How about this cunt:. The It’s the Biggest Oyster Found in New York in 100 Years.

So Big is a metaphor for New York City itself — which, as the author Mark Kurlansky explained in his 2006 book, “The Big Oyster,” had another nickname before it was the Big Apple. By some accounts, in the 17th century, New York Harbor held half of the world’s oysters. The city was filled with oyster stands before there were hot-dog stands or food trucks. A 12-course dinner in 1842 for Charles Dickens — who characterized old Ebenezer Scrooge as being as “secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster” — began with oysters, glorious oysters.

Big is a New Yorker, which means that Big is a survivor. Big survived being pried loose by a diver with the construction crew repairing Pier 40. Big’s people say dislodging an oyster is difficult; oysters attach themselves to objects underwater with cementlike inviolability. What happened to Big must have been traumatic, but was also its salvation. The construction workers “knew if they let it fall to the mud on the bottom, it wouldn’t survive,” said Toland Kister of the River Project.

The workers also knew Big wouldn’t survive the rest of the project, which will involve, in effect, power-washing the pilings and encasing them in cement, Mr. Kister said.

“It’s not as if people are diving down there to look for oysters all the time,” Mr. Kister said. “These were construction workers with a job to do, and it’s not research.”

Big’s people consider Big special, but they hope Big is not too special. “This oyster could be unique,” Mr. Kister said. “It could be the only oyster that was down there like this, but it would also be really, really cool if it wasn’t the unique thing down under there.”

Dr. Siddall said Big brought to mind oysters the size of dinner plates that were harvested from the Gowanus Creek in Brooklyn from the 1600s to the time of the Revolutionary War. “There was some dredging that was permitted in the late 1700s,” he said, “and after the dredging, the oysters were still abundant, but they were smaller.”

o how old is Big? Mr. Kister said the oyster could have been living on its piling for seven to 15 years — “which is a big spread.”

Dr. Siddall, after looking at photographs of Big online, said that 15 was probably on the low side. “I’m prepared to be more liberal in my estimate,” he said. “It’s probably twice that age.”

But Big could be even older, Dr. Siddall said.

“I was born in 1966,” he said, “so it could be as old as me, and I’d like to think that it is. It would be really reassuring if that were true, for both of us.”

What an oversized cunt.

Nominated by CaliAngel

Grief Thief (ɡriːf θiːf)
n. An individual, usually with a level of fame or celebrity inversely proportional to their talent, who proceeds to make a spectacular cunt of themselves in paying disingenuous public tribute to the death of a genuinely famous or public figure, all in an attempt to bolster the thief’s own social media standing.

One of the scourges of our times, I give you the celebrity grief thief or griefjacker. As with so many things wrong in the modern age, this is a particularly stubborn metastasis of the primary, incurable cancer known as social media.

I often wonder – do vapid followers of these grief-thieves really see genuine sadness from their faux-sad celebrity idols, when said celebricunts declare their profound shit-tributes to dead singers and actors they never even knew? Do the lobotomy outpatient tier fans of Katy ‘radioactive quim’ Perry not cringe when such a colossally moronic shitcunt like that pays tribute to Stephen Hawking, of all fucking people?

The recent, sad passing of Aretha Franklin has provided a wonderful opportunity for every black, every feminist, and every urban stammering cunt to show ‘deference’ to their ‘roots’ and all climb aboard the Challenger OV-99 Shuttle to the stratosphere of cuntitude. Most blacks – who usually are too wrapped up in a world of box-fresh Nikes, stabbings and wearing oversized trousers while ‘singing’ songs like “Blep Blep Blep” – know the grand sum of fuck-all when it comes to history; other than a popularly misunderstood conception of ‘muh slavery’. Yet now the Queen of Soul has left this mortal coil, all and sundry are weeping for a fallen sista. I suspect most of them couldn’t even name a single one of her songs, the fucking bandwagon-jumping cunts.

The act of making public declarations of grief is in itself rather cuntly, unless the individual paying tribute genuinely knew the person at hand. It would be akin to me turning up at some random funeral, opportunely taking to the pulpit and delivering a tearful soliloquoy on what a wonderful and hard-working father of three the unemployed Mrs. Jenkins actually was.

I despise this fucking insidious phenomenon so much. People falling over themselves to use the death of someone almost always infintely more talented than they are, all for a bit of fucking social media traction. At least here on ISAC, we have the good grace to merely nominate rich and famous individuals as the next to die, and wait in quiet anticipation for someone on our list to pop their clogs. Proper decency.

Nominated by The Empire Cunts Back

This is not so much a ‘cunting’ as a ‘moroning’ but shows that people’s vanity, mixed with myopic levels of naivety, can be both stupid AND fatal.

Last year, Washington D.C. couple Jay Austin and Lauren Geoghegan decided to cycle round the Globe. They were imbued by both a desire to see the the World as well as proving their faith in humanity, even the more dangerous places.

They decided to write a blog about their experiences and took endless photos for their Instagram page. This was nothing to do with vanity and bragging but so others could constantly view their cycling achievements and share in their endless holidaying.

They eventually cycled through Central Asia and some dodgy desert countries. Hmm, a tad dangerous, but not for our blindly naive,short-sighted millennials. What could go wrong? Well…

Let’s have a round of ISAC Gamehow, shall we? Question 1:

Last month while in Tajikistan, do you think they:

a.) Experienced culture shock that would stretch their minds and eventually strengthen their characters?

b.) Enjoyed a refreshing welcome from the open-minded locals who believed in free speech and democracy?

c.) Got brutally murdered by being stabbed after being run off the road by ISIS terrorists?

I’ll give you ten seconds….

Now click here for the answer

Nominated by Captain Magnanimous

Wannabe Ed Sheerans are cunts…

Now, we all know the original tuneless and charmless Ginger Gremlin cunt is diabolical, but the hordes of tossers who try to emulate this cunt are also cunts themselves… I refer to the young lads who now infest Manchester, Bury, Prestwich, and loads of other town centres… You can spot the cunts a mile off… Young straight out of school spotty twats, with the same crappy chip pan haircut as the ginger cunt and the same scruffy cunt appearance… These pricks also thrash at an acoustic guitar (no chords or anything) and they churn out Sheeran shite like ‘Perfect’ and the excrement that is ‘Galway Girl’….

I approached one of these specimens the other day and asked ‘Do you play anything else?’ The buffoon looked puzzled… ‘Simon and Garfunkel?’ I added… ‘The Beatles?’ ‘Dylan?’ ‘ More blank responese… And when I said ‘Donovan?’ The pimple ravaged imbecile said ‘Jason Donovan?’ I promptly called him a cunt and fucked off… For fuck’s sake…

Nominated by Norman