The Post-America Sexual Market, In A Photo | This photo captures the modern post-America sexual market better than any other I’ve seen of the genre. You’ve got two men (at least one presenting symptoms of early onset soyboyism) sharing sangrias over candlelight at a hipster bar with one fat chick who may as well be running a bizarro world reverse harem.
Rongorongo Of all the literatures in the world, the smallest and most enigmatic belongs without question to the people of Easter Island. It is written in a script Rongorongo that no one can decipher. Experts cannot even agree whether it is an alphabet, a syllabary, a mnemonic, or a rebus. Its entire corpus consists of two dozen texts. The longest, consisting of a few thousand signs, winds its way around a magnificent ceremonial staff. The shortest texts — if they can even be called that — consist of barely more than a single sign. One took the form of a tattoo on a man’s back. Another was carved onto a human skull.
So-called “gun-free zones” are nothing less than veiled concentration camps, wherein the powers-that-be can keep their hands clean, instead letting insane boys pumped full of psychosis-inducing drugs and retarded, inbred musloids do what The Pill and Planned Parenthood don’t quite manage.