Alexandria (only) Occasionally Correct

I have nothing to add to the countless virtual shrugs on the internet at her utter avoidance of any attempt at logic.

No, I simply wanted to copyright the more appropriate name for her.

14 Replies to “Alexandria (only) Occasionally Correct”

    1. I’m 80% into “Win Bigly”. It’s very good but, as you say, rambling.

      He’s also somewhat immodest which, to English ears, sounds gauche (Q.V. almost everything Bardon writes here and elsewhere).

      1. I rather like Bardon. He sounds as if he’s got a lot of teeshirts. Ask him when’s his birthday and I’ll send him George Mikes’ How to be an Alien.

        1. @Michael

          Any of these two slogans would be nice:

          “An Englishman, even if he is alone, forms an orderly queue of one.”

          “In England it is bad manners to be clever, to assert something confidently. It may be your own personal view that two and two make four, but you must not state it in a self-assured way, because this is a democratic country and others may be of a different opinion.”

  1. I wonder if she needs a speech writer.

    Must be nice to be able to drink at lunch and then just ramble on in some disconnected fashion.

    1. “Must be nice to be able to drink at lunch and then just ramble on in some disconnected fashion.”

      Quite. And this is one of the new hopes for the Democrats along with Beta.

  2. Her fame is 100% due to her slotting perfectly into that “so dumb that you can probably talk your way into her pants, but not so dumb that you’re embarrassed to do so” niche.

    1. Also, she’s only mildly attractive but FRIGGIN’ GORGEOUS for a national politician. Like the halo effect that football sideline reporters* get by being surrounded by giant sweaty men.

      *Do the Brits/Aussies have an equivalent to this? Token women at male sporting events who “report” on middling anecdotes tertiary to the game, I mean.

      1. To answer both of your comments;

        1. There are some really hot girls who you wake up next to wondering why and how? British India gave a noun to this kind of thing; “hypogamy”. There’s always a price to pay though. AOC looks like an utter nightmare of a marriage partner to me, and, as nightmare marriage partners go, nowhere near as hot as the complete nutter that is Halle Berry (full disclosure; if Halle reads this, I’m joking and, by the way, I’m that rough but non-violent diamond you’ve been searching for. Let me teach you how to sail on Sydney Harbour and be a father for your half a dozen kids from about 8 fathers).
        2. Not really sure I get the reference. We have lots of sports reporters of both (gosh sue me) genders but I’ve not noticed they taken on any additional level of attractiveness. Is this what you meant?

        1. I’ll give more context.

          For decades American Football broadcasts had one play-by-play guy and one color commentary guy in the press booth, and occasionally a guy who was on the sideline to interview the coaches before the game and halftime. All males, with the sideline job usually reserved for a less articulate but more interesting person, such as a colorful ex-player. It was a nothing job intended to get someone with name recognition into the broadcast and spice things up a bit.

          But then came the great Feministing and the NFL’s adorably lame attempts to get more female viewers manifested in many ways, including getting female sports reporters in on game day. Since a female voice is jarring for most viewers and there are obviously no female ex-players they got token’d to the meaningless “sideline reporter” role. Subsequently the role has been given faux gravitas (I assume to give the gals a pat on the head) and the “sideline bunny” is expected to give up-to-date injury reports – something they receive 2nd hand of course – and to provide stupid anecdotes like “the coach was REALLY upset after that bad call” and other touchy-feely “mood of the players” tripe.

          Anyway, given that the sideline bunny is surrounded by very masculine men on the field and in the press box she is automatically more sexy than she would be at, say, a nightclub. This despite the fact that most of these women are chosen because they are MILF-y hot. You know, not TOO attractive so that potential female viewers instincts’ are to hate her, but still hot enough to bother paying attention to when all you want is more football. I must note that there are a couple long-time sideline bunnies who’ve hit the wall HARD and have held on to their job, so take from that what you will.

          Good list here if you’re interested to see the spectrum:

          1. Ah, understood.

            We have something similar in British/Australian sports (which, by the way, you lot would be playing if you hadn’t gone all nationalistic and change the laws of cricket and rugby).

            Google Gabby Logan. To be fair, she does know rugby, as she’s married to an ex-international player, but her speciality prior to broadcasting was rhythmic gymnastics.

            Men’s international rugby matches have current and ex-international women players in the commentary team and, speaking as an ex-player, they do a good job.

            Oh, and yes, women play rugby. My daughter was playing a full-contact match last year on a field next to a bunch of middle aged men playing Wendyball (soccer). I did wonder whether any of the men went home and had a little cry to themselves afterwards.

  3. When I were a young single lad I lived in Greenwicih Village for a bit and pulled a dropped dead gorgeous Puerto Rican bird, my mate also pulled her cousin. We reckoned they were dead ringers for the bird on the Bacardi Rum label, very sensual and hot dancers as well. She lived in the Bronx and there were a few occasions when I took the train up to see her and all the dudes hanging out on the streets somehow knew that I wasn’t like the rest of the whites nor a yank. Her mother was a great cook, nice looker for her age and spoke little English.

    Last I heard she was moving up through the ranks of the NYPD.

    My mate stayed in a relationship with her cousin for a number of years and she came to the UK frequently. It was in London that I discovered that she fancied me something rotten and something juicy nearly happened that tended up in tears and a hospital bed.

    Both of them were orders of magnitude tastier than that less than mediocre spic chick on the OT.

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