Tag Archives: #nimby

“just say f*gs Connie this is taking forever😤🍼😩”

Yeah, gosh so, it *is* “taking forever,” Nick Tagliaferro, because that’s a word I just don’t say: I do not use that slur.

I never have.

Which you already know I don’t do as my possibly uttering it is, to you, “taking forever.”

Weird flex that it looks like the hard reality of me never using the slur “f*gs” angers and frustrates you.

Why?

Why is that?

Why were you goading me to say a slur I never say and never use? No one should say or use that slur.

So then why were you so impatient about my never using it? Did you want me to say that slur? Is that why it was “taking forever” for you? Is that why you were so bothered?

Because isn’t it, in fact, a good thing that I don’t say “f*gs?”

Isn’t not saying “f*gs” kinda the goal on this planet?

You’re literally proving that I don’t use this language.

You’re also showing how invested you are in the false and strange hope that I would use this slur which combines with your telling disappointment and vexation that I don’t use it.

I see you, yimby: and my seeing you never “takes forever.”

I see your lie, I see your irrational consternation, I see your dishonesty, I see your agenda, I see your hand and I see that you are wrong.

I see you, yimby👋

“On This Day, We Are All Fuelgrandchildren😤🍼😩”

News of the suspension of my Twitter accounts @fuelgrannie and @QueensStomp gassed up the Twittersphere yesterday, prompting not only the name fuelgrannie to trend (continuing into today, even) but also sprouted a new parody alt, the slyly monikered @fueIgrannie (“the ‘L’ is ~*secretly*~ an upper case ‘i,’ bruh!!!”), a peppery complement to the already existing saliferous parody @gruelfannie.

Relief and delight upzoned the spirits of density bros and their few fellow avocadgals: fuelimination got uninformed boyfriends talking, created bright revelry in a dark Omicron world and hatched Fuelkanda forever as a tender memorial to the demise of my presence on Twitter.

Memes about worshipping at the church of fuelgrannie just might go to my head and the curious support of folks who hate me and had blocked me years ago is coconut-pecan icing on a German chocolate cake.

Yimbys are understandably concerned about the social media censoring of sarcasm: after all, salty, spicy, sarcastic takes stack on top of each other as vertebrae to form the spine of yimby engagement: if my unwell, homophobic, whack job racist self can get banned for irony, well, then maybe we are all at risk for such consequences.

We’re all fuelgrannie now.

(Or is it fuelgrandchildren?)

But more yimbys than not still decry the whole “defend fuelgrannie” thing, with the more savvy ones obscuring my name so to discourage any topic trending; the most important result for them is that I have been banned and I need to stay off and away and silent. They had tried once before to permanently shut me up and hopefully this time it will ackshually stick.

Yet I’m not really silent, at present, not like I was the last time around. I wasn’t blogging much in 2019 and my name certainly never trended back then. I’ve had more traffic on this particular site in the past 48 hours than I had for most of last year and my relevance on Twitter oddly persists, despite the fact that my account is hidden and I am unable to engage.

So I’m not really gone, am I?

I mean, you’re reading me right now, aren’t you?

Fuelkanda forever, baby.