Friday, March 18, 2022


As a sour old grumpus well past my thirties, my assigned societal role is to disapprove of you lot and your epic stupidity. Which I relish. Yesterday evening, and probably happening this evening as well, you did not disappoint me. Kudos. You got drunk. Celebrating the one sixteenth Irish ancestry and fifty percent self-indulgent fratboy within you.
You are all ... winners.

The pandemic isn't over. Indeed, transmission rates are low in California and a few other places, but they are still strong in the shithole states, and skyrocketing in the rest of the world.

[Important refresher: the shithole states are Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Indiana, Iowa, Louisiana, Massachusetts, Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nevada, North Carolina, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Virginia, West Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. Plus Los Angeles, Orange County, Philadelphia, and San Diego.]

Going out to get blotto with a throng of people who have been godknowswhere plus godknowswithwhom in crowded bars is probably one of the stupidest things ever.
Same level as an orgy with a bunch of careless drug addicts.
And some things are just sinful. Disgusting beyond belief.

Green food colouring in a pint of beer?

Effing irredeemable.

This is why there are no snakes in Ireland.
You don't ruddy deserve them.

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