He has a beer coat. || Bond medley. || Blocks of ice versus very hot shapes. || Air conditioner crisis. || Car dealership scenes. || I’ll catch the next one, thanks. || Incoming, two views. || Livestreaming drama. || Dating drama. || Treadmill with wheels. || Loo location of note. || Feeling the rug. || Gun-range related mishap. || Discourse was attempted. || He’s just like Jesus, you hear. || Two and a half minutes of Hitchcock. || Related stills. || His is impressive. || Unfortunate van proximity. || He’s not sure about the pedals. || “Why he locked the doors on me?” || Random Shatner. || On the returning (and non-returning) of shopping trollies. || A thing I didn’t know about the Flatiron Building. (h/t, Things) || It’s a mummified foot thing, you wouldn’t understand. || And finally, a taste of foreign cinema.

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But with late-in-life cross-dressing.

Make it stop 🤣 pic.twitter.com/3gTboejRnf

— Binky (@TheOnlyGuru) November 11, 2025

No, don’t go. Put down those car keys.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

More items regarding that Thing That Never Happens:

A tale of paedophilia, pretending, and legal priorities:

That’s violating his own ten-year-old son and then distributing evidence of his crimes to likeminded individuals for purposes of titillation. Should things be unclear.

The professor, our esteemed intellectual, recommended that Mr Buckingham, who now wishes to be referred to as “Nani Love Buckingham,” be indulged immediately with “facial feminisation surgery, laser hair removal, and voice/speech therapy as gender affirming care.” Entirely at the expense of law-abiding taxpayers.

Because his wellbeing and dignity matter so much.

And then there’s this fun-house mirror tale:

The police officer being the one whose actions were deemed incongruous.

Oh, calamity. Oh, cruel, unfeeling world.

Readers are welcome to judge for themselves whether the officer’s appraisal was wildly off the mark:

Putting quite a lot of faith in the wig, I see.

The redoubtable ladies at Reduxx have, of course, taken an interest in Mr Swinson:

I’ll spare you the vivid details, but suffice it to say that Mr Swinson is an enthusiast of children in wigs and gowns, and what is referred to as “suggestive” attire. The words “hot” and “delicious” are used. So, clearly, no reason to worry about Mr Swinson’s presence in places he shouldn’t be.

And because things aren’t quite as unhinged as they could be:

Dr Lacroix was careful to refer to Mr Sears with female pronouns and honorifics throughout. Lest he be thought rude, one assumes.

Again, readers may wish to note the effort required by this feat of mislabelling:

Ah, a shimmering vision of womanliness.

Oh, and since you ask, yes, the testicles were eaten.

Or, Assume The Position.

A point made in the comments and possibly worth repeating:

From what I’ve seen over the years, the word ally is typically used, by the people who rush to use it, to mean something like advocate, or mouthpiece, or supplicant, or puppet. There’s no discernible interest in, or expectation of, reciprocation; no obvious shared goal or mutual benefit. Indeed, the role, once assumed, appears to entail saying dumb and vividly untrue things, thereby becoming unreliable and absurd.

Say, by insisting that odd, cross-dressing men are somehow, magically, women. Or that a reluctance to mouth fabulist pronouns, to affirm a person’s imaginary themness, is some life-threatening moral oversight.

And then there are the not infrequent detours into outright struggle sessions – as seen, for instance, here, where a disobedient woman finds herself being scolded by a man in an unconvincing wig for not doing the “work” expected of an ally – essentially cowed deference and dishonesty on demand.

Specifically,

This, then, is a world in which allyship – “listening to the community” – requires prostration, a suspension of cognitive faculties, and a surrendering of basic probity.

In the case above, regarding race, the duty of the ally would presumably be to announce, as Mr Zellie does, that preferring the civilised to the thuggish is “a white supremacist construct,” to regurgitate his assertions about the character and motives of “straight white men,” to demand the “defunding” of the police, as Mr Zellie does, and jumping through whatever rhetorical hoops, and taking whatever “action,” Mr Zellie deems appropriate or amusing.

The only benefit I can see for those willing to debase themselves in this way would be the hope that Mr Zellie won’t assert or imply that you’re a racist, or that you’re insufficiently “anti-racist.” And therefore racist.

Not, it has to be said, the most tempting offer.

As someone notes in reply to the post quoted above,

Not an unfair summary.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

There are reasons not to do this. || Not entirely unrelated. || Her list may be longer than yours. || You’d never tire of it. || It’s a good-news-mad-news thing. || The thing that isn’t mentioned. (h/t, Aelfheld) || Modernity, baby. || “It’s the butter situation” and other worries, 1959. || How often do you wash yours? || His other senses must be heightened. || Only some kinds of dress-up-and-pretend are allowed. || Passions. || DIY project. || Rapper has jaw issues. || A test of patience. || The progressive retail experience, parts 678, 679, 680, 681, 682 and 683. || I couldn’t help but notice that Dad has quite the rack. || Train signals. || Status signals. || Newcomerliness. || A scoreboard of failed apocalyptic predictions.  (h/t, Things) || And finally, it requires a quite vigorous back and forth motion.

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