Avoiding That Inconvenient History Stuff

The Catholic sent me this example of people with a chronic case of cranial-rectal insertion:

The heroics of HMS Black Joke, a Royal Navy clipper that waged a fearless five-year war to put an end to the slave trade, are worthy of a Hollywood action movie.

She was once a slave ship herself, sailing under the Brazilian flag and known as the Henriqueta. But when the British captured her in 1827, this brave little vessel was transformed into the scourge of mercenary slavers who traded in human beings.

Her crew took unimaginable risks to hunt down Spanish and Portuguese ships and free the men, women and children crammed below decks in conditions of horrific misery.

Read the whole thing, and then its dolorous conclusion.

I would suggest a public whipping for the entire group of decision-makers, just to give them a taste of what HMS Black Joke saved so many people from.

That, or just a simple hanging for the lot of them.

But no doubt that would make me a violent racist hater, or something.

Not Shocking; Hilarious

If this little story doesn’t make you guffaw with laughter, we can’t be friends:

This is the shocking moment a King’s Guard horse bites a tourist after she touches the animal while posing for a photo.  Video footage, which has gone viral on social media with over 855,000 views, shows the woman putting her hand on the horse’s neck while posing for a photograph.  The horse then swings its head towards the woman before clamping down on her saree.

My only regret is that it didn’t bite the fool woman’s tit off.  It tried its best, though.

Where do people get the idea that the world is their own personal little stage where they can do whatever they like, without suffering any consequences?


Update:  Heeeeeerrrre comes another one!  This time, Snowball got a good grip.

One Out Of Three Ain’t Bad

Consider this pic of one couple’s happy day, and spot what causes my nuts to ache:

No, it’s not the bride’s tattoo — I’ve pretty much given up on that irk — and in fact she’s the only pretty thing at this little ceremony.  Nor is it the female minister / ministress, who looks like she was just pulled out of a company meeting, complete with name tag.  (FFS, if we’re going to have female priests, can they at least wear the fucking uniform?)

Anyway, none of those get up my nose as much as the groom’s medieval haircut.

This seems to be all the fashion nowadays, and I think it’s uglier than Hillary Clinton’s fat naked buttocks.

The only consolation I’m going to take out of this is that when his grandchildren look at Pawpaw’s wedding-day pics, they’ll laugh their asses off.

I’m assuming, of course, that he’s capable of actually fathering any children, because that’s not clear (unless the bride is already pregnant hum hum).  Even then, her rather alarming stomach protuberance isn’t evidence of any prowess on his part, because that might be / probably is Homeboy Jamaal’s chocolate babycake cooking in her little oven, and this Ginger Childe Harold is just the substitute father.

And by the way:  brown shoes at a wedding?  Oh well, it least it wasn’t Adidas sneakers or flip-flops…

Speed Bump #754

Ripped from the headlines:

FFS.  You mean, “…left us standing for hours”?

Once again, in the words of the late great Tony Dennis Farina:  “You guys invented the language;  why don’t you fucking speak it?”