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You really shouldn't get between a goon and his Mountain Dew.
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Mar 6, 2017 10:12
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Vib Rib posted:Oh poo poo Republicans control every branch of Government but it's still a total shitshow and even worse than before! We can't blame Democrats anymore! How do we reconcile this? Have you heard about the Deep State  (or whatever it's loving called)
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Mar 8, 2017 14:52
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davebo posted:I had not until about 2 minutes ago when I clicked on a cnn article describing the term. Then halfway down the page they posted a Ben Garrison comic of course. Oh it's THAT Garrison cartoon lol http://edition.cnn.com/2017/03/07/politics/deep-state/index.html
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Mar 8, 2017 15:36
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JerikTelorian posted:I'm not sure the people in power actually think anyone is guilty of anything; they know it's empty and just say it to whip up uneducated hicks in flyover country. I think it's pretty exciting that right now we really can't tell whether the people in power are nuts or lying.
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Mar 8, 2017 16:06
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Monkey Fracas posted:Donald Trump loves Citizen Kane; he identifies with the shitbag titular character and is too dumb to grasp the major theme of the movie I still haven't seen this yet but my friends who teach film studies/popular culture at Universities all said Trump's interpretation is completely brilliant and has put them out of a job. I think they were being tongue-in-cheek.
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Mar 8, 2017 17:42
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Jay Rust posted:You'd think that a Trump presidency would've mellowed men like Garrison out, but nope. Wait until the mass executions are finished.
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Mar 9, 2017 19:54
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quote:White males are passed over for women and minorities when it comes to the well-paying jobs. Your assignment, thread, is to answer the question 'when will dumbass whitey stop spouting this poo poo' without using the phrase 'heat death of the universe'.
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Mar 9, 2017 20:31
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mandatory lesbian posted:there are a lot of acceptable times to wear a fedora, it's just a number of them involve being elderly Yeah, did you see Leonard Cohen he rock
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Mar 9, 2017 22:53
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Joseph Nicolosi has died as well. It's like someone's trying to tell us something. https://www.pinknews.co.uk/2017/03/10/the-man-behind-gay-cure-therapy-has-died/
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Mar 10, 2017 12:25
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All I know is I want to burn those bastards dry and smother 'em in good ol' Heinz.
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Mar 10, 2017 12:38
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AVeryLargeRadish posted:Maybe God really does exist. OMG A SKULL-FACED METEOR IS HEADING STRAIGHT FOR BELLINGHAM, WA! BTW have any of you read Branco's twitter feed? It's got some gems.
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Mar 10, 2017 13:43
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Flat White My Bill Daisy Cousens Daisy Cousens 14 March 2017 2:25 PM I met Bill Leak just the once. It was at a dinner party; my old boss at Quadrant Magazine was heading back to England after a wonderful term of service in Australia. He was having a feast at Alegrias Spanish restaurant in Balmain. Officially his Editorial Assistant, I preferred to call myself ‘John O’Sullivan’s Girl Friday’. It sounded very ‘naughty secretary’, and was a conscious snub to the feminist left (for whom I always seek new ways to irritate). I arrived first, of course, to make sure all was well with the booking, and to take care of any early arrivals. Decked to the nines as usual, manoeuvring my way into the private dining room in my pencil skirt and teetering heels, quietly fretting over whether my lipstick was bleeding, I met John’s first guest. A gentleman by the name of Peter Smith; journalist and commentator, with a charming smile and open demeanour. As we went through the usual small talk, another guest walked through the door. He was a tall, wiry man, with short silver hair and a startlingly handsome face. He carried himself with an air of someone perpetually searching; be it for coffee, company, or perhaps something more ethereal. But what struck me were his anxious eyes. This was a man with many secrets. “Am I in the right place?” he queried. “John O’Sullivan’s farewell dinner?” I replied. “Yes!” he replied, relief flooding his somewhat-weathered face. “Hi,” he continued, extending his hand. “I’m Bill.” “Bill,” I thought to myself. I quickly ran over the guest list in my head; Helen, Tim, two Peters, John and Keith of course – I knew who this was. “Bill Leak?” I replied, my voice embarrassingly high. “Hel – hello! So nice to meet you! I’m Daisy…John O’Sullivan’s Girl Friday.” “’John O’Sullivan’s Girl Friday?’” he repeated, his face amused and pleased. “What a wonderful way to introduce yourself!” I laughed, nobody had ever had that reaction to my unofficial title before. I usually got looks of bewilderment at best. I very much knew of Bill Leak. John spoke of him often, always with fondness and respect. I had included him on group emails, put him on guest lists, and of course, had heard about that particular cartoon. He seemed a man of great prestige, intellect, and daring, all of which he was, but not in the way I expected. I had anticipated a rather wizened, perhaps balding man of about seventy, a recluse with an air of cynicism. This was a gentleman, whose handsome face and unstudied smile left me strangely weak. This was Bill Leak. And I was pleased. “Won’t you sit down? I offered. “Thank you,” he replied. He sat next to me, and I couldn’t help but stare. There was a presence about this man, a sharp wit and effortless charisma. But above all, there was kindness. I could tell by the generosity with which he gave of his energy. There was nothing pretentious, nothing fabricated. The easy charm created conversations as easily as a snuffed candle created smoke. He was an artist, after all, genuinely interested in everything humanity had to offer. Always interested, always observing. And always thinking. I could see it in his eyes, still anxious, but less so now. We talked all night. Islam, immigration, feminism, feminism again, the Liberal Party, much about Donald Trump, once more, my anger at third-wave feminists for neglecting the truly needy in countries under Islamic rule. All our views were shared commodities, there was not a topic we disagreed on. In the hours I knew him, I realised he was unique. A precious intellect, and an earnestness in everything he said and did. I brought up the cartoon. I could tell it was always burning the back of his brain. And I was curious. “You know, Bill,” I said, late into the evening. Neither one of us had been drinking, this conversation was unclouded. “I cannot, for the life me, work out why people had that reaction to your cartoon.” Simple words, but he could sense my despair and confusion behind them. He paused. “I can, Daisy,” he began. He did not shy away. This experience was such that it shrouded his every moment. “Have you ever heard of a Freudian theory called ‘negation’?” I said I hadn’t. He continued. “Freud uses the example of a mother who does not really love her child. Her outward behaviour would be to shower the child with love, praise, presents, and endless affection. But it’s all a lie; an act to cover up what her total disconnect with her child. She is compensating, masking her indifference as best she can, not just from other people, but herself.” “So you mean,” I continued as his voice trailed off, “that those who were outraged, who became histrionic, who damned you to hell and back, actually knew you were telling the truth?” “Yes,” he nodded slowly. “Not only that, they were aware of their own bigotry. And it scared them. So, as those sorts of people inevitably do, they lashed out. And I copped the full weight of their hatefulness.” I was stunned. This was my theory of the noisy, hypocritical, regressive left; that their emphatic insistence on tolerance, empathy, and diversity was all a sham. That actually, given their blind intolerance of anyone with a different opinion, all the very worst bigots, homophobes, racists, misogynists, and every other label they had so unjustly ascribed to Bill, were on the left. Bill, an artist who had suffered so incredibly, would be more aware than anyone of the human condition; its excesses, its beauty, but above all, it’s failures. That was how he could so perfectly capture a feeling, a frustration, a truth that needed to be told, with just a few strokes of his brush. And most importantly, he dared to tell it. He was unique in his courage. And I was besotted. He had to leave early. He hugged me, that smile etched into his face. “Daisy, so, so wonderful to meet you,” he said. ‘You’ll go far, my girl.” And with that, he was gone. My disappointment to see him leave surprised me. From that encounter, just a few hours long, I was somehow changed. To spend time with Bill Leak, however painfully brief, was to encounter something you do not find anywhere else. And you are blessed to have known it. There was the car trip. On the way back from Canberra, with me as his passenger, Nick Cater received a call. Satisfied from a wonderful couple of days at Menzies, but half asleep, I registered Bill’s voice on the phone. He sounded joyous; there was none of the hidden anguish I had heard that night at dinner. He was speaking of his upcoming book launch. I had delighted in the title when he told me at dinner, with determination in his anxious eyes. I am a provocateur. I make it my business to trigger snowflakes. ‘Trigger Warning’ suited me just fine. I laughed at something Bill said; he was on loudspeaker, and he heard. “Who’s that in the car with you?” he asked. “It’s Daisy,” Nick replied. I expected Bill to ask my last name. He didn’t. “Daisy? Beautiful Daisy?” he exclaimed. “Yep, beautiful Daisy,” Nick repeated. “Yes, yes it’s me!” I replied. “Beautiful Daisy, beautiful girl!” he continued. “How are you?” “I’m well,” I answered, suddenly wide awake. “And I’m excited for your launch.” “Me too!” he said gleefully. The book launch arrived. I was late. I could only stay for about forty-five minutes. The room was packed, and all were buzzing. I thought to myself that Bill must be the most popular man in Sydney, at least among conservatives I saw Bill from a distance, he seemed to be checking his phone. I could have gone to him, congratulated him, told him how overjoyed I was he’d done it. He’d won. But the crowd closed too quickly. I was nervous about staying too long, so I let the opening slip. The speeches started. Shifting from foot to foot, I waited for Bill’s, checking the time every two minutes or so. Bill finally began; he joked, we all laughed. I was amazed he could still laugh like that. Bill was a pioneer for me; silly little me, who has suffered a fraction of the harassment he has but who shamefully cries with frustration, all the time, when it happens. Time was up. I scurried towards the elevator, hoping the clip clop of my most immobile heels wouldn’t interrupt the great man. I took one last look at Bill as the elevator doors closed. His face disappeared. Friday. Lunchtime. I was chatting animatedly with my friend Rick on my lunchbreak, glowing with pride over my appearance on The Bolt Report a few nights prior, purring with self-satisfaction. My phone dinged; it was a friend, Caleb Bond, in Adelaide. “Oh my God. Bill Leak is dead,” read the text. “What?!” I exclaimed, my voice little more than a squeak. “What’s wrong?” said Rick, instantly worried. I said nothing, just showed him my phone screen. His face paled. The noise of the food court dulled. All I could hear was the vacuum of quiet shock; the kind that only comes with catastrophe. My face grew hot. Tears pricked the back of my eyes. I blinked them away; not here. I tried to go back to work. I couldn’t concentrate. Instead I put on my sunglasses and walked the CBD. Tears were falling down my cheeks, barely masked by the dark lenses. It was only then I realised the profound effect this good, kind, courageous soul had had on me. He should have been a big part of my life; a mentor, a guide. I will always regret that moment I left the launch.
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Mar 14, 2017 12:41
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Well, I sure did enjoy scrolling past all those Fulchrum posts. It's a shame no-one changed his mind in the end but I guess that's because they gave up to easily.
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Mar 14, 2017 22:52
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Vib Rib posted:Look, don't expect Tinsley to take the extra ten seconds to ask himself questions like "why aren't more reporters Republican" or "why aren't more Republicans reporters". I think if you asked Tinsley in confidence, the answer would involve Jews.
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Mar 16, 2017 12:45
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This thread might appreciate this: Watch the Onion Knight blank the PM at Leak's funeral. https://twitter.com/TheMurdochTimes/status/842619250686607360
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Mar 17, 2017 12:27
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Lurdiak posted:I just don't understand why americans care so much about what other people eat. They get mad about what you put on pizza, how you eat a steak, etc. It's very weird. DIJON ARUGULA
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Mar 17, 2017 13:39
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And don't even get me started on boiling frogs or lemmings and cliffs.
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Mar 18, 2017 15:31
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usenet celeb 1992 posted:One thing I read a long time ago (possibly in the Straight Dope, take it for what that's worth) is that "cake" could have been a mistranslation or a misunderstanding of the term as it was used at the time, which was to refer to crusty leftover batter; that is, she was saying the poors could just dine on scraps. Not sure if that really changes the tone of contempt and disconnectedness associated with the quote, but it's an interesting footnote. It's bullshit. She never said it, so there's nothing to mistranslate or misunderstand.
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Mar 18, 2017 17:41
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Alhazred posted:It's would be better than what Marie Antoinette actually did, which was pissing away the money on gambling and a village where she could cosplay as a poor peasant. This always brings sunshine to my black heart: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flight_to_Varennes (the wiki article doesn't do it justice, worth researching further)
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Mar 18, 2017 18:21
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MonsieurChoc posted:The Vietnam War memorial bugs me because it should also include the Vietnamese dead. Welcome to the wonderful world of propaganda.
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Mar 19, 2017 18:44
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Apple Pie Hubbub posted:
The only reason the media keep paying attention to this guy who keeps screaming, rolling in his own poo poo, and is the President of the Free World is because they hate republicans.
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Mar 21, 2017 11:48
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You can post on his website, but it's pretty dead. Last comment was some rant on the 13th. I don't think even Tinsley reads it.
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Mar 21, 2017 12:31
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Apple Pie Hubbub posted:
Who's the guy holding Chuck Berry's guitar? THIS IS WHY WE NEED LABELS, PEOPLE
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Mar 22, 2017 05:12
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World Famous W posted:Going? He's had the stereotype since the conception of the comic. People bring this up now and again and the definitive answer is this: Tinsley stopped giving a gently caress years ago and is just coasting on wingnut welfare and 'fair and balanced' comics sections in papers. I defy anyone to find the strip where Mallard gets his job back.
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Mar 22, 2017 08:07
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All you people who don't get the mud/poo poo joke just cited please read the previous incarnations of this thread until you do. As further penance, I expect a 2000 word essay (or paper or whatever you yanks call 'em) on weather vanes.
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Mar 22, 2017 11:01
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Should a Democrat get in the next election (which I'm not assuming for a moment, but bear with me here) the cartoonists will blame them for the economy being in a shambles on 20 January 2021 at 12:01am.
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Mar 22, 2017 20:55
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Selachian posted:I quite like First Dog and I'm glad to have it back. I like it too and am sick of the whinging whenever a toon has more than a line of text (hello, Mr Fish) but there's just no stopping it along with the 'why are there labels on this cartoon'?
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Mar 23, 2017 00:59
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This is probably the wrong thread to ask, but I'll ask anyway - can the repubs bring another bill to repeal ppaca or to they have to write a new one if they want to do that?
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Mar 25, 2017 02:07
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Suck poo poo, your party's broken you egg-headed gently caress. 
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Mar 26, 2017 07:47
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Why do people keep saying that's the swamp thing? I'm sure he doesn't look like that? Unless... This isn't One More Day in DC form is it?
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Mar 27, 2017 07:17
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They're probably Christian celebrities or some poo poo like that.
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Mar 27, 2017 09:30
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Taear posted:His little blog thing is so weird. Does he genuinely not know what political science is or is he joking? If he doesn't, does he not realise he has the sum total of human knowledge at his fingertips to find it out? He thought that being mad meant that no-one could use his images as parody, so I don't think things like 'knowledge' are his strong suit.
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Mar 28, 2017 13:45
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Tei posted:I don't think is a good idea to poke fun of fans of conspirations. After all these conspirations of the governement spying on people ended being true. Basic logic error there. See if you can figure it out yourself.
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Mar 28, 2017 14:24
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Ziv Zulander posted:Just got through the whole thread after a few days of reading, fun trip. 10/10 A+ Did you say, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever see- No, wait, that's... Oh god how do they keep topping themselves?"
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Mar 30, 2017 11:11
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Trump's approval is at 35%.
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Mar 31, 2017 08:24
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Somfin posted:Contrary to the myth, frogs will jump out of a pot brought slowly to boil, unless their brains have been removed. That stupid fungus disease has really set back my plans to make frogs our masters and overlords, you have no idea.
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Mar 31, 2017 09:54
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Duke Igthorn posted:Just catching up and I wanted to throw in my favorite Toad Rule moment: his Mother's Day comic was all about how he, Ped Shule, overcame his mother's inability to speak English well to become great. That's nothing, I had a Canadian accent growing up in Australia boy howdy did I get some poo poo I know how it feels to be an Aborigine or maybe an Asian in Australia.
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Apr 3, 2017 22:49
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World Famous W posted:I am glad to be validated in my nervousness around cows and horses. Especially horses those fuckers are psychotic.
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Apr 6, 2017 05:32
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I know I go on and on about this and it won't change anything, but I'll just say it again... ... 80 hours of research.
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Apr 6, 2017 06:08
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I know I'm second-guessing a right-winger and I'm only leaving myself open to the riposte of 'quote me where I said that!', but I'm thinking that Tinsley thinks only liberals drink bottled water and that, by sticking to the tap, he's showing everyone how much smarter he is than them.
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Apr 6, 2017 06:38
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