There was a time when my life had gone to shit. We started writing songs for the fuck of it, and they were honestly not compelling songs. But it was cool because Patrick came over and we did it as friends; we ate burritos and hung out. I think there’s this bizarre thing when you come to people’s towns and you’re doing a band, people think you’re these toys they can put in the toy chest when you go away and you don’t do anything else. It’s way more like Toy Story where you live your lives between those moments, too. I was the best man at Patrick’s wedding. Life keeps going on regardless to what’s going on with your band. For me, Patrick has always instructed me on how to live. Regardless of whether Fall Out Boy existed, I would still need to be friends with Patrick. If anything, he opened me up to different bands and music. He’s a good friend for me.
“They say I have a sweet ass, nice tits, a real pretty dress. They say I’m their future wife, or I’d look good with their dick in my mouth. They try (and probably succeed at times) to take pictures down my shirt. They ask if they can get my number, they ask where I live, why I’m not smiling, why my boyfriend lets me walk around by myself. Then they ask why I’m such a bitch, if my pussy is made of ice. They say that they never do this, as though I’ve somehow driven them to inappropriate behavior and deserve it. They say they’re just having fun, trying to pay me a compliment. Pretty frequently they get mean, slipping into a loud tourettes-like chant of bitch-whore-cunt-slut.
Before you try to tell me that it’s because I take my clothes off for a living, let me tell you that this started way before I was 18. Let me tell you that every single woman I know has at least one truly terrifying story of street harassment and a whole bunch of other stories that are merely insulting or annoying. Let me remind you that in a room of pornography fans, who have actually seen me with a dick in my mouth and who can buy a replica of my vagina in a can or box, I am treated with far more respect than I am walking down the street.”
This machine allows anyone to work for minimum wage for as long as they like. Turning the crank on the side releases one penny every 4.97 seconds, for a total of $7.25 per hour. This corresponds to minimum wage for a person in New York. This piece is brilliant on multiple levels, particularly as social commentary. Without a doubt, most people who started operating the machine for fun would quickly grow disheartened and stop when realizing just how little they’re earning by turning this mindless crank. A person would then conceivably realize that this is what nearly two million people in the United States do every day…at much harder jobs than turning a crank. This turns the piece into a simple, yet effective argument for raising the minimum wage.
No Woman Spends Tons Of Money On A Hobby She’s Not Into To Impress A Man-Child Trapped In Perpetual Boyhood When She Could Buy Things She Actually Likes
A Very Strongly Worded Letter To Misogynistic Gamer-Bros by LoudBlackRam