... and one more for good measure: The Fury and Failure of Donald Trump by Matt Taibbi

Hell of a zinger right at the start:
"Keeping up with Trump revelations is exhausting. By late October, he'll be caught whacking it outside a nunnery. There are not many places left for this thing to go that don't involve kids or cannibalism. We wait, miserably, for the dong shot."

And it only gets better:
"Trump's early rampage through the Republican field made literary sense. It was classic farce. He was the lewd, unwelcome guest who horrified priggish, decent society, a theme that has mesmerized audiences for centuries, from Vanity Fair to The Government Inspector to (closer to home) Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. When you let a hands-y, drunken slob loose at an aristocrats' ball, the satirical power of the story comes from the aristocrats deserving what comes next. And nothing has ever deserved a comeuppance quite like the American presidential electoral process, which had become as exclusive and cut off from the people as a tsarist shooting party."

drunken master ballet

Almost looks like SCA but according to their wiki they only started doing this in 09 and SCA has been around since 1966.

SCA
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Society_for_Creative_Anachronism

BOTN
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_the_Nations_%28Medieval_Tournament%29

I used to be really in to the SCA. They have two types of fighting . Heavy like what you see in the video and rapier combat. (light combat)
It can be a hell of a lot of fun. If you don't mind the occasional broken bone or wound.
The Drunken tourny is the most common cause for an ER visit.

It can get expensive but they do have loaner gear that you can use if you want to try it.

With cameras everywhere, we ALL have to adjust. Have you ever watched yourself in a drunken moment captured by your friends? Not pretty.

Bad drunken, Broncos fan, bad!

London, Ontario residents are great for the most part. What your seeing is Western University students, as usual, tanked out of their skulls on their best drunken behaviour. Mostly douchebags from Toronto with a Frat complex.

Funny enough, I remember this place (The Gatsby) as a ripper joint when I lived there 25 years ago.

Amazing Drunken Dancing Style (skip to :55 sec) has been added as a related post - related requested by Zawash.

So you know, I'm at least one of the people who asked @lucky760 to implement this. I found myself completely incapable of ignoring some people when their comments were still there to see because others would quote them. (many times just insulting rants about me, but just as often something else insane that I couldn't stop myself from replying to...even though I didn't want to). It did end up making it unpleasant to visit the sift at all, unless I completely ignored the comments, and that's kind of missing the point of the sift for me.
There are only a small few that I have ignored, I think 2 of them at their own request. At least for those 2, it's a benefit rather than a negative, no longer having to have discussions with me...and it's OK for me...I'm not here to try to make anyone uncomfortable.
With those I do want to avoid, it's a godsend for me. If that feature had been in effect last year, I would not have felt the need to push (along with others) to get Chingalera removed (he was already on double secret probation for multiple violations, but still steadfastly refused to follow sift rules, and insisted on drunkenly and angrily 'stalking' people all over the sift, even after he was ignored).
Just my 2 cents, I hope it enlightens you to why some people found this necessary.

Reminds me of coming home smashed when 16, after pounding my head on the ground in a drunken attempt to 'sober up' before going home. Mom met me in the hallway with 'Where have you been...are you drunk?' Which I responded to with 'I have none marks on me.' then passed out cold!
I think she knew.

OMG!!! Drinking liquid nitrogen?!?! *WTF people!?! *EIA

My brother's 16th birthday party was really close to that. He heated the pool to over 100 deg and put 50lbs of dry ice in it. Lucky for him, the fog wasn't as thick as in this video and no one had to be rescued, but the entire back yard was about 2 ft thick in CO2 fog and covered with drunken teenagers rocking out to Thriller (which had just come out at the time).

O U T S T A N D I N G...S I R I U S L Y...the Aether has been kind to this unworthy one! ! ! ! ! ! !

It is always incredible to hear from you with a distantly close second that is your imagery. I love it...mesmerizing and seductive like a velvet blade. Some play in my mind recurrently.

Happy Drunken Irish Bastard Day to you too my friend. Please, to you my brother I offer my favorite toast:

May those that love us, love us.
For those that don’t love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if he doesn’t turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So we’ll know them by their limping.

I miss you too rougy. You long ago won a place in my heart and mind. I wax Irish upon you,

May the road rise to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face
The rains fall soft upon your fields
And until we meet again
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

Peace and blessings upon you my friend. Thank you very much.

This is far too late a reply. My mind was on Venus, my heart was on Mars, and my nether regions were on the good planet Vaseline, in the Proctor & Gamble constellation.

I miss this place.

I miss you.

Think of me as a stiletto in your boot.

If threatened, I'll be a razor tongue that cuts without thinking.

Happy Drunken Irish Bastard Day - yes...my people can say that....

The people of Earth!

Ahhh ha ha ha ha!



xoxoxoxo

So, I was thinking.
If this was the "Drunken River Regatta", this would all make so much more sense...

When I first started volunteering to serve at a homeless shelter, many years ago, I didn't know exactly why I was doing it. Certainly it felt like the "right" thing to do. I was at least confident that I wasn't doing it for personal gain because I didn't wear it on my sleave, didn't brag about it or hang my ego on my personal identity of being a good person. When dissillusionment set in, when I realized just how many of the people I was serving were homeless by choice, I pushed through and carried on...and I still didn't know why. I just trusted that I would get it one day.

Eventually I made a connection to the time I spent living in Sweden. In the town I lived in, every night a group of vagrants assembled in the market square. Every bit as dirty and drunken as the worst homeless person that most people imagine them all to be. Fighting, having sex in the public restroom, vomiting and carrying on loudly all night. But this was socialism, so they went home every night to their government payed for apartments. I realized that no matter what you do, there will always be a segment of society that just doesn't give a Fuck and is happy to take and never give back. We've all known these people. Family members, friends, acquaintances, who use up the good will of everyone they meet until they've got no one left to use and it falls to the larger community to support them. No economy, government or community planning will ever compell them to support themselves. We loathe them and shun them. Politicians with ulterior motives tell us that ALL homeless and disadvantaged ARE them. But it's a lie. There are the mentally and physically ill who have no support structure, who NEED their communities to help them. Most of these people were once functioning members of their communities who no longer have the ability to survive on their own.
And so I came to understand that it's better to feed a hundred leaches to serve a single helpless individual.

Boy was I proud of myself for realizing that.

And then I was layed off and my job shipped to India, followed closely by my wife spending a year in and out of the hospital, with no insurance. A careers worth of hard work, reduced to a data point on a corporate profit sheet. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, when the medical debt comes for me and everything I've built in my life is taken, to become a line in someone else's ledger. Betrayed by the greed in the system. Because I upheld my end of the social contract. I worked hard in school, excelled in my career, had two kids and bought a house in a neighborhood with good schools. But the system is run by the greediest and most power hungry. Politics and business is the domain of the high functioning sociopath. And to a sociopath, you're not a real person like them. You're a data point, a line in the ledger.

Then I came to respect the other segment of the homeless. The ones who rejected the social contract, who don't feel societal pressure to give more than they take. Because they got it right. It's all a lie. You don't earn anything in America. You don't deserve the fruits of your labor. You subsist at the whim of the people with money and power. And when it serves them, you get nothing.

We are all standing in line for food, hoping there's a room for the night.