Er…because he’s bone dry?

Aaaaaand here it is, the patent for the Skeleton Confessor!
The men have tiny feet.

I mean really. How often can you combine Charlie Hebdo, inflatable frog costumes, rage at the Trump attempt to turn the country into a dictatorship and Spartacus in four words?

It’s a long way to go for a joke, but the court will allow it.

I tried to keep an open mind, but Cox reducing the 2024 election to “one party wanted closed borders and the other wanted open borders” brought everything back into focus. His thesis seems to be that we have to accommodate and compromise with demonstrably and intractably racist voices.

*grabs popcorn*

No colon in the second graph. The speaker is allowing no dispute or discussion of his finding; he is not so much explaining his ruling as setting the parameters for a correct reply.

Three pounds of spinning death.

Thoughts?

All thoughtful responses acknowledged, but no stigma attaches to jettisoning trolls.

Am I providing (or at least moving in the direction of) added value?

A handful of people who engender interesting exchange are worth a host of followers.

Exchange of ideas over broadcast of views.

Outrage and other attention-grabbing devices may work, but the discussions they engender are ultimately uninteresting.

Facts should be referenced, opinions noted.

It’s the screen version of The Proud Tower. Best history narrative ever written. Musical score by Stravinsky and Strauss. Can’t wait.

Very small rocks.

My take on Hamlet, and for that matter theater in general, was forever twisted by my parents taking me to see Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead at the Ahmanson in May 1969 (I was 11). Stoppard staged their eventual drowning as pin spots dowsing mid-sentence. Manson murders were July and August.

Is no one going to ask what the bottle was?

Played percussion for the Dead on the ‘72 and ‘73 tours.