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Goblin

Doodlebug Anklebiter's page

Pathfinder Society Member. 6,418 posts (18,203 including aliases). 1 review. No lists. No wishlists. 2 Pathfinder Society characters. 27 aliases.


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You be the judge...

I have discovered how to make secret posts on Facebook that only she can see, but I'm sure she won't mind if I share this one:

After prepping her via phone to deal with a certain situation all week, she exceeded my expectations by coming back and telling me that she ended up losing her shiznit and yelling at...well, you don't need to know who, but the fact that she screamed and yelled instead of breaking down and crying was a big step and, if I may be so self-centered, a personal victory. I was so proud of her, I talked to her on the phone until 3:30 in the morning. Got very little sleep. Went to work...

Edited Repost of Secret Facebook Post

Spoiler:
Went into work today elated. Got there and was assigned to 128 Door with [Young Black Teamster] again. Also there were two new hires and [Widowed Teamster], a large, widowed mother of two who, as a worker, is next to useless. It's already a mess by the time I stroll in 20 minutes late.

I spend about a half hour or so organizing them to clean up the mess. In that time, I figure out what the strengths and weaknesses of the new hires are. [New Hire #1] is a bit of a Mongo, but strong, so I ask him to load the PD 11s and 4s. [New Hire #2]'s a lot smarter, so I ask him to sort. [Widowed Teamster] is useless, so I ask her to scan the ShoeBuys. Etc., etc.

Get the mess all cleaned up, everything's running smooth, [YBT]'s texting his b+#*~es, etc. Except that management has f&~*ed up and we're missing a truck. So all the stuff that's supposed to go into the missing truck starts piling up. I deal with that and everything's running smooth.

New truck shows up. I tell everybody to stop what they're doing, and work on cleaning up the mess and then we'll get back to the flow. Flow starts backing up, but that's fine, I say, when we're done here, we'll get that all sorted with and then everything will be fine for the rest of the day.

Flow keeps backing up. Young supervisor comes over and yells at [YBT} to get the flow running again. [YBT] says "[Doodlebug] said not to." Supervisor starts moving packages, which is Union Rule #1 No-No: Supervisors do not do our work. Not only is he not supposed to be doing our work, but what he's doing is messing with what I've got working.

So, I yell out "Hey!" and start walking towards him. He looks at me. "Stop doing our work!" He smiles as if he thinks I'm joking. I lose my s&&#. "What the f#%% are you doing?!? Put that package down!" He starts talking about blah blah blah and I just scream at him. All my co-workers run and hide. I scream and scream and he keeps talking about the flow and I just keep screaming. Finally I yell, "Go get a steward!" "But, but..." "This conversation is over! Go get a steward!"

He leaves and comes back with, not a steward, but his boss. By that time, however, we've cleaned up the mess and are now working on the flow. I calmly approach the young supervisor, preemptively apologize for yelling at him and explain to him what I was doing. I apologize again. "We good?" "Yeah, we're good." "Good, now go get me a load stand." I then approach the supervisor's boss, explain that [YBT] had nothing to do with it, it's all on me, and, if he'll just give us a few minutes, everything will be fine and run smooth for the rest of the day. "[Doodlebug], are you okay? You sound like you were pretty aggravated." "I was up all night talking to my girlfriend, but I'll be fine. Don't worry, it'll run smooth." He walks away.

At this point, [Widowed Teamster] approaches me. "You scared the f+%@ing s!$~ out of me." "You know why I did that?" "To scare the s~~# out of me?" "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Do you know why I did that?" "No."

"Because I have a new girlfriend and the love of a good woman can turn a mild mouse of a man into a raging lion."

She looks at me blankly for thirty seconds, swallows, and says, "Holy s$#&, kid. You're killing me."

Hand over my heart, I didn't embellish a single word of this one. I'm going over [Mrs. Comrade]'s to talk about you. Love ya, baby.

Not in the story, but a couple of hours later, was approached by bosses' boss. "Hey, Doodlebug, it's kind of light today, you wanna go home early?" "Hell yeah, I wanna go call my new girlfriend."

Which should have been great, but in my haste to tell her the story, I overlooked the part in her private messages where she told me that she almost collapsed in front of her kids because she was up until 3:30 in the morning talking to me. (Damn, my love is potent.) Spent 4 hours in a state of extreme unrest as she fired off pointed private message after private message. Finally got her on the phone and she had already figured out that I had overlooked that part of the message. A bunch of baby talk makes everything better, I wake up and find a bunch of lovey-dovey stuff on Facebook.

Not to make too much of it, but, I'm starting to figure out, as she warned me, that she's crazy.

[Shrugs]

Crazy chicks are better in bed, I've always heard.


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Apparently, I am in danger of growing up and being domesticated.

I've heard love does that...

(We exchanged.)


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Thought of a half-dozen Charles Manson jokes, but none of them were in good taste, so I'll refrain.


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Pardon the interruption...

[Conversation with Young Black Teamster with whom I've been discussing politics at work]

Me: Hey, you get down to any of the protests, yet?

YBT: Nah. I want to, but, I haven't had a chance. Man, f++! the p...

Me: Yeah, lissen to me, f*&# all that, politics and shiznit. Lissen: I went to one of the protests and I now have a hawt New York schoolteacher girlfriend. Now, look, if two middle-aged white people can get together at these protests, what do you think's gonna happen when a young black stud like you shows up?

YBT: Yeah, yeah, I'll clean up!

Me: Yeah, you'll get all the pussy.

YBT: That's right! I'm goin' to the protests! I'm gonna get all the pussy!

Man, this organizing shiznit is easy.


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[Gets off the phone with the Principessa]

[redacted redacted redacted redacted redacted redacted. redacted redacted? redacted! redacted redacted redacted redacted. redacted!]


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Van Halen--"Hot for Teacher"


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Disgusting Tales of Goblin Love

Spoiler:

Comrade Anklebiter wrote:
posted it on her page; it made her blush.

After posting the video, a comrade in Worcester shared it. She blushed more and private messaged the comrade that I had made the video for her and she wasn't sure I'd want it to be shared. Comrade replied that he didn't think I was very shy. Meanwhile, UE local president comes along and shares the video again. Goblin love gone viral! She blushes more.

After I posted the video, I left the Comrades' house where their ADHD-diagnoses means they are constantly on the internet and fled to the Free NH Goblin Hideout to confer with Comrade Omar and the Black Goblin, whom I haven't seen in a few weeks. While there, Comrade Omar keeps getting messages from Tia Stefanie. "She wants to know if you're here." "Ignore her." "Oh look", [reads stuff Female Comrade has written under my loveonthepicketlineagram, then turns to me and smiles]. "You're in like Flynn." Which was weird, because I was watching The Sea Hawk earlier in the week.

Anyway, stopped by the Comrades' on the way to work and Mrs. Comrade tells me that Female Comrade was talking about me all night. "Do you want to know what she said?" "No, no, well, okay, maybe one thing..." "She loves your 'dreamy Italian eyes.'" "I have 'dreamy Italian eyes'?" I ask, before I pass out.

After I come to, Mrs. Comrade congratulates me. "I wasn't going to say anything, but it was a pretty bold move. But you pulled it off. I wasn't sure whether she was going to like it or not." "Pfft. It couldn't have failed. How was she not gonna fall in love with a sexy commie with dreamy Italian eyes makin' a pass at her on Facebook via a victorious union rally video? She didn't have a chance." Mrs. Comrade gives me a look. "All right, don't let it go to your head, Casanova..." "Don Juan!" shouts out Mr. Comrade from the other room, "Don Juan de Doodlebug!"

Come home from work and find a series of private messages about her day ending with "You know what I hate? You working Sundays."

Talking on the phone was a lot more nervewracking, but even more exciting!

Man, I should've done this years ago!


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"Don Juan de Doodlebug" in another thread wrote:
Spent all day flirting with Female Comrade on Facebook.

Some of it was in private, much of it was public or in private threads with others.

Went over the Comrades' to plan our communist activity for the rest of the month and Mrs. Comrade 's all like "Look at you, Mr. Flirtypants!" I blush and ask "You think it's working?" "Ohmygod, how can you even ask? Where'd you get so good at that?" "I've been practicing for the last couple of years on Paizo."

Thank you, every Paizonian I have ever flirted with.


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What would the world after the return of my former Lord and Master look like?


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Kirth Gersen wrote:


5. Debbie Does Dallas (1978)

"Oh, Mr. Greenfeld!"

That one's on my list, too.


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They get away with it because of the reinforced racial divisions in the estadounidense working class, as these threads amply demonstrate over and over.

It's also why we don't have a Labo(u)r party.


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The 8th Dwarf wrote:

While you guys seem bogged down in race - The central core of the matter is why is it so acceptable for police in the US to kill so many Americans?

Why so many Americans?

You are at war with yourself...

From the Economist "British citizens are around 100 times less likely to be shot by a police officer than Americans. Between 2010 and 2014 the police force of one small American city, Albuquerque in New Mexico, shot and killed 23 civilians; seven times more than the number of Brits killed by all of England and Wales’s 43 forces during the same period."

If you are interested, Comrade Dwarf, I think this book does a pretty good job of explaining why the rampant brutality of estadounidense police is rooted in race even when its victims are white:

The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness

Here is a summary on ESPN of all places, but I haven't watched it yet, just saw it while I was googling: Why black folks can't breathe by Jason Whitlock

Mrs. Comrade, through the powers of the internet, has gotten into contact with a bunch of young black comrades in Chicago and I am supposed to give another class on The New Jim Crow in two weeks. Which is kinda weird, seeing as how New Hampshire is a 95% white state.

Finish the Civil War!
For black liberation through socialist revolution!


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For Comrade Fergie and other northeastern estadounidenses, maybe some Canadians:

Day of Anger: Millions March NYC

Which I won't be able to attend, even if it would bring me in close physical proximity to dearly beloved Female Comrade. Have to go to a UE rally instead, :(


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Juda de Kerioth wrote:
The world is in crisis, and we stills do nothing to help at all.

Waited until now before interjecting some shameless socialist self-promotion:

Spread the Protests!
Labor must champion black freedom!
For workers revolution to smash police terror!
Alas, I don't know any commie slogans in Latin!

Estadounidenses: Find a Black Lives Matter action near you!

Mexican Brethren: An article about the disappeared Ayotzinapa students; you can probably find a better article somewhere, but this one was written by a high school student comrade in New Jersey and her first article in the paper and we're all so proud of her. For the development of communist youth leaders!

Other Americans: You're on your own.

For workers revolution from the Yukon to the Yucatan! And everywhere else, too!


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Don Juan de Doodlebug wrote:

So, anyway, we've been really talking Comrade Omar up to him, how they're both "sand brothers" (one of Comrade Omar's terms), telling him about Omar's shady past and how they should hang out so that Omar can teach him how to meet girls and get laid, etc.

Finally got Comrade Omar and the Commandant together yesterday, and today I see the former giving the latter advice about affairs of the heart on Facebook.

Man, this organizing shiznit is easy.


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Go to the commie Day School yesterday dressed to kill (in a kufi), kick ass and take names all day, have a blast, go to the after party, get approached by not one, but TWO women (not at the same time), am too smitten with daydreams of snuggling with Female Comrade to reciprocate.

F~@&ing women.


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Noon on the picket line, the evening "dying in" in Davis, Porter and Harvard Square, just another Friday in gobboland.

Some speaker testifying at one of the pauses in the march:

"I'm f#&!ing sick of our people dying for capitalism!"

Vive le Galt!

In completely other news, after two or three days of exquisite mental torture and the most intense f#&~ing with me, Mr. and Mrs. Comrade let slip that Female Comrade likes me, too.

Oh, how happy I am


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I had a sneaking suspicion, so I looked in the archives, and, as near as I can tell, I invented the Book of Leafar on February 2, 2012 at 2:23 in the morning.

I'm not quite sure if I am bragging or apologizing.

All hail Leafar!


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And even though that one was famously done with Whitfield and Ashford and Simpson, etc., I still felt like a Magnetic Fields link:

But this is for Holland/Dozier/Holland!

EDIT: Actually, this one is worth cutting-and-pasting:

I met Ferdinand de Saussure on a night like this
On love, he said, I'm not so sure I even know what it is
No understanding, no closure, it is a nemesis
You can't use a bulldozer to study orchids, he said so

We don't know anything
You don't know anything
I don't know anything
About love

And we are nothing (woah-a-woah)
You are nothing
I am nothing
Without love

I'm just a great composer and not a violent man (clap clap clap)
But I lost my composure and I shot Ferdinand
Crying, it's well and kosher to say you don't understand
But this is for Holland Dozier Holland, his last words were

We don't know anything
You don't know anything
I don't know anything
About love

But we are nothing
You are nothing
I am nothing

Without love

His fading words were

We don't know anything
You don't know anything
I don't know anything
About love

But we are nothing
You are nothing
I am nothing
Without love

Now, back to Marvin...


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Spent the night hanging out with Comrade Omar and his Germany-living, half-brother, Tarek. It's reassuring to know that the international hipster cognoscenti spend their Monday nights the same way as us yokels: getting high and watching Bad Santa.

Two more fave moments from the weekend before I'm off:

1) From Mr. Comrade: White college kid, at Black Friday, looking at all the signs. "Why are there Ferguson signs?" Mr. Comrade gives the pitch for united black/labor struggle to smash racist American capitalism, (including such tidbits that I had provided such as Trumka's speech, Show Me 15, and the fact that Ms. McSpadden is a member of the United Food and Commercial Workers union) kid says "Oh," thinks about it for a minute, takes the "Stand with Ferguson" sign and holds it aloft for the next two hours.

F&*$ yeah! The vanguard party in action!

2) At the Manchester Mike Brown meeting, as per usual at NH events, it was difficult to get anyone to speak. The NH NAACP chapter head, who apparently has vast experience in getting hesitant honkies to talk publicly about race, warmed everyone up and, finally cajoled some people into speaking (including, I think, the older white woman who got up at our Trayvon demonstration a whiles back who was heckled by the crowd when she went on for way too long talking about how scared she was driving through Roxbury--if so, she's learned a lot since then). First the activists, then, finally, some black residents, including a man who testified that "being black in America means being hunted 24 hours a day."

Anyway, by then, the NAACP head is having a much easier time getting people to talk when a young, white, pierced hipster student girl gets up and starts reading an essay from her smartphone. It was some essay making the rounds on the internet about white privilege and Ferguson activism, I don't know exactly what it was, but Mrs. Comrade had brought it up at Thanksgiving. Anyway, when she got to the line about white people should not speak unless invited to do so by a black person, after everyone had just been invited to speak by the NAACP chapter head, I bent in close to Female Comrade and said "How much privilege does it take to get up in front of a Mike Brown rally and talk about your f~&+ing privilege?" "Ohmygod,right?" she said and clutched my arm and I don't clearly recall what happened for the next fifteen minutes.


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Lessee, fave moments of the past weekend, a retrospective:

Black Friday

Spoiler:
The Commandant of the Scottish Republican Army and his schoolchums were considerably late to the picket line and were later lashed for tardiness and unprofessionalism. But, before that, when they got there, we were out of signs, so I sidled up to him, surreptitiously took a bundle out of my pocket and said "Here's your sign." I then walked away, but looked back at exactly the right moment as his face lit up when he realized that he was unfurling a Soviet flag. Later during the march, they were carrying it in front of the UE strikers. I pointed it out to Comrade Omar and his tough-guy union rep demeanor slipped for a bit as he burst out laughing. Vive le Galt!

Manchester Marches for Mike Brown

Spoiler:
A passing motorist stopped to heckle a black teenager carrying our "We Stand with Ferguson" sign and give him the finger. Mrs. Comrade enters a fit of apoplectic rage: "F*%~ you, you racist piece of shiznit! Go home and kill yourself, you f&%*ing f+~$!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Which prompted the wife of the local NAACP chapter head to pipe up, "Calm down, sister, there's children present." Hee hee! Was a bit worried that this would reinforce her delusion that as a woman of Portuguese descent she qualifies as a "person of color," but regardless, as the Sparts taught me long ago, women workers have always numbered among the most ferocious fighters for their class. Vive le Galt!

[DJdD] Flirtation

Spoiler:
I was teasing Female Comrade about the effects of cannabis smoke on short-term memory after the third time she told me somthing that I had already told her and she snaps:

"Or maybe I just don't listen to anything you have to say!" She makes an adorable "gotcha" face as Mr. Comrade goes "Ooooooo" and I blush. "Yeah," she continues taunting, "How do you like that?" "I love it," I quickly reply. "Yeah, right." "No, no, I do. Every time a pretty woman belittles me I go home and write it down in a book so that I can savor it later." Mr. Comrade breaks out laughing and it's Female Comrade's turn to blush.

Least Favorite Moment of the Weekend

Spoiler:
Stop by the Comrades' domicile after a grueling 11-hour work day to find out if Female Comrade said anything about me. Try subtly steering the conversation in that direction, to no avail. Try being a bit less subtle. Mrs. Comrade turns to Mr. Comrade. "I didn't see any sparks flying, did you?" Mr. Comrade looks down and remains uncomfortably silent. Mrs. Comrade turns to me. I stutter and sputter and say shy adolescent things like, "Yeah, I really liked her" as she prods me, and then finally, she strikes--

MRS. COMRADE--Are you saying you want to hit that?

DJdD--[Mumbles incoherently]

MRS. COMRADE--I'm sorry, are you saying you want to hit that?

DJdD--[Mumbles graduate into more audible stuttering]

MRS. COMRADE--I'm sorry, I don't understand, are you saying you want to hit that?

DJdD--G!@%!@NIT, YES, STEFANIE, YES, I WANT TO HIT THAT!

MRS. COMRADE--Well then, why are you telling me?

F@#+ing women.


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On the Kufi: A Rambling Tale

Spoiler:

A while back, I invited Omar the Former Arab Terrorist to come with me and Mr. and Mrs. Comrade to an African Festival in Lowell. He couldn't come, but he told me that if I wore a daishiki to the event, he would give us $100. I told him I didn't have a daishiki, but even if I did, I would feel uncomfortable wearing one in public, particularly to an African Festival. He laughed and said "Yeah, that's the point."

So, we went to the event and while we were there, we found daishikis being sold for $20. So Mrs. Comrade buys one, I put it on in the parking lot before we leave, take a picture of it and present it as evidence to Omar that I wore a daishiki. He didn't give us $100, but he did give us $40 and $20 to Mrs. Comrade's expense. He still doesn't know that he was punked, hee hee!

Anyway, after that, Omar started insisting that I needed a kufi to go along with the daishiki. I ignored him, but one day, while he was on vacation in Germany, a package arrives in the mail addressed to "Commie [Doodlebug Anklebiter]" and, yup, it was a kufi.

Fast forward to Thanksgiving. Mr. and Mrs. Comrade had invited up a female comrade from New York and encouraged me to try and sleep with her. "She just found out her ex is getting married again," Mrs. Comrade began before Mr. Comrade piped up from his video game, "Yeah, you should try and f$@* her." Mrs. Comrade gives him a dirty look, shrugs, and then sez, "Well, the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody..." Socialist-feminism at its finest!

Anyway, Comrade Omar's Thanksgiving plans were ruined by one of his shops going on strike, so he was invited to Thanksgiving, too, so, to make him happy, I wore the kufi. And female comrade from New York gave me shiznit about it on and off for 14 hours. "Maybe it's different up here, but down in New York, that would be very, very wrong." "What?" I asked. She couldn't articulate very well what she felt was wrong about a white American male wearing a kufi, so I tried to help her out. "Cultural appropriation? Cultural imperialism?" "Yeah, yeah," she nodded, "that." "Bullshiznit!" I declared. "It's internationalism!"

It became kind of a running joke/provocation (alas, even when I am flirting, it seems like I'm being a contrarian asshat) and, later that night after we'd made a bunch of signs, Mr. Comrade and Female Comrade started taking pics of them. "Get in the picture, Doodlebug" sez Mr. Comrade. "But take off that hat!" commands Female Comrade. "No, no, keep it on!" replied Mr. Comrade.

So, he takes the one above with me and the toy gun in front of the "We Stand with Ferguson" sign and puts it on Facebook, all the while with Female Comrade shaking her head and clucking her tongue. It instantly gets favorited. Mr. Comrade looks up the favoriter. "Holy shiznit!" he sez, "It's a Congolese immigrant in Manchester!" In the next fifteen minutes, the picture is favorited by a variety of people, including a black comrade in Alabama and then a black comrade in Chicago. We're all laughing our asses off as Female Comrade continues to shake her head. "I told you," I said when I could catch my breath, "F@%~ing internationalism!"

Anyway, despite that, she somehow resisted succumbing to my advances. But in the 48 hours we spent doing Thanksgiving and Black Friday she has gone from not liking me very much to, well, not making out with me in an alley, but she has touched my arm repeatedly.

Baby steps!


3 people marked this as a favorite.

Shameless socialist self-promotion: Post-Stand with #Wal-Mart Strikers and Ferguson rally

We made it into Alternet

It was pretty cool. We somehow organized 50ish people, including six striking UE machinists, the president of the Nashua teachers, the vice-president of the NH AFL-CIO, Jewish clergy (?!?), a bunch of kids, a bunch of retirees, random anarcho-syndicalists, we couldn't even talk to everyone who came.

We underscored the need to link the struggles of labor (Wal-Mart strikers, FairPoint workers, UE machinists) with the struggle for black liberation, marched around chanting and then marched into the Wal-Mart singing "Solidarity Forever." (Video to come later, maybe.)

Every one got a commie paper and a UE strike leaflet, our local labor contacts were blown away, we got 4 new contacts and we've organized our contingent to the Mike Brown march in Manchester tomorrow.

Vive le Galt!!!

In non-self-promoting Ferguson news:

Ferguson protesters broke into the mall and stole the Thomas Tank Engine

EDIT: Expanded video footage (Please forgive the terrible singing)


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I was referring to the Stuffy Grammarian, Kirth, not you.

I heard Anonymous exposed her as a Klan member.


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Alright, back to work.

Oh, actually, a Tale from the Shop Floor before I go:

So, I had last Thursday scheduled off as my one breather before peak. On Thursday they changed the start time for Sunday from noon to 10:30 without, of course, bothering to call me.

So I come strolling in at 11:40 and run into my boss's boss's boss, who's angry and sez "Where have you been? Didn't you know we were starting early today?"

"No," sez I, "I didn't. I had Thursday off. Nobody called me. I can file a grievance for that, right? Get paid even though I wasn't here?"

He shut up and quick and ran away.


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I've never been married, but from what I've observed:

All you married people who think marriage gives you an excuse to not go out on dates will find yourselves not married before too long.


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Porn.


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A word of caution:

As far as I have been able to determine over the years, Comrade Dingo isn't an anarchist and any answer he gives you, while I am sure amusing, thought-provoking and laden with awesomeness, will probably not be an accurate explanation of anarchist thought.

And, before you ask, I'm not an anarchist either, so don't ask me.


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Kelsey Arwen MacAilbert wrote:
So, do goblins do it in the street?

In the alley.

[Makes variety of smug, insufferable, swaggering, male gestures]


2 people marked this as a favorite.
David M Mallon wrote:
Plumtree - Predicts The Future

I enjoyed that enough to go look for videos:

You Just Don't Exist
Scott Pilgrim*

Michael Cerra's fictional band in that movie is, I think, my favorite fictional band in a movie evah.

Unless it's Doctor Teeth and the Electric Mayhem.

*Weird hipster-cars-rabbit imagery going on, same as in that Ladytron video.


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I recently got to cross something off my bucket list and that was to make out with Ariel the Sexy Roller Derby Chick. I've wanted to do that for, oh, seven years now, and it was just as awesome as I had always imagined!...even if she kept belittling me and telling me "You're doing it all wrong." Man, it was f#*+in' hawt!

She lives in the Bay Area now and comes back once a year or so. Last year, we had a pretty good time, but she kept talking about some dude named Nicky P., so I didn't make a move. And then, after she left, I realized, I know Nicky P! I've even met Nicky P! He's her gay friend who dragged her out to California in the first f+#$ing place! [Facepalm]

This year, she gets into town and takes me out. After three hours of her plying me with pumpkin-flavored alcoholic beverages, touching my arm repeatedly and then dragging me into a Hispanic karaoke bar for what I imagine must've been some of the worst Latin dancing the world has ever seen, I got the idea that maybe, just maybe, she wanted me to kiss her. Well, I was right. I'll spare you the gory details, but at some point she goes, "Oh Doodlebug, I would've made out with you last year!"

[Facepalm]/Huzzah!

Anyway, the reason I'm not married is because I'm a big loser and have real problems recognizing when women are interested in me.

Anyway, Hama, life is too short! Don't be like Doodlebug! Go get a woman!

(I wonder if UPS will let me transfer out to the Bay Area...)


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More communist propaganda:

Al-Jazeera: The labor movement helps Ferguson heal

Which is great, but I wish they'd organize workers defense guards to Smash the Klan! or, maybe, a general strike.

(If they don't give us our shiznit/We're gonna shut this shiznit down! (:35))

In These Times: Whether Darren Wilson Is Indicted or Not, the Entire System Is Guilty

And, as a sidenote, a little piece from the same source about NOI activists in Ferguson: Ferguson’s ISIS Allies?


1 person marked this as a favorite.

A bit of a Laurel Canyon week for me thus far:

Neil Young--Zuma
(Cortez the Killer live)

Beachwood Sparks's eponymous debut


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More NYT:

Health Care Law Recasts Insurers as Obama Allies

How odd.


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Saw a cool article on Facebook about the press ignoring the Huey P. Newton Gun Club, but, alas, now I can't find it.

Found the following being passed about, though:

HuffPo: 10 Illegal Police Actions to Watch for in Ferguson

Commie Front Group (Party of Socialism and Liberation, fellow commie-watchers will be interested to learn): Veterans' appeal to National Guard: "Stand with Ferguson protesters, not the police!"

Show Me 15: Ferguson Fast Food Worker: "We Are Protesting for What Is Right!"

We Need a Revolution!

Vive le Galt!!!


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A moment of silence please, comrades, as one of the comrades from Workers World shuffles off this mortal coil:

Leslie Feinberg, Stone Butch Blues author and transgender campaigner, dies at 65

"According to the family obituary, Feinberg’s last words were: 'Remember me as a revolutionary communist.'"

[Clenched fist salute]

Vive le Galt!!!


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I can't believe that I forgot that one of my schoolchums had moved out to the Bay Area in the mid-'90s and has been plugging away with his band Bobby Joe Ebola and the Children MacNuggits ever since. I wonder if he's gotten any increased attention lately.

Here they do a fake metal/D&Desque tune: Bone Dagger


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To all the long-haired, tatted, pierced and god only knows what else people out there without a job: UPS is hiring and they don't give a shiznit what you look like as long as you can pick up boxes and put them down elsewhere.


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KKK Missouri Chapter Threatens Ferguson Protesters with ‘Lethal Force’

Includes a copy of the leaflet the Klan was distributing.


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Rally was lame, but afterwards, back at the pad, stream-of-consciousness youtube surfing led to some quite good videos by a schoolchum's band.

Bone Dagger
Sweet Shiznit of Christ
Poly which, apparently, was banned from youtube for a while.

Which is funny, coz he's out in the Bay Area and recently, when Ariel the Sexy Roller Derby Chick was back in town from Oakland she was complaining about how difficult it is to find a man on the dating sites out there who wasn't "a poly bisexual writer of erotica."

F%#~ing Californians.


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Show Me 15

Organize the Unorganized! Finish the Civil War! For Black Liberation through Socialist Revolution!


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I was riding to work the other day and this jam came on the "Throwback" station. It was awesome and it sounded real familiar but after two verses the dj went into Tribe and then Black Sheep and I couldn't remember who it was. Went to work and looked around to see who might know the song. Asked all the hip hop kids, tried describing it and singing the chorus and they were like "He was rapping about being poor over a Bob Marley sample? Oh, well, that narrows it down..."

Went home and was ashamed and embarrassed to discover it was Naughty by Nature. Was even more upset when I went to work the next day and none of the hip hop kids knew who Naughty by Nature were.

Everything's Gonna Be Alright

On-topic lyric/Trigger warning

Spoiler:
If you ain't never been to the ghetto
Don't ever come to the ghetto
'Cuz you wouldn't understand the ghetto
So stay the f@@$ out of the ghetto!

Down with Hollaback yuppie gentrifiers!


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Cuomo Vows Offensive Against Labor Unions

Labor: Stop being chumps!


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Jezebel remembers intersectionality: A Hollaback Response Video: Women of Color on Street Harassment

Meanwhile over at The Intercept: No, We Don’t Need a Law Against Catcalling

"Feminists of color have long criticized Hollaback’s tactics for having precisely this effect, of casting black and brown men as congenital predators, thus perpetuating their criminalization (in a tradition going back hundreds of years). In New York, where the fight over stop-and-frisk is not over, such activism currently coincides with policing that punishes youth of color for dancing on the subway or uses bullhorns to shoo black students out of affluent Park Slope. Discussing the Hollaback video on his radio show, Geraldo Rivera asked Rudy Giuliani if it was proof of the city’s moral decay, with both men agreeing that street harassment should be seen as analogous to graffiti — a policing priority under New York Police Commander Bill Bratton. In the meantime, not far from where I live, a group of 'concerned residents, business owners, artists and civic croups' called Gowanus United is closing ranks around gentrifying spaces in the name of public safety, raising alarms against a parole complex slated to open next year 'within a half-mile radius' of 'our streets, buses and subways.'"

Obligatory word drop: Liberal, feminist, yuppie, gentrifier.


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A couple of albums that have been on heavy rotation in Gobbo-land:

Ladytron--Velocifero

Sungrazer--Mirador

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