story time! so, when i was a teenager, i lived in a series of foster homes, like ya do. the last of these was generally very good, but the woman of the house's various adult children by previous marriages were a bit of a problem
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anyway, from what i can tell, one day Jim gets a wild hair of some kind and goes out to the garage/barn and attacks Phil's car with a screwdriver, punching holes in something called "Bondo"? relevant parties are encouraged to think that of course the weird foster kid did this
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i found Jim on Facebook. he still has that Shkreliesque smug scumfuck face that lit up with such feverishly aroused anticipation at the prospect of my being punished for something he did
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my foster father knew perfectly well that Jim was a lying piece of shit and i had nothing to do with this. but Jim was his mother's real actual son, so half the miserable allowance i had out of the SSI money from my mother's sudden, violent death went to Phil from then on
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so this really brought the relationship of power and narrative into focus for me. power means the ability to fabricate a narrative that is absolutely 1000% bullshit and everybody is forced to behave as if it were true anyway
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but if you think really poking me right in the scar tissue is what you need to be doing, definitely try your hand at accusing me of misdeeds i didn't perform but which i cannot prove i did not perform! that should work out superbly. good luck, have fun
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