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Racists
I think this one is pretty self-explanitory, don't you?
I grew up in what I'd call a lightly racist environment. Dad, and to a lesser degree mum, were children of their age and so were a little intolerant of other races. In fact they had friends from all over but their friends were always the good foreigners, unknown foreigners were... well... potentially untrustworthy or just weird.
My mildly racist background will come out when I'm angry at someone in traffic or at other similar times. I'm not happy with it, but there it is. I'll get cut off in traffic and grumble 'bloody wog bastard' where I wouldn't even think to say 'white arsehole'.
I come from a family of fat people. Most of my family are big and round, something I've always aspired to, in some ways. Many of my friends are over-weight. My only concerns about people's weight tends to be health related. But if an overweight person pisses me off, my anger finds the first handy thing to grab onto - 'fuckin' fat bastard.' My own racism comes from the same place, it looks for an easy tag when I'm angry.
That said, I don't think that I've actually used racist, or weight related, comments when arguing or fighting with someone. I may have, but if so I certainly don't recall it. It's not relevant to what we're arguing about, so why bring it up?
At the abattoirs, racism was part of the environment. Everyone was mates, so it seemed to come from the same place as teasing about baldness, looks, height, or cock size. And I don't think I ever saw it used in anger. It may have been used spitefully by some, but they were in the minority. The pelting block would be full of Maoris and someone would yell to the foreman to get the lights fixed, as it was looking a bit dark. The Maoris often greeted folks with a big cheery smile and a 'ullo youse white cunts.'
I'm not happy about the little streak of racism that runs through me, but at the same time I look how much I love the melting pot that is Australia, the various peoples and cultures, and know that the truth of who I am is someone who likes other races. In fact I'm often disappointed by how monocultural fandom is.
I know that there are far worse out there than me. Hell, those fuckers that target immigrants on Australia Day make me ashamed to be part of the same race. As far as I'm concerned they are the lowest of the low, and I'd rather hang out with any number of blacks, wogs, dagoes, chinks, kykes, gyppos and any other bastard you care to mention than even one Australian that thinks race is a good enough reason to attack someone.
But I still hate that little sting of racism that sneaks in when I'm angry. I wish I didn't have it.
Skirts
I'm not a leg man, as a rule, but occasionally I see a pair that knock my socks off. It's one of the many reasons I like skirts. Shorts are okay, but skirts... ahhh...
Particularly like shorter skirts, that let you see some leg, or thigh... or the occasional flash of bottom. Hard to go past that. But there's nothing like a glimpse of pale inner thigh to brighten my day.
Of course I should mention I also like long skirts. Big long skirts I think are lovely. I love the way they look and move. And I'm a fan of the kilt, too. I think skirts and kilts are a reasonably good looking piece of clothing, in many cases. They both hide a multitude of sins, leave a bit of mystery, can give the occasional surprise, and allow easy access in those desperate moments when you both need it.
At some point I'll get myself a utilikilt. Been wanting one for a while. Maybe for my 40th.
I think this one is pretty self-explanitory, don't you?
I grew up in what I'd call a lightly racist environment. Dad, and to a lesser degree mum, were children of their age and so were a little intolerant of other races. In fact they had friends from all over but their friends were always the good foreigners, unknown foreigners were... well... potentially untrustworthy or just weird.
My mildly racist background will come out when I'm angry at someone in traffic or at other similar times. I'm not happy with it, but there it is. I'll get cut off in traffic and grumble 'bloody wog bastard' where I wouldn't even think to say 'white arsehole'.
I come from a family of fat people. Most of my family are big and round, something I've always aspired to, in some ways. Many of my friends are over-weight. My only concerns about people's weight tends to be health related. But if an overweight person pisses me off, my anger finds the first handy thing to grab onto - 'fuckin' fat bastard.' My own racism comes from the same place, it looks for an easy tag when I'm angry.
That said, I don't think that I've actually used racist, or weight related, comments when arguing or fighting with someone. I may have, but if so I certainly don't recall it. It's not relevant to what we're arguing about, so why bring it up?
At the abattoirs, racism was part of the environment. Everyone was mates, so it seemed to come from the same place as teasing about baldness, looks, height, or cock size. And I don't think I ever saw it used in anger. It may have been used spitefully by some, but they were in the minority. The pelting block would be full of Maoris and someone would yell to the foreman to get the lights fixed, as it was looking a bit dark. The Maoris often greeted folks with a big cheery smile and a 'ullo youse white cunts.'
I'm not happy about the little streak of racism that runs through me, but at the same time I look how much I love the melting pot that is Australia, the various peoples and cultures, and know that the truth of who I am is someone who likes other races. In fact I'm often disappointed by how monocultural fandom is.
I know that there are far worse out there than me. Hell, those fuckers that target immigrants on Australia Day make me ashamed to be part of the same race. As far as I'm concerned they are the lowest of the low, and I'd rather hang out with any number of blacks, wogs, dagoes, chinks, kykes, gyppos and any other bastard you care to mention than even one Australian that thinks race is a good enough reason to attack someone.
But I still hate that little sting of racism that sneaks in when I'm angry. I wish I didn't have it.
Skirts
I'm not a leg man, as a rule, but occasionally I see a pair that knock my socks off. It's one of the many reasons I like skirts. Shorts are okay, but skirts... ahhh...
Particularly like shorter skirts, that let you see some leg, or thigh... or the occasional flash of bottom. Hard to go past that. But there's nothing like a glimpse of pale inner thigh to brighten my day.
Of course I should mention I also like long skirts. Big long skirts I think are lovely. I love the way they look and move. And I'm a fan of the kilt, too. I think skirts and kilts are a reasonably good looking piece of clothing, in many cases. They both hide a multitude of sins, leave a bit of mystery, can give the occasional surprise, and allow easy access in those desperate moments when you both need it.
At some point I'll get myself a utilikilt. Been wanting one for a while. Maybe for my 40th.
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