NCunt: Black Cocks Only

[Guest]

That would make sense if her money is mostly eaten up by a mortgage and her hubby doesn't provide much money.

Her husband did get fired last year. Has she mentioned whether or not he found a new job?

[pibbs]

Truth of the Divine by Best Selling HotDog Girl. Lindsay Ellis
Part 2: Love Has a Nasty Habit of Disappearing Overnight (again her title not mine)
Chapter 7: No Means No
DHI Book Club Discussion by pibbs
protected by Fair Use, bitch


Part Two!

There are Four Parts and 57 chapters. Mother fucker.
Apparently, Lindsay is going to load the beginning of these parts with lots of fluff. Here's the list:

Februaary 1, 2008

One page, one sentence.

ARTICLE 6 Everyone has the right to recognition everywhere as a person before the law.

The Broken Seal
ETI Asylum Seekers Raise an
Existential Legal Question
How do we define human rights for nonhumans?
By Nils Ortega
JANUARY 29, 2008

So, here's the 611 word fake article if you want to read it. I didn't.

SpoilerShow

Hello, Friends and Strangers,
The Cheney administration has pushed back their official information release yet again. We at The Broken Seal have come into possession of documents that may contain an answer as to why, and, dear reader, even I was not prepared for this.
Two individuals of a species called AG-ETI (“amygdaline”) have requested asylum. We know the two only by species code (“AG-ETI”) and their numbers (30 and 31)— AG-ETI-030 and AG-ETI-031. The reason given for this is the same as it would be for any human requesting asylum; AG-ETI-030 and AG-ETI-031 “fear persecution in their home country” and specifically fear persecution “on account of at least one of five protected grounds: race, religion, nationality, political opinion, or particular social group.”
Interesting.
Perhaps we can get into the deep, horrifying implications of this asylum request another day, but what we are dealing with in terms of more practical matters is ...

Had enough?

Chapter 7

Cora jerked herself awake, turning over and smacking her pillow in exhausted frustration.

Does every damn chapter start this way, or only most of them? Then this badly written shit.

The nightmares had resumed their regular schedule; sometimes they were the paralysis kind, but lately, they had been more violent. Tonight’s was the rare combination of an “I have an exam I didn’t study for” stress dream and being hunted by an I Know What You Did Last Summer –style serial killer.

Then she saw what had awakened her, a text message from Sol:
Enola Gay landfall get in here NOW

So, a LOT of inner Cora dialog to say & ain't come back. And she was lying to everyone saying he was in his room brooding. Oh, and she dyed her hair blue, because Lindsay understands that's what the kids are doing these days.

Dr. Sev quit, because military brass said she couldn't talk to the press. Ok.
Big meeting. Where's &. Cora be like, lemme go see. Fortunately, he's back after two weeks,

Then some pointless grandstanding against a man.

“Sit,” said Porter, looking at her.
“I’d rather not,” she said. “He considers me his inferior, and it’s improper for an inferior to sit if their superior is standing.” She was almost proud of how much this excuse she had pulled completely out of her ass sounded legit.

Fine. But don't start complaining when your feet start to hurt after 5 minutes, you fat fuck. What was the point of this? That was the whole of the exchange. Nothing set up. No pay off. What was the fucking point?

Big meeting to get answers from our beloved space raptor about... Enola Gay.

So, &, anything new?
No.
Would the other aliens in the room over know anything?
No.
Did & try to communicate with... Enola Gay.
Yes.
And?
Dunno. They didn't reply.
How many are there?
Don't know.
Are they refugees, ambassadors, hostile?
Don't know.

Riveting shit Lindsay.

They want to take Cora and & to Temecula to survey the site. Of the landing? Lindsay forgot to tell us.

& doesn't want to.
It ain't a request.
Then a thing happens.

Cora’s jaw dropped. Porter was not looking at her but at Ampersand as if to say he had given an order. Why was this order not being followed?
Then the air changed, that thick static that accompanied telekinetic activity, compressing her chest and making it slightly difficult to breathe. Everyone in the room felt it, their wet, beady eyes widening in confusion and a hint of fear. Brigadier General Porter slammed his palms on the desk, and he took in a breath to bark some order, but before he could, every window in the room shattered.

The glass blows outward, and is fiery. Then it does a reverse thing back into it's panes, though the cracks can still be seen.

& does not consent.

You know, Lindsay's triumph of standing up to the evi patriarchy sure does rely on that patriarchy to do very little. Like tranquillizing the fucker, binding his ass, then drag him wherever they want. And if he refuses to speak, waterboard that mother fucker.

& just goes invisible. See? That would have been a good time to tranq him.
But all the brass are written like 1 dimensional characters from a 60's scifi monster movie.

Brigadier General Porter shot to his feet, slamming his hands on the table again as he glared at her. She glared right back. To think, there would have been a time not so long ago when she would have crumbled before a man like that.

FEMINISM!!! All right!

The CIA guy says Cora is going to have to go in &'s place.

End of chapter.

[Guest]

Cora jerked herself

Sick.

[Guest]

she's not nearly as successful as she pretends.

The hard truth is she's not a good enough presenter to be on TV or a good enough writer to be an author.

[Guest]

The hard truth is she's not a good enough presenter to be on TV or a good enough writer to be an author.

She's fat, trashy and hard up enough for money to be a whore, though. That she is good enough for

[wulfenlord]

How much annual royalties does she get from Drawn Together using her personality and physical likeness?

[VoiceOfReasonPast]

Toot is sexier than Lindsay ever was, shitlord.

And I gotta give it to her: She wrote what has got to be the most underwhelming First-Contact-type scenario in all of science fiction. & is literally a brooding hikiNEET who knows nothing and refuses to cooperate with anyone in any way, shape or form. Considering the US government is still putting up with his Spoony-esque tendencies, it is likely that the other space raptors are just as useless.
Add in a stronk female protagonist who is can't do shit because her fuck toy doesn't wanna do anything either, and you have a fully reactive story where the only kind of plot development comes from outside (like the mystery big bang).

[pibbs]

Truth of the Divine by Best Selling HotDog Girl. Lindsay Ellis
Chapter 8: Area Fifty Dumb
DHI Book Club Discussion by pibbs
protected by Fair Use, bitch

Hey, we've got pictures now!



Cora and her wranglers are stuck in traffic on the way to the crash site, because now that everyone knows UFOs and aliens exist, everyone and their grandma are driving out to the landing site.

They’d been stopped dead at this spot close to their exit for a couple of minutes, a billboard on the side of the road that read “Prayer Will Save Us” looming over them. Cora wondered if the billboard was pre-or post-ET-gate.

*Lindsay tips her fedora.

Sol notices Cora seems different lately. And? They kinda rehash everything that hasn't really happened so far. Cora admits she doesn't really know what going on with & these days.

Then a wonderful discussion about PTSD.

“You can’t cure PTSD.”
Cora almost clapped back, “How the fuck would you know?”

Lindsay, how the fuck would you know? All you and your ilk know is the self-diagnosed, pity seeking fake PTSD you get when someone commits a percieved micro-aggression towards you. Grow the fuck up.

“PTSD is like cancer. You don’t cure it. Maybe it goes into remission, but you don’t cure it.”
It was something she hadn’t considered, a thought too ugly to touch, the idea that this might not be temporary. She’d taken for granted that the night terrors were a phase, that Ampersand had such a good grip on human physiology that he would figure it out, eventually find the right brain-button to push and push it, and the symptoms would go away. She had never considered that she might be broken for the rest of her life.

Cora whines and pities herself to Sol, who I think is ready to steer the car into an oncoming semi truck.

“It’s just . . .” She was so tired of keeping her defenses up around him. If he was going to use this vulnerability to savage her later, let him. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t have any support, I don’t have any money, I don’t have any health insurance. And I don’t know what sets me off, it just . . . happens.”

I wonder if Lindsay spent 5 minutes on WebMD or something.

Or the twitter guide to being a modern woman.

“Triggers are never as simple as movies tell you they are. It’s not as simple as, ‘Oh, I got raped at a Starbucks now I go into a panic-rage every time I see the Starbucks logo.’ And when you have all these comorbid conditions, sometimes triggers will be obvious, sometimes they won’t be. A lot of the time, you won’t even know what causes it.”

“Comorbid conditions.” Lindsay is so smart, guise.

Then the worst thing ever to happen to Cora, Sol parks the car and says it would be quicker to walk. OH NO! Trigger. Panic attack! PTSD! Well, not really that last part, but if Lindsay were writing realistic characters, Cora would be whining and bitching about this.

They make it through the police barricade, where thousands of people had gathered on a big grassy field. Maybe to Naruto charge the thing?

Some of them were already starting to get into arguments with the police.
“This is a fucking powder keg,” muttered Sol under his breath.
Indeed it was. Cora had expected people more in the vein of the type who would welcome the alien enlightenment that was being held back by capitalism. But that wasn’t the case at all. Sol pointed to one guy in the crowd, whispering to one of the deputies on top of the van with him, and the deputy hopped off the van and disappeared into the crowd.
“What is it?”
“That guy is packing,” said Sol, nodding into the crowd. “I am concerned.”
Cora looked down at the guy who was “packing,” and he was pretty easy to spot—a white guy...

Sigh. I'm going to pause for a minute.

Continue.

...a white guy in a denim biker jacket with a big beard, he looked like a half-assed attempt at a biker, a Heck’s Lesser Divine Entity, and he had a “Don’t Tread On Me” flag sprouting up from his vest...

Pausing again. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Then some dude in alll black, and black hoodie death stares Cora.

“Where are our leaders?”
Cora looked away from Murderguy toward the source of the voice being carried through a loudspeaker. A man had hopped up on top of a Winnebago some three hundred feet from where she stood, using it as a makeshift stage. The crowd immediately responded to him, turning their aimless churlishness into cheering.
“Where are our leaders?” said the man again, now surer of his footing. The crowd roared their response, agreement, indignation. “And where is the truth?”
It was Jano Miranda.

The guy writing the dumb, boring articles before every section? I... I guess. I don't care. Anyway, he Aragorns a speech to the crowd. A dumb one. Theys been lying to us!

“The biggest scandal in American history,” cried Miranda into the loudspeaker, “and they stay silent!”

Then some dumb, dumb writing.

God, but he was charming. Not in a big, boisterous way but in a vulnerable way, like he could make you feel that he cared about how your day went just by looking at you. He genuinely appeared to be afraid for the people in this crowd, radiated solidarity with them, the “us” united against a nameless, formless “them.”

“God-fucking-damn it, I hate it when they’re good.”
“Who do you mean by ‘they’?” asked Cora.
“These fucking polemicists. You try working in anti-terrorism for a few years. This guy terrifies me both less and more. Less in that I think he’s 900 percent less likely to strap bombs onto his chest and walk into a mall. More in that he’s way smarter and more charismatic than the usual grifter.”
“I don’t even know that I’d call him a grifter,” said Cora, transfixed. “I think he means it.”

He and the crowd start chanting, “Truth is a huuman right!”

She looked back down in the crowd, and there was that guy in the black denim jacket looking her way again. “There’s a guy over there doing a bad job pretending he doesn’t recognize me.”
Sol looked down, scanning the crowd, and upon seeing who she was talking about, his expression turned to alarm. “Shit.”
“Shit?”
“Steer clear of that guy.”
“Should I be afraid?”
“Probably,” he said, speaking through clenched teeth. “Be careful. He’s dangerous.”

I'm only surprised he's not wearing a MAGA hat, Lindsay.

And THEN...

Then, it was as if Earth’s atmosphere split like a glacier breaking in two, and there was a crack like a thunder burst from less than a mile away, but the sky was blue and crisp and clear. The crowd fell silent for only a few seconds before the second noise came, this one deep and sustained, coming not from the direction of the crash site but seemingly from farther away in the mountains, like a giant a mile tall had blown on a tuba. The sound was so loud and deep in frequency it was as though the air itself had turned to molasses. Nearly everyone threw their hands to their ears.

The a shock wave through the ground. Mass panic overtakes the crowd, and they run away, trampling one another like a Travis Scott concert. (I got topical jokes!)

The surge separates Cora and Sol.

Then & sends her a mind message, “I am sending for you.”
As she runs around, she's confronted by “Murderguy,”

“Ampersand, I am in danger,” she said, turning from him and making a beeline for the nearest yard. It was fenced, but at least it wasn’t by a twenty-foot wall. “I need extraction.”
“ You must stay still.”

So, she does the opposite. Then goes still. A transporter disc appears below her feet. How? Fuck you, that's how. Cora evaporates just as Murderguy comes around the corner.

End of chapter.

[wulfenlord]

>We are peaceful, but we are armed

Oh boy Lindy, even my suspension of disbelief can't glance over this Not-Facebook post calling for armed revolution.

“ You must stay still.”

Did & really think he can tell the stronk protagonist Maryx Suex what to do? Without asking for consent?!

[Guest]

Part 2: Love Has a Nasty Habit of Disappearing Overnight (again her title not mine)

Is Lindsay admitting her "lovers" slip out at 5am so they don't have to see the pig they plowed last night?