A year or more back I got a three pack of boxer shorts from Lands' End that were "not quite perfect."
I'd always assumed the flaw was that the elastic was too tight. Only today do I realize that the fly actually has a cover, a second flap. It's the same as on my overbuilt Uniqlo boxers, that have a covered button, except there is no button or button hole. I must assume that this was the intent and it just somehow didn't get done?
I'm sure by now you're all aware of my towering incompetence at world takeover schemes. Well, guess what - it turns out that hatching ill-conceived world takeover schemes is actually NOT my weakest skill.
Evidently, it's parenting. Yes, parenting. Our former foster son called today from the institution he's currently residing at (Until October 31, what Irony), and as it turns out, he confirmed to me that he is in fact a brony. That's right - a brony. And normally he likes to make stuff up on the fly if he thinks it will curry favor, but no - I gave him the Standard Brony test and he passed with flying colors. Just like his old man.
So I'll be pouring one out tonight on the rocky shoals of my failed fatherhood experiment, and then set about to doing the same thing I do every night: Plan to take over the world.
(yes, this poast is 100% truthful and accurate. Yes there is a long backstory. Rambo and others know deets, it's been long enough for me to look back and chuckle)
Holy heck. Some of those comments could give David Icke a run in the crazy stakes. The sheer venom directed at his fiancée by some of the women who are commenting is pretty whacked, too.
A lot of people also seem to think that it's really odd that he announced his engagement in the newspaper. I suppose that it is odd nowadays, but up until WWII (and probably for a while afterwards), it was common practice for upper class and upper-middle-class families to put a notice in the newspaper to announce engagements, just as birth and death notices are still published in newspapers nowadays (although far fewer than used to be the case).
1. Heterosexual men exist, as much as women hate it.
2. Stop mistaking British for homosexual.
3. As every stylish man knows, this heteronormativity that claims any man that makes an effort with his appearance is a cocksucking gay homo is just toxic.
4. You crazy fruit flies, go get yourself a homely man on your level and stop dreaming that suspected homosexuals will go straight for you. This won't happen.
First, there are the libertarians...Their philosophy is best summed up by Matt Kibbe’s bookDon’t Hurt People and Don’t Take Their Stuff. Their foreign policy involves basically nothing. All they want the government to do is handle basic infrastructure, provide a few police, and keep a bare-necessity military. Please stop saying libertarians hate roads. Basic infrastructure includes roads.
Conservatives are broken into two groups and both hate each other’s guts. Paleoconservatives are as fiscally conservative as libertarians but they’re not socially liberal. They want gays to stop being gay and they don’t like drugs either. Pat Buchahan is the quintessential paleocon. He’s old and tough and smart and could give a shit about Israel. These guys all have the same gray suit and they think rap is just a black guy yelling at them.
Well this actually both made me happy and pissed me off.
Backing the motorcycle out today, the clutch cable snapped. Obviously that sucks because I have to order a part and the bike sits till I install it. However, this is about the best possible time and place for the failure, as I was in neutral and it's the perfect place to park a disabled machine.
I carry several with me. Actually, I have cracked bodywork with the Frankenstein stitching of cable ties keeping it all together. One time I had to lash either a footpeg bracket or something with the shifter back on after the bolt fell off while riding. This is an easy fix but three days minimum to get a part.
I'm riding into work on my crappy little motorcycle, and I notice the newish Jeep Cherokee in front of me at the light has one of those animated drivers that is doing something besides waiting for the light to change. I make the mental note that this guy is likely distracted and to watch out. Maybe a quarter mile later, as we pass the high school, he starts veering off to the right. I think "where the fuck is he going?" and we both realize, as the vehicle exits pavement and starts riding up a nice mound, that he's headed right into a big tree trunk. Let's just say that the sharp steering correction led to a return to pavement, but doing so led to airbag deployment, a front passenger wheel pointed in a wrong direction, and a steaming engine.
He was nice enough to crash into the middle of the road and not inconvenience anybody else. I stuck around to see that he was ambulatory, but I have an aversion to being a witness since being sued after some guy flipped his Explorer and accused me of cutting him off. The Firestone tire issue came up around the time of dismissal, and I suspect they were related.
Joni Mitchell is in a coma. She was born here, left in her late teens but periodically came back to visit her parents. She continually slagged the city as rascist and - although not directly - was pissed because the city never named a park or a public toilet after her. She was a bitch who dissed this shithole on a regular basis.
Now that she is on the edge of leaving this mortal coil, public opinion has been decidedly unanimous: good riddance. It melts my heart that the populace has shrugged off the benign and apologetic Canadian mindset to wish Joni Godspeed on her passage to hell.