{B}adass Kids Wildin' Out!: #AtoZChallenge 2016

Okay.
So here's the ish in a nutshell....
 * The incident occurred on the Septa El - a Philadelphia commuter train
 * Four youths (ages 6-7 years old) caught on camera verbally & physically harassing        at least one passenger.

 How so? -you ask....
 How about:
    * punching, spitting, using colorful references for male genitalia, dropping the.   F-Bomb, serving up, both, the B-word AND the N-word

All while being *supervised?* by this women - the aunt of two of these rowdy imps - who did NOTHING. NADA.  to stop their attacks!  At one point,  a passenger addressed the Aunt inquiring as to when she was going to intervene!  Maybe she was using this disciplinary approach to the problem [see third intervention] *side eye*

All of the shenanigans were caught on tape and posted to the Facebook page of one of the victims.  Take a look.... you're not going to believe this buffoonery! 

One kid even tampered with the Emergency Equipment! WTF!

.... Auntie still did not a damned thing!
Here's a damned clue Auntie!....
Imma need you to  GET TURNED UP BEE-YOTCH!!!!

Don't believe your lying eyes or deceiving ears? 
Here it is again!  YEP!. again!

Now I know that in today's world there's a fine line very fine line  that defines discipline and abuse.  All I know is,  had I been stupid enough to try this shigg!tty when I was a seven year old,  hell!!!  Not only would I have taken an arse 'whopping' by the adults on the train - Yassssssss! - that would include the aunt.  Once I got home! Sh!t.... it's a effin' wrap!!!!!!

 So... What say you to all of this buffoonery?

 

 

*All video & pics pertaining to incident are courtesy of here*

One Hot Ass Mess!.... Again!

Last year Madisyn, "Maddy" {as she is known in the world of toddler pageants} Verst, a pint-sized beauty queen hailing from Campbell, Kentucky made the cover of People Magazine with the headline "[Have We] Gone Too Far?". 

The hit show Toddlers & Tiara's, shown on TLC, had for three years, successfully captured and shamelessly displayed the behind-the-scenes Conflama *{ confusion + conflict + drama = CONFLAMA} of child beauty pageants.  And, just as stated in that the article, "The tantrums were extreme, and the pre-show prep of spray tanning and eyebrow waxing seemed perhaps premature for little kids". 

{via::special thanx}

Over teased coiffs, excessive tanning, flippers {what!? You don't know what a fricking flipper is?} and over the top customs, shocked and appalled the viewers {who watch with baited breath to witness the finished pageantry of little girls who appear to be not 'cute', but hyper-sexualized miniatures of their parent(s')'s obvious inability to let go of their childhood dream{?}. 

Maddy's mother, Lindsay Jackson,  must really be dense as a stone!  As if last year's buffoonery was not a call for a personal- 'ummmm... maybe I should rethink this whole child as grown-ass Barbie Doll, Dollie Parton knock-off, Pretty Woman look-alike' moment -  this  "I don't have a damned life of my own, so I'll exploit the sh!t out of my unsuspecting six year-old" - Bee-yotch, goes one step too f*cking far!


Yes! Them there is tits and ass on that tot!  WTF!

{via::special thanx}

This past Saturday, after tossing all of the media people out of the court room {on their asses} and slapping a gag order on Jackson and a  moratorium on pageantry for Maddy and her mother until further notice, the presiding Judge Weoste scheduled the hearing to resume on August 31. 

The issue at hand?  .... yes.  you can bet it stems from those tits & ass!

Maddy's {alleged} dead-beat ass dad, Bill Verst,  is suing for parental custody on the grounds that his piss-poor-ass-choice of a mother for his daughter is sexually exploiting her!   

Jackson's concern:: that a ruling against her will set a precedent  {yet but another "WTF- moment" in my mind} -

“If (the judge decides) that Maddy needs to live with her dad because she does pageants with me, then that opens the door for any parent to challenge anybody on activity that a kid does, period,” declared Jackson before the hearing. “We could really open up Pandora’s Box to set a precedent all over the world. What if years ago Gabby Douglas’ father said, ‘She’s not going to be a gymnast. She’s not going to move away from home and practice gymnastics because I won’t allow it,’ and he and Gabby’s mother got into a fight? We wouldn’t have gold medal winners, we wouldn’t have Miss America, we wouldn’t have Miss USA.”

Okay, Okay.  I just had another "WTF"-moment"!

Thoughts?! Come on.  You know you got 'em! 



Nothing Good Could Come of This....

....... Uhm just saying'.....

{via::special thanx}

What's next? Tits & Arses!?

Oh No! Not Again!

Now we've talked about this subject in another post.  I just couldn't resist coming back to it.
Tell me why someone would pay to have this done?!  Once we get past that dumba$$ery, there are a lot of  other things that I wouldn't trust about the boug-ghetto hooker who wears these petri-dish daggers...

...like ANYTHING that comes from out of their kitchen!

I. Just. Don't. Get. It!

                      ...thoughts???

You Touched My Sh!gg!ty!!

This Thanksgiving I'm giving airport security something to realllly wrap their hands around! 

I found these way too cool labels that appear to allow those down-low voyuers, at the airport security check points, a sneak peek into the seedy underbelly of my packed deliciousness!

So. Maybe. If I refuse to go through that  'let me oogle you while I fantasize!' scanner,  the TSA workers will feel prompted to reallllly pat me down! *sarcastic eye roll*

Happy Travels!

"I just want to say to the Colored Man..."

Late one warm afternoon in October, on arguably, one of television’s most driest programs, a 90-year-old caller delivered an unforgettable jolt to an otherwise lifeless segment.  The topic on hand was Wall Street and its role in American society.   And, without so much as a warning, C-SPAN's 'Washington Journal'  commentator-Robb Harleston-found himself on the end of  one of the most sincerest, politely-controlled old-lady rants delivered on this side of  Moms Mabley

Now, you know that something not so horribly correct was going to come hurling out of the mouth of this golden-ager, the moment that she began her call with:

“I just want to say to the colored man…”

*blink* *blink*  [followed by a] *blank stare*

Suffice it to say that, if you are 'the colored man' that this 90-year-old someone is referencing at the beginning of her loaded call, you would think that all would not be good from this point on. 

As the caller went on to inquire as to why 'the colors' always seem to complain; instead of being grateful for the things that white people had done for them, Harleston-always the consummate professional- remained remarkably uneffected. 

[Here is the video for your lying eyes!]

[...and the script for your lying ears!]

CALLER: I’m 90 years old, and I just wanted to ask the colored man, why don’t colored people instead of saying what we did to them, why don’t they say what we did for them? They talk about the slavery, but since then, they have been given welfare, free medicine, free everything.

HARLESTON: Ma’am I think this is more of a conversation about the relationship between the administration and the people on Wall Street and not necessarily one that’s based on race.

CALLER: Oh, okay. I’m not a racist. That was my comment. Thank you.

The only thing that trumps this pugnacious, opinionated nonagenerian's comment was the tactful nonchalance; in which Harleston seamlessly ended that call.
But not before informing the caller that she was off topic.

touche'.

I'mma Need this one 'splained...

What side of silicon hell makes one want to do this!?

Thoughts!?

Oh!......... Hell to the No!

Does this hairdo make you ask, "When in the friggity is she going to get that nest handled?"

Fashion.
Decor.
Music.
Slang.
T.V. Shows. 

All timestamps of eras gone by.  And all held near and dear to our heart's memory. 

Fashion is said to repeat itself every twenty years.  Each repetition of fashion gone by, successfully convincing aging generations that there is nothing new under the sun, but changes in the perception of what already exists.

With the passing of time, decor [good or bad] manages to elevate itself to the level of  'antique'-dom to be later bought and sold for astronomical amounts.

 Music takes us back to a place that was more simpler.  Easier.  Carefree.  It evokes feelings, thoughts and experiences that we would be willing to immediately cash in for just 'one more' opportunity to 'go back there' again....ahhhhh! Nothing like 'old school'. 

Slang is the linguistic glue that melds generations.  It was/is epoxy that, despite the differences [obvious and not so obvious], allows members of a generation to connect- without judgment.

Spending tireless hours memorized  by a device, "affectionately" referred to as 'the idiot box', television holds generation-after-generation hostage with programming that mirrors that generations state of affairs.  [reflecting and daring to give voice to the political and social climate of that generation.

NOW. THAT. BEING. SAID. 

         *side eye*

.

All of these without a doubt are markers that shape and define a generation, however, NOTHING defines a generation like a HAIRSTYLE!

That's right.  A HAIRSTYLE!

Come on!  You know someone that looks like these dudes!  We all do!  We'd walk across burning embers, barefooted with a thousand pound gorilla on our shoulders before we'd don this mane gone manic!

Check out the montage of pic above.  Okay, grant you. The argument can be made that these are bad hair moments masquerading as fashion, but nonetheless, signs of  'the generational' time.
Whatever the argument  we've all stared in wonderment and mouthed the question "Where the eff do they work". and. "Who the eff would hire them!?"

Now.  That takes us to these!

If you look really, really, or not so really close, I'm sure that you- like me- know a person, or two, who proudly sported a version of one of these cuts.  Prompting the "WTF"!? question.

And then there is the "pet as substitute jewelry that keeps my mind off the fact that I can't be real enough to get/keep a mate so I'll be just as cute as my pup because that may make me more tolerable'  hairdo. 

This mane oozes "How the eff can I get that look?"

and then there is THIS! 

All I have to offer about this is

"WHY the Eff.....?

[via]

Can you say "bour-ghetto?

Coolio!...Is that You!?........What the ....?

[very short post.  More like a 'Huh?'  moment.  Hope that thats okay]

Looks like the years haven't been too kind to Coolio...

How The Eff? .... do They do That!

[Short post today...]

Now, I like to consider myself as well-groomed as the next person....at least, passably {my word}.  I don't give much thought to the man/woman that spends two hours every week some time at the nail salon getting themselves all 'did up'.  I guess your hands and toes should be baby smooth with nails that are clean and symmetrically shaped.  Polish optional. 
WARNING!!  MULTIPLE PICTURES TO FOLLOW...

 [nails via]

NOW. THAT. BEING. SAID. 

         *side eye*

What the eff is going on with these eight foot long, overly acrylicized [my word, again], overly painted, overly ornamentized {my word. yes...again} daggers masquerading as talons being sported by those who equate high fashion with the length of their 'nails-as-weapon' talons? 

                    ~  How do they manage to cook a meal?  They all, most certainly don't pay a chef.   

                    ~  How does the dishes get washed? Or at least rinsed before being put into the dishwasher? 

                    ~ The laundry? -don't tell me - laundry service.  Right. 

                     How about...okay.  So you get it?

......and that's just the simple shiggity! 

[drumroll puhleeeeeeaaaazzzzeee]    Here's the fluhking ten million dollar question!? 

Feel free to throw in any extra cash that you might have lying around.

[I'm going to need another...drumroll puhleeeeeaaaaazzzeee]  .....

What the eff do you do when you have to take a bathroom break !? 

[via]

A letter to the Idiot... with the Flames Billowing out of His...

[pic]

Dear Mr. Irate

     I am not sure why you feel the need to ride my bumper.  Angrily cursing and graphically jesturing in your feeble attempts to either, make me change lanes or increase the speed that's already on the fringe of being unlawful.   For the last three miles your beaten up blue flatbed truck, in major need of a paint job & major body work, has been riding me so tightly that I can see the fury and fire spewing from your eyes.  Your rude and inappropriate hand signs, provoked only by my lack obliging you your way, are meant to be threatening and harassing.  NOT!  Your constant reckless ebb and flow, unsolicited facial tauting and obvious rage succeeds, not, in making you appear to be someone who has some place important to be [yesterday] and me as the nondriving a**hole who is in your way.

Instead, you look like an out of controlled lunatic completely incapable of caring about your dangerously immature behavior.

NOW. THAT. BEING. SAID. 

         *side eye*

Back off you moronic imbecile!  You're not nearly the threat that you think you are....sitting in the comfort(?) of your beaten up truck!  Your tauts are, at best, immature.  And at best, unimpressive.  Pull over and get out of that heap of junk that you call a vehicle and let's handle this differently from you riding my f*cking bumper like an unwant license plate!  I don't think that you really want that....  As a matter of fact, I know that this is all a cowardice act of bravado meant to intimidate.  NOT!  This time,you've picked the wrong motorist!  What I have to say to you is this...I'll drive my car this bee-yotch my way! and when you pay the note on this 'mother'...I'll drive it any way that you want me to....

Until then, get off my a** and drive that piece of sh*t that you pay the note on....