Been a While

Greetings Me Droogs N Droogettes!
Been a minute since I heard from the Esteemed Proprietor of dis’ here place, so I figgered that I best put -something- up. I texted him today requesting ‘proof of life’ lest I have to go full covenant and roadtrip up there to either rescue him and/or kill him, because for all we know at this point, he may be in the clutches of some big tittied Rockabillie Chicky-poo who’s all razzled dazzled by his gives no fucks attitude.

That or I’ll find his ass dead of the plague or something…

At which point it’ll become a “Weekend at Mikeys” with lots of lowbrow hijinx dragging his corpse around to every dive bar we can find, loading up on shitty PBR beer and whatnot… Maybe finish off with a “Viking Funeral” right out of Blake Edward’s “S.O.B.”

Dunno if you ever saw it, but HIGHLY recommend. Literally “S.O.B.” which either stands for “Same Old Bullshit” or “Standard Operating Bullshit” which was par for the course in Hollyweird back then. It’s a funny flick… the scene where they steal the corpse and the shit that goes on is some of the funniest stuff you can see from a back-in-the-day movie… and has one of the wildest things that Hollyweird had for ‘back in the day’ Julie Andrews whipped out her titties in it! Yep… “The Sound of Music” broad, Polly Pureheart if there ever was one whipped out the jugs… not that they were all that, but moreso the fact that the “good girl” of Hollyweird ‘took it off’ so to speak. A -really- good movie IMO… it was one of DeadDad’s faves.

Hopefully our fearless Leader hasn’t shat hisself to death. I’ll keep popping in occasionally to harangue and harass y’all as I mean what the hell? It’s what a good right hand does for a person. That and help clean up the crime scene and dispose of the body(s)… pluralized as needs be Aye?

Jes’ Sayin’

So, not much going on, at ‘my haus’ you can read ’bout my adventures with the Trash Truck From Hell if’n you want. I -do- have an update and Lord knows I got a break… the 85 degree weather just went to RAIN thank the Almighty… THAT should put paid to the issues I was dealing with. It’s here: https://bigcountryexpatoriginal.blogspot.com/2021/12/ugh.html

So, More Later I Remain The Intrepid Guest Reporter fillin’ in for Mike

Big Country Expat

5

It is… Alive…

Sorta-Kinda…

BCE here. I heard from Mike today, our Glorious Leader of this here Den of Iniquity, nay dare I say, a Right Thinking Hive of Scum and Villainy (that I am proud to be part of mind you) Well, he’s OK… sorta-kinda…

Seems Mikey done got hisself some bad food and is doing his best to imitate a M72 L.A.W. Rocket Launcher.

For those of you ‘not in the know’ here’s a sample:

The backblast is almost as bad as the rocket going out the front… You dig the imagery I’m supposing as the crew here, albeit of Lowbrow Humor (why else you here?) are some of the more highly intelligent of the species (also why you’re here). Needless to say, some Pedialyte and some Pepto is in order so Our Munificent and Benevolent Leader of the aforementioned Scum and Villainous persons to recover and eventually kick the sickness to the curb like a bad habit.

No idea how Mike feels about Disturbed, but I think this’s apropo:

Feel Better Dude… you -are- missed. (Bullets from bad-shot Ex-GF not included)

So, More Later I Remain The Guest Intrepid Reporrter

Big Country

3
1

Some Filler Stuff

It looks like Mike’s internet connection is still down and Big Country Expat is in a running battle with revenuers and Ironbear is, I dunno, training his dogs to sniff out revenuers. But there’s no need to fear! Understeve is here!

I haven’t finished my next long-form essay and don’t feel inclined to comment on news beyond saying “it mostly sucks”, so here are some images I’ve made over the past few months.

The first is my actual resignation “letter” to my current employer. My department head’s response was “OMG”. It took him a couple days to realize I was serious.

Next we have some totally justified mocking of a tool.

And something most American husbands in two-income families will recognize:

Something topical about some more people who annoyed me. I saw this one several times very shortly after I uploaded it, faster than I would expect it to spread even if it really caught on, so I assume it was a case of great minds thinking alike.

And, finally, something rude, on account of I gotta be me.

Except for the picture of Le Butt crying and maybe the Drake template, all images were public domain, creative commons, or created by me. All of the above images are released into the Creative Commons by me, the creator. (Shouldn’t be necessary to say, but doesn’t hurt anything.)
5

Speculation Concerning an Oddity of Behavior

Why is it that many of the most devout Christians constantly reassure themselves of their faith, that they know it’s true, that they know everything is in God’s or Jesus’s loving hands?

Muslims do much the same, as do some Hindus in the US. (Adjusting for cultural and religious differences.)

Can you imagine the same concerning something that can be demonstrated as being true?

Gravity loves me, this I know!
Newton’s apple tells me so.
Praise Gravity every day
So our stuff won’t float away.

No, of course not.

Likewise for constant assertions that “My faith in God is at the center of everything I do.” “Every decision I make, I ask myself what is the best way to honor God.”

Can you imagine the same concerning other fundamental aspects of your being? “First and foremost I am a eukaryote. Don’t ask me to do anything without keeping that in mind.”

My proposed explanation: The devout know deep down that their religion isn’t really true. They can’t accept this, so they aver their faith ever louder to drown out their doubts.

There may be some elements of cosmological truth if you close one eye and squint with the other, but the explanations of the world invented by Bronze Age nomads do not suit the modern world at all. The holy works of various religions may contain useful advice for living your life and for living with other people. There’s a lot of bad advice in there, too, so at best that’s a wash if you’re trying to live your life strictly in accordance with your religion.

5
2

Milestone reached

Anybody remember when State Media ran those somber “grim milestone” reports each and every night on the TeeWee “news,” reminding everyone of Shrubya’s totally unacceptable body count in Iraq and Afghanistan?

Nah, me neither.

The total number of adverse reactions reported in the USA is 1,084,457 as of that date. Over one million adverse reactions…yet the media, and the medical establishment, trumpet how “safe” the vaccines are! If that’s “safe”, then I’m Mata Hari! (The reports for Europe are just as bad, if not worse in certain countries.) Of particular importance is the incidence of heart problems (particularly pericarditis and myocarditis) encountered among the vaccinated. Another looming issue is the rise in stillbirths among vaccinated pregnant women: “We are currently on pace to see a yearly total of 2,838 recorded fetal deaths following COVID-19 shots, while the yearly average of recorded fetal deaths following the vaccination of pregnant women for the past 30 years has been an average of 74 fetal deaths per year.”

Do bear in mind that those record-setting numbers come from the VAERS numbers, which even the CDC itself has admitted almost certainly amounts only to a fraction of the real total.

Medical “science” is racing to explain away those reactions (which, as the bottom graphic above shows, are worse than all previous vaccines of any kind since records began to be kept). Guess what excuse they’ve just invented?

Oh, I’m sure it’s a good one. The deadly OMIGAWD!!™ variant? White supremacists? Trump? The heartbreak of psoriasis? WHAT?!?

Guess what? It’s not the vaccines’ fault at all – it’s stress! That’s why so many vaccine recipients are dropping dead with heart problems!

Note, too, that this excuse will also be used to motivate more money for the medical establishment: “without at least doubling the current funding, the NHS will not be able to tackle the ‘trauma timebomb’, which could have potentially fatal consequences for those suffering with long-term PPSD”. Yeah, riiiiiiiiight. It’s not the vaccines’ fault, so go on foisting their poison on as many people as possible – and give us more money while you’re at it, so we can treat a wholly invented, non-existent stress disorder!

D’you ever get the feeling that the medical establishment as a whole is trying to play us all for suckers?

Sure, and why not? It seems to have worked out extremely well for them so far.

If you haven’t, I suggest you don’t understand the reality of the situation. Do they really think we’re that stupid?

Of course they do; who could possibly imagine otherwise? Have they ever given anybody a single reason to think that they don’t? The big question here is: ARE we? Because frankly, having put up with everygottdamned thing they’ve done over the last nigh-on two years at the very least without a murmur of complaint, I’ve not seen just a whole lot of evidence so far that says they’re wrong in that insulting assessment.

In all the previous pandemics in human history, nobody ever even thought about, or postulated, or theorized, or investigated this syndrome…yet suddenly, out of nowhere, it’s a major factor in fatalities among the vaccinated?

Hate to say it, but in a very sad way there may be a fairly plausible argument in support of the idea, especially when you consider the lamentable reality that the vast majority of Americans today are NOT the sort of stout, independent-minded, indomitable souls their forebears were. Not even close, they ain’t. In a nation populated shore to shore with thoroughly steercotted fruits, flakes, and nuts who get their panties in a bunch over some sane person offhandedly referring to them as “he” instead of “XHRSHIMX” or some other stupid horseshit, the real shocker is that falling over stone-dead because OHHH, I JUST CAN’T EVEN!!! isn’t a lot more common than it is.

1

A night in Hell

BCE posts on his stay in one of THOSE hotels; most of the saltier old road-dogs among us will need no explanation of what I mean by that, I trust. Naturally, BCE’s nightmarish and all-too-familiar story put me in mind of one of the single most atrocious dumps I can remember staying at: the Admiral Benbow Inn, in Memphis Tn. Regrettably, I made the mistake of DDG’ing the God-forsaken pit and wound up falling into the dreaded Search Engine Sinkhole, hitting links like a blow-junkie lab rat fiending for another sweet, sweet hit, sucked in by article after article chronicling the poor old Benbow’s rise and fall. Never woulda thunk it, but there’s some truly interesting history there, great gooey gobs of it. The backstory:

Dear Vance: Who the heck was Admiral Benbow, and what happened to all those motels here that were named after him? — J.F., Memphis.

Dear J.F.: Just like Colonel Harland Sanders with his Kentucky Fried Chicken empire, John Benbow (1653-1702) was a real person, an admiral in the British Royal Navy. During a long career at sea, he served as the commander of several vessels against various enemies, ranging from Barbary pirates to the French fleet, and I don’t have the time or energy to go into that here. Benbow died from injuries received in battle, with a biographer noting the cause of death was “the wound of his leg, never being set to perfection, which malady being aggravated by the discontent of his mind, threw him into a sort of melancholy.”

The admiral was buried in Jamaica, and his fame was so great that Robert Louis Stevenson, author of the 1883 classic, Treasure Island, named a tavern in his book the “Admiral Benbow Inn.”

Many years later, another enterprising gentleman in Memphis would do the same.

Allen Gary was born in Tupelo, Mississippi, in 1913. Somehow he ended up in Memphis, as so many men and women from the Magnolia State do. In the mid-1930s, he attended Central High School and Southwestern at Memphis (now Rhodes College). At some point, he met up with a business partner, George Early, and together they converted a nineteenth-century stable on Bellevue into a popular eatery called, quite naturally, The Stable. When it opened in 1941, it might be considered one of this city’s first theme restaurants. Not only was it decorated, inside and out, like a rustic barn, but the menu for this “Dispenser of Southern Horse-pitality” included such dishes as the Stagecoach, Hack, Hansom, Buggy, Surrey, and Sulky.

By all accounts, the Stable, located at Union and Bellevue, was a success, and quite a few readers have asked about it over the years, remembering good meals and good times there. But Gary and Early decided to branch out, forming other enterprises. Gary had befriended two of this city’s leading “hospitality men” — motel king Kemmons Wilson and drive-in operator Harold Fortune — and after serving for a time as manager of Fortune’s Belvedere, one of the chain’s largest and fanciest locations, Gary worked out an arrangement with Wilson to open restaurants at Holiday Inns around the South.

This wasn’t quite enough, though. In 1950, Gary and Early converted a brick cottage at Union and Willett into a cozy restaurant that they named the Admiral Benbow Inn. So the first Admiral Benbow in Memphis, or anywhere else for that matter, wasn’t a motel. Newspapers admired the new venture, noting that “its interior furnishings are completely modern in contrast with the fifteenth-century atmosphere.” Even though the tiny building sat just 20 feet from Union, “in the Terrace Room, eating pleasure blends with the busy traffic scene.” Just like in the fifteenth century!

At some point, it seems Early dropped out of this enterprise; I don’t know why. By 1960, Gary was operating 18 restaurants, an accomplishment that earned him a place in American Restaurant magazine’s Hall of Fame. A story about Gary in that publication — perhaps you saw it? — observed, “A restaurant operator whose receipts his first day in business totaled $7.10 [they are talking about the Stable] is today doing a business volume that exceeded $2 million in the fiscal year that just ended, operating restaurants in hotels in six Southern states.”

That still wasn’t enough for Gary. He next conceived Benbow Snack Bars, free-standing diner-type establishments, which often had little more than a counter and 12 stools, much like the nationwide chain of Toddle Houses. These were designed to be erected near motels that had no restaurant of their own, you see, but I was never able to determine how many Benbow Snack Bars were actually constructed. American Restaurant magazine, packed with helpful information, does say that Snack Bars “have been added in Memphis and in Laurel, Mississippi, and Gary is currently studying sites in 10 states” but didn’t say where, exactly, the Memphis locations were.

In 1960, Gary returned to his roots. He tore down his first venture, the old Stable, and erected the first Admiral Benbow Inn — this time a motel — at Union and Bellevue. The modern styling was certainly eye-catching, with lots of white concrete, bright colors, and suspended walkways linking what was considered this city’s first two-story motel. Of course, it included a restaurant along with a lounge called the Escape Hatch. He soon opened others — on Summer, next door to Imperial Bowling Lanes, and on Winchester, close to the airport.

As you can see from the images here, the Admiral Benbow Inn was certainly a nice-looking place and stood out from most of the hum-drum motels being constructed at the time. During its first years, it boasted occupancy rates of 100 percent. But for reasons that I don’t fully understand (since the Lauderdales never frequented such places), the motel developed a bad reputation. In fact, by February 2000, Admiral Benbow had declined to the point where my pal Jim Hanas wrote a Memphis Flyer cover story about his brief stay there. With a title of “Broken Palace: The Last Days of the Admiral Benbow,” you can tell it’s not a flattering portrait.

It was here, in fact, at the Admiral Benbow in Midtown that a fellow named Malcolm Fraser woke up one morning in 1986 to find himself without clothes, luggage, or money. Now this would be disconcerting for anybody, but Fraser just happened to be the former prime minister of Australia, in town for a business visit, and was supposed to be staying at The Peabody. The whole matter was never sorted out, but it’s typical of the decidedly unusual events that seemed to plague the Admiral Benbows in Memphis over the years.

So what happened to them?

Okay, so far, so…well, so dull, honestly. Aside from the mysterious Fraser saga, it’s the sort of dry, aggressively mundane stuff only a Memphian with an obssessive local-history fetish could find interesting, or maybe somebody who was being paid to act as if he had such a fetish. Hang in there though; we’re just about to hit the motherlode.

Memphis celebrates, occasionally even enshrines, its motels. The Lorraine has been encased for future reference as the National Civil Rights Museum; the Heartbreak Hotel, once a mere metaphor in the spiritual neighborhood of Lonely Street, now stands in literal glass and stone on Elvis Presley Boulevard; and the success story of Kemmons Wilson and Holiday Inns Inc. is eclipsed only by that of Fred Smith and Federal Express in the local mythology.

Even the dutiful Gideons have abandoned the Admiral Benbow at the corner of Union and Bellevue, however. There is no trace of either testament in the several drawers in room 245, one of which has had its front torn off and placed neatly inside it where the Bible ought to be.

The television is cockeyed from a failed attempt to rip it from its security mooring, although it doesn’t work so well anyway, and like most everything else in the room, it is rutted with burns from careless cigarettes and/or crack-pipes.

Seven doors down, a man was once stabbed with such a pipe by his so-called boyfriend, or so he said when, out of breath, he waved down a police cruiser at the corner of Madison and Cleveland. The boyfriend told a different story. He himself had been savagely beaten with the room’s telephone by the first man, he said, who had then stabbed himself with the crack pipe. He was only giving chase, he explained, so he could help.

The phone in 245 looks as though it may be the veteran of a beating or two. The plate over the keypad has disappeared, and much else in the room has been either picked clean or otherwise rendered useless. The cover of the heating duct leans beneath the sink. The bathtub faucet leaks hot water and cannot be made to stop. Pee-colored formica peels from the sway-topped sink and the flesh-colored stucco walls crack indiscriminately. The door’s security latch is no longer secure (nor any longer technically a latch, really), the hidden workings of the light switch are not hidden, and the peephole — the one you’re supposed to look through before, ever, ever opening the door — has been plugged with a tiny piece of cloth.

And not a Bible in sight, here when you really need one.

Unlike Memphis’ celebrated motels, the Benbow does not represent anything prized about the city or its history, anything people actually draw paychecks promoting. It is not a monument to the civil rights movement, the birthplace of rock-and-roll, or Memphis’ role as a universal crossroads.

Instead, the Benbow represents another side of the city, a side people draw paychecks keeping quiet, a side that’s as old as the city’s days as a rough river town and crime capital of the known universe.

It’s here that Little Pete, a 19-year-old gangsta from South Memphis, got pinched for shooting a man just off Elvis Presley Boulevard. Where a man once celebrated Valentine’s Day by flying into a drunken rage, trashing his room, and slapping his girlfriend around, all before 10 a.m. Where guests have occasionally tried to off themselves with excess anti-depressants, detergents, and razor-blades.

If, as everyone seems to agree, the Mississippi Delta begins in the lobby of The Peabody, then it just might end somewhere in the tomblike parking lot here at the Admiral Benbow.

The Benbow’s seediness comes only in part from its dilapidation. Part of it is a matter of architecture. The elevated rooms, once a clever parking solution, create a claustrophobic above-ground subterrain ricocheting with shadows and echoes. A series of catwalks connecting the motel’s four buildings makes you feel as though you may already be in prison, so, well, what the hell anyway. In urban planning lingo, these effects might be described pathologically, symptoms of a property that is “sick.”

Once, when the Monkees stayed here, the parking lot and catwalks were overrun by screaming, teenaged girls.

A half-naked woman lies bloody and motionless beside the bed. G-men let a tabloid photographer into the room to snap some shots of the corpse, of the spectacle of blood and breasts and the 9mm cupped in a cold hand.

Nothing serves to verify the Benbow’s status as a dive — with all the campiness that implies — quite like this scene from The Sore Losers, the burlesque allegory from local cult filmmaker Mike McCarthy.

Mid-scene, there is an establishing shot of the motel’s neon sign and marquee, and audiences are expected to get the joke. “Cheap applause for the local crowd,” McCarthy explains.

Everyone knows you haven’t slummed until you’ve slummed at the Admiral Benbow.

Although McCarthy had his car vandalized while filming at the motel, it didn’t keep him from putting out-of-town talent up here during the filming of his latest movie, SuperStarlet A.D., at least for a night.

“The surreal charm wears off when we realize the doors are broken,” co-star Gina Velour writes of the place in her diary of the shoot, which appeared in Hustler’s Leg World last year. “The moldy ceiling is hanging like fog, and there is a single, bare 60-watt bulb, just like in the movies. It’s the worst night I can remember in all my travels. I can’t do this for the next three weeks.”

And she doesn’t, demanding from McCarthy better digs in the Red Roof Inn up the street.

“They didn’t share my sense of humor,” McCarthy admits.

Evidently camp has its limits, even for aspirant B-movie starlets.

I have to say, Ms Velour’s Admiral Benbow experience closely corresponds with my own.

Even more fascinating Admiral Benbow lore at the linked articles—some of it amusing, some of it terrifying, none of it in the least shocking or too far out for Benbow survivors. And we are legion, because some years back just about every bar, theater, or other mid-level and below music venue in Memphis, as well as independent bookers and promoters, made it their practice to book hotel rooms for bands on tour at the Benbow. The place was filthy. It was dangerous. It was run down, literally falling apart in whole sections. And it was positively crawling with drunks, junkies, crackheads, hookers, johns, flim-flam men, muggers, and other fascinating specimens from every strata of Memphis lowlife, criminality, and dysfunction. There are roaches crawling up the walls of the rooms as big as your thumb—bigger, even. Go ahead, ask me how I know.

But for promoters and venue owners and such, the Benbow wasn’t entirely without its charms nonetheless. It was dirt cheap, and for people working that side of the music-biz street, cheap trumps all else. Especially when you know you don’t have to spend the night there your own self.

The first time a promoter tried to shoehorn us into the Benbow box, we took one look at our assigned room, looked at each other in horror, and agreed immediately that we would NOT be staying at this wretched shitpit after that night’s show, taking it upon ourselves to speedily flee to someplace fit for human habitation and just foot the bill ourselves, even though our contract rider called for two double-occupancy hotel rooms, comped. If I remember right, we ended up at a Red Roof not far away, likely the same one Gina Velour wisely decamped to.

Our next time in town, the guy who had booked us met us at the venue seeming quite pleased with himself at having procured our two rooms already, saving us the trouble of checking in. We pounced without delay: might these rooms happen to be at the Benbow, perchance? Sensing there was trouble afoot, his cheery face fell as he admitted that it was so. We informed him sharply that no, we would NOT be staying at the Admiral Benbow, neither tonight nor ever again. As a compromise measure, we WOULD be willing to hold off on starting the show until he got us rooms at an acceptable hotel, so he wouldn’t habe to miss anything.

It’s common knowledge in the rock and roll universe that when two touring bands hit the road together, even if only for a few days, there is a kind of accelerated bonding between the two camps which takes place, formed initially around all the experiences they have in common: days on end eating nothing but horrible food and the inevitable distress that comes along with it; hot, easy women in specific cities; crippling hangovers and how best to deal with ’em; where the closest liquor store might be, and who’s going to have to shag his ass over there after sound check but before downbeat to fetch a jug for the green room, and such-like topics. Included among these topics: the Admiral Benbow, and how incomprehensibly skeevy it was.

I mean, ALL of our peers knew the place; everybody had a horror story, each more grisly than the one before, and not a one of us doubted for a moment that every word was gospel truth. No one that had actually been there doubted, at any rate. Those who had lived to tell the tale KNEW the truth, having survived the trauma, learned the lessons, and earned the scars. The rest? Well, they’d be finding out soon enough, poor things.

Any hard-touring band that’s put enough miles under their asses can tell you that there are indeed places dotted all across the American road atlas which no normal person knows about, nor will ever see. We’ve all spent our share of sweaty, sleepless nights tossing, turning, and scratching our fresh insect bites in hotels and motels Normals wouldn’t even believe exist. But they do. Those squalid dens are indeed out there…WAITING.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Hold onto your hats, folks

A significant departure—SIGNIFICANT—from our usual Embed-O-Phenia music-vid fare tonight, one which I’m betting a good many if not most (if not ALL) of you guys ain’t gonna much care for. Actually, it’s hardly my usual preference in musical styles either, to be charitable about it. But I was over at a friend’s house a few years back with a cpl-three others of my usual crew of reprobates, criminals, and ne’er do wells, when my boy Travis pulled this one up on the TeeWee and we all just busted a gut laughing at it.

Oh, and apropos of not much, the guy whose house our crew was chillaxin’ at was the domicile of my friend Phillip, who is a black dude. The below vid ain’t his usual musical cup of tea either, contrary to what someone given to making assumptions about the typical relationship between our darker-complected brethren and kinda-sorta rap like this usually is. Phil is a rock and roll/surf/punk-rock drummer, against all odds, and a damned good one at that. So much for stereotypes, eh?

ANYHOO. I’m posting this as a dedication to our friends over at GFZ (I never have figured out how to ascertain who’s posted what over there for some reason; if anybody wants to clue me in, I’m all ears), on account of this recent rip re: Five-Oh, Da Man, Johnny Law, Offisah Friendly, the Po-Po.

Two things can be true at the same time:

One: Without effective policing cities will dissolve into chaos, like in San Francisco and New York City, where mass looting, violent street assaults, and quality of life crimes have rendered those cities into shitholes.

Two: This is an obscenity.  There was absolutely no reason for a cop to attack a dog like that on the dog’s home porch.  That was vicious and unnecessary, and the officer should be punished for that.

This is the sort of shit that turns me against cops.

It’s not just possible but reasonable and  moral imperative to say “the Left’s ‘defund the police’ is bullshit but this here cop needs to be tossed out like the piece of shit that he is.”

Lots of ’em do, which doesn’t in any way disprove or gainsay my oft-repeated insistence that, having known and/or been related to more than a few LEOs myself over my whole damned life, there ARE still good cops around out there. Getting harder and harder to find, maybe. In fact, strike that: CERTAINLY. The white-hat cops I’ve known are all long since retired, and almost all of them swear that there’s no way in hell they’d take the job now, so far sideways have things gone since they worked as lawdogs. According to them, we’ve come a long way from “Protect And Serve,” in precisely the wrong direction. But the good ones haven’t all walked away, although the clot-shot mandate is going to see to it that they’ll be in the minority from here on out. And not just by a little bit, either.

On to the embed, which came to mind immediately when I read the GFZ post not because of the “Kilos in my bag” verse, but for the rousing (a-HENH!) chorus; trust me, it will be more than obvious why. Like I said, brace yourselves for something way, way, WAY out of the usual line here with this one. But I guar-on-tee you I’m gonna watch a little bit of it when I go retrieve the embed code from YewToob, and will laugh like hell when I do. So there. Don’t hate me ’cause I’m beautiful.



Good while back I seem to recall reading someplace that, ironically enough, Stitches (a/k/a Phillip Nickolas Katsabanis) has a stepdad who either is or used to be a cop. Don’t know if that’s true or not, and I don’t care enough to go digging around to find out, but I deeply, deeply hope that it’s so. Because, funny as I think the above video is already, that would really put the cherry on top of the sundae for me.

Now where DID I put the world’s smallest violin, anyway?

My heart, it bleeds.

Waukesha parade suspect Darrell Brooks says he feels ‘dehumanized,’ ‘demonized’ in first jailhouse interview

Frankly, I should certainly think he would at that, and rightly so. He ain’t human, and his actions were nothing short of demonic.

“I just feel like I’m being monster – demonized,” Brooks, 39, said during a brief video visit in Waukesha County Jail – a stone’s throw from where tragedy struck over a week earlier.

What, you ain’t been put down yet, you filthy fucking baboon?

Not even his mother has dropped by, he said. Earlier in the day, she released a statement on behalf of the family decrying Wisconsin’s criminal justice system for failing her son, a longtime felon with a 50-page rap sheet detailing domestic violence, firearms, drugs and other convictions in Wisconsin, according to documents obtained by Fox News Digital.

Well, D’shalon’q’uish’itaa ain’t entirely wrong about that either, although she has things a bit back-asswards, which can’t come as any surprise to anyone with an IQ even a handful of points higher than hers and baby Dindu’s. The Wisconsin “justice” system failed alright—but not these two drains on society, nor any of the other shiftless dregs in dey ‘hoooit. No, D’shalon’q’uish’itaa, the system failed decent, law-abiding, utterly blameless Cheesehead Whypeepuhz, by not locking both you and yo’ Beeeoiiiyeeee* up and throwing away the fucking key after the third (3rd) strike on his rap sheet had been duly logged. Too bad a bunch of people whose only crime was to assume themselves more or less safe from marauding ape-men at a town Christmas parade had to pay the ultimate price for their error.

Still, Brooks said he was “very” close with his mother. He hasn’t spoken to any family since the parade attack but they talked earlier that day, he said. He said he was no longer staying at the address listed in city records as being his residence.

Just over one mile from the jail, Brooks allegedly plowed his red Ford SUV through a throng of paradegoers out taking part an annual holiday celebration that had been canceled last year due to the coronavirus pandemic.

“Allegedly.”

After a few minutes of conversation, shortly after he learned his mother had released a statement on his mental health, Brooks put down the phone and rose from his chair. Two flanking corrections officers shielded him from view, but the sound of what may have been sobbing rattled the receiver.

Good. May this worthless oxygen thief suffer all the tortures of the damned until the frabjous day he is reunited with his Father Below, where the Oweeoweeeoweeeee knob gets cranked up to “eleven” for a thousand years.

* No kidding, now, seriously: I actually made a delivery to a guy earlier tonight whose listed name in the app was exactly, precisely that—only the “B” was not capitalized. The shack, the yard, the whole neighborhood looked exactly as you’d expect it to. Looking back on it now, I’m probably lucky I didn’t get run over or something.

5

Mini-Mengele done unto death

Julie Kelly tears the Malignant Dwarf a richly-deserved new one.

It’s nearly impossible to select the most maniacal comment made by Dr. Anthony Fauci in his nearly 70-minute interview with “Face the Nation” host Margaret Brennan that aired over the weekend. Joe Biden’s chief coronavirus advisor and miniature global menace spent more than an hour denying responsibility for his documented mistakes, bragging about his self-appointed role as the world’s doctor, hogging credit for the vaccines, and attacking anyone who has challenged his unrivaled ego and track record of failure.

Portraying himself as a victim rather than the cruel, megalomaniacal tyrant he is, Fauci took aim at Donald Trump, Florida Governor Ron DeSantis, Senators Rand Paul (R-Ky.) and Ted Cruz (R-Texas), and Congressional co-sponsors of the “Fire Fauci Act,” which would zero-out the salary of the federal government’s highest-paid bureaucrat and audit Fauci’s correspondence and financial transactions during the pandemic.

While declaring, “I represent science,” Fauci humbly graded the scientific approach to the pandemic an “A+” while incongruently  warning about a “fifth wave” of the virus and explaining away one scientific stumble after another, from useless temperature checks to the need for bi-annual booster shots and randomly claiming the virus spread is “40 to 50 to 60 percent…asymptomatic.” 

Science!

Of all his alarming remarks, however, Fauci’s push to get experimental vaccines for babies and young children to market as quickly as possible is the most depraved. When asked by Brennan, who has spent the better part of two years asking Fauci how to run her life and the lives of 330 million Americans, when he expects vaccines for children between the age of six months and five years to be available, Fauci said he hopes the shots are ready by the beginning of next year. “I would hope it would be in the first quarter because the studies are being done right now on children from two to five and then from six months to two years,” Fauci told Brennan. “I don’t think there’s going to be an issue with efficacy. But when you’re dealing with children, it’s a very sensitive area. And that’s the reason why [it] may take a little bit longer.”

When parents question whether it’s necessary to vaccinate children, Fauci replies that, “yeah, we do want to be vaccinating the children because we want to vaccinate and protect everyone in society, including children.”

Now, that is not the conclusion of a sound man of science, as Fauci again insisted he is in the interview, or even a man of common sense and humanity—that is the raving of a madman.

Good, toothsome stuff so far, all of it. Following the above up with “demon,” “sociopath,” “sadist” and worse, though, serves notice to one and all that Our Jules, bless her savage heart, was only warming up.

In a just world, Anthony Fauci would be giving lengthy television interviews clad in an orange jumpsuit from the confines of a federal penitentiary. Aside from his crimes against humanity, especially the tragic toll on senior citizens and young people, Fauci has clearly committed a number of crimes including lying to Congress and the American people in his official capacity and misappropriating federal funds on ghoulish scientific experiments.

Disagree with the first sentence of that last ‘graph, muchly. No, in a truly just world this half-pint homunculus would be dangling by his scrawny neck from a high gibbet in some remote and lonely wood, his bulging eyes pecked at by ravens, his tangled, dripping entrails ripped loose from his flabby gut to sway gently with the midnight breeze, there to be the plaything of bobcats happily batting away at the rancid, gory goo with razor-sharp claws. Squadrons of buzzards would tear his putrefying flesh into bloody gobbets for their dining pleasure, swarms of blackflies the only crown ever to adorn this bargain-basement Messiah’s empty head—thorns being well above the station of such a lowly, miserable villein as he.

After all that, Fauxci’s unlamented corpus would, ideally, be left to hang in disgrace for a full month at minimum, speedily shrinking beyond its already laughably-diminutive stature due to the parallel ravages of carrion-beasts and the natural processes of decomposition—the noisome gases repeatedly belched forth in a cannonade of horror and shame; the fleshly shroud peeling back to commend the ghastly, undersized skeleton to the attentions of beasts inclined to gnaw and worry at such; whatever small dignity this sad, no-account wretch somehow managed to scrape up and retain over the course of a misspent existence suddenly collapsing into a vague, barely-perceptible feeling of shame—the kind that tugs weakly at a better man’s sleeve as he passes by, causing him not to slow down so as to either pay heed or offer respect for the departed, but to speed his pace, his departure made with a brief flash of mild annoyance at the useless distraction caused by one entirely unworthy of his, or anyone else’s, consideration.

Then, after the Animal Kingdom and nature’s elemental fury had all consumed their fill, the tattered, stinking remainders would be cut down and unceremoniously kicked into some unknown and unvisited crevasse or ravine, there to be reunited at long last with Mother Earth, whether She will or She nil—nobody asked what Her preference might be, I suspect—in the fullness of time to be erased from all memory of this mortal coil, all his futile works and flights if egotistical fancy gone and most definitely forgotten as well.

Now THAT, I think, is more like it. As I said the other night: why this contemptible gnome, this pluperfect Grey Man of Government, hasn’t been the recipient of some long-distance rifle-round lurvs way before now is beyond my ken. It’s baffling, is what it is, and I can see no explanation for it.

5

Of Ford Rangers and fascism

It might seem like something of a stretch, to some of you out there. Would that it were so.

The Diesel Ranger That’s Probably Not for Us
The redesigned 2022 Ranger – it’s bigger than the current model we can buy here in the U.S. – has just been launched “globally.” Actually, hemispherically – since our hemisphere (the North American chunk of it) will not get the new Ranger until 2023.

And we will probably not get the new turbodiesel V6 that will be optional in the new Ranger in other hemispheres. Including even Australia – where people are tackled by armed government workers for not “masking” outdoors…but diesels are still largely free to roam.

Not so much here.

It is harder to get a diesel engine past through the needle’s eye of government ukase pertaining to allowable emissions than it would be to stuff an actual camel through such an attenuated aperture. Even with the grafting on of chemical exhaust scrubbers, DEF tanks and the re-engineering of the once-simpler, once less-complex diesel engine to a state of greater complexity than a current gas-burning engine, they still have difficulty making the cut.

The few – and it is very few, indeed – that do are very expensive as a result.

As a for-instance, the only Ranger-sized truck that’s available with a diesel engine in America as of the 2022 model year is the Chevy Colorado and its GMC-badged twin, the Canyon. The diesel is, however, only available in crew cab Canyons and Colorados near the apex of the trim pyramid and then only if you buy it as part of a $5,185 package, which means spending at least $35,000 to get the diesel in this truck.

That makes it too rich for most Americans.

Or rather, makes it too expensive to make much sense – especially in view of the slight – about 6 MPG – fuel economy benefit vs. the gasoline V6 that’s available as a much less costly option in lower-trim/lower cost versions of this pick-up.

It’s likely that these same factors will keep the diesel engine outside this market – precisely because it no longer is one.

The balance has tipped decidedly in the direction of a fascist economy.

It’s a case I’ve made here myself numerous times over lo, these many years. The depressing thing is that, rather than dwindling over time, supporting evidence is piling up faster than ever before. More depressing realizations yet to come, which we will be addressing anon.

The  relevant – the defining – element of fascism is: private property allowed – but controlled and directed by the state.

You’re allowed to build cars – and trucks – but only within the parameters laid down by the state. You can buy a car or truck, but only those cars and trucks the state says you may buy (and then, you may retain possession only so long as you pay the required – and ongoing – mandatory tithes and use it in accordance with the state’s allowable usages).

That is fascism – which doesn’t fundamentally alter whether said in German, Italian or American.

Unlimited power to decree what they (the car companies) can sell and what we may buy. It is why we cannot get the diesel engines – plural – that are already available in the current Ranger, on sale in places like Australia.

Which, by the way, is also available with a manual transmission. But not for us. The Ranger we get – now and pending – is and will be automatic-only, for the same reason we won’t get the diesels.

It’s not just cars and trucks, either – as hardly needs to be stated. It is everything. Or rather, there is nothing – in principle if not in actual fact – that the government hasn’t asserted its power to allow or not and if the former, under what conditions.

It’s a shame there aren’t goose-stepping soldiers saluting the Leader – in high definition color.

People might notice it then.

Possibly, some might even object.

SOME will object, of course. But how many of us won’t? Worse, how many would actually be in favor of such a development, even enthusiastically so? Which brings us to the worst, most depressing realization of all: In light of how radically the Left has retailored the national fabric—altering the nation’s character and identity with malice aforethought—could those dangerously deluded fools have become a majority of Americans? Because if that’s the case, it strongly suggests that those guilty of “not noticing” just became the very least of our concerns.

On the other hand, I do have to confess that, on my most jaded and cynical evenings, a correctly-aligned dictator or military junta seems like it could well be a significant improvement over the Democracy Theater™ shit-circus we’re being thorougly and painfully snootered by at the moment. A Royal Highness, Generalissimo, Emperor, or scowling, beetle-browed Il Duce might come as a breath of fresh air, long as he hated Leftists with a fierly passion that burned with the heat of a thousand Suns and wasn’t above the judicious application of thumbscrews, stretching ’em on the rack, or tossing their sorry asses in the Iron Maiden for a goodish spell now and again, just to keep the conniving, nefarious bastards in their place and freshen up their memory as to who’s really in charge around this joint.

Perhaps a dictator is no different than a great many other things in this life: Neither entirely good nor entirely bad overall, necessarily. The main thing is making sure you get yourself the right kind of dictator, that’s all.

1
2

Omicron-O-Mighty!

Dick with ears skeets off yet again.

BRENNAN: Senator Cruz told the attorney general you should be prosecuted.

FAUCI: Yeah. I have to laugh at that. I should be prosecuted? What happened on Jan. 6, senator?

BRENNAN: Do you think that this is about making you a scapegoat to deflect–

DR. FAUCI: Of course-

BRENNAN: –From President Trump?

FAUCI: Of course, you have to be asleep not to figure that one out.

BRENNAN: Well, there are a lot of Republican senators taking aim at this. I mean–

FAUCI: That’s OK, I’m just going to do my job and I’m going to be saving lives and they’re going to be lying.

It is a tragic and embarrassing statement about the American people and their commitment to their own Constitutional rights, to liberty itself, that “Dr” Anthony “Mengele The Lesser” Fauxci’s brain-pan wasn’t ventilated via long-distance .308Win or .338 Lapua HVAC service years ago. I can think of no good excuse Americans might possibly come up with to explain it. Kunstler expounds further on the poisonous little gnome.

Does it finally look like Dr. Anthony Fauci is trying to carry out an assisted suicide of the United States? On the Sunday Morning TV chat circuit, the White House Covid-19 czar (a.k.a. The Science) declared that the new Omicron variant is “a clarion call” to get people vaccinated. Is that so, Dr. Fauci? Considering how well your “vaccines” work? And how many people have been maimed and killed by their side-effects? (More than all other vaccines combined over the past thirty years.) And how you knavishly outlawed effective and cheap early treatment protocols that would have put Covid-19 down by June of 2020 (and saved half-a-million lives). The Science also called on Sunday for the general re-masking of the public and averred to the possibility of more lockdowns ahead. And just at Christmas-time, you understand. What a nose this rascal has for politics!

Senator Ted Cruz (TX) called for the Department of Justice to prosecute The Science for lying to Congress, which The Science smugly laughed off, perhaps knowing that his world-beating, maliciously incompetent leadership in the Coronavirus saga would end up incriminating and delegitimizing the entire corrupt, Pharma-captured US public health bureaucracy, with collateral damage everywhere else in government — and therefore that no authority in the land would dare to swear him under oath in a court-of-law. Or so he may think for now.

Meanwhile, Virologist Barry Schoub, Chairman of South Africa’s Ministerial Advisory Committee on COVID-19 Vaccines, declared the new Omicron Coronavirus “mild.” Could it be that the whole hoary Covid-19 narrative is falling apart now? Could Dr. Fauci and his sleazy associates in the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, the WHO, the Big Pharma C-suites, the grifting university research labs, the despicable social media combine, and yet more sinister outfits such as the CIA and the WEF — might this unholy host of villains and fixers find themselves on-the-run? And might Omicron represent for them some final grasp at the last straw of narrative control?

It’s pretty clear that citizens of the liberal democracies are fed up with being pushed around, jabbed, driven out of business, lied-to, gaslighted, and deprived of their livelihoods. They increasingly can’t believe any of the bullshit issued by the medical establishment and its political hand-maidens, and why should they? The countries with the highest vaccination rates also happen to be the ones with the highest Covid cases. Countries with low vaccination rates and widespread use of early treatment with common drugs have low Covid cases. Two weeks after Japan okayed the use of Ivermectin in mid-November of this year, cases fell from a big surge down to near zero. What part of that is complicated?

The Covid-19 mindfuck worked to distract the country’s attention from the activities of characters like Lawfare avatar Marc Elias of the DNC’s Perkins Coie law firm and Marc Zuckerberg of Facebook, going all around the swing states in 2020 with sacks full of money, arranging election procedures such as mass mail-in voting with no voter ID to facilitate the victory of the obviously non compos mentis empty shell of “Joe Biden”. That did work. Just what the country needed, too, at this perilous moment of history: a fake head-of-state. The people mostly played along for two years until very lately, seeing at last how they have been robbed of their health, their wealth, their future, and very likely their children’s futures. Watch them now as they turn on the ones who made all that happen.

T’is a consummation devoutly to be wished. We’ll see, I suppose. Myself, I’m still up and then down on that prospect, and never have been anything like as confident as James is even on my best day. I’m still seeing FAR too many morons driving alone in their cars fully face-diapered up every day to be overly optimistic about it. One thing I AM absolutely certain of: No amount of Congressional “investigations,” blue-ribbon panels, and/or calls for the DoJ to “DO something!!!” are going to shift Herr Doktor Fauxci one centimeter closer to his final exit from government “service.”

No, the last, best opportunity to get rid of the mass-murdering sumbitch via nonviolent means was Trump’s, who as President could quite easily have fired the arrogant, loathsome rectal polyp long ago, and goddamned well should have too. For whatever inexplicable reason, though, Orange Man Bad didn’t get around to something that certainly should have been amongst the top five items on January 21st, 2016’s List Of Things I MUST DO As President Before Lunch Today, and…well, that’s that, really. Nobody better be wasting time or effort hoping Shits ‘N’ Giggles are gonna do it, nor whoever the next three or eight TPTB-approved Pretend Presidents end up being, either. It’s another of those jobs that, if they truly want it done, Real Americans are just going to have to roll up their sleeves—so to speak—and do it themselves.

Update! In New Zealand, in Australia, in the UK, in Austria, in the FUSA, there is a simple, self-evident truth that applies across the entire world: No national populace has ever complied its way out of tyranny.

Yesterday the Prime Minister, Jacinda Ardern, announced her infantile traffic light system, which will govern everything you can and can’t do as decided by the bureaucrats in Wellington.

It is as illogical as it is childish. For example “Green is when COVID-19 is across New Zealand, including sporadic imported cases. Community transmission is limited and COVID-19 hospitalisations will be at a manageable level. The health system will be ready to respond, including primary care, public health, and hospitals.”

That is like MOST OF NZ! Yet she’s plunged most of the country into Orange and the rest into Red.

Apparently, the draconian restrictions placed on the unvaxxed is to keep us all safe from the vaxxed…I’m not kidding. The lack of joined-up thinking is getting to ridiculous proportions.

If you are still unvaxxed at this point in time you aren’t going to get vaxxed. We’ve made our choice, we don’t need protection from anyone or anything. This is a nanny state writ large.

Meanwhile, more evidence has been revealed that shows the “protection” the vaccines supposedly impart to the population is a mirage, or a sham.

This ends when enough of you stop playing their stupid games. While you still think you can comply your way out of tyranny the silly games with silly prizes will just keep on coming.

The tyrant is drunk on the power she’s got. She isn’t going to let it go easily. She most certainly won’t let it go by you complying with the demands.

But the unvaxxed now have another tool in their kitbag. The government has declared us Untermenschen. Grant Robertson is suggesting that if you are unvaxxed or if your business doesn’t use their rules then you will no longer be able to access government assistance.

So the unvaxxed should cease paying tax and their businesses should cease paying tax. We have been frozen out of society, so we should cease to contribute to the society that is oppressing us.

Lock us out, ostracise us, take our freedoms, send us underground. This is a classic example of how people become radicalised. And this is all on Jacinda Ardern. She’s created divisions and hate when there was none before.

The tyrant must be deposed. I have no idea yet how that happens, but happen it must.

Oh, I think you do have an idea, actually. We ALL know full well “how that happens”; it’s never been any big secret, there’s no mystery to it all. There has only ever been just the one way to do it, and anyone with even a passing knowledge of history knows precisely what that is. While we’re at it, let’s be perfectly clear on an important distinction: excepting rare instances under unusual circumstances, throwing off a despotic government isn’t something that just “happens.” Rather, it is an extremely dangerous, drawn-out, and arduous process, requiring tremendous sacrifice of those valiant souls who actively and consciously undertake to DO it.

Liberation from tyranny does not HAPPEN—passively, spontaneously, all unlooked-for and out of the blue. Revolution, to call it by its proper name, is DONE—actively, purposefully, only after a long train of ever-escalating abuses and usurpations has finally outstripped the willingness or ability of the abused to endure more of it. My own internal back-and-forth over when, or even whether, over-entitled, risk-phobic Kens and Karens in what used to be America might get fed up enough to hoist the black flag and start cutting throats aside, make no mistake: EVERY national population has its limit, and WILL surely revolt if its would-be rulers exceed it, whether from malice, overconfidence, or fateful inattentiveness.

Present-day dimestore dictators such as Fauxci and the rest of his vile ilk do themselves no favor when they forget or ignore a certain truism, constant and reliable enough to amount to a mathematical equation of sorts:

What this is doing is encouraging extremism. It will, if it continues, end in bloodshed. Of either the refuseniks, or the tyrant enablers. A wise ruler would step back now.

Because the more one oppresses, the harsher will you be treated.

Yep. T’was ever thus, and ever will be. Sadly, tragically even, wise rulers seem to be in decidedly short supply nowadays. But sooner or later, in one way or another, they will learn. ALL will learn.

Again.

(Via WRSA)

1

Courting the ban-hammer

A bit of background will be needed on this one, folks. To wit:

Way back when Twitter first got cranked up, I was persuaded by a lovely and charming lady friend from the halcyon days when we were both working at the venerable and now-defunct Cheap Jack’s vintage clothing store on Broadway near Union Square—Heather by name, now residing in northern Califruitopia a stone’s throw from Sacramento, or she was last I heard anyways—to procure myself both a Twatter and a LinkedIn account, the better for us to keep in touch with. Never once have I bothered using either of them, although naturally I still receive multiple annoying e-mails from them every single damned day—along with same-same from Imgur, which outfit to my sure and certain knowledge I have never signed up for at all.

That said, I have now been driven to Tweet my first Tweet.


Wooden tit be awesome if my very first Twat wound up getting me banned for life? I think so. More from GP.

A Massachusetts liberal activist visiting his parents in Merrimack, New Hampshire over the Thanksgiving holiday had a meltdown over a gun store’s window display that features posters criticizing Joe Biden, Dianne Feinstein and Anthony Fauci, calling the display a “call to violence.” Nothing in the display explicitly or implicitly calls for violence. Apparently however, exercising First and Second Amendment rights is seen as a call to violence by this liberal activist.

Ben Jackson, a writer and producer who works with actress Alyssa Milano on her Sorry Not Sorry podcast, posted a photo of the store, 619DW Guns & Ammo, with the statement, “This is the gun shop in my parents town. Don’t fucking tell me this isn’t a call to violence. Don’t tell me gun culture isn’t sick to its very core. #NoRA #MerrimackNH #NHPolitics”

Jackson was further triggered by Guns & Ammo’s requirement that patron not wear masks in the store, posting a photo a sign in the door that reads, “Stop & Read: We Draw Guns on Masked Visitors – Take Your Mask Off before Entering.”

This is not the first time 619DW Gun & Ammo triggered liberals over their window display. A poster of Barack Obama captioned “Firearms Salesman of the Year” drew complaints in 2013.

Sounds like my kind of gun store. In my inaugural Twat, unfortunately, I totes forgot to include the appropriate “hashtags,” which are apparently de rigeur in that little demi-monde, I guess: #ComeAndTakeThem, #AnyTimeYouFeelFroggy, #CryMeARiverShitlibs, #BulletsFirst.

And with that, I hereby announce my permanent retirement from Twatter. Thanks so much, everyone, you’ve been a wonderful audience.

2

Comment of the week month YEAR

Not so much for the content of it, per se, as for a specific turn of…well, just see for yourself.

With old poopy-pants visibly failing and not even Democrats liking Harris, I am sensing an attempt to position herself for the future. “Hey Democrats! I’m rested, I’m ready! Shits and Giggles are obviously not going to cut it for 2024, so what do you say?”

“Shits and Giggles”?!? *snort* I damned near unmoored a floating rib when I first saw that the other day, and I’m still laughing about it now. I am SOOOO stealing that one for further use around this here hogwallow, Hap. Well done, buddy, well done indeed.

3

Newsflash – The World Is Biased

“It’s concerning that it can do that when it shouldn’t be able to.”

Such was the insightful comment of one of my coworkers on learning that Artificial Intelligence systems can determine the race of a patient from his XRays, matching the patient’s self-reported race with 80-99% accuracy.

He wasn’t alone in thinking this. That is, emoting this; little to no rational thought was involved. Of the dozen people in the meeting, half or more spoke up, saying that the AI must have been trained wrong, that the race must have been encoded on the XRay, or it’s the quality of the XRay (with nonwhites of course being scanned by older equipment). Something. Not stated was that race doesn’t exist and is purely a social construct; that’s revealed truth to almost all of my coworkers and need not be spoken unless someone utters heresy.

“I know something is true and what I’m seeing doesn’t match what I know is true so what I’m seeing must not be true.” Or, to paraphrase Groucho Marx, “Who are you going to believe, your beliefs or your lying eyes?”

Most people will deny what their eyes are telling them. They’ll deny truth, reality, in favor of their beliefs. This of course applies to a lot more than an AI determining race “when it shouldn’t be able to”, but I’ll focus on AIs because that’s what came to my attention and because I know more than most about AI systems. (And to limit the amount of time spent in writing this; as usual I have many more things to do than time to do them.) (Proof of this: it’s taken me four months to get an uninterrupted hour to finish writing this essay.)

AIs have useful results in many fields, completely unrelated to one another. They’ve been trained to sift through mountains of noisy astronomical data to find exoplanets, a task largely beyond humans because the data is too great for our brains.

AIs have been used to predict recidivism, and seem to be much better than humans, at 90% versus little better than guessing. This has led to complaints by the accused (claiming bias, presumably because the AI wasn’t trained to be sensitive about disparate impact) and by judges (who inform us that these matters are more an art than a science).

AIs have been used by HR departments to make hiring decisions or at least to prioritize candidates. But there’s a problem. Two problems. First, the criteria for determining whether the AI (or the human) made a good decision are squishy. In predicting recidivism, regardless of your feelings about racial bias or disparate impact, if an offender is arrested again within a year, that’s a solid data point.

When it comes to employee performance, HR departments often try to apply objective criteria such as number of trouble tickets resolved, but those are seldom useful for more than an overview of one facet of the job. Most of the employee evaluation is squishy, and seldom completely honest for any number of reasons.

And that gets us to the other problem with using AIs for hiring decisions: Very often, racial minorities are underrepresented in the selected candidates, regardless of the job. In the computer fields, minority under-representation is even worse, when chosen by AIs. Women are also under-selected.

The obvious explanation, of course, is that the AI was trained wrong. It’s probably deliberate bias, because almost everyone involved in creating and training AIs is a white man. (That’s not true. In the US, men of European descent are a minority of people involved in building, training, and running AIs.) Or unconscious bias, because the training data is not fully representative of all job seekers or convicted criminals or hospital patients. Or some other kind of bias because the data contains patterns that no one’s noticed before and it’s throwing off the results.

That last one is a reasonable concern. In the example above of determining race from XRays, it’s possible that a hospital serving almost only blacks used one model of XRay machine and another hospital serving almost only whites used another model. When the AI was trained using data from these two hospitals, it could have picked up the relationship between XRay machine model and patient race. “Deep learning” systems are notoriously opaque, so something can sneak in and not be found for a while. (Though human thought processes are not exactly open for scrutiny, either, and very seldom do humans realize that their decisions are influenced by how recently they’ve eaten or the similarity of a job candidate to an old girlfriend.)

On the other hand, data scientists and AI developers are trained to be aware of this issue, to recognize the signs of a spurious correlation, and to actively look for problems. Furthermore, many of the announced, unacceptable results have been replicated many times with consistent findings. It’s not impossible but is very unlikely that the same error appears in different systems created by different teams using different data.

Even on projects in which only a single AI has been trained for some problem, claims that the training data must be biased are not accompanied by examples of problems in the data. The claim of bias comes by backward reasoning from the results which must be wrong, rather than from any direct evidence.

When AIs are trained to solve real-world problems using real-world data and they repeatedly come up with unacceptable results, there’s something wrong. Something major, something systemic.

It’s possible that the problem is in the way the AIs are designed and built and trained. Despite what I said a few paragraphs ago, errors do creep in. It’s conceivable that the same bias crept in and threw off the hiring recommendations of half a dozen HR AIs, all in the same racially and sexually biased fashion, or that the identification of hospital patients needing more intensive post-release follow-up was thrown off by richer (ie, white) patients getting more expensive treatment than poorer (ie, black) patients. (That did happen. It was corrected as soon as the problem was noticed, but that mistake has become one of the go-to examples of racial bias in AIs. One of the very few examples that anyone can point at, I’ll note.)

I don’t believe this is a systemic problem, though, because AIs have proved themselves useful and accurate in any number of areas, from optimizing warehouse layout in a manner no human would have thought of (and showing actual benefits in the amount of time needed to collect items) to finding risk factors for elderly people to fall and require hospitalization. (One of my coworkers found that a couple years ago, via “deep learning” examination of dozens of demographic and clinical factors. What popped out of the AI were factors such as age and weight, which were known to doctors and which served as a good check of the AI’s function, as well as a few surprises like a blood test showing some hormone over some threshold. Sorry about not remembering the details; I’m not a doc and they meant nothing to me. However, the docs put the findings to work and wound up with improved patient outcomes, showing that the AI’s findings were valid.)

As mentioned above, the claim that the demographics of the teams developing AIs result in systemic bias, somehow, is frequently made. The mechanism of this bad result is never detailed, merely hand-waved as a “Well, what else can it be?” As with the claims about biased training data, this is reasoning backward from a result which cannot be accepted to the conclusion that something must be wrong in the way the AI was built because of the people who built it.

The factor which is missing from “analyses” that the AIs must be wrong is the possibility that the AIs are right and that the common wisdom is wrong. That is, when there’s a discrepancy between A and B, why do they always assume that A is right and B is wrong?

It’s known that judges do a poor job in predicting recidivism. The good ones hitting maybe 60% is nothing to brag about.

It’s known that HR departments are bad at hiring, retention, and raise decisions because they apply criteria other than objective measures of expected or actual performance.

If what you care about is good results, then you should compare the real world effectiveness of what humans recommend versus what the AI recommends and go with whichever is get better results.

If the AI is giving bad results, you probably need to look at what it was told to do. More than that, you need to look at how you are deciding that the AI is wrong or unacceptable. By what criteria does the AI’s recommendation result in a bad result?

So far as I can see, only certain kinds of AI results result in butthurt. Not even radiologists complain when an AI detects early breast cancer at 99% accuracy, easily beating out the most experienced radiologists and doing a hundred times as many images in a day. It’s only when the AIs’ results trample on shibboleths of race or sex or other social factors that people complain.

There’s a saying which is common among some groups: Reality is that which doesn’t go away when you don’t believe in it. There’s an addendum to that: When religion collides with reality, reality wins but the truly faithful won’t admit it. (And they often use the unwelcome reality to strengthen their faith.)

The truth which the True Believers don’t want to admit is that a machine can do a better job of objectively seeing reality than humans can. The machine is more honest in looking at the world through whatever lens it’s told to look through.

AIs do a good job of finding patterns for what they’re optimized for. They give “wrong” results because there’s a mismatch between what people say is important and what is really important to them — eg, avoiding appearance of racial bias is more important than likelihood of repaying a loan.

If you want to make sure that “enough” black families get bank loans to meet some quota, program that into the AI. (The most straightforward way would be to order that the percentage of black loan recipients must exceed the percentage of local population which is black and let the AI figure out how to make that happen, but that may be too straightforward and honest for executives and managers to accept.)

If you want to believe that there’s no such thing as race, I don’t know what to tell you. Machines, which are not told in advance that there is no such thing as race, keep finding clusters of physiology or behavior or preference which bear a shocking similarity to race as understood by most people. Netflix came under fire for racism in their recommendations. Recommendations were based solely on the syllogism “Most people who liked X also liked Y. You liked X. We recommend Y to you.” But that was unacceptable because white people tended to like different things than black people. I don’t know how Netflix resolved that controversy, but I suspect that it was enough to simply point out that their customer sign-up form doesn’t ask about race.

Whatever way you go, be honest about how you’re deciding if an AI’s results are good. And stop attributing your own racism and sexism to the AI programmers.

5

Money shot!

Wasn’t gonna bother with this one originally, since it’s just not the sort of “news” item I give a crap about ordinarily. But then I read the New York Post’s write-up, which is so wonderful I just can’t help myself. First, you get the archetypical Post grabber-headline.

Woman fires gun at her vagina in cam show crotch shot gone horribly wrong

Heh. You begin to see what I mean right off the bat, I betcher. Right smack in the Post’s wheelhouse, a real gopher ball for those guys. But then, this IS the iconic tabloid that gave us the most famous headline in newspaper history, after all. On to the, umm, juicy bits.

Georgia webcam model Lauren Hunter Daman, 27, redefined “crotch shot” after discharging a firearm into her vagina during an alleged sex stunt gone awry.

“The female had shot herself in the vagina accidentally,” paramedic Brittany Rivers reportedly told responding police officers of the incident, which reportedly occurred on the morning of Nov. 9 at a residence in Thomaston, per a report by the Upson County Sheriff, the Smoking Gun reported.

Later interviews with witnesses revealed that the sex pistol-turned-gunshot victim was apparently alone in her bedroom when the weapon — a 9mm handgun — went off.

Officers were first alerted to firearm fiasco after receiving an “accidental gunshot wound” call from the residence, according to the police report. Upon arriving at the scene, a sheriff’s deputy encountered EMS Rivers, who was holding the unloaded handgun and a spent bullet casing in her hands.

She told the officer that Daman had blasted herself in the netherregions.

Police then conducted interviews with Daman’s three housemates, two of whom were present during the accident, to try and shed light on the alleged boudoir backfire.

Jordan Allen, the reported owner of the firearm, told officers that he was “in the kitchen walking back to the bedroom when he heard the gun go off.” Upon reaching the bedroom, Allen discovered Daman with “a small amount of blood” on her leg, at which point she reportedly informed him “that she shot herself accidentally” and apologized.

Meanwhile, a second witness named Cody Starnes told deputies that his mother Addie Ruth Johnson came into his bedroom and reported that “Daman had been shot.”

Allen revealed to officers how her inadvertent vagino-blasty allegedly transpired.

“Boudoir backfire”? “Inadvertent vagino-blasty”? COME ON, MAN!!! Pure, classic Post-age right there, and no mistake about it.

Now, like most of you miscreants and ne’er do wells out there in CF Land, I wouldn’t give a greasy Biden-shart if every last “newspaper” in America went under and ceased all publishing operations by mid-morning tomorrow—excepting the New York Post. Them, and only them, I would truly hate to see close up shop, and would mourn deeply if they did. The loss of such a wonderful news outlet would be a grievous one indeed, a bona fide catastrophe not just for NYC but for the entire nation. Long may those rascals wave, I say! America needs the Post, now more than ever before.

Fire In The Hole update! Pics of Miss Smokin’ Snatch—the Vented Slotte Girl, Kid Kordite Krotch herself—over at the Daily Mail. I have to admit, she’s rather cute in most of ’em, in that gormless-yet-worldly, slutty-naif way you often come across in the better, more upscale trailer parks. Way more so than I expected she would be, anyhoo.

3

Disgusting, appalling, intolerable

I’m gonna excise the name of the town and state from the excerpt, just as a tease. See if you can guess where it might be.

School boards have always attracted their share of controversies: disagreements over curriculum, bitter election fights, and personality clashes. But in recent months, as parents express their frustration over Covid lockdowns, mask mandates, and critical race theory, local school districts and federal law enforcement have upped the ante by monitoring parents, requesting undercover agents at school board meetings, and even arresting parents who attend board meetings to express dissent.

The latest and most egregious example comes from ******, ****. In a series of school board meetings this fall, two fathers—a minister named Jeremy Story and a retired Army captain named Dustin Clark—spoke out against alleged corruption and school officials’ hostility toward parents. Journalist Pedro Gonzalez reported that at an August meeting, Story had calmly “produced evidence that the board had covered up an alleged assault by the superintendent, Hafedh Azaiez, against a mistress.” The superintendent and school board president cut him off midsentence and ordered officers to remove him from the premises.

At the next meeting, in September, with the district’s controversial mask mandate on the agenda, the school board locked the majority of parents out of the room, preventing them from speaking. Clark and other frustrated parents asked the board to open the nearly empty room to the public. Instead, school board president Amy Weir directed officers to remove Clark from school property. As he was dragged out by two officers, Clark shouted to the audience: “It’s an open meeting! Shame on you. Communist! Communist! Let the public in!”

A few days later, the school district, in coordination with law enforcement, sent police officers to the homes of both men, arrested them, and put them in jail on charges of “disorderly conduct with intent to disrupt a meeting.” Families and supporters of Story and Clark held an all-night protest outside the jail, until the men were released the following morning. They are now raising funds for their legal defense.

The school board was able to do this because the ****** Independent School District has its own police force, with a three-layer chain of command, patrol units, school resource officers, a detective, and a K-9 unit. The department serves under the authority of the board and, through coordination with other agencies, apparently has the power to order the arrest of citizens in their homes. For many parents, the school board is sending a message: if you speak out against us, we will turn you into criminals. When reached for comment, the school district’s police department confirmed that it initiated the investigation and that “one board member requested details from the ****** Police” prior to the criminal referral.

Bill makes one of the most cogent points, but I can easily think of several more:

A little something for those naifs who still think that the coppers will form a Thin Blue Line of constitutional protection between the public and the ruling class that pays their salaries.

Hate to say it, but I don’t expect it to be much different when the military is sent in to round up Real Americans and shut them down, gulag style. Yes, there are still good cops, just as there are good soldiers—sober, thoughtful men who take the oath they swore to the US Constitution seriously, and who find themselves at an extremely troubling moral crossroads now. I’ve heard from some of them as this bizarre (un)American inversion has played out over the last nigh-on two years, have spoken at length with some who live around here—people I’ve known since I was but a wee lad, a couple of them. The prospect of being given such outrageous orders is causing them true anguish, calling into question the core ideals and beliefs they’ve lived by their entire adult lives, making them wonder what all those years of sacrifice, hardship, and extreme risk were for, if anything.

Ahh, but did you guess where this jackbooted trampling of so many Constitutional principles and “protections” it actually, physically pains me to think about it actually went down?

It was in Round Rock, Texas.

That would be TEXAS, people. TEXAS. With a capital T-E-X-A-S.

What. The. Actual. FUCK.

If this sort of thing starts happening in Florida, may Almighty God forbid it, it’ll be proof positive that our problems are even bigger than we realized.

Update! Cold comfort.

Round Rock is a city in the U.S. state of Texas, in Williamson County (with a small part in Travis County), which is a part of the Greater Austin metropolitan area. Its population was 99,887 at the 2010 census.

The city straddles the Balcones Escarpment, a fault line in which the areas roughly east of Interstate 35 are flat and characterized by having black, fertile soils of the Blackland Prairie, and the west side of the Escarpment, which consists mostly of hilly, karst-like terrain with little topsoil and higher elevations and which is part of the Texas Hill Country. Located about 20 miles (32 km) north of downtown Austin, Round Rock shares a common border with Austin at Texas State Highway 45.

In August 2008, Money named Round Rock as the seventh-best American small city in which to live. Round Rock was the only Texas city to make the Top 10. In a CNN article dated July 1, 2009, Round Rock was listed as the second-fastest-growing city in the country, with a population growth of 8.2% in the preceding year.

Round Rock is perhaps best known as the international headquarters of Dell Technologies, which employs about 16,000 people at its Round Rock facilities. The presence of Dell along with other major employers, an economic development program, major retailers such as IKEA, a Premium Outlet Mall, and the mixed-use La Frontera center, have changed Round Rock from a sleepy bedroom community into its own self-contained “super suburb”.

All that being so, the bolded bits in particular, I suppose the real shock is that there were any dissenting parents there in the first place. The tell-tale signs of a sudden shitlib-locust infestation are all right there, easy to see for anybody who’s experienced one of these tragic invasions up close and personal.

5

One for Big Country

I’m QUITE sure he knows about this deal already, but just in case it got by him somehow.

EXOTHERMIC TECHNOLOGIES PULSEFIRE LRT FLAMETHROWER, OD GREEN – PF-LRT
$799.99 $599.99

FEATURES:
The patent-pending Pulsefire is the ultimate compact, lightweight, fully handheld flamethrower that sends a blast of fire 25 feet away with the press of a button. Fill it like any other outdoor tool. With the system off, unscrew the cap and pour in gasoline or a gas/diesel mixture. When the battery gets low, take it out and charge it or swap in a spare to keep bringing the heat. The Exothermic Technologies Pulsefire is the safest and most effective way to apply fire at a distance. Includes everything you need to get up and running, besides fuel!

Is there a reason I immediately thought of BCE when I saw Bill’s mention, you ask? Why, yes. Yes, there is. Tried to embed the blasted vidya but it didn’t seem to be an option, so you’ll just have to motor on down to the end of the post to see it. Trust me, the maniacal laughter alone is well worth the wear and tear on your scrolling finger.

2

Happy Thanksgiving

Hope all you CFers enjoyed the many blessings of this most uniquely American holiday to the very fullest. For those of you out there cursed with a foul, bitter Leftist at your family’s table every year—contra the all-too-familiar avalanche of “How To Scold Your Loathsome, Racist, Homophobic, Non-Woke Relatives During Thanksgiving Dinner” articles shat forth by the MFM every year, there are quite a few who aren’t so afflicted, the fortiunate sods—may your circle’s gathering have been happy and fulfilling enough to intensify said Lefty ghoul’s self-inflicted wretchedness and misery by orders of magnitude, leaving him with a tale of familial horror, suffering, and despair none of the other insufferable ingrates in the dorm or residence hall could ever hope to top.

7

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