Christo posted:

I love how much the doctor screws with him in his story.

"I'm sorry, sir. With your condition survival is unlikely."
"It's worse than we thought. You have 24 hours to live."
"Oh actually looks like we were wrong! You're going to be fine. False alarm!"
"No, wait, forgot to carry the one. You're still hosed. You've got like until morning, tops."

sweeperbravo posted:

A lot of stuff that slides into this thread isn't actually stdh but just stupid poo poo where you wonder why the author bothered to go to the trouble. Lot of content-type overlap with the idiots on social media thread

see also, every post ever made on these forums

Verisimilidude posted:

Pope Corky the IX posted:

I often hear "party school" when someone is trying to explain why they didn't do well in college.

DragQueenofAngmar posted:

Nice dog whistle racism too

EmmyOk posted:

PYF needs to just shut the gently caress about rape in every single lighthearted internet thread imo, the pedantic bullshit was way better than this

Ytlaya posted:

It seems like the "I knew black people with ridiculous names" people are especially common among health care workers. My dad (x-ray tech) and all the nurses he works with mentioned such things on countless occasions. Like you said, he would get extremely defensive and offended if I mentioned that some of the stuff he said is a common urban legend.

The problem is that many people are heavily invested in the stories they tell as part of their identity. By questioning one of their anecdotes, it's like you're denying their very being.To play armchair psychologist, I think it might actually be related to insecurity in some way; like, these people are so desperate to have their stories validated that they find it genuinely hurtful if you're skeptical.

Captain Monkey posted:

Its not. I figure most people didnt make it, but in the end he meets a female astronaut and they hug because they bonded over women in STEM being ok.

Like, this is a definitely parody, its just not particularly well done so its unclear for a while that it is one.

moerketid posted:

People see a reflection of their 15 year old selves and the hatred is basically just "fuckin' kids and their stupid OH GOD WHY DID I DO THAT"

Xen Tricks posted:

I feel like the line between trolling and not with something as idiotic as otherkin is so thin as to basically not matter. It's all patently absurd so what's the difference

http://imgur.com/r/funny/ItWbTzi posted:

I've been holding onto this for years, and I feel like it's time to tell this story to someone. It may seem ridiculous, but this is all true.

When I say I lost the girl of my dreams, I literally mean a girl from my dreams. Ever since I was a kid, I've been able to have incredibly vivid dreams, most of which I can still recall today.

At about the age of 9, I began to have dreams about a specific girl that was also around the age of 9. As a child, I didn't think much of it, just someone to go on adventures with as I slept. We would play in the woods, eat candy, and fight monsters. We would play and protect one another in my silly little dreamland.

As I got older, so did she. We grew up together. And as we grew, so did the complexities of the dreams. We went from some little adventures to creating cities and forests with our minds. Whatever we wanted to bring into existence in our world we created. Trees, buildings, rivers, vehicles, you name it. One thing we created was a skyscraper in the middle of one of our forests, it was tall enough that we could see all that we had created from the top floor and was the focal point of everything. Also, we just thought a skyscraper in the woods was a funny idea.

In one dream, when we were at about the age of 17-18, she even showed me where she lived while I was away, in the real world. She took me to an area of the city that was the more like a ghetto, just a bunch of old rundown apartment buildings. I questioned her living choice, but she told me just to wait until we got inside. To get to where she lived, we had to traverse a variety of obstacles and doing acrobatics I am only capable of accomplishing in my dreams, climbing up the buildings. She finally led me through a window on a fire escape on the fourth or fifth floor, and the inside of this run down building was something I hadn't expected. It was beautiful, with luxuries I've never seen before in the real world, and curtains of many different colors hanging from the walls and ceiling . I remember being awe struck, but in my haze she came up to me and kissed me saying, "I love you." I woke up, sat up in bed, smiled to myself and couldn't help but whisper, "I love you too."

Back in the real world, I was going to school, dating girls, and just living my life. As I grew up my dreams of her and the places we created became fewer, but she and that world continued to come back to me, and I cherished each time I was there all the more.

During my graduate school years I met a girl, she was beautiful, funny, and an all around catch. We dated for a while, and eventually fell in love. I am happy to say that she is now my wife, and I wouldn't trade her for anything. However, on the night I proposed to her, a very happy moment of my life, something unexpected happened and it's something I'm not sure that I'll ever be able to forget.

That night, as I slept, I was whisked away back to a familiar world, but something was wrong. The sky was dark and gray, the city was in ruins, and a brutal never ending wind was blowing through it all. I didn't know what was going on, this had never happened before. The city was usually a bright and vibrant place and it was now reduced to something out of an apocalypse movie. I also couldn't explain the absence of "her," she would usually greet me with a big smile on her face when I dreamed of that place. I looked around for a while until my attention was caught by the skyscraper we had created. The wind and clouds were spiraling around it, emanating from it. I knew she was there, she had to be. I ran out of the ruined city and into our forest, once beautiful and green, now dark and menacing without a single leaf on any tree. It didn't matter, I had to find her.

I made it to the building, most of the windows had been blown out and the walls were crumbling, but it still stood. I ran inside and all the way up to the top and that's where I found her. She was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, holding her face in her hands as the wind howled outside. I walked up behind her and put my hands on her shoulders to comfort her. She was shaking and cold, but she turned towards me and forced a small grin before she began crying again. I leaned down and wrapped my arms around her, my head next to hers. She whispered in my ear, "Do you still love me?" With tears coming to my eyes, I replied, "Always." She squeezed my arms tight and kissed me. Right after that moment, that brief moment, the wind rushed through that place throwing me from the building while leaving her sitting there. I fell to the ground and when I landed, I watched the skyscraper crumble and fall into pieces. I woke up.

It's been about 3 years since that last dream, and I haven't dreamed about her or the world we made since. I would like to see her again, and have my friend back in my dreams, but I don't think that is going to happen.

Don't get me wrong, I am happily married and am living as good a life as I can in the real world. It's just something that has been eating at me for a while and I wanted to share. I know it sounds ridiculous.

Has anyone else had recurring people or places in their dreams like this? Or am I just crazy?

Sorry for the long read, but thanks if you made it this far. If you have some actual advice, I'd like to hear it.

shelley posted:

the This Victorian Life people are huge douchebags who are basically cosplaying idealized versions of what they think Victorian People were like, and then getting super buttmad when people go "why are you dressed like that"

Tunicate posted:

Paladinus posted:

A facebook group for supporters of Hillary Clinton.

Current political climate in the US is perfect for fresh stdh about horrible white men attacking women in the streets with threats of violence in form of well-prepared ten minute long monologues, and marines and policemen, brave patriots of America, standing against looting hoards of thugs who never explicitly said to be black.

Dejawesp posted:

The name was needed because otherwise readers might mistake him for one of the other major civil rights leaders of the time with that appearance.

TheMostFrench posted:

'Also, they touched the flower without asking. Everyone in this class is a rapist.'

System Metternich posted:

ugh

yeah I eat rear end posted:

The woke baby/toddler stories are like the lowest of the low effort stdh's people make up. If you have any recent moms on facebook you'll see that kind of poo poo all the time. It's the next step in obnoxious facebook posting-about-your-kid - first phase is all poop talk and whining about not getting enough sleep, then once they can talk it's their time to show off how well they raised little Kaydyn or Brianthoni so they make up stories like that.

The worst example on my feed is a herbalife mom and every week or so there's another post about her "Herbababy" and how sweet she was to a (poor/black/homeless...pick one or any combination) person and how everyone started crying and her Faith In Humanity has been restored etc, always some story where she just doesn't "get" racism or sexism and laments about the state of society these days. By the way, our doctor said she was by far the healthiest child he's seen in years. Ask me to find out how! #herbalife #herbababy #hashtags.

Jerry Cotton posted:

I too scream before christ.

Catberry posted:

What's with black twitter and sponge bob?

Catberry posted:

I know, I know. I just wonder where the connection comes from.

Reddit posted:

Pardon for my English as it isn't my first language. I was browsing /r/askreddit and came across a thread about whatever happened to that trenchcoat kid at your school. I was that trenchcoat kid and I came back in town and destroyed it (years ago).

As a background, I grew up in a conservative little town in a conversative rural area heavily dominated by religion. This makes people put great stock on moral purity and appearances. Keeping up the facade is the most important thing. Everyone must go to church weekly and people are heavily judged for appearing sinful. This was a bad thing for me as the cards were heavily stacked against me from birth.

You see, I'm a rape baby. My mother lost her parents when she was young and was taken in by her uncle and aunt. The uncle had an important position in the local religious hierarchy. So when he and a couple of his friends started sexually abusing my mom, it was ignored by everyone. When she got pregnant, it was painted at showing that she's a harlot running around seducing married men. She was cast out. Why she didn't move out of town, I don't know, but yeah. There I became into the picture, born out of wedlock and with no father, branded as a sinful outcast.

My childhood was poo poo. I don't go into details, but enough to say that by the time I started going to school, I was quite damaged. School made it worse. I was bullied relentlessly. Teachers were part of it, since they were all part of the religious community, which saw me as stained. Imagine being the only black kid in a town run by KKK and you get close to how it was.

So yeah, in school I became that trenchcoat kid or its local cultural equivelant. I became weird and hostile on purpose to turn people off. People were casting me into the mold of being damaged and stained, so yeah, I took it and turned it into something to protect myself with.

Despite all this opposition, I managed to graduate with decent grades. A distant aunt, my only decent relative, helped me get into a college in an actual city. She was the black sheep of the family and saw herself in me, maybe? Around this time my mother drank herself to death. Can't blame her for it. She had a life insurance policy that helped me study. City life liberated me. I went into therapy and managed to treat the wounds that town had sliced into me. I got rid of that lovely town, but I guess some part of it never left me.

Years went by. I became a sort of... analytical consultant. I work for an international company that does sort of out of the box analysis for other companies. I won't go into details to protect my identity, but we assists in solving all kinds of situations. Well, in my line of work, I'm sometimes called in to help downsizing operations. This sucks, I feel for the people who get fired, but if I wouldn't do it, someone else would. A couple of years ago I got an assignment to go into three different factories and assess them wholesale, then come with a suggestion on which of them to move abroad. My home town was among those three factories.

You see, the lovely town I grew up in was one of those "one smoke stack towns" like we say in my country. There was one factory and some agriculture - everyone worked in those jobs, like 60% of people in the factory. Rest of the economy rolled around supporting the factory and the people working there. Most of the people were looking forward at nothing but a job at the factory after getting out of school. The religious community running the town ran the factory as well. The big shots in the community tended to be bosses in the factory. This meant that the factory wasn't run that well; promotions were based on "holiness", not on merit or skill.

The trip back to the home town was glorious. Most people didn't recognize me at first. The chubby outcast had become outwards just another corporate drone. I inspected all the paperwork, listened all their speeches and lies, audited the processes. In the process I dropped hints and finally they got who I was.

The factory people threw a party for me then for the old times sake. Many of my old school "buddies" were there. We remembered fake good times together. I threw shadow on every part by pulling up some certain event of bullying I had endured, just see the atmosphere turn awkward. Then I laughed at it like it was always a joke and I had grown out of it. Inside I was seething with hatred and enjoying this all. I really loved seeing their faces, seeing what they had become, because gently caress it, I was going to take it all away from them. In the end they seemed relieved, believing that they were lucky it was me doing the audit, that the hometown boy would protect them.

After my visit - lasting a couple of days - was over I cruised around the town in my rented car, just to see how the people lived and to remember what it was like. My state of mind was something close to sexual arousal. I had never understood why people pursue positions of power, but yeah, now I understood.

The rest is, as they say, history. I wrote a really scathing report, documenting every little flaw and mistake ever done in the town plant. I didn't need to lie or fabricate - I simply took things that existed and polished them till they looked even worse than they were. The factory was shut down and in the following three years, the town died. No business venture ever came to replace it. Drug use and alcohol use spiked, as did crime and domestic violence. Lives fell apart, families fell apart. They still haven't recovered, save for a few brighter souls who moved away.

I still stalk them on social media sometimes, enjoying how lovely their lives are, how they all finally got to pay for what they did to me and my mom. I don't feel a slight bit of remorse. If I could do it all again I would - only I'd first make it so I could be present to watch when they received the news about the factory being shut down. Hell, in my fantasy version of the events, I'd stay in town for a year just to see everyone fall apart.

In reality, I will only go there back once - when my uncle finally dies, I'm going to go and piss on his grave.

Piell posted:

6 foot baseball bat lol

Catberry posted:

Had my daily reminder today when I saw a kid clutching a pillar inside a supermarket while laying on the ground. Using his legs to "run" while laying on his side he made sideways laps around the pillar while howling his lungs out because his mom wouldn't let him have something he wanted.

Like this but while clutching a pillar.



How we got to 6 billion people will never cease to amaze me.

walrusman posted:

If it was true, I would sympathize with the lady in the pool story. But how does an unscalable brick wall just appear around a yard big enough to contain a pool, including the front yard which is apparently big enough that she can have an unscalable electronic gate for her driveway?

Byzantine posted:

Or it's because if you ever mention that you don't have or want kids, you get stared at like you just grew another head and then swarmed with "who'll take care of you when you're old" "you'll change your mind" "you were a kid too!" "no see, constant screaming is actually cool and good" "i can't eat ice cream without hiding in a locked off room, but you're weird!" etc. etc. and it really gets loving old.

Haifisch posted:

Haifisch posted:

The hilarious part is that they always name the most filthy casual level of 'sophisticated' things.

"Ah yes, I appreciate the finest artists of history, like...*tries to remember middle school classes* Van Gogh. "

Ein cooler Typ posted: