It’s fine if you hate someone for what they believe, but maybe don’t just flat-out say it? You could phrase it like ‘if ur a terf unfollow me and never speak to me again’ or something without the hateful shaming. I know it’s too late for this post but maybe in the future? :)
i do hate you though, and you should feel ashamed :)
I love the weirdly specific rules that go with answering a riddle. Like, “I Have Two Eyes But I Cannot See: What Am I?” And the answer’s supposed to be the word ‘iridescent’ because ‘two *i*’s’ right, but like. Why can’t the answer be like… A guy with really bad cataracts. Someone wearing a blindfold. My uncle’s dog. Like why does it gotta be deep
“I have a face but no eyes lips or nose, what am I?” Slenderman. Next
It walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon and three legs in the evening. What is it? A dog with a muscular disease.
What has a head, a tail, is brown, and has no legs? Snake.
What disappears when you say it’s name? my brother when it’s his turn to get the trash
I think you have missed the meaning of the riddles
Listen. Listen if I’m trapped between a wall of sentient fire and a goblin mage who will only reveal the one true path across the forbidden glade if I answer his riddles three, I’m not going to waste time struggling for the answer with the deepest life lesson. I’m gonna pick an answer that fits the criteria and I’m gonna stick with it. “A poor man has it and a rich man needs it” it’s a flashlight. They’re in a cave. The poor man is a tour guide. Next Question before my ass burns off, Por Favour
When I asked Ms. Dyer if she could tell me which industry served as Glitterex’s biggest market, her answer was instant: “No, I absolutely know that I can’t.”
I was taken aback. “But you know what it is?”
“Oh, God, yes,” she said, and laughed. “And you would never guess it. Let’s just leave it at that.” I asked if she could tell me why she couldn’t tell me. “Because they don’t want anyone to know that it’s glitter.”
“If I looked at it, I wouldn’t know it was glitter?”
“No, not really.”
“Would I be able to see the glitter?”
“Oh, you’d be able to see something. But it’s — yeah, I can’t.”
I asked if she would tell me off the record. She would not. I asked if she would tell me off the record after this piece was published. She would not. I told her I couldn’t die without knowing. She guided me to the automotive grade pigments.
He also did not want me to visit his glitter factory. The jovial Mr.
Shetty told me over the phone that people have no idea of the scientific
knowledge required to produce glitter, that Glitterex’s glitter-making
technology is some of the most advanced in the world, that people don’t
believe how complicated it is, that he would not allow me to see glitter
being made, that he would not allow me to hear glitter being made, that
I could not even be in the same wing of the building as the room in
which glitter was being made under any circumstance, that even
Glitterex’s clients are not permitted to see their glitter being made,
that he would not reveal the identities of Glitterex’s clients (which
include some of the largest multinational corporations in the world;
eventually, one did consent to be named: thank you, Revlon, Inc.), and
that, fine, I was welcome to come down to Glitterex headquarters to
learn more about what I could not learn about in person.
now THIS is journalism
“Most of the glitter that adorns America’s name brand products is made in one of two places: The first is in New Jersey, but the second, however, is also in New Jersey.”
that is without a doubt the funniest sentence i have ever read
