Passive Acceptance/Active Fight

Apart from the fact that the situations that are currently making me growl reek of victim-blaming, some people seem quite eager to roll over and welcome barbarians in their beds - or tell others to shut up and 'take it, coz that's life and you can't change it'.

If I were in a war zone, things would get nasty (let's face it, I'd kill - and may end up being killed for being unsubmissive [Pretty normal with my DNA]). When I read bipeds saying that people should flee instead of fighting when some genitalia-deprived plonkers invade somewhere, that makes my blood boil, and I always want to ask them how they'd like it if the aforementioned plonkers landed in their boring suburbs.

As well, we're getting more and more articles describing what women (of all ages, shape, colour and styles) have to go through when they go outside. Then, you get bipeds suggesting to:

- ignore the genitalia-deprived heckling plonkers

- get a life, coz that's not important

- stop whingeing

- stop complaining coz men have it tough, too (writer's note: we're not denying this, you bloody owner of just three brain cells, so will you stop changing the topic and bringing the focus back on you, you, and you)

- avoid any kind of confrontation with the genitalia-deprived heckling plonkers, coz that could be dangerous

That last point makes me sooooooooooooooo angry. What am I supposed to do if a huge bloke decides that he's got the right to grope me? Thank him? Walk away?

Sorry (still just being well-educated), but if anyone thinks that he (or she - I'm all for full equality) can touch me without permission, I'll fight back. You groped my boobs? Fine, kiss your hazelnuts goodbye. That's fair trade in my book.

I can imagine bipeds thinking 'but it's dangerous!' or 'but you'd be breaking the law!'. Sorry (points to three lines above), but I'm just defending myself, and I shan't roll over for anyone (yes, that's would potentially get me in trouble, but with each passing year, my fangs grow longer and my allergy to stupidity lasts for twelve months a year; I can't help it).

I know it's easier to avoid conflicts (each situation needs to be analysed, and choices need to be made accordingly), but sometimes one needs to stand up to bullies and re-educate them (with a poker if need be).

Gosh! In a few decades (if I'm not run over by a text-sending driver), I'm going to be quite a growling old lass.

PS: I wrote this last week, but I didn't have time to edit it until tonight (and I'm so tired that there might still be a few silly things here and there), and I'm quite happy that five men on a train have just demonstrated that doing nothing isn't going to help in any way.

Opposable Thumbs Aren't a Licence to Kill

I'm quite furious, so don't mind the cosmic-sized growl (and do click back if you believe that bipeds are the crème de la crème on our planet - oh, or if you like politically correct crap).

I recently signed a petition to try to save a Mamma Bear who was accused of killing an off-trail hiker. I've just read that she was slaughtered.

This is what happened and here's a very good statement on the topic.

The first to say that 'she was just an animal, and a dangerous one!' gets Gibbs-smacked with a rolling pin to Kingdom come.

She was a good mother, who was executed (and her two orphaned cubs may be killed or sold to slavery).

The whole situation made me furious: the arrogance of the bipeds, who think they own the rock (no, you don't, Cupcakes; you share it with all the other lives on it), and the officials hiding behind pseudo-science in order to sell their 'We had to kill her' to the average sheeple who'll think "Oh, well, if there was no other way... They know what they're doing; it's their job" (I want to cuff the idiotic sheeple and bite the officials for resorting to slaughter).

And then, there's the first comment on the page of the second link I just gave you, where a delightful biologist resorts to comparing apple and cheese by mentioning a story where a bear, in town (fake gasp & Sarcasm font firmly on), invaded someone's house. Hashtag Crikey.

I find it revealing that the first comment talks about a completely different scenario.
If I were to find a bear in my flat, I'd wonder how he got in (we don't leave our doors open where I'm parked), and then I'd run outside before calling people equipped to deal with him (we don't keep firearms either - we have no need for them).

It must be cool to think that you're so special that you can invade an animal's territory and have it killed if it nibbles you, but the animal cannot visit your house. 'Oh, nooooo! It's an animal that must stay where it belongs!' Well, sorry, Cupcake, but it belong on this planet, just like you. You're not special because you can hold a can of soda or load a gun - not in my book, at least.
If I were to venture in Yellowstone, I'd be on the bears' turf, and they can do whatever they want. If I'm stupid enough to not follow the safety rules and I end up turned into bear snack, that's karma (and probably a spot of Darwinism).

Seriously, do read Dr Bekoff's page (still link #2); it's enlightening on many levels.

A very good mother was massacred because some bipeds wanted to punish her for being a bear.

All bipeds stepping outside (parks and forests aren't just enough, as the average plonker will go scratch the head of a cobra for a good selfie) should sign standard waivers to prevent future slaughters.

I really wish I could keep Curiosity company; things must be quiet on Mars!

Whisky. Tango. Foxtrot. (or the Twitter White Background Growly Post)

I've just changed this blog's background colour to make it less aggressive (sorry it took me so long to change it for softer tones!). Pastel pink is better for the eyes (if you want to change things on your own computers), but pastel blue works nicely, too.

Why am I doing this today? Because when I went to Twitter, and I tried to change my settings to bring my wallpaper back, well... it didn't work. I quite like Twitter, but that blinding white background sucks, and I'll log off sine die if that stupidity goes on.

Good news for you, if so... I'll blog a lot more.

I hope the Twitter boys know what they're doing (though I doubt it)...

More Windows 10 (from Afar)

Soooo, I had been growling in advance about Windows 10, but now I'm more and more convinced that I'll have to go look for a small shop where I can have Windows 7 installed on a machine the next time I need a computer because the more I read about 10, the more I want to slap the Microsoft boys (quite possibly with a marble rolling pin).

Some people could say that they have our best interest at heart, but anyone buying that is ready to kiss the bottom of my robes coz I'm the Empress of Mars...

Now I read that you cannot turn off the Windows Update (coz "security" and yada, yada, yada).

Piece of news, boys: I (me, myself, and my Imperial persona) am the BOSS. THE ONE WHO DECIDES. GOT IT? Or is that too much for your three brain cells?

Of course, there seems to be a way to bloody turn Windows Update off (read down the page, there's a trick, and have a look at the comments for an extra tip to not have the thing turn itself back on again), but you know what, boys? Getting a new computer used to be about installing our programmes, customizing the desktop and the style of the files and folder and... basta. Since 8, you need a degree in computer engineering to make the changes, find the hacks and get the computer to do what you want.

I can do it, but not everybody can (Hell! I'm the 'tech' for all my family!).

I know the Microsoft boys (pardon my French!!) don't give a fuck about anything I can say, write, blog about, or growl, but even the average sheeple has a point where a last straw can make it walk away from the cliff.

No one's too big to fail (as people with a brain know), and if it fucking ain't broke, don't fix it.

I have a few months to investigate Linux, too...