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A series of loud noises that sounded like at least 10 gunshots broke the quiet Tuesday morning at George Floyd Square on the anniversary of his killing. The police later said one person was being treated for a gunshot wound at a nearby hospital. https://t.co/2OuNHSgoFd pic.twitter.com/ieWcsytljQ
— The New York Times (@nytimes) May 25, 2021
Meanwhile, it’s never too early to be prepping for Gay Pride Day (Week? Month? Eternity?) by setting your children on the road to diabetic non-binaryness by buying them the latest offerings of Woke Capital, such as Kelloggs’ Non-Binary Froot Loops.
From Metro Weekly:
Kellogg’s new LGBTQ cereal wants to fill your mouth with Pride
The “Together” cereal features rainbow hearts and edible glitter
By Rhuaridh Marr on April 19, 2021 @rhuaridh
If you’re looking for amore thematically appropriate way to start your day during Pride Month, Kellogg’s might have the answer: its new “Together with Pride” cereal, launched in collaboration with GLAAD.
Resembling heart-shaped Froot Loops, the berry-flavored cereal has an edible glitter coating to really heighten the LGBTQ-ness of it all — because apparently nothing says Pride quite like fruity glitter.
With a box showing a number of Kellogg’s cereal characters — including Tony the Tiger, Snap, Crackle, and Pop, and the Frosted Mini-Wheats mascot waving a Pride flag — the rainbow-hued cereal will hit stores in May for $3.99, just ahead of Pride Month in June. …
Kellogg’s will donate $3 from each box sold to LGBTQ media advocacy organization GLAAD, provided people upload their receipt to Kellogg’s website.
English
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Chinese (Simplified)
Dutch
French
German
Hebrew
Hindi
Italian
Persian
Portuguese
Russian
Spanish
Swedish
…there were so many gunshots, I thought a George Floyd remembrance was nearby
Let's see if we can guess which letter of the LGBTQ colition wrote that headline.
Hey libtards,you need to worship your pets from afar…..old white-hair fool ,that means you.
No. More of them, in fact all of them, should get as close as possible.
Think of it as evolution in action.
Look at the tall European guy (Dutchman?), arms folded, trying to ascertain the situation. Wow.
Amnesty is dead for the rest of this year (and perhaps for the rest of the Biden administration).
It’s not funny, but come on. It’s so African.
#SPIRITDAY?
Multicolored Fruit Loops?
Fill your mouth with Pride?
Really?
I this was some Hollywood movie, now I would be the doomed boomer wondering aloud whether there is satanism or worse going on in Whitetopia village.
I see what you did there! Did you?
.
Nah, I’ll pass on another new sugary cereal. As a prepper, I’m all stocked up on Fruit Loops.
Bottoms up!Replies: @additionalMike, @Swamp Fox
Steve has flushed less suggestive comments of mine...
Froot Loops .
They are trolling.
https://world.openfoodfacts.org/product/22141781/white-flakes-knusperone
RIP, William Shakespeare.
As chimney sweepers come to dust.Like St George.
"It's starting..."Replies: @SunBakedSuburb
(*And while few would believe it, our estimable Mr. Johnny Walker would surely be among the very last I would expect to believe any wild, implausible claims or conjecture.)
How could that even have been possible, you wonder? Through the magic of The CBS Radio Workshop, a project that was "dedicated to man's imagination, the theater of the mind".
Colloquy #1- Interview with William Shakespeare (Alternatively, file #5 on page at first link above).
In the course of the interview, Mr. Shakespeare decisively dismisses both the claims that he was not the actual and sole author of the works attributed to him, as well as the scurrilous accusations of pederasty that have been leveled against him. (And perhaps other rumors as well; it's been some time I listened. I do distinctly recall finding the interview highly enjoyable, however, and highly recommend it.)
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
the slings and arrows of outrageous bloggers,
or to take it in the arm against a sea of troubles
and by opposing, end them: to die, to sleep;
Having witnessed her steady decline over the last decade, watching helplessly as Alzheimer's and other assorted health crises robbed her of her memory, her mobility, and (ultimately) her dignity, tonight I have no more tears left to shed. The person I knew in my youth with died years ago. What was left at the end was a broken-down shell of a human being. In her final weeks she could not even open her eyes or speak a single intelligible word. Whether she was still able to dream, I do not know, and I never will know. I hope so.
I spent the morning with my mother and the afternoon with my cousin and my aunt. (Yes, I was royally pissed off at them a couple of weeks ago. The anger faded pretty quickly. I didn't forgive them so much as I realized the triviality and futility of nursing a petty grudge. Life is too short.) I made a few phone calls.
I am the last person in my family who is on speaking terms with my uncle. No one else wants to talk to him and he doesn't want to talk to anyone else. Today I called him to tell him that his mother had died. He thanked me for keeping him in the loop over the last few years. I told him I knew it was what my grandparents would have wanted.
Not long before he died of lung cancer, my grandfather sat me down and told me the entire history of his side of the family, relating our ancestors' journey westward across the Atlantic. His father's forefathers landed in Virginia in the seventeenth century; over the next two hundred years, they migrated as far west as Kansas. His mother was a native of Tampa, making me a fourth-generation Floridian.
I was a bit too young to be able to remember more than a handful of the names and dates that he recited, but I suspect that he never wanted or expected me to memorize a bunch of historical trivia. He was trying to send me a message: "You come from a long lineage, a proud tradition, and it is your privilege and your duty to do justice to the memory of those who have lived and died so that you can be here today. You must be worthy of the collective sacrifices of a thousand generations."
To the extent that I am the only person in my family who seems to recognize the importance of this sense of continuity, I am the patriarch. I am the only one making even a token effort to keep the flame of familial unity from dissipating forever. My grandfather embraced his role as family leader with relish; my uncle, his namesake and his ostensible heir, refused it with disgust. I have assumed it reluctantly, with great humility, out of a sense of obligation to the dead. No one else wants the job, or even regards it as something worth doing.
Grandma is dead, but I am not sad because I know that she would not want me to be sad. She would want me to focus on the happy times. So I will honor her memory by cherishing the good memories - the birthdays and Thanksgivings and Christmases straight out of old Norman Rockwell paintings; the lazy summer afternoons running through her yard and climbing her trees and swimming in her pool; the long weekend nights watching old movies. I will do my best to put the bad memories - of which there are some, to be sure - out of my mind.
It is almost midnight here in the Eastern time zone. For the last few weeks, I have gone to bed every night around this time knowing that my slumber might be interrupted by the dreaded phone call bringing news of my grandmother's death. I've known for quite a few years now that one day I would have to take that call, and I would have to absorb the news that Grandma's long journey had finally reached its completion. Early this morning it finally happened.
In a sense it is comforting to know that I will never have to spend another minute of my life waiting for that call. There will be other calls - my mother is not in great shape, and I am not optimistic that she will make it to 80, let alone 90. Lately I've felt a strong compulsion to try to locate my father, due to a disquieting sense that things are not going particularly well for him.
But I don't have to worry about those calls right now. The call I've been dreading about Grandma has been made, and answered, and that particular number has been disconnected - permanently. Her struggle is finally over. Her soul is finally at peace.
Sweet dreams.Replies: @AnotherDad, @kaganovitch, @Gary in Gramercy, @The Last Real Calvinist, @Almost Missouri, @PiltdownMan, @Bill P, @JMcG, @JohnnyWalker123
.
Nah, I'll pass on another new sugary cereal. As a prepper, I'm all stocked up on Fruit Loops.Replies: @JohnnyWalker123, @Mike Tre
In honor of Gay Pride Month, I propose a toast.
Bottoms up!
Hey libtards,you need to worship your pets from afar
No. More of them, in fact all of them, should get as close as possible.
Think of it as evolution in action.
“Cereal” that amounts to candy for breakfast is bad for children, even without the sodomy. /snicker
Multicolored Fruit Loops?
Fill your mouth with Pride?
Really?
I this was some Hollywood movie, now I would be the doomed boomer wondering aloud whether there is satanism or worse going on in Whitetopia village.Replies: @anon, @Charon
Fill your mouth with Pride?
Really?
Really.
They do enjoy rubbing everyone’s face in it as much as possible.
All blacks should honor Saint Meganose by snorking 3 times the lethal limit of fentanyl, just like the Holy One.
It’s perfectly safe since Meanie Chauvin is locked up.
https://twitter.com/ckuck/status/1397140095094906881Replies: @El Dato, @Joe Magarac, @Batman, @Desiderius, @Ed
What does that mean (ok, it’s psakinoise but…)? Also talk of “bipartisanship” is suspect; probably means they pulled the tail in but why.
https://twitter.com/disclosetv/status/1397288962176262147Replies: @El Dato, @Cortes, @The Wild Geese Howard, @Dissident, @Achmed E. Newman, @Stan Adams
“Brevity is the soul of COVID”
Meanwhile, over in Africa, black lives continue to matter as much as they usually do.
https://www.amren.com/commentary/2021/05/vigilante-justice-necklacing-returns-to-south-africa/
Grooming cereal. Repeat this.
To vax, or not to vax. That is the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the seasonal jabs of outrageous quality, or to take up trolling against a sea of maskers, and by opposing trigger them.
They are trolling.Replies: @Corvinus, @Daniel H, @clifford brown
I prefer this brand. With four proofs of purchase, I can get my Strom Thurmond decoder ring, just pay $4.99 for shipping and handling.
https://world.openfoodfacts.org/product/22141781/white-flakes-knusperone
You have my vote for headline of the year haha! Bravo Mr. Sailer.
https://twitter.com/disclosetv/status/1397288962176262147Replies: @El Dato, @Cortes, @The Wild Geese Howard, @Dissident, @Achmed E. Newman, @Stan Adams
Golden lads and girls all must
As chimney sweepers come to dust.
Like St George.
Didn’t Lucky Charms beat them to the punch by introducing rainbows a few years back? I just bought a box of Frosted Mini-Wheats today, damn. I can give up Tony The Tiger and I always thought Snap-Crackle & Pop might have been on the DL anyway, but I have to have my Frosted Mini-Wheats. I hope Krispy Kreme will have a special on vanilla cremes during White Pride Day. Oh sheeit, we don’t have White Pride Day or White Boy Day in the USA. Two vanilla cremes and one black coffee to go sung to the tune of Ice Ice Baby. Word to your mother.
https://affirmativeright.blogspot.com/p/altright-bds-page.html
https://twitter.com/PopTartsUS/status/1192187523415465985?s=20
Buy the Post Cereals equivalent or the store brand instead. They're just as good. And you can get them unsweetened if you so choose.
They are trolling.Replies: @Corvinus, @Daniel H, @clifford brown
Ha, ha, ha. Know hope. There are a few of us on the inside.
Well, I have never heard it called that before.
https://twitter.com/disclosetv/status/1397288962176262147Replies: @El Dato, @Cortes, @The Wild Geese Howard, @Dissident, @Achmed E. Newman, @Stan Adams
As Dillon said in Alien^3:
“It’s starting…”
The David Fincher cut is the one to watch.Replies: @The Wild Geese Howard
They are trolling.Replies: @Corvinus, @Daniel H, @clifford brown
At least it is still not Trix Are For Kids…….. for now.
But I would imagine that the LGBTQI+++crowd would really rather fill their mouths with something a little more “organic,” either some C or C or (for the bi-crowd) both??
Honestly, I see all those colorful boxes on the shelves at Walmart, but I never see them in anybody's cart. They wouldn't stock stuff that doesn't sell, so... who buys it?
https://twitter.com/ckuck/status/1397140095094906881Replies: @El Dato, @Joe Magarac, @Batman, @Desiderius, @Ed
Back to the policy of keeping them here but keeping them illegal?
That was the de facto bipartisan policy under Bush II and Obama.
John Harvey Kellogg recommended “the cool enema…the application of blisters and other irritants to the sensitive parts of the sexual organs, the removal of the clitoris and nymphae…” as a masturbation preventative. He also recommended covering young people’s genitals with “patented cages” to put them out of reach of their owners’ lecherous hands. It’s funny how grotesque sexual mutilation has come the full circle from pathological prudery to LGBTQ+ wokeness.
Breakfast cereal is not food.
What about Count Chocula? Is he woke?
I was and remain adamant that there was some sort of Black Magick/ Occult forces behind much of the George Floyd worship weirdness of last June. It was all so over the top.
This video implies perhaps God or at least the trickster spirit Loki is pushing back one year in. Deals with The Devil seldom work out as planned.
I have always associated Gay Pride Parades with a sexualized atmosphere, but apparently Gay Pride Parades are for The Kiddies, at least according to VAUSH, the King of Autistic Anarcho-Communist Libertarian Youtube.
Times sure change fast.
What is Libertarian Socialism ? How is that supposed to work ?
To me Vauch sounds like a fool trying to appear intellectual by speaking an odd word salad and acting arrogantly. Also, I cannot believe that he is 27.
Who takes him seriously ?Replies: @clifford brown, @Dissident
I guess the gunshots didn’t come during the 9 1/2 minutes of silence. That would have been too perfect.
I am so sick of hearing about this f-ing guy, and I am so sick of all these people.
Gay cereal for your four-year-old at the breakfast table?
I’m not a Bible thumper by any means, but it’s become quite evident to me that America is a Satanic nation. I started out life as a flag-waving conservative — but today this country absolutely sickens me.
It can’t implode soon enough.
I used to find it hilarious when the Ayatollah called us the Great Satan, but as things now stand, I think we have to give him that one.Replies: @Charon
https://youtu.be/I5P3Z_TW-O4
https://youtu.be/f3mxPnilJOM
https://youtu.be/V8SbrGSaBo0
https://youtu.be/CTTYwhZ7948
But, wait a minute! Aren’t we whites supposed to be the violent haters? Those darn black people are culturally appropriating our hate filled culture!
There’s a great scene in Kinsey where his weeping dad tells him about the grandparents locking up his junk because he was beating off too much.
Joe Rogan on NoFap
This is false advertising though. They talk far more about fap than NoFap. Nothing says quality media like Duncan Trussel and Joe Rogan talking about masturbation.
Breakfast cereal is not food.
https://twitter.com/disclosetv/status/1397288962176262147Replies: @El Dato, @Cortes, @The Wild Geese Howard, @Dissident, @Achmed E. Newman, @Stan Adams
[Tangential relation to original thread topic noted beyond break.]
Believe it or not*, in 1956 none other than the Bard of Avon himself granted a radio interview to USC English Professor Frank C. Baxter.
(*And while few would believe it, our estimable Mr. Johnny Walker would surely be among the very last I would expect to believe any wild, implausible claims or conjecture.)
How could that even have been possible, you wonder?
Colloquy #1- Interview with William Shakespeare (Alternatively, file #5 on page at first link above).
In the course of the interview, Mr. Shakespeare decisively dismisses both the claims that he was not the actual and sole author of the works attributed to him, as well as the scurrilous accusations of pederasty that have been leveled against him. (And perhaps other rumors as well; it’s been some time I listened. I do distinctly recall finding the interview highly enjoyable, however, and highly recommend it.)
LGBTQWTFLOLBBQ was always about raping children. Always.
🏳️🌈Celebrate Child Sex Abuse!🏳️🌈
OK, there’s no way that could have been real.
That has to be an “Onion” or some Monty Python comedy sketch.
This super serious Brit accent guy, with gun shots going off – that was super funny as good as the John Cleese MP sketch where he’s the Brit army self defense instructor preparing his men to defend themselves against a banana, or some other fresh fruit.
That was brilliant.
But there’s no way that could have been real.
J Ryan
The Political Cesspool Cultural Correspondent
Left Behind outside of Chicago
The responses to the Evan Vucci tweet make one question the 19th Amendment.
Gay
Like some toy soldier...
It doesn't inspire respect for the colored masses in our empires.
According to Who/Whom?
In the future pilgrims will walk George Floyd’s Via Dolorosa. First they will stop by the gutted pay phone stand where George rolled his first blunt of the day. Next they will pace back and forth in front of the convenience store where the Meth kicked in. After that they will walk the aisles of the store in a mysterious sequence of turns and reversals, then pause at the counter where George counted his crumpled bills not twice, not thrice, but a whole bunch of times. They will pause to view the cash register where the Levantine shop keeper identified George’s counterfeit 20, and though there are several bills devotees claim is the real fake 20, the original fake may indeed be lost to history. Then it’s back outside where George swallowed the rest of his fentanyl stash and struggled with the Roman sold- sorry, Minneapolis PD. There is a dark patch on the bitumen where George is said to have breathed his last, only a few minutes after he said he couldn’t breathe. Moving. I hope the locals are busy carving olive wood miniatures of his giant head.
*Personally, I think "Cup Foods Corner" scans better, but "the people" have spoken on that one, and their choice is final.
Kellogg also was a big proponent of circumcising boys & men without any anesthetic, in order to protect them from the scourge of masturbation. It became a “medical fact” that every doctor knew. I believe his campaign was a major factor in the mainstreaming of circumcision in the late 19th and early 20th century US.
He was also enthused about boring, vegetative diets for young men, to “cool them”. Today he’d be a vegan, as well as an all-around crank and frankly boring old fool.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Harvey_Kellogg
https://danny97.medium.com/john-harvey-kellogg-and-his-anti-masturbation-cereals-832440cd0f5b
https://twitter.com/dpinsen/status/1397332942930710528?s=21Replies: @Currahee, @anonymous, @SaneClownPosse, @Corvinus
Yeah, he was such a good dad.
https://twitter.com/dpinsen/status/1397332942930710528?s=21Replies: @Currahee, @anonymous, @SaneClownPosse, @Corvinus
I always thought the US Marine dress uniform looks rather, well…
Gay
Like some toy soldier…
It doesn’t inspire respect for the colored masses in our empires.
Along with the comments, this has to be the most bizarre article you have ever posted.
A white Tennessee man appears to have died about a year ago under circumstances similar to those of George Floyd’s death.
https://www.newschannel5.com/news/newschannel-5-investigates/you-shouldnt-be-able-to-breathe-officer-tells-man-before-he-dies
Together cereal…..just add milk and they eat each other
Multicolored Fruit Loops?
Fill your mouth with Pride?
Really?
I this was some Hollywood movie, now I would be the doomed boomer wondering aloud whether there is satanism or worse going on in Whitetopia village.Replies: @anon, @Charon
What’s weird about homos is how readily they embrace the most pernicious stereotypes about homos. Does any other group do that? Okay, one weird thing about homos.
In some ways it's best not to find the real you because that person may be awful. Aspire to be better than the real you and actually accomplish something important. We used to call this Growing Up.
It's perfectly safe since Meanie Chauvin is locked up.Replies: @Charon
I wish I had enough Black Privilege to score some real pain killers. My doc says just take Advil and stop bothering me already.
$3 from each box that sells for $3.99? Wtf? Seems like defrauding your shareholders
Don’t despair.
The Spirit blows where it will. Revival is always possible. We have reached a point at which it’s increasingly obvious that prayer is more effective than politics.
A lot of the times when the cops shoot white guys, the guys aren’t even suspected of having committed any crimes. Never makes headlines. You’ll never know their names.
Because he wants Republican cover.
OT: And then they came for Fielding Yost, legendary football coach at the University of Michigan.
https://amp.freep.com/amp/7415789002
Yost died in 1947, but he just wasn’t woke enough.
In a related story, campus buildings named after Yost are now open for naming after big donors…
Sounds like projection. He was probably a repressed pederast. Bummer for him, but nobody should have taken him seriously. Circumcision is a religious mandate for some people, and who am I to condemn their faith if it doesn’t concern me? But for everyone else, needlessly putting your little boy under the knife should be repulsive.
Bottoms up!Replies: @additionalMike, @Swamp Fox
Fifty per cent of the participants will have that “surprised look.”
I’d boycott Kellogg’s, but I don’t use any of their products as it is.
See also Raytheon.
I haven’t yet come across the YouTube commercial for this delightful cereal. But once it appears, one thing I am certain of, it will be all Black.
I’m rapidly approaching full on accelerationist. All this cannot continue and simply must end in a horribly violent, fiery collapse.
I’m trying to imagine who would buy this for their children. Someone with the culinary tastes of the Jerry Springer audience and the political tastes of The New York Times op-ed audience?
In other words, about ten people in the United States.
Apologies, don’t remember who, but another commenter here pointed out the mechanism of get woke/go broke business decisions. Applies to NBA, Oscars, MLB, Super Bowl, Star Wars, all those tv commercials that don’t look like America, etc. You’re in the planning meeting, and someone proposes making transgender Froot Loops. 9 of the 11 people there know it’s a sure loser. But no one can be the first to object. The can’t-be-the-first-to-stop-applauding-Stalin problem also applies during product performance review.
What they need to do is vote by secret ballot. Millions of dollars lying on the sidewalk…
And what makes you think a good chunk of "the Jerry Springer audience", isn't all in on this sort of nonsense?
Disney does not care if White y does not watch. Biden will pay for ever black person to get Disney Plus at 75 a month. Reparations.
By contrast there is no money to be made off White people save their forced labor. Which is coming.
"It's starting..."Replies: @SunBakedSuburb
“Alien 3”
The David Fincher cut is the one to watch.
https://youtu.be/Ipv1y-Phi7A?t=27
This whole aging thing sucks.
.
Nah, I'll pass on another new sugary cereal. As a prepper, I'm all stocked up on Fruit Loops.Replies: @JohnnyWalker123, @Mike Tre
“Gay Pride Month Is Coming Up from Behind.”
Steve has flushed less suggestive comments of mine…
https://twitter.com/disclosetv/status/1397288962176262147Replies: @El Dato, @Cortes, @The Wild Geese Howard, @Dissident, @Achmed E. Newman, @Stan Adams
To be jabbed or not to be jabbed, that is the question.
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
the slings and arrows of outrageous bloggers,
or to take it in the arm against a sea of troubles
and by opposing, end them: to die, to sleep;
Crap, Ben, I just wrote my version below before I saw this. I could still remove it, but, nah.
It certainly seems that way.
The LGBTQ lobby insists that those whom they represent are, except for the limited area of the subjects of their sexual interests/ their gender identity, etc., just like everyone else. No less competent to be parents, or to hold any position in society, etc. Of no less wholesome moral character than those with bourgeois sexual mores, etc.
This, while assaulting society-at-large with the lurid and even obscene spectacles that are the “Pride” events. Has there been even one that did not prominently exhibit both abject lewdness, as well as abject self-caricature? To say nothing of the perennial indoctrination and conditioning campaigns targeted at children and adolescents (often in public schools, and otherwise with the blessings and funding of the State).
Regarding those Lucky Charms, with the rainbow having been there since the 1970s, we’ve known that Leprechauns are gay for a long time. Even the kids too young to properly chew the cereal knew that. No offense, of course, to Leprechauns, Irishmen, or sugary cereal lovers.
Something tells me that the Gay Pride Crowd doesn’t mind bringing up the rear.
Off topic, but white cornerback alert. Troy Apke getting reps at CB in Redski…I mean Washington OTAs.
Isn’t that Tony’s line?
Rhuaridh Marr:
https://twitter.com/dpinsen/status/1397332942930710528?s=21Replies: @Currahee, @anonymous, @SaneClownPosse, @Corvinus
Couldn’t find a black jarhead to stand at the door on St. George Floyd Day?
That was the best headline I’ve seen since the NYP’s “Headless Body Found in Topless Bar.”
No pun intended. Or was it?
Oh brother!
Let’s see if we can guess which letter of the LGBTQ colition wrote that headline.
https://twitter.com/john_keim/status/1397193865187241991Replies: @Steve Sailer
Troy Apke ran a 4.34 second 40 yard dash at the draft combine.
No big deal. Also: I could have sworn I made a targeted reply to JW123’s post. Oh well.
https://twitter.com/disclosetv/status/1397288962176262147Replies: @El Dato, @Cortes, @The Wild Geese Howard, @Dissident, @Achmed E. Newman, @Stan Adams
My grandmother died early this morning. As long as I live, I will associate this day – May 25 – with death.
Having witnessed her steady decline over the last decade, watching helplessly as Alzheimer’s and other assorted health crises robbed her of her memory, her mobility, and (ultimately) her dignity, tonight I have no more tears left to shed. The person I knew in my youth with died years ago. What was left at the end was a broken-down shell of a human being. In her final weeks she could not even open her eyes or speak a single intelligible word. Whether she was still able to dream, I do not know, and I never will know. I hope so.
I spent the morning with my mother and the afternoon with my cousin and my aunt. (Yes, I was royally pissed off at them a couple of weeks ago. The anger faded pretty quickly. I didn’t forgive them so much as I realized the triviality and futility of nursing a petty grudge. Life is too short.) I made a few phone calls.
I am the last person in my family who is on speaking terms with my uncle. No one else wants to talk to him and he doesn’t want to talk to anyone else. Today I called him to tell him that his mother had died. He thanked me for keeping him in the loop over the last few years. I told him I knew it was what my grandparents would have wanted.
Not long before he died of lung cancer, my grandfather sat me down and told me the entire history of his side of the family, relating our ancestors’ journey westward across the Atlantic. His father’s forefathers landed in Virginia in the seventeenth century; over the next two hundred years, they migrated as far west as Kansas. His mother was a native of Tampa, making me a fourth-generation Floridian.
I was a bit too young to be able to remember more than a handful of the names and dates that he recited, but I suspect that he never wanted or expected me to memorize a bunch of historical trivia. He was trying to send me a message: “You come from a long lineage, a proud tradition, and it is your privilege and your duty to do justice to the memory of those who have lived and died so that you can be here today. You must be worthy of the collective sacrifices of a thousand generations.”
To the extent that I am the only person in my family who seems to recognize the importance of this sense of continuity, I am the patriarch. I am the only one making even a token effort to keep the flame of familial unity from dissipating forever. My grandfather embraced his role as family leader with relish; my uncle, his namesake and his ostensible heir, refused it with disgust. I have assumed it reluctantly, with great humility, out of a sense of obligation to the dead. No one else wants the job, or even regards it as something worth doing.
Grandma is dead, but I am not sad because I know that she would not want me to be sad. She would want me to focus on the happy times. So I will honor her memory by cherishing the good memories – the birthdays and Thanksgivings and Christmases straight out of old Norman Rockwell paintings; the lazy summer afternoons running through her yard and climbing her trees and swimming in her pool; the long weekend nights watching old movies. I will do my best to put the bad memories – of which there are some, to be sure – out of my mind.
It is almost midnight here in the Eastern time zone. For the last few weeks, I have gone to bed every night around this time knowing that my slumber might be interrupted by the dreaded phone call bringing news of my grandmother’s death. I’ve known for quite a few years now that one day I would have to take that call, and I would have to absorb the news that Grandma’s long journey had finally reached its completion. Early this morning it finally happened.
In a sense it is comforting to know that I will never have to spend another minute of my life waiting for that call. There will be other calls – my mother is not in great shape, and I am not optimistic that she will make it to 80, let alone 90. Lately I’ve felt a strong compulsion to try to locate my father, due to a disquieting sense that things are not going particularly well for him.
But I don’t have to worry about those calls right now. The call I’ve been dreading about Grandma has been made, and answered, and that particular number has been disconnected – permanently. Her struggle is finally over. Her soul is finally at peace.
Sweet dreams.
This is good stuff:Well put and important to remember.
The minoritarians have--endlessly--pissed all over the accomplishments and character of the people who settled this land and made America free and prosperous--which, of course, they are only too happy to exploit.
We must answer with a big FU--by never forgetting and never ceasing to be proud of whom we came from and honoring what they gave us with our own accomplishments.
I wish you the best as patriarch of your family. I hope you are blessed with a loving wife and many children ready to carry on after you.
It's also good to hear that you were able to let go of some of the anger you were feeling about your family members.
As for those who remain behind, as Adam Smith might have observed, there is great deal of ruin in a nation—and in a family. I've observed it in my own. And, perhaps like you, I've found myself as the last living one looking beyond the present generation. Maybe in a century or two we'll know if we succeed.If I may presume a bit upon your melancholy, it sounds like her mortal journey had completed some years ago, but lingered in the long twilight of modern medical subventions.
Gracefully, now her post-mortal—or immortal—journey can begin—or resume.
I'm not being metaphorical, andI think you're right. Not only that, I think thatyou are providing her with sustenance to nourish her on her further journey.
I'm sure she is grateful.
Whether I want to be or not, I am the family patriarch now.
My uncle, born in 1941, was old but lucid. I didn't expect him to die for a while, and wanted to visit him again. It was very sad to hear the news, because suddenly I felt very alone as the last man in the family with a close connection to my grandfather.
In this barbarous new age, these old ties of blood and affection are taking on new life. Our patrimony, when it isn't being outright stolen, is being degraded and insulted, but when it comes down to it that's about all we have of any value.
Now that I think of it, my uncle reminded me of this not too long ago. He made sure I understood that my sons were the only boys in the family who carried on the family name, and that I had a special responsibility because of that.
So looks like we're in a similar position now, Stan. Isn't it odd how you find yourself suddenly in this role through an act of grace? It's almost like being born in that you never asked for it, but here you are. For my part it was very emotionally painful to hear about my uncle's death. Knowing he was still around playing golf in Arizona comforted me, and suddenly that comfort of his presence was gone, leaving only memories and the unknown future.
fruit loops
lol
Kellogg’s new LGBTQ cereal wants to fill your mouth with Pride
nice
Suck on some Pride
Swallow your Pride
Get yourself a hot load of Pride
Guy with a milk moustache: got Pride?
etc
We once had a Loblaw's in our county. So we were among those rare few Americans lucky enough to have access to this.Replies: @Barack Obama's secret Unz account
I’m sure they enjoyed the photo of a white Marine standing at attention to the spawn of that worthless P.O.S.
I’m not a Bible thumper by any means, but it’s become quite evident to me that America is a Satanic nation.
I used to find it hilarious when the Ayatollah called us the Great Satan, but as things now stand, I think we have to give him that one.
Times sure change fast.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wQh4OWGHF4Replies: @AKAHorace
at least according to VAUSH, the King of Autistic Anarcho-Communist Libertarian Youtube.
What is Libertarian Socialism ? How is that supposed to work ?
To me Vauch sounds like a fool trying to appear intellectual by speaking an odd word salad and acting arrogantly. Also, I cannot believe that he is 27.
Who takes him seriously ?
Just a few years back, Youtube had a right wing bent, or at least tolerated right wing speakers. All right wing content was abolished and now Youtube promotes Libertarian Socialism.
Libertarian Socialism is total nonsense which is why The System now promotes it relentlessly.Replies: @AKAHorace
I like where you’re going with this. It raises the question, did anyone think to gather the sacred relics associated with Floyd at the time? What a shame it is if they didn’t. That counterfeit $20 would be equivalent to the Holy Grail and threads from the trousers Derek Chauvin wore while kneeling on Floyd’s neck would be like splinters of the True Cross.
https://twitter.com/e1aphos/status/1395540231311568898?s=20
Did anyone do the Chris Rock bit about violence on Martin Luther King Boulevard?
The last time I checked (long ago), all the products, on the supermarket cereal aisle, contained added-sugar.
I’m surprised that Bloomberg didn’t declare war on them.
What’s the toy prize inside the box?
Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between YT-basing and White Supremacy. Both sides agree on a lot of stuff:
https://twitter.com/razibkhan/status/1397301559390662657/photo/1
https://twitter.com/razibkhan/status/1397301559390662657
Nobody bothers to bash the powerless and hapless - that would be in bad taste.
https://twitter.com/ckuck/status/1397140095094906881Replies: @El Dato, @Joe Magarac, @Batman, @Desiderius, @Ed
People would mock a white supremacist Turner-Diaries-wannabe writer if he named the open borders immigration lawyer character “Charles Kuck,” but here we are. We’ve got to be living in a simulation that is designed to keep on getting weirder until we all notice.
Just buy a different brand of shredded wheat. I eat shredded wheat in the morning, but I started boycottting Kellogg last year because they now have a history of this type of advertising behavior:
https://affirmativeright.blogspot.com/p/altright-bds-page.html
Buy the Post Cereals equivalent or the store brand instead. They’re just as good. And you can get them unsweetened if you so choose.
“Meanwhile, it’s never too early to be prepping for Gay Pride Day (Week? Month? Eternity?) by setting your children on the road to diabetic non-binaryness by buying them the latest offerings of Woke Capital, such as Kelloggs’ Non-Binary Froot Loops.”
“gay pride” is cumming from behind every minute (sure, why not come out of the closet & just say it instead of suggesting); but this is an extremely serious matter when a major corp. with a previously wholesome image foists this sewage on unsuspecting children & their hapless parents. It shows just how far down the road of dissolution this country has traveled in a short time. Why doesn’t Kelloggs just go the final immoral mile & donate the proceeds to NAMBA? This would never happen in a sane society like Russia. In 2013, the Duma unanimously passed & Pres. Putin signed, legislation outlawing,“spreading information aimed at forming non- traditional sexual behavior among children, suggesting this behavior is attractive, and making a false statement about the socially equal nature of traditional and non-traditional relationships”; i.e. the homo propaganda bill. Mr. Putin said at the time, in a comment directed at Western critics, “Some countries…think that there is no need to protect children from this. We do.” Good advice.
Excerpt below from relevant comment of mine from a month ago.
In other words, about ten people in the United States.
Apologies, don't remember who, but another commenter here pointed out the mechanism of get woke/go broke business decisions. Applies to NBA, Oscars, MLB, Super Bowl, Star Wars, all those tv commercials that don't look like America, etc. You're in the planning meeting, and someone proposes making transgender Froot Loops. 9 of the 11 people there know it's a sure loser. But no one can be the first to object. The can't-be-the-first-to-stop-applauding-Stalin problem also applies during product performance review.
What they need to do is vote by secret ballot. Millions of dollars lying on the sidewalk...Replies: @Dnought, @Whiskey
You would probably be surprised how many people with “the political tastes of The New York Times op-ed audience” would buy anything their kid wants just to shut them up.
And what makes you think a good chunk of “the Jerry Springer audience”, isn’t all in on this sort of nonsense?
https://twitter.com/ckuck/status/1397140095094906881Replies: @El Dato, @Joe Magarac, @Batman, @Desiderius, @Ed
Luckily for the Kucks of the world the R pols that exist bear absolutely no resemblance whatsoever to the R monsters you’ve constructed in your minds as hate objects. If anything Rs are chomping at the bit to import cheap labor even more than the Kucks are to import cheap votes.
https://twitter.com/razibkhan/status/1397301559390662657/photo/1
https://twitter.com/razibkhan/status/1397301559390662657Replies: @Desiderius
YT-bashing IS White Supremacy.
Nobody bothers to bash the powerless and hapless – that would be in bad taste.
In other words, about ten people in the United States.
Apologies, don't remember who, but another commenter here pointed out the mechanism of get woke/go broke business decisions. Applies to NBA, Oscars, MLB, Super Bowl, Star Wars, all those tv commercials that don't look like America, etc. You're in the planning meeting, and someone proposes making transgender Froot Loops. 9 of the 11 people there know it's a sure loser. But no one can be the first to object. The can't-be-the-first-to-stop-applauding-Stalin problem also applies during product performance review.
What they need to do is vote by secret ballot. Millions of dollars lying on the sidewalk...Replies: @Dnought, @Whiskey
Money printer go brrr for those corporate entities. So they will be just fine.
Disney does not care if White y does not watch. Biden will pay for ever black person to get Disney Plus at 75 a month. Reparations.
By contrast there is no money to be made off White people save their forced labor. Which is coming.
Screw reading your post Steve. I am giving you mega-kudos for your headline: “(fags) coming from behind.”
If I had a blog, and if I had your readership, I could absolutely do no better than this.
Bravo!
This clip has already taken on mythic status:
https://twitter.com/e1aphos/status/1395540231311568898?s=20
He’s my doppelgänger, just barely holding back his laughter at the hijinx of those affable Africans.
Need i point out to you, yet again, that this emanates from the HBD Mitten?
Kellogg? Battle Creek. It’s not ambiguous nor is it amberlamps.
It’s all about the Mitten!
DNA license plates, PURE Michigan, Kellogg, Ford, ... is Michigan secretly the most based state?
Good Lord. This really happened. To celebrate the Feast of St.George.
I used to find it hilarious when the Ayatollah called us the Great Satan, but as things now stand, I think we have to give him that one.Replies: @Charon
I agreed with him back then. Look at what Hollywood turns out and tell me we’re not a sickening, depraved culture. Look at what this nation’s kids watch on TV every day.
Having witnessed her steady decline over the last decade, watching helplessly as Alzheimer's and other assorted health crises robbed her of her memory, her mobility, and (ultimately) her dignity, tonight I have no more tears left to shed. The person I knew in my youth with died years ago. What was left at the end was a broken-down shell of a human being. In her final weeks she could not even open her eyes or speak a single intelligible word. Whether she was still able to dream, I do not know, and I never will know. I hope so.
I spent the morning with my mother and the afternoon with my cousin and my aunt. (Yes, I was royally pissed off at them a couple of weeks ago. The anger faded pretty quickly. I didn't forgive them so much as I realized the triviality and futility of nursing a petty grudge. Life is too short.) I made a few phone calls.
I am the last person in my family who is on speaking terms with my uncle. No one else wants to talk to him and he doesn't want to talk to anyone else. Today I called him to tell him that his mother had died. He thanked me for keeping him in the loop over the last few years. I told him I knew it was what my grandparents would have wanted.
Not long before he died of lung cancer, my grandfather sat me down and told me the entire history of his side of the family, relating our ancestors' journey westward across the Atlantic. His father's forefathers landed in Virginia in the seventeenth century; over the next two hundred years, they migrated as far west as Kansas. His mother was a native of Tampa, making me a fourth-generation Floridian.
I was a bit too young to be able to remember more than a handful of the names and dates that he recited, but I suspect that he never wanted or expected me to memorize a bunch of historical trivia. He was trying to send me a message: "You come from a long lineage, a proud tradition, and it is your privilege and your duty to do justice to the memory of those who have lived and died so that you can be here today. You must be worthy of the collective sacrifices of a thousand generations."
To the extent that I am the only person in my family who seems to recognize the importance of this sense of continuity, I am the patriarch. I am the only one making even a token effort to keep the flame of familial unity from dissipating forever. My grandfather embraced his role as family leader with relish; my uncle, his namesake and his ostensible heir, refused it with disgust. I have assumed it reluctantly, with great humility, out of a sense of obligation to the dead. No one else wants the job, or even regards it as something worth doing.
Grandma is dead, but I am not sad because I know that she would not want me to be sad. She would want me to focus on the happy times. So I will honor her memory by cherishing the good memories - the birthdays and Thanksgivings and Christmases straight out of old Norman Rockwell paintings; the lazy summer afternoons running through her yard and climbing her trees and swimming in her pool; the long weekend nights watching old movies. I will do my best to put the bad memories - of which there are some, to be sure - out of my mind.
It is almost midnight here in the Eastern time zone. For the last few weeks, I have gone to bed every night around this time knowing that my slumber might be interrupted by the dreaded phone call bringing news of my grandmother's death. I've known for quite a few years now that one day I would have to take that call, and I would have to absorb the news that Grandma's long journey had finally reached its completion. Early this morning it finally happened.
In a sense it is comforting to know that I will never have to spend another minute of my life waiting for that call. There will be other calls - my mother is not in great shape, and I am not optimistic that she will make it to 80, let alone 90. Lately I've felt a strong compulsion to try to locate my father, due to a disquieting sense that things are not going particularly well for him.
But I don't have to worry about those calls right now. The call I've been dreading about Grandma has been made, and answered, and that particular number has been disconnected - permanently. Her struggle is finally over. Her soul is finally at peace.
Sweet dreams.Replies: @AnotherDad, @kaganovitch, @Gary in Gramercy, @The Last Real Calvinist, @Almost Missouri, @PiltdownMan, @Bill P, @JMcG, @JohnnyWalker123
Condolences on the passing of your grandmother, Stan.
This is good stuff:
Well put and important to remember.
The minoritarians have–endlessly–pissed all over the accomplishments and character of the people who settled this land and made America free and prosperous–which, of course, they are only too happy to exploit.
We must answer with a big FU–by never forgetting and never ceasing to be proud of whom we came from and honoring what they gave us with our own accomplishments.
I wish you the best as patriarch of your family. I hope you are blessed with a loving wife and many children ready to carry on after you.
Having witnessed her steady decline over the last decade, watching helplessly as Alzheimer's and other assorted health crises robbed her of her memory, her mobility, and (ultimately) her dignity, tonight I have no more tears left to shed. The person I knew in my youth with died years ago. What was left at the end was a broken-down shell of a human being. In her final weeks she could not even open her eyes or speak a single intelligible word. Whether she was still able to dream, I do not know, and I never will know. I hope so.
I spent the morning with my mother and the afternoon with my cousin and my aunt. (Yes, I was royally pissed off at them a couple of weeks ago. The anger faded pretty quickly. I didn't forgive them so much as I realized the triviality and futility of nursing a petty grudge. Life is too short.) I made a few phone calls.
I am the last person in my family who is on speaking terms with my uncle. No one else wants to talk to him and he doesn't want to talk to anyone else. Today I called him to tell him that his mother had died. He thanked me for keeping him in the loop over the last few years. I told him I knew it was what my grandparents would have wanted.
Not long before he died of lung cancer, my grandfather sat me down and told me the entire history of his side of the family, relating our ancestors' journey westward across the Atlantic. His father's forefathers landed in Virginia in the seventeenth century; over the next two hundred years, they migrated as far west as Kansas. His mother was a native of Tampa, making me a fourth-generation Floridian.
I was a bit too young to be able to remember more than a handful of the names and dates that he recited, but I suspect that he never wanted or expected me to memorize a bunch of historical trivia. He was trying to send me a message: "You come from a long lineage, a proud tradition, and it is your privilege and your duty to do justice to the memory of those who have lived and died so that you can be here today. You must be worthy of the collective sacrifices of a thousand generations."
To the extent that I am the only person in my family who seems to recognize the importance of this sense of continuity, I am the patriarch. I am the only one making even a token effort to keep the flame of familial unity from dissipating forever. My grandfather embraced his role as family leader with relish; my uncle, his namesake and his ostensible heir, refused it with disgust. I have assumed it reluctantly, with great humility, out of a sense of obligation to the dead. No one else wants the job, or even regards it as something worth doing.
Grandma is dead, but I am not sad because I know that she would not want me to be sad. She would want me to focus on the happy times. So I will honor her memory by cherishing the good memories - the birthdays and Thanksgivings and Christmases straight out of old Norman Rockwell paintings; the lazy summer afternoons running through her yard and climbing her trees and swimming in her pool; the long weekend nights watching old movies. I will do my best to put the bad memories - of which there are some, to be sure - out of my mind.
It is almost midnight here in the Eastern time zone. For the last few weeks, I have gone to bed every night around this time knowing that my slumber might be interrupted by the dreaded phone call bringing news of my grandmother's death. I've known for quite a few years now that one day I would have to take that call, and I would have to absorb the news that Grandma's long journey had finally reached its completion. Early this morning it finally happened.
In a sense it is comforting to know that I will never have to spend another minute of my life waiting for that call. There will be other calls - my mother is not in great shape, and I am not optimistic that she will make it to 80, let alone 90. Lately I've felt a strong compulsion to try to locate my father, due to a disquieting sense that things are not going particularly well for him.
But I don't have to worry about those calls right now. The call I've been dreading about Grandma has been made, and answered, and that particular number has been disconnected - permanently. Her struggle is finally over. Her soul is finally at peace.
Sweet dreams.Replies: @AnotherDad, @kaganovitch, @Gary in Gramercy, @The Last Real Calvinist, @Almost Missouri, @PiltdownMan, @Bill P, @JMcG, @JohnnyWalker123
May you be comforted.
LOL on the Floyd “celebration”–appropriate and awesome!
But the Fruit Loops thing is very sad. What the hell happened to my nation?
lol
Kellogg’s new LGBTQ cereal wants to fill your mouth with Pride
nice
Suck on some Pride
Swallow your Pride
Get yourself a hot load of Pride
Guy with a milk moustache: got Pride?
etcReplies: @Reg Cæsar
We once had a Loblaw’s in our county. So we were among those rare few Americans lucky enough to have access to this.
Btw how you embed pictureReplies: @Reg Cæsar
Lileks today mentions that he drove past George Floyd Square just half an hour or so before the gunplay broke out, the shots rang out, the violence erupted, etc., etc.
He posted a memorial ‘artwork’ depicting George Floyd that’s hung from the bell tower of a nearby church. As you can see, all it needs is some ‘-ity’ suffixes to achieve its full Derbyshirean expression:
Tbh, Lileks came awfully close to saying something not nice about St. George. Must be wanting to get out of his Strib contract. (JK, he loves that gig.)Replies: @The Last Real Calvinist
Having witnessed her steady decline over the last decade, watching helplessly as Alzheimer's and other assorted health crises robbed her of her memory, her mobility, and (ultimately) her dignity, tonight I have no more tears left to shed. The person I knew in my youth with died years ago. What was left at the end was a broken-down shell of a human being. In her final weeks she could not even open her eyes or speak a single intelligible word. Whether she was still able to dream, I do not know, and I never will know. I hope so.
I spent the morning with my mother and the afternoon with my cousin and my aunt. (Yes, I was royally pissed off at them a couple of weeks ago. The anger faded pretty quickly. I didn't forgive them so much as I realized the triviality and futility of nursing a petty grudge. Life is too short.) I made a few phone calls.
I am the last person in my family who is on speaking terms with my uncle. No one else wants to talk to him and he doesn't want to talk to anyone else. Today I called him to tell him that his mother had died. He thanked me for keeping him in the loop over the last few years. I told him I knew it was what my grandparents would have wanted.
Not long before he died of lung cancer, my grandfather sat me down and told me the entire history of his side of the family, relating our ancestors' journey westward across the Atlantic. His father's forefathers landed in Virginia in the seventeenth century; over the next two hundred years, they migrated as far west as Kansas. His mother was a native of Tampa, making me a fourth-generation Floridian.
I was a bit too young to be able to remember more than a handful of the names and dates that he recited, but I suspect that he never wanted or expected me to memorize a bunch of historical trivia. He was trying to send me a message: "You come from a long lineage, a proud tradition, and it is your privilege and your duty to do justice to the memory of those who have lived and died so that you can be here today. You must be worthy of the collective sacrifices of a thousand generations."
To the extent that I am the only person in my family who seems to recognize the importance of this sense of continuity, I am the patriarch. I am the only one making even a token effort to keep the flame of familial unity from dissipating forever. My grandfather embraced his role as family leader with relish; my uncle, his namesake and his ostensible heir, refused it with disgust. I have assumed it reluctantly, with great humility, out of a sense of obligation to the dead. No one else wants the job, or even regards it as something worth doing.
Grandma is dead, but I am not sad because I know that she would not want me to be sad. She would want me to focus on the happy times. So I will honor her memory by cherishing the good memories - the birthdays and Thanksgivings and Christmases straight out of old Norman Rockwell paintings; the lazy summer afternoons running through her yard and climbing her trees and swimming in her pool; the long weekend nights watching old movies. I will do my best to put the bad memories - of which there are some, to be sure - out of my mind.
It is almost midnight here in the Eastern time zone. For the last few weeks, I have gone to bed every night around this time knowing that my slumber might be interrupted by the dreaded phone call bringing news of my grandmother's death. I've known for quite a few years now that one day I would have to take that call, and I would have to absorb the news that Grandma's long journey had finally reached its completion. Early this morning it finally happened.
In a sense it is comforting to know that I will never have to spend another minute of my life waiting for that call. There will be other calls - my mother is not in great shape, and I am not optimistic that she will make it to 80, let alone 90. Lately I've felt a strong compulsion to try to locate my father, due to a disquieting sense that things are not going particularly well for him.
But I don't have to worry about those calls right now. The call I've been dreading about Grandma has been made, and answered, and that particular number has been disconnected - permanently. Her struggle is finally over. Her soul is finally at peace.
Sweet dreams.Replies: @AnotherDad, @kaganovitch, @Gary in Gramercy, @The Last Real Calvinist, @Almost Missouri, @PiltdownMan, @Bill P, @JMcG, @JohnnyWalker123
My condolences; may you be comforted at this time. You’re wise for trying to mend fences with difficult family members, if only out of a realization that, as you nailed it, “life is too short.” Grudges take too much energy.
Schwarzenegger? Redford? Travolta?
Pride is, of course, the foremost of the seven deadly sins.
“Also known as hubris (from ancient Greek ὕβρις), or futility, it is identified as dangerously corrupt selfishness, the putting of one’s own desires, urges, wants, and whims before the welfare of other people.” (Wikipedia)
Well, the shoe fits.
Maybe not seasonally appropriate but the spirit is there:
I like the Thee Headcoatees version as well:
We once had a Loblaw's in our county. So we were among those rare few Americans lucky enough to have access to this.Replies: @Barack Obama's secret Unz account
One pound fer a pack of six, sorted
Btw how you embed picture
Kellogg? Battle Creek. It’s not ambiguous nor is it amberlamps.
It’s all about the Mitten!Replies: @Almost Missouri
I noticed recently that Michigan license plates have a subtle DNA hologram motif running down the center. That combined with the new(?) state slogan of “PURE Michigan” written across the plates … it’s like they’re trying to tell us something … something about genetic purity …
DNA license plates, PURE Michigan, Kellogg, Ford, … is Michigan secretly the most based state?
But Gay Pride Month Is Coming from Behind
Back when it was still illegal, good lawyer could get your sodomy charge reduced to “Following too closely.”
Miraculously, it had become a real $20, but the authorities were too blind to see.
Often, that depends, at least in large part, on which side of it one is/would be on. Elaboration, for the interested reader, may be found across numerous posts in my comment archive.
Having witnessed her steady decline over the last decade, watching helplessly as Alzheimer's and other assorted health crises robbed her of her memory, her mobility, and (ultimately) her dignity, tonight I have no more tears left to shed. The person I knew in my youth with died years ago. What was left at the end was a broken-down shell of a human being. In her final weeks she could not even open her eyes or speak a single intelligible word. Whether she was still able to dream, I do not know, and I never will know. I hope so.
I spent the morning with my mother and the afternoon with my cousin and my aunt. (Yes, I was royally pissed off at them a couple of weeks ago. The anger faded pretty quickly. I didn't forgive them so much as I realized the triviality and futility of nursing a petty grudge. Life is too short.) I made a few phone calls.
I am the last person in my family who is on speaking terms with my uncle. No one else wants to talk to him and he doesn't want to talk to anyone else. Today I called him to tell him that his mother had died. He thanked me for keeping him in the loop over the last few years. I told him I knew it was what my grandparents would have wanted.
Not long before he died of lung cancer, my grandfather sat me down and told me the entire history of his side of the family, relating our ancestors' journey westward across the Atlantic. His father's forefathers landed in Virginia in the seventeenth century; over the next two hundred years, they migrated as far west as Kansas. His mother was a native of Tampa, making me a fourth-generation Floridian.
I was a bit too young to be able to remember more than a handful of the names and dates that he recited, but I suspect that he never wanted or expected me to memorize a bunch of historical trivia. He was trying to send me a message: "You come from a long lineage, a proud tradition, and it is your privilege and your duty to do justice to the memory of those who have lived and died so that you can be here today. You must be worthy of the collective sacrifices of a thousand generations."
To the extent that I am the only person in my family who seems to recognize the importance of this sense of continuity, I am the patriarch. I am the only one making even a token effort to keep the flame of familial unity from dissipating forever. My grandfather embraced his role as family leader with relish; my uncle, his namesake and his ostensible heir, refused it with disgust. I have assumed it reluctantly, with great humility, out of a sense of obligation to the dead. No one else wants the job, or even regards it as something worth doing.
Grandma is dead, but I am not sad because I know that she would not want me to be sad. She would want me to focus on the happy times. So I will honor her memory by cherishing the good memories - the birthdays and Thanksgivings and Christmases straight out of old Norman Rockwell paintings; the lazy summer afternoons running through her yard and climbing her trees and swimming in her pool; the long weekend nights watching old movies. I will do my best to put the bad memories - of which there are some, to be sure - out of my mind.
It is almost midnight here in the Eastern time zone. For the last few weeks, I have gone to bed every night around this time knowing that my slumber might be interrupted by the dreaded phone call bringing news of my grandmother's death. I've known for quite a few years now that one day I would have to take that call, and I would have to absorb the news that Grandma's long journey had finally reached its completion. Early this morning it finally happened.
In a sense it is comforting to know that I will never have to spend another minute of my life waiting for that call. There will be other calls - my mother is not in great shape, and I am not optimistic that she will make it to 80, let alone 90. Lately I've felt a strong compulsion to try to locate my father, due to a disquieting sense that things are not going particularly well for him.
But I don't have to worry about those calls right now. The call I've been dreading about Grandma has been made, and answered, and that particular number has been disconnected - permanently. Her struggle is finally over. Her soul is finally at peace.
Sweet dreams.Replies: @AnotherDad, @kaganovitch, @Gary in Gramercy, @The Last Real Calvinist, @Almost Missouri, @PiltdownMan, @Bill P, @JMcG, @JohnnyWalker123
My condolences, Stan.
It’s also good to hear that you were able to let go of some of the anger you were feeling about your family members.
Teen says she’ll sue her school district for $2m after they refused to publish her sonnet about George Floyd.
That Minneapolis fentanyl death must have generated the greatest transfer of wealth ever.
That Minneapolis fentanyl death must have generated the greatest transfer of wealth ever.Replies: @El Dato
“Everybody shall have prices” never was good educational strategy.
Back when it was still illegal, good lawyer could get your sodomy charge reduced to "Following too closely."Replies: @Gary in Gramercy, @Reg Cæsar, @Reg Cæsar, @Bill Jones
“Following too closely”? That’s hilarious. Beats “doing 69 in a 36 zone.”
Look on the bright side – at least he didn’t rise from the dead.
There could well be a brisk trade in Floydiana in the coming years. I hope his grave is safely sealed from relic hunters. I remember reading about some mediaeval relic dealers who boiled the body of a recently deceased holy man so that they could more easily extract the bones.
He must have known that Sailer’s Law will keep him at minimal risk.
Who ‘p*ssed all over your cornflakes’ this morning, Steve?
Fun Fact:
The phrase ” To get one’s oats ” is an archaic – and somewhat inexplicable ancient Cockney, (the vanishing culture, accent and argot of the indigenous working class Londoners), slang euphemism for the performance of the conjugal act.
Having witnessed her steady decline over the last decade, watching helplessly as Alzheimer's and other assorted health crises robbed her of her memory, her mobility, and (ultimately) her dignity, tonight I have no more tears left to shed. The person I knew in my youth with died years ago. What was left at the end was a broken-down shell of a human being. In her final weeks she could not even open her eyes or speak a single intelligible word. Whether she was still able to dream, I do not know, and I never will know. I hope so.
I spent the morning with my mother and the afternoon with my cousin and my aunt. (Yes, I was royally pissed off at them a couple of weeks ago. The anger faded pretty quickly. I didn't forgive them so much as I realized the triviality and futility of nursing a petty grudge. Life is too short.) I made a few phone calls.
I am the last person in my family who is on speaking terms with my uncle. No one else wants to talk to him and he doesn't want to talk to anyone else. Today I called him to tell him that his mother had died. He thanked me for keeping him in the loop over the last few years. I told him I knew it was what my grandparents would have wanted.
Not long before he died of lung cancer, my grandfather sat me down and told me the entire history of his side of the family, relating our ancestors' journey westward across the Atlantic. His father's forefathers landed in Virginia in the seventeenth century; over the next two hundred years, they migrated as far west as Kansas. His mother was a native of Tampa, making me a fourth-generation Floridian.
I was a bit too young to be able to remember more than a handful of the names and dates that he recited, but I suspect that he never wanted or expected me to memorize a bunch of historical trivia. He was trying to send me a message: "You come from a long lineage, a proud tradition, and it is your privilege and your duty to do justice to the memory of those who have lived and died so that you can be here today. You must be worthy of the collective sacrifices of a thousand generations."
To the extent that I am the only person in my family who seems to recognize the importance of this sense of continuity, I am the patriarch. I am the only one making even a token effort to keep the flame of familial unity from dissipating forever. My grandfather embraced his role as family leader with relish; my uncle, his namesake and his ostensible heir, refused it with disgust. I have assumed it reluctantly, with great humility, out of a sense of obligation to the dead. No one else wants the job, or even regards it as something worth doing.
Grandma is dead, but I am not sad because I know that she would not want me to be sad. She would want me to focus on the happy times. So I will honor her memory by cherishing the good memories - the birthdays and Thanksgivings and Christmases straight out of old Norman Rockwell paintings; the lazy summer afternoons running through her yard and climbing her trees and swimming in her pool; the long weekend nights watching old movies. I will do my best to put the bad memories - of which there are some, to be sure - out of my mind.
It is almost midnight here in the Eastern time zone. For the last few weeks, I have gone to bed every night around this time knowing that my slumber might be interrupted by the dreaded phone call bringing news of my grandmother's death. I've known for quite a few years now that one day I would have to take that call, and I would have to absorb the news that Grandma's long journey had finally reached its completion. Early this morning it finally happened.
In a sense it is comforting to know that I will never have to spend another minute of my life waiting for that call. There will be other calls - my mother is not in great shape, and I am not optimistic that she will make it to 80, let alone 90. Lately I've felt a strong compulsion to try to locate my father, due to a disquieting sense that things are not going particularly well for him.
But I don't have to worry about those calls right now. The call I've been dreading about Grandma has been made, and answered, and that particular number has been disconnected - permanently. Her struggle is finally over. Her soul is finally at peace.
Sweet dreams.Replies: @AnotherDad, @kaganovitch, @Gary in Gramercy, @The Last Real Calvinist, @Almost Missouri, @PiltdownMan, @Bill P, @JMcG, @JohnnyWalker123
Condolences.
As for those who remain behind, as Adam Smith might have observed, there is great deal of ruin in a nation—and in a family. I’ve observed it in my own. And, perhaps like you, I’ve found myself as the last living one looking beyond the present generation. Maybe in a century or two we’ll know if we succeed.
If I may presume a bit upon your melancholy, it sounds like her mortal journey had completed some years ago, but lingered in the long twilight of modern medical subventions.
Gracefully, now her post-mortal—or immortal—journey can begin—or resume.
I’m not being metaphorical, and
I think you’re right. Not only that, I think that
you are providing her with sustenance to nourish her on her further journey.
I’m sure she is grateful.
Btw how you embed pictureReplies: @Reg Cæsar
Faggots and peas are my favorite meat dish. But you never see them on the menus of the most British of pubs here. The Hope and Anchor in Loves Park outside Rockford used to list it, but removed it. However, they still whipped up some for me last time I was there. They do offer Smothered Cock, Crispy Buff Cock, and Buff Cock Salad, so if you’re looking for faggots, they’ll be the patrons.
Just copy and paste the URL, as long as it ends in .jpg, .jpeg, .png, or .gif. If there are numbers or other codes following those extensions, you might have to erase them for the picture to show automatically. Otherwise it’s text that the reader will have to click on– and most won’t. Post, then edit, then refresh, till you get it right.
Back when it was still illegal, good lawyer could get your sodomy charge reduced to "Following too closely."Replies: @Gary in Gramercy, @Reg Cæsar, @Reg Cæsar, @Bill Jones
https://www.azquotes.com/quote/230766
Back when it was still illegal, good lawyer could get your sodomy charge reduced to "Following too closely."Replies: @Gary in Gramercy, @Reg Cæsar, @Reg Cæsar, @Bill Jones
Like Harry Baldwin, I like where you’re going with this, but I think that between the mob, the modern pharisees and the magistrates, it is Chauvin who is getting crucified, not Floyd. At best, Floyd has the Judas role: feckless suicide whose moral depravity condemns a better man.
Having witnessed her steady decline over the last decade, watching helplessly as Alzheimer's and other assorted health crises robbed her of her memory, her mobility, and (ultimately) her dignity, tonight I have no more tears left to shed. The person I knew in my youth with died years ago. What was left at the end was a broken-down shell of a human being. In her final weeks she could not even open her eyes or speak a single intelligible word. Whether she was still able to dream, I do not know, and I never will know. I hope so.
I spent the morning with my mother and the afternoon with my cousin and my aunt. (Yes, I was royally pissed off at them a couple of weeks ago. The anger faded pretty quickly. I didn't forgive them so much as I realized the triviality and futility of nursing a petty grudge. Life is too short.) I made a few phone calls.
I am the last person in my family who is on speaking terms with my uncle. No one else wants to talk to him and he doesn't want to talk to anyone else. Today I called him to tell him that his mother had died. He thanked me for keeping him in the loop over the last few years. I told him I knew it was what my grandparents would have wanted.
Not long before he died of lung cancer, my grandfather sat me down and told me the entire history of his side of the family, relating our ancestors' journey westward across the Atlantic. His father's forefathers landed in Virginia in the seventeenth century; over the next two hundred years, they migrated as far west as Kansas. His mother was a native of Tampa, making me a fourth-generation Floridian.
I was a bit too young to be able to remember more than a handful of the names and dates that he recited, but I suspect that he never wanted or expected me to memorize a bunch of historical trivia. He was trying to send me a message: "You come from a long lineage, a proud tradition, and it is your privilege and your duty to do justice to the memory of those who have lived and died so that you can be here today. You must be worthy of the collective sacrifices of a thousand generations."
To the extent that I am the only person in my family who seems to recognize the importance of this sense of continuity, I am the patriarch. I am the only one making even a token effort to keep the flame of familial unity from dissipating forever. My grandfather embraced his role as family leader with relish; my uncle, his namesake and his ostensible heir, refused it with disgust. I have assumed it reluctantly, with great humility, out of a sense of obligation to the dead. No one else wants the job, or even regards it as something worth doing.
Grandma is dead, but I am not sad because I know that she would not want me to be sad. She would want me to focus on the happy times. So I will honor her memory by cherishing the good memories - the birthdays and Thanksgivings and Christmases straight out of old Norman Rockwell paintings; the lazy summer afternoons running through her yard and climbing her trees and swimming in her pool; the long weekend nights watching old movies. I will do my best to put the bad memories - of which there are some, to be sure - out of my mind.
It is almost midnight here in the Eastern time zone. For the last few weeks, I have gone to bed every night around this time knowing that my slumber might be interrupted by the dreaded phone call bringing news of my grandmother's death. I've known for quite a few years now that one day I would have to take that call, and I would have to absorb the news that Grandma's long journey had finally reached its completion. Early this morning it finally happened.
In a sense it is comforting to know that I will never have to spend another minute of my life waiting for that call. There will be other calls - my mother is not in great shape, and I am not optimistic that she will make it to 80, let alone 90. Lately I've felt a strong compulsion to try to locate my father, due to a disquieting sense that things are not going particularly well for him.
But I don't have to worry about those calls right now. The call I've been dreading about Grandma has been made, and answered, and that particular number has been disconnected - permanently. Her struggle is finally over. Her soul is finally at peace.
Sweet dreams.Replies: @AnotherDad, @kaganovitch, @Gary in Gramercy, @The Last Real Calvinist, @Almost Missouri, @PiltdownMan, @Bill P, @JMcG, @JohnnyWalker123
My sincere condolences on the passing of your grandmother. May she rest in peace.
He posted a memorial 'artwork' depicting George Floyd that's hung from the bell tower of a nearby church. As you can see, all it needs is some '-ity' suffixes to achieve its full Derbyshirean expression:
http://lileks.com/bleats/archive/21/0521/4/misc/floyd.jpgReplies: @duncsbaby, @Prester John
Lileks drove past the sacred square a half hour AFTER the shots rang out. He witnessed a bus being towed away which had it’s tires shot out. His point was he drove by and everything seemed to be somewhat normal other than a bus getting towed. When he got to the office he found out he drove by after the place was shot up.
Tbh, Lileks came awfully close to saying something not nice about St. George. Must be wanting to get out of his Strib contract. (JK, he loves that gig.)
‘Coming from behind’… or, as Jonathan Meades puts it “the love that dare not speak its name because its mouth is full”. Obviously with Kelloggs fruity tributes. Obviously.
Reimagining memorial day as a BLM holiday would be a great excuse for a second fireworks holiday to kick off summer.
Armed only w/his White Privilege and sure knowledge of Sailer’s Law, the Ubermensch strode manfully into the midwest ghetto squalor.
Back when it was still illegal, good lawyer could get your sodomy charge reduced to "Following too closely."Replies: @Gary in Gramercy, @Reg Cæsar, @Reg Cæsar, @Bill Jones
I thought what went on the police report (for insurance purposes) was “rear-ended”.
Tbh, Lileks came awfully close to saying something not nice about St. George. Must be wanting to get out of his Strib contract. (JK, he loves that gig.)Replies: @The Last Real Calvinist
You’re right; I misread it.
Posting that photo of Big Art Icon George may have helped Lileks release some of his free-floating and heretofore pent-up rage.
Thank’ee kindly
Having witnessed her steady decline over the last decade, watching helplessly as Alzheimer's and other assorted health crises robbed her of her memory, her mobility, and (ultimately) her dignity, tonight I have no more tears left to shed. The person I knew in my youth with died years ago. What was left at the end was a broken-down shell of a human being. In her final weeks she could not even open her eyes or speak a single intelligible word. Whether she was still able to dream, I do not know, and I never will know. I hope so.
I spent the morning with my mother and the afternoon with my cousin and my aunt. (Yes, I was royally pissed off at them a couple of weeks ago. The anger faded pretty quickly. I didn't forgive them so much as I realized the triviality and futility of nursing a petty grudge. Life is too short.) I made a few phone calls.
I am the last person in my family who is on speaking terms with my uncle. No one else wants to talk to him and he doesn't want to talk to anyone else. Today I called him to tell him that his mother had died. He thanked me for keeping him in the loop over the last few years. I told him I knew it was what my grandparents would have wanted.
Not long before he died of lung cancer, my grandfather sat me down and told me the entire history of his side of the family, relating our ancestors' journey westward across the Atlantic. His father's forefathers landed in Virginia in the seventeenth century; over the next two hundred years, they migrated as far west as Kansas. His mother was a native of Tampa, making me a fourth-generation Floridian.
I was a bit too young to be able to remember more than a handful of the names and dates that he recited, but I suspect that he never wanted or expected me to memorize a bunch of historical trivia. He was trying to send me a message: "You come from a long lineage, a proud tradition, and it is your privilege and your duty to do justice to the memory of those who have lived and died so that you can be here today. You must be worthy of the collective sacrifices of a thousand generations."
To the extent that I am the only person in my family who seems to recognize the importance of this sense of continuity, I am the patriarch. I am the only one making even a token effort to keep the flame of familial unity from dissipating forever. My grandfather embraced his role as family leader with relish; my uncle, his namesake and his ostensible heir, refused it with disgust. I have assumed it reluctantly, with great humility, out of a sense of obligation to the dead. No one else wants the job, or even regards it as something worth doing.
Grandma is dead, but I am not sad because I know that she would not want me to be sad. She would want me to focus on the happy times. So I will honor her memory by cherishing the good memories - the birthdays and Thanksgivings and Christmases straight out of old Norman Rockwell paintings; the lazy summer afternoons running through her yard and climbing her trees and swimming in her pool; the long weekend nights watching old movies. I will do my best to put the bad memories - of which there are some, to be sure - out of my mind.
It is almost midnight here in the Eastern time zone. For the last few weeks, I have gone to bed every night around this time knowing that my slumber might be interrupted by the dreaded phone call bringing news of my grandmother's death. I've known for quite a few years now that one day I would have to take that call, and I would have to absorb the news that Grandma's long journey had finally reached its completion. Early this morning it finally happened.
In a sense it is comforting to know that I will never have to spend another minute of my life waiting for that call. There will be other calls - my mother is not in great shape, and I am not optimistic that she will make it to 80, let alone 90. Lately I've felt a strong compulsion to try to locate my father, due to a disquieting sense that things are not going particularly well for him.
But I don't have to worry about those calls right now. The call I've been dreading about Grandma has been made, and answered, and that particular number has been disconnected - permanently. Her struggle is finally over. Her soul is finally at peace.
Sweet dreams.Replies: @AnotherDad, @kaganovitch, @Gary in Gramercy, @The Last Real Calvinist, @Almost Missouri, @PiltdownMan, @Bill P, @JMcG, @JohnnyWalker123
My oldest uncle died a couple days ago, quite suddenly. That leaves me as the oldest male descendant of my paternal grandfather (my father died in 2010), and the only one with sons.
Whether I want to be or not, I am the family patriarch now.
My uncle, born in 1941, was old but lucid. I didn’t expect him to die for a while, and wanted to visit him again. It was very sad to hear the news, because suddenly I felt very alone as the last man in the family with a close connection to my grandfather.
In this barbarous new age, these old ties of blood and affection are taking on new life. Our patrimony, when it isn’t being outright stolen, is being degraded and insulted, but when it comes down to it that’s about all we have of any value.
Now that I think of it, my uncle reminded me of this not too long ago. He made sure I understood that my sons were the only boys in the family who carried on the family name, and that I had a special responsibility because of that.
So looks like we’re in a similar position now, Stan. Isn’t it odd how you find yourself suddenly in this role through an act of grace? It’s almost like being born in that you never asked for it, but here you are. For my part it was very emotionally painful to hear about my uncle’s death. Knowing he was still around playing golf in Arizona comforted me, and suddenly that comfort of his presence was gone, leaving only memories and the unknown future.
https://uk.yahoo.com/news/burglar-filmed-demanding-dementia-patient-walks-free-court-180115787.html
Charming people
https://twitter.com/ckuck/status/1397140095094906881Replies: @El Dato, @Joe Magarac, @Batman, @Desiderius, @Ed
Arizona senators were never going to go for it anyway. Quite a few Dems are hiding behind the filibuster.
This video implies perhaps God or at least the trickster spirit Loki is pushing back one year in. Deals with The Devil seldom work out as planned.Replies: @Paul Rise
Google Kek – you may be closer to the mark than anyone is willing to believe.
Having witnessed her steady decline over the last decade, watching helplessly as Alzheimer's and other assorted health crises robbed her of her memory, her mobility, and (ultimately) her dignity, tonight I have no more tears left to shed. The person I knew in my youth with died years ago. What was left at the end was a broken-down shell of a human being. In her final weeks she could not even open her eyes or speak a single intelligible word. Whether she was still able to dream, I do not know, and I never will know. I hope so.
I spent the morning with my mother and the afternoon with my cousin and my aunt. (Yes, I was royally pissed off at them a couple of weeks ago. The anger faded pretty quickly. I didn't forgive them so much as I realized the triviality and futility of nursing a petty grudge. Life is too short.) I made a few phone calls.
I am the last person in my family who is on speaking terms with my uncle. No one else wants to talk to him and he doesn't want to talk to anyone else. Today I called him to tell him that his mother had died. He thanked me for keeping him in the loop over the last few years. I told him I knew it was what my grandparents would have wanted.
Not long before he died of lung cancer, my grandfather sat me down and told me the entire history of his side of the family, relating our ancestors' journey westward across the Atlantic. His father's forefathers landed in Virginia in the seventeenth century; over the next two hundred years, they migrated as far west as Kansas. His mother was a native of Tampa, making me a fourth-generation Floridian.
I was a bit too young to be able to remember more than a handful of the names and dates that he recited, but I suspect that he never wanted or expected me to memorize a bunch of historical trivia. He was trying to send me a message: "You come from a long lineage, a proud tradition, and it is your privilege and your duty to do justice to the memory of those who have lived and died so that you can be here today. You must be worthy of the collective sacrifices of a thousand generations."
To the extent that I am the only person in my family who seems to recognize the importance of this sense of continuity, I am the patriarch. I am the only one making even a token effort to keep the flame of familial unity from dissipating forever. My grandfather embraced his role as family leader with relish; my uncle, his namesake and his ostensible heir, refused it with disgust. I have assumed it reluctantly, with great humility, out of a sense of obligation to the dead. No one else wants the job, or even regards it as something worth doing.
Grandma is dead, but I am not sad because I know that she would not want me to be sad. She would want me to focus on the happy times. So I will honor her memory by cherishing the good memories - the birthdays and Thanksgivings and Christmases straight out of old Norman Rockwell paintings; the lazy summer afternoons running through her yard and climbing her trees and swimming in her pool; the long weekend nights watching old movies. I will do my best to put the bad memories - of which there are some, to be sure - out of my mind.
It is almost midnight here in the Eastern time zone. For the last few weeks, I have gone to bed every night around this time knowing that my slumber might be interrupted by the dreaded phone call bringing news of my grandmother's death. I've known for quite a few years now that one day I would have to take that call, and I would have to absorb the news that Grandma's long journey had finally reached its completion. Early this morning it finally happened.
In a sense it is comforting to know that I will never have to spend another minute of my life waiting for that call. There will be other calls - my mother is not in great shape, and I am not optimistic that she will make it to 80, let alone 90. Lately I've felt a strong compulsion to try to locate my father, due to a disquieting sense that things are not going particularly well for him.
But I don't have to worry about those calls right now. The call I've been dreading about Grandma has been made, and answered, and that particular number has been disconnected - permanently. Her struggle is finally over. Her soul is finally at peace.
Sweet dreams.Replies: @AnotherDad, @kaganovitch, @Gary in Gramercy, @The Last Real Calvinist, @Almost Missouri, @PiltdownMan, @Bill P, @JMcG, @JohnnyWalker123
May Eternal Light Shine Upon Her. I’m very sorry for your trouble.
You’ve discovered the causality here. Wokelism is downmarket and if you’re stuck making buggy whips downmarket is all you’ve got.
You’ve discovered the causality here. Wokelism is downmarket and if you’re stuck making buggy whips downmarket is all you’ve got.
See also Raytheon.
Do kids still read the cereal box while they’re eating? I wonder what that box says.
The number of “trans-kids” or drag queen kids or non-binary kids whose parents aren’t in jail for abuse certainly proves your assertion.
It is strange. I used, a couple of decades ago, to think Woody Allen was hilarious and, of course, sophisticated. Nowadays I find him unbearable. Like an overpraised child who thinks he is adorable.
Perhaps this is why Allen went serious and directorial. Hell, he already looked like an old man at 35.
Damn, I hate when loud noises “break the quiet”. That’s as bad as when “shots ring out”. Won’t someone do something about all this noise pollution?
The basic rule here is that when a non-White is the apparent perpetrator, any moral agency involved automatically inheres to the nearest inanimate object, sound, related abstract concept, etc.
Conversely, when the alleged perpetrator is a White goy, moral agency is immediately and irrevocably ascribed to him -- hence he is the subject of the accusatory sentence. And the motive is typically assumed to be some sort of openly-heretical "hatred" [---phobia/ ---ism/ etc.] directed at an intersectionally-privileged Other.
The exact rule is probably spelled out in the AP Stylebook somewhere.
Can’t anyone other than iSteve fans see how contrived all of this is?
He posted a memorial 'artwork' depicting George Floyd that's hung from the bell tower of a nearby church. As you can see, all it needs is some '-ity' suffixes to achieve its full Derbyshirean expression:
http://lileks.com/bleats/archive/21/0521/4/misc/floyd.jpgReplies: @duncsbaby, @Prester John
Some wag said the shots were meant to be the equivalent of a 21-gun salute to St. George but the shooters couldn’t count that high.
It won’t affect regular people. Those sugary cereals are disgusting and unhealthy. The nanny in me says they are as bad for Americans as drugs and far more sinister. They’re racist! Let’s ban them!
Honestly, I see all those colorful boxes on the shelves at Walmart, but I never see them in anybody’s cart. They wouldn’t stock stuff that doesn’t sell, so… who buys it?
The whole “be yourself” mantra that everybody seeks to live by has some pernicious consequences. What if the “real you” is a pervert? What if it’s a scared little child? Or a man/woman-hater?
In some ways it’s best not to find the real you because that person may be awful. Aspire to be better than the real you and actually accomplish something important. We used to call this Growing Up.
I really think Kellogs should be punished for this. Is there any other brand of corn-flakes, one that Kellogs makes no money off of at all?
Sorry Billy.. Women prefer the German helmet. I thank my mom and dad for mine…And the wife likes to hug it… ALOT. LOL
Sinema and Manchin saved us from amnesty by refusing to break the filibuster.
Having witnessed her steady decline over the last decade, watching helplessly as Alzheimer's and other assorted health crises robbed her of her memory, her mobility, and (ultimately) her dignity, tonight I have no more tears left to shed. The person I knew in my youth with died years ago. What was left at the end was a broken-down shell of a human being. In her final weeks she could not even open her eyes or speak a single intelligible word. Whether she was still able to dream, I do not know, and I never will know. I hope so.
I spent the morning with my mother and the afternoon with my cousin and my aunt. (Yes, I was royally pissed off at them a couple of weeks ago. The anger faded pretty quickly. I didn't forgive them so much as I realized the triviality and futility of nursing a petty grudge. Life is too short.) I made a few phone calls.
I am the last person in my family who is on speaking terms with my uncle. No one else wants to talk to him and he doesn't want to talk to anyone else. Today I called him to tell him that his mother had died. He thanked me for keeping him in the loop over the last few years. I told him I knew it was what my grandparents would have wanted.
Not long before he died of lung cancer, my grandfather sat me down and told me the entire history of his side of the family, relating our ancestors' journey westward across the Atlantic. His father's forefathers landed in Virginia in the seventeenth century; over the next two hundred years, they migrated as far west as Kansas. His mother was a native of Tampa, making me a fourth-generation Floridian.
I was a bit too young to be able to remember more than a handful of the names and dates that he recited, but I suspect that he never wanted or expected me to memorize a bunch of historical trivia. He was trying to send me a message: "You come from a long lineage, a proud tradition, and it is your privilege and your duty to do justice to the memory of those who have lived and died so that you can be here today. You must be worthy of the collective sacrifices of a thousand generations."
To the extent that I am the only person in my family who seems to recognize the importance of this sense of continuity, I am the patriarch. I am the only one making even a token effort to keep the flame of familial unity from dissipating forever. My grandfather embraced his role as family leader with relish; my uncle, his namesake and his ostensible heir, refused it with disgust. I have assumed it reluctantly, with great humility, out of a sense of obligation to the dead. No one else wants the job, or even regards it as something worth doing.
Grandma is dead, but I am not sad because I know that she would not want me to be sad. She would want me to focus on the happy times. So I will honor her memory by cherishing the good memories - the birthdays and Thanksgivings and Christmases straight out of old Norman Rockwell paintings; the lazy summer afternoons running through her yard and climbing her trees and swimming in her pool; the long weekend nights watching old movies. I will do my best to put the bad memories - of which there are some, to be sure - out of my mind.
It is almost midnight here in the Eastern time zone. For the last few weeks, I have gone to bed every night around this time knowing that my slumber might be interrupted by the dreaded phone call bringing news of my grandmother's death. I've known for quite a few years now that one day I would have to take that call, and I would have to absorb the news that Grandma's long journey had finally reached its completion. Early this morning it finally happened.
In a sense it is comforting to know that I will never have to spend another minute of my life waiting for that call. There will be other calls - my mother is not in great shape, and I am not optimistic that she will make it to 80, let alone 90. Lately I've felt a strong compulsion to try to locate my father, due to a disquieting sense that things are not going particularly well for him.
But I don't have to worry about those calls right now. The call I've been dreading about Grandma has been made, and answered, and that particular number has been disconnected - permanently. Her struggle is finally over. Her soul is finally at peace.
Sweet dreams.Replies: @AnotherDad, @kaganovitch, @Gary in Gramercy, @The Last Real Calvinist, @Almost Missouri, @PiltdownMan, @Bill P, @JMcG, @JohnnyWalker123
My condolences.
Bottoms up!Replies: @additionalMike, @Swamp Fox
Chin, chin!
Well now… It all makes sense.
Attention Peter Max and Sheppard Fairey: your latest “lithograph scam” has arrived.
How many money-for-nothing lefties would gladly plunk down five or ten grand apiece for a genuine original St George – in your choice of Pride colors? Only 5000 genuine originals will be sold!
Bob Denver retired on his residuals because he said his type of character wouldn’t be as viable after age forty. Though that didn’t stop Don Knotts. (Knotts grew up in West Virginia, and Denver retired there.)
Perhaps this is why Allen went serious and directorial. Hell, he already looked like an old man at 35.
“Together” cereal, now with puberty blockers!
iSteve just comments on the world he lives in. And it’s not getting any saner…
‘St. George Floyd Day Gets Off to a Culturally Appropriate Start with a Bang, But Gay Pride Month Is Coming from Behind’
Do you have to work to come up with these — or do they just spring to mind unbidden?
The first juror picked for the trial [the jew chemist] literally admitted to making a pilgrimage to “George Floyd Square”* with his fiance. Seriously. But he claimed that he averted his eyes from the video, so…
*Personally, I think “Cup Foods Corner” scans better, but “the people” have spoken on that one, and their choice is final.
The David Fincher cut is the one to watch.Replies: @The Wild Geese Howard
Man, I even got the quote wrong!
This whole aging thing sucks.
The “events” are also part of the alphabet soup recruiting and indoctrination effort.
Of course. And that happened because “the gun went off.” And so on. Typically alternating with the passive voice: “shots were fired,” “the quiet was broken.” Next up: “holes appeared in his body,” then “blood flowed out.”
The basic rule here is that when a non-White is the apparent perpetrator, any moral agency involved automatically inheres to the nearest inanimate object, sound, related abstract concept, etc.
Conversely, when the alleged perpetrator is a White goy, moral agency is immediately and irrevocably ascribed to him — hence he is the subject of the accusatory sentence. And the motive is typically assumed to be some sort of openly-heretical “hatred” [—phobia/ —ism/ etc.] directed at an intersectionally-privileged Other.
The exact rule is probably spelled out in the AP Stylebook somewhere.
Remember a decade ago when Glee was popular, “Born This Way” was on the radio, gay marriage was headed to the Supreme Court? I thought that was kind of it. As a gay man, I was happy that it finally seemed that culture had really changed and it wasn’t going to be a problem anymore. I’d be able to be out at work with no issue, get married if I wanted and pay a little less taxes, retire comfortably and just live life without having to second guess how “out” I could be. That we’d just become part of the new normal and that would be that. I really didn’t think there was any merit to the “slippery slope, this is just the beginning” argument.
Following social constructivist developments in sociology, queer theorists are often critical of ssentialist views of sexuality and gender
But whereas the terms 'homosexual', ‘gay’ or ‘lesbian’ which they used signified particular identities with stable referents (i.e to a certain cultural form, historical context, or political agenda whose meanings can be analysed sociologically), the word ‘queer’ is instead defined in relation to a range of practices, behaviours and issues that have meaning only in their shared contrast to categories which are alleged to be 'normal'. Such a focus highlights the indebtedness of queer theory to the concept of normalisation found in the sociology of deviance, particularly through the work of Michel Foucault, who studied the normalisation of heterosexuality in his seminal work The History of Sexuality
Fundamentally, queer theory does not construct or defend any particular identity, but instead, grounded in post-structuralism and deconstruction, it works to actively critique heteronormativity, exposing and breaking down traditional assumptions that sexual and gender identities are presumed to be heterosexual or cisgender.
So the goal is constant subversion of whatever the current "normal" is -- bordering on ontological nihilism. See also:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Power-knowledge#Foucault's_contributions
Deconstructing and Reconstructing Identity: How Queer Liberation Organizations Deploy Collective Identities
https://literariness.org/2018/03/11/key-theories-of-judith-butler/
https://everydayfeminism.com/2015/11/queer-not-born-this-way/
Etc. The main target for the past couple of years [other than the remnants of normal society in general] seems to be White radical feminists/ "TERFS" -- 2nd wave feminist style "gender essentialism" is incompatible with the transsexualist narrative. Of course, the feminists try to turn it around and claim that the "male brain in a female body" trope is the real biological essentialism, but that works about as well for them as "Dems R da REAL 'racists!" does for conservatards.
Next target: White male "sexual orientation essentialists?" Hmm...
Really this. If you’re dumb enough to give this garbage to your children then pronouns are the least of their worries.
Not to be out done, General Mills is coming out with Queerios. You pour them into a bowl, and they eat each other.
What is Libertarian Socialism ? How is that supposed to work ?
To me Vauch sounds like a fool trying to appear intellectual by speaking an odd word salad and acting arrogantly. Also, I cannot believe that he is 27.
Who takes him seriously ?Replies: @clifford brown, @Dissident
The Youtube algorithm unfortunately.
Just a few years back, Youtube had a right wing bent, or at least tolerated right wing speakers. All right wing content was abolished and now Youtube promotes Libertarian Socialism.
Libertarian Socialism is total nonsense which is why The System now promotes it relentlessly.
Have you watched Vaush. I am fascinated, he has nothing important to say, but he always says it with this perfect gravitas.
Yet. He might still get around to it. You’re forgetting about C.P.T.
What is Libertarian Socialism ? How is that supposed to work ?
To me Vauch sounds like a fool trying to appear intellectual by speaking an odd word salad and acting arrogantly. Also, I cannot believe that he is 27.
Who takes him seriously ?Replies: @clifford brown, @Dissident
Excerpt below from Understanding Power: The Indispensable Chomsky (2002, New Press) Republished at Chomsky on libertarianism and Murray Rothbard:
Excerpt below from interview published at Noam Chomsky: The Kind of Anarchism I Believe in, and What’s Wrong with Libertarians
Final excerpt, below, from transcript of 1970 lecture by Chomsky Government in the Future:
"gay pride" is cumming from behind every minute (sure, why not come out of the closet & just say it instead of suggesting); but this is an extremely serious matter when a major corp. with a previously wholesome image foists this sewage on unsuspecting children & their hapless parents. It shows just how far down the road of dissolution this country has traveled in a short time. Why doesn't Kelloggs just go the final immoral mile & donate the proceeds to NAMBA? This would never happen in a sane society like Russia. In 2013, the Duma unanimously passed & Pres. Putin signed, legislation outlawing,“spreading information aimed at forming non- traditional sexual behavior among children, suggesting this behavior is attractive, and making a false statement about the socially equal nature of traditional and non-traditional relationships”; i.e. the homo propaganda bill. Mr. Putin said at the time, in a comment directed at Western critics, “Some countries...think that there is no need to protect children from this. We do.” Good advice.Replies: @Dissident
Strongly agree.
Excerpt below from relevant comment of mine from a month ago.
https://twitter.com/dpinsen/status/1397332942930710528?s=21Replies: @Currahee, @anonymous, @SaneClownPosse, @Corvinus
“The responses to the Evan Vucci tweet make one question the 19th Amendment.”
According to Who/Whom?
But now it’s the current year, and that phrase amounts to strategic essentialism, as the currently-hegemonic ideology on this topic, “queer theory”, would put it:
Following social constructivist developments in sociology, queer theorists are often critical of ssentialist views of sexuality and gender
But whereas the terms ‘homosexual’, ‘gay’ or ‘lesbian’ which they used signified particular identities with stable referents (i.e to a certain cultural form, historical context, or political agenda whose meanings can be analysed sociologically), the word ‘queer’ is instead defined in relation to a range of practices, behaviours and issues that have meaning only in their shared contrast to categories which are alleged to be ‘normal’. Such a focus highlights the indebtedness of queer theory to the concept of normalisation found in the sociology of deviance, particularly through the work of Michel Foucault, who studied the normalisation of heterosexuality in his seminal work The History of Sexuality
Fundamentally, queer theory does not construct or defend any particular identity, but instead, grounded in post-structuralism and deconstruction, it works to actively critique heteronormativity, exposing and breaking down traditional assumptions that sexual and gender identities are presumed to be heterosexual or cisgender.
So the goal is constant subversion of whatever the current “normal” is — bordering on ontological nihilism. See also:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Power-knowledge#Foucault’s_contributions
Deconstructing and Reconstructing Identity: How Queer Liberation Organizations Deploy Collective Identities
https://literariness.org/2018/03/11/key-theories-of-judith-butler/
https://everydayfeminism.com/2015/11/queer-not-born-this-way/
Etc. The main target for the past couple of years [other than the remnants of normal society in general] seems to be White radical feminists/ “TERFS” — 2nd wave feminist style “gender essentialism” is incompatible with the transsexualist narrative. Of course, the feminists try to turn it around and claim that the “male brain in a female body” trope is the real biological essentialism, but that works about as well for them as “Dems R da REAL ‘racists!” does for conservatards.
Next target: White male “sexual orientation essentialists?” Hmm…
Just a few years back, Youtube had a right wing bent, or at least tolerated right wing speakers. All right wing content was abolished and now Youtube promotes Libertarian Socialism.
Libertarian Socialism is total nonsense which is why The System now promotes it relentlessly.Replies: @AKAHorace
Well Libertarianism is popular and cool. And Socialism is popular and cool. Just combine them right ?
Have you watched Vaush. I am fascinated, he has nothing important to say, but he always says it with this perfect gravitas.