Stringbean playing Cripple Creek at the Opry, 1950s.

A day at the ballpark with the Acuña family!

Convenient Napkin Dispenser Lets You Grab Either A Handful Of 50 Napkins Or Tear A Small Corner Off 1 Napkin buff.ly/OsRNdVe

What a catch by Ronald! 🙌 #BravesCountry

Saturday movement at driveway gym

Naomi Watts transgender son walks the runway for Roberto Cavalli womenswear after becoming the first trans model to be named ‘Breakthrough Model of the Year.’

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🚨BREAKING: In a dangerous decision for voters, the Supreme Court authorized the Trump administration to overhaul a federal immigration database into a vast, centralized and deeply flawed database of personal information to initiate registration purges. democracydocket.com/news-ale…

Once upon a time, I set out to solve one of marriage’s great mysteries. Armed with a notebook, a recorder, and the confidence of a man who had absolutely no idea what he was getting into, I began my investigation into why men always forget the weekend plans. Here’s what I found. Now, I’m making up this exact conversation, but it generally tracks. Me, making plans: “Hey, hon, I’m going fishing Saturday at 7 a.m.” “With who?” “Frank and Jim.” “When will you be back?” “I don’t know. Probably between 10 and noon.” “Where are you going?” “On Jim’s boat.” “Which lake?” “I don’t know.” “I thought Jerry’s wife was sick this week. Is he sick too?” “I have no idea. All I know is that I’m leaving the house at 7 a.m. Saturday.” “Are you having breakfast first?” “Yes. Before I leave. At 7. On Saturday.” “Okay, but you have to be back by noon because—” “I will leave at 7 a.m. Saturday and be back before noon.” Notice what happened here. I communicated two critical pieces of operational intelligence: Departure: Saturday, 0700. Return: no later than 1200. And then, like a military radio operator confirming coordinates, I repeated them six times. Now let’s flip the script. Her, making plans: “This weekend there’s a flower festival I want to go to, but Sue also invited me to that yoga class I’ve been wanting to try, which I think starts at 10, but it might be canceled because the instructor is a single mom and her son Franklin, who is seriously the cutest boy ever especially when he’s wearing glasses, has band rehearsal, so the class is Saturday but could get moved to Sunday afternoon, which I can’t do because—” “So you’re doing yoga Saturday at 9?” “No. You never listen. It’s Saturday at 10. I think. Let me check the calendar. Oh, that reminds me, we need to reschedule the teacher meeting Tuesday, but don’t worry, she’ll probably be at yoga, and I hate bringing up work on the weekend, but maybe I can ask her there.” “So…10. Got it.” “No, that’s not confirmed yet! But if I do go, you need to pick up bagels at the grocery store, and make sure you get the ones without onions this time. We don’t need cream cheese. We still have some from last week.” And that was the breakthrough. Men tend to communicate plans like a flight plan: Time. Place. Mission. Return time. Then we repeat the coordinates until everyone acknowledges receipt. Women communicate plans like an intelligence briefing assembled from six agencies: There is a primary plan, an alternate plan, a weather contingency, three supporting characters, a child named Franklin, a teacher conference, grocery requirements, and several unresolved diplomatic issues. Somewhere inside that 11-minute briefing is the actual time she plans to leave the house. Your job is to find it. This is why a man can listen attentively to every single word his wife says and still, 20 minutes later, ask: “So…what time are you leaving?”

I’m a far right neo reactionary but also I’m like Edmund Burke. I’ll take it!

Straight women you have some explaining to do

Lotta response on my joke about dropping feral hogs on Iran. People wanna know how. Rest easy. We have hired Les Nessman of WKRP in Cincinnati. He has vast experience dropping live animals from airplanes.

Everyone is spilling the tea. He had religious bias on killing, esp babies and should not have been on the jury.