Friday Ephemera (770)
Hold on tight. || Wok tossing scenes. || Random-ass cheese umbrage. || Birthday cake of note. || Behold, a greeting from a ladies’ bathroom. || Himalayan rhubarb. || Boo. || “The problem is most people don’t have a vacuum chamber.” Or, how to fill a Klein Bottle. || The progressive dining experience, parts 38 and 39. || One could never grow weary of his self-expression. || Washing the wookiee. || You will enthuse as instructed. || I’ll let you show me how it’s done. || Maureen, there’s someone at the door. || Smugly misinformed bint wants to decolonise your language. || Attention, ladies, I bring good news. || The Ogmios School of Zen Motoring, episode 9. Previously. || When the cyberbully is your mother. || Cat deflector. || He dented the fuck out of his truck. || Oh, and clean-up on aisle four.
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Have we outsourced the manufacture of outrage? Heaven knows the quality has declined precipitously.
Even money she has no clue.
Need to use a captive bolt device.
Sobering words … which will be rejected by all Right Thinking Liberals.
Useful distinction to bring up when you’re accused of personal hatred or wanting to pick on heroic border crossers who’ve had difficult lives.
And a useful counter to theories that pleasantness or fondness on the personal level will make group incompatibilities dissolve away.
If you’re fighting for your own people and your own territory, there’s a recognition of the existence of other people as long as they stay in their own territories. But liberalism can’t tolerate an enclave.
The other concealed, or rather in plain sight but unacknowledged, force is that none of the protected ethnicities under the liberal umbrella are liberal themselves – they all know who the hostis is and the hostis is white people.
So close. The systemic oppression is coming from inside the house. Inside the heads, specifically. Though it’s not much different from the paler bros who whine about capitalism while wasting their lives playing Grand Theft Auto or obsessing about sports or rock or country music. People are being brainwashed on a broad scale and it ain’t just the people of color.
Not so much curious as predictable imnsho.
At least he had a smile on his face.
It’s worldview in which we’re supposed to pretend – based on nothing and despite all evidence to the contrary – that no-one would ever exploit generosity and take the generous for a ride. One in which feeling obliged to be accommodating and nice – seemingly forever, indiscriminately, and on a scale with no obvious end – could never, ever lead to a suboptimal situation, possibly ruin.
It’s a perverse, delusional – and dangerous – assumption. Yet to deviate from this conceit, even in measured terms, is, as we’ve seen, to risk being scolded as an embodiment of wickedness. Generally by people who themselves are unlikely ever to face the consequences of the policies they wish to impose on every other bugger.
Odelay:
You win the internet today, or at least this thread…
I want to see Dan Snow trying to get on that Ruislip bus.
Well, quite.
But I very much doubt that Mr Snow, our well-heeled BBC broadcaster, has had to fight his way onto public transport amid people from distant lands who view queueing and politeness as a convenient handicap for the paler, indigenous population.
And I doubt that Mr Snow, who married a billionaire heiress, as one does, has found himself the only person in an optician’s shop who was actually paying for the service. An experience underlined by the alien, rather foreign appearance of all those not paying. Likewise, I doubt that Mr Snow has ever had to deal with people quite literally shitting on his doorstep.
He will be spared such indignities. His ostentatious piety, his niceness, so loudly announced, costs him nothing.
Only the little people pay.
Which are your favorite state names?
A museum where you can see all the worst artists in one place
She’s casting imaginary spells and “channeling all her sadness and depression” into Donald Trump
Not sure how I feel about this.
I’m pretty sure that’s not how feelings work.
Is that the chick from PST’s dentist office?
Bookmark.
“Royalty“
‘Asshuts’ is the most accurate.
There’s never a
CromwellSanson around when you need him.Yes, embarrassingly bad. But Harlan Ellison still holds the record.
I haven’t read the novels or followed the fan griping, so I’m by no means invested in the thing; but I suppose it’s possible he’s just lost his mojo, at least for that tale. Or maybe, as others have suggested, he saw the ending of the TV version – and the audience reaction – and is unable to come up with anything better. I would guess that sprawling multi-volume sagas with umpteen characters are tricky to conclude in a satisfying way.
Much like two-part cliff-hangers in TV drama. The set-up is generally better than the pay-off.
That is possible, but it doesn’t seem like an adequate excuse, even though it happens far too often. Many writers start a series without any idea of what the story arc will be. Others write themselves into a corner–which is inexcusable (didn’t they realize what they were doing?) Still others lose interest and find themselves producing only crap storytelling. Philip Jose Farmer seems to have been particularly bad at finishing series in a satisfactory way. There were too many Ringworld sequels for the themes being explored (too little butter spread on too much bread, to quote my grandmother.) And so on.
A moment of silence for those who suffer from salad cream.
[ Slips out the door before David can summon the henchlesbians. ]
I’ll take the custard and the Marmite.
Not together, you understand.
So you say. Who knows what you get up to when you’re not here?
She rented out her property to pronoun enthusiasts.
Pronoun people are why normal folks hate pronoun people.
Marmite, used sparingly, is good in stews, chili, etc., and of course on toast.
Custard speaks for itself.
I once saw a YouTube video in which a Brit, living in South Korea, was introducing odd British foods to his Korean friends, but with no explanation as to how they’re usually consumed. He left out a large jar of Marmite.
With a spoon.
Mean, of course, but not unfunny.
Never been able to find it. What does it taste of/like?
It’s not easy to describe, at least not in a way that explains its appeal. It’s a salty, savoury, umami flavour. Slightly bitter and best used sparingly.
Not spooned directly into the gob.
Marmite, used sparingly…
If by “sparingly” you mean “homeopathically”, yes.
What does it taste of/like?
Disappointment and existential dread.
The second helping tastes like self-loathing.
The second helping tastes like self-loathing.
Indeed, however, there are some ascetic monks who eat it by the spoonful instead of flailing themselves.
Immigrants: other countries keep close tabs on foreigners. I have several friends who worked in China. After a while, they were “asked” to leave, lest they think they belonged there. One guy was running his own restaurant, but too bad. Only countries of white people think they have an obligation to let everyone in.
Having given up religion, which very clearly states that evil exists, the typical prog has drifted into a garden of eden (or noble savage) belief that people are naturally good unless oppressed. Which is naive and stupid.
The impression I got was he figured he could magic up an ending somewhere along the way but, to borrow a friend’s formulation, got lost in his own underwear.
Isn’t it just a jaundiced Miracle Whip?
Storm chasin’
Community Relations Service: Treating black-on-white murder as a misdemeanor.
Quantum mechanics says that there is a greater-than-zero probability that this will eventually happen.
The Second Law has entered the chat…
Speaking of vanishing sci-fi writers… scroll up and read this whole thread.
I’m quite taken with Sot Dot and Not Carl.
For the record, here’s the actual etymology, courtesy of Grok:
IIRC, Stephen Hawking’s version of the joke was that eventually a black hole will emit a set of the Encyclopedia Britannica. My Modern Physics professor’s version was that if you keep throwing yourself at a brick wall, eventually you will quantum tunnel through to the other side.
Note that some have likened a clothes dryer to a black hole–at least with regard to socks.
Granted, if not actually labelled as a foodstuff, you probably wouldn’t assume that the black, sticky substance was edible. More like some kind of industrial by-product. Which, in a way, I suppose it is.