…the game would have been rescheduled with extreme prejudice. What I love about Big Texas Cloverhill Honeybun, is they just draw a fine line in the sand, being so sensitive to the slippery slope. I have to say I am surprised that they didn’t just automatically schedule every single game for the Orthodox Jews on the Sabbath, I mean there just can’t be two sets of rules. It wouldn’t be fair (these are Instapundit resentiment racist italics, Cf., also Trevor at comment three in the Cf.). Hattipo, Atrioni.
Archive for the 'Cobags' Category
is more depressing because of the utter banality. Big Texas Cloverhill Honeybun’s own Sarah Palin.
Deets if you don’t want to read in the weeds (although I think you should):
When asked by The Eagle about her husband’s role, **** ******** said she couldn’t comment because the reporter had discussed it with other members of the council. She said that speaking to the entire council separately about a single issue is illegal.
“Technically that is a walking quorum,” she said.
White, the First Amendment lawyer, said that a walking quorum is when council members speak separately about how they plan to vote on an issue so that they don’t have to discuss it publicly at an open meeting. He said that talking to a newspaper reporter is allowed and part of the “American system.”
“That is just crazy,” he said, of **** ********’s explanation.
Yes, I am afraid of the Google search by these chumps and the Cronon treatment.
Your antidote is below. While it may make you cry, it will be because you have a heart.
Thunderpants should probably duct tape his head together, lest it explode.
To wit, the New York Times Public Editor.
Bob Woodward, who wrote about secret operations in Pakistan in his recent book “Obama’s Wars,” described for me the competing priorities in play in this situation. On one hand, he said, the Davis affair is just the “tip of the iceberg” of intensive secret warfare the United States is waging in the region. “I think the aggressive nature of the way all that is covered is good because you are only seeing part of the activity, ” said Mr. Woodward, who also is associate editor of The Washington Post.
“But you just don’t want to get someone killed,” he added. “I learned a long time ago, humanitarian considerations first, journalism second.”
Three beat silence.
Cue: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Keyboard Kommandos style.
I am going to have to Chunky Megan the Urban Dictionary.
Imagine if you will, I construct a persona based on emotionally stunted casual elitist clueless narcissism. I use this persona to submit regular writings on the internet. These writings are highly probably to enrage due to their tossed off and obtuse nature. Conveniently, I will allow you to comment on my being wrong or lacking in experience or understanding of what I discuss. These comments will have no bearing on whether I continue to say dipshit type things. In fact, I will increase the frequency of my emanations. It is something like that combined with this:
A sexual proclivity so disgusting, so degenerate, yet also so pedestrian and pathetically sad, that it requires a yet to be invented multidimensional sexual string theory to describe it in any detail. It is beyond actual description or comprehension. It is more easily understood using analogies.
The act of claiming to be a liberal blogger while actually being a privileged know-nothing elitist turd is to be a practitioner of the act of Chunky Megan on the internet.
Imagining them procreating is to begin to conceive of the act of a Chunky Megan.
Matthew Yglesias is such a Chunky Megan.
When I read Matthew Yglesias’ blog, I get the feeling I’m being subjected to a Chunky Megan.
by [redacted] on Sep 12, 2010
tags: neo-liberal cobagging, the sexual practice of a cobag, glibertarian, libertarian, wanker
Perhaps [redacted] wasn’t accurate enough for this essential truism to officially be entered into the greater lexicon. Sigh.
San Francisco critic Philip Sherburne has been heavily involved in the electronic-music world for the past seven years, writing for publications including the Village Voice, Slate, XLR8R, URB, Wax Poetics, Grooves, Nylon, RES, Neumu.net and many others — including The Wire, where his “Critical Beats” column offers a monthly roundup of experimental dance music. Philip has also written on sound art and avant-garde practice for Frieze and Parkett, curated the companion CD for Leonardo Music Journal’s 2003 issue, and given talks at SFMOMA, PS1, Tate Modern and the MUTEK festival. A book chapter on classical minimalism and minimal techno is forthcoming in Christoph Cox and Daniel Warner’s Audio Culture: Readings in Modern Music (Continuum Press). As a DJ, Philip holds regular nights in San Francisco, and has performed in New York, Austin, Portland, Seattle, Montreal and Barcelona.
Any particular website missing?
I don’t think you get to drop the turds you do in the ‘fork while simultaneously distancing yourself from their brand, Sherburne. You are their brand. Don’t write for them if you don’t want to admit it. I don’t pile on the ‘fork for their obnoxious scenesterism, nor the fact that it is of course the cool thing to do for scenesters to act hipper-than-thou than the-hipper-than-thous (like Pitchfork’s very own writers), because once somebody talks about the cool thing on the broader internet, it instantly becomes passé. I crap on them because of their tremendous disdain for their audience. Never wanting to appear to pitch it to the masses, they pitch it to the masses while keeping the masses at arms length with novelty seeking and a complete lack of self-awareness.
I can’t wait to meet 90 year old Nate Patrin- “yeah, I wrote one or two reviews for some site, I can’t remember what it was called. It wasn’t even blow money.”
UPDATE: Phil S. writes in comments that this bio is an artifact, hence the neumu ref and no Pitchfork. Up with the Fork! PS does not diss.
A) Rare, because I called out this chump out when he climbed out of the cab. He brushed it off. If Chuckles had been present, retribution would have been meted out. Also, he met his friend inside Crap Burrito, so it limited my growing list of public shaming options. I told Edroso that I was shocked at the missing Ron Paul bumperstick.
B) Rare, because this was the F350- the mother load.
An Inglourious Basterds style revenge flick where our protagonists set their deserving sights on Pedophile, Inc. Yes, Andrew Sullivan, the Roman Catholic Church. A church that “should know better.” Cinematic violence and gore filling the gaping maws of our disgust and thirst for justice. Cue Bill Donohue’s head for the explosion line. What a horrible thought. How could anyone?
Film it, chundernoggins.
Update: A ray of sanity on Hiatt’s Op-Ed page. O’Connor covers the latest.
Since we can now confidently rule out an entire half-time show of “A Quick One…” we’re going to blow CBS out of the water with our awesome counter programming.
A quick peek at Superbowl 64 commercials, based on an assymptotic extrapolation of this year’s. I must assume you have noticed a growing trend.
A giant vagina enters: “ROWRFFFFF GLRURPS!!!!”
Everyman: “My penis!!!!!!!!!!”
Vagina turns into docile sexbot.
“BEER. CONSUME FOR PENIS.”
Narrator: “Dodge Charger Tells B*tches to Suck It!”
Man runs down female with Dodge Charger
Judge: “Jeffrey Dahmer, why did you commit your crimes?’
Dahmer: “Bud Light”
Jury: “Innocent by reason of PARTY!!!!!!!!!!”
Dahmer: “Chicken wing?”
Judge: “No thanks.”
ad nauseum, infinitum
And rounding up the fire ants. PDF file for your perusal. K Drum to Felix Salmon I think, over to us. What an infield that is.
[File is a Congressional Report on a type of STAGMC Cobag]
Ways in Which the Internet Sucks. Not surprisingly it finds a way to include Jake Tapper, who we simply and cruelly wound by the mere fact of mentioning him in the negative light he so sadly deserves.
We’ve been waiting for just this moment to present some CNN.com screen caps from this week.
If only the confused bisexual lesbians could make up their minds, we’d be able to finally conquer this health care debate and make it to Mars. Global warming sadly, is linked to bi-racial men who can’t decide what flavor slurpee they want, and seems intractable.
Blarp. Psssssssssssss. *Deflate* POP, Whirrrrr. Sigh.