I refuse to believe that this exists:
— 🎇 Auld Lang Jess 🍾 (@LadyJessMacBeth) December 30, 2018
In fact, I should probably deny having ever seen this promotion.
I refuse to believe that this exists:
— 🎇 Auld Lang Jess 🍾 (@LadyJessMacBeth) December 30, 2018
In fact, I should probably deny having ever seen this promotion.
A similar, um, flyer has appeared in Florida as well:
Says here that “in 2001, the last real bird died — in a closed ceremony on an island off the coast of Virginia.”
Start thinking “countermeasures”:
The real technological breakthrough, I suspect, is making them weigh as much as a duck.
A Bartlesville man has been arrested after he accidentally burned down his home by attempting to burn a pair of Nike sneakers in protest of the latest Colin Kaepernick ad.
According to authorities, Jason Helms, 26, placed a pair of Nike sneakers in his garage and soaked them in Kerosene before lighting them on fire and filming it with his iPhone. The fire ended up spreading to the garage walls and ceiling before spreading to his actual home. Helms called 911 but by the time firefighters arrived they were unable to save his home.
None of this happened. (At least, not in Bartlesville.) I have to admit, I had to look twice at this to be sure. Ultimate giveaway: no annoying pop-ups. (No “real” news site would let a reader get away without at least one box to the face.) KJRH (channel 2) in Tulsa actually linked to it for a while, but withdrew the link and apologized once they learned the truth.
Steph Willems of TTAC opened a Question of the Day this way:
Picture it. A new world government, headquartered in Belgium, has been elected to oversee our affairs. There, our scientific betters assemble to map out a progressive yet benevolently authoritarian plan for all the planet’s people, causing H.G. Wells and other dead utopians to rise from the grave in orgasmic bliss.
In this hypothetical scenario, consumer choice is curtailed to ensure the citizenry makes the proper decisions. The planet’s air quality and climate is top of mind, as are the globe’s shrinking resources. A conservation plan is put into effect, wiping such indulgent automobiles as the Dodge Challenger R/T, 392, Hellcat, and other V8-powered machines. The GM 6.2-liter V8 is ceremoniously killed off. Schoolchildren are taught to snitch on any parent caught harboring a overly powerful motorcar, perhaps in a rural barn somewhere.
Suffice it to say, it’s heaven on earth. There’s no choice to see it any other way. But hold on — it’s new car buying time, and the state, er, the world, has mandated that as your daily driver, you must purchase a hybrid.
Instead of Brussels or Antwerp let’s inject a little non-fiction and just say Sacramento.
Meanwhile, Infiniti is discontinuing the Q70 Hybrid. Figures.
After the Reese Witherspoon Photoshop incident, I got to wondering how one would deliberately render an image of a three-legged woman. I betook myself to deviantArt, and happened upon a wealth of examples.
[There also exists a version of Liang Jiao San with five legs.]
Elsewhere, there was this promo from the “Freak Show” season of American Horror Story:
Now that’s kinda creepy.
I want them to turn black, as the automobile should already have told you:
If only they hadn’t posted this on the 31st of March.
As for the presenter herself … well, I’ll be in my sedan.
(Via Peter Grant.)
I mean, just look at him:
6100: Present reading of the meter adjacent to the monument to Edward R. Murrow at Glen Arden, New York, in revolutions per minute, if Lindsey Buckingham is to be believed.
(Via American Digest.)
WDSU in New Orleans has been circulating this possibly apocryphal list:
KATC is the ABC affiliate in Lafayette, Louisiana, and the apparent inventor of the term “Acadiana.”
As for me, I only know of one Cajun baby, born to Doc Milsap and his pretty wife Hannah.
This came out a couple of years ago, but its silliness remains undiminished. The depiction of Madame Curie, of course, is completely and utterly contrary to fact.
If anything, it’s even sillier than their earlier Schrödinger’s Mummy.
If you can keep the critters off your coif, anyway:
(Poached from Jeff Faria.)
I would have thought that the stories about Michelle Obama’s alleged manhood would have died out by now; I suppose this particular set of fabulists is worried that she might make her own run for the White House in 2020 or 2024. One of the ringleaders was InfoWars’ Alex Jones, and he apparently hasn’t given up the notion [warning: autostart video]:
Conspiracy theorist and founder of media outlet InfoWars Alex Jones came under fire Thursday night [24 August] after he shared a video that claims Michelle Obama is a man.
The video was posted to Jones’ website, InfoWars, after the 43-year-old claimed during his podcast that it provided “proof” that Obama was a man.
Jones pointed to photos of the former first lady wearing pants or skirts that crease, saying they show a “large bulge inside her pants,” and claimed that late comedian Joan Rivers’ 2014 comment calling Obama a “tranny” is proof his theory is right.
Now I have no problem ignoring Alex Jones and his ilk. I did notice that Chelsea Clinton snapped back:
— Chelsea Clinton (@ChelseaClinton) August 25, 2017
And I figured that would be that, until someone dropped a Photoshopped picture into my Twitter timeline. Now I’m quite aware that there is a cottage industry specializing in pasting wieners on women for whatever reason, and there’s clearly enough technical skill out there to pull this off; it was perhaps more persuasive than that legendary Spy cover with the faked-up contents of Hillary’s tighty whities, until you looked a little closer. (Not that you should, necessarily.) If you did, though, you’d see that while the anonymous artist did a good job of matching up skin tones and such, either the placement was clumsy, or the former First Lady could have given Milton Berle a run for his money.
Linguist Geoffrey K. Pullum raises the question of whether the way we name storms might be counterproductive:
I think it’s becoming clear that alternating male and female personal names to individuate Atlantic tropical cyclones is not a good idea. These storms are becoming far too nasty. Calling a storm “Harvey” makes it sound like your friendly uncle who always comes over on the Fourth of July and flirts with your mom. And “Irma” sounds like a dancer that he once knew when he was in Berlin.
Insufficiently intimidating, apparently. Here’s the fix:
Accordingly, next year the National Hurricane Center is planning to name tropical cyclonic storms and hurricanes after unpleasant diseases and medical conditions. Think about it. The state governor tells you a hurricane named Dracunculiasis is coming down on you, you’re gonna start packing the station wagon.
If you came back after Anthrax, Blastocystosis or Chlamydia, that is.
Anyway, that takes care of 2018. What comes next?
For 2019, the plan is to use names of parasitic worms and flesh-burrowing insects. After that, probably venomous snakes.
Politicians for 2021, I suggest.
Mike Nesmith of the Monkees apparently used to distrust the press, and not just the musical press. He illustrates with this tale from 1977:
“As we sat down for the interview, before he asked the first question, I told him that I was going to lie to him. He was taken aback, then seemed a little nonplussed and asked why. I said it was because I didn’t trust the press, that I didn’t expect him to tell the truth, so neither would I …
“I said that some of the things I would say would be true and some false, and it was up to him to figure out which was which, according to the normal standards of journalistic responsibility. He asked how he would tell the difference between when I was lying and telling the truth, and I said, “You won’t. That is the point of the lie …
“Then came a point where he asked me about the sales of the Monkees records, and I saw the chance. It isn’t too well known, I said flatly, that we sold over thirty-five million records in 1967. More than the Beatles and the Rolling Stones combined … he diligently wrote all this down, and I wondered for a moment if I had chosen too outrageous a lie to tell, but it turned out it had been just right.
“The next day in the paper, there it was, printed as fact.”
To this day, this totally bogus number — “class-A mendacity,” said Nez — is being quoted by people who don’t know any better, which is most of them.
(From the Nesmith autobiography Infinite Tuesday, via American Digest.)
And you probably want to get a move on already:
Do not take if you are allergic to Sarcasma, as they say in every farking drug ad on TV, like you’d know if you were allergic to it before you ever took it.
(Via Bayou Renaissance Man.)
Yet there it is:
Great news, everbody! It took several months of intensive research, experimentation, and trial-and-error, but at long last I have (1/2)
— Matthew Baldwin (@matthewbaldwin) July 13, 2017
And yes, both those tweets have legitimate URLs.
I’d suggest that we all applaud his efforts, but for all I know, he’s already heard the applause.
Does it ever seem to you that all these alleged Nazis look alike?
Back in November, the Left and the #NeverTrumpers (BIRM) wanted James Comey fired. Now that he actually has been fired, it’s a “coup.” Or is it a Reichstag fire? I thought Sessions’s appointment as Attorney General was the Reichstag fire, but maybe that was also a “coup.” He’s Literally Himmler, I’m pretty sure of that … if you wanna get technical I guess he’s Literally Otto Thierack, but since the Left doesn’t read they don’t know but three or four Nazis … which is funny in itself, given how much they love to throw Third Reich allusions around (for the record, comrades, CIA director Mike Pompeo is Literally Reinhard Heydrich, Education Secretary Betsy de Vos is Literally Bernhard Rust, and Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin is Literally Carl-Heinrich von Stülpnagel. Why? [Belch] Why not?! And besides, it’s more fun to say “von Stülpnagel” than “Mnuchin,” and Trump’s Literally Hitler cabinet needs at least one guy with an umlaut in his name. Remember that, it’ll be on the midterm).
If you ask me, I’d be perfectly content were the rights to all that Nazi crap assigned to the one man who’s done something useful with the concept:
I tell you, that guy’s got balls.
I don’t believe a word of this, but it’s a heck of a narrative. Holly — no, not our Holly — claims:
I found a way to pinpoint exactly where someone is EVERY time they use their phone and it is through Netflix. Just saying.?
Suspension of disbelief begins to fail … NOW:
So my ex bf does not have Netflix on his phone. He only has it on his smart tv and his computer … that I know of.
He kept taking off at odd hours and I noticed he was bringing condoms. I actually counted them for a month bf doing this. Anyway I went to his Netflix acct and then to history. It has option there for IP addresses. I clicked that. It told me his IP address EVERY time he used his phone … it had nothing to do with netflix. It also corresponded to the times he kept taking off. I highlighted and copied the IP addresses into a gps converter app I got from google play. It took those IP addresses and gave me the exact gps coordinates of where he was at as well as the time he was there (Netflix IP history). It showed him many times in the middle of the woods on an army base and on a dirt road (where his missing condoms were found on the ground). I waited until he left and went to the place and caught him with a male prostitute. He is now my ex. Oh and he is an FBI agent in sex crimes division. Sooo … that is how you do it :-)
If he doesn’t have Netflix on his phone, why would Netflix have a list of the IP addresses on his phone? For that matter, why would the guy’s desktop have a list of the IP addresses on his phone? If you ask me, he’s better off as far as possible from Femaleficent there.
I’m thinking this list is probably unassailable:
Top 20 Things NO WOMAN Should Wear after 30
By me, noted woman Molly Hodgdon. pic.twitter.com/5NFfptrC9m
— Molly Hodgdon (@Manglewood) February 27, 2017
It might be wise to think twice before trying on even a tested jetpack.
From Alicia Dearn on Facebook:
Emperor Huang of China circa 220 BC, probably: “We’re going to build a wall. It’ll be so huge, you can see it from space. And the Mongols are going to pay for it.”
Genghis Khan circa 1215 AD, probably: “Walls don’t work, jackasses. Oh and I’m emperor now.”
As the phrase goes: Jesus saves, Moses invests, but the Mongol hordes.
Meanwhile, as things quiet down south of the 49th parallel, Canadians continue to protest vigorously:
(Via Jeff Faria.)
This isn’t quite the way I remember it:
What? The 27th of November is too soon?
Have the Philadelphia Flyers sunk so low?
This would simplify matters for all those people who swore they’d move to Canada if Donald Trump were elected:
(Via Jeff Faria, who warns: “Of course, all those folks will have to undergo Canadianization training, which is a long, complex process involving maple syrup.” Pass the poutine.)
Were I not actually here and able to tune in 101.7, I’d almost believe this:
OKLAHOMA CITY, OK — Local Christian radio station 101.7 WSLT “Salt & Light Radio” announced Friday a new programming direction wherein its radio hosts would be instructed to select from a list of nine different songs, up from the usual eight — which was already double the industry standard.
“After careful consideration, we’ve decided to add Chris Tomlin’s ‘Good, Good Father’ to the rotation. We know we’ll get some push-back here, but we believe God loves diversity and creativity,” a spokesman for the station said in a statement Friday.
“Of course, we’ll still be playing the other eight songs over and over and over again — we just really wanted to push the boundaries by adding one more to the rotation,” he noted. “But the staples like ‘The God I Know,’ ‘Holy Spirit,’ ‘Oceans,’ and that song where the girl says she’s going to get her worship on aren’t going anywhere.”
Actually, that last song is not bad at all:
And with a nine-song rotation, you probably won’t hear it more than once an hour.
That said, there’s no available space at 101.7 in this market, what with a big Class C FM at 101.9.
I see we’re talking once again.
And the vision of the lovely Number Six, still it sticks…
(From Ron Cole’s Facebook page.)
Fauxcountry News, which is to Charleston (South Carolina) what The Lost Ogle is to Oklahoma City, recently ran this piece which I believe to be at least somewhat satirical:
Charleston is well-known for winning best city awards from various travel and tourism magazines, but now Charleston has earned a new honor. Stylish Woman Magazine has selected Charleston as the #1 city with the most beautiful women who must settle for complete douchebags.
Editor-in-Chief of Stylish Woman Corrin Mason said it was an easy choice when all was said and done. “We visited a lot of cities,” said Mason. “But within one hour of touring Charleston, it became abundantly clear this city was the winner. I’ve never seen so many hot women paired with such arrogant asswipes.”
It’s purely a matter of demographics:
Charleston is well-known for having a 2-to-1 female-to-male population ratio. The gender discrepancy leads to the phenomenon known as The Musical Chairs Effect on the dating scene. In your early 20’s, the music starts and all the decent, good-looking guys are immediately snatched up. As the music continues playing into your late 20’s, the remaining population of single men are claimed and married in progressive order from “he’s okay” to “meh.” When women hit their early 30’s, they’re forced to date one of the leftover douchebags before the music stops and they become a crazy cat lady.
It’s been 47 years since I was a resident of the Holy City, but even back then, there was feminine pulchritude in dazzling profusion. I didn’t reach full douchery, however, until long after I’d left.
We’ve disconnected our home alarm system and quit our candy-ass Neighborhood Watch.
Bought two Pakistani flags on eBay and raised them in the front yard … One at each corner, plus a black flag of ISIS in the center.
Now, the local police, sheriff, FBI, CIA, NSA, Homeland Security, Secret Service and other agencies are all watching the house 24/7.
I’ve never felt safer and we’re saving $49.95 a month.
Then again, that is a hell of a lot to pay for a security system.
Still, there it is at the bookstore:
SOMEONE PRINTED COVERS FOR A FAKE SELF HELP BOOK AND PUT IT ON THE SHELF AT THE BOOK STORE I CANT BREATHE pic.twitter.com/Ri8RmUInpd
— plain jane (@thinkbri) September 27, 2015
Who has two legs and would do something like this? This guy.
Well, okay, if you say so, but it still sounds strange:
They are supposed to be twins, but Princess Leia would actually be nearly two years older than Luke Skywalker because of Einstein’s theory of relativity, say scientists.
Students at the University of Leicester made their calculations based on the twins’ journeys to Cloud City. Leia travels from the neighbouring system of Anoat and arrives at Cloud City in around 6.72 hours, while Luke travels from the much more distant planet Dagobah, which takes around one week.
Additionally, as Leia travels in the Millennium Falcon, a much larger ship with more powerful engines than Luke’s X-Wing Starfighter, the students assumed that it reaches a higher speed.
Leia’s journey yields a time dilation of 62.6 days; however Luke experiences a time dilation of 700.8 days.
The students concluded that Luke is therefore 1.75 years younger than Leia, possibly rendering them the first twins ever to have more than a year between their ages.
A second scenario investigated produces an even greater age gap.
I think I need to lie down.
(Via Miss Cellania.)
Filmmaker Jeff Peabody dates this 60-second spot to 1956, which is of course wishful thinking:
Still, he nails the scene and the branding, though in ’56 Van Raalte (which faded in the late 1990s after becoming basically a Sears store brand) had been using “Because you love nice things” as its tagline for many years. And “Harlem Nocturne” in the background is perfect.
And were I ever to say “Aren’t you forgetting something?” in these circumstances — well, there’s no chance of actually being in these circumstances, and I suspect there’s a limit to my deviousness. Maybe.