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Articles from Cheeseburger Gothic

Cock punching the Bolter

March 24, 2017 - 16:19 -- Admin

I spent all day on this topic. It was a lot harder than I expected.

If only Andrew Bolt was free to speak his mind, none of those people would have died in London yesterday. If only the Bolter could just be free to tell us exactly what he thought of the mud races and their heathen ways, we would no longer have to live in fear of being violently disassembled by bearded nutters in chocolate shops or on the public thoroughfares.

Lets eat grandma

March 20, 2017 - 12:11 -- Admin

Commas FTW! And Oxford commas for the bonus point:

“Who gives a fuck about the Oxford Comma?” Vampire Weekend asked on their eponymous first album. The hard-working truck drivers of the Oakhurst Dairy company in the great state of Maine, that"s who. A dispute with their bosses over whether they should be paid overtime came down to the lack of an Oxford comma in the state"s law regulating who gets paid a little bit more for working extra hours.

That beer jihad yesterday

March 14, 2017 - 09:00 -- Admin

I didn't really understand why everyone lost their shit over the debate but not the product placement. From Blunty:

Well, that was weird. Having feasted on the lulz last week while compulsively hitting replay on that Department of Finance recruitment video, you'd think that as a nation we'd had our fill of bizarro YouTube moments.

But nope.

Mission Impossible: Spycat

March 13, 2017 - 09:47 -- Admin

My thanks to Karletta for giving me this idea yesterday. Hard to believe this program actually existed, let alone cost the equivalent of US $142M.

I also included a couple of extra links in today's ASB. As I'm noodling around the net, looking for stuff to write about, I come across some pretty funny stuff. I thought it'd add a bit of value to serve up a couple of those links too.

A sample chapter before I go: The Cruel Stars.

March 8, 2017 - 14:53 -- Admin

The rock turned silently within hard vacuum and the young woman with it. She pressed her nose to the porthole which fogged with her breath while she waited for night to sweep over this part of the base again. It would come, dark and frozen, within a few minutes, revealing the star field of the local volume, the vast blue-green pearl of the planet far below, and the lights of the nearest Hab, another naval station, like this hollowed-out moonlet, but not.

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