Friday Ephemera (774)
It says commercial waste, but frankly I have doubts. || Suboptimal scenario. || Suboptimal scenario 2. || Yes, but they could be a little bigger. || Beach glamour. || Actual rollercoaster of emotion. || Smouldering sex kitten. || Not that much. || There’s something to be said for planning. || On misplaced politeness. || At last, an art centre with a protest toilet. || On Agatha’s poisons. “An overdose of nitroglycerine secreted into his favourite chocolates.” || The progressive retail experience, parts 635, 636, 637 and 638. || Pothole encountered. || Poking the anemones. || I didn’t know they did that. || She has many engines in her factory. || What fetish? || Flying highway timber, stabby bathtubs and other lively policing scenes. || Job satisfaction. || Oh, and the world of wonder under your fingernails.
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‘[…] to Hell or Hadleyburg – try and make it the former.’
Hans! Bringen sie bitte der flammenwerfer.
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…a flammenwerfer was needed.
Don’t think the PowerPoints are working.
from the comments:
UHF television flashbacks.
I recommend the liberal application of truncheons. Followed by 45 calibre bullets if the truncheons do not immediately cause passivity.
Happy Treason Day, everyone.
Nice work if you can get it.
Based orcas.
I always tend to think that toilets at modern art galleries are confusing… you spend all the time looking at this bizarre conceptual art so that by the time you need to go your senses can be so warped that you’re never one hundred per cent sure if you’re in the right place or unintentionally committing vandalism. Blame Duchamp and his fountain, maybe.
Who wears a suit on a rollercoaster?
*plays again*
Morning, all.
Incoming.
Oh, and salutations to our cousins in the colonies.
as irresistible as bubble wrap!
Apparently, Google has pre-ordered 200 megawatts of fusion energy for the 2030s.
Now if we can just get the damn thing to work.
Wolf hotel.
Rock goddess.
*scrubs fingernails*
Toilets are for biological functions. Not make-believe.
Which? The fusion energy technology or the AI? Or google in general? Or damn near anything tech at this point.
Do I have to spell it out for you conservatives????? They are WHITE supremacist wolves threatening the cabin of a BLACK man…
There’s a local restaurant across the state line that has very good farm-to-table style food. They serve craft cocktails and things like Carolina Quail and Carrot Ginger Soup. A beautiful setting on a hill above a small mountain town. Kinda North Carolina hippy-dippy folky. They have a firepit outside that has become a thing-to-do gathering for folk musicians. Anyway today, for the Fourth of July they are serving…tacos. Nothing unusual about that. I’m thinking about stopping by today for a beer in my Trump 2024 “I’ll Be Back” hat and Trump Winery golf shirt. Nothing unusual about that.
Just returned from a stroll through the park, where I encountered some wildlife of a kind not usually seen hereabouts. Namely, a tall, quite burly fifty-something chap dressed in such a way as to approximate the appearance of Hyacinth Bucket from the sitcom Keeping Up Appearances. Complete with inordinately fussy hat.
As I walked past, he said “Hello,” or rather “Hel-lowe,” in what I assume was his attempt at a sexy voice. A rather booming and manly sexy voice that was somewhat at odds with the ladies’ shoes and fussy hat, but hey. It was definitely not the kind of hello one might normally expect from strangers you pass in the park at 9:30 in the morning.
Still processing the event.
Picture, if you will, something along these lines.
Incoming.
Those furry f*ckers are everywhere. Trust no one.
Observation of note.
The rainbows should be on the inside of the bowl.
Never mind what I said about truncheons. Go straight to firearms.
Not socially appropriate. Does not understand social norms. Does not respect boundaries. As any woman who has endured inappropriate attentions from strangers can say.
Just another trans loony who will, sooner or later, commit a sex crime.
The exchange was in no way threatening, to me, though I can see how it might be to some. It was more a matter of surrealism, given the location, the time of day, and the proximity of a duck pond.
It also occurred to me that, while I generally enjoy living in a neighbourhood where passing strangers will sometimes say hello or morning or whatever, I didn’t appreciate being made a participant in the chap’s unhappy mental drama.
I didn’t appreciate being made a participant in the chap’s unhappy mental drama.
Bozhe moi, speaking of unhappy mental drama, “I hate women, but want to be one”, (slightly condensed version).
Language utterly NSFW, children, or small dogs.
Not to mention the public baths, but I guess the upside is at least they are taking baths.
I thought you were going to say you were attacked by a squirrel.
The enshitification is ongoing. Like the third season of just about any good television season, the original smart and capable people have left (or were fired for being “too expensive”) and now clueless management fucks are hiring morons and milking the previous success and remaining good will like there’s no tomorrow.
The overlap of trans identification and a porn sub-genre of eroticised humiliation is quite pronounced. And the frequency with which cross-dressing men – the ones who claim they just want to pee – assume postures and costumes that are weirdly sexualised and incongruous, and in which degradation seems very much part of the kink, probably speaks for itself.
I didn’t mean to imply that he was threatening; only that his speech was inappropriate. There are social norms of how to speak to a stranger to whom one is attracted, according to which the first words should be more neutral.
But you can be thankful he didn’t do a Harlan Ellison “Hi, wanna fuck?”
The squirrels in the park keep their distance – probably on account of the dogs. And the ones in the garden treat me with the respect to which I feel I’m entitled. I am, I like to think, some kind of god to them. What with all the nuts.
Though yesterday I noticed that one of the garden regulars, the one with a missing tail – I dubbed him Stumpy – now has a bad limp. Which doesn’t bode well.
The article didn’t say if it was to be delivered all at once or in measured increments.
Well, one could argue that the whole thing was inappropriate. Close by, watching the ducks, there were parents with small children. And the chap in the floral dress and fussy hat did seem bent on eliciting some kind of reaction. It wasn’t just a case of I-am-going-for-a-walk-and-I-happen-to-like-wearing-frocks. It was I-like-wearing-frocks-and-I-very-much-want-you-to-notice.
All about spiders!
Happy 4th Everyone! A salute to the Fallen Founding Fathers of the Freelance Fireworks Hall of Fame
‘Sexualised’ and ‘Hyacinth Bucket’ don’t fit well in the same frame.
Heh. My sister-in-law and husband are on an Alaskan cruise right now, but they spent a couple of nights in Seattle. I was waiting to hear and sure enough, she was “a bit” shocked at how bad it was. Her cope is that “well Atlanta has some bad parts too”. Yeah. Atlanta has sucked, and gotten increasingly worse since the 70’s. Seattle’s blight* has bloomed much more recently.
*and yes I know about skid row and grunge etc. Thanks for asking
Heh. Up to season five of Bosch now. I see Maddie has acquired a boyfriend even more insufferable than herself without any logical reason for her to like him. Unless she’s whoring herself out to protect her father’s virtue. No, don’t spoil it for me.
The following can be found on the UK Parliament’s website under the House of Lords Library section (my italics):
Now look here:
And also here:
Comparing the latter with the former really only leads to one possible conclusion.
Season five I enjoyed, despite the prominence of Maddie. But it does go downhill in seasons six and seven.
From Observation of note:
I was pondering this the other day in relation to the mature and elderly in the suburb of the large northern English town where I grew up.
It was a commonplace for older men and women to speak their mind on the state of dress or behaviour of anyone in the vicinity, no matter where you were – a cafe, a bus stop, the supermarket and so on, and especially to younger people, e.g.
At the time, I found this annoying, comical, or a bit of both.
But as I’ve got older I’ve started to realise how important it was that old people felt perfectly able to say such things to younger people they’d never met and whose families they didn’t know.
And it wasn’t just old people, but pretty much any adult.
Of course all that has long been swept away.
I can’t say I much care for what’s taken its place, either.
It is distinctly possible the problem lies, in part, in the proliferation of laws. Those tasked with enforcing myriad laws will pursue those crimes and misdemeanours that take the least effort for the greatest reward – easier to arrest Peter Lynch than that mob of Muhammedans calling for the death of infidels, easier to imprison Lucy Connolly than scuffle with some scrote nicking a items from a shop or bicycles from racks.
Especially when the courts haven’t met a criminal they didn’t sympathise with or a victim they didn’t despise.
The constabulary is worse than useless because it has been made useless. Wasting Police Time is nearly two decades old and only a liar or a fool would say matters have improved in the interim.