For newcomers, some items from the archives:
Hard To Tell If It’s Going Well.
The thrill of atomised dairy products.
Here, let me bring you artistic sustenance, with some “performance documentation” from Manhattan’s Grace Exhibition Space. The mighty talent featured in the following video is artist, educator and “community organiser” Alex Romania, whose work teeters on the edge of profundity, as will doubtless become clear, via juddering and convulsion, and the strategic deployment of twenty-five pounds of powdered cheese.
New Niche Indignation.
On transgender dinner parties, where competitive upset is the sweetest dish.
Readers are invited to ponder the prospect of a dinner party at which, in order to be polite and suitably affirming, you’re obliged to insinuate that the host is rapist material. And to do it convincingly. Rather than, say, compliment the cooking or the décor.
Sudden-Onset Womanhood.
On gender-bending Bond and other modern wonders.
We’re also told, “A gendered spin on the character can open up more potential for exploring Bond’s individuality.” And this exploration of the character’s individuality will apparently be achieved by erasing a rather fundamental aspect of the character – his maleness – and replacing him with an entirely different person of a different sex.
Readers are invited to ponder whether similar transitions might enrich the character of, say, Miss Marple, who, via similar logic, could be depicted as male, and as always having been male. Thereby exploring her individuality.
Answers on a postcard, please.
The recent, sex-swapped iteration of Doctor Who is invoked as a “positive example” on this front, as if Jodie Whittaker’s brief, unloved manifestation had been a rip-roaring success – despite the terrible writing and wildly unpopular retconning, both loudly derided by fans, and despite the subsequent, rapid death-spiral of viewing figures. Because boring and alienating much of your audience, and shrinking it dramatically, is a political triumph. A breath of “new life.”
Big City Dreams.
On London’s struggling artists. Terms I use loosely.
At which point, readers may suspect that the imperative is not so much being creative, but being creative
in London, a notoriously expensive city, but in which one can draw attention to the fact that one lives and works in London, a notoriously expensive city. Thereby glowing with a kind of location status.
Readers may also note the article’s, shall we say, coyness regarding the art on offer – all that cruelly underfunded creativity. None of which is displayed to sway readers of the Observer. The nearest we get is a photo of Ms Kwan standing next to a creation that we cannot actually see, and a photo of Grayson Perry in a hideous frock.
Our Betters Stroke Their Pets.
The hounds of love.
Other questions generated by means of Queer Theorising include, “Do I think I’m having sex with my dogs when they kiss my face?” Apparently, for Dr Kathy Rudy, a Professor of Women’s Studies, being licked by a dog is difficult to distinguish from kissing grandma on the cheek or being lost in a full-on erotic fever. And thus, we’re told, “The line between ‘animal lover’ and zoophile is not only thin, it is non-existent.”
For those craving more, The Year Reheated is a pretty good place to start.
Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.
If a 10yr-old girl is suddenly freaking out, refusing to go to school, and cutting herself in the girls’ toilet, SHE’S PROBABLY BEING SEXUALLY ABUSED AT SCHOOL.
🚩 RED EFFING FLAG! 🚩
It seems they won’t be happy ’til they ban fire.
Coulda saved LA.
Seen at Instapundit:
It’s a Daily Mail article, and I tried to read it, because I couldn’t figure out how a bacterial disease (salmonella) spread by fecal contamination of comestibles by poor hygienic and/or food preparation practices could be caused by climate change, and specifically hit Britain, as opposed to anywhere else on the planet. I admit I didn’t make it through the idiotic article. There was mention of BBQing and people picnicking/grilling outdoors due to the boiling climate and food sitting outside too long? But that’s not where salmonella comes from – the contamination happens during the prep, before the dish goes outside. There were lots of colorful images of bacteria, and a detailed infographic on the greenhouse effect, but it seemed to be trying too hard to appear scientific. It was more like those Weekly World News stories about yet another Batboy sighting.
Sheesh – try to edit your comment (containing only ONE link) more than once and it gets thrown into moderation as spam.
Duly noted.
…it gets thrown into moderation as spam.
The Spam-No-Mor (Ausf. G)™ is a fickle biotch.
I want answers! Did you order the Code-Onsies?
You want answers!?
I want the truth!
YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!
Knives: more people are killed by bare hands (including hands with blunt objects) than by rifles. Handguns still #1 of course. My friend was messed up by some thugs and has never looked the same.
I saw RFK jr speak at some environmental conf 20+ yrs ago and he was as radical green as you can get…but, he supported Trump so i forgive him. Don’t trust him, but forgive him.
Helen Joyce, earlier this year, explaining how trans BS has ruined so many things, also provides some things we can do to help get rid of it (22:00), including these key phrases:
“But it’s not fair.”
“They’re too young.”
I’ve seen a few security cam videos of UK knife attacks, and in every case the attacker slashed and hacked.
Sensationalism seems to be a big part of their business model. On the one hand that gives us B.S. stories about climate disaster, but on the other hand it gives us stories about “problematic” Muslims which the “respectable” press prefers to ignore.
Meat cleavers for everyone!
A follow up to this story from the other day…
“Dank is the epitome of confidence…”
I’m not at all sure “confidence” is the right word, YMMV. (Typical “rap” language warning)
I wonder if all this is just a publicity stunt.
Meat cleavers for everyone!
Banned! See also: flint.
WOPR figured this all out for us in 1983…
Farnsworth M Muldoon: ‘… if a grown adult wants to cut a steak with a butter knife, that has always been an option.’
Sure, just order fillet steak!
“Democrats do not realize just how radicalized people have become against them.”
There is also the matter of liability in the event of a crash: She wouldn’t be wearing a seatbelt, and thus the driver would be vulnerable to a lawsuit.
‘Delusional’ seems more apt.
‘Batshøt crazy’ works too.
One word in the title seems a bit out of place.
Your host is heroically suffering, laid low by sciatica. Sadly, for the next few days, you’ll have to keep each other entertained.
Play nicely. Use coasters.
Sympathies.
[ rummaging around behind the bar, looking for potables ]
Oh, that’s nasty. Feel better soon!
Want to inspect the cellar?
[ Holds up key ]
[ rummaging around behind the bar, looking for potables ]
Beware of the labels, “vodka” is probably really floor polish, not that it has ever been used.
Beware the henchlesbians.
Safer to try Dibbler’s Soggy Mountain Dew. Guaranteed aged for 7 minutes.
And what’s a drink without a nosh?
[ Proffers tray of dubious-looking meat pies. ]
[ Proffers tray of dubious-looking meat pies. ]
Just FYI, that is where the turkey testicles and cigarette butts wind up.
No turkey, just pork. . . Or pork-adjacent.
Don’t forget the hump fat.
Hump fat is not cheap. I believe Dibbler steals used fryer oil from recycling containers behind restaurants.
I don’t think it’s stealing, as such, if they’ve poured it out of the containers.
It’s the property of the recycling company that owns the grease recycling dumpster.
And Harry King does not have a sense of humor.
I laughed and I’m not sorry.
Between Constantine and Endgame, I’d watch her in that. And I don’t even like Doctor Who (Chris Eccleston excepted).
Skip to 1:15 for Megyn Kelly in the background unable to control her laughter.
Stolen from Ace, The Rise of the Midwits, another framing of points made herein, but worth your 9 minutes and change.
When clever psychopaths find each other:
Jack “Ziz” LaSota has Charlie Manson vibes.
Catty cat sings the blues.
Sciatic pain’s a b*tch. Take anti-inflammatories and do the stretching. Then GET BACK TO BLOGGING.
You want one and you know it…?
Can confirm, quite emphatically.
On it.
[ Fetches leotard, leg warmers, hideous disco mixtape. ]
We’ll see which of us cracks first.
Yes, the enthusiasm is for subversion, not creation.
[ Slides single Nestlé Shreddie along bar to Daniel. ]
Your host is heroically suffering, laid low by sciatica.
The lack of Ephemera this week shall be forgiven.
[sits back, smiling smugly at her magnanimity]
Here, I hope a puppy picture helps to relieve our host’s discomfort.
Her name is Cassidy and she is a two-year-old Wirehaired Pointing Griffon.
Oddly enough, what comes to mind is the activism of San Francisco’s militant nudists, who seem less interested in being naked as such, among likeminded people, for which ample provision is made in designated spaces, but for being naked incongruously, intrusively – and specifically, near you. And thus imposing on those who’d rather not have to explain to their small children why some sad old queens are flapping their cocks at them.
The greatest excitement of the activists always centres on inflicting their transgressions on someone else in an endless, tedious provocation. Because that’s the whole point. They want you to participate in their psychodrama.
In fact, they insist.
Now there’s a shot.
I wasn’t enthused by the prospect of The Doctor changing sex. It had an air of desperation, of motives other than character and story-telling. I didn’t oppose it vehemently or anything – I didn’t much care, because the show is so bad anyway. The premise of the thing is interesting, though I was never a huge fan of what materialised on screen.
But yes, that said, Ms Swinton would have possibilities as The Doctor. But instead they miscast the role and chose an actress utterly underwhelming, then added more inept writing and naff political messaging. Before gleefully undermining the character’s entire backstory. The series is, I think, beyond salvaging at this point. At least, so long as it remains the plaything of woke pinheads and writers who think of themselves as activists of some kind.
Thing is, despite the baggage of so many decades, and despite the recent abominations, someone else could, I think, still make the premise work. There are audio dramas in which substantial actors – John Hurt and Derek Jacobi – play the roles of The Doctor and The Master. The TV series producers could have just put them together and let them loose with a half-decent script.
But no, instead we get queer fabulousness and lectures on pronouns.
It’s David’s way of saying he couldn’t be arsed to do Ephemera. If he had done them, he would have virtue-signaled scheduling them and gone back to fondling his purchases.
Seriously, David, get well soon. In the meantime, enjoy a cat video.
[ Splutters indignantly. ]
If you must know, I had actually prepared most of one. Not a bad selection, I’d say. Some of which you’ll probably be getting next week. Actually.
Heh. The Other Half has been known to watch Walter Santi’s videos. He likes cats. I’m more of a dog person. I understand dogs, I get them. Cats are more of a mystery to me. And don’t get me started on horses, which I’m convinced are from outer space. Don’t understand horses at all.