Whose Fault is it?

 

3 Pound Porterhouse – dedicated to vegans everywhere

The Green Earth people don’t like cattle. They should be happy that the carnivores are eating beef.

 

 

Babylon Bee Company Slogans

It’s time to develop truth in advertising for the woke corporations.

Taco Bell: We’re cheaper than Ex-Lax.

Amazon: Shut up and buy it, you mindless consumer.

Home Depot: If you need to ask for help, you don’t deserve it.

Nike: Slavery: just do it.

Walmart: We clean the bathrooms sometimes!

Doritos: Better go ahead and buy two bags, fatty.

Applebee’s: Eatin’ Food In A Place.

Subway: Eat…something?!

United Airlines: We just said the skies are friendly.  We made no promises about what happens inside the plane.

Spirit Airlines: You’re poor, aren’t you?

The American Federation Of Teachers: We care. About ourselves.

Google: Don’t Be Evil.

Twitter: Now 9.2% less evil!

Facebook: Hey guys come back! Please?

Nintendo: What is an Internet?

Microsoft: You hate us but have to use us anyway! lolol

T-Mobile: The sound of silence.

Coca-Cola: Share a Coke with…your endocrinologist, because you now have diabetes.

BlackRock: Ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.

Panera: Your Bible study wouldn’t be complete without some overpriced microwave food!

Disney: We’ll flip your kid’s gender.

 

SPQRPARTING SHOT

Publius Claudius Pulcher was a consul and a fleet commander during the First Punic War. Prior to the battle of Drepana he went to feed the sacred chickens to gain the favor of the gods to give a victory.

The chickens didn’t eat, which meant the gods didn’t approve of a battle at that time. Instead of heeding the advice of the dumb birds, he threw them overboard stating “Since they do not wish to eat, let them drink!” (“Bibant, quoniam edere nollent“).

Needless to say, he lost the battle and went home in disgrace.

30 COMMENTS

  1. Using the Lefty tactic, I’m just gonna blame everything wrong in the world…on you. There, I feel better now. (Snark).

    Based on Mike-C’s recent experience, BB’s line for Delta could have been: “We fired half our pilots and crew over an illegal injection…thanks for flying the “sucks to be you” airline.

    Watching Ken Burns “Benjamin Franklin”, an imperfect man, as we all are, yet self taught and brilliant. A lot of foolishness out there, most of it avoidable, but wisdom from a classical education is severely lacking, having been replaced with vacuous drivel, outright idiocy, and a self-serving arrogance.

    • I used to really like JetBlue, but something changed and they’re not nearly as good as they used to be. Smaller seat pitch, nickel-and-diming, it goes on. Sigh. Delta is now better on a number of fronts. Spirit used to have $39 deals on a flight I made regularly for personal reasons (I’d never depend on them for time-critical business trips), but it was 50% likely to be an Air Ghetto flight. And now the cheap flight is gone anyway.

      JB used to have the best seat pitch even in the cheap seats. Back when, the Swedish Disaster and I needed to go to Dallas. I’d already gotten my flight and seating as her schedule wasn’t clear at the time. It happened that we could travel together and she got my details. “Oh. Do you mind changing for one of the extra room seats so we can sit together? It’s another $50, but I really want the leg room.” I assured her there’d be plenty of room in the cheap seats, even for her legs. And so there was. She’d never flown JB before and was very happy. It was the first time we’d flown together and she said, “take the window seat, you’ll probably be taking pictures of the clouds anyway.” (The only thing scarier than a woman who doesn’t know you at all is one who knows you very very well after only 3 months…) “Besides, I’m going to fall asleep. Don’t take it personally; I’m not ignoring you. I always fall asleep on planes. I’ll probably drool too. Sorry.” All this came to pass. Fast forward a little over a year. She’d just returned on a Copenhagen to Boston flight with connection in Reykjavik. The first leg was short, and she had stayed awake. A young Norwegian guy was clearly very interested and chatted her up in Reykjavik terminal. “But I fell asleep on the flight to Boston. When I woke up I had this puddle of drool on the front of my blouse. It turns out the material is basically waterproof and there was like 100 ml of drool. I had to ask the FA for a towel. It was very embarrassing. When we landed the Norwegian guy pretended he didn’t see me. He just grabbed his bag and took off. Ahahaha!” By this point things had gone spectacularly to hell between us and we were walking very wide of each other, but atypically this conversation was held with her girlfriends right outside my office door. Heh. That said, I lead a sheltered life compared to some others. TSD never came at me with a knife, for one thing.

      • Heh, great story. But she’s a Swede…nuf said. I’m biased being married to a Dane, who’s good friend is Swedish, the difference is palpable. Coming back from Denmark on SAS (when they had the alcohol cart), we had taken MrsPaulM’s parents for their birthdays – Grøften’s at Tivoli dinner, relatives, the whole nine yards…so we flew coach, which is United business, to sit together (and keep an eye on her parents). A bunch of Swede’s loaded on late and sat behind us. Oh joy. Then the “beverage” cart came down the aisle and the party started. Rowdy folks…spot on what I had been told by my Danish in-laws. Me trying to sleep, loud and obnoxious, and the one guy kept banging the back of MrsPaulM’s seat. Finally I stood up (all 6’2″ 200#’s of me), which takes a lot to get to that point, and told him if he did it again that I’m actually Norwegian and would not be polite the next time. He was ticked I interrupted their seat-row blow out, but settled down.

        Airplanes…we won’t fly until things get more respectful to the customer (and one London outfit designs most of the seat “pods”, 1/2 inch shorter here, 1/2 inch less there, sardines.)

        • PaulM, don’t blame all the woes of the world on me. Blame them on LSP the way that I do. I was expecting a miracle or two this Easter Season.

          • Seat pods need to be large enough to accommodate larger people. Take one pod out, make the others proportionately larger, charge more.

        • I’m too small to physically intimidate people. I have to depend on looking insane, or at least I assume that’s what does it. A long time ago I was a med student rotating on Surgery. The longest contiguous block of time I had off all month was 36h. Which I used to fly 2h to see my girlfriend. At midnight there was terrible noise. “Oh,” she said angrily, “that’s the new people. Been like this for a couple of weeks now.” Being full of Surgery aggression, I put on my shoes and went down two flights of stairs and across 8 apartment units (it was THAT loud in the building.) The noise resolved itself into a mixture of booming rap, some children’s cartoon, and two children shrieking. I pounded on the door, and after a minute of no response apart from the kids no longer shrieking, I began to kick the door while screaming “Turn. It. DOWN!” (Clearly I was not in my right mind.) Suddenly the door jerked open and the biggest Mexican I have ever seen (about your size, PaulM) , very muscular and wearing only a pair of shorts, shouted (the rap was still booming), “What the F do you want?” I shouted back, “I’m asking you NICELY to turn the music down!” He leaned into my space and shouted, “Where do you live?” I looked at him and he at me. I remember thinking, If I back down now I’m dead meat. So I stood my ground and shouted, “Not here. I’m visiting and it’s too loud to sleep!” I could see the calculus in his eyes: I’m gonna kill this pinche bastard. But if I kill this bastard now the police will come. Finally he muttered “fine” and slammed the door. But he did turn down the music. Turned out he had been banging some woman (those were her kids) in the bedroom. The music and the cartoon was to distract her toddlers in the living room.

          A month later my girlfriend said, “There was excitement at the apartment this morning. I was at work and missed it, but apparently that loud guy was a drug dealer. Mrs S says the SWAT team was here with a ram and they broke the door down. That guy and some woman were inside flushing drugs down the toilet. Or she was. He was trying to dump stuff down the kitchen sink using a plunger. There was a fight and they ended up carrying him out.”

          My life is generally very quiet and the biggest threat I face most days is carpal tunnel from using the mouse. That was definitely an outlier.

          • Criminals triage situations just like medical professionals triage patients. It’s the whole cause and effect thing and sometimes it’s just not worth the escalation, particularly if he was sitting on a kilogram in the place.

            In the Book by Forrest Carter, The Outlaw Josie Wales, the old Indian asks him which person he shoots first in a gunfight. Wales replies that he’s always been lucky in the order.

            A lot of life has to do with luck, or the lack of it.

          • It’s nit the size of the dog in the fight…

            I’m generally nonviolent, until someone messes with someone I care about, especially MrsPaulM.

          • There are ways to be physically intimidating while being smaller or shorter or not overly muscular.

            It’s all in the attitude. You have to have that ‘1000 yard stare of ‘I don’t give a damn” look. The look that says you may die, but so will he/they.

            I learned that look by getting the carp beat out of me in school. But I use it when the dread-heads, pot-heads, meth-heads in my area get too loud and I have to politely tell them to knock it off.

            It’s not a ‘look of superiority,’ it’s more of a ‘I will copulate you up so bad your prostitute of a mother won’t recognize you’ thing.

            Ever seen a serene old Japanese lady shut a room down? Or an old guy face down younger folk (think Clint Eastwood in “Grand Torino”)?

            Thing is, it can’t be fake. You have to know you’ll go through with it, else it won’t be believable.

            My wife has banned me using that trick most of the time.

          • How’s that go: Never pick a fight with an Irishman, he knows he’ll get beat but you’ll end up hurt and bloody.

  2. Just to keep my nitpicking asshole status, what stage were the tides in the climate change photos?

      • The first at high tide and the second at low tide. If that is the case, then sea levels have risen. Probably not a lot of difference. Presently the variance is around 5′. Now, I’ve exhausted my maritime knowledge.

    • Nobody will badmouth you for chowing down on a ribeye on this blog. If you eat a tofu steak, I can’t defend you

      • Toe-foo.
        Recommended for that comfy male ‘secretary-spread’ and man-boobs.
        Included at no extra charge — inability to formulate decisions.

  3. The Paris Climate Agreement didn’t help the environment at all, but it sure made plenty of wallets get fat.

    That Porterhouse is about three meals for me. Just needs a (properly) baked potato and a salad.

      • I’m partial to a nice Ceasar salad, but a good mixed greens salad is OK. I’m partial to Filets Mignon, too, but a Porterhouse or a good Ribeye is just fine in a pinch.

        And don’t get me started on Elk steaks. Heavenly!

        • Bison is nice, not as much marbling as I prefer. Antelope is also good. However, since cows are on the progressive hit list, I’ll do my part with beef.

    • We have become find of skirt steak, cooked med rare, sliced thin, with a sauce made from olive oil, anchovies, garlic and parsley. This is not like drooping an anchovy on a pizza – the flavors blend, and it is not fishy or overly salty. Leftover sauce goes on a baked potato.

        • Eugene, Oregon.
          vegantariantist central.
          A lot of drama, not much accomplishment.
          .
          Word For The Day — vegantariantist
          Used in a sentence:
          * “Clem and Merle stewed-up one of her legs with some caramelized onions and a chilled Reisling, but the vegantariantist kept complaining anyway.”

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