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Tag: Humor
Stuff that makes me laugh
Please Sir, May I Have Another?
Well, it seems as though our cousins in the Great White Place have decided that a dozen-odd (very odd) years of Justin Castreaux’s “leadership” were not enough, and have elected his replacement Mark Carney as their next Chief Wokist.
Carney, it should be recalled, was the former head of the Bank of England who be forever remembered as the man who nearly destroyed Britain’s economy during that messy Brexit business. Prior to that, he was governor of the Bank of Canuckistan, and is widely seen as the reason housing prices rocketed and ordinary Canuckis ended up with higher debt — the highest ever, as it turned out. (In fairness, his policies enabled Canuckistan to weather the 2008 global recession in terms of its GDP, but at the expense of said Canuckis, who are still trying to deal with high housing costs. I report, you decide.)
I have told the tale of back when I was still consulting, we independent consultants has a rule never to work with a startup whose principal officers (CEO, CFO or COO) had a Harvard MBA. Carney doesn’t have one of those, but his degree in Economics comes from the same institution. Draw your own conclusions.
There’s more, much more, including his assistance in getting South Africa (!) to participate in international bond markets while he was employed by the infamous Goldman Sachs, of the 2008 global crisis fame, although it should be noted that he left GS five years before that.
By the way, his family is a poster-child for ultra-wokery — not that this should be a disqualifier, of course, but it does point to what he comes home to every night.
Anyway, this economics whiz* is the man Canuckis have elected to be their Prime Minister for the foreseeable future, and his first public statement as PM was a strong anti-Trump message, which means that it’s unlikely that Canuckistan will ever become our 51st state.
So in that, at any rate, we Murkins can breathe a sigh of relief.
*Just FYI, the word whiz is also a euphemism for a stream of piss.
Political Totty
Now if we’re going to have a White House Correspondent, allow me to suggest War Room‘s Natalie Winters as a sterling choice:
And amidst all those qualifications, she’s also got the cojones for the job, as witnessed by this epic takedown.
And by the way: she’s not the only one.
News Roundup
And you’re going to need that slug of gin to survive this roundup.
…ah yes, the “experts” at the International Monetary Fund, with their stellar track record of global financial predictions and management. [/snark]
In 
:
...and about damn time, too.
More Political Stuff:
...it’s Illinois, so he’ll just be replaced some other terrorsymp Commie asshole. And the only “torch” I’d like to pass is the one I’d use to light his execution bonfire.
And still on the topic of Commies:
...and to think she was once my “representative” back when I lived in Chicago. I used to write to her often, but she always ignored me — possibly because my salutation was “Dear Commie Bitch”.
...let’s embrace the healing power of “and”, shall we?
From the Police Blotter:
…well, so much for her Secret Service protection detail. Also:
In International News:
...just another day in Merrie Olde England. As is this one:
…
...crappy car, nobody cares.
In Sad Business News:
...no matter how famous the backer: if the product is shit, nobody’s going to buy it.
Finally:
...I’m sorry, but “Whoopi Goldberg” and “going down” should never appear in the same headline.
#VomitAlert
And speaking of vomiting:
...I was unaware that lesbian porno movies required the services of a fluffer, but there ya go.
And in today’s 
And in our weekly stroll down 
:
Liz Hurley Is Now Bonking Billy Ray Cyrus
...well, after Shane Warne, nothing can be too disgusting, I guess.
And if he thought his heart was all achy-breaky, wait till he sees what she can do to his nether appendage.
Monday Funnies
And our diary entry:
So on we go…
And our ongoing study of Single Moms In Bikinis features these examples:
Now get out of here and father some more children, or something.
Death Looms
…for me, according to the Z-Man:
One of the things that comes with writing for a public audience in the digital age is the editor without portfolio. This is the person who roams the internet looking for spelling errors, punctuation mistakes, and grammar issues. There are many of these people, as the comment section of every internet post has at least one comment about a typo or alleged improper word choice. They are like the samurai without a master in feudal Japan, except they wield the blue pencil instead of a sword.
That would be me, and people like me.
But our days are numbered (according to the Prophet Z):
The grammar police have drained a lot of the life from the written word, and AI will help them bleed it white. In time, most people will rely on AI to write their text, and that means it will narrow to the point where most writing reads like the user manual for your toaster.
The main loser in the AI revolution will be the grammar ronin. Soon, they will not be able to find text that violates their interpretation of Strunk and White. If they persist, the robots producing the text will simply disconnect them from the internet, leaving them to roam the countryside with a blue pencil in search of bits of paper to edit. The era of the grammar ronin is coming to an end. He will be defeated by the thing that made him possible at the dawn of the internet: technology.
This is like saying that music critics will be out of a job because of AutoTune — the bland pablum of AutoTune is little different from A.I.-smoothed prose, after all.
And here’s where the Z-bloke makes his mistake. I very rarely, if ever, go after some tit’s moronic spelling or obtuse grammar mistakes because I can’t fault their argument. There may be people like that, but I ain’t one of them.
I go after the SpellChek Generation because they, and their alleged editors, are fucking clueless about the essence of communication and its absolute need for clarity and meaning. Far from “drain[ing] a lot of the life from the written word”, I’m attempting to keep the railway of communication smooth so that the reader’s comprehension isn’t derailed by the bent steel of crappy spelling and diverted by the careless switches thrown by obfuscatory / obtuse grammar (if I may be permitted the use of such an antiquated metaphor). Some people, mostly the stupid ones, are not distracted by horrible grammar and silly spelling — I am not one of those, and I stand proudly thereto.
But never fear, O Z-Master; if I lose my job as grammar ronin / Nazi, I’m sure that unlike the actual ronin — whose lives were rendered pointless by the disappearance of their samurai lords — I’ll have no problem finding something equally stupid on which to vent my irritation.
This is Grammar Nazi, signing off. 