Rita wrote in today, but nobody cares. Not when there’s fresh meat around. Especially fresh meat that spews every non-grievance grievance into an incoherent jumble of white whining*?

Pardon me, "venting."
Ladies and gentlemen, Julia Miller does not whine. She vents.
She starts off whining about smoker’s rights. Now, I’m all for legal drugs and employee rights, and I go back and forth on smoking bans (on one hand: worker safety; on the other hand, smoking sections usually don’t have screaming kids), and I’ve got an eye for implied freedoms in the spirit of the Constitution.
That being said, there is no such thing as even implied smoker’s rights in the Constitution. Unless you interpret a cigarette as an arm you can bear. You can kill people with it, but it’s kind of a slow way isn’t it? I can appreciate you wanting to kill someone slowly and painfully, we all have days like that, but there’s a limit for Pete’s sake! That’s what God gave us Draino and opaque drinks for. I really wish the smoker’s lobby would change their terminology.
Anyway, she wants to be tolerated by employers. Just follow her example!
If that’s acceptable, then let’s take a look at banning obese health care employees. At one time or another, we’ve all been subjected to an enormous person, huffing and puffing, and perspiring, and their flab is laying on some part of our body while tending to their duties. As a smoker with emphysema, I breathe easier, and get around better than most obese people.
…Wow. I’m “subjected” to obese people every day. Depending on your definition of obese (which varies wildly), I’m sadly subjected to my fat ass every moment. Personally I’d rather be subjected to 100 obese people than one superficial self-absorbed wanker like Julia Miller. Unfortunately, I’m also subjected to Julia Millers every day too. Maybe we can get random catty jerk screenings at work?
Reflecting on fat people reminds her that there are other people who aren’t like her, and she totally unravels.
Like Mexicans and presidents!
We have a president who’s selling us out to East Indian nations, while living high on the hog. And, next in line, this once great nation is “hell bent for leather” in becoming the “Northern United States of Mexico.”
And of course she’s a fucking stuck-up godbag as well. As Jesus said, “Ye are the light of the world. Also NO FAT CHICKS.”
Thank God, (oh, no, I dared to mention him) I won’t live to see some of the devastation.
Oh hey! Did you hear about Jessica Ahlquist, Julia Miller? Did you hear how her side totally creamed yours in court? And how your side is totally shitting the bed, threatening her, griping like spoiled children…basically pulling a Julia Miller? And how nothing they can do can change the fact that they lost horribly?
I just thought you might like to hear that. I know I do.
Anyway! Don’t forget to tell us how persecuted white people are!
I’m so Caucasian I glow in the dark, but that’s an atrocity these days. You can celebrate, and days are set aside to celebrate, being anything other than a white, heterosexual person.
First off, if you’re glowing in the dark, that’s not Caucasian. That’s a bioluminescent deep-sea fish. You’re not even a fucking tetrapod. Stop meddling in human sociopolitics, fish.
Second off, as previously stated everywhere else, they do have white hetero pride days. They’re called EVERY DAY. Privilege! LEARN IT.
After taking a dig at people who use a word to describe their ethnicity and their nationality, but before the hilarious parting shot about immigration (please, somebody dig up this woman’s family tree and see if her ancestors came here “the right way”. As in not just showing up and claiming any Indian land you set foot on.), she concludes thus:
Wouldn’t it be a wonderful thing if everyone relearned the meaning of “tolerance,” and truly came here for the right reasons?
The true meaning of tolerance, it turns out, is “don’t be noticeably different than me and if you are, don’t challenge my privilege and assumptions. And don’t leave your house if you’re fat.”
Maybe we should make February “Chain Smoking Snotty White Wanker History Month.” I nominate Julia for the planning committee.
*Speaking of which, if you haven’t already you should go to whitewhine.com. It’s like this letter, only less consolidated.
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On This Day, We Are All Av-I-Tar
Tags: Av-I-Tar, commenting systems, Globe
Surely you’re already familiar with commenting on the Globe’s articles. You don’t register, and nothing is required outside a verification code and a comment. It is simply assumed that you will put in your name, e-mail address and whatnot. It’s also assumed that you won’t use anyone else’s handle or commit sockpuppetry. This assumes honesty and decency which simply doesn’t exist anywhere, especially on the internet and double especially on the Globe’s site. The Globe’s lack of registration is a sitting duck. Any n00b who has difficulty making HTML codes would laugh at this setup.
I think if such a system were to be abused, it would best be abused by folks with the Globe’s best interests in mind. I’ll come back to that.
Another thing you’re probably familiar with is the fact that the Globe comments are batfuck crazy and hateful. In this kingdom of filth, one commenter named Av-I-Tar wears the crown. So Joplin Expats decided to have some fun and pretend to be Av-I-Tar for a while. The real (?) Av-I-Tar flipped his shit, despite the fact that no one could tell the difference between the real and the fake. At least I couldn’t. I’m not convinced that the real Av-I-Tar is just some liberal punking us all, anyway.
Joplin Expats was just up for a bit of fun at the expense of a psycho godbag, and so am I when you scrape the surface, but I see potential for so much more. I propose that EVERYONE post under the name Av-I-Tar. You can mimic his comments, or just write normal ones, it doesn’t matter as long as you use “Av-I-Tar” as your handle.
Perhaps, if enough people abuse the system and render conversations useless, perhaps the Globe’s site designers will be motivated to put some registration system in so we know who it is we’re talking to.
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