Thursday, November 26, 2015

Cheap shots: Thanksgiving

Former McDonalds restaurant, Broadway near 82nd St. The manager of the property, named in the placard at lower left, is some kind of Marxist joke.

Jay Nordlinger
 of the National Review on disturbing subway ads:
 a sign read, “You spent the night in Manhattan but left your birth control in the Bronx. Maybe the IUD is right for you.” Honestly — laugh if you must (and you must!) — but I’m not entirely sure what that sign means.
No comment. If you want to ask somebody, Jay, make sure you don't ask Rush Limbaugh.

And a little more below the fold:

For those who don't know the alphabet, the book in Vladimir Vladimirovich's hand is labeled "Krym" for Crimea.

Things I'm thankful for:

Not having dinner with anybody from Townhall. What the hell is that stuffing made of? It looks like chunks of pure gluten, the kind Chinese vegetarians use to make imitation meat, with carrots. And I think they put too much bleach in the potatoes.

Well, you know. Same as everybody else. The same things I feel guilty about because other people don't have them. There's a little smug and porky Calvinism in the project of congratulating yourself on your random good fortune as if it were an award for good behavior, and at the same time so pissy and self-righteous to refuse to do it. ("Sorry, God, I refuse to enjoy not being homeless until you take care of everybody." But I do enjoy it.)

Thankful I'm not doing this for a living and can just leave it hanging there, when there's somebody across the Hudson who has probably baked five different pies just for me and a couple dozen select friends and relatives.

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