Liget, jó ? Legösszetettebbszóhosszúságvilágrekorddöntéskényszerneurózistünetegyüttesmegnyilvánulásfejleszthetőségvizsgálataitokról!

Because I know you'll want to know : the third (and last) word in the title, namely "Legösszetettebbszóhosszúságvilágrekorddöntéskényszerneurózistünetegyüttesmegnyilvánulásfejleszthető/
ségvizsgálataitokról", denotes something like " [A discussion] of your investigations in the evolution of the expression of the neurotic syndrome manifested as a need to establish the world record for the most complex, longest word." And yes it's Hungarian (aren't you glad ?), what did you think we're doing here, making shit up ?! Sorry bop, this is a mockeria not a makeshituperia. We don't make shit up here.

Now then, I do have some pictures, none of which of my dick, but first... eh, fuck it.

Above : two streetwalkers changing shoes in the street. The night's come on.

Below : Budapest nocturnal beauty ; but rather of interest, the excellence of the new tool -- these are taken freehand, from across the river, a good coupla miles, 28x or so telescopy involved. Jó ?

Bimbo shoes, etude en rouge.

Come now and do the boogie-woogie with us!

Hey bitch...

... wanna make some motherfucken money ?

I was gonna riff on some lyrics here, something about standing out or fitting in or whatever in that vein, and I proceeded to search for such key phrases with the "lyrics" postfix, to find some kinda raw material to work with. For once I didn't feel like retracing the same old ground, "speaks no languages holds no currencies" bla bla bla Paul Simon limpdick cuckery.

Holy hell the crap out there, it's scared my straight! Tye Tribbett the utterly moronic ( -- but Grammy bla bla bla, mind you!!ⁱ --) gospel singer, Sabrina Carpenter the n-th rehash of the Disney girl failed slut, Conway fucking Titty and shocking ineptitude about imaginary queens coming to his shitty bar to entertain his dumbass, holy shit pop music's fucking dead. Not just rock, all of fuckin it, deader than disco. I suspect by now there's more singer-songrwiters (in their own mind) than there are listeners, and by a significant factor at that.

Dead, you know what that means ? It hath ceased to exist.

And here we are, at the Liget Club és Rendezvényközpont, "Végre egy szórakozóhely, ahova 30 fölöttiek is járnak!" as they say in their native idiom, or "The largest dance club in Budapest, 6 floors, the best DJs." as they claim in yours. The two aren't even remotely similar, by the way : the Hungarian actually means "finally a club for people over 30".

The size claim is factual, it is probably the largest in Budapest. The DJs... I have no fucking idea what to say anymore, in all frankness an' honesty. This "DJ" business seems to have ran itself out ; a coupla days ago the bimbo observed this "DJ" in a DJ booth emplaced in an actual store, DJ-ing towards the street. Which was empty.

Wasn't, theoretically at least, the object of the whole entreprise as well as the subject matter of DJing this supposed art and craft, mystical, inexplainable but nevertheless directly observable where the DJ dude turns an empty street into a smoking party ? Well... there was the empty street and... uhhh... empty it stayed. Best I can tell DJs are ~same thing as "SEO experts" these days, they produce caravans out of thin air by finding caravans and following them around while "doing" "their" "magic". This leaves me with no real basis to measure bestness -- I suppose in that they've managed to find the booth at "the club with the best DJs", the DJs in question are the best DJs, what can you say ?

But anyways, we had a table reserved, and so were ushered right in, past various lines and securities (including a chocolate-in-lieu-of-change dispensing skinny fellow in a... bulletproof vest) ; the entrance fee came to about five dollars for the entire party ; the shots about three dollars a pop, I don't right now remember how many that was, but in any case not enough to make any kind of dent.

In other words : as far as the basics are involved, Liget delivers : yes big, yes pleasant service, yes Wyborowa, yes leather seats, yes everything.

As far as the population is concerned... well, one (in fact -- the only) thing Liget has going for it is that it's not on the tourist checklist. I am well satisfied that 90% or more of the five hundred or so people present were Hungarian citizens (and a drastic majority of which functionally monolingual, at that). This may sound like a minor point, but Budapest's principal problem are the hordes of idiotic dudes come to score or whatever the fuck they imagine they're doing, in gangs of four, six, even a dozen -- none of which worth a bent dime. They herd, exactly like fucking sheep, all over the Pest downtown, from the Ferris wheel to Fashion street and all around it's nothing but these purposeless walkers, in their loser dude outfits, polluting the ground and the air as pointlessly as you'd like. It's truly unfortunate the police doesn't just fucking shoot them ; but their unwelcome presence is enough explanation -- and enough justification -- both for "police brutality" and the #metoo nonsense. These dumbasses gotta be culled somehow already, it's just not possible to continue living in this manner, at least the rats and cockroaches strive to hide their abominable selves as best they can.

But the curse of crapsack worlds is that they're like onions -- the more layers you peel, the worse it stinks. Once you somehow remove the dudeherds, what's left is the landbarge regiments. I would lie if I claimed half the female population there present was even vaguely normal ; all the fucking fatties in the world apparently imagined "finally a club for they over 30" was meant in British English, like 30 stone, 400lbs, 200kgs. I normally lead a very sheltered life, but let me tell you, the Mall fauna isn't representative, all the pisisⁱⁱ swarming there are not even vaguely representative of the actual XX meatspace. (Which, incidentally, explains why becoming a gynecologist is a poor strategy to achieve the boyhood goal of "stick nose in lots and lots ant lots o' pussy. Yes -- you will ; but it won't be anything like you imagined.)

Other than that, there were maybe a dozen or two (in, again, 500+ people!) passible females, all in their 40s, and take that passible with a grain of salt -- all of the habitual transvestites that I know, in both the Old and the New World, definitely look way the fuck better than any of these passibles.

In short, this is the first club outing in recorded memory where the girls didn't find a single cunt to bring to the table. Not that I give that much of a shit, I still had a great time (which -- honestly, it's hard not to, with my own slaves), but... well... must suck.

I'm calling today a day of rest, in My name ; and then tomorrow off to Prague. Keep in touch!

1. The bullshit the idiots come up with to try and clothe their abject nothing... it's fucking offensive, what the fuck already, butch dykes with drawerfuls of (slightly used -- by others) institutional issue male underwear and all the walls covered in drawn penises.

   No matter how much you look like the thing, or you think you look like the thing, or nobody can accuse you of not looking like the thing, or everyone agrees you.... holy fuck! You'll never be the thing, holy fucking fucksticks how hard is it. Either you are or you aren't ; looks an' lookings dun do anything, what the fuck is with the female perspective everywhere all of a sudden ? I get it, she gets preggo'd by looking, or at least used to. Sure, fine, back in the day all it took was her looking like she's asking for it and bam, nine months later another screaming mouth to silence. Yet, leaving aside how it doesn't do anything for her anymore -- it never did, nor ever will do anything for you.

   Snap the fuck out of it. [↩]

2. Pisi is a Romanian term denoting a woman that takes her mating seriously, and invests effort towards it systematically and deliberately.

   This needs a special word in Romanian because they're fucked in the head, and apparently pretend to themselves to actually believe such is anything but the tritest and most common normalcy. Local problems. [↩]