You're right: it doesn't achieve much because it doesn't go far enough. These people should be openly mocked, ridiculed and humiliated. Every time they open their stupid mouths, someone with a bullhorn should shriek, "That's interesting, BUT YOU'RE A FUCKING MOUTH-BREATHING, BOTTOM-FEEDING, DRIBBLING, DROOLING MORON!" three inches from their cow-like faces. They should get anonymous phone calls at 3:00am, "IDIOT, it's GET-A-FUCKING-EDUCATION-O'-CLOCK!". Gales of derisive laughter should greet their every utterance until they're so phobic of speaking again that they finally just shut the fuck up.

Maybe then, when the concept of "being ashamed of being stupid" is thoroughly drilled into their putty-like brain, we can be done with this anti-vaccine bullshit.

@ant has updated the length of at least 2 videos in the last 12 years (#1 and #2) but has updated channels thousands of times. Sometimes even correctly.

If you include *long and *notlong, then his count goes up to 304.

Really the official time keeper is Gale, but I'm a close second.

A viral ad for "Hair by Gale".

Okay, but, I want to see how this looks in gale force winds. That's where these pretty-looking demos would tend to break down (if at all).

For example:
https://youtu.be/puqYTj424PQ?t=111

True story.

Went to the presentation at school, at night. All the boys went one night, the girls on another. Fifth and sixth graders, but my mom took me as a fourth grader, my brother went as a fifth grader.

After both of us had seen the presentation, my parents sat with us in the backyard. Asked if we had any questions.

I had one. "How does the sperm get across the bed? Does it crawl?"

They showed all the apparatus, but they never told us the delivery method!

My parents didn't answer then. My dad tried to tell me later. Always at dinner time, which was weird.

I learned by then that this was something not to be discussed (picked that up from my parents, clearly!) Dad would try to tell me, I would squeal and run upstairs.

My father is not a patient man.

One night, he leaned over and unplugged the toaster. "Gale, in electrical terms, this is the male and this is the female." And he plugged in the toaster.

I squealed and ran, but the info was transmitted.

Stupid Disney movie didn't tell us.

This was in 1963.

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
of the big lake they called "Gitche Gumee."
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
when the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,
that good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
when the "Gales of November" came early.

The ship was the pride of the American side
coming back from some mill in Wisconsin.
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
with a crew and good captain well seasoned,
concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
when they left fully loaded for Cleveland.
And later that night when the ship's bell rang,
could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
and a wave broke over the railing.
And ev'ry man knew, as the captain did too
'twas the witch of November come stealin'.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
when the Gales of November came slashin'.
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
in the face of a hurricane west wind.

When suppertime came the old cook came on deck sayin'.
"Fellas, it's too rough t'feed ya."
At seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in; he said,
"Fellas, it's bin good t'know ya!"
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
and the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when 'is lights went outta sight
came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Does any one know where the love of God goes
when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
if they'd put fifteen more miles behind 'er.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
they may have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
in the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams;
the islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario
takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
with the Gales of November remembered.

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
in the "Maritime Sailors' Cathedral."
The church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times
for each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
of the big lake they call "Gitche Gumee."
"Superior," they said, "never gives up her dead
when the gales of November come early!"

Replacing with proper embed. Matched from previous thumbnail *backup=[...snipped...]

Flapping my wings to create gale-force winds, my most effective defense against blowhards.
Chorizo?? That shits nasty, only people I know of who eat that shit aren't your run-of-the-mill 'Hispanic', they're hardcore Mexican.

Oh and while we're on the subject, Mexican baked goods. I know the French were only there for maybe 6 years hard, but you'd think that Mexico might have gathered a bit more intelligence on the process of making a proper croissant? Butter fat vs beef tallow - ain't rocket science!

What else ain't rocket science? Seeing shit like this video and not knowing that you are already on planet police.

This guy reports like Wayne Gale from Natural Born Killers.

Gale Wallis

I don't use google+, don't want to use google+, but if somehow it generates something for the Sift by virtue of linking me by some mystical means, I'm in.

The founders have done so much for us as a community, and me personally, it seems the least I can do.

Malinfomred. Love it.

The source, for anyone like me who thought it's bad English:

"I just made up a word because I couldn't focus my eyes. AND I LOVE MY NEW WORD. It fits this current political climate we are in. Some folks aren't misinformed. They are MALINFORMED." --Gale, Slog reader

"People who pay attention to Fox News ... aren't just misinformed. They are maliciously misinformed. They are malinformed by malinformers spreading malinformation." --Dan Savage at Slog.>> ^bareboards2:

Malinformed.
Fox News Channel viewers are malinformed.
PS your thumbnail doesn't appear anywhere in the vid. Siftbot says it must....

Nice one, Deano. You're right, the handwriting is clearly a lock but Hank's no dummy. He won't approach Walter with this bit of evidence, strong though it may be, until he gets much much more.

And that's what season 6 will be about. Hank vs. Walter. And a 50 cal machine gun.
>> ^Deano:

>> ^shuac:
Are there any other GBs in Walter's world other than the late Gale Boetticher? Someone other than Gale that Walter could claim the book was from? What was Gretchen's maiden name?

If Hank reviews the evidence to confirm his memory I don't see how Walter can explain it.
http://i.imgur.com/ALpMK.jpg

All I can come up with is he bought the book from a used bookstore. But that's so weak.

>> ^shuac:

Are there any other GBs in Walter's world other than the late Gale Boetticher? Someone other than Gale that Walter could claim the book was from? What was Gretchen's maiden name?


If Hank reviews the evidence to confirm his memory I don't see how Walter can explain it.

http://i.imgur.com/ALpMK.jpg


All I can come up with is he bought the book from a used bookstore. But that's so weak.

Are there any other GBs in Walter's world other than the late Gale Boetticher? Someone other than Gale that Walter could claim the book was from? What was Gretchen's maiden name?

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
of the big lake they called "Gitche Gumee."
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
when the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,
that good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
when the "Gales of November" came early.

The ship was the pride of the American side
coming back from some mill in Wisconsin.
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
with a crew and good captain well seasoned,
concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
when they left fully loaded for Cleveland.
And later that night when the ship's bell rang,
could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
and a wave broke over the railing.
And ev'ry man knew, as the captain did too
'twas the witch of November come stealin'.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
when the Gales of November came slashin'.
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
in the face of a hurricane west wind.

When suppertime came the old cook came on deck sayin'.
"Fellas, it's too rough t'feed ya."
At seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in; he said,
"Fellas, it's bin good t'know ya!"
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
and the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when 'is lights went outta sight
came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Does any one know where the love of God goes
when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
if they'd put fifteen more miles behind 'er.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
they may have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
in the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams;
the islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario
takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
with the Gales of November remembered.

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
in the "Maritime Sailors' Cathedral."
The church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times
for each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
of the big lake they call "Gitche Gumee."
"Superior," they said, "never gives up her dead
when the gales of November come early!"

As someone said to me years ago -- you can tell when Spring arrives -- Gale and the daffodils show up!

Thanks for the welcome back!


In reply to this comment by Issykitty:
Hey you. Welcome back! Return after the tax season, I take it?