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I'm going to give a word of advice here, which I'm only doing to help you. Society in general has no love lost for short tempers. Display it...

That's plain ignorant. Rap and country, as well as most forms of music have the ability to tell a story. And both genres have artists that make use of that ability.
It's usually incorrect to say "X is this while Y is only that" when you don't listen to both enough to really know.

As far as your question goes, most people who dislike country just don't think it's their cup of tea. That explanation might not fit the bill entirely though; there may be an additional reason. Country suffers from the prejudice that it's old-fashioned, and young people often seem to shun it because of that.
When you ask whether they like country they might shake their heads without knowing what they dislike.

Why is it so hard for some people to grasp the concept of a hypothetical question that is being asked for the sole reason of studying one's own sense of morals?

The question clearly states:
"Choose either of the two and state why you would choose that person."
and not
"Come up with some semi-philosophical irrelevant horseshit that would get you to save both."

But for those of you who still want to waffle their way out of it I'll pose a similar but different question:
"In case you're not all that sure that you're gonna be able to save both, who would you save first?"

Saying that there is no proof that God created the universe is neither offensive nor racist. I think you need to consult a dictionary in order to...

No but it looks less inviting and might have an effect on them coming to Switzerland.

Well Aqua_Heart said to make the Private feature an option so not all groups would have it activated.

Precautionary measures say hi.
I can see their point of view. They're trying to impede further islamisation (word?) of their country at a relatively early stage. This is a step towards an immigration halt before it gets out of hand. Whether that fear is justified I'll leave somewhere in the middle, but like Repliku said integration isn't looking very hopeful. Last time we checked.

Actually, they have that right when the precepts of their religion collide with the nation's laws. Sex equality would be a perfect example, thank you for providing us with such a striking example.

He'll give you guys an update on his work when he has something to show you. No more bumping this thread when you haven't got more to contribute.

I think PMs can do that; you know that you can send them to multiple target members at a time. I have to admit I've never been more than lukewarm about the whole "social group" phenomenon so maybe I'm biased. I don't dislike the idea, I just fear the day that the first immature member makes a fuss about not being invited to a certain group. It's more likely to happen when they can't read what that group is talking about.

"What are you doing?", the boy is asking the girl on the rails.
It'll be here in an hour. In an hour. Who's that? It'll be here in an hour.
"I'm waiting for the Train Of Normal People.", the young woman replies.
"It won't be here for another hour.", knows Judas.
"I hope it'll overrun me slowly. I want everything to crack. I want to become sludge. Goo. Something that knows no guilt or self-esteem."

"I can't go on it, so I have to go underneath it. Either way I want to be with it. If this is the only way for me then so be it. Sludge. Goo. I want to be a hindrance to them just once more; then I'll go and rot like I deserve. Finally."
It'll be here in half an hour. Half an hour. What is he doing? It'll be here in half an hour. What is doing? Just what? He's approaching.
"I'm not happy with being allowed on board. Just how abnormal do you think I am?", he asks of her. He treads all the way past his taxonomic classification, all the way until he's standing next to her. From now on Judas is the monster under the bed, and no longer the mortal who is expected to be afraid of it.
"Why?", she wonders. The barricade had doubled herself but so have her insecurities. "Return already."
"A mirror image. An equal. A fellow human. I haven't decided whether I want to have one, but I do know that I want to be one. That's why."
It doesn't fit. Her not being lonely; such is so unnatural. Furthermore there's this mist surrounding him that voraciously swallows the light of trust, and Catherine is never reached. Exactly that is what makes her grab his arm tightly, searching for an avenue that leads to his intentions. Emotions are pulled together once more. Strained. They reach a point of coherence that they never reahced before. As if they should be protected from being splintered away by a long and stormy journey at any cost. The train is crawling into sight.

Judas is lying in the filthiest way possible as he launches Catherine, with a painful thud lands on a platform somewhere between standing still and being on your way. She's raging. Fantasies which she herself considers gruesome -but no less applicable-, finish too late to be awarded a reality. Judas is shattered indefinitely by everything that's in motion and is therefore unavailable to cool her anger upon. She's scouting for an appropriate victim but only finds the monster that once got to ruin her. The same monster that vamoosed across her without shooting a single glance her way.
Apparently not everything hates her, or at least not all the time or at least not most of all. Come to think of it; she'd have never realised that if it wasn't for...
Catherine is shed again but this time she is the lizard itself and not its accursed skin. Betrayal has become surprisingly nutritious just this one time, and Catherine hopes that she finally gets to show her summer coat after this ecdysis. She ought to be grateful to the stranger. Where is he anyway? His smile had been rammed to smithereens but kindles her memories of the time that she still wore one herself. The Train Of Normal People will pursue progress, but it shall find Catherine and Judas on her way. She is partially exempted from her duties. Such lightness! Her insecurities double; her scar sollection gets the chance to halve itself. So be it.

...

It's ironic really. Life begins with one cell. Maybe his life begins in hers. One cell. With an undelved crystal vein mind it begins to divide itself to form a paved route of skin on skin. Judas bows humbly with each trespass.
Right eye. Left eye. Everything breaks. The cells that nested themselves underneath his re-arrangements, like the ground beneath his feet, shiver of fear and burst open, releasing their cytoplasm. Everything flows. Catherine's tears carry the unsuspecting traveler far far away, to a turbulent estuary somewhere between love and hatred. Her first warning is a friendly one still: do not touch, do not come near, do talk, do be sweet.

Left eye. Right eye. Judas takes a sip from the water sourced in a land that copes with droughts and storms respectively. A rebuking acidity prickles his tongue, her shawl fortunately accessorised with forgiveness, hope and even gratitude. Nothing has been lost yet.
"I'm here now, and I know that I'm not enough, and I know I want to be more. But for now I'm just here and I'm feeling good. Now for you." Judas is drowning. There's no why. There's no wherein. He's just...drowning.
"Now for me...", Catherine repeats. "I'm not into anything, including you. I'm hurt everywhere, also in places that you can't see let alone heal. No one cares for me, and neither do you."
Judas beckons his iron shadow. Hend-shaped bars close off all his exits. He is obviously eager to drown some more before breathing.
"That's not why I'm doing it."
He pauses for a moment, but because he deems the girl too unpredictable to ask him "Why then?", he provides the answer himself.
"I'm just true to my modus operandi."

Catherine would look down if only something lower than her even existed. She doesn't want to look away, for she'd find naught but walls. If she would dare to raise her hand she'd see the stranger, who seems keen on wasting his time with her. Oh well, then she'll just have to shut them. So simple. If only she could do that with the rest of her body...

She writes him letters but all of them are harassed by blood, tears and mud of the earth they stand on. None of them are legible. Her sentences are written noise, their meanings ambiguous. She'd like to apologise for her lack of communication skills, and why not for her entire being while she's at it? But even that would not be understood, she knows. Her taciturnity is becoming unbearably heavy, until the hand of sound suddenly rips said yoke right off her. The stranger wants her to talk. Maybe he really does see the humanity behind the ghoul. Maybe. Judas is still there, and Catherine is too. Awoken and partly stripped from haze.

Catherine encodes. Judas decodes. Functionality for two. There is no higher goal in the vast realm of physics. Judas, as its loyal servant, receives proper compensation. Their utmost limits bow before their confidant. The girl is catapulted back into the here and now. A batch of purification. She too, appreciates that the walls and ceiling lie kneeling at her feet.
"What's...this?"
"Evolution. At a pace only we control. If you choose so of course."
Their former prison crawls back up. There are no more transgressers, and without them even a cell has a right to freedom. The wide sky is to become a hunting ground for fluttering rock.
Everything seems free now. The world is naked.
Catherine resurfaces from a dive into the ethereal. The world is naked; is that even okay?
"Call them back!", she orders. The colossi who beat their wings to the rhythm of borderless thinking; they frighten her.
Judas fakes the breakdown of his newly created dimension and camouflages everything into looking exactly the way it did. Judas will cast the unchained mass into floatation once more, perhaps as soon as her back is turned. That's a promise he makes himself.

The pounding of the heart of the cosmos has fell to its usual cadence, but aside from that nothing can be called the same as before. Judas Chair. Catherine Wheel. The sum of their bpm's form a plain of pulsing, erupt-worthy superlatives. Tingling as well as burning make for an intenser experience as of now.
"Afraid of the dark?", the girl teases with a pretty smile. She switches the light off again and leaves Judas in a feathery slaughterhouse where everything is born, murdered, and reincarnated.

Linkeroever
AKA Left Bank. Started out promising but I was disappointed near the end. Impressive work on the actors' behalf for keeping their credibility and dignity though.

Knowing that the lies are lies? Total truth. Lying always leaves room for interpretation, more so than truth at least. It's a double-edged sword; even if one person benefits from a lie it's no guarantee that someone else would react the same way.

An example.
Suppose someone asks: "Why don't you like me?"
That person receives a mild but untrue answer, which he knows is untrue. They may have been told "I don't like the way you dress." while the real reason could be much deeper.
Now there are two categories of responses to this:
1. One is content with the lie and feels relieved.
2. One still questions the real reason and keeps feeling insecure.
Both reactions are common but personal experience has taught me that #1 may turn into #2 over time, more so than vice-versa.

Honesty and dishonesty can both hurt and heal, but honesty at least removes the uncertainty. I'll go with the truth any day.

Joke's been made.

Wow, this was sudden. At least to me it was. I don't really know you but I respect what you post. You've got a good head on your shoulder and a great sense of humor, which is why I hope you come back anyway. Have fun in life!

Joke's been made.

Joke's been made.

1. All contestants are dumbfucks.
2. All contestants are losers.
Everyone loses.
[/game]

This month's contest is over.
-locked-

And how is that anything else than completely my fault? :p