Your love is like buttered leg hair
Given the choice of whether to have my cake or eat it too, I'll take eating it, please.
Today I identify as a muggle
You Don't Have to Let Faceyspaces
Track You Across the Web
Some top 100,000 websites collect
everything you type—before you hit submit
Because you haven't had your cup of good news yet today...
Your data's auctioned off up to
987 times a day, NGO reports
This unsettling Army recruitment video is a master class in
psychological warfareJust look at lefty - he's doing that conspiracy theory stuff again. This is one of the things he talked about. Hmmm... maybe he has something. The army producing propaganda or psych warfare videos. Obama made this legal, although it was certainly going on before him.
We're on a home improvement binge lately.
When I say we're on a home improvement binge, I mean we're still desperately searching for someone to mow the lawn.
But it gets better... we're also looking to clean the house. If you live near me, that would explain the line of construction, industrial cleaning equipment and trucks stretching down the block.
Growing up, each family member had their thing, with regards to cleaning.
- Mom was just one generation off from scrubbing the bathroom tile with a toothbrush. Everything was always presentable. A pair of shoes on the steps for more than two hours would change the basic atmosphere of the house.
- The brother was messy but not nuclear sewage messy. But his room had the propensity to behave like a giant black hole, sucking in everything around it. If you were missing something, it was probably under his bed. There was also a large variety of rolling papers and men's magazines. To this day, nobody asks.
- Then there was me. Suffice it to say that everything I touched turned to clutter, and no amount of cleaning would make it look any less than post-tornado. Sometimes after I cleaned, it looked worse. This led to all sorts of interesting conversations with Mom. At least I had the sense to hide my hamster pr0n. I was also in charge of the basement, which came to be known as lefty's Basement to those outside the house. It became a universal joke: Hey - that place is a mess. It looks like lefty's basement.
Fast forward to living on my own. I paid the bills, so only I could yell at me for the clutter. My brother, who lived with me for a bit, suddenly changed places with me. Suffice it to say he kept his bedroom door unlocked, because everyone was terrified of what they might encounter upon entering.
Bro left and I inherited all the Bad Genes<tm>. Then I met someone who could only remember things that were right there in her sight, so everything had to be within her sight. She developed a shoe collection that threatened to take over the house, as well as build a space elevator. It turned out some of them were good for the terrain on the Moon.
Bob's Cleanomatic was the first cleaner we spoke to. Bob himself came by to give us an idea of what was involved and an estimate. We left while Bob was performing Estimating Activities and came back to a street full of police cars and an ambulance. Bob had hung himself. Before the estimate. Possibly because of the esitmate. Those who knew him stated that he had no suicidal thoughts and was never depressed.
We called Naughty Maids (at my insistence). 'Bridgette' stopped by to look at things. She showed up in her French maid outfit, looked around, and said her girls could wear the French maid outfits, but they would be covered up by Level 3 Contaminant HAZMAT suits. Thwarted yet again, we continued looking.
How could the cluttered become the radioactive?
The final candidate was weird. Yes, you're asking yourself how could a cleaning service be more weird than the job they were taking? We pride ourselves on our weirdness, most of which was not intentional. Stuff just rearranges itself on no particular schedule. Historical Cleaning Services is a business where the cleaners show up in historical costumes. You could have Joan of Arc running the vacuum and Ben Franklin doing the bedrooms. I liked the idea of Ben being involved because I had a few things I needed to talk to him about. Only later did I discover it wasn't the real Ben Franklin. This resulted in years of intensive therapy. I couldn't trust anyone for a large period of my life. Historical cleaning would not have worked out. The neighbors complained about the ambulances clogging the street. It turns out the historical figures were all engaged in self-harm. Instead of cleaning, there were blood stains. We received a small settlement.
Months later we came to the sad realization that cleaning services weren't going to be do-able and there were too many permits involved. It looked like we'd have to [shudder] clean our own house.
- Our Diversity Officer at work has still not recognized the left handed. This is pure discrimination, of the worst variety. I guess we won't get our due until we fill out the paperwork to become a race.
There was no flavored coffee creamer at the store.
This is passing the point of ridiculous. A man's coffee is the most important thing in the morning (unless he gets morning oral sex). If he is forced to use [ACK!] powdered creamer, the day isn't likely to get off to the same kind of start. Powdered creamer can, however, be tolerated if it is preceded by the aforementioned oro-genital recreation. Let's all get the coffee and condiments together so we don't have to face this kind of dilemma. To the great teleworking force, this is more important than gas prices.
Speaking of gas prices, when they went to about $3.99 here, this was about the time people started freaking out and even contacting their congresspersons. Congresspersons don't have any control over gas prices, but they felt they had to do something, especially in light of the just-released profit statements from the oil companies. The prices miraculously fell, and the people celebrated. Then, when the people turned around to tell little Johnny so SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP in your carseat, the prices went back up, higher than before.
Think...
Stuff happens. Life goes on. You're left with a huge hole because someone moved, disconnected, or took leave of the planet. Do you want to talk to this person? What would you say to them? What do you say to someone who died? Would it make a difference? We here at ThermionicEmissions think the concept of closure is complete excrement.
When I found out our aged neighbor died in the hospital from the Flying AIDS, my first thought was that we didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. Then I thought about what we would have said... See ya next time? I hope you find your beliefs were spot on? The dog misses you?
Hi, Dad, sorry to drag you away from whatever it is you were doing, but... ummm...
Friend.. we were so close. Never mind that we drifted away... can we reconnect?
I'm awful sorry I told you that you looked like a dump truck in that dress.
- Cars in driver-assist mode hit a third of cyclists, all oncoming cars in tests
- that's a pretty good start! Do not let it be said that America doesn't have the brains and can-do attitude.
- Told you so. The technology is Not Ready for Prime Time, yet it has been released and is all over some cities, coming soon to highways via trucks.
Like other primaries, the Philly gubernatorial primary went off the other night.
First place by a slim margin was Dr. Oz, by a nose hair, as endorsed by Trump. It's only fitting a tv show host endorse another tv show host. At least Trump was entertaining; not so much Oz. Oz may not live in Pennsylvania, but that never stopped anybody from running for anything.
On the democrat side, they continued their 'he's breathing, right?' style of nomination, when Lieutenant Governor John Fetterman won, two days after announcing he had suffered a stroke. President Biden is presiding over the efforts to change the democratic slogan to "We might be impaired, but..... at least we're impaired."
After the hard slogan work was done, Biden demanded a lollipop.
- Post Malone we listened to music
Our polling place changed.
I didn't want to think there was a conspiracy, but when we went to our polling place that had been there for more years than several of our dogs, it was no longer there. I believe this is a desperate tactic on the part of one party or the other, to keep us home and not voting.
And I find myself deluged with republican spam. This is different from the more frequent democratic spam. At least the republicans only send a few, and they don't send them to a wrong name. Regardless, when anyone asks if they can count on me to vote with them, I tell them the moment they vote libertarian, then block the number. It's the only thing I can do that makes me feel like I got a tiny amount of revenge. Don't forget: when politicians created anti-spam laws, they exempted themselves.
When people start a hobby or job, they 'cut their teeth' on their first few opportunities. I don't know about you, but I don't wanna cut my teeth on anything. My dentist bills could buy me a McMansion, whatever that is.
Today at the Talledega 500, 495 mechanics quit, citing electric cars. Apparently the mechanics no longer smell like gasoline, and as a result, don't get the chicks anymore. News at 11.
Anybody in the IT field knows the latest industry buzzword: AI - artificial intelligence. It's what ate humanity in the Terminator series, when it became self-aware and decided the humans must go. Some argue this was a very sensible decision. So AI will definitely be reaching out to consumers in many forms, none self-aware (hopefully). I don't know about you, but I can think of a few ways this could actually be helpful to me....
- standing there, nodding its head when [SPOUSE] speaks
- deleting not only spam, but stuff that bugs you (like everything at work)
- reminding you where you left your car keys. and phone. and condoms.
- sending [SPOUSE] flowers and gifts from you on unimportant days like anniversary and birthday
- taking [SPOUSE] shopping when The Big Game is on
- taking the dog out for a trot or to perform excretial activities
- speaking of the dog, she came in last night and bought Wife a present: a dead baby bird. A belated mother's day present, no doubt.
Buffalo shooting: Parents of injured victim demand
political action
Welcome to another edition of Reality Court. On today's show, we take a look at demands post-mass shooting. These events are horrible, and affect many. Let's address the demand: WHAT. WILL. HELP? The answer is, of course, nothing. You cannot legislate this away, any more than Johnny Depp can marry an ugly chick and get a job as a barista.
What might happen is that politicians will feel the volume and need to be seen to do something, impotent as it would be. They will pass a new law forbidding mass shootings - will that satisfy the demands?
Pentagon opens up about its database of 400
smudges that may or may not be UFOs
'We're open to all hypotheses, we're open to any conclusions' says official
(provided they don't contain the word 'alien')
Smudges... heh heh...
Don't forget swamp gas, ducks in formation, oil rigs, lenticular clouds, particular clouds, mass hallucination, and whatever else they could dig up that day. No, seriously, smudges? There are over 400 pictures with smudges? That's a lot of smudges. If there are that many smudges, how many non-smudged pictures exist?
It's safe to say that if the government is talking about any part of UFO disclosure, they're lying or it's part of a
PSYOP. Their track record since at least the 1940s speaks for itself.
Congress' $770bn
National Defense Authorization Act
for fiscal 2022 calls for the creation of a permanent federal office
within the Department of Defense to investigate and report on UAPs.
Yes, more useless bloat in a government that seems to grow weekly. All UFO information is held somewhere at present. If really interested in disclosure, they could just release that information. This department is at least redundant, and at most a complete diversion.
