frauddogg [they/them, null/void]

<Coronet of the Crashout> Fraud Dogg, <the Black Anansi>.

https://readsettlers.org/ || Never surrender, never retreat. || Smokin on that lib pack to-nite, koup tet boule kay

  • 0 Posts
  • 32 Comments
Joined 2 months ago
cake
Cake day: September 23rd, 2024

help-circle







  • Not a bonkers question, it’s actually totally predictable if you have an accurate read for both the White urge to despoil the frontier, and the depths of techbro narcissism. They just want to be the first to bust their load somewhere new, no matter what it takes, no matter whose resources they have to spend, no matter what they leave behind. Colonizer-assed cracker techbros always leave shit behind.

    This is what the space-age (hwhite) colonizer’s future looks like: every planet now has ring arrangements of dead satellites, empty fuel pods, blown-apart thrusters, and other assorted human-make space junk. Rings of garbage for all nine, dead vessels (crewed by now, long-dead, pressganged “conscripts” [because “conscript” causes less riots than “undesirable”]) hanging in high planetary orbits like macabre baby mobiles, and a still-smoldering coal where Earth used to be.

    I have no fucking respect for it.











  • But there’s also a certain expectation of “flamboyance” from the gay community, or you’re “not gay enough” and I think a lot of self-identifying queer peeps are to blame.

    I feel this is due to a noticeably high level of what I’ve come to call “the ladder-puller generation” among gay folk. Y’know, the white faux-upper-class guys or girls who got the white collar job, do everything in their power to maintain a pristine aura of political ‘good-one-ness’ even when it means throwing their disadvantaged supposed-kin under the nearest bus. The ones who pulled up the ladders behind them as soon as they got to ‘routine brunch-goer’ level. I put it on them, and the compatibles that just welcome cops and corporations into Pride when it was supposed to be a riot against those forces.

    If someone isn’t loudly and proudly out around me, if someone goes to bat for rainbow-washers that shuck and jive for thirty days just to pump extra profit, then I automatically assume they’re a ladder-puller that would sell me out to whoever for whatever if it meant they could get a little bit further in the cosplay-cishettry that is their life; because sometimes, it’s the ladder-puller gays that are more dangerous to us than the cishet settlers.

    tl;dr, they might fuck like us, but they not like us; and it’d take a near-government level background check for me to trust someone like that. From where I sit, the ladder-pullers, the pristine-optics gays? They let all of our artists, our creators, and the gays actually worth knowing die to AIDS, 'cause it’d have been icky to cede them help. That’s why I don’t trust the optics-bothers. Because the optics-bothers and ladder-pullers were the only ones to make it out.



  • Nobody cares about settler anecdotes; not when very recent mass-market slop (I have no respect for A Song of Ice and Fire; especially not after the “Grimdark Low Fantasy that FUCKS”/“fantasy for people who would rather be watching the Sopranos” adaptation) provides a much more likely outcome for why this phrase is back in the zeitgeist than a poem from the 1800s.

    Amerikans don’t read poetry anymore as it is; if they even read at all. Midwesterners, man; I’d rather talk to a full-time coastal elite than some of you crackers