The Tramp Stamper
Glorious Florida
Joined November 2010
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He did not handle the succession😢
But otherwise best governor of all time
LONG LIVE 👑GOOD KING RON👑
As Ron DeSantis enters the final weeks of his governorship of Florida, look at what he has accomplished.
His record is nothing short of miraculous and may be the single most effective governorship in the history of the United States.
Let’s remember….
He was the first to stand up to crazy COVID restrictions and reopen schools and businesses, he led the nation in school choice with more than half 1 million families now in the school of their choosing, he eliminated state debt and left the state with 18 billion in rainy day funds, and most importantly he signed the Heartbeat Protection Act, which ended most abortions after six weeks.
Everyone I know who lives in Florida says it is the most well-run state in the country. Well done governor!🙏
What a story
In 1993, when I was 16, I landed my first yacht delivery job: sailing a magnificent yacht from New York City to an exclusive yacht club on Long Island Sound.
There was just one problem. We were teenagers, and we were terrified the marina manager or police would stop us before we even left the dock.
Fortunately, one of my buddies knew a kid at a fancy boarding school who taught us how to dress like “rich assholes nobody would dare question.”
So there we were, strutting down the dock in borrowed cordovan penny loafers, sport coats and slicked-back hair, looking like we’d just stepped out of a country club catalog.
We jumped aboard, tossed the lines and shoved the throttle forward before anyone could ask questions.
Perfect getaway.
It was a glorious day on the water. Blue skies, fair winds, not a care in the world.
Until we approached the East River.
That’s when tiny kittens started crawling out of a deck box.
KITTENS.
The yacht had been sitting idle for weeks, and apparently a stray cat had decided it was the perfect maternity ward.
Now we had a boat full of kittens.
What the hell were we supposed to do with them?
We had a yacht to deliver, a fancy yacht club expecting us, and absolutely no idea how to explain our unexpected passengers.
Eventually, we arrived at the club, where a large party was underway. People were gathered on the veranda of a magnificent Victorian mansion overlooking the harbor.
They watched as this beautiful yacht glided in.
We collected the kittens in a cardboard box, climbed aboard the club launch and headed ashore.
Picture three teenage boys walking toward this grand clubhouse in borrowed penny loafers, navy blazers and slicked-back hair, carrying a box of kittens.
That’s when we realized the party was a wedding.
And that’s when one of my buddies looked up at the veranda, which was packed with beautiful women in their twenties, and shouted:
“ANYONE WANT A KITTEN?”
I have never witnessed anything like what happened next.
An honest-to-god stampede.
Women came pouring off the veranda, practically trampling one another to get their hands on a kitten.
Suddenly, three awkward teenage boys were THE most popular men at the wedding.
We each took responsibility for finding homes for a kitten. My buddy Adrian took three kitties but I just wanted to find the ONE perfect match.
I picked out a gorgeous, classically beautiful woman who looked like she’d stepped out of a Ralph Lauren advertisement.
She was 26.
I lied and told her I was 19 and home from Annapolis.
For the next several hours, we wandered the club grounds together, taking turns holding the kitten while I pretended to be terribly reluctant to part with it.
Eventually, she had to leave.
I agreed to surrender the kitten, but only after extracting a solemn promise that she’d invite me to her Manhattan apartment to check on it.
She agreed.
Of course, she’d been drinking, and I figured there was absolutely no chance she’d remember my phone number, much less call.
Remember, this was 1993. No cell phones. No texting. No Insta.
Just a telephone number scribbled on a napkin and a teenage boy’s impossible dreams.
Then Thursday arrived.
The phone rang.
I bolted out of my bedroom toward the hallway extension.
But my mother was standing in the kitchen and answered first.
“Hello?”
A beautiful female voice came through the receiver.
“Is John Konrad there? I’d very much like to invite him to dinner tomorrow night to see my kitten.”
She said TO SEE MY KITTEN 😳
And she said it in a VERY sultry voice.
Now, to understand what happened next, you need to know something about my family. 1/2
This is a case of 1 sister doing hair/makeup/ flipping the sexy “on” switch all the time& the other sister choosing not to. It’s a switch u can flip, the ones who know, know
More than anything I notice: an openness, lack of guile in the “plain sister” faces. And a confidence veering to frank arrogance in the “hot sister” faces. Augmented, ofc, by makeup, hair, & knowledge of angles& how cameras work
It pained me when I realized how into this men are. But they are. And it’s one of those weird things that attract them early on but can’t be sustained in marriage, except on occasion. A good marriage ur the plain sister most of the time& the haughty bitch when u need to be
People sleep on the interior cruise ship rooms, literally. I slept like a ROCK in the pitch blackness
I’d like to feel superior, like I’m gonna end up on the “real human who can create things” side of the speciation….but at the pace SI’s going who known, I may be a little pet after all. But I don’t need it to tell me who my kids are, at least
I’ve spent three years engaged in long-running and surprisingly civil arguments on here over whether AI is a cause of civilisational collapse or merely a symptom.
My view is that, just as AI prose and art could only possibly flourish in the context of a mass culture that was completely sclerotic and reduced to smashing tropes together, the sort of person who’d get an LLM to tell them three nice things about their own child or make a podcast about what their child had been up to to listen to on the way to work was fundamentally inhuman long before AI came along.
Having kids did more than complete me—it expanded me. I feel physically connected to my kids& my husband more than before kids. Their happiness is my happiness. Contributing to their 529’s and Trump Accounts is more satisfying than treating myself
Yesterday we dropped all the lil kids off with the grandparents& I had a salad& Chardonnay lunch with my good buddy then got my hair done& went to the good mall& shopped ALL DAY &it was GLORIOUS
It’s been years since I did that. Got a piece of estate jewelry dangly earrings 22 c carved gold with enamel inlay& talked them down to almost the price of gold. Shoes, dresses, jeans, a cute pants outfit, 3 swimsuits with matching sarongs/ coverups, cash from the ATM bc I like to carry cash. Leaving on vacay today!
Retail sales ladies are so primordial. I can be like, “well, I gained like 8 lbs but I wanna look good in some pics so give me something that accentuates the boobs& downplays the upper arms” &they’re like “yes ma’am” no nonsense. And they shower me with compliments. “We just got this in yesterday, you’re the first to try it on, you’re my Barbie doll today. Wow girl—that is GIVING a LOOK”
I’ve never been averse to fishing for compliments nor paying for them. They hit the same. If I were a man I’d probably go to strip clubs it pains me to admit
Then I tried them on in front of the man of the house& put his rejects in the “return” bag. It made me feel like a kept woman which for some perverse reason feels better than being a respectable wife on occasion. 10/10 day
I miss World Cup& Japan Twitter. Felt so good to welcome new people to our American culture. Like throwing a house party& making everyone feel socialized, comfortable& well-fed. I hope we get more of that. Americans adore good guests
He did it in the most Ayn Rand villain way possible—making mechanics pour molten glass into the motors
Barack Obama was horrible in a million different ways, but he doesn’t get anywhere near the hate he deserves for destroying the used car market for an entire generation.
15-year-old cars with 150,000 miles that should be selling for $3,000 are going for $15,000. It’s abominable. Pure destruction and thievery.
Walking’s great ofc but I believe regular pedicures, with the long foot soak& leg massage, are one of the best things men and women can do for cardiovascular health
Blood tends to stagnate in the lower legs
Bones retweeted
The real reason that Rhodesia matters for Americans is that the spiritual problem presented is one that we very much need to answer, for the same forces that destroyed it are destroying us. It, better than any other historical case study, shows how much the Western mindset shifted and how much the one now prevalent in America is at odds with our history, tradition, and culture.
The basic problem is this: Is it human flourishing that matters, or commitment to a vague idea of total equality enforced by the state, whatever the consequences? theamericantribune.news/p/wh…
Tell ur surgeon that u refuse blood unless it’s absolutely necessary to save ur life. It can def still have disease in it
(Receiving banked blood also increases the chances of cancer coming out of remission)
i tried to donate blood today, i had an appointment, and they turned me away.
apparently you still can’t donate blood if you’re on PrEP or had anal sex within 3 months? (both disqualified me)
i thought they unbanned gays from donating? how is this not de facto discrimination?
Readers added context they thought people might want to know
US FDA blood donation guidelines apply the same individual risk-based questions to all donors regardless of orientation, deferring for recent anal sex with new/multiple partners or PrEP use to protect the blood supply as these can affect HIV detection.
fda.gov/media/164829/d…
redcrossblood.org/donate-blood/h…
WRITERS ROOM
It was Lydia’s second day as Producer’s Assistant at Hallmark Films. She had shown up an hour early and had her coffee while walking around the building, she was still getting her bearings. As a congratulation present for landing the job, her mom had taken her shopping, at the nice mall. She was wearing one of her new outfits—a short sleeved, gray wool dress with a hemline just below her knees. It was thin, but warm. Black belt, stockings, and black pumps. Her blonde hair was up in a high, braided bun and she wore diamond stud earrings and her diamond cross pendant that she’d gotten for that Christmas present. As it approached eight o’clock, she headed to her desk, threw away her empty coffee cup, and sat down. The phone rang right away, and she answered it. “Good morning, Mr. Wilkes’ office.”
“Tell Stanley, Roberts needs to see him right now.”
<click>
Lydia stood up and knocked on her boss’s door. “Come in.”
“Good morning Mr. Wilkes, I just got a call. Someone named Roberts is asking to see you right now.”
He sighed. “OK, come with me, you’ll have to meet her eventually.” He stood up and walked down the hall, and Lydia walked alongside him. He opened a door that said, “Writers Room,” and they stepped inside. There was a large table with men and women sitting around it, papers everywhere, and a lot of laptops. Everyone kept working except one woman, who stood up. She had wavy, wild gray and white hair held back with a pink headband. She was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, cardigan sweater, scuffed up sneakers, and bifocals. There were two cardboard coffee carriers in front of her, full of steaming coffee. She put her hands on her hips and said,
“What’s the rule, Stanley?”
“What happened?”
“The rule is, no faggots in the writers room.”
“What happened?”
“A faggot brought us our coffee this morning, is what happened. It ruins the whole vibe, it upsets everyone.” Lydia glanced around the room, no one else had looked up from his work, only one person seemed upset to her. “How are we supposed to write about romance, Stanley, how? When we have to think about how some gross flamer’s been touching our coffee cups. We’re trying to write about love, romance, a girl getting pregnant and decorating her baby’s room. The only thing reproducing in their bodies is the AIDS virus. And anyone who would leave them alone with a child deserves to go to prison.”
“Mrs. Roberts, please. You’re making too big of a deal about this.”
“Do you want women to stream the same movie every night for a week? Do you want girls to buy our same prom dress for their own prom? Do you want our theme song to hit the charts? Do you want to make money, Stanley?”
He smiled at her, in spite of himself, “yes I do.”
“Then remember the rule. We have to write the way we write. What’s the rule, Stanley?”
He sighed, “you don’t want homosexuals in the writers room.”
“No, that’s not what I said, I qualified it. I don’t mind lesbians at all. Send a pretty lesbian in here, I can fix her. I just don’t want ugly people in here, and that’s what excludes most lesbians. I don’t have a problem with them, per se. The rule is, no faggots in the writers room.”
“OK Mrs. Roberts, you know I can’t officially screen for them but I’ll do my best. Anything else?”
“Yes, the team needs new coffees, the faggot touched these.”
“Lydia, can you take care of that for her? Just come back to my office whenever you’re done.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Wilkes.”
Her boss left the room, and Lydia turned back to the woman. “You’re a pretty girl. What’s your name?”
“Lydia Morgan.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Is he in love with you?”
“I—we haven’t talked about that yet.”
“How long have you been dating?”
“Two months.”
“Hmm. Do you know what we’re working on in here?”
“Yes ma’am, “A Christmas Wish.”
“Do you know who’s playing the male lead?”
“Benjamin Phillips.”
“He’s a nice man, a nice, young man. Only a few years older than you I bet. What do you think about him?”
“I mean, he’s an actor, he’s good looking if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Would you like to meet him?” She took her phone out of her pocket. “I can call him right now, he’ll come right over.”
“Oh, no thank you, he’s probably busy.”
“Good girl. Tell me your number and I’ll text you the coffee order.” Lydia did, and Mrs. Roberts forwarded her the text. “I’m also texting you something else I need you to pick up for me, two packs of Zyn six, one wintergreen, one spearmint. I like to combine them, doublemint.”
“What’s that?”
“Just go to like a 7-eleven or something and ask for it. Now you call me if you ever need anything, OK? But don’t call me otherwise, I’m busy. Do you know the rule?”
Lydia took a deep breath, “the rule is, no faggots—”
“No!” Mrs. Roberts interrupted her, “don’t say nasty words like that! You’re such a pretty girl. Do you talk that way in front of your boyfriend?”
“But you said—”
“I’m at work, you think I talk that way in front of my husband?”
“You’re married?”
“Of course I’m married, don’t you see my ring? We have four kids. Do you want to see a picture of my grandson?”
“Sure.” Mrs. Roberts turned her phone toward Lydia, there was a picture of a cute, sleeping newborn in a white onesie and blue knitted cap.
“Aww.”
“I know, right?” Mrs. Roberts looked at her. “We’ll chat more after you bring back the drinks. The rule is, ‘love always wins.’”