Becomemysoulreaver
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2019
Almost all new posters since 2019 have been faggots who barely/don't care about the site culture - Let's ban all new registrations for at least a year and cull the herd
- Thread starter Internet War Criminal
- Start date
- Joined
- Dec 18, 2019
Kiwifarms needs new immigrants in order to be able to survive, since oldfags clearly aren't having children. Where you see /pol/tards, I see future doctors, engineers, and scientists.
Also doing this would immediately wipe out 90% of the Lolcow Salon - can't believe OP is so misogynistic...
Also doing this would immediately wipe out 90% of the Lolcow Salon - can't believe OP is so misogynistic...
- Joined
- Dec 28, 2014
All of you are retarded. This community is retarded. You guys have no concept of how to deal with things you don't like and that is absolutely fascinating considering what sort of a forum this is. I don't know how we ended up with a population that is 50% transgender/lgbt-"ally", but it has slowly rotted away at what the very notion of a lolcow is. We've become Imgur-lite, a shitty, reactionary website filled with easily offended prudes who can't even stomach something they don't like being on the same domain name as where they post.
You people are so fucking easy to troll, all one has to do is make an alt account and say something disagreeable to end up with a 400 reply thread in under 12 hours. This has happened numerous times. Introman isn't here to troll, but he knows how preposterously easy it is to offend the LGBT community. He's a contributor to RoK, a troll website, which is the parent company that owns Reaxxion, also a troll website. I've said this multiple fucking times and nobody believes it because you'd all rather cry about dumb shit.
You people are so fucking easy to troll, all one has to do is make an alt account and say something disagreeable to end up with a 400 reply thread in under 12 hours. This has happened numerous times. Introman isn't here to troll, but he knows how preposterously easy it is to offend the LGBT community. He's a contributor to RoK, a troll website, which is the parent company that owns Reaxxion, also a troll website. I've said this multiple fucking times and nobody believes it because you'd all rather cry about dumb shit.
- Joined
- Apr 13, 2019
- Joined
- Mar 21, 2020
I literally have sex with men and somehow OP still manages to be an even bigger faggot than me.
- Joined
- Jan 25, 2022
I am actually voting for network of camps to be set up and gassing OP in all of them.
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2020
- Joined
- Dec 27, 2020
Everyone in this thread is hurting in their own special way
DankSmoker
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jun 30, 2021
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2021
I thought newfag bullying is the natural way to weed people out.
Y'all gotta double your efforts.
Y'all gotta double your efforts.
DankSmoker
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jun 30, 2021
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2013
This is absolutely rich coming from you, @Internet War Criminal. You were doing the exact same thing six years ago.
- Joined
- May 21, 2020
Don't fucking lump with these people. I was a good noodle throughout this site.
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2021
You talk like a fag and your shit's all retarded.
- Joined
- Jan 20, 2019
- Joined
- Dec 16, 2019
- Joined
- Apr 17, 2020
I was returning from a horror convention in Orlando, Florida a few years ago. It was a Sunday afternoon and I was early for my flight, so I stood in line at a busy pizza/pasta kiosk when I recognized a face a few spots behind me. Let's call him "Mr. M". He was from a show I watched as a kid, not the big lead but the “comic relief with heart” character. He was in a few series between the mid-seventies and into the late eighties, along with a series of direct-to-video horror movies in which he put in increasingly Cameron Mitchell-like performances shouting at our hero from behind a desk. His range went from Deputy Sheriff and tough guy in the sixties to Uncle Space Wizard to game show celebrity guest to… the guy in every one of those movies that yells, “You’re a loose cannon! Keep it up and I’ll have your BADGE!”
I took some notice of him at the convention along a line of autograph tables. He was one of about two dozen celebrities sitting at a table in front of a banner, their names boldly announcing them and reminding people who they were with photos from long ago and projects long forgotten by all but the most rabid of fans. It was often a stark contrast between the celebrity in the photos and their current-day reality, a reminder that celebrities are humans and their immortality is limited to the medium that captures them in the moment.
I watched the man discuss the entrée options with the disinterested employee on the other side of the sneeze guard. When he turned to pay, I noticed he wasn’t looking for people in his party and decided he must be traveling alone like me.
Normally, I am an introverted person and I don’t reach out to people, but the man looked so lonely and I was on an usual high after a really fun and eventful experience I decided to catch his attention as he walked by my table.
“Mr. M?,” I said with a smile that matched my excitement.
He stopped abruptly, like someone hit Pause on his remote control. It seemed to pull him out of his fugue, or tear him from the comfort of its darkness, and he looked toward me. Up close, the ravages of the California sun on his leathery, wrinkled face were clear. His eyes fixed on me. He stood about a foot over my head as he tried to figure out who was talking to him. I could smell the cigarette smoke off his dress shirt, faintly masked by Old Spice.
As he stared at me, I said, “If you’re not with anyone, I’d love it if you’d join me. I’ve been a…fa-”
“Fuck you,” he said and resumed his course straight on until he found a two-seater on the far side of the dining area out of my line of sight and sat down alone.
I’m rarely starstruck. Actors and artists are working professionals like anyone else. They can be incredibly guarded because of the nature of their jobs and I don’t take offense when “famous” people are aloof and try to avoid crowds or unwanted attention. People are exhausting, especially when they herd you with unknown expectations and demands. Yeah, it’s part of the job, but it also makes protecting their privacy and personal space all that more important. I’ve had far more gratifying exchanges than rude ones, but “Mr. M” was the one big exception. And I say that not because he dismissed me the way he did, but because of what happened next.
After I gave up on consuming the garbage on my tray, I decided to let what I had managed to eat digest while I checked my texts and Facebook feed. The dining area had cleared out for the most part as flights in the terminal boarded and the lunch rush faded. Someone walked by me and stopped beside my table. I didn’t take notice until the old man spoke to me.
“You think it’s my job to entertain you at lunchtime? Is that what I gotta do, interrupt my lunch to be your little lunch buddy?”
He was seething. The man’s eyes were wide and his dentures bared. I wasn’t sure if he was waiting for an answer or to think of something else to say. What he came up with wasn’t particularly clever, but his delivery was the stuff of his horror movie oeuvre, “FUCK you.” He walked…actually shuffled off…muttering, “stupid fat, faggot.”
I took some notice of him at the convention along a line of autograph tables. He was one of about two dozen celebrities sitting at a table in front of a banner, their names boldly announcing them and reminding people who they were with photos from long ago and projects long forgotten by all but the most rabid of fans. It was often a stark contrast between the celebrity in the photos and their current-day reality, a reminder that celebrities are humans and their immortality is limited to the medium that captures them in the moment.
I watched the man discuss the entrée options with the disinterested employee on the other side of the sneeze guard. When he turned to pay, I noticed he wasn’t looking for people in his party and decided he must be traveling alone like me.
Normally, I am an introverted person and I don’t reach out to people, but the man looked so lonely and I was on an usual high after a really fun and eventful experience I decided to catch his attention as he walked by my table.
“Mr. M?,” I said with a smile that matched my excitement.
He stopped abruptly, like someone hit Pause on his remote control. It seemed to pull him out of his fugue, or tear him from the comfort of its darkness, and he looked toward me. Up close, the ravages of the California sun on his leathery, wrinkled face were clear. His eyes fixed on me. He stood about a foot over my head as he tried to figure out who was talking to him. I could smell the cigarette smoke off his dress shirt, faintly masked by Old Spice.
As he stared at me, I said, “If you’re not with anyone, I’d love it if you’d join me. I’ve been a…fa-”
“Fuck you,” he said and resumed his course straight on until he found a two-seater on the far side of the dining area out of my line of sight and sat down alone.
I’m rarely starstruck. Actors and artists are working professionals like anyone else. They can be incredibly guarded because of the nature of their jobs and I don’t take offense when “famous” people are aloof and try to avoid crowds or unwanted attention. People are exhausting, especially when they herd you with unknown expectations and demands. Yeah, it’s part of the job, but it also makes protecting their privacy and personal space all that more important. I’ve had far more gratifying exchanges than rude ones, but “Mr. M” was the one big exception. And I say that not because he dismissed me the way he did, but because of what happened next.
After I gave up on consuming the garbage on my tray, I decided to let what I had managed to eat digest while I checked my texts and Facebook feed. The dining area had cleared out for the most part as flights in the terminal boarded and the lunch rush faded. Someone walked by me and stopped beside my table. I didn’t take notice until the old man spoke to me.
“You think it’s my job to entertain you at lunchtime? Is that what I gotta do, interrupt my lunch to be your little lunch buddy?”
He was seething. The man’s eyes were wide and his dentures bared. I wasn’t sure if he was waiting for an answer or to think of something else to say. What he came up with wasn’t particularly clever, but his delivery was the stuff of his horror movie oeuvre, “FUCK you.” He walked…actually shuffled off…muttering, “stupid fat, faggot.”