"You look… amazing," Galvis said, appraising Vista from behind his sunglasses. "You’re beautiful, you know that?"
"I know it," Vista grinned, performing a brief, clumsy twirl in the new red dress, tripping and falling against Galvis. He caught her; let her lean her weight against him.
"So, why did you want to meet here today, mysterious girl?" Galvis gestured around them: they stood outside a cafe in a non-descript street where Gavlis, arriving early, had already bought them drinks to go. "It’s not like you to want to meet somewhere they don’t serve food…" he gave Vista’s belly a playful squeeze. The move, that she would have found weird barely more than a week ago, now seemed a natural mark of affection.
"Well, I know how much you like to spoil me- who the fuck am I to deny you that little pleasure?" she squished herself against him "But I was hoping you might take me somewhere a little different today."
"Really? And where’s that?"
"What about the drinks?"
"Fuck the drinks. I want to talk to you- somewhere we can really be alone…"
Galvis nodded quietly, put his arm around the sensuously fat woman’s waist and led her away down the street.
"It’s not much, but it’s home, for the time being," Galvis told her as Vista looked around the hotel room. She felt almost instantly at home here. Though it was only a hotel room, it had acquired something of Gravis’ personality from his clothes (piled with a respectful, though not overly familiar nod towards neatness on a single chair) to his battered laptop sitting atop a desk. She made herself comfortable on the perfunctorily-made bed, lying on her side and propping herself up on one elbow.
"So… what did you want to talk to me about?" Galvis asked gently, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Vista gently pulled him down until he shifted position and lay next to her. He slipped his arms around her as she slipped hers around him. They lay there for a long moment, breathing feeling each other’s touch, breathing in each other’s smell. Vista was aware how yielding and voluminous her body must feel against his taut, lean figure and it gave her a strange thrill.
"Last night, when I texted you my weight…"
"Yes?" seemingly unconsciously, his hands had begun gently pressing and massaging her belly.
"I got kind of… turned on by it. Not just the thought of… well, what you’re doing now," she glanced down at his tenderly rubbing hands, "but by the fact that I’d gained weight. And so much weight, too! I was really fucking horny. I actually kind of lost it and started stuffing myself stupidly fast. I think I was trying to gain even more.I don’t know: it feels weird. It’s been bothering me.”
"Bothering you how?" Galvis pulled her closer, intertwining the two of them.
"I don’t know. Ah fuck: I’m not the best at this ‘expressing’ shit. It’s like… I’ve really enjoyed the past week since I met you. I can’t remember a time when I had someone accept me the way you do. I swear too fucking much and I overeat and I fucking hate exercise and I’m always a mess. But when I’m with you, none of that feels bad. It’s not like I’m a different person, or that suddenly all my flaws vanish… its just they don’t feel like flaws anymore. It feels like I can talk like who I really fucking am; like I can eat as much as I want because I fucking love food without justifying it to anyone; like I can turn up without combing my hair or putting on makeup and looking like I just woke up and it somehow won’t matter just because you think it makes me look cute. And I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you. But this… wanting to get fatter; wanting to eat to gain weight, not just for its own sake; getting turned on by an increase in numbers on the scale; by the way my belly feels heavier by the fucking day- it’s just so fucking weird and I don’t want you to be repulsed by me, to throw me away because of it.”
A silence seemed to stretch out between them, and Vista felt nervous tension suffusing her body. But instead of answering her with words, Galvis kissed her with a loving softness of touch on the mouth. His hands came up, cupped her breasts and caressed her nipples through the fabric of her dress until they stiffened and the first, light inkling of erotic pleasure begins to subvert her nervousness. His lips moved down and kissed her developing double-chin and her neck while his hands slipped round her back, found where the dress fastens and undid it- pausing to run his hands over the smooth, supple expanse of her back. His hands moved outwards as he slipped the dress off her, taking time to lightly squeeze the folds of fat that had begun appearing on her arms. His mouth was soon on her stomach, where she already carried such a disproportionate percentage of her increased weight, and he seemed to give it a particular attention that made her breath heavier with the titillating sensuality of it: he kissed and nibbled at her belly fat while his fingers pushed into the deep, overindulged sides of the same, thrilling her with both the fact that it is his touch on her, pushing into the softness of her, and with the fact she had become so yielding, so fat that she could be pushed into like that.
She gasped as his hands slid between her legs, carefully pushing on her sensitive inner thighs, simultaneously parting them and pleasuring her. His tongue entered her, finding that sensitive bud inside her almost instantly and making her back arch. He brought her closer and closer and closer to orgasm, before withdrawing and getting atop, straddling her on his knees. But he didn’t enter her straight away, though her body felt like it was on the verge of bursting with straining, joyous orgasmic yearning: instead, he slipped his hand under a pillow by her head and withdrew a gift he had obviously been intending to give to her: a box of expensive, rich chocolates. Seeing them and understanding what he meant to do did things to her, and she found herself ripping off his clothes.
As he finally slid inside her, he pressed the first chocolate into her mouth. Two kinds of pleasure- sex and the overindulgence of appetite- intertwined and made her shiver. Each thrust brought a new chocolate and before long she was lost in the pattern, only barely noticing when the first box of chocolates ran out and Galvis had to disengage long enough to fetch more… and more… and more.
Finally, the two lovers were spent. Vista felt sore but sated, a vast sexual thirst slaked. She became aware of an ache in her stomach and glanced around at the emptied boxes of chocolates. Though it had felt stretched into something strange and timeless, her actual love-making with Galvis had lasted less than 14 minutes, yet there were at least ten now-empty boxes lying in her view. A deeper, less immediate eroticism filled her, and she began massaging her gut.
"You’re thinking about how much weight you’re likely to put on from this and if you keep eating like this, aren’t you?” Galvis asked.
Vista, too stuffed and out-of-breath to vocalise, nodded guiltily.
"There’s a name for what you’re feeling right now. It’s called ‘feedism’, this need you have to put on weight, to make that delicious body fatter. I feel it for you, too. This desire you have doesn’t repulse me. I knew you loved to eat when I met you, but to find out that this is something you want too…" he kissed her. "I must be the luckiest man alive."
Recovering enough of her breath to speak, Vista asked the only question on her mind, all others having been blown away in the wind of events: “Will you hep me gain?”
That evening, Galvis watched Vista devour her fourth take-out pizza of the last two hours, complete with side-orders of fritters and chips. He watched her from the hotel room’s tacky, en suit kitchen where he was making omelets for her inevitable, ravenous encore. She’d been eating since he said “yes” to her question.
"Even you need to take a break at some point, sweet thing," he said to her, plating up the repast he’d been preparing and coming into the main room where Vista lay on the bed, hedonistically stuffing herself.
"Well, I’m sure that would be true… but hasn’t a certain someone spent the last week over-stretching the capacity of my stomach again and again and again?”
"I suppose I have- ad look at you! I’d say it’s paying off."
"Oh yes. There’s just one thing I don’t get: where you’re getting the money to pay for all this spoiling me from. Come on, mystery man: time to fess up to you fat fucking girlffiend. What is it you actually do for a living?"
"Oh, you’re my girlfriend now are you?" he asked, handing her the gigantic meal he’d prepped for her (pizza number four and its accompanying extras had, by now, been completely transferred to Vista’s belly."
"Yes. Now stop changing the subject."
"Well…" Galvis gestured at his laptop. "I guess you could say I’m a computer hacker, of sorts…"
TO BE CONTINUED
Coming Up in Part Four
Galvis’ reveals all his secrets to Vista!
Galvis: Meet the Senclares!
Sorry that I didn’t have time to write it up tonight, but for those of you who have been following the feedist romance I’ve been writing, I will be getting the next installment up tomorrow. Unfortunately, putting in my two-penneth worth on that other post took longer than I expected and even I need to sleep. So fear not- you only have to wait until tomorrow and the post you’ve all been waiting for will be up.
Since I’ve got this little space to talk about, I’d like to thank everyone who has liked on and commented on the Vista story so far. It’s been awhile since I’ve tried releasing one of these stories in installments and an equally long time since I’ve tried writing something with erotic content on this scale. To see that people are still interested in this kind of thing from me is honestly immensly gratifying and I would like to thank all of you for the positive feedback. Like I said, the next installment will be up tomorrow and then I’ll be back to posting one installment a day until the story’s run its course. Sorry again for the gap in transmission tonight.
Asked by resiliencefa
Hmmm. I dunno if you understand the difference between fat acceptance and being a decent human being.
Have you ever heard of tyranny and sovereignty? You’re being fairly tyrannical here, laying down rules and standards that you force on other people who don’t want it or need it. Who are you to determine what someone’s way of loving themselves is? Or what they should look like? If you don’t recall, tyranny isn’t such a popular idea. I’d back down from it if i were you. As for sovereignty…well…Sovereignty is individuality. People can do what they want, with their own bodies, with other people, when they want, how they want, etc. No one else gets to decide how you do or do not treat yourself. So here’s an idea: let people be the size they are without being ridiculed for it. What if you were made fun of for being skinny, or black haired, or ugly, or asian? It’s the same concept here. I’m not calling you ugly, btw, im just saying, what you’re doing is the equivalent of insulting someone and discriminating against them.
The golden rule still exists too. Treat others how you want to be treated. Karma is a thing too. If you’re a bad person, then bad things will happen to you. That’s fine if you don’t believe in karma, but ill betcha 10 bucks you’re not gonna be all that happy in the future. Being a ‘former fatty’ and all, I thought maybe you’d not hate the form you used to be, but instead understand the difficulties that you seem to think being fat has and not degrade others who are big. So what made you so self righteous, so absolutely hateful towards people you don’t know and an idea you don’t understand? What happened to you that made you so rude instead of empathetic?
BTW, it’s called fat acceptance for a reason. You don’t have to agree with how people eat or what they look like, but what you CAN do is not be a rude bitch to people you don’t know, or even people you do know. It’s hurtful, its discriminatory, and it’s just plain simple-minded.
And actually, lots of people are born fat. It’s called ‘baby fat’ for a reason. Not everyone loses it, and that’s most of the time because of the parents weren’t making sure their kid was eating healthily enough or playing outside enough. Some genes affect weight, some medical problems affect weight, and in those cases its not entirely controllable.
So saying that everyone who is fat fails at life, or doesn’t loving themselves, or cant be successful (as if being skinny rates how successful you are), is not only ignorant, but also abusive and pretty uneducated.
Check yourself girlie. You’re frame of mind will get you punched some day.
Whoa….could you be anymore patronizing? In my experience people use such tone when they don’t have a solid argument. But I’ll answer you anyway.
I don’t make the rules that state fat is unhealthy and generally undesirable. There is mountains of evidence that obesity causes many illnesses and costs society. I’m here telling the truth, not forcing my opinions on anyone. If you don’t like me responding to photos or saying something then:
a) You don’t have to listen. Ignore me or block me if you wish.
b)If you put something out in the public you should understand that people will comment, and some of those comments you might not like.
Because accepting failure shouldn’t be an option. No one is born fat. You get there by treating your body like a dumping ground. If you stuff your face with pizza, burgers and fries, cupcakes, or an over abundance of any food (even healthy food) all day you don’t love your body. Get real and quit lying to yourselves fatties.
What if you were made fun of for being skinny, or black haired, or ugly, or asian?
Ok let me break this down one by one.
1) Skinny. If someone were trying to make fun of me for being skinny I would laugh my ass off at them and ask them if they have been to an eye doctor lately. That shit would roll off my back like water because I know there is no truth to it. When I was fat on the other hand, comments like “you look pregnant” did bother me because I knew there was a degree of truth to what the person was saying.
You would really need to get your eyes checked if you were to call me skinny. I’m 5’8 and 140 (that’s a BMI of 22. Which is in the normal range), I wouldn’t call myself skinny. I wouldn’t call myself fat either. Average, fit, normal, are words I would use to describe my body type. In the fat acceptance movement every person is either thin or fat, there seems to be no in between. Being the size of a normal human being doesn’t seem to compute in their movement. I’m well aware of the pitfalls of BMI and that it’s meant to describe body type and not make assertions on health. However there is lots of evidence that BMI>27 leads to things like diabetes, heart attack, strokes, etc. Body fat % is probably a better measure of health then BMI, but let’s face it- most people do not have access to accurate means to calculate it (well other then going to a Dr).
2)Black haired and Asian. These things are beyond my control. I love how you conveniently leave out that I’m half white. I have a feeling this might have to do with your genetics argument. Race, ethnicity, sexuality and gender identity are not self determined. They are literally beyond one’s control and are circumstances of one’s birth. Being obese on the other hand is not.
Now, I’ll give you some credit in that people are often born in to families where certain behaviours are the norm- behaviours like over eating fried foods, eating fast food daily, etc. And for these children I do genuinely feel pity for. My hope is that they will grow up and realize the error of their parents, learn to make good choices and not repeat their parents mistakes. As for “baby fat”, from my understanding what Drs are concerned about is excess fat. Babies need fat to develop. But again no one is born fat (and by this I mean in the obese range for reasons beyond the mother’s control), and certainly there comes a point where excess fat is not “baby fat”. I’m going to tag healthismenforced for perhaps a better explanation of this.
3)Ugly. I guess I’ll just use the “that’s your opinion” on that one. Put me in a room with 1000 men and say a 250 pound woman and let’s see who ends up with more “action”. Sure there will be some guys who will find her more appealing, but my guess is the vast majority will sway my way. I always find it rather amusing when people like you go around telling people like me I’m ugly (and trust me I rolled my eyes when I read “I’m not calling you ugly, btw”), yet go around spewing FA. I tag thin-opinions to respond to this as well because she’s been called ugly by the FA crowd too.
I’m very empathetic to the struggles of being fat. I’m also very realistic. Being fat isn’t attractive to most people and for good reason-it leads to some very dire health problems. As a former fat person I know what it’s like to live in a fat body-it’s pretty horrible to deal with on a day to day basis. I don’t sugar coat shit and give cutesy names like “chub-rub” to very real problems. When I was fat I had to deal with leg chaffing, extra sweating, boils, etc. These problems decreased drastically as I lost weight. Some people need a dose of reality.
All the things you list are aesthetics. Choices in appeal. Nothing that refers to fat acceptance. You completely strayed away from the original question. All you did was tell me why you don’t agree with how fat people live, and what society dictates as beautiful or successful.
The entire stigma behind beauty is because of the media, which is the entire reason why bigger women aren’t more successful, which is they entire reason why women feel like they have to be ashamed of themselves for being big.
If you in particular didn’t like being fat, then good for you I’m glad you’re happier now as a skinny chick (which, yea, you’re only 10 lbs heavier than me, and thats entirely due to you being 4 in taller, so you’re fairly skinny), and I’m glad that you are empathetic, but I don’t think that empathy shows through very well. When commenting on someone’s photo or video, whatever, based off of what appeals to them, saying “ew gross” or “fuckin nasty” has, in no way whatsoever, any correlation to wanting others to ‘get real’ and ‘get healthy’. This is where my other point comes in.
Being an FA, fat admirer, to be clear, is a fetish. It’s a kink. It’s a big supporter of body positivity, equality of all sizes. Why wouldn’t everyone be for body positivity? What’s awesome about it is it helps people NOT full ugly and disgusting, when otherwise people like you will tell them they are. It’s based off the concepts of feederism, hedonism, and sexual appeal. It is not a life style, people do not define themselves with it. It is purely about finding someone bigger more appealing than skinny people. THAT is someone’s choice to enjoy in public in their blogs, for themselves, not for you. YOU telling other people that their tastes in people are wrong and gross is what I’m now mad about. You just seem so hateful and disgusted with the choices other people make, which have no influence on you nor do they ask for your permission to enjoy what they enjoy. Just because someone likes something that isn’t skinny doesn’t mean its wrong. So why don’t you try keeping your rude ass comments to yourself.
So where I get stuck is, seeing someone like you, who is content with where they are at, how do you justify tearing other people down in such a horrible way? What gives you the right to be that absolutely rude to people who are happy with who they are?
It’s true that some big people are still rude to skinny people, despite the idea of fat acceptance. But grouping the entire movement into a few bad apples to define it is idiotic. As for ‘being fat isn’t appealing to most people’, FAs are everywhere, they are much more common than you think. They avoid being publicly known because of such scrutiny and antagonization and insults that people like you throw out because you don’t like it. secret-diary-of-an-fa maybe you can add a bit more insight.
Essentially, my question still stands, because all you’ve done is prove to me that you don’t actually understand what fat acceptance is. You’ve ignored all accounts of discrimination and prejudice, focussing the conversation on yourself and media statistics. I’ll reiterate then. Fat acceptance is letting fat people BE. Leave em the fuck alone, let them make their own decisions, you have no right butting your nose into their affairs, so as you were telling me, if you don’t like seeing a fat body then stop searching for it just to be an insulting bitch.
As a side note, I really wasn’t calling you ugly? It was an example of ways you could be made fun of based off of what appeals to other people. Same ways as I could be made fun of based off of what other people like. It was not a personal insult, just an example of how your looks can be used against you because the ‘average’ doesn’t apply to everyone’s list of things they look for in appearance.
Well, resliencefa, I’d be glad to wade in. Honestly though, you seem to have covered all the imortant stuff. The reason you don’t get anywhere with bigfatlies and her ilk isn’t that you’re missing some vital piece of argument that wil get through to them: it’s that they’re quivering, insecure human jellyfish with a pathological need to shit all over others because its the only way they can validate their life choices. Also, they’re not exactly smart: you might as well play chess with a pheasant and expect it to understand when it’s lost.
But what the hey? I’ve got nothing better to do so I might as well address a couple of points, here. I really can’t be arsed to go through them all (frankly, I’ve been doing this for three years now, and its not like these people ever come up with anything original to say).
First of all, bigfatlies has a pretty fuckng weird definition of success and failure. In her original reply, she talks about how ‘failure should not be an option’. To be honest, I can’t think of anything you can do in life (other than being a professional athlete) where whether or not you’re fat makes a difference. Fat people can be artists, writers, scientists, mathematicians, whatever. They can suceed in all the same fields as thin people, and they can eat more donuts without getting too full-up or bloated while they’re doing it: I’d call that an unqualified success. Professional success aside, fat people can also find love, have adventures and enjoy life to the same extent as thin people. I don’t understand why anyone would define being fat as a failed state. It’s either genetic- in which case its not like you can assign blame- or the result of enjoying food and/or not enjoying strenuous exercise- in which case, I’d say they’re having more success actually doing shit they like than any neurotic dieter you care to name.
The second thing I wanted to be insulting about is her comment that fat is generally undesirable. This coming from a woman who looks like she’s been beaten about the head with a branch from the Ugly Tree. Talk about the pot caling the kettle a repulsive human car-crash (incidentally, did I mention tha resliencefa is the mature one and I’m the gleefully maligant one? ‘Cause if not, that’s how this dynamic works- now you know). She also commented that fat is unhealthy. Rather than argue HAES, I think I’d sooner skip straight to the crux of the matter and ask the obvious question: SO FUCKING WHAT?! Health isn’t a competition you can win. It’s a infinitely variable, sometimes-subjective/sometime-objective summation of a human body’s functionality and its personal to each individual- it only affects them and its no measure of ‘success’ or what sort of person they are. Vitality doesn’t make human life precious: a life well lived does. And anyone who regards the health of human life as a competition deserves to have their’s taken away from them by a speeding bus. Or maybe a shark. Or a tornado. Or a sharknado.
A last little point: bigfatlies states that we’re free to ignore her. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to hit the ignore button so I never have to view anything she has to say again. I have no desire to read her inevitable, whinging response to this tirade- I’m too fucking old for this shit. I will, however, pre-empt befoe I close the book on this dark chapter forever. I’ve insulted her, implied she’s wasting her life, that her whole philosophy is specious and that she’s hideous to the point of vomit-inducing. Naturaully, she’s not going to be happy about that, so I’ll leave you, and more importantly her, with her own words.
"If you put something out in the public you should understand that people will comment, and some of those comments you might not like. "
Well, from the responses, it looks like you lot will be getting your smutty feedism romance. I’m writing part one and will post it hopefully less than an hour or two from now, so be patient and you’ll get it.
So, who wants an epic, multi-part feedism romance (with all the sexy stuff left in, of course), taking up the next few days’ worth of posts on this blog? Because if any of my feeder/feedee followers are interested, I’m seriously considering writing one for y’all.
So yeah, like, reblog, comment, whatever: just let me know- is this something you folks would be interested in?
WARNING: CONTAINS VERY ANGRY SPOILERS.
What… the… actual… fuck… was… that? All that build-up, all that patented Peter Capaldi creepiness… and then there was no monster? What the serious, palpitating fuck!? Never mind that there were out of focus shots of the monster; never mind that there was a bit where something was clearly trying to get at the Doctor through an airlock; never mind that all this means the whole idea that there wasn’t a monster is patently absurd in terms of continuity… never mind all that: HOW CAN YOU HAVE A DOCTOR WHO WITHOUT A FUCKING MONSTER.
Also, if you’re going to promise me something that slithers, that can only be felt in the hairs on the back of your neck, that waits in perfect hiding for the end of all mankind… and then you give me nothing, YOUR FUCKING RIGHT I’M GOING TO BE PISSED OFF!
For the love of crimety, Moffat, stop wasting Peter Capaldi’s amazing acting on this half-baked soap-opera. I don’t want the real monster to be our heroes wounded inner children: I want it to be an indescribable Lovecraftian horror that kills without mercy and leaves nothing but twitching skeletons in its wake. It’s not like you don’t have a vast stock of creatures to choose from if you literally can’t think of anything new: The Daleks, the Silence, the Vashta Nerada, for fuck sake, the list goes on. Give us some real Who. Give us something intelligent and creepy that stays with you hours after the show’s over.
Those of you who have been paying attention (which would be, let’s see… none of you) might remember that not too long ago I wrote about having created a sort-of mathematical formula that, in theory, would allow me to beat roulette machines. You may also remember that it passed its first test outing with flying colours (I doubled my money in under an hour).
Well, yesterday, it had its second real-world test. It was sort-of a success. The formula itself- and the method it represents- appear to be perfectly sound. Unfortunately, I now also know that Ladbrokes actually rig their machines. Not just in the ‘The House Always has the Edge’ way but in the sense of “these people are actually cheating”/ Unfortunately, it took me quite some time to realise this, and I lost quite a bit trying to work out why the string of numbers generated by the machine appear to disobey all known laws of mathematical probability (ten of the same colour or type of number in a row coming up on a roulette wheel is an event with a 1 in 1024 chance of occurring. That means it should only occur roughly once in every 1024 spins of the wheel. Clearly, Judging by how frequently it actually occurred, Ladbrokes clearly don’t expect any of their clientele to have done a maths GCSE).
So, if I was up against a rigged machine, how can I be confident that the formula I devised is sound? Well, I’m not 100% sure it is- it needs further testing (at low stakes to avoid taking a serious financial hit, of course), but my reasons for believing it may be sound after all are pretty sturdy. After realising what was happening, I went back to my mental black-board and gutted the formula, rebuilding it on the assumption that I couldn’t trust the random number generators behind the roulette machines. Having done that, the formula immediately started working again.
Of course, because it’s now technically a new formula, I have to go through the testing phase from scratch discarding previous results.
First off, I’d just like to say that my dashboard since I turned on Tumblr this evening has basically gone “9/11 anniversary; 9/11 anniversary; 9/11 anniversary; man dressed as a giant roast chicken; 9/11 anniversary; The Fifth Element; porn”, and I’m fairly certain that this is the best visual representation of the disjointed thinking of a serial killer ever made in human history. The fact that it occurred entirely organically on a Social Media wesbite is either pure genius or deeply worrying. I am probably going to comment on the whole 9/11 thing at some point, but I think it might be best to wait until America’s put away its red-white-and-blue pocket handkerchief and is slightly more willing to listen to the voice of cynicism again.
Speaking of things I should probably think of something to say on: Ferguson. Where do I even start? I turn my back for five minutes and Missouri turns into a fascist, racist police state (okay, not all of it: just the bit under discussion here. Now shut up and stop being a pedant). There isn’t a single redeeming feature to be found in the affair. First the police shot an innocent boy (in the middle of surrender) multiple times, for no other reason than he was black. Then they and then Governor of the town attempted to cover it up while spewing out lies propaganda to paint Michael Brown (the victim) as a thug. When,inevitably, protests erupted over this- and the police’s refusal to name the officer responsible- the Ferguson authority’s responded with thuggish state-sanctioned violence, police tanks and a fascistic curfew. And the officer I mentioned? The cunt still walks free. You already knew all that of course, but I’m not sure what else I can possibly add. My reaction are much the same as everybody else’s: 1) fuck the Ferguson authorities. 2) Fuck the police with a special and violent intensity. 3) Fuck racism and its nano-witted adherents in general. I do, however, have a question and a comment I feel are worth respectively asking and making. The question has to do with the fact that I honestly would have expected the President to get involved in something this big, but he’s been conspicuous by his absence in reporting both of conventional news outlets and social media. Is anyone else worried and a little confused Obama doesn’t seem to be wading in, or at least commenting, to bring some kind of resolution? I don’t know. I don’t live in America: I’m not sure if this is the kind of thing falls within your Head of State’s remit, or indeed if he has been doing something and it’s just not been reported as fully as it should have. It just strikes me as odd, is all. Anyway, the comment. If there’s one identifiable figure, more culpable than anyone else in this, it’s the racist, power-crazed piece-of-shit cop who shot Brown. I earnestly hope this bastard finds himself with someone pointing a gun at him one day. I honestly hope he’s put in the same position of powerlessness and terror his victim was. And I really, really hope whoever’s holding that gun doesn’t give him a simple death: i hope, instead, that they blow his fucking cock off with it, and force him to live out the rest of his days as the whimpering, inadequate, dickless pseudo-man he’s always been.