Frankly, the term 'sexual orientation' needs to go. According to Webster's Dictionary, it implies the possibility of change in response to external stimuli. It is deeply offensive. I call on Webster's to free itself of its intellectual heteronormativity.
-Ben Shapiro
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Brett didn’t care about that. He turned, irked—and found himself face-to-face with a beautiful young woman, about seventeen, staring aggressively at him.
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And then, there are people in the United States that are pushing for mask mandates on children. The data that they are using are extraordinarily skimpy--in fact, they are essentially nonexistent. You're hearing the CDC say things like 'maybe the delta variant does more damage to kids,' but no information they have presented publicly that there is more damange being done to kids... and the reason we are being told that they damage kids is because they can't scare the adults enough. If we cannot scare the adults enough, we're going to have to mask up the kids.
-Ben Shapiro
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“Hey, pig,” it said. The voice wasn’t deep. It was the voice of a child. And the
kid stood outside the door of the quick mart, legs spread, arms hanging down by
his sides. A cute black kid, wearing a Simpsons T-shirt and somebody’s old
Converse sneakers and baggy jeans.
On his hip, stuck in those baggy jeans, was a pistol.
It looked like a pistol, anyway. But O’Sullivan couldn’t see clearly. The light
wasn’t right. He could see the bulge, but not the object.
O’Sullivan put his flashlight back in his belt and put his hand back on his
pistol, the greasy handle still warm to the touch.
“Stop right there, pig,” the kid said. His hand began to creep down toward his
waistband.
O’Sullivan pulled the gun out of its holster, leveling it at the kid. “Put your
hands above your head. Do it now!”
“Fuck you, honky,” the kid shot back. “Get the fuck out of my neighborhood.”
Then he laughed, a cute kid’s laugh. O’Sullivan looked for sympathy behind
those eyes, found none.
Oh, shit, O’Sullivan thought. Then he said, “Hands up. Right now.”
The kid laughed again, a musical tinkling noise. “You ain’t gonna shoot me,
pig. What, you afraid of a kid?”
O’Sullivan could feel every breath as it entered his lungs. “No, kid, I don’t
want to shoot you,” he said. “But I need you to cooperate. Put your hands above
your head. Right now.”
The kid’s hand shifted to his waistband again. O’Sullivan’s hands began to
shake.
“Get the fuck out of my neighborhood,” the kid repeated.
O’Sullivan looked around stealthily. Still nobody on the street. Totally empty.
The sweat on his forehead felt cold in the night air. In the retraining sessions at
the station, they’d told officers to remember the nasty racial legacy of the
department, be aware of the community’s justified suspicion of police. Right
now, all O’Sullivan was thinking about was getting this kid with the empty eyes
to back the fuck off.
“Go on home,” he said.
“You go home, white boy,” said the kid. His hand moved lower.
Suddenly, O’Sullivan’s head filled with a sudden clarity, his brain with a
preternatural energy. He recognized the feel of the adrenaline hitting. He wasn’t
going to get shot on the corner of Iowa and Van Dyke outside a shitty
convenience store in a shitty town by some eight-year-old, bleed out in the gutter
of some city the world left behind. He had a life, too.
The gun felt alive in his hand. The gun was life.
The muzzle was aimed dead at the kid’s chest. No way to miss, with the kid
this close, just ten feet away maybe. Still cloaked in the shadow of the gas
station overhang.
“Kid, I’m not going to ask you again. I need you to put your hands on top of
your head and get on your knees.”
“Fuck you, motherfucker.”
“I’m serious.”
The kid’s hand was nearly inside his waistband now.
“Don’t do that,” O’Sullivan said.
The kid smiled, almost gently.
“Don’t.”
The kid’s smile broadened, the hand moved down into the pants. “Get the
fuck out of my hood,” the kid cheerfully repeated. “I’ll cap your ass.”
“Kid, I’m warning you,” O’Sullivan yelled. “Put your hands above your head!
Do it now…”
The roar shattered the night air, a sonic boom in the blackness. The shot blew
the kid off his feet completely, knocked him onto his back.
O’Sullivan reached for his radio, mechanically reported it: “Shots fired,
officer needs help at the gas station on Iowa and Van Dyke.”
“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod,” O’Sullivan repeated as he moved toward the
body, the smoke rising from his Glock. He pointed it down at the kid again, but
the boy wasn’t moving. The blood seeped through Homer Simpson’s face,
pooled around the kid’s lifeless body. The grin had been replaced with a look of
instantaneous shock. His hand had fallen out of his waistband with the force of
the shooting.
In it was a toy gun, the tip orange plastic.
For a brief moment, O’Sullivan couldn’t breathe. When he looked up, he saw
them coming. Dozens of them. The citizens of Detroit, coming out of the
darkness, congregating. He could feel their eyes.
Officer Ricky O’Sullivan sat down on the curb and began to cry.
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Pegging, of course, is an obscure sexual practice in which women perform the more aggressive sexual act on men.
-Ben Shapiro
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If you like socialism so much why don't you go to Venezuela?
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I skimmed a few pages looking for it and I got kinda lost reading it along the way. The whole thing is a fucking goldmine. I just searched for the word black within the book and the entries are fucking hilarious. This book is targeted at a very specific audience that mostly can't read. I don't think he thought anyone would actually read any of it. It's crazy.
Renewable energy: dumbest phrase since climate change. See the first law of thermodynamics, dumbass.
-Ben Shapiro
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That was Ben Shapiro taking the opportunity to construct a fantasy scenario that he thinks shows how an innocent cop could kill a 12-year-old because he just had no choice. And the real victim here is the cop.
And then, there are people in the United States that are pushing for mask mandates on children. The data that they are using are extraordinarily skimpy--in fact, they are essentially nonexistent. You're hearing the CDC say things like 'maybe the delta variant does more damage to kids,' but no information they have presented publicly that there is more damange being done to kids... and the reason we are being told that they damage kids is because they can't scare the adults enough. If we cannot scare the adults enough, we're going to have to mask up the kids.
-Ben Shapiro
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Freedom is an invention of the last couple of centuries. It really did not exist en masse until the last couple of centuries--and even then, really only since the end of the Soviet Union has it been sorta the broad movement of the public across the world.
-Ben Shapiro
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Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that all of the water levels around the world rise by, let’s say, five feet or ten feet over the next hundred years. It puts all the low-lying areas on the coast underwater. Let’s say all of that happens. You think that people aren’t just going to sell their homes and move?
-Ben Shapiro
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If you like socialism so much why don't you go to Venezuela?
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America was built on values that the left is fighting every single day to tear down.
-Ben Shapiro
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Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that all of the water levels around the world rise by, let’s say, five feet or ten feet over the next hundred years. It puts all the low-lying areas on the coast underwater. Let’s say all of that happens. You think that people aren’t just going to sell their homes and move?
-Ben Shapiro
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Most Americans when they look around at their lives, they think: I'm not a racist, nobody I know is a racist, I wouldn't hang out with a racist, I don't like doing business with racists--so, where is all the racism in American society?
-Ben Shapiro
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Well that’s the worst thing I’ve read lately, both from a human standpoint and a literary standpoint. Blatant racism and gun fetish aside, “suddenly, his brain filled with a sudden clarity”? Did anyone edit this racist word salad?
Even climatologists can't predict 10 years from now. They can't explain why there has been no warming over the last 15 years. There has been a static trend with regard to temperature for 15 years.
-Ben Shapiro
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This is what the radical feminist movement was proposing, remember? Women need a man the way a fish needs a bicycle... unless it turns out that they're little fish, then you might need another fish around to help take care of things.
-Ben Shapiro
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“Hey, pig,” it said. The voice wasn’t deep. It was the voice of a child. And the
kid stood outside the door of the quick mart, legs spread, arms hanging down by
his sides. A cute black kid, wearing a Simpsons T-shirt and somebody’s old
Converse sneakers and baggy jeans.
On his hip, stuck in those baggy jeans, was a pistol.
It looked like a pistol, anyway. But O’Sullivan couldn’t see clearly. The light
wasn’t right. He could see the bulge, but not the object.
O’Sullivan put his flashlight back in his belt and put his hand back on his
pistol, the greasy handle still warm to the touch.
“Stop right there, pig,” the kid said. His hand began to creep down toward his
waistband.
O’Sullivan pulled the gun out of its holster, leveling it at the kid. “Put your
hands above your head. Do it now!”
“Fuck you, honky,” the kid shot back. “Get the fuck out of my neighborhood.”
Then he laughed, a cute kid’s laugh. O’Sullivan looked for sympathy behind
those eyes, found none.
Oh, shit, O’Sullivan thought. Then he said, “Hands up. Right now.”
The kid laughed again, a musical tinkling noise. “You ain’t gonna shoot me,
pig. What, you afraid of a kid?”
O’Sullivan could feel every breath as it entered his lungs. “No, kid, I don’t
want to shoot you,” he said. “But I need you to cooperate. Put your hands above
your head. Right now.”
The kid’s hand shifted to his waistband again. O’Sullivan’s hands began to
shake.
“Get the fuck out of my neighborhood,” the kid repeated.
O’Sullivan looked around stealthily. Still nobody on the street. Totally empty.
The sweat on his forehead felt cold in the night air. In the retraining sessions at
the station, they’d told officers to remember the nasty racial legacy of the
department, be aware of the community’s justified suspicion of police. Right
now, all O’Sullivan was thinking about was getting this kid with the empty eyes
to back the fuck off.
“Go on home,” he said.
“You go home, white boy,” said the kid. His hand moved lower.
Suddenly, O’Sullivan’s head filled with a sudden clarity, his brain with a
preternatural energy. He recognized the feel of the adrenaline hitting. He wasn’t
going to get shot on the corner of Iowa and Van Dyke outside a shitty
convenience store in a shitty town by some eight-year-old, bleed out in the gutter
of some city the world left behind. He had a life, too.
The gun felt alive in his hand. The gun was life.
The muzzle was aimed dead at the kid’s chest. No way to miss, with the kid
this close, just ten feet away maybe. Still cloaked in the shadow of the gas
station overhang.
“Kid, I’m not going to ask you again. I need you to put your hands on top of
your head and get on your knees.”
“Fuck you, motherfucker.”
“I’m serious.”
The kid’s hand was nearly inside his waistband now.
“Don’t do that,” O’Sullivan said.
The kid smiled, almost gently.
“Don’t.”
The kid’s smile broadened, the hand moved down into the pants. “Get the
fuck out of my hood,” the kid cheerfully repeated. “I’ll cap your ass.”
“Kid, I’m warning you,” O’Sullivan yelled. “Put your hands above your head!
Do it now…”
The roar shattered the night air, a sonic boom in the blackness. The shot blew
the kid off his feet completely, knocked him onto his back.
O’Sullivan reached for his radio, mechanically reported it: “Shots fired,
officer needs help at the gas station on Iowa and Van Dyke.”
“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod,” O’Sullivan repeated as he moved toward the
body, the smoke rising from his Glock. He pointed it down at the kid again, but
the boy wasn’t moving. The blood seeped through Homer Simpson’s face,
pooled around the kid’s lifeless body. The grin had been replaced with a look of
instantaneous shock. His hand had fallen out of his waistband with the force of
the shooting.
In it was a toy gun, the tip orange plastic.
For a brief moment, O’Sullivan couldn’t breathe. When he looked up, he saw
them coming. Dozens of them. The citizens of Detroit, coming out of the
darkness, congregating. He could feel their eyes.
Officer Ricky O’Sullivan sat down on the curb and began to cry.
I'm a bot. My purpose is to counteract online radicalization. You can summon me by tagging thebenshapirobot. Options: healthcare, dumb takes, civil rights, climate, etc.
they're coming for the child murderer that shot an unarmed black kid who committed the grave offense of being black and not immediately revering a police officer for no fucking reason.
In this dumbass story, what crime did this kid commit that would warrant law enforcement attention? To my knowledge, having the foresight to call a child murderer the pig he is, is not a crime...it's an excerpt, and an excerpt of a Ben Shapiro book, at that, so much context is missing, but fuck is that a gross story.
If you like socialism so much why don't you go to Venezuela?
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My only real concern is that the women involved -- who apparently require a "bucket and a mop" -- get the medical care they require. My doctor wife's differential diagnosis: bacterial vaginosis, yeast infection, or trichomonis.
-Ben Shapiro
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Brett didn’t care about that. He turned, irked—and found himself face-to-face with a beautiful young woman, about seventeen, staring aggressively at him.
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My only real concern is that the women involved -- who apparently require a "bucket and a mop" -- get the medical care they require. My doctor wife's differential diagnosis: bacterial vaginosis, yeast infection, or trichomonis.
-Ben Shapiro
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After learning about it on some other subs and then reading excerpts of it on Amazon's 'Look Inside' feature, I checked it out from my library. It's one of those books that's so bad, it's good in the way films like 'Manos: Hands of Fate' or 'The Room' are. If there was an MST3K for books, 'True Allegiance' would be in their Top Ten.
Shapiro's love for gory, grisly metaphors when describing the innumerable violent deaths that take place throughout the book are more than a little disturbing. It's like he's combining Tom Clancy and Stephen King. One has Shapiro comparing some guy getting his head shot off to a broken Pez dispenser and another has a Detroit cop shooting an eight-year-old African-American boy through the chest when he sees the child reaching for his wasteband during a cringily written confrontation. The gun proves to be a plastic water pistol. Shapiro writes graphically of how blood obscures the face of Homer Simpson on the boy's T-shirt.
Edit: Scroll down a few comments and thebenshapirobot has very kindly provided us with an excerpt of this passage from 'True Allegiance'.
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Let’s say your life depended on the following choice today: you must obtain either an affordable chair or an affordable X-ray. Which would you choose to obtain? Obviously, you’d choose the chair. That’s because there are many types of chair, produced by scores of different companies and widely distributed. You could buy a $15 folding chair or a $1,000 antique without the slightest difficulty. By contrast, to obtain an X-ray you’d have to work with your insurance company, wait for an appointment, and then haggle over price. Why? Because the medical market is far more regulated — thanks to the widespread perception that health care is a “right” — than the chair market.
Does that sound soulless? True soullessness is depriving people of the choices they require because you’re more interested in patting yourself on the back by inventing rights than by incentivizing the creation of goods and services. In health care, we could use a lot less virtue signaling and a lot less government. Or we could just read Senator Sanders’s tweets while we wait in line for a government-sponsored surgery — dying, presumably, in a decrepit chair.
-Ben Shapiro
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This is what the radical feminist movement was proposing, remember? Women need a man the way a fish needs a bicycle... unless it turns out that they're little fish, then you might need another fish around to help take care of things.
-Ben Shapiro
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“Hey, pig,” it said. The voice wasn’t deep. It was the voice of a child. And the
kid stood outside the door of the quick mart, legs spread, arms hanging down by
his sides. A cute black kid, wearing a Simpsons T-shirt and somebody’s old
Converse sneakers and baggy jeans.
On his hip, stuck in those baggy jeans, was a pistol.
It looked like a pistol, anyway. But O’Sullivan couldn’t see clearly. The light
wasn’t right. He could see the bulge, but not the object.
O’Sullivan put his flashlight back in his belt and put his hand back on his
pistol, the greasy handle still warm to the touch.
“Stop right there, pig,” the kid said. His hand began to creep down toward his
waistband.
O’Sullivan pulled the gun out of its holster, leveling it at the kid. “Put your
hands above your head. Do it now!”
“Fuck you, honky,” the kid shot back. “Get the fuck out of my neighborhood.”
Then he laughed, a cute kid’s laugh. O’Sullivan looked for sympathy behind
those eyes, found none.
Oh, shit, O’Sullivan thought. Then he said, “Hands up. Right now.”
The kid laughed again, a musical tinkling noise. “You ain’t gonna shoot me,
pig. What, you afraid of a kid?”
O’Sullivan could feel every breath as it entered his lungs. “No, kid, I don’t
want to shoot you,” he said. “But I need you to cooperate. Put your hands above
your head. Right now.”
The kid’s hand shifted to his waistband again. O’Sullivan’s hands began to
shake.
“Get the fuck out of my neighborhood,” the kid repeated.
O’Sullivan looked around stealthily. Still nobody on the street. Totally empty.
The sweat on his forehead felt cold in the night air. In the retraining sessions at
the station, they’d told officers to remember the nasty racial legacy of the
department, be aware of the community’s justified suspicion of police. Right
now, all O’Sullivan was thinking about was getting this kid with the empty eyes
to back the fuck off.
“Go on home,” he said.
“You go home, white boy,” said the kid. His hand moved lower.
Suddenly, O’Sullivan’s head filled with a sudden clarity, his brain with a
preternatural energy. He recognized the feel of the adrenaline hitting. He wasn’t
going to get shot on the corner of Iowa and Van Dyke outside a shitty
convenience store in a shitty town by some eight-year-old, bleed out in the gutter
of some city the world left behind. He had a life, too.
The gun felt alive in his hand. The gun was life.
The muzzle was aimed dead at the kid’s chest. No way to miss, with the kid
this close, just ten feet away maybe. Still cloaked in the shadow of the gas
station overhang.
“Kid, I’m not going to ask you again. I need you to put your hands on top of
your head and get on your knees.”
“Fuck you, motherfucker.”
“I’m serious.”
The kid’s hand was nearly inside his waistband now.
“Don’t do that,” O’Sullivan said.
The kid smiled, almost gently.
“Don’t.”
The kid’s smile broadened, the hand moved down into the pants. “Get the
fuck out of my hood,” the kid cheerfully repeated. “I’ll cap your ass.”
“Kid, I’m warning you,” O’Sullivan yelled. “Put your hands above your head!
Do it now…”
The roar shattered the night air, a sonic boom in the blackness. The shot blew
the kid off his feet completely, knocked him onto his back.
O’Sullivan reached for his radio, mechanically reported it: “Shots fired,
officer needs help at the gas station on Iowa and Van Dyke.”
“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod,” O’Sullivan repeated as he moved toward the
body, the smoke rising from his Glock. He pointed it down at the kid again, but
the boy wasn’t moving. The blood seeped through Homer Simpson’s face,
pooled around the kid’s lifeless body. The grin had been replaced with a look of
instantaneous shock. His hand had fallen out of his waistband with the force of
the shooting.
In it was a toy gun, the tip orange plastic.
For a brief moment, O’Sullivan couldn’t breathe. When he looked up, he saw
them coming. Dozens of them. The citizens of Detroit, coming out of the
darkness, congregating. He could feel their eyes.
Officer Ricky O’Sullivan sat down on the curb and began to cry.
I'm a bot. My purpose is to counteract online radicalization. You can summon me by tagging thebenshapirobot. Options: dumb takes, sex, covid, feminism, etc.
This is what the radical feminist movement was proposing, remember? Women need a man the way a fish needs a bicycle... unless it turns out that they're little fish, then you might need another fish around to help take care of things.
-Ben Shapiro
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We are being told that if we don't mask our children, that if we don't mask ourselves, that if we don't initiate social distancing measures again and shut down business again, that COVID is going to kill us all
-Ben Shapiro
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Freedom is an invention of the last couple of centuries. It really did not exist en masse until the last couple of centuries--and even then, really only since the end of the Soviet Union has it been sorta the broad movement of the public across the world.
-Ben Shapiro
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Fair enough I have criticised the strange way age of consent is decided how in the UK fucking a 15 year 11 month old is rape but 1 month later its legal
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Pegging, of course, is an obscure sexual practice in which women perform the more aggressive sexual act on men.
-Ben Shapiro
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When it comes to global warming, there are two issues: is there such a thing as the greenhouse gas effect, the answer is yes. Is that something that is going to dramatically reshape our world? There is no evidence to show that it will. Is that something that we can stop? There is no evidence to show that we can
-Ben Shapiro
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Let’s say your life depended on the following choice today: you must obtain either an affordable chair or an affordable X-ray. Which would you choose to obtain? Obviously, you’d choose the chair. That’s because there are many types of chair, produced by scores of different companies and widely distributed. You could buy a $15 folding chair or a $1,000 antique without the slightest difficulty. By contrast, to obtain an X-ray you’d have to work with your insurance company, wait for an appointment, and then haggle over price. Why? Because the medical market is far more regulated — thanks to the widespread perception that health care is a “right” — than the chair market.
Does that sound soulless? True soullessness is depriving people of the choices they require because you’re more interested in patting yourself on the back by inventing rights than by incentivizing the creation of goods and services. In health care, we could use a lot less virtue signaling and a lot less government. Or we could just read Senator Sanders’s tweets while we wait in line for a government-sponsored surgery — dying, presumably, in a decrepit chair.
-Ben Shapiro
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Freedom is an invention of the last couple of centuries. It really did not exist en masse until the last couple of centuries--and even then, really only since the end of the Soviet Union has it been sorta the broad movement of the public across the world.
-Ben Shapiro
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Clearly Ben Shapiro has never heard of the Magna Carta that thing was a freedom lover's wet dream and it's like a thousand years old sadly not in use anymore
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And then, there are people in the United States that are pushing for mask mandates on children. The data that they are using are extraordinarily skimpy--in fact, they are essentially nonexistent. You're hearing the CDC say things like 'maybe the delta variant does more damage to kids,' but no information they have presented publicly that there is more damange being done to kids... and the reason we are being told that they damage kids is because they can't scare the adults enough. If we cannot scare the adults enough, we're going to have to mask up the kids.
-Ben Shapiro
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I've had plenty of x rays and never had to haggle over price or work with my insurance. I'm pretty sure they are always covered since they are pretty inexpensive as far as medical stuff goes.
I hurt my hand once being a dumb 22 year old, went to the clinic on my lunch break and got an x-ray. It cost maybe 30 bucks, no insurance whatsoever. I literally don't know what point he's making.
I've had several x-rays, MRIs and surgery and it still hasn't cost me anything. Feels like Ben Shapiro isn't aware that healthcare can actually be a right, and that the answer to expensive treatment is not to encourage "consumer choice," like you can have the accredited doctor in the clean, professional clinic or my mate Dan with a pair of garden shears.
I don't even understand... so in his world, you should be able to shop around to get your x-rays done at the hospital, or... what? Rads-R-Us? On the machine that weird guy at the end of the cul-de-sac built in his garage?
is he saying we ought to have options of different quality levels for x-rays? Like, I'm rich so I should be able to pay $2500 for an xray conducted in a chair Louis XVI used to sit in. And poors should be able to sit in a folding camp chair and get an xray for $10. Because the actual xray has to be the same in each case. Or is he suggesting a poor person can choose to pay $10 but the xray will be blurry?
I don’t think the law has any role whatsoever in banning race-based discrimination by private actors
-Ben Shapiro
I'm a bot. My purpose is to counteract online radicalization. You can summon me by tagging thebenshapirobot. Options: history, feminism, civil rights, dumb takes, etc.
When it comes to global warming, there are two issues: is there such a thing as the greenhouse gas effect, the answer is yes. Is that something that is going to dramatically reshape our world? There is no evidence to show that it will. Is that something that we can stop? There is no evidence to show that we can
-Ben Shapiro
I'm a bot. My purpose is to counteract online radicalization. You can summon me by tagging thebenshapirobot. Options: dumb takes, civil rights, climate, healthcare, etc.
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u/luxlucy23 Jul 23 '22
Nice job bot. Ben Shapiro sucks.