Month: November 2019

Buried

Bad News

Apparently, winter has come early in parts of Britishland:

Parts of Britain woke up to snow today as forecasters issued several ice alerts after warnings that up to half a months worth of rain will fall on already flood-hit areas.
East Gloucestershire, parts of Wiltshire and South Wales were pictured blanketed in snow this morning in the first dusting of the winter.
The Met Office issued several alerts for snow and ice across the South East and South West of England, South Wales and the West Midlands that were in force until 10am.

And the usual pics of the snow “blanket”:

Meanwhile, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula:

All that said, however, the flooding in northern Britishland has been heavy:

…and those are fields, not a river bursting its banks.

I blame Labour.  Or Trump. [/Schiff]

Cultural Diversity

Mocking Furriners, Two-Minute Hate

Let’s set the scene, here.  You and a bunch of your buddies go out to a nightclub in a foreign country — let’s call it Western Europe — and start doing what you always wanted to do with a bunch of women Back Home but couldn’t because the women’s brothers and cousins have no sense of humor and are likely to cut your nuts off.  Now these “foreign” women are not only dressed like whores but also seem to have no brothers and cousins whatsoever.  But for some reason, they get upset with being pawed, fingered and squeezed without giving permission (go figure, right?).  So they call the club bouncers and you get tossed out on the street because you’re acting like oafish animals.

Do you think, “Hmmm… maybe this isn’t the way to do things here.  Perhaps we ought to change our behavior somewhat.”  Of course you don’t — because, as it happens, you’re a bunch of oafish animals.  (And let’s take a wild guess at this point, and assume that Back Home is nowhere close to Western Europe.)

So what you do is return to the same nightclub and demand to be let back in and when refused entry, you try scaling the fences and getting in that way — you know, like you used to do Back Home.  The bouncers, for some reason, aren’t having any of this and toss you back out onto the street.

Whereupon you and your oafish buddies pull out a couple machetes (that you just happened to have about your person) and attack the bouncers.

No doubt, when these pricks are eventually captured it’ll be all about the pore starvin migrants and asylum seekers, and some asswipe German judge will rule that the bouncers were actually to blame.

And when the German people get upset about this, they’ll be labeled “rightwingers”…

5 Worst Men

Friday Feature, The Worst

…to have in the room with you after you’ve just had stomach surgery, and it hurts like hell to laugh:

  • Billy Connolly (“Och laddie, yer stomach looks like just another Saturday night in Glasgow.”)
  • Craig Ferguson (“If you were a woman after a C-section, you’d have to get up and wipe the baby’s shitty arse because it’s Match Of The Day on TV and your hubby’s AWOL at the pub.”)
  • Richard Pryor (“You think stitches  hurt?  Try settin’ yo’self on fire, honkie.”)
  • Robin Williams (“Stomach surgery is God saying to you, ‘Here, try a little cocaine.’ “)
  • Bill Burr (“Look, I’m not saying what you have isn’t terrible — but ever had your girlfriend’s broken acrylic nail wedged in your hemorrhoids?”)

Your nominations in Comments.

Caption Competition #98

Captions, Friday Feature

So you’re invited to the U.S. Embassy in Buenos Aires, where the Argies are having a function in your honor.  As it’s a formal affair, you have to wear at least a dark suit and a tie.

Whereupon you show up in said dark suit, but with your tie undone, your shirt untucked, wearing a Salvation Army scarf and clown shoes.

A rapper?  A tech executive?  A rock star?  Nope, it’s Al fucking Pacino:

Although my favorite pic of all at the august gathering is this one:

…and it’s just crying out for a caption.

Have at it, in Comments.