Dear Hamas Crybabies (but we repeat ourself)...

Soy Boi Problems

 h/t John Wilder

Wilder meme-piles on the above NYTimes nonsense (but we repeat ourself) at his place.

We drop a frag on anything still twitching after he's done:

Male what?

The words you strung together have some meaning individually, but collectively we don't know what you're talking about. In a "Joe Biden and Kamala Harris are having an intellectual argument, and it sounds like some millenial's Furby collection speaking in a gibberish word salad while stray cats are giving birth" kind of way.

I suspect the best cure for male loneliness among the soy bois reporting it and who read the NYTimes is to knock that sh*t off, put that fishwrap back under the bird cage where it belongs, have a urologist re-attach your balls, and stop crying like a girl.

Chicks hate whiny crybabies who sit at women's feet looking for an answer to life's questions, they have no respect for them, and they replace them with actual men every chance they get. And when we say "every chance", well, we hate to be the one to break it to you if you thought they were really out with their friends five days a week, but it's time someone clued you in to why they aren't interested in you anymore except as a life support system for their credit card and a dog walker for their yappy little purse-mutt.

GTFO of the house, go shoot something, kill something, or build something (ideally, a solid brick BBQ for the animal you shot and dressed or the fish you caught and drove home from out in the wilds in your gas-guzzling 4WD pickup), and whichever you choose, generate enough carbon from your efforts to give Greta Thunberg a fit of apoplexy. When you get back, tell that whiny advice columnist you're staying with to turn off The Spew and make you a sammich.

And if she leaves you over that, be sure and tell her "Thank you!"

By the time she hits the wall, and realizes she's living in a middle-aged prison of box wine and cat hair long after her freshness date is a distant memory in life's rear-view mirror, and comes crawling back to you begging for a do-over, you'll be dating three Scandinavian stewardesses, and you won't be able to hear you ex's pitiful whinging over the sizzle from the BBQ, the scream of your power tools working on projects in your garage, the tune-up you're doing on the 4WD, or the screams of passion in your ear from Astrid, Helena, or Ingrid.

You're welcome.

19th Guy To Say "I Am Spartacus!"

h/t WRSA

Just read this epically pantswetting whinge/rant, courtesy of CA:

There's Gonna Be Diaper Rash In MT. 

It was hilarious.

Apparently, people are moving to Montana. From Somewhere Else!!! ZOMG!!! Eleventy!!!

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Bummer, dude.

Kill yourself, or get over it.

You could have written the same piece about Califrutopia, speaking about folks west of I-5/east of I-5, circa 1980, or maybe even 1960, and it's the exact same story, and the same out-of-state gypsies in both cases. Hell, there were probably Mexicans here in 1848 that felt the same way, and wrote the same article, just in Spanish, but then gold was discovered at Sutter's Mill, and it's taken them 150 years to claw their way back to vengeance. The Indians who "sold" Manhattan Island probably tried to explain repeatedly to those funny-looking visitors that they didn't own it, and finally just took the chests of trade goods offered and paddled away, dumbstruck at the newcomers' ignorance and gullibility.

And those California plates y'all bitch about? They may have been from CA last, but they aren't "from" CA any more than those yupp-tards up your way are "from" Bozeman either. They're nothing but gypsy locusts, having befouled this nest, and now coming to despoil yours, being nothing more than the toothless banjo-playing kinfolk of the hordes from all points east and south of you, in 98% of all cases.

You're Chief Brody, the off-islander who's been in town five minutes, telling me to go out on the dock and talk to "my people", and I'm the local guy telling you those people are from everywhere but here.

And the outnumbered natives there in MT, like here, will either die off, get out-bred, or tuck tail and move somewhere else too, only to find the hordes have already beaten them to Texas or Florida, both already purpling up nicely. Then they'll turn tail and run again, until having run out of places they're not willing to make a stand for, they find they have no country left to call their own, and no place they'll root hog or die for.

They'll cover it up by saying "but I had to turn tail and run, because my kids/mortgage/sanity", but the reality is, 90% of them are the exact kind of gypsy locusts they bemoan, just not as prosperous at doing it, and not willing to do anything to keep what they had, beyond pissing and moaning, and moving again. And again. And again.

Welcome to the party, pal.

It was funny to you when it was Califrutopia. Or all the border states overrun with illegals since the 1960s. Now, suddenly, there's a crisis, because it's Montana. Sh'yeah, and next monkeys will fly outta my butt.

Tampa felt the same way in 1975. L.A. in 1980. Albuquerque in 1985. Seattle in 1990. Miami in 1995. Portland in 2000. Reno in 2010. Next it'll be DFW. Atlanta and Memphis and St. Louis are already long past gone. You're running out of places to run and hide. (Chances you and your neighbors will finally figure out to stop doing that: 100:1, against. Stupidity always follows the pathway of least resistance, and you always go with the flow, then look surprised when the waters rise up to your chin.)

Give a holler when folks decide to make a stand and say "No, you won't", instead of loading a U-Haul and tucking tail. Ask Idaho how they feel about their turn coming. Or the Alaskan sourdoughs.

War? As. If.

Montana isn't going to go to war over this. They're going to go to the mall, and then they'll hit the road in their rented U-Hauls. Like always.

The Baby Duck author of the OP is just somebody too young to have seen this program in black-and-white, and writing about the 10th re-run like it was a broadcast premier.

Call me when Texas takes back Austin, or the rest of Georgia settles Atlanta's hash. Until that happens, nobody's going to fight over Bozeman either. So maybe switch to decaf.

Why Everyone Knows Who's F.O.S.

Thank heavens they're going to re-open states where some of you have had to go over a month without Burger King, and the streets are full of kids that look like this. - Said no one in North America

 

 

Point Of Order

(GOMORRAH) Fox Network won't show abortion survivors' Super Bowl ad...

So what?!?

1) Why are you wasting your money by putting it into the coffers of Fox and the National Felony League?

2) Why are you even still paying attention to the National Felony League? Didn't the Crapperdick take-a-knee fiasco teach you anything??

3) When has a commercial ever convinced you, or anyone with an IQ above that of plant life, to do anything? (Or do you still smoke because you believe "doctors recommend it"?)

4) Have you ever considered that politicizing sports is exactly what's pissed off more people than anything else, and cost the National Felony League BILLION$ OF DOLLAR$ already?
How'd that last campaign work out for Jillette: Razors For Little Bitches™?

If your group is still that butthurt about it despite those four solid reason to STFU, convince people at the game to wear t-shirts in the crowd that say "Abortion Survivor", with coathangers appearing to be sticking out of their heads.
That will accomplish far more than any silly-ass ad ever would, get covered for days, and it would be Sabo-funny to boot.

It will also cost you $0.00, unless you spring for the t-shirts and faux coat hanger headgear.
I'm just spitballing, but I'm pretty sure the price of 30 seconds of airtime during the Toiletbowl would pay for you to be able to hand that gear out for free to every member of the crowd in attendance, if they'd take them.

And if you're not savvy enough to run a guerrilla media war in the first place, but can only whine and whinge that your philosophical enemies won't play by your imaginary Marquess of Queensbury Rules, and they're being mean to you, you're probably not big enough for this ride to begin with.

And your diapers are lumpy, and issuing a distinct odor.