The problems

Two lines in the log really don't suffice for a particular pile of problems. Nor is really the log the venue for such minutia, so I'm not going to add more there. Instead, I'm going to add more here!

The pile in question :

LordMPofTMSR 38M Master 16h
Not even kidding.

Miss_Asstridⁱ 23F Domme 8h
The subject heading is too long and cuts out. I've no idea what you're not kidding about

LordMPofTMSR 38M Master 2h
Think of it as an intelligence test. That you're failing.

Miss_Asstrid 23F Domme 2h
'How about you drop whatever it is ...'
I'll assume you're some grumpy cuntⁱⁱ that has a problem with me making money?

Miss_Asstrid 23F Domme 2h
Alsoyour previous message should not have been two sentences. Either a whole sentence with a coma for emphasis on the "that you're failing". Although if you wanted to keep it as two sentences, the second should be 'One that you are failing'. Beginning with the word 'That' is grammatically incorrect.

Miss_Asstrid 23F Domme 4m
You failed my intelligence test

LordMPofTMSR 38M Master 1m
Eh, talk to the hand, dorky.

The problems with the pile in question :

• Some chickⁱⁱⁱ thinks that she is making "her own" porn. No male has yet distinguished two cunts to any greater degree than the average duck distinguishes two "different" lampreys, nor ever will, nor ever could ; yet hordes of these unreflective morons imagine they're making "their own" porn. How's this nonsense supposed to work ?! Face down nobody can distinguish "you" from any other self-same "you" and yet somehow, magically, in a fairty-tale that got substituted for reality^iv while nobody was looking...
• Some chick that thinks there can be such a thing as her cunt imagines the process whereby some raindrops end up in all nooks and crannies equates "making money"! How the fuck is that supposed to work ?! Obviously turning on a power hose that pumps however many trillion little bits of confetti stamped with the word "money" (as fucking if) will necessarily result in the useless, obnoxious shit piling in the way but also finding its way everywhere, including in hats, upturned or not, held out or not, by statues, pigeons and whatnot. So ? Has the puddle "made water" by being in rain's way ?
• Some chick that imagines there can be such a thing as her cunt, and that arbitrarily assigns the getting stuffed of her cunt to the passive element in that equation, will then proceed to give rules for my behaviour! Imagine that wonder, it is now "gramatically incorrect" to start sentences with the word "that". Because grammar sometime last Tuesday ceased to be the collected summary of my behaviour, and instead abruptly became the projective tool of some dumb cunt belabouring under gross misapprehensions of self-importance! An infinite history all for naught, make room for "change you can believe in" why don't you!

The problems, in the end, are simply that there can not be any place for punks, irrespective of gender. Nor can punks have a voice, nor can this nonsense carry on. Enough with the ergative fantasy already, it's a played out joke that never was all that funny to begin with.

But at least we gain something from our periplus! We now have a word for punks : we shall call them punks, thereby resolving a most irksome ambiguity where overgrown girlies failed to be correctly distinguished from the ladyship of the Most Serene Republic. We can now say "out of indistinct cunthood the passage of time separates the punks from the ladyship" and in so saying repeat what was before said "in terms that relate to us", and so following.

So following, forever.

1. Originally I wrote out color=punk. I do not believe this was a typo, I rather think it is unfortunately the case browsers don't know how to color punks the color punk.

   And while we're on the subject : punk is not "an insult". Nothing ever is "a categorical label", like that, generically. "Punk" has a specific meaning, it denotes the post-pubescent boy playing the cockrag for an adult male. Like this kid. Because all sort of curiosities may be excused prepubescent boys, and all sorts of stupidities, in the vein of "audito voluptatis pretio puer stertere coepit" or otherwise ; but not of a man.

   The item is then used here metaphorically, but correctly, because I propose to you there exists precisely no difference between the boy who, long past the age when he should have turned into a man, persists instead in playing in boyish ways and the girl who, long past the age when she should have turned into a woman, persists instead in girlish ways. They're punks both, what! [↩]

2. Many years ago, a Romanian moron quit. That momentary inspiration made no difference to him in the end, much like the average drunk's moments of clarity do not coallesce into any sort of useful or even perdurant insight.

   Nevertheless, it makes a difference to they who can read, and understand the written word, and more importantly : deeply and fundamentally grasp that one core truth at the cornerstone of all effectual knowledge and all working wisdom, namely that there's nothing personal about the world. That the world as described by words is the same exact thing as the word experienced ; that there's no particular, priviledged value in the having experienced it, even though it may seem so ; that learning from mistakes doesn't have to be personal, impassionate self-investment -- it can just as well be a disinterested, vicarious glance, and to the exact same effect.

   What the Romanian moron said, inter alia, read

   Am reusit performanta de a ramane in viata, castigand cate ceva si avand un job plin de incercari, drama si nervi. Asta mi-a dat ideea ca sunt pe drumul cel bun si ca trebuie doar sa ma perfectionez. In acest fel am ajuns sa pierd timp, ani, resursa cea mai pretioasa.

   Which you may render as "nothing's quite as damaging as a bad revenue source early on" ; or as "so don't do that" ; or as "the best predictor for a young researcher's future career is name of the first field in which he encounters some success", or whatever else! You could even say "desteptu' face bani din ce doreste, prostu' din ce poate", you could point out that in an inflationary world income's not an absolute, but a relative value -- making less than the most is falling behind, there's no such thing as a "salary" expressed in any unit besides "what fraction is it of the largest salary" -- for the directly obvious reason that the house you want will end up costing whatever someone else can afford to pay for it, and everything else you want also, that's what inflation buys you (no, it's not what you thought it'd buy, of fucking course the fuck not!).

   However you go about it, there's no avoiding the substance of the problem : anything you do besides The Calling, whatever the hell it might be, is a waste of your time and naught else. Duh.

   This very very evil statue of a "grumpy cunt", "old af" inequitable patriarch holding a scythe under the black robes ; and how closing our eyes totally protects from its blade. [↩]

3. And by "some chick" I do not here mean "this" or "that" one. It's not a matter of ones, they're not ones. They're a collective blob, and I mean all of them, each and every one of a large chunk of confused cuntspawn. Each indistinct element, until it manages to distinguish itself in some manner, very well fits the bill, and is very well fit by the bill. [↩]
4. 
   

   Tanquam ex ungue leonem.

   [↩]