The Double-Eyed Bus

I no longer update this blog since 2020, but I still control the account and will respond to inquiries.

[austinhuang0131]

Snapstreaks could be good for something... Except friendship.

I keep Snapstreaks to people I meet maybe once or twice a year, or people that want me to respond their streaks. I post daily life snapshots: The view of the street outside the College, my bed, a cup of tea, homemade breakfast/lunch, bus commute, etc. No selfies. (I just hate taking pictures of myself.) No drawing S on the picture. (Of course I'm doing a streak, can't you figure?) Clearly, life of the ordinary never generates an enthusiastic response: Streakers usually respond with pretty much the same thing, except one girl who seems to be going out every day - which is good for her, squeezing every last bit of freedom before college strikes into her life.

Which is good enough for me. For the first kind, these people can recall the happy memories they had with me through notifications. After all, in the age of social media, this seems to be the only way to make someone exist. At least the petit effort invested in the fun I've constructed is worth something in their mind. And, for the second kind, well, they got their response. I served my goal, plus I served their goal. Win-win.

But that's just on the surface. Honestly, I regret doing so. Living in a society where friendships are valued, or even defined, by a score that could disappear in 12 hours? As a science student, we want to compare things logically, so we introduce numeric scales. But friendships are not logical. Encounter, feelings, confession, engagement, and (hopefully not) breakup. They're triggered by impulses, which never involve too much thinking.

Someone in New Jersey, who I work with online, wrote me a letter for fun. It's clearly a joke, seeing that the letter consists of the script for the FitnessGram Pacer test, and a scribbled text of "this letter has my fingerprint on it, please don't kill me". But I remember him, and for that, I would invest the effort in sending him a postcard. With jokes, of course.

I wish we could go back to that period of time where people would still call each other's homes to reach someone, where people would write to someone far away, and where people actually meet each other, going out expecting real food and real pleasure.

Am I too fixated in the 90s?

[austinhuang0131]

The people of my first semester chemistry class, who believed in me more than myself did, at the College

That is one long title. Shortened version: "My first semester Chemistry class", but I gotta follow the format.

Despite just reaching the average for the final exam, I still went 2 points under the average, which, according to the sacred verdict of R-score, was a straight up échoué. This year, to find myself some way out, I decided to pick a different chem teacher, with the excuse of "I want a teacher that actually focuses more on class". But honestly, I still like my previous chemistry class.

She was the type of teacher you'd expect to live a full college experience, which for me is an absolute intangible luxury. Her classes were fun and she would joke around on different subjects.

Future career, the only question every college student will ask? "Doctors kill one at a time; Engineers kill thousands." and also "one of the prerequisites of getting into [this College] is very worrying."

Actual class material, such as osmosis of water? "Without the special qualities, water cannot get up in the plant('s stem), water can't get to the leaves, and then we wouldn't have plants, and we wouldn't have Christmas trees, and the economy will collapse!"

Dried-up markers, the enemy of all teachers using whiteboards? "We have this recycling bin and we send them to [another rival college]."

It's surreal. Trust me.

Like teacher, like students.

I remember the guy who raised so many questions that the teacher sometimes give him the "cease and desist". And it was the day of a College-wide blackout that the guy said "oh hey I'm ordering Uber eats" to the teacher. The courage, eh.

I remember the girl with this pink Swell water bottle that the teacher liked to point to us. "See? It's the color of phenolphthalein!" Ah yes, the constant reminder of our titration lab... Many people hated it, but I seemed to enjoy it. It was really easy.

Maybe it's because my constant showing of my bad habit: Always wanting to answer questions. For that I always unintentionally portray myself as smart. But I'm really not that good in terms of chemistry. Even if I am, I don't like sitting on the high horse anyway. Gotta have contacts with the grassroots.

Nevertheless, there's always these guys who would sit around me and praise me. "C'mon, this quiz is nothing to you" or "the exam is too easy for you" or something like that. And sometimes, they would spread this emotion to everyone else in the class, and, by extension, to the teacher. Treating their praise as sarcasm, I didn't bother to really care. But as a friendly gesture, I would play along. As always.

This sounds ironic, but they're the same guys (and the teacher) who would insist on greeting me whenever I met them. Clearly I have failed their expectations while receiving much more mental support than the average student. But I still earned friends. Maybe that is the college experience?

[austinhuang0131]

The Girl, who opted to be my valentine for two minutes, at the College

This is fading in my memory, y’kno. Midterms are the coronaviruses of the brain. Apologies for any inaccuracies. And also, remember, if you have something to write, better write it quick!

It all started outside the Lockers.

The other girl - more or less knowing me in high school, with her usual greeting of “Austin! I miss(ed?) you!!!” (maybe more exclamation marks?) starting this semester, in which I respond with “no you don’t”... I mean gosh, am I really that memorable? We only had one class together ever! - Anyways, she decided to try something new. So she had this girl with her, also going to the Lockers.

“This is Austin..." (I'm pretty sure that's not her way of talking.)

"Austin! Wanna be my boyfriend?"

Rejecting her will probably cause some sort of meltdown. Maybe this is a sign? Who knows... Not like I couldn't play along with it. But I detest. Not like I'm not ready, but there's definitely no need to do that. There will be plenty of time. In fact, there is plenty of time.

"Sure." End of the day, hoping to get home so that I can finish the never-ending assignments.

"omg yes!!!" And you know, Snapchat. My face was once again put on the internet, unwillingly.

I cruise along the corridors to kill my boredom. After all, nobody would tour the College 5~10 times daily for no reason. In the unexpected event of me bumping into her...

"omg! It's my boyfriend~"

Sigh. A short one from the bottom. I can't believe this is one of the memorables that I could write in my previous essay. Play along it is... Symbolically holding her hand trying to drive this static out of my brain waves.

Dealing with friends walking with me is more bothersome. "Look, I got into this without my consent... I don't have a girlfriend, as you can see..."

Mission failed successfully.

On the Valentine’s Day... which, within the current constraints, feels far, far away, regardless of the viruses. Or because Valentine’s Day is, in all honesty, just another ordinary day out of the 365/366. Same setting. The same 2 girls and the same guy writing this out, hoping to get some empathy. Ironic, eh?

"Austin! You should (have?) buy her a rose!" From the other girl, literally pouring oil on the fire. C'mon!

Sure, there exists a club that sells roses on this day. But any real college kid will know that money is sacred. Especially when we have paid the tuition to get in. Clearly, they don't when they assume that they own their parents' money. Kids gotta be more responsible these days, or they will all end up with debt - a lot of it - just like the average Canadian.

I don't carry cash. "Alright, let me pull out some money from my card..."

"Woah, you're stressing him too much!" Seriously? It's your idea that I should buy the rose!

Fortunately, I have this one black chocolate from my snack stash, which, aside from that, consisted of 3 granola bars, 2 Dad's, some candies, and some Twix, enclosed in a plastic Lock-Lock container with one side clearly broken from its cheap plastics. I walked to my locker plainly, unlocked it, pulled out the box, took out the chocolate, and waved it in front of the girl, my supposed "valentine".

"Take it." Seeing her as ready, I threw it towards the ceiling. She got it.

Man just want to go home.

"Life is short. You should've caught up on this opportunity!" Sure, one could respond so to this essay. But that was a weird encounter.

Maybe I should've got along with her, even though she never meant it seriously. Anyways. My life, I must continue with. And past, the history is.

[austinhuang0131]

Bus is a Lifestyle

When people ask me about the reason I picture myself as a bus, or even prefer to be called as “Bus”, I always jokingly respond with “because I take the bus and I like it!” or something like that. Then maybe I’ll go on with how I loved Japan, their efficient public transport, and my vision for Montreal. Some think I’m childish, some think I’m just another Numtot (look it up!), but most of them, trying to put out an understanding face, just let this ridicule pass by. Perhaps the College is just filled with people fed up by the early morning confusions of the shuttle bus, something for the lowly peasants from those who could afford to drive.

As I no longer take buses - A measure for this desperate situation around us currently - there’s at least one thing I could take away: Bus is a lifestyle.

A bus is free. Maybe not as free as a car roaming on the highways guzzling the gas, but still better than those metros underground, enslaved by the concrete tracks (or metal rails if you want to talk conventional “subway”) with their life dependent on the third rail. Sure, a bus has fixed routes, but on the other side, they are more predictable than a car. A bus always knows its way while a car might not. A bus does not change its way while a car can and often will.

A bus carries people, but never develops a true relationship to them. People come and go, taking at least the availability of it for granted. Enclosed in this small space - some standing space between 30-ish seats - are people in their different thoughts: music, books, media, or just looking out from that dirty window trying to feel less dizzy. Many wave goodbye to a train, a ship, or a plane, but not that many do so for a bus (except in those disastrous situations, which are not experienced by buses on a daily basis). At the end of the day, a bus is often thanked for its work, but is also often blamed for its fault.

Within the constraints of my studies and those life necessities comes a little bit of freedom, which is usually spent by my pursuit of events, whether lectures that are not so academically stressed upon, or conferences that are not so rigorous in terms of rules. And, ironically, often I take public transport to get there as well. Sure, I know what paths I have, but they are just filled with those annoying orange cones and large blinking yellow arrows that points to nowhere. And there comes the intelligence of the bus driver to get out of this maze.

I love dealing with people and I always want more of it, but I’m never good at it. I have acquaintances, but no one can I call a “best friend”. In the corridors of the College, a joyful “Austin!”, a long “heeeeeyyyyy”, a short “sup man?”, a surprising “omg it’s my boyfriend!” and more often, a gesture of greetings, signified by facing each other’s face with the palm. Day by day.

I’ve seen a driver’s angry look when I decided to knock on the front door of a bus while out of breath, and I’ve listened to a driver’s short talk on his son’s cégep when I approached him in the shuttle. I’ve seen a driver’s ignorant face when he drops off only 5 people for the entire route, and I’ve listened to a driver’s long rant on the bus lane closures on René-Lévesque. Regardless of the day, I always say “merci, bonne journée/soirée” (thank you, have a good day/evening) to them who brought me home safely for countless days.

I’ve talked with passengers about the two Ts (Trump and Trudeau) in the politics. I’ve talked with teenagers about the workload in the College. But the most memorable of them is this cinematography student from Toronto, who was talkative but still seems a bit annoyed by my curiosity in her work. Nevertheless, she offered me a KitKat and we talked till her disembarkment.

Bus is a lifestyle. Maybe I should be proud of it?

[austinhuang0131]

Reflecting on the Gillette commercial, I guess

Before giving my $0.02, please hear my clarification: 

I do not support any retaliation, including boycotting Gillette or P&G products. If you believe they made a mistake (Which is totally fine by me), they should be given chances to correct themselves, which is one of the topics of this post.

I do not believe this commercial depicts that “all men are bad”.

I tried my best to be neutral, but I may not have covered all the points.

Mind if you watch the commercial again?

The commercial itself

I don’t disagree with the fact that sexual harassments or bullying does exist and we see that these problems need to be solved. But the reason is not “toxic masculinity”. Everyone goes through some sort of period, usually teenage (As depicted!), where they act “toxic”, whether it’s bullying (0:10, 0:33) or acting on females in a wrong way (0:24, 1:01). In such regards I’d say that making mistakes like this is a way of learning/growing. Of course, we don’t want mistakes in the first place, but it isn’t something that could be easily avoided. We learn consequences, which truly prevents us from doing stupid things in the future. Same with any other humans, right?

However, now Gillette points the finger at all men, saying: “We can't hide from it.” (Repeating the second clarification, note that I did not say that Gillette believes that all men are bad!) So now all men are collectively responsible for actions that a fraction of all men did? Guilty until proven innocent??? This is a process of learning, there is no collective responsibility here. It is his individual responsibility to reflect on his action. Plus, we’re logical creatures, and it is against humanity to sum everything up into “toxic masculinity”, or having something to restrict us to express (Even if wrong) and improve ourselves.

Furthermore, “Men need to hold other men accountable.” Selflessly? Say there’s a school shooting (Which is an extreme, but valid, example of bullying). Who will stand up to the shooter (And dance on them)? Of course, dads should break up fights, but how many of us will stand up to a bunch of street bullies chasing another kid? We don’t know what they have, eh? (Yes, you can call cops, but sometimes we don’t want troubles either.) After all, it is reputation damage / public shaming, such as exposure on media (Social or traditional. Only if sound evidence, such as pictures/videos, is provided.) or to bystanders, that will improve people’s behaviour. Blatantly blaming people arbitrarily won’t. Society is not 1s and 0s (And, if there’s a point it is, that’ll probably be the end of humanity).

I have problems understanding 0:29 (Is there anything inappropriate in helping others? Also, isn’t the woman sitting on an equally high position already?) and 0:21/0:57 (Aren’t they just trying to make a video?).

In short, 

Harassments and bullies do exist, which we should condemn, and Gillette did a good job explaining it.

“Toxic masculinity” is not a collective reason. They themselves not being grown up is the problem, which I don’t think that equals “masculinity” at all.

This is an individual issue. Public exposure, which the commercial recommends, helps the process of correction, yet it is still up to each individual to realize and fix the problem (They could refuse help). There is no generalized solution here.

Half good points, half terrible execution.

The reactions

Now here goes the problem:

We expected debate. Actually a discussion is necessary. If we don't discuss and don't talk about it, I don't think real change will happen. (Source.)

If you read comments in tweets quoted in news articles, or even news articles themselves, you’ll find a lot of toxicity from both sides. In many cases, opposition tend to be greeted with a reply saying that if they’re offended, they’re part of the problem. Again, oppositions are almost unilaterally summarized as supportive to bullying and harassments, which is not the case.

I’m not completely opposing the ad. There are good points to take. But the fact that the supporters push the opposition down with illegitimate claims is not okay. In fact, this could be as toxic as the “toxic masculinity” portrayed in the ad. Men are portrayed, in the comments, guilty until proven innocent.

Comments and supplements are welcome. Remember, our justice system is built on “innocence until proven guilty”.

Thanks to my teachers for bringing this up for debate in classes. I heard both sides of the argument and took references from them. A neutral environment for discussion is required for progress, unlike the internet.

[austinhuang0131]

A Post-Session Position Paper on Indigenous Peoples, I guess

As written on the homepage, I go to model UN conferences. I just finished playing my role of Robert Bourassa in the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples in SSUNS. I suddenly had this idea last night, and I didn’t get a chance to address it today, so I guess I should write a Tumblr post to solve (Or maybe just to express it?) my regret, I guess. Below is my hand-written draft, excuse my illegible writing.

So I took some time to finish it, and here it goes:

In 1960s, it is through the Quiet Revolution that Quebecers left the Great Darkness and march towards prosperity. My (Robert Bourassa, my character) predecessor, Jean Lesage, said: “C’est le temps que ça change!” ("It’s time for the change!")

What change, you may ask? “Maîtres chez nous.” Be the masters of our own house.

If Quebecers being able to bring changes and walk out of the darkness, then the Indigenous peoples should also be able to. Why haven’t they?

I know you guys (Other delegates) didn’t mean it, but we are still, unconsciously, treating the Indigenous peoples like children just like before, while they do indeed have unique minds like ourselves. We are still pushing them to the goal that we presumed is best for them, and we are not giving them the torchlight to shed their way, rather pulling their hands to our way when they are still in the dark.

We are people. Indigenous peoples are also people, just like us. We can get through problems by ourselves, because we know the tools are in our disposal. We can walk out from darkness, because we know we can. They have problems too. Why can’t they solve them? Where are their tools that are taken away by us when they need them?

We have many cultures. Indigenous peoples also have many cultures, different from ours. Attempts to understand them have failed again and again, from the Indian Act to the residential schools. Why can’t we just admit that we have failed, that we are unable to act on their behalf and do what’s best for them?

Wake up, delegates! We’ve seen what happened in Oka. They have nowhere to go but to fight using violence, because we sealed all the doors of negotiation for years and years, because they have nothing to lose as we take away everything from them.

With that being said, I believe that the true solution to all the issues is to let Indigenous peoples be the masters of their own house. During the Great Darkness, it’s the Church and the American companies, not the people, that controls most of the society’s resources. The control came back to the fellow citizens after the Revolution. Now, we see that it’s the federal and provincial governments, not the Indigenous population, that controls most of their society’s resources. Why hasn’t the control came back? Because the governments are afraid. They fear the loss of control.

We are building houses for them. We are making schools for them. We are trying to understand them. We are trying to heal them. But what we really don’t know is, do they really want that?

The Indigenous population has lived on the land for thousands of years, and more to come. They know what is the best for them, and they should achieve so with our full support, so that when they need help, they know they will be helped, just like us. With the tools in their disposal, together, we can build True North, Strong and Free.

Wake up, delegates! Why can’t we just let them to be the masters of their own house?

I guess that’s pretty long, eh?

And yeah, I regret a little bit that, if I could have this idea earlier, I could get an award or something like that. But there’s life. An expected life would be boring, eh?

Do post your comments below (Especially if I unintentionally offended anyone!) so that I could improve on it.

[austinhuang0131]

My takeaway in the Deciem drama

So the Deciem thing. Another corporate drama right after Elon Musk messing up himself. Gotta get some popcorn to watch.

Since there's always people being out of the loop, time for a

Summary

Many news outlets carry this. I recommend the Toronto Star/Canadian Press and CBC/Canadian Press coverage.

And here's a quick shortcut to the Instagram post in question. With that said, we should first analyse

The Damage

You've probably also heard of how Elon Musk lit fire on himself over some tweets mocking the SEC. But this one is much more different.

Consumers are literally panicking to stock up on The Ordinary from all resellers. (Tesla soon-to-be owners at least weren't that panicked.)

The employees are confused over this random decision with the fear of being fired for no real reason. (That's even worse than Elon Musk erasing his stock value.)

Many news outlets carried this to the extent that it even went on my Google News.

I'd classify this as an act of domestic terrorism already.

The U.S. Code of Federal Regulations defines terrorism as "the unlawful use of force and violence against persons or property to intimidate or coerce a government, the civilian population, or any segment thereof, in furtherance of political or social objectives" (28 C.F.R. Section 0.85).

Brandon Truaxe (CEO of Deciem, in case you forget. "BT" in later mentions) used shutting down a company without notice against a bunch of well-known celebs and companies, Trump included, in furtherance of the objective of "ALL OF THEM ARE ILLEGAL!!!!!!". No joke, this really fits. He should've been put on a list already.

Background

BT left 2 cosmetic companies before because they represent the dark, corrupt & money-hungry cosmetic industry he hates. This could be a reason he finds to defend himself (Unconscious ego for defensive purposes), or this could be a real reason, who knows.

What we can say for sure is his other weird Instagram posts. Personal use of corporate account (Terrible PR in general), unnecessary use of graphic images for a cause (Think about anti-abortion groups in Toronto and PeTA), firing people over social media (Trump), panicking + conspiracy over "lost luggage"... Nothing good are compared with these traits.

Possibilities

In a general order.

1. Mental issues

Everyone eats this explanation. Now, since BT has mental issues, we should wish him well then? "My prayers and condolences to the families of the victims of the terrible incident"?

If he does... To cure a disease, first you need to have the desire to cure. BT doesn't. He frequently lashes at people who claims he has mental issues because he was taken to a private hospital in London that said he doesn't have any problem? Well, if you don't have the desire to cure, certainly you won't open up your problems to others either. He definitely has conscience left, and if he doesn't act when he looked at his company, then he is unsalvageable. We can't force him to cure. Just let him rot. Remember, he got fired from 2 companies already, and also we have natural selection in place.

If he doesn't...

2. Drug use

That's up to the legal prosecutors. Again, stopping drug use also requires determination.

3. Hunger Marketing at its worst. Seriously.

Maybe he wants to break ties with all the resellers? Maybe he wants consumers to buy his products like crazy?

Ending

You might want to check your Deciem stuff right now. BT's abnormalities might have reflected on the products already (BT has been like that since January). If something shows up, go to consumer protection immediately!

If the true motive landed on my Third guess, then you should consider boycotting Deciem.

[austinhuang0131]

Bell Let's Talk Day? How about we talk about Bell instead?

First of all, Bell sucks. I mean, all Canadian telecoms suck, but Bell sucks the most. $55 for 1GB/month is unacceptable. Terrible service (As I've heard). They even tried to end net neutrality in Canada today.

Second of all, Bell uses mental health campaign to divert attention. CRTC said they need to donate $3.5m every year anyway.

There are certainly more reasons but remember not to support evil capitalism

[austinhuang0131]

My critical analysis on Mawaru Penguindrum. Unbelievable.

WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILER. Read at your own risk.

(January 7, 2018: This remains a Work in Progress.)

nice title and warning

Within 2 days (Yes), I watched another Madoka-level depressive anime. Good job. Why am I keep watching this kind of anime? What is pushing me to the cliff of depression? It's not like I'm that kind of person And, in fact, I am quite savage, online and offline, check my post history, but I just keep going to this kind of shit. So...Listen, you lowlifes, who will never amount to anything! Obtain the Penguin Drum! This is nonsense. I get what the author trying to say, but this is still nonsense.

First time writing an analysis. Probably amateur as hell.

Initiative

This Linux meme I saw on a trash website.

So I went to search for its raw sauce source, which leads to me watching this. I thought it was some good entertaining shit, but turns out it’s another Madoka-level calice.

The main theme, core idea, whatever.

Three parts.

Fate

First of all, let’s compare the statements that the characters made. The apple girl said:

I love the word "fate". Because, you know how they talk about "fated encounters"? A single encounter can completely change your life. Such special encounters are not just coincidences. They're definitely... fate. Of course, life is not all happy encounters. There are many painful, sad moments. But this is what I think: sad and painful things definitely happen for a reason. Nothing in this world is pointless.

And that was episode 2. In contrast, Shouma said:

I hate the word "fate." Birth, encounters, partings, success and failures, fortune and misfortunes in life. If our lives are already set in stone by fate, then why are we even born? There are those born to wealthy families, those born to beautiful mothers, and those born into the middle of war or poverty. If that's all caused by fate, then God is incredibly unfair and cruel. Because, ever since that day, none of us had a future and the only certain thing was that we wouldn't amount to anything...

And that was episode 1. The end proved them both right. Nice catch. But they’re too extreme. And animes are always featuring extreme situations so that they can be animes, right? That’s why I don’t take animes as lessons. They’re not something we will encounter.

What I believe is: You might love it, or hate it, but such concept of “fate” is a suggested course. It should not be taken as the truth set in stone (Shouma), or surprises that jump out randomly (Ringo), but rather a neutral advice. You can follow it, or you can break it, depending on the situation, which can bring positive and/or negative consequences, known as “taking risks”. Such “fate”, as a suggested course, is fitted to everyone individually. Let’s break this down.

Such concept of “fate” is a suggested course.

By “suggested” I didn’t mean it’s necessarily good. It is rather close to being balanced, which is what the world has been turning about: Positive and negative connect to each other, spread across the whole lifespan of “fate”.

...but rather a neutral advice.

Following such “fate” makes you what a balanced world (which is neutral, at least it should be) want you to be.

You can follow it, or you can break it, depending on the situation.

Two points. First of all, only you can change your fate, not a fucking diary, which succeeded in transferring fate after a high price was paid. Second of all, I said depending on the situation, which means that there are certain moments in your life that you have no other options (Will describe later).

Such “fate”, as a suggested course, is fitted to everyone individually.

To balance out the society, positive and negative elements coexist. 

Survival Strategy

This world is corrupt. It's all about winning and losing. Who is ranked above and below you. The profitable and unprofitable. The accepted and unaccepted. The chosen and unchosen. They never try to give... All they care about is taking! What a miserable world we live in. A world ruled by those who will never amount to anything. This is already a Frozen World. But fortunately for us, the Flame of Hope is still burning strong. The holy flame. Tomorrow, we will cleanse the world with that flame. Now's the time to take back... The beautiful world where the mankind only need true things to survive! This is our Survival Strategy!

“They never try to give... All they care about is taking!” Isn’t that communism you want? Soviet anthem plays So this is a commie anime then. Woah. The author is just too sophisticated. I never expected to see such an accurate portrayal of communism in a fucking anime!

Jokes aside. Needed or unneeded won’t exist if people’s direct benefit In the anime, such goal is portrayed by a terrorist group, which sucks. I think this goal is perfect: It is something I would definitely agree on, given the stories of the kids’ families in the anime...aside from the method to establish it: Trying to establish an equal society by a massacre against the innocent creates way more inequality. But the problem is, communism is always established using bloody methods (Just two famous examples. There’s more...Plus they didn’t establish true communism later on.) which makes any peaceful solution impossible. After all, you can’t change the whole society: Once you take the benefit, you wouldn’t share it.

Cycle

This picture generally illustrated the flow of “apple” (= Penguindrum = Fruit of fate) throughout the timeline, showing the cycle of fate. This is a representation of "true things” (= Equality) presented in the previous section.

But why killing Himari to teach them a lesson? If they’re living happily, and they accept each other as family members while none of the three siblings are biological, in what perspective does killing her necessary? Of course, you can say, “Fate.” But that makes a loophole because now we can say, “Everything is connected by fate”. Here comes dialectical materialism, a theoretical base of communism which proved this anime to be commie again. They believe that...

A thing will go back to its original form after being reversed twice.

Everything is created by conflicts.

Such ideology is dangerous, as it’s a loophole proving itself right. And that makes communism dangerous.

Plot

I guess it’s very clear: Pretty entertaining in the beginning, depressive in the end. Personally, I believe the distribution of both parts in Penguindrum is more balanced than Madoka.

But this makes no sense.

First of all, why would Ringo want to imitate her dead sister? She’s dead already, so she won’t change. Tabuki is 16 years older, and he will change drastically. Why would you follow a guide written 16 years apart? Materialism again? “If my mind become alike to Momoka’s, I’ll become Momoka herself, because materialists believe that minds are composed of matters.” No, no, no! 

Summarizing the end of the story, it’ll be: Reviving one should-be-dead girl at the cost of erasing two boys completely from the earth, plus giving a girl some burn, and 2 women + 1 man depression. In any way, I believe that the princess of crystal (the hat, in short) should be directly responsible for the result of 2 dead 4 injuries. That’s first-degree murder. Even if the two brothers agreed to take their lives to save Himari, that’s still murder. Even if their parents are terrorists and the fate said their kids have to be punished, that’s still murder (Committed by whoever executed the fate). Even if the scorpion burning on Ringo got transferred to Shouma, that’s still attempted murder on Ringo. BEGONE THOT! She should be cursed and Himari should die gracefully. In fact, Himari already realized that her disease can’t be cured, so she even prayed to “return the present of life”, which is a pretty ungraceful death. So here comes the problem:

Why’d the princess revive Himari?

“Obtain the Penguindrum”, which is the fruit of fate (apple), revealed in the end. We already analyzed the “cycle“. Or maybe she (As a part of Momoka, revealed in Episode 23, or the worse part as written here) just wants to murder the guys?

Characters

Well...I don’t think I should analyse each characters separately.

[austinhuang0131]

The Intruder

A sequel to The Destroyer. Never presented since I mentioned my classmates in the story.

Edited December 9, 2017.

“Your story is so bad! You just described the whole instruction of how to solve a crime. Plus, the guy was like never caught before, but you guys caught him that easily?”

Yeah, I was being savage again. But it was true: Literally all my comrades…I mean friends…thought so, just never said it in front of her, but they all cheered when I said it, with loud claps. Such cowardice. “How about you write one?” The girl knew how to deal with my savagery so that at least she can steal something from me and be more popular. These teenagers. Her friends cheered for her. But her story was really bad. Like the kind that no sympathy can be given. “Alright,” I shouted. “Challenge…accepted! Challenge accepted!” My figure is too big to fail. I mean, all these boys fear me, as I have already established my superior authority in dealing with money, dealing with relationships, and also dealing with governmental relationships. You guys should’ve read my story before, right? But not all those girls. Especially that girl. Transfer student. Relatively mini in size. Has bad tastes just like these disconnected dudes and dudettes back in her original school. While she’s not very good looking, she has already lured three boys, although all low-tier trash kids. Still, luring three boys is pretty impressive indeed.

Since the death ran past me last time, I am escorted home by cops, because they think it’s just too easy for me to get shot again. You might think that as a privilege, but you are definitely wrong: The cops are just aggressive on anyone who approaches us. Also, I didn’t say much to the media, so they become curious about me. When I get stuck in traffic, tens of reporters who had waited for my arrival for a long time just swarm around me, trying to get as much from my mouth as possible. When the cops acted aggressively, they respond aggressively, and thus a chaos is formed around me. I actually feel like that’s worse than being caught and interrogated by that government. I got back to my foster home. Dinner was ready for me. Relief. “Hey, someone mailed you some chocolate!” My foster mother says. She really cares about all these things I got from the mailbox because I often request freebies from various sources: I like bargaining and freebies, just like one of my teachers, despite the fact that I have earned some fortunes already. But not this time. I’ve heard that Mossad agents murdered a German with toxic chocolates that reacted slowly. “No…Not really. You see, I’m sensitive now.” “But it’s Godiva! Not some Merci but Godiva!” “It’s not even a Lindt! Besides, I’m sensitive now, don’t you know?” My foster mother left with a shrug. I had dinner and went upstairs to my room. My daily routine after dinner is that I finish my homework as well as my contract work to earn a small-but-impressive income. But that day I felt dizzy. I kept thinking about the girl. I never felt she’s that attractive, not to the three boys, but to me, a guy who usually ignores girls. I kept thinking about whether to actually be a deliverer or a bamboozler, as I had already accepted the challenge. So I went to sleep early. Muddling in my sleep, I could sense the lightning outside my window. Heavy rain. Trees shaking.

Waking up to the radio. Another day. Rainy. I got dressed and prepared, grabbed my breakfast, saw the cops waiting for me, got escorted, passed through ordinary traffic, arrived school, chilled for a bit with my classmates, then I went to the class. One of my buddies, who never take sick days and was energetic when he cheered for me the day before, was absent. Dudes in my circle gasped, including myself. Is it that government? This idea flashed in my head like the lightning I heard yesterday. The rain, lightning, shaking trees… must be some sign of bad things. So it is that government! Recalling my experience scene by scene, I feel regret…I became the headlines, I helped my family…But I…I betrayed my friends! Wait…There was only one person missing. What if he’s actually sick? I gave up punishing myself. But I felt dizzier. All the sudden, something came to my mind. “That might do for the challenge that the bitchy girl demanded.” She wrote a detective story, so what if I wrote a detective story as the sequel to The Destroyer? That’ll effectively bring her down and increase my throne…I mean authority. “What are you saying?” It’s that boy. Transfer student. Same origin as the girl. Same bad taste, maybe worse. What a terrible school they came from, I thought. “Are you actually going to say he died? There’s no more time for that challenge! This is SERIOUS! Just STOP!” “What did I say?” “You said…” “Stop.” While the boy didn’t persuade me to abandon my idea, his words actually enhanced my thought. I felt more terrible now. I left the crowd in the classroom. I could faintly sense someone watching behind me, who I failed to catch as it ran away so fast. I lost my concentration in class, thinking about the fate of the absent guy, over and over. Then I figured that it’s just too much. I gave up my thought. Time flies by quickly. The cops showed up at the front gate on time. I told them that one of our comrades…I mean friends…was missing. “Did you just say comrades? Are you a commie?” This government hates commies. “Shut up. How can you be so damn chill when someone is probably abducted by the part-time scumbags, or maybe full-time scumbags?” “I don’t know. I’ll try to get in contact with them.” I was back home. Tired. Exhausted. The chocolate sitting on the dining table was never touched. “You look tired.” “No, I’m fine. Another test this week.” “Okay. But you never worried about tests!” “Not a lot of tests at the same time…You know what, it reminds me of my time back in that country. We have tests weekly, like every single week. You won’t believe it. Try it. You can literally lose your life.” I stormed upstairs. Outside the window, red the moon was. I saw a tweet that inspired me. “Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose.” I mean, they are my friends, but not forever. They are not bringing me any direct benefit. Besides, for the people that bring me direct benefit, like cold hard cash, they are not necessarily my friends. So, I guess it’s not a big deal… Stop! What if they become successful? You can easily go into the kool kids klub, you enjoy privileges, you can also earn cold hard cash! You can easily apply for certain jobs with someone who recommends you! So, I guess I shouldn’t do it… Wait! That’s much later, plus how could I imagine them being successful? They’re like just relaxed, not caring about report card, and are literally making memes every day…How can they be successful? Why should I carry my hope on them? The twisted mind of me sucked the last strength out of my body. I lay down on my bed feebly. It was a half-an-hour nap, then I got up and hurried into the work I needed to be done. Although tired, I was still conscious of my actions, so I wasn’t really worrying. Then I slept. For the second time muddling in my sleep, I could sense the lightning outside my window. Heavy rain. Trees shaking.

Waking up to the radio. Another day. Rainy. I got dressed and prepared, grabbed my breakfast, saw the cops waiting for me, got escorted, and…The cop told me something no one can believe. “My buddy visited the sick guy. He was sick with sudden anemia.” The officer who escorted me said. “But he was fine the day before…” “He found a kiss on his neck. No lipstick, but pretty red. Tried to identify it, but the forensic department said no match in the database.” Well, this expels my trouble… by pushing another in. This is a scientific world, why can there be demons or vampires? “Any needle holes?” “You’ll be surprised.” He stopped the car on the side and handed me some photos. “Too-long-didn’t-read: No. Also, you can keep them.” Another guy was absent, but I have no more strength to care about that: This effectively distracted all my concentration. I went through these photos over and over too many times to even keep up with the classes, and I got called out, unfortunately. At least I am a good student for most of the time, I could get away with the reason of “a bad sleep”. During an excess, I could, again, faintly sense someone watching behind me, but at least I could get a glance: It’s the girl with bad taste. I mean, I watch anime. I knew how vampires work, but that’s artistic expressions. I would need some info on actual experience. I rushed out of the front gate as the classes ended, then told my escorting officer to drive me to the national library. He was quite surprised, but he did anyway. I ran to the history section and searched through the old, crappy books for some folk legends about these demonic creatures, but I couldn’t: The library sucks. Leaving it, I got escorted home, opened the door, put down my bags, then stormed upstairs to my room. Online research would be the only way. But, as I’d expected, this couldn’t be any more fantastic. I was exhausted, but at least there wasn’t any homework that day. As suggested in anime and common settings, I decided to keep my eyes open in bed as long as possible. I sneaked to my Keurig, added some quality Columbian coffee gifted from my Latino neighbour next door to my K-cup, pushed the handle and the button, quickly drank the coffee-water – Keurig is weaker for My K-Cup comparing to regular pods, thanks to the evil capitalism – and then I went to bed. Blame that Keurig. It had almost no effect. I kept my eyes open for like an hour and then I gave up. I guess I’ll praise communism to get more effective coffee. Another lifetime experience began, as I said. Or maybe I’m too naïve.

“Wake up.” A soft, comforting voice. It was that girl in a pinkish nightdress. “HOLY CRAP! BURN IN HELL!!! WHICH GOD OF WHICH RELIGION PUT YOU HERE, IN MY DREAM? HOW DARE YOU SEDUCE A LEGEND?” Pinky fumes with the smell of a familiar perfume surrounded my room. That really makes up a temptation, I thought. But anyways, I just couldn’t bear that marshmallow smell. “You stole your friend’s perfume to make particulate matter. What a bad taste in perfume, just like your taste in guys. Now let me get some protection against this air pollution.” “The Ketchup lent me that. And you’re so mean, so you’re mine now. You’re not going anywhere. You probably have heard from the officer…right…?” She lay down her hand on my shoulder. Behind a cute face is such an evil plot. “But do you actually have anyone that loves you?” You see, I can still be savage even if I’m confronting a possibly-mutated supernatural being who looks like a girl. Silence. “Power is just an excuse. You can’t hide the fact that you have no actual friends. No one will care about you unless you force them to care. That’s so sad.” She stopped moving. Her face was around 20 centimetres away from mine, but I can no longer sense her breath. Bon chance! I kicked her right in the face so hard that she fell off my bed. “See, you will never attract a living meme, a legend, a headliner. You will never get me.” I tried to open the door, but it got locked. Windows, too: The handle got tied up. Now I need a hammer to break the glass open, but that’s not easy, considering my window glasses are now bulletproof: Hard as a rock. I choked on the pinky fume. I became unconscious… “Wow. You’re so mean. Don’t you adore my power? What if you can have it?” My suffering didn’t end when I woke up. She really can read my minds. “I’d rather sell my power for money.” What a savage answer I gave. “Don’t you like girls around you?” “If I can’t sell my power, I’ll sell the girls.” Does that mean I shouldn’t sell the power? “Don’t you like girls who are rich?” “With great power comes great responsibility. I’ll just sell my power to someone and let them do the job. Also, such supernatural power can come with side effects, y’kno.” “Wow. You are really mean.” I wrecked her so hard, which was equivalent to pouring gasoline on a fire. But she just lay her head down my neck without hesitating. She kissed me. Journey to hell now, I guess. “WHAT THE…” Her lips were pretty soft, but you can feel that sting on your neck and your blood being sucked out. My strength was being drained away... It was some moments later that I realized that I couldn’t resist her. Her lips staying on my neck. “I’m…glad…that…” “What?” “…you…killed…me.” A savage kid needs a savage death.

Instead of waking up in the heaven or the hell, or feeling worn-out due to the anemia, I woke up normally. Her lips remained still on my neck. Eyes closed. No movement. She’s dead. “Thank God she died.” Relief…Not for long. More and more questions popped up in my head. “How did she die?” No wound on the corpse, no trace of any fight. “Did I kill her?” I passed out after her kiss, sure I was unconscious. “How should I deal with this?” I can’t tell the police: I touched her, so there goes my fingerprint. Guess I’ll have to sneak out at late night carrying a corpse. She’s a devil that can stir things up once found, so I guess there are some self-destruction features left for me to discover. “So you think I’m dead?” A voice in my head. It’s the girl. “Holy! Where the hell…” As I said, it is a scientific world, and... “Exactly. I tried to suck your blood out, and then I became unconscious for like no reason. And that’s what happens when I woke up. Now PUT ME BACK!!!” Eek. Holy crap. Does that mean I contain her soul now? Having a girl in my head really hurts. It’s not like I’m afraid of being paranoid, it’s just that my report card can go down if she bothers me in a test. “No. Get punished for being an intruder to the Destroyer.” “You won’t be able to bear me. I’ll just trash talk all the time until you do so!” “You’ll see. Also, I don’t have the tech to get you back, y’kno. Stop begging.” So I began my regular morning routine. I got dressed and prepared… “You have so few clothes in your closet!” Grabbed my breakfast… “You have a wrap?” Saw the cops waiting for me… “Cops drive you to school?” Got escorted… “What a privilege…” “BURN IN HELL! I beg you, please, JUST STOP! You’re only leading me to commit suicide, which kills you too. But trust me, that won’t happen. It’s time for you to suffer.” “You know what, I actually really like you.” What an obvious flattering lie. “Point proven,” I shrugged, “Bad taste.”

[austinhuang0131]

As usual. One of the shops on Avenue Mont-Royal during its street sale.（在 Paul's Boutique Montreal）

[austinhuang0131]

The Destroyer

A story I wrote for a school assignment.

I was sitting on the bus on my way home. It got stuck on the highway, as usual. So I was chilling on my seat in the back, earplugs in, hoping the traffic ends, as usual – I always get a seat on any bus. Maybe it’s just good luck. BANG. About five vans, all in black, quickly surrounded the bus. Around twenty men, dressed in black, all masked, jumped out from the vans. Two men cracked the front door open with a hammer. Using their knives, they quickly controlled the driver and most passengers in the front. I kept telling myself, “Keep calm, man. You got this.” Slowly, they started looking at everyone’s face. I knew it. They’re coming for the person. The person who stood up and took a stand against them. The person who puts justice in front of them. It’s me.

I am a student. But don’t get fooled by my appearance: that’s not it. Before I came here, I had a pretty wealthy life there: My family earned a huge fortune from developing internet in the end of the last century. My father was a reputable person who owns the country’s first online forum, where people gathered and discussed everything. I never worried about my life: My education, my amusement, my everything. But times change. We got a new government there. Corrupt as hell. Savage. Evil. Greedy. Terrifying. All my friends started disappearing, one by one. But my parents never mentioned any of that. “Nothing to worry, kid,” my mother says, “things will get better, sooner or later.” Soon my father stopped working. He looked tired every day. I heard from my “surviving” friends that his website came down because the government didn’t like it. He lost his job. And one day, the officials from the tax office knocked on our house’s door. My parents knew: It’s a raid. My father took out everything that could stop them, but they just tore these things into pieces. “Listen. We don’t care about these pieces of trash of these people. We are doing as we’re ordered to. Now, give way, please.” My parents just kept standing in front of them, silent. These officials took out their pistols. My parents remained still. Tears running down from their cheeks. BANG! My father, the strongest man as far as I know, just lied down, formed a fresh wound on my childhood. My mother cried when she tried to save her husband. “Please! Don’t take our child!” “Shut up!” The officials came in and opened all our drawers. Bunches and bunches of our hard-earned cash carried out onto their trucks. As soon as they emptied all the drawers, they drove away as fast as possible, leaving my father bleeding. He died. My mother didn’t want me to live like that. We moved to hide from the officials. I quit school. But my mother still couldn’t believe I was safe. One by one, my remaining friends over there went disappearing. I began to be afraid. It was another day and my mother finally got a chance to send me abroad. “We’ll handle everything but one,” The man who sent me here, said. “You’ll have to crawl into the cargo storage of that plane. Once the plane leaves the ground, the crew will let you out.” I accepted. My mother spent her last savings putting me into safety. And this makes up my first time riding a plane. Before I left, my mother handed me a bag with some comic books. I like comic books. “Keep them safe,” my mother said, “so that when you miss me, or your father, you can read these comic books.” I landed here. Several hours of tumbling journey relieved from my shoulder. Border agents lead me to their office, where I was given a warm welcome. “We know how much it took to get you here. But anyways, you are here, and you are safe.” They gave me a large box of supplies. I just couldn’t stop showing my appreciation. My foster family lead me away. To their house. They looked after me. As I grew, I started to learn about all these shady stuff that the government did there. They took every rich families’ money. They spent it for their own pleasure. It was another day, one year later. I missed my family so much that I started reading my comic books over and over. My foster mother asked: “Oh, you’re still reading the oldest one in that series?” “There’re newer ones?” I was surprised. She brought me some. It’s the new ones. I opened them and noticed the thinner pages. “Wait, why are the pages so thin? Look at my book. It’s that thick!” By mistake, I tore a page from the book. Pages of paper hidden inside the pictures. I took one of them out. “Bank Statement,” it says. Belonged to a famous official there. 8 figures. Lots of transactions, showing where they got the shady money from, and where they spent it. Then I tore all the pages off. From other comic books, too. More of these pages revealed. “Woah. What the hell is that?” My foster mother was just plain surprised. From all these extra paper taken out from my comic books, I saw one page handwritten by my mom. “Release them to the public. Let their guilt to be known.” “Woah.” My foster father came too. “You really need to. Realize your mother’s dream. For real.” So they booked the community arena for me, while I notified all these TV stations in my city. I did the presentation. I showed all the evidence to the public. They gasped. Rounds of applause. Media probed. Headlines gathered.

“Hey, you. Wake up.” They finally found me. I know what’s going to happen next. “Looking sharp,” I said. I jumped out from my seat and kicked him right in his face, then I took his knife. “Just a bunch of part-time scumbags? Why don’t you guys bring an army here? Like an ARMY???” The other man took out his radio, probably called his colleagues, then took out his pistol. But it’s too late. I threw my knife at him, right in his chest. “Oops, didn’t mean to kill him. But anyways.” I emptied out his pockets and got that nice pistol and some bullets. As I ran out of the bus, the cops arrived. The men in the vans were just damn scared. They probably couldn’t believe this. I shot out all the tires of the vans first, as swiftly as I could, then I tried to shoot as many masked men as possible, at their shoulder. I didn’t really want to kill them, to be honest: Neutralizing them was enough. It was pretty difficult, but I did it. Relief. I walked to a police officer, who just stepped out of his car, and… BANG! BANG! BANG! Damn it! There’s like a…like a whole damn convoy of these vans, but with…like machine guns on their tops! SERIOUSLY? THAT’S LIKE SUPER INSANE TO KILL A TEEN WITH THAT, I thought. Anyways, luckily that officer was still standing outside, so I grabbed the car key from his pocket and got into the cop car. BANG! BANG! BANG! No more time to think. I stepped on the gas. Another lifetime experience began. BANG! BANG! BANG! I turned on the siren and drove on the road shoulder. These brats were also fast as hell, like, they must’ve had special mutated vans with like freaking machine guns from somewhere, like arms dealers, I guess? I drove as fast as I can. “Gas, Gas, Gas!” I started singing that meme song as I was getting closer to 200 km/h. BANG! BANG! BANG! It was getting quieter and quieter. Knew it. I mean, these are vans. They’re like pretty heavy already, thus they couldn’t be faster than a small car. Plus, that was a police car, which is like a special mutated car, so I thought I was fine. These brats finally got out of my sight. Relief again. I started thinking about telling people my extraordinary experience: Imagine if your first driving experience is to drive a cop car, and you tell that to girls? That’ll be like zero hassle of choosing a wife later on. Imagine if your first driving experience is to drive a cop car, and you say that on Twitter? That’ll be like thousands of retweets and followers… “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” A voice in my head shouted. Sounds like my mother. “It is YOUR CHANCE to BRING THEM TO JUSTICE and LET THE WORLD KNOW HOW SAVAGE THEY ARE! Also, you can’t just get carried away when you’re driving that fast.” Damn. I realized that these brats are completely out of sight. “Shoot. My original plan was to bait them into a cop station…I guess I’ll just wait here.” I lowered my speed to let these brats catch up with me, which they did. “I guess what I need to do from this point is to keep the distance and bait them to that cop station.” Fortunately, I’m familiar with this highway, as I look out during my daily bus journeys. Lucky me. And then I drove into a police station. I drifted in front of the building. Perfect parking skills. “Woah, can’t believe I can do this!” But no more time for self-compliments. Let’s get right into the business. “Woah. Look at that. Who drives a cop car like this?” The reception guy in the front was just amazed. “Hello…it’s me…” I didn’t realize that I was so tired from high-speed driving that I couldn’t even speak fluently. “Wait, you…the government leak guy?” Ouch. “The government leak guy”? That’s a bit too much. “Yeah, I guess. Anyways, man. I just sped on the highway with that car, you know, and then there are these guys…” BANG! BANG! BANG! “…chasing me. So just ‘arrest’ me already. And them, too.” An officer led me to a cell and said, “Man, we got this. You’ll be safe here.” He locked the door. “We’ll get you out tomorrow. No record.” “No record,” I said. I heard the glass shattering. It was these brats. Too late.

There were tons of people greeting me outside the police station just now. Governmental officials, media, or just ordinary people, some of them carrying slogans. “KILL ALL FOREIGN SPIES”, one said. I smiled at it. “Okay…I got this, man.” A woman was helping me with the microphone. “Let me tell you something. You got treated unfairly in your life, and you felt like you lost? No! Fight it. These people never win. That’s it.” I quickly crawled through the crowd and got my bag that I left on the bus from an old couple. “Oh, and the bus driver, too. That was so unfortunate.” I left the scene swiftly to get to the cop car that was going to bring me home. “Oh yeah, by the way.” The driver said, “You have a really nice driving skill.” “Thanks. I mean I tried it on the spot. I can’t believe it worked.” “Here’s a letter from the security services. You’ll probably go to have to change some of your habits to protect your life.” I opened it. A bunch of appreciations, and warnings, and suggestions… “Wait, ‘Wear women’s clothes in public to avoid people recognizing you’? That’s a bit much.” “Wow. But I didn’t write that. It’s the bosses. They probably know what’s best for you.” “Ouch.” I gasped. A notification from my phone popped up. I glanced it over and read it out. “BREAKING: International community condemns the act of attempting to assassinate a 15-year-old teenager, who leaked governmental documents that reveal the severe corruption and terrible human rights condition in the country, on foreign soil.”

I am a student, who is also destroying a country, for my family.

[sneakybastardsword]

I see a lot of posts on here talking about how we need to call our reps and all that good shit to keep net neutrality.

here’s the thing: pai is gonna axe net neutrality no matter how many phone calls and emails he gets. What we need to focus on instead of begging the tyrant to spare us is to work on building our own internet access, as is already happening in Detroit and other places in the US. We will never be free of the threats the end of net neutrality pose as long as our gateways to the internet are controlled by parasitic corporations and an authoritarian state. The internet is essentially a global community; it’s infrastructure should be maintained and managed by communities rather then some powerful entity.

[austinhuang0131]

Literally what I said. Bravo.

[austinhuang0131]

My stand on Net Neutrality

While net neutrality is something we should support, there is one thing that I cannot agree on.

Oversharing it.

This is the Reddit /r/all 2 days ago. May I ask you: Does this help?

On the net neutrality matter, there is still a lack of serious actions (From what I know). We need to damage the beneficiaries, not by constantly bugging them (Obvious example: "Call congress now!").

Suggestion 0: Oversharing it does not help

We only need to see it once, and if we agree with it, we know it and we will take actions. If it is overshared several times in front of our eyes, we will only treat this as an immature spam.

That's definitely not how you reach more audience.

Suggestion 1: Damage the cable companies

So who are the beneficiaries? Does the Congress benefit from this? No. Do the cable companies benefit from this? Yes. Does the FCC benefit from this? Yes, if the cable companies benefit.

so why don't we start a new non-profit cable company (or ISP), affiliated with entities that support net neutrality?

When cable companies (ISP) are for-profit, they will seek ways that make their businesses more profitable, in any legal way possible. If net neutrality is repeled, they'll have one more legal way to earn more.

So what if you're a non-profit? This option will come with a great cost, but given that how net neutrality is supported, this is entirely possible. Telegram Messenger, for instance, runs on generous funds from the founder and former owner of VK, the Russian Facebook. National Capital Freenet, an organization serving Ottawa, is a great example of a non-profit ISP. Thus, there should be a group of people standing up to gather funds and establish such service.

After the establishment of such service, the population must be convinced to use such service instead, so that not only the goal of damaging the existing cable companies is reached, the funds for the operation is also raised.

Municipal broadband can also be an option. However, considering FCC's potential stand, this option is not very stable.

Suggestion 2: Damage the American economy

Undoubtably, some of the biggest websites are based in the US. What if they move out?

When a website generates revenue, they form a part of the economy of the country it is based in. If huge websites make up its mind to shift its main operation away from the US, the economy will take a great hit. Furthermore, they can also stop serving the US until conditions are met, so that more effort will pour into protests against the FCC (Beware of the fact that new startups can also copy their ideas and make their own US version).

The FCC's stand is that ending net neutrality and introducing content-based subscriptions benefit the economy. What we need to do is to show them that the actual content benefits the economy more than these cable plans. Completely removing the content economy is much more powerful than any statistics to prove the point.

However, permanently moving out from the US can bring serious consequences, because the US is still the biggest market in the world. As such, I believe that most websites should be able to offer a 1-week blackout. This way, the FCC can no longer just sit there and ignore the voices of dissent.