Why gee, that’s a surprise…

Here’s my prediction: the GOP will win those totally fair elections in a landslide.
Time to hit Polymarket!

Jungkook of BTS

I have no idea who Jungkook or BTS are. It’s either a cultural thing or an age thing. Probably both 🙂

This one I sorta get. Let it grow all the way out or shave it daily

I believe this old funny post is on point:

WARNING!!!
Don’t Shave That Hair!!!

I have recently made a mistake in my life, and I offer my story to you, that you may learn from my error. It all started, as many things do, with me having trouble shitting.

No, I was not constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a matter of technique. It seems my ass-hair had grown to such a length that tiny grogans were constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my asscheeks. It led to much frustration, with me KNOWING that I still had something to drop, but unable to shake the tenacious turd loose from its butthair dwelling. Eventually I would have to do two things: either reach down with some paper and try to pinch off the lingering loaf (which required careful precision to avoid smearing the creature all over my rear, especially since I had no way of seeing what I was doing) or just go for broke, start wiping, and hope that I could remove all the leftover fecal matter before the toilet paper reached its Can’t-Be-Flushed threshold.

was contemplating this problem, when I had what seemed at the time to be a bright idea. “Hey! This is my butt and my butt-hair, right? So why don’t I just eliminate all the hair, and then my grogans will flow out like beer from a keg!” I said to myself. It is a statement that will go down in history with a lot of other regretted statements. “How many Indians could there be?” said by General Custer. “Looks like a good day for a drive!” by JFK. “There! America On-Line now has complete Usenet access!” by some idiot system tech. Such was my anal shaving idea.

I performed the operation that night, with a cheap disposable razor and a towel to sit on. Starting from the bottom, and shaving from the crack to the cheeks, I began the arduous process of ridding my ass of hair. Occassionally, I would have to clean the razor of accumulated hair and miscellaneous slime, which I did by wiping it on the towel. Slowly, my twin mounds and the between-ravine began to resemble the hairless cheeks of a newborn baby. Finally, I wiped the razor one last time, and surveyed my work. The towel was covered with a pile of hair. My ass was smooth as ivory. I smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubles were over.

Little did I know.

I now have a great respect for anal-hair. Like everything in this world God created, it has its mighty purpose in existence. It was only after I had removed it that I started to learn how much I had been taking it for granted. For one, it provides friction. I learned this the next day, when I walked out into the sun heading for class. After climbing two flights of stairs and starting to sweat, I started to notice something unpleasant. The sweat was accumulating in my crack, and was causing the unpleasant sensation of my two asscheeks sliding past each other with every step. I thought about going to the bathroom and wiping it off, but had to get to class. Eventually, I thought, it would dry.

Unfortunately, it did dry, but only after mingling with the microscopic shit- molecules lingering around my brown starfish. When I stood up after class, my cheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky shit/sweat combination. As I made my way back to my dorm, it started to itch. God-DAMN, did it itch! Felt like a swarm of ants was making its way up and down my crack. Fighting to keep from jamming my hand down there and scratching away, I rushed back to the dorm.

Unfortunately again, this exertion caused me to sweat, and when I finally reached my room, my cheeks were sliding back and forth against each other like a pair of horny cane-toads. I quickly dropped my pants, and attempted to dry my ass off by sticking it in front of a fan and spreading my cheeks. As I pulled the two mounds of flesh apart, a horrible stench burst free and filled the room. Every dog within a 4 block radius started to howl. I had it worst of all, as the ripe aroma of festering shit/sweat went into the fan and blew back into my face. I fought to keep from heaving. And as I sat there, fighting vomit, my ass cheeks spread and dripping, with the concentrated aroma of my body odor mixed with the tangy smell of my own shit blowing right into my face, I had only one thought: “It will be like this until the hair grows back. Weeks.”

Later on, trying to deal as best I could, wiping my ass at every opportunity, I discovered another wonderful use for ass-hair - ventilation. I attempted to launch a fart, only to have it get stuck between my asscheeks. Apparently, with no hair, the two pink twins can get vacuum sealed together, and the result was a frustrating fart that slid up and down between my cheeks like a lost gerbil.

As if that wasn’t enough, I am now enduring further torture. As anyone who has ever shaved anything knows, when hair is first growing in, it comes in as stubble. Imagine your ass having the texture of a brillo pad. Well, that is what I am dealing with now. It is a hellish torture, and there are many times when I just look out the window and contemplate why I shouldn’t just jump out and get it all over with in one fleshy splat, rather than endure this constant agony.

Friends, DON’T SHAVE YOUR ASS-HAIR!

Women celebs are human. Shocker…

The problem with AI is that it allows the wealthy to access skill, while not allowing the skilled to access wealth.

I’m stealing that quote.

It’s almost as if Big Tech thinks the stuff we buy with our own money belongs to them…

If Trump kills off the GOP, it will be the one good thing he will ever have done.

The GOP has been an immoral body of terrible people hell-bent on imposing hardship and suffering upon millions, fighting education, pushing magical thinking and generally keeping American society from evolving and adapting to modern times for many decades.

I don’t drive anymore. Problem solved 🙂

The bus’ maintenance is not my problem, and the over cost of a season pass compared to the TCO of a car is a bargain.

The ballroom will not add any protection to the orange utan: the White House correspondents’ dinner incident was not even close to be anything like a close call: the dude was stopped immediately and didn’t threaten anybody in any way whatsoever. Trump was quite safe.

All mechanics I know disconnect the onboard camera, which made me super-suspicious: if they have nothing to hide, why do they do that?

So I started taking a picture of the odometer whenever I drop off my key at any garage. And sure enough, a couple of times, I found they drove my minivan quite a lot more than a test drive would require. When I confronted them, they became agitated and combative.

In one instance, I actually deducted the cost of the fuel: they had driven the minivan almost 70 miles. They said I had to pay the repairs and I’m not leaving until the bill is paid in full, blah-blah-blah. So I asked them if they wanted me to call the cops and if they wanted their day in court. They relented, I paid the repairs minus the fuel and left. Needless to say, I never went back and reported them to the BBB.

Indeed.

I stated here that I did not believe this “shooting” was a false flag to justify cancelling or meddling with the midterms, because it was such a failure, and ultimately a nothingburger.

But the more I watch that dirtbag Lindsey Graham coming out with this idea of funding Trump’s ballroom with we-the-people’s money fully formed and reading to use within hours of the incident, the more I’m convinced that it was a show put up for exactly this purpose.

You don’t get to say what your money is spent on, and you don’t get to negotiate how much you want to contribute. That’s the power of taxation.

In theory, you can vote for someone who will choose to spend your hard-earned on something worthwhile. In practice, it’s an illusion. And pretty soon, Trump will try to dispense with the illusion altogether.

You didn’t really think Trump’s pet project was going to be privately funded, did you?

As always, it’s Trump’s vanity but it’s your money and your White House…

I doubt the 'Nusians are interested in yet another re-run of talking-monkeys-destroy-themselves.

Rob Ford has his own gravity field. Ontarians can’t escape his event horizon.

Did you date Bryon Noem?

Do the leaked memos reveal how many luxury Winnebagos and vacation trips Clarence Thomas was gifted by his good Nazi friend Harlan Crow?

Yeah it was weird. I bought it for the under the price of the land alone. I think her idea was to buy herself another place somewhere with the money (which she did) and leave her kids skint.

And I don’t think she would have agreed to sell it to one of them - not to mention the family feud that would have ensued if one of them had tried.

We invited her - not just for Christmas. She doesn’t want to come because this whole affair was a heartache for her, and she misses her old house enormously. We maintain good relationships but we don’t push her.

Here’s the story of the house we bought last year - which took us 6 years to find.

My wife and I had been looking for a nice house in our area. We moved here just before the pandemic and we knew the prices around here, and they were within our reach at the time.

Then the pandemic happened, house prices went through the roof and never went down.

On top of that, our village in particular tends to be gentrifying at supersonic speed: this used to be an isolated village, but the big city nearby is expanding, so now it’s turned into a fashionable place to live that’s not too far from the city: the lake is now managed, so it’s not a putrid mosquito-invested swamp anymore, we have two supermarkets, solid bus service… Wealthy folks buy old houses here, tear them down and build new, super-expensive mansions on top of what is now prime land.

Before the pandemic, houses here were still affordable(-ish). Nowadays, it’s minimum 3x as much for the cheapest old house (to destroy and rebuild anew, remember!), which are getting rare, and new ones are running into half-million territory.

So we had been watching for houses in the area like hawks on the various local realty sites for 6 years, not holding much hope for this village, but still including it in our search, because why not.

And one day, this house turned up at a surprisingly low price - the one we’re in now. Long story short: it was so poorly advertised by the realtor that nobody bid on it. But I knew it because I had seen it before while riding my bike in that street, so we bid immediately and we scored it.

It’s one of the last old houses, but it’s in perfect condition for its age, because the previous owner was in the construction industry and built it to the most modern standards of the time. And it’s located in one of the most highly sought-after streets in the village, with direct access to the lake, gobs of land, and located 200 yards from the stores and the bus stop.

Our house is insanely great and we got it for cheaper than pre-pandemic prices!

Why you ask? How does something this lucky happens?

Because the previous owner, a nice little old lady, sold it for cheap because she got tired of her children bickering over who would inherit it after she dies, how much profit they would make if they sold it, and trying to move their mom to a retirement home so one of them could move in early, or convince her to sell it now so they wouldn’t pay the tax on property inheritance.

The lady literally told them “Fuck the whole lot of you!” She put the house up for sale at bargain-basement price in order to sell it and move out as quickly as possible, so none of her kids would get anything at all after she’s dead.

And that’s how we got to live in this increasingly posh neighborhood without really having the kind of money to belong here 🙂