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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This blog is kept afloat by the tip jar buttons below.
Bovril is best – provided it is the real beef and not that vegetable imposter that came on the market.
[ Hides breakables, packs jar of Marmite in bubble-wrap. ]
🙂
Not just ingratitude. Also ever-increasing decadence and depravity.
Good to know.
Sure things are going to hell in a bucket, but we have tacos, says actual soyjak.
The process is itself corrosive to probity, especially when done facelessly, by the state. And so, someone whose entire existence may have been paid for by strangers – their every meal, their housing, every entertainment, every dental bill and medical treatment – is unlikely to become appreciative or grateful. Quite the opposite.
The idea that one should try to keep a grip on one’s life, and keep at least one hand on the wheel, tends to become ever more remote. And so the most basic moral assumptions are eroded, replaced with neoteny and unearned resentment.