The Thrill Of Bralessness
From academia’s Clown Quarter, rumblings of radical import:
Gender and Women’s Studies Professor Sami Schalk suggested she may cease wearing a bra to work, citing, among other things, male “policing” of women’s bodies. “I don’t want to wear a bra to work,” Schalk said on Twitter. “It’s harder on my body & expensive AF.”
Nothing signals gravitas quite like a juvenile abbreviation for the words as fuck.
“All so [sic] some students think my tits don’t sag or don’t know I have nipples? Why?! As person with large breasts my body has always been heavily policed bc of how other people, mostly men, respond to it.”
An educator, remember. A shaper of young minds.
Schalk has gained notoriety on the UW-Madison campus for her outspoken opinions ranging from twerking to anti-police rioting. In 2019, wearing a cape that declared “I AM 100% THAT BITCH,” Schalk twerked with rapper Lizzo at a Madison show. In a column at Vox, she declared it “an act of political defiance.”
And a grown woman.
The event in question, this act of political defiance, and preparations for it, can be witnessed here.
“When Lizzo joined in, booty to booty — my butt blessed — it was pure Black Girl Magic,” she recalled.
When not exulting in her blessed buttocks and their magic blackness, or sharing boudoir photoshoots, or referring to the police as “fucking pigs,” Dr Schalk offers snacks and advice to rioters and arsonists, including reminders not to video each other while indulging in said rioting and acts of arson, as this may be incriminating and result in consequences, and subsequently harsh the buzz of being so terribly radical.
Recently, Schalk has focused on her right to be freed from the constraints of clothing and undergarments. When one Twitter [user] counselled that it was okay to occasionally “show some ass,” Schalk heartily agreed. “My ass is great,” she responded. “Sometimes I like to share it with the world.”
American readers will doubtless find comfort in this use of their tax dollars. $102,000 per year, or thereabouts.
But hey, bras are expensive as fuck.
A solution to the Beer Crisis discussed in the previous thread.
Another method, seeing as how I doubt 1/10,000 aficionados of IPAs actually know what IPA means and are generally of the class that frets over such things, simply point out the racist and colonial history of IPAs and Bob’s yer father’s brother, they will be cancelled.
seeing as how I doubt 1/10,000 aficionados of IPAs actually know what IPA means and are generally of the class that frets over such things
When IPAs first started coming back about 15 years ago, they were done in a more traditional style and offered a refreshing tipple on a really hot day. Then the hops war began and craft beer makers used astringent turpentine as their model for bitterness. Lot’s of what is sold as IPA bears no resemblance to past IPAs. The label made it clear it was an India Pale Ale. This was back when Canadian beers were predominantly hop heavy ales or pilsners. There were very few lagers.
As an aside, Labatt Breweries hear in the Great White North made an IPA in the 70s–back when all Canadian beer came in a stubby–simply called IPA. I remember it from the advertising (back when you could advertise beer as fun): “Have an I, Have an I, Have an I P A. Hey, Hey open up the happy door.” Most people I know who drank IPA didn’t seem too happy after consuming a six pack.
Actual food order overheard once.
I did a 13-month stint in fast food when I was in high school back in the nineteen-empties, and I can honestly say that I heard that order several times per shift. I don’t imagine it’s gotten less common in the decades since.
Back in the 80s, Summit Brewing released a brew they called the Extra Pale Ale. It became their flagship brew, and I’ve consumed more gallons of the stuff than I care to admit.
This was in the days when Sam Adams was just coming on to the scene, and pretty much everyone in America drank yellow beer from one of the megabrewers, so a pale ale rated at 45 IBU (int’l bitterness unit) was pretty far out. (For comparison, yellow beer is about 10 IBU and a benchmark IPA like Sierra Nevada’s Torpedo comes in at 65 IBU.) When I returned to Minnesota after college, I couldn’t believe that I could get a good local beer on tap almost everywhere.
Now the boys at Summit struggle in an oversaturated market where the upstarts refer to them as a ‘big’ brewery. Plus ça change…
oh, and diet Coke.
…
I did a 13-month stint in fast food when I was in high school back in the nineteen-empties, and I can honestly say that I heard that order several times per shift.
I read once that Diet Coke was the most popular spermicidal douche in third world countries. So…Don’t be so judgmental. There could be other factors of which you are not aware. The more you know…
…nineteen-empties…
Oh God, it’s catching.
Oh God, it’s catching.
Yeah. I tried to pretend I didn’t see that.
A solution to the Beer Crisis discussed in the previous thread.
…
(back when you could advertise beer as fun)
Hey, when you’re outta Schlitz, you’re outta beer! Because you only go around once in life and you’ve gotta grab for all the gusto you can!
Other favs: “Hey Mable! Time for another Black Label!” I used to use that one on my mom…until she eventually told me not to.
“Schaefer! The one to have when you’re having more than one!” Which I understand, due to the onset of alcohol awareness became “Schaefer! The one to have when you’re having lots of fun!” But per Steve E, I’m guessing that couldn’t be used today either. At a top heavy company I once worked at we had one (of numerous) VP last named Shafer. I used to call him “The VP to have when you’re having more than one.” He was actually kinda cool with it…I think.
The label made it clear it was an India Pale Ale. This was back when Canadian beers were predominantly hop heavy ales or pilsners. There were very few lagers.
That bit above should have been in the second paragraph of my comment. It was the Labatt beer that made it clear IPA was an India Pale Ale. Too busy trying to pack up the house for a move in two weeks, commenting during the breaks. Feeling a bit like a one legged man at an ass-kicking contest.
Isn’t Anchor Steam from San Francisco a IPA? That is delicious stuff.
“Astringent turpentine” indeed — I lol’d.
Those competing to see how repulsive they can make an ale deserve the company of those who compete to see how “hot” a hot sauce they can consume without actually dying.
She’s mostly trying to convince herself, which only works if everyone agrees to play along.
Another example: It’s only the obese, ugly, and retarded who wear t-shirts that proclaim in giant letters “I AM BEAUTIFUL”. I miss the days when that was all they did.
Oregon out-Californias California
Great, all the Latinos, Latinas, and Latinices will now be only be qualified to become either leftist politicians or Usless Studies professors with their participation diplomas.
“Oregon’s Black, Latino, Latina, Latinx, Indigenous, Asian, Pacific Islander, Tribal, and students of color.”
I believe the politically correct collective noun would be “Oregon’s Thixs”.
Incidentally. What is it with orientals patting their food?
(back when you could advertise beer as fun)
Beer jingle as an earworm I recall to this day.
My late uncle worked first for these guys before moving to Anheuser Busch
Beer jingle as an earworm I recall to this day.
Oh, the amount of Hamm’s Beer stuff decorating my uncle’s basement bar! Clocks and mirrors and platters and mugs and lighted signs with shimmering waterfalls. When I was a wee sprog, I thought that basement was the coolest place in the world this side of Disneyland.
Isn’t Anchor Steam from San Francisco a IPA?
Nope! It’s a “steam beer,” which is basically a lager brewed with yeast that have been bred to grow at warmer temperatures. I agree with you that it’s tasty stuff, and you wouldn’t figure it for a lager. And while it has a nice hoppy finish, it’s not nearly as bitter as a classic IPA, never mind the modern ones.
Anheuser Busch
Heh. Michelob. Home from college, working one summer a buddy gives me a ride home and drops me off while my old man happened to be in the driveway and sees me get out of the car with a Michelob in my hand. Boy did I catch hell for that for some time. Here he was drinking Busch and his highfalutin son whose income is mostly disposable because old man put a roof over my head is drinking Michelob. Like I’m some sort of rock star like Eric Clapton or Phil Collins. Not that he knew who the hell Eric Clapton or Phil Collins were per se, just hippies in those ubiquitous beer commercials.
Clocks and mirrors and platters and mugs and lighted signs with shimmering waterfalls.
Reminds me of the free Pernod promotional night at my student bar.
Shudder
I woke up the next day in a veritable grotto of their giveaway purple Pernod tat. Though with a lack of shimmering waterfalls, which seemed to have been substituted for a mountain of ghastly ashtrays.
Never touched the stuff since.
“My ass is great”
As in Great Australian Bight, Great Plains, Great Lakes, Great Wall of China.
Reminds me of the free Pernod promotional night at my student bar.
What proof was it? My wife and I were members of a dinner club of 5 couples. Each couple would take turns hosting and set a theme for the evening. One night we hosted a Night in Paris and turned our house into a French Bistro. I bought a bottle of Pernod Absinthe Supérieure at 136 Proof for the ladies and a Swiss brand that I believe was 165 Proof. You’ve never seen people get so drunk so fast. We did a classic bistro steak frite. To this day, I’m not sure how I was able to prepare dinner–especially the sauce. I never touched the stuff again either. The green faerie indeed.
What brought it to mind–in addition to your comment–was discovering the Pernod glasses in a downstairs cupboard as I was packing for our move. Off they go to Value Village.
If you’re ever in Montreal there’s a great restaurant called L’entrecôte Saint-Jean. The only thing on the menu is steak-frites. They do an amazing mustard cream sauce on the steak. It’s awesome.
If you’re ever in Montreal there’s a great restaurant called L’entrecôte Saint-Jean.
Never mind. It looks like they were a victim of Covid-19 and shut down last September. There’s one in Québec (Quebec City) but it has an expanded menu and probably doesn’t match the original in Montréal, although it’s tough to match the atmosphere of Old Québec. Their website pushes the atmosphere of the old city as opposed to the food.
Karl
If they don’t pat it, how will the food know when it’s been a good boy?
If they don’t pat it, how will the food know when it’s been a good boy?
I think I’d better leave before the United Nations humor police show up.
On second thought, maybe I should stick around: I’ve never squirted a UN drone with hamster urine. David, may I borrow…
Phil Collins
Who is finally coming to America for an east coast tour after 14 years. We splurged and are flying to Ohio to see him in December. 😀 (squeeee)
To each their own and all that, but given his activism (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phil_Collins#Activism), I wouldn’t walk out of my front door to see him perform in my neighborhood.
Absolutely OT, but @WTP probably has seen https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E0u6lHT3L40 already.
I would never imply that such videos were created for the number of viewers. Mainly because that would indicate that a lot of people care. Of course, in a theoretical republic, the fact the people outside of the “unit of a republic; in this case, a State” are upset about the happenings in some state other than the one in which they live and would upvote and post comments, that would result in $ in the poster’s YouTube account (and YouTube is totally neutral, of course) are unimportant.
Absolutely OT, but @WTP probably has seen
Why does that woman have a charging port?
I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.
It must be great to have a job where you never have to grow up.
Adolescent arrestedness, a seemingly unshiftable immaturity, is a common feature of the Clown Quarter, practically a signature. Along with other dysfunctions.
What proof was it?
I’m afraid it would have been whatever bog-standard Pernod is. 100 I suppose. Remember, this was a student bar.
If you’re ever in Montreal…
Thank you for the invite though. The closest I have yet come is Toronto.
This damn coof has a lot to answer for. The best steak-and-frites I had was at the Les Halles bistro in New York – the one Anthony Bourdin used to work at. Though not, I think, when I used to visit. It’s all in the Béarnaise really.
I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.
The two piercings or studs or WTF below her left clavicle.
The women I knew who did it usually did it for their husbands or fiancés. It was just a more intimate set of photos than the popular Glamour Shots that were the rage.
Some of my brides want to do it as a wedding present for their husband. I do ask them one question: “What do you want him to do with it?” They stammer, usually, “Well, you know . . . just to have . . .” Because unless they’re an exhibitionist, they don’t want him sharing it with his friends. Maybe as an “aide” for those nights when she has to be away for work? One of the things I suggest is that we make images that might embarrass her if seen by someone other than him, but not mortify her.
Time for a story: Why I Always Ask Whether the Gift Can Be Opened With Other People Present.
I once was asked to fill in for another photographer at a ritzy venue. When I got there, I saw the hair and make up artist, whom I knew. Greeting her, she advised me not to make the same mistake she did earlier – the fellow who appears to be the father of the bride was actually the groom. There was a considerable age gap.
Alrighty. At one point, the bride asked me to bring a gift to her groom and to photograph his reaction, with strict instructions that he had to have on his wedding suit. I head over to the groom’s suite where he is relaxing with family members, including his 6-year-old grandson. I let him know the bride’s plans and he grumbles, having to get dressed way in advance of the ceremony (dressed formally, that is, as he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt), but the bride gets what the bride wants, so he suited up.
Then he set about to open the gift. His grandson wanted to help and I suggested the child’s father take him off to the side. “Aw, no,” said the groom, “he’s Grandpa’s little buddy, let him stay right here.” So Little Buddy did and the groom took off the final layer of wrapping paper.
You guessed it – it was a boudoir book. And Grandpa and Little Buddy happily started looking through it together. At one spread that featured the topless bride straddling her man’s Harley-Davidson motorcycle, the groom turned to his grandson, pointed at the picture, and said, “Don’t Geemaw look good?!”
Yeah . . .
And to think I gave up practicing divorce law to pick up a camera.
The two piercings or studs or WTF below her left clavicle.
Wow, you really examined the creature didn’t you?
You’re a braver man than I am, Gunga Din.
Wow, you really examined the creature didn’t you?
Up until that god awful ukulele noise.
One for the gamers here.
One for the gamers here.
I chuckled, but… I can actually see the appeal. What?
The Simpsons circa 1998:
.
Speaking of arrested adolescence.
Ok, I’ll bite.
What’s a “nibling”? An infant hobbit? Dwarf? Idiot?
If a 17 month old nibling uttered that I would consider it amusing and precocious.
The fact that said creature has been around for 17 years is worrying but at least mater is proud of it. Had she shown any evidence of education I might have suspected echoes of this creation of the great Peter Simple:-
What’s a “nibling”?
Like sibling. It’s an obscure gender-neutral term for a nephew or niece, now in fashion among woke honkers. And which Dr Schalk then immediately renders redundant by using the word he. Such is her keen mental beam. Basically, she means nephew, but a straightforward word wouldn’t win her any in-group status points.
And hey, that’s what matters.
It’s an obscure gender-neutral term for a nephew or niece
Hmm. Not then related to a mashie or spoon, then?
(I chuckle at the idea of calling a kidlet a name close to that of a golf club)
but @WTP probably has seen
No, I hadn’t. Not sure if/how that helps what with all the makeup product being pushed. I thought we were done with that issue, that by bringing it up I had bored the commentariat and effectively shit on the rug by doing so. Not sure your point of bringing it up again all OT and such. Do me a favor if you do want to pursue this further. Please try and state things clear and definitively. Don’t Hal-around the bush, so to speak. I find it passive-aggressive and thus very womanly.
As for the boudoir thing…another thing I experienced in this regard…A rather attractive co-worker, one who was often the subject of Friday guy lunch conversations, had some racy photos done for her husband. Nothing showing per se…topless with hands covering breasts or wearing just a man’s sport jacket in such a way that it was clear she had nothing on underneath. Two creepy things about this. One, she had one of our coworkers who did photography on the side take them. Thus how we saw/knew about them. Apparently the coworker tried to use them for leverage and she didn’t give in. Second thing was her husband, first husband, was a cop or some sort of tough guy profession. I didn’t really know her then but years later she joined a pool league team that I was on. I kinda got to know her second husband. A serious alpha, ex-special forces (forget which but I know it wasn’t Rangers) who worked with the Secret Service whenever the POTUS came to town and was supposedly being recruited by them.
I had bored the commentariat and effectively shit on the rug by doing so.
I miss the rug. It was luxurious polyester. Gone forever.
Oh, please! The floor coverings in here have seen far worse, and will again.
It was luxurious polyester. Gone forever.
Dude. You could have had one of the bench-lesbians hit it with the garden hose and hung it over the clothesline. The one in the sunshine next to the rusted DeSoto in the backyard. No one listens to me.
“Seize the means of production!”?
That’s been done already. Those people are called “capitalists”.
You could have had one of the bench-lesbians hit it with the garden hose and hung it over the clothesline.
I’m afraid that just doesn’t work with the thick shag. Maybe a fire hose, though.
thick shag
I believe the preferred term is deep shag.
I chuckled, but… I can actually see the appeal. What?
It’s like burning log in fireplace but way more interactive. Can’t wait for the rising buns bakery and the paint drying sim.
I believe the preferred term is deep shag.
Only in adult movies.
“Seize the means of production!”
March all the socialists down into the mines?