"Have you ever seen twenty dollars all crumpled up?". . . the woman
asked her husband.
"No," said her husband.
She gave him a sexy little smile, unbuttoned the top 3 or 4 buttons of
her blouse and slowly reached down into the cleavage created by a soft,
silky push-up bra and pulled out a crumpled twenty dollar note.
He took the crumpled twenty dollar note from her, and smiled approvingly.
"Have you ever seen fifty dollars all crumpled up?" . . . she then asked
her husband.
"Uh . . . no, I haven't," he said (with an anxious tone in his voice).
She gave him another sexy little smile, pulled up her skirt, and
seductively reached into her tight, sheer panties and pulled out a
crumpled fifty dollar note.
He took the crumpled fifty dollar note and started breathing a little
quicker with anticipation.
"Now," she said, "have you ever seen fifty thousand dollars all crumpled
up?"
"No way, " he said (while obviously becoming even more aroused . . . and
excited).
.
.
.
"Well go and look in the garage," she said.
*.*
Caitlyn Jenner came out today and said she was groped by Bruce Jenner over a several year period.
Thankfully there is no photo evidence
*.*
Doctor: "I see you're over a month late for your appointment. Don't you know that nervous disorders require prompt and regular attention? What's your excuse?"
Patient: "I was just following your orders, Doc."
Doctor: "Following my orders? What are you talking about? I gave you no such order."
Patient: "You told me to avoid people who irritate me."
*.*
When you light up an ant with a magnifying
glass it may seem deliberate, but in the ant
world, it's known as "spontaneous combustion.
*.*
A clearly inebriated woman, stark naked, jumped into a taxi in New York
City and laid down on the back seat.
The cab driver, an old Jewish gentleman, opened his eyes wide and stared
at the woman. He made no attempt to start the cab. The woman glared back
at him and said, "What's wrong with you, honey? - Haven't you ever seen
a naked woman before?"
The old Jewish driver answered, "Let me tell you sumsing, lady. I
vasn't staring at you like you tink; det vould not be proper vair I come
from."
The drunk woman giggled and responded, "Well, if you're not staring at
my boobs or ass, sweetie, what are you doing then?"
He paused a moment, then told her..."Vell, M'am, I am looking and I am
looking, and I am tinking to myself,'Vair in da hell is dis lady keeping
de money to pay for dis ride?
Issue of the Times;
The Electoral College Works, Leave It Alone by Joe Bob Briggs
NEW YORK—Let’s all dogpile on the Electoral College.
It’s undemocratic, it’s outdated, it’s un-American. The New York Times (surprise, surprise) believes it should be abolished and we should go to a straight-up popular vote.
Because (this is the part they don’t tell you when they make this argument)...
Screw Wyoming.
Screw Vermont.
Screw Arkansas.
Screw Rhode Island.
Screw Delaware.
How could the concerns of those little pipsqueak states matter when the massive voting blocs of the Upper West Side and West Hollywood and Nob Hill and the South Side of Chicago are saying, “You people go back to your bass boats and your cattle ranches and your plaid work shirts and let us run the country as we see fit.”
The founders never intended 100 percent popular voting except at the lowest levels of government, town halls and city councils, where everyone knows one another. Anything beyond that, they wanted some kind of check on the passions of the mob, so that nobody got railroaded just because they were too small to defend themselves.
“So 7 percent of the time, the small states get pissed off and defeat the big ones. This is exactly what the founders envisioned.”
In other words, the Electoral College is set up to defend minorities.
That’s why Wyoming gets three votes out of 538. This one half of one percent apparently outrages the East Coast Brahmans who would prefer to ignore the small-government radicals from Laramie and Casper who keep rabble-rousing for causes like better management of the wolf population and more equitable policies for grazing livestock on federal land. Who cares about crap like that? They should have exactly what their population entitles them to—
.018 percent of the vote.
They can use the incredible clout of that .018 percent to get whatever they need and then go back to roping their goats or whatever they do.
The same goes for the syrup farmers in Vermont and the Walmart moguls in Arkansas. Twenty-five of the fifty states have seven electoral votes or fewer, so all those people who choose to live away from the crowded urban areas can basically just go artificially inseminate themselves. The most underrepresented people in America—citizens of the District of Columbia—should have those three votes taken away so we don’t have to listen to their constant bitching about, you know, how they’re not represented in Congress at all.
So we’ve had 56 presidential elections, and in four of them the Electoral College has differed from the popular vote. In 1876 it was because the North and Far West went for Hayes over Tilden even though the Democrats in the South came out in far greater numbers in an effort to get rid of Reconstruction. In 1888 it was Benjamin Harrison outcampaigning the solid Democratic South that wanted to keep Grover Cleveland. In 2000 it was the South and the Midwest defeating the big voter turnout on both coasts and the Rust Belt. And in 2016 it was, of course, the South, the Midwest, and the Rust Belt defeating the heavily populated coasts.
So 7 percent of the time, the small states get pissed off and defeat the big ones. This is exactly what the founders envisioned. They didn’t want the planter class of Virginia or the mercantile millionaires of Boston and Philadelphia running roughshod over Delaware, Rhode Island, and Georgia. In fact, the small states feared the big states so much that, without that provision, the Constitution never would have been approved.
But there’s another reason why the popular-vote argument doesn’t hold water. If the most recent presidential election had been decided by popular vote, that doesn’t mean Hillary would have won, because the patterns of campaigning and spending would have been completely different. Clinton didn’t campaign in Texas. Trump didn’t campaign in Illinois. Cities like Houston and Denver and San Diego would be in play if they weren’t written off in advance. To say “Trump would have lost if we had a popular-vote system” is to create some alternative universe in which the rules are all changed but the behavior of the candidates remains the same.
The Electoral College was set up to prevent injustice. Majority rule only works when everyone agrees on the basics. And one of those basics that no one agrees on is the role of states in our federal system. If you follow the New York Times argument to its logical conclusion, we shouldn’t have states at all. We should be more like Germany. Or Russia. Or Starbucks.
Does anyone wanna risk a straight-up popular national vote on abortion? Or gun rights? Or gay marriage? Or sanctuary cities? Or affirmative action? Or any of a hundred other issues that affect one part of the population but nobody else cares about? Isn’t it better to keep the messy system we have, where small groups of people can still win because it’s impossible to ignore them? There comes a moment in everyone’s life when you’re the minority.
There comes a moment when we’re all Wyoming.
Let’s make sure our cowboy hats are creased and our eccentric causes are always heard. Let’s make sure the bigots in New York don’t eliminate the bohemians in Bozeman. The Electoral College works just fine.
Quote of the Times;
“Giving offense is a viewpoint.” – Alito
Link of the Times;
https://privnote.com/
Electoral?
Civil?
During the recent cease-fire, the leader of the Palestinian terrorist organization Hamas, Khaled Mashal, sent a gift to the Prime Minister of Israel, Benjamin Netanyahu, in an elaborate box with a note.
After having the box checked for safety reasons, Prime Minister Netanyahu opened the box and saw that the content was cow dung. He opened the note, handwritten in Arabic by Mr. Mashal, which said, "For you and the proud people of the Illegal Zionist Entity."
Mr. Netanyahu, pondered the note and decided how best to reciprocate. He quickly did so by sending the Hamas leader a very pretty package, also with a personal note.
Mr. Mashal and the other leaders of Hamas were very surprised! They opened the parcel very carefully, similarly suspecting that it might contain a bomb. But to their surprise, they saw that it contained a tiny computer chip.
The chip was rechargeable with solar energy, had a 1.8 terabyte memory, and could output a 3D hologram display capable of functioning in any type of cellular phone, tablet or laptop. It was one of the world's most advanced technologies, with a tiny label, "Invented and produced in Israel ."
Mr. Netanyahu's note, personally handwritten in, Hebrew, French, English, Arabic stated very courteously...
"Every leader can only give the best his people can produce."
*.*
Pepperidge Factory Farm Under Fire For Inhumane Treatment Of Milanos
NORWALK, CT—Following the release of an investigative report earlier this week detailing the cramped and unsanitary conditions within its facilities, Pepperidge Factory Farm has come under considerable fire from snack rights groups for its inhumane treatment of Milanos. “This report documents an absolutely appalling environment within Pepperidge Factory Farm, including the use of small, filthy cages that are routinely packed full of helpless Mint and Dark Chocolate Milanos without any paper doilies separating them,” said outspoken snack advocate Amanda Lepore, who called out Pepperidge Factory Farmhands for subjecting the cookies to a disturbing series of treatments that consist of pumping them full of additives, chemicals, and fat. “What’s most tragic is that many of these weak and vulnerable Milanos are so poorly handled and mistreated that they suffer extensive crumbling and even fractures in their biscuit shells, exposing their delicate chocolate and orange-flavored fillings to the elements. That is no way to treat these sumptuous sweets.” Despite finding equally contaminated and overcrowded conditions in Pepperidge Factory Farm’s Goldfish enclosures, the report noted that every one of the crackers appeared visibly happy and content with its surroundings.
*.*
In 1966, upset over a stolen family dog that had been used in medical research, the U.S. Congress passed a four-page law to regulate laboratories that use dogs and cats. In 1970, it expanded it. Now the Department of Agriculture has amassed 14 pages' worth of regulations for rabbits alone - including the rabbits magicians pull out of hats. This year the USDA added a requirement that rabbit exhibitors, such as magicians, maintain formal, written plans to save their rabbits in case of disaster. The department boasted that the rule was flexible enough to accommodate solo magicians, but when an expert volunteered to write a disaster plan for a magician's rabbit, it ran to 28 pages. After a Washington Post article on the matter went online - and less than four hours after the department had defended the rule - the USDA announced they had decided to have the rule reviewed. Magician Gary Maurer had his own plan to deal with the regulation: I'll take a piece of paper and put down, “Note: Take rabbit with you when you leave.”
A better trick would be to make the USDA disappear.
*.*
WWII vets gather for solemn reminder to check their privilege
BERKELEY, Calif. — The few remaining survivors of “The Greatest Generation”, who fought and bled in defense of democracy and freedom during World War II, were reminded to check their privilege today at a ceremony at The University of California at Berkeley.
The annual ceremony, sponsored by the Marginalized-Victims-of-Repressive-Oppression-by-White-Male-Capitalists-Over-Six-Feet-Tall-Student-Campus-Alliance (MVROWMCOSFTSCA), was intended to “send a message to all World War II veterans,” the group’s Facebook page said, “that no matter how many of your friends died right before your eyes, the fact that you were even there, only worried about dodging bullets and not violent speech, shows just how privileged you really were.”
Moonbeam Cinnamon Smith-Mustafa-Rodriguez-Gluten, the group’s organizer, shouted into a handheld loudspeaker at the dwindling crowd of aging veterans, noticeably smaller than last year’s group.
“You old, rich, privileged white men have no idea what the daily fight on the streets is like, what the struggle against an oppressive regime bent on domination is actually like,” she said.
“You were too busy traveling abroad with all your friends. Going to Europe completely on the government’s dime. Visiting beautiful black sand beaches in the farthest corners of the vast Pacific ocean just to wave around the flag that is the ultimate symbol of oppression.”
Eugene Walsh, a rifleman who fought in the Battle of Okinawa and who, at the age of 18, held his best friend’s intestines with his own hands as he slowly died after his guts were shot out by a Japanese machine gun, turned his head to better hear the speakers.
“What’s she going on about again?” he asked. “Last year I think it was something about needing a ‘safe space,’ or some such thing. Boy, I hear that. I could’ve used one of those after the fifth human wave attack in one night. We ran out of ammunition and had to club our enemies to death.”
*.*
If cannibalism were legal, I think a great idea for a snack food would be "Can O' Balls."
But that will remain just a dream as long as "The Man" says we can't eat human flesh.
Issue of the Times;
What Might Civil War Be Like? by E.M. Cadwaladr
The thought of Civil War has been in the minds of many people lately, on both sides of the political and cultural divide. This is not a thing to be wished for, though no one should kid themselves into believing it’s impossible either. Let us take a sober look at what such a conflict might entail.
To begin with, it would not look like the first American Civil War, which was essentially a war between two regions of the country with different economic interests. The divide created two separate countries, both initially contiguous, intact, and relatively homogeneous. The lines of demarcation now are only somewhat regional, and tend to correspond to differences between urban and rural populations, as well as differences of race and class. A second American Civil War would be much more similar to the Spanish Civil War, with the leftists dominating the cities and conservatives controlling the countryside. Conflicts of this nature, with enemies mixed geographically, are a formula for spontaneous mass bloodletting. India-Pakistan during the 1947 partition comes to mind as another modern example. Given an absence of legitimate government and the friction of proximity, ordinary people can be moved to settle grievances by killing one another without the need for governments to egg them on.
Some dimensions of a future civil war would be, I think, largely unprecedented. When lesser countries have imploded in violence in recent times, they have done so with most of the world around them still intact. There were other nations to offer aid, assistance and intervention, welcome or unwelcome. There were places for refugees to go. The collapse of the world’s remaining superpower would take much of the world down with it. A global economic crisis would be inevitable. The withdrawal of American forces from bases across the world to fight at home would also create a power vacuum that others, even under economic strain, would be tempted to exploit. Whichever side gained control of our nuclear arsenal, our status as a nuclear power would probably persuade other nations not to interfere in our conflict militarily, but the collapse of trade alone would produce crippling effects that would be hard to overestimate. Many components for products our manufacturing sector makes are globally sourced. Add to this the breakdown of our transportation system, dependent on oil and transecting one new front line after another. The internet would fail. It is a frail enough now. Financial systems would fail. What happens if the banks find half their assets suddenly in hostile territory? All Federal government functions, including Social Security, would fail, many of them losing their very legitimacy to one side or the other. Food production, heavily dependent on diesel fuel, chemical fertilizers and pesticides, not to mention a steady supply of genetically engineered seeds, would slump alarmingly. In short, most things we depend on are now held together by a network of delicate and complex connections. Without those connections, would you have a job? If so, in what medium of exchange could your employers manage to pay you? What would there be for you to buy? Does your town, your county, or even your state have the ability to marshal its resources into a viable economy? How many people in those entities could deal with anything worse than a weather disaster, in which they count on the fact that help is coming soon?
From an economic perspective, I think it is fair to say that the left would have a bigger problem than the right. Cities cannot feed themselves under any conditions, and what food could be grown on America’s resource-starved farms would be gobbled up by people nearer and dearer to the farmers. Leftists would have to both secure vast territories around their urban strongholds and relearn from scratch the generations-lost art of food production. Liberal enclaves stranded in the hinterland would simply be untenable. We, on the other hand, would be critically short of new Hollywood movies. Without a steady supply of the works of Meryl Streep and Matt Damon, millions of conservatives would instantly drop dead from boredom – that is, according to Meryl Streep.
Up through the middle of the 20th century, cities were major hubs of industry, but liberal preoccupations with environmentalism have driven much of our surviving industry into rural areas. The domination of the South by the sheer scale of Northern industry that happened in the 1860s would not repeat itself in a future war. Both sides would probably have the means to manufacture basic military essentials, but producing sophisticated items like fighter planes would be simply too complex for the remaining economic base. It would be a war of soldiers, not of million-dollar robots. Were the war to stretch into years, the left would likely destroy their own economy with unfettered socialistic policies. This actually happened to the Spanish Republic in the 1930s. I can image their modern counterparts struggling to make eco-friendly weapons and organize culturally-sensitive, politically-correct collective farms.
Militarily, the left has other problems. They have saddled themselves with a longstanding disdain for military history and thought. A mob of whiney, untrained Antifa or BLM protestors doth not an army make. In recent decades, the left has sought not so much to co-opt the military as to rot it from within. When your idea of a military hero is Bowe Bergdahl or Bradley “call-me-Chelsea” Manning, it is evident that you’ve planned to fight your battles exclusively in the movies. The officer corps, or the part of it that’s worth the name, is ours. Although the left probably has a certain pool of minority ex-soldiers to draw on, I doubt they have a single general officer that still has his original issue genitalia. I’ll take a Texan and a Tar Heel against a metrosexual and a social justice warrior any day - while admitting that the latter might conduct a far more colorful parade. Much would depend on how the military happened to fragment, but even if one side or the other got the lion’s share of it there simply aren’t enough soldiers in the armed forces to garrison the entire country. More troops would have to be raised, equipped, and trained.
The right would probably win a real war, for all the reasons I have sketched above. I suspect it wouldn’t take the three years to decide the issue that it took in Spain, but predicting a short war has usually proven to be a fool’s occupation. Long or short, tens of millions of people would likely starve to death before war and reconstruction were over - far more than would die in actual fighting. Having seen a person starve to death, it is not a fate I’d wish on friends and family members - or even on my enemies. It might be, after all the legal shenanigans are done, the necessary cost of keeping western society alive - but it would no heroic action movie. Utopian ideologies die hard. War is hell.
Quote of the Times;
“A tribe's greatness is figured on how mighty its enemies are.”
Link of the Times;
https://townhall.com/columnists/kurtschlichter/2017/12/11/woke-conservatives-and-the-awesome-power-of-not-caring-n2420738
After having the box checked for safety reasons, Prime Minister Netanyahu opened the box and saw that the content was cow dung. He opened the note, handwritten in Arabic by Mr. Mashal, which said, "For you and the proud people of the Illegal Zionist Entity."
Mr. Netanyahu, pondered the note and decided how best to reciprocate. He quickly did so by sending the Hamas leader a very pretty package, also with a personal note.
Mr. Mashal and the other leaders of Hamas were very surprised! They opened the parcel very carefully, similarly suspecting that it might contain a bomb. But to their surprise, they saw that it contained a tiny computer chip.
The chip was rechargeable with solar energy, had a 1.8 terabyte memory, and could output a 3D hologram display capable of functioning in any type of cellular phone, tablet or laptop. It was one of the world's most advanced technologies, with a tiny label, "Invented and produced in Israel ."
Mr. Netanyahu's note, personally handwritten in, Hebrew, French, English, Arabic stated very courteously...
"Every leader can only give the best his people can produce."
*.*
Pepperidge Factory Farm Under Fire For Inhumane Treatment Of Milanos
NORWALK, CT—Following the release of an investigative report earlier this week detailing the cramped and unsanitary conditions within its facilities, Pepperidge Factory Farm has come under considerable fire from snack rights groups for its inhumane treatment of Milanos. “This report documents an absolutely appalling environment within Pepperidge Factory Farm, including the use of small, filthy cages that are routinely packed full of helpless Mint and Dark Chocolate Milanos without any paper doilies separating them,” said outspoken snack advocate Amanda Lepore, who called out Pepperidge Factory Farmhands for subjecting the cookies to a disturbing series of treatments that consist of pumping them full of additives, chemicals, and fat. “What’s most tragic is that many of these weak and vulnerable Milanos are so poorly handled and mistreated that they suffer extensive crumbling and even fractures in their biscuit shells, exposing their delicate chocolate and orange-flavored fillings to the elements. That is no way to treat these sumptuous sweets.” Despite finding equally contaminated and overcrowded conditions in Pepperidge Factory Farm’s Goldfish enclosures, the report noted that every one of the crackers appeared visibly happy and content with its surroundings.
*.*
In 1966, upset over a stolen family dog that had been used in medical research, the U.S. Congress passed a four-page law to regulate laboratories that use dogs and cats. In 1970, it expanded it. Now the Department of Agriculture has amassed 14 pages' worth of regulations for rabbits alone - including the rabbits magicians pull out of hats. This year the USDA added a requirement that rabbit exhibitors, such as magicians, maintain formal, written plans to save their rabbits in case of disaster. The department boasted that the rule was flexible enough to accommodate solo magicians, but when an expert volunteered to write a disaster plan for a magician's rabbit, it ran to 28 pages. After a Washington Post article on the matter went online - and less than four hours after the department had defended the rule - the USDA announced they had decided to have the rule reviewed. Magician Gary Maurer had his own plan to deal with the regulation: I'll take a piece of paper and put down, “Note: Take rabbit with you when you leave.”
A better trick would be to make the USDA disappear.
*.*
WWII vets gather for solemn reminder to check their privilege
BERKELEY, Calif. — The few remaining survivors of “The Greatest Generation”, who fought and bled in defense of democracy and freedom during World War II, were reminded to check their privilege today at a ceremony at The University of California at Berkeley.
The annual ceremony, sponsored by the Marginalized-Victims-of-Repressive-Oppression-by-White-Male-Capitalists-Over-Six-Feet-Tall-Student-Campus-Alliance (MVROWMCOSFTSCA), was intended to “send a message to all World War II veterans,” the group’s Facebook page said, “that no matter how many of your friends died right before your eyes, the fact that you were even there, only worried about dodging bullets and not violent speech, shows just how privileged you really were.”
Moonbeam Cinnamon Smith-Mustafa-Rodriguez-Gluten, the group’s organizer, shouted into a handheld loudspeaker at the dwindling crowd of aging veterans, noticeably smaller than last year’s group.
“You old, rich, privileged white men have no idea what the daily fight on the streets is like, what the struggle against an oppressive regime bent on domination is actually like,” she said.
“You were too busy traveling abroad with all your friends. Going to Europe completely on the government’s dime. Visiting beautiful black sand beaches in the farthest corners of the vast Pacific ocean just to wave around the flag that is the ultimate symbol of oppression.”
Eugene Walsh, a rifleman who fought in the Battle of Okinawa and who, at the age of 18, held his best friend’s intestines with his own hands as he slowly died after his guts were shot out by a Japanese machine gun, turned his head to better hear the speakers.
“What’s she going on about again?” he asked. “Last year I think it was something about needing a ‘safe space,’ or some such thing. Boy, I hear that. I could’ve used one of those after the fifth human wave attack in one night. We ran out of ammunition and had to club our enemies to death.”
*.*
If cannibalism were legal, I think a great idea for a snack food would be "Can O' Balls."
But that will remain just a dream as long as "The Man" says we can't eat human flesh.
Issue of the Times;
What Might Civil War Be Like? by E.M. Cadwaladr
The thought of Civil War has been in the minds of many people lately, on both sides of the political and cultural divide. This is not a thing to be wished for, though no one should kid themselves into believing it’s impossible either. Let us take a sober look at what such a conflict might entail.
To begin with, it would not look like the first American Civil War, which was essentially a war between two regions of the country with different economic interests. The divide created two separate countries, both initially contiguous, intact, and relatively homogeneous. The lines of demarcation now are only somewhat regional, and tend to correspond to differences between urban and rural populations, as well as differences of race and class. A second American Civil War would be much more similar to the Spanish Civil War, with the leftists dominating the cities and conservatives controlling the countryside. Conflicts of this nature, with enemies mixed geographically, are a formula for spontaneous mass bloodletting. India-Pakistan during the 1947 partition comes to mind as another modern example. Given an absence of legitimate government and the friction of proximity, ordinary people can be moved to settle grievances by killing one another without the need for governments to egg them on.
Some dimensions of a future civil war would be, I think, largely unprecedented. When lesser countries have imploded in violence in recent times, they have done so with most of the world around them still intact. There were other nations to offer aid, assistance and intervention, welcome or unwelcome. There were places for refugees to go. The collapse of the world’s remaining superpower would take much of the world down with it. A global economic crisis would be inevitable. The withdrawal of American forces from bases across the world to fight at home would also create a power vacuum that others, even under economic strain, would be tempted to exploit. Whichever side gained control of our nuclear arsenal, our status as a nuclear power would probably persuade other nations not to interfere in our conflict militarily, but the collapse of trade alone would produce crippling effects that would be hard to overestimate. Many components for products our manufacturing sector makes are globally sourced. Add to this the breakdown of our transportation system, dependent on oil and transecting one new front line after another. The internet would fail. It is a frail enough now. Financial systems would fail. What happens if the banks find half their assets suddenly in hostile territory? All Federal government functions, including Social Security, would fail, many of them losing their very legitimacy to one side or the other. Food production, heavily dependent on diesel fuel, chemical fertilizers and pesticides, not to mention a steady supply of genetically engineered seeds, would slump alarmingly. In short, most things we depend on are now held together by a network of delicate and complex connections. Without those connections, would you have a job? If so, in what medium of exchange could your employers manage to pay you? What would there be for you to buy? Does your town, your county, or even your state have the ability to marshal its resources into a viable economy? How many people in those entities could deal with anything worse than a weather disaster, in which they count on the fact that help is coming soon?
From an economic perspective, I think it is fair to say that the left would have a bigger problem than the right. Cities cannot feed themselves under any conditions, and what food could be grown on America’s resource-starved farms would be gobbled up by people nearer and dearer to the farmers. Leftists would have to both secure vast territories around their urban strongholds and relearn from scratch the generations-lost art of food production. Liberal enclaves stranded in the hinterland would simply be untenable. We, on the other hand, would be critically short of new Hollywood movies. Without a steady supply of the works of Meryl Streep and Matt Damon, millions of conservatives would instantly drop dead from boredom – that is, according to Meryl Streep.
Up through the middle of the 20th century, cities were major hubs of industry, but liberal preoccupations with environmentalism have driven much of our surviving industry into rural areas. The domination of the South by the sheer scale of Northern industry that happened in the 1860s would not repeat itself in a future war. Both sides would probably have the means to manufacture basic military essentials, but producing sophisticated items like fighter planes would be simply too complex for the remaining economic base. It would be a war of soldiers, not of million-dollar robots. Were the war to stretch into years, the left would likely destroy their own economy with unfettered socialistic policies. This actually happened to the Spanish Republic in the 1930s. I can image their modern counterparts struggling to make eco-friendly weapons and organize culturally-sensitive, politically-correct collective farms.
Militarily, the left has other problems. They have saddled themselves with a longstanding disdain for military history and thought. A mob of whiney, untrained Antifa or BLM protestors doth not an army make. In recent decades, the left has sought not so much to co-opt the military as to rot it from within. When your idea of a military hero is Bowe Bergdahl or Bradley “call-me-Chelsea” Manning, it is evident that you’ve planned to fight your battles exclusively in the movies. The officer corps, or the part of it that’s worth the name, is ours. Although the left probably has a certain pool of minority ex-soldiers to draw on, I doubt they have a single general officer that still has his original issue genitalia. I’ll take a Texan and a Tar Heel against a metrosexual and a social justice warrior any day - while admitting that the latter might conduct a far more colorful parade. Much would depend on how the military happened to fragment, but even if one side or the other got the lion’s share of it there simply aren’t enough soldiers in the armed forces to garrison the entire country. More troops would have to be raised, equipped, and trained.
The right would probably win a real war, for all the reasons I have sketched above. I suspect it wouldn’t take the three years to decide the issue that it took in Spain, but predicting a short war has usually proven to be a fool’s occupation. Long or short, tens of millions of people would likely starve to death before war and reconstruction were over - far more than would die in actual fighting. Having seen a person starve to death, it is not a fate I’d wish on friends and family members - or even on my enemies. It might be, after all the legal shenanigans are done, the necessary cost of keeping western society alive - but it would no heroic action movie. Utopian ideologies die hard. War is hell.
Quote of the Times;
“A tribe's greatness is figured on how mighty its enemies are.”
Link of the Times;
https://townhall.com/columnists/kurtschlichter/2017/12/11/woke-conservatives-and-the-awesome-power-of-not-caring-n2420738
Life?
Message From Santa
I regret to inform you that, effective immediately, I will no longer serve the States of Georgia, Florida, Virginia, North and South Carolina, Tennessee, Mississippi, Texas, and Arkansas on Christmas Eve.
Due to the overwhelming current population of the earth, my contract was Renegotiated by North American Fairies and Elves Local 209. As part of the new and better contract I also get longer breaks for milk and cookies so keep that in mind.
However, I'm certain that your children will be in good hands! with your local replacement, who happens to be my third cousin, Bubba Claus. His side of the family is from the South Pole. He shares my goal of delivering toys to all the good boys and girls; however, there are a few differences between us.
Differences such as:
1.There is no danger of the Grinch stealing your presents from Bubba Claus.
He has a gun rack on his sleigh and a bumper sticker that reads: "These toys insured by Smith and Wesson."
2.Instead of milk and cookies, Bubba Claus prefers that children leave an RC cola and pork rinds [or a moon pie] on the fireplace. And Bubba doesn't smoke a pipe. He dips a little snuff though, so please have an empty spit can handy.
3.Bubba Claus' sleigh is pulled by floppy-eared, flyin' coon dogs instead of reindeer. I made the mistake of loaning him a couple of my reindeer one time, and Blitzen's head now overlooks Bubba's fireplace.
4.You won't hear "On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Bl! itzen.." when Bubba Claus arrives. Istead, you'll hear, "On Earnhardt, on Andretti, on Elliott and Petty."
5."Ho, Ho, Ho!" has been replaced by "Yee Haw!" And you also are likely to hear Bubba's elves respond, "I her'd dat!"
6.As required by Southern highway laws, Bubba Claus' sleigh does have a Yosemite Sam safety triangle on the back with the words "Back Off."
7.The usual Christmas movie classics such as "Miracle on 34th Street" and "It's a Wonderful Life" will not be shown in your negotiated viewing area.
Instead, you'll see "Boss Hogg Saves Christmas" and "Smokey and the Bandit IV", featuring Burt Reynolds as Bubba Claus, and dozens of state patrol cars crashing into each other.
8. Bubba Claus doesn't wear a belt. If I were you, I'd make sure you, the wife, and the kids turn the other way when he bends over to put presents under the tree.
*.*
I just sold my homing pigeon on eBay…
… again.
*.*
When an applicant asked if the company had a fitness program, the human resources manager replied, "Oh, our employees don't need one.
They are routinely jumping to conclusions, flying off the handle, beating around the bush, running down the boss, going around in circles, dragging their feet, dodging responsibility, passing the buck, climbing the ladder, wading through paperwork, pulling strings, throwing their weight around, stretching the truth, bending the rules, stabbing others in their backs and pushing their luck! They get all the exercise they need."
*.*
I'm glad I wasn't raised by a lesbian couple.
No matter what you do to convince your class-mates otherwise, you're a mama's boy by default.
*.*
Morris goes to his friend Irving and says, "I'm sleeping with the Rabbi's wife. Can you hold him in synagogue for an hour after services for me?
Irving is not very fond of the idea but being Morris' lifelong friend, he reluctantly agrees.
After services, he strikes up a conversation with the Rabbi, asking him all sorts of stupid questions, just to keep him occupied. After some time the wise Rabbi becomes suspicious and asks Irving what he is really up to.
Irving, filled with feelings of guilt and remorse confesses to the Rabbi, "My friend is sleeping with your wife right now, so he asked me to keep you occupied."
The Rabbi smiles, puts a brotherly hand on Irving's shoulder and says, "You better hurry home. My wife died two years ago!"
Issue of the Times;
A Celebration Of Life by David Limbaugh
People often lament that in our celebration of Christmas, we tend to lose sight of its true meaning. Not to be a contrarian, but I don't think the two are mutually exclusive.
At Christmastime, we celebrate family, giving, tradition, friendship, community, love, goodwill and so much else that is great and good about human existence. These sublime experiences and institutions are wonderful precisely because our savior, in whom goodness inheres, created them.
With proper godly perspective, delighting in these glorious gifts actually enhances our focus on God; it doesn't diminish it. Of course, we must discipline ourselves, if it doesn't occur naturally, to give thanks to God and to consciously savor him and his gift of life to us.
This time of year, we celebrate Christ's incarnation — his birth, his earthly example and his miracles and teachings. We humbly bow at the Crucifixion, marvel at the magisterial Resurrection and gratefully acknowledge our regeneration salvation in him. We cherish that he is truth, the judge and the very giver of life.
Unlike the mythical god of deism, our God did not create us and then callously abandon us to a desperate state of sinfulness, misery and suffering. He is not only the Creator but also the sustainer of the universe. The writer of Hebrews assures us, "He upholds the universe by the word of His power." The Apostle Paul proclaims, "He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together."
Though God gave us the freedom to sin and mankind subsequently fell, Christ became sin for us, thereby conquering sin and death. He offers us redemption and eternal life in his presence.
It is fitting that we celebrate Christ's birth, because his redeeming work on our behalf — his death on the Cross and thus our salvation — could not have been accomplished without his incarnation. It is all part of a piece. If he had merely been in form a human but in substance only God, his suffering, the Crucifixion and the Resurrection would have been illusory.
Paul wrote to the Philippians: "Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross."
Jesus wasn't just the greatest of all human prophets. He was fully God and fully man, a truth that Christians believed from the beginning and that the Council of Chalcedon formally affirmed in A.D. 451. "Therefore, following the holy fathers, we all with one accord teach men to acknowledge one and the same Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, at once complete in Godhead and complete in manhood, truly God and truly man, consisting also of a reasonable soul and body; of one substance with the Father as regards His Godhead, and at the same time of one substance with us as regards His manhood."
Christianity's critics sometimes question God's permitting human suffering, but the Cross, to paraphrase the late Pastor John Stott, smashes those concerns to smithereens. Christ understands our suffering and even our mundane problems because he became one of us and experienced what we experience. "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin" (Hebrews 4:15).
Christ suffered — so that we can live — more pain than anyone who has ever existed. It was not only his physical beatings and passion but also his excruciating separation from the Father and his endurance of God's wrath for all of the past, present and future sins of mankind. Moreover, God created us knowing at the time that Christ's human birth and sacrificial death would be necessary. John tells us that Jesus is "the Lamb that was slain from the creation of the world." A greater act of love is inconceivable.
Having become human and suffering as a human being, Christ is an empathetic, personal God, who is approachable to us and with whom we can have a personal relationship. "Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in the time of need" (Hebrews 4:16).
This Christmas, let's celebrate the wonders of our existence as human beings created in God's image and with the capacity for his love, which we must abundantly share with one another. Let's draw near to his throne of grace, profusely thanking him for the undeserved mercy he gave us and meditating on "whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable" (Philippians 4:8).
David Limbaugh is a writer, author and attorney. His latest book is "The True Jesus: Uncovering the Divinity of Christ in the Gospels." Follow him on Twitter @davidlimbaugh and his website at www.davidlimbaugh.com. T
Quote of the Times;
Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. – Matthew 7:7-8
Link of the Times;
https://masstimes.org/
I regret to inform you that, effective immediately, I will no longer serve the States of Georgia, Florida, Virginia, North and South Carolina, Tennessee, Mississippi, Texas, and Arkansas on Christmas Eve.
Due to the overwhelming current population of the earth, my contract was Renegotiated by North American Fairies and Elves Local 209. As part of the new and better contract I also get longer breaks for milk and cookies so keep that in mind.
However, I'm certain that your children will be in good hands! with your local replacement, who happens to be my third cousin, Bubba Claus. His side of the family is from the South Pole. He shares my goal of delivering toys to all the good boys and girls; however, there are a few differences between us.
Differences such as:
1.There is no danger of the Grinch stealing your presents from Bubba Claus.
He has a gun rack on his sleigh and a bumper sticker that reads: "These toys insured by Smith and Wesson."
2.Instead of milk and cookies, Bubba Claus prefers that children leave an RC cola and pork rinds [or a moon pie] on the fireplace. And Bubba doesn't smoke a pipe. He dips a little snuff though, so please have an empty spit can handy.
3.Bubba Claus' sleigh is pulled by floppy-eared, flyin' coon dogs instead of reindeer. I made the mistake of loaning him a couple of my reindeer one time, and Blitzen's head now overlooks Bubba's fireplace.
4.You won't hear "On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Bl! itzen.." when Bubba Claus arrives. Istead, you'll hear, "On Earnhardt, on Andretti, on Elliott and Petty."
5."Ho, Ho, Ho!" has been replaced by "Yee Haw!" And you also are likely to hear Bubba's elves respond, "I her'd dat!"
6.As required by Southern highway laws, Bubba Claus' sleigh does have a Yosemite Sam safety triangle on the back with the words "Back Off."
7.The usual Christmas movie classics such as "Miracle on 34th Street" and "It's a Wonderful Life" will not be shown in your negotiated viewing area.
Instead, you'll see "Boss Hogg Saves Christmas" and "Smokey and the Bandit IV", featuring Burt Reynolds as Bubba Claus, and dozens of state patrol cars crashing into each other.
8. Bubba Claus doesn't wear a belt. If I were you, I'd make sure you, the wife, and the kids turn the other way when he bends over to put presents under the tree.
*.*
I just sold my homing pigeon on eBay…
… again.
*.*
When an applicant asked if the company had a fitness program, the human resources manager replied, "Oh, our employees don't need one.
They are routinely jumping to conclusions, flying off the handle, beating around the bush, running down the boss, going around in circles, dragging their feet, dodging responsibility, passing the buck, climbing the ladder, wading through paperwork, pulling strings, throwing their weight around, stretching the truth, bending the rules, stabbing others in their backs and pushing their luck! They get all the exercise they need."
*.*
I'm glad I wasn't raised by a lesbian couple.
No matter what you do to convince your class-mates otherwise, you're a mama's boy by default.
*.*
Morris goes to his friend Irving and says, "I'm sleeping with the Rabbi's wife. Can you hold him in synagogue for an hour after services for me?
Irving is not very fond of the idea but being Morris' lifelong friend, he reluctantly agrees.
After services, he strikes up a conversation with the Rabbi, asking him all sorts of stupid questions, just to keep him occupied. After some time the wise Rabbi becomes suspicious and asks Irving what he is really up to.
Irving, filled with feelings of guilt and remorse confesses to the Rabbi, "My friend is sleeping with your wife right now, so he asked me to keep you occupied."
The Rabbi smiles, puts a brotherly hand on Irving's shoulder and says, "You better hurry home. My wife died two years ago!"
Issue of the Times;
A Celebration Of Life by David Limbaugh
People often lament that in our celebration of Christmas, we tend to lose sight of its true meaning. Not to be a contrarian, but I don't think the two are mutually exclusive.
At Christmastime, we celebrate family, giving, tradition, friendship, community, love, goodwill and so much else that is great and good about human existence. These sublime experiences and institutions are wonderful precisely because our savior, in whom goodness inheres, created them.
With proper godly perspective, delighting in these glorious gifts actually enhances our focus on God; it doesn't diminish it. Of course, we must discipline ourselves, if it doesn't occur naturally, to give thanks to God and to consciously savor him and his gift of life to us.
This time of year, we celebrate Christ's incarnation — his birth, his earthly example and his miracles and teachings. We humbly bow at the Crucifixion, marvel at the magisterial Resurrection and gratefully acknowledge our regeneration salvation in him. We cherish that he is truth, the judge and the very giver of life.
Unlike the mythical god of deism, our God did not create us and then callously abandon us to a desperate state of sinfulness, misery and suffering. He is not only the Creator but also the sustainer of the universe. The writer of Hebrews assures us, "He upholds the universe by the word of His power." The Apostle Paul proclaims, "He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together."
Though God gave us the freedom to sin and mankind subsequently fell, Christ became sin for us, thereby conquering sin and death. He offers us redemption and eternal life in his presence.
It is fitting that we celebrate Christ's birth, because his redeeming work on our behalf — his death on the Cross and thus our salvation — could not have been accomplished without his incarnation. It is all part of a piece. If he had merely been in form a human but in substance only God, his suffering, the Crucifixion and the Resurrection would have been illusory.
Paul wrote to the Philippians: "Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross."
Jesus wasn't just the greatest of all human prophets. He was fully God and fully man, a truth that Christians believed from the beginning and that the Council of Chalcedon formally affirmed in A.D. 451. "Therefore, following the holy fathers, we all with one accord teach men to acknowledge one and the same Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, at once complete in Godhead and complete in manhood, truly God and truly man, consisting also of a reasonable soul and body; of one substance with the Father as regards His Godhead, and at the same time of one substance with us as regards His manhood."
Christianity's critics sometimes question God's permitting human suffering, but the Cross, to paraphrase the late Pastor John Stott, smashes those concerns to smithereens. Christ understands our suffering and even our mundane problems because he became one of us and experienced what we experience. "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin" (Hebrews 4:15).
Christ suffered — so that we can live — more pain than anyone who has ever existed. It was not only his physical beatings and passion but also his excruciating separation from the Father and his endurance of God's wrath for all of the past, present and future sins of mankind. Moreover, God created us knowing at the time that Christ's human birth and sacrificial death would be necessary. John tells us that Jesus is "the Lamb that was slain from the creation of the world." A greater act of love is inconceivable.
Having become human and suffering as a human being, Christ is an empathetic, personal God, who is approachable to us and with whom we can have a personal relationship. "Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in the time of need" (Hebrews 4:16).
This Christmas, let's celebrate the wonders of our existence as human beings created in God's image and with the capacity for his love, which we must abundantly share with one another. Let's draw near to his throne of grace, profusely thanking him for the undeserved mercy he gave us and meditating on "whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable" (Philippians 4:8).
David Limbaugh is a writer, author and attorney. His latest book is "The True Jesus: Uncovering the Divinity of Christ in the Gospels." Follow him on Twitter @davidlimbaugh and his website at www.davidlimbaugh.com. T
Quote of the Times;
Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. – Matthew 7:7-8
Link of the Times;
https://masstimes.org/
Barbary?
Dr. Epstein was a renowned physician who earned his medical degree in his home town and then left for Manhattan, NY. Soon he was invited to give a speech in his home town.
As he placed his papers on the lectern they slid off onto the floor and when he bent over to retrieve them, at precisely the wrong instant, he farted and the microphone amplified it throughout the room.
He was embarrassed but regained his composure to deliver his paper. As he concluded, he raced out the stage door, never to be seen in his home town again.
Decades later, when his elderly mother was ill, he returned to visit her. He reserved a hotel room under a false name, Levy, and arrived under cover of darkness.
The desk clerk asked him, "Is this your first visit to our city, Mr. Levy?"
Dr. Epstein replied, "Well, young man, no, it isn't. I grew up here but then I moved away."
"Why haven't you visited?" asked the desk clerk.
I did visit once, many years ago, but an embarrassing thing happened and since then I've been too ashamed to return."
The clerk consoled him. "Sir, while I don't have your life experience, one thing I have learned is that often what seems embarrassing to me isn't even remembered by others. I bet that's true of your incident too."
Dr. Epstein replied, "Son, I doubt that's the case with my incident."
"Was it a long time ago?"
"Yes, many years."
The clerk asked, "Was it before or after the Epstein Fart?"
*.*
Oneliners:
Botox could be considered a performance enhancing drug for poker players.
The levels of coolness associated with saying “I was in a band” vs “I was in band,” are vastly different.
One extra perk of becoming president is that your last name isn’t incorrect in spell check anymore.
Imitating a gun to your own head with your fingers means suicide, yet imitating a knife to your own neck is intimidation.
Antarctica has the highest average IQ of any continent.
*.*
The ISIS Holiday Shopping Guide
The holiday season is now in full swing, with only a few shopping days left until Easter. Whether you are looking for that perfect gift or for a few last-minute stocking stuffers, the Islamic State has great gift ideas that are sure to bring a smile to the face of that special someone.
Below are several suggestions culled from ISIS chatter to round out your holiday shopping lists without breaking the bank. Happy shopping!
Cabela's Microstretch Balaclava
This balaclava works great for concealing your identity during videotaped beheadings, while also keeping you from breathing in sand and other fine particulates commonly found in the Syrian desert. The lightweight, moisture-wicking material keeps your head cool on those blistering days in Al-Raqqah.
Only $13.99 at Cabela's.
Sony HDR-CX190 High Definition Handycam 5.3 MP Camcorder
Want to send threatening videotaped messages to your Western oppressors? Be sure to do it in full 1080p, as the high definition 1920 x 1080 resolution will capture the glisten from the tears in the eyes of your captives. This badboy has a 25X optical zoom, and works well in low light conditions, such as when you are hiding in an underground bunker to avoid drone attacks. The high-resolution 2.7 inch LCD screen will allow you to view the suffering of your captive infidels as you record them and will ensure you are capturing only the most gut-wrenching footage for your intended audience of crusader swine.
Only $339.99 on Amazon.com.
This Season's Hottest Burqas
Want to take your wives out in public while concealing 100% of their bodies from the prying eyes of lustful strangers? There is no more stylish way to do this than by clothing your harem head-to-toe in this winter's hottest burqas. Boldly assert your dominance and control while depriving them of their basic human rights in style. Available in five fashionable colors, which comes in handy for color-coding up to five wives to keep track of who is who. Sorry, six-wived slave masters.
Only $77.03 on Etsy.
Franklin Sports Croquet Set
Do you ever find yourself needing to stone to death an adulteress demon-woman, only to look around for a rock and find nothing but sand? Look no more, with the Franklin Sports Croquet Set. The Franklin Sports Croquet Balls are virtually hard as stone, and guaranteed to fracture that Whore of Babylon's skull in five throws or less. Finish her off with a Franklin Sports Croquet Mallet, among the most durable and bone-shattering in the industry.
Only $30.94 on Amazon.com with an Amazon Prime membership.
Monkey Bar Kit
Looking to operate your own jihadist training camp? No training camp is complete without monkey bars. Buy a few monkey bar kits and some lumber and you will be able to lay the basic foundation for a world-class training camp preparing impressionable young minds and bodies to go forth and meet their 72 virgins.
Only $21.99 at Home Depot
Official ISIS Flag
Display your allegiance to the holy caliphate and your service to Allah (praised be his name) with this stylish flag. Available in your favorite color, as long as your favorite color is black. Be sure to wave it loud and proud whenever you see one of the Great Satan's Predator drones flying in the area.
Available for local pickup in Al-Raqqah only.
*.*
If there really is a pole at the North Pole, I bet there's some dead explorer guy with his tongue stuck to it.
*.*
William's wife started noticing how forgetful he was becoming. Being the concerned wife, she convinced him to see a doctor. William was a little worried when the doctor came in. Sensing his patient's nervousness, the first thing the doctor did was to ask what was troubling him.
"Well," William answered. "I seem to be getting forgetful. I'm never sure I can remember where I put the car, or whether I answered a letter, or where I'm going, or what it is I'm going to do once I get there, if I get there. So, I really need your help. What can I do?"
The doctor thought for a moment, then answered in his kindest tone, "Pay me in advance."
Issue of the Times;
The White Slaves of Barbary by April Holloway
Much attention and condemnation has been directed towards the tragedy of the African slave trade, which took place between the 16th and the 19th centuries. However, another equally despicable trade in humans was taking place around the same time in the Mediterranean. It is estimated that up to 1.25 million Europeans were enslaved by the so-called Barbary corsairs, and their lives were just as pitiful as their African counterparts. They have come to be known as the white slaves of Barbary. Slavery is one of the oldest trades known to man. We can first find records of the slave trade dating back to The Code of Hammurabi in Babylon in the 18th century BCE. People from virtually every major culture, civilization, and religious background have made slaves of their own and enslaved other peoples. However, comparatively little attention has been given to the prolific slave trade that was carried out by pirates, or corsairs, along the Barbary coast (as it was called by Europeans at the time), in what is now Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, and Libya, beginning around 1600 AD.
Anyone travelling in the Mediterranean at the time faced the real prospect of being captured by the Corsairs and taken to Barbary Coast cities and being sold as slaves. However, not content with attacking ships and sailors, the corsairs also sometimes raided coastal settlements in Italy, France, Spain, Portugal, England, Ireland, and even as far away as the Netherlands and Iceland. They landed on unguarded beaches, and crept up on villages in the dark to capture their victims. Almost all the inhabitants of the village of Baltimore, in Ireland, were taken in this way in 1631. As a result of this threat, numerous coastal towns in the Mediterranean were almost completely abandoned by their inhabitants until the 19th century.
In the 13th and 14th centuries, it was Christian pirates, primarily from Catalonia and Sicily, that dominated the seas, posing a constant threat to merchants. It was not until the expansion of the Ottoman Empire in the 15th century that the Barbary corsairs started to become a menace to Christian shipping. Around 1600 AD, European pirates brought advanced sailing and shipbuilding techniques to the Barbary Coast, which enabled the corsairs to extend their activities into the Atlantic Ocean, and the impact of Barbary raids peaked in the early to mid-17th century.
While the Barbary slave trade is typically portrayed as Muslim corsairs capturing white Christian victims, this is far too simplistic. In reality, the corsairs were not concerned with the race or religious orientation of those they captured. Slaves in Barbary could be black, brown or white, Catholic, Protestant, Orthodox, Jewish or Muslim. And the corsairs were not only Muslim; English privateers and Dutch captains also exploited the changing loyalties of an era in which friends could become enemies and enemies friends with the stroke of a pen.
"One of the things that both the public and many scholars have tended to take as given is that slavery was always racial in nature,” said historian Robert Davis, author of Christian Slaves, Muslim Masters: White Slavery in the Mediterranean, the Barbary Coast, and Italy. “But that is not true," he added. In comments which may stoke controversy, Davis claims that white slavery had been minimized or ignored because academics preferred to treat Europeans as evil colonialists rather than as victims.
Life as a Barbary Slave
The slaves captured by the Barbary pirates faced a grim future. Many died on the ships during the long voyage back to North Africa due to disease or lack of food and water. Those who survived were taken to slave markets where they would stand for hours while buyers inspected them before they were sold at auction. After purchase, slaves would be put to work in various ways. Men were usually assigned to hard manual labour, such as working in quarries or heavy construction, while women were used for housework or in sexual servitude. At night the slaves were put into prisons called 'bagnios' that were often hot and overcrowded. However, by far the worst fate for a Barbary slave was being assigned to man the oars of galleys. Rowers were shackled where they sat, and never allowed to leave. Sleeping, eating, defecation and urination took place at the seat. Overseers would crack the whip over the bare backs of any slaves considered not to be working hard enough.
The end of the Barbary corsairs
Corsair activity began to diminish in the latter part of the 17th century, as the more powerful European navies started to force the pirates to cease attacking their shipping. However, it wasn’t until the first years of the 19th century, that the United States of America and some European nations began to fight back more fervently against the Barbary pirates. Algiers was frequently bombarded by the French, Spanish and Americans, in the early 19th century. Eventually, after an Anglo-Dutch raid in 1816 on Algiers, the corsairs were forced to agree to terms which included a cessation of the practice of enslaving Christians, although slave trading of non-Europeans was allowed to continue. Occasional incidents continued to occur until another British raid on Algiers in 1824, and finally, a French invasion of Algiers in 1830, which placed it under colonial rule. Tunis was similarly invaded by France in 1881. Tripoli returned to direct Ottoman control in 1835, before finally falling into Italian hands in the 1911 Italo-Turkish War. The slave trade finally ceased on the Barbary coast when European governments passed laws granting emancipation to slaves.
References:
Slavery and White Guilt – James Eden. Available from: http://www.westernspring.co.uk/slavery-and-white-guilt/
African Slave Traders and their White European Slaves. Available from: http://grumpyelder.com/2012/08/african-slave-traders-and-their-white-european-slaves/
America and the Barbary Pirates: An International Battle Against an Unconventional Foe. Available from:http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/collections/jefferson_papers/mtjprece.html
British Slaves on the Barbary Coast – BBC / Robert Davis. Available from: http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/british/empire_seapower/white_slaves_01.shtml
When Europeans were slaves – Ohio State University. Available from: http://researchnews.osu.edu/archive/whtslav.htm
Quote of the Times;
“The ultimate result of shielding man from the efforts of folly is to fill the world with fools.” – Spencer
Link of the Times;
http://www.bbc.co.uk/newsbeat/article/39176828/us-psychologists-claim-social-media-increases-loneliness
As he placed his papers on the lectern they slid off onto the floor and when he bent over to retrieve them, at precisely the wrong instant, he farted and the microphone amplified it throughout the room.
He was embarrassed but regained his composure to deliver his paper. As he concluded, he raced out the stage door, never to be seen in his home town again.
Decades later, when his elderly mother was ill, he returned to visit her. He reserved a hotel room under a false name, Levy, and arrived under cover of darkness.
The desk clerk asked him, "Is this your first visit to our city, Mr. Levy?"
Dr. Epstein replied, "Well, young man, no, it isn't. I grew up here but then I moved away."
"Why haven't you visited?" asked the desk clerk.
I did visit once, many years ago, but an embarrassing thing happened and since then I've been too ashamed to return."
The clerk consoled him. "Sir, while I don't have your life experience, one thing I have learned is that often what seems embarrassing to me isn't even remembered by others. I bet that's true of your incident too."
Dr. Epstein replied, "Son, I doubt that's the case with my incident."
"Was it a long time ago?"
"Yes, many years."
The clerk asked, "Was it before or after the Epstein Fart?"
*.*
Oneliners:
Botox could be considered a performance enhancing drug for poker players.
The levels of coolness associated with saying “I was in a band” vs “I was in band,” are vastly different.
One extra perk of becoming president is that your last name isn’t incorrect in spell check anymore.
Imitating a gun to your own head with your fingers means suicide, yet imitating a knife to your own neck is intimidation.
Antarctica has the highest average IQ of any continent.
*.*
The ISIS Holiday Shopping Guide
The holiday season is now in full swing, with only a few shopping days left until Easter. Whether you are looking for that perfect gift or for a few last-minute stocking stuffers, the Islamic State has great gift ideas that are sure to bring a smile to the face of that special someone.
Below are several suggestions culled from ISIS chatter to round out your holiday shopping lists without breaking the bank. Happy shopping!
Cabela's Microstretch Balaclava
This balaclava works great for concealing your identity during videotaped beheadings, while also keeping you from breathing in sand and other fine particulates commonly found in the Syrian desert. The lightweight, moisture-wicking material keeps your head cool on those blistering days in Al-Raqqah.
Only $13.99 at Cabela's.
Sony HDR-CX190 High Definition Handycam 5.3 MP Camcorder
Want to send threatening videotaped messages to your Western oppressors? Be sure to do it in full 1080p, as the high definition 1920 x 1080 resolution will capture the glisten from the tears in the eyes of your captives. This badboy has a 25X optical zoom, and works well in low light conditions, such as when you are hiding in an underground bunker to avoid drone attacks. The high-resolution 2.7 inch LCD screen will allow you to view the suffering of your captive infidels as you record them and will ensure you are capturing only the most gut-wrenching footage for your intended audience of crusader swine.
Only $339.99 on Amazon.com.
This Season's Hottest Burqas
Want to take your wives out in public while concealing 100% of their bodies from the prying eyes of lustful strangers? There is no more stylish way to do this than by clothing your harem head-to-toe in this winter's hottest burqas. Boldly assert your dominance and control while depriving them of their basic human rights in style. Available in five fashionable colors, which comes in handy for color-coding up to five wives to keep track of who is who. Sorry, six-wived slave masters.
Only $77.03 on Etsy.
Franklin Sports Croquet Set
Do you ever find yourself needing to stone to death an adulteress demon-woman, only to look around for a rock and find nothing but sand? Look no more, with the Franklin Sports Croquet Set. The Franklin Sports Croquet Balls are virtually hard as stone, and guaranteed to fracture that Whore of Babylon's skull in five throws or less. Finish her off with a Franklin Sports Croquet Mallet, among the most durable and bone-shattering in the industry.
Only $30.94 on Amazon.com with an Amazon Prime membership.
Monkey Bar Kit
Looking to operate your own jihadist training camp? No training camp is complete without monkey bars. Buy a few monkey bar kits and some lumber and you will be able to lay the basic foundation for a world-class training camp preparing impressionable young minds and bodies to go forth and meet their 72 virgins.
Only $21.99 at Home Depot
Official ISIS Flag
Display your allegiance to the holy caliphate and your service to Allah (praised be his name) with this stylish flag. Available in your favorite color, as long as your favorite color is black. Be sure to wave it loud and proud whenever you see one of the Great Satan's Predator drones flying in the area.
Available for local pickup in Al-Raqqah only.
*.*
If there really is a pole at the North Pole, I bet there's some dead explorer guy with his tongue stuck to it.
*.*
William's wife started noticing how forgetful he was becoming. Being the concerned wife, she convinced him to see a doctor. William was a little worried when the doctor came in. Sensing his patient's nervousness, the first thing the doctor did was to ask what was troubling him.
"Well," William answered. "I seem to be getting forgetful. I'm never sure I can remember where I put the car, or whether I answered a letter, or where I'm going, or what it is I'm going to do once I get there, if I get there. So, I really need your help. What can I do?"
The doctor thought for a moment, then answered in his kindest tone, "Pay me in advance."
Issue of the Times;
The White Slaves of Barbary by April Holloway
Much attention and condemnation has been directed towards the tragedy of the African slave trade, which took place between the 16th and the 19th centuries. However, another equally despicable trade in humans was taking place around the same time in the Mediterranean. It is estimated that up to 1.25 million Europeans were enslaved by the so-called Barbary corsairs, and their lives were just as pitiful as their African counterparts. They have come to be known as the white slaves of Barbary. Slavery is one of the oldest trades known to man. We can first find records of the slave trade dating back to The Code of Hammurabi in Babylon in the 18th century BCE. People from virtually every major culture, civilization, and religious background have made slaves of their own and enslaved other peoples. However, comparatively little attention has been given to the prolific slave trade that was carried out by pirates, or corsairs, along the Barbary coast (as it was called by Europeans at the time), in what is now Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, and Libya, beginning around 1600 AD.
Anyone travelling in the Mediterranean at the time faced the real prospect of being captured by the Corsairs and taken to Barbary Coast cities and being sold as slaves. However, not content with attacking ships and sailors, the corsairs also sometimes raided coastal settlements in Italy, France, Spain, Portugal, England, Ireland, and even as far away as the Netherlands and Iceland. They landed on unguarded beaches, and crept up on villages in the dark to capture their victims. Almost all the inhabitants of the village of Baltimore, in Ireland, were taken in this way in 1631. As a result of this threat, numerous coastal towns in the Mediterranean were almost completely abandoned by their inhabitants until the 19th century.
In the 13th and 14th centuries, it was Christian pirates, primarily from Catalonia and Sicily, that dominated the seas, posing a constant threat to merchants. It was not until the expansion of the Ottoman Empire in the 15th century that the Barbary corsairs started to become a menace to Christian shipping. Around 1600 AD, European pirates brought advanced sailing and shipbuilding techniques to the Barbary Coast, which enabled the corsairs to extend their activities into the Atlantic Ocean, and the impact of Barbary raids peaked in the early to mid-17th century.
While the Barbary slave trade is typically portrayed as Muslim corsairs capturing white Christian victims, this is far too simplistic. In reality, the corsairs were not concerned with the race or religious orientation of those they captured. Slaves in Barbary could be black, brown or white, Catholic, Protestant, Orthodox, Jewish or Muslim. And the corsairs were not only Muslim; English privateers and Dutch captains also exploited the changing loyalties of an era in which friends could become enemies and enemies friends with the stroke of a pen.
"One of the things that both the public and many scholars have tended to take as given is that slavery was always racial in nature,” said historian Robert Davis, author of Christian Slaves, Muslim Masters: White Slavery in the Mediterranean, the Barbary Coast, and Italy. “But that is not true," he added. In comments which may stoke controversy, Davis claims that white slavery had been minimized or ignored because academics preferred to treat Europeans as evil colonialists rather than as victims.
Life as a Barbary Slave
The slaves captured by the Barbary pirates faced a grim future. Many died on the ships during the long voyage back to North Africa due to disease or lack of food and water. Those who survived were taken to slave markets where they would stand for hours while buyers inspected them before they were sold at auction. After purchase, slaves would be put to work in various ways. Men were usually assigned to hard manual labour, such as working in quarries or heavy construction, while women were used for housework or in sexual servitude. At night the slaves were put into prisons called 'bagnios' that were often hot and overcrowded. However, by far the worst fate for a Barbary slave was being assigned to man the oars of galleys. Rowers were shackled where they sat, and never allowed to leave. Sleeping, eating, defecation and urination took place at the seat. Overseers would crack the whip over the bare backs of any slaves considered not to be working hard enough.
The end of the Barbary corsairs
Corsair activity began to diminish in the latter part of the 17th century, as the more powerful European navies started to force the pirates to cease attacking their shipping. However, it wasn’t until the first years of the 19th century, that the United States of America and some European nations began to fight back more fervently against the Barbary pirates. Algiers was frequently bombarded by the French, Spanish and Americans, in the early 19th century. Eventually, after an Anglo-Dutch raid in 1816 on Algiers, the corsairs were forced to agree to terms which included a cessation of the practice of enslaving Christians, although slave trading of non-Europeans was allowed to continue. Occasional incidents continued to occur until another British raid on Algiers in 1824, and finally, a French invasion of Algiers in 1830, which placed it under colonial rule. Tunis was similarly invaded by France in 1881. Tripoli returned to direct Ottoman control in 1835, before finally falling into Italian hands in the 1911 Italo-Turkish War. The slave trade finally ceased on the Barbary coast when European governments passed laws granting emancipation to slaves.
References:
Slavery and White Guilt – James Eden. Available from: http://www.westernspring.co.uk/slavery-and-white-guilt/
African Slave Traders and their White European Slaves. Available from: http://grumpyelder.com/2012/08/african-slave-traders-and-their-white-european-slaves/
America and the Barbary Pirates: An International Battle Against an Unconventional Foe. Available from:http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/collections/jefferson_papers/mtjprece.html
British Slaves on the Barbary Coast – BBC / Robert Davis. Available from: http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/british/empire_seapower/white_slaves_01.shtml
When Europeans were slaves – Ohio State University. Available from: http://researchnews.osu.edu/archive/whtslav.htm
Quote of the Times;
“The ultimate result of shielding man from the efforts of folly is to fill the world with fools.” – Spencer
Link of the Times;
http://www.bbc.co.uk/newsbeat/article/39176828/us-psychologists-claim-social-media-increases-loneliness
Manson?
If I were the pope, I would wear one of those padded suits under my robes.
Then, if I ever got attacked by vicious dogs, I would jump up without a scratch and say, "It's a miracle!"
It would probably get kind of hot waiting around for the dogs, though.
*.*
What do you call two men fighting over a slut?
Tug-of-whore.
*.*
Oneliners:
Between the coffee and the cocaine, it looks like the mission of Colombia is to wake up the world.
Car horns should only be allowed to be in pitches C, E, and G, so whenever two people honk at the same time it will be in harmony and traffic jams will sound like symphonies.
My resume is really just a list of things I hope I never have to do again.
Anyone who starts a sentence "With all due respect..." is about to insult you.
Don't judge, you idiot.
*.*
The 22 Worst Town Names In The World
22. Cockburn, Western Australia
Although this name is often pronounced “Coburn” by those who stand to lose from its awfulness, who actually reads that when they see this word? Oh, how it burns.
21. Twatt, Orkney, Shetland Islands, Scotland
The Shetland Islands, pronounced “Shitland Islands” if you have an accent like mine, make up a happy little area north of Scotland where it’s too cold for trees to grow. I am related to approximately half the population of the Shetland Islands, share a last name with a quarter of them, and can probably trace my ancestry back to Twatt if I try hard enough. The pride!
20. Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateapokaiwhenuakitanatahu, New Zealand
Locals call this hill in Hawke’s Bay “Taumata” because… Well. Just because.
19. Muff, Ireland
We here at Drivl love puerile humour. They have a town called Muff.
18. Looneyville, Texas, United States
Little Looneyville was named for storekeeper John Looney in the early 1870s. But who gives a shit. This is a hilarious name for a town in the state that brought us Dallas, the Bush Twins and Waco. How awkward must that be when you go to college? “Hey guys, my name’s Sue and I’m from Looneyville!”
17. Titty Hill, Sussex, England
Falling squarely into the extensive Stupid Place Names From England category, Titty Hill is probably located just north of…
16. Thong, Kent, England
Which actually is south-east of…
15. Gravesend, Kent, England
Oh, come on, England. Graves End? What a nasty, depressing little name. You could have at least gone all the way with this one and called it Corpse Feet.
14. Wetwang, Yorkshire… yep! England again!
Okay, so I’ll cut England some slack. It’s an old country. You know, if the United States is Google, then England is IBM. Their country is older than fucking dirt. They can’t be blamed for having names that sound funny in 2007. But this is kind of ridiculous. Wetwang? I’m surprised they don’t have towns called Squishy Vagina or Infected Scrotum.
13. Spread Eagle, Wisconsin
If I were mayor of Spread Eagle, I’d be making diplomatic advances towards the city leaders over in Wetwang to form a Sister-City relationship. Or maybe more of a Platonic-Friends-City relationship. After that, we’d just take thing slow and see what happened.
12. Bald Knob, Arkansas, United States
Well, I guess it’s better than Hairy Knob. I assume England already has that one covered.
11. Cockup, Cumbria, England
Cumbria is a county in the very north-west of England. What the backwoods of Alabama are to America is what Cumbria is to Britain. They talk funny up there. Thus, it isn’t thoroughly surprising that they have a town called Cockup. What do you call someone from this place? A Cockupper? Cockupeleite? Cockuppian? Cockupican? I suppose it’s mildly better than Wetwangger.
10. Whiskey Dick Mountain, Washington State, United States
As hard as America tries, it can’t compete with Britain’s high standards. This was a good effort, though. Well done, Washington.
9. Hookersville, West Virginia
Undoubtedly named before “hooker” meant “prostitute who picks men up on street corners,” Hookersville combines two crimes of place-naming. One, a dirty sounding adjective (they couldn’t have chosen “Pleasant”? “Sunny”? “Happy”?) And two, they added “ville” to the end of the town’s name. Affixing “ville” to the end of a town’s name is like dressing your silly little dog in a cardigan and letting him carry his leash around in his mouth. It just makes the poor animal look fucking stupid.
8. Hell, Michigan, United States
The people in this town at least seem to have a good sense of humour about their home’s unfortunate name. Although, I’m sure there’s some midwestern idiots in Hell who get all offended and defensive when the town shows up on lists like this. I’m looking forward to reading their insightful emails and comments.
7. Toad Suck, Arkansas, United States
So that’s what they do down in the big AR.
6. Middelfart, Denmark
I guess it’s not so funny to them, but how do we know that “Seattle” doesn’t mean “Big Fat Stinking Turd” in Danish? That’s right, we don’t. And it probably does.
5. Horneytown, North Carolina, United States
Its proximity to Hookersville, West Virginia is no coincidence. I also assume that, like Hookersville, the naming of Horneytown took place before “horney” meant “aching for a hot piece of ass” with an extra “e”. But I’m starting to wonder why, pride and tradition aside, the townspeople in these little places never saw it fit to change their homes’ names? Do they enjoy being ridiculed by the entire English-speaking world?
4. Shitterton, Dorset, England
I wonder if they bleep out the first part of Shitterton’s name if it’s mentioned on TV in America?
3. Disappointment, Kentucky, United States
Le sigh. Never mind. You live in a small town in Kentucky. At least it was appropriately named.
2. Fucking, Austria
The idiots who live in Fucking, Austria had a vote in 2004 to determine whether or not they should change the town’s name, and you know what they did? They voted against it, preferring instead to put up with international ridicule, numerous stolen road-signs and horrific Google results.
1. Whakapapa
Why is this the worst place name in the world? In Maori, the native language of New Zealand, the “wh” sound is pronounced “f”. Say it aloud in your office and see what happens.
*.*
What do you call someone who refuses to fart in public?
A private tutor.
Issue of the Times;
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck by Mark Manson
In my life, I have given a fuck about many people and many things. I have also not given a fuck about many people and many things. And those fucks I have not given have made all the difference.
People often say the key to confidence and success in life is to simply “not give a fuck.” Indeed, we often refer to the strongest, most admirable people we know in terms of their lack of fucks given. Like “Oh, look at Susie working weekends again, she doesn’t give a fuck.” Or “Did you hear that Tom called the company president an asshole and still got a raise anyway? Holy shit, that dude does not give a fuck.” Or “Jason got up and ended his date with Cindy after 20 minutes. He said he wasn’t going to listen to her bullshit anymore. Man, that guy does not give a fuck.”
Chances are you know somebody in your life who, at one time or another, did not give a fuck and went on to accomplish amazing feats. Perhaps there was a time in your life where you simply did not give a fuck and excelled to some extraordinary heights. I know for myself, quitting my day job in finance after only six weeks and telling my boss that I was going to start selling dating advice online ranks pretty high up there in my own “didn’t give a fuck” hall of fame. Same with deciding to sell most of my possessions and move to South America. Fucks given? None. Just went and did it.
Everybody just wants to be liked and accepted. Except for Tim. Tim doesn't give a fuck.
Now, while not giving a fuck may seem simple on the surface, it’s a whole new bag of burritos under the hood. I don’t even know what that sentence means, but I don’t give a fuck. A bag of burritos sounds awesome, so let’s just go with it.
The point is, most of us struggle throughout our lives by giving too many fucks in situations where fucks do not deserve to be given. We give a fuck about the rude gas station attendant who gave us too many nickels. We give a fuck when a show we liked was canceled on TV. We give a fuck when our coworkers don’t bother asking us about our awesome weekend. We give a fuck when it’s raining and we were supposed to go jogging in the morning.
Fucks given everywhere. Strewn about like seeds in mother-fucking spring time. And for what purpose? For what reason? Convenience? Easy comforts? A pat on the fucking back maybe?
This is the problem, my friend.
Because when we give too many fucks, when we choose to give a fuck about everything, then we feel as though we are perpetually entitled to feel comfortable and happy at all times, that’s when life fucks us.
Indeed, the ability to reserve our fucks for only the most fuckworthy of situations would surely make life a hell of a lot easier. Failure would be less terrifying. Rejection less painful. Unpleasant necessities more pleasant and the unsavory shit sandwiches a little bit more savory. I mean, if we could only give a few less fucks, or a few more consciously-directed fucks, then life would feel pretty fucking easy.
What we don’t realize is that there is a fine art of non-fuck-giving. People aren’t just born not giving a fuck. In fact, we’re born giving way too many fucks. Ever watch a kid cry his eyes out because his hat is the wrong shade of blue? Exactly. Fuck that kid.
Developing the ability to control and manage the fucks you give is the essence of strength and integrity. We must craft and hone our lack of fuckery over the course of years and decades. Like a fine wine, our fucks must age into a fine vintage, only uncorked and given on the most special fucking occasions.
This may sound easy. But it is not. Most of us, most of the time, get sucked in by life’s mean trivialities, steamrolled by its unimportant dramas; we live and die by the sidenotes and distractions and vicissitudes that suck the fucks out of us like Sasha Grey in the middle of a gangbang.
This is no way to live, man. So stop fucking around. Get your fucks together. And here, allow me to fucking show you.
SUBTLETY #1: NOT GIVING A FUCK DOES NOT MEAN BEING INDIFFERENT; IT MEANS BEING COMFORTABLE WITH BEING DIFFERENT
When most people envision giving no fucks whatsoever, they envision a kind of perfect and serene indifference to everything, a calm that weathers all storms.
This is misguided. There’s absolutely nothing admirable or confident about indifference. People who are indifferent are lame and scared. They’re couch potatoes and internet trolls. In fact, indifferent people often attempt to be indifferent because in reality they actually give too many fucks. They are afraid of the world and the repercussions of their own choices. Therefore, they make none. They hide in a grey emotionless pit of their own making, self-absorbed and self-pitied, perpetually distracting themselves from this unfortunate thing demanding their time and energy called life.
My mother was recently screwed out of a large chunk of money by a close friend of hers. Had I been indifferent, I would have shrugged my shoulders, sipped some mocha and downloaded another season of The Wire. Sorry mom.
But instead, I was indignant. I was pissed off. I said, “No, screw that mom, we’re going to lawyer the fuck up and go after this asshole. Why? Because I don’t give a fuck. I will ruin this guy’s life if I have to.”
This illustrates the first subtlety about not giving a fuck. When we say, “Damn, watch out, Mark Manson just don’t give a fuck,” we don’t mean that Mark Manson doesn’t care about anything; on the contrary, what we mean is that Mark Manson doesn’t care about adversity in the face of his goals, he doesn’t care about pissing some people off to do what he feels is right or important or noble. What we mean is that Mark Manson is the type of guy who would write about himself in third person and use the word ‘fuck’ in an article 177 different times just because he thought it was the right thing to do. He just doesn’t give a fuck.
This is what is so admirable — no, not me, dumbass — the overcoming adversity stuff. The staring failure in the face and shoving your middle finger back at it. The people who don’t give a fuck about adversity or failure or embarrassing themselves or shitting the bed a few times. The people who just laugh and then do it anyway. Because they know it’s right. They know it’s more important than them and their own feelings and their own pride and their own needs. They say “Fuck it,” not to everything in life, but rather they say “Fuck it” to everything unimportant in life. They reserve their fucks for what truly fucking matters. Friends. Family. Purpose. Burritos. And an occasional lawsuit or two. And because of that, because they reserve their fucks for only the big things, the important things, people give a fuck about them in return.
SUBTLETY #2: TO NOT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ADVERSITY, YOU MUST FIRST GIVE A FUCK ABOUT SOMETHING MORE IMPORTANT THAN ADVERSITY
Eric Hoffer once wrote: “A man is likely to mind his own business when it is worth minding. When it is not, he takes his mind off his own meaningless affairs by minding other people’s business.”
The problem with people who hand out fucks like ice cream at a goddamn summer camp is that they don’t have anything more fuckworthy to dedicate their fucks to.
Think for a second. You’re at a grocery store. And there’s an elderly lady screaming at the cashier, berating him for not accepting her 30-cent coupon. Why does this lady give a fuck? It’s just 30 cents.
Well, I’ll tell you why. That old lady probably doesn’t have anything better to do with her days than to sit at home cutting out coupons all morning. She’s old and lonely. Her kids are dickheads and never visit. She hasn’t had sex in over 30 years. Her pension is on its last legs and she’s probably going to die in a diaper thinking she’s in Candyland. She can’t fart without extreme lower back pain. She can’t even watch TV for more than 17 minutes without falling asleep or forgetting the main plotline.
So she snips coupons. That’s all she’s got. It’s her and her damn coupons. All day, every day. It’s all she can give a fuck about because there is nothing else to give a fuck about. And so when that pimply-faced 17-year-old cashier refuses to accept one of them, when he defends his cash register’s purity the way knights used to defend maidens’ virginities, you can damn well bet granny is going to erupt and verbally hulk smash his fucking face in. Eighty years of fucks will rain down all at once, like a fiery hailstorm of “Back in my day” and “People used to show more respect” stories, boring the world around her to tears in her creaking and wobbly voice.
If you find yourself consistently giving too many fucks about trivial shit that bothers you — your ex-girlfriend’s new Facebook picture, how quickly the batteries die in the TV remote, missing out on yet another 2-for-1 sale on hand sanitizer — chances are you don’t have much going on in your life to give a legitimate fuck about. And that’s your real problem. Not the hand sanitizer.
In life, our fucks must be spent on something. There really is no such thing as not giving a fuck. The question is simply how we each choose to allot our fucks. You only get a limited number of fucks to give over your lifetime, so you must spend them with care. As my father used to say, “Fucks don’t grow on trees, Mark.” OK, he never actually said that. But fuck it, pretend like he did. The point is that fucks have to be earned and then invested wisely. Fucks are cultivated like a beautiful fucking garden, where if you fuck shit up and the fucks get fucked, then you’ve fucking fucked your fucks all the fuck up.
SUBTLETY #3: WE ALL HAVE A LIMITED NUMBER OF FUCKS TO GIVE; PAY ATTENTION TO WHERE AND WHO YOU GIVE THEM TO
When we’re young, we have tons of energy. Everything is new and exciting. And everything seems to matter so much. Therefore, we give tons of fucks. We give a fuck about everything and everyone — about what people are saying about us, about whether that cute boy/girl called us back or not, about whether our socks match or not or what color our birthday balloon is.
As we get older, we gain experience and begin to notice that most of these things have little lasting impact on our lives. Those people’s opinions we cared about so much before have long been removed from our lives. We’ve found the love we need and so those embarrassing romantic rejections cease to mean much anymore. We realize how little people pay attention to the superficial details about us and we focus on doing things more for ourselves rather than for others.
Essentially, we become more selective about the fucks we’re willing to give. This is something called ‘maturity.’ It’s nice, you should try it sometime. Maturity is what happens when one learns to only give a fuck about what’s truly fuckworthy. As Bunk Moreland said in The Wire (which, fuck you, I still downloaded it) to his partner Detective McNulty: “That’s what you get for giving a fuck when it wasn’t your turn to give a fuck.”
Then, as we grow older and enter middle age, something else begins to change. Our energy levels drop. Our identities solidify. We know who we are and we no longer have a desire to change what now seems inevitable in our lives.
And in a strange way, this is liberating. We no longer need to give a fuck about everything. Life is just what it is. We accept it, warts and all. We realize that we’re never going to cure cancer or go to the moon or feel Jennifer Aniston’s tits. And that’s OK. Life fucking goes on. We now reserve our ever-dwindling fucks only for the most truly fuckworthy parts of our lives: our families, our best friends, our golf swing. And to our astonishment, this is enough. This simplification actually makes us really fucking happy.
Then somehow, one day, much later, we wake up and we’re old. And along with our gum lines and our sex drive, our ability to give a fuck has receded to the point of non-existence. In the twilight of our days, we carry out a paradoxical existence where we no longer have the energy to give a fuck about the big things in life, and instead we must dedicate the few fucks we have left to the simple and mundane yet increasingly difficult aspects of our lives: where to eat lunch, doctors appointments for our creaky joints, 30-cent discounts at the supermarket, and driving without drifting to sleep and killing a parking lot full of orphans. You know, practical concerns.
Then one day, on our deathbed, (hopefully) surrounded by the people we gave the majority of our fucks to throughout our life, and those few who still give a fuck about us, with a silent gasp we will gently let our last fuck go. Through the tears and the gently fading beeps of the heart monitor and the ever-dimming fluorescence encapsulating us in its divine hospital halo, we drift into some unknowable and unfuckable place.
Quote of the Times;
“The only time goodbye is painful is when you know you will never say hello again.”
Link of the Times;
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-gfxjAaZg0
Then, if I ever got attacked by vicious dogs, I would jump up without a scratch and say, "It's a miracle!"
It would probably get kind of hot waiting around for the dogs, though.
*.*
What do you call two men fighting over a slut?
Tug-of-whore.
*.*
Oneliners:
Between the coffee and the cocaine, it looks like the mission of Colombia is to wake up the world.
Car horns should only be allowed to be in pitches C, E, and G, so whenever two people honk at the same time it will be in harmony and traffic jams will sound like symphonies.
My resume is really just a list of things I hope I never have to do again.
Anyone who starts a sentence "With all due respect..." is about to insult you.
Don't judge, you idiot.
*.*
The 22 Worst Town Names In The World
22. Cockburn, Western Australia
Although this name is often pronounced “Coburn” by those who stand to lose from its awfulness, who actually reads that when they see this word? Oh, how it burns.
21. Twatt, Orkney, Shetland Islands, Scotland
The Shetland Islands, pronounced “Shitland Islands” if you have an accent like mine, make up a happy little area north of Scotland where it’s too cold for trees to grow. I am related to approximately half the population of the Shetland Islands, share a last name with a quarter of them, and can probably trace my ancestry back to Twatt if I try hard enough. The pride!
20. Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateapokaiwhenuakitanatahu, New Zealand
Locals call this hill in Hawke’s Bay “Taumata” because… Well. Just because.
19. Muff, Ireland
We here at Drivl love puerile humour. They have a town called Muff.
18. Looneyville, Texas, United States
Little Looneyville was named for storekeeper John Looney in the early 1870s. But who gives a shit. This is a hilarious name for a town in the state that brought us Dallas, the Bush Twins and Waco. How awkward must that be when you go to college? “Hey guys, my name’s Sue and I’m from Looneyville!”
17. Titty Hill, Sussex, England
Falling squarely into the extensive Stupid Place Names From England category, Titty Hill is probably located just north of…
16. Thong, Kent, England
Which actually is south-east of…
15. Gravesend, Kent, England
Oh, come on, England. Graves End? What a nasty, depressing little name. You could have at least gone all the way with this one and called it Corpse Feet.
14. Wetwang, Yorkshire… yep! England again!
Okay, so I’ll cut England some slack. It’s an old country. You know, if the United States is Google, then England is IBM. Their country is older than fucking dirt. They can’t be blamed for having names that sound funny in 2007. But this is kind of ridiculous. Wetwang? I’m surprised they don’t have towns called Squishy Vagina or Infected Scrotum.
13. Spread Eagle, Wisconsin
If I were mayor of Spread Eagle, I’d be making diplomatic advances towards the city leaders over in Wetwang to form a Sister-City relationship. Or maybe more of a Platonic-Friends-City relationship. After that, we’d just take thing slow and see what happened.
12. Bald Knob, Arkansas, United States
Well, I guess it’s better than Hairy Knob. I assume England already has that one covered.
11. Cockup, Cumbria, England
Cumbria is a county in the very north-west of England. What the backwoods of Alabama are to America is what Cumbria is to Britain. They talk funny up there. Thus, it isn’t thoroughly surprising that they have a town called Cockup. What do you call someone from this place? A Cockupper? Cockupeleite? Cockuppian? Cockupican? I suppose it’s mildly better than Wetwangger.
10. Whiskey Dick Mountain, Washington State, United States
As hard as America tries, it can’t compete with Britain’s high standards. This was a good effort, though. Well done, Washington.
9. Hookersville, West Virginia
Undoubtedly named before “hooker” meant “prostitute who picks men up on street corners,” Hookersville combines two crimes of place-naming. One, a dirty sounding adjective (they couldn’t have chosen “Pleasant”? “Sunny”? “Happy”?) And two, they added “ville” to the end of the town’s name. Affixing “ville” to the end of a town’s name is like dressing your silly little dog in a cardigan and letting him carry his leash around in his mouth. It just makes the poor animal look fucking stupid.
8. Hell, Michigan, United States
The people in this town at least seem to have a good sense of humour about their home’s unfortunate name. Although, I’m sure there’s some midwestern idiots in Hell who get all offended and defensive when the town shows up on lists like this. I’m looking forward to reading their insightful emails and comments.
7. Toad Suck, Arkansas, United States
So that’s what they do down in the big AR.
6. Middelfart, Denmark
I guess it’s not so funny to them, but how do we know that “Seattle” doesn’t mean “Big Fat Stinking Turd” in Danish? That’s right, we don’t. And it probably does.
5. Horneytown, North Carolina, United States
Its proximity to Hookersville, West Virginia is no coincidence. I also assume that, like Hookersville, the naming of Horneytown took place before “horney” meant “aching for a hot piece of ass” with an extra “e”. But I’m starting to wonder why, pride and tradition aside, the townspeople in these little places never saw it fit to change their homes’ names? Do they enjoy being ridiculed by the entire English-speaking world?
4. Shitterton, Dorset, England
I wonder if they bleep out the first part of Shitterton’s name if it’s mentioned on TV in America?
3. Disappointment, Kentucky, United States
Le sigh. Never mind. You live in a small town in Kentucky. At least it was appropriately named.
2. Fucking, Austria
The idiots who live in Fucking, Austria had a vote in 2004 to determine whether or not they should change the town’s name, and you know what they did? They voted against it, preferring instead to put up with international ridicule, numerous stolen road-signs and horrific Google results.
1. Whakapapa
Why is this the worst place name in the world? In Maori, the native language of New Zealand, the “wh” sound is pronounced “f”. Say it aloud in your office and see what happens.
*.*
What do you call someone who refuses to fart in public?
A private tutor.
Issue of the Times;
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck by Mark Manson
In my life, I have given a fuck about many people and many things. I have also not given a fuck about many people and many things. And those fucks I have not given have made all the difference.
People often say the key to confidence and success in life is to simply “not give a fuck.” Indeed, we often refer to the strongest, most admirable people we know in terms of their lack of fucks given. Like “Oh, look at Susie working weekends again, she doesn’t give a fuck.” Or “Did you hear that Tom called the company president an asshole and still got a raise anyway? Holy shit, that dude does not give a fuck.” Or “Jason got up and ended his date with Cindy after 20 minutes. He said he wasn’t going to listen to her bullshit anymore. Man, that guy does not give a fuck.”
Chances are you know somebody in your life who, at one time or another, did not give a fuck and went on to accomplish amazing feats. Perhaps there was a time in your life where you simply did not give a fuck and excelled to some extraordinary heights. I know for myself, quitting my day job in finance after only six weeks and telling my boss that I was going to start selling dating advice online ranks pretty high up there in my own “didn’t give a fuck” hall of fame. Same with deciding to sell most of my possessions and move to South America. Fucks given? None. Just went and did it.
Everybody just wants to be liked and accepted. Except for Tim. Tim doesn't give a fuck.
Now, while not giving a fuck may seem simple on the surface, it’s a whole new bag of burritos under the hood. I don’t even know what that sentence means, but I don’t give a fuck. A bag of burritos sounds awesome, so let’s just go with it.
The point is, most of us struggle throughout our lives by giving too many fucks in situations where fucks do not deserve to be given. We give a fuck about the rude gas station attendant who gave us too many nickels. We give a fuck when a show we liked was canceled on TV. We give a fuck when our coworkers don’t bother asking us about our awesome weekend. We give a fuck when it’s raining and we were supposed to go jogging in the morning.
Fucks given everywhere. Strewn about like seeds in mother-fucking spring time. And for what purpose? For what reason? Convenience? Easy comforts? A pat on the fucking back maybe?
This is the problem, my friend.
Because when we give too many fucks, when we choose to give a fuck about everything, then we feel as though we are perpetually entitled to feel comfortable and happy at all times, that’s when life fucks us.
Indeed, the ability to reserve our fucks for only the most fuckworthy of situations would surely make life a hell of a lot easier. Failure would be less terrifying. Rejection less painful. Unpleasant necessities more pleasant and the unsavory shit sandwiches a little bit more savory. I mean, if we could only give a few less fucks, or a few more consciously-directed fucks, then life would feel pretty fucking easy.
What we don’t realize is that there is a fine art of non-fuck-giving. People aren’t just born not giving a fuck. In fact, we’re born giving way too many fucks. Ever watch a kid cry his eyes out because his hat is the wrong shade of blue? Exactly. Fuck that kid.
Developing the ability to control and manage the fucks you give is the essence of strength and integrity. We must craft and hone our lack of fuckery over the course of years and decades. Like a fine wine, our fucks must age into a fine vintage, only uncorked and given on the most special fucking occasions.
This may sound easy. But it is not. Most of us, most of the time, get sucked in by life’s mean trivialities, steamrolled by its unimportant dramas; we live and die by the sidenotes and distractions and vicissitudes that suck the fucks out of us like Sasha Grey in the middle of a gangbang.
This is no way to live, man. So stop fucking around. Get your fucks together. And here, allow me to fucking show you.
SUBTLETY #1: NOT GIVING A FUCK DOES NOT MEAN BEING INDIFFERENT; IT MEANS BEING COMFORTABLE WITH BEING DIFFERENT
When most people envision giving no fucks whatsoever, they envision a kind of perfect and serene indifference to everything, a calm that weathers all storms.
This is misguided. There’s absolutely nothing admirable or confident about indifference. People who are indifferent are lame and scared. They’re couch potatoes and internet trolls. In fact, indifferent people often attempt to be indifferent because in reality they actually give too many fucks. They are afraid of the world and the repercussions of their own choices. Therefore, they make none. They hide in a grey emotionless pit of their own making, self-absorbed and self-pitied, perpetually distracting themselves from this unfortunate thing demanding their time and energy called life.
My mother was recently screwed out of a large chunk of money by a close friend of hers. Had I been indifferent, I would have shrugged my shoulders, sipped some mocha and downloaded another season of The Wire. Sorry mom.
But instead, I was indignant. I was pissed off. I said, “No, screw that mom, we’re going to lawyer the fuck up and go after this asshole. Why? Because I don’t give a fuck. I will ruin this guy’s life if I have to.”
This illustrates the first subtlety about not giving a fuck. When we say, “Damn, watch out, Mark Manson just don’t give a fuck,” we don’t mean that Mark Manson doesn’t care about anything; on the contrary, what we mean is that Mark Manson doesn’t care about adversity in the face of his goals, he doesn’t care about pissing some people off to do what he feels is right or important or noble. What we mean is that Mark Manson is the type of guy who would write about himself in third person and use the word ‘fuck’ in an article 177 different times just because he thought it was the right thing to do. He just doesn’t give a fuck.
This is what is so admirable — no, not me, dumbass — the overcoming adversity stuff. The staring failure in the face and shoving your middle finger back at it. The people who don’t give a fuck about adversity or failure or embarrassing themselves or shitting the bed a few times. The people who just laugh and then do it anyway. Because they know it’s right. They know it’s more important than them and their own feelings and their own pride and their own needs. They say “Fuck it,” not to everything in life, but rather they say “Fuck it” to everything unimportant in life. They reserve their fucks for what truly fucking matters. Friends. Family. Purpose. Burritos. And an occasional lawsuit or two. And because of that, because they reserve their fucks for only the big things, the important things, people give a fuck about them in return.
SUBTLETY #2: TO NOT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ADVERSITY, YOU MUST FIRST GIVE A FUCK ABOUT SOMETHING MORE IMPORTANT THAN ADVERSITY
Eric Hoffer once wrote: “A man is likely to mind his own business when it is worth minding. When it is not, he takes his mind off his own meaningless affairs by minding other people’s business.”
The problem with people who hand out fucks like ice cream at a goddamn summer camp is that they don’t have anything more fuckworthy to dedicate their fucks to.
Think for a second. You’re at a grocery store. And there’s an elderly lady screaming at the cashier, berating him for not accepting her 30-cent coupon. Why does this lady give a fuck? It’s just 30 cents.
Well, I’ll tell you why. That old lady probably doesn’t have anything better to do with her days than to sit at home cutting out coupons all morning. She’s old and lonely. Her kids are dickheads and never visit. She hasn’t had sex in over 30 years. Her pension is on its last legs and she’s probably going to die in a diaper thinking she’s in Candyland. She can’t fart without extreme lower back pain. She can’t even watch TV for more than 17 minutes without falling asleep or forgetting the main plotline.
So she snips coupons. That’s all she’s got. It’s her and her damn coupons. All day, every day. It’s all she can give a fuck about because there is nothing else to give a fuck about. And so when that pimply-faced 17-year-old cashier refuses to accept one of them, when he defends his cash register’s purity the way knights used to defend maidens’ virginities, you can damn well bet granny is going to erupt and verbally hulk smash his fucking face in. Eighty years of fucks will rain down all at once, like a fiery hailstorm of “Back in my day” and “People used to show more respect” stories, boring the world around her to tears in her creaking and wobbly voice.
If you find yourself consistently giving too many fucks about trivial shit that bothers you — your ex-girlfriend’s new Facebook picture, how quickly the batteries die in the TV remote, missing out on yet another 2-for-1 sale on hand sanitizer — chances are you don’t have much going on in your life to give a legitimate fuck about. And that’s your real problem. Not the hand sanitizer.
In life, our fucks must be spent on something. There really is no such thing as not giving a fuck. The question is simply how we each choose to allot our fucks. You only get a limited number of fucks to give over your lifetime, so you must spend them with care. As my father used to say, “Fucks don’t grow on trees, Mark.” OK, he never actually said that. But fuck it, pretend like he did. The point is that fucks have to be earned and then invested wisely. Fucks are cultivated like a beautiful fucking garden, where if you fuck shit up and the fucks get fucked, then you’ve fucking fucked your fucks all the fuck up.
SUBTLETY #3: WE ALL HAVE A LIMITED NUMBER OF FUCKS TO GIVE; PAY ATTENTION TO WHERE AND WHO YOU GIVE THEM TO
When we’re young, we have tons of energy. Everything is new and exciting. And everything seems to matter so much. Therefore, we give tons of fucks. We give a fuck about everything and everyone — about what people are saying about us, about whether that cute boy/girl called us back or not, about whether our socks match or not or what color our birthday balloon is.
As we get older, we gain experience and begin to notice that most of these things have little lasting impact on our lives. Those people’s opinions we cared about so much before have long been removed from our lives. We’ve found the love we need and so those embarrassing romantic rejections cease to mean much anymore. We realize how little people pay attention to the superficial details about us and we focus on doing things more for ourselves rather than for others.
Essentially, we become more selective about the fucks we’re willing to give. This is something called ‘maturity.’ It’s nice, you should try it sometime. Maturity is what happens when one learns to only give a fuck about what’s truly fuckworthy. As Bunk Moreland said in The Wire (which, fuck you, I still downloaded it) to his partner Detective McNulty: “That’s what you get for giving a fuck when it wasn’t your turn to give a fuck.”
Then, as we grow older and enter middle age, something else begins to change. Our energy levels drop. Our identities solidify. We know who we are and we no longer have a desire to change what now seems inevitable in our lives.
And in a strange way, this is liberating. We no longer need to give a fuck about everything. Life is just what it is. We accept it, warts and all. We realize that we’re never going to cure cancer or go to the moon or feel Jennifer Aniston’s tits. And that’s OK. Life fucking goes on. We now reserve our ever-dwindling fucks only for the most truly fuckworthy parts of our lives: our families, our best friends, our golf swing. And to our astonishment, this is enough. This simplification actually makes us really fucking happy.
Then somehow, one day, much later, we wake up and we’re old. And along with our gum lines and our sex drive, our ability to give a fuck has receded to the point of non-existence. In the twilight of our days, we carry out a paradoxical existence where we no longer have the energy to give a fuck about the big things in life, and instead we must dedicate the few fucks we have left to the simple and mundane yet increasingly difficult aspects of our lives: where to eat lunch, doctors appointments for our creaky joints, 30-cent discounts at the supermarket, and driving without drifting to sleep and killing a parking lot full of orphans. You know, practical concerns.
Then one day, on our deathbed, (hopefully) surrounded by the people we gave the majority of our fucks to throughout our life, and those few who still give a fuck about us, with a silent gasp we will gently let our last fuck go. Through the tears and the gently fading beeps of the heart monitor and the ever-dimming fluorescence encapsulating us in its divine hospital halo, we drift into some unknowable and unfuckable place.
Quote of the Times;
“The only time goodbye is painful is when you know you will never say hello again.”
Link of the Times;
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-gfxjAaZg0
Several animals were savagely beaten in the making of this page, including but not limited to; kittens, rabbits, zebu, skunks, puppies, and platypus. Also several monkeys where force fed crack to improve their typing skills.
And someone shot a duck.
An Images & Ideas, Inc. Service.
No Vegans were harmed in the making of this site. We're looking for a new provider.
And someone shot a duck.
An Images & Ideas, Inc. Service.
No Vegans were harmed in the making of this site. We're looking for a new provider.