The Paralympics are shorter, not as grandiose and don’t get nearly the same level of publicity as the main event. But they’re still worth watching, methinks. Something about the sight of people skiing down a hill with prosthetic legs is inspiring as all shit.
Ditto the blind guy who lit the cauldron, even though it took him six attempts.
Chapters Seventeen and Eighteen will soon be presented to the good people of Planet Earth on Twitter. A new page every day, as usual. I usually start doing this sort of thing on the seventh day of a given month (i.e. today), but this time I’m reluctant to start doing that while the Stanley Cup playoffs are still on.
Ovi knows that feeling. Maybe not so much this year, but he knows that feeling.
The aforementioned sporting tournament is typically over long before the solstice, but this is hardly a typical year. So I tweaked the scheduling accordingly. The tweetment of these pages shall commence the morning after Lord Stanley’s Mug is hoisted. Which could be as soon as tonight*, for all I know.
* My apologies to any diehard Habs fans reading this, but your guys are as good as toast. They’ve clearly met their match with the Bolts’ powerful blue line. Tampa could replace Vasilevskiy with a three-toed sloth and there wouldn’t be any noticeable improvement to your shots on goal.
Once I run out of pages to tweet, SILVER BROWN shall be officially retired as a literary project. This site will then go through a molting phase of its life cycle. I know not what will eventually hatch out of the cocoon, but not knowing is half the fun.
I think this Jehovah guy is nothing more than a cartoon supervillain from a poorly-written Bronze Age comic book who deserves about as much credit for creating the human race as Porky Pig deserves for inventing penicillin. My apologies to the fandom, but that’s just what I think. Such a trifle of an entity is most certainly no excuse to vilify an entire segment of the population. Especially when the whole motive for encouraging homophobia is the basest and shallowest one of all — the cha-ching*. Somebody along the way (who was probably a GOP fundraiser, although I don’t know that for sure) figured out that people put more money in the collection plates when they’re fearful and angry than they do when they’re at peace.**
* Little old ladies’ bank accounts aren’t as easy to suck dry in a Zoom meeting. Hence the repeated insistence upon in-person church services in the middle of a global pandemic.
** Frank Zappa was absolutely spot on. Tax the fuck out of ’em.
How could you hate this face?
I fully get that any successful† media franchise is bound to have its fair share of colourful fans. That’s just the way things roll. But there’s such a thing as overdoing it with the colourful fandom, methinks. Every Stanley Cup riot of my lifetime has invariably resulted in a busy night for the Vancouver†† Police Department. That ought to tell you something.
† Let the record show that “successful” is not necessarily synonymous with “good”. Plenty of gawd-awful things have become successful. The average person could probably name five such things off the top of their head.
††The Vancouver Canucks organization contributes millions every year to British Columbia’s provincial coffers. It’s a no-brainer that promoting any kind of bigotry would have a negative effect on their business rather than a positive one. I’m also pretty sure they don’t have any secret graveyards hidden away somewhere, unless you count the one where they bury all their dead dreams of Stanley Cup glory. Despite the boorish behaviour of some of their fans and as much as they profoundly suck ass as a team, they’re still more respectable than any church.
Have you even TRIED decorating a gay wedding cake? Give it a whirl just once. Hell, you might even enjoy the experience.
Five and ¾ Senses 