Reheated (134)
Because some things bear repeating, a few items from the archives:
On the Guardian‘s idea of debate, and the Greens in power.
Not to mention the endless manufactured congestion and astronomical parking fees, due to the council’s hostility to car ownership; the loss of tourism revenue as a direct result of these policies; countless failures to maintain simple infrastructure; and pavements overgrown with weeds to a degree that endangered the elderly and called to mind some dystopian science fiction.
And what every voter wants is a city councillor laughing at their frustration when trying to do formerly simple things. A frustration entirely the fault of said councillor’s own party and their bizarre policies. In this case, a policy based on a belief that when people go to the local dump – sorry, recycling centre – they do so by bicycle.
Readers are welcome to picture Brighton residents making three-mile journeys by pedal bike with old fridges and unwanted microwaves strapped to their backs.
The travails of the modern cross-dressing man.
The Humiliations Will Continue Until Morale Improves.
You will apologise, in writing, for being competent and white.
But no, dear reader. How foolish you’ve been.
Apparently, these things constitute, not a basis for workplace success, but merely of “success in white male terms.” Which, we’re told, not only “limits white males’ ability to hear and understand others” and “dampens their curiosity,” but is also “devastating” to “people of colour, gays/lesbians, women, and non-Christians.”
You see, expectations of competence, “hard work” – and a concern for whether actions actually produce the desired result – these things are problematic and to be viewed with suspicion, and ultimately undermined. On grounds that they cause “people of colour” to “feel they are living out of context with who they really are.”
Busty scholar announces new position.
For those craving more, this is a pretty good place to start.
Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.
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Flashback!
Laughed, not sorry. *encouraging ping*
And yet I’ve been asked why I used the word pathology in the banner. As if I might be overstating the matter or being terribly unfair.
Quite.
Bless you, sir. May your Amazon delivery be only two stops away (except when you’re at the checkout in the supermarket halfway across town).
Bitches be crazy.
My latest amusement is following the bizarre conspiracy theories of female armchair detectives regarding the trial of Lindsay Clancy.
The story behind it is not funny – in 2023, Lindsay asked her husband to go out to pickup takeout for dinner and while he was gone, she strangled their three young children, including an infant, then tried to kill herself by throwing herself out a 2nd story window, consequently paralyzing herself.
Lindsay has stipulated that she did, indeed, kill the children and her defense rests on postpartum psychosis, aggravated by doctors over-prescribing various drugs for her (she has a history of mental issues for which she sought treatment).
But that’s not good enough for these woman, many of whom have made donations to Lindsay’s defense fund, now totaling over $800k. You see, it wasn’t Lindsay – it was Patrick, her husband, who actually killed the children. Or it was a “Lindsay double” whom they claim was Patrick’s second wife, whom he married just this past April. Or that he drove to the restaurant to get the food but ran home after consuming Skittles to give him that energy boost to get there, kill the kids, frame the wife, run back, and arrive home to “find” Lindsay on the lawn, paralyzed.
These are the same women who fall in love with murderers on death row, aren’t they? Lawyers need an assistant during the voir dire of any trial to quickly check to see if any prospective female juror has a Tik Tok to show she’s incapable of rational, impartial thought.