People with fucked hair shouldn't be in charge of anything. Come on now. If you're too stupid or delusional to perceive that the backwards amorphous shit sitting on top of your own damn head isn't right, what the fuck do you know? Hair is a solid indicator of overall fit for purposeness.
Example: if I ran my household budget like donald runs his alleged business empire, I'd have been subject to multiple evictions, mortgagee sales, malnutrition and jail time. My hair could hold donald's hair's head in the toilet bowl with one hand while it smoked with the other and nipple-twisted anyone who tried to intervene.
If I wore my fucking hair like him, I'd never, ever get laid, not even by R, who doesn't really have a choice. Natural leaders know that hair is a personal sigil and that getting laid on the strength of one's organic personal attractions is an important measure of adult success.
Which brings me to my next point- people who positively require the worst trappings of material wealth in order to get sex (even with just the people who actually respond to that gross shit) and indeed are probably too bloated and numbed to even feel the burn of humiliation when comptemplating the abject necessity of such an expedient shouldn't be in charge of anything, either.
I'm telling you- fucked hair is unfailingly diagnostic. The shitty hair/shitty person/shitty actions/shitty sex feedback complex poisons every aspect of the exemplar's existence. In directly related news: people who repeatedly alienate even the ruthlessly mercenary spousal units they were targeted by on a purely materialistic basis should never be in charge of anything, at all. Think about it. What does it actually take to make multiple golddiggers abandon the luxury they've been working toward their whole fucking lives just to get the fuck away from you? Riddle me that shit.
If I wore my fucking hair like him, I'd never, ever get laid, not even by R, who doesn't really have a choice. Natural leaders know that hair is a personal sigil and that getting laid on the strength of one's organic personal attractions is an important measure of adult success.
Which brings me to my next point- people who positively require the worst trappings of material wealth in order to get sex (even with just the people who actually respond to that gross shit) and indeed are probably too bloated and numbed to even feel the burn of humiliation when comptemplating the abject necessity of such an expedient shouldn't be in charge of anything, either.
I'm telling you- fucked hair is unfailingly diagnostic. The shitty hair/shitty person/shitty actions/shitty sex feedback complex poisons every aspect of the exemplar's existence. In directly related news: people who repeatedly alienate even the ruthlessly mercenary spousal units they were targeted by on a purely materialistic basis should never be in charge of anything, at all. Think about it. What does it actually take to make multiple golddiggers abandon the luxury they've been working toward their whole fucking lives just to get the fuck away from you? Riddle me that shit.
| If you're not up to the simple task of satisfying the very literal and utterly prosaic requirements of a string of quotidian trophy wives, stay home and shut up, you basic twat. Society routinely and complacently invests in men with fucked hair, to its great cost. Why, society, why? The Grasshopper Mouse (Onychomys) speaks my truth. | |
PS: do you think he applies his own bronzer? Because I can totally believe that a man with fucked hair would leave naked pig's-arse circles of original pink around his eyes, but I have trouble attributing that action to a professional MUA. I won't say I've never seen that look at a MAC counter, but still.
Never elect someone who can't drive a fucking kabuki brush. They're supposed to be idiot-proof.
Never elect someone who can't drive a fucking kabuki brush. They're supposed to be idiot-proof.
| I would also like to take a moment to give a big double-fingered fuck off to all the pleather recliner pilots ragging on Eddie Izzard's amazing 700 mile, 27 marathons in 27 days for charity. In raising a million pounds for complete strangers, Izzard is apparently an overprivileged hell-bound attention whore with nothing better to do, according to a sizeable cohort of frothy turds anointing online forums with their umber wisdom. |  |
Yes, seriously. This is where we are now as a species. I leave you with that thought.
This week: lipstick review. Happy fucking easter for whenever that is.
This week: lipstick review. Happy fucking easter for whenever that is.
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