Are you a victim of PROPAGANDA! #lazymanshustle

Propaganda comes in many forms! Propaganda can be the show you watched where all the rich people have a heart of gold. It could be the show about a leader which only shows one part of their life but leave out all the bad or progressive stuff. I believe many of us have been victims of propaganda. When we mistreat each other because we have been told to think of each other or if you see your friend of a different race as “one of the good ones” You Are A Victim of Propaganda. If you see yourself as “one of the good ones” You Are A Victim of Propaganda. Propaganda is defined as especially bias or misleading information used to promote a cause or point of view. Propaganda can be “your not the solution to your life, We ARE!”. Propaganda is very detrimental to us as human beings and wishes for us to not think critically of it.

Solutions:

In my book Powerfuls I go in depth about thinking critically. Even in school I have had to look outside the class and the text. Question everything given to you it could be a poison hidden in a good meal.

Fun Short Story!: Courageous Vick Teen

Courageous Vick Teen

A Short Story
by Durrell H

Vick Teen had always loved crowded Falmouth with its resonant, raspy rivers. It was a place where he felt lonely.

He was a courageous, witty, port drinker with grubby legs and greasy spots. His friends saw him as a clumsy, cold carer. Once, he had even jumped into a river and saved a wet deaf person. That’s the sort of man he was.

Vick walked over to the window and reflected on his magical surroundings. The moon shone like jumping giraffes.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Lisa Dung. Lisa was a deranged animal with fragile legs and sloppy spots.

Vick gulped. He was not prepared for Lisa.

As Vick stepped outside and Lisa came closer, he could see the bored smile on his face.

Lisa gazed with the affection of 756 brave powerful pigeons. He said, in hushed tones, “I love you and I want Money.”

Vick looked back, even more angry and still fingering the enchanted record. “Lisa, freedom,” he replied.

They looked at each other with worried feelings, like two obnoxious, obedient ostriches thinking at a very thoughtful bar mitzvah, which had trance music playing in the background and two thoughtful uncles running to the beat.

Vick regarded Lisa’s fragile legs and sloppy spots. “I feel the same way!” revealed Vick with a delighted grin.

Lisa looked surprised, his emotions blushing like a shy, slobbering sausage.

Then Lisa came inside for a nice glass of port.

THE END