PhobosAnomaly

Brilliant, thank you for the clarification. Eight years feels like a long time ago.

“Cheat” is a wide-ranging term which is a little too cumbersome to use here, but there were absolutely some shenanigans at play.

The heavily abridged version (which is open to criticism for doing so) is that the democratic leadership had effectively selected Hilary Clinton before the party had even had the chance to select the candidate officially, and Bernie’s campaign had it’s legs done before it even had a chance to take off.

Would Bernie have won? Who knows, but he’s consistently a decent and open candidate.

It would be quite something.

“Hello Mr so-and-so, you’re married to a paeeeedoooooooooo*”

*depending on jurisdiction, of course

What are you basing these assumptions on, to be in a position to attribute responsibility at this stage?

It’s such a shame.

I get there’s a #NotAllVoters element as there is with any population, but when you have a majority of voters alongside a sizeable percentage of non-voters who don’t vote against it… well then you’ve got a country that has the president they deserve.

Not sure if it was intentional, but fair play to Britney, that’s literally what she did.

I’ve not read any of her family’s accounts so there’s a huge knowledge gap on my part there, but to break out of that shitty legal arrangement and sing for herself is pretty badass.

Hey, that’s super cool and entirely valid. How you feel after a loss - whether it’s ten seconds, ten days, or ten years - after a bereavement is a bit of a lottery where there’s no winners, just differing levels of shit.

Through my work life and private life, I’ve been to more than my fair share of funerals, and they all suck to different degrees. Some are absolutely horrendous to get through if the close family have been particularly affected, some have been led by a very positive celebrant who framed the departed’s life in a great way.

The wake is always fairly positive though. If it’s someone I knew on a thinly professional level then I’ll get a coffee, share a light-hearted story about the deceased with their close family, and fuck off.

If it’s been someone I was closer with, then I’ve had a great time meeting old friends, going over long forgotten hilarious stories, getting a bit emosh realising that we won’t be sharing any more again, and getting rat-arsed into the night knowing that the funeral brought us all back together for one last hurrah.

Everyone deals with it differently though, and that’s awesome. The only caveat I’d apply to that statement is that if you find (god forbid you have to go through it again soon) that it starts to affect your day to day life, then there’s loads of resources to reach out and seek a helping hand.

Sorry. I’ve turned a ten second reply into a ten minute one there.

Not really.

You make some points I agree with, you make some points I’m neutral on, and you make some points I disagree with.

In nearly all cases though, you appear to take an insular view which comes across as confrontational and adds little to the discussion but a sour taste.

It’s pointless discussing a topic with you when you either take a deep rooted view with no opportunity for open discussion, and/or take a childish “I told you so” position when hearing a dissenting view.

That’s likely why you are getting downvotes. Other views may apply.

Good luck.

When I joined the workforce full time a good number of years ago. I was chuffed to fuck to be earning £20k a year at the time. In the intervening years, the cost of living has gotten ludicrous.

In metropolitan areas, I’m not quite sure how anyone but the DINKys can cope with the financial pressures of city living.

Isn’t that Mike Ashley’s clownshow? Sounds like you dodged a bullet.

That said, I suppose depending on where you are in your career, it’s good experience and portfolio work.

Reminds me of the police service in Scotland inviting people to complete a survey… about their stay in police custody. I’m not entirely sure what results they’re expecting there. Probably the brainchild of some “management consultant” who has probably never set foot in a public building before.

Not sure what it’s like in your part of the world, but where I’m from it’s pretty much the whole deal. The ceremony is all about remembering the person and marking the loss of a friend, family member, or whatever. The wake is about having a riot and sharing great stories, bonding over mutual ties, and celebrating the life of whoever it was that kicked the bucket.

If it gets a bit emotional and tears are shed, then hey, that’s great news. Otherwise, it’s just an excuse for a few beers and a chat about the person in the box, to make sure their impact on your life or the best of times you spent together are remembered fondly.

That said, everyone’s different, so smile if you like and don’t if you don’t like 😊

I think anyone living on or near a Canal Street/Drive/Road/Wharf/etc know the value of someone with a bit of tape or a coin and some time to kill.

Brilliant patch war.

Jump to 0:14 to skip the initial slides.

Nah I was in a pretty small town, semi-rural but not buttfuck-nowhere either.

It certainly wasn’t labelled “ableist” then, it was simply “being a little shit” - I only really learned of the term ableism around 10-15 years ago.

Well done friend. Getting a squad together for four straight sessions is hard work, let alone four years. Rest well.

I don’t know - the term “ableist” has certainly spiked in popularity in the last ten years or so, but even in the 90’s you’d get a bollocking for throwing around the terms “mong” or “spaz” or “flid” within earshot of a teacher.

I mean, I can see why - I hate the terms myself now. but when you’re in single digits of age, it’s just used as another derisory term rather than a specific slight at someone’s physical or mental development challenges.

It still got you in hot water if you were daft enough to get caught shouting it though.

We had a dude called Richard in primary school that went blank at the thought of a nickname. Obviously, as responsible classmates we helped him out, and he was christened Romanian Richard.

Richard was not Romanian, nor did he have any ties to the fine country of Romania.

Whatever inexplicable logic that was at play here, directed that he should have the last ten seconds of the Taz-Mania theme sung to him repeatedly, sorta like:

"Richard Romanian,

Richard Romanian,

Richard Romanian,

We mean you!"

Before making the appropriate Taz noises finishing with a raspberry in close proximity to his face. What was really weird, was that Richard didn’t appreciate this new fame and form of address, which was a real shame because everyone else did and it was highly entertaining before teachers got involved, parents got called, and it was saved for the days when Richard was really being a oil-fired arsehole.

These were the days before we drew the line from Richard to Dick, you must understand.

Off topic, but I rarely get to answer the phone these days. Not through choice, but ever since I enabled the automatic blocking of withheld numbers it has made my life so much quieter. That, and my workplace only ever calls out from a withheld number, which is fuckin’ magic.

In ye olde days though, our household used to answer with the name of the town and the three digit identifying number for that line.

Fifty fifty really.

Sometimes you go over and for whatever reason, it works. It might be my fuckin’ mind-blowing witty banter (/s obvs) it may be because they’re bored out of their tits with their current company, it may be because they’re just looking for a chat to kill an hour or whatever function we’re at.

Sometimes, it doesn’t. They’re busy with something, perhaps not as receptive to overthinking social approaches, ormaybe they just can’t be arsed and would rather stare at their phone until whatever time it is to go home. Fair enough.

If you’re never going to see them again though, what’s the harm in asking? If they’re happy enough to chat away, then great - and if they’re quite clear they’re not up for some banter, then take the fuckin’ hint and leave them alone. Nobody’s going to remember a hamfisted social approach if it’s done respectfully and nicely. They will if it comes across as leery or persistent though, and that’s just no bueno for everyone involved.

As William Shakespeare once said: “thou doth miss 100% of thine shots that thou faileth to take”, from the bridge of the Starship Enterprise.