Man, What The Hell? Scream Inside Your Heart Edition
Plus: Squirrel allies, centenarian pigs, and Dersh's bits.
Welcome to Man, What the Hell?, a series delving into the stories that made us go, “Man, what the hell?”
It’s been a hell of a week here at Discourse Blog. Even though the world is burning down all around us, I keep pulling an internal Sally Field every time I see someone new subscribe to our weird little experiment. It can be hard to feel joy when everything everywhere is so, so bad (have you heard? The Black Death is back, baby!) and so I’m stuck in this strange limbo between trying to stay somber about our Wile E. Coyote-style plummet off the cliff’s edge, while at the same time feeling shockingly optimistic about the deranged little corner of the internet we’ve begun to carve out for ourselves here.
I have to assume I’m not alone here. There’s no real template for how to get back to feeling happy when so many people are still in pain. Do you deny yourself a momentary wave of joy? Do you flaunt it publicly, and hope it catches on? Do you, as Japan’s Fuji-Q Highland amusement park encouraged roller coaster riders to do this week, “scream inside your heart”?
There’s no real answer here. Everyone’s gonna do it their own way, and slowly, somehow, we’re all trusting that eventually we’ll end up agreeing on where we’re headed, together.
I’dunno man, it’s been a weird week for you folks too, right? Right?
Anyway…
Squirrela Warfare
The next time the NFL and NASCAR and Toby Keith start waxing poetic about respecting the troops, please keep the following in mind: During the recent Black Lives Matter protests in Minneapolis, during which the National Guard was called to patrol city streets and intimidate residents back into their homes, there were a grand total of 18 reported troop injuries, sustained over the course of their multi-day deployment. Not one of those injuries were serious, and only one came from an altercation with another living being: A squirrel, that bit some hapless guardsman on the hand. Another trooper broke their tooth on an unpatriotic hamburger.
You can’t see it, but please know I am standing on top of my desk, saluting furiously.
Alan Der-show-it
Have you ever thought about famed defense attorney-turned-unhinged crypt keeper Alan Dershowitz’ shriveled naked body? Well, now you have, since apparently it hasn’t been seen at his favorite Martha’s Vineyard nude beach in months. Speaking with Page Six, Desh tried to write off his non-nakedness as a simple byproduct of the ongoing coronavirus pandemic, saying “the beaches are more crowded than ever. I’ve been a couple of times, but very early in the morning. But so long as there’s still the risk of the virus, then we’re not going this summer.”
On the other hand, given that Alan is also hellbent on insisting that there is no way he is featured in one of former-buddy Jeffrey Epstein alleged sex-tapes (oh, you didn’t know Epstein kept tapes that he, Alan Dershowitz, is definitely not in, so why would you even ask? Because he’s not. Nope, no sir. Not a chance. Nuh uh. What would make you think that?) as well as the general association with him and a Epstein, the recently arrested Ghislaine Maxwell, and the ongoing sex trafficking allegations thereof, perhaps all for the best that the hapless residents of Martha’s Vineyard not be subjected to Alan’s naked tush for the time being in general.
Hamming it up
Here are two grown adults singing “Happy Birthday” to a very old chunk of dead pig.
Congratulations to this 118-year-old slab of meat. You don’t look a day over 117.
Gaetz of hell
Look at these two. Look at them. One looks like he’s dressed for his Bar Mitzvah, and the other looks like he’s trying—and failing—to explain why your pet hamster died.
I don’t actually know what they’re specifically talking about here. Some fucking crimes they’re proud of, I think. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter. Look at them. These two men help write laws in this country. Jesus Christ. What the fuck.
Convention, conventioff
Speaking of GOP what-the-fuckery, it’s probably a bad sign for the upcoming Republican National Convention that a whole bunch of national Republicans seem really uninterested in convening. Take, for instance, GOP Senator Pat Roberts of Kansas, who would totally go if he could, but, wow, gee, looks like he’s pretty busy that week. Sorry!
“Well, I have some things to do in Kansas that I got to do,” Roberts explained, when asked whether he would be in attendance. “Unfortunately I didn't know what was canceled and what was not and whatever, and so I will probably not be.”
[CUT TO: Roberts sits on his couch in a bathrobe, eating Häagen-Dazs and binging Homeland Rescue.]
Ilhan Ohshiiiiiiit
There’s dunking, and then there’s dunking when your mom is groundbreaking Congresswoman Ilhan Omar.
どうもありがとうミスターロボット
I don’t actually have anything to add to the following video, other than to say that it’s great, and I hope we have more robo-fans in our future, cheering us on to victory, or consoling us in our agonizing times of defeat.
Fly the fucked up skies
Let’s not kid ourselves here, and pretend like flying—especially internationally—is anything other than a cavalcade of indignities and annoyances. Unless, that is, you’re super rich. In that case, flying seems pretty great: big comfy seats, unlimited booze, and the opportunity to thumb your nose at a global pandemic, simply because your bank account lets you.
From now on, hoi polloi flying economy on Qatar Airways are required to wear face masks to help mitigate the spread of the coronavirus, while business class passengers “are asked to wear their face shield and mask onboard at their own discretion, as they enjoy more space and privacy” according to a press release from the company.
Do they make travel-sized guillotines that can fit in most overhead compartments?
And finally
However hard you may want to rock this weekend, you will never rock this hard. You can sure try though.
Did anything make you say “Man, what the hell?” this week? Perhaps out loud to a roommate, loved one, or disinterested household pet/plant? Misery loves company, so share your personal what the hells in the comments below!
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(pic via woods entertainment/dimension films - do you like scary movies?)
I said, "Man, what the hell?"
...when I looked at the clock earlier this week and realized I'd spent 45 valuable minutes reading Jesse Signal's TL. I blame Marchman for writing about The Letter at Motherboard.
Jim Jordan looks like he’s been rasslin’ in a sweat box. Like, dude, where’s your comb?