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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He’s the “equity commissioner” for the city of Renton. He likes to harass people and wear a black dress, complete with handbag.
The dishonesty is fundamental to the worldview.
Pretty sure London wasn’t built by fat, black lesbians.
They’re not even attempting plausibility, are they?
Which I suppose makes sense of a sort if you think of it as an act of psychological aggression. In a you-will-repeat-obvious-lies kind of way.
Thought I’d better check.
Not spooned directly into the gob.
You don’t lick the knife?
Nom nom
Vegemite is of course the Australian version, conceived originally as a direct competitor with Marmite: it was intended to have the brand name Parwill. As in: ‘Marmite, but Parwill’. I love it. My 5 yo dislikes it (I have to resist the urge to cry, ‘what kind of Australian are you?’ when she refuses it.)
I assume both Vegemite and the various malt-extract products – Milo and a few other sweet drinks – are all byproducts from the beer industry. Or at least that they were when originally invented.
You savage.
I suppose the mistake I made with Vegemite is that I took a spoon and actually tasted the stuff. Vile. Am I supposed to mix it with something?
Vodka?
The dishonesty is fundamental to the worldview.
Yes, but not just to that, being the holy month of “pride” and all. Let’s see what is up today.
I see, two terms, one long winded, for the same thing, and one imaginary. Maybe a “personal account”.
Typical male behavior, nothing to see here.
Four years old, so “dysphoric” had to have a kid the usual way, as men do. There is so much wrong here.
Meanwhile in The Great White North, the headline alone tells the tale if you want to avoid the details.
Good to know there will be no booze mixed in with the hormones.
Easy to see where all the “pride” comes from.
You just spread a little on your toast with butter. Let the butter melt first and then spread the Vegemite.
Never had Marmite but I assume the same principle is in operation there.
Telling lies, and demanding others tell them too, is how you breed resentment.
So open a mind as to be empty. As if functioning human mammaries produce anything else.
This came to mind:
But hey, the needs of the baby are much less important than feeling validated.
Thus, I had to ask…
Digging further…apparently everything is just an accident.
See also Muldoon’s bit about The Great White North above.
Before Crocodile Dundee and Americans discovering Australia, in those halcyon days before any normal person knew what Vegemite was, there was this argument about whether the line was “He just smiled and took a bite of my sandwich” or “He just smiled and gave me a Vegemite sandwich”. I still like the former version better.
DEI for terrorism?
And in progressive parenting news.
I’m certain most parasites believe they built the host.
I’m now trying to imagine an alcoholic beverage based on Marmite.
Lower Wacker Drive: Where the orcs and trolls live.
[ After some reflection, opts for gin and tonic. ]
Probably a liquor. They’ll make them out of almost anything.
I recommend the Three Penis liqueur or the Seagull Wine.
[ Squeezes lime wedge, slurps gin and tonic. ]
Yum. My drink of choice. It’s just that it’s only 10:35 am here right now.
[ Fingers lime wedge in a needlessly suggestive manner. ]
[ Does innocent face. ]
Remember this next time some idiot suggests that a cop should have “shot someone in the leg” to stop them instead of “trying to kill them.”
She would have been a pretty girl if she hadn’t been driven insane by sodomite propaganda.
Band name.
Lies: I wonder if what is happening is that progs are so wrapped up in their emotions, their feelings, that they say what they feel with no regard for truth or reality. It is true because that is how they feel. It is their lived experience, their story, their reality. And that is all that matters. And the rest of us can just shut up.
Mar mite but Par will.
Indecipherable to speakers of non-rhotic English. Please report to the Correction Booth for phonological re-education. Ask for Rasehellfrida.
Hold and bloody well forbear…I meant rhotic.
Tell Rasehellfrida I’ll be along shortly.
Maybe it would be good in a Bloody Caesar.
Also: Those trick shots only work on TV. Center mass, center mass, center mass.
Because it’s our tax dollars, you ignorant, entitled savage.
For dicentra:
So either, “the party of empathy“ isn’t actually all that empathetic, or the point is to terrorize normal people.
Embrace the power of “and”.
To think that Pratt and Whitney’s headquarters are right there in East Hartford CT. What a loss to aviation engineering. But the kid has seven siblings, so the genetic Excellence lives on.
Instead of putting on their empathyfaces, why don’t these three ace reporters follow up on the factual claim, both prehumously by the teen on the bodycam and posthumosly by his family, that he paid his $50 share of the $140 bill and he didn’t know his friends hadn’t paid? Just the job for a journalist to get that story straight, for example by going to the diner and interviewing the 5am night shift who have to put up with these shenanigans – maybe they even have a security video. I’m sure the effort would lead to greater cross-cultural understanding, since who among us doesn’t have friends who disappear when the bill appears and leave us there with a stolen gun tucked into our pants?
Sort of every horror film from the last half-century rolled up into one waking nightmare.
That reminds me: Daniel Pinkwater put Lower Wacker in one of his novels (Snarkout Boys?) but he made it sound mysterious and fun rather than sinister. And yet somehow I suspect it was not exactly a good place to be even when he was young.
Awww! You’ve seen my pinned tweet!
Prolonged indulgence of this kind doesn’t generally result in gratitude. Just the expectation of more, forever, expressed with growing boldness. At some point, quite quickly, even the idea of gratitude, of some reciprocal obligation, is met with hostility and contempt.
As seen above, in fact.
Pride Month still going strong!
As Tim Walz would say, it’s just “masculine coded” this year:
https://x.com/LangmanVince/status/1929953447538807178
“Gay things, like chapstick, or condiments.”