No no; he meant libations, meaning there are lots of beverages there.
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DiabolusInMusic
Functionless Art is Merely Tolerated Vandalism
Popcorn chicken? You've successfully bought my vote, sir.
Also, can somebody make an Oprah meme??
"and you get popcorn chicken! and you get popcorn chicken! and you get popcorn chicken!"
IMO it stems from people identifying ideologically with a group or person who is shown to be bad in some way. Since in the individual's mind that entity was a "good guy" then the "bad guy" must be the same or worse. Having the representatives of "your team" constantly and unapologetically lying has to create a level of cognitive dissonance which is lessened by simply thinking "it's all like that" rather than a more complicated and nuanced analysis, which may challenge the individual's ideology and worldview.
The level of outright and unchallenged (in fact supported and echoed) mendacity flying around is astonishing.
Catnip will be legalised in every state of the union!
Socks will be Nobody's VP...... not a cat named Socks but a literal pair of socks. I am wearing them right now.
Nobody is more qualified than the current candidates to hold high office.
Indeed. You can't be more over-35, natural-born, and served-fewer-than-two-terms, than they are.
If nobody is elected, will bass be named the national instruments? 
So, Friends...
A Prefix: I wrote this a week ago tomorrow. I forwarded it to our friends, The Mods...gawd bless their pointed little heads! Really! They work hard to keep our #### straight.
We swapped several PMs, and they decided that I shouldn't open a new thread based upon this essay. In their estimable estimation, the over / under on posts following this one that it would take to shut the sucker down was..............wait for it........... 6.
I would like to think more of us than 6.
Let's play nice...
The Very Most Oddest Thing
Isn’t it remarkable how, on a random day, a thing will happen that turns it into a most remarkable day…a day that stays in your head?
Yesterday, the very most oddest thing happened to me.
I found myself standing in a line…a line that was not moving at all, drinking a beer…a porter to be specific. I turned to the guy standing next to me and commented on the different flavors, (coffee and chocolate mostly) that were infused in the beer and then said something to the effect that it was all too much for me…”I like beer”, I said, “It makes me a jolly good fellow!” I kinda said with a halfway grin…and he says to me “Whiskey’s too rough, champagne costs too much, and vodka puts my mouth in gear”…with a grin…”That’s where you were going with that, right? Man I haven’t heard that song in 20 years!”…and I responded with “Well, that didn’t keep you from knowing all the words! Well done, man!”
And with that, the conversation wandered off into music, beer, liquor (vodka specifically), living in Hall county, GA…and it was about at that time that a woman walked over and took my hand and said that she was Feeling The Bern!
Did I fail to mention that I was wearing my Bernie Sanders shirt…at a pretty large gathering in one of the reddest counties in all of America?
I responded with “Tell your friends how you feel…start the conversation!” and she was gone off into the crowd.
My new line mate and I went back to chatting about how slow the line was…we’d both been there almost a half hour, and it didn’t look like we were any closer at all.
He had moved from Virginia about 15 years ago…We had moved to the toenail of the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains at about the same time.
He rode his motorcycle through the mountains on weekends…and it was at about that point that another woman, 50s probably, stuck her head into the chat and said “I really like your shirt! Go Bernie!”…and she was gone.
and with that, my new mate says “Well, I gotta tell ya, I don’t like your shirt.”
and in a millisecond I imagined this turning into something really uncomfortable…maybe even ugly. We are a polarized people, entrenched in camps surrounded by high, thick walls made of distrust held together by bile.
…and then he says “But that’s a conversation for another time.”, as we looked into each other’s faces and smiled.
…and it was back on…Georgia winters vs. Virginia, vs. NY, (where I was raised)…grand babies…favorite rides through the mountains… Nancy and I are going to Nashville soon…the food truck we were inching closer to…good beers from inside the growler station…and he says “I gotta give you credit for wearing that shirt outside the house around these parts!”, and we both laughed.
It came time to greet an old fella…80 if he was a day…who seemed to be shaking everyone’s hand as we closed in on the food truck. His name was Horace Good…and he was having a Good night. His daughter was there, right beside him.
They snuck up on us.
Without really seeing it coming, it was just about our turn to order, and I ask him to go first, and he says “But first, lemme see if you’ll take a picture with me. My friends aren’t gonna believe I spent damn near an hour talking to a guy with THAT shirt on!” We both laughed, and he got his shot…THAT shirt prominently displayed…and he ordered and wandered off; and I ordered and wandered off and found a few friends I hadn’t seen in months and was thoroughly taken up with their conversation when my new mate sticks his head into our small circle and reaches out to shake my hand and says “I’m Mike. It was good to meetcha!” (“I’m Tom. I feel the very same, Mike. Drive safe!”)… and he was gone…leaving me to replay bits and pieces of that hour in my head all day…’specially the “I don’t like your shirt.” part.
Things could have gone south fast.
I tell you that to tell you this: I believe that I am a bit more introspective than some other people, and I had a bit of manual labor to take care of today…some quiet time away from conversation.
I’m glad to be the guy who ordinarily asks “… and if the shoe was on the other foot?”, and I’ve come to the conclusion that if I found myself standing in a random line next to a guy with a “Make America Great Again” tee shirt…well, I’m not sure how I would engineer it, but I know I wouldn’t be standing beside him for long. Maybe I would find a familiar face in the crowd and get out of line to greet them and then fall back into line a few slots after mine…maybe I needed to hit the men’s room and came out to go to the back of the line…but I sure as hell wouldn’t be striking up a conversation with any asshat who would wear THAT &%$#ing shirt out in public!
…and I would have missed out on that conversation, and my blood pressure would have spiked, and I would be wandering the world today feeling just as self-righteous as I felt yesterday.
Mike was more generous to me than I would have been to him…and that ain’t right.
An addendum:
The linchpin that holds this story together…if it hangs together at all…is a song entitled “I Like Beer”, written and performed by Tom T. Hall (‘The Storyteller’) and released during the summer of 1975. It was a pretty big hit for him!
I am so happy to be one of the millions of people who were brought closer to their neighbors by music yesterday.
A Prefix: I wrote this a week ago tomorrow. I forwarded it to our friends, The Mods...gawd bless their pointed little heads! Really! They work hard to keep our #### straight.
We swapped several PMs, and they decided that I shouldn't open a new thread based upon this essay. In their estimable estimation, the over / under on posts following this one that it would take to shut the sucker down was..............wait for it........... 6.
I would like to think more of us than 6.
Let's play nice...
The Very Most Oddest Thing
Isn’t it remarkable how, on a random day, a thing will happen that turns it into a most remarkable day…a day that stays in your head?
Yesterday, the very most oddest thing happened to me.
I found myself standing in a line…a line that was not moving at all, drinking a beer…a porter to be specific. I turned to the guy standing next to me and commented on the different flavors, (coffee and chocolate mostly) that were infused in the beer and then said something to the effect that it was all too much for me…”I like beer”, I said, “It makes me a jolly good fellow!” I kinda said with a halfway grin…and he says to me “Whiskey’s too rough, champagne costs too much, and vodka puts my mouth in gear”…with a grin…”That’s where you were going with that, right? Man I haven’t heard that song in 20 years!”…and I responded with “Well, that didn’t keep you from knowing all the words! Well done, man!”
And with that, the conversation wandered off into music, beer, liquor (vodka specifically), living in Hall county, GA…and it was about at that time that a woman walked over and took my hand and said that she was Feeling The Bern!
Did I fail to mention that I was wearing my Bernie Sanders shirt…at a pretty large gathering in one of the reddest counties in all of America?
I responded with “Tell your friends how you feel…start the conversation!” and she was gone off into the crowd.
My new line mate and I went back to chatting about how slow the line was…we’d both been there almost a half hour, and it didn’t look like we were any closer at all.
He had moved from Virginia about 15 years ago…We had moved to the toenail of the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains at about the same time.
He rode his motorcycle through the mountains on weekends…and it was at about that point that another woman, 50s probably, stuck her head into the chat and said “I really like your shirt! Go Bernie!”…and she was gone.
and with that, my new mate says “Well, I gotta tell ya, I don’t like your shirt.”
and in a millisecond I imagined this turning into something really uncomfortable…maybe even ugly. We are a polarized people, entrenched in camps surrounded by high, thick walls made of distrust held together by bile.
…and then he says “But that’s a conversation for another time.”, as we looked into each other’s faces and smiled.
…and it was back on…Georgia winters vs. Virginia, vs. NY, (where I was raised)…grand babies…favorite rides through the mountains… Nancy and I are going to Nashville soon…the food truck we were inching closer to…good beers from inside the growler station…and he says “I gotta give you credit for wearing that shirt outside the house around these parts!”, and we both laughed.
It came time to greet an old fella…80 if he was a day…who seemed to be shaking everyone’s hand as we closed in on the food truck. His name was Horace Good…and he was having a Good night. His daughter was there, right beside him.
They snuck up on us.
Without really seeing it coming, it was just about our turn to order, and I ask him to go first, and he says “But first, lemme see if you’ll take a picture with me. My friends aren’t gonna believe I spent damn near an hour talking to a guy with THAT shirt on!” We both laughed, and he got his shot…THAT shirt prominently displayed…and he ordered and wandered off; and I ordered and wandered off and found a few friends I hadn’t seen in months and was thoroughly taken up with their conversation when my new mate sticks his head into our small circle and reaches out to shake my hand and says “I’m Mike. It was good to meetcha!” (“I’m Tom. I feel the very same, Mike. Drive safe!”)… and he was gone…leaving me to replay bits and pieces of that hour in my head all day…’specially the “I don’t like your shirt.” part.
Things could have gone south fast.
I tell you that to tell you this: I believe that I am a bit more introspective than some other people, and I had a bit of manual labor to take care of today…some quiet time away from conversation.
I’m glad to be the guy who ordinarily asks “… and if the shoe was on the other foot?”, and I’ve come to the conclusion that if I found myself standing in a random line next to a guy with a “Make America Great Again” tee shirt…well, I’m not sure how I would engineer it, but I know I wouldn’t be standing beside him for long. Maybe I would find a familiar face in the crowd and get out of line to greet them and then fall back into line a few slots after mine…maybe I needed to hit the men’s room and came out to go to the back of the line…but I sure as hell wouldn’t be striking up a conversation with any asshat who would wear THAT &%$#ing shirt out in public!
…and I would have missed out on that conversation, and my blood pressure would have spiked, and I would be wandering the world today feeling just as self-righteous as I felt yesterday.
Mike was more generous to me than I would have been to him…and that ain’t right.
An addendum:
The linchpin that holds this story together…if it hangs together at all…is a song entitled “I Like Beer”, written and performed by Tom T. Hall (‘The Storyteller’) and released during the summer of 1975. It was a pretty big hit for him!
I am so happy to be one of the millions of people who were brought closer to their neighbors by music yesterday.
Woah. I'm glad I read this. You should try to get it published as an editorial or something somewhere.
- Status
