…that when Inflataskank says “Gimme 12 inches and make it hurt,” DUMBFUCK thinks “6 pumps and a donkeypunch?”
- Shows up for interview with oxygen tank in tow;
- Rejected by city’s Judicial Review Committee, gets hired anyway;
- Was unable to climb up three steps to the bench, even with a special railing;
- Suffered diarrhea IN THE COURTROOM;
- Craps her chair, orders a new one;
Tailor made, I’m tellin’ ya!
Here, I’ll help!
I suppose it might be overstating things to call these lies, if you subscribe to Costanza logic:
They could be “alternative truths,” to use a popular phrase. And DUMBFUCK, in spite of all the evidence of the last five years, may even believe he is speaking truth. If, for the eighth time in three years, he loses a LOLSUIT on a “technicality,” (DON’T LAUGH) he may actually believe he won’t simply forget it all happened and try again.
I’ve heard these Fatkinson’s sufferers have profound memory issues when it suits them.
Well, it is a lie, if the liar changing his mind proceeds as I have foreseen.
Of course there’s always the possibility of a NEW & IMPROVED strategy that no one could have ever foreseen.
Though it would be an awful waste of the great monikers we have already banked for LOLSUITS IX – XIII if the Inflatable Boifriend starts taking the lead. Will we have to go back to LOLSUIT I in that case?
LOLSUIT I – Under Pressure?
LOLSUIT I – She’s Gonna Blow!
LOLSUIT I – Pressure Drop
LOLSUIT I – Inflated Ego
…carrying an inflatable woman under his arm.
He sits down at the bar and orders a Johnnie Walker Red, straight up.
The bartender pours it out, and DUMBFUCK says, “You ever hear of an artist called Rorschach?”
The bartender says, “Yeeeeeaaaaaaahhh…”
DUMBFUCK says, “Well how come he only paints pictures of my brother and me fucking?”
(This is not an original joke. The original joke went a little differently.)
Stolen from IMAO:
Somebody re-wrote the lyrics of the whole of Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band over a Star Wars theme, with video.
Thank you, Internet.
Hat tip: You know who you are!
Grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
(like the fact that I am smarter than anybody
and anyone who disagrees with me is an idiot
who should keep their stupid, racist
opinions to themselves or get
punched in their Nazi face)
The Courage to change the things I can,
(like the fact that Illegitimate Donald Trump lost the popular vote,
isn’t really the President,
and should be removed from office by
any means necessary,
preferably by women wearing giant vagina costumes)
And the Wisdom to know the difference.
(wait, what? WHAT???)
— The Fat Man (@FatManPodcast) January 24, 2017
Does this ring a bell?
And as to vexatious litigant… 7 lawsuits in under three years, none of which survived motions to dismiss.
‘Nuff said on that.
Remember, class: All that is required to discredit Bill Schmalfeldt, is to quote Bill Schmalfeldt.
Let’s break it down:
Wanted to share an experience from earlier today. This afternoon, I had aplumber [sic] over to my apartment to fix a clogged drain. He was a perfectly nice guy and a consummate professional.
Okay. So…what’s the big deal?
But he was also a middle-aged what man with a southern accent who seemed unperturbed by this week’s news.
Oh, I see. He was “OTHER.” That must have been terrifying for you.
And while I had him in the apartment, I couldn’t stop thinking about whether he had voted for Trump, whether he knew my last name was Jewish, and how that knowledge might change the interaction we were having inside my own home.
Did you think to maybe stop and ask him if he had plans to kill you? Or if his “perfectly nice” demeanor and “consummate professionalism” masked a hidden psychopath just waiting to berate and insult a special snowflake liberal pussy? Or were you afraid he might not be woke enough to fix your drain in a socially conscious and environmentally friendly manner? Maybe your plumber was just sufficiently self-aware to understand that pipes clogged with quinoa, kale and organic Chinese food from the back of the fridge are neither Republican nor Democrat, and neither is the money he earns to fix them without actively trying to strike the fear of God into his customers when apparently he can do it just as well just by doing his job without comment.
I have no real reason to believe he was a Trump supporter or an anti-Semite, but in my uncertainty I couldn’t shake the sense of potential danger. I was rattled for some time after he left.
So, to recap – your plumber was friendly, professional and competent, and because he did not openly share your beliefs, he scared the crap out of you?
How is this anyone’s problem but yours?
I’m very privileged insofar as this sense of danger is unfamiliar to me. And I know I feel it much less acutely than a lot of other people right now. I’m still a straight, white guy who can phenotypically pass for gentile. Plus my first name is pretty WASP-y.
You are “very privileged.” You should CHECK THAT PRIVILEGE. And turn in your man card before some pixie lesbian looks cross-eyed at you and you burst into tears and throw your whole wallet at her.
But today was a reminder that ambiguous social interactions now feel unsafe and unpredictable in a way they never did before.
And it CAN’T POSSIBLY BE YOUR FAULT – YOUR “WOKE METER” IS FULLY FUNCTIONAL.
And even if Trump is gone in four years, I don’t expect to ever reclaim that feeling of security.
Buy a gun. Drink some whiskey. Wear tampons.
That’s just one more thing you voted for, if you voted for him.
Well, I didn’t vote for him, but if reading about how bad you pissed yourself in the presence of a man is any indication, I’m really going to enjoy the next for years, because THIS IS HOW YOU ELECTED TRUMP.
And if you don’t want the scary plumber to come back, here’s a suggestion, Ned: