/lit/ - Literature

>>17465103
can you give us just a summary?
Or is it just:
Clean out your ass with enemas
Use a lot of lube
Relax and use poppers

>Mass shooting happens
>the (((nel))) is flooded with people defending the murder of random indonesian muslims
>Criticise the shooter, get dogpiled
>Ask for nuanced conservative breakdowns of the situation, get dogpiled
>Express sadness over loss of life, get dogpiled
>Note that even if an armed conflict is taking place, women and children are outside the bounds of war, get dogpiled
>Note how the manifesto is fucking stupid and obviously poorly thought out, get dogpiled]
It's a different group of people than from before the shooting or somehow a news story made /lit/ users lose 30 IQ points, or everybody came to 4ch from 8ch to troll.
Books for this feel?

>>12705451
Fun thread, thanks OP.
Nolan doesn't move. He watches the two ducks pecking at each other, and keeps his right arm still with his left. His feet start to twitch and flail uncontrollably. He struggles to uncross them, his head jerking back and forth.
His face screens blur and blacken.
"What's wrong?" says Jenny, as she heaves herself up onto her knees, "What is it? Tell me!"
Light and clarity return to his face and his body becomes still. He sits, legs stretched out in front of him, his head up facing the sky, both arms out behind him supporting his weight.
"It's nothing...no...thing...every..."
"Come on, let's walk." She stands up and reaches her hand out to him.
"Leave!" screams Nolan as he scrambles to his feet, "Leave!"
He pushes her in the direction of the gated archway that leads back onto the street.
"Go!"
Jenny staggers backwards, refusing to take her eyes off him.
Nolan grabs at his head with both hands and starts pulling at the screens that make up his face.
"Stop it!" Jenny screams, still retreating slowly toward the exit.
Nolan tries to speak, but so do all the rest.
In the end, none of them speak: Nolan's voice box cannot translate the various thoughts of his many violators. The noise that escapes his head is less a voice, less a conglomerate of voices, and more the hissing roar of a punctured tyre.
Feeling them closing in on his motor skills, Nolan unclips his gun and throws it into the pond: his last fully lucid act that afternoon.
On the one previous occasion, when the gun had remained on his person for the duration of the seizure, twenty-three people had died. Luckily for Nolan this occurred in a district in which, seizure or no seizure, he would rarely have many qualms about committing a series of random assassinations. but the second time was different: Jenny was present, and in the seconds it took to rid himself of the weapon he offered up thanks to anyone that'd take it for the massacre that had happened through him a little under a year earlier.
He didn't hear the screams or the solicitations ruptured by their own disbelief; he didn't see those eyes blink their last and open blind to the sky, or the softened faces spread across the plastic grass. His body did the work, but he remained absent for most of it, returning only in evanescent glimpses, any mnemonic entrails being readily appropriated by the legion alien selves to which he played host one hour out of that late summer afternoon.
Jenny called Grice, and he arrived with a van and three other men from the squad.
Grice cleared up the mess, just as he had done the time before. On this occasion there were only four bodies. However, this could not be confirmed till much later, when all the widely bestrewn parts had been logged and identified.

>>12678161
I just want a bunch of drunk frat bros to storm this meeting with some ridiculous chant doing like an elephant march or something, each guy holding the balls of the guys in front of him.
Imagine dunking on these nerds. I bet being >5'10" in the bars around town after this conference was like a leftist pussy buffet.

>>12677271
I like what this guy's shitty writing style does to my brain.