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May 23, 2024 03:28
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- Proust Malone
- Apr 4, 2008
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how did pete townsend get away with illegal porn in the aughts by saying it was "for research?" was he actually in some exploited child rescue org or just a powerful british dude nobody wanted to bust?
an academic researcher in the us published a paper showing a negative correlation between availability of child porn and the rate of sex crimes against children and had the FBI turned their office upside down within a week.
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Mar 9, 2024 19:09
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- Laterite
- Mar 14, 2007
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It's Gutfest '89
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Grimey Drawer
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lol
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Mar 9, 2024 19:28
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- Marenghi
- Oct 16, 2008
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Don't trust the liberals,
they will betray you
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Reddit was miles worse than GBS for that.
Owned by Conde Nest who ran cover for Epstein before his crimes were exposed. And G Maxwell was the most prolific mod there with an account since the early days.
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Mar 9, 2024 20:51
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- Dr. Jerrold Coe
- Feb 6, 2021
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Is it me?
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Reddit was miles worse than GBS for that.
Owned by Conde Nest who ran cover for Epstein before his crimes were exposed. And G Maxwell was the most prolific mod there with an account since the early days.
that violentacrez mod who was in charge of underage/creepshot subreddits and redditors threw a fit over him getting scrutinized
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Mar 9, 2024 20:54
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- Zoobtro
- Aug 22, 2003
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Got miself a nice little earner, isn't it
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https://twitter.com/BRYN_BORANGA/status/1766176139624472885
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Mar 9, 2024 21:11
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- UwUnabomber
- Sep 9, 2012
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Pubes dreaded out so hoes call me Chris Barnes. I don't wear a condom at the pig farm.
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Hahahaha God drat yeah that would've been wall-to-wall buttrock in one of the worst cities in North America
Hollywood Undead was having a wet t-shirt contest on the stage next to SSSC.
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Mar 9, 2024 21:27
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- spanky the dolphin
- Sep 3, 2006
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What about Rob Lowe.
quote:
In 1989, the "St. Elmo's Fire" actor faced a lawsuit from the mother of a 16-year-old girl involved in a sex tape made during the 1988 Democratic National Convention. Lowe denied knowing the girl was underage, according to CBS News and Yahoo.
quote:Today, Lowe speaks about the incident with a lighthearted tone.
"The problem was, I didn't make any money off of it like everybody does now. I was too stupid," he said with a smile.
quote: "The real (expletive) up was that I didn’t wait 20 years later to do it where it would have helped my career,” Lowe, 55, quipped, adding he was "1 billion percent ahead of the curve."
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Mar 9, 2024 21:44
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- Perry Mason Jar
- Feb 24, 2006
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"Della? Take a lid"
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? He seemed fine? He played to the audience's weird lustiness a bit but not inappropriately much. Really burying the lede anyway when she says Fred Savage hit on her when she was 14
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Mar 9, 2024 22:23
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- multistability
- Feb 15, 2014
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? He seemed fine? He played to the audience's weird lustiness a bit but not inappropriately much. Really burying the lede anyway when she says Fred Savage hit on her when she was 14
Aren't Fred Savage and Alicia Silverstone the same age
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Mar 9, 2024 23:38
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- DR FRASIER KRANG
- Feb 4, 2005
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"Are you forgetting that just this afternoon I was punched in the face by a turtle now dead?
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yes they are
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Mar 9, 2024 23:39
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- Perry Mason Jar
- Feb 24, 2006
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"Della? Take a lid"
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I didn't check cause she seemed really put off, saying "I was 14..." immediately after. Weird
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Mar 9, 2024 23:44
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- Laterite
- Mar 14, 2007
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It's Gutfest '89
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Grimey Drawer
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Savage was metoo'd a couple years back iirc
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Mar 10, 2024 01:11
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- Large Testicles
- Jun 1, 2020
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[ASK] ME ABOUT MY LOVE FOR 1'S
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if u were a teenager when Aerosmith's music video for their song "Crazy" was released, you are cancelled to a permanent end. Simple as.
it was good posting with y'all
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Mar 10, 2024 03:14
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- gradenko_2000
- Oct 5, 2010
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HELL SERPENT
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Lipstick Apathy
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if u were a teenager when Aerosmith's music video for their song "Crazy" was released, you are cancelled to a permanent end. Simple as.
Ha! Dodged a bullet. Old fogies, the lot of you.
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Mar 10, 2024 03:19
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- my bony fealty
- Oct 1, 2008
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love when you get it right on the first guess
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Mar 10, 2024 03:35
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- Perry Mason Jar
- Feb 24, 2006
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"Della? Take a lid"
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Mar 10, 2024 04:12
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- gradenko_2000
- Oct 5, 2010
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HELL SERPENT
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Lipstick Apathy
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It's an instruction manual! It's an instruction manual!
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Mar 10, 2024 04:24
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- Laterite
- Mar 14, 2007
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It's Gutfest '89
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Grimey Drawer
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if you told me matt lucas's popularity was an op, I'd believe you
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Mar 10, 2024 05:09
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- mawarannahr
- May 21, 2019
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one of jolly west's sons wrote a book about assisting him with suicide. I forgot about it and just cracked it open and 
quote:
JOLLY'S BIRTHDAY
A week after Jolly called and told me about his diagnosis, and five weeks before he asked for my help during that bedroom chat, I flew from Seattle to L.A. for his seventy-fourth birthday. We all knew this would be his last, so my sisters came too: Anne from New York City, and Mary from Northern California. Neither brought her husband.
I felt nervous about seeing Jolly, and not just because of the extreme changes looming over him and the rest of the family. Until he’d phoned me with his bad news, I hadn’t planned on attending his birthday party—or any other event involving him—because our recent relationship had not been good. For a long time, Jolly’s philandering had been an open secret in our family, but it had never intruded directly on our lives until two years before. Decades of polite, quiet disagreement about Jolly’s behavior had finally become pointed conflict when he made the bewildering decision to start bringing into our home, and into the homes of old family friends, his newly admitted illegitimate child—an adolescent boy. I had told Jolly that this was highly inappropriate and painful to the family (and embarrassing to the old family friends), and that it was especially hurtful, insulting, and disrespectful to K. I stood up for K because she was in no position to stand up to Jolly anymore, due to her failing health and increased dependence on him. K and I had always been close, and now that her health and strength were declining, I felt more and more protective of her.
I’d told Jolly that if he wanted to spend time with this boy, there were numerous other places they could go—places on the other side of town, where the boy’s mother lived; places that wouldn’t be so offensive to basic notions of decency, discretion, and tact. Los Angeles is not a small town; it has plenty of such places.
Jolly didn’t like my telling him that his flaunting a gross indiscretion was wrong, and he refused to stop it. He even tried to twist the situation on me by saying how sad he was that I “didn’t like the kid,” but I set things straight immediately: I told Jolly that it wasn’t the boy I disliked—I didn’t know him well enough to like or dislike him; I’d met him only a time or two, when he was a small child, and long before I’d learned his true lineage. Rather, it was Jolly I didn’t like, for behaving in such an astonishingly bad way, especially toward K, his wife of more than fifty years. He’d had no reply to that.
I’d been angry at Jolly for several months afterward, but over time my anger had faded into sadness and disappointment as I mourned the loss of the man I’d once imagined my father to be, and began to know him—and try to accept him—for who he really was.
And now, after learning of his illness and thinking—a lot—about our relationship, I decided to put our recent conflict aside and act like a son, not a judge. Jolly and I hadn’t resolved our old business, but life isn’t governed by parliamentary procedure, and the new business—end-of-life issues—now took priority.
Besides, until these rough last two years, Jolly and I had had a fine relationship—friendly, warm, adult. Other than the standard turbulence during my teen years, we’d had a smooth trip. I always felt like I could talk to him about anything. (The fact that he was a doctor made some of what we talked about a lot easier, especially when I was struggling through puberty.) We had the kind of understanding that some fathers and sons have, where the son somehow intuits what his father expects, and does it naturally—and feels proud to have gotten it right. Behavioral scientists probably have a fancy name for it, but it’s a common enough phenomenon: sons learning how to please their fathers. And as much as I always refused to admit it—thinking I had escaped such mundane motivations—I realize now that I’d always had a deep need to make my father notice me and be proud of me.
Of course, when I was a child I thought of Jolly as a deity, and his frequent absences from home only added to his mythology. He would be in Washington, D.C., battling with the National Institute of Mental Health. Or in Tokyo, pontificating at an international medical conference. Or just over at the hospital, working late.
Ah, yes, “working late.” Jolly was a doctor—tall, handsome, successful, charming, magnetic, and powerful. Catnip to women. (Picture a young Orson Welles, whom Jolly resembled in his youth.) And so it began, and so it continued—even after he had aged and gained so much weight that, sadly, he’d come to resemble the older, ursine Orson.
Jolly attracted men, too, but in a different way. Men admired him and wanted to be his friend and colleague. This quality made him a formidable recruiter, and over the years he used his persuasive talents to attract many bright young doctors to his department.
Jolly had a true gift for making people feel special. When he wanted to, he could look you in the eye and talk to you and make you feel like you were the most important, fascinating person he’d ever met. Whenever I received this treatment from him, I felt as if Zeus himself had just smiled upon me. He was perhaps the consummate politician. In fact, many have compared him to Bill Clinton because of his powerful charm and intellect (as well as his marital lapses).
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Mar 10, 2024 06:07
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- mawarannahr
- May 21, 2019
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How come Jolly couldn't get the drugs himself?
quote:THE NEXT EVENING I went to see Jolly alone, and we talked candidly about The Plan. He said he wanted to do it the night he got home from the hospital. He thought he’d have plenty of morphine available, given what his doctors would likely prescribe for him to take home, but he was concerned that they might give him only the liquid form, in intravenous drip bags, which might not be sufficient. He said he’d ask his pain-management doctors for a strong opiate, like Seconal, as a sleep medication, but he wasn’t sure they’d give him enough—for his special purpose, anyway.
He asked me to take an inventory of all the drugs he had on hand at the house (in his bathroom, where he seemed to have more pill bottles than a drugstore), and report back.
The next day, when we were alone at the hospital again, I told him what I had found that seemed most useful: about twenty methadone pills, about fifty heptabarbital, one hundred phenobarbital, and a few other things. Several of the bottles looked pretty ancient, and I mentioned my concern about the pills’ potency. I had heard that some of these drugs didn’t “keep” too long. Jolly didn’t respond to this, but asked if I had seen a smallish green bottle with no label. I said I hadn’t but would look again (even though I knew I’d checked every bottle in his bathroom). He thought for a minute, then said he wasn’t sure he had enough drugs at home to do the job.
He said he had already been contemplating various options that wouldn’t require so many drugs to accomplish. One of them was to stage an accidental drowning in his bathtub, as if he had fallen asleep and been so full of pain medication that when he’d gone underwater he hadn’t had a strong enough gag reflex to wake up. I told him I thought the bathtub scenario would automatically raise suspicions because he never took baths, just showers. Besides, as I gently reminded him, he probably wouldn’t fit in his standard-size bathtub—he was just too big. He weighed about 250 pounds, even after radiation, chemotherapy, surgery, and several weeks in the hospital. Three months before, when he had gotten his diagnosis, he’d weighed about 325.
Another option, he said, was to achieve the same result by “taking a dip” in the swimming pool. He told me to crank up the pool heater in case he decided he wanted to go that way. Again I had to say it wouldn’t look right, because he hardly ever went swimming—besides, he couldn’t walk without assistance, so his presence in the pool would raise the question of who had helped him get there.
His other idea was Mexico. He’d send me down to Tijuana to pick up a few items, in case he couldn’t get them from his doctors. For half a second that seemed possible, because certain narcotics are available without a prescription in Mexico, but then it hit me: I’d be transporting these narcotics across the U.S./Mexico border. No thanks! I didn’t think I could help Jolly very much if I were rotting in prison for attempted drug smuggling, and I called this to his attention. He chuckled ruefully at the obvious flaw he’d missed, and I chuckled too, but I was faking it; actually, I was getting angry.
Jolly was infamous for having big ideas but relying on others to do the scut work. This dynamic applied to both his professional and his home life, where Mom had handled all the practical details until her Alzheimer’s interfered. But if Jolly wanted an autonomous death, he had to do things for himself. And he hadn’t done much of anything besides consider a few unrealistic options. His insufficient drug stash was a real problem. Luckily, he later succeeded in persuading his pain-management doctors to prescribe some of his take-home morphine in pill form and a decent supply of Seconal tablets. I knew he couldn’t talk openly with any of his doctors about his end-of-life choice, but maybe he made enough vague references that they realized what he had in mind, and did what they could for him without overstepping their ethical boundaries.
Jolly had asked me to bring him his stationery, both personal and professional, because he had a few letters to write and another plan he wanted my help with. (Another plan? Now what?) He said he’d been thinking about the possible consequences for me if my role in assisting his suicide were suspected, and he thought a “goodbye letter” from him might help throw the hounds off my trail. He also wanted to write a private letter of farewell to K so that after he died his “natural” death (and after any investigation was over), she could learn the truth of the matter and perhaps feel a little better. He probably also felt he owed her an explanation, because if she hadn’t had Alzheimer’s, Jolly would have turned to her, not me, for help with this sorry business.
We talked about where to put these goodbye letters, and Jolly suggested I tape them to the underside of the drawer in his nightstand. But that seemed a bit too melodramatic to me, too much like a bad spy movie. We finally settled on putting them underneath the liner paper inside that drawer. Not very original, but if there was an investigation, the letters would be found easily and might protect me. And if they weren’t found right away, then I could steer Joe Friday to their hiding place without much trouble.
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Mar 10, 2024 06:15
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- my bony fealty
- Oct 1, 2008
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the bastard son of Jolly West
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Mar 10, 2024 12:29
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- genericnick
- Dec 26, 2012
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the bastard son of Jolly West
Good username
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Mar 10, 2024 12:44
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- Cabbages and VHS
- Aug 25, 2004
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Listen, I've been around a bit, you know, and I thought I'd seen some creepy things go on in the movie business, but I really have to say this is the most disgusting thing that's ever happened to me.
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although it is kind of funny that boots didn't know hippies were right wingers all along
there's hippies and there's hippies. Some of the people I get weed and similarsuch from in the hills up here seem to be part of the same networks that either predated Woodstock or arose in its aftermath, and the politics of these people can be extremely vicious, and anything but right wing.
The first time I went to buy some hash after 10/7 I got grilled about my views on Gaza before I could even sit down; I was not expecting this so I went with the default of telling the truth ("the IDF is a fascist machine enacting a genocide; the US is actively helping; DTI DTA etc") and was then allowed a seat and it was clear to me that this person has stopped doing business and severed ties entirely with anyone who wasn't both aware of the issues, and interacting with them from a specific direction.
Then you have what I call "cargo cult hippes" who are just disruptive capitalists and the thing they have chosen to disrupt is "I ignore substance laws" and they put on the trappings of hippies to appear safer to the clientele they are trying to attract. NoVA was full of people like this, I haven't found many in the scene here, but I am pretty far up a hill and a little bit closer to some of the crystal veins of Family poo poo than is maybe healthy, so I think the fraudsters and money-grubbers either go sell weed in Burlington or go sell weed + hard drugs further south.
That said -- I do think that all of these shadow orgs that exist in the periphery of various hippy movements and use the movements as cover to move large quantities of MDMA/LSD, probably have interaction of some kind with MiC at various levels. So much money moving around.
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Mar 10, 2024 12:52
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- my bony fealty
- Oct 1, 2008
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an intensely fat and bloated Jolly West, infected with corprus, trapped in a tower, the last of his kind
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Mar 10, 2024 13:05
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- HouseofSuren
- Feb 5, 2024
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by Pragmatica
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if you told me matt lucas's popularity was an op, I'd believe you
How is Jesse Eisenberg a famous actor, seriously, what's going on?
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Mar 10, 2024 13:10
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- Adbot
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ADBOT LOVES YOU
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May 23, 2024 03:28
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- OH MY BAD
- Feb 5, 2024
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by Pragmatica
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there's hippies and there's hippies. Some of the people I get weed and similarsuch from in the hills up here seem to be part of the same networks that either predated Woodstock or arose in its aftermath, and the politics of these people can be extremely vicious, and anything but right wing.
The first time I went to buy some hash after 10/7 I got grilled about my views on Gaza before I could even sit down; I was not expecting this so I went with the default of telling the truth ("the IDF is a fascist machine enacting a genocide; the US is actively helping; DTI DTA etc") and was then allowed a seat and it was clear to me that this person has stopped doing business and severed ties entirely with anyone who wasn't both aware of the issues, and interacting with them from a specific direction.
Then you have what I call "cargo cult hippes" who are just disruptive capitalists and the thing they have chosen to disrupt is "I ignore substance laws" and they put on the trappings of hippies to appear safer to the clientele they are trying to attract. NoVA was full of people like this, I haven't found many in the scene here, but I am pretty far up a hill and a little bit closer to some of the crystal veins of Family poo poo than is maybe healthy, so I think the fraudsters and money-grubbers either go sell weed in Burlington or go sell weed + hard drugs further south.
That said -- I do think that all of these shadow orgs that exist in the periphery of various hippy movements and use the movements as cover to move large quantities of MDMA/LSD, probably have interaction of some kind with MiC at various levels. So much money moving around.
there were intelligence officers living in the haight taking notes the whole time and the brotherhood got their initial large batches of base chemicals from a guy who seems to now have been an outright agent of the CIA
imo acid didnt like escape the lab after its initial stages of testing by military/intelligence, it just got dispensed to the initial political groundswell actually occurring at the time and turned them into a bunch of goofs who wanted to play guitar for 6 hours straight
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Mar 10, 2024 15:28
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Mar 9, 2024 19:05
