Friday Ephemera (698)

Hipster conkers.

We played conkers in the schoolyard at good old Cooksville Public School in the late 1960s literally under the branches of horse chestnut trees. An old hockey skate shoelace provided the string. We played a slightly different variation. Our conkers were eventually placed on the ground, after being hung in the air for several rounds. We took turns hitting the opponent’s chestnut until the conker was destroyed. Most battles were won on the ground because we only had 15 minutes for recess and 40 minutes for lunch.

Every battle survived added another “year” of life to the chestnut. A seven year old was ancient. Most winners were lucky to make it to three years old. After a couple of wins, the chestnut lost its outer skin and resembled what can only be described as a shrivelled, jaundiced testicle.

Some enterprising lads would heat their conker in the oven, swearing it hardened it by drying it out. My experience was heating actually softened it. I must confess to a dastardly act of cheating when I took a three year old and quickly dipped and brushed it with some epoxy found in my dad’s tool box. That conker made it to 7 years old.

Girly girl, with parenting skills, and all the usual girl problems.

I think that qualifies as “probable cause.”

Tiresome kink detected.

“I loved the feeling of being in a nappy – the feeling of peeing while standing in a crowded area was so erotic”

Hard pass. 

“Number one: I’m not ‘sir’. Number two: I’m trapped in an elevator.”

I’m worried about the dog. Getting a Silence of the Lambs vibe.

Girly girl, with parenting skills, and all the usual girl problems. 

Is there any fetish sadder and more boring than AGP? And he sounds like he’s on meth.

Prototype.

Would have us believe that versions 1 and 2 were worse?!

The bottles of laundry detergent chained to the shelving is unbelievable. I went into a Dollar General in my town yesterday. I walked around and found what I was looking for. I went up front, where there were no employees, went to the self-checkout station, made my purchase, and walked out. Tons of merchandise all over the store, next to the exit, and no employees in sight. I’ll take small town living over city life any day of the week.

This sounds nice:

In addition, strangers would come together to create a shared experience and living space and connect on the level far removed from everyday life.

Or maybe not, I’m not sure the strangers would actually come together, let alone the same time.

I’m willing to bet if the lady said she was praying to Allah she would have been told to carry on.

business attire: the purpose of business attire is to create an atmosphere of professionalism. One should be “on the job” and not off doing other crap. Who knew?

don’t believe in hiring insufferable narcissists.

It’s interesting how important names and pronouns are to these types; yet they accept, even worship, the first person pronouns without question or need of change.

I, me, mine
I, me, mine
I, me, mine

Via Ace, this is getting ridiculous.

Now here is a surprise,

Of note, Nicholas J. Cepeda/Melody Wiseheart is a professor…

“Wiseheart” – “Set phasers to maximum cringe!”

“Scientific” American is at it again and by conveniently ignoring all recorded history, as well as past and present observation of primitive cultures, and has reached the amazing conclusion that cavewomyn were the hunters. Yassss Kween, slay.

Female physiology is optimized for exactly the kinds of endurance activities involved in procuring game animals for food.

Except for chasing it down, beating it to death, and then carrying the carcass back. Oh wait, my bad, it says the wider pelvis makes it easier to carry hip placed loads which is the most common and practical way to carry a carcass long distances. Meanwhile the men were raising the children, what with being so good at breast feeding and all.

It was the arrival some 10,000 years ago of agriculture, with its intensive investment in land, population growth and resultant clumped resources, that led to rigid gendered roles and economic inequality.

Despite all the evidence of non or not particularly agricultural primitive cultures (the “Indigenous” just have other Ways of Knowings™ of agriculture, I guess) there you have it, the preordained Woke™ conclusion.

It doesn’t say anything about prehistoric pickle jars, though.

Of note, Nicholas J. Cepeda/Melody Wiseheart is a professor…

This isn’t Melody’s first rodeo. His competitive record for the juvenile club, Orangeville Otters, goes back to 2017. Here’s the local paper reporting on a Feb 2018 meet in which he swam in seven events – is he in that team photo? Any given meet must have hundreds of people who’d notice a grown man among teenage girls. I don’t know what to make of it. The Rebel Media guy getting a scoop after six years of this, turning up a day late at the meet in his stupid hat, and not being able to ferret out a single quote or a single piece of phone video among, what, 10000 witnesses over the years, that’s (1) obviously bad journalism, and (2) obviously better than any other journalism we’ve got.