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I have no doubt that whatever confines I initially set out to limit the scope of discussion, it will soon expand out on dozens of directions covering every element of libertarianism. But I'd like to describe libertarianism a bit differently from how you may have heard it described in the past. The central theme of this OP is property, what is it, what constitutes legitimate property rights and what is the origin and function of private property rights? The real distinction between libertarians and nearly everyone else is not their opposition to the State since there are anarcho-communists and anarcho-syndicalists who also oppose the existence of States. It is not even our belief in the non-aggression principle. Rather, as you probably guessed, it is our understanding of private property that sets us apart. After all, how can you know what constitutes an act of aggression if you can't clearly articulate between what is mine versus what is yours? It is often stated by misinformed left-Progressives that libertarians or other free market advocates have a fetish for private property rights; that we elevate property as a right above human rights, that our insistence on private ownership creates conflict between those who have more and those who have less and encourages human greed and alienation between different groups of people. As to the first claim, this one is always amusing because it is so crystal clear to a libertarian that there is no meaningful distinction between property rights and human rights. But much more important is the fact that we recognize that a correct understanding of private property is essential to a flourishing, healthy society and that human progress is inexorably linked with a legal recognition of private property claims. The reader should be disabused of the notion that libertarians have some obsession with private property or criticize public, or society-"owned" property based on any shallow ideological grounds. The reason we oppose socialism is that its core tenets are in conflict with observable reality. Were reality to be different than it is, libertarians would gladly abandon the concept of private property (outside of our physical bodies) as meaningless and of no use. For example, suppose we lived in a mythical "Garden of Eden", a paradise where everything that people desire was available in super-abundance. Everyone could satisfy all their needs an desires and no-ones use of any resource would in any way hinder anyone else's ability to use that resource. In such a theoretical world, property would cease to have any meaning in external objects outside of our physical bodies. Our bodies would remain scarce, and so we'd still need to have a property right in those (i.e. no assault, murder, rape). The reason property rights are so incredibly essential is that we live in a world of scarcity. In such a world, the desires, wants and needs of humans will always exceed the available goods needed to fulfill all our desires simultaneously. Therefore situations inevitably arise where two or more people want to use the same scarce resource to achieve two completely incompatible desired ends. This inevitable human conflict that arises from the reality of scarcity necessitated the acceptance of norms, or rules for determining who had the right to exclusive control over what scarce resource. Without this developing and widespread recognition by early human civilizations of basic private property rights, the emergence of modern industrial society, of production, commerce, agriculture and all the trappings of civilization would never have been possible. Humans would have remained perpetually in conflict, as primitive hunter gatherers living at a subsistence level. This should not be controversial. If we can agree on the vital necessity of the recognition of private property rights for human evolution and survival, then what rules ought to be in place for the attainment of legitimate property that should be legally enforced? The libertarian answer is that the first user to appropriate a resource out of its naturally environment and transform and improve it for the furtherance of his well-being has the best claim to ownership of that scarce resource. This, as you already know, has been referred to as the homestead principle. And it predated John Locke as a recognized norm in primitive civilizations millennia before he coined the phrase for the modern science of economics to make sense of an existed social phenomena. Had any other principle of property ownership and use-rights been adopted, the human race would have died off. This is not hyperbole. Let's suppose not the first user of something has the right to exclusive control of a scarce resource, but rather that the fifth user was the one who had that right. How could we eat? If I'm the first person to claim ownership of a coconut tree, or a water spring, but I don't have any property right in that thing, then I wouldn't be able to justly use that scarce resource. I'd starve and die of thirst. We'd all have to wait around for the fifth user of everything. Naturally, humans desired above all else to survive and improve their condition. And it makes intuitive and logical sense to most people to give the earlier user precedence over a later user. Once this recognition of property rights was recognized, not perfectly but to a large enough extent, great strides in living standards were made immediately available to the human race. Suddenly a division of labor was possible, free exchange was made possible and barter soon led to the development of the first currency. People could save in excess of their immediate consumption needs because they knew that they had the legally recognized and enforceable right to their property. Conflict was reduced and peaceful cooperation was encouraged. Given the reality of scarcity, what humans need more than anything else are social rules and a legal system that facilitates ever greater material production such that people can attain more and more of their needs and desires. What we are essentially doing is moving towards less and less scarcity through greater and greater productive capacity in modern economies. This, of course, should be considered a great thing for human welfare all around. Left-progressives frequently speak about the plight of the poor and the continuing social problems that exist throughout much of the world. However, the engine that drives the greatest and most robust increase in society-wide wealth for everyone is one in which property is private and the division of labor, capital accumulation, investment and a free price system are permitted to function unhampered. I've asked for a better and more coherent method by which property should be acquired other than original appropriation and I have not heard an answer. I'm going to throw in a curve-ball here and talk about another so-called "property" right that isn't actually property at all. That is what is called Intellectual Property. Libertarians oppose the existence of so-called "intellectual property" at all. But why would that be? The reason is that property is only a coherent and useful concept when it applies to things that are scarce. Copying a movie cannot be theft if you owned the original that you made a copy from. No one else was deprived of any physical possession whatsoever. Since copying can be done, theoretically infinitely, without depriving anyone of their copy, there is no scarcity and no theft. Patents on inventions present a similar case. Ideas are not scarce. If you freely share an idea and someone emulates or improves upon that idea, society is all the better off. Society has been made incalculably poorer and many corporations unjustly wealthier than they ought to be because of this grotesque State-monopoly privilege known as intellectual "property". Therefore things that are not scarce can indeed be held in the "commons", and in fact society is much better when we have socialism for ideas and computer data for example. Left-progressives frequently rail about the need for a legally mandated "right" to a service like healthcare forgetting or never understanding in the first place how the services needed to supply the growing human need are most efficiently produced and allocated. You might have an abstract "right" to a heart surgery, but if the sort of economic system and the State regulations and mandates heaped upon it don't produce enough hospitals, doctors and medical equipment, you won't get the care you need despite what politicians might claim. If you're concern is largely for the material well-being of society's most vulnerable, surely you'd want the economy to be as physically productive as possible? The problem facing the poor is not that they make $8.50 and not $15 an hour. The problem is that they don't have enough basic "stuff" to give them a reasonable standard of living. And why don't they? They economy is not physically productive enough to provide them with needed and desired goods or there are artificial impediments to employment and/or entrepreneurship that constrains their available options. A problem with "democracy" and all forms of collective ownership either of the factory or of public spaces is that use for such resources is heavily constrained by the need for consensus to act. If all workers owned factories together, endless meetings and deliberations would be required to make any decisions about the use of capital and production. Furthermore, conflict is enhanced rather than reduced. Who would REALLY have the final say on the use of collectively owned property? Well, no one does. All this wasted energy determining the best use of scarce resources leads to a tortoises pace to decisions that otherwise would be made by individual owners of these resources rather rapidly. This leads to paralysis and loss of productive capacity. If everyone can determine the use of property they own and put it to productive use immediately or trade it to another in an exchange immediately, the economy is made wealthier and decisions are made quickly by individuals who bear the personal responsibility for risking their capital and ONLY their capital in the effort. I've spoken about the Tragedy of the Commons in the past, but that is one more effect of property not being privately owned. When no one has a financial incentive to maintain the capital value of a piece of property, everyone has an incentive to overuse that property, even towards ecological destruction. This was the story of the American Buffalo which was hunted to the brink of extinction when it was a part of the "commons" yet made a major comeback once private entrepreneurs homesteaded the animals and judiciously decided which to kill for meat and which to breed to replenish the livestock for future generations and future profit opportunities. If we lived in an alternate universe without scarcity, then collective ownership of everything would make sense. No libertarian would dogmatically demand we maintain the concept of private property and homesteading with legal arbitration services if all goods existed in superabundance. If scarcity ceased being a limiting factor, then property would similarly cease being an important concept. There is a reason we don't parcel out oxygen rights for the air we breath. Oxygen is not scarce in any practical sense as it applies to human needs. Every human can breath as much as they want without limiting the ability of anyone else to breath as much as they want. As society becomes wealthier and more physically productive, people are more able to engage in charity and goods naturally become more "common" and shared freely. Scarcity and private property rights become much more important as concepts that closer people are to a subsistence level of existence. A person starving in Africa really loving needs you to recognize his property right in a loaf of bread he acquired and don't even think of asking him to share. But more prosperous societies have the luxury of freely sharing goods that are produced in such abundance that we feel less urgency about attaining what we need to live at a decent standard of living. I'd like you to explain to me the problem with the libertarian understanding of private property. And how, in a world of scarcity, that socialism is a feasible or coherent system? How could the human race have survived without the first-user principle of property acquisition being at least tacitly acknowledged? Left-Progressives always tout the "successes" of social democracies like Sweden or the social welfare State in the United States, but they always (as Scott Horton likes to say) "truncate and antecedents". You know what the best way to attain a small fortune? Start with a large fortune and squander some of your wealth. In example after example, left-progressives tout the relative wealth of modern-day Sweden or post FDR United States forgetting or never understanding that these countries that remain reasonably wealthy and can bear the burden of the socialistic demands on the economy have all, without any notable exceptions, had a lengthy history of laissez-faire free market fueled growth for decades and decades before their governments made a left turn and decided to implement a welfare State. This is absolutely true of the United States from the Industrial Revolution until the Progressive Era of the early to mid 20th century and it is also true of Sweden which had an incredibly laissez-faire free market economy during much of the same period of time and, even after their nominal shift leftward during the mid-20th century, the bulk of the socialist program so loved by leftist commentators is barely forty years old. Getting your cause and effect reasoning straight would do wonders to improve your understanding of these historical events. I'll leave it here for now. I want to try, at least initially, to limit the discussion to property rights as understood by libertarians, and their need under conditions of scarcity. I'd like to hear competing theories of initial property acquisition that make more sense that the first-user principle if you reject that theory.
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Nov 3, 2015 06:27
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bro come on it's late at night i have to smoke a bowl just to parse that
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Nov 3, 2015 06:28
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i think
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Nov 3, 2015 06:29
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Moridin920 posted:bro come on it's late at night there is a gimmick lolbertarian in D&D and they are all going apeshit hth
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Nov 3, 2015 06:29
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We live in a world of scarcity, so I don't have the time to read all that poo poo.
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Nov 3, 2015 06:32
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property only belongs to the strong the weak are simply holding it for a time when a stronger/smarter man can take it from them hail satan evil is good
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Nov 3, 2015 06:41
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sweet jebus im not reading that, gimme some bullet points or something or just kill yourself, whatevs
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Nov 3, 2015 06:56
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please dontr bring dnd into the rowdy trout a snippet or two is okay if theyre really funny but this? 
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Nov 3, 2015 07:39
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I agree/disagree w this, imo
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Nov 3, 2015 07:40
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Blahsmack posted:property only belongs to the strong the weak are simply holding it for a time when a stronger/smarter man can take it from them hail satan evil is good hail satan
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Nov 3, 2015 07:42
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Drink Cheerwine posted:please dontr bring dnd into the rowdy trout Bob: Hey Jane, you see this line I am drawing on the ground. Yeah it makes a box. You can’t come across it or I will beat the poo poo out of you and maybe even put you in a cage. Jane: Whoa Bob. What the gently caress? You been drinking? B: No I am dead serious. J: Alright. I think you are drunk. But maybe you can explain to me why this is legit. Yesterday I could walk across this line. Today you are saying you will beat the poo poo out of me if I do. You didn’t ask me if I was OK with this. So what’s up? B: I get to exclude you from it because I mixed my labor with it, obviously. J: What on earth? How do you mix labor? Labor is a thing you do, not a thing you mix. It is bodily exertions. How can you mix it? Is this some kind of metaphor? Are you writing a poem? B: By mix my labor, I mean, you know, that I did work. And in so doing I mixed what I own (my labor) with something that is not owned (the ground). And when you mix something you own with something you don’t, the product of the two becomes owned by you. J: Once again, you say you are mixing things, but I have no idea if this is symbolic language or what. Labor cannot be mixed. Substances are mixed. What molecules are labor made out of? This is totally incoherent. Besides, even if you could mix labor (you can’t, you drunk fool), why would joining something you own with something that is unowned entitle you to the product of the two? If I mix a can of soup I own into the unowned ocean and the molecules spread evenly throughout, would I own the ocean? Come on now. B: But liberty! J: Liberty? What the hell are you talking about liberty? You are going to physically restrict me from doing stuff I used to do. Your justification, no matter what it ends up being, always takes the form of: 1) I took some unilateral action that nobody asked me to take, and so 2) I get to violently attack people to restrict them from things they used to not be restricted from. How you describe the “unilateral action” might change, but the basic process of arguments here is always the same. This isn’t liberty. It’s the exact opposite. Every little thing you grab up reduces my liberty, my ability to move about as I’d like. I don’t agree to it. You just have decided, like a statist rear end in a top hat, that these economic regulations regarding resource use are good and you are going to violently impose them on me, like a statist rear end in a top hat, without my consent. Action: Jane ignores Bob’s threats of violence and comes into the square of land to play frisbee with her friend. Bob then violently attacks her, all while screaming “my name is Ron Paul and I am the candidate of liberty.”
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Nov 3, 2015 07:46
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Nov 3, 2015 07:48
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now you're making sense! cum! lots of cum in and around my mouth!
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Nov 3, 2015 07:53
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Blahsmack posted:now you're making sense!  
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Nov 3, 2015 07:56
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well i know i warnt descended from no primitive commies!!
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Nov 3, 2015 08:05
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gbs is slowing becoming lf
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Nov 3, 2015 09:38
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VectorSigma posted:gbs is slowing becoming lf good
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Nov 3, 2015 09:42
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i think everybody, including libertarians themselves, would be happy if we rounded up all libertarians, stunned them like cattle, slashed their throats for quick death, and then hung them upside down on meat hooks to drain their blood. and we paid for it all by selling the meat to mcdonald's to make long pig McRibs. I figure all the processing and chemicals they use in making the regular patties would negate any problems with cannibalism. except it isn't really cannibalism, i guess, because libertarians aren't people, they're just...things, I guess? like even fish have a faint spark of something in their eyes, and we eat them just fine. libertarians don't even have that faint spark, they're just bags of possibly delicious flesh that aren't interesting and that no one cares about. a dog or a cat or a homeless person, you torture or kill one and people will get upset. when's the last time that anyone got upset over a libertarian being killed? i don't think other libertarians get upset or care! they're just potential meat, walking around, sucking up air and water and resources and pizza delivery jobs. just render them into protein patties and cut to the chase. in your heart and stomach you know i am talking goddamn correctness.
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Nov 3, 2015 10:38
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a natural right of man is not to read all of that poo poo.
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Nov 3, 2015 11:07
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it's a lot of words to say what can be said in four simple letters: FYGM
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Nov 3, 2015 11:08
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Otisburg posted:it's a lot of words to say what can be said in four simple letters: thanks for the tl;dr brah. that's a lot of wasted internet for "libertarians r dum" op, you should be ashamed for wasting precious resources that could otherwise be dedicated to anime.
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Nov 3, 2015 11:12
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Yudo posted:thanks for the tl;dr brah. that's a lot of wasted internet for "libertarians r dum" op, you should be ashamed for wasting precious resources that could otherwise be dedicated to anime. i sat in my living room sipping my cup of chicory and looking out my window and pondering my choices. overhead flocks of ghang gliders soared through the soot, taking advantage of the unregulated skies to make their morning commute. i shifted, somewhat uncomfrtable. i needed to make a decision soon, before my neighbor rumbled out of his driveway in his abrams tank and the vibrations from the tearing of pavement made the decision for me i read through the billboards on the sidewalk again. joe's sewage: faster than anyone! poo poo-b-gon [as i read the name i silently thanked z0r for the death of the nannu state and the freedom to curse in public]: no clogs! there were five others that i passed over, but i knew, that morning, i was a poo poo-b-gon man. i trotted outside and grabbed the sewage hose that sat dribbling on my lawn. where was the nearest linkup station? i jogged down the street, briefly warming my face on the fire from my neighbor's house, before i tripped on a stray corpse and fell face first onto the sidewalk. as i pushed myself up and wiped the blood [not mine ] from my hands, i saw the linkup station. after paying my thirty dollar day-fee [a small price to pay for fredom] and jogging the mile back to my house, i was soon happily doing my business. like a free man i jammed my foot on the gas and grinned as my engine roared. it was free of catalytic converters and other emasculating controls, and at last, was the robust and mighty machine i had always known it could be. i flipped my sunglasses open and jammed them over my eyes and the cloud of black smoke behind me was witness to the power of my works. ther umble of gravel beneath me was like glorious harmony to the howl of the engine. for nearly fifteen seconds i was grinning like a maniac as the car jolted and crunched down the crumbling street. of course , i had to slow and toss my tiny cube of gold into the toll box, and wait for my neighbor to wave me past, but soon i was back to full speed, living life as free as the birds used to do before we shot them all. i downshifted into third as i caught side of an unfamiliar barricade ahead. smoke rose in a plume behind the stacked wood and bodies. as i came to a stop a man with a cigar gritted in his teeth and a shirt soaked red and cracked sunglasses waved me to roll down my window. "what seems to be the problem?" "new repairs on this stretch. going to need double tolls till weve got it fixed" i grimaced as i searched around my glove box for an extra cube. at this rate id never make the public hanging... i run into the center of bear-baiting ring. my stomach churns as i face the beast. howls and cries from the crowd wash over me like hypodermic needles at the beach. i feint left b ut as i push off the blood-soaked earth my foot explodes throgh the my shoddily-constructed shoe. with a silent curse for whatever nameless ten-year-old sewed it i kick it off and dash to the right. thank z0r i always ccw, i think to myself as i air-somersault past the bear. the crowd of mercenaries roar at the sight of my acrobatics. if i can win the crowd then perhaps the king of this stretch of road will let me go...good thing i have an ace up my sleeve. make that two, i think as i pull out my twin desert eagles, locked and loaded with the finest hollow-tip bullets that our local toy/gun store carry. the recoil from both firing at once knock me back against the blood-drenched wall of the arena but i keep firing at the bear. as it finally staggers back and crashes to the ground i air somersault forward again and kneel, crossing my arms in front of my chest and holding my guns against my shoulders and feeling the cheers of the crowd wash over me. i have won my freedom. i let only the briefest pity for the less skillful travelers wash over me, but content myself with the thought of penning a scathing letter against these mercenaries tonight. then i grin. score one for the market, motherfucker shoeless and gasping i run down the road toward the city, dodging shards of glass and the bones of long dead children. i had paid the last toll with my car itself. once the consortium has purchased enough of sick and dying bodies from the local hospital to grind into cement, we'll have our new roads [or so the ads promise], but it's too late for my car. i hear a faint stirring in the underbrush that stretches out toward the asphalt. with all the nimbleness of an unregulated manufacturer responding to demand, i do a three-quarters cartwheel while simultaneously firing ten shots from my dual DEs. i chuckle at the crashing and groaning from the brush in the silence after my deafening barrage. oen step closer to that new road. i take off running again. by three p.m. i'm at the office. as i approach the elevators there's a deafening crash and smoke comes from behind the elevator doors. i note the name of the manufacturer and use my bleeding feet to write a message of warning on the floor of the hall. i ignore the moans and take the stairs to my office. my manager scuttles toward me as i enter. "eight hours late? you're fired. and you can be sure no other company will hire your scummy rear end in the future" my left eye twitches as i calmly respond. "you forgot one thing." "what's that?" "there's only one monopoly we don't tolerate. a monopoly of force." i backflip as i pull out my DEs and start firing. the screams of the dying fill the air like mercury. this is one market that just got regulated. before i leave the office, i loot the bodies of my dead coworkers, murdered by my hand, like an irs employee mailing a 1040. i leave the office a tomb; a blood offering to the hungry god i worship now. stepping back into the stairwell is like stepping through a looking glass. i am wearing shoes ripped from the dead feet of my former boss. call it an audit. with a ninja's grace i leap from stair to stair as i exit the building. light bulbs flicker and dim; the local smallpox epidemic is two weeks old and they've almost run out of bodies to burn for power. they're talking about charging customers one child per year as fuel. some people were upset about it but at least the government isn't behind it. my shoulders are heaving as i crash through doors into the lobby. a pack of wolves lurk around the receptionist's desk. night is almost here. they begin to howl as i jog outside into the gathering darkness i check my watch—6 oclock. I had meant to run a few errands before going home. Just one, actually. I run down the street until i see a dimly-lit verizon store. the salesman doesn't even blink an eye when i enter, dripping blood and gore, desert eagles jammed in my waist. then i pull out my guns and point them in his face. he blinks. "i paid 5 bucks more last month, you know?" i growl between gritted teeth "so?" he says i put the guns back in my waist. the salesman exhales in relief then i kneel and draw my katana. with one smooth motion i behead the clerk. "i wish to file a complaint," i say, as gouts of arterial blood spray paint the ceiling. at last i'm home. i recline back in my babyskin chair and swirl some orange juice in a mug. as i bring the mug up to my limits i feel a sudden pain in my lip. i fish around in the juice and pull out a shard of glass. rolling my eyes i toss it on the pile in the corner. my pet tiger pads into the room. not for the first time i offer a silent thanks that no gang of criminals can tell me not to keep it. then i see the blood dripping from its jaws. i curse as i ease out of my chair and walk into the next room, following the blood. the corpse of my neighbor's son is still warm on the floor of the kitchen. i turn on the alarm system and set up the house defenses just in time for the doorbell to ring. I look out my front window; my neighbor is carrying a shotgun and has a crazed look on his face. I call out: "What do you want?" "I want that damned tiger." "No." "GIVE ME THE TIGER." "Come and get him." My neighbor shudders as he considers his options: 1) wait to ambush me later, 2) attack now, 3) write a scathing letter and mail it to all our neighbors. He cocks his shotgun and fires it at the door. My defense system activates. With fury and power that would warm the heart of a Blackwater soldier it reduces my neighbor to ash. As the whir of the chainguns slows i walk back to my babyskin chair. it feels soft. it feels warm. it feels like freedom. alarms wake me from my slumber. not my house; the neighborhood coop alarms are ringing. i listen to the sound. next to me my slave girl stirs. i casually backhand her across the mouth to keep her quiet. three horns followed by a low ringing—possible outsider invasion. i check to see that her chains are secure then lower myself out of bed. a low whistel summons my tiger. i press a button next to my bed; a slave child scurries in. i order him to bring me my katana. wrapped in my robe and with my sword strapped across my back i slip outside into the ringing night. the noises are coming from the south. i see a neighbor across the street slap his wife in the face as she begs him not to leave and i thank z0r no slave has tempted me. the light from torches flicker in the distance at the watch point. there are already several neighbors gathered in a circle. i can hear a low muttering but i cannot see what they have surrounded i reach the outside of the circle with my tiger at my side. it carelessly bites one of the men in the circle on the leg. he falls to ground and i take his place and see... it is worse than i had feared...a face as dark and soulless as the night sky looks up at me. tears stream down his face. i shudder at the thought of more of them...out in the darkness...i lope away from the circel and call my tiger to my side. tonight...we hunt i see the fear in their eyes as i approach the campfire. i wear a chain of tiny ears around my neck and my face is spattered with blood. i grip the head of my enemy in my right hand. ashen-faced, my neighbor asks me of the forces in the darkness "it's a group seeking medicine for sick children," i reply. "it was." i suppress a giggle. i toss the little head into the middle of the circle. "are you ok?" one asks the others mumble, afraid to look me in the eyes i look him in the eyes. he twitches. i say "sanity is like a rule. a regulation. i am free." i heft my katana in my right hand, then bring it to his neck "will you question me, or will you do as i say." it is not a question. "a man chooses" i say. they kneel before me. alarms wail in the distance. i see the earth soaked in a tide of blood. i finger the necklace of ears like a rosary. "we are strong," i say. "together we are free". they murmur in assent. one man remains quiet. i remove his head, then hand it to one of my followers. "we are free. put it on a stake, to warn those who would oppose us." i order the rest of the men to secure the neighborhood gold. we will keep it at my house; i will disperse it as necessary. the gold is mine...the precious... ... i sit on a throne of skulls inside my new house. palace. i run my fingers through the head of the slave who kneels at my side. in my other hand i grip the femur of a dead enemy. a slave used a rock to hone the end of the bone to sharp points. the walls and floor are red, spattered with blood and smeared with dirt; the ceiling is black with soot. my tiger stalks outside. when the snows come we move to the caves in the hills for warmth. i will spread my seed. a beast stirs. i breath in the fetid air, thick with blood and death. law is dead. i am the law. the market is dead. i am the market. i scratch at my fur loincloth and crush a louse. government is dead. i am the government. god is dead. i am a god. somewhere in the distance i hear the howl of the alarms and the chatter of guns. and this is heaven. epilogue the cave is dark but warm. the women huddle under furs and blankets for warmth during the day. i lead the hunting parties out in search of game but any creature larger than a chipmunk has long since been slaughtered. we hunt squirrels and rodents with our AK-47s; sometimes a scrap of meat is still left after the hail of bullets. one of the women is heavy with my child. i alone may mate with them. the heads of the men who objected rot on stakes outside the cave mouth. one evening after we have returned from our mighty hunt with two squirrel carcasses and a dead robin someone almost tripped on, we spy a man in the distance staggering toward the cave. we watch as he winds his way through the badlands. black snow falls, mixed with ash. his powder blue shirt is badly torn and bloody and there is no spark in his eyes. he begs us for shelter. i explain that our food supplies are low but that there is room in our cave if he will hunt and accept my rule. he nods, exhausted, and starts to shuffle past me to the fire. then i catch sight of the patch on his sleeve. a stylized white eagle on a field of blue. the mark of the oppressors. i grab his collar and growl in his face "you're one of them" "what? what are you talking about" "one of them. the patch. the eagle." "p-p-please...i just...delivered mail" i grip his throat in my hand and lift him and shout "A CRIMINAL!!!!!" my tribe huddles around me. "HE WORKED...FOR THE GOVERNMENT!!!" i see the rage in their eyes. hooting, they jump up and down, calling for blood. i lower the man to the ground and they mutter with disappointment. i beckon for a slave to bring me my club: all sharpened bone and shattered glass. i put my mouth next to the man's ear and i grasp the club and hold it in front of his eyes. "If you want a vision of the future," I say. "Imagine my warclub, smashing a human face, forever." then i swing it against his head, and it crunches, and he falls to the ground. "we eat meat tonight" I say with a smile. the cheers are deafening.
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Nov 3, 2015 11:35
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i played bioshock it was p. fun imo
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Nov 3, 2015 11:42
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Nefarious posted:i played bioshock it was p. fun imo poo poo controls
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Nov 3, 2015 12:04
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is the joke of this thread that you expect us to actually read what you posted?
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Nov 3, 2015 12:08
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Jukeboxblues posted:is the joke of this thread that you expect us to actually read what you posted? the only joke in this thread is you
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Nov 3, 2015 12:22
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Nefarious posted:the only joke in this thread is you About drat time someone brought back some comedy to these forums.
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Nov 3, 2015 12:23
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I just dropped in to see what recognition my recognition was in
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Nov 3, 2015 12:45
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Actually, all property and rights belong only to he that has the power to seize them by force, OP. Argue all you want, but nothing else is enforceable, and a law that cannot be enforced, even a so-called "natural" law, is no law at all. HTH
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Nov 3, 2015 14:32
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Applewhite posted:Actually, all property and rights belong only to he that has the power to seize them by force, OP. loving wisdom right here. Read it and weep natural law faggos.
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Nov 3, 2015 17:24
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anyone know a good medieval apologetic tract for the manor system
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Nov 3, 2015 17:27
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Children are property
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Nov 3, 2015 21:48
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LegoPirateNinja posted:I just dropped in to see what recognition my recognition was in Also I just dropped in to see what position my physician was in. (It's doggy style)
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Nov 3, 2015 21:57
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My favorite is the bit where lolbertarianism goes all nerd-communism about intellectual property because anime wants to be free.
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Nov 3, 2015 21:58
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Zombie Boat posted:Also what was his name
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Nov 3, 2015 21:59
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| # ? Apr 26, 2024 20:33 |
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ElectricSheep posted:what was his name
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Nov 3, 2015 23:51
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