you fucking - 必应 词典网络操你妈的1.操你妈的Blitz&/&闪电&nbs... ... 我会赚上几百万 I'm gonna make fucking millions. 操你妈的—— You fucking-- 布兰特？ Brant? ... |例句释义:全部,操你妈的类别:全部,口语,书面语,标题,技术来源:全部,字典,网络难度:全部,简单,中等,难更多例句筛选收起例句筛选1.Put
me2. fucking
be3. fucking , &
4. fucking
think you 5.,
fucking asshole,
6.The gurgling
kill, your
one upside to
8. happened to
fucking pimp .9.Fuck
Fuck you Fuck you Fucking
!10. the public that
to fuck 微软必应词典准确权威无广告下 载 手 机 版 必 应 词 典体 验 P C 版 必 应 词 典© 2016 MicrosoftSpinster aunt can’t shut the fuck up all of a sudden
Categories:
Radical feminist blog discussions can take some interesting turns, some of the interestingest of which arise from the wacky circumstance of Savage Death Island’s status as — and we don’t want this to be true, but true it is — a patriarchal subculture. We can’t exist outside or independently of the dominant culture — nothing can — so we’re stuck trying to invent a post-patriarchal world order from within patriarchy’s crapulent boundaries. Even as we’re relegated to the crapulent lunatic fringe, we’re enfoisted with the crapulent language of patriarchy, and its crapulent traditions and conventions, and its crapulent art. Every time we complain about some particularly crapulent aspect of all this crapulence, we get resisted, often by feminists themselves, because crappy though it may be, this is the only culture we’ve got. We’ve gotten kind of used to it. We forget, pretty often, to question its authority.
Take the other day, when the discussion turned to the crapulence of horndog author Vladimir Nabokov and his icky novel Lolita. I said something like “this is some crapulent kiddie porn shit, yo.”
Whereupon a reader, obviously experiencing one of those spontaneous liberal-dude fugue states that overtake us all from time to time, and careful not to “pick a side of the argument,”
But there is a greater issue at stake here: that of censorship.
You probably remember, couple of days ago, hearing the unmistakable roar of a lobe revving up to about 7800 SPM.* That was my lobe.
What follows is more or less how I responded to the idea that some tiresome dude-novel should be exempt from feminist critique on accounta censorship-is-bad. I had to add some stuff, of course, to prevent this post from being dangerously shortwinded.
1. There is (I said) no greater issue at stake than the liberation of women from patriarchal oppression.
The liberation of women from patriarchal oppression is more important than a man’s right to 24-hour access to poontang. It’s more important than a woman’s right to the performance of sexy empowering femininity. It’s more important than a scholarly analysis of a canonical work. It’s more important than censorship.
Censorship has meant this and that and the other thing over the years. The government won’t let you burn flags. The authorities herd you and your “Who Would Jesus Bomb?” protest sign into a “free speech” zone when Dubya shows up at a rally. The secret police . Your library uses content-control software. The TV network bleeps out your (or Gordon Ramsay’s) F-bombs. The self-censoring Internet feminist uses the word F-bomb instead of the word fuck for no reason.
In the context of Internet feminist discourse, however, censorship seems to be something only feminist dissidents do, probably because we hate freedom! Censorship means “the practice of feminists voicing dissenting opinions on the Global Accords Governing Fair Use of Women.”
According to this interpretation, we Nazi feminists, with our intolerable idea that the fetishization of women’s oppression violates all women, are to be harassed, shouted down, and condemned by the liberal dudes found swinging from every rafter of the Internet, in an effort to suppress our dissent. Why? Apparently because saying “Lolita sucks” is tantamount to demanding a book-burning. Of a beloved, transgressive monument to lyric dudeliness.
Ironically, dudely suppression of feminist dissent is itself censorship, the very -ship that these free speech-lovin’ dudes purport to be against. Censorship is apparently bad only when it threatens to undermine DudeNation’s death-grip on its own sceptre of passion.
2. It is not censorship to advance feminist critiques of dudeliocentric art-porn.
In order to perform actual censorship, a censor must first occupy a position of authority over the censoree, and must be able to command minions sufficient for enforcement. The dudes and dudesses of DudeNation, for example, censor radical feminists all the time. Have you ever seen a radical feminist sitcom, fashion spread, toilet cleaner commercial, or New York Times bestseller?
It’s no secret that this very blog gets hit with DDoS attacks all the flippin’ time. Censorship!
Conversely, radical feminists, dangling by gnarled claws from our remote precipice out in Lunatic Fringe, are in no position to censor anything. We’re not in power. We have no authority. We enjoy little privilege. We command no minions. Even if we wanted to, which we don’t, we couldn’t prevent even one celebrated genius from writing child rape fantasies and calling it art.
About all we can do is advance feminist critiques and submit feminist analyses, both here on the Internet, and through the awesome power of those super-effective patriarchy-busting “THIS DEGRADES WOMEN” stickers hastily applied to American Apparel ads in bus stops. We can argue that the publication and artification of Lolita-esque child rape fantasies contributes to the fetishization of women’s oppression and is therefore antifeminist and inimical to all women generally.
We can also suggest remedies. Such as “if you make pornography you’re a misogynist rape apologist douche, so cut it the fuck out, you dumb fuck.” And also, “if you consume pornography you’re a misogynist rape apologist douche, so cut it the fuck out, you dumb fuck.” In fact, pretty much, “whenever you are anything but wildly enthusiastic about the repeal of male privilege, you’re a dumb fuck doing something you should be cutting the fuck out.”
3. The revolution will render all graphic representations of rape obsolete by smashing the domination/submission paradigm.
Once domination/submission bites the dust as the primary model upon which all human relationships are based, 99.9% of the beloved literary canon will start to look dated, corny, and bigoted, because it was all written in support of, from the point of view of, and under the auspices of patriarchal oppression. By bigots.
In other words, since oppression will cease to be fetishized by the enlightened survivors of the revolution, pornography will cease to exist, all on its own. The demand will evaporate. No censorship required! Just add common sense and simple human compassion!
4. The degree to which the idea of a world in which Shakespeare, Joyce and Nabokov are considered quaint relics of a barbaric age makes one uneasy, it is precisely to that degree that one is imbued with, invested in, and brainwashed by patriarchal mores.
Go ahead. Defend The Taming of the Shrew as a feminist bildungsroman all you want. You know you’re just pulling a bunch of English major bullshit outta your status quo-lovin’ ass.
Is Lolita art? Sure, why not? It’s misogynist, barbaric art that degrades the whole species. Awesome.
Should Lolita be banned? Nah. Banning it, or any other pornographic “work,” would be like trying to treat 2,567,438 purulent boils with a single drop of Boil-Away.** Banning stuff never works. It just creates
shadowy, subterranean subcultures who get off on the bannedness of their precious banned thing.
In any event, banning Lolita would do nothing to eradicate the underlying humanitarian crisis of which it is a symptom. Instead, I suggest a feminist response to pornography that advocates — persistently, and with salty language, ridicule, satire, and shaming — the eradication of any social order predicated on the existence and oppression of a sex class.
___________________
* SPM = Spinspulsations Per Minute
** By Ronco
Computer-generated list of quasi-related posts:
I am so sad about this guy! Apparently I’ve been deleting his comments, which comments...
The kangaroo has heard the arguments, and finds against the defendant. In future, the moderator...
More excerpts from the comments! # Valerie July 11, 2010 at 4:05 pm […] They...
Wow, I nip out to town for a couple of mahi tacos (diet cops, shut...
If a person is lukewarm about the blogulative oeuvre of a given Internet feminist, the...
Powered byMore sex, more money, more freedom.
Get free tips on creating the life you want:
Fuck You Spiritual People For Using Gratitude As A Bypass To Your Anger
Published October 28, 2014&&&&&Categories: ,
Note: This post first appeared on my Facebook page.
and I just played a game after breakfast.
I like playing games. It’s my zone of genius. Creating games that take people into their next layer of depth without them even knowing it.
She was furious at her Wild Soul tank top manufacturer since they’ve delayed the order by months and then shipped them to the wrong address. The whole process has been a clusterfuck.
I told her, “Hey, let’s play a game.”
I want you to say, “Fuck… then whatever you’re mad at.”
I started.
“Fuck Best Buy and their store hours, making me come back today after wasting an hour there trying to buy a fucking iPhone 6.”
“Fuck this tank top manufacturer…”
“Fuck working so hard all the time, can’t I just win at life now and call it quits?”
“Fuck doing anything that doesn’t feel good.”
We expressed and expressed and expressed our anger at everything and everything. Even towards each other.
“Fuck you for being cheap.”
“Fuck you for buying organic everything. That shit’s like twice as expensive.”
“Fuck you for being so perfect and fucking me all the time. You’ve raised the bar to an unreasonable level. No human being can live up to this standard.”
Sometimes we laughed after finishing a sentence. Sometimes I felt a release in my body after saying something that I had been bottling up. And sometimes the sentence that came out of my mouth was so ridiculous, I thought, “Really?! A piece of me actually thinks that?”
At one point Liz expressed anger towards someone special in her life, then she said, but “I’m grateful for…”
I cut her off and said, “Wrong game.”
Then I said, “Fuck you spiritual people for using gratitude as a bypass to your anger.”
We looked at each other with a nod.
Liz said, “you better write that one down.”
So I just did.
After posting the status above on my wall in the morning, people started jumped in left and right with their own fucks.
Some posts made me laugh. Some made me cry. Some made me feel happy that someone thousands of miles away got to take a weight off of their chest.
I jumped back in later in the afternoon because I realized that I wasn’t fresh out of fucks yet.
“But wait! There’s more!
Fuck the rich white men who are raping the planet in their rush for lining their pockets with more and more and more.
Fuck all my teachers (Martha Beck, David Deida, Laura Hames Franklin, etc) for pulling me onto this spiritual path. Because now there is no turning back to my old life, even if it sucked and I was in pain all the time. Arrrrgh. Motherfucker!
Fuck men for not stepping up. I want to shake most of you. Do you know how magnificent your lives could be with the smallest tweaks? It breaks my fucking heart.
Fuck Monsanto. Fuck Koch Industries. Fuck Philip Morris. Fuck any company that puts profits over people and over the environment. You stupid retarded motherfuckers. Don’t you see you’re just causing more suffering in the world?
Fuck religion. Fuck religion and the separation that it’s causing in the world. Fuck it for completely setting me up for failure in life. Fuck it for making me feel guilty to be a motherfucking human being. All paths lead to Rome you stupid fucks.
Fuck this laptop. I want to be fucking and dancing and climbing on trees and walking by the beach. Not looking at this hunk of glass, metal, and plastic.
Fuck everything about food in this country. Everything is a chemical shitstorm.
Fuck me for playing small still. There are so many areas that I can be playing 100x bigger still. But I’m afraid no one will love me anymore.”
And then I unleashed a whole new set of fucks a couple of hours later.
“I can Fuck all day and night…
Fuck people who prey on the weak to make a living.
Fuck marketers who sell shitty products with slick sales letters or get people signed up on shitty continuity programs.
Fuck The 4 Hour Work Week. Tim Ferriss doesn’t work four hours a week. Working four hours a week is just about the worst goal to strive for when starting a company.
Fuck people who exaggerate results to sell products and services.
Fuck The American Dream.
Fuck waiting for my mom to die to share my heart.
Fuck sitting.
Fuck high fructose corn syrup.
Fuck inefficiency in large corporations and the government.
Fuck Montana and Wyoming for being so beautiful.
Fuck clutter.
Fuck your art. Not the art that you share, but the art that you hide from the world because you think it’s not good enough. That’s a lie that you’re telling yourself to keep playing small.
Fuck trying to outsource and automate every single thing in your life. Are you just going to sit all day and do nothing like the humans did in WALL-E or Idiocracy?
Fuck anyone who thinks they can be an asshole or stop contributing to society because they “earned it.”
Fuck me for ever blaming anybody but myself for the levels of success, happiness, sex, or money that I allow into my life. I’m only a victim when I choose to be.
Fuck you for watching and not playing along. Life is not a spectator sport motherfucker.”
I sent another set of fucks to a friend who I’m doing a daily journaling practice with.
I gave Liz some more fucks throughout the day and in between coaching calls. Fucks with our clothes on.
“Fuck you for smelling so delicious all the time!”
“Fuck you for being able to handle anything that I throw at you.”
Then as the day came to a close, I felt a space in my body that wasn’t there before.
Because it was all full of fucks earlier.
And now I had zero fucks to give.
As it should be.
PS – Enjoyed this article? You’ll love the follow-up I wrote called .
PPS – What are you bottling up? Feel free to play along with us
or in the comments below. The prompt is: “Fuck… whatever you’re mad at.”
PPPS – You can also play this game in your men’s group, with your coach, with your partner, or alone in your journal. Get that shit out of your body!
Related Articles You Might Like:
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
Pingback: ()
& 2016 Hrostoski LLC. All Rights Reserved.
& Website by .评论列表（网友评论仅供网友表达个人看法，并不表明本站同意其观点或证实其描述）
精彩栏目推荐