I think the character was intended to be a libertarian by definition as opposed to the actual libertarians we typically see that spout libertarianism but fail in the “everybody can do their own thing and be happy” category.
(Please don’t mistake my post for an endorsement.)
Also Nick Offerman has said in interviews that he’s not a libertarian in real life even though many other elements of the Ron Swanson character are clearly based on Offerman.
I love that he’s actually married to Megan Mullally (who played Swanson’s psychotic ex “Tammy II.”)
Leslie “Why’d you shave your mustache off?”
Ron: “I didn’t. It rubbed off. From friction!”
I’m sure Cawthorn’s mother is asking herself where things went wrong with him…
It kind of puts his sabbatical to Hitler’s former vacation home, the Eagle’s Nest, in… exactly the same light everyone was already assuming it was, doesn’t it?
Look, you, the lobsters have a hierarchical system.
Or that he should’ve been a blowjob.
I grew up one town over from a lobster farm. There was a definite hierarchy there, pricing by the pound.
I prefer Kropotkin’s mutual aid crabs.
Some land-crabs of the West Indies and North America combine in large swarms in order to travel to the sea and to deposit therein their spawn; and each such migration implies concert, co-operation, and mutual support. As to the big Molucca crab (Limulus), I was struck (in 1882, at the Brighton Aquarium) with the extent of mutual assistance which these clumsy animals are capable of bestowing upon a comrade in case of need. One of them had fallen upon its back in a corner of the tank, and its heavy saucepan-like carapace prevented it from returning to its natural position, the more so as there was in the corner an iron bar which rendered the task still more difficult. Its comrades came to the rescue, and for one hour’s time I watched how they endeavoured to help their fellow-prisoner. They came two at once, pushed their friend from beneath, and after strenuous efforts succeeded in lifting it upright; but then the iron bar would prevent them from achieving the work of rescue, and the crab would again heavily fall upon its back. After many attempts, one of the helpers would go in the depth of the tank and bring two other crabs, which would begin with fresh forces the same pushing and lifting of their helpless comrade. We stayed in the Aquarium for more than two hours, and, when leaving, we again came to cast a glance upon the tank: the work of rescue still continued! Since I saw that, I cannot refuse credit to the observation quoted by Dr. Erasmus Darwin—namely, that “the common crab during the moulting season stations as sentinel an unmoulted or hard-shelled individual to prevent marine enemies from injuring moulted individuals in their unprotected state.”
There have been a number of signs of that, but after years of coy denials, it seems like he’s creeping up on finally admitting it.
Given that carcinization is a recurring theme in evolution, the analogy is optimistic.
Yes, but the 1980s were the Last Glory Days of American Manly Men, Because Reagan.
Good Lord, they crow on about Manly, Masculine Men, and yet they worship at the altar of a guy who dodged military service, ducked out of throwing out the first pitch at baseball games, fretted about his hair and makeup, and incessantly bitched about everyone treating him “very unfairly.”
So very, very manly.
Touché and well-struck. Sometimes one forgets that fascism’s just made of escalating social aesthetics that are bruisingly impossible to maintain in any reality, propped up by the dissonance that keeps them from applying to you.
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