I'm still patiently waiting for "Gattaca: The Series" but until that great and glorious day I'll just have to settle for endless hours staring at the glowing cube watching "The Fifties Show" and "The Prison Hour" or whatever other creative excellence falls like heavenly mana upon the pixel viewer. It must be healthy, too, right? Surprisingly, we are now being told by lying scientists that endless moron box sessions might actually have fatal consequences. Yes, your living room might be as dangerous as the bathroom and bedroom.
People who spend hours bingeing on television shows run the risk of suffering a fatal pulmonary embolism, according to a major new study of more than 86,000 people tracked over 18 years.
I know exactly what that is because I watched all fourteen seasons of "Emergency Room" over a single lost weekend and then died.
Pulmonary embolism is a blockage in the artery that carries blood from the heart to the lungs, and is usually caused by a blood clot formed in a vein in the leg.
Whoa, slow down there egghead. Blood? Veins? Clotting? I'm a television viewer, please use language I can understand, i.e. grunts, exaggerated gestures and commercial jingles.
Up to 60,000 people die as a result of pulmonary embolism each year in Britain.
Right, that's extra, innit. Dodgy and cheeky numbers, mate.
Those who indulge in marathon TV sessions should take the same precautions against developing deadly blood clots as they would on a long-distance flight, warns the research, which was presented at the European Society of Cardiology conference in London.
Your fifty hour marathon of "Bi-curious Medieval Fantasy" is similar to a solo flight across the Atlantic, just a million times more pathetic.
It is the first study into the links between prolonged television watching and fatal pulmonary embolism.
Most of the other studies link it to idiocy, life failure, social retardation, etc.
A boom in online television services in recent years has allowed people to download and watch entire series of shows such as Game of Thrones, Breaking Bad and Orange is the New Black in one sitting.
More like Game of Battered Couches, Breaking Waistlines and Sick is the New Healthy.
And the danger of having a fatal pulmonary embolism is even higher among those between 40 and 59 who watch more than five hours daily.
A fifty-year-old who binge watches television, the sure sign of a healthy society.
The research, funded by the Japanese government, looked at 36,007 men and 50,017 women aged between 40 and 79.
Could Netflix be used to destroy Godzilla? Yes, apparently.
I watched all ten seasons of "Ow! My Balls!" with no breaks.
The risks of watching television were calculated after adjusting for other factors such as a history of hypertension or diabetes, smoking, drinking, and body mass index.
Practically anything fun will end you, not just the glass toilet.
Professor Stephen Spiro, honorary medical adviser at the British Lung Foundation, said: “Staying seated for hours without moving in front of a television or a computer can be potentially dangerous – the same goes for long car journeys and flights.
I guess "Sitting Can Kill You!" was too alarmist of a headline and we do love to pick on the vast wasteland.
Now after watching and entire series of Tolkein for dummies, we can all go to the Gym and do the Hampster and enjoy a Starbucks on the way home to prevent the side effects of binge watching.
It will definitely turn you into an idiot.
It'll kill you all right... you'll die of boredom!
Those deaths could have been prevented. if they had been watching reruns of Benny Hill at the time of their death.
hahahahahahahahahahahaha AZIFF!
Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.
If you're anything like me you have fond memories of the first time you were in some public setting and another unique individual crafted in God's image whipped out the old pocket phone and began speaking as if invisible soundproof walls immediately sprang up when they pushed the "on" button. It was a magical new frontier in personal atomization, to be sure, but we've come along way since then when it comes to electronic-assisted social retardation. You'll be excited to know that we've never been more open to someone loudly declaring "I'm at the store right now!" into the palm of their hand while you're forced to passively endure it.
Do you text or otherwise engage with a small screen during a social gathering?
A U.S. survey suggests you are not alone, even if you are annoyed when other people do exactly the same thing.
I guess the written text on a screen somehow didn't hear me answer in the negative, shattering the illusion that a story written several days ago is somehow interactive. On the other hand, pecking at tiny screens is now so pervasive we can safely assume everyone is carrying around a hand-sized Skinner Box, so we can at least celebrate that.
The Pew Research Center survey on shifts in what is acceptable in an always-wired world found 82 percent of American adults say that using cellphones hurt conversation in social gatherings.
"Man, I'm always wired! The future!" *spends next eight hours huddled in a cubicle listlessly interacting with grinding and groaning foreign-made technology*
Also this contradicts the premise of the article, but in all honesty I stopped carrying when the writer failed to somehow anticipate my own highly specific and eccentric life experiences.
But even more people - 89 percent - say they used their phones during their most recent get-together, including for texting, talking and for a photo.
Massive cognitive dissonance, the sure sign of a healthy mind.
"We're in the middle of this enormous social transformation where the rules of the road aren't clear and so they're constantly being negotiated," he said.
Let's pretend this banal selfishness somehow represents a fundamental shift in the human experience and not the same pathologies we've already had amplified via inner tubes and talk boxes.
Cellphone use in social settings tends to be tied to the event itself, with 45 percent of people posting a photo or video of their most recent gathering, the survey showed.
Man, this party is great! Let me ruin it by going all Blair Witch Project. Hey dude, I kicked the map in the river!
A smaller number - 16 percent - said they turned to their small screen because they had lost interest in the group.
Crushing candy is more important than hearing your latest chemotherapy updates, sorry.
Some cellphone use is practical: while in public spaces, almost two-thirds of cellphone users look up information about where they are going or how to get there.
U.S. Americans, some don't have maps, etc.
Asked when cellphone use was "generally OK," 77 percent said while walking down a street and three-quarters said on public transportation. Five percent said it was usually OK at a movie theater.
But Spiderman just told you to turn that thing off. Great power, responsibility, am I right?
Cellphone etiquette became a policy issue in the United States in 2013 when Federal Communications Commission Chairman Tom Wheeler said the agency was considering allowing in-flight calls on planes.
Your "Royal Crown Cola" might be an explosive device, but feel free to bring on that bundle of red wires and speakers.
After criticism about passengers having to listen to neighbors during flights, Wheeler said he personally opposed in-flight cellphones and the decision would be up to airlines.
Terrible ideas can still be shouted down, even in today's world.
Today's cautionary tale is all about the "duck chase." It sounds like an unpopular child's board game that ends up being played once and then at the bottom of a stack of other, better games in the basement and/or garage sale, but it's actually much, much more. Well, not really, but someone has to act as a hype man for the pointless animal cruelty.
An animal rights activist was beaten with a duck by a Spanish woman defending one of the country's most bizarre and controversial festival traditions.
It really says a lot about Spain that duck torture is only in the top thirty or so of mean-spirited and baffling "festivals." It's all quality semi-irony that the defender of water fowl got bludgeoned with one. Not quite wedding day rain, but it's decent.
The man was whacked with the bird while he filmed the annual "duck chase" in the Catalonian seaside town of Roses, where every August ducks are thrown into the Mediterranean and then caught and brought back to the shore by swimmers.
Good seats available for next year if any of this insanity sounds at all appealing to you.
"Continue, continue. Continue to abuse, I am filming you."
God is watching and will punish you with hell has been replaced with "I'm filming (sic) and will post the results in an unpopular online video." This probably explains why we keep scaling new summits of moral and ethical excellence.
The footage shows a young woman wearing a white bathing suit attack the man with a duck -- holding it by the legs as she repeatedly lashes him with it.
How angry do you have to be to use a mallard as a cudgel? Not quite "swing a cactus" levels of rage, but still.
As the attack goes on, animal rights activists gathered on the shore can be heard chanting, "You would not do that to your dog," before they were removed by police.
Before you jump to any conclusions remember you're in a land where watching a bovine slowly bleed to death is considered quality recreation.
But after Sunday's incident, the town's mayor is mulling putting an end to the "duck chase".
No! We can't let the terrorists win!
While the ducks are not killed, Animal Rescue Espana said they suffer "stress, internal hemorrhaging, pain, fear and suffering."
Imagine a less anthropomorphic version of the abuse Donald Duck takes in his cartoons and you've got the idea of the suffering incurred.
The group launched a petition on the Change.org website demanding that Roses ban the "duck chase" as well as bull runs.
It's a lot harder to get hit with animals when you're safely behind the old keyboard and away from stupid old reality.
The petition has received over 10,000 signatures since it was launched on August 14.
It's already gained the support of "Deez Nutz" and "www.cheapwhipporno.com."
Maybe the ducks aren't entirely innocent.
Festivities at the annual San Antolin festival in the Basque coastal town of Lekeitio revolve around a contest where young men battle to pull the head off a dead goose as it is dragged on a pulley across the harbour.
Well, at least it's already dead.
Previously a live goose was used.
Oh.
Villagers in the northern village of Manganeses de la Polvorosa used to hurl a live goat from the top of their church tower to honour its patron saint but the practice was banned in 1992.
Since then demonic evil, unimpeded by goat splattering rituals, has dominated this tiny village.
It's almost time for football and the exciting elevator incidents, butt destruction, balls with insufficient air (or too much!) and the general malfunction we've come to expect from the drug-free role models that pretend to be from our city for a few weeks in the fall. But wait, there is a tiny minority of American Eggball players that aren't total and complete human garbage! What about that guy who prays or whatever, am I right? Can we have more stories about Johnny Whatshisname or whatever it is, please? People love it, and the inability to master the fundamentals of the Quarterback position means nothing in the face of positivity and the big money in ad revenue it brings.
Leave it to Tim Tebow to play peacemaker!
On tonight's episode of "Leave it to Tebow."
"Ward, don't you think you're being a little hard on the Tebow?"
"No, June. He turned around a derelict team and made a clutch play that won a playoff game, we have to make a concentrated effort to drive him out of football forever."
"But honey, now they have horrific videos of players running amok."
"Maybe you're right dear. He can play third string somewhere."
Tebow broke up a fight during the first of three consecutive days of joint practices between the Eagles and Ravens.
Wait, what? I think we're missing the real story here in our rush to point to the fact that not all behavior from NFL players involves violent sociopathy. These two bitter rivals are practicing together? Sharing their secret tactics? For three whole days? Man, gridiron is dead to me. I'm tossing out my "Go Green, Beat Other Shade of Green" shirt, it doesn't mean anything in light of this shocking revelation.
According to multiple reports, there was a small clash between some of the Ravens and Eagles backups on Wednesday.
Please ignore the fact that we use the same words to describe wars in the Middle East where thousands die.
However, that ended quickly when Tebow came to the rescue.
We need more eyeballs looking at our poorly designed and ad-riddled web page so: Tebow, Tebow, TEBOW, TEBOW!!!!!!!!!!1111111oneoneone
He's got a great chance to be assistant clipboard holder.
Tebow and the Eagles host the Ravens on Saturday night during a preseason clash.
I guess then they'll pretend to hate each other and ignore the fact that they've been working together, just like in Professional Wrestling.
Do not visit the ad-riddled source. http://philadelphia.cbslocal.com/2015/08/19/tim-tebow-breaks-up-fight-at-practice/
Komment Korner
Did he use the jawbone of an ass or was Gino Smith not there?
I wish more people were like this guy.
STOP BLAMING OTHERS BECASE YOU CHOSE TO LICK SH!T COVERED PEENUS
The NFL has turned into nothing more than a bunch of thugs!
I'd have more faith in him negotiating a treaty with Iran than Kerry.
Blessed are the peacemakers.
Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.
It's with bittersweet feelings and wistful yearnings for past days that I bring this amazing trilogy to a close. Like reaching the end of a beloved novel or one of those "Save often!" video games there's a certain sadness that it will soon be over, that I'll have to spend my time doing something other than watching socially retarded suburban rebels make meaningless and doomed stands against the apparatus of power. I guess we should smile because it happened instead of weeping because it's about to end. Let us create joinder one more time, you're not being detained but I'll ask you to stick around anyway and join me among real "We are the dead" heroes who just won't provide those papers without a long and pointless struggle that ends with ownership.
Am I not under arrest?
We're right back in the thick of things with a so-called "roadside safety check," which we all know it how Hitlerism got its foot in the door. This time we get a good look at our spectacled resistor with his squared away haircut and demeanor that starts out relatively pleasant and non-crazy. If they only knew. We get the usual dog-chasing-tail act of asking if this counts as being detained and it's pretty clear that is the case, but better ask a fifth time just to be sure.
Then, the impossible happens and a sovereign citizen is actually right about something! I know, law of averages, broken clock twice a day, but it's still surprising. The officer says he asked for identification and is told by the Free Man of the Land that he hasn't and a quick review of the footage reveals this is indeed the case. You pretty much have to stop this unconstitutional pull-over now, in the face of a rare victory. Instead the state sponsored violence ramps up as the badge thugs open the car door and our hero lets out a series of "Whoas!" like he's a young Joey Lawerence or something.
World's Mildest Police Videos.
The system tool explains that driving is not a right, which sure sounds like fascist talk to these ears. Officer Angry has clearly lost all patience with the freedom rider and in the face of this the necessary papiern is meekly handed over. Like a mobious strip we continue to eat that tail forever as it's time for more questions about detainment and its relationship to the driver's current status, which is met with more barking and a little reminder that the State of Illinois does not tolerate back-sass. Maybe try it in Minnesota next time, I don't even know.
After all this our protagonist wishes to remain silent unless an attorney is present. The query that prompted this cliched response was "Is this your address?" Let me please confer with legal counsel before I answer that, and then when I do I'll take the fifth. Isn't it taser time yet? Instead we briefly discuss the fifth amendment and then are indeed free to leave, having accomplished the noble purpose of making another human unit angry.
Bin ich verhaftet?
The scene shifts to an interior where difficult questions about names are about to get bizarre responses. Our unseen champion claims not to have a first or last name, so I guess it's the Clint Eastwood character from all those westerns, with all the toughness and likeability stripped away, naturally. Then he says his name is "Robert," provoking laughter from the civil servant. Nothing funny about our right to play legal make-believe, man.
Please tell me more about how the Magna Carta gives you the right not to have a name.
It's then explained that our dissenter is not a person, and as such isn't subject to the admiralty and maritime law of this court. Now everyone is having a nice chuckle, but the fact remains that there's no denying the unpersonhood of our narrator. Kind of like in grade school when you're not part of the game of tag and as such can't be made "it" or be given girl cooties. This is how jurisprudence works.
"What are you?" is sadly not answered with a claim to be the Bat Man, but merely an ordinary man who is also not a citizen of the United States according to a misreading of a treaty with Tunisia from 1795 or whatever. At this point I half expect references to the Code of Hammurabi, it would be just as relevant. He then claims to be a "State Citizen" which at least gets us up to about 1861 or so. The smile is now long gone from the questioner, replaced with annoyed bemusement.
I regret to inform you that the Civil War is over and your side lost.
It turns out that our non-person is from Idaho, which of course didn't enter the Union until 1890, putting another bullet into a legal argument that's already long dead. As per tradition a request for a license becomes an issue of contention. His person has one, but he doesn't. Wait, I thought you weren't a person? It's almost like you're just firing off random phrases and concepts with no real understanding and in general making a fool of yourself for no good reason, but we all know courts are bad so keep up that good fight.
"I don't wish to create joinder with you." If you were a sexy woman, well maybe. With that the interaction ends and it's time to go address the prosecutor. However the way is blocked by government goons infringing the freedom of movement. The jack-boot squad won't let the Idaho citizen in with the camera, provoking more righteous passive-aggression. This Braveheart moment is somewhat undermined by one of the thugs telling him to leave the camera with his mother, who is apparently sitting across the room. Not now Mom, I'm fighting for my rights! No, I didn't get a job today.
"You are not God!" Yeah, really. Only the unmoved mover can ask me to shut off my recording devices and you ain't him, pal. After acknowledging his lack of divinity the guard absorbs a speech about rights and wrongs, but remains intractable. An attempt to enter is stopped by a human Berlin Wall and now it's already zapping time.
Isn't God, but does shoot lightning from the hands.
The shock is deployed and we get some quality agonized moans. Then it's time for the cuffs. Now Mommy will have to bail you out, nameless non-entity.
Back to the familiar confines of a motor vehicle where a rather doughy officer is demanding the usual laminated items. "As a man what right do you have to stop another man?" Wow. Our well-fed authority figure doesn't even attempt an answer and we skip ahead to a discussion of whether speeding is a crime or not. Hint: it is. An attempt to explain the contra position is severely undermined by incoherent rambling and even an "Aw, you know" in place of the expected citation of the Volstead Act or Wagonry Guidelines of 1804. Yeah, come on, you know what I'm trying to say.
Attempts to cite case law are ignored, and yes, you are being detained. More fuzz arrive and a request to "stand down" instead provokes the brown shirt.
Incredibly he doesn't actually hit anything. This time.
After what baseball announcers would call a "check swing" it's time to demand the opening of the car window. Get the supervisor! I'm going to give you all "very poors" on the customer service feedback card, officer. The window gets smashed, followed by kissing some pavement. With that this examination of our sovereign rights as free men of the land ends with both a bang and a whimper, appropriately enough.
Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.
When I first read the headline I thought we were talking about male bees, but it's actually a reference to those amazing devices that unsuccessfully spread democracy in various sandboxes and successfully attack our privacy and sense of security elsewhere. That's all great, but do they race? The answer is yes, provided we can find some way to make this dead on arrival idea palatable to the same investors that are innocent lambs ripped off by the world's worst people according to a debate I saw once. And why not? Watching objects chase each other, that's what's up.
Developer Stephen Ross is renowned in real estate for high-profile projects around the country and in sports for his ownership of the Miami Dolphins.
Bubbles, slums and a losing football team...let me go get that checkbook for drone racing. It was either this or run for President, I guess.
Now he is looking to make a name for himself in a new niche: drone racing.
We've tried killing things, violating constitutional rights and voyeurism...what else is left?
The League intends to make money through sponsorships, media and ticket sales.
That #13 Coca-Cola drone is a real intimidater! Please keep watching.
Over the years numerous spectator sports have enjoyed splashy debuts and harbored hopes of becoming mainstream, from roller derby to arena football. After the initial buzz faded, interest in the sports often has petered out.
In fairness arena football was never popular, did not have a "splashy" debut, and still enjoys nominal popularity with the sub-brick segment of our great Democracy.
The Drone Racing League is targeting a growing audience: videogame players and other technology-oriented types.
The main problem, as the parents of this target audience already know, will be finding ways to get them to leave the house.
The machines are nimble enough to navigate the old factories and other interior spaces in which the Drone Racing League is planning its races.
Man, the complete and total death of the American manufacturing industry is the gift that keeps on giving! We can race tiny flying devices in the ruins of our economy, can't wait.
Earlier this summer, the League held a nonpublic trial race inside the abandoned Glenwood Power Plant in Yonkers.
I'm trying to imagine something more depressing.
These are real athletes.
Six pilots standing on the power plant floor controlled their drones as they flew down the warehouse’s hallways and through open windows.
The ghosts of our national pride and dignity gave a hearty thumbs up before dissolving into mist.
“It’s a completely immersive experience that’ll make you feel like you’re flying,” said Drone Racing League founder Nick Horbaczewski.
Imagine the thrill of zooming around rusted out equipment in a long-dead Allentown factory!
“I felt [drone racing] could be a sport that resonated with people because it touches on the heritage of racing, but also brings in the benefits of new technology,” he said.
It's a happy marriage of our disastrous past and bleak future.
Mr. Refsland said the sport might need to make some changes to become more fan friendly. “It’s not exciting to watch gnats fly in a football field all day,” he said. He believes the sport will become more appealing if spectators can view the images racers see through their virtual reality goggles.
Virtual reality googles? Really? It's not 1993 anymore.
Mr. Higgins acknowledged that RSE’s investment in the Drone Racing League is a risky one. “Our first threshold to cross is to persuade the world that this has potential to be a sport,” he said.
Parting fools from their money, the eternal struggle of the big talker with a horrible idea.
Previously, on Sovereign Citizens Being Owned we saw the Lower Alabama version of the Terminator killbot smash a car window, a dopehead get some rather tame voltage to the scrotal area and the world's most unlikeable truck driver turn a routine twenty second stop into a seemingly never ending lecture on how his misinterpretation of a naval treaty from 1761 means that questions from an officer don't need to be answered. Honestly, the only way it could have been better would have been with some Sheriff John Bunnell narration. "Here's a law-flaunting drug freak in a Big Rig! He honestly thinks that he's going to talk his way out of this by appealing to the Articles of the Confederation. The officer has seen enough. Now the window glass is almost as broken as his understanding of the legal system. A few high voltage shocks bring this dangerous animal under control. He'll continue his discourse on 18th century road laws...in JAIL!!!"
"His smart mouth just bought him a night's stay in the Green Bar Hotel!"
Our next resistor to the evil, all-powerful government, you know like in Divergent, proudly declares that's he's not listening to the lawful orders, which I'm sure will shut this down under some obscure hard-of-hearing defense that was briefly allowed for a few months by a treaty from 1744. In other words, check and mate. I can't even comprehend the tyranny you're talking at me, man. Far out. "It's called civil disobedience, have you ever heard of it?" explains our hero. Move over Gandhi. Why aren't you here, making life miserable for our police?
This question about civil disobedience and the knowledge of the concept is asked a few more times without satisfactory results and then the version of Thoreau our generation gets simply drives off. Wait, I thought he was going to get owned, what's up with this? As if in anticipation of my objections, the court records, complete with guilty pleas, are displayed while wacky music plays. We need to get the person who made this video directing various Hollywood reboots, this is incredible art.
9/15, never forget.
We're back to the trucker we met in part one. I guess the auteur that wove together this amazing compilation correctly assumed that there's only so much of this passive-aggressive piece of human goo we could take in one sitting. Now the officer is actually reading the relevant code directly from a piece of paper, his initial jovial goodwill long gone. The basic takeaway is that you're supposed to cooperate with law enforcement. But what about my freedoms? Talk about a bring-down. We get a final ultimatum that is met with "I am cooperating!" Well, that explains why we're wasting all this time going around in meaningless circles.
There's a jump edit and the same conversation is still going as if probably twenty minutes or so hadn't just elapsed. Long suffering doesn't even begin to describe the tool of the Orwellian system, while his victim just wants to "go down a road." He also isn't a fan of the intimidation that has occurred, as witnessed in cheerful smiles, polite questions and supreme professionalism in the face of the drivel he's been spouting.
It's time to break the glass, but even now the jackboot wearer gives a countdown from three and when the countdown is over has some addition, fruitless discussion with the last, best hope for a free society. Finally the window gets smashed and the trucker gets showered with flying shards. "Shit." Yeah, it's almost like you could have somehow prevented this, but let's be real you're correct and the rest of the world needs to change.
They only warned me 37 times!
After all of that, the minority of one is dragged from the cab and arrested. This civilization thing, it's got to go.
Time to hear from a young lady, who wants yet another faceless system thug to remove his dark glasses so we can search vainly for any humanity in the eyes beneath. Predictably, the request is ignored and questions about comings and going receive non-answers. Back to discussing the cool shades, but they're not coming off because of the sunlight. Yeah, right. These nazis, they just make up anything.
We get some insincere thanks from the daughter of liberty, more debate over sunglasses and my feelings as a unique and special human being and then the officer wants to know why the motorist has been parked on the roadside for an extended period of time. Apparently she already told another oppressor. See, he wasn't wearing glass and thus earned the precious pearl that is a barely civil conversation.
To keep track of cars parked along a road.
After more useless, useless words the protector of the wealthy elite directs the driver to a nearby sign. In a funny bit we actually briefly see the No Parking sign, but our heroine instead thinks he's pointing to one mentioning a game refuge. This misunderstanding is promptly corrected. In a rare flip of the script the free woman asks the state trooper if there's a fire, but sadly "It doesn't matter." More feigned politeness and we manage to end one of these without breaking glass or delivering shocks.
That last one was pretty boring and disappointing, but to make up for it we cut to a car chase worthy of World's Wildest Police Videos. Two high-speed scofflaws, putting innocent lives in danger, as a certain well-tanned sheriff might describe it. Heavy Australian accents describe how they "Just went through a breathalyzer" and are now fleeing the reprisal. Whether or not they were drinking from those massive beer cans or discussing if something was a knife or not remains unknown at this point.
Hi guys...drink beer!
We get a hearty "Here we go!" as the glory riders haul rear end, fleeing Mad Max and his 800 horsepower interceptor. A quick glance back reveals the forces of the decaying central authority are close by, trying to prevent this white line nightmare. This is followed by some exciting night driving footage and the calming tones of police sirens. Sadly the Nightrider is promptly surrounded by the authorities. Oh well, I'm sure they'll be willing to calmly discuss admiralty law for the next twenty minutes following that wild mid-speed chase.
Requests to open the door are met with a "No Mate!" Break out his window with a boomerang guys, come on.
Mad Max 5: Am I Under Arrest?
Incredibly, we actually do get more conversation, featuring the usual "Am I free to go" requests as menacing government tools circle with batons at the ready. The smash and grab does occur however, and is described as "thuggery." I'd go so far as to maybe call it "hooliganism" myself.
"Am I under arrest?"
"Yes."
Tune in next week at this time for the thrilling conclusion of Sovereign Citizens Being Owned, featuring a feckless momma's boy, a snide comment that is actually factually accurate and more requests to see the supervisor because law enforcement is like costumer service and that particular gambit always works.
Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.
By now we've all read the greatest literary classic in American history, seen the award-winning big screen adaptation and then attempted to apply what we had learned about whippings and bondage contract law to our own lives. Everything was fine until that last step. Then the ugly reality stepped in. Instead of sexy vampires that own factories and improbably named college students with an impeccable command of prose the real world gives us half-dead elderly scumbags, opportunistic human parasites and glumly staring at a bank statement covered in red ink and hoping that will somehow turn your crank. Yes, stupid old reality ruined another fantasy. Well, at least I still have my vampirism. I'm sure that hasn't been wrecked by losers, weirdos and poseurs.
On her website, Central Florida dominatrix "Goddess Jude" says she enjoys spanking, flogging, whipping and other fetish activities.
Pretty typical, stomach-churning stuff. Because mommy and daddy didn't give me enough attention when I was a tot I'll pay to be hit by a bloated and unattractive woman. You know Mr. Putin, if you want to "accidentally" bump into that giant red button...
The dominatrix also advertises "financial slavery" for clients who wish to "pamper" their mistress.
Man, I actually feel a little jealous about someone who gets off on financial disasters, especially in this day and age. "After that banker bailout I couldn't walk for three days." Or just set up one of those national debt counters over your bed and you'd be set. China is dropping our currency? Oh God. Yes. Yes!
"Given his mental and physical condition, he was exploited," said Abrams' attorney Brian Mark, who claims his client was suffering from clinical depression, dementia and Alzheimer's disease when he added Gumbrecht’s name to his financial accounts.
More like clinical horny, am I right? Haw. Haw. Seriously, how does someone who might not make it through the night seek out a special spanking service? I'm pretty sure Medicare doesn't cover that. Well, maybe these days it does.
Abrams met Gumbrecht about four years ago after divorcing his wife of 32 years, Mark said. According to the lawsuit, Gumbrecht told Abrams "it was of the highest honor to be her financial slave," and convinced him that such servitude "would bring her the most pleasure."
When paying taxes is not a big enough waste to boost the horny levels, I guess this is the next natural step. Well, that or trying to restore sanity and normalcy to your ruined life, but where's the heavy breathing in that?
"Gumbrecht continued to reward Abrams with sexual favors," states the lawsuit, which adds that "Abrams would be punished" if he failed to adhere to the dominatrix's financial requirements.
I derive sexual pleasure from punishments. I get punished for doing things my dominatrix doesn't want. Logic trap?
On her website, Gumbrecht states she is a BDSM professional who "will NEVER perform illegal sexual acts."
The $300 an hour buys time, pleasant conversations and NOTHING ILLEGAL.
Mark acknowledged it is not illegal for a dominatrix to offer sadomasochistic and financial slavery services.
Yup, there it is, right there in the First Amendment. Thank you founding perverts.
Can do things you've never even imagined, like graduating high school in 1981.
However, the attorney claims Gumbrecht knew about Abrams' diminished mental state because she accompanied him to an appointment with a neuropsychologist and psychotherapist in 2013.
This is just my dom, doc. I had to let her come with me or I'd be punished with clothespins and candle wax. Let's talk about my mental health.
In May 2014, Abrams signed a deed transferring his Casselberry townhome to Gumbrecht. The property has an assessed value of $101,537.
100k. Yes. In Florida. In 2015. So it's basically a falling down rotting shack built in a swamp.
In February, Local 6 learned that Orlando Code Enforcement had received multiple complaints from at least one of Gumbrecht's neighbors claiming she was improperly running her dominatrix business out of a home in a residential area without a permit.
"Before you paddle me and call me worthless scum can I please see your permit so I know you're a fully bonded and accredited mental defective."
Gumbrecht's website featured a photo of a home on Grant Street, which was described as a "dungeon."
Wow, really? Can't wait to explore it with my Elven Fighter/Magic-User and see what kind of treasures are there.
