What a fucking douchebag.
WHAT THE F***** some humans should just never own any pets.
Movie Theater Ingress, Egress Major Concern Of NY State Where Closures Spark Debate – Deadline
— Read on www.google.com/amp/s/deadline.com/2020/10/movie-theater-ingress-egress-concern-of-ny-state-where-ongoing-theater-closures-are-sparking-heated-debate-1234591685/amp/
HOW THE FUCK CAN HE BE WORRIED ABOUT INGRESS/EGRESS Regal told him that they would stagger the fucking start times. He’s keeping them closed because he fucked up by putting Covid 19 patients in Nursing homes. What a fucking twat.
Stupid COCKSUCKING fucker. Just has to give full fucking immunity to corporations from COVID-19 Related Litigation 😡😡😡.
[Manliness is having a moment right now. So is Joan Didion. Let’s see if we can bring the two together.]
First, a parable for manliness in the 21st Century: My daughter, who is four, came with me to the ranch this week. My wife, who stayed home, sent her off looking cute in boots and cowgirl hat over a pair of pigtail braids. While I worked, my daughter followed behind me, chopping the ends off of cedar branches with a miniature set of clippers and throwing the pieces onto the brush piles I was building. Then she helped me find firewood, and then we roasted hot dogs and made s’mores and shared stories and jokes until bedtime.
The next morning in the ranch house, as I was helping get her dressed, I started to pull her hair into a ponytail. “No,” she said, “I want a braid.” I started…
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Dear Lily June,
As human beings, we live in the flimsy structures of our fleshy bodies. Our hearts, like birds, are protected only by a cage of ribs; our minds, like yolks, sit inside the bony eggs of our skulls. It is a system designed to be fragile and frail. We are not built to last forever.
In my youth, I felt as if my body was invincible and thus, I treated it as if it were invisible. (In fact, your Grandma Raelyn might recall to you someday how I used to hide my body, as a toddler, under my ratty baby blanket, transforming myself into a makeshift ghost and earnestly believing no one could see me when I was under there.)
When my own Grandmother Mary began the comparison game as I hit my early teens, wondering why I couldn’t “try to be beautiful” like my sister–your Aunt Loren–I…
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We have an identity crisis. Call it what you will, a post-modern, existential, millennial crisis of self, we are all asking ourselves: Which Game of Thrones character am I?
Ok, in all seriousness. The rash of Buzzfeed, Playbuzz, Quizmodo, etc “Personality Quizzes” that promise to tell you who you really are, in terms of your favorite fictional paradigm, is really just the latest symptom of our human desire to know ourselves, to approve of ourselves. “Ugh, I got Pansy Parkinson? Are you serious? I wanted to be Bellatrix Lestrange!”
For those seeking to understand themselves in less frivolous terms, we might seek to discover if we’re Type A or Type B, or which of the four humors we are, or, in terms of the perennial, inescapable, enduring favorite: What’s my Myers-Briggs type?
I’ve long been a fan of the Myers-Briggs. It’s helped me understand certain aspects of my personality…
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