Ironically, the puss caterpillar.
Already infesting DC. Beware!
(Vomit inducing indeed!)
I forgot all about that guy! And will again, shortly.
But I liked this tidbit from the linked article:
According to Bone, he later traded that sweater back to Izod, the company that made it, after Izod offered to make a donation to a St. Louis-based charity in exchange for Bone allowing the sweater to live at its company headquarters.
I’m picturing a hilarious “gallery of famous sweaters” at their company HQ now.
They probably had a lot of wall space available after hastily dismanting the Bill Cosby collection.
I’d rather touch it than the real thing
Guess it will be like going to a Blue Man show with everyone in the first few rows wearing rain ponchos. Only this time it will full suits of PPE.
Who am kidding? There won’t be any PPE at all.
Yeah - we’re fucking with you. Empty threats make you look weaker, Diseased Donnie. Maybe you should take a nap?
And we all know how that ended, don’t we donny?
Mussolini hangs from a butcher’s hook…
I feel like we’re setting up the season finale where all the storylines of 2020 come together into one event. I wonder how the writers plan to bring the Murder Hornets back.
Not really a Trumpian event, but I agree with this 100%. It needs to be shared, so I’m sharing it. I know I’m preaching to the choir.
Show up, even if it isn’t for yourself. Show up, even if Biden isn’t your first choice. Show up, because this election is life and death for someone you know.
Get out and vote.
Also, good on the Forks folks who aren’t delusional dipshits for screenshotting their conspiracy theorist neighbors’ hostile dumbassery.
ETA: It’s a long article, so if you don’t read the whole thing I understand (though it’s a worthwhile read if you can). But I still want to share the ending…
Shannon Lowe told me about a person on the A Road who gave her hope, who listened in a way few people in 2020 seem able to. As she walked across the bridge with Chevall, snapping photos, a group of teens scurried away, but two of them turned and came back. One was white and had an “excellent mullet,” she recalls, and the other, she thought, was Native American. (He is Latino and is the Forks police chief’s nephew.) He explained that they weren’t trying to mess with campers, but they’d heard there were “terrorists” in the woods.
At that point, Lowe’s nerves were beyond frayed, and she told them to think for themselves. “They’re talking about us !” Shannon recalls yelling at the teens, the bite of the word “terrorist” overflowing into anger. “But we’re not terrorists! You guys are terrorists! You are terrorizing my family!”
She saw the Latino teen’s face change. “You’ve blocked us in here,” she continued. “We don’t want to stay anymore, because we don’t feel safe.” When the deputies arrived, the teens dutifully cut and dragged the alder branches off the road, then loaded their chain saws back into a truck.
Before jumping in to drive off, the young man looked straight at Shannon and Tyrone with one final message: “I’m sorry.”
