GIVE TIL IT HURTS!

Brine shrimp

Anybody out there old enough to remember Sea Monkeys?

Sea-Monkeys is a marketing term for brine shrimp (Artemia) sold as novelty aquarium pets. Developed in the United States in 1957 by Harold von Braunhut, they are sold as eggs intended to be added to water, and most often come bundled in a kit of three pouches and instructions. Sometimes a small tank and additional pouches are included. The product was marketed in the 1960s and 70s, especially in comic books, and remains a presence in popular culture.

Ant farms had been popularized in 1956 by Milton Levine. Harold von Braunhut invented a brine-shrimp-based product the next year, 1957. Von Braunhut collaborated with a marine biologist, Anthony D’Agostino, to develop the proper mix of nutrients and chemicals in dry form that could be added to plain tap water to create a suitable habitat for the shrimp to thrive. Von Braunhut was granted a patent for this process on July 4, 1972.

They were initially called “Instant Life” and sold for $0.49, but von Braunhut changed the name to “Sea-Monkeys” in 1962. The new name was based on their salt-water habitat, together with the supposed resemblance of the animals’ tails to those of monkeys.

Sea-Monkeys were intensely marketed in comic books throughout the 1960s and early 1970s using illustrations by the comic-book illustrator Joe Orlando. These showed humanoid animals that bore no resemblance to the crustaceans. Many purchasers were disappointed by the dissimilarity and by the short lifespan of the animals. Von Braunhut is quoted as stating: “I think I bought something like 3.2 million pages of comic book advertising a year. It worked beautifully.”

Good old American marketing genius and ingenuity, that’s what, enhanced by a heaping helping of old school medicine-show hucksterism. What reminded me of it all was this post over at BRM. I tried leaving a comment over at Peter’s joint, but I don’t think it took.

There are several iterations of the Sea Monkeys ad findable via Luxxle search, but the one I remember best is this one:

Please note the disclaimer at bottom left—truth in advertising if ever I saw it, although as a kid I of course would pay it no heed. After refusing for a few years, my Dad finally consented to order some for me back then, and I must say the main result of the whole project was profound disappointment. Be all that as it may, one has to ask: was the world really a more fun place then, or were we all just more gullible? All things considered, this might be the perfect time to embrace the healing power of “and.”

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Best juvenile tantrums EVAR!!

Why yes, as a matter of fact I AM laughing at you childish brats losing your shit publicly for the simple, pathetic reason that you didn’t get your way. Why do you ask?

This next one might be even better yet: dumpy, unattractive cunt decides to cut off her hair so as to deny us the opportunity to desire her sexually, which none (0) of us actually do anyway.

Problem being, of course, that she’s too fucking stupid to figure out how to work the electric clippers, and finally has to resort to ordinary scissors to get the job done. Idiot.

All this sniveling psychopathy, mind, because their preferred candidate lost. You dames better find a way to toughen up, and fast. Lots more mental breakdowns both here and here, if you can stomach ’em. Personally, I find them uproariously funny, but mebbe that’s just me. I’m heartless like that sometimes, don’tchaknow.

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Peanut’s revenge

Speaking to us from beyond the grave.


Can there be any serious doubt about what’s going on here? I THINK NOT. Thank you, Peanut!

(Via Ace)

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And now for something completely different…

It begins this way:

On a day when everybody’s going to be blathering on about elections and voting and partisanship, I figured we could all do with something completely different.

Said a mouthful there, Peter. The video he embeds, a NatGeo doc called Billy & Molly: An Otter Love Story, is also available on YewToob here, and is simply beyond heartwarming—just a wonderful story. Such a welcome relief from the tedious bullshit that is “American” “elections” nowadays, providing a lively contrast with last week’s P’nut the Squirrel abomination. Narrated by Billy’s bemused wife, Billy & Molly… is slam-full of lushly beautiful Shetland Islands scenery, and tells a story that’s bound to touch anyone with a properly-functioning soul deeply. Not to be missed. As one of Peter’s commenters snarks, thank God Billy and Molly aren’t in New York.

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Smash the State

Oh noes, looks like Trump has murdered poor Peanut the Squirrel! You may laugh, but t’ain’t funny, McGee: you know as well as I do that it will be tomorrow morning’s NYT headline, and the subject of the next Kumhaula for ***”pResident”*** ad.


Operative words in this next one: “We complied.” That was your mistake, bud. NEVER comply with the whims of dictators and tyrants.


Happily, the squirrels know the appropriate response to murderous oppression. If only we humans were as intelligent as our furry four-legged friends.

You go, gi…uhhh, squirrels! Via Ed, an explainer for why this seemingly insignificant story really does matter.

In the midst of the decisive election campaign of our lifetimes, why talk about Peanut the Squirrel? Aren’t there more important issues like the polls, turnout, shenanigans, and all the day’s news?

Actually, the Peanut saga is the WHOLE story, in a nutshell.

Yeah, yeah, sorry. Onwards.

Yes, all those things matter. But the story of Peanut matters because it is a microcosm of what we are facing. A nameless, faceless, and merciless bureaucracy with no sense of proportion or empathy can, at a whim, upend people’s lives over what amounts to nothing. It can seize a beloved family pet, the mascot of an organization that does enormous good, just because some nanny-stater decides they don’t approve.

The streets of New York City are filled with criminals and migrants, billions are spent on hotel rooms for illegals, drugs are ravaging our communities, and lawlessness is spreading in ways that degrade our civilization. Those are big problems that are difficult to deal with, so the government turns its Sauron eye to Peanut because it can overwhelm the little guy with no problem.

Improving people’s lives is hard. Killing a squirrel is easy.

And far more satisfying to the kind of miserable parasite you find burrowed deeply into all goobermint bureaucracies, too.

We all get overwhelmed by the enormous challenges we face, but we can all understand the story of a squirrel. In our guts, we know what happened is wrong–what we need to understand is that this is how government works as often as not. The ostensible reason behind the raid and 5-hour squirrel (and raccoon) hunt in a man’s home is that Peanut could have rabies, and rabies control is a government function.

Oh, absolutely! Says so right there in the, um, Constitution. Not that anybody cares about that old thing anymore. Bottom line? Just this.

Fighting rabies in the wild is hard, and it is MUCH easier to euthanize a squirrel that lives indoors and could not possibly have rabies. Eight government employees can waste a day ransacking a man’s house, kill a squirrel, and call it a day without having to do anything that actually makes the public safer. Win!

PREACH it, bruh!


The last word is DOA’s.

“Whatcha gonna do with your head in a noose,” indeed. Although Joey Shithead’s response is “I DON’T KNOOOOW,” I most certainly do: nothing, that’s what.

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Rock on, Party Cat!

I loved the Pat and Party Cat saga so much I simply HAD to do a follow-up post, after digging a little further into the story.

Rescue Cat Sees the Country From the Back of a Bike
Just because you ride a bike and you look like a tough guy, that doesn’t mean you can’t have a soft side too. Just look at New Jersey biker, Pat Doody, and his rescue kitty, Party Cat.

Doody was on his way back to New Jersey, after a cross-country trek to Born Free in California. At a truck stop in Nevada, Doody found this poor little guy abandoned, with burns all over his fuzzy little body. But instead of saying, “oh, that’s so sad,” and moving on, Doody picked up the cat, put him in his vest, and brought Party Cat along for the ride.

Apparently, Party Cat took to the road instantly.

Doody did a pretty excellent job of documenting the duo’s adventure back home, too.

“Found this little orange nugget in wells nv. He’s done a few hundred miles in vest so far. Looks like he burnt his lip some how. But he’s a cool dude,” Doody posted on his Tumblr, along with the picture above from Pinebrook Trails.

Apparently the road was good to Party Cat, as Doody says the cat is doing much better, and that his burns have almost healed entirely. So not only has the cat found himself a home, he’s also found himself a hobby. Ride on, Party Cat, ride on.

Yes indeed, little guy. Another:

Biker Rescues Tiny Injured Kitten and Goes on Cross-Country Road Trip Together
It’s certainly an unusual sight to see a heavily-bearded biker carrying around a tiny kitten, but Pat Doody and his furry friend Party Cat are a match made in heaven. They came together serendipitously, as Doody was headed towards his home in New Jersey all the way from California. He was at a truck stop in Nevada filling his tank with gas and noticed that the little guy needed help–he was badly burned. Doody rescued Party Cat by tucking him into his vest and taking him on the road.

The rest of their relationship is history. Although Doody was still thousands of miles away from his destination, the calm, well-mannered Party Cat was okay with the trek. He nibbled on dry tuna during the ride, and his new-found human applied ointment to his injuries along the way. “His burns are pretty much all healed up except for the little spot on his lip…It looks a lot better and doesn’t seem to be bothering him,” Doody explained to Revzilla.

Now that they’re home, Party Cat is eating proper cat food and has seen a veterinarian, and Doody has gained an adorable, permanently-loyal pal.

More great photos of the dynamic duo appended to the above short article, including this one:

A damned good-looking pair, wouldn’t you say? I sure would.

This Biker Does Not Look Like A Cat Lover, But After A Motorcycle Show He Had No Choice
When biker and sheetmetal worker Pat Doody left the Born-Free motorcycle show in Silverado, California, he expected to make the trek back home with friends, but he didn’t think he’d be sharing his bike with a new one.

He was noticeably injured and obviously a stray, so naturally the biker felt like he needed to take him in.

After getting some consistent food and rest, the little cat quickly began to regain his health.

Eventually, he was healthy enough to join Doody on his day-to-day adventures…

Wherever they are, whatever they’re doing, Party Cat just goes with the flow.

But finally, after a long and eventful journey, the pair arrived safely at home, where they both continue to enjoy their new friendship.

Lots, lots more heartwarming photos at that one, including a candid photo of PC enjoying his new Jersey digs:

Heh. Looks like Party Cat fell into a pretty schweet set-up all around, I am happy to report. One more:

Biker saves badly burned kitten and takes him on a cross-country adventure
Party Cat is living a great life on the open road.

He’s known as Party Cat.

Rescued by New Jersey biker Pat Doody at truck stop, Party Cat was found with burns all over his body. Instead of leaving him behind, Doody tucked him in his vest and continued on a cross-country adventure.

Despite his name, Doody describes Party Cat as “so chill.” Doody has a YouTube channel, but he has yet to make a video featuring Party Cat, and his Instagram is currently locked. Thankfully, Doody’s Tumblr is full of adorable cat pics, and we’re waiting patiently for Party Cat’s eventual social media stardom.

There’s another brief article w/pics here, among plenty of others. I say again: Good on ya, Pat Doody, and God bless you and Party Cat both. Best wishes for many more happy two-wheelin’ years together.

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AWWW!

Doesn’t suck? Dude, it ROCKS!

Stuff that doesn’t suck: Pat and Party Cat
The fellow flanking us was filthy, and upon his shoulder sat a small orange kitten, making the chopper pilot look like (the) world’s friendliest pirate.

Spurgeon and I were walking down a dirt path inside Nelson Ledges Quarry Park at the Lowbrow Getdown. We may have been inebriated. We were walking to see Blue Oyster Cult play a little rock ‘n’ roll. We commented to the cat-bearing fellow about how odd it was to see a kitten at a motorcycle event, and then we got the story of a lifetime.

Pat hails from New Jersey, not too far from RevZilla, but we met him in Ohio, hundreds of miles from home. Pat told us a story that would have been unbelievable if he didn’t have the furry proof standing on his shoulder. That adorable bucket of fuzz, by the way, now is known as Party Cat.

“I was coming back from Born Free in California, and we had made it to Nevada,” Pat told us. “I was at this truck stop getting gas, and this little guy just needed help. He was pretty badly burned, so I picked him up and tucked him inside my vest. We’re feeding him regularly now, so he’s doing better, even though he’s sort of living on the road until we get home.

“He’s been eating tuna fish out of those dry-foil packs you can buy, and his burns are pretty much all healed up except for the little spot on his lip. He’s so chill. He just hangs out in my vest when we get on the road. I’ve never met a cat so calm.”

Yes, there’s a pic, yes, it’s great, and no, I wouldn’t dream of not running it.

A real one-percenter

I repeat: AWWW! A cross-country Ironbutt trek all the way from Nevada to Jersey tucked inside a biker’s cutoff, with nary a complaint? That cute li’l booger is a natural-born scooter tramp for sure and certain. Good on ya, Pat, and God bless you and your feline passenger. Another rough, tough biker with a heart of gold, with a lot of gentle, loving kindness at its core. That may come as something of a surprise to people who don’t really know bikers, but not to me—almost all the many I’ve known have been like that.

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Chinks gotta Chink

Remember back when China was known primarily for cheap, shoddy imitations of a vastly-superior genuine article? Nah, me neither.


Jeez O Pete, guys, SRSLY?!?

Via VP, who duly acknowledges: “Granted, they are still awfully cute.” Heh. Indeed.

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Hero in a grey hoodie

They don’t always wear brightly-colored tights and a cape, you know.

A Man Who Mows Lawns For Free Saved A Cat Sanctuary From Shutting Down
Today’s good news story comes from Corpus Christi, Texas.

In a heartwarming turn of events, Spencer, a dedicated man from SB Mowing who cuts overgrown lawns for free, recently found himself at the center of an extraordinary rescue mission.

Spencer, known for cleaning up neglected properties across the country and sharing his work on social media, stumbled upon an injured cat while on the job, leading to the revival of an entire cat sanctuary.

While clearing the overgrown lawn, Spencer discovered a severely injured cat hidden deep in the grass. The cat had an infected abscess under its arm and was unable to move.

“He seemed like he was ready to lay there until he passed away from infection,” Spencer recalled. Desperate to help, Spencer contacted several places, but none were willing to take the cat in.

His persistence paid off when he reached out to Edgar and Ivy’s Cat Sanctuary. The sanctuary, specializing in the care of injured, hurt, and abused cats, agreed to take the cat in and provide the necessary medical treatment. Moved by their kindness, Spencer decided to launch a GoFundMe campaign to support the sanctuary, aiming to raise $10,000.

Anissa Beal, the director of Edgar and Ivy’s, revealed that the sanctuary was on the brink of closure. “He said, ‘Maybe I can get you $10,000 or something.’ And I said, ‘That would be life-changing,'” Beal said. The sanctuary had been struggling financially, with Beal spending half of her income to keep it running. She had been praying for a sign to continue her work.

The response to Spencer’s campaign was overwhelming. Since sharing the GoFundMe link with his millions of followers, over $187,000 has been raised for Edgar and Ivy’s Cat Sanctuary. Additionally, four Amazon trucks loaded with donations arrived at the sanctuary, providing much-needed supplies.

“It was a miracle, and it makes me emotional to think that so many people could care about us and about this cat and what we’re doing,” Beal expressed. “I’m afraid I’m going to wake up and that it’s not true. This is beyond anything I could have ever imagined.”

Go watch the embedded video at the end of the piece to learn how very much dust there is floating around in your home-office or computer room; there’s bound to be a lot more of it than you suspect—enormous eye-stinging clouds of it, in fact. Be sure to have a family-size box of Kleenex close at hand when you do, that’s my advice.

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Government playing God

YET AGAIN, that is.

To save spotted owls, US officials plan to kill hundreds of thousands of another owl species
To save the imperiled spotted owl from potential extinction, U.S. wildlife officials are embracing a contentious plan to deploy trained shooters into dense West Coast forests to kill almost a half-million barred owls that are crowding out their cousins.

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service strategy released Wednesday is meant to prop up declining spotted owl populations in Oregon, Washington state and California. The Associated Press obtained details in advance.

Documents released by the agency show up to about 450,000 barred owls would be shot over three decades after the birds from the eastern U.S. encroached into the West Coast territory of two owls: northern spotted owls and California spotted owls. The smaller spotted owls have been unable to compete with the invaders, which have large broods and need less room to survive than spotted owls.

Past efforts to save spotted owls focused on protecting the forests where they live, sparking bitter fights over logging but also helping slow the birds’ decline. The proliferation of barred owls in recent years is undermining that earlier work, officials said.

“Without actively managing barred owls, northern spotted owls will likely go extinct in all or the majority of their range, despite decades of collaborative conservation efforts,” said Fish and Wildlife Service Oregon state supervisor Kessina Lee.

The notion of killing one bird species to save another has divided wildlife advocates and conservationists. It’s reminiscent of past government efforts to save West Coast salmon by killing sea lions and cormorants that prey on the fish, and to preserve warblers by killing cowbirds that lay eggs in warbler nests.

“The Fish and Wildlife Service is turning from protector of wildlife to persecutor of wildlife,” said Wayne Pacelle, founder of the advocacy group Animal Wellness Action. He predicted the program would fail because the agency won’t be able to keep more barred owls from migrating into areas where others have been killed.

The shootings would likely begin next spring, officials said. Barred owls would be lured using megaphones to broadcast recorded owl calls, then shot with shotguns. Carcasses would be buried on site.

Sick, arrogant fucks. But don’t any of you Serf Class oafs be getting any bright ideas from this, mmmkay?

Public hunting of barred owls wouldn’t be allowed. The wildlife service would designate government agencies, landowners, American Indian tribes or companies to carry out the killings. Shooters would have to provide documentation of training or experience in owl identification and firearm skills.

Oh goodie, I feel better already! I’m confident it will all work out a-okay—y’know, just like every other one of their meddlesome, half-baked schemes has— now that I know that goobermint-vetted “experts” are involved. There DOES seem to be one other tiny, minor little problem though.

But there is more to this story than the “old growth” fabrication. Another misrepresentation is that the northern spotted owl is a unique species at all.

Endangered “northern spotted owls” are a “sub-species” of spotted owls, which means they are, in fact, the same species as California spotted owls and Mexican spotted owls, which also live on the west coast. Their difference is that geographic distance and separation have caused some differences in plumage and appearance. To call these spotted owls a different “sub-species” is like stating that Norwegians, Koreans, and Nigerians are different subspecies of homo sapiens. The notion of bird “sub-species” is actively rejected by many in the ornithology community.

This research piece from the Cooper Ornithological Society makes it rather clear that the spotted owl is all one species, noting that the northern spotted owl’s identifying features are based on a specimen from Puget Sound in Washington, while the California spotted owl is based on one from Southern California, but the identifying features of spotted owls gradually morph between the two locations.

In summary, two great lies are at the root of the environmental damage that has been done in the name of the spotted owl: 1) That logging was responsible for their decreasing spotted owl population in the Pacific Northwest; and 2) That there is even such a species as the “northern spotted owl.”

But hundreds of thousands of barred owls are now going to be killed in perpetuation of these lies. Considering that the “green,” anti-carbon advocates of the wind industry defend the senseless killing of millions of eagles, raptors, and migratory birds as a necessary religious sacrament, this proposed owl slaughter is consistent with the 21st Century environmental movement.

Ummm…OOOPS! Well, hey, ya wins some and ya loses some, I reckon. After all, it’s really the thought that counts, right?

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Rat Rods!!!

Via WeirdDave, this may not be the entire reason why Twitter video exists, but it’s for damn sure and certain one of the best.


In case you’re unsure of exactly what you’re seeing here, what it is is real science, by and for real people (and, well, rats), not government-owned eggheads in labs coats afflicted by a grossly over-inflated sense of their own importance. I’ve watched this four times already, and I know I ain’t done watching it yet—probably never will be, in all honesty. This guy’s dad is a pure-tee genius. I just can’t stop laughing.

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Devastated, distraught, destroyed

Posting for tonight (maybe longer, it’s too early to say) is gonna be delayed a bit, due to the awful fact that, after getting back home from a long afternoon of schlepping my brother around all over CLT on a quest for Freightshaker parts, I found one of my feline foursome, Mr Bunny Fluffster—so named by my daughter Madeleine because, even not long after he was born, she noted he had, and I quote, “big bunny feet!” Plus, he was, y’know, fluffy—which he still is, actually, although he did eventually grow those big ol’ bunny feet of his into proper proportion with the rest of him.

He must have gotten out through this open vent hole in Madeleine’s bedroom closet, I figger. Usually the door to that room stays closed, but as she was here over the weekend it’s been open; we had covered that vent hole with doubled-up cardboard and Gorilla tape, but either the tape let go—unlikely, I think, since Gorilla tape has never failed me before—or the cats worried at it and worried at it until it finally gave up the ghost.

Either way, my sweet little Bunny-boy is outside in the cold, where he has never been before, and I’m worried sick about him. So I’ll be headed to the front door, where I set out a small dish of dry food and water for him, and calling for him every few minutes, probably all night long unless by some miracle he shows up before too long. So if posting here is tardy or even nonexistent, well, now you know why.

My blog-bud KT ran a pic of baby Bun-Bun on the AoSHQ Pet Thread a while back, one of my all-time favorite kitteh pictures; in the photo, Bun is the grey and white bicolor kitten in the driver’s seat, with his brother Sluggo sprawled out on the hood.

Cute little booger, no? Here’s one taken just last week, of my two good boys cuddled up together on the bed as sister Precious wonders what the heck is going on.

All four feline Musketeers were born five years ago on Easter Sunday; their mama, Fearless, was probably nabbed by a coyote just after they’d been weaned. There was a fifth kitten in the litter, which was adopted by Brack’s little sis Lauren and is living large with her and her husband Jem.

Although it might seem sort of a trivial thing to be bothering the Almighty with, you better believe I’ve been sending up the prayers for Bunny’s safe return in job lots over the past hour or so. You critter lovers will readily understand my anguish; non-critter people never will.

The power of prayer update! YESSS YESYESYESYESYES!!! After Barry’s comments-section suggestion to put some wet food outside to entice him, I set the two-chambered dish he and Precious eat their evening wet-food treat from (with his side still full, natch) out by the door with the other goodies. A bit over a half-hour passes, and I go to call for him again. This time, Sluggo and Precious were sitting at the door so close their noses were practically touching the glass, tails switching madly back and forth: clearly, there was something out there that had caught their attention completely. 

I roll up, open the door, and lo! All the wet food, all the dry food, and about half the water were gone! Fearing it might have been et by a damned raccoon or some other neighborhood outdoor cat, I started calling for Bun one more time, still not daring to hope. Then: a scratchy, soft little “meow” from off to the right side of the deck that I knew could have but one source! Sure enough, Bun-Bun hopped onto the deck from the right, took a long, yearning look at his joyously-relieved Daddy, then looked past me through the open door where all the warm was, as well as his three anxious siblings gathered behind me. I backed out of the doorway, called to him again, and hey presto! He dashed back home to us.

After the four-legged chums had all touched noses in glorious reunion, Bunny-boy beelined for the dry food dish and ate his fill while I sat by and rubbed his back, shoulders, and head, that internal cat-motor running smooth as fine silk. I could maybe be more delighted, but at the moment I sure don’t see how. Barry, many, many thanks for the suggestion, it sure enough did the trick.

All’s well that ends well update! Well, THAT sure didn’t take long.

Snapped just now with my phone, from in front of my desk. That’s a warm, cozy, happy boy, right there. I’m pretty damned happy my own self, I must say.

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Skeptic

"There is no better way to stamp your power on people than through the dead hand of bureaucracy. You cannot reason with paperwork."
David Black, from Turn Left For Gibraltar

"If the laws of God and men, are therefore of no effect, when the magistracy is left at liberty to break them; and if the lusts of those who are too strong for the tribunals of justice, cannot be otherwise restrained than by sedition, tumults and war, those seditions, tumults and wars, are justified by the laws of God and man."
John Adams

"The limits of tyranny are prescribed by the endurance of those whom they oppress."
Frederick Douglass

"Give me the media and I will make of any nation a herd of swine."
Joseph Goebbels

“I hope we once again have reminded people that man is not free unless government is limited. There’s a clear cause and effect here that is as neat and predictable as a law of physics: As government expands, liberty contracts.”
Ronald Reagan

"Ain't no misunderstanding this war. They want to rule us and aim to do it. We aim not to allow it. All there is to it."
NC Reed, from Parno's Peril

"I just want a government that fits in the box it originally came in."
Bill Whittle

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