Friday Ephemera (784)
A project for the weekend, requires detergent sprinkles. || Oh, I dunno, a little picky, methinks. || Improbable levitation. || Why, what did you see? || So how was your day? || You don’t get to, says she. || She’s looking for the perfect liberal. Note obligatory pinching of fingers. || “Sneaking… Mum’s underwear,” says he. || Schoolgirling scenes. || Signage issues. || Signs of enrichment. || Hugging occurred. || Mr Hopper liked to wear his sister’s clothes, but that’s not the detail you’re going to remember. || For everything, a time and a place. || Guitar playing, simplified. || Moustachioed woman has thought. || Mistakes were made. || Birds of the night. || Highway intervention. || Just another fifty times, dear human. || And finally, via Elephants Gerald, big-hair Kirk and the milk-stealing Klingons.
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Signage issues.
Britain seems to be determined to welcome every deadly enemy in the universe.
Don’t just restrain him. Drop-kick his head back to goat-fucker-stan.
She both looks and sounds retarded.
A European’s vacation itinerary
She has a question.
These are the fine progressive minds we are supposed to respect and tolerate.
I mentioned your comments on Charlie Kirk someplace else, and what do I get for my trouble? 😉
John McWhorter being John McWhorter
What he said is a tiny illustration of why I ceased to see the left as fellow humans.
Nice:
Not a thought, really, just that leftover Taco Bell bean burrito.
Wait, they saved a cyclist?
(deleted–accepts but then loses jpg image)
(deleted)
.
Preference Cascade
I’m definitely going to hell. It took me forever to see what was actually going on.
I know the first place I’m looking when the kid goes missing.
Olive Garden suddenly comes to mind. I don’t know why.
Pro tip, refuse the grated parmesan.
Oh just play the effing record.
You really need to put quotation marks around ‘simplified’.
This kid here, complete with heifer ring, demonstrates in spades that Cluster B girls are about the most dangerous forces on the planet.
Look at how utterly untroubled she is by her own position. Look at how she can’t conceive of people finding her positions to be sufficiently awful to warrant death.
She’s too young to be diagnosed as an actual sociopath, but she’s definitely a budding one.
LOL. A big hairy arse.
“Oh, I dunno, a little picky, methinks.“
Eating in the car? Why?
“Signage issues.“
Making them harder to read quickly doesn’t seem sensible to me.
Morning, all.
What’s interesting, I think, is the default appearance, the uniform, the uniformity. The unattractive piercings, the inevitable bull ring, the catastrophically bad haircut. And that’s before we get to the eye-rolling and what’s actually being said. Or the question of what kind of woman secretly records her own father expressing concern about his daughter, all for the clicks and likes of strangers on the internet.
As Mr Burkett put it yesterday, amid the displays by progressives of competitive callousness:
I find myself in rather emphatic agreement.
We’re here. We f*ck. We’re shit. Queer up!
That’s his original account, I see.
If you hard. Then you hard.
Inevitably:
[ Slurps coffee. ]
Yeah, no idea what’s going on there.
I’m now trying to picture The Other Half’s face, and what would likely be said, if I started to distractedly eat something really sloppy and spillable in the car.
But then, as so often, this grown woman’s demeanour, and everything she says, is suggestive of a child.
Worth it just for Ricardo Montalban playing drums.
Needless to say, there is more.
Well, again, you might wonder whether a world in which some people occasionally say retard, and in which police officers are allowed to park on their own driveways, might be preferable to one in which these monstrous hell-bitches have the political power to impose their neuroticism on others.
“I tried to publicly embarrass my dad for the approval of strangers online. I am a good person.”
Bingo. And that decision, pursued laughingly and with self-satisfaction, tells us rather more about madam than any woke piety that may fall from her mouth.
And – unlike madam – you do have to wonder how her father will feel, should he see the video that his daughter has chosen to upload and share with the world.
For Muldoon, our chronicler of fine British dining: “It’s like wallpaper paste!“
Christmas dinner sorted! 🤢
It’s because of the Giant Vaginas, I bet.
You’re tempted, I can tell.
Because what you want in a pie is gloopiness.
Is it time to dig out the heat map meme?
And in pre-eminent debating society news.
The intellectual heft of our betters.
Possible understatement.
Heh. It would seem to fit the pattern.
People like her deserve to be disowned–and in fact made outcast by society. Let her move to North Korea if she wants to be accepted.
Again:
Band name.
More via Sarah Hoyt at Instapundit:
And also:
And yet more grim pondering, at length:
As the last linked writer says,
By the way, that last writer, Francis Turner, has been blogging as L’Ombre de l’Olivier at various URL’s since at least 2010 and maybe the early 2000’s. Englishman living in France. Some very thoughtful essays.
From the linked essay:
Do they all go to the same body language coach?