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The Mance

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About The Mance

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    illegitimate peripheral participant
  • Birthday 11/15/1970

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  1. If its any consolation you're not really "losing" as much as you think. A lot of it is just migrating to your ears.
  2. There is certainly precedent for sentences being suspended pending appeal. Even for non old, rich, white, former presidents.
  3. Even if he were actually convicted of a criminal offense he would never outlive the appeal process.
  4. I read PotE back in the early 90's, and it was... fine. I mainly remember it as a brutal and depressing slog for the protag, more than for any stand-out qualities. I think it was more remarked on at the time because it was such a departure for renowned spy/triller writer, Ken Follett, than because of any inherent merit. Def a weird favorite, though. My wife and I came to accord regarding our musical tastes before we got married wherein I would never make her listen to Primus, and she would never subject me to The Cranberries. One of our better decisions.
  5. Right. He loves to attack with, "I heard" "people are saying" "someone told me" etc. Its clever, in a way, because he gets to dodge a bit a criticism (slander charges) by just, "repeating what he heard," or whatever. But it's also telling in that he obviously believes that these off-hand insinuations of some negative opinion being out there in the public discourse would be so damaging. Also, this mash-up says it all
  6. Russia, Russia, Russia! (only counts if he says it all three times) Also, I feel like we need a separate card just for superlatives.
  7. I'm a recent convert too. Been boiling on a stove top since forever. My only (laughable) complaint is that it threw my morning coffee/breakfast/lunch prep routine into disarray. Now, I have to step off in the middle of sammy fixin to go fill the press. On a somewhat related note: I invented a new way of fucking up my morning coffee prep. I thought I'd covered all the various iterations of wrong, but, nope. This morning I took the bag of grounds out of the freezer intending to refill the sealed bin at my coffee station, and instead of doing that I proceeded to dump 2 cups of grounds straight into the French press. Sometimes its hard to make coffee before you've had any coffee.
  8. Years ago, back in Idaho, I was shooting in a local billiards league and became low key famous for a series of improbable shots. Towards the end of the game and I'm faced with my last couple of balls stuck in a loose cluster of my opponents balls down at one end of the table. The only way I could make legal contact was to shoot into the side rail to come out into the cluster and hope I hit one of my balls first. This is known as a "rail first" bank shot, and it is far from ideal. Anyway, I pick a ball and call corner pocket (you always call something, just in case), and, miracle of miracles I make a clean hit and drop the ball! My team cheers, but not for long. I'd made the shot, but had barely disturbed any of the other balls on the table, so I am now faced with almost exactly the same shot into the side pocket. I make my shot again and my team erupts! On their feet chanting, "Goldberg, Goldberg!" So now I'm on the 8 ball and shooting well over my head, but my situation has barely improved. I can see the 8 ball enough to make contact at least, but don't have a makable shot straight in. My only option for the win is to shoot all the way down table and back for another rail first in the corner. By this point the whole bar is clued in, everybody's watching, and my opponent is looming over the table looking for a bad hit or just to be a dick. I glance at my team captain to see if he knows what I'm thinking, and he just gives me a wink and a nod. I call corner pocket, shoot down and back, and drain the 8. Thereafter* a rail first bank shot was known as "the Goldberg." As in: "Im stuck, what should I do?" "Well, you could try The Goldberg." "The Goldberg? Are you crazy?" *entirely due to the persistent campaigning of my teammate Jack, who loves nicknames and catchphrases. Thanks to Jack the name was picked up by several people at our home bar, and at least a couple of other league shooters. Sooo, ya, low key famous.
  9. How about a thin sheet of metal backing behind the map/plexi and then magnetic markers for people to place?
  10. Because of course you deserve your just rewards for having the incredible foresight in choosing to be born in a wealthy country.
  11. I've been seeing a bit of interesting skepticism about these Portland kidnapping videos. One incident in particular is broken down into all the ways it seems more like the extraction of an undercover plant than an actual arrest/kidnapping. Most telling is the fact that the arrestee is never searched for weapons, or handcuffed, before being placed in the unsecured back seat of a vehicle. Which, I guess if you're conducting extra-judicial abductions, maybe you just don't follow legal processes re: arrest/detainment protocols. But, still, would you really pass on making sure the ostensibly violent provocateur isn't carrying a concealed weapon of any kind, or at least that their hands are secured, before jumping into a van with them? There's also the utter calmness of the whole operation. Which, I guess is either chilling in its calculated flagrance of due process, and/or else weirdly anomalous given the casual violence in every other police interaction lately. There's no shouting, protesting or resistance from the victim. No overt violence from the police (or whatevs). And, again, no searching or handcuffing of the victim, where normally (sad to say) we'd expect a violent subduing of the guy followed by him being zip-tied into a pretzel and then maced just for lulz.
  12. *sigh* Twenty some years ago we named our second daughter, "Bailey". We thought it had a pleasant, ol' timey sound, without being too gendered. Since then I've encountered at least a dozen dogs, a few horses, two male classmates, a guinea pig, and a C-Sec officer, named Bailey. But whatever, she is crushing life and absolutely owns her name. I just wish she never had to endure that moment of cringe whenever she shares a name with somebody's pet.
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