/sp/ - Football

Happy Hoer Christmas everyponer.

>>21672
horse saw her and body slammer her because he's tired of being used as a prop for influencers

Don't mess with the horsey.

>>24348
>Loved your paintings.
Check these out too.

>>24348
>>24386
You always hear normie artfags and historians talk about how terrible Hitler's art was, but honestly I think these are quite nice. It's not jaw-dropping art if you compare it to the Renaissance masters or something, but they're nice-looking paintings. If you shopped out Hitler's signature you could probably get away with selling a calendar or prints of these, and people would just think they were nice-looking illustrations. I'd be amazed if your average CalArts student could paint anything that looked this good.

>>24444
Checked

>>24445
>You always hear normie artfags and historians talk about how terrible Hitler's art was
Correct, and yet, they never saw it and of course will never make an attempt to find it. It is always jewish lies telling them that and they believe it.

>>24447
Nah, they saw it, they just let their attitudes towards the artist bias their judgement.
Hitler was overall an amateur painter. He could've been a lot better if he actually kept practicing, but that isn't how his life went.

I found the following:
>Owen Benjamin: "Pandas are fake"
https://vk.com/video587081352_456239425
>Proof Pandas Are Fake
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7xxvIIinIv4
I didn't find anything about chinese women laying eggs, yet.

>>24384
Fun fact: the North American Asian actually reproduces by digging a hole in the sand and depositing a clutch of eggs, which will gestate for approximately six weeks and then hatch. The Chinklings will then enter into a fierce battle of survival, enrolling in AP math courses. Whoever gets the lowest test score becomes food for the others. This process continues until there is only one Chinkling left. Next step is college.

>>24294
Twitter troons have made a den on /mlp/ you can see them circlejerk eachother and spout the same crap as they do from the discord caps on the board.

>>24301
Maybe I should respect that they found a way to defraud people dumber themselves out of money, and can make money that way?

But just... These screencaps make a good case for bringing back eugenics and especially euthanasia for the mentally handicapped

>>24301
I guess it makes sense and it is quite fitting for a bunch a commies. AI is theoretically the perfect driver of true equality. If you decide to ignore Human nature.

>>24301
>pic1
Another fucking critique of capitalism... But these absolute retards support capitalism spending thousands in RAM and a beef GPU to process this from corporations, or depend on data-mining created by the worst possible monopolies established in history to achieve this!

>pic2
it gotta be bait. At least the guide in OP had some morals about remaining human, but the AI brainrot is getting more and more real.

>pic3
I'm almost taking it cause look they have a similar structure: engage in emotional shit or moral to justify bullshit justifying scamming people to sleep at night.

>pic4
lots of buzzword bullshit about a fucking bubble that's not going anywhere or emerged too soon and trying to grow faster than the required amount of data. The endgoal here would be AGI (artificial general intelligence) but they are too hungry and lack the discipline.

I'd paraphrase Ian Malcolm here.
«Don't you see the danger, Anon, inherent in what you're doing here? Artificial intelligence is the most awesome force the planet's ever seen, but you wield it like a kid that's found his dad's gun.
I'll tell you the problem with the data that you're using here, it didn't require any discipline to attain it. You train on what others had done and you took the next step. You didn't earn the knowledge for yourselves, so you don't take any responsibility for it. You stood on the shoulders of artists to accomplish something as fast as you could, and before you even knew what you had, you patented it, and packaged it, and slapped it on a plastic lunchbox, and now you're selling it, you wanna sell it.»

>>24305
It could be, it would be, Internet democratized access to knowledge and information and exchange of know how. now we see morons thinking earth is flat, that manmade climate change mustn't be questioned and there's 255 genders. And people who are asking how to do basic DIY at home to me instead of using their fucking google.
The dumbing-down predicted by idiocracy is going on turbo mode with AI.

>>24303
scammers exists and always existed, especially now with AI art, these are just fragile beings who are wanting to have legitimacy and to feel good about it despite they know they will never be artists, but slaves of a machine. I love tech, but not like this.
also here's one screencap a friend sent me. Took me a moment to understand it and the subjacent implications of that guy's interest in what is, in fact, paper and crayon drawings.

> they lose their authenticity when turned into 3D-like digital horrors. It's ironic that he criticizes AI art for its supposed lack of soul while resorting to such techniques himself. His recent works, heavily photoshopped to the point of being indistinguishable from AI-generated art are boring and devoid of personality.
Because digital art is about practice and envy to go deeper in details and achieve things that are impossible on paper, this is the same experience as in painting. If not more advanced, and there's not just photoshop. Painter and Krita also are amazing tools.

> If only there were more of his untouched pencil artworks available, I could easily train a LoRA on them this afternoon.
a lora is a compressed database of image assets the AI is trained on in form of math, imagine literally a zip/rar archive of data, the guy hates me for using digital art, but want to use AI to make more drawings, I swear there are punches in the face that are lost.

Hitler was the last human artist tbh.

>>24307
minimalism, readymade, crap installations and all the postmodern faggotry is what killed art.
I shit on fucking tomb of Marcel Duchamp Keith Harring, Peter Mondrian and fucking Twombly, these have killed the merit, the passion, the value and the beauty of art turning all of it into a fucking clownfest.

whats his address? I want to send him a box of soap and aryanne love.

>>23540
Yh, he'd probably appriciate the sweet gesture. Tried to find his adress but came up blank. Will try again at a later date.

As an aside, do you get this comic:
>attached
I don't get it.

>>24148
>148
These are auspicious numbers for this 'toss to be posted under.
The comic is depicting an IDF soldier (read: bloodsucking kike parasite) fighting a Palestinian militant, but the entry of the X community notes character is representing the way that on X formerly Twitter you can/it is possible to leave said community notes as a 'fact check' sort of thing on a post, though they frequently vanish if X doesn't itself largely agree with the ideas presented in the note. Naturally since the jew is allergic to all criticism, and efforts have been made to immunize them from all dangers, you see a lot of community notes calling out Israel for its endless parasite bullshit which is literally all it does or has ever done; the jew cannot create only destroy, for more information see how that Palestinian sandnegro never put niggers in LotR but the jews did.

>>21619
>Climate change is real.
Not according to my own criteria and >>>/mlpol/366189 →

>>21622
He's not denying that climate changes. He's simply proposing a different cause for this phenomenon.

>>21620
>Picrel
Elaborating a bit. The establishment has already made short work with that claim. Because Canadian forests have not been a net carbon sink for years now. Grasslands would do a much better job at it tho.

>>>/mlpol/372509 →
No one listens to Armin even if he's right. The problem is not the fact you're ultra polite even in situations where it isn't really called for. That's just a symptom of a larger issue.
Being capable of introspection, recognizing when you've made a mistake is necessary for self-improvement. But there is a point where self-doubt and guilt cripples the host.
Now that I think about it, I wonder if you're actually that sure about your worldviews. Perhaps you're just way smarter than I am. No way for me to know if that's the case. But I know, as ironic it may be. Sometimes the most reasonable thing to do is to avoid thinking too much about ethics (if you can't shoulder the weight), and ensure your survival first and foremost.
I know it sounds incredibly stupid to talk about this in what is simply an online forum. But it is a forum you've extensively posted on for some years now. And I am inclined to believe these post in aggregate can give me a glimpse into how you actually are irl.

I won't go into old threads just to make a point. But I mean, come on now...
>>>/mlpol/372517 →
>>>/mlpol/372514 →
>>>/mlpol/372512 →
>>>/mlpol/372511 →
Totally not OP btw

>>24159
Thank you for your input. I will reply, I'm just quiet busy right now wit irl stuff.

>>24174
Take ur time

I want to eat her out so badly

>>23984
i just want to hold her little hind legs to stop too much of a struggle, and tenderly cunny-munch her

>>23521

I was walking back down the hall. The still-damp, shivering foal was in my hand, staring fearfully up at me, softly hu-hu-hu-ing but otherwise quiet. I went into the kitchen.

“Anyway,” I continued, “The next portion of your training involves survival in sub-zero temperatures. You’re going to need a lot of stamina to survive in the freezing depths of outer space. Here’s your isolation chamber.”

I yanked open the door of the freezer and threw the foal inside. It chirped and peeped in alarm before colliding face-first with the wall and landing in the ice bucket. I could still hear it rattling around in the ice cubes as I slammed the door shut.

Whistling pleasantly, I grabbed a bucket of warm water, some soap, and a scrub brush, and got to work cleaning up the mess the little shitrat had left in the hallway. It was pretty disgusting work, but somehow I didn’t mind. Playing with Faggot had blown off a lot of steam; maybe there was something to this “fluff therapy” that my wife was reading about after all. These things were great stress relievers! I hadn’t felt this relaxed in years.

After the carpet and bathroom had been taken care of, I went and grabbed a beer out of the fridge and sat down to watch some television. I watched an episode or two of Sanford and Son on some high-number satellite channel that shows long-forgotten reruns, and pretty soon I’d forgotten all about my wife’s fluffy collection.

It was only when I stood up to get another beer that I noticed an odd sound coming from the refrigerator. I was half-buzzed, and for a moment I was a little confused.

“The fuck is wrong with this thing?” I muttered, and in a moment I realized it was coming from the freezer. A second after that, I realized it was the sound of ice cubes rattling around in the bucket. I yanked open the door.

“Holy shit, is this thing still alive?” I exclaimed, reaching into the ice bucket and drawing out the shivering babbeh. There was a layer of frost on its fluff, it was barely moving, and its eyes stared vacantly up at me as if I were an apparition, but the little shitrat was definitely still among the living. “Well, I’ll be damned!”

His teeth were chattering, but Faggot looked up at me, a pleading expression on his horrid little face, and eventually he managed to force a few words out:

“F-F-Faggot nu w-w-wike dis g-g-g-game, D-D-D-Daddeh…”

I threw back my head and laughed. Jesus, these things were full of surprises. What had started out as a pretty “shitty” (ba dum tss) afternoon was quickly turning into a hoot and a holler.

“I have wonderful news for you, Faggot!” I cried aloud. “You’ve passed your space training with flying colors! Congratulations, Lieutenant First Class Faggot! You are now among the few and the proud! You are officially an astronaut of the Fluffy Aeronautics and Space Administration!”

“F-f-fwuffy…a-a-am…astwonut…?”

I laughed again.

“Oh, you better believe it, little buddy! So, are you ready for your first mission? Oh, what am I saying? Of course you’re ready! You were born ready!”

“F-fwuffy am c-cowd…nee mummah…haf biggest huwties…poopie pwace haf owies…”

I ignored the gibbering of the weak foal, and set it absent-mindedly down on the counter while I rummaged around in the utility drawer. I found some zip ties which would probably do the trick. After that, I went to the hall closet and grabbed something off the top shelf.

“Alright, Lieutenant!” I chirped, scooping up the still-shivering frosty foal and heading for the back door. “It’s time for you to boldly go where no fluffy has gone before!”

I went out onto the back porch, and laid everything out on the picnic table. Our yard is surrounded by a tall wooden privacy fence, with a gate that opens up onto a communal alley. At this time of the afternoon, none of the neighbors or their kids should be home, so I figured the alley would probably be as good a place as any for this.

I placed the foal with his back against the rocket I’d taken from the closet. The brand name on the label said it was the “Big Bang,” and judging from the size of the thing I didn’t think it was a misnomer. It was one of the leftover fireworks from the Fourth of July the previous year; an enormous rocket, almost a foot long and an inch or two thick (make whatever Freud jokes you want; I’ve always been kind of a pyro and I get a thrill from shooting off big fireworks). I wrapped a zip tie around the foal’s neck and pulled it tight, watching in satisfaction as Faggot’s eyes began to bulge out of their sockets again. He had been chirping and peeping and babbling about “mummuh” and “poopie pwace huwties” until his wind was suddenly cut off; now all he could do was make a pathetic gurgling sound. Other than that, though, he didn’t try to struggle. These animals, or whatever the fuck they are, are pretty goddamn stupid, but this one seemed to have more or less realized that he wasn’t going to “wike” whatever I was about to do. On some instinctive level, he might have even realized that his pathetic little short life was nearly at an end. Maybe he welcomed it at that point.

Oh well, I thought. Serves you right, you little shitrat. You wanted to ‘splore’? Well, you’re going to go ‘splorin’ alright. This is for my carpet, and my game room, and my poor neglected dick…

>>23522

Whistling cheerfully, I took the rocket and its reluctant passenger through the gate, and quickly set it up in the middle of the alleyway. I kind of wanted to milk the theatrics a little more, maybe sing the national anthem or something, but the longer I drew this out the greater the chance that someone might open a window and see what I was doing. So, I quickly flipped open my Zippo, lit the fuse, and took several steps backward. I put a flat hand to my forehead in a mock gesture of salute.

“Semper Fi, little buddy,” I said. The fluffy foal’s bulging eyes turned towards me, and it looked like it was trying to gurgle out some last words. I’m no fluffy lip-reader, but I’m almost positive that it was trying to say “Faggot wuv ou Daddeh.” Either that or it was complaining about its “poopy pwace huwties” again; who the fuck even knows with shitrats. In any case, a second later the fuse burned its way to the rocket, and a torrent of flame began to erupt from its base.

Unfortunately, I was never much of a physics student, and I had failed to take into account how much of an impact the extra weight of the fluffy would have on the rocket’s trajectory. Instead of shooting gracefully up into the air as I had planned, the rocket made a rough lurch to the side and began to skitter a short distance down the alley, the terrified foal flailing its limbs as it repeatedly struck the asphalt. I had a rather harrowing moment myself when the rocket did a loop-de-loop and came back around, flying head first towards me. I leapt instinctively to the side, and it shot over my head and up into the air at the last minute.

I flipped over and watched it. Its flight path was still erratic, but it was a good twenty-five to thirty feet in the air now, so hopefully it wouldn’t cause any collateral damage. It wobbled out over the main street, where it finally exploded with a deafening BANG that somehow didn’t quite muffle the “screeeeee” sound of the dying fluffy. Several car alarms on the block went off; a red mist and some blue-colored chunks rained down onto the street below.

“Oh, shit!” I cried. I figured I should probably get the hell back into my house before anyone looked outside and saw me here. The last thing I wanted to do was answer a bunch of awkward questions from the fire marshal. If they figured out that there was a fluffy attached to that rocket, they’d probably just assume it had been the delinquent kid down the street who had set it off. All I had to do was get back inside–

“Excuse me, sir?”

My hand froze just above the gate handle. Slowly I turned towards the east end of the alley, the direction of the public street where the explosion had gone off just seconds ago. To my dismay, a uniformed police officer was standing there, with a few spatters of red on his shirt and a fragment of blue fluff on his shoulder.

“Uh, yes officer?” I asked, trying to play it cool. The officer took a few steps towards me and then stopped.

“My name is Officer Waczynski with the Clackamas County Sheriff’s department,” he said. I swallowed and tried to look nonchalant. “Sir, are you aware that it’s illegal to set off fireworks in this neighborhood without a permit?”

“I…uh…well…”

So much for playing it cool. The officer reached up towards his breast pocket, and I assumed he was going for his citation book, or maybe his handcuffs. However, his hand didn’t stop at his pocket. It continued its journey upward, and then stopped at his shoulder. Suddenly, he shot me a wry smile, and then pointedly brushed off the fragment of blue fluff. I gazed upon his eyes, and in that moment I knew that Officer Waczynski was my nigger.

“I’m afraid you can’t shoot off any more fireworks in this alley,” he continued. “You wouldn’t want to see kids, pets, or anything important get hurt, would you?”

I shook my head, and the officer shot me that sly smile again.

“I’m sorry, officer,” I finally stammered. “I guess I wasn’t really thinking.”

“Just don’t let it happen again, or I will have to write you a citation,” Waczynski said, and turned to go. He paused, then turned back to me. “By the way, if you go a little way past the other end of the alley, there’s a path down to the river. It’s pretty much all open space down there. It’s usually deserted, so if you want to mess around, do it there. Just keep in mind that we do have noise ordinances in this neighborhood.”

Without another word, Waczynski turned and went back to his duties. Meanwhile, the last of the blaring car alarms was finally silenced by its owner. I turned to go back inside my house.

***

Later that night, I was sitting in the living room watching more old reruns. It was a show called Laverne and Shirley this time. This old-timey TV was pretty good, I was thinking, and I figured I’d keep watching this channel for awhile. I heard a sound coming from the hallway, and looked up to see Heather emerging out of the shadows.

“How are the shitrats?” I asked. Heather shot me a disapproving but loving glance.

“They’re fine,” she replied, not taking the bait. “Say, have you seen the little blue one around here? I couldn’t find him in the safe room, and all Ramona will say is that “blue babbeh” went “‘splorin’.” She doesn’t seem too worried, but, well, you know how fluffies are…”

I frowned, as if remembering something. I made a show of hesitating, then cleared my throat.

“Well,” I said, “I noticed earlier that the game roo–uh, sorry; the safe room door was open a little way. I shut it, and I didn’t see any fluffies in the hall, but it’s possible that one of the babies might have wandered out.”

“Damn!” Heather made an irritated face, then she shrugged helplessly. “Well, I hope he’s alright…”

“Don’t worry,” I said, beckoning her towards the space on the couch next to me. “If he’s in the house he’ll turn up.”

>>23523

Heather plopped down next to me, but she didn’t let the subject drop.

“Yeah, but what if he doesn’t?” she exclaimed. “You know how fluffies are…”

“Yeah, I know how fluffies are.” I put an arm around her and pulled her close. “Look, I know you’re pretty serious about this fluffy thing, but you heard what the guy at FluffMart said. Those things are delicate, they wander off, they get into trouble…you shouldn’t get too attached to them, especially the babies.”

“Yeah…” she stared off despondently, still clearly anxious. I gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on,” I continued, “I’m sure he’s fine. How far could a little fluffy foal get? It’s not like he went into space or something.”

She smiled, and snuggled her head against my shoulder.

“Hey,” she said after a moment. “I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate how supportive you’ve been about all of this. I know fluffies aren’t really your thing.”

“Yeah, well…” now it was my turn to trail off. I shrugged. “I guess if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

She cuddled up closer.

“You’ll get your game room back some day,” she murmurred. “For now, I’m just…”

Her obvious drowsiness was beginning to affect me too, and my lids soon closed. I instantly saw Faggot in my mind’s eye, his neck fastened to the rocket with a zip tie, his eyes bulging out; that last expression of pure hopelessness on his face when he realized that he was going to die. I could feel myself beginning to get an erection. Heather noticed, though she completely misinterpreted the reason.

“Hmm, what’s this?” she said, stroking me gently. I groaned a little, and tightened my grip around her shoulders.

I shut my eyes again, and this time I saw Faggot blasting off into space. The rocket launched perfectly this time, carrying its brave little passenger upward, into the cold depths of outer space. To boldly go where no fluffy had gone before.

“Semper Fi, little buddy” I whispered.

“What?” said Heather. I opened my eyes, and she was looking at me with a quizzical expression.

“Nothing,” I said.

I leaned forward and kissed her.

------------------------------------------------------

And, that's it. iirc I was going to write more of this but just forgot about it. If anyone wants, I can probably continue it.

>>23520
Excellent story. You got all the terminology covered and used appropriately. I like how this Anon was such a sadistic asshole and still got away with it.
>Hey, that’s great, Faggot!” I cried, all cutesy-wike. Like. Cutesy-LIKE. Fuck, now even I’m talking like these things.
Keked at that.

>>23517
>Why are you bumping this thread with no content?
The question is why (you) would not. Huh?
>>23519
>I'm going to dump the retarded fluffy-abuse story I wrote forever ago.
Hell yeah.
Shitpost away!!!

>>23519
Glad you thought of me anon
you're still all inhuman garbage

>>23003
>second pic
Purple sure is. She never disappoints.

>>8732
Tbh, if Plato had ever seen a monkey/ape in his life, he probably would have described man as "a hairless ape", which is a more commonly accepted comparison these days.