Day: July 8, 2026

Hilarious and sad at the same time

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I prefer to not waste writing on ‘Murican politics, but the whole thing about Mitch McConnell’s state of mortality is legit one of the funniest subplots in ‘Murica right now.  I mean, I feel like it should be pretty obvious that the old white cocksucker is deader than Spirit Airlines, but he’s getting the same treatment as Hulk Hogan was getting right before it came out that he had in fact, passed away.

In one hand you have, for lack of a better term, reputable sources stating that the man is braindead, which to me is the same thing as being dead at this point, because regardless of the state of one’s heartbeat, being a vegetable ain’t really living either.  But in the other hand, you have all sorts of pathetic bureaucrats all over the place claiming that they’ve spoken to ‘ol Mitch, and fabricating all sorts of agenda-driven talking points that they claimed to have discussed.  Seriously, combine the time of all the supposed 20-30 minute conversations that these shitheads are claiming to have spoken with McConnell, and it’s basically a 27-hour day.

Naturally, my knee-jerk reaction that is that is a very big difference between speaking to and speaking with, and I guess it wouldn’t be lying if all these assholes are calling him up and speaking to dead air, and then claiming to have spoken to, a vegetable, which in itself is pretty funny, but like the subject of this post says, it’s also sad, because this is just continued trope of ‘Murican misinformation, lying to the people, and making shit up for no other reason than to preserve the fake-ass power dynamic that unfortunately runs the country.

Because his carcass still has a heartbeat, he still apparently holds a measure of power, and it’s the least surprising thing of all that it’s a very different scenario of dead Mitch versus when Ruth Bader Ginsburg passed away, and the clusterfuck that took place in order to replace her seat with a hand-picked stooge.

I like to imagine that the GOP has a machine that’s exactly just like the Bat Syllable Device from the old Adam West Batman show, where Alfred could electronically fabricate Bruce Wayne’s voice to speak with Commissioner Gordon in the presence of actual Batman, and it came out all robotic and obviously fake, but Gordon still bit, because everyone in the show was a fucking idiot.

And even though the technology and AI exists to where it’s probably extremely easy to have an AI Mitch McConnell speak in his actual voice and tone, the GOP is so full of antequated old white fucks, that the Bat Syllable Device is still what they would have instead; and because 50.75% of ‘Murica are fucking idiots, they would believe it all the same.

Either way, sad as it is that there are still very real-life decisions, impacts and outcomes hinging on the fake-ass mortality of McConnell, it is still entertaining to see the GOP basically performing real-life Weekend at Bernies with his corpse.

Sigh.  This really is ‘Murica.

I’ve never hated something so fiercely so quickly in my life

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

When wandering around one of the 7,537 shops that I went with mythical wife into while in Seoul because she liked having me around as a safety blanket because I can speak Korean, I noticed these little trinkets that looked like four keyboard keys attached to a keychain.  I’d never seen anything like such before, and I didn’t give it much thought beyond simply stating my observation to mythical wife.

However, seeing as how mythical wife is a teacher, and surrounded by kids throughout her professional life, keyboard clickers were absolutely nothing new to her, and she was about as surprised as I was to have only discovered the existence of them at this point, long after they’d been in existence.  What can I say, we do our jobs in vastly two different worlds, and little ADHD fidget things aren’t something I’m exposed to regularly.

Later that day, we went to dinner.  Unfortunately, the wife chose a joint that was in Myeongdong, and I say unfortunately because Myeongdong is basically the epicenter of tourism in Seoul, and I tend to like seeking out less-touristy and more, patroned by locals kind of establishments, but it was one of those situations where if I didn’t put any thought into dinner, it’s whomever does’ call.

We enter the restaurant, and right away I see the place is crawling with tourists, and there’s specifically a table full of nerdy looking, obvious Americans, speaking at a volume that’s typically higher than most Korean restaurants tend to operate at.  My spider-sense starts tingling, especially when I see that there’s a convenient four-top table right next to theirs, and I start to creep towards the stairs, hoping that we might be able to sit elsewhere, but the host ushers us to the table next to the Koreebs, and I’m mentally cringing at the thought of being seated next to them.

Y’see, when I go to Korea, I want to immerse in Korea, use my Korean, eat Korean – not be lumped in with all the tourists and white people and their Koreeb-ey companions, blabbing too loudly about, hilariously, League of Legends and making me think that they might be Riot Games employees, based on their too-loud conversing.

But then the alpha-dork of the group, the one blabbing too loudly the most, whips out a clicker fidget after their latest topic of streamers and Slack chats comes to a lull, and as the subject of this post says, I don’t think I’ve ever felt such nuclear hatred for something I’d just discovered, so quickly in my entire life, than listening to this overgrown man-baby clicking away at his little fidget clicker.

And for the next ten minutes or so, when he wasn’t the one talking, he was the one clicking away at this little piece of shit, and I could feel my blood pressure rising, and the thoughts of fantasizing about throwing him out the window of our second-story restaurant materializing in my head.

I’ve often said to my bros that in the hypothetical metaphor of being locked in a room with Adolf Hitler, Osama bin Laden and Stephen A. Smith,* and having a gun with two bullets, I would shoot Stephen A. Smith twice, once for the kill to shut him the fuck up, and one more just to make sure.

*or anyone you really hate in order to drive home the point of magnitude of hatred

But if I were ever to be in the metaphorical room with two Stephen A. Smiths and whomever invented the fidget keyboard, I would shoot the inventor of the fidget keyboard twice.

I would really rather to listen to two Stephen A. Smiths blather and bait and go off about inane topics, than allow for the person who thought it would be a good idea to make a little fidget of keyboard keys on it, to live.

It took about those ten minutes of triggering clicking and clacking for me to give numerous nasty stares, glares and Korean 눈치 before this clown finally caught my eye and realized that his incessant clicking was possibly, annoying other people in the public restaurant.  I genuinely thought about actually speaking out, but fortunately he did notice that I was glaring at him to realize that other people exist in the world, and it’s probably the best when in public to take that into consideration when choosing to do annoying shit like clacking a fidget keyboard.

Thankfully he and his clown posse wrapped up their visit and left, because I genuinely was put on edge and ready to fight if he were to continue to click and clack as much as he had been doing.  It’s incredible that these things have existed for as long as they have, and it wasn’t until I was in fucking Seoul that I’d learn of them, and be ready to declare jihad on them, all in the same day.

I witnessed a lot of really obnoxious gen-Z tropes while in Seoul, but the fidget keyboards were undeniably the worst.  I hope whomever invented them develops chronic irritable bowel syndrome, and has a really hard time dealing with it, and spends the rest of their existence being inconvenienced by trying to manage it.