So, I’m currently holding the wee bit of left bollock that hasn’t retreated up my abdomen with the rest of the kit. A feat courtesy of hearing that my shift starts at 4:15 AM. As such I can’t bring you the regularly scheduled joy of disjointed rambles that would make a a schizophrenic shaman on a peyote bender seem like a card carrying Presbyterian freemason. (Yes, I stole that last bit from Billy Connoly.)
Therefore I share with you my gleeful joy in confirming that FATTIES ARE MOST AFFECTED. If you’re a jolly person of size. No beef with you. If you have a glandular problem. I’ve no donut with you. If you just don’t give a fuck. I’ve no quarter pounder with you. Yes, this is the shittiest joke of all time. Welcome to history cunts.
No, the thing I have a problem with is moralizing fatasses wagging wingers (lol that was a typo but imagonnakeepit) at folk exercising because of a HEALTH CRISIS.
Hah. Just as I post more mask musing…I see this thumb where some Jersey MILF teaches you to take ratty Tshirts and make petri dishes masks. If Fauci admits* that there was an overestimate and we see less dire consequences then predicted without masks…
Maybe these things will just serve best as kinky bedroom gear. If Jersey really wanted to do a public service she’d save money on clothes like that Tennis player and wear nothing but the mask. Inspiration is a public good. And there is nothing more inspiring that slightly chubby, vaguely ethnic ladies, dressed as bandits.
In all seriousness that looks a hell of a lot less shitty for a warehouse worker to wear to keep from breathing on merch. So I might do it to save your granny and get a virtue lay from crafty Jersey broads.
Maybe she’ll knit me assless chaps like that one hipster chic I dated. Never trust people who feed their cats Zoloft.
I teach my plants to think big and kick ass, discuss the resurgence of the stasi, and present a robust case for quarantine (with my own criticism) from Ron Unz.