music Amy Winehouse sad bear is sad only the good die young
Via: ZOOEY'S MISCELLANY
In reply to a post about the people whose job it is to filter the child porn, corpses, and other offensive media from sites like Facebook and YouTube, User3523111_D recounted an experience they had moderating 4chan:
It’s impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror… Horror has a face… and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies! I remember when I was on 4chan… seems a thousand centuries ago. We went into a page to delete some entries. We left the site after we had cleansed the pages of mangled bodies in car accidents, and this young boy caught us in IM’s and he was crying. He was incomprehensible. We went back there, and they had come and hacked every moderated board. And I remember… I… I… I cried, I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out; I didn’t know what I wanted to do! And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it… I never want to forget. And then I realized… like I was shot… like I was shot with a virus… a scripted bullet right through my firewall. And I thought, my God… the genius of that! The genius! The will to do that! Perfect, genuine, complete, pure. And then I realized they were stronger than we, because they could stand that these were not monsters, these were men… trained introverts. These men who fought with their hearts, who had proxies, who had their mothers’ basements, who were filled with Cheetos… but they had the strength… the strength… to do that. If I had ten divisions of those men, our troubles here would be over very quickly. You have to have men who are moral… and at the same time who are able to utilize their primordial instincts to moderate without feeling… without passion… without judgment… without judgment! Because it’s judgment that defeats us.
n. an innocuous touch by someone just doing their job—a barber, yoga instructor or friendly waitress—that you enjoy more than you’d like to admit, a feeling of connection so stupefyingly simple that it cheapens the power of the written word, so that by the year 2025, aspiring novelists would be better off just giving people a hug.
For Sarah sad bear is sad
Via: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Gallery