GIVE TIL IT HURTS!

The dullards who rule us

Their arrogance is exceeded by only two things: 1) their ignorance; 2) their presumptuous, egomaniacal assertion that they, and they alone, are fit to rule us when they so manifestly are anything but.

ATF Chief Tells CBS He’s Willing To Skirt Laws To Ban Guns He Doesn’t Even Know How To Use
President Joe Biden’s Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms Director Steven Dettelbach seems to know as much about guns as Democrat-nominated Supreme Court justices.

During his appearance on CBS’s “Face The Nation” over the weekend, Dettelbach outlined for CBS News’s Margaret Brennan the ATF’s desire to ban certain firearms and modifications he claimed are loopholes in restrictive gun laws.

In the sit-down portion of his interview, Dettelbach claimed his 5,000-person agency is “way, way, way too small” to fully satisfy Biden’s gun-grabbing goals. He also admitted the ATF, even though barred from creating a federal database of firearm owners, still devotes its time and resources to “work within that system” and link guns to owners.

When the interview shifted to a demonstration featuring a table of unloaded firearms, Dettelbach tried his best to make the case for more regulation of law-abiding Americans’ top self-defense option. Even with the help of one of the ATF’s “leading experts,” however, Dettelbach failed to demonstrate knowledge of even the most basic firearm anatomy such as the difference between a clip and a magazine.

Acting AFT division chief Chris Bort, the “expert” present for the demonstration, also struggled to disassemble a pistol in an attempt to show how allegedly easily Americans can swap firearm frames. Bort is acting head of the ATF’s Firearms Ammunition Technology Division.

The vid of that bit is as hilarious as it is disturbing.


See what I mean about presumption and egomania? Surely this Bort chucklehead had to be well aware that he knew nothing whatsoever about the devices he’d be handling before a national TV audience as a scarifying demonstration of their monstrous lethality and ease of use—yet he couldn’t bestir himself to spend even a few minutes practicing with said devices in his swanky hotel suite the night before? Maybe doing a little light reading-up on his high-end laptop before bed, say, to avoid making a damned fool of himself before the TeeWee cameras in the morning?

In his predicament, wouldn’t you have? I sure would’ve. Any halfway sensible person would’ve, or so I’d expect.

But noooo. From all available evidence, these two abject feebs aren’t even smart enough to know they should be embarrassed by their spectacular self-beclownment—much less a tad more humble—as befits those who, in a more felicitous era, used to pridefully refer to themselves as “public servants.”

May I remind you: these are the shitwits spending God only knows how many taxpayer dollars to A) regulate and/or ban useful things which are beyond their meager comprehension; and B) pursue, imprison, and otherwise harass far better Americans than they’ll ever be, for the heinous crime of conducting themselves as if the clear, easily-understood words of the US Constitution still meant anything at all in Amerika v2.0.

May I also remind you: this dearth of intelligence coupled with supreme arrogance is hardly unique to the BATF, nor can these two assclowns be excused as the proverbial exception that proves the rule. Quite the opposite, depressingly enough: in FederalGovCo, it’s assclowns all the way down.

Government of, by, and for halfwits

Fani “Fuck-me buxx” Willis amounts to just the tip of a very large—and sub-moronic, and venal, and corrupt—iceberg.

It used to be that prosecutors displayed some level of respect for the office they held. These are people with the power to use the force of law to imprison and bankrupt pretty much anyone in the state. They’re elected, supposedly, to uphold fundamental principles of fairness and justice — without which we do not have the rule of law. When D.A.s start acting like sassy waitresses, or trashy pop stars, then people, understandably, lose all faith in the judicial system. If they have no integrity, then the system has no integrity.

As a result, right now it looks like Willis stands a real chance of getting booted off this case. Her performance was that bad, to say nothing of the fact she apparently lied to the court. But even if she and Nathan Wade are ultimately disqualified from continuing this prosecution, the reality is that there are many more equally incompetent prosecutors waiting to take their place in the state of Georgia.

The problem isn’t just confined to Georgia, of course, although it appears to be especially acute there. We’re living under a tyranny of mediocre morons. These morons are representing the government in court, where they can send you to prison for the rest of your life. In some cases they’re also enforcing the law on the street, as police officers. And they have the complete and total backing of the government. There’s no effort underway to restore competence to any of these positions. What you see is what you get.

But really there’s only one bit of good news in all of this, especially when you look at the Fani Willis case — which is that the mediocre morons who have power over us are extremely easy to expose. They’ll go on television and reveal how incompetent and corrupt they are. They just can’t help themselves, that’s the good news. The bad news is that there’s an endless supply of these amoral half wits out there, waiting to replace their bosses when they’re gone. And in some cases they’re even worse, somehow, than the failures they replace. Get rid of Paul Howard, and you’ll get Fani Willis. This is the pattern.

What happens when you get rid of Fani Willis? Very soon, for better or worse, we might find out.

Kinda tough to see how we can possibly include “for better” in any realistic list of probabilities here, I must say.

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EV news

Amusingly, it’s all bad. As per usual, Buck Throckmorton has it all gathered together in the usual handy, dandy, and convenient spot, closing out this edition’s festivities with a pluperfect example of what sane sorts are talking about when they make sport of those “unintended consequences” brought inevitably on in the wake of shitlib presumptuousness, arrogance-in-ignorance, and mulish disregard for the real-world consequences of their disastrous policies.

Electric vehicles are significantly heavier than their gasoline-powered equivalents, up to 50% heavier in some cases. Aside from damaging roads and putting parking garages at risk, the force of a moving EV is also more than many guardrails can withstand.

“Crash tests indicate nation’s guardrail system can’t handle heavy electric vehicles” [AP – 01/31/2024]

Last fall, engineers at Nebraska’s Midwest Roadside Safety Facility watched as an electric-powered pickup truck hurtled toward a guardrail installed on the facility’s testing ground on the edge of the local municipal airport. The nearly 4-ton (3.6 metric ton) 2022 Rivian R1T tore through the metal guardrail and hardly slowed until hitting a concrete barrier yards away on the other side.

Barriers along the medians of divided highways serve to keep out of control vehicles from crossing over into oncoming traffic, thus preventing high-speed, head-on collisions. That simple safety mechanism has saved a tremendous number of lives. Thanks to the “EV transition,” we’ll just have to get used to mangled cars and mangled bodies due to head-on highway collisions again.

Ooookay, then. Gotta admit, as steadfast a derider of the most recent iteration of the recurrent CPC (coal powered car) pipe-dream as I’ve always been, even I never thought of that one before. But hey, saving Mommy Gaia from the planetary havoc inflicted by those horrible, terrible, double-plus-ungood “fossil fuels” (which are created in the course of Her own natural processes, by the by) is worth any price we must pay, right, idiots?

I mean, otherwise shitlibs might have to own up to being backasswards and wrong yet again, and the grown-ups might smack their hand, tell them to shut up, and make them go sit in the Naughty Kid corner and think things over for a few hours. Why, it’s just so darn UNFAAAIIIIR!!! Can’t have that, now can we?

The shakiest guns in the, umm, East

Q: Are cops in FLA the worst in the known universe?

A: Apparently, yes. Yes, they are.

Cop resigns after mistaking falling acorn for gunshot, firing at unarmed suspect cuffed in patrol car
A Florida cop resigned after opening fire on an unarmed black man who was handcuffed in his patrol car — because he confused the sound of an acorn hitting the vehicle with a muffled gunshot.

Okaloosa County Sheriff’s Deputy Jesse Hernandez handed in his badge in December following the Nov. 12 Fort Walton Beach incident, officials said Friday.

Sgt. Beth Roberts, who also opened fire, was exonerated in an internal investigation and remained on the job, according to police.

The suspect, Marquis Jackson, was luckily uninjured, but the “situation was traumatic” for him, police acknowledged.

The video of the incident is…well, quite frankly, it’s pathetic.


If you look closely, you can see the falling acorn highlighted against one of the light-grey rowhouses in the background, just before it hits the roof and scares Officer Pissypants out of his meager wits. Next up, vid of the other trigger-happy Deppity Dawg blasting away in “support” of her panicky fellow Offissa Pupp and likewise hitting nothing much.


Uh huh, luckily. A pair of regular Deadeye Dicks, these two. And just never anybody mind that these shooty-shooty knuckleheads popped off thirty rounds most ricky-tick (depending on issue mag capacity, natch; it coulda been sixty)—smack dab in the middle of a residential neighborhood, mind—at a handcuffed “shooter” who, presumably, had been patted down by Sooperdoopercop before he was ever put into the patrol car, thus already verified to be unarmed.

Presumably.

So guess what the PD review board “investigation” concluded regarding this disgraceful fiasco? Go on, guess. I dares ya.

Investigators concluded that Hernandez was culpable for a “policy violation regarding excessive use of control to resistance,” but that Roberts’ “use of deadly force was objectively reasonable.”

No criminal charges were filed against either officer.

Yeah, I thought not. But…“control to resistance”? SRSLY?!? There WAS NO resistance, of any kind. How the hell could there have been? The “shooter” was securely cuffed and locked in the squad car’s perp seat, behind the standard doors without handles, therefore posed no conceivable threat to anybody, badged/heeled or no.

Meanwhile, according to another Tweet I saw, Marquis Jackson (who will doubtless be known as “Lucky” to the other hoodrats forevermore), was cleared of his vengeful ex-ho’s firearms-possession accusations against him.

So at the end of the day it’s a happy ending, I suppose: Hernandez is off the force and out of a job he was manifestly unsuited for, and Jackson is none the worse for wear. Well, apart from the heart-attack-inducing levels of stress brought on by being the helpless, immobilized schnook used for target practice during a hot-range double mag-dump by two (2) cops, neither of whom had any business ever being handed a badge and a gun in the first place, that is.

For 2A folks as well, there’s a cherry on top of this shit sundae: we can take some small comfort that if it’s timorous, overwrought, weak-sister incompetents such as Hernandez and Roberts who’ll be tasked with tippy-toeing door to door to confiscate the guns, then we probably don’t have a whole hell of a lot to worry about. They simply ain’t gonna be up to it, and if any hot-lead-exchange should break out, the Keystone Kops demonstrably couldn’t hit the broad side of a bull’s ass with a baseball bat if you gave ‘em three tries at it. The most serious hazard to firearms enthusiasts in such an eventuality will be parting a floating rib from its moorings, from laughing so damned hard at them.

I dunno, though; kinda makes me wonder if there might not be something to all that angst, dread, and fear the boogs have for years claimed to suffer from merely being in the general vicinity of uniformed 5-0 after all, though I’ve always dismissed that shit out of hand until now. Either way, somewhere out there the infamous “Broward Coward” must be breathing a deep sigh of relief at seeing this mind-bending clusterfuck, secure in the knowledge that he’s at last been outdone by the Excessively Dynamic Duo© and their assclownish antics.

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The First Amendment: as dead as all the rest of ’em

To the surprise of precisely no one, Mordor on the Potomac kangaroo court rules that, in Amerika v2.0, there is no right to freedom of speech.

A Bad Day for America
As many of you already know, a Washington, DC jury today found the Defendants (Mark Steyn and Rand Simberg) liable for defamatory speech and reckless disregard of provable facts. Putting aside the monetary damages, the real damage done by this case is to every American who still believes in the First Amendment.

The precedent set today, and as alluded to by Justice Alito when the case was petitioned before the U.S. Supreme Court, means that disagreement and/or criticism of a matter of public policy — the founding principle of this country — is now in doubt. And should you choose to give voice to any dissent, you can brought before a jury, held responsible, and fined.

Think this is just rhetoric? Consider, Mark Steyn is a member of the media. As such, he is supposedly afforded First Amendment protections. If a member of the media is no longer protected, what do you think that means for every day citizens? And it doesn’t matter if you are in DC or Montana — anyone can file in the jurisdiction of his or her choosing.

Gee, what ought Real Americans to do about that, I wonder? I can make an excellent guess at what we actually WILL do, alas. And it disgraces us far worse than the liberty-haters on that DC jury have just disgraced themselves, although those morons are much too goddamned stupid to know they have—or care, either. Further details:

The D.C. Circuit Court has ruled: Commentator Mark Steyn and space blogger and sometime PJ contributor Rand Simberg, after 13 years of legal maneuvering funded by a dark money group…

…are indeed liable for defaming Michael Mann by reporting on the way he was lying about being a Nobel laureate and engaging in a concerted effort to defame other climate scientists — including accusing Judith Curry of sleeping her way to the top, using statistical methods to generate the results he wanted (research malpractice for mere mortals).

For which he was awarded $1 each from Steyn and Simberg in compensatory damages.

This would be a laughable award, except the jury then piled on punitive damages: $1,000,000 from Steyn and $1,000 from Simberg.

Mann’s attorneys made a play for the D.C. jury and cashed in.

As will most other shitlib liars who go venue-shopping and end up hitting the big Wheel of Juridical Fortune jackpot.

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Law of the Jungle (bunny)

Don’t like stores closing in your dangerous, lawless shitholes? Stop looting them blind and broke then, you parasitic assholes.

Today’s fearless probe into the wilds of cause-and-effect reasoning comes from Roxbury, Massachusetts:

As this CBS “journalist” summarizes the issue: “Why do you think Walgreen’s is targeting black and brown neighborhoods?”

She refuses to ask anyone about rampant looting putting this store out of business.

“Predominantly black neighborhood.” Okay, got it. The residents of that neighborhood will now have to travel a bit further to find a Walgreen’s to loot shop at. And as those residents are “predominantly black,” this constitutes racial discrimination.

But protesting residents exercised a bit of subtlety:

“What happens to our seniors and our single parents that have no way to get to a Walgreen’s or another pharmacy anywhere near their home?”

He managed not to mention either rampant shoplifting or race. And yes, it will certainly inconvenience the locale’s senior citizens, but do they have an enforceable right to a pharmacy within walking distance? But wait: there’s more! Hearken to the Reverend Minard Pepper:

“So we think it’s insensitive, it’s unjust…Why do you think they target black and brown communities? I think because they get no push back.”

Well, there is the possibility that shoplifting in predominantly white districts is far less: a tolerable degree of what liquor store owners have traditionally called “spillage.” But once again, there’s no mention of either theft or race. One more, from former Boston NAACP president Michael Curry:

“The communities where they’re closing these pharmacies are communities where people are, uh, desperately impacted by disease. You know, two or three times higher rates in cancer, diabetes, heart disease, where life expectancy can be 15, 20 years less.”

Such awareness. Such compassion! I wonder if the thieves who’ve driven Walgreen’s out of this “predominantly black” neighborhood ever stop to think about the burdens they load onto their sick neighbors. My bet is on “no.” Where’s yours?

These black “civil rights activists” are fully aware of why Walgreen’s is closing those stores. They simply don’t want to acknowledge the facts of the matter. That would indict “their people.” It would suggest that if there’s a solution – which is unclear, as battling shoplifting has always been a difficult and expensive undertaking – it would take the form of law enforcement. But no, we can’t have that in “predominantly black” Roxbury! That would be racist.

Such closures are occurring wherever there’s a high enough percentage of blacks. And in every case, “civil rights leaders” – almost always black – step to the microphones and cameras to denounce it. But they seldom mention the plague of shoplifting. Neither do they mention the ceaseless propagandization of young blacks against law enforcement and the rights of property owners, nor the simple cause-and-effect dynamic that makes whites and businesses flee from the blacks who prey on them.

So simple, so obvious only a “liberal” Sooperdoopergenius© and the feral urban sub-primate class they’ve brainwashed into feeble, helpless dependence could fail to grasp it.

Peak irony?

Or peak idiocy? Yet another occasion when we must embrace the healing power of “and.”


Ms Murray asks a few pertinent questions, then hips us to the bottom line.

Haven’t we all seen diesel-powered trucks deliver diesel-powered generators, to charge dead E.V. batteries?

How does a company get the lithium to build the battery? Diesel earth-moving machinery of course.

What happens when freezing temperatures cause an E.V. to break down? What kind of tow truck comes to the rescue?

When exposure to salt water causes a dangerous malfunction and the car rolls backward into a bay, what kind of vehicle pulls the car up from submersion?

Funny enough, after I posted that video, someone in the comments (shockingly) missed the irony, making this statement:

How is this ironic? There’s [sic] only a handful of EV semis on [the] road as of right now. How else are the cars going to make it to their destination?

Yes, there are “only a handful of EV semis” on the road because they can’t even come close to what diesel haulers can do. In a free market, when an idea isn’t good enough for consensual adoption, or costs more in dollars than the value it brings to the table… you find yourself in a reality in which “only a handful of EV semis” are found clunking across the road at any one time. (And, they are only there because of large infusions of taxpayer cash to prop up this bad idea.)

The world runs on oil, the only truly renewable source of energy, and one that doesn’t have to rely on another source of energy to make up for shortcomings.

Annnnd bingo. ‘Nuff said.

Update! Oh, and about that minor little “freezing temperatures” business.

Blue Cities Went All-In for Electric Transit, But the Buses Couldn’t Handle the Cold
Virtue-signaling liberalism is fighting another losing battle with reality.

On Wednesday, the Minnesota-focused news outlet MinnPost reported that several of the state’s largest cities have encountered significant obstacles in their quest to achieve planet-friendly public transit.

Frigid temperatures and a myriad of other problems have plagued Duluth and the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul during their transition to zero-emission buses.

In subzero conditions — a staple of Minnesota winters — electric buses operate at only a fraction of their supposed 150-mile capacity.

Drew Kerr, spokesman for Twin Cities Metro Transit, explained that charged buses travel far shorter distances than manufacturers advertised.

“Using garage chargers alone, electric buses can remain in service for 70 to 75 miles before needing to return to the garage; with on-route chargers, electric buses were scheduled to be in service for up to 90 miles before returning to the garage,” Kerr said.

Duluth spokesman Dave Clark noted that the city has experienced significant problems with charging stations.

“They would fail. They would not perform. They would experience malfunctions, glitches. They were extremely problematic right out of the gate,” Clark said.

As anyone with even half a lick of fucking sense would expect, there’s much, much more at the link. In the sagacious words of Thomas Jefferson: It is error alone which needs the support of government. Truth can stand by itself. Smart man, that Thomas Jefferson.

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Another day, another…

Another madman shoots up a school, another demand for law-abiding, non-insane people who have never shot anybody and never WILL shoot anybody to surrender their 2A rights.

Las Vegas police: 3 dead, 1 injured after Wednesday shooting at UNLV
A source close to the investigation says that the suspect is believed to be a 67-year-old college professor.

President Biden on Wednesday afternoon issued a statement on the shootings in Texas and Nevada:

“Yesterday, in Austin and San Antonio, at least six people were killed and several more injured by a gunman—leaving families devastated, and communities forever changed. And just hours ago, the University of Nevada at Las Vegas became the latest college campus to be terrorized by a horrific act of gun violence, and the community is still awaiting information on casualties.

Jill and I join citizens across our nation in praying for the families of our fallen, and for those who were injured during these latest acts of senseless violence. We are also grateful for the courageous work of law enforcement—who risked their own safety to bring an end to these deadly shooting sprees. Federal law enforcement officials are on the ground working with State and local law enforcement in both states and I have directed that all necessary support be provided to assist in the investigations and support these communities.

This year alone, our nation has experienced more than 600 mass shootings, and approximately 40,000 deaths due to gun violence. This is not normal, and we can never let it become normal.

For all the action we have taken since I’ve been President, the epidemic of gun violence we face demands that we do even more. But we cannot do more without Congress. Republican lawmakers must join with Democrats in Congress to ban assault weapons and high-capacity magazines, pass a national red flag law, enact universal background checks, require the safe storage of guns, and advance other commonsense measures that will help stem the tide of gun violence. And together, we must do more to prevent more families, and more communities like Austin, San Antonio, and Las Vegas, from being ripped apart by gun violence.”

Yeah, let’s allow you gun-grabber shitweasels to rip the entire fucking country apart by gun “control” and/or confiscation instead. From the above sub-hed, sounds to me like what we could really use here is some reasonable, common-sense loony-toony-college-professor control, Mr “President.” A good first step might be to enact strong legislation preventing opportunistic, lying scum-sucker ProPols like yourself from clambering atop the nearest podium before the sound of the shots has even stopped echoing to thump your scrawny chests and lecture the rest of us about what we must and must not do.

Update! For my money, the great Charlton Heston said it best.

Sure, I’ll be happy to give up my guns to you rat-bastards: bullets first, any old time you feel froggy enough.

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Follow the money (laundering) trail

Has the wholly corrupt Biden Crime Famiglia finally gotten its collective dick caught in a blender?

Hunter Biden got staggering $4.9M from ‘sugar brother’ Kevin Morris: IRS whistleblower
WASHINGTON — Hunter Biden received a whopping $4.9 million from Hollywood lawyer Kevin Morris in a three-year period, according to an IRS agent who investigated the president’s son for alleged tax evasion.

The revelation signifies a substantial increase in the known amount that Hunter, 53, got from his so-called “sugar brother” after the men reportedly met for the first time at a December 2019 campaign fundraiser.

IRS agent Joseph Ziegler shared the jaw-dropping figure and additional documentation Tuesday with the House Ways and Means Committee in a follow-up appearance as House Republicans near an expected vote to authorize an impeachment inquiry into President Biden for his alleged role in his family’s foreign dealings.

As part of his Tuesday testimony, Ziegler provided legislators an email showing that as early as Feb. 7, 2020 — two months after they met — Morris was contacting accountants on Hunter’s behalf and warning them to work quickly to avoid “considerable risk personally and politically.”

Ziegler, who investigated Hunter’s taxes for five years before he was removed from the case this year, said the first son’s income from Morris — at least some of it deemed loans — resembled Hunter’s practice of trying to avoid paying taxes on other income by describing it as loans.

“Loans.” I like that one. Man, even when it comes to bribery and influence-peddling the Bidens are fucking incompetent boobs. You’d think with a solid five decades of experience in the field, they’d be a lot better at it than this. And you’d be dead wrong, too.

Ziegler and the rest of his investigative unit were removed from the tax fraud case targeting Hunter, allegedly on Justice Department orders, in May after Ziegler joined his supervisor Gary Shapley in publicly alleging a cover-up involving preferential treatment for the first family.

Because of COURSE they were. Because a hastily-arranged cover up is precisely what it was, as everyone with even half a lick of sense and integrity damned well knows.

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T’was the night before Christmas

And thru the White House
Not a creature was stirring
Not even a louse

An Alt Christmas Carol
The White House, Christmas Eve, 2023. Imagine the painfully lugubrious scene….

“Joe Biden” rattles around in the upstairs “residence” like a BB in a packing crate. Nobody is around besides a few secret service agents, so still at their posts they might as well be statuary. The Big Guy is all alone. His spouse, Dr. Jill, had enough of pretend caretaking quite a while ago, and flew off to Oprah’s place in Santa Barbara for counseling and commiseration. Hunter is Gawd-knows-where doing Gawd-knows-what.

“JB” shuffles out of the residence kitchen, where he just demolished a half gallon of Ben & Jerry’s Americone Dream® ice cream, against his doctor’s orders. His gall bladder writhes in revolt, sending a distress signal up the vagus nerve to the shriveled hypothalamus in his brain. A jumbled fugue of emotions — rage, fear, sexual arousal — quickens his step as he navigates by dead reckoning to the executive bedroom where he hurries to bed and falls into leaden slumber — only to be awakened by a cacophony of ringing bells. His eyelids roll open like shades in the windows of a skid row hotel room. Plangent moaning resounds as a mist emerges through the bedroom door and resolves into a mysterious figure garbed in the raiment of the Ku Klux Klan.

“Joe Biden” shrinks under the luxury Boll & Branch signature duvet— acquired when the agriculture minister of Ukraine slipped him an envelope stuffed with 100 hryvnia notes. The spirit wails something that resembles the old Confederate anthem Eatin’ Goober Peas.

“Who are you spirit?” the quaking president asks.

“Why, I am your old pard from the Senate,” the ghost of Robert Byrd declares, removing the pointed hood to reveal his leonine head of hair and scowling face. “Why have you thrown our sacred borders wide open, suh? I should die a thousand times, and see Old Glory trampled in the dirt never to rise again than to see this beloved land of ours become degraded by race mongrels.”

“Y-y-you don’t uh-uh-understand,” “JB” says, his childhood stutter returning. “They are muh-muh-migrants from oppression and vuh-vuh-very fine people.”

“Fine people, my ass,” the former Senator from West Virginia cries and clears the dust of the sepulcher from his throat. “I will send three spirits to you this night as a review of what has been and what shall become, so beware….” And with that the spirit returns to mist and slips back out through the keyhole…

“Joe Biden” is shocked from slumber again as an attractive blond female ghost floats through the bedroom window.

“Don’t I know you?” he asks.

“Cad! That is the very line you used to pick me up on spring break in Nassau, 1966,” says “JB’s” first wife, Neilia Hunter. “Shall I show you the meretricious spectacle you made of our family after that truck driver on Limestone Road ended my life and your little daughter’s too!”

“No-o-o-o-o,” the president moans, but is magically transported to the Wilmington Hospital room where his banged-up boys, Beau and Hunter, are recovering from their injuries. A TV crew is present as “JB” emotes for the camera, a cruel victim of fate, he blubbers, who will yet conquer his grief and go on to forty years of electoral victories and the sedulous gathering of tribute from “donors” far and wide to soften the blow of his loss. The room dims…

Read on for the other spirit visitations: second being the martyred Saint George of Fentanyl, complete with Neegrow dialect deftly translated from the original ghetto-ese, representing the Ghost Of Christmas Present; Christmas Yet To Come I’ll leave unnamed so as not to spoil the surprise for ya, but take my word for it, t’is a consummation devoutly to be wished. Kunstler uncorks his by no means inconsiderable writerly chops and lets ‘em really soar in this one, and it’s a joy and a wonder to behold.

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Happy belated birthday to Pedo Peter!

Now kindly drop dead already, you addle-pated old crook.

Joe Biden’s 81st Birthday Cake Was the Perfect Metaphor for Our Country
Did you know that it was Joe Biden’s 81st birthday on Monday? Because it was Joe Biden’s 81st birthday on Monday. He turned 81 years old—a fairly common occurrence for someone who was born 81 years ago.

Did I mention he turned 81 years old? Because he did, in fact, turn 81 years old. Of course, as PJ Media previously reported, the White House didn’t exactly want to call attention to the fact that Joe Biden is 81 years old, because Americans aren’t exactly comfortable with his advanced age and want him to call it quits and let someone else seek the Democratic nomination. As such, none of the social media accounts connected to the White House or Joe Biden mentioned his 81st birthday on Monday until the evening, when fewer people are paying attention. If the evening news was hoping for an 81st birthday photo op to report on, they didn’t get it in time.

And boy, what a mistake that was.

But what really got me about the photo was how familiar the cake was. Did you notice? It wasn’t just that the 81 candles looked like they were going to burn down the White House, but there was an undeniable resemblance between the cake and something that makes it the perfect metaphor for our country:


As soon as I made this connection, I couldn’t unsee it. Joe Biden’s birthday cake resembled a dumpster fire, and how perfect is that for Joe Biden, considering what he’s done to this country in just a few short years? Of course, there are a variety of fire metaphors that could work, but I think the dumpster fire is the most spot-on. I’m not sure who thought putting 81 candles on such a small cake was a great idea, but I’d be willing to bet there was some debate over whether a raging inferno was politically safer than a cake with two candles reading “81.” In the end, they clearly figured the cake requiring a fire extinguisher was the way to go, which tells you exactly how much the White House public relations team understands that Joe Biden’s advanced age is a problem. I suspect they figured it was literally worth the risk of setting the White House ablaze rather than publishing a photo with Biden in front of a cake with candles reading “81.”

Heh. There’s another humorous angle to the photo which Matt doesn’t touch on here—apart from the obvious Reichstag fire one, I mean—but Steve Miller helpfully did.


Thanks to Ed for the steer to that last.

Update! Jacked from WRSA. Thanks!

AmericanTurkey

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Another in our “ask a silly question” series

Robert Spencer asks: How far will Biden regime wonks go in lying to the American people? A: Just as far as they think they need to. CORRECTION: It isn’t “wonks,” Robert; it’s “hacks.” Or, if you prefer something with more letters to ensure greater accuracy, “lowlife villainous knob-polishing wads of scum.”

The whole world has been watching for nearly three years now as Old Joe Biden grows progressively feebler. On Saturday, at the Veterans Day commemoration at Arlington National Cemetery, he appeared visibly confused and had to be told by a polite and deferential military officer to go stand beside alleged Vice President Kamala Harris. 

That was just the latest in an ever-lengthening series of obvious signs that the putative Commander-In-Chief, who will be 81 years old in less than a week, is in the grip of a severe and likely irreversible mental and physical decline. On Aug. 31, NPR noted that Old Joe “has been avoiding climbing up the sometimes-wobbly 18-foot staircase that is trucked over to the plane’s upper door. More often than not, he is using a much shorter and sturdier set of stairs that fold out from the belly of the plane.”  

But the problem wasn’t that the stairs were wobbly. The problem was that the rapidly deteriorating kleptocrat was too weak to navigate them: “Biden, 80, has stumbled on the tall stairs more than once. The short stairs have the distinct advantage of moving most of Biden’s ascent into Air Force One out of public view. But for those who have noticed the shift, it also draws attention to one of Biden’s greatest political liabilities as he seeks reelection: his age.” 

Indeed. But now one of Old Joe’s wonks, Mitch Landrieu, a man who has the lofty title of “White House infrastructure coordinator,” is here to tell us not to believe our lying eyes.  

Landrieu, whose grandfather must have been one of those guys who sold miracle patent medicine out of the back of a covered wagon and then high-tailed it out of town before anyone realized that it didn’t work, said: 

For those of you that think the president might be too old or doesn’t have enough energy or whatever it is that you all think, This guy gets up early. He stays up late. We have made trips, if not every week, sometimes twice a week and three times a week. And we have done it over and over again and there’s nothing new here. What’s wonderful about it is how relentless that it is and how many places that we have been.

As if that weren’t laid on thick enough, Landrieu added: “The guy is, like, he’s a beast.”

Oh, he’s a beast for sure and certain. A lying, corrupt, senile, greedy, grubby, kiddy-diddling beast.

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Happy Memorial Day!

As ever, Pedo Pete is a bit confused.

Biden suffers ANOTHER embarrassing gaffe as he stumbles through Veterans Day service and appears to get lost while laying a wreath

  • Biden appeared confused at Arlington National Ceremony to mark Veterans Day
  • The president, 80, needed stage directions after laying a ceremonial wreath
  • In his remarks, Biden said ‘war and conflict’ are ‘part of the American story’

Biden was joined at Arlington National Cemetary by Harris, First Lady Jill Biden and Second Gentleman Doug Emhoff to celebrate the armed services.

Speaking before members of the Armed Forces and Gold Star families, Biden began: ‘Here in Arlington lie heroes who gave what President Lincoln called ‘the last full measure of devotion.’

‘They did not only die at Gettysburg or in Flanders Field on the beaches of Normandy, but in the mountains of Afghanistan, the deserts of Iraq in the last 20 years.

‘Hundreds of graves are here from recent conflicts. Hundreds of patriots gave their all, each of them leaving behind a family who live with their pain and their absence every single day.’

He added that veterans are the ‘steel spine of this nation’, and recounted famous battles that saw soldiers ‘linked in a chain of honor that stretches back to our founding days.’

‘This Memorial Day, we honor their legacy and their sacrifice, duty, honor to their country.’

Saturday’s service was the 70th annual National Veterans Day Observance at Arlington, and followed a private reception in the White House East Room for veterans and military officials.

What a sad, sorry joke this senile old kleptocrat is, was, and shall remain.

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A shriek from the loony-bin

Hey, she sounds perfectly sane, reasonable, and well-adjusted to me.

Woman Who Was Featured in Vogue Tells Jews ‘We Will Drink Your Blood and Eat Your Skull’
Back in October 2018, Vogue Arabia, the Dubai-based Arab edition of the venerable fashion magazine, published a piece ostensibly written by Ahed Tamimi, a Palestinian teenager who was seventeen years old at the time: “Occupied Childhood: Ahed Tamimi Pens a Heartfelt Letter About Life in and After Prison.” The editor’s note was worshipful: “In a heartfelt letter, 17-year-old Palestinian activist Ahed Tamimi tells the story of her arrest and eight months in an Israeli prison – and the struggles she faces as a symbol of resistance.”

In Vogue, however, Ahed Tamimi did her best to portray herself as just a regular teenage girl, albeit one who happened to be the victim of a cruel military machine: “If I were permitted to be a regular teenager living in a normal country, I would play sports. I wanted to become a football player but I don’t play here because there is no time. Instead, I have been involved in demonstrations and confrontations with the Israeli army since I was a child. Many criticize that, but why not criticize the army who places itself in front of children? Under the occupation, everything is a crime. People should not accuse us; it is the occupation that is wrong.

There isn’t actually any occupation, but Ahed Tamimi’s ardor for the cause remains undimmed. Five years after her Vogue glamor shot, she published this message in Hebrew and Arabic on her Instagram page: “Our message to the settlers: (We) are waiting for you in all the cities of the West Bank, from Hebron to Jenin. We will slaughter you and you will say that what Hitler did to you was a joke. We will drink your blood and eat your skull. Come on, we’re waiting for you.”

Any questions? Anyone? Bueller…? As for all the “occupation,” “stolen land,” “right of return” mumbo-jumbo, Charles Krauthammer put paid to that codswallop long ago:

KrauthammerOnIsrael

No further questions, Your Honor; Western Civ rests its case. Word to Netanyahu, on Gaza: Like shit. Through. A. GOOSE, baby. Not one brick left standing upon another. Just git ‘er done, that’s all. Krauthammer meme courtesy of Powerline, with my thanks to ‘em.

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“Argue with them and get in their face”

Throw their own shit back at them, exactly as Bathhouse Barry once recommended be done to us.

A Wine O’Clock Wendy — I’m really trying to make this put-down go viral; I think it’s Streets Ahead of “AWFL” — and her Frankencuck husband were videoed ripping down posters of American hostages held by Hamas.

The woman putting up the posters was not having it.

Indeed she was NOT, bless her heart. After the “man” had committed assault and battery by placing “his” dainty hand over the justly outraged woman’s camera and shoving her—a Mark-1 Mod-0 insufferable shitlib smirk all over “his” womanly face—our Power Couple quickly scurried off with their tails tucked (y’know, like “his” squirrel-dick usually is) between their legs before the Bad Woman could punch their dim fucking lights out.

 

HELL yeah, that’s how you do it. The happy ending:

Brooklyn man suspended from job by his Jewish dad after ripping posters of Hamas hostages
A Brooklyn man seen tearing down posters of Israeli kids held by Hamas has been identified as a former magician — whose Jewish father suspended him from his gig at a user experience company, according to a report.

Noah Schaffer, 41, and his wife, Kelly, were seen being berated by a Jewish woman after they removed the posters this past weekend at Brooklyn Bridge Park, the group StopAntisemitism posted on X.

“This couple has been identified as spouses Kelly Ann and Noah Schaffer. Kelly has been previously arrested and works as a social worker for @UrbanDoveNY. Noah works as a strategist for @humanfactors,” the group wrote.

Again, that’s Noah and Kelly Ann Schaffer, likely of some precious, too-twee Brooklyn hipsterhood. Wherever these two vile creatures may reside, I think it would be just AWFUL if large, angry mobs started showing up on the doorstep of their domicile with torches, truncheons, and bullhorns at 3 AM every night for about, oh, a year. Anybody out there knows how to find their home address, feel free to let me know and I’ll happily update this post with it. Goose, meet gander.

Update! Done and done, courtesy of our friend Aesop, reporting in from his extended vacay:

Apparently, that address would be

Noah and Kelly Ann (McManus) Schaeffer
191 Willoughby St. Apt 12K.
Brooklyn NY 10026

Well whaddayaknow about that, in Brooklyn, just a hop, skip, and a jump from the borough’s Ft Greene nabe. Only reason I know even that much is I had two musician friends who lived thereabouts, but that was back in the mid-90s: bassist Bill and drummer Stanley. Used to drive out from Manhattan to fetch the boys a cpl-three nights a week, load their gear, and whisk the three of us off to whatever extra-money side gig we had scheduled in Brooklyn, central Lawn Guyland, or out in the Hamptons. As many times as I did that, I very much doubt I could find either of their houses today.

Billy has long since moved to Norway, where his lovely and vivacious wife Ingegerd hails from originally. Aussie Stan, as his friends called him, lived in a HUGE three-story Victorian-style house on a lovely, quiet, tree-lined block off Flatbush Ave which his wife had inherited some years before I met him. I won’t say it was a mansion, but if somebody else wanted to I might put a “yes” to it. I pure-tee loved Stan and Mrs Stan’s crib; for starters, it had a paved driveway leading downhill into a three-car (THREE!) garage under the house equipped with automatic bay-doors and remote-opener fob. Through the inside door from the garage waited a sumptuous, nicely-appointed rumpus room/man-cave, complete with:

  • A tournament-size pool table
  • A vintage Wurlitzer jukebox loaded with old blues, country, and rockabilly .45s
  • A fully-stocked bar from the late 1940s–dark, worn wood and the traditional brass foot-rail at bottom, out of a long-deceased neighborhood gin-mill owned by a friend of Stan’s who just gave him the bar gratis when it finally shut down for good; the guy even went so far as to help Stan move the heavy-ass thing to his house
  • A classic Bally KISS pinball table in near-new condition
  • Assorted plush, comfortable leather sofas and recliner-chairs deep and soft enough to sink down into without a trace
  • A German foosball table, likewise meticulously preserved, but with that easy, loose feel to the action that all properly broken-in German tables ought to have; a fast, hard front-man pull-, toe-, or slap-shot past the opposing goalie would always yield that sharp, satisfying BANG! that every skilled foosballer lives for, so loud it can easily be heard way over on the far side of a packed, noisy arcade—a sound those shitty French tables with their wimpy cork balls simply can’t produce—usually accompanied by the metallic, whispery TINK! of the hard plastic ball meeting the thin sheet-steel plate mounted at the back of the goal-hole to protect the wood behind it. The game rooms I loved best in my misspent youth would go dead silent for a few seconds in the wake of such a resounding score, after which respectful pause the shouts and applause would ring out from the other players: POINT! HELL yeah! BURN! Sucker just got his ass SLAMMED!!! High fives, backslaps, gales of raucous laughter all around; those were the rooms I went to again and again and again, and there’s a damned good reason for that

Let me tell ya, driving down to park in the underground garage, unass the vehicle, from there to emerge into a veritable palace like Stan’s basement hideaway was, the whole damned house was—in cramped, overcrowded New York City, mind, not exactly renowned for its generously-sized, airy, comfortable indoor spaces—made you feel like you were really somebody. And that is the God’s honest truth.

Fort Greene was a nice enough if not particularly fancy area back then, but by now who knows. Been nigh on twenty years since I was last in Brooklyn, so I couldn’t guess how extensively or even whether Ft Greene has been gentrified; I do know that at this point most of seedy, grubby old Brooklyn has been tidied up, refreshed, and/or rebuilt to at least some degree. But no matter. Whatever the neighborhood’s current condition, if you’re in the area I think the sudden wee-hours appearance of a flaming bag of fresh-squeezed dogshit at Chez Schaeffer’s front door as a Halloween gift would surely not go amiss, to hijack from its proper context a fine old Captain Mal line.

A flick of the Bic, a press of the doorbell, a fleet-footed dash back into the anonymity of night’s darkness, and voila! Mission accomplished, and well done to you. Maybe the pissed-off woman in the above Andy Ngo vid would enjoy dropping one off for ‘em. T’is a consummation devoutly to be wished, the absolute least the rotten, uncaring douchetools deserve for what they did. A standard issue non-apology “apology” accompanied by an insincere, blasé shrug just ain’t gonna cut it, I shouldn’t think.

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