Sunday, July 7, 2013

Misc.


More and more restaurants - and not just isolated ones - hire waitresses based entirely on physical looks, and specifically on physique, and then the restaurants dress them to look like hookers. In dress no different from that of hookers - in fact, in dress that even some hookers wouldn't wear - the waitresses make sure to touch the male customers of the tables they wait upon.

They know how to touch just right. When women use their touch in such ways on a habitual basis as their job, they can communicate just the right heat and softness to the person they touch; they also know how to sink into their bodies - while dressed like hookers - in such a way as to stimulate the lower appetites of men. I don't know if there is any language for this thing they do, but let's say they give the greatest expression possible to the sexual presence of their bodies by letting the body go entirely "heavy limp", or "purposely defenseless by seeming accident", and oh, is that my torso in an ultra-truncated "mini-skirt" a foot away from your face while you pay the bill on the debit machine? There's the tip button, right there. They hardly have to do anything but stand there and they communicate these things with a very specific intent.

They do this - dressing like hookers, touching the male customers and stimulating their lower appetites - to receive large sums of tip money. The food at such restaurants is typically mediocre crap dressed in the pretension of being good food and the drinks are ridiculously expensive. Such places, and such women, insult men, and insult them greatly - I would say, insult them gravely.

Men, be men, and don't go to such places.

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I still remember this one episode of E.R. - that stupid hospital soap opera of the 90's. In this episode a woman came to have an abortion, and while she is in the ward having the child killed, the husband comes busting into the hospital demanding to see his wife because he is against her having his child murdered (as any good husband would be), and the nurse with the dreadlocks (at least they looked like dreadlocks) oh so heroically stops the wild crazy stupid husband so that his wife can exercise her choice to murder her and her husband's child do with her body what she likes.

That character treatment is the ultra-kind version of  how the "post-modern" era regards men, and specifically fathers and husbands.

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If I was a priest I would kind of purposefully push young people away from marriage. I would make it hard for them. And if they treated me like the necessary tool for their photo-op ceremony I would tell them they could go find another priest. What did our Lady say in one of her apparitions - many marriages today are displeasing to God?

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In the modesty/clothing debates, there's always a person who says something along the lines of, "But you need to understand, women just aren't aware of what they are doing when they dress like that."

Is that supposed to be some kind of paramount excuse? Men just aren't aware that they sometimes piss over the rim of the toilet such that their urine spatters on the floor. What say you to that?

By that do you mean that these women are so sucked into their own egotistical, selfish, narcissistic worlds that, like all who sin, being paradigms of immodesty (which directly implies an unawareness) they "just aren't aware of what they're doing?" Then yes, sure, they aren't aware of what they're doing, and waking up would imply repentance - absolutely.

But that's not what is meant, is it? No, what they mean is that the unawareness, which is the fruit of their immodesty, makes them extra extra extra special or, rather, makes men more and more metro as they are expected to tread on eggshells and how dare you criticize women bastard this is America/Canada.

But anyways, many of them know exactly what they're doing when they dress like that.

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I remember reading this one forum somewhere on the internet, I can't remember what forum or what it was about, but someone in the midst of the conversation spoke about how his child in the grocery store, upon seeing a cover of a magazine with a sexed up woman on the cover, asked,

"Daddy, why does she want to hurt me?"

Poor kid. Didn't know how to deal with women.

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Men who drive big mini monster trucks, jacked up on huge wheels and flaming paint jobs with the testicles hanging off the back chrome axle: maybe if it was, like, the 80's, people would be like, "Oh that is so awesome! I want a truck like that!" But since it's post 2008 debacle, post-this and post-that, post-9/11 and people generally know that things are not going to go well in the near future, and people generally are coming more and more (incrementally) to realize (even with joy) what is really important in life, your truck only makes people think, "You have no responsibility with money and you're probably mired in debt just to keep your life cushioned with the artificial life-support of your expensive toys. Get real."

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Men in North America in the summertime (which has nothing on the tropics) who walk into stores without your shirts on as though your pectorals and abs were all that: put a shirt on, retards. What are you supposed to be - a male hooker on the streets of L.A. or something?

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Through the rolling meadowland I strolled where the path takes you over a plank footbridge over a pond that goes dry in summer, and in the spring I saw so many tadpoles flickering in the murk.

Then later I saw they got bigger, fatter, their eyes almost on the tops of the fat heads. Then another day they had little legs beginning, and they slurried around, or just hung there, all fat and bulbous. Repulsive. With spottiness developing on their skin. Their tails getting smaller. Their heads getting fatter.

Then one day as I came down the path there was a jumping thing that went plop ker-plink and plish splash. Ah! The agile frog so quick on the money!

It was good to see some improvements finally being made.

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Recently me and the Boss had to deal with an American bullfrog in a lady's pool. We came through the passage that cuts between her house, and ker splosh! right into the blazing blue of her pool; the water perfectly clear, we could see the muscular legs and spots of this giant kicking around in the depths of paradise. I think I heard the frog scream Cannonball! as it jumped into the water. The water uses the salt method rather than chlorine - though this too would eventually not be good for the frog.

I would honestly rather deal with a hairy tarantula. Really. I don't mind spiders.

And really, objectively speaking, people ought to be more afraid of the American bullfrog than of spiders because the American bullfrog is a nasty invader that gobbles up the biodiversity of other places that are not its proper home.

Oh! Am I saying something there? Who knows!

Anyways, spiders are great pest controllers (without the gobbling), and people really ought to cut them some slack.

The Boss made use of the pool net while I held the bucket. Oh my Lord, that bullfrog jumped from the net straight at me and there was no way I was going to stay there holding the bucket. We tried again and again. Finally, we got it in the bucket. I carried it to a corner of the yard behind which is a marshy area, but at the point where I was releasing the frog there were prickles - blackberry thorns.

As I tilted down the bucket - a deep plastic barrel really - I could see the massive squat silhouette of the frog through the white plastic sliding slowly down, then hopping back up so that he wouldn't come out. He was aware of the thorns. You see, frogs are like pigs. They are smart. They know when you're coming, and they see quite clearly.

When he came to the rim and knew that he had nowhere else to go, he jumped from the rim into the neighbour's yard, avoiding the blackberries that fronted the marshland.

He'll find his way.

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Comments about modesty will not be published.

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The internet is false time.

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Alex Jones and all the fear-mongering gold bugs make the moneyed internationalists quite happy. Alex Jones and Co. are very useful to them.

5 comments:

Enbrethiliel said...

+JMJ+

With a bit of editing, you could repackage this as a "Seven Quick Takes" post and rock the Catholic blog world. ;-)

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Don't do that, though. =P I'm just making trouble.

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I never watched E.R., but I've caught a few episodes of the (equally?) disgusting Grey's Anatomy. There was one I was surprised to like--but not for the right reasons. =P

One of the patients in that episode was a Catholic mother who had to deliver a baby, her seventh, by C-section; when her husband was out of the room, she asked the obstetrician to use the operation to render her infertile as well. The catch was that it had to be done in secret, because she didn't want her husband to know. A male resident who heard the request asked, "What's wrong with letting him know? He'll never divorce you anyway." And the mother said: "Because I refuse to have him look at me the way you are."

After the successful secret operation, the resident approached the father and said, "Isn't it odd that a routine C-section would result in the severing of both sets of fallopian tubes?" But when the father, still not suspecting his wife, brought it up with her, pretended she knew nothing and threw the obstetrician under the bus.

Of course, the catch was that the obstetrician couldn't out the mother as a liar without breaking doctor-patient confidentiality. So she got a black mark on her record and satisfied herself with loading the resident with jobs he didn't want. Fin.

Not as evil as the E.R. abortion episode, but enough to make me want to write cathartic FanFic about how much the woman's children eventually come to hate her.

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Bullfrogs are just . . . wrong.

I'm sure a bunch of them have killed the biodiversity on the grounds of the Manila Polo Club, which, as you can imagine, is as much a haven for expats as for amphibians. But to be fair, there must be a local variety. I mean, why would the Americans have brought their bullfrogs over? (I'm suppressing Conspiracy Theory thoughts now.) While I haven't actually seen any, my mother had dinner there the other night, heard them, and shared her surprise that the club had cows on the property! When a waiter told her that she was hearing frogs, she was gobsmacked! She had been hearing frogs (and toads) on wet evenings all her life, but none of them sounded like THAT.

Just to be safe--and not an irresponsible Conspiracy Theorist--I did some research. It turns out that Filipinos refer to cane toads (which are also invasive biodiversity killers) as "bullfrogs" when speaking in English. So perhaps the Manila Polo Club merely has cane toads? But then I played my mother a clip of cane toads croaking and she said that wasn't what she had heard. I played another clip of a bullfrog, and she positively identified it as the monster. So there.

Paul Stilwell said...

I'm leaving this post up because of your comment. :)

Paul Stilwell said...

That story about the bullfrogs - the real ones - is crazy. You're saying your mother thought the croaks she was hearing was the sound of cows? Oh my Lord. Those are some scary frogs.

Belfry Bat said...

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Your plank footbridge story should be set to verse. It very nearly is already.

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There has to be a reason that bullfrog includes the word bull.

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Apparantly, I live in bullfrog natural range, so I don't feel the least bit sorry for having greatly enjoyed them every summer. Never was good at catching them... Impressive noises they do make, though.

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En, you have told us ever so many stories about Americans in the Philipines; surely you know how crazy some of post-English can be about our pets? Of course a couple dozen GIs brought their beloved frog for their comfort whilst ousting the Japanese all around the Pacific. And of course half of the frogs ran away.

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I'm frequently ashamed at myself for my delayed growing-up; I'm sure the world or at least the local world ("society") is encouraging this, but still... In fact, the local world greatly infantilizes all its own, returning to which, later...

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My own ER-the-show-abortion story has the Latin-Rite Balkan surgeon brow-beaten by his attending student into providing a surreptitious abortifacient to a college girl who conceived during a date-rape ... you know, an tragic story, because all her generic-fundamentalist family would ever do was take excellent loving care of everyone involved, the horror!

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But, the thing is, a woman in college should be naturally capable of bearing a child, and it isn't going to get easier except maybe by practise. Leaving the ER scenario, if a girl can conceive on her own recognizances then she can darn-well live with the consequences, and the boy-man can darn-well assume his proper responsibility; it's the refusal of the world to admit consequences that throws such girls under proverbial busses, as En puts it.

Enbrethiliel said...

+JMJ+

Stilwell -- I forgot to add that that Grey's Anatomy episode is the reason I say the male resident is my favourite character from the show. I didn't like him enough to keep watching, and I can see that what he did was "unprofessional" (not that I care much, having figured out what a thin line there is between being a professional and being a prostitute), but he was the only player in that drama who stood up for what was right and told the truth. That counts for something.

But real Grey's Anatomy fans are always horrified when I say I like him. Apparently, he has his own moments of amorality. Oh, well . . .

Interestingly, there was also another storyline I managed to follow. (No one will ever believe I don't watch the show if I keep bringing up so much about it, but never mind . . .) Two surgeons had got married on the understanding that they wouldn't have children, but their birth control wasn't infallible (O RLY?) and the wife did conceive. The husband was overjoyed. He had agreed to a childless marriage because he loved her, but now that a baby had entered the picture, suddenly their love was even brighter! And he spent a whole episode trying to dissuade her from having an abortion . . . which she had anyway. Though sad, he seemed to accept it. Or did he?

The next episode was about his meltdown, and if I remember correctly, the one after that involved them going to therapy to save their marriage. He said that he would understand her decision if there had been a traumatic episode in her past, but there was nothing. She just didn't like children and she didn't see why there had to be a reason. But she was amazed that he couldn't get over the abortion.

Anyway, I have no idea how the show resolved this.

Bat -- Well, okay, the bullfrog story is plausible. =P What a nasty invasive species, though!