WHARRGARBL

Thanks! It sounds like “liberal” in this thread is what I’ve always called neoliberal, and “leftist” is what’s known as democratic socialism?

Curious comment, so I looked at Wikipedia’s Liberalism in the United States. Still not sure what you’re suggesting.

Could you elaborate?

Your initial reaction was correct; I’m viscerally opposed to using animals for sex.

There is a world of difference between a zoophilist and a zoophile, but i understand how easy it is to confuse the words.

I’m the poster child for The Road Not Taken. It’s been a weird and wild ride.

The same since single-digit age:

• Still strongly align with the Party of the European Left (I’m from USA)
• Still a devout zoophilist
• Still prefer vegan food

Different at 62:

• Less physical strength & flexibility
• Switched from theist to atheist
• Learning to enjoy my irrelevance

ETA: zoophilist

A zoophilist is generally defined as someone who has a deep love or affinity for animals, often expressing a strong emotional connection to them and advocating for their rights, welfare, and protection.

Nothing sexual there, people. I abhor animal abuse, but I’m blown away by how restrained your responses were in an effort to be inclusive. Also, I don’t have a penis.

DM sent

I was a court advocate for victims of domestic violence, volunteering at the same facility that had helped me escape an extreme situation. Having noticed that there was no federal, state, local, or private list of resources for people in crisis, I approached the director to request permission to compile a comprehensive guide and make it publicly available. Although I would’ve done it for free, the director saw the need and suggested this should be a highly-paid position; she announced the job opening to everyone at the next meeting.

A woman I’d never seen before expressed interest at the meeting, so I introduced myself and offered to collaborate to make the publication a success. We were scheduled to make our presentation to the board in a month. I gathered my half of the research and negotiated with businesses to donate materials and operating expenses, so that this program would be self-sustaining. I contacted the other woman every couple days to update her on what I’d accomplished, and to gather her data. She never had anything except excuses, so I gathered her share of the data, too.

On the day of the meeting, I’d done 100% of the work, which I’d happily shared with her, and I had put together the entire presentation. I didn’t mind, because this was a valuable community service. I arrived early for the meeting and sat outside the closed boardroom, waiting for my “partner”, but she never showed up.

At precisely the agreed-upon time for our meeting to start, the boardroom door opened and my partner emerged, grinning as everyone congratulated her. Yeah. I still didn’t get it.

I was ushered in and was asked to make my presentation. I was quickly interrupted because the board wanted to see MY efforts, not the work of the other woman. They accused me of stealing her work and told me to leave.

The other woman received a hefty salary for almost a year, but she never even bothered to use my research and connections to make even one flyer. Eventually she was fired and the failed community service idea became anathema to the facility.

That fucker changed the meeting time, stole my work and all the credit for it, scammed herself into the position, took the salary from the outreach budget, and destroyed the comprehensive resource list that would have helped tens of thousands of people in crisis.

I have total Aphantasia. There’s no internal voice, ever. I’ve never pictured anything in my mind. No taste, touch, or smell can evoke a memory or whatever it is other people have. My husband says he battles negative voices from his past? I live in absolute peace.

And here we have another gem from the obnoxious 43 year old libertarian edge lord’s exhaustive repertoire of unwanted opinions.

The Birmingham WMD industry is second only to Russia, which is, has always been, and will always be, number one in everything. Do not piss on the nationalist propaganda parade.

There was an elm tree in my childhood front yard. I loved her the way kids love their moms. In the summer, I would spend hours sitting by her, leaning against her trunk, hugging her, reading and telling her everything in my life.

When Dutch Elm Disease hit, she was tagged by the city to be cut down. Every day after school, I ripped off the tag. Every day, the tag was placed higher, until I couldn’t reach it. I screamed and cried when she was cut down - it still hurts. I spent weeks sitting by her stump, apologizing for not stopping the killers.

As an adult, I fell in love with an apricot tree in my back yard. I named her Apollonia. She’s magical, and I thought I’d be there with her until I died, but we had to move last month. I took a small branch from her last prune to keep with me forever.