Snivels and rants! Snivels and rants! Snivels and rants and rants and rants.
30 April 2023
Lighthouse Keeper seems like it would be an ideal job for a bibliophilic misanthrope like me, but they are so often redshirts in murder mysteries and suspense thrillers that it gives one pause.
image of Nubble Lighthouse in York, Maine,
swiped from correspondent Daxeotig Jophodf
29 April 2023
“Because ‘Fuck you.'” — Will Hunting
25 April 2023
I suspect Faux “fired” Carlson the same way the QuikkStopp-by-the-Interstate “fired” me:
“We need you to stop saying — “
“No.”
“But our supporters are — “
“No.”
“But what if we say — “
“No.”
“Look, we really need you to — “
“No.”
“Well, could we get you to sign a resignation?”
“Sure. That wouldn’t be dishonest.”
But shed no tears for Tucker Carl (Marx) son. After enduring the squishie leftie Swampublicans’ Faux Noose, he might breathe a little easier among his fellow nativists and populists at GewsWahx.
22 April 2023
Quiz: One was a “slave flag” for four years, and one was a “slave flag” for four score and more. Therefore, which one is more stained?
Answer? The one on the right has been redeemed by being washed in the blood of Confederate traitors.
Response: Both of those flags have been washed in blood. The one on the left has been dry for over a century. The one on the right remains freshly spattered to this day.
Correspondent Jinivjot Juty responds viscerally if not coherently to my thesis: “No, not now, and not ever. Nope.“
I feel compelled to ask: “No” on all points, or are there specific historical or arithmetical inaccuracies you’d like to cite? Or perhaps the allegory is too sanguine for your tastes? Literally, I do not expect that either of the flags shown have actually been “washed in blood.” Your adamant denial in lieu of response illuminates little but pique.
15 April 2023
I don’t see any irony whatsoever.
“It is altogether fitting and proper*” for a secular custodian to solicit subsidies for an ongoing operation. And it is appropriate for a spiritual advisor to guide congregants through moral challenges.
As an atheist-materialist myself, I’m not in the market for “spiritual” guidance because I don’t really believe that means anything, but I’m still a big fan of emotional and moral support. And I know that somebody‘s paying the electric bill, otherwise the lights wouldn’t be on. What’s your beef? You don’t have to put dime one into the collection plate when it comes around. The best part of my life is the stuff I don’t have to do. Leave us alone!
(* Yes, I do steal from Abe Lincoln. After his body count, he deserves it. Besides, in addition to being the greatest mass murderer among American Presidents, he’s also the greatest poet among American Presidents, and the one attribute never detracts from the other.)
11 April 2023
Not my stuff, but too beautiful not to share. I lifted it from correspondent Goaquyzmoib Lin, who found it somewhere else.
“Calvin? Calvin, sweetheart?”
In the darkness Calvin heard the sound of Susie, his wife of fifty-three years. Calvin struggled to open his eyes. God, he was so tired and it took so much strength. Slowly, light replaced the darkness, and soon vision followed. At the foot of his bed stood his wife. Calvin wet his dry lips and spoke hoarsely, “Did… did you…. find him?”
“Yes dear,” Susie said smiling sadly, “He was in the attic.”
Susie reached into her big purse and brought out a soft, old, orange tiger doll. Calvin could not help but laugh. It had been so long. Too long. “I washed him for you,” Susie said, her voice cracking a little as she laid the stuffed tiger next to her husband.
“Thank you, Susie.” Calvin said. A few moments passed as Calvin just laid on his hospital bed, his head turned to the side, staring at the old toy with nostalgia. “Dear,” Calvin said finally. “Would you mind leaving me alone with Hobbes for a while? I would like to catch up with him.”
“All right,” Susie said. “I’ll get something to eat in the cafeteria. I’ll be back soon.” Susie kissed her huband on the forehead and turned to leave.
With sudden but gentle strength Calvin stopped her. Lovingly he pulled his wife in and gave her a passionate kiss on the lips. “I love you,” he said.
“And I love you,” said Susie. Susie turned and left. Calvin saw tears streaming from her face as she went out the door.
Calvin then turned to face his oldest and dearest friend. “Hello Hobbes. It’s been a long time hasn’t it old pal?”
Hobbes was no longer a stuffed doll but the big furry old tiger Calvin had always remembered. “It sure has, Calvin.” said Hobbes.
“You… haven’t changed a bit.” Calvin smiled.
“You’ve changed a lot.” Hobbes said sadly.
Calvin laughed, “Really? I haven’t noticed at all.” There was a long pause. The sound of a clock ticking away the seconds rang throughout the sterile hospital room.
“So… you married Susie Derkins.” Hobbes said, finally smiling. “I knew you always like her.”
“Shut up!” Calvin said, his smile bigger than ever.
“Tell me everything I missed. I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to!” Hobbes said, excited.
And so Calvin told him everything. He told him about how he and Susie fell in love in high school and had married after graduating from college, about his three kids and four grandkids, how he turned Spaceman Spiff into one of the most popular sci-fi novels of the decade, and so on. After he told Hobbes all this there was another pregnant pause.
“You know… I visited you in the attic a bunch of times.” Calvin said.
“I know.”
“But I couldn’t see you. All I saw was a stuffed animal.” Calvin voice was breaking and tears of regret started welling up in his eyes.
“You grew up old buddy.” said Hobbes.
Calvin broke down and sobbed, hugging his best friend. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry I broke my promise! I promised I wouldn’t grow up and that we’d be together forever!!”
Hobbes stroke the Calvin’s hair, or what little was left of it. “But you didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“We were always together… in our dreams.”
“We were?”
“We were.”
“Hobbes?”
“Yeah, old buddy?”
“I’m so glad I got to see you like this… one last time…”
“Me too, Calvin. Me too.”
“Sweetheart?” Susie voice came from outside the door.
“Yes dear?” Calvin replied.
“Can I come in?” Susie asked.
“Just a minute.” Calvin turned to face Hobbes one last time. “Goodbye Hobbes. Thanks… for everything…”
“No, thank you Calvin.” Hobbes said.
Calvin turned back to the door and said, “You can come in now.”
Susie came in and said, “Look who’s come to visit you.”
Calvin’s children and grandchildren followed Susie into Calvin’s room. The youngest grandchild ran past the rest of them and hugged Calvin in a hard, excited hug. “Grandpa!!” screamed the child in delight.
“Francis!” cried Calvin’s daughter, “Be gentle with your grandfather.”
Calvin’s daughter turned to her dad. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Francis never seems to behave these days. He just runs around making a mess and coming up with strange stories.”
Calvin laughed and said, “Well now! That sound just like me when I was his age.”
Calvin and his family chatted some more until a nurse said, “Sorry, but visiting hours are almost up.”
Calvin’s beloved family said good bye and promised to visit tommorrow. As they turned to leave Calvin said, “Francis. Come here for a second.”
Francis came over to his grandfather’s side, “What is it Gramps?”
Calvin reached over to the stuffed tiger on his bedside and and held him out shakily to his grandson, who looked exactly as he did so many years ago. “This is Hobbes. He was my best friend when I was your age. I want you to have him.”
“He’s just a stuffed tiger.” Francis said, eyebrows raised.
Calvin laughed, “Well, let me tell you a secret.” Francis leaned closer to Clavin. Calvin whispered, “If you catch him in a tiger trap using a tuna sandwich as bait he will turn into a real tiger.” Francis gasped in delighted awe. Calvin continued, “Not only that he will be your best friend forever.”
“Wow! Thanks grandpa!” Francis said, hugging his grandpa tightly again.
“Francis! We need to go now!” Calvin’s daughter called.
“Okay!” Francis shouted back.
“Take good care of him.” Calvin said.
“I will.” Francis said before running off after the rest of the family.
Calvin laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. The time to go was close. He could feel it in his soul. Calvin tried to remember a quote he read in a book once. It said something about death being the next great adventure or something like that. He eyelids grew heavy and his breathing slowed. As he went deeper into his final sleep he heard Hobbes, as if he was right next to him at his bedside. “I’ll take care of him, Calvin…”
Calvin took his first step toward one more adventure and breathed his last with a grin on his face.
Credits: samuraitiger19 – from reddit
6 April 2023
I applaud any performer who can turn his schtick into stacks o’ dough.
If “Let’s Pretend We’re Beer” (Bud Light®) wants to subsidize “Let’s Pretend I’m a Girl” (Dylan Mulvaney®) in return for his endorsement, then I remain uninjured (and uninterested in any beverage with the words “bud” or “light” in its name.) Now I get why Tranheuser-Butsch® is “reaching out” to the “trans community.” Love of alcohol transcends many disparate divisions. But specifically feminine vendors?
Maybe there’s an opportunity here for Magic Myke® Lindell:
“MyTampons® are made from the finest most absorbent Giza Cotton®, from the hot and steamy Giza Valley to your own Brave and Beautiful Barbie Pocket®. MyTampons® are the most comfortable fit imaginable, and if you order now, we’ll throw in free* two MyLyteBeerKoozies®, each embroidered with the images of your favorite trans-activists!”
*Actual baby bedding not available with this offer…
(disclaimer per counselor Kodiap Jizeg)
31 March 2023
“Crazy for feelin’ so lonesome…” Willie Nelson
correspondent Mymolk Mymows wonders why she always seems to attract the crazies. She shares this example:
[T]he guy who asked me if he was attractive… just messaged me. [W]e’ve exchanged a few messages… nothing deep… Just regular small talk.
Him: “I’m a piece of shit.”
Me (red flag alert going off in head): “why do you say that?”
Him: “because I am”
Me (not going to be his cheerleader): “you can change that.”
Him: “no one likes me”
I respond: You attract crazies because you’re crazy-friendly. Not that you’re necessarily nice or polite to the crazies, but that they see your attitude (independent, principled, NOT reflexive or “normal”) and recognize that you are also part of the vast outside of the narrow mainstream. Same reason I guess I attract troofers and flerfers (flat earthers) — because I challenge some popular orthodoxies, I must be amenable to their lunacy too. Sorry, as long as you continue to not parrot the party lines, crazies like me (and worse) are going to be drawn to your hot brain.
And yes, telling a new acquaintance that “I’m a piece of shit” is as helpful a red flag as asking “do you think I’m pretty?” Either statement, unsolicited, early in a relationship, are gifts of freedom. Take them!
23 March 2023
The 17th of April is nigh, and it will forever commemorate the day that the State of Oregon and every spineless compliant masked sheeple in the State murdered my mother. She was killed by house arrest “cuz we wuz a-scared o’ the Bat Saliva Wet Market China Virus” like “we wuz a-scared o’ them Eye Racky Ter’rists and their weapons-o-mass-destruction.”
The nice thing about guilt, like laughter and knowledge, is that it is infinitely divisible, yet it remains undiminished. Every malignant maskerati moral slug deserves a hearty punch in the throat for killing my Mom, whether directly or by cheering on Frau Braun’s (aka “Kateler’s”) edicts (“cuz we wuz a-scared”), and I am not soon to forgive. I “wuz a-scared” too, but I also knew that any virus that landed on my shoulder would soon die of ultra-violet poisoning (if I was smart enough to step outside now and then), and any that I inhaled (or had land on the wet welcoming membrane of my eye) would sooner die at the “hands” of my hardy leukocytes. Yeah, I wuz a-scared. A-scared that my country would surrender to this depravity and embrace the child sacrifices symptomatic of dying cultures. Geez do I hate being right so much!
20 March 2023
Part of the fun I have is “No-Prizing” alleged “errors.” For example, in the above, Super-Hero Legionnaire Matter-Eater Lad® (Tenzil Kem), who is normally dressed in green, is shown in red. What is not shown is the calendar indicating that, in continuo, it is The Day of the Red Peptide, commemorated as Tenz’ home planet of Bismoll‘s most sacred of holy days, whereupon all Bismollians are to be clad in red.
But just for the day.
also shown above in Dave Cockrum‘s illustration
(from Superboy® 193, February 1973),
Reep Daggle (Chameleon Boy®), Salu Digby (Shrinking Violet®),
and Val Armorr (Karate Kid®),
all held de jure by DC Comics® & WarnerCom®.