Rad beaver inside

Good afternoon, beavers!
I just could not pass up this opportunity to contribute that tiny little niblet to google, in the name of attracting wayward porn-stalkers to beaverville and provide fodder for Fun With Sitemeter Friday, or as I'd like to link it, biting child rape porn fetish freak Friday. So there.
Count me as one of those who fits the following description mentioned in Tuesday's biting post:
"The answer is simple; these women on this site are practicing standing up to men. Many of these women have never had the opportunity to continue speaking after they’ve been told by a man to shut up. Many of them are, for the first time ever, trying to find the nerve to tell a man that he's wrong. ...Many of the women on this blog have been effectively silenced for much of their lives."
Namely, it's a bit embarrassing to even have a link. Can I handle the deluge of a half-dozen more hits? Am I even ready for not prime-time on some obscure cable channel? My mind reels.
That is because the voice here is of my inner rad trying to put thoughts into coherent language, drawing inspiration from others, while still struggling to break out of that cast society expects her to retreat to all nice and polite-like. I know that place well. As I get older, I get more tired of being in it. The new voice is still learning, though. There's a lot of frustration built up that hasn't been adequately expressed with others. I find it hard to control the diluge once I try to let a little out. The force is strong. It usually comes out something like "The issue of !goddamn*@^#$mot%#er*&^@$%ucking(*@^$assha#@$!", which doesn't adequately express my position.
Really, it's not like that in my head. I am forging new brain connections as I exercise the transfer from what the brain thinks to what the fingers type and mouth says. That's what this place is for. Working on coherence skills. To hold it to any higher standard would be foolish. Check out the links on the right for the high-standard stuff, and be knocked off your feet.



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