Lasagna & other factors of domestic tranquility

Wednesday, 20 May, Year 12 d.Tr. | Author: Mircea Popescu


As the title promises, above depicted lasagna, made with quite excellent local cheese and very imported pasta -- for some reason it doesn't seem possible to ever find decent local pasta. Somehow. I don't know what gives, it makes no sense, but pretty much everywhere I go I'm stuck importing Italian dry pasta.

Below, you'll never guess this in a million years, but I do suspect it's actually a... firebug. No kidding.



This gecko has evidently suffered an accident. I can't imagine what, the geckos here are very peacible (unlike the rather aggressive lot we observed in Nicaragua, those guys actually gnawed on others' legs and things)... but maybe a bird or something ?


I find the resemblance quite striking ; don't you ?


Above : homemade hamburgers, because what's slave labour four if not to recreate ironically the irony of slave labour in "modern democracies" ?

Below : continuing that old lulz series, admire this accomplishedly precious cuntlet -- a nineteen year old on sale under the very transparently borrowed terminology of "emprendedora" &cetera.

O tinara speranta atit a modelingului cit si-a muzicii din gura & refren. Ca daca-i ziceau pur si simplu jitica de monta nu ierea bine.


Meanwhile at reality racy-ranch... life's hard, and the fates unfare. Mean streets, what's a bimbo to do, you feel me fam ?


This sad atrocity is a "monument" to "peace" made so as to have made something during Oscar Arias'i sad reign. The problem with it is that the remnants of the instruments of war impress the thinking observer by their sheer excellence, by so much accomplished with so little... they're remarkable artefacts of human accomplishment, unbridled ingenuity, perfection, dedication and... pretty much everything else good and worthy. The only possible takeaway from exposure to these -- after so many years, after such indignities as they've endured, yet still so very powerful items -- is that one'd definitely want more, not less but more things in his life just like them. Cheap, angry, polished practicality.

Whereas the monument to... whatever it is -- "peace"ii, let's call it -- rather stands as a monument to unthinking, indolent imbecility. What the fuck is it even, some brutish concrete poured in approximate geometric shapes ? The damned guns are machined (in wartime ; under bombardment) to micrometers and these dumb peacefucks can't manage inch-level resolutions on their votive to idiocy ?

Moreover, the flaunting thoughtlessness on display is grating -- not for a second did these dumb schmucks stop to consider "hmm... we'd better be on our toes here, bring the top game to the table, otherwise better pick something else to fuck with because these guns might shine through our inept nonsense and make a mockery of us and everything we stand for". Nope, not even for a second did the nacidos por vencer stop to consider that no, it ain't their fucking birthright, and moreover they're not ever winning jack at the rate they're going ?

Basically the end product of "well meaning" stupidity stands entirely against the originating intent : much better war like that than peace like this.


Truth in advertising, I'm guessing ?


Teens in fridges, you know...


Oh, yeah, this is the sunset I was discussing in a recent article. So now you know.


Doesn't the vegetable vendor look fucking hardcore, like he's the cell block boss in some Mexican joint ?



Oh, pi-si (of broken dreams, and broken shoes) :


I might be the one human owner that drives the poor beasts quite so hard their break the shoes walking. Dozens of pairs a year, fara mila-n pula mea.

  1. A pantsuit-aligned fraudster & despoiler of the public budget, which is why you've never heard of him, A+++ upstanding fellow, Nobel prize laureate etc.

    Were he not-so-aligned, it'd have been a very different story altogether, all of a sudden the usual prostitextuates out in force, harping all about fraud and embezzlement and all that. It'd matter, then it'd matter, let's talk s'more about how you believe the women you'd like to fuck and etcetera. Right ? []

  2. I recall in third grade we had clay modelling class. Exasperated by the dude in charge never grading me A, I once made a weird sorta votive dedicated to "peace". At the time there was a lot of political agitation ongoing (you'd call it "awareness raising" or some dumb shit) on the topic of peace, so I was pretty much openly daring the dude. He caved, yielding my first (and only) A grade in a clay modelling class.

    Because this is what dumb shit, "consensus" and whatnot does for the world -- it permits ten year olds to effortlessly overwhelm professional adults. Isn't it fucking dumb ? []

Category: La pas prin lume
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2 Responses

  1. lol, look how good the doggies are sleeping. Never before have they found such a perfect pile of dirt.

    Also, I heard from a very un-sabbaitcaled goose that Lovage the frog is starting a fan club.

  1. [...] That abomination aside, the parts that work do work : Mangano is a beautiful whore, Sordi is a superlatively faggoty knave, war is war, the happy sibilant widow just doesn't know it yet and peace's this fairy tale kids go to sleep with. Like Babbo Natale. I suppose the item aspires to some sort of destructuring parody of the facts of life ; but in that line it works exactly as well as these ever do. [...]

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