You bigot, how dare you tell the truth about your sister being a honkey-ass cracka appropriating Native American culture?
Careercow Terry Rose Christo / Theresa Christodoulopoulos / "Tara Gilesbie" - Pretendian, Claimed To Write My Immortal, Currently Writing Fanfic Of Own Life
- Thread starter Piga Dgrifm
- Start date
You bigot, how dare you tell the truth about your sister being a honkey-ass cracka appropriating Native American culture?
I wouldn't take jewishkeith seriously. I won't :powerlevel: much but due to an incident I have the misfortune of knowing despite her url and her being Jewish, she hates all Jewish people who dare to have a different opinion than her and calls them anti-Semitic. She's a hypocrite and a bigot herself.
The other people are also willfully ignorant - they refuse to educate themselves about the real situation and take the side of anyone who claims to have a bunch of minority status. Their bullshit, while hurtful, won't amount to anything. You got your story out there and a bunch of tumblrinas refusing to believe you won't change anything.
Lemme guess- Voltron Fan? Insists Keith is jewish? Ships some fucking stupid ship and everyone who disagrees is an evil antisemitic pervert?
Dawndusk, sucks you're still getting shit over this and that your crazy mom is bothering you.
Adolf Von Merkel
kiwifarms.net
Kiwifarms is a notoriously bad website that basically serves as a platform for members of the alt-right to harass, slander, and gang up on marginalized people like the donald user, pedos ,mysoginost and racist.
nad7155
kiwifarms.net
Truth.
Tard
kiwifarms.net
That reminds me of the South park episode where that one guy is one fifteenth native American and runs around in a headress
Hi dawndusk. I came here from tumblr. Im sorry for all the hate you received it. A lot of us wanted to believe in her, and believe her story.
I wanted to post because i dont know if you saw on her old url rosechristo1.tumblr.com someone found an old deleted blog by Rose.
She said you were strangled by your mother and says your mother went to jail for murdering you. Did you see that? Thats a very serious thing to say can you say anything on that?
Her twitter is also back up. Will you try to reach out to her?
I wanted to post because i dont know if you saw on her old url rosechristo1.tumblr.com someone found an old deleted blog by Rose.
She said you were strangled by your mother and says your mother went to jail for murdering you. Did you see that? Thats a very serious thing to say can you say anything on that?
Her twitter is also back up. Will you try to reach out to her?
No person with more than half a brain would try that at this point.
2al
kiwifarms.net
This is the voice I think of when I read My Immortal: http://allihearisradiogaga.tumblr.com/post/62811059066/rachel-tice-reads-her-favorite-fanfiction-my
Mellorine
kiwifarms.net
Her twitter is only "back up" in the sense that the bio for the rosechristo1 account now reads
"Author. Gone, but not for good. DM me if you'd like to know what has happened.
Joined November 2017"
(I tried to insert a screencap but that function's not working for me at the moment.)
Join date could easily indicate sock puppetry (I don't think her account was deleted long enough that she would have lost her tweets, though I could be mistaken) and even if it is her, it shows she's made all of 5 locked tweets to 7 followers.
Someone using Wayback to find her old websites might be of interest to anyone who wants to further highlight how much she lied-- but why bother? She's already admitted she's a liar and the information her brother has provided more than nailed that coffin shut. No shit is too minor, sure, but this is a pretty darn dead horse.
One thing, though. You're aware that tumblr has been unfair to @DawnDusk , that's what you lead your first post ever on this website with, and yet in the very post where he discusses that, he also says he'd rather not participate in this thread much and that's he's currently being harassed by his sorry excuse for an egg donor. Which makes lines like
look like pretty transparent attempts at manipulative shit stirring to me.
"Author. Gone, but not for good. DM me if you'd like to know what has happened.
Joined November 2017"
(I tried to insert a screencap but that function's not working for me at the moment.)
Join date could easily indicate sock puppetry (I don't think her account was deleted long enough that she would have lost her tweets, though I could be mistaken) and even if it is her, it shows she's made all of 5 locked tweets to 7 followers.
Someone using Wayback to find her old websites might be of interest to anyone who wants to further highlight how much she lied-- but why bother? She's already admitted she's a liar and the information her brother has provided more than nailed that coffin shut. No shit is too minor, sure, but this is a pretty darn dead horse.
One thing, though. You're aware that tumblr has been unfair to @DawnDusk , that's what you lead your first post ever on this website with, and yet in the very post where he discusses that, he also says he'd rather not participate in this thread much and that's he's currently being harassed by his sorry excuse for an egg donor. Which makes lines like
look like pretty transparent attempts at manipulative shit stirring to me.
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She said her mom murdered the brother she was trying to find?
The hardest part about constantly lying about your past is keeping your lies straight, I guess.
Why would you bring that information up without screen capping it and posting it?
And you can't blame the man at all. He's presented his case with a cool head, intelligence, and grace. He refuted every claim that was made about the situation and backed everything he said with definitive proof, not to mention she deleted everything as soon as this started coming out and the card house of lies started to crumble. Yet those jackasses from tumbler think he's the asshole.
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I love how nobody's commented on "Hey, were you actually murdered?" being a staggeringly dumb question in any context. Totally makes me trust whoever brings it up. Mmhmm.
IIRC, @DawnDusk has been trying to reach out to her for years, she was fully aware that he was alive and well and she ignored all of his attempts at reaching out to her. She was only trying to paint herself as a victim, she had no interest in rekindling her relationship with her brother. All she wanted to do is sell books about her lies about being a Native American when she is nothing more than a American born, Greek.
Mellorine
kiwifarms.net
- Highlight
- #336
One year ago today, "Rose Christo" posted her final public message announcing that her "memoir" would not be published. She's been completely silent, at least under that name, ever since.
Nothing has changed on that front. Rose is still a dead cow. However, I have found an illuminating bit of her writing on her still-existent Smashwords that appears to have gone overlooked. Rather than being a fantasy of tragic gay Native American teens or tragic gay abortion survivors, this book claims to be nonfiction. Uploaded in February of 2016, about a year and a half before the announcement of Under The Same Stars, it reveals a capacity for self-delusion beyond what was speculated in this thread.
It's titled "The Escapist's Guide to Out-Of-Body Experiences."
Over the course of its sixtyodd pages, Rose describes how she is able to astrally project her consciousness to distant locations and interact with dead pets. She offers instruction on how to have an out-of-body experience by laying down and focusing on "the colors behind your eyes" and then spends much of the page count prepping the imagination of the reader with various types of surreal imagery of what to expect to see, including contact with dead relatives and vivid descriptions of flying around the Milky Way.
Don't worry though, nobody ever would use the power of remote viewing for anything selfish:
My personal fave is the third chapter. Following a gushing tribute to batshit Austrian philosopher Rudolf Steiner, she details the out-of-body practices of (in order) Crazy Horse, Mohammed, Jesus Christ, French playwright Honoré de Balzac, Civil War General George Brinton McClellan, Le Comte de St. Germain, Nikola Tesla, and Helen fucking Keller.
But by far the most telling chapter is the final one:
tl;dr: If she admits to herself she's not an Indian, then she also has to admit her mystical magical coping mechanism is her playing pretend.
Of course, she was ultimately forced to admit that. There was some discussion at the time about how much of her own bullshit she actually believed. Based on what's written in The Escapist's Guide, I think she was very, very desperate to maintain her own illusions. But that's my own take on the tone of her writing; some might read it as straightforward evidence that she was detached from reality to a degree far beyond what was speculated. However you interpret it, it's interesting to revisit her actions knowing that 18 months earlier she was openly seeking contact from other people able to astrally project.
Nothing has changed on that front. Rose is still a dead cow. However, I have found an illuminating bit of her writing on her still-existent Smashwords that appears to have gone overlooked. Rather than being a fantasy of tragic gay Native American teens or tragic gay abortion survivors, this book claims to be nonfiction. Uploaded in February of 2016, about a year and a half before the announcement of Under The Same Stars, it reveals a capacity for self-delusion beyond what was speculated in this thread.
It's titled "The Escapist's Guide to Out-Of-Body Experiences."
Over the course of its sixtyodd pages, Rose describes how she is able to astrally project her consciousness to distant locations and interact with dead pets. She offers instruction on how to have an out-of-body experience by laying down and focusing on "the colors behind your eyes" and then spends much of the page count prepping the imagination of the reader with various types of surreal imagery of what to expect to see, including contact with dead relatives and vivid descriptions of flying around the Milky Way.
Don't worry though, nobody ever would use the power of remote viewing for anything selfish:
My personal fave is the third chapter. Following a gushing tribute to batshit Austrian philosopher Rudolf Steiner, she details the out-of-body practices of (in order) Crazy Horse, Mohammed, Jesus Christ, French playwright Honoré de Balzac, Civil War General George Brinton McClellan, Le Comte de St. Germain, Nikola Tesla, and Helen fucking Keller.
But by far the most telling chapter is the final one:
When I was a teenager, an old man started visiting me during my OBEs. He was the sort of man you might meet on any given day at Rocky Boy’s Reservation, which is where a part of my tribe lives, and where I lived for a time in my adolescence. Loath to adapt to the times, the old man wore a ceremonial Cree ribbon shirt with a fringed tobacco pouch on his hip. His right hip seemed to give him trouble; despite being extracorporeal, he walked with a cane and leaned heavily against it. Long, thin gray hair framed his face in cloudy wisps. It was a face full of personality, with a rather big, hawklike nose, leathery wrinkles so pronounced I was tempted to fold them back to see what he looked like underneath them.
Sometimes it's the case that people are lonely, even during out-of-body experiences. The fact that this man kept seeking me out for conversation seemed to suggest that he was lonely, too. I didn't mind keeping him company. During one of our conversations, we walked together around the Bear Paw Mountains, cloaked in the moon and serenaded by coyotes. Despite the man’s cane, he kept up with me at an even, leisurely pace. I answered all his questions as he asked them.
"Is your name Rose?" the old man asked.
"Yes, it is," I said. Some information can flow freely between minds during OBEs. This didn't surprise me all that much.
"How old are you, Rose?" the old man asked.
"I'm eighteen," I said.
"Are you from Rocky Boy?"
"No, but my father is. I grew up in New York."
"Ah! Still, you came back here."
"I wanted to meet the rest of my family. I didn't grow up knowing them. I guess a part of 63 me's always missed them."
"Who is your family?" the old man asked. This is actually a very common greeting in Indian Country. Two parties will exchange clan information--in their Native language, if they know it--because they might turn out to be related.
After telling the old man who my relatives were, we climbed Baldy Butte together, where the air can get pretty thin. I wasn't worried about the old man's health. We weren't physical, for one. At this point, I wasn't sure whether I was speaking with a living man's subconscious, a living OBE practitioner, or someone who had passed away. A few days later, I eventually learned that the old man had been a young boy during World War II. He told me about growing a victory garden with his family to feed the soldiers overseas. They planted tomatoes, peas, and beets. "
"I could show it to you," the old man suggested.
I expected that he would take me back in time, so to speak. Deceased persons will sometimes do that during an OBE, especially as a means of showing you their memories. It makes for an interesting experience, although it can be annoying when they spring it on you without warning. Instead, the old man surprised me by telling me to look in my uncle's attic for a shoebox wrapped in rubber bands.
I didn't look for the shoebox right away. I'm ashamed to admit I forgot about it for many weeks. The old man continued to visit me sporadically, but somehow, it never occurred to me to ask his name. Then one day, toward the end of spring, I went upstairs to my uncle's attic to do some cleaning. He had decided to get rid of a few old boxes full of pow
regalia he and his children no longer wore. While I was stacking up Uncle Sam’s boxes, I saw a shoebox sitting against the back wall, rubber bands wrapped around the lid. I swear I thought my heart stopped. Abandoning my work, I bent down and opened the box to look inside.
It was full of old photos. All of them were black and white or sepia. A few had been folded so many times, they were flimsy when I leafed through them. One photo stopped me in my tracks. It was a photo of my Uncle Sam when he was a boy. He was sitting behind a small victory garden full of beets. Next to him was the old man I had seen during my OBEs. He was much younger, of course; about thirteen. He still wore the tobacco pouch on his hip. He was my biological grandfather on my father's side. He had passed away before I'd gotten to meet him.
Sometimes it's the case that people are lonely, even during out-of-body experiences. The fact that this man kept seeking me out for conversation seemed to suggest that he was lonely, too. I didn't mind keeping him company. During one of our conversations, we walked together around the Bear Paw Mountains, cloaked in the moon and serenaded by coyotes. Despite the man’s cane, he kept up with me at an even, leisurely pace. I answered all his questions as he asked them.
"Is your name Rose?" the old man asked.
"Yes, it is," I said. Some information can flow freely between minds during OBEs. This didn't surprise me all that much.
"How old are you, Rose?" the old man asked.
"I'm eighteen," I said.
"Are you from Rocky Boy?"
"No, but my father is. I grew up in New York."
"Ah! Still, you came back here."
"I wanted to meet the rest of my family. I didn't grow up knowing them. I guess a part of 63 me's always missed them."
"Who is your family?" the old man asked. This is actually a very common greeting in Indian Country. Two parties will exchange clan information--in their Native language, if they know it--because they might turn out to be related.
After telling the old man who my relatives were, we climbed Baldy Butte together, where the air can get pretty thin. I wasn't worried about the old man's health. We weren't physical, for one. At this point, I wasn't sure whether I was speaking with a living man's subconscious, a living OBE practitioner, or someone who had passed away. A few days later, I eventually learned that the old man had been a young boy during World War II. He told me about growing a victory garden with his family to feed the soldiers overseas. They planted tomatoes, peas, and beets. "
"I could show it to you," the old man suggested.
I expected that he would take me back in time, so to speak. Deceased persons will sometimes do that during an OBE, especially as a means of showing you their memories. It makes for an interesting experience, although it can be annoying when they spring it on you without warning. Instead, the old man surprised me by telling me to look in my uncle's attic for a shoebox wrapped in rubber bands.
I didn't look for the shoebox right away. I'm ashamed to admit I forgot about it for many weeks. The old man continued to visit me sporadically, but somehow, it never occurred to me to ask his name. Then one day, toward the end of spring, I went upstairs to my uncle's attic to do some cleaning. He had decided to get rid of a few old boxes full of pow
regalia he and his children no longer wore. While I was stacking up Uncle Sam’s boxes, I saw a shoebox sitting against the back wall, rubber bands wrapped around the lid. I swear I thought my heart stopped. Abandoning my work, I bent down and opened the box to look inside.It was full of old photos. All of them were black and white or sepia. A few had been folded so many times, they were flimsy when I leafed through them. One photo stopped me in my tracks. It was a photo of my Uncle Sam when he was a boy. He was sitting behind a small victory garden full of beets. Next to him was the old man I had seen during my OBEs. He was much younger, of course; about thirteen. He still wore the tobacco pouch on his hip. He was my biological grandfather on my father's side. He had passed away before I'd gotten to meet him.
tl;dr: If she admits to herself she's not an Indian, then she also has to admit her mystical magical coping mechanism is her playing pretend.
Of course, she was ultimately forced to admit that. There was some discussion at the time about how much of her own bullshit she actually believed. Based on what's written in The Escapist's Guide, I think she was very, very desperate to maintain her own illusions. But that's my own take on the tone of her writing; some might read it as straightforward evidence that she was detached from reality to a degree far beyond what was speculated. However you interpret it, it's interesting to revisit her actions knowing that 18 months earlier she was openly seeking contact from other people able to astrally project.
I almost forgot about this space case. I remember telling people about this when it happened, since it does a great job at making Tumblr culture look like the hot garbage it truly is, but it slipped my mind somehow. Thanks for digging up more p'oop on this retard, @Mellorine !
So, her lies are some odd coping mechanism for her, and she's desperate to convince herself it's true, but I wonder why a made-up story about being raped as a kid is part of that. Of all the things for someone to wish to be true...
To feel special and use it for victimhood pointz.
So, if I'm to believe her, she was able to have OOBEs, and was able to freely travel across time and space, yet never once thought to use that ability to locate her long-lost and desperately missed little brother?
Nah. Instead, she had to write a work of fiction (while claiming it was a memoir), under her assumed name (one her little brother would not have known her by), while pretending she was Native American (which her little brother was not, and never even thought to pretend to be).
Well, okay then!
Once again, I'm left feeling sad for @DawnDusk that his family is such a fucking trainwreck, yet relieved for him that he doesn't have to deal with his nutbar sister. She is seriously cukoo for Cocoa Puffs.
Nah. Instead, she had to write a work of fiction (while claiming it was a memoir), under her assumed name (one her little brother would not have known her by), while pretending she was Native American (which her little brother was not, and never even thought to pretend to be).
Well, okay then!
Once again, I'm left feeling sad for @DawnDusk that his family is such a fucking trainwreck, yet relieved for him that he doesn't have to deal with his nutbar sister. She is seriously cukoo for Cocoa Puffs.
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