Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[O]m$: Part Two, Chapters Five and Six

Excerpts from r(E)volutionized contributor John Corry’s satire Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[O]m$

Physical front, back and spine of Corry’s Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[O]m$.

Physical front, back and spine of Corry’s Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[O]m$.

11/19/18, 3:44 pm EST

By John Corry

From the flap:

“Imagine if Tom Wolfe had been born in 1975 and instead of writing 'Radical Chic and Mau-Mauing the Flak Catchers' in 1970, he'd have written a book about the state of society and it's obsession with social media, internet fame and all of the intricacies that go along with it. On shrooms. Using Chuck Palahniuk's 'Pygmy' as his sole piece of inspiration.... you'd have John Corry's 'Phi11y's P-Hines[T] /> #Hardcore Phant-[O]m$'.” -Travis Besecker (author and comedy writer)

After 19-year-old reformed gang member Randall Gähstŭr is brutally murdered at the start of the Baltimore riots of 2015, the subsequent investigation leads both his former closest friends and the two very different special agents assigned to investigating the case into a web of conspiracy involving everything from police corruption, to global world domination, to manipulated/unnecessarily clung-to gang violence (relatively defined), war, and, eventually /> r(E)volution.

Every Monday and Friday, we’ll be releasing 1-2 chapters of r(E)volutionized contributor John Corry’s Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[O]m$. You check it out here, get a free PDF here, or check it out on Amazon, or on Barnes and Noble.

Parental discretion is advised.


April 27th, 2015

9:30 a.m.

Special Agents Gestarrè and Palmer (Gestarrè: the driver) pulled up to a large group of people around a fire hydrant and a basketball net off Diamond and North 22nd Streets in North Philly. There were, maybe, fifteen dudes and chicks all just hanging out, playing ball, smokin’, drinkin’, havin’ a good tyme. There was no telling, from where Palmer was sitting when they pulled up, what, exactly they were smoking (___; #(Gasp!)De-generates! ), but Palmer knew better than to assume that just because they were smoking the reefer (or: anything #Health-Issues ) meant they were dangerouz.

Many of the guys had blue bandanas on; it was quite obvious why there was no red clothing in sight…


Theirs was the eighth cop car to pull up to the scene–

“You can wait in the car,” Gestarrè said after parking, as he got up and out the door.


“Palmer! Not this time.”

The majority of the citizens either stood or sat like nothing was happening, or tried to continue playing basketball, but every time anyone would start dribbling the ball, a cop would order them to stop. ‘You’d better stop that shit there buddy, you’re on thin ice already.’ /> ‘You really wanna make this shit worse?’ Palmer couldn’t hear much from the car, as he did as he was told. It seemed to him like Gestarrè may have known that he wanted to come here, but Palmer didn’t want to make any assumptions–

He opened the window in an attempt to hear a little better.

“Yo, we ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong!” a guy screamed at the cops in the group Gestarrè had just entered. “We just tryna play ball!–”

“What the fuck did we tell you?!” a random officer screamed back, before heading over to the group, and snatching the dude’s ball from his hands–

“Guys, check this out,” the officer said as he returned back to his friends a dozen or so feet away. Once he got there, he took out a pocketknife and stabbed the ball deep enough so the blade was completely covered.

It very quickly deflated–

He laughed, threw the ball onto the ground–

“Plenty of time to exercise in prison dog–

The police stood around talking for a few more minutes, some being blatant dicks, some not, as Palmer sat in his place in the passenger seat, doing his best not to get too ‘involved’. Any time a dude would move, a cop would yell at him, point her/his finger, or, in some cases, even shine out her/his gun in its holster, to subliminally threaten to shoot the guy. There was no talk of arrests as far as Palmer could hear, and it felt to him like the main reason why the police were there at all was so that they could flash their dicks around, and show some people of a ‘less-superior group’ (poor people ($)) who was really boss. Typical shit, no big deal, although Palmer did realize that there may have been something else going on /> like some type of implication of a conspiracy–


He doubted it–

He noticed a dude he’d seen in the precinct a good several times named Chris Johnson (pronounced: Chris Johnson ($)) trying to reason with both sides. Though still repeatedly being taunted by a few officers, he showed no over-passionate discourse or ‘loss of head’–

“Man,” he reasoned. “We just tryna have a good time is all–”

Cop: “Then you shouldn’t be offended by our presence here!”

“But you’re making people anxious. You’re blatantly insulting many of us, if you’re willing to see things from our point of view–”

“If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear–”

“Yes, I realize that, but–”

“Did you just interrupt me, punk?”

“Officer, I respect what you do. Seriously. But this is not called for, man–”

Dude on the side: “Chris, FUCK this motherfucker, man, he just a racist murdera’.”

Calm down Loius!–”

“You think you know how to do our job, Mr. Johnson?” the cop asked.

“Of course not–”

Another dude on the side: “What job? Oppressing poor people, and shooting kids?!–”

Cop to Chris: “Alright, let’s go. Hands behind your back.”

Eventually, more people showed up to the crowd, increasing the total number of civilians now involved to presumably exceed forty, and Chris Johnson continued to peacefully attempt to keep the peace, even as his hands were cuffed, and his voice was muffled. He knew that one more stint in jail, for anything, meant life. There were some things in his past that he wasn’t very proud of (and were always his fault (of course))... Another cop car would show up every five to ten minutes, though Palmer got no radio dispatches throughout this entire time, which was, by no means, normal.

After a few more minutes, with the intensity showing no signs of slowing down, Palmer got impatient. He exited the vehicle with intent to go see what was up, but, as he did so, the situation proved itself to be far worse–

“Man, what the FUCK is this about?!” a dude yelled as he stood up from his seat on the curb. Everyone was now lined up on the curb–

“Yo, calm down, man,” Chris told him with his face glued to the cop car–

“You’d better sit your ass down, boay!” a cop barked at that first speaker, as the cop felt for his gun–

“We gonna sit down for this?!” and the dude turned around with his arms raised to face his comrades who needed encouragement.

They didn’t find any–

Chris continued to try to calm the dude down: “Dawg, this is not the way to do it, just be patient–”

“This is BULLSHIT!!!”

“What’s going on over there?” –Cop from the cop group including Gestarrè still talking normally amongst themselves. “We got a problem?–”

“Cause you’d better have a good lawyer if you do!”

“Man, I–”

“’Maaaaannnngggg, I can’t affa-ord a good law-yee, coppa mang!!” some officer interrupted in an ironically good mocking southern accent (#Irony?OrScience=OOOO )–

“Hey FUCK YOU!!” and another dude (the dude who literally just said: ‘Hey, FUCK YOU!!’) (and not ‘the dude’ from a moment ago) stood up.

“You’d better watch it!!”

“I’m calling my lawyer, this isn’t legal–”

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!”

The cops all scrambled for their guns, as the dude walked away while reaching in his pocket for his cell phone–

“STAND DOWN!” one of them yelled, but the man took no notice. “STAND DOWN. STAND DOWN RIGHT NOW OR WE. WILL. SHOOT!!!”

“Is he under arrest?”


“This isn’t legal!–”

A warning shot went off. Gestarrè and the group of cops hanging out a few feet away finally took some unmistakable general notice. Palmer stopped in his tracks not yet far from Gestarrè’s vehicle.

“You have the right to remain silent!! You are all UNDER ARREST!!!–”


The basketball hit the net and bounced off high into the air. Everyone took notice, Gestarrè and Palmer included, just as much, no more, nor no less, than anyone else. Palmer didn’t know what to make of it, but Gestarrè certainly did, and many others did, in a certain way, as well–

Five bullets sank infinitely deprecatingly into the kid’s body, no older than ten, and he went down immediately upon the first’s impact. Ten more cop cars pulled up to the scene. The basketball stopped abruptly, and didn’t move an inch after landing with a loud ‘plop!’ sound on the belly of its former owner–

The people all stood up, started screaming in emotional pain, anger and disgust–including even a few officers (more than a few). There were a very good number of people there now, definitely enough to consider it a decently sized crowd, or: ‘mob’, as some may say. As those in the newly arrived cop cars ran from their vehicles and toward the curb to point their guns and begin their arrests, Palmer once again couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed.

‘Is it okay because, as studies show, the kid most likely would have grown up to be a gangbanger like the rest of the people in this group ($),’ Palmer thought to himself, still in shock, and a tad disoriented. ‘That most of the people here being arrested have very highly likely robbed, mugged or killed someone sometime even as recent as: in the last few days?!

‘No, that’s called profiling,’ his PC voice said back. ‘And this isn’t exactly the time to be thinking about that anyway, you dick–

‘Because, given their inherently terrible situation since birth, which they had no control over, they had no other choice???!!!’

Gestarrè approached the vehicle…


April 27th, 2015

9:47 a.m.

If it so behooves you to know (which I would hope it would, since I’m the author of this here thing and I’m telling you that it does #PostmodernistThinking #PostmodernismIsWeird #I’mOff-endedByPostmodernism #I’mOffended #OffendedAuthor #SOO-ffendedAuthor*SoOffended ), Herb Pot was still staying on the third floor of the hospital.

Al tried to go see him over the weekend, but the doctors insisted at that time that he wait until Monday. Herb spent the entire time since the cops left in his gloriously padded cell, but was convinced by his doctors to return to his room around 9:30 a.m. that Monday, as they had an inclination to believe he may have reason to expect to have visitors that day (I wonder why o.O).

Herb didn’t detest, didn’t raise an eyebrow.


At first, Herb wasn’t too responsive, just kinda sat there and listened to Al and Candice go on about the most recent episode of Bill Maher or Game of Thrones or whatever cool thing Joe Rogan had said that week. Cheering Herb up, however, proved much more difficult than anyone would have, even wrongfully, anticipated–

Eventually, around the time when Al and Candice started arguing about the logistics of farting in someone else’s bed #NoStainNoFeign , Herb started to nod. Not too long after that, he was back to his normal self: well informed (or: apparently), innocent /> and totally pretentious about it.

:D ><

“Yea, I heard.”

Al was telling him about the Baltimore riots that started only a few days before, getting worse with every minute. With the new implications on how society and people interact(s) provided by the Internet, biased news, hate or information went around like government sponsored crack in the 80’s or wide-spread passionate love for John Stamos–

Herb went on: “Kinda fucked up that shit like this tends to happen every few years, and then, after only a month or so, regardless of what happens with the people directly involved, everyone forgets about it, and we never hear about it again except as a reference the next time it happens, as evidence of what happened the last time it happened. Kinda like gun control after a mass shooting that gun nuts view as necessary in case they ever feel the need to go and do that.”

“Do what?”

“Shoot up a lot of people[3]. Only moral-intellectual reason I can come up with for their attachment to sticking to ideologies that haven’t worked, unless they’ve been brainwashed by someone trying to make money ($). Crazy rednecks (xD). If they didn’t want me to categorize them all that way, then they should have shown more sympathy when people die, instead of immediately running towards their argument just following a mass shooting–an argument that is not based in direct sympathy for those just lost, which any quote-un-quote ‘anti-gun’ argument would be[4]–as if that[5] were a justified way to escape from the reality of the situation (that people are dying[6]). Regardless of whether or not more guns would have helped, which statistics say they wouldn’t, just btw[7], if people are dying, there’s still an issue, be it moral, regulatory or /> epistemological[8]. And once so many people die, it’s fairly obvious that something new needs to be tried, which will not happen if everyone is just screaming at yelling at each other so much that they forget to pay attention to the actual issues, and the fact that change takes time.”

“That was so fucked–”

I dunno though, if I were really into guns,” Herb ignored Al (to Al’s discreet dismay (it wasn’t very discreet x/)). “Like I’m into guitars for example, I’d be pretty pissed if I thought the government was trying to take them away, especially if I felt that my safety would be threatened. I just don’t think that that’s what anyone is really proposing, or at least not anyone smart and decent–”

“Yeah,” Al said back cause he was really pissed off at what Herb had just said XH[9]. “But you’re smart enough to realize that, right now, we need police and government, as evidenced by the fact that there are people out there who think it’s okay to kill others, and that, therefore, fighting over personal hobbies is about as pre-emptive of government-induced slavery, foreign or domestic, as saying that Donald Trump would be a decent president even if he did have a penis[10]. I mean so long as we need police and government, and for the same reasons we need them, we need to be able to protect ourselves, from others and potentially from them because you can’t just assume that all cops are good cops, or that there isn’t some type of conspiracy to enslave the human race when the government can keep secrets from its boss[11]. That’s evidenced by the fact that we need police and government right now,” and he waved his hand, “or so the fucking media tells me–”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Herb borderline IG-NORED #WhatADick(Seriously):!. “I don’t think it makes any sense that it’s harder to get a car–something created and intended for use as transportation, nothing more–than it is a literal killing machine. Of course people should be able to get guns, and to keep them if they’re doing nothing wrong, or if they give no indications to suspect foul play, and I’m not even talking about government here, just from a moral standpoint. But if a guy on the no fly list can buy a gun within a few minutes of shooting up a mall, I dunno what the fuck I’m doing being paranoid about driving after a few beers. I should know how much is too much for me to drive, or I should know that better than a cop, or a law, would, right? Is the difference that I’m statistically more likely to kill someone driving drunk than I am as a mentally ill person playing with a gun and taking it to work because I just saw The Terminator for the first time? As a sane person, given that I’m the only one who knows my body like that (#SingleCauseIC-HOOSEToBe ), I should be the one in charge of it, or at least if we’re going to argue that guns deserve to be in the hands of anyone regardless of their pasts, their mental health, their kids’ mental health, or their histories involving violent action or terrorist-esque sympathies. If a person’s been caught driving recklessly drunk, he must be kept an eye on, and influenced not to drive in such a way again, and if a guy is so dangerous that he’s on the no fucking fly list, then he’s too dangerous to buy a fucking gun. Same thing for people with proven histories of aggressive violence, terrorist sympathies–any type of terrorism, by the way[12]–”

“Well, how do you distinguish?–”

“You look[13]–”

“Yea, but isn’t your opinion of it heavily influenced by media?” Al asked. “More so than any other entity I’d say, and by quite a bit, I’d imagine–”

“Absolutely, but does that replace my own ability to form thoughts and react to the thoughts of others, be they on TV or not?”

“Yes. When they make enough money ($), it does.”

“Fuck you, the right answer was: ‘we’re not talking about epistemology here ;D’[14]–”

“No, but seriously,” Al wasn’t ‘joking’ anymore. “Doesn’t just the obvious potential the media has to influence large groups of people in relation to the question you just asked bring up the argument that they, and the way they argue and express ideas and news, are far more to blame for mass shootings and terrorists than guns, politicians, non-profit organizations, or ‘drunk drivers’ are ($)?–”

“Candice, I think your BF is talkin’ shit to ya–”

“Yea, the media sucks,” Candice said. Candice worked as a researcher for MSNBC (liberal cocksuckers (because that definition is what matters (like, don’t go watch it or anything HORRIBLE like that #SatireCanBeABitch ;))). Herb always liked her, told Al all the time.

She leaned back in her chair, rolled her eyes :! “It’s tough to know how to manipulate a manipulation (#ManipulateAMani-pulation ) of a large group of people, like the media does as an inevitable side-effect. It’s unavoidable, especially when there are so many different groups and specifications involved, perhaps then, also accidentally, making online media more ‘mainstream’ than the ‘mainstream media’[15]. Personally though, I don’t think the threat of losing your job should have any say in any of it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean: if I were to write something, or Julie were to say something (Julie was an anchor) offensive to people, or, worse, damaging to some rich company’s agenda ($) (#RealPC,SuckOn-That,Donald ), we could get fired. We need to hold people acc-ountable: corrupt cops, politicians, business owners and police commissioners just as much as individual muggers, drug dealers and rapists on the other side, perhaps even more to the former because they have more power and voluntarily signed up for more responsibility[16] /> but still–anyone doing wrong. We can’t give precedence or ignorance to any of them ($) for any reason, unless said reason has directly to do with the issue at hand[17]. Morals or ethics don’t see differences between titles, races or categories.”

“I think rape is a little worse–”

“Than what? Murder?”

“Fair point.”

Al’s integrity was compromised :(.

Herb mused: “Well, they’re not all that bad–”

“Herb’s right gurl,” Al interrupted, now completely forgetting about his just-discussed epistemological differences with Herb[18]. “Cops are kinda needed if we’re not all gonna start killing each other over football games or MMA fights–”

“Oh absolutely–”

“But could that be because we’ve made it that way?”

Neither Al nor Candice understood what Herb was trying to say. Al felt his ‘trigger’ almost come back[19] (=o (!)).

“I just mean like maybe it’s everyone constantly being so worried that they’re going to get killed that, ironically, forces people to think that they need to kill, or that killing is ever justified /> perhaps only ever then justified by justice itself–”

“People love to kill,” Candice added gravely.

There was an awkward pause for a few moments before Al broke it.

“So is Miley Cyrus hot? I can’t tell–”


“Yo, what-up guys?”

Hershel walked in. Everyone turned to him. He walked slowly with his eyes unalterably glued to his cell phone turned sideways, held with both his hands.

“Herb, you gotta get a move on in War-for-Love® (ON-LINE MMO, RPG COMPUTER GAME) man, been slacking lately.”

Hershel sat down in a chair next to Al, on the opposite side of Herb’s bed than Candice. War-for-Love® (ONLINE MMO, RPG COMPUTER GAME) was a online massive multiplayer game, available on both android™ (Legal) products and IPhones™ (Legal) #OMGSomeHasn’tBoughtThemOut-Yet?! , that all them had gotten into not long before Randall’s passing. Randall used to be the task force leader–he was quite the dictator about it /> before he fell off (died) #FuckingLazyAss – but now that he couldn’t fulfill his duties–for totally unacceptable reasons–Hershel had taken up the position. He took it very seriously (as he should have XP), and continued to play it throughout this visit with Herb, which Al and Candice very obviously found very rude.


There was an awkward pause just after Hershel sat down. Hershel kept his eyes on his phone, and Al and Candice kept looking back to him, and to each other, until, finally, Al suddenly got up and gave Hershel this big, tight-ass hug that lasted for a good ten seconds, during which Hershel actually stopped playing, and said: “Dude?” like he thought Al was being a dick or some shit.

Hershel, with Al’s arms still wrapped around him and his eyes still closed: “Are you fuckin’ serious?–”

Al hugged tighter.



Finally, Al lifted his head off Hershel’s shoulder, but kept his hands firmly on Hershel’s biceps, looking him straight in the eye, said to him: “We’re here for you, man.” Then he nodded to enforce his honesty (because it very easily could have been taken as slightly satirical (Herb laughed)), and sat back down.

“We’re not that close, huh-huh,” Hershel said with a laugh, as he went back to his duties (War-for-Love® (ONLINE MMO, RPG COMPUTER GAME)). He was in the middle of an attack (:o).

They bullshitted for another ten-to-fifteen minutes, mostly Al and Candice, though Hershel would add his two cents here and there, in between attacks and defenses. As time went on, however, and even over the course of just the first five minutes or so, Herb’s good mood again began to deteriorate, and, by the end of those five minutes, he was even worse than he was before, staring incomprehensibly at the TV showing nothing but footage from the Baltimore riots and saying ‘fuck this’ and ‘fuck that’ (metaphorically)–

‘Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless />

‘Misery, misery, misery…’


Occasionally, he would twitch his head violently to the side[23]. ‘Fuckin’ people love to say fuck without actually saying the word, and because they chastise the people who don’t have that fear so often (the fear of saying the word ‘fuck’) they think it’s justified, they think that they’re making up for it[24],’ he thought in far more words/detail.

‘Ironic considering how much more power people give to their words, rather than their meanings or contexts, and how heavily they cling to them. Not to say that words are bad or not necessary–they are clearly necessary–hell, they’re probably more powerful than anything (!) (which is why words fuck us up so much?), but, sometimes, there are just some things that don’t need to be said–or that are absolutely going to be said regardless of the words used to say them. Words may only speed up or slow down the process (and, also: can be much more easily manipulated than what they actually mean (in many cases)), but manipulation isn’t the purpose of all words (is it???) /> nor could it ever be the end game (I’m losing it again!!)–

‘No I’m not ’losing it’ I’m #GainingIt /> NO–

(I have to lose it) /> ‘Why is that?–


;\\\\!!! :p’


Hershel was getting hungry.

“Yo, I’m fuckin’ hungry, there a cafeteria on this floor?”

“Yea,” Al responded. “I’m getting pretty hungry too, you think you could pick me up a burger and some fries? I can pay you right now.”

He reached into his pocket, pulled some money out and held it up to Hershel’s face.

“Fuckin’ fine ya asshole, I’ll come with you.”

Al stood up–

“I’ll take a chicken Caesar salad with croutons.”

Al slowly scowled down, at Candice as if she just condemned all of humanity to complete annihilation through a text message (with no emojis! :O).

>Intense glare<

>From both sides<

“Fuckin’ fine, but don’t bitch if I put on too much dressing.”

One full puff, is that so hard?!–”

“What’s ‘full’?!?!–’”

Hershel and Al left.

Candice was left alone with a now deeply disturbed and zoned out Herb Pot.

“Herb, are you okay?” she finally asked.

Herb didn’t respond. Candice looked to the ground.

“You know sometimes I wonder if Al and I are going to make it.”


“After three months, I would have thought that we’d be over, you know, given his Slayer obsession, but it’s actually not nearly as bad as I would have thought it would be by now… Heh. We’re actually doing pretty well.”

Herb said nothing. ‘Only three months?’


“I dunno though, still,” Candice continued. “Sometimes I feel that with all of the horrible things going on in the world, why should I get to be so ignorant to let myself be happy, you know? Like… How can that be real for me when there’s so much pain here, and elsewhere, and… well, everywhere it seems.”

>Comfortable(ish) silence<

“Do you think we’re all connected?” she asked.

Herb sighed :!.

“Yea, whatever, I just… I just figured I’d ask–”

“Yea, I think so,” Herb said. Candice’s spirits lifted greatly (=D). “I don’t think it would be possible to exist if we weren’t, nor would it be possible if we all go on thinking that we don’t deserve happiness because so many others need help. When we all feel so alone and strive so hard for something to relate to, the opposite must ring through somewhere as well. Even if it’s only in our heads.”

Candice hesitated.


“Do you still love me?”

:! :! :![26]

Herb sighed heavily (:!...).

“No, Candice, you’re with Al now. What kind of terrible friend do you take me for–”

“That has nothing to do with my question–”

“I don’t love you, Candice. Not in that way anymore–”

“Then why are you like this?”

Herb went back to gray.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like that?”

She pointed to the TV screen where a reporter was trying to interview a protester in Baltimore as if the protester had no right to be doing what he was doing, that he was an absolutely horrible human being for doing what he was doing, but where the protestor also had no balls or brains to talk louder or more coherently (less passionately), without being interrupted with a question about how cops were needed, and incontestably honorable.

“I’m not like that anymore.”

“I’m not talking about the interviewer–”

Al and Hershel walked back in–

Hershel was off his phone!

“DUDE!!!” Al yelled. “Me and Hershel have been talking, and you know how Barry was always really into guns?”

Herb said nothing[27].

“Well, we figure that if we all go in on it–me, you, Hershel and House–and get a bunch of guns, we can easily go and shoot up the motherfucker’s house like he’s a Somalian or a Pittsburg Penguins fan or some shit! And then just blame it on ISIS, Trump, the media, or Russia! OR ON ALL FOUR(s) SIMULTANEOUSLY! That’s even better!!!!–”

Hershel added: “Get the piece of shit back for Randall cause we all know damn well it was him!–”

“Those fuckin’ ‘Special Agents’ were both classic cases of racist shmucks, they all are!” Al yelled. “Look at the TV!”

The TV still showed bullshit–

Hershel: “Show Barry who’s really fuckin’ hardcore!”

“That’s right!”

Al and Hershel continued talking for what felt like forever, trying to get Herb stoked about violent revenge and divided distinct human character[28], but Herb heard none of it. The words meant nothing to him, his perception of them only getting grayer and darker as time went on, and with Candice right there with him. Dark, unnoticed…

Sad, hopeless…

[1] Heat absorption? (‘heat’? XDD)

- So obvious…

[2] Poor baby…

[3] Feeling offended yet? XD <3 ,|,

[4] Even if the argument is wrong, any argument, stemmed from a grief situation, which comes primarily, or obviously, from a place of sympathy or empathy is going to take precedence over an argument which is not. This is not to say that this is ‘morally right’, or ‘intellectually acceptable’, just that it’s human nature, and it would do well for anyone trying to progress an argument (on any side, or in any circumstance) to recognize it (this is a little different when it comes to politics (or: people who actually directly affect policy), but that’s a topic for another time)

[5] Running from an argument (this could all be taken both ways here, by the way, just replace a few words)

[6] Grief is a shitty thing, man (and complicated)

[7] Is he saying ‘by-the-way’? Or ‘bee-tee-double-you’? #VeryImportantQuestions…*TheMostI-mportantQuestions…

[8] Epistemology is the study of knowledge

[9] Like, so pissed off… #WhenPeopleGetPissedOffIsWhenTheArgumentShouldStop (<Sarcasm) #TheCircleOfOffense

[10] *TheBIGGEST *TheBIGGEST *TheBiggestPenis

[11] The government’s boss: the country’s Individual citizens #PeacefulGovernment/PopulaceRel-ationshipsCannotExistInAWorldWhereGovernmentsMustKeepSecretsFromItsCitizens

[12] Please note that background checks are extremely common across the gun industry, and the narrative context in which this conversation appears (i.e. please continue reading, Offended)

[13] Because everything is simple?

[14] This is a joke

- What is knowledge? Obviously, facts affect knowledge pretty directly, but what about emotions? Opinions? A priori knowledge (what you know about the subject beforehand)? Most importantly at this point: the nature of death? Humanity’s relation to it, our fear of it, its mystery?

- (Also: 69th footnote XDDDD #MaturityIsForSaps )

[15] Because ‘online media’ (independent media) actually has Individual artistic goals which aren’t depleted by their need to make money/i.e. because they’re given the opportunity to, they actually give a fuck about their product, more so than they do about making money (which isn’t to say that mainstream media doesn’t also have such a ‘desire to do good’, only that they don’t have the opportunity to, mainly, because of their /> need to ‘make quota’ (?)

[16] And are being paid more (or legally/without constant fear of being jailed for what they’re doing with their lives)

[17] In the case of the police V. criminal: whatever the crime is

[18] Is this one a joke? What does knowledge or the acquisition of knowledge have to do with how people argue? Where they disagree? Whether there is any possibility for mutual understanding? #AllDivisionsBoilDownToDifferencesInEpistemologicalOrientation(MyKnowledgeVs.YourKnowledge)

[19] The term ‘trigger’ is used by PC culture to describe words or phrases that can easily offend people. It originated as the word used to describe a similar phenomenon in soldiers returned home from war who suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder. An ironic contradiction? #We’reAllAss-holes #ButNo,Seriously,TheWayThatPeopleHaveHijackedThatWordIsFuckingTerrible

- Epistemological?

[20] … Epistemological? ;D

[21] So tight… (;)

[22] This may be a point against the way the mainstream media conducts itself, and how it contributes toward the ‘drive towards insanity’ we’ve been seeing in American culture over the past century. Talking about it in regards to ethics is of course appropriate, but that’s a little more complex (and obvious :/), but I do have another question: Is that type of conduct what makes the mainstream media money? Conspiracies aside, if the mainstream media is, as any business in a capitalistic society, all about making money (xP), wouldn’t this be the easiest and most effective way of doing that (through negativity)? And is that, therefore, the reason why they do it, and are they then justified and morally totally let go of? Conspiracies not aside, is there anyone existing who could possibly benefit from playing nonstop negativity on news channels, and producing a kind of ‘must-have’ state when it comes to news, ‘must-have’ or one won’t be part of ‘the conversation’? Is there anyone who may benefit from society going mad, or turning each other, through negativity, intellectual survival spun as primal survival ($), or otherwise? #AndTheyWonderWhyThereAreConspiracyTheorists… #MoneyOverMatter #TheWillToPower

[23] ‘Why the negativity? Why the grouping? Why the nonstop coverage of hate?! FUCK!-

[24] Because they believe that everyone needs to think the same way they do, or else /> the world is doomed!

[25] This is veeeeerrrrryyyyy important here *TheMostImportant(o.O…)

[26] What a stupid question #Like,TheStupidest …

[27] #PCBasicBetchXD (as if there’s anything to say when it comes to guns anyway, ugh)

[28] #Tribalism? (A remnant of? #DividedDistinctHumanCharacter #TheTransitionFromComm-unityIntoIndividualIntoSocietyAndBaclAgain #TheCircleOfForms )