Month: May 2023
Do these people really not get it?
I spotted this online earlier today:
Of course the real question is, are there any 16 year old girls out there with low enough self-esteem that they’d even think about being in the same room as this Nazi incel, let alone actually marrying the thing? Also, really, does he think that this will do anything to convince the people who think he’s gay that he isn’t? “Ergh, you’re a FAAAAAG!” “No I’m not, I’m into underage girls!” “That’s… not actually better, man…”
Anyway, I had no idea where this interesting statement was sourced from (I didn’t recognise the design, which I now realise is what his Telegram channel looks like), so in the interests of fairness I thought I should make sure someone wasn’t putting words in his mouth… and, well, they weren’t; this is the original Telegram post (get it quick in case he has the sense to delete it), while Mediaite offers a possible explanation for why he asked the question in the first place:
“Here I am, like, hey listen, guys. You turn 21, you find yourself a 16-year-old bride, you go crazy. You go crazy: no condoms, no snips, no abortions, no pills, no none of that. That’s the most pro-sex position there is,” Fuentes said on his podcast.
“Anyway, so that’s, anyway, so that’s where I’m at with that.”
After an awkward six-second pause, Fuentes continued.
“And, uh, yeah, I gotta find, I gotta find my 16-year-old wife. Probably when I turn 30 or something. Cause here’s the thing: I don’t wanna be like, let’s say I get married to an 18-year old now. Six year age difference. When I turn 40, she’s going to be 34. Ew.
“But if I’m 30 and she’s 16 to 14 year age difference. When I’m 50 she’ll be 36. When I’m 40, she’ll be 26. And now we’re talking here, now we’re cooking with gas. Now you can see an alternative vision for how things can be. If only you knew how different things could be.”
Oy. I mean… I suppose it’s worth something that he’s open to the idea of her getting older, that he can apparently live with his jailbait lover being in her mid-thirties one day rather than replacing her every so often with a series of other 16 year olds… but still. If he’s too stupid to realise just how wrong this is, I don’t know how much of a beating you’d have to administer to him to make him realise…
How should I swear, then?
Daniel Lord was an American Jesuit whose lasting legacy was probably (at least jointly) the Production Code aka the Hays Code which (arguably) hobbled the American film industry for decades; swearing was just one of the things it prohibited (indeed, it was the very first thing outlawed in Will Hays’ original 1927 list of “Don’ts”), and evidently it vexed Lord enough that in 1943 he wrote a whole pamphlet about it. Notice that this is clearly a British edition of it, so I wonder if he had to adapt it to local tastes in profanity…
Anyway, I’m kind of amused to have found this after also recently discovering this delightful document on a related note from 1898; for all that people complain about sledging in cricket in modern times, particularly by Australian cricketers, clearly American baseball players were way ahead of them, to the point where one of the sport’s top executives wrote this letter with examples of the bad words currently in use… but what makes it hilarious is the “UNMAILABLE” notice at the end, because the thing contained enough profanity that if they’d mailed it and it had been intercepted for some reason they could’ve been up on an obscenity charge…
Now you do what God told you
I already knew that Jack Posobiec was a crypto-Nazi and professional conspiracy liar and all-round cunt, but I am late to discover that he was also in a Christian rock band in his misspent youth:
Look… I know American Christian culture likes to look at whatever’s big in secular popular culture and come up with its own knock-off that’s been remodelled to make it more goddish so they can keep the kids on their team (Seth Andrews has a video on that theme here which is quite illuminating as to just how stupid but bold these people can get. I mean, TESTAMINTS for fuck’s sake), but this… this… I don’t even know what the fuck this even is. The sheer misguidedness of the very idea, and the lack of self-awareness in admitting to it and apparently not being ashamed of it… just… fucking hell. I have no idea what else to say, I just wish I’d discovered this a year ago when it was fresh…
Betelgeuse going bang?
The potential death knell for the star Betelgeuse is being sounded, with news that the big red one has somewhat abruptly gone from being the 10th brightest star in the sky to the 7th… this after mysteriously dimming a few years ago when it ejected some mass and went relatively dark for a few months. Mind you, the same author has also observed that, though Betelgeuse’s supernova ending is inevitable, it may not happen for another hundred thousand years, so let’s not get too excited.
Anyway, if it does go off soon, the real complication will be for a certain comic I grew up on back in the 80s. Cos Betelgeuse is about 640 light years from us, which means that if it popped off right now it would actually have happened in the late 14th century, and it would’ve taken 640-odd years for the light to reach us. Which means the Galaxy’s Greatest Comic could have a hard time explaining how the Mighty Tharg came to Earth from Betelgeuse in the 1970s if it had already gone nova 600 years earlier… and some of August Derleth’s Cthulhu Mythos stories could wind up looking even sillier than they naturally do, and Zaphod Beeblebrox might be stuck without a home; on which note, I found this blog post from 2009 which ends by citing an article observing that Betelgeuse was shrinking and might go nova “soon”. Fourteen years later, we’re still waiting…
Dagon
Book number five for 2023, continuing the “Horror May-hem” theme, with Fred Chappell’s Dagon from 1968 (although the cover shown here, ganked from Will Errickson’s Too Much Horror Fiction blog, is clearly of rather later vintage). Did not particularly like. Chappell is a “proper” author of “Southern literature”, and I was kind of intrigued as to why he chose to dive into the Cthulhu Mythos for this one. Our not really shining “hero”, Peter, inherits a farm from his grandparents and he decides to use it to work on a book he has planned about the survival of ancient religions in America. So far, so conventionally “horror”, but the place starts getting to Peter who goes off the deep end…
And then the book suddenly goes into what looks like a somewhat tenuously-connected different direction in its second half, getting more and more tedious as frankly bugger all happens until we get what I presume was meant to be a big horror climax, by which time I no longer cared. I can’t even say brevity was the book’s main virtue, cos even at 177 pages (that’s what ISFDB tells me was the page count for the first edition) it was longer than it needed to be… Having finished the book, I am no more enlightened by why Chappell bothered with the Mythos business (which just amounts to kind of meaningless name-dropping), nor indeed why he bothered with the book at all, damned if I could see much point to any of it.
Abbaaaaargh!
Well, I think I’ve just discovered why ABBA spent decades not wanting to get back together: they were afraid someone would ask them to recreate this look from 1975 and they’d be unable to pull it off.
Lost profits?
This is the splash image on the website for an Australian Christian clothing brand…
…called Lost Prophets…
…and that’s their rationale for the name. Which is fine in and of itself, but I can’t believe no one at the company did even a quick Google check to see if the name was already taken or not. And it was. By these guys. A Welsh rock band whose frontman turned out to be one of the worst pedophiles in Britain, who was sentenced to nearly 30 years for his activities and has since had nearly another year added onto that for trying to continue his bullshit while behind bars. You would think someone at the clothing company would have discovered this and they would’ve reconsidered using the name, but I can only assume the conversation in the office went something like this:
“Hey, I just did a Google search and it turns out that the name we were going to use already got taken.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, there was this Welsh rock band whose singer was a pedo.”
“OH. Um… how did they spell the name?”
“One word.”
“Fine, we’ll just spell it as two words and no one will ever make the connection. Anyway, we’re a religious organisation, no one ever associates them with kiddy fiddlers anyway.”
“…What?”
“What?”
Yonder comes a sucker
So Oolong Musk is claiming he’s finally got someone to replace him as CEO of Twitter, and she’ll be here soon… whoever “she” actually is; Oolong has chosen to keep her identity secret for now. Which strikes me as odd at best, and something we should probably be at least slightly worried by… and whoever she turns out to be, I feel like she’ll still be taking a lot of orders from him, cos he’s still going to be The Man Upstairs; this just lets him divert attention from himself to someone else when the inevitable fuckups happen. (EDIT a few hours later: she’s now been confirmed as Linda Yaccarino, the now ex-head of advertising for NBC who was suspected in quite a few media sources as being the “she” Elon was being coy about. Again, I have no idea what the point of the secrecy was.)
The most important news of the day
All other news stories can go to Hell in the face of this:
Bobi, a 31-year-old guard dog who cheated death in his first days, has celebrated his birthday as a celebrity in central Portugal after being declared the world’s oldest dog ever two months ago.
Bobi’s owner Leonel Costa told Guinness World Records a big traditional Portuguese birthday party was planned for Bobi on Saturday at his home in the rural village of Conqueiros, where Bobi has lived his entire life.
More than 100 people, some travelling from overseas, are due to attend the festivities which will include plenty of local food and a dance troupe which Bobi will dance with.
When he was recognised by Guinness World Records as the world’s oldest dog on February 1, he broke a nearly century-old record previously held by Bluey, an Australian cattle dog who died in 1939 at the age of 29 years and five months.
He’s done rather well considering he wasn’t supposed to live at all, what with his owners deciding they already had too many animals, so they basically killed the rest of his litter but somehow missed him… the kids found him and kept him secret, until the parents kind of grudgingly let him live, and now they’ve got a record-holder. Well worth it.
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