Based on my years of being a Mets fan, nah. I just yell at the announcers when they yammer on the teevee. Sometimes I have another beer to drown my sorrows.
I can't tell you what I'd do if my football loses since my lovely Tigers dominated this year with a miraculous, flawless season, so I can't remember what I do when they lose. (No, really, I do remember, and it's yell and groan a bit and maybe have another beer.)
The offspring and his best friend had elaborate plans for their tag team act... they actually jumped on his bed so much doing wrestling moves that they broke it.
It drove me up the freaking wall, not least because all of my brothers wrestled in high school the real way.
A "stigmata" around being Ol' Pussgrab's son? You mean that as his son, you suddenly develop bleeding holes on the palms of your hands? I'd pay to see that!
I'm an early boomer (born in 1947) and I lived in Topeka when Brown vs Board of Education was decided, but I really can't take credit for any of it since I was only 7 years old.
Refreshing? Makes people excited?Am I just mean-minded? Because I find it hard to conceive of anything about Donald Trump Jr. as refreshing or conducive to excitement. And I say this as a bloke who perhaps ought to be sympathetic, having never been one of the cool kids.But I never had the disadvantage of being the son of a rich malevolent pussy-grabbing bastard who didn't give a toss about me,either.
Me too. Well, December 1946. Last time I looked I wasn't a fossilized conservative. I do sometimes have irrational fears that I'll go to sleep at night and wake next morning as a Scott Morrison (Australia's Prime Minister) supporter, looking like Dorian Grey after the magic portrait was destroyed, but it hasn't happened yet.
I keep hoping young Barron has basic decency and manages to rebel and escape. For his own sake. Doesn't always work out so happily for people from fucked families, of course. And there can be few more fucked than the Trumps.
Yeah, we went to the barricades for their little asses, and the ungrateful brats don't get enough history in school to know about it.
I'm with you sister, they take these things for granted- they weren't granted they were hard won.
I think WWE is a whole 'nother universe. It's somewhere in the redneck multiverse. I don't travel there often.
Oh honey. My boys nearly killed each other when they were kids pretending they were WWE champions. It made me crazy. Not in a good way.
Based on my years of being a Mets fan, nah. I just yell at the announcers when they yammer on the teevee. Sometimes I have another beer to drown my sorrows.
I can't tell you what I'd do if my football loses since my lovely Tigers dominated this year with a miraculous, flawless season, so I can't remember what I do when they lose. (No, really, I do remember, and it's yell and groan a bit and maybe have another beer.)
The offspring and his best friend had elaborate plans for their tag team act... they actually jumped on his bed so much doing wrestling moves that they broke it.
It drove me up the freaking wall, not least because all of my brothers wrestled in high school the real way.
A "stigmata" around being Ol' Pussgrab's son? You mean that as his son, you suddenly develop bleeding holes on the palms of your hands? I'd pay to see that!
exactly that.
Thank you! And yes I need all the hugs I can get ♥️
DTJr trying to be one of us: https://media2.giphy.com/me...
IOKIYAR as Pisto says, plus IACIYAD.
(It's a crime if you're a democrat.)
I'm an early boomer (born in 1947) and I lived in Topeka when Brown vs Board of Education was decided, but I really can't take credit for any of it since I was only 7 years old.
Refreshing? Makes people excited?Am I just mean-minded? Because I find it hard to conceive of anything about Donald Trump Jr. as refreshing or conducive to excitement. And I say this as a bloke who perhaps ought to be sympathetic, having never been one of the cool kids.But I never had the disadvantage of being the son of a rich malevolent pussy-grabbing bastard who didn't give a toss about me,either.
Me too. Well, December 1946. Last time I looked I wasn't a fossilized conservative. I do sometimes have irrational fears that I'll go to sleep at night and wake next morning as a Scott Morrison (Australia's Prime Minister) supporter, looking like Dorian Grey after the magic portrait was destroyed, but it hasn't happened yet.
I keep hoping young Barron has basic decency and manages to rebel and escape. For his own sake. Doesn't always work out so happily for people from fucked families, of course. And there can be few more fucked than the Trumps.
In Donald Trump's version of Oedipus the King, Dad kills the uppity son with a devastating tweet, then marries his sister.