They are moving in up here in hippie town. The U-Hauls are driving in like a tank brigade.
The locals are the ones that give me the most entertainment.
Here is one that I’ll guess has dyed hair, tattoo’s and piercings. I would have guessed a cat, but she already let me know about that one.
This next one is a typical mountain car. The armrest is on the outside, the headlights are taped on, the hood is dented and the windshield is cracked. It’s a Sequoia, which once was a very nice car. I’m guessing this one will get driven until it dies.
I loved lawn darts. It’s like eating a tootsie roll pop. You always bite it. With lawn darts, you take maybe 2 throws at the circle and then you are aiming at the other kids. Now, micro aggression’s need safe spaces in case I hurt you with an incorrect pronoun or say a forbidden word. How sad it is that you can become so shallow that words thrown childishly and generally out of context hurt you.
Now for dodgeball. They don’t let kids play it because the unwritten rules are kill the fat kids and girls first as they are the slowest and easiest to hit. It’s why lions kill the slowest in the heard. They are the ones that got a good game banned because they couldn’t win. Note: This game is a good lesson in life, survival, awareness and loyalty.
Loyalty in dodgeball? Yes. When it’s down to a couple of kids, you don’t throw at your friends first. It spilled over into class and life.
Did we aim for the body? If it was available, otherwise a head shot was good for stories 2 days later that everyone enjoyed until Karen’s came along.
If they would stop banning the good games (also red rover), maybe kids would go outside more.
I regularly post about the tragedy that is social media, how government mishandled Covid, that Gates and Fauci are power grabbing beta males and the worst sin of all, saying Covid came from Wuhan.
I have enjoyed posting the dangers of the jab, because meatheads I know can’t believe that I’ve proved it’s poison.
It turned out that I was both ahead of the curve on a lot of things
I predicted it would take it’s toll on my traffic and it did. I still get hits from China watching me properly place blame on their policies and human rights, but the big G search engine didn’t like it at all.
I also got banned by Facebook searches which regularly borrowed my memes. I detailed how to delete fake book many times and why you should do it.
All of that has cut me to about 10% of my usual traffic.
Now, ask me if I care? Why I don’t is that I write this for me. I get my thoughts out there in writing. Being introverted, I’d rather communicate that way rather than orally.
Will I stop? Not a chance. I’m having too much fun lampooning the mistakes.
Heck, the election season is not really in full swing. I can’t wait.
The G-spot, also called the Gräfenberg spot (for German gynecologist Ernst Gräfenberg), is characterized as an erogenous area of the vagina that, when stimulated, may lead to strong sexual arousal, powerful orgasms and potential female ejaculation. It is typically reported to be located 5–8 cm (2–3 in) up the front (anterior) vaginal wall between the vaginal opening and the urethra and is a sensitive area that may be part of the female prostate.
We all know the jokes about it and whether we actually found it, either guy or girl.
How about the guy that founded it. The G-spot is named after Ernst. The obvious questions are how did he find it, how long did he search for it and how long did he keep up the research after he completed his studies just to have naked women around. Did he change his name to Eric Stratton, rush chairman, Delta Tau Chi?
So he is famous for having the pleasure spot named after him. The difference in founded it and found it.
They say it is in this diagram. I’ve been told I found it and I’m sure I’ve been lied to.
I wanted to choke the shit out of a lot of people. Just click either work or IBM in the tag cloud to the right.
There are some people that deserve this and I’m the one that would deliver it to them, especially Sandy Carter, but that would be a long line to wait in.
There are some people I’d force choke their balls instead to end their tirades or whatever nonsense they were bringing to the table. They’ agree to my point a lot faster.
I’d use the Jedi mind trick to get people to do stuff also, like give me a raise or stop giving me a hard time.
Like a lot of things, it’s probably better for the world that I’m not a force wielder. There are too many dark side things that need doing to some people.
Since I don’t have the force, I have to settle for my usual super power.
I was aware that it was going on, but have yet to click on an article because they are celebtards, a group of people that deserve what they get, good or bad. It sucks to be famous, I promise you.
On an added note, I also glanced at a headlines about a Kardashian wedding or something, but couldn’t care enough about that either. Plus, I didn’t want to lose my streak of never seeing anything Kardashian on purpose.
And, you if by chance you do break the next rule of look ahead and not at the other guy, you only are allowed to look each other in the eyes.
Guys learn this without being taught. No matter what socially/politically correct spew that comes out of their mouths outside the bathroom door, once you enter the rules are the same for everyone, everywhere.
If you are spatially aware (like a Seal or Spook), you go to the stall where you can’t get attacked from behind, but that is skill level 10 for dangerous people.
This is the male guarding the nest a couple of feet below him. The hen is on the nest now, so there must be eggs. He sits there all day now.
I found out that they are Song Sparrow’s. I’ve left them food and stopped gardening near it for a while. There is nothing that can’t wait, but at the rate of growth up here (Spring just started and we still have 50 degree days in the Blue Ridge Mountains), I’ll have to hack through the weeds as everything plant and animal is exploding to life.
I hope he fights off the cowbirds, who are also here. They lay eggs in other birds nests and are way bigger than the sparrows, so that chick would get all the food. I let nature do it’s thing.
I wrote about the death of a pet last fall hoping that Spring would bring this day for me. I was sorry to see Fred go.
In one week I have a new spider and will have baby birds that I get to watch. I noticed the sparrow on the ground gathering nest material in the field outside of my house. I wondered where the nest was, only to find later in the day that it was just outside of my kitchen window.
I named her Wilma after a little sister in my Fraternity. I don’t think she’d appreciate it, but the spider reminded me of her. Only later did I realize the Fred and Wilma Flintstones connection. Fred was named for a guy I know from the town that I moved away from recently, not Fred Flintstone.
Here is the sparrow’s nest from this morning, sorry for the blurry picture, I had to zoom it in a long way:
I don’t think I’ll name them as they fly away. The spider will stay with me until almost Thanksgiving and will provide me entertainment every night until then. I will love it when the baby birds hatch.
Some pets are less personal than others, but these will be interesting and part of nature I don’t always get to watch.
The snow is finally gone (it did snow last week) and the local course opened, so I made my way out to the course. I had no one to make up a four or even a twosome, so I picked at time and figured I’d get stuck with someone.
Well, the tourists aren’t hear yet. The snow has melted and the skiers are gone. It turns out that it was supposed to rain that day so when I got to the course, the parking lot was empty. I knew my luck couldn’t hold so I went to the range and hit a bucket to warm up and then went to putt on the practice green. It is next to the first tee, so I knew that I could keep an eye on the traffic to get out with as few people in my group as possible.
As it turns out, no one showed up. Even the starter wasn’t there. I took the opportunity to jump on the tee and try for a solo round. Life was on my side and there weren’t golfers for many holes either side of me.
I played 18 hassle free and small talk free golf. I would have paid extra money for this freebie in life.
I’ll be out again this week and I’ll get paired up with someone the rest of the year, but it was a good start.
Looks like I’m starting out the year with a double digit handicap. Playing golf is my other handicap.
The cart is mine. There is no one on any hole in sight, damn near a perfect day for me.
I’ve been reminiscing about when I was young. I’d flit from one thing to the next, never worrying about what was around the next corner. I didn’t plan for tomorrow unless it included fun or something for me to do that wouldn’t affect my retirement.
Now, I can’t take a dump without working out what I’m going to do next and plan my time around it.
My kids are grown now, but I told them to not grow up too fast. They all have mortgages, plus pets and kids that rely on them, like they did on me.
I hurt a lot more now. I’m sore from my first round of golf of the year yesterday, and I didn’t even go at it that hard.
It’s like when the answer is a dirty word, but not in the context on Jeopardy. You sometimes get to cuss, or say a word like dick, dump or some other childish Beavis and Butthead joke on national TV.
The real cowards won’t play when it’s not their rules. It must be that tough to have words bother you so much that you can’t work for a company.
I find this wildly entertaining that Musk bought a majority stake in hater Twitter. I can’t wait to see what will happen and hope for a wonderful train wreck to entertain me on this one. I am finding Must to be right far more than wrong and am learning to trust non traditional thinkers such as him.
I really don’t think much will happen, but the consternation it will stir up may split the audience for other platforms. That would take away the historical preference for Twitter Twatter.
Like in the movie War Games, sometimes the best move is to not play. I have had a blissful twitter free life now since before Trump. I recommend it or another instant platform of your choice.
I have accounts with all the competitors, but the drain of being on another social media platform is being overpowered by my introverted nature to avoid people.
Bring on the Karen’s and the feminist whiners about supposed misogyny to shoot hate darts at me. Wrong, you don’t know sarcasm and humor when it smacks you in the face.
I don’t want anymore trackers following me and reporting back to big tech. However……..There are a lot of girls that have been in and out of my life that if I’d have bought them one of these, a lot of people’s lives would have been a lot better. I don’t care about my heartbeat or how I slept, this isn’t why I’d buy one.
If I’d have known who was going to lose it in the office or anywhere else in my life, I’d invest in a box full of these gems. Just give them away on Valentines day and voila, you know when to hide or go play golf.
Come to think of it, there have been a few dudes from NY (Ed B I’m looking at you) that lost it way worse that most girls. I would have bought them one as a gift to me.
When I went to Milan, the fashion capital of Italy I was expecting gorgeous clothes on stunning women. What I got was a parade of yoga pants, in this case done worse than in the USA.
No matter where I go now, be it the grocery store, a restaurant, walking anywhere it’s pretty much what you see on girls of all age.
I got news for you. Most of you shouldn’t be wearing them, or shouldn’t be wearing them outside the house. I get that it is the fashion trend and they are comfortable, but a lot of you fill them out way more than they were meant to. This is even true in the gym, where they are acceptable.
Well, it’s a boon to guys who want to check you out, unless you are an exhibitionist. It hides nothing and reveals everything. A lot of you shouldn’t be wearing thongs underneath them either. Those are supposed to be sexy and there are few over their mid twenties that make them look that way.
Don’t come back with guys with beer bellies and butt cracks because I’ll get to that in another post.
For now, here’s why:
Camel Toe
If you really want to laugh, play this song because it describes almost every name there is for this part of the anatomy. It’s freakin’ hilarious.
When I was raising a girl scout, I bought dozens of these waist killers. I brought them into work one day and offered them to my co-workers. While most declined or took one or two, Laura Knapp, from the NHD proceeded to knock down an entire sleeve as I watched in disbelief. I thought it was an imposition on my generosity, but then she was in the meme.
Hanging a towel on your junk is a joke that Jeff Foxworthy made about the side effects of Viagra. I learned about the pencil trick from off color office banter at some point in my working career.
They aren’t fooling me about what they are hanging doughnuts on. It’s below the belt humor.
People do this when they get bored. It is sophomoric, but funny to me as I have a 12 year old’s sense of humor.
I’m sure they think they look good, but as we look back on some of the do’s that we thought looked good at the time, I don’t think this is going to age well.
I posted Euphemisms for stupid a while back and it’s still pretty high on the search list. I was in the shower, where I do some of my best thinking and gathered some of these off the web. I have also posted on how much farts weigh.
No matter who you are, you fart. Most people think it’s funny. Old people don’t care and just let it go whenever. Guys have farting contests and remember the loudest, longest and smelliest ones. Girls say it’s gross in from of others, but let it rip when they are alone.
Everybody thinks it’s funny if someone famous gets caught.
Prince Phillip ripping one in front of the Royals
It’s still a Covid test. If you can smell it, you don’t have Covid.
So I dedicated this to our current government, Fauci, the Jab, the CCP, MSM, celebtards, sportstards, freeloaders who could be working, social media and those trying to control the narrative on things like Covid, Election Fraud, race hustlers, mail in ballots and a lot of other 2021 crap.
There, did I cover everything? I think not but I’ll get to it in 2022.
Oh, and Epstein didn’t hang himself and neither will Ghislaine Maxwell.
First of all, this like Valentines Day are celebrations I call amateur night. People who make a huge deal of a day don’t know how to handle it and these are the ones that over do it. I avoid them and the carnage they bring on others from being too boisterous, not being sincere to who they really are to doing things like driving drunk and causing unnecessary harm to others.
To me, it’s just another day. Hopefully I’ll wake up tomorrow, and if I do, it will be the same as every other day. I can enjoy it for being the day that it is without having to heap any false hype on it.
I don’t recall being up at midnight in recent years because I’d rather sleep and feel better tomorrow. I gave up drinking a long time ago and will feel a lot better than the pretenders who think that they need to be the life of the party. I don’t have to put my hope of entertainment on an event that isn’t significant on 12:01.
Sure, some will call me a party-pooper, but then I’d have to care what others think of me, and I don’t. I’m not motivated by likes on social media either because I have a life lived on my terms. Not being defined by others has helped me not to be dependent on others for my happiness.
I don’t have any regrets for acting the fool because I overdid it the night before.
I hope others enjoy and do whatever it is that they are going to do. I don’t need the attention and am happier with my dog and a book.
Oh, I live with an extrovert. It doesn’t make her any happier, but I’ve been clear that you can’t make me extroverted because you are. She’s come to realize that tomorrow will happen just like today, yesterday and the day before.
No one will give a tinkers damn about New Years in a couple of days anyway, so I don’t today.
I don’t suffer from expectations not met, or hangovers that aren’t necessary.
I’ve done Duo Lingo for over 1000 days in a row. It’s good for “older” people to challenge your mind, plus I get to speak and understand other than English. I get to poke the European’s in the eye a bit who claim that American’s only speak English (my wife’s family). Let’s not forget that we are a country of immigrants.
I also have a hard time not wanting to win everything I enter. I consider it a failure not to give it your 100%.
I’ve worked my way up to the diamond league and every week you compete against 29 other people. I’ve won 3 times, including last week.
I didn’t just win, I dominated my group. I had it sowed up by Thursday and just watched the others not try as I kept at it.
I have a real hard time not competing. As Vince Lombardi once said, “If winning isn’t everything, why do they keep score?”
My screen name is Italian for my real name. I studied Italian, German, Latin, French, Spanish and Klingon last week.
I’ve enjoyed social distancing. It allows me to keep people away that I don’t want to talk to. I can see it coming a mile away and with Covid I can pull away, claiming the 6 foot “health” distance.
I can’t stand it when people get in your face and won’t take the social hint that I want to be done. I try not to be rude, but some people have to be stopped. This is perfect. Some people won’t take no for an answer. This is the perfect no.
As usual, I probably shouldn’t be allowed to have one as I would use it too often. I’d probably burn it out from overuse.
A Dutch man had to undergo reconstructive surgery on his penis after a cobra bit his manhood during a safari trip in South Africa — causing it to rot.
The 47-year-old victim suffered scrotal necrosis after the cold-blooded serpent, which was lurking in the toilet bowl, attacked, according to Urology Case Reports.
In what the medical journal described as the first case of “snouted cobra envenomation of the genitals,” the unidentified man had to wait three hours before he was flown by helicopter to the nearest trauma center some 220 miles away.
“His penis and scrotum were noted to be swollen, deep purple in color, and painful on hospital admission. Scrotal necrosis was diagnosed, and he received multiple doses of a non-specific snake venom antiserum and broad-spectrum antibiotics,” according to the medical report.
The man reported vomiting and a burning sensation as well as pain that shot up from his groin into the abdomen and upper chest – though he developed no neurological symptoms during the ordeal.
He required hemodialysis due to acute kidney injury before undergoing reconstructive surgery.
“The scrotal necrosis was reported to involve the entire fascia (skin to internal spermatic) and was excised with extensive margins. Primary closure was performed, leaving a drain in situ,” Urology Case Reports said.
“The defect in the penile shaft was treated by superficial debridement and a vacuum assisted closure pump. After 9 days, the patient was repatriated to the Netherlands,” it added.
A plastic surgeon later performed a “penile shaft debridement, with extensive resection of dead tissue extending into the corpus spongiosum to the fold of the preputium.” A graft from the groin was then placed over the penis and he has made a full recovery.
Necrosis – or necrotizing fasciitis, commonly referred to as the “flesh-eating disease” — is a potentially deadly condition caused by bacteria infecting tissue. The condition, which spreads quickly, requires immediate treatment with intravenous antibiotics.
In these skits are just about everything that the cancel culture is against. My friends and I still talk in code from the album, “Is it Something I said?”
These are some of the funniest skits and talents there have been. Too bad the snowflakes won’t be able to appreciate it.
Here’s one final shot at childish and sophomoric, yet humorous comedy:
I leave you with this. Who knows what, “yeah, and it’s deep too” means?
At one job, one of the tech support guys spoofed the receptionist and she paged Mike Hunt across the entire warehouse. It was funny. All the guys got it, but only some of the girls.
It was childish, but it broke up the day. It also was very funny to me.
The book stores in my new town are scarce and don’t offer what I was looking for. It was the standard issue current stuff, mostly by people that don’t interest me – celebtards.
I had to go downtown for the annual insurance rodeo and the Library was a block away. I figured what the hay, I’ll get a card and kill a little time and check out the selection. I figured I was in it for a biography.
To my surprise, although the parking lot was full, there was only 4 people in there, 3 of whom were employees. There were alcoves to hide out in and I realized that it will be a great place to escape to. They had workrooms for people with laptops, but I saw rooms to escape to.
The parking downtown is tight (it’s only about 4 blocks long) and the cars were people shopping, not looking at books.
Best of all, I found some John MacDonald / Travis McGee books I couldn’t get anywhere else. Occasionally in my old town, I could find them in the 2nd hand bookstore, but it was so unorganized that I don’t think they knew what they had.
It was quiet, not because it was a library, but because there was nobody there.
I realized what a goldmine that was going to be for me. I can see where I’ll be when I need some time alone.
It is an introvert heaven, books, quiet and no people.
If we had boobs, we’d spend all the time playing with them. If we were together, we’d use them as squirt guns and shoot milk at each other.
I read that only a heart attack or passing a kidney stone is as painful as giving birth. That means there would be only one generation and the population would end because we wouldn’t do it.
I like getting food from the local suppliers. It’s always fresher and taste better than from the commercial store.
Up where I am is a hippie type college town. I see a lot of people that are different than the usual man on the street. I’m ok with it as the food will be natural, meat will be grass fed and non GMO and the produce picked the day before. I keep to myself as usual.
Of course this week was the Halloween theme. It wasn’t too crazy, but I thought I’d share some pictures rather than my usual sarcasm. Don’t worry, I’ll get to that. Note, this is one of the few times that I’ll share pictures of myself. It’s a big step for an introvert who shy’s away from social media.
Anyway, here it is.
She said to say I met this witch at the farmers market.
I can make fun of anyone, and I will it. I’ll be cancelled or censored at some point. Don’t worry, no one or any side of the political scam is not safe here. I don’t play favorites.
I’ve had multiple dogs over the years. They have all had different personalities and I loved them all, in different ways.
Barney was my first dog when I was a kid. I don’t have a picture, but he was part Boxer/part mutt. We got him from a friend of my Dad’s when he was going off to seminary and had to give him up. As far as I was concerned, he was always ours. He went to the beach with us on vacation and was part of the family.
Those were the pre-leash law days so he roamed the neighborhood on his own. He left his mark on the street with many little Barney’s and some pissed off neighbors. Dogs will be dogs. He was a car chaser and got hit. He recovered, but as Mom said, it took the spirit out of him.
When I got my S*** together in life, we got Conan. He was a rambunctious Golden. Through a breeding mistake, he got hip displaysia and only lasted 10 years. He was happy and had a good life. I learned how to train dogs and we bonded. As with all our dogs, I understood what he needed and took care of all his medical needs.
Bandit was my day pal. We picked her up from a breeder. I’ll be honest, we got a boxer because we wanted a smaller dog than Conan and a female, but we got a bundle of energy that was more than 3 Conan’s. As I think back, we got her because of Barney. They were the same color and size. She was fearless and friendly and loved everyone.
We named her Bandit from the dog in the Jonny Quest comics that I watched faithfully.
I was working at home by now. Being an introvert, I was happier being with her than people and she was by my side. We were together almost 15 years. It was almost like ET and Elliot. I knew what she needed intuitively. Where I went, she went. I took care of all her needs and she was my dog more than anyone in the family because of her.
Bandit
I got her ashes, but couldn’t bear to bury them until I processed my feelings. I planted a dwarf Japanese Maple and she rests now forever there.
Bandit’s Tree
After taking a year off when Bandit finally left us, we decided to venture into the dog game again. I decided on a rescue and took my son to adopt another dog. He was with me when we got Bandit, but being so young, I picked Bandit from the litter to try and get the right one.
He helped me with picking out Boone. He noticed that out of all the dogs we looked at, he was the most gentile. While he looks lie a black lab, we later found out that he was part Boxer, so I guess that is a the theme in my life. He doesn’t have the energy that Bandit did, but neither do I anymore.
He is a great dog. Again he and I bonded more than anyone else in the family, even though he loves everyone and every other dog. Cats and deer, not so much.
My son was attached to Bandit and to Boone. When he went on his own, he got his own dog Raider. She is also colored like Bandit, but is a mix of a lot of breeds, a mutt. She is a great dog, but with a lot of energy. She is less friendly with other dogs, but loves Boone.
Without trying, I bonded with her also. She knows I’m an alpha and that I am the lead dog in the pack.
I know what they all have needed and what they like, it’s almost a sixth sense. I’m not a dog whisperer, rather through observation and empathy, we know we are together.
I love my dogs and they love me. When I have people problems, the dogs have always been there. I’ve been fortunate that they have all been good dogs.
Sometimes when life goes to shit, they are the only friends I have, at least it feels that way. They always by my side, without any pretension other than wanting to be with me.
Delusions of Adequacy 