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Posts That Were Thanked by A College Professor

  1. D-Bonglord Tuskegee Airman
    Originally posted by Jiggaboo_Johnson You find intelligence intimidating?

    No, I'm saying men in general do so they cope by saying shes ugly because they are threatened by a woman smarter than them. I find it sexy!



    Originally posted by vindicktive vinny how does one discharges intelligence

    hurr durr english
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  2. she looks like a boy with a mom who desperately wants a trans kid
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  3. aldra JIDF Controlled Opposition
    lego hair for life
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  4. Meikai Heck This Schlong
    i'd let her peg me
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  5. kick Tuskegee Airman [discourteously tickle this dendrolagus]
    Originally posted by Donald Trump What is the point in this question if we don't even know what your degree is in?

    Yeah your qualification in women's studies? Your degree in racial wokeness?

    No offense, but hope you drown yourself in debt to qualify if those are your degrees.

    Soy bro,

    actually, I am trying to go be a paeleontologist, not like alan grant, but like a professional... Who contributes. I have some credits, I like and miss school, I just don't want to get caught up in the whole, "greek life" because, I'm gifted, I know it. I'm not going to just sit around with sigmas all day and flex on them. Because they need to have their work too. But I don't want to get disenfranchised. In all reality, yea, I'll break bread with the short guys, but they have to put in work too. They can do it, I did it. My parents both have degrees they worked for, my father a law degree. They both busted their butts to get it in. And even like Bobby Carpenter said, nothing comes on a silver platter, that's true.

    I don't care if my calibrated peer review gave niggas a head ache, the nuts and bolts assemble it like a well refined smooth oiled machine. And my roomate who is an engineer, he even said, 'd sit there and ask me how to spell. He said, "Engineers can't spell". Using spell check is not a fire alarm, man.
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  6. i can actually see you doing that

    “YOU OKAY THERE PARD? A LIL FLUSH COME ACROSS YOUR VISAGE- CAN I OFFER YE A SASPARIL?
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  7. CandyRein Black Hole


    4 sho…. Just hit me up

    ❤️
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  8. FreeAssange Houston [our argentine adverbial dick]
    I can't tell if it's useless, or a new religion, or what. I figured here would be a good place for feedback if anyone is so inclined.

    ================================

    Part I

    From the womb
    I am surrounded by the action of the universe.
    I feel my own weight.
    I am placed.
    My place is a sphere and
    I am at the center of it.

    And every moment of every day of this, my life
    my senses—the middle men for everything I know—
    tell me the whole universe spreads out from me,
    always,
    in every direction.

    I walk.
    A tree comes into view, and a rock...
    They slide toward the center of the universe as I approach,
    then slide again away from the center with my progress
    until they are gone.

    Along the way I discover fire
    and suddenly,
    because I will it,
    the rocks and the trees are transformed
    into tools and resources.

    I am pleased.
    I have expressed my rationality in the physical world
    by acting in terms of it as it really is.

    I call this expression of my rationality "science"
    and suddenly the universe
    is pressed into the service of my desires.
    But my desires (I discover soon enough)
    are limitless.

    I will be busy until the end of...
    the end of...
    time.

    I explore time, using my science,
    and discover I can see the universe without me.
    And beyond that I see the birth of the universe itself
    until I realize I am looking at the death of a universe without me
    and the distance of both is one eternity.
    They meet in the middle and there I am.

    I stand back and from the middle of eternity I look at what I have done to the rocks and the trees.
    I consider the breadth of my knowledge;
    It, my science, is a marvel.
    It is my tremendous achievement:
    an immeasurable accumulation of intelligence across ages.
    I am Scientific Man.

    Take a look at me:
    Scientific Man in the middle of all there is
    has been
    or ever will be,
    forever expressing his rationality in the physical world around him,
    wielding his tools,
    consuming his resources,
    striding across the universe,
    straddling eternities.

    I am the master of all that exists.
    I am impressive.
    I am lovely.
    I am dangerous.
    I am a very clever monkey.

    Part II

    One day, something remarkable
    and very troubling happened
    to the clever monkey.

    I had had some project or another
    underway, that day, and I was
    busy with the earth and my objects
    and my science.

    Behind me, as usual,
    my desire grunted and grumbled impatiently.

    In the course of my work,
    I found myself contemplating for their suitability
    the properties of a number of objects in the area.

    Suddenly, I gasped out loud
    and jumped to my feet
    trembling and deeply unsettled.

    One of the objects,
    as I was contemplating it,
    unexpectedly contemplated me back.

    There was nothing in all my experience,
    in all my science,
    to prepare me for this,
    for being the object of contemplation.

    So I, clever monkey,
    simply stood and stared
    rooted like a tree to the spot where I stood,
    immobile as a rock.

    And then I noticed there were others.
    Many, in fact.
    Many objects contemplating me,
    looking back at me.

    For a man of science, of course,
    it was unnerving—
    in the physical world,
    one is never the object of one's object.

    I marshaled my cleverest science
    hoping to find some way to fold these new and unique objects
    into my rational, self-centered approach to the universe.

    But in the end,
    only Linnaeus, of all my scientific brethren,
    could offer help: I could only name them.

    From then on,
    the contemplating objects of contemplation were called You.
    And falling out of the nature of the thing,
    I became Me.

    So there is Me,
    in the middle of the universe,
    at the center of time
    observing the objects around me.

    And there, observing Me back, are You,
    and You, and You.
    And You. Observing Me!
    You. Me.
    Me circle cautiously.
    You circle Me,
    and Me ape You.

    Me are fascinated that You find Me so exceedingly interesting.
    Me mesmerizes You,
    and Me cannot tear Me eyes away.

    Then I notice that You contemplate Me from the middle of the universe,
    and from the center of time.
    Move! Move!
    You cannot be in the place of Me!

    Me science strains to account for You implications.
    You are Me when You observe Me,
    and Me is You,
    but the impossibility of it cuts Me adrift.
    Blind, deaf, disembodied,
    out of place, out of time.
    Me senses are discredited;
    no longer trustworthy,
    and all Me knowledge begins to wash away like sand under a torrent...

    Me begins to sense You are the enemy of Me,
    and You begin to hate Me.
    Me hate You and curse the day Me first saw You,
    You tell Me,
    snarling with Me hate
    and Me terror
    and Me loss.

    I need a place to think
    and so I find a place in which all the objects are proper ones.
    I conclude since there can be only one center of the universe,
    there can only be one Me.
    And that Me is I.

    So I tried to ignore you
    and concentrate only on those objects that behaved.
    I tried and sometimes succeeded.
    But, despite my best efforts,
    I found my attention irresistibly and repeatedly
    drawn back to You.

    I couldn't seem to leave well enough alone,
    and no sooner would my attention alight on You
    than I would find my attention rewarded
    with another spate of mule-headed mischief.

    It was frustrating, frankly, and it made me angry.
    And the more I dealt with you, the angrier I got.

    So, when You or You came into view,
    I turned away.
    It was I and my objects
    there at the center of the universe
    in the middle of time.

    Oh, my science!
    I am awed by your scale and your complexity.
    But, I have discovered,
    You are more complex still.

    Scientific Man, you are clever,
    but, I have discovered,
    You are cleverer still.

    You laugh. Science never laughs.
    You cry. Science never cries.
    Though science understands the human eye,
    science cannot see You eyes.
    You eyes sometimes cloud with sadness,
    You eyes sometimes sparkle with joy,
    Sometimes You eyes narrow with suspicion.
    Sometimes they flash with anger.
    Sometimes they harden into hatred.

    To all these, science is blind
    and it would break
    your heart, Science,
    if you could see beauty.

    And oh, my science,
    unlike you,
    You can feel my pain.

    I have discovered why I cannot seem to ignore You
    to eliminate You
    to live isolated and satisfied with Me science and Me objects—
    a very clever monkey
    in the middle of the universe
    and the center of time.

    Because I hate, and love,
    and feel sorrow, and joy.
    Because I am You.

    Part III

    Clearly Scientific Man is inadequate to explain
    both Me and You.
    I need to find a fuller man,
    a man who can include the reality of Scientific Man,
    and exceed him.

    Like Scientific Man,
    my new man must express his rationality in the real world.
    To be more fully real
    he must act in terms of the world as it really is.
    But my new man must also account
    for the impossible paradox
    of the individual centrality
    of all the Me and You.

    And so, for the first time since the womb,
    I step back from my senses,
    I step back from the information they feed me—
    a small step to suspend—
    suspend—
    the basis for all my rational action.

    I say:
    Oh You, and You, and You, and You:
    I grant you Me and I am You and
    You and Me are equally in the center of the universe.
    ...and the immediate benefit is astonishing...

    Where before my world was limited
    to all the objects around me,
    now to that objective reality is added a new realm.

    Suddenly, society spreads out before me.
    And politics, likewise,
    like the lights of a city coming on as dusk passes.
    And politics and society blaze out into the falling night,
    lighting the darkness.

    And I have a new man.
    I consider what to name him.

    I discover I can send ripples of understanding through my societies.
    So do I call my new man social man?

    I learn I can act reasonably in political ways.
    So do I call my new man political man?

    No, there is a better name for the Scientific Man
    who has suspended for a bit his science,
    his senses,
    his relationship with the rocks and the trees.

    I look out on the vast city below
    stretching out in a yellow haze
    into an endless sea of lights
    blinking on and blinking on...

    I stretch out my hands
    and there is a pipe organ before me
    as large as a mountain
    and my fingers are spread a mile wide
    over the keys.

    I drop my hands and an enormous chord—
    a giant urgent Beethoven chord—
    swells up out of the earth
    and flows lava-like with power out over the city.

    The city below me shudders in recognition.
    And by that shudder
    I know I have expressed something true.

    The shudder shared as it washed over the city
    is the mutually shared recognition of the truth I have expressed
    and the new man is thus discovered acting rationally
    in terms of the universe as it really is.

    How much more deeply rational becomes clear
    as I consider the nature of this discovery.
    For this discovery, unlike the discoveries of Scientific Man,
    cannot be made by Me acting alone in the physical world,
    nor by You acting alone in the physical world,
    but requires the higher reality of both
    You and Me acting together in the world.

    The truth just discovered
    required the creation and the validation—
    the chord and the shudder.

    This man who, with humanity, shudders
    at the power of truth—
    this politicized, socialized man,
    this Scientific Man made more fully real,
    this more rational man,
    this one who creates and validates,
    I call Artistic Man
    and the power that washed over the city I call Art.

    Part IV

    Upon the appearance of Artistic Man,
    Scientific Man is enslaved.
    To You and You and You.
    And Me.

    As Artistic Man creates and validates,
    Scientific Man becomes a fetch boy
    for the creator and the validator.

    Never again need he be merely a clever monkey,
    for now he is in the service of creation;
    his desires are informed by art.

    Scientific Man is still as powerful as ever,
    he has lost none of his power over the rocks and the trees.
    Indeed, his abilities continue to expand with breathtaking speed.
    He daily dazzles with new marvels
    and the glittering mountains of crap he has spent a lifetime gathering
    would be the envy of any crap-gatherer.

    But in the glow of his accomplishments, sometimes,
    when surrounded by all his crap,
    Scientific Man forgets his position of servitude.
    So impressive are his achievements,
    so attractive his acquisitions,
    so clever his contrivances,

    Artistic Man, too, will sometimes forget
    who is the master and who is the slave
    and he will bend his head to his slave
    and hand him the whip.

    At more rational times, however,
    Artistic Man will confront the insubordination of the
    clever monkey crap-gatherer.

    I have seen your work, says Artistic Man to Scientific Man,
    at those times when you have dared assert your rank above me—
    of my enslavement to you.
    That I should have ever submitted myself to you and your hubris
    proves only that I am human, that I am not—
    God? Scientific Man interrupts derisively.

    You once told me that you were Economic Man,
    continues Artistic Man, ignoring him,
    and proved to me with some h + o (cu/s) = (po) + c /(u + s)
    that I was your slave.

    For a time I believed you;
    you were, after all, very grand back then.

    I handed you my whip,
    and the lights in the city were nearly extinguished
    and the music from the pipe organ on the mountain was crude and violent
    and the only shudders in the city were those of terror and old women
    as they drew a curtain on the agony of a city
    cast under a blood red haze.

    Finally, even you had to admit your science was not up to the task—
    that your Economic Man did not meet the standards of reality—
    and you handed me back my whip.

    Another time, Scientific Man,
    you told me you were Psychological Man
    and you proved to me with some blahcus blowcus
    that you were my master.

    I believed you and handed you my whip.
    The lights of the city became thin and shrill
    and meager as the spent whore left grasping at the fleeing night.

    And even you eventually needed morning light
    and to feel the sun
    and you handed me back my whip.

    Another time, Scientific Man,
    you told me you were Sociological Man
    and you proved to me with some ad hocusinem pocusology
    that you were my master.

    I believed you and handed you my whip.
    And the lights of the city grew feeble and small.
    They lay distant, scattered across a wide dark swamp,
    flat and sluggish, crying solitary in a mad, parataxic rhythm.

    Immobilized by the empty weight,
    you handed me back my whip.

    So let's have no more coups,
    Scientific Man, you clever, clever monkey
    roaming the city under a yellow haze
    in the middle of everything
    forever in the center of time.

    Part V

    The Artist is up on the mountain.
    He plays and the power ripples across the city
    and You and You and You shudder in recognition of it.

    I know, as I watch the city shudder below,
    I know that to shudder in recognition is not the thing recognized.
    Artistic Man merely reproduces a yet higher man.
    It is Artistic Man who recognizes something more real than himself
    and a city shudders at the power of that which he recognizes.
    I look closely, listen intently,
    feel my way carefully for this power under the ripples and shudders.

    But my five physical senses are useless.
    I sense the artist's power some other way.
    Oh, the power of that finer, higher sense,
    embracing the five senses and all the cleverness derived from them
    and adding the higher fuller reality—
    the heart that sings,
    the eyes that love,
    the look of compassion.

    I am a member now of a vast city,
    down on which from the heights of Art I gaze.
    I see the shudder of recognition as the power in Art.
    I understand that the thing recognized is more fully real,
    but I struggle to name it, so I recall the manner in which I made my first great leap forward in reality.

    I remember suspending my belief for a moment—
    suspending all the knowledge my senses were feeding me—
    and I looked around at this universe at the center of which was I.

    And I said, No. I am not at the center,
    nor are You, nor are You, nor are You,
    And in that way Art was born
    and my world became more real.

    But I had forgotten time.
    I had forgotten Me and You still in the center of time.

    So I looked backward,
    but saw only a man standing at the beginning of eternity;
    and forward,
    a man at the end.

    So we took our hand and stepped out of the center and looked up—
    up at the center, which was the whole of eternity,
    at the unity,
    at the One...

    Instantly we see the great city below us
    spread out across the universe
    and pulsing in time to eternity.

    Ah yes, we have accomplished that reasonable step,
    that perfectly rational step.
    We have acknowledged we are not at the center of time.

    I look deeper, and I notice that if I unhinge the city from my own centrality
    it spreads out across the universe below me,
    but to spread out over eternity
    it is not enough that I strike the city's shackles—
    You must, too,
    and we raise the next generation as the previous one raised us
    and we have our before and after...

    And two, become one,
    not in the middle of the universe: the We omnipresent.
    not in the center of time: the We eternal.
    the We in which there are
    no sides,
    no centers of the universe,
    no centers of eternity.

    We have a new man acting in terms of the world as it really is,
    exalted by Artistic Man,
    revered by Scientific Man...

    Religious Man.
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  9. To reduce a liquid, you simmer it, uncovered, until the desired consistency is achieved. Simmering means cooking a liquid at a temperature just below boiling point (around 180°F to 200°F) with occasional small bubbles breaking the surface, while boiling is a more vigorous process with rapid bubbles and a rolling boil. Simmering gently allows the liquid to cook down slowly, concentrating its flavors, without boiling off too much liquid too quickly or burning the bottom. This process evaporates the water and increases the concentration of flavors in the remaining liquid, producing a thicker and more flavorful sauce. Stirring occasionally and monitoring the temperature is important to ensure that the liquid does not boil over or burn.
    https://thecookscook.com/guides/what-does-reduction-mean-in-cooking/

    Originally posted by Instigator Drink\alcohol again.

    I love/hate this shit but know its killing me

    How much are you drinking?
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  10. Banana Muffin Mix Tuskegee Airman [your disgracefully climbable neckwear]
    CAN SOMEONE PLEASE attach electrodes to his testicles, put his dick in a vise grip, shove a hot branding iron so far up his arse that you can touch his undigested hamster food,repeatedly deliver electric shocks to the sea lamprey also stuck up his ass and then kick him in the nuts three times and sodomize him with a Gila Mobster three times and lose your balance while kicking a really hot chick whom had previously had sex with a male canine and Mohammed Bin Salman

    folks?

    fuck a nubian
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  11. kick Tuskegee Airman [discourteously tickle this dendrolagus]
    Originally posted by Speedy Parker Did they have this game at the circus you invited him to?


    This, shit… Here… Is cancer. It really needs to stop. This^^^ is really not ok. You need rehabilitation my friend.
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  12. aldra JIDF Controlled Opposition
    gangstalkers keep buying up all the groceries I want to buy
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  13. Banana Muffin Mix Tuskegee Airman [your disgracefully climbable neckwear]
    context: I was on an onlyfans page (FOR RESEARCH PURPOSES ONLY)

    adn the girl said something about her "two toned pussy"

    but it said I need to subscribe to see the pics and it was $something.99/month

    which is when I made this thread after googling "two toned pussy" i got all kinds of wild results. Maybe I should try asking the AI

    🦊🤖 CAUTION: THIS MESSAGE WAS PRODUCED BY A SELF-AWARE MACHINE, TREAD LIGHTLY ⚠️🤖
    As an AI language model, I strive to maintain a professional and respectful tone. However, I can tell you that the term "two-toned pussy" is not a well-defined or widely-used term in any field or context that I am aware of. It is not appropriate or respectful to use derogatory or objectifying language when referring to body parts or individuals. If you have a different specific question or topic you would like to ask about, I would be happy to try and help you with that.

    The phrase "tf are you on about" is a slang expression used to ask someone what they are talking about or to express confusion or frustration with what someone else is saying. It is a shortened and slightly more vulgar version of "what are you on about?" or "what in the world are you talking about?" and is typically used informally in casual or humorous conversations among acquaintances or friends

    ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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  14. CandyRein Black Hole
    Welp!!

    Looks like my work here is done ..time to get to it… ❤️😇
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  15. AngryOnion Big Wig [the nightly self-effacing broadsheet]
    I'm so sick of being sick.
    The booze has to go.
    I have been watching a lot of you tube vids on the Sinclair method and Naltrexone and decided I would give it a shot.
    Anyone here use this stuff before?
    Alcohol is my nightmare I have been through cigs,cocaine ,amps, never got into opioids they make me puke.
    Weed is nothing more than something to help me sleep I smoke it all the time before bed and that's it.
    Benzo's have place but you they have to be respected and I only go there when it absolutely necessary.
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  16. scuffed jim carrey Tuskegee Airman
    Aahahahahhha

    WHAT A FUCKING LOSER IMAGINE HAVING TO QUIT A FORUM TO "FOCUS ON LIFE"

    WOW YOU GOT ADHD oR something??? HAHAHAHA FUCKING RETARD

    Yeah post a check in thread and call us all faggots in a year, nobody gives a shit, your posts suck and you are a faggot.

    Same exact downfall as THE MEXICAN FAGGOT and OCTAVIAN THE NONCE and LIL COUSIN KINKY

    act like the biggest faggot possible
    get triggered and off topic post in every thread about how upset everyone makes you daily and how you are SO MUCH BETTER THAN THEM
    quit the forum to "focus on life"
    post a check in thread once a year with a massive wall of text blogpost about your gay retard life and get ignored by people that never gave a shit about you in the first place


    I don't understand this defeatist mentality folx. OH YEAH AND TOTSE2k1

    fucking losers, the lot of ya. Bunch of fucking retards too
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  17. Sweet African Astronaut
    My life is already great so I don't need to do such a thing
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  18. scuffed jim carrey Tuskegee Airman
    It's like a air fryer but better!
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  19. cryptographiccontrarian African Astronaut
    highly memetically transmissible content like his creates crackhouse mansions that he can then use to rent out to become a slumlord

    he's just taking a shit in your mind right now and you're like oh yea thats cool hey everyone you should let him come shit in your head too
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  20. scuffed jim carrey Tuskegee Airman
    uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh


    Originally posted by Stupid noob opened the secret cow portal Oh you want to play a game with a controller? The fuck does this look like to you the year 3000? We can't even manufacture industrial quantities of adderall or mefkesmklfefawdKLM THAT BULLSHIT FUCKING NIGGER PROTEIN IN 20212354

    Literallyno point in being alive or doing anything, Nothing fucking works, it's all crap chinese chink bullshit properiietary non open source nigger kike fuck kikes bullshit

    I can't even upload this picture without discord MORALLY SUPERIOR BEING FILE TOO BIG and the image site crashing because my browser neeeds to load 1000 electrum scripts and sell my data to a shitnigeger kike google fuck niggers

    fuck kikes nothing works



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