Things you have an irrational hatred of

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[BurtReynolds]

The cycle of thirstposting thots and judgmental incels is a very sacred thing that must be conserved. It is our cultural heritage.

[tree_]

Gen Z post

[wease]

Hell yeah let's show those attractive women what's what

I mean they’re beauty bombing a place that was formally a source of joy for the ugmos of the world. Fuck ‘em.

You're a very beautiful man

I'm a 6 on my best day, and that's fine. But thanks!

Don’t sell yourself short. You’re an easy 7.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[wease]

Hell yeah let's show those attractive women what's what

I mean they’re beauty bombing a place that was formally a source of joy for the ugmos of the world. Fuck ‘em.

You're a very beautiful man

I'm a 6 on my best day, and that's fine. But thanks!

Don’t sell yourself short. You’re an easy 7.

Might a nice set of knives push me to an 8?

Paring knives?

[E.H. Ruddock]

This new trend of dudes getting a thigh tattoo

[epilogue]

This new trend of dudes getting a thigh tattoo

what's got you down about it?

[Coach]

I have zero tattoos

[epilogue]

I have zero tattoos

me too!

[epilogue]

Though I've been meaning to change that.

[Coach]

I think I'm good.

[epilogue]

[wease]

Yeah. No tats for Wease. Not my thing.

[BurtReynolds]

I plan on getting one, but I want a particular artist to do it and she lives in LA so it might be awhile.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

Yeah. No tats for Wease. Not my thing.

Same bro

[Bammer]

Bammer got very close once in Vancouver BC but remains ink-free.

[Ello Sailor]

I plan on getting one, but I want a particular artist to do it and she lives in LA so it might be awhile.

Are you going to get "McAfee did nothing wrong" in Chinese characters?

[BurtReynolds]

No I already got this

[Chris_H_2]

Why are some of you being weird and referring to yourselves in the third person?