holocaust jokes

we need to stop watering down pewdiepie’s antisemitism and white supremacy to “pewdiepie is buddy-buddy with nazis” or “pewdiepie reads fascist literature and advertizes it” or “pewdiepie advertizes nazi youtube channels” or “pewdiepie makes holocaust jokes” or “pewdiepie said the n-word twice (once in a video he edited and posted)” or “pewdiepie is a nazi apologist” and just start saying the stupid fucker is a nazi. straight up.

like. if you saw anyone else with that list of offenses, you wouldn’t say that they were an “apologist”.

This is a poem for the nice Jewish girl
You are taught three things that you cannot even remember learning you have known them so long
1)your nose is ugly
2)you should be on your best behavior at family parties as you represent your family
3)there was a war to kill everyone like you a long time before you were born
These things inform everything you do for example
1)if someone tells you you don’t look Jewish you must take it as a compliment
2)you are naturally shyer and more socially conscious
3)you have constant nightmares of that war for the rest of your life
The nice Jewish girl goes to Hebrew school at age five or six and learns her aleph bet
The nice Jewish girl is happy to tell her friends what Hanukkah is and why we don’t have school so much in September and how to pronounce “challah”
The nice Jewish girl lights the shabbos candles every friday night and says words in a language she barely understands
The nice Jewish girl is pretty, pretty in a way that her grandma pinches her cheeks and calls her a “shayna maidel”
The nice Jewish girl is not sexy and she is meant to laugh and privately call the girls who wear too much eyeliner to the bat mitzvahs “sluts”
The nice Jewish girl feels stuck between the secular world and the religious world but she doesn’t ever say that
The nice Jewish girl hates going to Hebrew School though she’d never make a fuss but moans about it to her goyische friends at school
The nice Jewish girl smiles politely when asked her opinion on Israel and changes the subject
The nice Jewish girl has pennies dropped around her in all of seventh grade by some kid claiming to be her friend and all she does is stand there with her mouth gaping open when he reveals this was his “Jew test”
The nice Jewish girl picks up none of the pennies and passes his test as triumphantly as possible
The nice Jewish girl doesn’t tell anyone that they’re always yelling at home and she never feels good enough and the walls are too small in her tiny brooklyn house and she just wants them all to stop
The nice Jewish girl always has her curly hair and her big nose even when it’s inconvenient because no amount of hair straighteners and brushing and makeup can make them go away
The nice Jewish girl sits in the corner, flicking through her iphone, as the music’s too loud and the lights too bright for her to enjoy the bar or bat mitzvah she’s been dragged to
The nice Jewish girl feels like she knows no one and nobody knows her
The nice Jewish stiffens when a holocaust joke is made but says nothing
She goes into the bathroom later to cry and feels like she may throw up
The nice Jewish girl does not throw up
When a friend makes a comment about how the Jews ruined Germany’s economy and that’s why Hitler came after them and the nice Jewish girl wants to SCREAM
She straightens her spine and lifts her chin and politely corrects her with the grace of Esther or Ruth
The nice Jewish girl’s friend does not understand and contradicts her and she wants to tear her own skin off and feels her forehead heating up and pins pricking her
The nice Jewish girl is every untold story in a mass grave from France to Italy to Germany and Poland
The nice Jewish girl isn’t special, she isn’t a phoenix waiting to rise from the ashes, she will not transform into someone cool or beautiful
The nice Jewish girl will always be awkward and shy and mediocre
The nice Jewish girl will simply have to live with herself
The nice Jewish girl lives and dies a normal life making charoset and speaking out only at meetings at the local Jewish Center and works some nice liberal arts job
The nice Jewish girl will marry a nice Jewish boy and hug her children tight with fear
The nice Jewish girl will shake every time she turns on the news and hears they are chanting “gas the Jews” in France
The nice Jewish girl will pass this pain onto her daughter and the nice Jewish girl’s daughter will be just like her
The nice Jewish girl will hate herself and hate her own hate
The nice Jewish girl is me
The nice Jewish girl is you
The nice Jewish girl never existed in the first place
—  A spoken word poem I wrote for my English class
Here's the thing about holocaust jokes

Yeah at first I too used to think they were hilarious. Then I sat down and thought about it. Here I am sitting and enjoying my adolescence care free feeling relatively safe and secure and not worrying about my basic needs.

Whereas anyone who was in a concentration camp or POW camp or transport camp didn’t have the luxury to make stupid edgy jokes because oh right they were rounded up and dehumanized against their will.

So the next time you feel like being edgy, be it irl or in cards against humanity, or even the next time you have the audacity to tell a Jewish person, neigh a survivors grandchild a “cool fun edgy holocaust joke” think about whose memory you’re laughing at.

The MILLIONS of Jews and goyim alike who didn’t have the choice to be a punchline, whose deaths are worth a momentary laugh to you.

May their memory be a blessing everyday and on this Yom ha Shoah

This is gonna piss somebody off but it’s my blog and I get to post opinions.

Let me preface this by saying I am a Jewish lesbian. Okay:

If you are NOT Jewish or Romani, then honestly I don’t trust you when you make nazi jokes, shoah (holocaust) jokes, giving “ironic” nazi salutes, that kind of bullshit.

“Oh but I’m LGBT, I would have been in danger too! I’m coping!” Tough shit, being LGBT is not an inherited trait like being ethnically Jewish or Roma is, and your “coping” is disrespectful. Find a better way to cope.

I don’t deny LGBT persecution in the shoah, of course it happened and was awful. I still don’t think it gives every LGBT gadje/gentile an excuse for antisemitism and anti romani racism. Those aren’t your jokes to make.

If you as a gentile LGBT person due a fucking heil in front of me? I will not laugh with you, I will freeze in fear. It’s not cute.

I think it wasn’t Mel Brooks’s place to make all the gay jokes he did, him being a straight man, but I DO think it was his place to brilliantly satire nazis, him being a Jewish man. Can you see where I’m coming from?

hey since tumblr is supposedly all about hating nazis and historical accuracy how come i havent seen a single post about the rape of nanking? did you know that for every 200 posts detailing the holocaust, there is not a single one about the rape of nanking? what the fuck. the japanese facists systematically murdered and raped chinese people and no one is talking about it?

did yall think the japanese facists from ww2 were somehow, i don’t know, better than the nazis??? did you forget that innocent chinese citizens were systematically murdered?? did you forget that they went door to door and raped young girls?? did you forget that to this day, most of japan denies this ever happened??

it’s called WORLD war II, not fucking European War 200. i heard a white guy fucking making jokes about it. right in front of me, a chinese person. if someone made a holocaust joke in front of a jewish person, they would probably get shit, but??? for some reason no one fucking decked him when he made a joke about the rape of nanking. hmm i wonder why

everyone please reblog this im so fucking tired of my history being ignored


Pairing: Stenbrough with minor Reddie on the side

Word Count: 3,986

Prompt: Stan Uris moves to Derry, Maine following the death of his father and gets a job babysitting a little boy named Georgie who just so happens to have a very attractive older brother. (Modern High School AU)

Warnings: Mention of death, depression (not a major theme), anti-Semitism, struggles with faith

Link to part two: https://jamespottev.tumblr.com/post/166443144647/how-would-you-feel-if-i-told-you-i-love-you


Sometimes, Stanley Uris didn’t know what was up and what was down. Sometimes, it felt like the world was moving but he was stuck in the same position, day after day. And it sucked. His mother thought that a new start would be good for them, that it would help them move on.

Stan wanted to scream. He wanted to call bullshit on her logic. It wasn’t that he didn’t mind moving. He wasn’t exactly popular back at his old high school in Bangor ( once upon a time, his father had asked him if it was because of them being Jewish – but it wasn’t an anti-Semitic thing, aside from the occasional, always unfunny, holocaust joke, it was more so the depression thing and the OCD thing and the gay thing that drove people away) so it wasn’t like he was going to be all that missed. Even his Jewish friends didn’t seem like they were gonna miss him that much. And it bothered Stan how little he cared about it.

But after his dad died, everything just seemed so… pointless. His father, a man who had never smoked a day in his life, ended up dying of lung cancer. It made Stan furious. At the world. At God. At everything. After watching his father shrivel up into a shell of what he had once been, Stan’s already complicated relationship with religion had turned sour. It infuriated him that his father could be dying and still praising that almighty presence above. Stan wasn’t even sure if he believed anymore.

“Stanley,” his mother’s voice called. “Come on, you’re going to be late!”

Gulping, Stan gave himself a once over and straightened the collar of his shirt before grabbing his backpack. As he left his room and shut the door, he found himself cringing. So, he went back, turned the bedroom light on and then off before shutting his door. Stan repeated that three more times before he was satisfied. It made him feel sick, wrong.

“I think you should start going back to therapy,” his mother told him on the ride to school.


“No arguments, Stanley,” she said, her voice sharp like the cracking of a whip. “I know you, I know my son. You’re not okay, sweetheart. All I want is for you to be happy. I don’t want to send you off to college in two years with you…”

She trailed off and sighed. Stan could tell that if she hadn’t been driving she would’ve pressed a small kiss to the top of his forehead and hugged him tightly. Stan licked his lips and closed his eyes. He hated how unhappy his mother was. He despised that part of it was caused by him.

“I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” Andrea Uris said, looking at her pale, skinny son.

“Yeah,” Stan agreed, nodding.

“We can talk about you getting that job. How’s that sound?”

Stan smiled at that. Since his freshman year of high school, he had been begging for a job. He liked the idea of working – the responsibility, the experience, the money that he could save up to buy all the books he’d ever want to read. Stan just really wanted a job. He wanted something to do with his life.

And he also needed to start saving up for college. His father had been a Rabbi and his mother was a kindergarten teacher, so it wasn’t like there was a lot of money in either of those professions. If he didn’t want to leave college with an obscene amount of debt, Stan would have to save money while working his ass off for good grade.

“Hi, I’m Stan Uris,” Stan said in a quiet voice to the lady sitting at the receptionist desk.

“Oh, the new boy!” the receptionist said in a too-loud, too-cheerful voice.

Stan winced a little and smiled.

“Here’s your schedule, and your student guide will be down any minute to take you around!”

The receptionist had an odd accent that Stan wasn’t very fond of, and when she snapped her gum he thought his head might explode.

A minute later, a very clean cut looking black boy with broad shoulders, short hair, and a wide smile walked into the office.

“Hey, you must be Stan,” he said, walking straight over to Stan and offering his hand to shake. “I’m Mike.”

“Hi,” Stan said, shaking Mike’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

As it turned out, Stan and Mike had all the same classes which was why Mike was chosen to give Stan the school tour. Within five minutes, Stan had decided that he liked Mike a lot. Mike was soft spoken, intelligent, and kind. He might have looked like all the football players at Stan’s old school that gave him hell for being gay, but Mike was nothing like that.

So, maybe Derry wouldn’t be that bad.

At lunch, Mike led Stan past the table filled with boys wearing the same kind of jacket as Mike and towards a different table in the corner of the room. At that table sat a very pretty girl with freckles spattered across every bit of visible skin and short cropped red hair. Beside her was a broad boy with dark blonde hair and a shy smile. Another boy sat across from them, lanky and thinly muscled with thick glasses and rather gorgeous dark hair. His arm was slung around the shoulders of a shorter boy with neatly combed chocolate curls. It was a ragtag bunch, but as they greeted Mike with wide smiles Stan could tell that they all loved each other a lot.

“Hey guys,” Mike said, sitting down and gesturing at the empty chair for Stan. “This is Stan, he’s new. Stan, this is Bev, Ben, Eddie, and Richie— where’s Bill?”

“Out sick,” Richie, the boy with glasses, snorted, ducking his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck.

Richie’s body convulsed with laughter Stan didn’t really understand. He stayed silent and began unpacking his lunch.

“What did you do to him?” Mike sighed, looking towards Bev.

“Hey, he agreed to drink with us,” Bev said defensively.

“They’re ridiculous,” Mike murmured to Stan, drawing a small smile from the new boy. “Don’t hold them against me?”


“So, I found a job for you,” Andrea told Stan that night after setting out dinner.

“Yeah?” Stan asked.

He held his breath for a moment, unsure if he was willing to trust his mother’s judgement on this.

“Yes. A woman named Sharon at my work was saying how she needs a babysitter for her son Georgie on Thursdays and Fridays,” Andrea said, stabbing her fork into her salad.

“Babysitting?” Stan asked, trying his best to hide his annoyance. “Mom. I don’t want to babysit.”

“It’s fifteen dollars an hour, Stanley,” Andrea said. “Sharon said it would be for at least five hours each night, so that’s at least a hundred and fifty dollars every week.”

Stan quickly did the math. If he kept fifty dollars every week for himself ( though, he didn’t have friends or much of a social life so why would he really need fifty dollars a week to do things? Well, Mike and his friends had been welcoming enough… maybe he’d finally have some friends… ) he could put away a hundred bucks each week. If he kept that consistent for two years ( and who knew what this kid’s parents would need over school breaks and the summer ) Stan could have a significant amount of money saved when he needed to get to college.

Suddenly, babysitting didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

“So, when do I start?” Stan asked.

Andrea beamed at her son.

“I have her number written down. You can call her after dinner and ask.”


As it turned out, Sharon Denbrough needed Stan to start ASAP. And tomorrow was Friday, meaning that Stan would be babysitting ten-year-old Georgie from 5:00 to 11:00.

When Stan shuffled into school, head down, he went straight to his locker. The girl to his left and her friends shot him a weird look, though Stan wasn’t all that sure why. He wasn’t that weird looking.

“Stan!” Mike’s voice boomed cheerfully.

Stan looked up and smiled at the approaching boy. Mike was walking with Ben and a boy Stan didn’t meet yesterday. But, boy, did he wish he had. The stranger was tall ( probably a little over six-feet, which definitely didn’t make Stan a little weak in the knees — no siree! ) and had light brown hair combed and styled very neatly. And his eyes—they were the bluest blue Stan had ever seen.

“Hi Mike, Ben,” Stan said in his typical quiet fashion, quickly glancing at the other boy before shifting his eyes down to the textbook in his arms.

“Stan, this is Bill. He was sick yesterday,” Ben said. “Richie mentioned you and Bill was anxious to meet the new kid on the block.”

Both Bill and Mike snorted quietly as Ben’s mouth lifted into a small smirk. Stan didn’t get the joke.

“It’s nice to meet you, Stan,” Bill said.

His words were slow and deliberate, and Stan really liked that.

“You too, Bill,” Stan replied, hoping that he wasn’t blushing.

If he was, no one said anything.

At lunch time, Richie clapped Stan on the shoulder and loudly proclaimed that his algebra teacher was a homophobic piece of shit.

“Why is he homophobic, Rich?” Bev asked, smirking at the boy.

“He told me I would never accomplish anything in life and is making me serve detention on Monday! This is gay oppression!” Richie exclaimed, flabbergasted.

Stan chuckled quietly.

“So, Stan, do you want to see Kingsman with us tonight?”

Stan’s heart bloomed within his chest, filling him with a warmness he had never felt before. He sighed, silently cursing his need for a job.

“I can’t,” Stan said, scratching behind his ear. “I have to babysit tonight.”

The rest of the group shut up about the movies after that. Stan realized that they were doing it for him—so he wouldn’t feel bad about missing out. The thought made him smile.

As a matter of fact, he was still smiling about it as he walked to Georgie Denbrough’s house.

“You must be Stan,” a tall, handsome man said with a warm smile as he opened the door. “It’s nice to meet you, son. I’m Zack Denbrough, Georgie’s dad.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well, sir,” Stan said politely, shaking his hand.

“Georgie!” Zack yelled up the stairs. “Come down, please!”

Seconds later, a small boy was sprinting down the stairs with a manic smile on his face, laughing as a tall, slightly muscled, shirtless boy ( Georgie’s brother, Stan assumed ) chased after him. Stan froze when he saw that the boy was Bill from school.

“Georgie, g-give me my sh-shirt!” Bill yelled.

Georgie was laughing still, loudly. The laughter was echoing around the house. Georgie and Bill sprinted past Stan without sparing him a second glance. A moment later, there was a loud scream followed by laughter as Bill, while laughing, called Georgie a twerp.

“My sons are rather… hyperactive,” Zack told Stan with an apologetic glance. “Once Bill leaves, Georgie will calm down, though. The two rile each other up.”

Stan swallowed thickly and nodded. His throat felt very dry, and his hands were beginning to itch. Slowly and deliberately, he dragged his blunt nails up and down the material of jeans that covered the outside of his thighs.

“Georgie, come meet your babysitter,” Zack said, walking out of the entrance hall and into the kitchen. “And, Bill, for God’s sake, put on a shirt.”

After a second’s deliberation when Stan seriously considered booking it out of the Denbrough house, he made his way into the kitchen. He caught Bill’s eyes and gulped.

“Stan! Hey!” Bill exclaimed happily, pulling a black t-shirt over his head. “When you said you had to babysit, I didn’t realize you’d be babysitting Georgie. I thought you had a younger brother or sister.”

“No,” Stan said, shaking his head and trying to remember not to stare at Bill. “I’m an only child.”

“Ooh, I wish,” Bill chuckled, sticking his tongue out at Georgie who reciprocated the motion.

Stan laughed dryly.

It wasn’t long before Zack and Sharon left for their date night, letting Stan know that they left forty dollars on the counter for him to order food and that he was welcome to keep the change. Bill was still there when his parents left.

While Georgie was showering, Stan took his opportunity to talk to Bill.

“So, uh, why aren’t you babysitting your brother?” Stan asked.

Really, Stan?’ he thought to himself. ‘What a stupid fucking question.’

Bill’s face went a little pink and he began to rub the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I’m not really allowed to do that anymore,” Bill said, his words paired with an awkward laugh. “Last time I babysat Georgie, it was pouring r-ruh-rain and I let him go outside, and he ended up getting wicked sick. My p—parents were really angry with me.”

Stan hadn’t noticed Bill’s stutter earlier. He didn’t say anything about it, though. Instead, he merely smiled a little.

“Well, if I’m ever babysitting Georgie and it rains, I’ll make sure not to let him go out.”

Bill threw his head back and laughed loudly. As his laughter died down, he bumped his shoulder softly against Stan’s and bit down on his lip. Yet again, Stan was gulping because of Bill Denbrough.

“I should get going,” Bill said, a look of regret crossing over his face. He stood up and patted Stan on the shoulder, but his hand lingered for a moment. “I’ll catch you later, Stan. I’ll probably be home before my parents.”

Georgie was a cute kid, and very sweet. He made a lot of meme jokes, which he told Stan he had learned from Richie. One time this past summer, Georgie told Stan, he ran into Bill’s room and dabbed with two fidget spinners in his hands. When Bill found out that Richie had been the one to tell Georgie to do it, Bill didn’t speak to Richie for a day and blocked him on all forms of social media.

At 9:00, Stan had to put Georgie to bed. After that, he had two hours to spare before he got to leave. And considering he was in someone else’s home, he had no idea what to do. So, he just grabbed a book from his bag and sat down in their living room to read.

Bill came home at 9:30, and when he saw Stan curled up on his couch reading a book on birds ( of all things ), he couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“What?” Stan asked, a little defensively.

“Nothing,” Bill assured him, sitting down next to him on the couch. “It’s just— well, a book on birds?”

“I happen to like birds,” Stan said, eyes narrowed. “They’re interesting.”

“Yeah? How so?” Bill asked, genuinely curious.

And so, for the next hour and a half, Stan talked to Bill about all different kinds of birds and the best places in Maine to go bird watching. And Bill seemed really interested too, he was asking questions and just looked completely earnest. By the time Sharon and Zack came back home, Stan hadn’t even realized that it was 11:00.

“I noticed you didn’t drive here,” Bill said, sneaking up on Stan as he put his coat and shoes on. “D-do you want me to drive you h-h-home?”

Stan almost protested, but he was feeling selfish. He wanted to spend more time with Bill, even if it was only for a ten-minute car ride.

“Thanks, Bill,” Stan murmured once Bill pulled into his driveway. “I’ll see you Monday.”

“Wait,” Bill exclaimed, grabbing Stan’s wrist. “Give me your number.”

Bill wiggled his phone in front of Stan’s face, blue eyes wide. Stan thought his face was going to split in two from how big his smile was. Eagerly ( maybe a little too eagerly, but Stan didn’t know much about this kind of thing ), Stan punched his number into Bill’s phone. If he was a more confident kid, he might have put some kind of witty, suggestive emoji next to his contact name… but Stan wasn’t like that.

“So, who’s the boy?” Andrea asked with a coy smirk on her face, watching as her blushing son stumbled his way backwards into the house, waving goodbye to the boy who was sitting in his car.

“There— there’s no boy. What are you talking about?” Stan blustered.

Andrea rolled her eyes.

“Stan, I’m your mother. You’re supposed to tell me these things.”

Stan sighed and relented, rolling his eyes.

“His name’s Bill,” Stan said.

“Do you like him?”

“I met him this morning, Mom!”

“Okay. So, what?”

Stan groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“He’s Georgie’s older brother and offered to drive me home because I don’t have a car. That’s all.”

Andrea hummed suspiciously, but didn’t press Stan further.


“My brother thinks you’re hot.”

Georgie’s statement was so bluntly presented that Stan choked on the slice of pizza he was eating.

“I heard him talking with Bev and Mike about it the other day,” Georgie added, grinning at Stan.

“Oh,” Stan said in a high, uneven voice. “That’s nice.”

“Do you think he’s hot?”

Stan’s face was burning.


“What?” Georgie asked, putting on his best angel face.

“I’m not talking about your brother with you,” Stan snorted. “And you’re ten, which is just— no.”

“I’m gonna be eleven next month,” Georgie whined.

Stan wasn’t amused.

“Eat your pizza, Georgie.”


“Do you think he’s hot yet?”

“Georgie, you need to go to bed!” Stan exclaimed, trying his best not to laugh at Georgie’s persistence.

All night, he had been pestering Stan about his thoughts on Bill. Like, yeah, Stan thought Bill was hot. But he wasn’t about to tell Georgie that. If he said anything, Georgie would definitely repeat it back to Bill ( Stan wasn’t ignorant to Georgie’s hero-worship of his brother ) and then Bill would think Stan was weird. Though, Georgie did say that Bill thought he was hot.

“Did he really say— agh! Never mind! Go to bed!”

Stan seriously considered throwing himself in front of a bus then and there. Was he seriously just about to ask a ten-year old about that? UGH!

Georgie laughed.

Bill arrived home not long after that, grinning. Georgie shut his mouth about Stan finding Bill hot.


Three weeks after Georgie asked Stan if he thought Bill was hot, Stan had the weekend off. Bill’s parents were going away for a few nights for their anniversary and Georgie was going to stay with Sharon’s sister in the next town over. That meant Bill had the house to himself.

If Bill was a different kid, he would’ve been instantly sending out invites to a party. But Bill was Bill, and he wasn’t like that. Instead, he invited Stan over for a movie night.

Andrea drove Stan over to Bill’s house and quickly lectured Stan on practicing safe sex. Stan wanted to die.

“Mom! Holy, crap!” Stan exclaimed, his face beet red. “It’s not— we’re not— no! Anyways, the rest of our friends are gonna be there!”

The rest of their friends ( ‘The Losers Club’ they were often referred to by a senior named Henry Bowers and his gang of asshole friends, but Stan didn’t pay them much attention ) were, in fact, not there.

“I didn’t realize it would be just us,” Stan muttered, glancing around Bill’s dark house.

“Oh,” Bill said, rubbing his neck. “I didn’t— are you upset?”

“No,” Stan said, smiling. “I just thought— you know what? It’s not important.”

Bill smiled that breathtaking smile of his and Stan found himself wishing for a puff of Eddie’s inhaler.

“Richie was saying I should throw a party this weekend,” Bill snorted. “And Bev was saying we should utilize my empty house and my father’s never ending liquor supply and get drunk.”

Stan didn’t think that sounded too awful. Well, the getting drunk part at least… so long it was only their group of seven. He wouldn’t want other people around. Just the seven of them… ‘the lucky seven’ had Mike called them a couple weeks ago. The thought made Stan smile a bit.

“Would getting drunk be that bad?” Stan asked Bill, a smile on his face.

“Not if it was just the two of us,” Bill replied easily in his slow deliberate voice.

The voice that made Stan’s knees go weak and stomach tie in knots.

Not if it was just the two of us… Stan flushed a deep red.

“So, I ordered us pizza,” Bill said, gesturing to a box on the table. “Normally I go with pepperoni or barbeque chicken, but I know it’s not kosher for Jewish people to eat pig or meat and cheese — that’s the right word, right? Kosher?”

Stan had barely thought about his faith in months. It had seemed so insignificant, so unreal for him after his dad died. And when it came to eating kosher— well, that had been the way he lived his life for the past sixteen years so he never even really thought about it. But Bill had thought about it.

Stan suddenly felt the urge to kiss Bill, but he had enough will power to stop himself.

“Is regular cheese fine?”

Bill was being so casual, acting as if nothing was wrong. Well, not that anything was wrong… but he had just made a significant impact on Stan and was acting as if nothing had happened.

“Cheese is perfect,” Stan said softly.

Bill beamed and Stan felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest.

Stan really wanted to kiss Bill. But he didn’t.

After they ate their pizza, Bill suggested they watch something. And by something, Stan knew that Bill meant Game of Thrones. Bill was a die-hard Thrones fan and nearly had an aneurism when he found out that Stan didn’t watch it. Last week, he finally convinced Stan to start watching it. Stan was already on season three.

Bill sat down next to Stan, but in an unnecessarily close way. Stan sat curled against the arm of the couch and Bill sat right down beside him. There was only a small inch or so of space between them. Stan said nothing because he didn’t want Bill to move away.

“You know, I feel bad for Theon,” Stan confessed.

Bill didn’t say anything.

“I mean, I understand why he did what he did. He just wanted his father’s approval. I don’t agree with his actions, but I understand the motive. You know? And, wow, he really does not deserve… that.”

“You’re cute.”

Stan’s eyes went wide, and so did Bill’s. From how red Bill’s face was, Stan could tell he most definitely did not mean to say that out loud.

“Thanks,” Stan found himself saying. “You too.”

And then he kissed Bill. Holy shit. He was kissing Bill. And Bill was kissing him back.


Even for a first kiss, it was pretty awesome. Stan had no idea what he was doing with his mouth, but Bill seemed to have some experience so he took charge. His right hand went around the back of Stan’s neck, while the other propped himself up against the arm of the couch that Stan’s back was pressed against.

Stan was in paradise, his hands wrapped around Bill and digging into Bill’s soft hair.

When Bill pulled away, they were both panting, gasping for air. Bill’s eyes were peering into Stan’s, and both boys smiled before Stan pulled Bill’s face down, crushing his lips to Bill’s once more.


Jew jokes

In my experience as a Jew, I learned simultaneously that the holocaust and other great calamities and forms of oppression our people have suffered are very serious, and that few people take them seriously. That being said, I’ve spent a lot of years internalizing the antisemitism I experienced from my peers as a child and regurgitating it in an attempt to de-other myself, connect with goyim and at times avoid conflict. It’s really hard becoming an adult and realizing that you shouldn’t have said what you did, that you have normalized a form of abuse against your own people and most of all that it would be very difficult to walk it all back now and reclaim your sensitivity and reverence for your heritage and history. I feel that I should not be responsible for what my peers say. That I should be able to make jokes and comments about certain aspects of Judaism and Jewishness without worrying about goyim repeating them. I feel that there was a lot of pressure on me to participate in the desecration of my own culture and history and that I am not wholly responsible for the way I responded. I feel that the onus is on the goyim to be respectful and sensitive and understand that I may say some things that they should not say. At the same time I’ve behaved this way knowing full well that the result would be the perpetuation of antisemitic speech/behavior. I have ignored the fact that people judge your comfort level with certain speech and subjects based off of the things you say in front of them and that it is not too terrible of a leap for them to assume that they can repeat them without causing offense. I know that throughout the years I have justified my speech by placing the blame on other people for reacting the way I expected they would. I have spent a lot of time absolving myself of responsibility by blaming the ignorance of others. I carry a lot of guilt for that. Now I am in a situation where my closest friends feel comfortable saying things to me, about me, or about my people that I find disgusting and offensive. Now I have to think about how I draw those lines again and begin the messy undertaking of expressing my feelings about this speech. I feel sad for what I’ve done. I feel sad for what I have to do. I feel sad for what I’ve been through. I feel sad for what I may have caused others to go through and I feel deeply sad about the impressions that I’ve left on other people.

I would love to hear somebody else’s thoughts about this, what they have experienced or how they navigate this issue.

anonymous asked:

i haven't seen the harley quinn show and don't care to watch it, but i am curious about what it did that was antisemitic. is it a thing that happened in the story or background details or both?

Okay, and keeping in mind I am not in any way an authority on this subject, so first there was an episode where the Penguin is suddenly for some reason Jewish.

This is already not great; there’s been a lot of Discourse about whether (how much) he was negatively Jewish-coded in the film where his rich parents threw him away as an infant for…having too long a nose? And he was raised by…sewer…penguins…shit, I haven’t seen that movie since I was a child. I don’t remember how it goes. I may have to subject myself to it again.

Anyway for the most part, normally, he is not a Jewish character or even Jewish-coded on purpose, he’s just a wretched social climber with a beaky nose that ties into his penguin theme. Originally he was just a guy who wore suits to go with his arsenal of trick umbrellas.

ANYWAY the point is on the Harley show Cobblepot’s nephew (not a person who has ever existed before) was having his Bar Mitzvah and because they are a Family of Criminals who Love Money they had it at a bank, by breaking into the vault, and gave out sacks of stolen cash as party favors.

A lot of people said ‘what the fuck’ and a lot of other people said ‘it’s satire…i think?’ and i said ‘holy shit did they at least acknowledge their main character is Jewish?’ (they had not. dc usually doesn’t.)

So there was controversy about that for a bit, and then the people making the show decided that apparently they’d been too subtle if people couldn’t tell for sure who their money-grubbing bar mitzvah joke was meant to offend, and had an episode heavily featuring two actual Jewish characters, ex-spy dude with lotta prosthetics and the lol punny yiddish-y name of Sy Borg, and his wife. Idk the wife’s name.

They found Harley and her friends paralyzed, mistook them for dead, and decided to cremate them in a pizza oven because it was the cheapest way to dispose of the bodies and they were very stingy. ___*(  ̄皿 ̄)/#____

They had a bit where they dance around singing about bodies in ovens.

The dialogue made a point of tying Sy to joint (minor, relatively speaking, but good as shocking sound bite) US-Israeli war crimes.

Later on in the series the writers apparently decided to acknowledge that Harley is Jewish, and in fact more emphatically Jewish than she’s been written as at other times since her mom is, apparently, often Catholic.

They did this by having her mom say she wanted ‘what any Jewish mother wants,’ for Harley to marry a doctor. Harley points out that she is herself a doctor; her mom doesn’t care; very funny.

Impossible-to-satisfy-Jewish-mother jokes are an old New York staple by way originally of the major Jewish subculture there, and in another context where the creators had some goodwill and credibility to burn this last one might get under the wire as mildly offensive humor that isn’t really hurting anyone, even if it’s not their joke to make and thus in poor taste. Although the way it doubles down on projecting heightened sexism onto the Othered group in a time-honored gentile fashion makes it a pretty nasty example of its type, so maybe not even then.

So yeah, it was a shock-comedy show so they went out of their way to make jokes that were Terrible, and one of the ways they chose to do this was Being Antisemitic. It wasn’t a good look.

If there were any other instances I missed them due to having tuned out in disgust!