Jason Daddario of Brooklyn, Conn. It wasn’t exactly that he came, he saw, he conquered… It was more like he came to McDonald’s, threw a hissy bitch-fit, smashed a window, then stole some panties. I swear if there is one more story about stealing panties, SOFREP’s Mason Flake is going to swallow his tongue and fall over backward.
I submit to you that I don’t get the allure of stealing undergarments, and I should be glad that I don’t get it. This guy stole them from a store. You can just buy them, right? I think that’s how that works: You give the clerk some money, and the clerk rewards you with some panties — zero-sum game! Perhaps it’s the thrill of the steal — you get that Beavis and Butthead breakin’ the law thrill.
It impacts me that the creepier these doltish ingrates look, the pettier and senseless the infractions they commit. Jake, rocking his sassy Dorothy Hammil hairdo, was refused service at McDonald’s because he wasn’t complying with health regulations and wearing a face mask. He immediately engaged in a hissy-fit solution and smashed a store window with a rock.
To farther ram his point(?) home, he showed them all by running to a nearby store and stealing a fistful of woman’s unmentionables, whereby he returned to McDee’s, held up the underwear and shouted:
“Who’s a moron now, sons of bitches!”
(Cop in restaurant responding to shattered window complaint, grabbing Jake’s wrist:) “You are, pal — you have the right to remain silent…”
Attention: this essay contains language and images that may be offensive to some.
Jason Daddario of Brooklyn, Conn. It wasn’t exactly that he came, he saw, he conquered… It was more like he came to McDonald’s, threw a hissy bitch-fit, smashed a window, then stole some panties. I swear if there is one more story about stealing panties, SOFREP’s Mason Flake is going to swallow his tongue and fall over backward.
I submit to you that I don’t get the allure of stealing undergarments, and I should be glad that I don’t get it. This guy stole them from a store. You can just buy them, right? I think that’s how that works: You give the clerk some money, and the clerk rewards you with some panties — zero-sum game! Perhaps it’s the thrill of the steal — you get that Beavis and Butthead breakin’ the law thrill.
It impacts me that the creepier these doltish ingrates look, the pettier and senseless the infractions they commit. Jake, rocking his sassy Dorothy Hammil hairdo, was refused service at McDonald’s because he wasn’t complying with health regulations and wearing a face mask. He immediately engaged in a hissy-fit solution and smashed a store window with a rock.
To farther ram his point(?) home, he showed them all by running to a nearby store and stealing a fistful of woman’s unmentionables, whereby he returned to McDee’s, held up the underwear and shouted:
“Who’s a moron now, sons of bitches!”
(Cop in restaurant responding to shattered window complaint, grabbing Jake’s wrist:) “You are, pal — you have the right to remain silent…”
“How do you sink the Iranian Navy? You leave it alone.” (Daniel G.)
“What did the Iranian Navy do in one day that the U.S. Navy couldn’t do in five years? Make the U.S. Navy look good.” (geo)
Welp. Iran: 0, America: 1. That’s pretty good for not having actually opened fire yet. Who wouldn’t want the U.S. to cut some dulled teeth on the pomposity of the hollow-chest goat-poking Iranian Navy? Remember how they captured two of our Boy Scout boats and utterly humiliated the United States? Yeah, not cool, man! Time to take Iran to school. We stomped the bejesus out of the Raq; adding the Ran to the dance card sounds appealing to me. Let’s give all our pipe-hitters a shiny new Mesopotamia Ependitionalry medal to pin to their class-As.
Some people say I espouce a rather jingoist and bellicose foreign policy. Who are those bastards?? I want their freakin’ names — I’ll kill those bed-wetting potheads!!
Didn’t we just launch the USS Gerald Ford? What is that again? Isn’t that a submarine tender ship? I’ll need to check with my man, SOFREP’s Alan T. All I can say is the Ranians better keep their carrier groups on a constant move to protect them. No shore leave for them in Hong Kong for a while, until such point that they can stop being fesse fedoras, culo caps, bonnet bottoms, backside buckets, fanny fedoras. But then, who are they at all if they’re not ass hats??
Yeah, they’re nobody’s pants because they aren’t even pants!
I copped a phrase from an Edgar Poe poem, the Raven, that best expresses the tone of the atmosphere in yonder Target department store:
“By the heaven that bends above us, by the God we both adore!”
Sister, cover thyself! I remember the phrase “doods” used to use at the sight of a curvy lass when I was in about my high school era:
“Yeah… she looks like she was just poured into those shorts.”
Well, but this sister also looks like she was being poured into her shorts. But then, less than halfway through, everyone realized that the source grotesquely out-sized the destination and everyone dived screaming into foxholes.
A very good friend of mine used to remark to people who wore garments that were too tight and trying to exploit their great — subjective — physiques:
Guy Allen Lemire: “Hey, nice shorts, pal… they fit you when you were 12?”
I am forced to imagine the 12-year-old child of this sister in school, the same day that her mother wore a pair of Daisy Dukes that were 14 sized too big for her, ones that she fabricated crude suspenders for using the house backyard clothesline. The teachers would be whispering back and forth:
“It looks like the little Smith girl’s mother got dressed in the dark again this morning…”
But you know, when it rains it pours… So there is this second shot of the same sister from a patently unfortunate frontal aspect:
Sister, remove thyself from my wounded cerebral registry!
When you wipe the blood from your eyes and wonder what in the distant Aiden it is that you are actually seeing listen to this here interpretation by experts:
“Compound two-staged multi-tiered wedgie of which origin was initiated by the hyper-elongation of the undergarment waistband to reach the superior proximal pelvic girdle, subsequently secured in place by the extreme constriction of the hyper-taxed outer garment. It is advised that anyone operating within 30 feet of this person should wear a military vest, one each, of type anti-shrapnel-protective, OD green in color.”
Finally, there’s this guy:
What kind of look is that? We just don’t know. On the one hand, it could be one of “by the heaven that bends above us.” On the other hand, it could be an “I’d tap that” look. And for all any of us knows, that guy is dead because he looked over and just died on his feet mid stride.
There be goobers among us. You know how I feel about militias. Well, posers like these are even worse than militias. Posers understand the risk of just going out in public for no reason, though they often can’t help but do it anyway. Now, when those same posers perceive a cause to go out and flaunt their poser costumes, they first have to head straight for the nearest phone booth to switch to their superhero duds.
In this case, they were demonstrating for… my God I have to go back and read the why again. Ok, they are objecting to the lockdown order and the government tyranny and depressing American freedom and… bleah, bleach, friggin’ bleach. Ho, my God what a priceless chocolate-covered bunch of goobers! And they really knew how to drive the message home by focusing their activity at a sandwich shop… are you following — A SANDWICH SHOP! Yeah, I don’t get it either; I got nothin’.
Image (Travis Long, Twitter).
1. Billy Idol hairdo painfully out of vogue.
2. Pointless Lawrence of Arabia scarf. I mean, we can still tell it’s you, Madelin
Baranowski — you’re not fooling anyone!
3. Tacti-fool armored vest.
4. Yeah, shooting gloves are about as critical as driving gloves, only not quite.
5. Plastic replica of that riot shotgun used in the Terminator movie series.
6. Top Gun sunglasses indoors; no question here of who is Tweedle-Dee and who is Tweedle-Dum.
7. Only painfully thin state militia bottom-guys in gay clubs wear American flag tanktops.
8. Why couldn’t he at least back sling his gat for Christ’s sake? This dickless puke is torn
between ordering the quiche Lorena Bobbitt or the watercress and cilantro finger sandwiches
(crust removed).
Image (Travis Long, Twitter).
1. AT-4 anti-tank rocket. Nice try, but NOBODY has or can get an AT-4 except maybe Tony Montoya from Scarface. The empty plastic tube, which he has on his back, is actually not at all
illegal to own, as it is classed as refuse. The point is that he is carrying an empty plastic
piece of garbage.
2. Bilateral Billy Badass tatts.
3. A bilateral brace of replica badass Billy the kid shootin’ irons that are also whistles.
Image (Travis Long, Twitter).
1. Bobby Kreezle with funky-fresh bad boy ballcap — my boy got fresh rhymes!
2. Original Gangsta bandana, which also, when worn hanging from the right back pocket of one’s
jeans, indicates to the club scene that you passionately enjoy the intimate company of men.
3. Schoolbook bag containing wet-ones, colored pencils, gum, a sweater vest, nose drops, an
inhaler, another inhaler, trail mix, and a really worn out Teddy bear with one eye.
4. First meal course. Once, Bobby forgot he was wearing his OG bandana and started eating. He
ingested the rag into his larynx and had to have his throat pumped — luckily he was at the
Blue-Boy Men’s Club when this happened.
5. Riot scatter-gun loaded with rock salt and peppercorns used on seasoned rioters.
6. OMG look at all that freakin’ food. Bobby, are you really going to wedge all that in your
craw? But I guess a man in your volatile profession just never knows when he is going to
get another chance to eat, so…
Image (Travis Long, Twitter).
1. Molded plastic replica of a 50-caliber machine gun with anti-aircraft version trigger
group assembly. This was purchased at an auction as excess after the filming of the Battle of
Midway.
2. Makeshift sling, because even the plastic toy version of Maw Deuce gets heavy to posers.
3. Backup for when his Maw Deuce primary goes dry — good thinking, Audie Murphy!
4. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall… who’s that roughest toughest baddest meanie of them all?”
Judas paste, folks… are my eyes lying to me? Do I have unfaithful eyes? Do I have clatter axes in my freakin’ eyes?? The temptation to barge in there, disarm them, and give them all spankings like the petulant little kids that they are is dang-near overwhelming — except that Blue-Boy Club guy, I don’t want him near me. Oh, and no-dice on that Billy Idol hair-havin’ chick either — she only wishes!
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