<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2075837762808165282</id><updated>2011-04-21T15:26:30.509-07:00</updated><category term='Kate Winslet'/><category term='Albert Camus'/><category term='pedophilia'/><category term='Intelligent design'/><category term='toast'/><category term='animal genitalia'/><category term='Dumbledore'/><title type='text'>margaret</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2075837762808165282/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>margaret</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17124223039465377552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/Sbctk4HkSjI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nPAX__bWZl4/S220/contrast.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2075837762808165282.post-5893242707306184721</id><published>2009-05-12T13:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T14:29:56.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'>supplies!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;What do you do when confronted with the most glorious of rattails? How do you handle yourself? Yesterday I had the pleasure of following one across campus. It was 8 in the morning and I wasn't expecting something so wonderful at a time of day when society wants me to retain consciousness (but I simply cannot). But then, all of the sudden, growing out of the back of a rather preppy asian boy's head was this rattail. About two feet long, tied with a golden thread, and contrasted beautifully by the buzzed length of the rest of the kid's hair, was the highlight of my &lt;strike&gt;day&lt;/strike&gt; &lt;strike&gt;life&lt;/strike&gt; week. I didn't know how to conduct myself. I wanted to touch it, braid it, drape it across my upper lip and pretend it was a mustache. I wondered if I should introduce myself to it's owner, shake his hand, ask him what his inspiration was. In all other respects, he did not appear to be the rattail-sporting type, which only increased the 'tail's glory. I wondered if he had been heavily influenced by 'Til Tuesday, and when listening to "Voices Carry" on repeat as a young teen he had vowed to grow the mosT illustrious rattail since Aimee Mann. Well sir, let me be the first to say it: you put her to shame. This 'tail had a history behind it, and I wanted to know it. However, I don't talk to strangers, so the Tail Of Wonder shall remain a mystery to me and all those who have the privelege of walking a socially-unacceptable distance behind it on their way to class. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335052714541354722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 306px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/SgnqLXQ4juI/AAAAAAAAACY/P_ipzNHpTGI/s320/rat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I see someone who was clearly born in the wrong decade, I have the overwhelming urge to hug them and whisper in their ear "&lt;em&gt;we are kindred spirits&lt;/em&gt;," then moonwalk away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;strike&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2075837762808165282-5893242707306184721?l=margaretannfife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/feeds/5893242707306184721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/2009/05/supplies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2075837762808165282/posts/default/5893242707306184721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2075837762808165282/posts/default/5893242707306184721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/2009/05/supplies.html' title='supplies!'/><author><name>margaret</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17124223039465377552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/Sbctk4HkSjI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nPAX__bWZl4/S220/contrast.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/SgnqLXQ4juI/AAAAAAAAACY/P_ipzNHpTGI/s72-c/rat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2075837762808165282.post-8572586185617008775</id><published>2009-04-23T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T08:59:44.628-07:00</updated><title type='text'>perfect!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/SfE5YfgoFiI/AAAAAAAAACI/OKLLJORXnCM/s1600-h/perfect.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328102927093995042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/SfE5YfgoFiI/AAAAAAAAACI/OKLLJORXnCM/s320/perfect.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; winter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328103246879409554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/SfE5rGzaRZI/AAAAAAAAACQ/2L9jrmft7Ck/s320/beauty.jpg" border="0" /&gt;summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(pictures stolen from the sartorialist + garance dore).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2075837762808165282-8572586185617008775?l=margaretannfife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/feeds/8572586185617008775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/2009/04/perfect.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2075837762808165282/posts/default/8572586185617008775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2075837762808165282/posts/default/8572586185617008775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/2009/04/perfect.html' title='perfect!'/><author><name>margaret</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17124223039465377552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/Sbctk4HkSjI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nPAX__bWZl4/S220/contrast.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/SfE5YfgoFiI/AAAAAAAAACI/OKLLJORXnCM/s72-c/perfect.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2075837762808165282.post-2400657062108313567</id><published>2009-04-08T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T20:49:38.102-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The best argument for legalizing abortion - The Family Circus</title><content type='html'>So Garfield (the cat, not the president) hates Mondays. I always thought Garfield was annoying although I do agree with him that lasagna is great. I have been craving some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Fazoli's&lt;/span&gt; lately, which is also great. (I would like to add that my birthday is fast approaching and if anyone really wants to do something good for humanity, bag me up a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;breadstick&lt;/span&gt; lady from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Fazoli's&lt;/span&gt; to personally serve me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;breadsticks&lt;/span&gt; all day long... and well into the night.) Last Monday I was feeling particularly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Garfieldy&lt;/span&gt; and the fact that I was lacking lasagna did not really help, so maybe the cat was onto something. However, being the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;problem solver&lt;/span&gt; that I am I mastered the following list and improved the shit out if it. This is what you can do to make an otherwise gar-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;tastic&lt;/span&gt; Monday better:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make your dull shower routine a little more exciting: in between lathers and rinses, invite a friend to join you. It spices up the morning the way a certain girl-powered five-some spiced up the 1990's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Find two pennies, one heads up and one tails up.  This &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;cancels&lt;/span&gt; out any voodoo or good/bad luck, and allows you to enjoy the profit in peace.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eat breakfast three times by 11:00 am.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Take a nap after your third breakfast. Excess eating can tire you out, although I am told it does not could as a work out.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Try and imagine famous bald men, with hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Later on, buy a box of chocolate frosted &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Krispy&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Kreme&lt;/span&gt; doughnuts after making sure they are not rock hard.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Proceed to eat the majority of the box while watching trashy trash &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;TV&lt;/span&gt; in bed. If it makes you feel better (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; this day is all about psychological health) you can try to act like you don't really care what is happening on The Hills. But if honesty really &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; the best policy, don't attempt that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;If you mess up any one of these steps your Monday is sure to suck, and you will be forced to read crappy cartoons for the remainder of the day.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322529380545687154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/Sd1sRYoBbnI/AAAAAAAAABQ/V_S3Xib8-Rw/s320/garfield5.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is funny, I think, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; his hat has a slit for his ears.  I believe that is the joke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322529763432508946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 273px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/Sd1snq_WrhI/AAAAAAAAABY/HNSx3xrzL2U/s320/familycircus6eg.gif" border="0" /&gt; I'm not even going to try.  This is not a joke at all.  All it makes me do is wonder why they have tile on their ceiling.  Family Circus, you never fail to disappoint.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2075837762808165282-2400657062108313567?l=margaretannfife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/feeds/2400657062108313567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/2009/04/best-argument-for-legalizing-abortion.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2075837762808165282/posts/default/2400657062108313567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2075837762808165282/posts/default/2400657062108313567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/2009/04/best-argument-for-legalizing-abortion.html' title='The best argument for legalizing abortion - The Family Circus'/><author><name>margaret</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17124223039465377552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/Sbctk4HkSjI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nPAX__bWZl4/S220/contrast.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/Sd1sRYoBbnI/AAAAAAAAABQ/V_S3Xib8-Rw/s72-c/garfield5.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2075837762808165282.post-4837642394397541761</id><published>2009-03-18T09:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T10:37:20.596-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Intelligent design'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animal genitalia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kate Winslet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dumbledore'/><title type='text'>i hate evolution so much.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;PREFACE: If you get turned on by this clip, please don't ever tell anyone, EVER. Even if they love you and promise not to judge your secret kinky fetish.... they will not only judge but leave you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDiR7UxI8Ow&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDiR7UxI8Ow&amp;amp;feature=related&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Charles Darwin was such an asshole. Kudos to him for the kick-ass beard, but evolution is really grinding my gears right now. The video shown above is one of the most complex and emotional short films of our time, starring Turtle (as himself) and Shoe (as itself). While I'm watching this reptile hump a hiking boot, at first I'm thinking "This is hilarious, what a great noise to complement his slow, unambitious old man hump." Then the more I watch it (as it goes on much longer than I originally hoped) I realize that not only is this making me laugh my kool-aid burst right out my nose, it is also making me very sad. On top of the conflicting laughter and sadness, I am also being urged to vomit a little from the odd pointy shape of a turtle penis (which I OF COURSE have never seen before, don't believe everything you hear). After the sad and wonderful turtle gives up on the even sadder shoe, I realize that this turtle made me feel more emotions in two minutes than I had felt all day. What a wonderful and complex turtle! What a natural-born entertainer! No offense Kate Winselt, but how hard is it to act like an illiterate nazi*? She and Sean Penn should give both their Oscars to the turtle - woman on young boy/man on man action is nothing compared to grinding up on a shoe. On second thought, give one to the turtle and one to the shoe, for taking it oh so well. But this is where evolution comes in, becuase no matter how wonderful and talented this little animal is, Darwin and his damn evolution are all "No, thats not condusive to reproductive success, blahhhh..." and the greatness dies out with that turtle. Is it really fair to judge someone as worthless just becuase they don't want to waste their life spawing young? And if this is the case, the turtle is in the same boat as me, and someone like George Clooney. Charles Darwin hates me, and hates George Clooney! As it is clearly impossible to hate George Clooney, I think its safe to say that Darwin's logic is a little off, and we therefore must rethink this whole 'evolution' thing. And with that out of the picture, we can FINALLY start teaching intelligent design in schools everywhere! This is great news becuase I think that means dinosaurs are still alive, and just hiding somewhere with an invisibility cloak that &lt;strike&gt;Dumbledore&lt;/strike&gt; God gave them. Cool!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;*Apologies to Kate Winslet, for what might seem like an implication that she is both illiterate, and a nazi. To the best of &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; knowledge she is not.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2075837762808165282-4837642394397541761?l=margaretannfife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/feeds/4837642394397541761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-hate-evolution-so-much.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2075837762808165282/posts/default/4837642394397541761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2075837762808165282/posts/default/4837642394397541761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-hate-evolution-so-much.html' title='i hate evolution so much.'/><author><name>margaret</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17124223039465377552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/Sbctk4HkSjI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nPAX__bWZl4/S220/contrast.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2075837762808165282.post-8541431962432327222</id><published>2009-03-16T11:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T12:03:38.641-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Albert Camus'/><title type='text'>Albert Camus</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://aarkangel.files.wordpress.com/2008/01/the-famous-pose-of-albert-camus1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 537px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 360px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://aarkangel.files.wordpress.com/2008/01/the-famous-pose-of-albert-camus1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love this man, I want him to be my bitch.  I want to spend hours with him in the middle of the night, and he will tell me that life is pointless and I should embrace the absurd.  I'll say I already have, and that I know the pointlessness of life but I love it so much anyway and I know he does too.  He will tell me that of course he loves it, seeing dirty snow or getting up only to eat my two frozen waffles every day is worth all the pain and absurdidty of life.  He would tell me I can never accomplish my goals and I'll say of course I know, but I'm going to try anyway.  He would approve and maybe even say that we are on the same page.  And he's right, we are.  I would ask him why he cheated on his wife and if he had any idea how much pain he probably caused her.  We would go outside and he would tell me that it doesn't matter, I would disagree. I will never forgive him for it.  I would ask him if his children loved him, and what he did with his nobel prize money.  I would say that I love him even though he is not as logical as most people I love.  We would drink rasberry lemonade together and then he would tell me that Mersault was not lying to himself, and maybe the man in the phone booth wasn't saying anything at all since we couldn't hear him.  I would tell him not to smoke becuase it causes cancer, and then I would finally get the guts to ask him if he ever felt awkward around Sartre because of his lazy eye.  How could you not stare at it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2075837762808165282-8541431962432327222?l=margaretannfife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/feeds/8541431962432327222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/2009/03/albert-camus.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2075837762808165282/posts/default/8541431962432327222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2075837762808165282/posts/default/8541431962432327222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/2009/03/albert-camus.html' title='Albert Camus'/><author><name>margaret</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17124223039465377552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/Sbctk4HkSjI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nPAX__bWZl4/S220/contrast.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2075837762808165282.post-5048354118632630381</id><published>2009-03-09T12:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T15:02:58.415-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toast'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pedophilia'/><title type='text'>kids these days</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;"I've touched your children and&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure they've touched me, too.&lt;/span&gt;" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;So I was just thinking of pedophilia today, you know, over peanut butter toast.... and I think its rather short-sighted that there isn't a word for children who like to have sex with adults, mostly against their will. I gurantee you that will come up one of these days, and then everyone will be like "Oh no, we don't even have a word for this, how can we possibly convict this tiny rapist now?!" Thats just poor planing. And really, should we convict the child who rapes a full grown adult? If by convict you mean commend for being either a) super strong b) super smart and clever like a fox or c) some combination of the two, then PROBABLY. Not that I support rape, I just think that it would be quite an accomplishment and the kid could probably grow up to do something quite brilliant if we didn't lock him up for the remainder of his years. And then again theres the chance that im full of shit and of course there is already a word for it, but am I going to look it up? Hell no, I don't want dirty dirties coming up on my search history. People will think I'm sick.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311310239738558674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/SbWQhcOC-NI/AAAAAAAAAAU/URxugVDRF-A/s320/angry+kid.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; wouldn't be alone in a room with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/SbWN3I1TQKI/AAAAAAAAAAM/BuP6WNiuyAY/s1600-h/angry+kid.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/SbWN3I1TQKI/AAAAAAAAAAM/BuP6WNiuyAY/s1600-h/angry+kid.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2075837762808165282-5048354118632630381?l=margaretannfife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/feeds/5048354118632630381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/2009/03/kids-these-days.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2075837762808165282/posts/default/5048354118632630381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2075837762808165282/posts/default/5048354118632630381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://margaretannfife.blogspot.com/2009/03/kids-these-days.html' title='kids these days'/><author><name>margaret</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17124223039465377552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/Sbctk4HkSjI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nPAX__bWZl4/S220/contrast.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YqkHJdeDe_Y/SbWQhcOC-NI/AAAAAAAAAAU/URxugVDRF-A/s72-c/angry+kid.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
