Chapter I
He brushed aside the Pringle’s crumbs from his Adidas jumper, pulled the coffee table as close as his distended gut would allow. He would show that therapist that could treat himself. Pen in hand, he began to scribble on the complimentary notepad the facility had provided:
“Sure, I like pussy. Sue me. People look at me like I just won the Oscar for Best Supporting Pervert, but why am I to be judged by losers? These girls come from across the globe, hauling around the only talent they have. Sucking a mogul’s cock. They want me to make them a star. Make them a shit load of cash. Make them famous. Yet, they don’t want to pay the price of admission. This isn’t a fucking charity.
You may think this is immoral, but you aren’t an artist (and yes, I am an artist. I pay the motherfuckers). My cum is the lifeblood of this entire industry. My cum is the fertilizer that causes tremendous growth. You call me a degenerate, but you don’t understand. Call me “sick” if you want because I have no choice. I have this magic elixir inside of me and I have to let it loose on any living organism within arm’s reach.
And that bitch, Hillary? I helped her get millions of women to pull the lever for her and she can’t overlook having a few pull mine? My jizz has created more stars than the big bang. I’ve put the wood in Hollywood and you motherfuckers judge me?”
Something didn’t feel quite right to Harvey. He hurled the notepad at the wall. Something was wrong. There it is; his cock had been rock hard the entire time he’d been writing his manifesto. The Arizona sunset coupled with his pent-up rage had resulted in a purple, throbbing pecker. He got up, went into the bathroom and shed his clothes. The complimentary cotton robe beckoned him to slip into it. Perfect. It only circumnavigated three-quarters of his bulging gut.
Semi-robed, Harvey peered out into the hallway. Where the hell was that Mexican maid? Panic washed over him as he realized he would be wasting his life-enhancing potion on the cotton robe. He burst into the hallway, pecker ramrod hard, searching for something alive to squirt into. “There! By the elevator!”. He ripped his robe off and ran toward the elevator. There was the fern he had eyed on his way to his room earlier in the day. As he rigorously pumped the juicy nectar from his shaft, he reached down to stroke the luscious plant. A giant howl of soul-crushing pain escaped Harvey’s mouth right as he shot his load. “Nooooooooo. Fucking plastic.”
Chapter II
There was no return address. Inside the brown package was a single videotape with a small note that read, “No plant was harmed in production”. Jared, the TMZ intern, was used to viewing bogus submissions from “leakers” and that evening he had already watched a fake Tom Cruise slaughtering a vegan on a Scientology altar, listened to an obviously edited recording of Lindsay Graham offering a female prostitute $200 for a rim job and seen a clutch of photos of Oprah shaving her lower Afro into a swastika. Now Jared was at the bottom of the stack and when this was done he could finally go back to his shit hole apartment in North Hollywood. The empty office at night made Jared nervous. OK. Last one. He popped in the tape.
The video showed only snowy static for an obnoxiously long time. Jared peeled off the foil from the remaining half of his burrito from lunch. Taking a particularly large bite, the screen flickered and Jared could make out a hallway in what looked like a Holiday Inn. Surely this was security camera footage. There was a pair of elevators to the right and some Native American art hanging on the wall. Jared shifted in his chair and took another bite of his burrito. Security camera footage was excellent. It was the over-produced videos that were bullshit.
After a minute or so, Jared spotted a head pop out from a door at the far end of the hallway. “What the hell is he looking for?” Jared whispered aloud as he scooped a large dollop of sour cream into his mouth. Leaning in close to his monitor, Jared’s jaw went slack and sour cream splattered onto his burrito. “Holy shit. Is that…?” The intern was unable to complete the sentence thanks to a bullet ripping into the back of his skull and coating the remains of his late night snack with gray matter.
. . . .
She tapped on his door lightly with her pinky knuckle. The security guard had been slid a hundred bucks to shut down the cameras for ten minutes, but she wore a scarf over her head and bug-eyed sunglasses just in case. She tapped again more insistently. Goddammit. She pressed her ear to the door and heard what sounded like a hairless cat being stuffed into a surgical glove. She couldn’t suppress the image in her mind; he was rolling around naked on the leather couch, pleasuring himself. Is this really worth three million dollars? “Fuck you, Harvey”, she yelled at the door, “I’m done. Don’t call me anymore.” She slid the tape through the mail slot in the door and heard the thud as it hit the floor. From the other side of the door came, “You *pant, pant* wanna come *pant, pant* in? Please. I’m sorry. Just *pant, pant* come in.”
Lisa turned and hustled up the hallway, down the stairs and into the parking garage where her driver had the car idling. She hopped in the passenger seat and slammed the door with all her might. “It’s done. Let’s get the fuck out of here. I don’t know how you do this.” The Lexus squealed out of the parking garage and into the Arizona night. Lisa started sobbing into her hands as they cruised down the empty highway. The driver reached over and started stroking her hair, “You’ll be fine, honey. Mommy is here.” A small wad of sour cream pooled in the corner of Mommy’s mouth.
Chapter III
INT–LUXURY SUITE-THE MEADOWS—NIGHT
The room is dark, illuminated only by the TV. HARVEY is sprawled on the velvet couch in front of the TV, his robe open, nothing underneath. He is sobbing and masturbating to the image on the screen. A pile of tissues on his lap, another to his right for the tears. The video on the screen is a security video of Harvey masturbating onto a plant.
HARVEY
Plastic, fucking plastic. Just like all those sluts. Made up to look perfect, then they call me a creep!?
His motion grows faster. Tears roll down his cheek. Suddenly there is a noise. He stops masturbating, pauses the video and turns. Tears streaming down his face.
HARVEY
Who’s there? Huh, one of those paparazzi fucks?
There is only silence. He un-pauses the video and resumes. A shadow emerges from the darkness behind him. The Emperor Palpatine-esque features of GEORGE’S face slowly emerge from the shadows. Harvey doesn’t notice him. George speaks in a thick Eastern European accent, pausing for deep breaths.
GEORGE
Have you learned your lesson, Harvey?
Harvey TURNS startled, sobbing.
HARVEY
George, I wasn’t expecting…Here, have a seat.
Harvey tries to wipe a cum stain off the cushion next to him.
GEORGE
No thank you, I vill stand.
HARVEY
George, ya gotta know, I never touched them broads…well some of them. But mostly I just wanted them to wa…
GEORGE
Zat is not the issue. You botched ze Vegas job. Hillary vanted Micheal to do it. He vould have gotten zat fuel tank to explode. Zat fucker loves explosions. But, I vas sure you could handle it.
HARVEY
I…I…It was under control, then that damn security guard wandered on set. I…
GEORGE
Shh…I’m not blaming you. But you understand. Ve needed something to get the media to focus…elsewhere. After ze facts didn’t, what’s the saying? Add up.
HARVEY
But come on, I done some good work for you!
GEORGE
Stop masturbating damnit! Zis is important.
Harvey closes his robe in shame and wipes his hand on the couch.
HARVEY
Come on. It woulda worked. You just didn’t have enough patience.
GEORGE
(lashing out)
No. It was sloppy!
(Composes himself)
Now I have to double my funding efforts. All it managed to accomplish is some bullshit on bump-stocks. Who the hell even knew vhat a bump-stock was!? No, this vas supposed to be the nail in ze coffin. And you fucked up!
HARVEY (sobbing)
Please. You already ruined my career!
GEORGE
Hush now, it is ok. Just remember, zis was a light punishment. It can get much vorse.
Harvey breaks down, an emotional mess. George adjusts his impeccable suit and walks out the door.
EXT—THE MEADOWS-NIGHT
George exits the main entrance. George meets KIETH at the limo, Kieth is rubbing his leg with excitement.
KIETH
Tingles! Tingles!
(TO GEORGE)
So, what should I do with him?
GEORGE
Kill him.
George enters the limo and it drives off. Keith walks to the front entrance, dragging his leg and rubbing it, he pulls out a silenced pistol and enters the building.
CUT TO
TED, who has been watching from the bushes, he stealthily approaches the building.
Chapter IV
INT–LUXURY SUITE-THE MEADOWS—NIGHT
Harvey is still masturbating to the video footage. Sobbing like a child. He is startled by gunfire and explosions in the hall. The door to the suite is blown off its hinges and Ted emerges from the smoke, wearing his cowboy hat and a sleeveless shirt, holding his compound bow, a gun on his hip.
TED
Get yer fuckin dick out of your hand and get moving. This is a God Damn rescue!
Harvey grabs a tissue to wipe the tears away. He realizes it was from the wrong pile.
INT/EXT—TED’S TRUCK-HWY 60—NIGHT
The pick-up screams down the highway, a pair of antlers mounted to the hood, a small doe in the bed. On the tailgate is a bumper sticker that reads “Never get on one knee for a girl who won’t get on two for you”. Harvey’s robe flaps in the breeze out the open window.
HARVEY
OK. So now what? Where the hell are we goin?
TED
Shit man, that’s up to you. Arizona ain’t exactly my bag. They elected John McCain for fuck sake.
HARVEY
What!? You ain’t got no fuckin’ plan?
TED
Well, shit. I can pull over and drop you off anytime you want. Good luck.
HARVEY
No…No…Ok…I can think of somthin’.
TED
And for love of God, put some damn pants on!
Ted reaches behind him, grabs a pair of pants and throws them at Harvey who fumbles and wiggles his way into the pants. He tries to button them, but gets exhausted and gives up.
Harvey pulls out his cellphone, taps on the screen and issues a command.
HARVEY
Turn left on Bell Road. After 8.4 miles, turn right into the parking lot.
TED
Where the fuck are we going.
HARVEY
It’s better if you don’t ask questions. Things are about to get…weird. By the way, thanks for believing I’m innocent.
TED
What!? Hell if I do. If there’s one thing Uncle Ted knows about it’s sex addiction. And you ain’t no sex addict. You’re just a fucking piece if shit.
HARVEY
So why did you rescue me?
TED
Got word, from an inside man, that this whole shitstorm is to cover up the Vegas shooting and the liberal plan to confiscate firearms from good ol Americans. And hell, Uncle Ted is always up for some adventure. But that don’t mean you ain’t a piece of shit.
HARVEY
Turn here!
The truck careens across several lanes of traffic to make the turn, horns blare.
EXT—CHUCK E. CHEESE PARKING LOT—NIGHT
Ted’s truck jumps the curb entering the parking lot and slides to a halt in front of the front door. Ted gets out of the truck and stares at the building in bewilderment. He places his hand on his holstered gun.
TED
What the fuck!?
HARVEY
(EXITING TRUCK)
Just, let me do the talking. I told you, shit is gonna get weird.
Chapter V
INT—CHUCK E. CHEESE—NIGHT
Ted and Harvey enter the restaurant trying to look inconspicuous. Ted nervously pats the gun on his hip. Harvey’s robe catches on the velvet rope, he struggles and gets it free, just in time to stop his unbuttoned pants from falling down. They get their hands stamped by the attendant.
HARVEY
We didn’t bring no kids. We’re meeting some friends, for a birthday party.
Ted nods nervously, an awkward grin on his face. The attendant gives a quizzical look and lets them through. The pair make their way through the restaurant, having to randomly dodge running children. The siren on an arcade game goes off and Harvey jumps, then he composes himself. They make their way to CHUCK E. CHEEZE (or the guy in the mascot outfit).
HARVEY
I’m a LOST BOY.
CHUCK E. CHEESE
Do you have a License To Drive?
HARVEY
No, but I can Dream A Little Dream.
CHUCK E. CHEESE
Ok, this way.
Chuck E. Cheese motions to the back of the restaurant and heads that way. Ted and Harvey follow. Chuck E. Cheese leads them to a door marked ‘Management Only’, and opens it, motioning for them to enter.
CHUCK E. CHEESE
Go ahead.
Ted and Harvey go through the door and it is shut behind them.
INT—HALLWAY-CHUCK E.’S DEN—NIGHT
Ted and Harvey walk down a dimly lit hallway lined with glass windows into rooms with red lights. A hostess leads them down the hall. Behind each window is a stereotype of a sexual proclivity; A man in a gimp mask, an Asian girl in a school uniform, a young boy crying, a sneering transvestite, a furry and so on. Ted looks on in disgust.
TED
What the fuck!?
HARVEY
Remember pizzagate?
TED
The guy who thought there was a child sex ring in a DC pizza shop?
HARVEY
Yeah. Wrong pizza shop, and so much more than child sex.
Harvey stops to leer at one of the windows, then snaps back to the moment and continues down the hall.
Harvey (CONT’D)
People like me, we tend to travel. Whether we are in entertainment, news or government. We needed a… safe space, that was available anywhere we went.
TED
This is fucked up, even for me.
Harvey stops suddenly and turns to Ted.
HARVEY
Right now, this is the only place to hide, so just fucking play cool!
TED
Whoa. Lead on Kemosabe. We got shit to take care of. I’ll deal with all of this later.
Ted makes a clockwise pointing movement. They resume walking down the hall. The hostess opens a door and motions for them to enter.
HOSTESS
And what is your order?
HARVEY
What is vintage of the thirty-two tonight?
HOSTESS
Twenty-two year old Brazilian.
HARVEY
We’ll take that.
INT—CHUCK E.’s DEN SUITE—NIGHT
Harvey shuts the door, leans against it and slides to the floor. The suite is lit in a red light; small tables around the room are topped with buckets of ice with champagne nestled inside. Richard Cheese’s cover of NIN’s ‘CLOSER’ plays over the speaker system. Harvey begins to rub his groin.
TED
Fucking stop that!
HARVEY
Sorry, nervous tick.
TED
You mind explaining what the fuck is going on?
Harvey jumps up to an accusatory stance.
HARVEY
No! Why don’t you tell me?! You’re the one who seems to know so much. Who is this ‘inside man’?
TED
We don’t have time for this horseshit!
HARVEY (PARANOID)
You seem to know too much! This feels like a sting!
TED
Listen, I’m just…
Ted is interrupted when the door to the suite is flung open and a naked BRAZILIAN WOMAN is cast into the room as the door shuts behind her. She has a look of fear in her eyes, she notices one of the champagne bottles, lunges for it and smashes it to make a jagged weapon.
BRAZILIAN WOMAN
Não me toque os filhos da puta!
TED
Now calm down there honey; we ain’t lookin’ for trouble.
They circle each other in a tense standoff.
TED (CONT’D)
What the fuck is goin’ on!?
HARVEY
It’s the number thirty-two I ordered.
TED
What?! This is all kinds of fucked up! Can you at least keep her quiet! I don’t wanna get found out.
BRAZILIAN WOMAN
Chegue um passo mais perto e vou cortar seus testicais!
HARVEY
Don’t worry, the suites are sound proof. But I had to order something, or they’d get suspicious. Just, hold on.
(TO BRAZILIAN WOMAN)
Eu sou famoso. Eu posso te fazer um emprego.
The Brazilian woman calmy sets down the broken bottle and takes a seat.
TED
What the fuck did you say?
HARVEY
That I’m famous and I can get her work.
Just then TED’S PHONE buzzes as a new call is coming in and it is on vibrate. He looks at the screen.
TED
Here are your answers. I’ll put it on speaker.
(TO THE CALLER)
Yellow. You got Ted.
INSIDE MAN
Did you, get the package?
TED
Yes, I did. Safe and sound.
INSIDE MAN
Good. I won’t make this long. We don’t know who’s listening.
Meet at the rendezvous in 24 hours.
TED
Gotchya.
The call ends.
HARVEY
What was that? That didn’t answer no damn questions! Listen I’m a very impor…
Ted pulls his gun and fires a round into Harvey’s leg. The Brazilian woman smiles and claps.
HARVEY
You fuckin shot me! Why the fuck did you shoot me?!
TED
Cuz you’re a piece of shit. Now wrap that up and get some sleep. We got a long road ahead of us.
Harvey rips a piece a piece of his dirty tattered robe and wraps his leg. Ted plops down on the plush bed and tilts.
Comments
130 responses to “A Path To Wellness, Part One”
You two could single handedly revive Penthouse letters.
First?
Sounds like they need something to keep their hands busy.
Getting shades of Illuminatus! by way of whatever kratom/bath salts/crystallized insulin blend SF snorts.
TED
What the fuck did you say?
HARVEY
That I’m famous and I can get her work.
Golden.
This is going to take me a while to read, so in the meantime enjoy some more derp that I found on my skims through Daily Kos. Fresh off of Newsweek: The Trump Administration Is Choosing to Starve Poor People
Here was the amazing Daily Kos response to the article:
“Anyone who watched the 60 Minutes’ story about malnutrition in Yemen last night has an idea of how unspeakably cruel and evil is this action by the drumpf maladministration.”
Is this guy for real? Did everyone just start reading the newspaper after an eight year absence?
why are we taxing poor people here to give food to warlords?
This makes me think of that Davy Crockett quote: “WHY DON’T YOU WANT TO GIVE MONEY TO
WIDOWSPOOR PEOPLE?” “Because it’s not my money.”MLW, here’s a YouTuber (a young South African woman) who does videos about crap in YA fiction. Thought you might be interested.
Thank you!!
Wow, that is a great piece! Well worth the read.
Seconded, thanks for linking to that MLW.
Marie Clarke, a member of the GAFSP steering committee: “I don’t want to go looking for actual private donors in order to keep my same level of take-home pay and benefits.”
“Marie Clarke, a member of the GAFSP steering committee and executive director of ActionAid USA, told Foreign Policy, referring to food shortages in Nigeria, South Sudan, Somalia, and Yemen. “This is a fund that gets to the poorest of the poor.””
Well, Marie Clarke, since you’re advocating for it, I can only assume that some of the fund goes to you too.
And right in the middle, xe admits “GAFSP probably couldn’t save these children”, but goes right on, in the same sentence, demanding we fund it anyway.
“Remember Pizzagate?” “Wrong pizza shop.”
I’m going to use that.
We have a Thanksgiving recipe post coming up. Anything you want included? I assume you have a few tricks up your sleeve….
When we aren’t traveling, Beef Wellington is our standard Thanksgiving fare – most of my other Thanksgiving tricks involve heavy cream and MSG!
Wellington was firmly in the “maybe” category, but the store was out of tenderloin, and I ended up with a rib roast instead.
Rib roast with popovers (Yorkshire pudding) sounds delicious – and fun for your kids.
After reading the above, I find this talk of heavy cream to be quite unsavory.
*wipes fingers on couch*
I know that someone must have already posted about ENB’s Tweet this morning. I hate when conservatives come off as better defenders of free speech than people who self-identify as ‘libertarian’. Let me just say what everyone is thinking: ENB is the Nick Gillespie of Reason. Which is saying a lot, since Nick Gillespie writes for Reason.
Wait, no, hold on. Nick Gillespie is still the Nick Gillespie of Reason. ENB is the Nick Gillespie of libertarian Millennials.
No, Robby is the Nick Gillespie of libertarian millennials. Do try to keep up.
(PS: Thank you for supporting my effort to “Make Nick Gillespie An Insult Again”)
Y’know what? I think you’re right, and I’ll concede the point. With the recent abundance of libertarian/alt-right babes making waves on social media, can we at least agree that she’s the Nick Gillespie of libertarian Millennial women?
Agreed.
I guess that makes ENB the white people of Reason?
Meth edition
Millenial? I thought she was pushing 50. Maybe the NG of libertarian gen-Xers?
She just LOOKS like she’s pushing 50. I think she’s late 30s.
I browsed her feed a few minutes ago.
I don’t remember it ever being that bad. She must be quite impressionable to have changed that much that quickly. SAD!
I’d go with ‘mask-slipped’ over ‘changed’…..being pro-abortion/pro-prostitution doesn’t mean she was ever pro-liberty
Yes indeed. Everything she’s saying lately is entirely in line with her accumulated writings preceding her tenure at Reason, a history which she was unhappy to have to defend in TOS comments. She whined that it wasn’t fair to tag her as a phony libertarian because of a bunch of things she wrote at Bustle a few years prior – “My view have changed”.
Sure they have, Lizzy. Sure they have. I’m sure your hyperprog Mother Jones-employed boyfriend reassures you that way all the time.
Who you marry can say a lot about your character. Based on his Twitter feed he type must be ‘vapid moron.’
ENB’s the one who thought that the police didn’t assault her at the Cleveland Republican Convention because of her ‘white privilege’. Of course, anyone with a degree of self-awareness might recognize it was instead due to her being an attractive woman, as you can bet my Serbian-looking ass wouldn’t have gotten the same leeway if I stumbled into an off-limits zone.
That was a really dumb thing for a Reason writer to say for more than just that reason. I think she came onboard after Balko left, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t have familiarized herself with some of the magazine’s previous work.
I mean, Cheye Calvo was a fucking mayor, and that didn’t stop the PG County Police from shooting his dogs and holding his family at gunpoint for hours in the middle of the night. Nor did it stop the police from accepting absolutely zero responsibility and saying they did everything right afterward. Where was his white privilege?
I just wanted my life wading through the slough that is her Twitter feed……nice to watch her double and triple down on her BS and then watch her beta-cuck fiance white-knight for her.
Grrrrghhh…*Waisted
Grrrrgh…..wasted…..I no are type good today
[EDIT FERRY FEELS YOUR PAIN]
That was the Nick Gillespie of misspellings
ENB is the Nick Gillespie of Reason. Which is saying a lot, since Nick Gillespie writes for Reason.
Flashes back to “Malkovich Malkovich” scene at end of “Being John Malkovich”.
Riveting. You gents have a dark gift.
What’s say we pool the money we would’ve given to the other joint for their yearly donation begging, and instead use it to turn this lovely story into a no-kidding short film?
We could probably get the actual people to play their own parts.
all the writers here scare the crap outta me.
STEVE SMITH LITERALLY SCARES CRAP OUT OF YOU
AND BY “SCARE”, MEAN . . . .
scrape?
scare-rape?
Disturbingly meta. That works on many levels.
I want moar! We’ve already seen these in the comments! I wanna find out what happens next!
There is more coming, this was just to catch everyone up.
I am extremely jealous of my uncle. He just posted a picture of himself with an 8-point buck, and the caption “Last day of crossbow harvest followed up by a smaller buck on Saturday with the gun, time to make breakfast sausage!”
(note to self: See how it can be safely shipped from upstate NY to Florida, then beg)
The meat has to be completely deboned before it is shipped. Florida, along with many other states, has strict regulations regarding the importation of deer and deer parts to try and prevent the spread of chronic wasting disease. The regulations are stricter when the importation is from states that have had confirmed cases of CWD, like New York.
So that’s a no then.
I miss living in upstate NY.
It’s possible, but a pain in the ass. CWD is a massive shit show.
Rifle season starts on Monday here in PA. If I get a buck I make a lot of sausage out of it, and since sausage us deboned and processed it’s exempt from the import ban. I’ll send you a pound our two, I never eat it all.
What am I? Chopped venison liver?
I would probably not eat that.
I had some venison sausage a co-worker brought in for pot-luck and that shit is tight!
CWD aside, I’ve had good luck shipping meat by freezing it first and putting it in a styrofoam cooler with dry ice. Even with second-day shipping rather than overnight, it gets pretty spendy, though.
Congratulation to straffinrun for the genius post.
I’ve been starting to wonder, what if Ton Cruise is the sanest man in Hollywood?
What if the world’s greatest geniuses are all in Hollywood, and it’s taken teams of them working day and night as publicists to hide from us the fact that Hollywood celebrities are all batshit insane?
They’re been working at it successfully for years, maybe it’s only now that they’re starting to lose control.
At some point, you’d think they’d stop cannibalizing their own. I think that’s what’s behind the Jerry Jones / Goodell conflict, as well. Jerry Jones is sick of the NFL head office hurting his team with all sorts of suspensions, etc. We probably wouldn’t know about 90% of the drug and steroid type violations in the NFL if it weren’t for the NFL suspending players and tattling on itself. If it hurts their image and their product on the field, why should they continue to do that to themselves?
Meanwhile, even as Hollywood continues to consolidate, they’re busy eating their own, too. They’re having to reshoot films Spacey was in, and what about his back catalog? Cable and syndication won’t bid for his films like they used to, I’m sure. And to what extent is this media controlled news cannibalizing itself? Whether Fox News is reporting on stars at Fox’s movie production company or on stars for Disney, is Disney’s ABC News going after others? Is Time Warner’s CNN going after Warner Brothers’ stars? Looks to me like they’re all just eating their own.
To cop a phrase from Thatcher, “The problem with SJWs is that they always run out of other people’s injustices”.
Tom Cruise definitely has some pretty crazy stuff in his closet, but we probably won’t ever find out about it.
You mean in addition to being a raving lunatic on Oprah’s couch, denouncing Brooke Shields for seeking psychiatric help to deal with post partum depression, and being the best friend and true believer in Scientology?
’cause I thought that stuff was already pretty nutty!
There’s got to be something a lot worse, and he’s being blackmailed to stay.
If you have some time, for fun go to YouTube and look up Joe Rogan’s interview with Leah Remini. That’s some really, batshit crazy stuff. According to her, Scientology is because there to serve Cruise right now, why leave that?
I’ve been watching her new series. It’s hard to sleep after watching some of those episodes.
I know, several hours late, but I posted this right before the end of lunch. Because? That should be basically not because.
Also if you read this story:
“NFL source suggests intentional grounding call against Kirk Cousins was erroneous”
https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/sports/wp/2017/11/20/nfl-suggests-intentional-grounding-call-against-kirk-cousins-was-erroneous/?utm_term=.e162e255c206
The NFL is saying that the call was bogus, and they’re awarding the win to Washington.
Okay, the second part isn’t true, but the first part is!
You know they would’ve choked regardless. This is the Washington Football Team you’re talking about.
Really?
Nobody wants to call them the Redskins?
I don’t call them that out of any political reason. I call them that because it pisses off their fans. Fuck the Cowboys, fuck the Giants, and fuck the WFT.
This season is shaping up to be special. Nothing is more heartwarming than Eagles fans getting their hopes up, only to blow it yet again.
“Nobody can snatch defeat from the jaws of victory better than my team,” says every fan everywhere. Stated as a lifetime ‘Skins fan.
Cliffhanger.
Well played, y’all.
Someone’s been having some of what Sugarfree had?
I don’t want to know who the other contenders for “worst political slashfic” are.
*shudder*
One thing I can say about this one is that I really never expected Ted Nugent to be rescuing Weinstein and for them to wind up at Chuck E Cheese. I could have imagined a flying space dildo before I imagined that.
tag team
*snicker*
Eastern European accent- what the hell is that supposed to mean? Are we all Eastern Europeans alike or something? This is hate speech
Sorry, could you repeat that a little slower? I’m not good with accents. 😉
that guy just pisses me off
You all sound alike to me.
Poland, Romania, Serbia, what’s the difference?
Wasn’t there somewhere else out there that asked at some point, whether there was any difference?
All them Eastern Europeans are Russians! They all voted for Trumputin!
Serbs are crazy, Romanians have bigger dicks and polish have more potat vodka
Pie said this while squatting in a tracksuit.
That being said this is quite a bit of … fiction? or well… yeah
Has an Ellroy/Hunter S. Thompson feel to it.
Prepare to be optioned. It would be awesome if it was Weinstein Company that did it.
Fantastic YouTube comment section on this video – and by “fantastic”, I mean “batshit”.
The cream of this particular crop – and boy, was the competition fierce:
Commenter is blissfully unaware that currency =/= to money.
“money spending can only occur based on taking it from the peasants”
What the fuck? I don’t even know what that means.
The poor are like tiny wellsprings of filthy lucre, which is harvested by the middle class to fund their idle, decadent lives of ease and leisure.
Must be something like that.
Must be why we take such pains to furnish the poor with so many safety nets courtesy of net taxpayers, so we can turn around and fleece the peasants to fund the…. net taxpayers.
We lose money on every transfer but we make it up in volume.
The government has the legal ability to create money without interest or debt
Technically true, but irrelevant. Print a lot more money, people notice, value of money diminishes. Inflation is not a Zionist conspiracy, it’s just the inevitable consequence of printing too much money.
OT: I’m continuing to read the incredibly boring Mein Kampf in hopes of gaining a better understanding of Nazism and tyranny in general.
There’s some phrase that apparently got translated as “to be sure“. If I could remember my old password to The Other Site, I’d go to Soave’s article and post, “you know who else said ‘to be sure’?”
You know who else read Mein Kampf…
Not Hitler, since he would probably not sit down and read his own book, and judging from the disjointed flow of information, it seems unlikely that he even proofread it or made more than one draft?
I think the jist is: Ethnic Aryan Germans = good, everyone else = bad. I might have missed some details though.
He dictated Mein Kampf to one of his lackeys (Hess, I think?) so yeah, it’s basically a long rambling monologue.
And if you think Mein Kampf is brutal to read, you should give Nazi Party “philosopher” Alfred Rosenberg’s The Myth of the Twentieth Century a spin. It’s like a collection of comments from Zero Hedge put to print. Rosenberg gave Hitler a draft before he published it. Hitler returned it, unread, and told him something like “I’m sure it’s good enough.” Even Hitler didn’t want to read Rosenberg!
Me, when I was like 16 in a program for certain (((students))) to take college-level courses and earn credit?
Whaaaaat? They mady (((students))) read Mein Kampf as college course credit? I mean, I’m all for people reading that which they despise so as to understand what they despise, but I’ve never heard of an actual college program doing that. That must have been a strange read when he started talking about (((other people)))
Real talk: Bunch of smart Jewish kids in school on Monday evenings. Took courses that counted as credit at the community college, which I was able to transfer (most of) when I started college (to the point where I started college with something like 20 credits). I have no memory of what the course was about, but I know we read Mein Kampf. We also read Catch 22.
There was also a course where the teacher showed us the video to “Jeremy” by Pearl Jam and paused it specifically at the point where the kids in the class are giving the Nazi salute and then went off on a rant about how us kids were all just a bunch of little Nazis. I was in my nascent libertarian days at the time (still a Republican party devotee, which I luckily broke away from before I was old enough to vote).
Juvenile Bluster has finally admitted his privilege, he’ll be woke before we know it.
Tom Woods?
Nick Sarwark has assured me that the answer is ‘Tom Woods’ and whoever else the Kochs think it’s necessary to smear
You know who else perpetuated glib memes?
I recommend My Rise and Fall over that whenever people want to discuss fascism. Because frankly, Mussolini was a more intelligent person than Hitler, and his ideas on the nature of fascism are a hell of a lot more thought out.
This is true. Mussolini was far more interesting than Hitler.
OT: After 26 hours of travel, I have officially returned to the land of the living. Before I promptly pass out, have some tits.
http://archive.is/M58MU
If 12 or 36 showed up I *might* be able to stay awake long enough to do things. Maybe.
Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays
these courageous couriers from the swift completion of their appointed roundsQ from bringin dem titties.12 i s’pose…the late 20s and some of the 30 got freaky
Wow. This is gold, straffinrun.
If this story was made into a screenplay, this should be in the soundtrack somewhere:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nd6LVPqSicg
OT update: ENB either deleted the tweet calling for people to punch Shapiro or twitter got rid of it.
I’km guessing she deleted it because she was getting beaten up pretty badly. Twitter would probably promote her to Senior Nazi Puncher for that tweet and probably start promoting her tweets for free.
I’m pretty sure she nuked her sandwich controversy tweet as well when people started pointing it out. Going with the ol’ Stalinist method of record keeping, i.e. ‘if I destroy the evidence it didn’t happen’.
One of the problems with Twitter is that its nature makes people with emotional impulse problems post without thinking. ENB, and a lot of other people, could save themselves a lot of hassle if they just stopped before they posted and thought ‘wait, is this just my amygdala freaking out?’ rather than trying to clean up the mess a couple hours later.
Good thing I still had my browser window open.
Just add it to the ENB wall of shame, which is literally built out of sammiches.
how is that hyperbolic?
You know who else has a “smug mug”?
You know what never happens to me, ever? Curiosity as to what Elizbeth Nolan Brown is writing about today.
Well that’s because it’s either:
1. Half decently written and researched work on the sex trade (i.e. her actual passion)
2. Poorly thought out nonsense about nearly any other topic.
She’s very, very one-trick pony.
It’s the principal source of her revenue.
Speaking of that, have you guys ever seen the video of when ENB and Asawin first met?
Hey, that was Cruiser from Stripes puking his guts out at the end!
prostitution
one-trick
ISWYDT.
I do it to atone.
I had poor judgement about her. Very, very poor judgement.