This year closes with the largest picture article I ever published on Trilemai ; it'll definitely be the last picture article at least for a while because someone accidentallied my camera and now I'm in the middle of the fucken
jumble jungle all fresh out of technologium, and Mother China is faraway and woe me. What can you do.
Above depicted bimbo had absolutely nothing to do with the foregoing, which I'm sure she'll be pleased to learn about -- for the first time, right here : on the only news site on the whole Internet so god damned newsy, even my own live-in slaves find out mindblowingly surprising new shit from reading it! That happened like, since they slept!
Nobody's more newsy than me, nobody! While everyone else rehashes stale memes and republishes my pictures decades after the fact, I stand alone as the only primary source in the undrainable postmodern swamp. So tune in to find out the latest scoops and shit! (Yes, there'll be a scatological tie-in, later. Get it ? Tie-in ?)
Above : muzzled inferiors muzzling inferiorly, below. If it's confusing it's because you're upside down.
Below : life, as you know it. Do you realize how much your children have in common with that papaya sapling ? Congrats concerntards, now you've done retarddit!
Above : every opening's a new beginning. Of ends.
Below : Do you realise how much in common... ah what's the use!
Above (as below) : it's Winter, so therefore... Puppies!
Remote control says "puppy shake head".
Da polis evidently got teh wrong door. Jus' sayin'.
You never heard of Miriam Hernandez ?
Well... how about Angel
Hernandez Javier ?
They have antique stores in the new world also, notwithstanding that it being new there's no antiques to be had. But... well, it being new also means everyone's substantially acquainted with making do, and so they make do : old shit's not antique anywhere else ; but in places without history the difference's negligible.
Moreover : back in the 80s, this tiny village I live in (which coincidentally happens to enjoy the lowest temperatures and the highest land values of the entire country) had the common fucking sense to require of young women (who didn't need all that much requiring back then anyway) to present themselves, for weighing. And then, once weighed, they had to come back periodically, to remind the young hussies how it goes, and where the tits go on the platters, and everything else.
Nowadays... tell me, how many of 'em spurious viejas locas have you beaten to shit today ?
Because untill they're pilloried and publicly mauled s'as to die Charles Hitchen's death... there'll be no life for you. Yes, it's quite that clear cut. So ?
It might be no longer used now ; but it is also old. Not antique, just very old. Unlike you, my dearly despised reader of this misery of a pointless language long overdue for oblivion -- it can look back on a glory day. It worked so many horses, and so well! Riddled by unknown moths and grubs unspoken as it may meet the Sun today, nevertheless one day, at some point during its life it did its work, and did it well, and for its doing the job well the hussies showed up every year, for the weighing, and didn't need that much requiring, either.
Amusingly, I had a set of these. I do clearly recall the Goldstar, the JVC, the thick red font AGFA... ah, years ago. Though it was mostly cartoons and porn if I recall (technically, porno, which isn't exactly the same thing, especially because all sort of unexpected matter counts) and comparatively little in the self-help "buns of steel" vein. Though come to think of it I do recall a Jane Fonda thing... how greatly we've progressed, thinking of it -- my mother never worked out like thez bitches do, not by a longshot.
Above, the potted plantiii drafted into playing Christmas tree. I don't usually bother, in fact I haven't in something like twenty years (nor have I actually bothered this time, the slaves begged and I grandinominouslyiv allowed ; then they cooked and I nibbled and chewed ; they shopped while I hung out, they wrapped and crafted and so on while I enjoyed -- truly the true spirit of Christmas, something that used to unite my everyday life with everyman's trudge one magic day of the year ; but from what I hear that's not what you do anymore) ; but it was quite pleasant an experience, to be revisited perhaps.
Below : the present pile, ever growing. I added nothing to it myself directly ; though of course being the owner of everything they are technically all mine, so it's just as good indirectly. Isn't it ?
Above : the steak in question (one of). Yes, we still eat out ; and everything else.
Below : I have no idea what that is.
Above an' below : Girlies presenting girlihood. An entirely female-driven activity nowadays, completely bereft of purpose, undergirth, or meaning. They won't buy them heels but they'll make them tiptoe, they don't know how to suck cock (none of them, the fresh girlies as the seasoned girlies, sad pile of girlhood all), they're a lot like a rooster farm left behind still cuck-a-doodling long after the last morning went away.
Above early stages and below late stages of cardial masturbation. By the flat stand of the dildo is touching her lips, its engorged tip is definitely tickling her heart.
Once it's in, and the dollie's quit spasmingv you put the crab over it and voila, muted whore ready for your usage. N'est pas ?
Above an' below : very self-conscious bimbo with mounted horse cock. She thinks everyone can see it, for some reason, and that anyone who can also does see it, too! Generally this is incorrect ; but judging by the very awkward bystanders she might even be correct.
Those things hurt!
"This is where they junkies gather at night, so careful not to step in any needles" I warned her in the playful tone of imaginary disaster that just maybe might be the fact of the matter
"What ? There's no needles!" she retorted, in the little tones of a desperate girl trying to summon safety into reality by the claim.
"Just crushed beer cans and used condom wrappers ?"
A root spider, I think.
So Hannah made a likeness of the sheep for her sock! Isn't that just fucken adorbs ???
Frog was a little coldvi, so he
And with that, the Xmas eve festivities are begoon!
The cup used to hold coffee, before being bombed with bimbolous (which is like fabulous, but better).
Filthy girl, both above an' bellow.
The likeness is startling! To everyone!
A picturesque centenary!
We shall cut out here, because who's got time to handle cameras anymore ; and cut back in the morning after, or at least the early afternoon after, when there's the present openings!
That's the first time they've been dressed indoors since like... March! It makes for a shocking effect (though I suspect to my eye only), like seeing a goat in a vest presenting the news or something.
But after all, taboos are made to be fucked with, and rules like posterior fourchettes to be broken, and so on. Transgression in the most structuredly, engineeredlyvii transgressive of all households, nothing to treat lightly!
Time for the cutting about, as ordained by the covenant of Brabraham.
Does this bring anything to mind ?
Yes, I still own the device.
The ever-increasing systematisation of servancy, here manifested through a gift of a bellhop's bell. They hear it -- they hop, it's quite delightful to watch actually.
Do you have one ?
Because don't fucking tell me your gifts are any better -- if your women ain't gifting you the most humiliatory trappings of submissive self-abasement they can come up with... what are you even doing over there, seriously. What's it even all for ?
And don't fucking tell me "the children", that's totally not who Christmas is fucking for!
MINE! ALLLL MINE! MWAHAHAHAHAHA
Can you believe I had not the slightest idea what any of this even was until the 25th ie yesterday ? Shit's been sitting there under the tree waiting patiently for weeks, much to the poor girl's heartily supressed despair, because why aren't I curious ?
So yes it was premeditated -- but not by me! It was premeditated by them! Kickass, the only thing better than telling everyone what to do and receive in return an unyielding chorus of "Yes, Master." and exactingly exact execution is... not even having to say anything.
My life is complete (though I did think it was a super-soaker at first).
"Well... let's make glitter bombs then!"
I mean... right ?
Is it.... perhaps ... could it be ...
Marbles! I used to swallow these when I was a kid, I think during my tenure I must've eaten a good half pound ; but nowdadays I mostly use it as insertables.
Like, when you go to town or some social function or something, you spend your time being stressed out by the dumb bitch in your life making you late, right ? She's not ready, she's bla bla bla... Well, what can I say, mine are ready on time without exception (or else!) ; so what we do is I stuff a marble up their butthole, and the evening becomes an exercise in not laying the egg. It's a whore's sport, see, it promotes fine buttscular control and other needful things.
And now I have a fresh supply of the things! Including some pretty choice, shapely ones. I suspect they might be the result of internecine whorefare, but you know (or more likely don't) how this works out : everything comes out
eventually in the end.
Package bear's time's up!
Good-bye, package bear! Who knows when we shall meet again...
It was nice to briefly know ye!
Above & below : post gift-opening assorted detritus and widespread destruction. It took like an hour to clean up (reportedly ; I didn't actually participate, I was busy otherwise) and most of the morning to make, so... what can I say, I guess I got my women's worth.
Above : another rainbow, just for good-
fluck. I get these pretty much on a daily basis, so you'll excuse me if I'm not as excited as the occasion no doubt commands -- it doesn't command to me, because nobody ever dares.
Below : Bitch made lamb-stuffed pitas, falafel triangles, wine-leaf sarmalıviii... I mean, all I did was take her out for Lebanese. Once, maybe twice, like a year ago. It used to be the case that I had taught her everything she knew ; but that's long in the past by now. She's absolutely outdone her master, so now I have even less reasons to ever go out. I'll just sit here, hammertime & grow fat, and fuck all y'all.
- The count goes up to 174, so it's not even close (excepting, of course, for all the other ones).
No, the tits don't make it, there's only 74 bits in there. I know it's what'd you have naively expected ; so had I, but the machine doesn't lie.
PS. If you're curious, something like
SELECT id, post_name FROM mpwp_posts WHERE post_type ="post" AND ( CHAR_LENGTH ( post_content ) - CHAR_LENGTH ( REPLACE ( post_content , 'img src=' , '' ) ) ) / 8 > 173;
works just fine for the intended purpose. Only took 12.54 seconds to produce its results on this system, too, which is impressive to me because there's been this ongoing attempt at ye olde lulz ever since sometime yesterday that you might've noticed as sporadic "no db server" errors, but I couldn't be arsed to do anything about. Because what the hell, I'm busy and besides, some very lonely people in "lockdown" not being able to access their only link to sanity, normalcy and the life worth living briefly but exactly when they'd need it most ? Aww, but that's par for the fucken course, neh ?
And since we're on the "tips&tricks" topic, nfi how we got to it but anyways : should you accidentally all your filenames "hammerzeit" while what you really want (as it turns out) is halt-hammerzeit, what you do is
for f in hammer*.jpg; do mv "$f" "$(echo "$f" | sed s/hammerzeit/halt-hammerzeit/)"; done
What's a hammerzeit anyways ?! [↩]
- And speaking of faggots -- don't you expect "in cado lugar" is how they'd fucking say it, seeing how they do have genders and cada should be for mujer ? But no, Spanish way too
faggotyunvirile for sanity like that. [↩]
- Not exactly a standard Tannenbaum, but nevertheless, some sort of thuja I think. Back when I was a kid the tradition, unspoken and undisturbed, was for every family to cut down a fir tree for the occasion, or rather the last couple meters of one. I have no idea whence millions of fir trees might've come every year ; I'm guessing it must've been the case my infantile notions of "every" weren't exactly scientific, for "every" married woman had a
jobcareer, pardonnez-moi and children and dinner ready every day, somehow -- yet it couldn't possibly have been any kind of true Blätter, so perhaps it was only my and mine that did all that ? I frankly don't remember, but anyways, I think I prefer the potted variant, perhaps for the same reason today's excellent steak seems to overpower the memory of excellent steaks in the past.
We also had piles of ancient (well, very old, technically speaking, but for having been inherited through generations of the family line, ancient in this context) tree decorations back then, hand-blown glass and such things. Yet I somehow don't mind the handicrafted plastic oranges of the present, perhaps for the same exact reason I despise religious iconry : too reminiscent of settled female life, "happy" in its deranged senses and therein wallowing content ; or perhaps because the modesty of it strikes an aesthetic chord. I'm not particularly convinced I understand what's going on exactly ; but I'm quite happy I had the wisdom to allow enslaved women their liberty in the matter. [↩]
- Apparently this isn't a word ; the Internet very helpfully insists on suggesting "grandiosity" or assorted neoplasms as alternatives. Perhaps it's the case ; but I vaguely recall a word denoting "large hearted" going something like that. I'm too lazy to chase down right now, so whatevers. [↩]
- Emesis is dangerous in context, as the gastric contents can end up forced into the lungs -- it's not even a matter of "aspirated", but outright forced, like from a pump. So definitely don't try this at home, with your boring mothers/sisters/careerwomen whatever the fuck it is you call veșted girlihood. It's not for them. [↩]
- You should see the people hereabouts by the way, it's been "very chilly", especially up here in the Small Windy where we live, so they're all bundled in coats and whatnot. Because a balmy 12 Celsius with a wind chill of maybe 2 degrees is unconscionable weather. What the fuck they'd be doing in ye olde country no-one knows. [↩]
- You understand this, there's a great need for organisation if one's serious about breaking shit. Mere chaos is guaranteedly mediocre, exceptional results outright require systems and systematic approaches. [↩]
- From scratch, meaning wheat flour, bean-shaped garbanzo beans and so on. [↩]