (a very strange definition of free speech that boils down to ‘I don’t like what you say and think you should go to jail’), we lose the most basic freedoms that allow idiots like her to spew her stupid all over the Internet.
Kate Paulk is correct in saying that Free Speech isnot, in fact ‘free of charge or cost.’ People pay a heavy price to keep the ability to say what you want and to have the freedom to opine, disagree and speak one’s mind, to write the stories we want to write, and so much more that honestly, most people in Western countries just take for granted. Don’t let them take it away! I’ve lived under two different regimes where you couldn’t speak your mind or seek the knowledge you wanted to know about, and it hurt the people who lived in them, in their spirit, and soul.
Lastly, Sarah A. Hoyt expresses the anger I don’t have words for right now. Thank you all, for writing.
So there’s a charity event to help disabled gamers. Which, well, is freaking awesome because some of the most awesome, most badass people I’ve ever had the privilege to meet are disabled gamers. Think ‘wheelchair bound mostly unable to move limbs’ disabled. Think people who have been in horrible car accidents. Think kids who were born with unavoidable defects that trap them in less than optimal bodies, but have fully working brains. Think vets and cops who have been injured in the line of duty and for a number of them, this is the only social interaction they can have without being treated like cripples. These people also tend to be the nicest, most cheerful people I’ve ever met, and most of the time you never find out they’re disabled till you ask something like “Why is your vent not push to talk?” “Because I can’t reach it fast enough with the stick in my mouth.”
So yeah, fucking do not ever deprive these guys of one of the few things that put them on even footing with the rest of the goddamn world, where they can be themselves and not ‘crippled.’
Two Anti-GG people ask for retweets and then flip the fuck out when TotalBiscuit (one of the biggest Gamergate supporters, apparently) actually takes them at face value and does exactly that. Because Ablegamers Charity for disabled gamers is fucking awesome.
He also does it because his company is partnered with the Ablegamers charity. Oops, didn’t know that? Of course not – Anti-GGers are too busy trying to hate the guy for daring to disagree and oppose them. Remember the previous post I mentioned about nerds and not wasting their time with social bullshit? Yeah, there’s a reason for that.
So really, who’s the haters here? Who’s intolerant? Oh and attacking the guy based on his cancer treatment? Really classy and humanistic of you. Not.
Anti-GGers are proving themselves that they are the most hateful shitfaces on the face of the earth quite easily. And the bystanders like myself are just staring then facepalming when we take them entirely on the face of their actions. Holy crap. Epic, epic fail.
Hi. If you came here from Fundies Say the Dumbest Things, you guys are being used as a catspaw by my longtime misogynistic stalker, Yamamanama / Yama The Space Fish, aka Andrew P. Marston of Marshfield Massachusetts. Here is a history of his stalking and harassing me online me for six years, taking advantage of the fact that I am a woman who doesn’t live in the same country as he does – and yes, I am, in fact, a woman; I’m also small, and Asian. He is very fond of taking things I say and do out of context in the worst possible way to try portray me as either 1) Misogynistic 2) Racist 3) Homophobic 4) insert whatever hateful label he wants to try pin on me. Andrew has a tendency to also bring me up at random on websites that I have nothing to do with, in often hateful or defamatory language.
He has outright admitted that he actively does this in attempts to try get people to dogpile on me.
Andrew Marston / Yamamanama has repeatedly tried to use his taking my words completely out of context to justify his harassment and stalking of me; repeatedly making claims that I said something, but never backing up the claims with proof the way I have been able to prove, with screenshots, that Andrew / Yama has the intent to harass and defame me. I have repeatedly spoken against self-defeating attitudes that are aimed at preventing people from taking their own lives into their own hands and taking control of their own choices. This is NOT racism, but Andrew / Yama tries to make it seem like that.
So yeah, that’s what’s going on, and I’m sorry you guys are getting dragged into something that has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with someone’s longtime campaign of hate, harassment (both sexual and otherwise) and racism and misogyny. (Also, uhm, I’m quietly pagan, so I’m really unsure if I count into American definitions of ‘fundie’ from what l gather is supposed to reflect on Christian fundamentalism.)
ANYWAY. ON TO THE ORIGINAL POST.
This was originally meant to be a comment over at According To Hoyt, but I changed my mind and decided this should well be a post instead. I wouldn’t be surprised if people skim until offended, but meh. And because inevitably some idiot out there will paint me as white, racist, misogynist and rape-apologizing or whatever – I’m Asian, female, hate political correctness and opinionated – so if that sort of shit bothers you, hey, feel free to close the tab or browse away. You don’t have to read this.
So, feminists are going after nerds, since they failed to paint all gamers as 1) male 2) rapists 3) racists. For ‘sexual entitlement’. Or something seriously bizarre like that. The article I linked is a rebuttal because it’s actually more readable than the brain-breaking stupid of the thing it’s actually addressing.
First off, fuck you, feminists for trying to paint ‘nerds’ as ‘only male.’ Sayeth THIS female nerd and geek who has always been proud of her nerd and geek status. Also, fuck you again, because guess what? The Internet owes its’ existence to the very nerds you despise and looked down on. Guess who you sound like to nerds like us? The popular Prom Queen bitches who liked to spread rumours about the nerds and anyone who dared NOT to fit in during high school. While the rest of us grew up and became adults, you stupid eternal children pined for the days of being relevant and ‘socially the centre of the universe’ in High School. While the rest of us were fighting off the bullying and the abuse of your sycophants – and yes, I had my share of having to fight people who thought it would be funny to seriously hurt me – you lot pretended to be morally superior to us.
I’d love to know based on what ‘morals’ those are supposed to be. Frankly, the worst bullying I got were from women, because given the rumour-mongering and slander I’d get from an insecure bitch who saw me as some kind of threat to her social position that I never noticed, and the honesty of a punch in the face from a man, I had better chances of fighting back against the latter. Because then it’s self defence and I could gut the son of a bitch.
Also, fuck you for trying to make nerds as a group feel worse. Bitch, we’ve been through hells you can’t even imagine, the kind of oppression that drives people to suicide, we’ve survived, we’ve made it through and you’re TRYING to drag us back to that pointless, empty stupid time of High School just because your own lives are so empty and devoid of meaning, you need to find someone to bully to make yourselves feel better? This is especially true of male nerds, who are freaking socially awkward because the usual social cues make no sense to them – hell, to us. Male nerds as a group tend to step into social landmines for that reason – and they’re aware of that so they also tend to be more careful and sensitive than the ‘average male.’ As a nerd girl who played the Universal Big Sister and Confidant to several male nerds all through my life, how fucking dare you claim that male nerds are sexually entitled?! They’re FAR more likely to treasure and cherish the woman who falls for them, to the point that I’ve seen many a male nerd get taken advantage of by an abusive, user-friendly woman.
On the far end of that, there are the male nerds who simply refuse to have relationships with real women and go with the 2-D Girl option. Seriously, leave them the fuck alone. It’s ‘coz of crazy psychotic bitch queens like you that you drove away those men to eternal fantasies. They’re not going to treat real women worse, they just won’t have relationships with them. You do not get to bitch about them not wanting real women, because to them, real women are not worth the heartache and suffering and endless double standards that the feminists like you have put up as ‘proper treatment of women.’
In the long run, I think that this is ultimately an attempt by feminists to ‘get back’ at the nerds who frankly, see them, and run away screaming because when it boils down to it, these sort of women have nothing to offer for any kind of partnership except a lifetime of pain and heartache. Especially true for the rich, successful, powerful nerds who they looked down on before who now are in positions of economic and social power of the kind they only dreamed of. While these women were wasting their time playing social superiority games, we nerds applied ourselves more usefully.
I gotta say, these ‘feminists’ display some serious amounts of undiluted crazy and lies in order to try make themselves sound more relevant and important. Somehow. Instead, they happily come off as flat out insane. Also, hats now are some kind of code for being … pro-male or something demented like that? In my universe, where we have brush fires and typhoons and 45 degree Celsius weather, hats are worn to give you some shade and protect you from the sun.
And fedoras are awesome, because Indiana Jones. Whatever ‘argument’ about fedoras they’re trying to make is invalid forever.
.… that you’re weakening and permanently altering your body, and shortening your life span, making it more possible to bleed to death, develop high blood pressure, have a stroke or heart attack, or develop diabetes, kidney disease, or cancer.20 (The dangers of pregnancy and childbirth are a well-kept secret.)
Uhm, flat out lie. They tell you what to watch out for every single time you get pregnant and you go have your check-ups. The info is out there, open for perusal. It’s bloody freaking obvious that the person who wrote this never ever got near a family clinic – after all, why should she? (Thank gods she’ll never breed and inflict herself on her children.) The pregnancy booklet I got for free from the clinic has a section on the more common complications and advises that the woman report anything even REMOTELY unusual. There’s a pregnancy complication that commonly presents with a single insane-sounding symptom: itching only at night, ‘especially on the palms of the hands and on the soles of your feet.’ Not fatal for the mother, but holy hell the risk it puts the baby under…
Hell, just the opening paragraphs contradict them, within the first few sentences. To the point that the paragraphs themselves are oxymoronic and null and void as statements. That’s an impressive show of doublespeak there.
They shouldn’t become parents. They howl about gendercide and inequality but ignore the same shit that they decry for women as perfectly acceptable for men.
Feminazis are fucking crazy. And yes, they hate even their own sons. Child abusers!
shakes head If they were really ‘telling the truth, with facts and honesty’ why the nine bleeding hells do they have to lie like the crazy reality-denying -y’know what? Fuck it – bag of cunts-not-brains-are-important – psychos they present themselves as? And no, describing them as they are is not an insult, it’s describing them as they are. These are …people… who hold militant misandrist lesbian feminazi ideals to the point that they denigrate lesbian mothers. To them, sex is the end all and be all and reproducing at all is ‘the ultimate act of selfishness.’ So when I call them ‘cunts’ it’s because that’s their main identifying ‘thing’ – not their personhood, not their intellect or anything else, but the entirety of their identity is based on their genitals and who it’s used with and for.
In fact I am utterly gobsmacked at the sheer amount of hatred that this article alone spews onto other lesbians for making choices that they don’t agree with. What was that about not judging and being accepting of alternate choices, LGBT movement people? Yeah, these people may be ‘outliers’ but geez. You can’t claim to be ‘more accepting’ than I am. I support gays and lesbians having children and support the concept of their marriage, and treat them like people (I just don’t like it when they go after Christian orphanages, schools and institutions, and businesses for disagreeing or disapproving of them, and do not like the current methodologies for their push of non-equal treatment for marriage. I’d be completely fine with non-religious, secular options that do not intrude into the religious areas of life but apparently that’s not good enough, so… See below.)
Equality is equality, people. This means that other people are as free to reject or disagree or disapprove of your choices as you are of them – and yes, if they are meant to accept some of the choices you make, that means that you must also accept some of theirs. That’s two-way street stuff. You can decry it as wrong, disagree all you like, but you can’t shut them down and can’t suppress them or their point of view from the marketplace of ideas. The moment that you do, that means you’re not pushing for equal treatment or equality in any form, you’re pushing for unequal treatment that benefits your/your cause / your POV.
At which point, you lose my support. I’m someone who’s for equal rights, equal treatment, equal responsibility.
I wandered over to The Other McCain’s twitter feed to see if there was anything interesting, and boy did I get it. For a rather demented peek into the range of ‘interesting’ anyway…