Ms. Smartarse > Recent Status Updates

*sigh* Just... why? Why am I doing this to myself?!

"... but [character]'s mother is still extremely proud of this story, as she is a highly requested whore. The death by multiple orgasms, and these are her words, so this exceptional death of her German lover is the highlight of her resume.

She works at the ministry in the archives. The office grapevine is flourishing even there. According to her, the archives are not just for storing documents, but also for safekeeping stubborn rumors and unwritten laws.

I'm trying to give this the benefit of the doubt, but the amount of racism, xenofobia and all around homophobic undertones are making it very hard to do.

She arched her eyebrows. "We? The world was silent when we died?"
"I'll make sure to note that the Nigerian bombs carefully avoided anybody with a British passport," he said.

...starvation brought Africa into Nixon's American campaign and made parents all over the world tell their children to eat up.

the massacres made fervent Biafrans of former Nigerians

the Igbo lived in small republican communities. They were nondocile and worryingly ambitious. Since they did not have the good sense to have kings, the British created "warrant chiefs", because indirect rule cost the Crown less.

"Have you heard of Dr. Jefgeni Weitz? He developed a vaccine in the 60s, which could've immunized the whole world against the common cold. But before he could go public, he was murdered by the cough drop industry!"
"I knew the story," I say.
"Oh yeah?" asks the Kangaroo. "Did you tell it to me?"
"I have actually come up with it," I say.
"Doesn't make it any less true," says the Kangaroo.

"I've decided to do absolutely nothing today," I say.
"I see," says the Kangaroo. "Silly me, I thought that was yesterday's plan."
"Nah," I say. "I just didn't do anything yesterday. But I hadn't planned not to do anything."

Product warnings be like "We are required by the government to make the following warning: immersing yourself in someone else's life to this degree can be addictive and lead to losing touch with reality. Bet, hey, let's be honest: you'd like to lose touch with your reality wouldn't you?"

Is it actually a dictatorship if no one notices that it's a dictatorship? If no one feels robbed of their freedom? Freedom is, after all, by no means forbidden in QualityLand. It's just temporarily out of stock.

About personal ratings: ... in QualityLand the police are allowed to stop and search all individuals below Level 10. And given that the policemen are paid on a commission basis, they usually tend to find something objectionable once they've stopped you.

Traveling by mortar:

Every century has its own specific smelll:
- the twentieth smells like gasoline vapors and coffee
- the nineteenth smells like coal and tobacco smoke
- the eighteenth smells like urine and gun powder
-... while the tenth used to smell like sour soup and fire wood.

"She looks triumphant, as if she's duped the world once again, just like that time when she put a note in the envelope for the school photos, asking for the photos even though we had no money. After all they were already developed."

"Nobody wants to be here. Not even Mom. She's waiting for a man with a car, it doesn't matter what kind of car, as long as it has a tow-bar, is what she often says. We don't have a mobile home, we don't even have a tent. We don't know what it is that she wants towed, but we don't ask any questions. Not even the one of how said main would find her, when she spends the whole day in the armchair."

There's few things as awesome as a fierce 10-year-old climbing onto a chair to slap an adult.

OK, now I'm interested.

"Up here on her lookout, in this vault deep under the Praguese pavement, Rita is dancing between Heaven and Hell, only for herself, yet also for the entire world."

"Are you already awake?"
"No, I'm still sleeping. That's why I'm standing fully dressed in the hallway, and have just answered the door."

"Tomorrow?"
"Unfortunately I have to work tomorrow evening, how about the day after tomorrow?"
"You work evenings at the cemetery?"
"Yeah, I wear exclusively black and paint my face all white."
"Sounds interesting. Would you do that in the bedroom as well?"

"How often it is that the angry man rages denial of what his inner self is telling him."

"It wasn't right... It wasn't heroic. But this here was also no fairytale and Onora was no hero. She was a girl with no weapon and no plan. She was a girl nobody could help, except for herself, and she jumped over the threshold just as she felt the stag's rotten breath on her face."

"Of course I like fairytales, after all I belong to the [wood wizarding folk]. But why should I turn into the inadequate spirit of a dead hero, instead of giving meaning to my own name? Igren had once worded it so beautifully: The humans make history, the [wood wizards[ only make a note of it."