I was taking a detour back to work from lunch via the local "antique" mall which is more like an upscale flea market with maybe 20% actual antiques, and on my way down the stairs, I was stopped in my tracks by this:
Blamers, I ask you: What. The. Fuck? When do you think it was made? Is it a "cute" 70s production from that Bicentennial-related colonial revival phase - remember when everything was gingham and braided rugs and heavy dark "colonial" furniture, except it was covered in hideously itchy modern plaid fabrics? Maybe this revolting little tchotchke was meant to go in the "pub" section of the home, where the men hang out drinking beer and watching football and telling appalling sexist jokes. Like, apparently, this one: How do you get a woman to shut up? Har de har, you cut off her head. Man, that's a real knee-slapper there.
You know what I can't figure out? Who would buy this? Now, every time I go in there, I'm going to look for the damned thing, and one day, it will be gone. And I will have a permanent case of the heebie-jeebies thinking that someone - probably someone who lives here - bought it. And hung it in their house. Because nothing is as entertaining as a hot dead chick.
The #TreasonSummit went as expected.
7 hours ago