- Joined
- Aug 1, 2016
Bill is a got-damned 'Merican hero, I tell you hwat!
Inactive Andrew Dobson / Tom Preston / CattyN - STOP DOING SEXIST CRAP
- Thread starter José Mourinho
- Start date
Bill is a got-damned 'Merican hero, I tell you hwat!
Keanu Reeves
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jul 22, 2016
This is some fine Grade A victimization here. He acts like the Gamestop employees were being dicks and not letting him have the precious demo disc, but unlike Dobson, the employees have a job to do and need to follow orders from higher-ups so they dont get fired.
Even if the cashiers agreed with Dobson and knew the demo disc was free, handing it out like that might get them in trouble with their boss.
- Joined
- Feb 25, 2016
If he's so worried about drama and negativity, why doesn't he take a break from Twitter for a change and focus on himself? I'm sure his art could improve if he focused on drawing and re learn the basics if he just stepped away from his phone/desktop or whatever.
- Joined
- Jun 22, 2015
Whatever good, genuine and well intentioned people that might have tried to interact with Dobson have been summarily blown off by him for the horrid affront to his person of disagreeing with him or pointing that he was wrong on any particular topic. There are so "many nasty things in the world" because he attracts it with his obnoxious and condescending attitude.
He can't because he wants to be the center of attention, it is the only way he can be relevant nowadays, even if that means being a professional victim and an attention/drama whore. He is the kind of person that would lather himself with bait chum and then jump into the sea and then ask and woe unironically as to why the sharks are circling to bite his fat ass off.
And he'll never improve further because that would require actual effort and dedication on his behalf, but most importantly he'll need the capacity to recognize to himself that he needs to improve, that he can make mistakes, something that is simply not going to happen when he so adamantly takes every efforts to shield and isolate himself from any sort of criticisms to his work or person.
- Joined
- Oct 1, 2013
True as that maybe, the simple fact of the matter is that he doesn't want to improve. If he did, he wouldn't be bitching about current affairs he knows jack shit about or fish for asspats. And in this point in his life, it'd be kind of late to even consider going back to basics because if he did, he'd more than likely find a way to mess it up or simply just stop making any art all together.
Boson
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Nov 4, 2014
If you surround yourself with SJWs and SJ, you're going to be miserable. Trust me, Dobs. It's a lot less nerve wracking when you don't sit in an echo chamber of how awful the world is.
- Joined
- May 30, 2015
A bit late for Halloween? Aw man, and I found this cool Dobson halloween story! It's a bit long but, please, bear with me.
Dear kiwis, this story is called...
"“So, I am the cartoonist.” a tompreston creepypasta"
Dear kiwis, this story is called...
"“So, I am the cartoonist.” a tompreston creepypasta"
You walk through the crisp fall air, listening to the fallen leaves crunch beneath your footsteps on your way to school. It was only a short walk through a quaint suburban neighborhood to reach your destination, where you went every day to learn just as any other kid.
On the other side of the street you see a group of three of your classmates, talking to each other over several drawings. You hear the blonde one saying something about gay sex. You ignore them and keep walking. Soon you pass two more classmates, a boy and a girl. You can’t remember the boy’s name, it was something silly, and something he had made up himself. Conveniently, he says it right as you walk by.
“Hey there! My name’s Tenko!” he exclaims to no one. You ignore him too, it’s nothing unusual.
You arrive at school and sit down in your desk. Then you realize something.
When did this classroom look so shitty? You think to yourself. Running your hand along the edge of your desk, it feels rough and uneven. Now that you mention it, every single edge of the classroom is jagged and imperfect. How did you not realize this sooner? The surfaces of the classroom were flat and featureless. No shadows or highlights. All the colors seemed bland and boring, like they were only there to fill space…
You focus your attention to the teacher at the front of the room. You swear her face looked completely different a minute ago. And her face from the back of the class…it looks deformed and incomplete. You can only make out two black dots where her eyes should be. Your classmates…when did they all look so similar to each other? You begin to notice more and more details. Objects would disappear when you weren’t looking, someone’s eyes would stray in all different directions for a few seconds, and hands became deformed and contorted without its owner noticing. Nothing looked real or even plausible anymore. You sit in the middle of a class with these freaks with changing bodies and dead, empty faces. What had changed? Or had things always been like this?
The anxiety becomes too much. You are too aware of the inconsistencies. Why did everyone speak like they were following a poorly written script?
…What would happen if you disobeyed the script?
In a panic, you stand up and run to the door. As you grab the door knob is disintegrates into sketchy lines and falls apart as graphite on your fingers. The sketch spreads like a virus. The jagged corners of the walls turn to sketch lines, causing the flat, dull planes of color to erupt and melt onto the floor. You look back to the students. The colors fall off their faces like wax, leaving nothing but the gray sketch of what they once were, and then smearing like wet charcoal. The classroom turns to a sticky gray paste, a smear left by a dirty eraser. You fall into a white nothingness.
After a few seconds you land. Everywhere is white and blinding like a fresh sheet of paper. And then he appears.
It’s a short, fat balding man. He wears a beat up, brown fedora and a bright blue tee-shirt.
“W-who are you…?” you stutter to him.
“So…I’m a cartoonist.”
“What?” you shiver “What do you mean? What am I? What happened to my classroom and…and my world?”
“You’re my character.” He responds “I’ve got tons of them, and they’ve all got minds of their own! Ha ha!”
You hesitate. “Are…are you god?”
This pleases him. “Well, I suppose you could say that. I’m a professional.”
You start to get angry at this pompous man. “You’re a horrible cartoonist.” You yell. “Everything was so wrong. Everything fell apart, it was terrible! If that’s the kind of world you create then you’re no artist, just an amateur!”
He pauses. “I didn’t ask for a critique…” he whispers.
You feel a painful tingle in your leg. You look down to see it fracturing away into a sketch, like every one of your peers. The color on your hands falls off in clumps, like grounded meat. Your face starts to burn from the friction of an eraser and before you can scream, your mouth is gone. Soon you’re nothing but shavings at his feet.
He looks down at your remains. Taking a pencil from behind his ear, he says “Let’s try that again” and creates another character.
On the other side of the street you see a group of three of your classmates, talking to each other over several drawings. You hear the blonde one saying something about gay sex. You ignore them and keep walking. Soon you pass two more classmates, a boy and a girl. You can’t remember the boy’s name, it was something silly, and something he had made up himself. Conveniently, he says it right as you walk by.
“Hey there! My name’s Tenko!” he exclaims to no one. You ignore him too, it’s nothing unusual.
You arrive at school and sit down in your desk. Then you realize something.
When did this classroom look so shitty? You think to yourself. Running your hand along the edge of your desk, it feels rough and uneven. Now that you mention it, every single edge of the classroom is jagged and imperfect. How did you not realize this sooner? The surfaces of the classroom were flat and featureless. No shadows or highlights. All the colors seemed bland and boring, like they were only there to fill space…
You focus your attention to the teacher at the front of the room. You swear her face looked completely different a minute ago. And her face from the back of the class…it looks deformed and incomplete. You can only make out two black dots where her eyes should be. Your classmates…when did they all look so similar to each other? You begin to notice more and more details. Objects would disappear when you weren’t looking, someone’s eyes would stray in all different directions for a few seconds, and hands became deformed and contorted without its owner noticing. Nothing looked real or even plausible anymore. You sit in the middle of a class with these freaks with changing bodies and dead, empty faces. What had changed? Or had things always been like this?
The anxiety becomes too much. You are too aware of the inconsistencies. Why did everyone speak like they were following a poorly written script?
…What would happen if you disobeyed the script?
In a panic, you stand up and run to the door. As you grab the door knob is disintegrates into sketchy lines and falls apart as graphite on your fingers. The sketch spreads like a virus. The jagged corners of the walls turn to sketch lines, causing the flat, dull planes of color to erupt and melt onto the floor. You look back to the students. The colors fall off their faces like wax, leaving nothing but the gray sketch of what they once were, and then smearing like wet charcoal. The classroom turns to a sticky gray paste, a smear left by a dirty eraser. You fall into a white nothingness.
After a few seconds you land. Everywhere is white and blinding like a fresh sheet of paper. And then he appears.
It’s a short, fat balding man. He wears a beat up, brown fedora and a bright blue tee-shirt.
“W-who are you…?” you stutter to him.
“So…I’m a cartoonist.”
“What?” you shiver “What do you mean? What am I? What happened to my classroom and…and my world?”
“You’re my character.” He responds “I’ve got tons of them, and they’ve all got minds of their own! Ha ha!”
You hesitate. “Are…are you god?”
This pleases him. “Well, I suppose you could say that. I’m a professional.”
You start to get angry at this pompous man. “You’re a horrible cartoonist.” You yell. “Everything was so wrong. Everything fell apart, it was terrible! If that’s the kind of world you create then you’re no artist, just an amateur!”
He pauses. “I didn’t ask for a critique…” he whispers.
You feel a painful tingle in your leg. You look down to see it fracturing away into a sketch, like every one of your peers. The color on your hands falls off in clumps, like grounded meat. Your face starts to burn from the friction of an eraser and before you can scream, your mouth is gone. Soon you’re nothing but shavings at his feet.
He looks down at your remains. Taking a pencil from behind his ear, he says “Let’s try that again” and creates another character.
- Joined
- Nov 30, 2015
Something tells me it's something more like: he can't step away from the well if he is himself a well. It would be a better use of his time to boot up Hatoful Boyfriend and hope pigeon viruses aren't actually transmittable via game failure.
- Joined
- Nov 12, 2015
Even if he did it wouldn't amount to anything.
People like Dobson often come up with stuff like that as some sort of Grand Gesture... something they supposedly do to change their dynamic and improve their life. "I'm gonna take a break from twitter", "I'm gonna start exercising", "I'm gonna get my room cleaned", etc. It's an ultimately empty thing that rarely lasts any amount of time and even if it does, it's just that... a gesture. They don't actually change anything about themselves and thus nothing changes about their life.
The closest Dobson does to that are these little spurts of halfassed art. He's too lazy to even follow a pattern of Grand Gestures beyond that, because he's perfectly happy to sit on his ass and change nothing and would prefer to defend that dynamic than alter it.
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2016
Dobson showing how much he sucks at the SJW thing once more.
His instinct is that HillaryDuff can't have done something wrong (she's got a vagina after all), I assume his first comment was meant to go for cultural appropriation...
Also, as stupid and inane as this nonissue might be, the sentence "Why is she getting 100% of the blame?" is a very neat way to highlight Dobson's attitude towards women.
Yes, indeed, why does she get the blame for something she herself decided to do? Oh right, cause Dobson's favorite brand of SJW-koolaid infantilizes women harder than even most chauvinists would dare and directly states that women can never truly have any agency or responsibility of themselves.
CoolGuyHitler
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jan 20, 2016
"I-I-I-I dont get why everyone is so upset. A-are pilgrims racist now? Oh please, tell me what I should think and feel! I can be a good, little, obedient SJW, I promise! Someone? Anyone? I dont want to be left out... *sob*"
-Basically Dobbo
- Joined
- Feb 7, 2013
It's because she was appropriating Puritan stereotype culture.
IT'S A CULTURE NOT A COSTUME
IT'S A CULTURE NOT A COSTUME
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- Joined
- Feb 25, 2013
It's racist because she was having fun!
Also, we all know why Nookie Bear is freaking out about the possibility of Pilgrims being racist, that means he can't use his Blue Bear pilgrim variation avatar and may have to *gasp* draw something new!
Also, we all know why Nookie Bear is freaking out about the possibility of Pilgrims being racist, that means he can't use his Blue Bear pilgrim variation avatar and may have to *gasp* draw something new!
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- Joined
- Mar 23, 2016
I've grown so accustomed to his shitty avatar, I didn't even realize that.
Sweet Jesus, just imagine Dobby sitting in his parent's basement, slapping his face on his face going "So that's why no SJW damsel will give me the time of day!" and fleeing ever deeper into a phantasy world where at some distant point in the future (just when he has finally gotten everything about SJW-dom down), he might have some hanky panky with a dangerhaired she-whale...
- Joined
- Feb 24, 2016
Just watch him jump on the #BanThanksgiving bandwagon when that holiday rolls around.
- Joined
- Oct 1, 2013
I imagine he'll just not have an avatar anymore.
- Joined
- Dec 3, 2013
Kabobs
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Oct 5, 2014
Whaaaaat's wrong with their faces?!
- Joined
- May 18, 2014
- Joined
- Jun 23, 2015
Wait, he draw Link with blond hair!?
I thought that he had a massive hate boner for blond link.
I thought that he had a massive hate boner for blond link.