Timothy Busfield and Being A Predator

This may or may not be an unpopular opinion.

But I believed Timothy Busfield at first. I don't know why, I just did.

Then more and more allegations came out. And we all know predation is a pattern of behavior, it's not generally a one-time thing, and he is KNOWN to have settled at least one accusation case for an undisclosed amount.

The only weird thing is that the other accusers were all women, all close to or over than 18. These new ones are twin boys, who were apparently age seven at the beginning. 

I am not going to convict anybody without hearing all the evidence, but it sure doesn't look good.

I feel awful for his poor heartbroken wife.  But if the evidence proves he did it, he needs to go to prison.

As regards Eminem's penis. From Facebook.

Austin Clifton

odsSntroep9 ya9143ccP410am7lMct :1M7h 5gcm40892 mifma4a457it ·

I'm curious about Eminem's penis. It may sound weird but hear me out when I say Something just doesn't line up with this man's junk. In 2000 on the Marshall Mathers LP on the track "Bitch Please I!" he opens his verse with "Aww, naww, big Slim Dogg. Eighty pound balls, dick six inch long". So we establish in the year 2000 his dick is six inches and his balls are 80 pounds. In the year 2018 though, on Kamikaze he says "Wait, got the eeriest feelin', somethin' evil is lurkin' I'm no conspiracy theorist but somethin' here is a foot. Oh yeah, it's my dick" so now we know his dick is a foot. So in 18 years his dick has doubled in size. Here's where it gets weird. On his song "Big Weenie" in 2004 off of his album

"Encore" he states "my weenie is much bigger than yours.

Mine is like stickin' a banana between two oranges" the average size of a banana is around 7.5 inches. Meaning yes it grows. Now we've confirmed that it grew gradually and not instantly. What raises my concern about SlimShadys genitals is his balls. The average weight of an apple is.33 pounds. So two balls relative to apples would be .77 pounds. In just 4 years Eminems balls shrunk to about 0.83% of the original weight but in 18 years his penis doubled in size. Growth and loss of weight aside, its so irregular can't help but ask

"what is wrong with Eminems Balls?"

Simon Tonkin said:

Your research is incomplete and therefore your conclusions are in need of adjustment. In the song "as the world turns" in the Marshal Mathers LP he describes his penis as being able to "...hit the ground and ain't no doubt about it. It caused an earthquake and a power outage."

Eminem is around 5'8'' tall. That puts his penis and balls at a height of around 3'5'' ish give it take from the ground. In order for his Penis to cause an Earthquake when flopped from such a height, it would need a staggering mass of around 146,000,000 metric tons in order to generate a noticable earthquake of around 3.0.

Such mass and implied length suggests a gigantic differencen between Eminem's penis in that song compared to those depicted in his later works.

This leads us to only one logical and proper conclusion. Eminem is actually an insect of a family closely related to the Papilionoformes. His schlong has undergone several biological metamorphosis, not unlike that of an actual butterfly as it assumes form after form after form. Every few years his penis retracts into its silky cocoon, emerging in time for the next album release a new vision of itself. Truly one of the wonders of the natural world and a marvel.

I Cried

 

July 1 1961 - August 31 1997

As soon as I heard of Princess Diana's death, the chorus of an old song began running through my mind. I think it is apropos to the moment..

RFK Jr's "Weird" relatives

 

“I was standing in front of my parked car on I-684 cutting the penis out of a road killed raccoon, thinking about how weird some of my family members have turned out to be.” RFK Jr

Makes you wonder what kind of stuff he considers weird.

I'm thinking it's stuff like: wearing clothes, sleeping in a bed, and eating regular meals, and not cutting cocks off road kill or beheading whales.

Godforsaken Bastards and Why They Suck Ass

The Opening: A Season in the Shade

We have entered the era of the Godforsaken Bastard. It is a time defined not by leadership, but by the violent curation of chaos. A period where the traditional guardrails of decency haven't just been ignored, they’ve been sold for scrap. This is the portrait of a collective that thrives on the friction of a world in collapse, a rogue’s gallery of the high-born and the low-lived who have mistaken their cruelty for courage and their greed for a mandate. They move through our culture like a virus in a designer suit, insulated by billions and emboldened by a mob that has been taught to love the sound of breaking glass. This zine is the shadow to the saints; it is a jagged, unwashed look at the architects of our current misery, the enforcers of our fear, and the loud-mouthed parasites who provide the soundtrack to the demolition of the common good. Welcome to the wreckage.

No, Jesse Welles is NOT pro-Charlie fucking Kirk

Yes, Jesse Welles wrote a song about the killing of Charlie Kirk. NO, it was NOT a pro-gung ho-Charlie is a martyr song.

It was a song about gun violence and freedom of speech...

The Bustiers and Bullshit of the Far Right

The "Freedom for Me, but Not for Thee" crowd is at it again, and the irony is thick enough to choke a horse. Conservative Americans love to wrap themselves in the flag and scream about liberty from the rooftops, but that liberty apparently comes with a "Members Only" sign.

They want the freedom to stockpile enough firepower to arm a small nation, the freedom to vote by mail while simultaneously trying to dismantle the post office for everyone else, and the freedom to indulge in whatever private kinks they fancy behind closed doors. We see the hypocrisy in real-time: a certain president casts his own ballot from the comfort of a gold-plated mailbox while he and his followers scream that mail-in voting is a scam.

If Bryon Noem wants to spend his weekends in a bustier and heels, that’s between him, his mirror, and POSSIBLY his wife, though an argument could be made that it's only her business if he decides that's okay.

Fuck YOU, David Gerrold

Let me make this infinitely clear.

I have three kids, Lis, Ian, and Ava. They are my pride and my joy. I support them in their identities, their lives, their very beings.

Two of my kids are transgender. I am their number one ally. I will go to the mats against anybody who wants to tell me my kids are mentally ill for that, or that they are the gender that they were assigned at birth, or that they should be forced to use a room full of urinals instead of toilets, or any person who SUPPORTS somebody with those fucking ideas in their head (David Gerrold, I am looking at YOU, motherfucker!)

Beyond the Lip Service

 

I remember the first time I saw Boy George. It was 1981 or 82, I honestly forget which. I was in a bar with my guy, Scott, having a beer, and they had MTV on. Do You Really Wanna Hurt Me came on, and I saw Boy George and my jaw hit the fucking floor and I started laughing in hysterics.

I was utterly astounded that this queer looking guy had the sheer guts to be on TV dressed like a woman. I was amazed that MTV allowed it on their programming. I was too caught up in staring at him and being half amazed, half grossed out, to notice that that motherfucker could SING. I think back now to how I felt, how I was kind of horrified and freaked out, and I think...

Jumping the Shark: The Fonz’s Funeral and Henry Winkler’s Last Laugh

It's a classic case of a show becoming a victim of its own success. What started as a grounded, nostalgic look at 1950s Milwaukee - centered on the Cunningham family - eventually morphed into the "The Fonzie Show," and that’s where the wheels started to come off.

The Holy Trinity: Why I Keep Buying These Same Three Records

 

Most six-year-olds in 1971 were vibrating to "The Wheels on the Bus" or whatever upbeat nonsense was playing on the radio, but not me. No, I was already deep in the trenches of acoustic melancholy. I was sitting there in my kindergarten class, probably staring at a pile of blocks, while the haunting melodies of Joni Mitchell’s Blue, the earthy warmth of Carole King’s Tapestry, and the gentle drawl of James Taylor’s Sweet Baby James played on a loop in my head. 

I’ve owned these albums on vinyl, 8-track, cassette, CD, and every digital format known to man; at this point, the only thing missing is a reel-to-reel copy, and frankly, my wallet is grateful for that one omission. 

And now, the albums.

Why Celtics Fans Need to Stop Ignoring Kevin McHale

Kevin McHale wasn’t just part of the Big Three. He was the piece that made the whole thing work. Bird was the genius. Parish was the anchor. But McHale was the matchup nightmare that turned Boston’s front line into something the league had never seen before. Without him, the Big Three isn’t the Big Three. It’s just Bird and Parish with a missing limb.

What’s wild is how often he gets ignored now. Modern Celtics fans talk about Bird like he carried the entire decade on his back, and they treat McHale like he was some nice supporting character instead of the guy who put half the league in the torture chamber. He was the one opponents dreaded. He was the one Barkley and Olajuwon openly admitted they couldn’t guard. He was the one who could drop 30 on you without breaking a sweat or saying a word.

The Gormless Quayle

I miss Dan Quayle and his absolutely harmless idiocy. Don't you?...

When Bipolar Disorder Takes Another Life, The Stigma Should Be What Dies Next

 

Image courtesy Unsplash.Com - work of Paolo Nicolello

Robert Carradine died by suicide today after a long fight with bipolar disorder. The news hit me harder than I expected. Not because I knew him personally, but because I know the illness that took him. I know what it feels like when your own brain turns into a battlefield. I know what it feels like to lose the fight for a moment and still be here to talk about it. I have been there. I have survived it. And I am tired of pretending that bipolar disorder is anything other than a medical condition that deserves compassion and treatment.

Every time someone with bipolar disorder or another mental illness dies, the world reacts with shock. People ask how it could happen. People whisper. People speculate. But very few people talk about the truth. Bipolar disorder is not a character flaw. It is not a weakness. It is not a failure of willpower. It is a brain chemistry disorder that can be brutal, unpredictable, and exhausting. It deserves the same seriousness and empathy we give to heart disease or cancer or any other life threatening condition.

But that is not how society treats it...