Will it get better or just buried under the next news cycle?

From Hollywood stars to politicians to clergy to others with power


Bob Seger said it

One thing for certain it ain't never gonna stop





Here comes the rich man in his big long limousine
Here comes the poor man all you got to have is green
Here comes the banker and the lawyer and the cop
One thing for certain it ain't never gonna stop

More often than not it's just used as a nonsense word. See this 17C example for instance:

Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green,
When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen:
Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so?
'Twas mine own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so.
Call up your men, dilly dilly, set them to work,
Some with a rake, dilly dilly, some with a fork;
Some to make hay, dilly dilly, some to thresh corn,
Whilst you and I, dilly dilly, keep ourselves warm.

If you should die, dilly dilly, as it may hap,
You shall be buried, dilly dilly, under the tap;
Who told you so, dilly dilly, pray tell me why?
That you might drink, dilly dilly, when you are dry.

A large collection of bobbies with sticks is pretty much how it's done:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMvuF5qSP9o

Of course they have access to more than that when needed, but often it's not. It takes more time and effort, but in the end you have someone to prosecute (or provide treatment for) rather than someone to bury.

Ban semi-automatic weapons?

How reasonable is it to legislate to control clip capacity? As in, is it practical, not is the law actually passable, because with the current POTUS I'd be surprised if any sort of gun control was possible.

Tbh I still feel that even without 900rpm the capacity for a single bad actor to snuff out lives with a semi-auto rifle and 30 round mag is enormous. Doubtless they'd be people alive today who aren't now if he didn't have a bump stock... but it'd still be another mass murder with far too many people having to bury their loves ones. Idk. Progress of a sort maybe...

Will *sticky this so it doesn't get buried in sift talk by all the banned videos

Rememer the talking point that 17 intelligence agencies pointed their fingers at Russia for having orchestrated the hacks during the election?

Even the NYT has finally buried that one:

The assessment was made by four intelligence agencies — the Office of the Director of National Intelligence, the Central Intelligence Agency, the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the National Security Agency. The assessment was not approved by all 17 organizations in the American intelligence community.

I wonder how many of those things he buried while practicing those stunts. Now just mount a GoPro on that thing and you'd have something more vomit inducing than a bottle of ipecac syrup.

Godsmack is how the wind feels
On the face of Mike Winfield
On his way home from the bar where he works
Nights - the worst nights, don't nobody tip right
And between the marriage offers and the fist fights
And if another mother fucker touch his wrist trying to pull him in to whisper
He ain't making it to midnight
Don't they know he got a lighter in his pocket
A matchbook in his sock and a block full of charred skeletons closeted begging to get out
He paused cause he's scared of airing out the thoughts
He can taste it in his mouth the sulfur and bitter carbon
Hearing all the burning bodies shout but no
That was a full lifetime ago and nobody ever has to know
He has never told well except Ronald
But that don't count he was sweet and exactly what he needed him to be at the time
Wine and candlelight and nice texts at lunchtime
Why had he not called Ron back
Guess there just wasn't a spark, ha!
No, no, musn't joke about these things
Wouldn't want to disappoint Doc Clark
So many hours on the couch
So many buried memories that take so many tears to get them out
Water hadn't never been a friend
Hold up - where had he seen that car before
Blue Acura dent on the left rear fender
Back again the sense of
Deja Vu
Strange things you
Never shake when you wake up in recovery
But suddenly noticing ash is covering his head cause it's raining from the sky
Dials home on his cell phone and gets no reply
What the fuck?
Where is the babysitter that he overpays
Body takes over and brain becomes disengaged
Michael is running his house is three blocks away
Adrenaline compensating for change in age
Since the last time that he ran it god dammit
Mike knows he gotta get home fast as he can
Looks up in the sky, glow's familiar
Knows those families died with similar
Awnings and on and on he keeps going
Hits the corner just as he hears the explosion
Screams come from the house, "Did you get them out?"
Mike asking the crowd that has gathered 'round
Tears running down his face
There's that familiar taste
He wishes it would take him to another place
Son and his baby girl in his home and he can't believe that it's gone in a cloud of smoke
And he's choking and running forward and hoping against hope that he might find them alive and well
When he knows the results too well and he knows that fooled himself
And he keeps walking towards the house rather what house is still left
No intention of stopping letting the smoke take his breath
Some strong arm rocks him aside Mike falls to the ground and cries
Why won't you just let me die
Why won't you just let me die

That's pretty sick *promote

You don't need religion of any kind to spread compassion and unity. We can teach that to people without all of the metaphysical juju, and without burying the good messages in a minefield of misogyny and xenophobia.

Also how about we learn to do good things for the sake of goodness, which is it's own reward, instead of the threat of eternal punishment.

Disappointing, I was hoping for a young Gamera.

Please don't "help" turtles this way. You are more likely to hurt them and kill others still buried than you are to help, and in most cases it's highly illegal to touch them at all without (impossible to get) permits.

Leave them alone, they know what to do.

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Sadly, shortly after this was filmed the camera crew was discovered and then buried. Nobody films the Badger Mafia.

ah,the days of being in a relationship with a woman,who loved painkilllers with her jug wine.

who would wake me up in the dead of the night,using the super heated metal tops of a bic lighter on the bottom of my feet (those are called "smileys" for those who do not know) to scream at me about some girl who had the audacity to look my way at target,because 3:30am is the time to find out if i am having sexual thoughts about random women.

or an earlier girlfriend whose father was a prominent artist in the country and was holding a weekend jazz festival.i had a customer who had cerebal palsy,and one leg had been amputated,whose boyfriend had just broke up with her and she was a wreck.

so i had this bright idea! why doesn't this poor emotional wreck of a woman come to the jazz festival of my girlfriends dad? that will get her mind off things right?

but,having a second person accompany made me a little late.so when i finally showed up,my girlfriend was already half in the bag,and mad.i tried to explain and introduce her to mary,the heartbroken girl.

and my girlfriend broke my nose with a bottle of michelob.i do not think she cared that mary was heart broken,and an utter wreck in need of human company.i could be wrong,this is just a guess,but the bleeding from my broken nose may have been a strong indicator.

or how about the time i was counseling a long time friend,who had pulled a midnight move out to escape a man who had basically had her trapped in a spare room,chaining her to the wall.that man had gone as far as severing her achilles tendons,after her first attempt to escape,and this woman suffered from a severe case of PTSD.

now she did form an almost childlike bond to me.maybe because i had offered her the first taste of true compassion,and offered her safety and comfort,and allowed her to talk the poison and bile out that had been building inside her for over three years.

but her attachment to me,which was to be expected,was not viewed favorably by my girlfriend.i spent a lot of time and attention in drawing this broken and damaged young woman to feel safe,and to begin to feel human again(which infuriated my girlfriend).my patio was always filled with friends,artists and people of interest,and i did my best to bring a normalcy to this young womans life in order to help her acclimate,and to feel human again.

and my girlfriend would come home,get drunk,and start to whisper the most vile.and disgusting things..not about this young woman,but about me.

which,of course,if you understand the mentality of an abuse victim.especially one who had suffered such as she had.any criticism,or perceived threat to the person who had (in their mind) saved them,will create incredible anger and anxiety.

so because of my girlfriends irrational jealousy of this woman,and in her drunken selfishness,she went out of her way to make this woman feel as uncomfortable,and as unsafe (the exact opposite of what i was trying to do).so much so that the young woman...who didn't want to be a burden,or affect my life in a negative way...left my home,and wrote me she would never come back,because she loved me and didnt want to cause problems.

two weeks later she was found dead in motel room.over dose of piankiller and xanax...and wrists slashed to ribbons.

or how about the time one of my girlfriends broke three of my ribs,because i was being kind to a waitress?

or the time another girlfriend stabbed me,because while she was unhappy with our relationship,she could not abide me talking to anyone who owned a vagina.in this case a fellow artist i was collaborating with,and who happened to be not only an amazing human being but beautiful as well.

or that one time,when i broke up with a girl,because it simply was not working out and she repeatedly rammed her ford fairmont station wagon into my brand new firebird?

oh..the stories i can tell about all my wonderful relationships,and the women i have shared portions of my life with.i could write a book...

and then i watch this video,and i am overcome with an urge to drive cross country to the creators home,walk inside,grab him by the ankles and crag him outsides....and beat him senseless.

because he is coming from a false premise.
he is implying the that the benefits of relationships outweigh he selective memory our brains create when reliving our moments of singlehood.

when the reality is this:as long as you have friends,who love and accept you for who you are,you are never actually single.you are surrounded and loved by an extended family.

i do not need a girlfriend.
i do not want a girlfriend.
i am not interested in getting married.
and as i have revealed here,i would prefer some memories to remain buried under the much happier and adoring memories of my actual friends who put up with my eccentricities,and my overall oddness,rather than deal with a woman who is smitten with the ideas fed to them by institutions,and periodicals such as comsopolitian and vogue.

though,ironically,i have two ex girlfriends living in my home as i write this.
one is a former porn star,and current stripper who suffers from paranoid schizophrenia,and is a recovering addict.

while the other i had to go do a midnight rescue from a place where she was renting a room,but the house was junkie house,and she is a recovering addict as well (and they also kept stealing everything from her).she has bought a house,but it needs work and that work is taking fooooooorever.

and BOTH of these women still harbor some residual feelings towards me.even though i have been quite clear,open and honest that i have ZERO interest in rekindling anything,with either of them,but that hasn't stopped them from being all catty with each other,and causing drama,and complaining about the smallest,tiniest and most ridiculous of things to bitch about.

at first i tried to play referee.
i did my best to help everyone get along,until i realized they both had no interest in getting along.they wanted to outdo the other in order to get my attention.

which is just.....dumb..but anyways,my new way of handling their insipid complaints is always this response:i don't care.

and it seems to work beautifully.

so there you have my story,or at least part of it.
and i have to say...this guy is kinda full of shit.

for those of you happily married,with a great partner,i salute you.good for you,and i mean that.

but for me?
no thanks.i am good.