Blonder brings one more infamous joke about blondes.
Brazil has plenty.
Bimbo is certainly a sexist term so far: I think it had never been applied to men before I do that.
Modern times require modern ways of dealing with things and plenty of men are bimbos these days.
Trivializing the sexual act is also not an acceptable thing: Calling the person who has sex with another a bimbo means that the sexual act has been objectified.
This increases promiscuity levels, since it trivializes sex.
This also objectifies the human being, since it reduces the presence of another human being, the contact with their naked body, and all else to an offense.
Instead of this is the bimbo of Mister X, we should say this is the extra-official or illegitimate partner of Mister X. He does this to his family for one month now or something like that. Someone should tell his wife.
There has to be a way to be fair with all the victims, and, in this case, they are all women, as for what I know myself of the term, its use, and so on.
The wife is a victim because she believes the husband is hers, and therefore obviously that he has intimacy with nobody else.
The woman they call bimbo in the joke is a victim because she is not regarded or respected as a full woman or person.
She is perhaps also a victim in general, like she did not have a proper mother, father, upbringing, family, and so on.
Mister X is the really unacceptable subject, since he has dishonored the vows made to his wife, perhaps the promises made to his entire society, like perhaps they married in a Catholic church, and definitely his promises to his Country, since breaching a contract, even if it is an informal one, is breaching the law.
He certainly has a contract which contains strict guidelines in terms of his conduct with his wife.
I think like that since the first time someone gave it to me and I tried to play with it.
I recently got interested in it because an academic said it was a mathematical problem.
It indeed involves permutations and we should all feel like putting that all down on paper and play with its mathematical elements, but I don't.
I really don't like repetitions.
This fellow works with Number Theory and I got a YouTube video of his.
I then watched a few YouTubes about the cube, lots of men claiming to have solved it quite easily and to be there to teach us how to do it.
Some of the videos made me believe that if I moved the cube in a repetitive manner, but always using the same rule, it would solve itself.
I thought that was possible, so that I did try for a while, copying what I thought I saw one of them doing.
It took too long, and I gave up on that method.
I then watched another YouTube where the guy claimed to have an algorithm, which I gladly copied and tried(I did buy a cube, but I only invested 6 dollars of my money in it).
The algorithm certainly did not work.
I did try to apply it carefully and I even repeated it, since the guy claimed that you could start from any scramble and it would always work: It was just that sometimes you had to repeat it.
Others then appeared saying, later on, that only if you scrambled in the reverse way, which is exactly what I concluded they did, you could use the algorithm to get to the solution.
I then watched a few other people, those looking and sounding nicer, more helpful, and those talked about the logic involved in the cube: Always a center that never moves, and therefore determines the color of the face.
The necessity of trying to get not only the surface color right, but the lateral ones matching the centers is something that may generate obsession.
I remembered the past, when I saw a few people doing the cube and the facts I had observed as they did it, such as that the color you start with matters.
A few YouTubers seem to be addicted to white first.
Most of the people who I saw solving it start with blue and red completed, like full faces, all in place.
By using the objective data given by them, I was able to get all in place but a few, about five to ten squares missing.
I then got sick of it again.
First of all, it ends up making you become addicted to the thing, since there is always something new: If it is not the technique involved, then it is the speed.
When you get good at it, you will probably want to have your YouTube or get into competitions, something like that.
Besides, it develops nothing in your brain, hands, and spirit.
It brings you loneliness, since you become a slave of the thing; it brings you boredom, since it is all the same all the time, and it still makes you simply repeat and repeat, which is precisely what I am fundamentally against in Mathematics.
I felt like throwing the thing to the floor and watch it blow a few times when I noticed how many hours I had already dedicated to that heinous activity.
I then did a very similar thing: I first scrambled it again to worst, then I tossed it in a bag and dumped all in a trash bin as the most demoniac thing ever seen on earth.
I finally got these people, with at least one procedure that I think may work (the two-moves one), and I then decided to leave it here for you to tell us whether it does work or not: Cube
I sincerely think there must be something very wrong with this Rubik guy.
I reckon someone will do research and find out that the own guy was kinda demoniac.
Another thing that put me to think was the fact that I also don't like Lego.
I don't see any fun in that.
In common, they are both squarish things.
In Brazil, when people are really really boring, we say that they are squarish.
I suppose there is something to do with that, like all connects to form a single mass of certainty: Squarish is not good for games or entertainment.
It is also associated with deep loneliness, to be sincere.
A little boy from Queensland was crazy about Coke. One day he got a prize. One of the lids said he got a prize. He went to the depot to pick it up. It was a huge huge, really huge, box.
He had to open it. He carried it in the bus and everyone kept on starring at it.
He got home and his relatives all watched him unpacking: The first huge box was gone. Now there was a slightly smaller box. Everyone wanted to know what would come after this one. He then unpacked. One more box was gone, but there was an even smaller box inside of that one. He kept on unpacking. Another box appeared. Unpacked. Another one. He was now by the fifth box. Still unpacking. From size of his basketball basket box to size of a microwave's box. Still unpacking. Tenth box. Now it came one that looked like a printer's box. Still unpacking. Now he was with a box of the size of a notebook. Still unpacking. Several boxes of that shape, one smaller than the other. Still unpacking. Now came a box of the size of a pen. Still unpacking. Finally, the last box: Size of a ring. He opens it. Nothing is inside of the box but a sentence. The sentence: Next time drink Fanta.