Reheated (64)
For newcomers and the nostalgic, more items from the archives:
Please Update Your Files And Lifestyles Accordingly.
Natan Last is a “fitful poet,” a Brooklynite, and a graduate of Columbia. Also, he will save us.
The world of woke crossword-puzzlers – because that’s a thing that exists – is one in which enthusiasts, via social media, grumble about white men, bemoan the insufficient prominence of “queer or POC colloquialisms,” share “off-colour jokes about hypothetical titles for a Melania Trump memoir,” and fret about the exact ratio of male and female names used as clues. Because a lack of “gender parity” in crossword puzzle clues constitutes one of “the systemic forces that threaten women.” Crossword puzzles can do that, apparently.
A woe is invented. A solution is discovered.
Gratuitous drama and “drenching guilt” aside, I’m not entirely sure why hiring a cleaner should obviously be more fraught than hiring, say, a gardener or roofer… But for the kind of middle-class feminist who as recreation writes for the Observer, life is apparently an endless moral torture inflicted by minor, everyday events, or at least an exhausting theatre of pretending to be tortured by minor, everyday events. Which of the two constitutes a more harrowing and nightmarish existence, I leave to the reader.
And somewhat related,
Telepathy Not A Thing, Women Hardest Hit.
Feminist titan Gemma Hartley bemoans the chore of getting her multiple bathrooms cleaned by someone else.
It’s been said, here at least, that when someone uses the term “emotional labour” unironically, the person doing the mouthing is most likely a bit of a nightmare. Say, the kind of woman who complains about the “emotional labour” of hiring a domestic cleaner. Or the kind who bitches about her husband and his shortcomings in the pages of a national magazine, where friends and colleagues of said husband, and perhaps his own children, can read on with amusement…
We’re invited to weep at the “emotional and mental energy” expended while remembering birthdays and writing shopping lists. Even brushing a daughter’s hair. Truly, feminists are heroic, undaunted and indestructible. Goddesses walking among us. And in the face of such crushing odds: “Even having a conversation about the imbalance of emotional labour becomes emotional labour.”
Should you want more, by all means click here, or poke through the greatest hits.
Also, open thread. Share ye links and bicker.
Listening to them whine is also harrowing. 🙂
#EmotionalLabour
Listening to them whine is also harrowing. 🙂
I have to say, as a simple-minded man, and a white one at that, I hadn’t previously considered the crushing injustice of brushing your own child’s hair, or booking a holiday.
Oh, woe is she.
#TheSufferingNeverEnds
Hm. It’s oddly quiet today. Too quiet.
I’m assuming everyone’s emotionally spent after the recent sportyball event.
One the one hand, yay capitalism, on the other, maybe it is just a piss take, but I can see this becoming popular among the mask forever crowd.
I can see this becoming popular among the mask forever crowd.
Active breathing, mind.
It has to be a piss-take… right?
I’m assuming everyone’s emotionally spent after the recent sportyball event.
“Yes, a profound sense of fatigue, a feeling of emptiness followed. Luckily I was able to interpret these feelings correctly. Loss of football.”
exhausting theatre
Is that on or off Broadway?
I’m assuming everyone’s emotionally spent after the recent sportyball event.
The unreasonable and unwarranted hype was what did for me.
As a student of the vicissitudes of fortune which have beset my home town club, Burnley*, I am perennially pessimistic and gloomy when it comes to watching professional football. I thus find annoying the misplaced and sophomoric optimism which greets and envelops the doings of the England XI during the latter stages of any tournament.
Watching the game last night, I felt just like I did when seeing the semi-final against Croatia three years ago. I prefer to remain sober when watching a game- at the top level it is played astoundingly quickly and you need to concentrate to grasp what’s going on, and even then it is quite easy to misinterpret what just happened in about 0.25 of a second. Being surrounded by shouty enthusiastic people in *ahem* “pungent” replica shirts who were already leathered by kick-off and incapable of calculating their change from the last round, let alone follow what is going on on the pitch, does not make for a happy time.
“Yes”, you want to say, “We scored a very good goal very early on. But, they have now equalised, and deservedly so. Have we troubled their goalkeeper since then? No. Can we keep possession of the football? No. Hell’s bell’s, can we even get beyond our own halfway line? At the moment rarely. How many loose “second balls” are we winning in midfield? Very few. Why do you think we stand a chance of winning this game against a clearly superior side?”.
So, not emotionally spent, not really. Just slightly despairing at the naivety of it all, and the still ever-prevalent idea in society that a big game of association football is a licence to behave like a drunken arsehole (and I genuinely do love the game and most of the other stuff that goes with it). Having said that, I think much of the roistering yesterday was also triggered by the impending release for “lockdown/restrictions/whatever” and the blatant hypocrisy of many public figures in recent weeks.
*Old football joke: “I grew up in the belief that there was a football team called ‘Burnley Nil'”. There is much truth in there, and it probably goes a long way towards explain why I am such a curmudgeon.
I’m assuming everyone’s emotionally spent after the recent sportyball event.
Not me. I didn’t watch it. I don’t like football, so I’m not bothered if we win and I don’t care if it’s “coming home” or going elsewhere. I’ve been having a clear out. It’s surprising just how much random stuff accumulates in drawers and suchlike when you’re not paying attention.
… naturally complements the human body…
Especially the “Face Screen” model, because nothing compliments the human body quite like wearing a transparent satellite dish over your face.
Three questions – for us in the humid zone, does it fog up instantly when you go outside, can you eat corn on the cob, and what happens when you sneeze ?
…”from lockdown…”
Damn.
I grew up in the belief that there was a football team called ‘Burnley Nil’
That actually made me chuckle. Also, I now know a footie joke. My first, I believe.
#PersonalGrowth
I’ve been having a clear out.
Living it large, I see.
It’s surprising just how much random stuff accumulates in drawers and suchlike when you’re not paying attention.
I was recently trying to fathom why we possess about twenty-seven pairs of tired-looking socks. None of which, so far as I can tell, have been worn in several years. Yet there they are.
[ Starts sorting old crap out of drawers. ]
*Old football joke
tired-looking socks
At what point in the steady separation of my underpants from their leg hems should they cease to be considered an item of clothing and become dust rags?
Probably if I had a girlfriend she’d tell me.
At what point in the steady separation of my underpants from their leg hems should they cease to be considered an item of clothing and become dust rags?
[ Has fashion-related seizure, faints. ]
it is played astoundingly quickly
Clearly a different standard for “quickly”…
*ducks out. Again*
Probably if I had a girlfriend she’d tell me.
Repeatedly.
Good choice of jacket…
Living it large, I see.
Yes, quite.
I was recently trying to fathom why we possess about twenty-seven pairs of tired-looking socks. None of which, so far as I can tell, have been worn in several years.
Heh. I didn’t discover any socks, but I did find one odd boxing glove (no idea what happened to the other one); several miles of old phone and laptop chargers, cables and accessories; and sundry other oddments now disposed of. It wasn’t all junk though – I also found a small Edwardian silver travelling clock I meant to have repaired before last year’s lockdown, plus a pair of antique glass decanters that I had been searching for for about a year and a half. So some good with the bad. #LifeInTheFastLaneIndeed
I also found a small Edwardian silver travelling clock
As one does.
Who knew that was what “Libertad! Libertad!” meant ?
Being surrounded by shouty enthusiastic people in *ahem* “pungent” replica shirts who were already leathered by kick-off and incapable of calculating their change from the last round, let alone follow what is going on on the pitch, does not make for a happy time.
So no American College Football for Oik, then, unless it’s the Ivy Leagues. A minimum BAC is required for entry at some stadiums.
I’m not sure what the second sentence is supposed to mean. My best guess is that “structural devaluation of women’s work” can be translated as “the market rate for a cleaner”.
Middle class people feel uncomfortable hiring cleaners, because it goes against their egalitarian fancies where everyone wears jeans and everyone is or could be a college graduate. There’s been a 3-5 generation gap since middle class homes had domestic servants, so they haven’t learned from their mother or grandmother what tone to adopt.
In that context, a language barrier with your cleaner (Jurate is a Lithuanian name) is a feature and not a bug. It allows you to project characteristics onto your cleaner that may or may not be there. It allows you to play the role of a patron of marginalized outsiders instead of as a self-conscious member of an oppressor class. And there’s less sassy talkback, or if there is you can be blissfully unaware of it. With a working class person of your own ethnicity, you understand each other far too well, and there’s too much opportunity for what are called Conversations.
Hey look! I just found a Faberge egg in between the sofa cushions!
As one does.
It was a Christmas present from over a decade ago. The spring broke last year when the clock fell out of my hands after I sneezed while winding it up. A fortnight later we were in lockdown and the clock repair place was closed, so it went in the drawer to make sure it wasn’t damaged further and then I promptly forgot about it. As to why I have it, I collect antiques. It’s not uncommon for me to purchase something, wrap it up, put it away in a drawer or cupboard because I can’t quite decide where it looks best, forget about it and then rediscover it at some point in the future.
Middle class people feel uncomfortable hiring cleaners, because it goes against their egalitarian fancies where everyone wears jeans and everyone is or could be a college graduate.
As so often with such things, there is an of neuroticism. In this case, not least regarding social class.
Ms Howard’s ultimate solution to the “structural devaluation of women’s work” – a phenomenon that somehow includes paying them generously – was to make two women, her cleaners, unemployed. In the name of feminism, no less. As noted in the original post, the cleaning ladies’ preferences were not deemed of sufficient importance by Ms Howard to share them with her readers. Presumably, the now-poorer cleaning ladies took comfort in Ms Howard’s intersectional convolutions.
A fortnight later we were in lockdown and the clock repair place was closed…
I’ve got a few things I want repaired, some of them important to me. I’m leery of taking them to a shop only to be blocked by another lockdown, and then finding the shop has later gone bankrupt.
Ms Howard’s ultimate solution to the “structural devaluation of women’s work” – a phenomenon that somehow includes paying them generously – was to make two women, her cleaners, unemployed. In the name of feminism, no less.
But of course.
I’m leery of taking them to a shop only to be blocked by another lockdown, and then finding the shop has later gone bankrupt.
I once read newspaper articles about a luxury fur retailer that also operated a cleaning and storage service: When they went out of business the liquidators sold off the entire contents of the refrigerated storage facility. I never saw an adequate legal explanation of how they could do that.
Anyone else get creeped out by someone cleaning your house in general? During the brief time I spent living in a house with maid service I would thoroughly clean my room ahead of the weekly visit. Perhaps Ms Howard very much enjoys the service and is emotionally wrecked as a result, as it challenges her own well-manicured self-identity.
Living it large, I see.
Nothing cleans out closets, garages or random storage corners of the house like either 1) moving 2) major house reno
Count me and hubs on the latter. After several years of money spent that doesn’t show (new HVAC, ducts, Pex repiping) plus an unscheduled new kitchen after slab leak (which prompted the pex) … when you do one thing and it looks good, it makes the rest of the house tired and sad.
Had some major windows replaced a couple weeks ago, now planning to vacate the house for 3 weeks, cats in tow, for all new floor coverings and paint inside and out.
So now slight panic at packing up the house. Amazing how much stuff one can accumulate in 14 years in one small house.
Nothing cleans out closets, garages or random storage corners of the house like either 1) moving 2) major house reno
We did the former. Started eight weeks ago cleaning, shredding, throwing out, donating; small repairs like window cranks, thermostat, wonky light fixtures, leaky faucets, etc. The house looked so good we almost…almost…didn’t want to sell. The house sold in three days with multiple offers.
Now I can’t find a bloody thing.
when you do one thing and it looks good, it makes the rest of the house tired and sad.
Heh. There’s a short story (French author?) where he gets a new set of slippers, which makes his dressing gown look ratty, which makes…
Yep. Complete redecoration.
When the science ignores the empirical.
When the science ignores the empirical.
British comedian Jimmy Carr: “The male gypsy moth can smell the female gypsy moth up to seven miles away – and that sentence also works if you remove the word moth.”
He doesn’t do those kind of gags any more. I wonder why?
There’s a short story (French author?) where he gets a new set of slippers, which makes his dressing gown look ratty, which makes…
🙂
I am surprised that neither here, nor in the previous post’s comments, nobody mentioned the saga of Marie Kelly.
The Wall Street Journal publishes six crosswords a week (no Sunday). Their puzzles editor is Mike Shenk, who writes a considerable number of them himself. To make it seem a bit less one-sided, he published some under his own name, and others under the name “Marie Kelly”, which the astute will notice is an anagram of “Really Mike”. For the woke crossword crowd, this was simply unacceptable – not only must women’s names be used, and female constructors celebrated, no man can publish under a woman’s name. So the WSJ caved within a couple of days. Never mind that Mr. Shenk had done this since his undergraduate days.
What do you expect Devilbunny? A man cannot simply change his name and suddenly be a woman, especially if said *man* is trampling on other women’s accomplishments. I mean, can you imagine?!?
The Wall Street Journal publishes six crosswords a week…
More woke wankery: “Why is America offended by the initials BLM and not offended by the initials KKK?”
That was posted by an individual with an advanced STEM degree, even though everyone knows that the KKK is almost universally reviled.
Yes, like no one could possibly remember when “AmeriKKKa” was considered the most trenchant political critique possible.
“not offended by the initials KKK?”
Well, that does tend to make for a quick half inning…
…life is apparently an endless moral torture inflicted by minor, everyday events, or at least an exhausting theatre of pretending to be tortured by minor, everyday events.
Entitlement, depression, and the flattering caress of a cult.
“…and not offended by the initials KKK?”
On the one hand, I hate encountering such vile stupidity. On the other hand, it does serve as an early warning that the poster can be avoided without loss.
https://twitter.com/i/status/1414323826402349057
…
…
David, do you have any anti-nausea medicine?
It was a Christmas present from over a decade ago. The spring broke last year when the clock fell out of my hands after I sneezed while winding it up. A fortnight later we were in lockdown and the clock repair place was closed, so it went in the drawer to make sure it wasn’t damaged further and then I promptly forgot about it.
I can imagine that as the plot of an episode of One Foot in the Grave or some BBC sitcom of a generation ago. One of those sitcoms that didn’t really grab me at the time but I would now happily watch on Gold.
Probably if I had a girlfriend she’d tell me.
Indeed she would.
She would write them off when they still a good 2 or 3 years left in them.
He might have a sausage roll to spare.
Say, the kind of woman who complains about the “emotional labour” of hiring a domestic cleaner.
She could, of course, avoid this onerous task by cleaning her own house.
Let me know if there’s anything else I can help with.
“Probably if I had a girlfriend she’d tell me.”
Possibly if you knew, you’d have a girlfriend. It’s the eternal catch-22.
(Hey, don’t ask me. I’m as much in the dark as the next guy.)
Again, don’t try to understand ’em,
Just…well you know the rest.
Never mind that Mr. Shenk had done this since his undergraduate days
Can I offer you a nice ham in this trying time?
aelfheld, be warned, “It’s a long way to the shop if you want a sausage roll.” – attributed to AC/DC
Middle class people feel uncomfortable hiring cleaners, because it goes against their egalitarian fancies where everyone wears jeans and everyone is or could be a college graduate.
If you could somehow remove from leftism the self-flattery, pretension, and neurotic social positioning, I doubt there would be much left over. Its guts would have all but disappeared.
[ Added: ]
And so, you can find rooms full of people, self-imagined titans, who say they want to topple capitalism and remake the world, via fits of competitive self-flattery, but who are triggered and rendered twitchy by “gendered language” and “aggressive scent.” And who need to let everyone know, over and over again, just how special and precious they are.
And the people gathered in these rooms – having “debates” that aren’t actually debates, just pronouncements and random assertions – are unable to reconcile their professed desire to reach out to the Average Joe, whom they appear to disdain, with a compulsion to assert their own status and ideological credentials, their own superiority, by banging on about intersectionality, theoretical critiques, and “neoliberalism as a conjuncture.” And while referring to themselves as “insurgents.”
It’s the stuff of farce.
He might have a sausage roll to spare.
[ makes note to buy Dramamine ]
Not a piss take.
NSFWish, there is of course a video.
For those unable to view, a short recap. Ahanu (Algonquin origin that means “He Laughs”), the “trans man”, gives birth in a kiddie pool in an apartment with the assist of Petrona (I believe Malaysian for “oil and gas company”), the “trans woman”, and a doula who stands around looking confused. Throughout the process we do not learn whether the kid is male or female, “Are they breathing?”, they* (everyone in the room, not the kid) worriedly ask. A midwife (of course) arrives after the happy event. Petrona, for reasons unknown to science, fails to
breastfeedchestfeed them**.*(Fortunately there were not twins – “Are they breathing ?” “They are, but they aren’t”.)
**(The kid)
Rainbow eyeball tattoo. Also known as “Do not hire this bedlamite.”
Petrona, for reasons unknown to science, fails to
breastfeedchestfeed them**Does rather symbolise the broader endeavour.
Rainbow eyeball tattoo.
I feel so empowered and validated.
As we’ve been discussing that-side-of-pond sporty things, do any on this side find it exceptionally odd (and granted this is much more political than sporty) that the GOP (spit) is buying an add….NOW…to run during the MLB All-Star Game protesting the move of the game from Atlanta to Denver? Which does absolutely zero for the issue at hand but does put money, GOP donor money, in the pockets of MLB and whatever network is broadcasting the game. I’ve seen conservatives…”conservatives” point out the first problem but not much about the money transfer aspect.
An ad. Not an add. Though as everything is for sale these days, perhaps mathematicians are missing out.
A tediously predictable point regarding the recent sportsball final:
English Football Association, Manager, Players for the last month:
“Blackity black diversity black BLM kneeling black diversity is our strength”
Final Penalty shoot out:
Last 3 takers, black, at least some of whom seem to be virtue signally picked over more experienced persons of pallor *fail to score*
English Football Association, Manager, Players:
“How dare you even notice skin colour you racists.”
And, again predictably, if they’d scored, the diversity flag would have been hoisted and they damn well would want everyone to notice skin colour. Instead it all backfired horribly so they are now in racism hoax damage limitation diversionary tactics pretending there’s a torrent of hate etc.
England fans want their team to win. If a non-pallor person scores, the cheer is just as loud. I guess the bigoted attempt to perpetually divide is now so obvious that there are diminishing returns and fewer people falling for it, much less giving any kind of a shit. Like CRT, it’s just unavoidable now that diversity = anti-white racism. You don’t see anyone calling for the NBA to be more diverse.
I *really* wish they would stop with the cultural cleansing, because at some stage people react. I know history, and I know how things can go.
Does rather symbolise the broader endeavour.
Aye – ye can graft tits on a boar but you can’t make ’em milk.
Poor kid. I wonder how long they let the charade go on before someone got the baby a bottle of formula. ‘Cause I’m guessing mom – er – “birthing person” chopped off her tits when she got on the steroids to grow a beard.
It’s really sad, actually. These two people whose minds are so messed up, yet coddled by the psychiatric industry who denies they are messed up, have each managed to Frankenstein and drug themselves into caricatures of the opposite sex, yet left enough working bits and pieces to have cis heteronormative sex and produce an offspring in accordance with their respective biological sex functions.
Does rather symbolise the broader endeavour.
Speaking of which, if you recall the children’s reading project bare arsed rainbow dildo monkey of the other day, the same organization also has Golden Love Birds that can’t help but to …exhibit their funky, quirky, and spectacular courtship dance.
Oddly enough, Mandinga Arts, the creators of bare arsed rainbow dildo monkey, appear to have have 404ed their website. Who knows what we have lost because of rainbowdildomonkeyphobia.
Can I offer you a nice ham in this trying time?
Holy moly, there’s a blast from the past! I’ve a whole box full o’ Cheapass in the games cabinet, along with a mini toolbox full of dice and counters and money and whatnot for actually playing the games. Kill Dr. Lucky was so long ago I can’t even remember how long ago it was!
We still play Lord of the Fries at Christmastime. “Adoration of the Baby Cheeses” is one of my favo(u)ritest menu puns ever.
“stuff of farce.”
Is that in an English breakfast or a Burns supper?
Mumsnet reports a supportive comment for the rainbowdildomonkey paedophiles:
“It’s ok for a child to go to the zoo and see many types of primates. Some have brightly coloured faces and hairless behinds. Some have large testicles and penises.
But, an entertainer in a costume with those same features, somehow poses a threat to children, so must be banned?”
I think the subtle difference might revolve around the fact that the zoo animals are unlikely to leap out of their enclosures, kidnap, and rape your child.
“stuff of farts”
Burned supper?
Bloody hell, ma coat’s afire!
must be banned?”
So “can’t do what I want” now equals “banned”?
Good to know.
I think the subtle difference might revolve around the fact that the zoo animals are unlikely to leap out of their enclosures, kidnap, and rape your child.
Nonsense, they (there are more than one barearsedrainbowdildomonkeys) and the Metallic Rainbow Johnson Heads are totes the same as zoo animals.
Not as evolved or as well behaved, but other than that, totes the same as zoo animals.
So “can’t do what I want” now equals “banned”?
“Embargo” now means “blockade”. Literally. As in literally literally does not mean literally. Do try and keep up.
somehow poses a threat to children
Somehow is the keyword that tells you you’re going to get a performance of ideological obtuseness. I’m pretty sure that Mumsnet is normally able to use its imagination when it comes to threats to children, to mark it down as a warning sign when an adult stranger chooses to raise sexual topics with their children, and to err on the side of caution.
We’re repeating the 70’s(*), an era when coarseness about sex was seen as proof of authenticity and liberation from priggish uptightness – “hey babe, wanna make it?”. Not coincidentally, the 70’s was the peak decade of media depictions of children as sexually active, and more often as sassy, sexually knowing, pottymouthed latchkey kids who walk to school among drug dealers and prostitutes. Well what can you do? Is this somehow different from what they’d see on a farm or at the zoo or while changing at the swimming pool, hmm, hmm? What sort of authoritarian are you that you want to hide the more complex and depraved aspects of life from your nine year old?
(*) The 70’s, but instead of Northern Soul we have looming Northern Sharia, where bareassed reading hour has as much of a future as a deckchair on the Titanic.
“The baby suckles Petrona, a two-spirit Nahua trans woman”
Hmm. Either the opening line of a bad SF attempt or a really great band name…
A man with a clerical collar and a Bible, offering to teach young children about the Glory of God and the Love of Christ, would absolutely be beaten half to death by the same people who tell you that a man in a rainbow-colo(u)red monkey suit with a bare arse and a swinging dildo poses no conceivable threat.
It’s all about which religions are acceptable in a given community.
I do take some consolation in the fact that after having a bright light shone upon them, this “artist collective” is busy disappearing themselves from the Web. Can’t wait to see where and when they reappear, and what form they take next time.
So, what I’m wondering is if the wealth of a society which gives birth [sorry] to such abominations inevitably germinates the seeds of its own destruction?
Is any society able to (temporarily) support the undermining of everything which made it successful fated to do so?
Or is it just us?
surgically replicated neo-vaginas
Recognizing and accepting that most doctors are a**holes, still there are far too many soulless sociopaths in that profession for my tastes.
surgically replicated neo-vaginas
Band name
Recognizing and accepting that most doctors are a**holes…
Yeah, yeah, until you need a surgically replicated neo-vagina, then it is all “ooooh, save me, save me”.
Meanwhile, I thought the picture of the clan of bare arsed rainbow dildo and Metallic Rainbow Jouhnson Heads was bad, but, even coming from Brooklyn, this is the height of depravity. (SFW)
but, even coming from Brooklyn, this is the height of depravity.
Fish ice cream. Sushi ice cream, even. Blame Japan.
surgically replicated neo-vaginas
What?
We might’ve shipped the bulk of our good manufacturing jobs overseas but, goddamnit, we still take pride in our pork rectum inversion industry here in the good ol’ US of A!
What?
According to Wired:
So, what I’m wondering is if the wealth of a society which gives birth [sorry] to such abominations inevitably germinates the seeds of its own destruction?
Is any society able to (temporarily) support the undermining of everything which made it successful fated to do so?
I submit that this is only the case because this situation is a function of our pathetic willingness to simply give people money, either directly via welfare or (possibly worse) through the creation of so many fake-work jobs. Human beings, possibly even social animals in general, have a fundamental, evolutionary desire to contribute to the betterment of their society. That we fill their heads with such incredible idiocy rather than wait out what real contributions they could eventually figure out for themselves, therein lies the root of the problem. They take whichever idiocy, which let’s face it, we spend gobs of money on expecting them to learn, and try to apply it wherever they can. That their idea of contributing is truly a significant minus/take-away doesn’t occur to them. Why should it at this point?
Recognizing and accepting that most doctors are a**holes, still there are far too many soulless sociopaths in that profession for my tastes.
While I am inclined to agree that there are significant sociopaths there, especially in the psych professions whose ranks are far more attainable relative to serious MD work, I think a good number of the more medical doctors in this domain aren’t so much sociopaths but people on the autism spectrum…though that’s not necessarily an excuse.. but with delusions of grandeur.
“No one wants a vagina that smells like a stool,” says Ting.”
You see, I think there has been time travel to [current year], it’s just that they return home immediately and never speak of it.
Biological males who identify as transgender have also sought to have the uteruses of dead women placed inside their bodies and connected to their surgically replicated neo-vaginas so that they may gestate and give birth to human young.
As opposed to the young of some other species ?
Which, naturally, I am sure is the next perversion to “come down the pipe”
ha
uteruses of dead women”
See, that there is the issue. Donated living uterus is the only way to go.
Or something.
Sushi ice cream, even
Weeeell, you could probably do worse 😔
As opposed to the young of some other species ?
Haven’t you been watching Sweet Tooth on Netflix?
“No one wants a vagina that smells like a stool,” says Ting.”
And yet that’s exactly what you can get in one of them surgically replicated neo-vaginas as done now, usually during vigorous sex. It’s called a fistula.
inverted pork rectums
I bet they taste just like calamari.
Weeeell, you could probably do worse
Thanks for sharing.
[ Opens notebook. Begins second Karl page. ]
Haven’t you been watching Sweet Tooth on Netflix?
Well now I am. Thank You!
Weeeell, you could probably do worse
My dad once bought Durian ice cream for my sister. She still gags a little when she talks about it.
A co-worker once gave me a small piece of Durian candy. I managed to wrap it up and hide it in a trashcan without him noticing.
Thanks for sharing.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. But now it’s one of those things that just gets worse the further back in time it goes.
It’s like a goddam Star Trek temporal crab anomaly. I blame Heston Blumenthal.
I bet they taste just like calamari.
I was going to guess chicken. But you know what they say, tastes like chicken, smells like fish.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
As seen on tombstones.
I bet they taste just like calamari.
It’s like deja vu all over again!
As seen on tombstones.
I’ve decided. I want “He’d try anything twice” on mine.
So watch out if you get invited to dinner.