think for yourself.

So it has been quite some time since I have posted here, but I’ve decided that I want to start using this blog again, and hopefully this time I stick with it this time. Hello all once again!

"Where do I get my ideas from? You might as well have asked that of Beethoven. He was goofing around in Germany like everybody else, and all of a sudden this stuff came gushing out of him.
It was music.
I was goofing around like everybody else in Indiana, and all of a sudden stuff came gushing out. It was disgust with civilization."

Kurt Vonnegut, Armageddon In Retrospect. (via masochistmimes)

My Adoption vs. Abortion Story

stfuconservatives:

This was in the STFU inbox. The submitter asked that it be anonymous.

“My adoption story: Get pregnant. Tell loser boyfriend. Be dumped by loser boyfriend. Tell parents. Watch them fall apart. Go to appointments. Take medicine. Stop smoking. Stop drinking. Meet with adoption agency. Pick an adoptive family to meet. Tell extended family & close friends. Close friend tells his mom. Now everybody knows. More appointments. Bed rest. Lose friends. Meet adoptive family. More bed rest. Put body through labor. Have baby. Be told there’s something wrong with baby. Have adoptive family fly back to their homestate because they don’t want a sick baby. See baby transfered to a children’s hopsital. Stay with baby everyday for a week. Be told baby is fine. Be told baby is discharged. Take baby home. Pick new adoptive family to meet. Care for baby for another week. Meet new adoptive family. One last night with the baby. Watch my parents give up their first grandchild. Pretend to move on, when it’s the most impossible thing in the world to do.

 My abortion story: Get pregnant. Tell the one person I trust. Have abortion. Live my life. As someone who’s gone through both - they are not the same & please do not ever let any anti-choice bullshit make you doubt that.”

(Source: stfuconservatives)

"Eleven years later. Numbers have dehumanized us. Over breakfast coffee we read of 40,000 American dead in Vietnam. Instead of vomiting, we reach for the toast. Our morning rush through crowded streets is not to cry murder but to hit that trough before somebody else gobbles our share.
An equation: 40,000 dead men = 3,000 tons of bone and flesh, 124,000 pounds of brain matter, 50,000 gallons of blood, 1,840,000 years of life that will never be lived, 100,000 children who will never be born. (The last we can afford: there are too many starving children in the world already.)
Do we scream in the night when it touches our dreams? No. We don’t dream about it because we don’t think about it; we don’t think about it because we don’t care about it. We are much more interested in law and order, so that American streets may be made safe while we transform those of Vietnam into flowing sewers of blood which we replenish each year by forcing our sons to choose between a prison cell here or a coffin there.
“Every time I look at the flag, my eyes fill with tears.”
Mine too."

Dalton Trumbo, in his 1970 addendum to the introduction of Johnny Got His Gun.

I have to confess, I was, and still am, nervous about making a politics tumblr. I realize I still have only an amateur understanding of numerous things. But I guess that what I am hoping to gain out of this is to express my opinions, form and further refine my opinions or ideals, educate myself, and engage in active discussion and debate.

So uh, here’s to the good- and bad- times ahead, right?

Really? Really.

Read as: This is why I dislike nearly everyone I went to high school with, because they think shit like this is ~uber witty.