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Saturday, May 25, 2024

Bears, Wolves and Incels. OH MY!

A dude claiming the nonsensical title of Alpha Male as in, I’m tops. I’m a rugged, steely eyed, manly man, masculine man-mountain, tells me a couple things:

  • He has no idea that, in the tech field specifically, an alpha version is an under-development software that’s ready for initial testing by a small group of users. It’s buggy, glitch riddled and in no way ready for the public. This, though they seem completely unaware, is a far more accurate (if ridiculously generous) description of these self-identifying alpha male boys.
  • Alpha male (and female) wolves are a myth.
In the wild, wolf packs are typically family units, consisting of parents and their offspring. These packs don't have a linear hierarchy with an alpha male and an alpha female. Instead, they work together as a cohesive unit to survive and raise their young. (source)
When some dudebro claims to be an alpha male, most sane folk will roll their eyes into next Thursday and immediately know that:
  • Dude’s a joke and a pretty pathetic one at that.
  • Poor bastard can’t get laid without paying for it.
  • Everything he knows about sex comes from watching porn.
  • He probably lives in mommy’s basement.
  • He has been known to brag to his friends (AKA, fellow delulu twats) that he took a “date” to Taco Bell and a movie but decided she wasn’t all that hot so won’t be seeing her again (the date was actually his sister).

What’s the Venn diagram of alpha claiming men, incels and single men over 30 (who aren’t looking to lure 18 year old girls into bangmaid servitude)?

By the by, “incel” is a portmanteau of involuntary and celibate. The group is made up of guys who’ve made zero effort to develop interests or curiosity about anything outside their own microscopic worlds. They possess the interpersonal skills of a pangolin and get all their info about women from worm eaten brains such as Elliot Rodger, Jake Davison and Jordan Peterson.

Wilde (director and actress) described incels as “disenfranchised, mostly white men, who believe they are entitled to sex from women. And they believe that society has now robbed them — that the idea of feminism is working against nature, and that we must be put back into the correct place. (source)
Basically, Wilde has described the entire republican party.

Jordan Peterson has gone so far as to say, essentially, that women should be assigned to men. That this would cut down, or wholly eradicate white male violence. Jordy boy feels that women’s place in society is as slaughter-preventing sex providers. Sexbots and sammich makers. Peterson conveniently leaves out the part where these assigned women have no choice in the matter. He refers to his concept as enforced monogamy

Have these ridiculous, cosplay, often violent “men” always existed or are they just another slimy life form that felt free to crawl out from under their rock after Cheato was “elected?”

I can’t fully express how happy I am to be old, disabled (therefore invisible) and happily shacked up. Honestly, if Ten weren’t in my life, I would NOT be looking to venture into Dateland. It's scary out there. FYI, not being married or shacked up is NOT the same as being alone.

And yes, I’d choose the bear.


Thursday, May 23, 2024

Binging

Jen and I are continuing to binge-watch Northern Exposure. Sometimes it’s just one episode, sometimes two or more at a time. I’m noticing things that blew completely past me when this was first on teevee (1990-1995).

Character development is, so far, radically uneven. Specifically, the male cast members seem to have their rich backstories revealed sooner. Fer instance:

Maurice Minnifield (Barry Corbin), the insufferable ex-astronaut, macho patriot, mega-millionaire who wants to defile the natural beauty around Cicely, Alaska by transforming it into a into a vast tourist complex. He seems to think that he owns all of Cicely and the residents are no more than employees or extras in his life. His character begins as a completely two-dimensional stereotype of your basic narcissistic asshole. Within a half dozen episodes we learn that, despite Maurice's accomplishments and efforts, his father much preferred his brother and made no effort to conceal this. Maurice was, essentially, Cinderella. It also comes out that he thought he’d, more or less, purchased a beauty contest winner to be his girlfriend/wife (but she leaves him for another in short order).

All this and he learns and grows a bit in each episode. At this point, I almost don’t even hate him anymore.

Shelly Tambo (Cynthia Geary) on the other hand, is the shallow, simple young beauty pageant winner and is now a barmaid/waitress. She left Maurice for the owner of the town’s bar/restaurant. Shelly has moments of grace and sweetness but is generally none to bright and occasionally petty. So far, she’s not displayed any detectable-to-the-human-eye depth. Betty and Veronica from the Archie comics have more going on.

Ed Chigliak (Darren E, Burrows) comes off at first as an amiable yet tactless, gentle if aimless soul. In each episode more about him comes out—e.g., he’s a knowledgeable film buff who wants to write and direct movies. It’s soon clear that he’s more wise than he initially seems. 

Maggie O’Connell (Janine Turner) should be a bright, strong, deep character. She’s a bush pilot from a wealthy Michigan family. Her role, at this point in our viewing, is possibly the worst written and most squandered opportunity. The writers could have created a rural Alaskan Katherine Hepburn. What did we get? A manipulative, always suspicious, harridan who, on rare occasion, exhibits a flash of wisdom. Honestly, Maggie seems to suffer from bipolar disorder (manic depression) but is generally mired at the cranky, mean asshole end of the spectrum.

It came as no surprise to me when I read that the actor who played Maggie is now a Cheato supporting “christian.”

The male characters are given emotionally richer personalities with more capacity for growth. The women? They’re drawn pretty damned simplistically. The series was written by Joshua Brand and John Falsey. They're clearly talented BUT I hope they got to know a few women. Mebbe they eventually learned how to write us vagina toters with the same breadth and capacity as they write male characters.

Wednesday, May 22, 2024

Off track in the High Crankies

 In a little bit, I'll be headed into town for an appointment with my cornea specialist. No problems—just a checkup.

Still, I'm cranky.

Conceivably, I’m nervous that something brand new and urgently wrong will be found which will delay next Tuesday’s brain surgery AGAIN. It’s unlikely BUT certainly not out of the realm of possibility.

Today is a good day to NOT read the news. Maybe, post appointment, I could hang out at the water and try to attract a friendly pod of orca. They like Fancy Feast, right? I’m sure Skitter and Cake won’t mind sharing (much). I could stop by the bakery too—see if they’ve any rugelach. That’s always a big hit at killer whale pod parties!

Meanwhile, here—have some memes, funnies and such.

Tuesday, May 21, 2024

Sharkland

What if people were more like Greenland’s sharks?
The ages of Greenland sharks were determined using radiocarbon dating of eye proteins revealing that one female shark was estimated to be about 400 years old. This makes it the longest living vertebrate known on Earth, surpassing the previous record holder, a bowhead whale estimated to be 211 years old.
~~~
According to the research, these animals only reach sexual maturity when they reach 4m (13 feet) in length, which, based on their estimated range of up to 400 years, would not occur until they are approximately 150 years old.

(source)
Just imagine what the world might be like if humans lived to be 400 years old and couldn’t make babies until we were at least 150 years old.

By the time sharks get the urge and ability to spawn, they’ve lived, more or less, 38% of their lives. They’ve learned a few things in that time—absorbed knowledge and grown.

If humans were like our sharky buds, we wouldn’t be able to make bambinos until we had, minimum, 32 candles on our birthday cakes. Just think of how many more wanted, expected, planned-for humans would be on the planet if we didn’t hit our baby-making years until our early 30s.

We could spend our teens and 20s being careless and freewheeling—just consensually rutting like the mammals that we are but  withOUT prego consequences. Awesome+, eh? Think of how many more happy, well adjusted adults there would be if we all got our wild years done PRE-babies. How many of those kiddles would also then be happy and well adjusted as adults?

Oh wait, I’m seeing flaws in my fabulous idea. Babies aren’t necessarily wanted or planned just because the shaggers are 30-something.

Look at Elon MusKKK—he sired the first of his 11 children (had with three different mothers) in 2002 at the age of 30. He and his first wife had a pack of six before he moved on, in 2008, to spouse number two. By the by, at least five of the six with uterus number one were conceived via IVF. The children were very much wanted and yet Space Karen left when the youngest set (triplets) were barely two years old.


Who knows the full deal on this wackaloon and his herd of offspring. Point of the story is that, while holding off reproduction until humans are theoretically more mature is smart, there’s no guarantee that the parental units are better, more stable and wise at 35 than they were at 18 or 20.

How ‘bout this—given the planet’s limited resources, intense overcrowding and the amount of destruction we, supposedly, higher lifeforms have wrought—our theoretical God, supposed creator of humanity, installs an upgrade/a bug fix. God's workaround is a fertility time limit of five years—from 35 to 40. This might lead to a greater percentage of parents who are, conceivably, more advanced (intelligence, sagacity and maturation-wise) and better able to care for and raise happy kids.

We dim humans were clearly released before all the bugs, glitches and assorted defects had been worked out.

Monday, May 20, 2024

Insults with Style

There are so many people who deserve to be thoroughly, resoundingly insulted and mocked. Von ShitzInPantz is, of course, at the top of the list but thee's an endless list of fools vying for next-in-line spot.

Take Madge Twatzilla Greene, Puppy Killer Noem, Lauren Gropert (AKA Handy Oakley) or Elise Shit-stack Stefanik (who has a permanent home in Cheato’s vast fecal caverns but now maintains a weekend/vacation place in Netanyahu’s nether regions). There’s Comer Fudd, his best bud, the useless clown Gym Jordan and Actively-Evil Abbott of Texas…to name just a few slam deserving malevolent fools.

I like to, generally speaking, avoid dissing cretinous imbeciles looks. I want to dodge the unfortunate physical aspects that can’t be helped. e.g.: Abbott’s in a wheelchair, Jordan is extremely height challenged, Comer and Stefanik were, sadly, born without any pleasant or attractive features at all (bowls of mashed potatoes are more appealing because at least, with seasoning and butter, they’re edible). Puppy Killer, Boobert and Greene are basically physically healthy and average looking.

Cosmetic enhancements are fair game. That includes Noem’s and Booby’s chestical additions and all their facial plastics. Greene’s iron pumping physique and bad, bleach job are in play too.

Tangerine Id’s toddler level makeup application and elaborate hair sculpture are definitely equitable targets. I hesitate on dissing Donnie Boy’s weight but I’m waffling. The man’s famously lazy as hell, primarily consumes high calorie crap that's nearly empty of nutrition. He built that obese, saggy skin suit he’s waddling around in.

What’s left in my insult arsenal if I leave out Cheato’s weight?

Can I call him a musk ox scented thundercunt? The word thundercunt is adaption of the not-OK-in-the-USA term 'cunt.' It’s used in situations where ‘cunt’ is simply not harsh enough.

Cunt is a term used mainly in the UK by both men and women as a term for stupid or idiotic, often with the word "right" used as an adjective before it.
Standing there in that hat I felt like a right cunt. (source)
Thundercunt is next level. It's intended to describe someone who commits heinous fuckery and causes extreme offense. Additionally, saying it is great way to release frustration and anger.

Thundercunt is best employed when faced with a person acting like such a cunt, that they alter the Earth's meteorological behavior, resulting in near-apocalyptic storms with lethal levels of thunder. This is the worst level of cunt you can achieve.

What about slams that don’t touch on a person’s looks?

There’s my old Monty Python favorite:
Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries.
And other assorted creative castigations and vilification such as:

  • You have the personality and reek of a spew filled paper bag after a meal of haggis burritos.
  • You’re a tiny-brained Renfield who obsequiously cleans op other people's shitty asses!
  • The closest you'll come to a brainstorm is a light drizzle.
  • Your speech was nothing but oxygen thievery.
  • I envy everyone who will never have to meet you.
  • You're as useful as a cheesecloth tea pot.
  • You’re as appealing as rancid buffet shrimp.
  • You’re nothing but a dull stop on an apocalypse bus tour.
  • You have all the charm of a crash test dummy.
  • Your gene pool needs more chlorine and a better lifeguard.
  • Our parents told us we could be anything, and you chose:
  1. natural disaster
  2. speed bump
  3. toilet bowl filled with loose stools after a big Mexican dinner
  4. ground zero of nuclear explosion
  5. narcoleptic fart factory

For the record, I’m on Team Crockett. Unlike the bullying, bleach blond, bullshit spewer from Georgia, Democratic Rep. Jasmine Crockett of Dallas has grace, intelligence, and a lightening fast wit. She has the ability to dance through MAGA lies and absurd slams like Baryshnikov and Hines.


Sunday, May 19, 2024

Hairy Butthead

That's Taylor Swift’s boyfriend’s teammate. You know, the one who went all Handmaid's Tale in a commencement speech at some ultra conservative Catholic college in the Midwest? Oh wait, I remember his name now—Harrison Buttker. What?! Close enough.

First off—what's most important is that we are each free to decide for ourselves how we live our very own lives. You wanna be a stay at home mom? Do it up. A lot of us working class Joes and Jeans don’t have the luxury of not working a job. If I had? I’ve never been a Suzy Homemaker type, nor did I want children. Nope, I would’ve been in the studio painting, sculpting and marketing my creations. Sure, I could’ve/would’ve cleaned house and ordered in fine dinners for spouse and I to enjoy but kids? Nope, cats are better.

In front of the crowd of about 485 male and female graduates, Butker suggested that a woman’s accomplishments in the home are more valuable than any academic or professional goals. 

I want to speak directly to you briefly because I think it is you, the women, who have had the most diabolical lies told to you,” he said. 

“How many of you are sitting here now about to cross this stage and are thinking about all the promotions and titles you are going to get in your career? Some of you may go on to lead successful careers in the world, but I would venture to guess that the majority of you are most excited about your marriage and the children you will bring into this world.  (source

Wait a minute, women can be more than broodmares and bangmaids? Yeah, that's one hell of a "diabolical lie," you ridiculously tiny-brained intellectual failure.

I have to remember that this man is 28 years old with astoundingly little to no life experience outside of his exceedingly comfortable, well-to-do, football hero childhood. When you grow up white, male, healthy and wealthy, life looks pretty easy, clear cut and simple. I guess.

Seems pretty clear to me that Mister Football Kicker is deeply insecure in his *ROAR* big man manliness. Also, he seems  to have woefully unresolved mommy issues. Is he pissed off that she's a medical physicist at Emory University in Atlanta? Was she not home coddling him enough? Did she not serve him enough hot outta the oven chocolate chip cookies? Was he embarrassed when his friends asked about her? Yeah, *kicks dirt with toe of his tennis shoe* my mom’s a stupid radiation oncologist. She should be home baking ME cakes and knitting ME sweaters.

Is this possible resentment the spark that lights his women-belong-at-home-making-babies-and-sammiches fire? He’s said that "growing up my mom was my biggest supporter, guiding me to be the man I needed to become…” Is this just his bogus sportsball cliché interview spiel?

Butt Boy has also:

rebuked U.S. President Joe Biden for being a Catholic who supports abortion rights, critiqued "degenerative cultural values and media," called on women to focus on marriage, and told graduating men to fight against the "cultural emasculation of men." (source)
“Cultural emasculation of men?” Oh honey, show us on the doll where the big bad Culture took away your steel hard, rock solid manliness. Jesus, what an insecure child. Is this why he chooses to play a sport that’s no more than a thinly disguised war game FOR A LIVING? Through her work, his mother is saving lives—what does his job add to the world around us? Nothing. He makes vast truckloads of dosh for kicking a ball.

The most exhausting thing in life is being insecure.
~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh
It’s great that his little football job pays so obscenely well that his wife doesn’t need to work outside the home. They probably have nannies and maids too. She has the choice to do whatever she wants (or does she?).

The vast majority of us Vagina Americans don’t have the same wealth infused options.

Buttker, who gives off serious I’m-afraid-everyone’s-laughing-about-my-microscopic-dick-and-low-intelligence vibes, says “As men, we set the tone of the culture.

Sure Hairy, in your dreams.

“This wasn’t a case of foot-in-mouth. It was a well-prepared speech,” wrote columnist Sam McDowell in the Kansas City Star. “Women listening in the audience, rather than being rewarded with a diploma on graduation day, were made to listen as he promoted the role of homemaker — not as an acceptable choice, but as their duty as a husband’s servant. (source)

What a colossal, if well tailored, douche.

We are the hero of our own story.
~ Mary McCarthy

Saturday, May 18, 2024

Beauty, Grins and 'Deep' Thoughts

 In the dawn, armed with a burning patience, we shall enter the splendid cities.
~ Arthur Rimbaud

Veil after veil of thin dusky gauze is lifted, and by degrees the forms and colours of things are restored to them, and we watch the dawn remaking the world in its antique pattern.
~ Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Come quickly. You mustn’t miss the dawn. It will never be just like this again.
~ Georgia O'Keeffe

I still remember the day my father took me to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books for the first time. It was the early summer of 1945, and we walked through the streets of a Barcelona trapped beneath ashen skies as dawn poured over Rambla de Santa Monica in a wreath of liquid copper.
~ Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind 

Friday, May 17, 2024

I NEED Escapism

As it turns out, I’m more nervous than anticipated about my upcoming bean surgery. From what the docs say, this is expected to be, practically, a drive-by or drive-through event. I MAY even go home the day after.

Still, after all I’ve been through (medically speaking) in the last four and a half years, I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed. This means that I’m not getting in as much rehab exercising as I should. Being in top (for me) shape pre-op means my post-surgery recovery time will be shorter, less onerous.

What do I need to get through this swamp of demoralization? Distracting entertainment, that’s what!

I’m between new books and authors right now (so many promising escapist reads are on my waiting list at the library) so I decided to reread some Vonnegut. I’m very much enjoying his style, absurdities and wit, of course. At the same time though, the river of melancholy that runs through Breakfast of Champions, is proving too much for me. I find myself living within the characters and, just wow. When Kilgore Trout is the most clearheaded, sane and happy soul in the book, it may well be past time to find a different flight of fancy.

Jen and I began rewatching Northern Exposure yesterday. You remember the show, right? It ran from 1990 -’95. It’s a classic fish out of water tale. Big city (NYC) born, raised and educated doctor ends up working in a small Alaskan village to pay off the loan the state gave him. Heartwarming, culture clashing hilarity ensues.

I only mention it but ALL the characters look MUCH younger than when I first saw it. I mean, of fucking course they do. I was in my early 30s when it came out and that was 34 goddamn years ago! Dr. Fleischman looks like a kid (when the show began, Morrow—the actor playing him—would have been in his late 20s). Darren E. Burrows’ character, Ed Chigliak the wonderful, teenaged Indian, was actually in his mid-20s. John Cullum, the old guy bartender, was younger (and more fit) than I am now.

The other show we’re watching is Dead Boy Detectives. So far, it fits the escapism bill.

Two teen ghosts work alongside a clairvoyant to solve mysteries for their supernatural clientele — until a powerful witch complicates their plans. (source)
How else am I ducking reality (besides continuing to avoid my tax prep work)?

On Threads I’m now following the ghost.of.kristi.noems.goat, the.bear.in.the.woods, the.friendly.crow, a raccoon, the worm in RFK Jr.’s brain, deer, fox, wolf, an opossum and orcas.sinking.yachts.

The orcas introduction line?
We're a pod of orcas hoping to rid the ocean of the human billionaire scourge. We also enjoy memes. Tag us when someone needs to get capsized.
The bear’s?
Your friendly neighborhood bear. I only maul misogynistic men.
Goat ghost?
Malcontent spirit of a goat seeking justice from beyond the Veil of Death. Haunting fascists & anyone who dare to abuse animals or the vulnerable.
Deer?
I’m here to eat your birdseed and raise a little hell. And you forgot to put out birdseed.
The raccoon says they’re just looking for some good snacks as they smash the patriarchy. Also, they love Taylor Swift and marshmallows and dislike people filled with hate.

Okay then, this totally counts as escapism!