Okay!

Please don’t make me the slave pony of Canterlot: an incoherent, factually-challenged rant loosely connected to My Little Pony’s third season finale

It’s funny how people continually assume that every pony race and every race in general must have their own nationstate.

“Oh!” shouts one, “the griffons are Germanic. Just look at Gilda.”

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It usually turns into a story in itself.

(yes I wrote more than a thousand words about a fountain, I've lost control of my life)

It may not seem like it, but I make a few sacrifices here and there based on principles.

For example, I wholeheartedly support Sartre’s notion of anti-institutionalism, and so even though it would be nice to have the honour of my stories stuck up on the page with the Dark Equestria ones I’m not gonna join a Skype group for it and witness this (nsfw) plastered across the bottom of my screen every time the Americans wake up.

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This was inspired both by Ospero's detailed rant in the comments section here and the following comment on Ponychan:

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I must admit that the main reason I originally found Clavier to be remarkable was twofold: his (old) Pinkie Holmes avatar and the fact that I perceive the name sexily enough—kla.viː.je, even if it isn’t entirely accurate—that it makes me want to rip my clothes off and jump into an enormous vat of margarine every time I see the word on my screen.

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I was thinking of writing Derpy’s diary from Getting Laid as a separate story in itself, but I can’t think of a name of it and I’m somewhat busy with other projects; instead, have a review of a masterpiece of modern literature.

God knows this is better for you, anyhow.

Kathairein_Puni’s Blue Frosting: Like Tarnished Silver but several times more pants-shittingly terrifying

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tb;ds: earth pone is semitic pone

A certain character mentioned recently that I lived ‘in a glass house of incomprehensible neologisms and metaphors cobbled together from intentionally obscure references and bullshit’; as I am generally biased against the willingly illiterate, have an obscure, unhyperlinked reference to a short-lived poet from the nineteenth century.

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story of my life

not nsfw because when i told my mother about it she said it looked like a temple

seriously tho

you can see the cervix

That being said: I’m not joking about this being the story of my life. Almost nothing I’ve written has ever ended the way it’s started because I never have a goal in mind and if I try to reach it it generally comes out awful.

I bet if I ever tried to draw a vagina it’d come out looking like Saint Michael.

I figured that I should write something to celebrate the occasion, but I couldn't think of anything that wouldn't be uninteresting (yeah right you know you love it) or ill-founded up to now and I had spent quite a bit of my time playing Blacklight: Retribution.

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