As usual, clueless fucknuggets at the New York Times (where else?) can’t be bothered to do actual “journalism”. (Does that word exist anymore?) As an alternative to work, one of them sniffed their own ass long enough to think about lawns. Like every damn thing these douche canoes encounter, lawns are racist and bad for the environment. Here’s an image of a SJW enjoying the product of his mind:
The Times generated a video for this little bout of mental masturbation. (Link.) I checked the site but didn’t watch the video because:
- I am literate and prefer to read. Perhaps the New York Times might consider expanding their offerings to include text? If it wasn’t total horseshit they could print it on paper and sell it at a profit to… Oh, yeah, never mind.
- I was afraid steaming extremely concentrated stupid would generate friction with the STEM based logic circuits of my hardware. Never let your CPU go full retard.
- Seven minutes about lawns being racist is 6:59 too long for any sentient being to endure. I’m only human, I couldn’t do it.
Fortunately, Barking Moonbat Early Warning System handled the situation. (Brave of them to endure such galactically dense bullshit. I hope they fully recovered.) They fisked it and awarded a well earned FishSmack:
Since some dickless committee of vinegar drinkers bitched about my lawn I pondered my position of horrific unbearable privilege. Eventually, wracked with guilt, I had to admit, I was clearly in the wrong. After all, I have a lawn and I use it.
I took a photo to share my shame with the world:
The barely concealed muddy ruts are from driving snow removal equipment over the area during a short thaw in March. Oh the inhumanity!
The dandelions and weeds are indication of my wealth and power. The fact that they’ve never been watered, weeded, fertilized, or tended in any way doesn’t mitigate the fact that I personally kill six polar bears every time I mow the area… which I haven’t for weeks.
The pile of wood debris in the shadowed upper left is the waste from my wood splitter. A clear indication that I’m a raging asshole who doesn’t care about Gaia. Especially since I’ve… sob… I can’t go on…
…but I must…
…I’ve shoveled bark and twigs into a pile to….
…Lord help me….
…. burn it.
Oh, yes I’m such a sinner. I should carefully wrap every bit of bark and each woodchip in a reuseable cotton bag and then use my self driving electric personal conveyance to haul every bit to the dump…
…no! Not the dump. I should send every molecule of bark to college. Which should be free.
But there’s more. The ultimate, unforgivable indication that I oppress rich overeducated coastal elite non-entities is all that sawdust. A small pile of wood shavings every 16″ or so… almost like I dragged a dead tree there and cut it up for firewood.
Can you imaging such wealth and power?
I have a weedy, rutted, piece of land where I pile dead trees and chop them into firewood. It’s a lawn. Where else am I to do such deeds? In a lake? At the local library? Bernie Sander’s living room?
For the crime of my very existence, the New York Times claims I’m a racist, misogynous, homophobic, intolerant, oppressive, rich bastard! Nothing like the joy of using a chainsaw, which will kill me in a half second if I let my attention slip, to do hard, hot, grueling physical labor; only so a bunch of useless English majors in New York can kick me in the balls over privilege. They know nothing so everything is wrong.
Someone get a set of tongs. These fuckers need to to pull their head out of their ass and they’re in so deep it’s going to require tools. Folks who’ve never done anything can’t stand those who do. This winter they’ll be typing on their Mac; plastic semiconductors assembled in China and powered by the glow of a vast coal fired electrical grid installed and maintained by nobody they know. They’ll do this while complaining that everyone who isn’t a “journalist” should be living in a mud hut. Then they’ll remember the summer and start weeping into their latte at the thought that I’m keeping my pipes thawed with the carbon neutral forest waste I cut up on my lawn.