He Fondled It Suggestively
The tip jar, that is.
Because yes, it’s time to remind patrons that this rickety barge is kept afloat by the kindness of strangers. If you’d like to help it remain buoyant a while longer, and remain ad-free, there are three buttons below the fold with which to monetise any love. Debit and credit cards are accepted. If what happens here is of value, this is a chance to show it.
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For newcomers wishing to know more about what’s been going on here for the last seventeen years, in over 3,000 posts and 200,000 comments, the reheated series is a pretty good place to start – in particular, the end-of-year summaries, which convey the fullest flavour of what it is we do. A sort of blog concentrate. If you like what you find there… well, there’s lots more of that.
Do take a moment to poke through the discussion threads too. The posts are intended as starting points, not full stops, and the comments are where much of the good stuff is waiting to be found. And do please join in.
As always, thanks for the support, the comments, and the company.
By all means consider this an open thread.
Oh yes. The buttons:
Waving the magazines, on the other hand… (Strange that many called them banana clips, though.)
Give them all a trip to Gaza . . . revoke their passports when they arrive.
from 2022: Morbidly obese “queer fat studies” scholar dies in her sleep at age 42. Her doctoral dissertation “explored weight identity in women who were categorized by health systems as ‘morbidly obese.’ “
Somehow I think this “man” should not get a commercial trucking license.
The family that preys together stays together.
You know what our city needs? A government subsidized football stadium!
Disinformation is merely a story other than government propaganda.
It ain’t the 20th century any more, assholes. Given the way our idiots are ruling (I thought of using “governing” instead, but I felt filthy to use that phrase for those clots.), I fear we will be heading to a 1000 year reset of our world.
Well….This isn’t quite the same as boiling bacon, but worth watching https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PCW6dlBD-_g (It’s not Drain Addict, but it’s pretty nerdy; the guy had been a Deloitte consultant.)
If nobody bought you nothing, I think that means that somebody bought you something. I could be wrong; a Venn diagram would be useful here.
Still keep falling down your rabbit holes… *ping*
That’s… a lot of information. If any of the ladies have fainted, I’m pinning that on you.
As I’ve said before, I do like the fact that it’s possible, if not necessarily wise, to spend quite a lot of time here, poking about. I have on occasion fallen down my own rabbit holes. I was once rummaging for an old comment on the expansion rate of the universe and got derailed by a debate on undercooked crumpets.
As one does.
Bless you, sirs. May your nostril hair be unobtrusive.
And by the way, thanks to all who’ve chipped in so far, or subscribed, or done shopping via the Amazon links, including all those much too shy to say hello.
It’s much appreciated and is what keeps this place here.
She’s an elementary school teacher, by the way.
Today In Racism™ Episode 1095.
Today in Racism™ Episode 1096.
They appear to live in a dystopian nightmare of their own invention. It’s hallucinatory. Or a lie. Not entirely sure which is more pathological.
Today in Racism™ Episode 1097.
I, for one, am gobsmacked that people talk about things actually pertaining to their activities rather than race.
I’m not sure that was the point she was trying to make…
I’m trying to imagine what it must be like to live in that head, or those heads – though, frankly, they all seem much the same. There’s an anhedonic uniformity, a practised neuroticism. It’s… well, weird.
There has always been government corruption, but politicians used to still take care that essential services were performed properly. (See the old Kansas City Democratic Party machine and “honest graft”, in which politicians accepted payoffs in exchange for government contracts, but expected those contracts to be carried out competently.) Now we see infrastructure decaying and essential services neglected while billions are wasted on ill-conceived and incompetently executed projects or given away to cronies.
Hypothesis: There are three chief reasons for this growing failure to perform essential duties:
First, Our political class is increasingly drawn from a coddled elite which has no personal experience with the real-world importance of basic if boring services.
Second, the nomenklatura grows larger every year, which means ever more corrupt and useless people to be paid off with high salaries for doing nothing useful.
Third, while much of the nomenklatura is utterly amoral, willing to support anything that enriches them, a significant fraction is truly malevolent and will passionately pursue policies intended to destroy society.
Well sure, how else would they know who to punch out on the street?
After decades of this crap the episode numbers should be into the six figures by now. I will never forget trying to point this problem out to conservatives…”conservatives” at least as far back as the Clinton administration. “Make the personal political”. They were saying this clearly, openly, out loud in news articles and on the Sunday morning talk shows. Yet I distinctly remember dining at a restaurant when some sort of BS was under discussion regarding restaurant practices. Holding up a glass, I pointed out that if we let them politicize this glass of water, they will not stop until they politicize every damn thing. My point was met with blank stares and crickets. And now pottery, knitting, and again…glass must be infused with politics and racism .
They held us hostage in our own homes, some places for months into years. Literally politicizing every damn thing. Your trip to the grocery store, politicized. Your children’s’ schools, politicized. The food you choose to eat, politicized. And now even your own personal sovereignty over what gets injected into your very own veins, politicized. People, smart people, smaaaaart, people I once highly respected, went right along with it. Barely any objection. What the hell did you expect to happen if you said nothing in the face of this idiocy?
Sometimes I think I’m the only person who read Orwell and actually understood what he was getting at. But oh, the tyranny of the HOA that you joined of your own free will.
“My ancestors were beaten and murdered for indigenous spiritual practices that frightened their enslavers.”
Not soon enough, methinks.
Besides:
“What does it mean for the grandchild of African slaves to find solace in an American yoga practice that’s firmly rooted in the soil of White supremacy?”
Something doesn’t quite seem right here. Slavery ended in the U.S. in 1865 after the Emancipation Proclamation (not including Red Indians, interestingly), and the Fat Yogist was born in 1987. So generously supposing her parents were 60 when they birthed her gigantic arse, and her grandparents were 60 when they sired her parents they still wouldn’t have even been born in 1865.
So how does that work then?
Heh. And even walking down the street, politicized.
All very true. But every one are just “things that are happening”. There is no real, substantial desire by “conservatives” to do anything about it. Because if a conservative does, or even so much as suggests taking the necessary action, other “conservatives” will object. Mean tweets and such. Something Edmond Burke said but “conservatives” don’t like to do anything about.
So how does that work then?
The same way doing “American yoga practice” in her case isn’t cultural appropriation for which she should be castigated and cancelled, because reasons.
from the link:
To the extent that this is true, it is not “society” which has taught them but the actual behavior of so many black people: Violence and overt racism and a reflexive willingness to protect violent black men from the necessary consequences of their own actions.
Sigh. These aren’t slices of Canadian bacon like you might have on your waffles or find in a bacon and lettuce and tomato sandwich. It’s a hunk of salted pork, gammon or ham, boiled so as to flavour the peas. Or pease if you like.
Pease pudding, porridge or pottage is a medieval British recipe going back as far as the 14th Century cookbook “The Forme of Cury“.
So there – upstarts!
This blog is appreciated too, David. Added a few quid to your tip jar.
Bless you, sir. Should you be having a new sofa delivered, may the delivery chaps regale you with an anecdote about preparing to take away a female customer’s old sofa and discovering among its cushions a pair of discarded knickers, resulting in a whispered and gentlemanly debate on whether it would be best to promptly hand said garment back to its owner, or to spare her the embarrassment by leaving the knickers where they are and saying nothing.
#TrueStory
She?
She, plus testosterone, I believe.
That would account for the vocal timbre.
The puerile attitude can’t be laid off to hormones though.
The testosterone vocal fry is a giveaway.
The male adolescent quality of her voice is what threw me off.
If only the people in the UK spoke English we wouldn’t have this problem, not that boiling salt pork, ham, or gammon is any better than a hunk of real bacon.
Next thing you know someone will be eating boiled eels or something.
I know the feeling. 😀
P.S. *ping!*
How it started:
How it’s going:
Oopsie, I am guessing his essay left out the part about consequences..
To yet another of unspanked, I would imagine it would.
Bless you, sir. May your laces never fray.
When men start to feel too old and tired for these anticipatory rebuffs they usually figure out that the solution is to frequent establishments that have no women, few women, or fewer women of the type who have problems with your type.
That transition might involve the recognition that these aren’t entirely misunderstandings, that the women might be understanding you only too well by intuiting something that you do want from them, even if it’s just attention or approval.
But let’s try the “how am I supposed to chill where I’m not wanted?” routine and see how it goes down.
I’ll just draw readers’ attention to the first item here, which seems apposite.
A closed loop of recirculating ignorance.
See also, the first item here.
A delicacy here in Lincolnshire is a boiled bacon hot-dog, with Marmite and baked beans.
Someone fetch Karl.
And Muldoon.
Irony can only bear so much.
I disowned Lincolnshire a long time ago.
Garbage in, garbage out amplifier.
A delicacy here in Lincolnshire…
Absent some form of grilling, yes, hot dogs can be boiled, and hot dogs can be wrapped in proper ‘Merkan bacon, but the two certainly not boiled together.
Therefore, here I think we have another case where a word in Lincolnshire, specifically “delicacy”, doesn’t mean the same thing as it does in the rest of the UK, let alone the US&A.
It’s a thought.
Obviously coincidence.