hexthismess [he/him, comrade/them]

Tell your dad you are envisioning the collapse of capitalism

The Log Log^TM

How is it possible for one person to be so cringe?

is one of my favorites

i dislike because the second mouth looks like a cloaca

because I just started playing One-shot

I’m definitely doing this for my helmet.

I’m glad we’re defederating from Hatebear. That place is full of tankies who spam emojis. Completely incomprehensible rhetoric interspersed with pictures of pigs shitting on their balls.

Plus, they all kept telling me to read books. Jokes on them, I just read the Black Book of Communism!

I still quote this one

Like Ryan said, it is green washing if it’s viewed as the end to climate change. The best solution is mass public transit and ending fossil fuel use.

The efficiency of fossil fuel power plant production is greater than the efficiency of a single ICE car, so the overall emissions are lower, but emissions will grow the more people drive.

Now if the power source changes from fossil fuels, then the emissions go down a lot, except for what is needed to exploit resources to make the cars and the power production.

Invasive species are a net negative if left alone because they outcompete surrounding species. This leads to reduced biodiversity because nothing can specialize quickly enough to fill gaps left by the disappearance of native species.

The works of the roots of the vines, of the trees, must be destroyed to keep up the price, and this is the saddest, bitterest thing of all. Carloads of oranges dumped on the ground. The people came for miles to take the fruit, but this could not be. How would they buy oranges at twenty cents a dozen if they could drive out and pick them up? And men with hoses squirt kerosene on the oranges, and they are angry at the crime, angry at the people who have come to take the fruit. A million people hungry, needing the fruit- and kerosene sprayed over the golden mountains. And the smell of rot fills the country. Burn coffee for fuel in the ships. Burn corn to keep warm, it makes a hot fire. Dump potatoes in the rivers and place guards along the banks to keep the hungry people from fishing them out. Slaughter the pigs and bury them, and let the putrescence drip down into the earth.

There is a crime here that goes beyond denunciation. There is a sorrow here that weeping cannot symbolize. There is a failure here that topples all our success. The fertile earth, the straight tree rows, the sturdy trunks, and the ripe fruit. And children dying of pellagra must die because a profit cannot be taken from an orange. And coroners must fill in the certificate- died of malnutrition- because the food must rot, must be forced to rot. The people come with nets to fish for potatoes in the river, and the guards hold them back; they come in rattling cars to get the dumped oranges, but the kerosene is sprayed. And they stand still and watch the potatoes float by, listen to the screaming pigs being killed in a ditch and covered with quick-lime, watch the mountains of oranges slop down to a putrefying ooze; and in the eyes of the people there is the failure; and in the eyes of the hungry there is a growing wrath. In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.