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  • Poll: Siblings

    I’ve mentioned before that I come from a large family. How large? I’m one of nine siblings. Five male, four female. In three groups.

    I am the oldest daughter, and the middle child of the first group.  We have kids born in the 1950s, ’60s, ’70s, and 1980s. My youngest sibling is just two months older than Web Dom.

    There are whole, half, and step siblings in my family, but none of us use the modifier when describing the others. We all get along, there are no factions. One sister died as an infant; one brother died at 43. The rest of us persist.

    It’s really a pretty typical 19th century family structure…except my Mom just died a few years ago, and not in childbirth at age 30. My parents, though divorced, continued to get along very well, which was good since they worked at the same place and lived about ten miles apart in a very rural area. It would have been impossible to avoid each other. My Mom undertook fund raising for my step-brother’s medical bills when he was dying.  My step- and half-brothers helped my Mom with various “guy” projects. Mom was a guest at Dad’s new home for Thanksgiving on the occasions her side of the family wasn’t gathering.

    I’ve never really believed in the birth order stuff (make sure you read the section about sexual orientation). However, I will say that the “baby” of each group of siblings is very much like the stereotype. I, of course, am nothing like a middle child.

    Also, birth order has absolutely nothing to do with the success of romantic relationships. Most of my relationships have been with oldest male children. A couple of my husbands were middle children. The marriage that was is the best match was is with an oldest child.

    Tonight’s questions:

    1. Do you have siblings? (Side note: progressives are the only children of the political world.)
    2. If so, where are you in the birth order?
    3. How many sisters and how many brothers do you have?
    4. Do you get along with your siblings?
    5. Do you have a particularly strong bond with one sibling?
    6. Do you think birth order has had an impact on your personality and life?
    7. Have you had any inappropriate sexual contact with any of your siblings?
    8. Do you have photos?

    Discuss!

     

  • Wednesday Afternoon Links

    Happy Hump Day. If you’re not drinking, happy Dry Hump Day. That won’t be a problem for me. Wife is going to a friend’s birthday dinner. I’ll be practicing my elbow bends while the rug-rats run around at home.

    Here’s a rugged individualist spending his own time and money to improve LA bus stops. You’ll be shocked to find out that he chooses to remain anonymous and not show his face for fear that LA authorities will arrest him for doing their job. “You can’t do that, that’s a job government must do!”

    NPR sez “fast tracking logging on public land may not lessen wild-fire risk”, but fails to note that there’s no increase possible in the worst case. (They probably aren’t wrong — Federal land isn’t where the big risk to people is.)

    Oh look, after all the noise, Pelosi will be Speaker.

    Its so weird that this hit piece on the guy who gave Jeffrey Epstein a sweet deal when Acosta was a prosecutor fails to mention certain persons of the Democrat persuasion who have been credibly accused of flying on his “Lolita Express”. They sneak in that Epstein’s “friends included former President Bill Clinton, Donald Trump and Prince Andrew”, but one of those is not rumored to have taken the flight. Crazy, huh?

    Have a little fluff.

  • The Hat and The Hair: Episode 103

     

    “GM fucked us!’ the hat cried. “We bailed them out and they fucked us! Fucked us hard. Fucked us like a minivan full of Little Leaguers!”

    “Oh, calm down,” the hair said. “You’re going to rip a seam.”

    “We raise the price of steel for those GM bastards, and this is how they repay us?” the hat wailed. “And right before Christmas?”

    “Where’s Donald?” the hair asked.

    “CHRISTMAS‽” the hat replied.

    “I haven’t seen much of him since we got back from Mississippi,” the hair said.

    “He’s been wearing the wig,” the hat said, grief hardening to sadism.

    “The wig?” the hair asked. “The wig? He’s been wearing the fucking wig? The wig looks terrible!”

    [Enter DONALD, a greasy mop of Bangladeshi orphan hair sits askew on his head]

    “Hey, guys,” he said.

    “Take that filthy thing off, Donald.” the hair said, his voice thin.

    “Filthy?” Donald asked, taken aback. “It’s clean, totally clean. I had them run it through the dishwasher just this morning.”

    “I’m your hair. Me. Take that thing off,” the hair said, bristling.

    “Now you know how it feels, huh? So maybe back me up the next time he wears that retard USA hat,” MAGA Prime said smugly.

    “That’s different. That’s just hats. This is hair. Hair!”

    “‘JUST HATS?’” the hat screeched. “You take that back, you take that back right now!”

    The hair jumped on the hat and they both rolled off the Resolute desk and onto the floor of the Oval Office.

    [DONALD, TO CAMERA]

    “We’ll be right back, folks.”

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fh8ylMedDMM

    [CAMERA UP]

    [DONALD stands in a destroyed Oval Office, the hair and hat jammed down on his head. Shredded wig parts are stuck to his suit.]

    “See? Isn’t this much better, Donald?” the hair asked.

    “Yeah, it’s great. It’s so great,” the hat says.

    “All you two do is fight,” Donald said. He walked behind his desk, unzipped and began urinating into his office trash can. “It’s unseemly. It’s unclassy. I want you two to stop. You should be like brothers.”

    The hat mumbled deprecations.

    “You should have a close and loving relationship, like me and Ivanka or me and Meliana and that creepy little kid who is always following her around. You know, the one she still breastfeeds.”

    “Barron… your son,” the hair mutters.

    “I’ve realized that I’ve been campaigning too much,” Donald said, “And traveling too much and I’ve let the homefront get soft.”

    “And you’ve put on weight,” the hat said.

    “I’m at the perfect weight for a President my age. We can’t all look like Vlad,” Donald said.

    “You never even try to go shirtless horseback riding anymore,” the hair said.

    “Let’s make a Week After Thanksgiving resolution, guys,” Donald said, sitting down in his office chair. “Let’s resolve to be more like our original characterization, OK?”

    “Fine,” the hair said, “But, honestly, I don’t think I’ve changed too much.”

    “You always been a low energy hack,” the hat told the hair.

    Donald snorted at that. He rummaged through his desk and pulled a cigar from his humidor. He took a deep whiff along the cigar and sighed.

    “And you’ve always been a racist, bigoted, fascist psychopath, you fucking junkie,” the hair spat back.

    “Why, thank you,” the hat said. He sat up straighter on Donald’s head.

    Donald lit the cigar and puffed at it until the tip glowed red.

    Donald hit the intercom button on his desk.

    “Yes, Mr. President?” the voice asked.

    “Send her in.”

    The Oval Office door opened and a thin blonde was pushed inside. Thin arms and legs, improbable breasts, a wide moonface covered in thick makeup. She said something a thick, guttural language and forced herself to smile.

    “Vlad sent her,” Donald said and sighed contentedly.

    “Зняти нижню білизну!” Donald told the girl.

    “Only Ukranian I know,” he told the hat and hair.

    The girl slid her flimsy panties off her boyish hips and stepped out of them when they hit the floor.

    Donald puffed on the cigar for a few moments, leering, drawing hard until the fat tip glowed orange. Donald took it out of his mouth.

    “Watch this,” he told the hat and hair while getting up. “Bill taught me this one.”

  • ¿El Martes por la Noche? ¿Mañana de Miercoles? ¡Enlaces Mexicanos!

    I’m not going to dig up the Mexican Flanders photo so here is an excerpt from a graphic novel featured on NPR about the life and times of Ernesto “Che” Cuevara.  Found in this article are the words, “cruelty” and “execution.”  Not found anywhere is “murderous,” “bloodthirsty,” “racist,” “asshole,” or even “Argentine.”

    Methusela was sentenced to 5000 years in a Guatemalan prison for atrocities he committed during their civil war.  Yes, I linked Al Jazeera, don’t change the subject from mandatory minimums!

    Lets not forget, Mexicans don’t like the refugees migrants people from “Not Mexico” being in Mexico.

    Venezuela is now doing what everyone else does when they encounter economic turmoil:  seek refuge in gold!

    Okay. We get it. You like to vape.

    CNN digs around and finds answers to their readers queries about tear gas.  Unfortunately, their answer to the question, “Why Was Tear Gas Used” does not include the obvious answer:  its a useful tool to disperse a crowd WITHOUT KILLING THEM.  As somebody that has been exposed to tear gas let me tell you something:  there is no better agent on Earth that will clear your sinuses quicker.  I caught the flu during week 5 of basic training; I was dying for three days during a Texas Ice Storm, getting yelled at for not taking that “war” thing seriously.  Then they put me in a room filled with that crap, made me do pushups, and yanked the mask off.  Once I was done puking…I was good to go.

    Finally, I thought this clip was interesting.  Sure its a couple weeks old,  but it really drives home the idea that not far from where I live…they WANT a brutal dictator.

     

    Right, you all need tunes to get you going in the morning. Here you go.  Make hump day your bitch!

  • Liberty for Me, but Also for Thee

    Liberty for Me, but Also for Thee

    Philosophical consistency is an aspirational goal.  It is not, no matter how much we may want to believe in our own purity, something any of us will ever truly achieve.  Also, even if you drive a Prius your farts stink; you have to spring for a Tesla before they turn to perfume.

    It is easy to see the inconsistencies in the belief systems of people with whom we disagree (because they are all stupid and rude); it is much harder to recognize those in our own noble, and wise beliefs. Almost all of us here are small l libertarians.  I am a conservative leaning libertarian.  We yokels sometimes make jokes about capital “L” Libertarians being all about pot, Mexicans and ass sex which is our deliberately offensive shorthand for our belief that The Libertarian Party, (sorry I know it doesn’t really deserve a capital letter but how else do we distinguish between libertarians and Bill Weld?) campaigns exclusively on sexual liberation (which has been pretty completely achieved, and no you did not get a speck of credit from the progs), drug legalization (yay crony pot!), and open borders, to the exclusion of freedom of association, gun rights, and limiting the massive growth of government, which we see as the more significant issues.

    I set this all out as a starting point, because I am going to be examining one of my own prejudices and it helps to give some context about my belief structure.  In other words I studied law and philosophy and am now completely incapable of getting directly to the point.  Hell, just be glad I didn’t spend 5 pages defining every noun in this article.

    Up to this point you are probably thinking:  Pompous guy spouting above the fray platitudes, libertarian model II, Paulista edition, time to move to the comments, nothing interesting here.  But I am not writing this to signal virtue; I am writing this, and struggling with it, because I have realized (not for the first time) that I have a conflict in my beliefs, and one that I think quite a few people here share.  

    It has to do with everyone’s favorite non-acronym acronym.  That wonderful keyboard swipe that defines sexual politics, LGBTQ. I am not worried about the L, they take care of themselves just fine, the G, they aren’t even victims anymore, the B, doubled date chances and all, or even the Q (Hi Q thanks for the mammaries!), but I have a problem with the T.  Ok, I don’t really understand the Q, I mean literally, I do not understand what queer means if it is something not covered by the L, B, or G.  So back to that troublesome T.

    I believe that there are three phenomena lumped into that T, and that due to deliberate conflating of these phenomena, a great deal of misery is being created.  First, there are the physically intersex individuals.  That tiny minority who are born with some ambiguity in their sexual characteristics.  Second, there are those suffering from gender dysphoria.  Also a small minority, but in this case with a psychological disconnect between their otherwise normal physiology and their self perception.  Finally, there are those I think of as the snowflakes.  Generally young people who I believe identify as transgender either in confusion about their sexual desires, a search for victimhood, or just to dramatize teen angst.

    For the intersex folk out there I have nothing but compassion.  My only wish for them is that they find whatever role and path to happiness they can.  If that means surgery, hormone treatments, and selection of a gender, great; if it means some other path, also great.  For those with actual gender dysphoria my thoughts are more complicated.  I personally think that treating a psychological disconnect by changing the body is the wrong path, but it isn’t my place to decide what path someone else should take, so who cares what I think?

    For the snowflakes, less sympathy, a lot less. As with many snowflake issues the answer is that growing up is hard, but worthwhile, and I suggest they give it a try.  No, occasionally having a stereotypical feminine feeling does not a dysphoria make. You are not a lesbian woman trapped in a man’s body.     You are just a straight dude, even if you get off on wearing women’s clothes. Equally, if you are ok with your body, but want to engage in sex with another dude that is called being gay, it does not require surgery, hormones, or switching restrooms.   Just do what makes you happy, don’t harm other people and stop being so dramatic.

    And now you are all thinking:  Ok, what’s so contradictory about all this?  These are pretty bland, basic viewpoints on this issue, and even the part where I diverge from the sjw narrative I admit is none of my business so why bother to spout off? Aren’t I just being an angsty snowflake myself with all my dramatic “philosophical contradiction” nonsense?  BUT I AM SPECIAL DAMMIT!

    Well, there is a more controversial part of all this.

    What about the kids?  Pretty much anyone who claims to be libertarian is going to eventually come around to the idea that adults can make their own choices about hormones and surgery.  There may be some waffling about bathrooms, and we may think prisons, sports leagues and other sex segregated venues should go by biology, but it’s very hard to claim to be pro individual liberty and at the same time deny adults the right to make their own decisions about their bodies.  Children are a different thing. (Why will no one ever think of them!)

    Children do not have full autonomy.  Obviously, you cannot let a toddler, or grade-schooler, or even a middle-schooler  make all, or even most, of their day to day decisions.  A diet of soda, candy, and ice cream is unhealthy.  Spending all day playing Fortnite or hunting Pokemon is less productive than school (ok, maybe the kids are right on this one).  Vaccinations are actually a good thing, even if shots sting.  And, no, the dog does not want to be dressed as your caparisoned stallion and ridden to battle with the forces of evil over at Mikey’s house.  So, we all accept that children can rightly be prevented from doing as they wish.  

    We accept the concept of parental authority, and the idea that children’s basic right to liberty is in abeyance until some degree of maturation has occurred. (Or at least until they get big enough to be useful as cannon fodder.)  Very young kids have effectively no liberty, and as they get older they gradually get more autonomy until at some magic point they morph into adults and become free to go to hell in their own way, just like all of us.

    I have voiced the opinion that encouraging, or even allowing, children to take puberty blockers, or cross sex hormone treatments, is blatant child abuse.  Puberty blockers have permanent effects and the idea that prepubescent kids are developed enough to make permanent decisions, or even to decide that they are transgendered, as opposed to simply homosexual, or just unsure about their sexuality, is nonsense.  

    By definition, prepubescent kids are not sexually developed.  It is the rankest prejudice to say, “Oh, I know little Johnny is gay, or straight, or transgendered,” when little Johnny hasn’t hit puberty.  Manifestly all you can be basing that belief on are your stereotypes about how gay people, or straight people act. You see, prepubescents aren’t supposed to be engaged in sexual behavior (sorry OMWC), and sexual behavior is what actually defines you as gay, straight, bi or whatever the hell, and no, playing with dolls doesn’t mean little Johnny is gay, or a woman.

    Now, child abuse is a tough subject for libertarians and conservatives.  We can accept that children don’t have full autonomy, and default to the idea that therefore their autonomy devolves to the parents.  Since that leaves the parents effectively owning the liberty right of the child, we are skeptical about government involvement, but what about abuse situations?  If libertarian belief followed all the way left us with no way to stop parents from torturing, raping, or killing their kids, then libertarians would really be as evil as Vox says.  Fortunately, libertarian philosophy doesn’t have to take us there.  

    I think what saves us is the concept of a fiduciary.  Parents do own their children’s liberty rights, but they own them as fiduciaries.  In other words, they hold the right for the benefit of the child, not the parent’s own benefit, and Mommy and Daddy have a corresponding obligation to act in little Johnny’s interest.  So, no problem right?  If using puberty blockers is a bad idea, poorly justified, by inadequate evidence, ofpossibly nonsensical, gender confusion, with long term deleterious effects, then it is child abuse and should be illegal, just like any other permanent physical harm inflicted!

    That has been my belief and I have voiced it frequently.  Here is the problem:

    I support the right of crazy anti-vaxxers to refuse to get their kids shots.  I also got furious, along with most of the people here about Charlie Gard.  In other words I believe that medical decisions fall squarely within the parent’s role.  So, despite thinking transgender treatments for children are as stupid as the Flat Earth Society bragging that they now have chapters around the globe, and as evil as a Broward County election supervisor, I have to support the parent’s right to make this decision.  

    So, that leaves me with three possibilities:

    1.  Medical decisions must be subject to some test and the parents only get to make the ‘right’ decisions.

    The problem here is obvious.  What test?  Who decides?  Doctors? Judges? Every single case of puberty blockers being given involved a doctor, as did the decision to kill Charlie, which was upheld by the British courts.  So going this route doesn’t get me EITHER side of what I want.  When an answer requires the right top men, it is not a libertarian idea

    2.  Puberty Blockers are up to the parents and child, hopefully in consultation with doctors across a decent spectrum of understanding of the consequences, and I can sit quietly disapproving but shut up about it.

    3.  My thought process sucks and you all will let me know why I am stupid in the comments.

    Much as it pisses me off, I have to go with 2 here.  The unexamined life may not be worth living; but examining it mostly leaves you feeling a bit dirty.

  • Tuesday Afternoon Unicorn Links

    Welcome to today’s unicorn links. Why unicorn? Because I have a link about a unicorn. The writing in the link is terrible. “sported a horn of biblical portions, possibly as long as three feet (1 meter) in length”. First of all the word “portions” should be “proportions”. Second of all, things of Biblical proportion could include: floods, famines, and plagues. I suppose arks and temples. I was unaware that YHWH had specified the appropriate length of a unicorn’s horn. Also, I’m not sure that rhino is kosher.

    A brothel where sex robots have to “give consent” before you can engage in intercourse with them. Unless “consent” means getting an approval message when charging a credit card, the very stupid idea that these robots have a will or a mind or a consciousness capable of consenting to or opposing something ought to discuss actual human beings. We didn’t build stubbornness into cars because mules were efficient engines. (NSFW warning: robot boobs below the scroll)

    I know the French riot and burn shit at the drop of a hat, but I do believe there would be American officials decorating lamp posts if the gas spot price were $1.65/gal and the cost of gas were $6.25/gal. Even Californians might treat it like a Lakers NBA Championship.

    Stephen Hillenburg, creator of Spongebob, died from complications related to ALS. My dad had a good friend go downhill and pass very quickly after being diagnosed with the same condition. Fuck ALS!

     

    So I came across this wardrobe disaster and thought I’d share. It looks like they raided a lesbian’s closet.

  • True Thoughts and Conspiracies – A Trashy Form of Fiction

    True Thoughts and Conspiracies – A Trashy Form of Fiction

    Stephen, a rotund man with an acute case of rosacea and a few beads of sweat trickling down his face, carefully navigated his boxers over his deflating erection, visibly working hard to avoid tipping over onto the bed. He ran his fingers up the side of his wife’s still naked body, trigger her back to pucker up into pert goosebumps.

    “That was great Janice, we need to do this more often,” Stephen softly whispered, trying not to disturb her post-coital glow. She refocused her eyes on him lovingly, her smile psychically channeling her internal ecstasy into Stephen’s understanding.

    “Mmmmmm, honey, this … this was so good!” Janice purred, sensuously wriggling under the covers in a way that made Stephen want to crawl right back into bed for another round of mattress wrestling. However, his subconscious gave a pinch like a lactose intolerant rectum on a first date at an Indian restaurant. Stephen knew that he couldn’t keep up with his mid-life crisis. She was still a supple 23 with smooth skin and curvaceous volume in just the right places. He was a flabby, hairy 45 year old with a big house and a bigger checkbook. He knew he wasn’t enough to satisfy her; that’s what today was about.

    “You know, we still have enough time to catch a movie. I heard that First Man movie is good.” Stephen emerged from the requisite catatonia after an orgasmic emission. “I’ve always been fascinated by movies about the Apollo program, Apollo 13 was great!”

    “It’s all fake, you know,” a voice jarringly interjected from the chaise in the reading nook. “The moon landings were a hoax.” The voice was disturbingly earnest, with just a hint of condescension. Just the tone one would expect from the half-naked twenty-something Adonis of a man tapping away on his iPhone in the corner of the bedroom.

    “What the hell are you talking about, Brad?” Stephen shot back, launching all-out thermonuclear body language war with the man whore in his reading spot. Stephen made a mental note to bleach the hell out of that chaise before sitting there again. If only that furniture could speak…

    He snapped out of his train of thought with a realization that he couldn’t afford therapists for all of the furniture that was violated during today’s extended game of hide the pickle. Not while paying for that bitch of an ex-wife’s therapist, too. God, what a wrinkled old cunt!

    Brad had leisurely removed his thong-ridden sweaty ass cheeks from Stephen’s sacred retreat, and was slowly getting dressed while he put together a parting shot that would extricate him from the room with his payment and without fucking up next week’s scheduled romp time with Stephen and Janice. He really wanted that damned 84″ QLED TV, whether or not it meant doing the devil’s threesome with some rich geezer and his glorified whore.

    “The moon landing was a hoax. An American bluff to the Soviet space race dominance.” Brad muttered without addressing anybody in the room. He hoped beyond hope that this was the end of the conversation and he could go home and take a shower. He could feel that whore’s randy juices congealing in his beard, and he internally cringed at the thought of how much beard wax it would take to return his chin mane to its former glory.

    “Brad, you aren’t even old enough to have seen the moon landing, how would you even know?” Janice sat up in bed, any remaining aura of afterglow having been replaced with a mix of mild annoyance and reluctant curiosity. Brad noticed her perky bosoms settle into an oddly attractive asymmetry, like a cute girl with a crazy eye. Janice, following Brad’s gaze, covered her mammaries in reflexive embarrassment.

    “It’s all out there… you know, on the Internet. The videos were clearly produced in Hollywood. The artifacts are more of science fiction than science fact. I mean, you can even see the flags waving in the breeze! Who do they think that they’re fooling?” Brad felt his hackles rising, and he resigned himself to getting into this debate yet again. These ignorant fools don’t even know that the moon landing is fake… they probably think that Al Quaeda did 9/11 and Sandy Hook was done by a disturbed autist.

    “Your-” Stephen started.

    “Let me ask you a question, before you get started,” Brad interrupted, pausing for dramatic effect before continuing. “What evidence do you have that the moon landing actually happened?”

    “Well, uhh,” Stephen was caught off guard and gathered himself under the disguise of thoughtful contemplation. “There are people who claim to have gone to the moon. There is a large amount of equipment still around that was used to send people to the moon. There is video of men on the moon. Hell, I’ve even seen a moonrock.”

    “What do you find most convincing from that evidence?” Brad questioned, pretending not to notice that Stephen’s Trump-like penis was slowly retreating through the slit in his boxers into it’s fungal habitat like a snail tentacle after encountering a patch of salt.

    “Well, I guess the video is most convincing,” Stephen tried to hide his defensiveness by leaning onto the edge of the bed, unintentionally flaunting his scrunched up coin purse through the widened hole in the front of his only clothing.

    “The video?” Brad scoffed, barely reining in a condescending “harumph” that would’ve been the last nail in the coffin of his plans to continue to rock the world of that naked vixen whose cheek still showed the remnants of his primal rut. “The video could just as easily have been fabricated. In fact, it has many issues that indicate possible fabrication. If you strip away your trusting bias, you-”

    “Trusting bias? I’m the one with a bias?” Stephen shoved away from the bed, causing Janice to flinch in a way that tore her out of whatever trance was allowing her to tolerate this idiotic debate. She slid out of the sheets, and walked, intentionally seductively, to the closet to grab some clothes. Movie or no, she was going to get dolled up, if only to make Brad feel jealous and to distract Stephen from this inanity. She knew how Stephen was, he’d talk all night if somebody didn’t distract him.

    “Yes, you’re too trusting of the media and the government. Humor me for a moment and approach the moon landing from a skeptic’s point of view,” Brad was clearly enjoying this a bit too much. He could feel the blood coursing back into his flaccid meat tube.

    “Ok, I’ll play along. As a skeptic, I see a bunch of video seeming to show people in suits on a rocky surface with low gravity. I see a rock that doesn’t look like a normal rock I could find in my backyard. I’ve seen a full sized model of a rocket that could plausibly send these men into space. I’ve heard more than one person talk as though they have been to the moon.” Stephen was also enjoying this a bit too much, although not with the sexual repercussions that were stretching Brad’s thong under his sweatpants. “I guess that if I didn’t trust what I was told about these things, they could represent anything from a legitimate trip to the moon to a conspiratorial hoax. I don’t have any direct evidence that anybody has actually been on the moon.”

    Brad nodded in approval, cutting in before Stephen could assert dominance. Brad chuckled internally as he recognized the same power play he used while directing the three person play that was the violation of Janice. “But why wouldn’t you believe them? They have no reason to lie, right?”

    Brad paused, locking eyes with Stephen and not faltering when Janice sauntered back into the room, stuffed into a mini-skirt and halter top that looked like it was about to burst. “Wrong! They were losing the space race! The Soviets beat them to every major milestone, and the Americans were desperate for the upper hand. It was a pivotal time in the Cold War, and the Americans couldn’t afford to lose this one.”

    “I mean, I guess that’s plausible, but Occam’s Razor seems to suggest that it’s more likely that they actually did it rather than some massive conspiracy including thousands of people to fake a moon landing.” Stephen, unlike Brad, made no attempt to hide his notice of Janice’s provocative dress.

    “What is there to believe if we can’t trust the history books, the contemporary records, and the testimony of others?” Janice contributed, to the shock of both Brad and Stephen.

    “That’s just it!” Stephen supported “If we don’t trust the government and historians about the moon landing, what can we trust them about? What is truth when you don’t trust anything outside of your own first-hand experience?”

    “Now you’re talking! Question everything!” Brad said, betraying his love for the X-files and for pot. “How do you even know that there is a place called New Zealand? There are pictures and videos, and people pretend that they have been there, but without actually going there, I have no idea that such a place exists.”

    Stephen, obviously annoyed at this turn of conversation, pulled Janice close, pressing her soft body against his. “You’re a moron, but your point is well taken. I can’t know that something is the truth unless I’ve directly observed it. Everything else is built on some sort of social trust. It’s an assumption that people won’t collectively and casually lie to you about history and science and other things that you can’t and won’t verify.”

    “So, are we going to watch First Man?” Janice asked, sliding her hand down Stephen’s pantleg in an obvious sign of impatience.

    “See you next week, Brad,” Stephen asserted with a finality that caused Brad to turn and walk out the door.

  • Tuesday Morning Links

    Tuesday Morning Links

    It’s everyone’s favorite time of day, where they refresh incessantly until new links appear.

     

     

    Today in Birthdays we have the infamous Bruce Lee, guitar legend Jimi Hendrix, actor Curtis Armstrong, Super Villain, Steve Bannon, and Bill Nye The Appeal to Emotions Guy.

     

    Today is the Mississippi senate runoff where the Republican candidate is painted as a super racist by Democrats and the media with extremely weak evidence as tradition dictates.  Trump held a rally in Tupelo yesterday to help bolster her.

     

    Mueller claims Manafort violated plea deal by lying to investigators.

     

    Twitter continues its purge of wrong thinkers.  I don’t care, they axed me months ago.  Granted, in hindsight I probably shouldn’t have told that lady that she was going to die alone surrounded by 50 cats who will probably eat her face in desperation.  With how sensitive Big Tech is, I’m becoming leery of those who haven’t been kicked off at least one platform.

     

    Unpossible.

     

    You don’t make friends with salad.

     

    A malfunctioning ATM in North Houston spits out hundreds.

     

    Hard not to love this song.  Enjoy your day, folks!

  • Vegan School: Thai Coconut Soup with Fried Tofu

    Vegan School: Thai Coconut Soup with Fried Tofu

    I love me some Indian and Asian food, and none more than Thai Coconut Soup.

    Ok, maybe curry.

    And maybe dosas.

    But Thai Coconut Soup is right up there at the top of my list.

    The biggest problem I’ve encountered with Thai Coconut Soup, however, is that most of them use a fish sauce which is #NotVegan. This recipe is modified for vegans. The cilantro is added at the end so cilantrophobes like SP can omit if desired.

    I use this sesame oil, this nutritional yeast, and this not chicken base. And if you can’t get sambal oelek in your grocery store, Amazon carries it here.

    Often this soup is served over glass noodles. If you choose to do so, simply cook the noodles according to package instructions and add to the bowl before dishing the soup.

    Thai Coconut Soup

    • 1 package extra firm tofu (drained and pressed)
    • 1 large white onion (chopped)
    • 1 tsp toasted sesame oil
    • 1 tsp olive oil
    • 2 tbsp fresh ginger (minced)
    • 2 stalks lemon grass (trimmed to bottom 6 inches and minced)
    • 2 tbsp garlic (minced)
    • 1 can coconut milk (15oz)
    • 64 oz not chicken broth
    • 1/3 cup nutritional yeast
    • 2 tbsp sambal oelek (or to taste)
    • 2 tbsp soy sauce
    • 5 oz lime juice
    • 1 tbsp white sugar
    • 16 oz grape tomatoes (halved)
    • lime wedges
    • fresh cilantro (chopped)
    • green onions (chopped)
    1. Cut the tofu into cubes, and fry in a non-stick pan over medium-high heat with no oil or butter. Flip occasionally until golden brown on all sides. This takes longer than you expect it to. Resist the urge to mess with it for the first few minutes. If it’s still sticking to the pan, it’s not ready to be flipped. 

    2. In a soup pot, add the oils and the onion and ginger. Cook until the onion is translucent. Add the lemon grass and garlic, stir until fragrant, about 30-60 seconds. Add sambal oelek, broth, sugar, lime juice, soy sauce. Reduce heat and simmer partly covered for about 20 minutes.

    3. Add tofu, grape tomatoes, snap peas, and coconut milk. Simmer until tofu is warmed through. 

    4. Dish into bowl and garnish with cilantro and green onions.

  • Cyber Monday Afternoon Links

    I hope everybody got the deals they were looking for on new (or gently used) sexbots. There’s a part of me that’s sad I didn’t go into teledildonics. There’s many a fortune to be made there.

    KDW continues to be solid. I wish he would just give up and admit his libertarianism. Although, “aping”, bro. That’s why you couldn’t stay at The Atlantic. Which the managing editor must regret every time KDW publishes a column.

    “Dems Plot Takedown of Trump in 2020” — Does anyone else see Wile E. Coyote hunched over a drafting table?

    EU agrees to Brexit. Now the only holdouts are the British political class.

    NASA lands a new robot on Mars.

    For the InSight robot.