Warning: tons of photos! Click here for the photos from the comic con earlier in the year.
A video of the functional R2-D2:
Just what the title says.
Negan (that’s marker stubble on his face), hitting yours truly’s daughter, who is dressed as John Egbert from Homestuck. The fellow on the right said he was Despair, but he has a mask of Glenn from The Walking Dead on.
Not pictured: a great Darth Vader costume, that was as good as the Boba Fett one. It was a bad picture that I accidentally deleted.
I heard this sentence on last night’s episode of The Walking Dead:
“If you weren’t in here already, you’d be here.”
It was spoken to a doctor who had gotten sick and was being quarantined with a load of other non-doctor patients. It was meant to show the speaker’s (Herschel’s) regard for the sick doctor’s character—that his dedication to patient care would persist in dangerous situations.
Knowing that context makes the line pretty clear. I just noticed how non-meaningful it would be as a standalone sentence.
Page of Sarah Palin’s redmarked resignation letter stolen from Vanity Fair’s website somewhere.
* Don’t know if “semantic” is the correct term to use here. I just work here. I’m not management.
It happens a lot when writers want to mess with their protagonists, and it’s accomplished by building false expectations in both the characters and the audience, and then pouring buckets of demon vomit all over it. Although the Governor (TWD‘s false utopia leader) didn’t seem all that bad at first blush, the fact that he looked rather benign was a sure tip off that he’s Satan’s toejam. His toejam-status is confirmed once we find out about the severed heads he keeps in aquariums, and all kidnapping and incarceration, forced disrobing, and killing other people for their stuff that he does.
Interesting that he’s named the Governor, because his town is the most governmental out of what is shown on the series. Instead of cooperating or trading peacefully with others, like moral people, the initiation of force is used to acquire resources from the outside. Disperse the Governor’s power among a few more people and it becomes the mafia. Increase the size of the land and charter a ruling document and you’ve got yourself a bonafide modern-day nation.
It’s not an absolute comparison. People in TWD aren’t producing wealth so much as appropriating abandoned property in little bands that act much like families, pooling and sharing of resources within, and squatting land and buildings. There’s not the hard division of labor and power that characterizes markets and nations, so we’re left with what looks like variations on primitive communism that marked pre-modern-technology tribal structures.
I can respect libertarians that vote for a Gary Johnson, writes in a Ron Paul, themselves, Cthulhu, their comatose third cousin or dead childhood dog. I know of some that vote Libertarian Party to basically build up its legitmacy, but eh…me linking to Johnson’s campaign site or to a LP-friendly organization like the Mises Institute or linking to a free PDF copy of Henry Hazlitt’s Economics In One Lesson (pdf) probably does the same amount of damage in a fraction of the time—I’m not a member of the LP and I’ve little interest in really supporting it.
But this post is less about the crimes of politics and more about doing what I enjoy in life, one of which is not being herded willingly into a large room to press buttons for cash and prizes. So, in true Austrian economic fashion, as the final arbiter and most competent allocator of my resources (mostly time), coupled with the fact that voting produces little to no satisfaction for me, here’s a serious list of things I may do with my extra hour or so of time that yields the most satisfaction for me. Enjoy!:
Cthulhu lawn sign photo by ThinkBaker.
* I’ve heard every reason to vote under the sun, and some reasons over it, and you’re not smart enough to come up with something new. But by all means, please convince me otherwise.
** Pay special attention on that page to the South Africa example.