Not Surprising

Oh boo fucking hoo. A bunch of tatted-up, pierced and hairstyle-challenged kids are having difficulty landing jobs, and of course it’s all The Man’s fault:

In 2017, individuality and creativity are widely regarded as desirable traits in an potential employee.
But it seems some firms still judge prospective hires on appearance, as well as experience.
Jobseekers have been revealing the pettiest reasons they’ve ever been overlooked for a position on the anonymous secret-sharing app Whisper – and tattoos feature heavily in the surprising confessions.
One man with dreadlocks who was turned down for a job said it was not a coincidence that all the other staff members had ‘preppy hair’.
Another woman who had the word ‘hope’ tattooed on her wrist to cover a self-harm scar was informed she was out of the running as a result.

Here’s a pro tip to the author of this piece: employers are looking for individuality and creativity in employees, all right — but self-mutilation and peacocking attitudes aren’t that.

One commenter had the perfect response: “Make a statement about yourself with a tattoo, and be prepared to be judged by it.” 

I note that a large number of these jobs involve interaction with the public, and surprise, surprise: people are turned off by freaky-looking employees.

And then, of course, comes the classic whine of the narcissist: “We shouldn’t have to change our appearance (no matter how freakish); you should change your attitudes because insensitivity.”

Fuck off, the lot of you. Enjoy your welfare existence.

Guidelines

So now we have this foolishness:

“Unacceptable costumes” listed on a University of St. Thomas diversity flier are “wearing Native American headdresses, dressing up as a ‘Mexican’ by wearing a sombrero, dressing as a ‘geisha,’ any form of blackface.”

“Cultural appropriation is defined as ‘the act of taking intellectual and cultural expressions from a culture that is not your own, without showing that you understand or respect the culture,’” explains a University of St. Thomas diversity memo to students.

“This can be as simple as wearing a Dashiki without knowledge or respect to West African culture, and as serious as wearing a fake Native American headdress without any regard of its sacredness,” adds the memo. “It generally incorporates a history of prejudice and discrimination by perpetuating long-standing stereotypes.”

At UC Santa Barbara, a social justice workshop set for Tuesday will delve into how Halloween costumes abuse “indigenous wear” and teach students how to “spot appropriation with the help of bell hooks’ essay ‘Eating the Other.’”

At a “Conversation Circle” at Princeton University this Sunday, students will “engage in a dialogue about the impact of cultural appropriation, Halloween, and why culture is not a costume.”

Oh FFS, I wish these priggish, self-righteous shitwits would just lighten up.

Sounds like an excuse for a nationwide “Clothing Optional” Halloween on campus… although feministicals will no doubt start squealing that swinging dicks create an atmosphere of terror for women or some such bullshit. What a bunch of wussies.

And let’s face it: there’s no fun in everyone dressing in fucking togas, which seems to be the only costume I can think of that’s safe to “appropriate” because all the Romans are dead. (No, modern-day Italians are not Romans except by proxy. Look it up.)

I am so glad I’m not a student anymore, because I would get into shit on at least a daily basis. I just wish that more students could do the same, but they’re the ones calling for all this sensitivity crap. Snotty snowflakes, all of ’em.

Nostalgia #846

Why does this pic make me feel nostalgic?

  1. The cops are all men.
  2. They’re doing crowd control, but aren’t dressed up like Imperial stormtroopers.
  3. They’re ogling a pretty girl without some shrew accusing them of [insert feministical outrage of choice here].
  4. The girl is alluring, pretty and sexy; and yet somehow she manages to do all that without looking like a total slut.

Yeah, I miss the old days.

Should Have Been An A

From the Chateau comes this priceless ambition from a future leader:

(I know the thing is probably fake, but leave me with the illusion, willya?)

Had this young man (? if it was a girl, I’m gonna explode) been several years older, I would have pegged him as a Junior Reader. After all, I believe I once posted this little thought:

I think I’m going to get a few “Pinochet Was Correct” T-shirts printed. Hey, if the Left can do it with that murdering Commie bastard Che Guevara…

Bloody Immigrants

They come to your country, build successful multi-million-dollar companies while still in high school*… as I remarked to Mr. Free Market, he’ll probably end up marrying into the Royal Family.

Most teenagers of his age spend their school lunch breaks playing football or chatting to girls.
But Akshay Ruparelia used every spare moment to sell houses.The young entrepreneur – nicknamed Alan Sugar by his friends – set up an online estate agency while still at sixth form.
The teenager started his business after persuading family members to lend him £7,000 and already employs 12 people.
And his clever business model has been such a hit that his company doorsteps.co.uk has been valued at £12 million in just over a year.
Now aged 19, Akshay has had to put plans of studying economics and management at Oxford University on hold because the firm he set up at school is expanding so rapidly.

I’m curious as to why he’d bother with university at all, seeing as he seems to be doing quite well without the academic drag of “theory” (as opposed to actual, you know, stuff that works in the real world).

Good for him.


*For my Murkin Readers: “sixth form” is the equivalent to an extra year of high school — thirteenth grade, as it were — as a preparatory step towards university. It is one of my deepest regrets that I didn’t stay on for the Sixth myself; my life would have been considerably different had I done so.

Not The Optimal Choice

Following a link from Reader Jabrwok’s comment on this post, I ended up here (video), where this Scando-lass(?) opens up a coconut. Good grief, what a schlep.

Which makes me think: if you’re doing serious bush work, ignore that lil’ knife she’s using. Use a serious blade like this one (pictured next to a 1911, for scale):

If I knew I was heading anywhere that even looked like I’d end up in the boonies, you’d better believe that this puppy would be on my hip.