Moo

Four kings of horror.

Vincent Price, Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, and John Carradine -

It doesn't matter if they're being paid five grand or fifty grand, what matters is what, specifically, they were being paid to do. Well, that and if the SPLC broke wire transfer laws in doing it.

Because even if their actions were specifically not immoral, (which is actually the giant question you're ignoring) the wire fraud and money laundering elements are NOT things you can just go 'well, confidential informants!' to.

Do you think it is immoral to have undercover agents?

Do you think undercover agents work for free?

It is unavoidable that someone who employs undercover agents in a bad organization will wind up providing a nonzero amount of money to them. That is a fact about the world. "Employ undercover agents" is isomorphic to "provide a nonzero amount of money to the organizations they are undercover in." Therefore, the relative proportion of money matters a lot. Providing enough money that they are able to do things they would not otherwise be able to do is bad. Providing not enough money to do that is an unavoidable cost of employing undercover agents.

They straight up paid people in these groups. Do you find it SO IMPOSSIBLE that this group who was co founded by someone attached to the Klan, that it would not use it's reach to stay relevant? When we know that literally every other charity out there does not care to put themselves out of work. Most charities, as it happen love to live the, "We are better than everyone and moral just keep giving us money" lifestyle. And "Rich" people can donate to a "Moral" Cause. Never you mind they don't care to solve it because if they do the money dries up.

This case however is extremely dangerous however because they put CHRISTIAN GROUPS on the "Hate Map" that the FBI and other groups used to target normal people. Don't be fucking brainwashed. It's not a matter of, "The money didn't mean they couldn't do it before~", Bruh. It's FUNDING. The KKK once upon a time was 6-10 old scraggly fucks in lawn chairs getting yelled at by everyone passing them. Then MAGICALLY "White nationalism" goes on the rise? If you are as intelligent as I'm sure you are, think critically about that for a moment.

Conspiracy isn't about something not being true. As I'm sure you know the history of why that word even came into being. But really. Do you truly find it hard to believe that a group with that amount of funding, moral grandstanding, and influence would just go quietly to the wayside? Or do you think they'd be willing to fund shit to scare people into staying relevant? And if you can't imagine that, I'm going to have to question your ability to think critically without bias. Even if the SPLC has done good in the past doesn't imply they will or have in the recent past or present. If anything their org has been a net negative. And they have actively been used to harass and debank NORMAL people. Which is disgusting. And the Gov and it's agencies gave them power to make those designations.

On the first day of Pride Month my they/them gave to me

I’m not getting an abortion so that’s not what I’m concerned about. I just happen to care about human rights and am against murdering children.

IT IS SPECIFICALL:Y NOT NATURAL

AGING IS YOUR BODY LITERALLY BREAKING DOWN AND FALLING APART YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT! IT CAN BE PREVENTED VIA TREATMENTS THAT YOUR BODY ALREADY DOES!!!!!

Mad cause the fictional character you projected on got turned into a groveling cock sucking faggot?

I never even watched The Boys past the first season, and even then understood Vought(?) was supposed to be the bad guy. Seemed a bit over the top and weird but there we go. It's only the subsequent seasons that everyone from each side says became a ridiculously over-the-top attempt to make about the US president.

Other people have pointed out how creepy and insane the writing becomes if you just try use it for any other big bad villains in movies and TV:

and also that apparently the biggest insult the pro-LGBTP2S supporters can think of is to call someone gay. Like this one.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZTdQuxw52/

but y'all. the way he said "brutus is an honourable man" - each and every time it changed just a little. it was the full condemnation Shakespeare wanted it to be. it started off slightly mock sincere. barely trying to cover the sarcasm. by the end...it wasn't a threat, it was a promise.

oh it's two items on a list

I am asthmatic. I’m not as bad as some; my asthma is generally well-controlled, and I don’t have much trouble with it on a daily basis. However, as all asthmatics know, getting sick becomes a nightmare. Even a small cold can turn into a days-long asthma attack, one that is very painful, and very annoying for me and those around me. The asthma cough sounds like an ill seal at best, or an angry moose with a nasal condition at worst. Y'all with asthma, and y'all with asthmatic friends, know exactly what I’m talking about. The bark. The hack. The Cough Heard Round The World. It’s painful, it’s loud, and it doesn’t stop. Even the rescue inhaler can only do so much to calm it. It just has to run its course with the cold.

Well, this week I caught the crud, and in the past few days it deteriorated into The Cough. Last night, I took some NyQuil to try and stave it off for as long as I could, just to try and get some sleep. That meant that for a few hours, I was cough-free. After that, I was still doped up enough to sleep through some of it. However, by 2am the sleep aid had worn off and The Cough woke me up. Since lying down makes it worse, and I didn’t want to wake my sister, I sneaked out of my bedroom into the living room, where I sat on the recliner and proceeded to hack up a lung while I waited for my next dose of NyQuil to kick in. That is when I noticed Simon.

Simon is a Russian Blue with a masterful resting-witch-face and an attitude to match. She (yes, she’s a girl, that’s another story) is old, fat, proprietary, and attitudinal. She isn’t shy about telling you when she is displeased, and does so with a loud shriek and some teeth or claws thrown in. She is convinced she owns the place, and owns all of us in turn. She is particular about where you can pet her, like most cats; and, like most cats, she loves her sleep and hates to be woken up.

And of course, my hacking woke her up.

Attempting to whisper an apology in between bouts of coughing, I noticed she was getting off her perch atop the chair nearby. She stretched, made a little squeaking sound, and trotted over to me.

I expected her to demand petting as payment for having woken her precious sleep, but she did not. Instead, this traditionally cranky dragon of a cat did something that amazed me.

She began to purr loudly, and sat herself directly on my aching chest. She kneaded my sternum softly, and nosed my chin as if to say, “I’ve got this, you sleep.” Even though I was still coughing, and bouncing her horridly in the process, she remained settled on my chest right above my diaphragm, purring loudly so that it vibrated through my ribs. I don’t know what magic spell she was chanting between her boat-like purrs, but within minutes my cough had subsided and I was able to sleep.

I didn’t wake up until about 4:30. When I did, it was to discover that my lap and chest were devoid of Simon’s presence, and I was coughing again. As I started coughing once more, I heard her familiar “I’m here” squeak from the area of the water dish. I heard some hurried lapping, and then her heavy gallop across the floor. She flumped onto my lap again, and resumed her purring and kneading. She had evidently been doing that for the past 2 hours, and had only left to get some water. Hydrated, she had returned to take care of me.

Kitten Little did not like to be picked up. She did not like to be petted. She did not like to even be talked to, most of the time, and it seemed her sole joy in life was the systematic murder of every living thing in the field behind our house, beginning with praying mantises and beetles, and ending with adult rabbits about her own size. (And, according to legend, at least two other cats, though probably that is just legend. But Rorschach and Chairman Mao did die under fairly mysterious circumstances.) She was, perhaps, not an ideal cat to have in a household with four small children. She was distressingly fluffy and lovely to behold, but was also perfectly willing to threaten teeth and claws at any small hands that ventured places she didn’t want them.  

With one notable exception. 

If you were crying–actual crying, not tantrum-crying, Kitten Little would appear.  It might take a little while, but if she was within a few acres, she would turn up and ask to be let in the house, then invariably find whoever was crying. Seemingly across any distance, her sad-human senses would tingle, and she’d show up and get in your lap. And that was the one and only occasion you would be guaranteed permission to pet the death-cat. She’d sit on your lap, purr, and let you pet her until you stopped crying. And then she would resume her duties as the enforcer of chaos, and generally go back outside to relieve her pent-up rage on some poor unsuspecting rodent.

Kitten Little ruled the household with a fluffy little iron paw; she took no shit and no live prisoners, and woe betide anyone who disrespected her personal bubble. But she was also always there for her people when we needed her.