 |
Last Friday Carlos had a couple of translations in
Magistrate Court in Lancaster and so my job was to Uber him up there, a task he
described as romantic: driving up a two-lane highway to Lancaster South Carolina
in the rain does not really strike me as romantic, but off we went. The first case, the litigants never showed; the second case
the litigants were given the chance to resolve their dispute without the judge
and they did just that. So, while Carlos did get paid, he did no actual
translations at all and as the judge was signing the paperwork he asked Carlos
if there was anything else he could do and my sweet husband said: “You could buy me dinner.” I asked to spend the weekend in lockup out of embarrassment. Seriously, though, the judge thought it funny. |
 |
This Tuxedo Says is from July 2021 … Speaking of Tuxedo, he really likes humans, but he
definitely doesn’t understand y’all … |
 |
Before anyone talks about “bombing fishing boats” or
“stopping fentanyl from Venezuela,” here are the actual facts: The closest point between Venezuela and the United States is
1,073 miles. That’s over a thousand miles of open ocean. A typical fishing boat
would need 6–12 full tanks of fuel to even attempt that trip. It’s not a
realistic trafficking route—it’s not even physically practical. But the kicker is that virtually no fentanyl comes from
Venezuela so why are we shooting boats out of the water and killing people? The
idea that Venezuelan fishing boats are flooding the U.S. with fentanyl is not only
just wrong—it’s physically impossible. If we want to solve the fentanyl crisis, we have to start
with facts, not myths. |
 |
This is a post about The Football, kind of, though, since
it’s my blog it morphs into “Look!!! Hot Guy!!” Last week Los Angeles Chargers quarterback Justin
Herbert broke his left hand in a game
and a fan posted a photo of Herbert at practice wearing a protective
glove, but it wasn’t the glove the readers were talking about:
I also concur. Even Chargers coach Jim Harbaugh can’t
contain his man-crush on Herbert: “There’s not one gene in his body I wouldn’t like immediately trade.” Again, I concur. But there were more comments, like this one
dubbed BoltBack Mountain: “I’m not homosexual but I want to live in a log cabin in the woods with Justin Herbert. We won’t ever have sex, but there will be a simmering erotic undercurrent as I stand in the kitchen window watching him tighten his ass as he chops wood, shirtless, sweat pouring off his body. I’ll run upstairs and masturbate, the entire time forcing myself to think of women while my thoughts drift back to Justin. I won’t be able to climax and I’ll eventually go back downstairs, angry. Sometimes we will look across the table and catch each other’s eyes, and in that second, anything is possible, but we both deny ourselves and go back to what we were doing. One day one of us will die, and the other will bury him outside the log cabin. Then he’ll go inside, pen a brief missive to his departed friend, and commit suicide, never able to deal with life without his one true platonic love.” Give me a minute, for some reason it got very hot in the
house. Okay, here are some more comments: “I’m not homosexual, Justin and I ... it’s different. It’s like ancient Greece, so like marble stuff all over. Pillars and like marble baths. Togas. He just kind of holds me, ya know? I have a wicker basket of grapes and I delicately offer him one grape at a time. Maybe he does a brief squeeze and giggles before feeding me a plump, juicy grape. Nothing sexual. No homo. Just the safety, the security of holding each other, nourishing one another with lush, purple, plump grapes.” And the most amazing thing about this thread was that people
played along with the spirit and didn’t post anything homophobic or rude; it
was just a fun, albeit mighty hot, time: “This whole thread could be compiled into a woman’s (or man’s, not that there’s anything wrong with that) erotic novel and probably be fairly successful. Even with that picture as the cover. Imagine seeing it on mee maw’s bedside table amongst the hard candies. As you gasp in awe of grandmas superb taste, she sees you, winks and whispers ‘bolt up.'” As for the game itself, the Chargers expect Herbert to try
and play. If so, fans watching ESPN and ABC can see what all the fuss is about. And it's all about one very hot man in tight pants playing some kind of sportsball. |
 |
Now, on the flip side … Vice President CouchFucker has
social media users cringing after telling a story about Cankles wanting
to give him a new pair of shoes because JD’s were "sh***y shoes": “Today I'm in the Oval Office with the President and … we're talking about something really important. The President kind of holds up his hand and says, ‘no, no, no, hold on a second. There's something much more important. Shoes.’ He peers over the Resolute desk and he says … JD, you …have sh***y shoes. He goes out and grabs a catalog … And he actually runs us through this incredible shoe catalog. The President is gifting us with… shoes.” JD then tells Cankles that he wears a size 13: "The President leans back in his chair and says, you know you can tell a lot about a man by his shoe size.” And this is what happens when Cankles and the CouchFucker
are in the Oval Office talking about “something” important … dick size. This is
the clusterfuck in charge, these little dicked men. |
 |
The Reverend Stephen Josama of St. Susanna Parish in Dedham,
Massachusetts is once again using the church’s Nativity scene to comment on the
state of America in 2025. He fitted this year’s Nativity with a sign that
reads: “ICE was Here” in place of the traditional figures and Jesus, Mary and
Joseph. In year’s past he used the Nativity to comment on climate
change and gun control and, in 2018, during Cankles first attack on immigrants,
put the Baby Jesus in a cage. Nicely done, Rev |
 |
Andrea Denver is an Italian model, reality TV personality and entrepreneur known for his major modeling campaigns for Hugo Boss, Ralph Lauren, MAC Cosmetics and as co-founder of the sustainable clothing brand Son of Wind ; that’s a lot, but let’s boil it down to Would You Hit It?  |
