When You Eat Hummus, The Terrorists Win
Well, I’m shocked, shocked to discover that greater Wingnutistan has latched on to the Boston bombings as an opportunity to find their favorite liberal bogeymen hiding behind the explosions. Who would have thought?
Of course, you don’t have to be the fastest shooting wingnut in the butthurt corral to point your fingers at immigrants and immigration and all that. Hell, they were going to do that even if the bombers’ parents had immigrated to the United States on the May-fucking-flower itself. I mean, even if the perpetrators were whiter than Tagg Romney, then that just goes to prove that swarthy Middle Easterners are bound to be even worse if we let them in. I mean, if a real American could do that just imagine what a devil-worshiping foreigner would be able to do!
Of course, you can always count on America’s Shittiest Website™ to take any normal right-wing talking point and give it that special little twist, that slight whiff of eliminationism, that makes them so special. Let’s see that in action by paying a little visit to Stanley Kurtz, shown above in his profile picture on ChristianMingle.com. Stanley isn’t just worried about keeping the foreigners and immigrants out in the wake of the bombings. No, the bombings have him all worried about the ones that are already here and who pose an existential threat to the American way of life because they speak multiple languages fluently, because they like soccer more than baseball, because they dress funny and because they listen to scary music with funny instruments and weird ululations that sound like, at least to patriotic ears, cattle fucking in a crowded parking lot.
Thanks to the rise of multiculturalism and bilingualism in the United States, our assimilation system now suffers from the same flaws as its European counterpart. The proposed immigration bill does little to fix this, and if anything aggravates an already critical situation. Without fixing our system of patriotic assimilation first …, a path to citizenship will surely do more harm than good.
(And you thought I was joking about Stanley being afraid of people who spoke more than one language!)
Not surprisingly, Stanley isn’t letting us in on his secret plan to assimilate all the furinners already here, although I suspect it goes beyond doling out jail sentences for people speaking anything other than English in public. Probably he’s got in mind reeducation camps where Muslims and Buddhists are forced to watch “Leave It To Beaver,” “Father Knows Best,” and the “700 Club.”
The number of immigrants who might someday turn into terrorists is small. Yet it only takes a few to cause trouble.
You know, the number of right-wing evangelicals who might someday bomb abortion clinics or gay bars is also quite small, but, as Stanley says, it only takes a few to cause trouble. Perhaps right-wing evangelicals need to be assimilated better as well although, oddly, Stanley doesn’t seem to advocate that. I do think, however, that re-education and assimilation camps where right-wing evangelicals are required to watch “The New Normal,” to go to the gym, to eat sushi and to learn how to make a bone-dry martini might be way more fun! What do you think?
First, motherfuckers!
Also, Stanley and Kurtz? That’s a colonialist/literary melange I don’t wanna be dealing with.
“assimilation system”.
Seriously. What is that? What would be proof of “assimilation”? Is there some Borg-like U.S.A-ism that immigrants can mainline so Colonel Kurtz doesn’t feel threatened? How about listening to the message of the Statue of Liberty. Well, can’t have that, she’s not only a woman but also a french Trojan horse!
I agree that RW Evangelicals need to be assimilated more. I suggest Maoist reeducation camps, where the morning is spent reading, in turn, the New Testament, the Koran (sp), the Torah, a variety of Buddhist texts and any other religious and philosophical works as desired, and discussing what it all means (context!). The afternoon is to be spent in healthy outdoor work, possibly for local farmers who are unable to get field hands thanks to the lunatic anti-immigrant views of folks like this guy. Perhaps evening sessions in human sexuality and intensive psychotherapy sessions as well would be useful. ‘Cohabitation’ could be encouraged.
Obviously, we should not let anyone into the country who isn’t already American. And white. But nobody from those socialist countries like Sweden, Norway, or France.
“assimilation system”.
Seriously. What is that?
I don’t know… the Mafia maybe?
“because they dress funny and because they listen to scary music with funny instruments and weird ululations that sound like, at least to patriotic ears, cattle fucking in a crowded parking lot.”
Now I know what kind of person you are. Five people dead at an apartment in Federal Way, no explanation for it, and you’re making fun of our clothes and music.
And check the weather sites, it’s sunny today, and warm. So don’t even try going that route.
Bilinguists have dirty mouths.
Imagining myself as the harsh warden of a wingnut reeducation camp:
“You! Over there! That’s not how you register minorities to vote!”
“Put some feeling into it!”
“Hurry up dammit! We can’t start setting up solar panels until we get all these people registered!”
“Hut! Twp! Three! Four! Who are we voting for?”
“Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Democrats are really great!”
“Limbaugh! Hannity! Stop slacking and pick up the pace!”
“I don’t know but I’ve been told, Cabernet is not served cold!”
Somewhat OT (regarding environmentalists, a different bogey, er, person): This being Earth Day, isn’t this when Adam Yoshida and other wingnuts run their SUVs all day in protest? Or are we not hearing about it because last year they all forgot to open the garage door and drive out before starting up?
Other countries! *shakes fist* You know, if we’d just destroyed all those places when we had the chance in the W years, we wouldn’t have all these problems.
Seriously, Kurtz was basing this around some think tank paper which insists that the problem is a lack of “patriotic assimilation.” It may sound like something out of a science fiction horror story, but really it just means that we aren’t forcing everyone who comes here to completely forget his/her home country. Kurtz claimed that the paper had fixes for this, but all I saw was a guy rambling on “anti-assimilationist multiculturalism,” basically a faux-intellectual way of saying “…and what’s the deal with all these fucking cultural programs?”
Also one of them cited Peggy Noonan, so if you were wondering if this was a serious piece of research? That would be your answer.
“Patriotic assimilation”?
These assbags are one step away from loyalty oaths and Palmer raids. Fuck going back to the Fifties; the new GOP seems set on the Twenties.
It’s a fair cop, guv.
Sometimes I wonder if we’d had TV, the Internet and all the rest of it back in the late 19th century—you know, when anarchists were not only regularly setting off bombs as bad or worse than Boston, but managed to assassinate several world leaders, including an American president—would that have made us more or less hysterical than we are today?
Oh surprise, yet another whinger obsessing about assstimulation.
Its my understanding that the Tsarnaevs were refugees not immigrants.
Would it help unravel Kurtz’s panties if he knew that Canada still has plenty of rednecks?
…………. the kicker, of course, being that damn near a good third or so of those rednecks are Natives.
The fact is, patriotic assmiliation will not work on all immigrants. Some are too old-country and will never become true feedom-loving patrioits. We need to root those who do not belong out and send threm home, perhaps an English test will do, if we hear an accent you fail
The fact is, when liberals support multiculuralis, they support Satan taking over America. We ned to return to our White Christian Roots.
if we hear an accent you fail
Buh-bye, Arnie! Sneeze ya later, Rupert! GTFO, Orly!
listen toplay scary music with funny instruments and weird ululations that sound like, at least to patriotic ears, cattle fucking in a crowded parking lot.It’s like he’s heard me sing. Although I’m fourth or fifth or so (I’ve lost count) generation Irish / Welsh / Norman – American and whiter than the driven snow and the music we play is pure USA-ian.
Oh hey wait, I’m confusing scary Arabic music with inability to sing. Never mind.
I still wanna know how those Chechens got us to build an anhydrous facility in Texas with no blast wall, no deluge system.
Would it help unravel Kurtz’s panties if he knew that Canada still has plenty of rednecks?
Alberta’s full of ’em.
As is the San Joaquin Valley, ours don’t want the high-speed rail between San Francisco and Los Angeles because FREEDOM!
I recall Merced being pretty rednecky when I lived there.
I still wanna know how those Chechens got us to build an anhydrous facility in Texas with no blast wall, no deluge system – Mooser
Personally, as much as I want to move closer to my work right now, if I worked in a fertilizer plant, I would want to have a decent length commute. Why were so many homes built so close to what is essentially and explosives factory?
Why were so many homes built so close to what is essentially and explosives factory?
SERIOUSLY. School, school, playground, what the fucking fuck, people?
Seems to me I read in one article mention that the plant got a special building permit because it was close to the school which gave me the idea that the school, and probably most of the other buildings were there first.
Apparently, the plant was there first.
Just heard on NPR some bint saying the plant was there first, schools and such built around it later. But then I also heard on Thursday that they had arrested a dark skinned male thought to be a suspect in the bombings.
So you’re back to ignoring the existence of the slaves that did most of the heavy lifting or the Native Americans that had to be killed before the land could be colonized/conquered? They weren’t Christian (at first). Was there a point where your god took over America? At what point was that dominion lost? If your allegedly all powerful god can lose, what does that tell you about his alleged existence?
Teh Ho, who is flying out of Newark today reports that there were planes waiting for two hours on the tarmac prior to departure. Bet he gets stuck in Salt Lake tonight.
Just heard on NPR some bint saying the plant was there first, schools and such built around it later.
Zoning laws, how do they work?
in Texas I believe the honored council of wise Texans convenes in the attic of the Alamo, and annually devises the code from first principles beginning with ‘cogito ergo sum’ and ending up with a multi volume set of carefully thought through and practically interpereted set of rules that is both comprehensive and easy to understand to even the greenest beginner. These rules are then printed on golden tablets and distributed to all Texans of pure heart by the angel Moroni riding a unicorn.
Michele Scott, principal of the town’s elementary school, lost her house in the explosion. She says she’s been asked numerous times by people why the local high school and intermediate school were built so close to a potentially dangerous chemical plant.
“We built around the fertilizer plant,” she tells NPR. “Looking back at that, it probably wasn’t so smart. No one ever dreamed it would be a tragedy like this.”
Students, the word for today is “understatement.”
Things will only get worse.
scary music with funny instruments and weird ululations that sound like, at least to patriotic ears, cattle fucking in a crowded parking lot.
You had me at “weird ululations,” where do I buy?
perhaps an English test will do, if we hear an accent you fail
So would Sarah Palin just be confined to Alaska, or expelled from the country entirely?
Needless to say, in opposing “multiculturalism” we must not oppose Oktoberfest, St. Patrick, or Olive Garden. Some multicultures are more equal than others, you know.
Here in Illinois, there’s a long, proud tradition of building schools next to awful things like sewage treatment plants, to provide a buffer for private property—you know, the only kind that counts. I used to think that was pretty bad, but at least we keep the kids away from things that are liable to catastrophic explosions.
Needless to say, in opposing “multiculturalism” we must not oppose Oktoberfest, St. Patrick, or Olive Garden. Some multicultures are more equal than others, you know. – Pere Ubu
Sounds like the French approach to multiculturalism — e.g. how they treated the Alsatians — multiculturalism is ok but only if it involves good food or booze.
I recall Merced being pretty rednecky when I lived there.
Yeah, pretty much north to Sacramento and south to past Bakersfield a few miles.
I must dig out my Yodel Banshee and the Wierd Ululations album when I get home.
I was trying to think of non-food examples. I suppose it shows something that I couldn’t.
As far as the “liberal bogeyman” narrative goes, it has to be said that Tamerlan Tsarnaev was a conservative religious fundamentalist- he just worshipped the wrong version of the Abrahamic Sky Tyrant.
Yodel Banshee-safe content.
Seriously. What is that? What would be proof of “assimilation”? Is there some Borg-like U.S.A-ism that immigrants can mainline so Colonel Kurtz doesn’t feel threatened?
Bacon… they have to put bacon on everything. Deep-frying could be considered, but people from the British Isles do that too.
” Why were so many homes built so close to what is essentially and explosives factory?”
Maybe because they made the assumption that the proper safegaurds were there. There’s a complete system of anhydrous handling safety, blast walls, water-deluge, sensors, tests alarms drills. They never bothered with any of it.
The people in the homes? Is working at a fertiliser plant supposed to be a death sentence. Millions of gallons of anhydrous have been safely handled, it’s necessary commodity in today’s technical society, and there are right and there are negligent, criminally negligent ways of handling it. But you know how it goes; “Don’t fence me in”. Well, they didn’t.
“Students, the word for today is “understatement.”
No, it’s probably more to the point to use “truckling” or “obsequious”
Hows about tomorrow we try two words like “criminal negligence”?
I was speaking to the “it probably wasn’t so smart” specifically, but yeah, lots of choice words apply to the whole situation.
” Why were so many homes built so close to what is essentially and explosives factory?”
Because FREEDOM!!!
WOLVERINES!!!!
Koch representatives describe the move not as a matter of ‘How do we destroy the other side?’ but ‘How do we make sure our voice is being heard?’
Makes me think of that This Modern World cartoon on “the liberal media”, with the surfiet of media wingnuts and Limbaugh standing at the front complaining that “conservatives can barely get a word in edgewise!”.
How, how would the Krotch Bros. ever get a word in?
Or HTML tag fail, that works too.
Derp.
“patriotic assimilation.” It may sound like something out of a science fiction horror story
I am always reminded of ‘The Man Who Japed’, where the fine phrase “active assimilation” turns out to mean “killing and eating”.
Never assimilate, for it makes an ass out of I and Milate.
Whoa.
“I was speaking to the “it probably wasn’t so smart” specifically, but yeah, lots of choice words apply to the whole situation.”
Lotta choice law applies, too, I would hope. Or maybe it’ll be declared an act of God.
Boston, bombs in pressure cookers (the purchase of which aroused no suspicion, as they are needed to cook beans), Texas, exploding anhydrous ammonia, Seattle, shoot-outs that slay 5 (what are we gonna do if this keeps up, go back to Roman Numerals?) in apartment buildings.
I don’t care what any of those detractors say, America is still a country of distinctive regional differences. See America first, just don’t forget to duck.
Elvis guy a scapegoat?
“Never assimilate, for it makes an ass out of I and Milate.”
And I assumed no humor could be mined from “assimilate”,
“Elvis guy a scapegoat?”
Either way, it’s one hell of a case of lèse majesté yuknowhatamsayin?
what are we gonna do if this keeps up, go back to Roman Numerals?
It’s a proven fact that the Romans had very few shooting deaths.
Elephant trampling, now there’s whole ‘nother thing.
COme to think of it, I’m feeling a bit elephant trampled myself, if you know what I mean.
Elvis guy a scapegoat?
It’s certainly true that his writing style would be pretty easy to imitate as he was a prolific internet loony.
It’s kinda too bad the real Elvis didn’t have Twitter. He must have had some very special thoughts and low inhibitions from time to time.
Andrew Klavan:
There is also cause for concern in that this was obviously a suicide operation — not in the direct way of a bomber who kills all his victims and himself at the same time by blowing himself up, but in the way of someone who conducts a spree, holding the stage for as long as possible, before he is cut down in a blaze of what he believes is glory. Here, think Mumbai.
Daphne, if you’re going to be a copy-paste spammer, can’t you find a better source?
The one time I met Mamet, I asked him if he had paid a price for admitting to his conservatism. He laughed and replied that, after his Voice piece, the New York Times had given his next play not one, but two, bad reviews! I do not believe the paper has given a new play of his a good review since.
Maybe his writing just sucks.
Could be.
Could be.
Gadzooks, Mamet’s an ass: “Part of the left’s savage animus against Sarah Palin is attributable to her status not as a woman, neither as a Conservative, but as a Worker.”
Conservatism is truly a cognitive malfunction.
Yes, well I’m sorry to have to say this to Mr. Kurtz Le Butthurtz, but based on historical record, males have been by far the leaders in spreading death, injury and destruction.
Mr. Kurtz should turn himself over to the cops JUST IN CASE.
Holy cuntpunters, I clicked on through because I simply could not believe the piece was as outré as described. I haven’t sampled the mangoes in two years.
It’s all that. It’s blaming bilingualism for the collapse of America.
I just went down a timehole trying to determine how hysterical people were concerning terrorism at that time. Not very much, apparently.
Christina Hendricks on Mad Men outfit watch: She had a few outfits this week (comes with the increased screentime compared to the last few episodes). Besides the purple number, which was a repeat from a few episodes ago, my favourite was this one.
Well, there were the Espionage and Sedition acts, which were used to imprison or deport a whole bunch of people for daring to be foreign and/or socialist.
“Part of the left’s savage animus against Sarah Palin is attributable to her status not as a woman, neither as a Conservative, but as a Worker.”
A worker? A worker??!?!?!
The existence of the whole Palin clan is predicated on grasping as much, while working and achieving as little, as possible.
Christ, what an overrated ass Mamet is.
Yeah, a “worker” who only does half a job.
We mere mortals all know what’d happen if we tried to pull that shit on our jobs, and getting our own TV show would not enter into it.
Tag fail is endemic in this thread.
Mamet used to be a pretty good writer. Used to be.
We mere mortals all know what’d happen if we tried to pull that shit on our jobs, and getting our own TV show would not enter into it.
I’d get a spot on the evening news after making a large smoking crater in a suburban neighborhood.
Yeah, from what I could gather, “The Anarchist” was a sockpuppet argument. (I really feel for the actors who had to put that drivel over; they got some high-powered talent and it was definitely needed to push that bust-wheeled cart up that hill.) The whole thing was, can you truly believe that someone who was once liberal is now conservative? Really? What would proof look like? Let’s talk it over for three hours. So… in essence… “But I’ve CHAAAAAAAAAANGED! I’m not a liberal any more! Why can’t I get a wealth-making gig writing the script for the ‘American Carol’ sequel?”
David, David, David. It’s not the politics. It’s the awful writing. Some things even wingnuts will not abide.
(And for those who give a damn, I loathed “Glengarry Glen Ross” and refuse ever to see it again.)
For that last thing, why?
SERIOUSLY. School, school, playground, what the fucking fuck, people?
haha…i was going to say, ‘have you met texas?! but i see others have already done so…
tintin had me at his mention of ‘bone dry martinis’ where art they?
sadlies, your humor is sorely appreciated at this juncture of my heedious week…i thank you…you may all go back to snarking and i will go back to slogging through board packet assemblage…
mmmmmmm…bone dry martini…
Mamet used to be a pretty good writer. Used to be.
yes…
assimilation system
…carried along the corridor on a conveyor belt in extreme comfort and past murals depicting Mediterranean scenes, towards the rotating knives. The last twenty feet of the corridor are heavily soundproofed. The blood pours down these chutes and the mangled flesh slurps into these…
R.I.P. Richie Havens.
Life sucks and we all die. Happy Monday.
Man, Richie Havens could strum, and made a powerful case for open tunings. So spirited.
He could strum and sing. In a non-traditional-singer kind of way that makes me jealous and sad. I posted a few ute-oobs at my place.
R.I.P. Richie Havens.
Life sucks and we all die. Happy Monday
d’oh…was thinking valens and was momentarily panicked/stumped…
RIP Richie Havens. He co-founded an oceanographic musem on Bronxtucket back in the 1970’s.
It’s late night, and nobody seems to be around… FOOD PORN!!! Roasted a za’atar-dusted leg of lamb (on sale for $3.99/lb) in a slow oven for five hours. Planning on making sandwiches on Turkish pide bread with plain Greek yogurt and crispy fried spinach with garlic, and will eventually get around to making a bulgar pilaf with stock from the bones.
d’oh…was thinking valens and was momentarily panicked/stumped…
My wife momentarily made roughly the same mistake, only she associated the name with Lou Diamond Phillips (“He was so young”).
I only found out about za’atar late in life and really like it. Sumac is unappreciated in America; makes a great honey, and the berries make a fine infusion which can be used for jellies or juice. Delicious.
My wife momentarily made roughly the same mistake, only she associated the name with Lou Diamond Phillips (“He was so young”).
oh my…he was hotness personified…sadly, now he’s an old man who cannot act…maybe he never could…sigh…
Why can’t I get a wealth-making gig writing the script for the ‘American Carol’ sequel?
Because after seeing how the first one flopped like a very floppy thing, even wingnuts aren’t dumb enough to make a sequel.
…
watch someone now link me to a story about “American Carol II: Jingositic Boogaloo”, proving that yes, they ARE INDEED that stupid…
Due to my jacked-up hands from my shitty job and a few coffees spilled onto my keyboard (and a cat doing cat things on the desk occasionally) I almost wrote “the first one flooped”, which I almost left but I don’t know how many Sadlies would get an “Adventure Time!” reference.
I feel like 90% of the references I make are totally personal in-jokes as it is.
I still wanna know how those Chechens got us to build an anhydrous facility in Texas with no blast wall, no deluge system.
You mean Czechs, don’t you? It’s a conspiracy I tells you.
Czech and double-Czech, I think.
oh my…[Lou Diamond Phillips] was hotness personified…sadly, now he’s an old man who cannot act…maybe he never could…sigh…
Years ago (all my anecdotes begin this way) I saw Sherman Alexie, the Native American Novelist, speak. He said — and I paraphrase closely — “I’m not gay, but Lou Diamond Phillips is sexy. He looks like he’s smelly, but in a good way.”
The audience of Navajos, Hopis, and public university types found this funny. By that time he already had them well in hand, having delivered some Navajo and Hopi related material.
Because after seeing how the first one flopped like a very floppy thing, even wingnuts aren’t dumb enough to make a sequel.
Didn’t they make “Atlas Shrugged Part 2”?
The hero’s speech was too long for just one movie.
Lamb has gotten fucking expensive anymore. I mean, shanks are $7.99 a fucking pound! SHANKS!
“plain greek yogurt” Tzatziki or nothing!
Also, Scotch broth with barley beats booger pilaf.
Venereal Disease Hanson rants about Teh Slutz and how prudish they are. Consent? What’s that?
Wow, is that Hanson article ridiculous. “People die in Chicago but the mayor still occasionally speaks on other subjects! People want to make pot legal but tokers will have to smoke it outside!” Not even touching the sex ones because EW.
Stay in line, Hansen! there’s a good lad.
Meh.
Yeah, whatever. Sir or something.
Shorter VD: Waaaaaaaaah
“Planning on making sandwiches on Turkish pide bread with plain Greek yogurt and crispy fried spinach with garlic, and will eventually get around to making a bulgar pilaf with stock from the bones.”
That sounds wonderful, and I’m sure it tastes even better. God, I’m hungry. I’ve lost (fact) ten lbs. in the last year, since we got that dog. And I really didn’t have it to lose.
But you go ahead and enjoy that wonderful food. I’m sure it’s easier without a pair of canine eyes right out of the Compassion ads following every morsel to your mouth, and seemingly wasting away right before your eyes. Oh, she’s a pro, I caught her looking at the ads and practising in the mirror.
“I feel like 90% of the references I make are totally personal in-jokes as it is.”
Mine are pretty much public domain. Definitely unfair use. tho.
It’s at Moosehall (where Mooses yard) I really let go.
Wow, crazy apparently-not-really-ricin-sender guy was released. Maybe mr paranoid really did have somebody out to get him.
SHANKS!
You’re welcome!
Totally true: I tried to click through to the NRO story, and my browser crashed. IE is smarterer than I are, which is a sad thing to relate.
Anyway, I’m sure K-Lo stepped on VD’s Blu-ray of “300” and he’s felling all frustrated and stuff.
I can’t imagine that VDH is all that fond of “300”. A pedant like him would cry bitter tears of nerd rage that the Spartans are battling in thongs, and not proper bronze armor. It might be a guilty pleasure for him, but I doubt he’d admit it in public.
When reading about “why don’t you furriners get assimilated like REAL murkans” guy I was remembering my next-door neighbor when I lived in PA. She was about my age, and had been brought to the US by her parents when she was about 3. So, decades in the US. Her mother still only spoke Italian. Kinda like Dad’s grandma, who spoke only Swedish until she died, despite her 5-6 decades in the US. And all the other first-generation immigrants. The stupid, ignorant, and bigoted is strong with this one.
The stupid, ignorant, and bigoted is strong with this one.
As the saying goes…
USA! USA! USA!
~
I agree that RW Evangelicals need to be assimilated more. I suggest Maoist reeducation camps, where the morning is spent reading, in turn, the New Testament, the Koran (sp), the Torah, a variety of Buddhist texts and any other religious and philosophical works as desired, and discussing what it all means (context!).
Perhaps you have a newsletter I could subscribe to?
A small suggestion, perhaps? Rather than Maoist camps, I’m thinking Maoist-inspired camps, with more of a Black Nationalist them. Actually, I’m sure anti-colonialist history and social studies might fit the Maoist gestalt, but it is so easy to end up down the rabbit hole of revolutionary, anti-revolutionary, reactionary, anti-reactionary until you spend all day refining the ol’ enemies list instead of expanding your mind.
Christina Hendricks on the Daily Show outfit watch: looks like something Joan would wear, with the neck decoration and everything. Cool.
We need to root those who do not belong out and send threm home, perhaps an English test will do, if we hear an accent you fail
That’s it, Loosiana is going back to France!
Jimi Hendrix outfit watch. I know, you thought he was dead. But his new album shot to #2 on the charts.
perhaps an English test will do
And anyone who passes it gets sent back to England?
And when his latest play, “The Anarchist,” opened on Broadway last December, they not only savaged it but celebrated its commercial failure with a nasty, slanted post-mortem.
The NYT editorial board and their allies in the COMINTERN brought about the commercial failure, too!
My, BBBB, but this is a juicy mango!
The Quitter As Worker
Hmm, could be a nice honors thesis for somebody. Be sure to include a section on “The Goldbricker In American Social Vernacular, 1966-1981”.
After you pick yourself up from rolling around on the floor laughing, of course.
Sumac is unappreciated in America; makes a great honey, and the berries make a fine infusion which can be used for jellies or juice. Delicious.
It’s delicious but I think the existence of poison sumac in our Great (?) Outdoors kind of puts us off.
It’s okay, but it doesn’t really show off his curves.
Poison sumac is pretty rare, growing only in VERY wet environments. The leaves are smooth rather than jagged as with the edible sumacs. The stems of poison lack the “hairs” found on the good ones. White berries hanging down? Stay away. Red berries on stems pointing up? Have at it.
I still wanna know how those Chechens got us to build an anhydrous facility in Texas with no blast wall, no deluge system.
You mean Czechs, don’t you? It’s a conspiracy I tells you.
You can’t trust a people who try and hide their Czechyness by calling themselves ‘Bohemians’ or ‘Moravians’.
Bullshit. Whenever Bush said “office of the President” what he meant was “MY office, me – I’m the Preznit!” It was always ALL about him, you idiotic twatwaffle.
Christina Hendricks
did they allow breastage like that in the Sixties?
I’m not complaining nowhow, mind you, just concerned for historical accuracy.
Huh, Pupiene, I guess you are right. Even though New England is core poison sumac territory da intart00bs are telling me the plants are tough to locate … though I wonder if they grow in rivers and I ever had close encounters I never knew about! After all they do not look very much like the sumac I know.
There is sumac everywhere on roadsides which I was never allowed to touch as a child. Just goes to show how quickly plant lore is lost when people move from place to place.
I buy sumac from the Lebanese and it is tasty.
I can get ground sumac at a spice shop or middle eastern grocery store. It’s used a lot in Turkish recipes.
Hear, hear! And if whatshisface was too dim to realize this, wtf was he doing in any kind of a national position? (Yes, yes, I know what he and the other VSPs were doing, it’s the kind of thing that only gets you in trouble if you’re literally doing it to a Democrat, but I like to pretend I’m living in a reasonable world every now and then).
My favorite Sumac is Yma, of course.
Yes, the 50s and early 60s were obsessed with extreme curves and large breasts (obviously there were petite women who were sex symbols as well, but the gold standard was still bombshells like Monroe, Jayne Mansfield, and Mamie Van Doren). Thinner bodies started becoming the female ideal as the decade wore on, which is something the show has addressed with some of the other characters’ reactions to Joan.
Plus they liked those pointy nose-cone shaped bras back in the 50s and 60s.
Not five minutes ago I filled in Yma (Sumac) in a NYT Saturday xword pizzle. Clue: first name on the 1954 album Mambo.
Yeah, I save up the Sat. pizzles then do a couple while having a mocha in the sunshine. And work on Bagoas’ cafe manners, which are coming along nicely.
Fake! She was Amy Camus from Brooklyn.
“Part of the left’s savage animus against Sarah Palin is attributable to her status not as a woman, neither as a Conservative, but as a Worker.”–Mamet
That would be a very, very small part … To be a conservative is to ceaselessly cultivate confusion around “work” and “workers” and related concepts. You might think that a worker is one who works, but no. “Worker” is an essential part of your identity so long as you enjoy conservatives’ approval. It seems to mean, roughly, that you deserve things. What you deserve depends on your place: the littlest ones deserve a modest living, perhaps, while the greatest deserve any privilege imaginable. Service to the order, the good grace of the movement — these things guide assessment of whether your doings constitute work, whether you are a worker, or someone who worked in such a way as to earn leisure.
Conversely, those of us who are on the outs with the conservative movement cannot do anything to be credited as workers. Performing actual work counts for nothing. This was the case when slaves where routinely characterized as lazy, in spite of performing all the labor and a share of the skilled work to boot. Later, it was the case when my racist grandmother could point to hispanics at work (virtually the only thing she ever saw them do) and disparage them as lazy. What she meant, like an antebellum layabout, is that colored folks are essentially lazy. They may appear to work, but they’re tricky that way.
Conservatives are fond of saying that liberals do not work — that’s why we’re at leisure to attend protests, comment on blogs, and so on. There are no statistics and no amount of observation that can unseat whatever is at the core of this wildly-popular meme. I knew a dreadlocked vegan hippie who earned a living as a carpenter, and you can bet that every last conservative who encountered him off the jobsite assumed he was unemployed, just as they assume blacks are childlike dependents on the “plantation” of social services cruelly provided by liberal pols.
So yeah, Palin is the essence of worker. My wife, whose mode of employment is disliked within the Movement, is not a worker, in spite of the sixty-hour work weeks. She is very, very bad. Even if we were to concede that she’s actually working, we’d have to note that an imaginary company or entrepreneur could, by definition, do her “work” more efficiently. No proof required: you can compare someone’s real-world output, flawed as it is, with fantasy-world improvements not yet modeled, let alone up and running (see school reform).
For no special reason other than that I’m looking at Korean stuff here’s an OECD spreadsheet in Excel:
dx.doi.org/10.1787/888932465151
Okay, Koreans do a lot of after-school studying, poor bastards. But what other nation is on the high-end of after-school studies? Mexico.
How interesting.
But remember, David Neiwert is wrong, wrong, wrong.
“You can’t trust a people who try and hide their Czechyness by calling themselves ‘Bohemians’ or ‘Moravians’”
Plus, the Bohemians ripped off Gershwin for their theme song, didn’t they?
I wondered if there was a rush to judgment, then thought “Naaah.” I mean, he was a frequent letter writer known to the authorities!
Nice to see that they did drop charges after getting a warrant, doing a search, and not finding one damn thing one would expect to find in the house of somebody sending ricin letters. Also glad the guy could get his own attorney who seems to have done a bang-up job.
Sad to see he’s getting Richard Jewell’d by the conservative blogosphere anyway.
Plus, the Bohemians ripped off Gershwin for their theme song, didn’t they?
Now I must listen to Má vlast.
My blog’s new troll is more skookum than the floppy old wee thing here is.
#blogtrollop
Sad to see he’s getting Richard Jewell’d by the conservative blogosphere anyway.
It’s what they do, and about all they’re good for.
My blog’s new troll is more skookum
Do not be flattered, Jim — the anonymous MRA troll is spamming the same screed all across the bloggosphere.
I mean, say what you like about the tenets of Neiwertism, Dude, at least it’s an ethos.
I still say no one fucks Pennis nearly as well as Pennis.
.
Which is as it should be, as no one cares more deeply for Pennis than himself.
.
Calling a near-nude Madonna onstage a “hussy” or “tart” would be considered crude in a way that her mock crucifixion and simulated sex acts are not.
this is simply the most delightful thing i have read in days…perhaps even weeks! ha, ha…’hussy’ and ‘tart’?! oh. my.
um…maybe 150 years ago it would have been ‘crude’ though i’m not really sure where…but no, vd, it’s not ‘crude’…in fact, it would be fucking hilarious if your 80 year old grandma said it…mildly entertaining if your smartass friend said it, laughable when nearly anybody says it…but just plain weird-o when you say it…
hussy and tart…good day, sirrah!
My three-fingered Korean shocker of the week!
.
Calling a near-nude Madonna onstage a “hussy” or “tart” would be considered crude
Methinks yon scanty-clad damsel is a strumpet, withal! The way she gyrates to lascivious musick in the manner of a Southwark trollop!
Yeah, I save up the Sat. pizzles then do a couple while having a mocha in the sunshine.
I hate you. I can’t ever even get one of those Saturday motherfuckers started.
the anonymous MRA troll is spamming the same screed
you know, if this waste of perfectly good organic compounds spent as much obsessive energy getting out more…
nah…
this is probably how he gets his bar fight/rape on without having to leave the house
his internet connect is like MacGruff
Why would you want to call a woman a breakfast pastry?
Yeah, I save up the Sat. pizzles then do a couple while having a mocha in the sunshine.
i’m more of a sunday pizzle kind of gal…the satiddy ones have been known to give me fucking fits…fits! i tell ya…
I thought Sunday was supposed to be the diabolically difficult one. Saturday, meh. Though it probably depends on your paper. I got into xwords while at UMass Amherst, so draw your own conclusions.
haha…now that i re-read my last post, i feel a bit of a hussy and/or tart for writing such things that could be construed as crude…furthermore, i will sue the first one of yas that calls me ‘honey’…
i was just out in the kitchen and my shopping list caught my eye:
shower cleaner
mesh strainer
rubber husband
it’s going to be a good weekend…
Shorter VD Hanson: social norms have changed since my grandfather’s day and I can’t bully the same people g-pappy useta bully and not get called a bully. Waaaa. Waaaa.
The administration, concerned that not enough women serving in the military have had the opportunity to be captured and raped by the enemy, now wish to assign women to combat roles.
Good thing this happened while the looming debt crisis is about to bankrupt us, and while unconstitutional executive orders are being issued to infringe on our gun rights, and while an antisemite is being appointed to the cabinet, and while the scandal of a slain ambassador in Libya and the surrounding cover-up and scapegoating of a Coptic guy who posted a YouTube video continues to be stonewalled, and while the Catholic Church is still being required by law to violate our most deeply held beliefs and to lose our First Amendment right to practice our faith, and while the trainwreck of fiscal madness and socialized medicine continue to topple over onto us with the slowmotion grandeur of a great natural disaster, because, otherwise, we might be able to generate some coordinated opposition to this. But when the immune system of a social body is gone, every random germ floating by causes another disease and another set of symptoms flares up.
The administration has uttered the assurance that physical standards will not be dropped or downgraded as they have been in all previous cases of putting women in men’s roles in the military and fire brigades. This assurance is a ritual phrase, not believed and not meant to be believed. It is similar to when a Catholic at High Mass does not understand Latin, but mutters the proper response anyway upon cue. “Carry a Lay a-song. Christy a Lay a-song.” like that.
Naturally, I am opposed to national suicide, to preemptive disarmament, and to demeaning women, and to cowardice in men, and to eliminating the future mothers of the Republicans (because you know the Dems are not sending their daughters into harm’s way: Dems will be protesting the wars and shielding the tyrants, not fighting them). My theory is that if American women are such helpless ninnies that they cannot save enough pin money to buy their cheapass lovers condoms at the drugstore without my Archbishop having to take money out of the church poor box to foot the bill, then the girls are not man enough to storm Normandy Beach.
I have been convinced as an abstract and rational matter that imposing women in combat is counterproductive both to the unit and to the society the army defends for quite some time.
However, it became a passionate and emotional issue for me, something I felt in my roaring and volcanic heart, rather than something I merely deduced in the icy heights of my dispassionate logic, when I saw the movie STARSHIP TROOPERS by Paul Verhoeven.
For those of you not familiar with the movie, it has the same relation to the book of that same title by Robert Heinlein as the 1967 version of CASINO ROYALE has to the book of that same title by Ian Fleming: it is a satire. Unlike the spy-parody, however, this movie was neither funny nor lighthearted in its satire.
One of the satirical scenes, or at least I hope it was meant satirically, was a shower scene where the virile and stalwart young heroic soldier boys were naked and wet and crowded together with the nubile and buxom young bathing beauties, whereupon the boys …. ignored them. There was no blushing, no erections, no wolf whistles, no averting of the eyes, no friendly slaps on the perfectly rounded peach-shaped buttocks of the battle-nymphs …. nothing.
Neither shame nor lust nor admiration nor modesty.
I realized that the joke was that the army of the future expected these pale and watery-souled eunuchs to place themselves between their loved homes and war’s desolation. And, of course, as the movie went on, we saw the pale and watery-souled eunuchs shooting each other, cowering before bugs that farted missiles into orbit, stabbing each other, and wandering into blind box canyons without scouts or air support so that the comedy scenes of giant bugs ripping the heads off of comedy soldiers in comic waterfalls of blood would play out to the general laughter of the audience.
Then, as I was whooping at this zany comedy, I noticed I was the only one in the movie theater laughing.
The film maker and the audience were apparently supposed to take seriously the idea that penis-free men would make good soldiers, and that the cause of female equality required males to be penis-free. (I mean that phrase in both senses of the word. In the movie, the men acted like organisms lacking a male member, but they also fornicated with abandon, that is, freely, with subordinate she-soldier bathing beauties. I would call it fraternization, except that it was more like a sorority than a fraternity.)
It occurred to me then that this screwball comedy was actually meant as a mockery of the military, as if Verhoeven thought he was exaggerating things real military people actually did, like having drill sergeants stab recruits, and showing things he thought they should do, like having coed showers and commanding officers encouraging fraternizational fornication as recreation in the ranks. The joke of having clown soldiers do clown things (like ramming their starships into each other, or shooting each other when wounded) was apparently because this craven and nithling director, whose whole life and civilization has been protected by the brave sacrifice of men manlier than he, thought it was funny to denigrate that sacrifice.
And I thought that joke was that if the real soldiers, if they accepted these clown ideas, would end up as clowns. But no, the joke was supposed to be that the soldiers were clowns, and the ideas were merely meant to shock the bourgeoisie. (I suppose the ideas would have been shocking for World War One. The so called progressive ideas of the so called Progressives, from free love to the suffragette movement, date from about the time of the Great War, and have not progressed since.)
As a movie mocking the folly of the war against Bismarck and the Kaiser, and the inhumanity of trench warfare, I think STARSHIP TROOPERS did a fine job. As a retro-historical oddity, a 1997 movie using a 1959 novel to put across a 1919 set of ideas, the movie is worth preserving. Otherwise, all copies should be hunted down heaped on a bonfire and burnt, preferably beneath the stake to which Mr Verhoeven is chained. Because I am totally joking about not getting the point of the movie: I knew from the opening scene that the film was meant to drive a thumb into my eye, and to spit in the face of everyone who loves honor and admires heroes, or who liked Heinlein’s book. I paid nine bucks so that a cowardly man could void his bowls on me.
In sum, STARSHIP TROOPERS the movie was not only the worst science fiction film ever made, and the worse war film ever made, it was made by people who were not in the military and had never spoken to anyone who had been, and was evidently made for an audience of people who were not in the military and had never spoken to anyone who had been.
Now, I am sure that if you had held a vote among just fans of that film as to the advisability of women in combat zones, they would not even be able to comprehend the argument against it. I will not repeat those arguments here: they are too obvious. (But I will link to them.)
But this is not a question of argument, but of emotion. The politically correct have associated the emotion of equal rights for women with the question of how best to use limited resources to pursue the goals of war. To them, protecting women from the danger of combat is the same as yanking the ballot out of their frail and delicate hands. They have associated or aligned two unrelated ideas in a false-to-facts way. So, to a degree, the question cannot be discussed, because you think you will be talking about how best to prosecute a war, and they think you are yanking the ballot out of the woman’s hands, and they will talk as if you said that no matter what you said.
My thoughts can be summed up nicely with these words. As theologian John Piper has said,
If I were the last man on the planet to think so, I would want the honor of saying no woman should go before me into combat to defend my country. A man who endorses women in combat is not pro-woman; he’s a wimp. He should be ashamed. For most of history, in most cultures, he would have been utterly scorned as a coward to promote such an idea. Part of the meaning of manhood as God created us is the sense of responsibility for the safety and welfare of our women.
I also will quote Father Christmas from THE LION THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE. Battles are ugly when women fight.
To be sure, nations like Israel who are under constant attack and ongoing military threat from the US Democrat Party, and from the Democrat’s allies among the Jihadists and Palestinians, simply must place women in dangerous military roles because the tiny nation lacks the manpower otherwise.
You see, I am not opposed to women in combat, if there is a draft. If we are not in such desperate straits that we do not need a draft, a fortiori, we are not in such desperate straits that we need to expose our mothers, wives, sisters and daughters in harm’s way.
If even one incident like the capture and rape of Pvt Jessica Lynch can be prevented by a ban on assault weapons, I mean, a ban on allowing women to serve in combat zones, even one life, then I support that ban!
But it is still ugly even when it happens, over and above the hellish ugliness of all wars, because once women are involved, it is ugliness without honor, and without that masculine courage and bravery which is the only small spark of anything good or admirable in the vast darkness and horror and bloodshed of campaign.
In castrated combat, that masculine courage is allegedly replaced by an intellectual affirmation of the equal personhood of all human resources being expended in the mechanics of the military operation.
I say allegedly, because what really happens is that a soldier boy exposes himself to greater danger to protect the soldier girl in his unit, or to show off in front of her, or else he must lose the manly honor that makes him a good soldier; but at the same time all parties involved in the rank structure have to pretend that this does not or should not happen.
That pretense is political correctness. The point of PC is to get everyone in the subordinate population to tell the same lies together, lies none of them believe, because it humiliates them, robs them of strength of will, and makes them mistrust each other so that the subordinates cannot rise up in rebellion.
(You did not think PC was really a matter of courtesy to spare the delicate feelings of others, did you, reader? Has any PC-nik ever struck you as even having the level of courtesy of your average taxi driver or motorcycle gang leader?)
If the soldier girl is his lover, or the lover of someone higher in rank, or the lover of his romantic rival in his unit, matters become more complex and vile. The idea that all this can be tossed aside by merely commanding human nature to obey the dictates of intellectual theory is an idea no one who survived the Twentieth Century should entertain.
We have seen what institutions which take human nature into account are like: marriage, or the US Constitution. We have also seen when institutions which flatly deny human nature in a burst of smug make-believe are like: free love, or the Soviet Constitution. Why make the US Military one more unreality-believing antihuman institution? Why else but to erode it as a fighting force?
Father Christmas was right in more ways than one. Battles are ugly when women are in them, not only because exposing your daughters to danger is ugly, but because making your sons into gormless cowards is very ugly.
Can we call you Honiger?
I guess our resident troll is speaking from his vast combat experience, presumably gained from reading Tom Clancy novels and playing Call of Duty.
The Mass Media has won yet again. I do not recommend despair. I do not recommend stoicism. I recommend singing.
Let me explain.
Back when I was a Libertarian, such a ill-starred event would have had me wondering when it was morally permissible to raise the Jolly Roger and begin slitting throats. Fortunately, the Christian religion, which places no faith in Earthly kings and regards no worldly dismay as inconsolable, also commands utter obedience to worldly authorities placed over us.
In a civilized and Constitutional Democracy of our particular nature, when the rival party achieves victory, the proper thing to do is bow in graceful submission to the will of the Electoral College, and not to descend into ungrateful grumbling about the supremacy of the popular vote. That is not how our Republic is instituted.
Therefore, congratulations to the Media, and to the Democrat Party which they have so loyally served lo these many years.
Come now, my fellow conservatives. We would expect the rival party manfully to show faith and fealty to the laws and administration if our party had prevailed, and, as patriots, we can do no less when they prevail.
That is the bargain; that is the deal; that is the social contract. Let them break it and go to the lowest and frozen floor of hell where traitors languish; let us keep it for our honor’s sake, and for the reward of the soft applause of angels.
The laws of civilization have protected our lives and goods, lo, these many years, and we owe the laws that same love and obedience we owe a father and a mother, who protect and sustain us. To break the law is as parricide.
Even to be grim and sulking is uncouth, and stirs the generous heart to laughter. Have we learned no good sportsmanship? Let them be the party known for its ill temper and lack of grace in defeat, as they are known for their ugly and ungainly vaunting and self flattery in victory. Let us bear both the temptation of defeat, the allure of despair and wrath, and the temptation of victory, the allure of pride, with stoic indifference and philosophical detachment.
Are we not men? Indeed, this night has proved we may be the only adults left in the nation. I pray you act it.
Let us shake hands and congratulate the incumbents, and wish them well, and pray for wise counsel to bless their leadership which is also ours, and pray for the enmity born of rivalry to be forgotten.
Let us vow obedience and good will to the regime who rules and reigns over us.
Lest I be accused of mawkishness, or false sunshine, I assure my readers I have no illusions about the meaning of this vote.
The American Republic just voted itself away. The American Dream just voted itself into the comfortable morphine overdose of financial euthanasia.
Life and Death was set before us, and the majority chose death.
We faithful Christians should never have had faith in the wisdom and common sense of the fallen Sons of Adam to begin with: it is in our fallen nature to chose death over life, because life makes demands and requires much of us, painful duties and the wild glory of love, whereas death is hoped to be a dreamless sleep, and a rest from a restless conscience.
(And the wise know that hope of oblivion is vain, that eternity awaits, of shockingly wakeful joy or shockingly wakeful woe. We shall not sleep in death. We sleep now.)
Do I exaggerate when I say America chose death? I have a ferocious poetical heart, which I attempt at all times to keep in check by my cool and rational Houyhnhnm brain, and so I hope this is an example of exaggeration.
I pray to God that I be proven a false prophet, and would be delighted to be the laughingstock of all right thinking and comfortable people, if only, O my Savior, I be proved wrong. St Isaiah and St Daniel, patrons of true prophecy, let these my words be shown vain and false.
I sincerely hope I have made some grave error in my dark and unlovely prognostications for the years to come.
If not, and if I have made no great error, then expect an appointment or two to the Supreme Court of unqualified radical activist Justices of the Frankfurt School who will enact such changes destructive of the integrity of the Constitution and of the legal system, that it will never recover. Objectivity in law will then be dead beyond resuscitation: the law thereafter be a tool of one faction to oppress another faction, or the instrument of bureaucrats to perform mindless and meaningless acts of malign regulation.
If not, then the new industrial revolution which cheap energy would have ushered in, and the corresponding loss to the Oil Sheiks of petrodollars to fund International Terrorism, shall be strangled in its cradle by environmentalists and microregulation.
If not, expect further American funding, encouragement and applause for Islamic Terrorism, and expect the rise and solidification of further Islamic Republics, further betrayal of Israel, and perhaps the ignition of the first of many Jihadist atom bombs.
If not, expect a twenty percent unemployment rate; and expect it not to be reported in the press.
If not, expect the ruination of the health care system.
If not, expect Catholic charities and institutions to close their doors as they are driven out of public life relentlessly, and woe to the orphans, the poor, the widow, the prisoner in goal. Their suffering shall increase in order that the hideous and Lovecraftian idols of Political Correctness be appeased.
If not, expect more, far more, rule by fiat, where bureaucratic agencies will simply ignore Congress, and enforce regulations for which there is no legal mandate, and ignore the enforcement of laws they are required to enforce.
If not, expect totalitarian anarchy.
If not, expect a law that reaches to every nook and corner of your lives, every jot and tittle, but a law divorced from public weal, precedent, common sense, or due process. It will be a law of utterly arbitrary process. The law will serve the aristocrats of “pull”, a new class of courtiers and donors who find favor in the eyes of the powers that be, and the law will grind the faces of the poor and dispossessed and nonconformist and the rich who find no favor.
If not, expect that the whining, lying, self-righteous, churlish, and childish spirit of the Socialist shall become the final and permanent spirit of the age.
If not, the idea of an independent man, an independent idea, will be not so much unfashionable as unfathomable. Future conservative victories here in America will be roughly as meaningful as the victories of so called conservative parties in Europe.
If not, the US Dollar will no longer be the world reserve currency.
If not, expect hypertaxation. Expect hyperinflation.
If not, expect no honest elections ever to be held again. The Chicago Way has triumphed.
This is what the Americans voted for.
Gullible, aren’t we?
Despite this, it is not the End of the World, even if it is the end of the American predominance and prosperity.
Life will continue, if not as pleasantly. The American Dream will not continue.
Despite all this, we still live under a better regime and better leadership than the early Christians, who endured Nero, Marcus Aurelius, Septimus, Maximin, Decius, and the various Arian Emperors in the East. Let us utter no complaint.
Christians now, this day, this hour, suffer humiliation and deprivation and death in lands overseas under regimes American administrations of both parties have funded and supported. The count of martyrs is higher in these modern years than any ancient persecutions boasts. Let us utter no complaint.
Christians must yield to the will of heaven, and obey lawful authority, and Americans must abide lawfully and faithfully by the will of the majority.
In this case, it is akin to the duty of the Captain of the Titanic to go down with his ship without complain or undue expressions of emotional excess. We must stay at our posts, loyal Americans, while the decks are awash.
For I believe in miracles. The sunken ship of civilization after the Fall of Rome rose again. Our civilization has not even fallen, albeit I, at least, hear the timbers creaking. She may not yet fall: for perhaps Heaven has decreed otherwise.
Let us still be grateful that we live in a freer nation than our neighbors, and some mechanism still exists to correct and amend our nation without the need for bloody revolution.
I can see no way, once a people is corrupted by government dependency, of recovering our ancient liberties. The majority will vote themselves bread and circuses until the funds run out, and vote themselves ever deeper into debt until the credulity of lenders runs out. It is an addiction which relaxes the nerve of discipline, and a moral disease that leads to mental blindness.
But with God, all things are possible.
Perhaps I grossly overestimate the damage that has been done and will yet be done. Perhaps some new economic activity able to escape the Lilliputian cords and bindings of our enviro-hyperregulatory anticapitalist state will bloom where no man looks to see it, and produce such a blinding abundance of wealth as to enable us in, say, only ninety years rather than nine hundred, to pay down the national debt. Perhaps the horse will learn to sing hymns.
Let us be grateful for all the blessings the gracious Lord has bestowed upon our unworthy heads; the His blessings are still many and deep.
The Lord of Heaven did not turn His face away from Israel, even while He permitted her, for the sake of her sins, to fall into captivity.
We have become strangers in our own land. Our fate is more generous than theirs, and, all all accounts, they were a more pious and righteous people. God is gracious.
Let us sing a song:
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.
We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.
For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
How shall we sing the LORD’S song in a strange land?
If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.
Remember, O LORD, the children of Edom in the day of Jerusalem; who said, Rase it, rase it, even to the foundation thereof.
O daughter of Babylon, who art to be destroyed; happy shall he be, that rewardeth thee as thou hast served us.
Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones.
I found the original source, John C Wright by name, so our friend can’t even come up with something original.
I pray to God that I be proven a false prophet, and would be delighted to be the laughingstock of all right thinking and comfortable people
And Lo, John C. Wright’s prayer was answered.
gator, if you found your way past the copypasta crap: Pup and I were referring to the NYT puzzle, which starts out easy on Monday and gets harder every day of the week. (Unless you already knew that.)
Methinks yon scanty-clad damsel is a strumpet, withal! The way she gyrates to lascivious musick in the manner of a Southwark trollop!
Sounds like someone’s been using the Random Harlot Encounter Table.
He doesn’t seem to believe in private property, our anonymous troll, so he’s an unoriginal commie patriot, I guess.
if you can get through a saturday nyt, the sunday one is a bit of a breather…
It is similar to when a Catholic at High Mass does not understand Latin, but mutters the proper response anyway upon cue. “Carry a Lay a-song. Christy a Lay a-song.”
But what’s similar to when a copypasta copywriter does not understand the difference between Latin and Greek?
…woe to the orphans, the poor, the widow, the prisoner in goal.
Oh come now. Corey Crawford may get annoyed with Quennville every now and then, but the man is hardly a prisoner.
if you can get through a saturday nyt, the sunday one is a bit of a breather…
Once you figure out a Sunday puzzle theme, they tend to be easy.
And by the way, cultured coconut milk is friggin’ awesome.
Why do they bother with this copypasta shit?
Are they convinced it’s going to “enlighten” us somehow, when this very blog lives on disembowelling this very kind of bullshittery?
BS, I know, I was just surprised to hear somebody complain about the Saturday when I was under the impression that the Sunday puzzle, which is much larger, is the unpossible one. I certainly find it so.
I just end up cheating so it’s not worth trying.
And don’t even get me started on those British crossword/puzzler things.
Pere, probably frustration that we keep talking around trollterruptions.
I, for one, imbibed deeply those gallons of tears of impotent rage. They were so fresh, and pure, and ticklish to the intestines.
Once you figure out a Sunday puzzle theme which takes half the day and 3 weeks out of 4 is some cultural reference I don’t grok, other than that, easy! ***grrrrrrr***
Okay, I guess the thread consensus would be that I’m the weird one. grumble grumble Sunday crosswords. Y’all can keep ’em! mumble mumble
well, don’t even get me started on soduko or whatev the hell it’s called…
well, don’t even get me started on soduko or whatev the hell it’s called…
I started some of those but had to stop from sheer boredom.
I just end up cheating so it’s not worth trying.
Well for God’s sake don’t tease us. How did you cheat?
(Unless you’re one of those hyper-honest types who considers it cheating to look stuff up online.)
You can cheat at those with scissors or matches or your ass.
Re: crosswords: I was intrigued to learn they can be used as keys to coded messages — and not by filling them out.
In the history of cryptography, a grille cipher was a technique for encrypting a plaintext by writing it onto a sheet of paper through a pierced sheet (of paper or cardboard or similar). The earliest known description is due to the polymath Girolamo Cardano in 1550. His proposal was for a rectangular stencil allowing single letters, syllables, or words to be written, then later read, through its various apertures. The written fragments of the plaintext could be further disguised by filling the gaps between the fragments with anodyne words or letters.
To read a grille cipher, then, you’d need a stencil with apertures, or specifcations for one. But ideally, you’d want a “stencil” that could be referenced or distributed without appearing significant. A crossword puzzle fits the bill, as a diagram for what to omit from the coded message:
The distribution of grilles, an example of the difficult problem of key exchange, can be eased by taking a readily-available third-party grid in the form of a newspaper crossword puzzle. Although this is not strictly a grille cipher, it resembles the chessboard with the black squares shifted and it can be used in the Cardan manner. The message text can be written horizontally in the white squares and the ciphertext taken off vertically, or vice versa.
Other grids come to mind as possible cipher keys … the windows on buildings? Certain paintings? … I came across this topic while reading about the Voynich Manuscript and attempts to decipher it.
You can cheat at those with scissors or matches or your ass.
I recommend the first two. Newsprint clogs plumbing.
1.) Buy toys.
II.) Glue on extra bits.
Phree.) PROFIT!!!
1.) Buy toys.
II.) Glue on extra bits.
Phree.) PROFIT!!!
I heard about that. “Diabolical,” as the story says. James McCormick is one of those people who makes me sorry there’s no Hell.
He reportedly told an associate who objected and backed out on realizing the scam (if we are to believe this whistleblower), the devices “do exactly what they’re designed to do: they make money.”
That’s true of all sorts of shit that’s marketed and sold successfully, but the cost is rarely (if ever) so high in terms of pain and suffering.
1.) Buy toys.
II.) Glue on extra bits.
Phree.) PROFIT!!!
Gadzooks, these things don’t even pass a cursory smell test:
The devices consisted of a swivelling antenna connected to nothing except a plastic handgrip. They were was said to need no battery or other power source. McCormick claimed the devices came to life after the user had shuffled their feet. Colour-coded cards were inserted depending on the substance to be detected: explosives, drugs, ivory, or even specific currencies.
Damn thing is less plausible than a fucking perpetual motion device.
It all depends on what kind of toys…
The devices consisted of a swivelling antenna connected to nothing except a plastic handgrip.
Did they say “ACME” on them?
They’re dowsing rods, plain and simple.
Pro-tip: don’t use poison oak as a dowsing rod.
Yes: I have a 7 year old daughter who just watched Coraline for the 20th or so time. Why do you ask?
Good movie. I would have thought it a bit scary for a 7-year-old.
rubber husband
perpetual motion device
Combine the two and you have a winnah!
.
“You can’t trust a people who try and hide their Czechyness by calling themselves ‘Bohemians’ or ‘Moravians’”
Remember that Bohemian guy in that rhapsody? He just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled the trigger now he’s dead.
was that in Reno? didn’t he kill that man just to watch him die? Man, I hope that guy is stuck in Folsom prison watching trains go by and wishing it was him in the dining car drinking coffee.
I read the first line of the copypasta just to see what it was on about and i thought yeah, why put our women soldiers in a position to raped by the enemy when our own soldiers already have that covered. Then I skipped to the end to see what conclusion the troll came to and found this.
I’m not going to read the whole thing, I’m just going to run with the idea that that the shorter is : Make music, not war!
was that in Reno? didn’t he kill that man just to watch him die?
Yes, I believe it was. But he shot the sheriff, he did not shoot the deputy.
Was that the night the lights went out in Georgia?
.
No, but it was the day Chicago died.
That’s when my mother cried, along with the night they tore ol Dixie down.
Thought OBS might get a kick out of this.
http://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/welcome-to-my-nanobrewery
“Remember that Bohemian guy in that rhapsody? He just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled the trigger now he’s dead.”
Yes. Over on Tenth Avenue, wasn’t it? I’m not sure whether it was a guy, or a pistol packin’ Mama named, of all things “Frankie”
Do not be flattered
Could this mean that … that … that I am aware of fewer than all Internet traditions?
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
An ichthyological argument led to the slaughter, and it was known ever after as the Catfish Row.
Or so some people say.
She just doesn’t like Mondays, I don’t know why.
Anyway, Avenger, I hope the Mater is feeling better. My Pater supplied me with two Maters! I thought it was big of him, but it turned out to be bigamy.
The Sunday NYT xword is clued at about the Thursday level. The Saturday pizzle is the killer. I’ve been a crossword fiend for over thirty years. I used to puzzle-race some math profs in the math dept. lounge every Friday. I rarely came second. When I still cared about such things, my average time for a Friday puzzle was just over seven minutes. What I’m saying – in all modesty – is I’m damn good at xwords. Still, even I have occasional difficulty with the Saturday NYT puzzle.
Yes. Over on Tenth Avenue, wasn’t it? I’m not sure whether it was a guy, or a pistol packin’ Mama named, of all things “Frankie”
Everything stopped, I heard five quick shots, the cops had come up for air.
That’s when my mother cried, along with the night they tore ol Dixie down.
Me, I drove my Chevy to the levy.
But the levy was dry.
Dead catfish everywhere. It was awful.
“Make music, not war!”
I read yesterday that the Boston Marathon bombing suspect, as he became ever more ‘radicalised’, announced that his particular interpretation of Islam required him to renounce music!! I mean c’mon, they shoulda just called the FBI right then. If there’s one thing you can count on in this crazy world, it’s that when you get to the “no music” phase of religion, you’re headed straight for tragedy.
30 shots rang out and 30 people fell
Patty and the killer had missed each other
but they shot the town to hell.
“Dead catfish everywhere. It was awful.”
Those fishkills happen. It’s the anhydrous plant.
Let’s go have a beer. There’s this long, lovely dancer in a little club downtown, I love to watch her do her stuff. She can shimmy like my sister, Kate.
That little club in old Soho where you drink champagne it tastes just like cherry cola?
c-o-l-a cola
g – – – – – l – – – – – – – o – – – – – – – rrrrrrrrrrrr – i – a Gloria
I heard he was a man with a mission, a boy with a gun.
Sources who spoke to CNN indicate he has a picture in his pocket of the lucky one.
Leroy was later described as looking like a jigsaw puzzle with a couple of pieces gone.
He’s gotta be sought, he’s gotta be caught, he’s more evil than anyone here ever thought!
Dead catfish everywhere. It was awful.
It’s alright, it’s my rock-n-roll fantasy.
He was a city boy, Floyd the outlaw but I thought I knew him well.
He’s still young, that’s his fault, if he wants, he can marry.
Got a rubberized bag
And a hose on his arm
Lookin’ for some rustic co-ed rump
That he just might wanna pump
It’s alright, it’s my rock-n-roll fantasy.
I know, it’s only rock-n-roll but I like it.
Hey there brothers, who you jivin with that cosmic debris?
All I know is Saturday night I was downtown, working for the FBI. Sitting in a nest of bad men, whiskey bottles piling high.
There was plenty of debris, I can tell you that.
Don’t start an interstellar war; it has no helpful uses
When someone asks you ‘what’s it for?’, you’ll only make excuses
I first produced my pistol
then produced my rapier
I said, stand ye and deliver
or the devil he may take ya
If these keep up Ima be a rock-and-roll suicide
….find you a bridge and take a jump
But you better get it right the first time
Cause nothin’s worse than a suicide chump
Expect hyperinflation.
I expected hyperventilation myself, and the troll did not let me down.
Seems like nothin’ ever comes to no good up on Choctaw Ridge
Jenny said, when she was just five years old
You know there’s nothin’ happening at all
Two TV sets, two Cadillac cars
Ahhh, hey, ain’t help me nothin’ at all
Not at all
One fine morning, she heard on a New York station
She couldn’t believe what she heard at all
Not at all
Yeah, but you and I know there’s 57 channels and nothin’ on.
Look, I may be a little pimp with his hair slicked back, pair of khaki pants, and his shoes shined black, but
Oh, you Republicans!
Don’t worry
About a thing
Every little thing
gonna be alright.
Hey there brothers, who you jivin with that cosmic debris?
Now what kind of a guru ARE you, ANYWAY?
“One fine morning, she heard on a New York station”
That she was, sweet Jesus, one toke over the line? She should’a known better with a girl like her. That she’d be covered in fur, diamond rings and all those things. Bet your life it wasn’t her. And when you say she’s looking good she acts as if it’s understood she’s cool! That really pisses me off!
Down on the street
Where the faces shine.
Floatin’ around I’m
A real low mind
Just got back from visiting Ziggy Stardust in Suffragette City. I brought back a celestial PENIS
Love is but a song we sing
Fear’s the way we die
Yes, I did — I freely admit I’m a sucker for McSweeneys, been following the RSS feed for years.
Fear’s the way we die
Hey babe. Take a walk on the wild side.
Eventually ZRM will waltz in, quote a bunch of Mekon lyrics at us and kill the thread deadder than a post-shovel zombie.
[sheepish]I like sudoko. Well, I like the “difficult” level ones that actually take some amount of thinking.[/sheepish]
But how could we tell they were Mekons lyrics? Nobody but him has ever heard them.
[/rimshot]
Eventually ZRM will waltz in, quote a bunch of Mekon lyrics at us and kill the thread deadder than a post-shovel zombie.
He’d be here already, except that he was out late the other night. Fear and whiskey kept him going. I swore somebody held him tight but now there’s just no way of knowing. I saw his face in a crowded bar, excuse me, at least I thought it was him. Now I just don’t know where he is.
I do, too. I find them soothing. Problems that can be solved (with a little thought) are good.
These boots were made for walkin’
celestial PENIS
[slow clap]
Well done astroboffins. Well done indeed.
“Love is but a song we sing”
I can tell you, it a many-splintered thing.
“Now what kind of a guru ARE you, ANYWAY?”
From the K’ang Dynasty, naturally.
I must go! They are strict with me!
“These boots were made for walkin’
“
I just bought the boots that walked all over me?
Who ARE you?
By the way, which one’s Pink?
I am the walrus.
“I saw his face in a crowded bar, excuse me, at least I thought it was him. Now I just don’t know where he is.”
Can’t help you. I’ll just drink that big Black Cow and get out of here. And I’ll call for my pipe, and I’ll call for my bowls. And I’ll call for my Fiddlers three, somebody get them the hell of the roof, this is a cottage for sale!
That she was, sweet Jesus, one toke over the line?
But her world’s a superficial paradise.
Just got back from visiting Ziggy Stardust in Suffragette City.
You can’t afford the ticket.
Elementary penguin singing Hare Krishna, man you should have seen the Pistols back in ’78.
This is wonderful! We’ll all get along, as long as the song is strong in our hearts!
And to hell with Burgandy!
I was born like this, I had no choice. I was born with the gift of a golden voice. And 27 angels from the great beyond, they tied me to this table here in the Tower Of Song.
“I am the walrus.”
Then you’ve changed. You’re not the angel I once knew. What in the world’s come over you?
For a walrus, your kisses now are so blase’. Lotta tongue, but no tusk.
It’s only words, but words are all I have to try and win the thread today.
I don’t know what’s going on in the world these days. It seems that everybody’s just got everything turned around. People don’t seem to care about their fellow man. They’re all going for that big ice-cream cone in the sky! They haven’t figured out what happens when your eyes get bigger then your belly. Like an ostrich who eats his pizza with his head stuck in the sand. If they can’t see it, it isn’t there. And you know, it really *does* take a worried man!
“And 27 angels from the great beyond, they tied me to this table here in the Tower Of Song”
Lemme’ tell you how I got over. Went on up the rough side of the mountain. And when I get offa that mountain, you know where I wanna go: Straight down the Missispi River, to the Gulf of Mexico, Lakejaw, Lousiana, little Bessie girl I once knew.
She told me just to come on by if there was anything she could do.
And if she don’t love me…
It takes a weird man to sing a weird song.
But can one consider it…luscious?
It’s only words, but words are all I have to try and win the thread today.
If I had a little microphone hidden in my heart it would amplify my love for this thread. But the words get stuck in my throat.
Can y’ feel it, comrades?
And when I get offa that mountain, you know where I wanna go
You can’t, because I stand up next to the mountain, chop it down with the edge of my hand.
She told me just to come on by if there was anything she could do.
Just don’t give her any of your winnings.
Fall, mountains, fall, just don’t fall on me.
You can’t, because I stand up next to the mountain, chop it down with the edge of my hand.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain then there is.
“It’s only words, but words are all I have to try and win the thread today.”
And you did! Well done! I should have known you would, you have the cool, clear eyes of a seeker of wisdom and truth,yet with the slam, bang, tang reminiscent of gin and vermouth.
Actually, I think you and I should make a pact, we could bring salvation back.
You can climb a mountain, you can swim the sea, you can jump into the fire but you’ll never be free.
And you did! Well done!
Everybody dance now!!!
“Just don’t give her any of your winnings.”
I gave my little Bessie half. Guess what that crazy Cajun Queen did then.
Guess what that crazy Cajun Queen did then.
Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash?
Put her donut in your tea?
“You can climb a mountain, you can swim the sea, you can jump into the fire but you’ll never be free.”
Oh, come on. I was born freaked!
“Put her donut in your tea?”
Tee-hee-hee
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain then there is.
But is it named Billy?
You put your right foot in, you pull your right foot out
Guess what that crazy Cajun Queen did then.
Oooh, oooh! I know, she’s buying a stairway to heaven
Looks like the copypasta troll didn’t stick around. How I wish he was here. He’s such a lost soul swimming in this blog year after year, running over the same old ground. Has he found the same old fear? Wish he was here.
“But is it named Billy?”
I keep telling you, the kid is not my son!
Guess what that crazy Cajun Queen did then.
She was swishy in her satin and tat, and her frock coat and bibbity-bobbity hat?
Oh God, I could do better than that!
“But is it named Billy?”
Yes but he wasn’t a hero.
Let me say forever more, it’s Sadly, No! that I adore, that’s all, that’s all.
And who could ask for anything else? Like the Chinese cook in a large busy kitchen, I’ll never wok alone.
Yes but he wasn’t a hero.
Just for one day?
Morning has broken, the afternoon was a delight but the night time is the right time.
I want a new thread, to keep my mind expanding
A new thread, but nothing too demanding
Just for one day, I must believe in spring and love. Just like tree, who knows its leaves will reappear. It knows this emptiness is just a time of year. Beneath the frozen snows, the secret of a rose, is merely that it knows, you must believe in spring.
(Lovely song by Michel LeGrand “You Must Believe in Spring”, but I’m sure you knew that.)
One red thread through the middle of a song. My only one, my only one
Duck, you schmuck!
Standing here like a loaded gun waiting to go off, I’ve got nothing to do but shoot my mouth off.
Wow, I know the Kings of England, and quote the fights historical, from Lexington to Waterloo, in order categorical. I can tell you every detail of Caractacus’ uniform, and write a laundry bill in Babylonian cuneiform, but you people are very funny. Many of those bons are, like totally mot and/or juste. If those are the words I want.
“If a Frenchman is a man, why don’ he talk like a man, Huck?”
“Standing here like a loaded gun waiting to go off, I’ve”
Oh look, a premature ejaculation. Or maybe it’s just Ima
My my. At Waterloo Napoleon did surrender. Oh yeah. And I have met my destiny in quite a similar way.
“One red thread through the middle of a song. My only one, my only one”
Don’t despair. When you’re down, and worried, and you need some love and care…
Hey, I’ll have you know Waterloo Sunset’s fine.
Amusing ribald thought of the day: Cuneiform and the c-word have a common word origin; the implications of this, as well as gratuituous comments about cunning linguists, are left to the student.
“Duck, you schmuck!”
I have instructed my wife (who as far as I can see, has already outlived me in all important respects) that my epitaph is to read: “He forgot to duck”
She of course, will take the money, and go Venezuela.
Guess what that crazy Cajun Queen did then.
Kept Moet et Chandon in her pretty cabinet?
“as well as gratuituous comments about cunning linguists,”
Did you really think it would go all the way down to that?
Did you really think it would go all the way down to that?
What we need is a fine girl who’d get up in the morning and go down in the evening. All the way down.
Dennis: For well-nigh unto 100 comments, various commentors have been contributing significant bits of lyrics (nod-nod, wink-wink) the politically incorrect, and discriminatory inferences and implications (yes, both!) of which are more grist than your mill, (which grinds exceedingly fine, if slowly,) could ever handle. You should find more than enough evidence of liberal shortcomings if you pay attention, not just to the context, but to the meta-context. Good luck.
and who’d prevent tag fail.
In and around the lake mountains come out of the sky, they stand there.
.
“What we need is a fine girl”
I was a very lucky guy in some respects. I think I knew by the time I was, oh, twelve or so that if there was one thing I didn’t want to do it was want a girl just like the girl who married dear old Dad.
Finally I met a girl who wanted a Sunday kind of love, but I was Jewish, which created problems. I was left imagining someone waiting at the cottage door (the one for sale?) where to hearts become one, and you’ll never walk again.
My God Dennis, I said “Bessie girl” and you intend to do nothing?
I had a Bessie girl once, but my wife is mostly an Ellington fan.
Oh say can you see my eyes, if you can then my hair’s too short.
What we need is a fine girl”
O gawd, not Brandy.
You know, I like my girls a little bit older.
There’s this long, lovely dancer in a little club downtown, I love to watch her do her stuff
If this involves a ruby glistening from her navel, shimmering around the floor, Imma leaving now rather than wait for the heavy hand upon my collar throws me in the street.
Cuneiform and the c-word have a common word origin
I have just been banned from Riddled for making “Humour in Cuneiform” jokes.
Dennis, we’d hold a battle of wits with you, but, as I believe Groucho said, it’d be a shame to attack an unarmed man.
Mike Something, way, way back at the start:
Q:
“assimilation system”.
Seriously. What is that?
A:
Like Conjunction Junction, but all the boxcars end up exactly the same. Also, the music isn’t as catchy.
BTW, go check out Crooks & Liars today; David Neiwert has a few words about “failed eliminationist rhetoric” and why you’re full of shit, Denny m’boy.
Did you write a washing bill in Babylonic cuneiform?
I got my cock in my pocket
And I’m reelin
Down the old highway
Cock
in my pocketon Mars.Sailors fighting in the dance hall
Oh man, look at those cavemen go
It’s the freakiest show
Take a look at the lawman
Beating up the wrong guy
Oh man, wonder if he’ll ever know
He’s in the best-selling show
Is there PENIS on Mars?
Like Conjunction Junction, but all the boxcars end up exactly the same. Also, the music isn’t as catchy.
Assimilation Station, what’s your nation?
It is very important to never confuse the assimilation system with the ass-immolation system.
By the rivers of Babylon, where we sat down.
Like Conjunction Junction, but all the boxcars end up exactly the same.
Fewer funny hobos, more Vernictnung.
‘Scuse mah crappy GERMAN.
Is there PENIS on Mars?
Yeah, they’re in the Mind-Warp Pavilion.
Yeah, they’re in the Mind-Warp Pavilion.
The solid book we wrote could not be found today.
Yeah, they’re in the Mind-Warp Pavilion.
Just next to the WALL of SCIENCE!
It’s just a jump to the left… and then a step to the right.
I started laughing at “cherry cola” broke down at “words are all I have”, by “Humor in Cunieform” I was a gone goose.
“We may have lost a lot of our rights, goddammit, but they’ll never take our freedom of association!”
gon-o-rrhea…
Quit talking about Pennis’s grandmother from the Old Country, bbkf.
If he’s got a social disease, take him to a social worker!
Shorter Dennis: “What have the Romans ever done for us!?”
If he’s got a social disease
Through a terrible misunderstanding, my case was heard before a Dury of my peers. I was convicted and sentenced to be hit with a rhythm stick.
If he’s got a social disease, take him to a social worker!
That’s not social, that’s Industrial Disease.
What about a Socialist disease?
“Thanks to the rise of multiculturalism and bilingualism in the United States, our assimilation system now suffers from the same flaws as its European counterpart.”
FFS, Kurtz, if you’re going to suck off Anders Breivik in public like that you could AT LEAST buy him dinner first – even just a candy bar from the prison commissary, SOMETHING… 😉
“Pere Ubu, you’re a pretty weak Neiwertite, as Neiwertites go. You only point to him and tell people to go follow him. I don’t think you’re a true believer.”
Wow, when Dennis makes with the J’Accuse, he makes Zola look like a colicky baby!
Now, Dennis, as it is soooo consequential; it is your contention that Pere Ubu is not a “true beliver” (To wit: “I don’t think you’re a true believer”) I have that correct?
Am I missing some kind of an in-joke? Which is fine, if true. I mean, this guy really, chases around, trying to tax or bait a commenter with an insufficient belief in a fantasy left-wing ideology he conjures up out of a blogger’s name.”Neiwertites”?
Well, I’m glad I saw it for myself. If somebody tried to tell me this happened, I wouldn’t have believed it.
Dennis, what is your problem?
Good God, Pere, no wonder none of you guys buy his books, I think he posted everything he had all on that one blog post.
Professor Jacobson seems to have made him overly defensive about his blatant confirmation bias, that’s for sure.
Neiwert was thorough in his response to Jacobson, and you’d like us to think that’s a bad thing?… He’s not being defensive — he’s emboldened, and counterattacking from a position of strength. Jacobson picked a fight he isn’t prepared to win, and Neiwert is quite obviously enjoying the opportunity that’s been handed to him.
“I don’t even eat rice.”
Frankly, you should. It is very good. I consider it essential part of this balanced diet. Plus, it’s mostly reasonable in price. And we’ve got quite a bit of it on hand.
J’Accuse
GASP! Bilingualism!
Believe me, there’s a lot more in Neiwert’s books than what he writes at C&L.
The man does his research, both in the field and in the library, and it shows.
Oh, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis.
I’ve been accused of mindless adherence by better whackjobs than you, son.
Bilingualism? I don’t even know what a “dury” is.
The man does his research, both in the field and in the library, and it shows.
TRUTH BELIEVER!
.
I don’t even know what a “dury” is.
It’s a Blockhead.
It’s 8:30, and Dennis is still wrong.
J’Accuse
GASP! Bilingualism!
It’s a liberal hot-tub reference; Mooser meant “J’accuzi”.
Pennis is an embarrassment to his uncle Logorrhea, and his cousin Seborrhea.
Don’t check it out for yourself for God’s sake, just trust me about this Crooks And Liars thread that exists only in my own mind.
Ugh. Could we have a new post, please? Mr. Boring just showed up.
Yeah, that’s why there’s like 15 comments total there pn his post, CRA, barely a one that goes much deeper than ‘yeah, darn right, Dave’.
People who think Neiwert has done a good and thorough job see no reason to write at length, you say; some don’t even respond. This is damning how?
I don’t even know what a “dury” is.
It’s what carries me.
Das is gut say fantastisch!
I fell down the stairs today. Fortunately no injuries.
The cat walked up and gave me a look like “Dude, if you’re going to die I call dibs on your eyeballs.”
Colbert flashed a pic of a chicken sitting in a cockpit during one of his bits last night and I immediately thought “NOOOOO!!!”
He’s a witch, I think.
I fell down the stairs today. Fortunately no injuries.
Good.
I really like this old house we’re renting, and it’s a deal, but there are certain issues. One subtle one: the stairs are carpeted, and there’s a bit of give, or looseness. You feel it at the edge of a step. Or rather, you don’t feel it — it causes you to slip, and you feel your ass hit a step, then you slide down several more, on account of the carpet.
I drink a bit, as readers may have noted, and so I’ve endured a couple of minor wounds in this manner over the course of two years living here.
I fell down the stairs today. Fortunately no injuries.
yes, good for no injuries…we have stairs from hell at our house…old school narrow and steep…not carpeted…me clumsy…non-hilarious hijinx ensue…
however, my brother and his wife take the cake for stairs fuckwittery…a couple of years ago, the brother ended up in icu after a tumble down his stairs and a couple weeks ago, the sisterinlaw fractured both her elbows falling down the stairs…he was incredibly wasted when he wiped out…she probably was too but won’t admit it…
my wipeouts tend to happen when i am stone cold sober…
my wipeouts tend to happen when i am stone cold sober…
May I interest you in my “dazzle-ship-pattern” concept for stairwell decoration?
yes, good for no injuries
Yelling “Lassie go get help!” to the cat probably wouldn’t have been very effective had I needed assistance.
May I interest you in my “dazzle-ship-pattern” concept for stairwell decoration?
would these be in the form of etchings?
I am a veteran of a thousand trollic wars…
Science!
Just filed my taxes online … boy, was that quick … like, maybe TOO quick.
I await the verdict of the Wonk Star Chamber in fear & loathing, as usual.
Sigh.
No ferschlugginer tax warez fer mah Ubuntu?!?
In this regard, CANADA IN 2013 IS EXACTLY LIKE GERMANY WAS UNDER HITLER.
/qed
Yelling “Lassie go get help!” to the cat probably wouldn’t have been very effective had I needed assistance.
More likely it would have gotten you either the “You must be joking” stare or the “Those gesticulating hands are a fun thing to pounce on” response.
Until dinner time. Then you would likely have re-learned that cats are carnivores.
The cat walked up and gave me a look like “Dude, if you’re going to die I call dibs on your eyeballs.”
She’s being unreasonable.
New post.
I’m reasonably sure that should I die at home, my body had better be found pretty quick before my younger cat starts nibbling.
Sigh.
Rebecca has locked the door to the bedroom, and now a Louisville slugger occupies where I used to be in the bed.
Why, Rebecca, why? Just because I didn’t wake you up before I got romantic?
This is a real bummer, folks.
Any suggestions?
C’mon, let your sweet loving Gene back in, Rebecca, I promise, I’ll make sure you’re fully awake next time, and it won’t be in the butt.
Rebecca, think of the girls. Do you really want them to suffer the trauma of their loving parents divorcing?
Please, Rebecca, give me a second chance.
Go get some help, Dennis Gene. Otherwise, I’m seeing the attorney tomorrow.
Do you think this dress makes my butt look big, Dad!
I like children, especially if they’re cooked properly.
Yeah, and if someone doesn’t know that a certain asshole named a kid after himself, and that the kid is an adult who does the TMI routine, then that makes them a Facebook child stalker.
I’ve never tried to find your daughters on Facebook, Dennis, but keep up the false accusation, it makes you seem so reasonable and not unhinged.
Get off the iPad and back to production, Dwight.
You took that information and reported it back on public blog thinking you we’re being a hero, creepy childrens Facebook stalker.
I think that if someone was a drunken child beater who was unrepentant about it, that’s an important piece of information to know.
It’s not my fault that you don’t seem to have very savory friends, Dennis.
http://frankdisalleisadummy.wordpress.com/2012/08/12/and-its-christopher-foxx-ftw/
I made fun of your friend. Quelle Horror!
Only important to you because you were obsessed with him, and now, well over six months since you seem a post of his
Yeah, he really chickened out at Ollies’ place, post-election. Why are you friends with someone who doesn’t have the courage of their convictions?
Of course, the real question is, why would anyone with the courage of their convictions be a friend of yours in the first place.
Did you get his kid’s birthday so you can post a birthday greeting to his wall when it comes around, freak?
Nah, I’ll just google to find his cell phone number and call him out of the blue, like a certain numbnut/peckerwood did to me one time.
OMG Dennis was right! Why was I so easily fooled? I thought, at worst, he was a snorkler.
“Only important to you because you were obsessed with him, and now, well over six months since you seem a post of his, you’re still obviously still starved for him.”
Never before really appreciated just how much good, everyday wisdom is packed into the little epigram “It’s always projection”! And it always is, isn’t it?
“O Gawd, not Brandy”! is still engendering chortles, and a bunch of autres, too. Boffo yoks en mass.
Dennis, when you make it clear to the dury, a dury of peers, if they’re your peers, that the poor Down’s Syndrome kid in the photo was given the disease simply to serve as a prop for the Dark Avenger’s jape, there won’t be a dry eye in the dury box.
You will almost certainly mulct him for heavy damages, and be released without a stain on your character..
“Mooser, you are one bizarre dude.”
Oh yes, pursuing a bizarre personal vendetta, and making yourself seem, well, extremely tiresome in doing so, there’s nothin bizarre about that!
“And, Your Honor, I have depositions here, many of them, which state the Dark Avenger is indubitably deficient in Niewertism! Your Honor, only two question can be asked at this point concerning the Dark Avenger: ‘Is the guillotine sharpened? Is the tumbrel all warmed up and ready to go? The answers must be, for the sake of all photos of innocent Downs Syndrome children everywhere, Oui!”
“Bizarre”, Dennis? You’re calling me, “bizarre”? What is your trip? Compared to you I’m completely pedestrian.
Look Dennis, I mean, it’s obvious you feel this must be done, and I’m sure you have your reasons, but are you quite sure this is the place to do it. You don’t sort of feel like urine a fishbowl?
You like me! You really, really like me!
‘decency’ should’ve been ‘dependency’.
You can’t tell the difference between decency and dependency, Dennis?
Dad, what’s a puntcunt?
Don’t stay in my closet anymore Dad, it isn’t funny.
It isn’t funny to ask about what I do on dates, Daddy. Really!
Is my husband a sick, twisted, incestious fuck?
Yes.
My husband is a pedophile.
Don’t listen to him! He’s just making fun of my husband!
“This blog doesn’t have enough bandwidth for all the evidence against him proving what a foul, sadistic, pedophilic creep he is. His picture making fun of Down Syndrome children is just a drop in the bucket of proof of his foul nature”
I’m sorry, Dennis, I usually only come by Sadly, No! for a bit in the mornings, so I’m, not all au courant, all the time. Who is the “him” referred to in your comment?
But, generally speaking, if you a strong feeling that someone you know is “a foul, sadistic, pedophilic (sic, isn’t it) creep” you should get in touch with your local police. Depending on your position (educator, health worker, public safety, etc.) you may even have what is called a “duty to inform”.
I’m in the middle of an ‘in joke’ right? There can’t be an actual person like “Dennis”, how the hell does he handle intersections and crosswalks? For God;’s sake, Dennis, don’t cross the street in the middle, in the middle, in the middle of the block! Keep your eyes to look up. Keep your ears to hear! Walk up to the corner, where the coast is clear, and wait, and wait, and wait until the light turns green!
Get off the iPad and start earning your commission, Gene.
On the other hand, a “hit” is a “hit” a (IIANM) “a unique page view” and those are good things to have.
“See the above post of SA the Facebook Stalker Freak.”
I did, and followed the link. So you, Dennis, have been at this since 2010? OMFG!
all the evidence against him proving what a foul, sadistic, pedophilic creep he is
So, Dennis, where is this evidence that will keep me from proving what a foul, sadistic, pedophilic creep I am?
Where is it, Dennis? I’m apparently eager to prove what a monstrous scum of the earth I am, and you know that there is plenty of evidence to the contrary.
Help me out here.
So you, Dennis, have been at this since 2010? OMFG!
He posted comments on my blog that led back to his ISP and his proximate geographic location. His buddy showed just as little foresight, not having the intelligence to use an alternate e-mail when commenting as “Renfro Swoop.”
An unwise thing to do if you want to keep being anonymous and not held accountable as an asshole on the Internets, at least in the former case. He doesn’t learn from his mistakes, a puzzling trait for a self-described MOTU.
A lot of your comments at Ollies’ place, as well as Franks’, got saved by the Wayback Machine, Dennis. If anyone wants to have some laughs at your expense or get an unvarnished glimpse into another tarnished and rotten conservative mind, (Frank, why must you be dumb?) they’re there.
A little advice, the same as Ollie gave to your BFF:
Well, “foul”, sure okay “sadistic” that’s a pretty generalised, almost humorous insult. Ah, but “pedphilic” (assuming he could spell it)? You’re straying well into the actionable, there Dennis. And there is that “duty to inform”, you know.
It never occurs to you Dennis, that false accusations of that type, when unfounded (as studies prove most unfounded allegations are) do not redound to the glory of the accuser? And friend Dennis, it’s “pedophiliac”. For extra veracity, stick in an “a” in the first syllable.
How many syllables, Mario?
“He posted comments on my blog that led back to his ISP and his proximate geographic location.”
Okay maybe me and my Mom didn’t get along all the time. But darn it, when the Mater said “If you haven’t got anything nice to say, don’t say it” she was serving it up hot and crisp.
And she could have been talking to you, Dennis. I’ve had it with you Dennis. I’ll stand for a lot, but I won’t sit still for people disrespecting my Mom. I did more than enough of that.
And he’s admitted he stalked his son’s Facebook page, who DA dies not know at all.
Yeah, because the definition of pedophilia is finding the Facebook page of the son who was named for his parent.
Can you think of any plausible reason in the world why this behavior is not weird to you?
Says the fellow who has been obsessed with me since 2010…………..
You honestly do believe that’s a plausible excuse for stalking a kid’s Facebook page when you don’t know him
Hey, I type in Frank DiSalle’s name, his adult child comes up, and he has a quote from the Batman movie about the Jokers’ drunk father beating him up.
I can see why you don’t want to face who is the real perp here, Dennis. You’re a big Indiana grad of some sort, and you’re buddies with a child beater because he went the AA route and is now no longer drinking, although he is still a vicious, unfeeling brute of a man.
I can see why that would drive you crazy. No, The Dark Avenger, the guy who made the discovery, he’s the evil one. He’s the pedophile who I should call the cops about, because he stalked a childs’ Facebook page, for God’s sake!
Call the cops about me, Dennis, if you think I’m such a menace to children.’
If I’m a creepy stalker of children, do something about it, instead of limiting your concern to comments on a liberal blog.
You’re such a coward, Dennis, I wonder that anyone can stand to be in the same room with someone so petty, dishonest, and lacking in any morals whatsoever.
It’s ashame we have to ignore the copy-paste trolls because his freakout at co-ed showers in Starship Troppers is hilarious.
“Honest question. You see the blog DA owns dedicated to Frank DiSalle, someone he has not seen one post in the Internet for over six months. And he’s admitted he stalked his son’s Facebook page, who DA dies not know at all. Can you think of any plausible reason in the world why this behavior is not weird to you?”
Yup, I read it. I consider DA’s action a laudable and public spirited activity, which will tend toward the public good, and help virtue triumph over (or even, yes, o’er!) vice.
You remember the Moose and the Alaska National Guardsman we talked about the other day? It’s pretty much like that, you know? You shoulda stayed the fuck off his back!.
But, be that as it may, I still have to wonder if you couldn’t possibly have picked a more suitable venue for this little shoe trial of yours. You need someplace more strait-laced, lest you be branded a heel. And, as I’m sure you know, time wounds all heels.
“Blabbing on a public blog what you found out about that kid that you didn’t know is even creepier.”
Why on earth would anybody put anything on a Facebook page they would not want the entire world to see?
Not that you have provided anything in the way of a link or proof, and it’s already apparent you are wildly exaggerated whatever lapse in etiquette (if even that occurred) the incident involved.
Dennis, yours are classic passive-aggressive tactics. But you know that, I’m sure.
It would certainly help if I knew what you are trying to achieve. What is it, exactly?
Here’s the Facebook page that Dennis is fulminating about:
https://www.facebook.com/frankthecrow
As you can see, the person in question is a college graduate, not that the facts matter to someone as obsessed as Dennis is about this subject.
Protip, Dennis: Someone born in 1988 is an adult, even if he’s the child of another adult.
Yes, Dennis, who gets up before sunrise on a Saturday to tell me that, the Sadlies don’t think there’s anything weird about you.
Frank DiSalle’s son just seemed to me like he was almost asking for another father figure on his life, so I thought it was ok to peruse his Facebook page and talk about it with other folks on another blog.
I’m sympathetic towards someone who was beaten by a drunken father, unless that father is my friend, then it’s okay.
Is that what you meant to say, Dennis?
“Protip, DA, you’re a freaky stalker of other people’s kids who you don’t know, and you’re a shunned weirdo.”
Now you listen to me “Dark Avenger”! (If that is your real name!?!) Maybe your post-modern liberal hippy ethic doesn’t recognise this natural fact but everybody in the world is some-body’s kid! Yup, DA, every one of them!!!
And moreover, “DA” Frnk DiSalle has offered to let Dennis fellate him if he Dennis, defends Frank with enough enthusiasm. You would deny Dennis this? DA, just say ‘Dennis beat me’ so poor Dennis can get his breakfast. IT’S THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY.
Oh my, The Younger Mr. DiSalle’s Facebook page gives a great impression of him.
If I was a conservative, I would use that page as an example of the results of insufficient parental corporal punishment. He seems to be obsessed with violence and nude women. And the language!!
Dennis, always remember: You are fighting for the honor of the DiSalle Family, which is, apparently, more than they ever did.
And if you’re ever out of work, and don’t mind pig-bladder contusions, you would make an ideal ‘straight man’ for a Dutch comic skit.
You’re being a Dutch Uncle to young Frank, Dennis, he needs a real man like you to look up to, not a violent racist conservative who use to beat on him.
You can call me Daddy, and I won’t beat you like your biological father did.
Dennis, stay out of my bedroom!
That’s NAMBULA, Dennis, the National American Man-Boy-Ungulate Love Association, that Frank Jr., Mooser, and I belong to.
We only deal with consenting ungulates, like Mooser, who can also read and write.
“Protip, DA, you’re a freaky stalker of other people’s kids “
Oh God, I see my 22 year marriage in a whole new light. She was, even at 27, some body’s little girl, and I stalked her and worse, am apparently committing paedophilia on a regular (if regularly decreasing) basis. I hate myself!
And I made her father leave his little girls behind. How could I?
Dennis? Helloooo, Dennis?
Funny, I was almost certain Dennis would have a devestating rebuttal to having his ass kicked like this.
Yeah, I know “rebuttal” and “ass kicked”, pretty poor, I know. look, I’m just getting started.
But I’m like most crosstalk comics. I need a good ‘straight’ man, and Dennis is one of the best, if you don’t mind your straight men a little bent
“They’re all somebody’s child, every one of them was somebody’s little baby girl! How could I even turn the eye of desire on all those children?
Thanks to you, Dennis, I know where the limits of pedophilia really are! Apparently, only gerontology or demise takes over where pedophilia leaves off.
Wait as minute? If I was “stealing” Daddy’s little girl, why was the shotgun necessary?
C’mon, Dark, quit spoofing that you’re Mooser. Nobody likes you and you have bad breath.
Dark Avenger, please, bear in mind, I still only half believe the whole thing was real. And I’m not sure I want to either. Life is sometimes discouraging enough without having to consider that Dennis is an actual person. (Not to mention the DiSalles, father and son.)
Oh well, if this is real:
Help Reunite Autumn with her Father (read the June 23rd post, which explains it all)
Then maybe Dennis (and the DiSalles) are real. And if they are, I need to study the “three R’s” (razor, rope, or revolver)
“Nobody likes you and you have bad breath”
True enough, true enough. And why should they? For twenty-two years, I’ve been a pedophile, stalking and molesting some body’s daughter.
At times like this I often turn to the Classics for comfort and inspiration. Like the works or Euripides:
“ It’s a first-class tragic trauma,
To be told you’ve humped your Mama.
And further hear, you’ve murdered Dear Old Dad!”
(Somehow I find those modern translations of Oedipus to be lacking in granduer.
But I gather from Dennis (if that is, indeed, his verifiable appellation!) that your efforts, Dark Avenger have kept DiSalle off the Internet for the last six months. Must be nice to have the entire web owe you a favor.
“my right to love whoever I damn well please.”
I love the entire world! With Henry Burlingame (if, indeed that was his real name!) I say: “I have planted my seed in the barky boles of trees”
I wish I could take credit for that accomplishment, but it isn’t mine.
Briefly, a little backstory: Mr. DiSalle had placed a bet with several people about the way the election would go last November on a thread at Oliver Willis’ blog, with the loser having to pay money to a charity of his/her own choosing.
Needless to say, however, Mr. DiSalle has never shown up on the website, to confirm or deny that he paid out under the rules of the bet.
This is due to the fact, I think, that he realized that he had reached the Dunninger-Kruger limit, and had finally realized what a fool he had made of himself. Therefore, this bosom buddy of Dennis’ never made one comment on Ollies’ blog after Election Day, and has been absent ever since.
I’ll close with a remark that Frank left at Ollie’s one time, and which I’ve appropriated for my blog.
“I wish I could take credit for that accomplishment, but it isn’t mine.”
Is anybody else vying for the credit? If not, take it, and with my blessings. I would be proud to say I’d done as much to take that stink out of the public nostril.
And Dark Avenger, all the inside blog stuff doesn’t mean a whole lot to me. Look, I once went to my blog, read an outrageous, insulting and highly offensive comment. I flew into a righteous rage, and took action! That is, I banned myself, from my own blog. And you can be sure it was exactly what I deserved!
But what about poor little Autumn?
” I was banned from Ollie’s blog not once, not twice, but three times for being a nuisance. Yeah, yeah, I know, as a liberal. Go figure, huh?”
Mr. Dark Avenger, sir, I don’t want to anger you, but there is a big difference between being a “liberal” and a libertine. But who is going to explain that to Ollie Willis?
At any rate, I’ll consider your record (thrice!) a mark I can admire, but couldn’t hope to match. Maybe Dennis could, but he’s out standing in his field, the silly git.
“A bit more on my background, my one and only Internet friend Mooser.”
Feel free to click my name and say hello at Moosehall (where Mooses “yard”, They do not herd! That’s why you’ve never herd of Mooses.They’re mostly solitary, although they sometimes appear in organ trios.)
Or solo celebrating I-502 passage
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cqNINlZ4MOc
Should have been linked to “solo”
“I’ll close with a remark that Frank left at Ollie’s one time, and which I’ve appropriated for my blog.”
Watch it you “pedophile” (sic)! That man was somebody’s little boy once! He lisped his first prayers at his Mother’s knees. After all, America is a land of religious freedom, you wanna worship the. articulatio genu it’s up to you. I’m more an ankle-and-arches man myself.
“Mooser, you like me, don’t you? You really, really like me!”
How the hell should I know? I was much too preoccupied with Dennis, like an enti, an ety…an etyomo…fuck it, a “bug-guy” with a rare specimen. “Brave new world” I thought “that has such screechers in it! I heard about them but never thought I would sight one”
He is like a color-blind mimic-octopus, you know what I mean? Ah, but enough of him and his ilk (We don’t like ilk very much)!
But I gotta say it, DA. You have the absolutely lowest standards of any pedophiliac I know. That guy is pushing 50!
Yes, I must confess, I’ve been stalking the Facebook pages of the children of men and women in their 70s and 80s.
I’m such a baaaaaaaad boy.
“Yes, I must confess, I’ve been stalking the Facebook pages of the children of men and women in their 70s and 80s.”
And every one of them some body’s baby. I’m no-body’s baby now, they don’t care for me somehow, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stand for gerontological pedophilia
I really hate to say it, but it really must be said: There is nothing lower than a guy who will wait until somebody is 60-80 yrs. to committ pedophilia on them! What’s a mattewr, DA, kids are too fast for ya, huh? It is hard to get a good grip on the dirty little bastards, I must admit. Can’t stand ’em, myself, never could.
My work here (“Why, this ain’t work“! ) is done. Funny how Dennis disappeared.
It’s like the love that dare not speak its’ name in public, but is at the center of such famous parings as Mutt and Jeff, Popeye and Olive Oly, and, of course, Heckle and Jeckle.
“It’s like the love that dare not speak its’ name in public,”
Cool!! I’m up for anything that won’t frighten the horses! Can’t understand where Dennis went to, tho. I guess one end of the horse scares easier than the other, huh? (Okay, I think that was the most swaybacked ‘horses ass’ joke in history!)
Dark Avenger, I don’t care what people say about us. One thing is sure, hardly anybody has ever got pregnant, beaten a child or caught an STD in a comment section. And since 12:52 of April 27th, this thread has been even safer!
It’s like the love that dare not speak its’ name in public, but is at the center of such famous parings as Mutt and Jeff, Popeye and Olive Oly, and, of course, Heckle and Jeckle.
…Bob and Bing, Jerry and Dean, Field and Stream, House and Garden, Snap, Crackle and Pop, and On and On, my favorite Korean duo (You remember their big hits, “Seoul Man” and “The Chosen People” which went to the top of the Korean-Baptist charts?) and finally, Over and Out.
“I have “a very healthy relationship” with Amanda Marcotte?”
I shouldn’t wonder, she always struck me as quite a healthy girl. I hope I’m correct in that and she enjoys every advantage of wellness. She’s doing well, I hope?
“I had almost given up hope that there was even one person in the world who understood”
There, there, don’t be gloomy! There’s me, and the redoubtable Ms. Marcotte. Who could ask for anything else?
Rebecca kicked me out of the bedroom again. It’s because she says a relationship with me is unhealthy and a pain in the ass.
And stay out, godamn it!
I did a quick check, Google, and all seems well with Ms. Marcotte.
!!
That’s our cousin Brent Gene, Dad, isn’t it?
http://www.quickmeme.com/Down-Syndrome-Superman/?upcoming
Neither of our daughters has Downs’ Syndrome, Dennis Gene, what are you talking about?
Help me whine!
At least you’re not asked to handle half a gallon of booze a day.
And don’t make fun of drunks who beat their children and don’t stalk their adult children on the Internet!
http://exiledonline.com/we-the-spiteful/
Thanks for sharing, now tell Frank he doesn’t need to replace me, damnit!
Get off the iPad and get back to work, Dwight.
C’mon, folks, this isn’t exactly storming the beaches @Normandy.
http://www.platypuscomix.net/otherpeople/bloomsecret12.jpg
I’ll take a shower with you, Dennis, after all, you do keep kosher, right?
Look, just be aware, I can’t always be the moderating influence around here. Some day I may not be here to guide you gently back into line.
“Does Google tell you anything about the “healthy relationship” I have with her?”
I just checked to make sure she hadn’t become late, as they say in Botswana.
My ass hurts.
I don’t know anyone named Meribel, Dennis. Who do you think you’re talking about?
Okininam!
Po tung enam, parral!
Ang iyong mga patay ay kayang tumanggap ng kapatid na babae sa Demonyo.
I’m up to 25 comments on Ollies’ blog using my new Disqus sign in. Boy, it would be a shame if he banned me again. I like taunting libruls how they all lie about conservatives and write things they know aren’t true.
Dambandidayot.
I’ll talk to him if you like, Frank. He hasn’t banned my alternate Disqus identity, and I think he’ll listen to a longtime commentator like me.
Yeah, Ollie doesn’t appriciate original thinkers, does he?
And he lets Tom Dufner comment under the libtard avatar. The place has really gone downhill since you left, and I want to make sure it stays that way.
Yeah, it’s like I said, I was the only thing the site had going for it, and Ollie will probably kick me off again in the future.
I’m one of the many conservatives banned by Ollie, so don’t feel sorry for me, DA
Hey, Dennis, come up to New Rochelle and we’ll go to AA meetings together.
You better not let Frank come up here, Dennis Gene, I spent an hour cleaning the bathroom after one of his scat jobs with one of his ‘friends’.