Ken: [looking at a surreal Bosch painting] It's Judgment Day, you know?

Ray: No. What's that then?

Ken: Well, it's, you know, the final day on Earth, when mankind will be judged for the crimes they've committed and that.

Ray: Oh. And see who gets into heaven and who gets into hell and all that.

Ken: Yeah. And what's the other place?

Ray: Purgatory.

Biden bullets don't shoot to kill, they just shoot 'em in the leg.

The end of the article is no less insane:

The woman’s death marked the fourth homicide in the Las Vegas Valley over the weekend.

About 3:45 a.m. Saturday, 32-year-old Clarence Martin Jr. allegedly threw his 2-month-old daughter from an apartment balcony, killing her, police said.

[...] a woman in her mid-30s shot and killed her neighbor. Spencer said the two had an ongoing dispute over a barking dog.

This just came up again in the Chicago 7 episode. In the movie, Sorkin has the FBI plant trying to prevent violence, instead of inciting like they normally do.

Felix joked that she'd be the worst spook, doing Operation Gladio and writing Italian newspaper articles about how everyone needed to come together.

This is in the beginning of the book in January. The preface to this bit was Hunter getting kicked out of a Washington Redskins game, for not removing his hat during the anthem. The man speaking about Beating Nixon was the President of the Redskins, and Hunter has a pretty funny exchange with him on the plane to San Francisco:

Actually, I was happy to get out of that place. The Redskins were losing, which pleased me, and we were thrown out just in time to get back to Burgin's house for the 49er game on TV. If they won this one, they would go against the Redskins next Sunday in the playoffs—and by the end of the third quarter I had worked myself into a genuine hate frenzy; I was howling like a butcher when the 49ers pulled it out in the final moments with a series of desperate maneuvers, and the moment the gun sounded I was on the phone to TWA, securing a seat on the Christmas Nite Special to San Francisco. It was extremely important, I felt, to go out there and do everything possible to make sure the Redskins got the mortal piss beaten out of them.

Which worked out. Not only did the 49ers stomp the jingo bastards and knock them out of the playoffs, but my seat companion for the flight from Washington to San Francisco was Edward Bennett Williams, the legendary trial lawyer, who is also president of the Washington Redskins.

"Heavy duty for you people tomorrow," I warned him. "Get braced for a serious beating. Nothing personal, you understand. Those poor bastards couldn't have known what they were doing when they croaked a Doctor of Journalism out of the press box.”

He nodded heavily and called for another scotch & soda. "It's a goddamn shame,” he muttered. “But what can you really expect? You lie down with pigs and they'll call you a swine every time.”

"What? Did you call me a swine?”

“Not me," he said. “But this world is full of slander."

"But the main reason I'm working for him,” he said, "is that he's the only guy we have who can beat Nixon.” He stabbed the arm again. "If Nixon wins again, we're in real trouble.” He picked up his drink, then saw it was empty and put it down again. “That's the real issue this time," he said. “Beating Nixon. It's hard to even guess how much damage those bastards will do if they get in for another four years.”

I nodded. The argument was familiar. I had even made it myself, here and there, but I was beginning to sense something very depressing about it. How many more of these goddamn elections are we going to have to write off as lame but “regrettably necessary" holding actions? And how many more of these stinking, double-downer sideshows will we have to go through before we can get ourselves straight enough to put together some kind of national election that will give me and the at least 20 million people I tend to agree with a chance to vote for something, instead of always being faced with that old familiar choice between the lesser of two evils?

I have been through three presidential elections, now, but it has been twelve years since I could look at a ballot and see a name I wanted to vote for. In 1964, I refused to vote at all, and in '68 I spent half a morning in the county courthouse getting an absentee ballot so I could vote, out of spite, for Dick Gregory.

Now, with another one of these big bogus showdowns looming down on us, I can already pick up the stench of another bummer. I understand, along with a lot of other people, that the big thing, this year, is Beating Nixon. But that was also the big thing, as I recall, twelve years ago in 1960—and as far as I can tell, we've gone from bad to worse to rotten since then, and the outlook is for more of the same.

Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail '72

In 1962, McNamara supported a plan for mass spraying of the rice fields with herbicides in the Phu Yen mountains to starve the Viet Cong out, a plan that was only stopped when W. Averell Harriman pointed out to Kennedy that the ensuing famine would kill thousands of innocent people.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_McNamara#cite_ref-FOOTNOTELangguth20001963_48-0

CAROL! CAROL! I GOTTA TALK TO YOU ABOUT PEPE!

AHhhhhhhh the french champagne...

every time I see a "powered by aws" ad, it reminds me that I need to stop by the grocery store and pick up some aws on the way home

https://twitter.com/3liza/status/891475977183739905

Kendall On Sharecropping Field Trip

This is basically the dinosaur bit from Step Brothers

They're light, engaging books to read as a teen. Michael Crichton books were similar, and I ate those up as a kid.

The other draw was the contrast between these "fun" books, and the more serious "literature" books that you'd be forced to read as part of school.

Trump consumed 4 cheeseburgers, and a diet coke, restoring +75 energy!

HP: 15/100

Energy: 95/100

Battles - Atlas

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_presidents_of_the_United_States_who_died_in_office

The Zachary Taylor section is probably my favorite, what a strange way to die:

On July 4, 1850, Taylor was known to have consumed copious amounts of ice water, cold milk, green apples, and cherries after attending holiday celebrations and the laying of the cornerstone of the Washington Monument. That same evening, he became severely ill with an unknown digestive ailment.

lol, imagine THAT confirmation hearing:

"Senator, yes I flew with Epstein to his island, but I never went there without my wife. And yes, I stand by my constitutional (not moral) argument that the age of consent should be lowered to 16 (perhaps even 15 or 14)"

Why didn't the Ministry of Magic simply vote Voldemort out of power?

The version with vertical stripes under stars, and centered emblem is pretty dope