NFC Whatsoever

Here we go again.  In this, Chapter Eleventy-Eleven of my rants about grooming comes a fresh atrocity.  At a stupid awards show [some redundancy]  in Britishland recently, we were greeted by the following appearances.

Of course, Carol Vorderman looked lovely, as always:

…as did perennial hottie Nicola Roberts:

Then we have this totty, who was clearly in the back of the “Class” handout line:

But mostly, it seems, the other ladies got the picture (names, mostly, are irrelevant from here on):

Her date, on the other hand, looked like this:

Are you kidding me?  A formal affair, but without a tie and no socks?  Brace yourselves, folks, because it gets worse.  Much worse, because the “she lovely, he unspeakable” trend is going to continue.

For an afternoon garden party, his outfit might do (apart from the “dress shoes but no socks” thing, again), but for a formal evening occasion?

Then there’s this moron:

Ummm… light-brown shoes with a dark-blue suit, in the evening?  (Although he does get some kudos for the belt-shoes match, which seems to be all but forgotten nowadays.) But he’s positively sartorial compared to these three twits:

A shiny light-blue suit, a suit of menstrual-red hue (neither with socks), along with a snot-green outfit (with a collarless shirt, and We Will Not Discuss The Shoes)… I bet their mothers are all very proud of them.  

It gets worse.  Try this pimp outfit:

Now we’re reduced to wearing our bedroom slippers to formal occasions, are we?

The parade of foulness goes on and on, but nothing — repeat nothing — can prepare us for Simon Cowell’s appearance at this glittering occasion:

And lest you think that I took that pic from somewhere else, herewith the proof that I didn’t:

It’s not enough that some day (during the reign of World-Emperor Kim), Cowell will be tried and executed for Crimes Against Music, without having Terminal Fashion Rudeness added to the charges.  I don’t care how much money he has, he’ll always be a bloody peasant.

I’m sick of it, this ongoing display of No Fucking Class (see title for acronym).  It’s high time that these events instituted a dress code, and enforced it.  If people like the ones below got the memo (more or less), there’s no excuse for dressing like utter boors and slobs.

(I know, Robbie Williams needs a suit that’s a size or two larger, but he’s a former pop idol, so we make allowances, yes?)

And of course, Holly Willough-Boobies looked lovely, as always:

…although she needs to find another hair stylist.

I’m never going to quit banging on about this stuff, because it just gets up my nose.  All  the above men can afford to have tailored suits made — and proper suits for formal occasions, especially — which makes their slobbery all the less excusable.  And women need to stop enabling this behavior, and must refuse to go out with them dressed like that.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to stick pins into that Simon Cowell doll.

Belief Systems Bullying

This article by Janet Street-Porter triggered me, and I’ve decided that I’ve had enough of people attempting to foist their pathetic belief systems and accompanying lifestyle choices on to me.  Let me count these irritants off.

Fucking Christians and their oh-so virtuous need for evangelizing — like everyone needs to accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior — give me the cramps.  There are the Morons Mormon’s polite “elders” ringing my doorbell to hand me a pamphlet so that they can attempt to debate me — with all the acquired wisdom of their adolescent experience to back them up — about some fucking bullshit dreamed up by some asshole who was thrown out of somewhere — justifiably, in my opinion — in the fond belief that I’m suddenly going to See The Light and become a member of their foul little sect… fuck off and leave me alone.  Then there are the other Christians who try to convince me that I will find God’s Peace by doing whatever and being “born again” — do you realize how insane you sound, you pious fools?  Do you not realize that spiritual peace is an intensely personal matter, and your attempt to intrude on what is the most intimate of individual thoughts is about the most arrogant action anyone can perform?  Don’t even get me started on the missionaries, who quite frankly all need to suffer the same fate as that tool who tried to bring Jesus Christ to the inhabitants of North Sentinel Island, and got turned into archery practice.  The problem with Christianity today is that it needs more martyrs — probably a few million of the most evangelical ones, starting with that Marxist asshole in the Vatican and ending up by blowing through the leaders of the “mega-churches” like Sherman through Georgia.  Good grief, am I the only one who is repelled by the insufferable smugness of the martyr complex?
But if the Christians need a few million martyrs, the Muslims need about a hundred million of them — preferably by some global mass suicide (not by bombing, just the razors-in-a-bathtub kind) — with said suicide being confined to the most extremist of them.  Christians try to convert non-believers with nauseating syrupy promises, but at least they don’t try to kill you when you tell them to fuck off (well, not anymore, anyway).  Muslims, on the other hand, never having left the 9th century in their outlook and behavior, are quite prepared to kill non-believers and apostates, because in their arrogance, they believe that unless you’re a Muslim, you don’t deserve to live.  As attitude goes, they’re an order of magnitude worse than modern-day Christians.  And if Muslims don’t want to commit mass suicide, then what we need is some very old-fashioned Christians — let’s call ’em, oh, Crusaders — who can set about killing Muslims for being the evil assholes that they are.  In the immortal words of Henry Kissinger talking about Sunnis slaughtering Shiites and vice versa:  “It’s a pity that one side has to win.”  So mote it be with today’s Crusaders and Saracens.

By now, everyone should know who I’m talking about here.  Whether it’s the PETA types who throw cans of paint over people wearing furs, or the insufferable militant vegans who think it’s quite okay to invade restaurants and start haranguing diners about the eeeevils of meat-eating, my suggestion is that they should all eat about a pound of Romaine lettuce from that poxy farm in California.  Let me tell you:  if some shit-for-brains threw paint all over my wife’s $10,000 mink coat, I’d catch the fucker and make him or her drink the rest of the paint in the bucket.  As for the vegan protesters, they’d get a (pre-chewed) mouthful of meat spat all over them, followed by a fist-clubbing such as experienced by baby seals, just so that they can become as one with the cutesy wickle animals they glorify, and  feeeel their pain with them.  “It’s not food, it’s violence!”  they scream.  Hmph.  Let me introduce you to the concept of real violence, you self-centered little shits.

By now, everyone knows that Marxism / Socialism / Communism has been proven to be an abject failure — probably the worst failure of all socio-economic systems ever devised by Man — in every place it’s been tried.  But then there’s the (again) insufferable arrogance of these bastards, who truly think that they know what’s best for you, and you can’t make your own decisions because you’re inferior to them, the Enlightened Ones.  And FFS, how can anyone espouse a philosophy in which the outcomes — no matter how awful — are irrelevant as long as the intentions are “noble”?  It’s almost the classic example of narcissism.  And just like the Muslim assholes (see above), Marxist assholes are perfectly willing to harm you if you don’t fall into line with their twisted little belief system.  I’d suggest a course of mass suicide for Marxists as well, except that their arrogance would tend to make them try and kill us non-believers first (again, just like Muslims), so we’d probably be better off waging war on them (like Crusaders) and knocking them off by the various means they’ve used on others in the past.  (I was going to add some illustrations at this point, but we’ve all seen the pictures of Babi-Yar and the modern-day Chinese mass executions.)

Whether religious, dietary or political extremists, therefore, my message to all of you is quite simple:  leave me the hell alone.  And if you foolishly believe that you can “convert” me to your side or prevent me living my life on my own terms by some means of terror, coercion, bullying or shaming, allow me to say quite simply:  “Wind, meet whirlwind.”

Enough is enough.


Quote Of The Day

Talking about this utter and complete bullshit, J.D. Rucker saith:

“Whenever I see a story that invokes Ivy League scientists finding a solution to anything, I brace myself for the worst idea ever. Once again, they didn’t disappoint.”

Keep reminding yourself of the observation: “Your suggestion is so stupid, so devoid of commonsense and logic that it could only have been made by an academic or intellectual.”

Most of the time, you will not be misled.

Standards, Double, Women For The Use Of

There’s this rather foul old aristocratic trot in Britishland who, at age 69, has declared that she has no interest in making whoopee with a man her own age, but would be quite willing to do the nasty with someone close to half that.

Granted, she was quite a looker in her heyday (around the time of the Normandy landings, that is):

…but alas, she is no fine French wine and has not aged well at all.  Like most once-beautiful women, she’s carried the arrogance of beauty way past its sell-by date and now she’s just pathetic.

I have to ask myself a few things:  firstly, what kind of 35-year-old man would even consider paging through the wrinkles to find her rather cobwebby Garden Of Delight;  secondly, what narcissism allows her to think that she could set that demand and have it fulfilled, and thirdly, why doesn’t she get called a “dirty old devil” as an old man most certainly would if he announced that he was only only interested in jumping a college coed?

Ah fuck it, I know the answers to all three questions, and they’re profoundly depressing.

Most depressing of all, though, is that the old harridan has no shame in announcing all this to the entire nation on TV.  One would hope that someone of her generation would have more manners, modesty or class, but I suppose that as the titled old bat has probably had more pricks than a pin cushion, she probably doesn’t care.


Actually, the reason she wouldn’t bonk a man of her age is that most of us would see through her bullshit and decline the offer, whereas some younger fool would be taken in by her title, celebrity and whatever other reasons why young fools bonk someone of their Nana’s age.


Yeah, well…

Would-Be Missionary Gets The Full San Sebastian Treatment

Read the whole thing to get the full flavor of this man’s stupidity, naïveté and (dare I say) arrogance.  Darwin shakes his head, and says “I told you so.”

I guess they have a kind of Castle Doctrine on North Sentinel Island, too.  Good for them.

Update:  I just got an email from Reader Bart J. suggesting that we should implement the Sentinelese immigration control at our own southern border.  It’s moments like this that make me appreciate my Readers.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and clean the gin from my screen.

In Other News, Dogs Chase Cats

I’ve never been involved in the movie business at all, so I’m not really qualified to comment on this story (not that this has ever stopped me before):

Alexa Chung has revealed how she was once ordered to strip by a movie producer while being auditioned for a role. In a worrying #MeToo moment, the model was told to remove her clothes so that the exec could see what she looked like naked.
Addressing the Oxford Union, Alexa said: ‘He told me to strip because he needed to see what I looked like naked for a scene that required it.’

Okay, let’s all accept the fact that the whole casting thing could just turn into an opportunity for men to catch a free look at naked women.  (In other news, Gen. Custer seems to be having some difficulties with the Sioux.)  And yeah yeah, that’s just awful and terrible etc. etc.

I have some parallel thoughts, however:  if you are auditioning for a part where you’re going to be filmed in the nude, don’t be shocked when you’re asked to show what you look like naked.  If you’re Julia Roberts, for example, you can turn down such demands because you’re going to get a body double anyway — they’re casting the face, not your ironing-board body.  But if you’re a nobody, you can’t really turn it down because appearing or performing in the nude is one of the reasons you’re being cast at all and if we’re going to be blunt about it, if you have some blemish (e.g. saggy boobs or a large birthmark), the producer is not going to hire a body double for a nobody.  

The other thought is that the director has to be sure that when he films a scene — any scene, let alone a nude one — he has to be sure that viewers concentrate on what he’s trying to show, not on the fact that Second Actress From The Left has one breast considerably larger than the other.

So while I can sympathize with this Alexa Chung (whoever she is) because of the voyeur thing, I can also see things from the other side of the desk, so to speak.  I should also point out that this woman is an ex-model, and didn’t seem to have too many qualms about being naked anyway:

And here’s another thought:  a producer asking to see what you look like on the nude is not a Harvey Weinstein/#MeToo moment;  a producer wanting you to fuck him to get the part, is.

We can also talk about why nude modelling or nude scenes in movies are necessary at all, but that’s a topic for another post.