Libertarian (Ha!) stumbles blindly into a field of rakes

Glenn Harlan Reynolds, aka, Earnest T. Bass esq. casher of government paychecks and collector of Wingnut Welfare tries really hard to find something brilliant and substantive to say about the slutty sluts that lurk in every dark corner of his fevered imagining. Thanks to Roy, I have forced myself to stumble upon something which can not be unseen.

The third graph manages to crash the party and abscond with all of the cakes, booze and anything else not bolted to the foundation. A fucking graduate level thesis could be composed attempting to parse everything that is wrong with the following.


She’s also the authoress of a sophomoric psychosexual analysis of the Tsarnaev brothers. To a certain class of women in the media, it’s always about them, and their various mucous membranes.

Emphasis mine. Authoress, check, sophomoric, check. The blind squirrel has his nuts in a row, his buddy the Beaver has hewn a log into a Cricket Bat of “IT’S ALWAYS PROJECTION.

To a certain class of women in the media, it’s always about them, and their various mucous membranes.

Heh indeedy, indeed…

It appears that recent adjustments have resulted in the loss of our media library which kind of sucks…Anyway, consider this thread open.


Oi, What a Mess

So apparently one of the shapeless horrors we call interns (because exploiting the young for free labor is a practice we feel is wasted on the vulture capitalists of the world) thought that the bionic hamster breeding room needed a bit of spring cleaning and now the site is a wee bit epically fubared up at the moment as you may have noticed by the nesting comments, emo wordpress default theme, and the chilling sensation running down your spine whenever you try and scroll.

So where we are right now is kind of slammed out of most of the tools we use to do our snarking jobs here, leaving us with the unenviable position of needing to put up a throwaway post just to test which tools we still have access to all while being haunted with the possibility that this post could disappear into the aether that spawned it the moment the eldritch gears start cranking the Hamsterinator 3000 back to life.

Which means there has never been a better time for SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION THEATRE!

Yes, indeedy, one of the few recent good things that has fallen in my lap in the last month is that I’m in a book. Specifically, this book.

It’s called “Letters For My Sisters” and is an anthology of trans* missives written to ourselves back in time. My entry, “Why You’ll Fight” naturally includes at least one time travel paradox joke for those into that sort of thing.

With this, my entrance into the secret trans* cabal that rules the world is at least 3.1% closer.

So yeah, consider this an open thread as I see how much of this got through.


Making it worse!? How could it be worse?

It sure seems like we always find new ways to mess things up around here. Such as today, again.

Things are running now, but I expect there is a lot of missing crap and issues. I’d urge you not to break anything, but I don’t see how you could do any worse. Please bear with us — as we do with you. You’re kind and generous like that.


Tricorner Foil Hats and Genocide Apologia

I really hope they wash their hands after writing this crap.

Robert Weissberg, American Klansmen:
When it Comes to Race, Why Worry About Facts?

It’s been strangely quiet this summer on the wingnut front. Sure, there is the standard level of stupid and the usual checklist of sexism, racism, classism, and homophobia, but it’s all sort of boiled down into flavorless pablum as if a British cook has taken over the talking points.

And it’s not like there haven’t been ample opportunities to go as vile as possible. The Hobby Lobby decision handing their dreams of marrying corporate oligarchy to religion as state, the usual stream of shooting sprees, Elliot Rodgers. But the output has been dull for the most part, content to just recycle the same old tired litany of half-remembered conspiracy theories and dog whistles before going on vacation to some slightly colder seaside town recently unthawed from the melting ice (which is totally something else’s fault, just like the economy).

And while zero effort affairs may be just fine for a wingnut audience who only need the thinnest of excuses to hate on their favorite targets, it does pose a bit of a problem for those of us who depend on a delicate ecosystem of snark and ridicule.

Though… that being said, there is something to mine from this fetid swamp, though perhaps in slightly shorter sojourns where we don’t have to pack in an entire day’s rations and a spare biohazard suit.

Shorter (or the last port before Jungle):

  • It is absolutely shameful that those shifty niggers are so lazy and uncaring of their plight that they seem to have completely failed to single-handedly defeat our racist criminal system and society, fix our broken economy, and magically make jobs and career advancement out of thin air. This pathetic failure proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that we whites who support a punitive and brutal system of oppression are the truly deserving and intelligent.

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Football! Soccer! Let’s Call the Whole Thing- Absolutely Fucking Amazing!

The secret commie mind-control device that is turning every single one of your children gay right now.

Bernie Goldberg, National Old Men Yelling At Clouds:
The Anti-American Pastime*


*Snort* Bwahahaha! And then, with the Bwahahaha! Oh man, my poor sides. One second. Just roll the PFFT-

Shorter (or the last port before Jungle):

  • Hurgle burgle, right-wing tribalism demands I rant about how boring and faggy football is and all the other standard boring cliches, which becomes hilarious after noting just how amazing this world cup has been in general, full of massive scoring displays against great teams and amazing close games, but becomes extra hilarious coming out the day of the historic 7-1 drubbing Germany gave Brazil.

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Dark Dungeons

Oh yeah, baby, wrap those tentacles around my big wet Earth.

John C. Cockbite*, John C. Cockbite, Auteur:
Dungeons and Perverts

Ah yes, the kink dungeon. A somewhat overwhelming place at first, however there is a welcoming air there and a lack of judgment. Whoever you are, whatever you are into, whoever you are attracted to, or how you identify… there is someone ten times freakier than you on the next St. Andrews Cross over. And that can be a freedom in a way in a world where freaky is wrong.

Nowhere is this more apparent than in the kink efforts to reclaim the words slut and pervert, turning them from cruel invectives and callous hate into badges of pride. Yes, one can proclaim, I am a pervert, I’m into the “weird” shit, but that does not put me at risk or mean I am inferior to some sad sack performing missionary position with his wife every 9 months because his company’s insurance plan just blocked contraception.

And it is no wonder that the right-wing is cottoning in to this effort and in their traditionally heavy handed manner-


What? It’s not? Really?

Then what is the article actually about?

Shorter (or the last port before Jungle):

  • AIEEEEE! Dungeons and Dragons has finally acknowledged that players can play as non-binary or trans* individuals in their demonic devil dice game, despite the fact that queer gamers and kinky nerds (huge overlap there) have been doing that for years and in fact fan additions to the game as well as rare items in canon have actually codified rules for gender swap spells or curses. Nonetheless, let me react to this no duh as if it was the very hand of Satan come to swallow our souls and turn all our most precious son resources into fags.

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Fuck the Fucking Supreme Court

Seriously, let’s get this floated up to the Supreme Court. If a corporation is a person, then can I marry it, wait until it dies and then inherit at least half its legal property as a result of the marriage? Cause, this bullshit circus of convenience and legal abstraction needs to be put to the test in the worst possible way. Someone marry Hobby Lobby and then take Hobby Lobby to criminal court for intimate partner abuse because of its controlling nature. Or gay marry it and then open it up to poly. Whatever it takes to put Scalia’s fear of everything not white male Catholic against this obscenity that is corporate personhood.

Well, no avoiding it, let’s dive right into the atrocity that everyone is talking about.

Ann Coulter, Sad Little Internet Corner of
America’s Favorite National Pastime: Hating Soccer

The US was so fucking close. I mean, where was Cameron in helping out against Lukaku in extra time? And oh man, that Julian Green strike? Or that sitter that Wondo missed? He’s going to be feeling that for awhile.

Oh well, it’s not the end of the world like so many seem to think it is. We had a great fucking campaign, survived the less deathy of the two Group of Death groups, and nearly put it away against a team that ate our fucking lunch less than a year ago. and hey, Costa Rica is still in it like the ultimate underdog they’ve been this tournament and-

Confusingly Not Bruce (aka V the K), Self Hating Homo Weekly:
SCOTUS rules for Hobby Lobby; Lefties Go Nanners

Right… The Fucking Fuck Court and their Hobby Lobby fuck you decision…
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Lord… Make Mine Enemies Surreal As All Hell

Trust me, your gun and your kid are both equally safe with me.

Honestly, Who Dyes a Moustache That Isn’t a Closeted Gay Porn Actor, Wing Nut Daily:
A Column I Never Wanted to Write

Woof, I’m a wee bit exhausted right now. See, my regular work is transitioning into summer camps for the summer which really translates into me basically rewriting and reworking the curriculum into something actually usable and entertaining for the kiddies and planning all manner of all-day performances. Add to that trying to keep on top of all the big life changes happening at Chez Cerberus, trying to keep my hat in on some long-term plans that I’m still waiting for to blow up in my face, preparing and presenting my panels at the Ace Unconference last weekend, and trying to pack all of my prep work for next week into the first couple of days this week so I can afford to take the weekend off for my annual smörgåsbord of Pridely Duties, I’m pretty much running on an average of 3 hours of sleep at best.

Which is not to make my excuses for my absence (which honestly has more to do with being kidnapped by evil pirate ninjas who stole my lecture notes… I deny that there are any ill effects possible from sleep deprivation. Damnitt telekinetic squirrels, don’t steal my cheese!), but rather to beg apologies if this post strays beyond the usual collection of half-formed incoherent babbling into full homeless woman on the street corner (get away from my cart!).

And the saddest thing about all of this is even if I devolve (is it really all that great a leap, to be honest) to complete gibbering maniac, I’ll still be far less ridiculous than my right-wing counterparts.

I mean, fuck, sometimes it feels like these fuckers are lining up to be the setup for the most tired stand-up routines in history.

Shorter Cerberus’s brain sampling today’s hors d’ordure:

  • Me: This wingnut is so stupid.
    Audience: How stupid is he?
    Me: So stupid he tried to blame the Southern Poverty Law Center for him being dumb enough to “forget” he packed a loaded firearm in his airport travel bag.

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Never Sure What to Think

That I opened up 5 NRO tabs prior to opening this one, should be a clue as to how much I love you, or hate myself And as they are open I will sample from [shudders] them all. Let us start with a piece titled: “The Welcome Return of the Cheneys” ’cause Dick and Liz are gonna fix foreign policy see…Quinn Hillyer, take us away.

Shhh — Don’t tell anybody, because it’s a big secret: The Cheneys of Wyoming, father and daughter, were largely right about Iraq back in 2003, and they are correct now as well.

I, uh, yup…”…of Wyoming…” Quinn is fucked from the get. I mean how many feet of intestine can one wrap around ones feet and neck simultaneously? Anyhoo as this has all of the challenge of tossing a kitten into a pillow case with a brick and heading off to the creek with a bounce in your step and I am not that kind of ‘path’.

Next up, a woman named Christine Sisto does what they (and by they, I mean members of the “wingnut welfare knitting circle”) do.

Modern feminists must be feeling pretty weak if they’re threatened by Miss Nevada. After Nia Sanchez, who won the Miss USA pageant earlier this month, advocated that women learn self-defense, activists rushed to dismiss her. Cosmopolitan’s Elisa Benson called Sanchez’s comment “icky,” while Mandy Velez of the Huffington Post declared, “Not happy she won.”

You’d think people with the best interest of women in mind would support the idea of women’s being able to defend themselves. But the current feminist movement seems more interested in furthering classic sexist gender roles, with women as trembling flowers getting stomped on by big mean boys, and progressive feminism as the chivalrous White Knight.

Later she posits that the MRA and Feminist movements should get married, because,,,,,funny?


Tony Gwynn, R.I.P


Big fan of Baseball here, and I was always a fan of Tony’s, a class act who rarely struck out, and during the strike shortened ’94 season finished with a .394 batting average.

Also, too, something I did not know before, but we share a Birthday, so during the beginning of every new trip around the sun, I will hoist one in his honor.

Dude played for 20 years and struck out only 434 times in 10232 plate appearances, and during the ’95 season only 15 times in 535 at bats. Dude was a machine.

I’ll let Greg Maddux finish it off:

First, Maddux was convinced no hitter could tell the speed of a pitch with any meaningful accuracy. To demonstrate, he pointed at a road a quarter-mile away and said it was impossible to tell if a car was going 55, 65 or 75 mph unless there was another car nearby to offer a point of reference.

“You just can’t do it,” he said. Sometimes hitters can pick up differences in spin. They can identify pitches if there are different releases points or if a curveball starts with an upward hump as it leaves the pitcher’s hand. But if a pitcher can change speeds, every hitter is helpless, limited by human vision.

“Except,” Maddux said, “for that fucking Tony Gwynn.”

Gwynn had a lifetime .415 average against arguably the greatest pitcher in his generation.