Category: Flotsam and/or Jetsam

Catchall for whatever doesn’t fit elsewhere

GIVE TIL IT HURTS!

TRUE culprit found

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Well, this would certainly explain a few things, wouldn’t it?

Report: Sandbag That Tripped Biden On Stage Also Participated In Jan 6 Capitol Riot
COLORADO SPRINGS, CO — The motive behind a sandbag’s sudden attack on President Joe Biden became more clear today, as sources within the federal government have produced photos showing the sandbag also participated in the U.S. Capitol riot on January 6, 2021.

“This sandbag has been a dangerous entity for some time,” said one source under the condition of anonymity. “After reviewing video footage from the January 6, 2021 riot at the Capitol, we discovered the sandbag among the other Trump-supporting domestic terrorists. The sandbag has evaded justice since that day, giving it the opportunity to trip President Biden at the Air Force commencement ceremony.”

As officials continued to dig into the sandbag’s past, further red flags were raised. “We have also found a lengthy manifesto written by the sandbag,” the source said. “We will not be releasing the manifesto to the public due to the potential damage it could cause to our democracy, but it’s really bad. Just trust us, we’re the government.”

Though unharmed in the tripping incident, President Biden has privately vowed to bring the full weight of the federal government behind his crusade to hunt down other sandbags. Additional reports seem to have indicated the sand inside the bag was white, raising concerns about ties to white supremacist organizations.

There’s hard photographic proof included with the linked article, which plainly has not been Photoshopped or otherwise altered in any way, shape, or form. Unsurprisingly, the sandbag also had close ties with Putin and RUSSIARUSSIARUSSIA. Can exposure of even deeper links to Trump and the demonic MAGA agenda be long in coming?

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We wuz KANGS ‘n’ sheeit!

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Does this count as “cultural appropriation,” or nah? Asking for a friend.

KangAragorn

Proving once again that no, there really is nothing they’re willing to just leave alone and let us have to ourselves—absolutely, positively NOTHING. Remember it, people; this material may or may not be on the final exam, which is coming up real soon. Sooner than you think, probably.

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Empire Of Lies

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The FUSA indubitably is such now, but was it always? Could be, could be. Y’all are doubtless familiar with the Bixby Letter of great renown, as so unforgettably quoted by the actor portraying Ike’s CoS, US GEN George C Marshall, in Saving Private Ryan:

Some damned fine acting there, folks—particularly the part where Marshall sits to finish quoting the letter from memory, with wonderfully understated passion and intensity. Those are the kind of actor’s choices which can make or break a movie, which elevate a merely good flick to a truly great one. One thing I know: when I first saw that early Ryan scene in the local cineplex—after the harrowing, almost unbearable D-Day scene at the beginning—there couldn’t be the least doubt that I was in for one hell of a good ride. And so I was at that. There’s a reason Spielberg’s masterpiece went on to be thought of as one of the greatest movies ever made, and it’s a good one too.

Ahh, but was Lincoln’s letter to the bereaved Mrs Bixby all that IT was cracked up to be? Apparently, it wasn’t; in fact, it may well not have been authored by President Lincoln at all, but by his secretary John Hay.

The Bixby letter is a brief, consoling message sent by President Abraham Lincoln in November 1864 to Lydia Parker Bixby, a widow living in Boston, Massachusetts, who was thought to have lost five sons in the Union Army during the American Civil War. Along with the Gettysburg Address and his second inaugural address, the letter has been praised as one of Lincoln’s finest written works and is often reproduced in memorials, media, and print.

Controversy surrounds the recipient, the fate of her sons, and the authorship of the letter. Bixby’s character has been questioned (including rumored Confederate sympathies), at least two of her sons survived the war, and the letter was possibly written by Lincoln’s assistant private secretary, John Hay.

On September 24, 1864, Massachusetts Adjutant General William Schouler wrote to Massachusetts Governor John Albion Andrew about a discharge request sent to the governor by Otis Newhall, the father of five Union soldiers. In the letter, Schouler recalled how, two years prior, they had helped a poor widow named Lydia Bixby to visit a son who was a patient at an Army hospital. About ten days earlier, Bixby had come to Schouler’s office claiming that five of her sons had died fighting for the Union. Governor Andrew forwarded Newhall’s request to the U.S. War Department with a note requesting that the president honor Bixby with a letter.

In response to a War Department request of October 1, Schouler sent a messenger to Bixby’s home six days later, asking for the names and units of her sons. He sent a report to the War Department on October 12, which was delivered to President Lincoln by Secretary of War Edwin Stanton sometime after October 28.

On November 21, both the Boston Evening Traveller and the Boston Evening Transcript published an appeal by Schouler for contributions to assist soldiers’ families at Thanksgiving which mentioned a widow who had lost five sons in the war. Schouler had some of the donations given to Bixby and then visited her home on Thanksgiving, November 24. The letter from the President arrived at Schouler’s office the next morning.

Nevertheless, at least two of Lydia Bixby’s sons survived the war.

Lydia Bixby died in Boston on October 27, 1878, while a patient at Massachusetts General Hospital. In his initial letter to Governor Andrew, Schouler called Bixby “the best specimen of a true-hearted Union woman I have yet seen,” but in the years following her death both her character and loyalty were questioned.

Writing to her daughter in 1904, Boston socialite Sarah Cabot Wheelwright claimed she had met and had given charitable aid to Lydia Bixby during the war, hoping that one of her sons, in Boston on leave, might help deliver packages to Union prisoners of war; but she later heard gossip that Bixby “kept a house of ill-fame, was perfectly untrustworthy and as bad as she could be”.

In the 1920s, Lincoln scholar William E Barton interviewed the oldest residents of Hopkinton, Massachusetts for their memories of Bixby’s family before she moved to Boston. They recalled her sons as being “tough” with “some of them too fond of drink”. One son may have “served a jail sentence for some misdemeanor”.

On August 12, 1925, Elizabeth Towers, a daughter of Oliver Bixby, told the Boston Herald that her grandmother had “great sympathy for the South” and that her mother recalled that Bixby had been “highly indignant” about the letter with “little good to say of President Lincoln”. In 1949, Towers’ nephew, Arthur March Bixby, claimed that Lydia Bixby had moved to Massachusetts from Richmond, Virginia; though this assertion is contradicted by contemporary records which list her birthplace as Rhode Island.

Scholars have debated whether the Bixby letter was written by Lincoln himself or by his assistant private secretary, John Hay. November 1864 was a busy month for Lincoln, possibly forcing him to delegate the task to Hay.

In 1988, at the request of investigator Joe Nickell, University of Kentucky professor of English Jean G. Pival studied the vocabulary, syntax, and other stylistic characteristics of the letter and concluded that it more closely resembled Lincoln’s style of writing than Hay’s.

A computer analysis method, developed to address the difficulty in attribution of shorter texts, used in a 2018 study by researchers at Aston University’s Centre for Forensic Linguistics identified Hay as the letter’s author.

Good grief, it’s enough to make a fella call into question the entire history of this country, ain’t it? Be all that as it may, though, and whatever the provenance of the Bixby letter might actually have been, the letter will nonetheless forever shine as the diamond of English-language textual expression it is. And rightly so, too; the sentiments, concepts, and ideals so beautifully conveyed therein are nothing less than the most noble of which we lowly, fallen humans are capable as a species. How deeply, painfully ironic, then, that its true origins might have been so tangled and tawdry.

We’ve come a long way from all that sort of thing, alas, and in precisely the wrong direction too. There’s also a lot of intriguing stuff covering the life, times, and career of GEN Marshall at the Wikipedia link I included above, making it well worth taking the time to read as well.

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You will be made to care

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Even if—ESPECIALLY if—you don’t, not in the least.

Dying Vice Launches ‘Queer Sports’ Series, Hastens Its Demise
Dying Social Justice™ outlet Vice, apparently pathologically incapable of reform, is hastening its self-destruction by introducing a cringe segment called “Queer Sports.”

Video at the link—featuring some fat carpet-muncher dyke broad who obviously never participated in any sport not involving a comfy sofa, an xtra-jumbo-sized bag of Cheetos, and a case of designer beer in her entire life—which I won’t be embedding here, didn’t watch and have no intention of ever watching, and highly recommend you not watch yourself. Naturally, he/she/it is waving a giant rainbow fag-flag joyously around in the video screenshot, because QUEER SPORTS!!!! or something. Anyways. Onwards.

The non-binary non-athlete’s main gripe is that “pride” events hosted by nearly every major professional sports franchise are too “performative,” which is ironic given that performative Tolerance™ and Diversity™ are the entire demand.

“Are pride nights, important, Lyndsey?” the moderator prompts — as if that’s an open question subject to legitimate debate.

“I think they’re important, but I also think it’s gotten very performative,” Lyndsey replies, with an upward inflection that suggests she’s asking a question and not answering one. “Very like, ‘this is what we’re supposed to do. We’re supposed to do it in June and like, then, we’ll kind of forget about it.”

If people like Lyndsey had their druthers, every minute of every hour of every day would be a nonstop orgasmic celebration of “pride.”

This criticism of corporations bending over backward to cater to gender-obsessed ideologues at the expense of the vast majority of their customer bases who haven’t totally surrendered themselves to the Social Justice™ hive mind as “performative” is quite common within the so-called LGBTQ+++™ “community,” which is a euphemism for the insular cult of self-appointed representatives of a made-up demographic.

Ben’s conclusion is worth the price of admission all by itself, being perfectly, one-hundred-percent true.

Silly question: ASKED

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Race realism.

Does Ann Coulter’s Joke About Black Tipping Hold Water?
As I covered recently, the race hate organization NAACP recently issued a goofy “travel advisory” for the entire state of Florida due to something about the alleged threat of White Supremacy™ to black people.

In response, the queen conservative troll, Ann Coulter, who mastered trolling before it became a term, issued a tweet regarding the widespread perception that black people don’t tip.

The TiQ (Tweet in Question) is funny ’cause it’s true.


Now, anybody who’s ever worked in the restaurant biz (FULL DISCLOSURE: I have) knows full well how true that is, and probably got a giggle out of Coulter’s, erm, “faux pas.” In fact, years ago when I was working for Outlaw Biker I wrote an article that touched on this, if somewhat obliquely; ever since, I’ve called it my one true act of Journalism, since I had to call around to various commercial and government entities in Myrtle Beach for research. To wit:

Leatherballs IX: The King is dead
REPORT FROM THE BONE ORCHARD: THE KING IS, IN FACT, DEAD

The contest for the future, if any, of the Myrtle Beach Bike Rally is over. Final score: everybody lost.

The soon-to-have-been 70 years young rally was more or less summarily cancelled by a consortium of city government, disgruntled local cranks, and transplanted Yankees outraged by the fact that the tourist area they had moved to in hopes of quietly living out their declining years was actually known to welcome hordes of free-spending tourists at certain times of year, and that in May, those hordes included—GASP!—bikers.

What’s been left unexamined, and practically unmentioned in all the commentary I’ve seen so far, has been the racial angle. Yes, brothers and sisters, there is one, it turns out. See, each year for the last 26, the week after the Myrtle Beach Bike Rally—which has always been primarily about Harleys, but in recent years has seen a growing influx of annoying rice-grinders—has been the week of Atlantic Beach Bike Week, almost exclusively the preserve of black kids whizzing around on Japanese sport bikes.

Atlantic Beach Bike Week has always been known, fairly or unfairly, as a pretty rotten week if you aren’t a black kid whizzing around on a Japanese sport bike. Business owners took to scheduling their yearly vacation-time closing when the black bikers were in town, a recurring problem that eventually got so bad the town’s government had to threaten business owners with sanctions and an ordinance requiring them to stay open for Atlantic Beach Bike Week. There has been talk locally for years now about finding a way to get rid of what is commonly referred to as “Black Bike Week”, and in the end the only way to do that was to get rid of both Bike Weeks. When the transplant population—apoplectic over the noise and general rowdy hoo-raw inflicted on their ersatz-peaceful little retreat (which has for decades seen literally millions of visitors per year, from all over the U.S. and Canada) every year by bikers both black and white—finally reached critical mass, the city council took action to do just that, by enacting all sorts of restrictions and regulations, some of them applying only during the rallies. The message behind them was loud and clear: BIKERS NOT WELCOME HERE. BLACK ONES ESPECIALLY, BUT WHAT THE HELL, WHITE ONES TOO.

How much of the problem with Atlantic Beach Bike Week is based on longstanding—“eternal” would probably be more unflinchingly honest—racial prejudice, and how much on actual, quantifiable bad behavior is of course impossible to know. It’s in the nature of dirty little secrets that they remain both dirty and secret, if not little. And obviously, nobody is much interested in breaking things down statistically by race and date, which would probably get them a  big fat lawsuit and/or some sort of penalty from some government harmony-enforcement agency or other, making solid facts hard to come by.

And in the end, that’s not really what matters anyway, although I’ll say I’ve heard rumors of some tentative steps recently taken regarding possible future cooperation between black and white bikers, to see if there might not be a way to get Myrtle Beach to reconsider having cut off its economic nose to spite its quality-of-life face. I’m sure that’s a fine thing and all, but I suspect that the business owners’ reaction to this year’s utter disaster will accomplish much more than any outside efforts will.

The complaints about Black Bike Week I repeatedly heard from the restaurant owners I contacted—and even members of the City Council and Chamber of Commerce—were consistent, universal, and quite specific: aggressive, even outright threatening customer behavior; vandalism and/or wanton destruction of restaurant property; rampant theft; sexual harrassment of female (mostly WHITE female) restaurant waitstaff; the old Dine and Dash, Chew-and-Screw routine (eat nearly all of the meal, complain about its being “inedible,” and then leaving without paying the bill) and…piss-poor tipping.

Like I said before: if you’ve worked in the restaurant/bar business for any length of time, you already know what I’m talking about, and are probably shaking your head ruefully at your own unpleasant memories right about now.

Obstinate in sin

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Target doubles down on self-destruction.

Target CEO defends LGBTQ-friendly kids clothing amid boycott calls: ‘The right thing for society’
Target’s top executive dismissed the social media uproar over the retailer’s new line of LGBTQ-friendly kids clothing, saying that marketing the products are good for business and “the right thing for society.”

Sorry, Charlie, but as a retail business, the “right thing for society” is NOT your remit. Nor any of your fucking concern, really. Like other Wokester CEOs, you seem to have lost sight completely of what your business really is.

Outraged shoppers posted videos and images on social media showing bathing suits that offer “extra crotch coverage” as well as rainbow-colored onesies for infants and children.

On Fortune’s “Leadership Next” podcast last week, Target CEO Brian Cornell was asked about the backlash to “woke” capitalism, which has also engulfed iconic beer brand Bud Light as well as entertainment giant Disney.

“I think those are just good business decisions, and it’s the right thing for society, and it’s the great thing for our brand,” Cornell said.

Well, we’ll soon be finding out about all that, now won’t we? Here’s hoping to soon be seeing Twitter pics of you standing atop a big-city overpass, all shabby, disheveled, and shell-shocked looking, holding a battered, hand-lettered cardboard sign in your grubby hands, panhandling passing traffic with extremely modest success.

Update! Welll. Well, well, well, well, well, well, WELL.

As Tar-Gay Hemorrhages Dollars Over Wokeness, They Help Employees Cope…With George Floyd’s Death Anniversary
It’s been a self-inflicted very bad week for retailer target. They’re losing money. Lots of money. They’re losing customers. Lots of customers. They’re dumping products after learning that wokeness and Satanism do not endear them to many Americans.

Through it all, they’ve remained focused on their employees which the touchy-feely company believes are all quite fragile. To help them cope, Target sent out an internal memo about George Floyd. Yes, George Floyd. According to Greg Price:

Yesterday was a very hard day to Target, and as CEO Brian Cornell said, thank you for the care you’ve shown each other, our frontline teams and the LGBTQIA+ community.

Today brings more reflection, pain and the need for continued care as our team, hometown and world remember the anniversary of the murder of George Floyd. As you make space to take care of yourself and each other, know that you can always tap into these tools from Team Member Life Resources, and as Mental Health Awareness Month continues, turn to the Take Five to Take Care hub for more well-being support.

BLM is failing. Wokeness is failing. America seems to finally be waking up from the mind assault of Cultural Marxism that has plagues us for years. We need to keep the pressure up because companies like Target and Anheuser-Busch will certainly keep pushing against us.

According to a Tweet embedded in the linked article, Tarzhay’s losses for one week amounted to a staggering 9 billion-with-a-B dollars. So how’s all that Wokester bushwa working out for ya, Mr CEO? NOT TOO GOOD, I’d have to say. But hey, you go live your “truth,” baby.

The greatest animal vid of all time

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Sound on, folks, it’s nothing without that.


That Buitengebieden guy (I’m assuming from the name, Sander, but what the hell do I know), who is from the Netherlands, always gets the very best animal vids. Don’t know how he does it, I really don’t.

Update! Just sent it to the ex-wife, who informs me that the vid is, and I quote, “old af.” Ah well, I’m always the last to know these things. Unhip and out of the loop, that’s me. Old or not, though, that last contented little whimper the penguin emits is still just priceless, dammit.

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Hybrid

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These intrepid gearheads built a Tesla worth driving.

We Built the World’s First V-8 Tesla
The Rich Rebuilds team had a dead Model S. They fixed it with a Camaro engine.

The Specialty Equipment Market Association trade show in Las Vegas is extravagant, it is inspiring, it is perhaps the greatest automotive pissing contest you’ll ever witness. It’s an annual gathering for every somebody in the car world to show off the fanciest thing they can create on four(ish) wheels.

My business partner, Rich Benoit, and I thought we finally had something radical and bold enough for the event. We didn’t just want to exist there. We wanted to steal the show. That also meant we needed a car that could actually move under its own power. Most of the cars at SEMA get pushed onto the expo floor, but nobody’s happy about it. The shame of an unfinished ride is something to avoid at all costs. And yet with 30 hours until our transport truck arrived, we were approaching the city limits of Shamesville.

After two years of patiently converting a Tesla to an internal-combustion-engine muscle car—we’ll get to why on earth anyone would do this—we were down to just hooking up the fuel lines but were caught waiting for fitments to arrive in the mail. And they weren’t going to make it in time.

Rich and I have been revitalizing Teslas for about six years now. It started when Rich, an intrepid tinkerer, wanted a Tesla Model S but didn’t think it was reasonable to pay $100,000 for one. His solution: Take a couple of salvaged Teslas and put them together. Simple, right? Start with a flooded electric vehicle—good for its shell, not its corroded batteries—and wait for a second Tesla with a battered shell and a good set of Duracells. After a year and a half of wrenching, our first fully functional electric car emerged for a total of $6,500. It also launched our YouTube channel (Rich Rebuilds) featuring odd and eclectic EV projects in 2017, and eventually the Electrified Garage, our sister company that performs EV maintenance, repair, and conversions for the public.

After a couple of years, we were running out of Tesla projects and started building up cars that we simply wanted to enjoy. We resurrected a BMW i8. We gave a 1932 Ford Model A an electric powertrain from a crashed LAPD motorcycle. And we restored a neglected twin-turbo Audi RS7—too beautiful not to save. Not every project had a battery, which upset the die-hard EV hive, but we love all things automotive.

It’s an amazing project, which yielded a beautiful result. I especially dig the S1 Sequential short-throw shifter they used—all billet and leather, just a loverly piece of old-school craftsmanship. This next bit will sound all too familiar too anyone who’s ever worked in a custom car or motorcycle shop and has turned a wrench on a totally wild, outlaw project like this—which, y’know, I have.

Normally we’re a chipper group of people, but two weeks out, our garage felt like a funeral home. We were eating meals in there, napping on-site in a Mercedes Sprinter van conversion, and showers? Meh, no one was coming near us anyway. The lack of sleep started to make us feel numb inside, but we could see the finish line again. Then we got a call that the fitments were delayed. There was no way our Tesla could drive onto the trailer under its own power for the trip to Vegas.

Yup, shoprat cred: ESTABLISHED, firmly and fully. Ahh, but did the boys make it to the show on time? You better believe they did, amigos; ain’t no stopping a gearhead who’s motivated and dedicated enough to not bother about piffling trivialities like sleeping, eating, or bathing in his quest to put another custom-build notch on the proverbial bed-post.

After 2,733 mind-bending miles (seriously, check out how weird it gets on our YouTube), we pulled into Geddy’s driveway on Monday morning at 8 a.m. We had until 5 p.m. to deliver the car 20 minutes down the road to the SEMA floor. Taking our box of fitments, Geddy tuned the motor so that it didn’t run too lean and sound like a clangorous mess of sputters and backfires, or too rich that it bogged itself down and smelled like a BP tanker spill. Either option would be as embarrassing as pushing the car to its booth. We had precious few hours to find the balance, and then…the cylinders started to align like the planets to an astrologer. The sound was snappy, throaty, and downright mean.

We drove into SEMA with two hours to spare. It was time to scare and confuse people with something they’d never seen or heard before. Our work isn’t conventional, but you have to respect it—we received praise and admiration from a lot of our industry heroes that week.

It’s funny, we’ve been looking at the Tesla T on hoods of ever-so-quiet cars for the better part of a decade. But when our eyes drift to the side exhaust on our Model S, they begin to moisten from the inky smoke of 376 cubic inches ready to lay down now-444 ponies. We’re brought back to the thing that made us love automobiles in the first place: the thunderous sound of power.

Amen, brother. And that right there is the real payoff: finally firing that bad boy up, cracking a beer, leaning back on your Snap-On mechanic’s creeper seat to just catch your breath and listen to a high-output mill you’ve built with your own greasy, aching, scarred-up hands as it purrs like a contented big cat who just caught the daily impala. Such blissful moments usually come along well after regular business hours, and trust me, folks, there’s no feeling in the world quite like it.

And just think: not one stop did they have to make on the road to Vegas so as to charge the gott-damned battery overnight, either.

Update! Think I was kidding about those totally wild, outlaw projects, do ya? Well then, try Goose’s legendary Model-A bodied, overbored big-block Chevy crate motor-powered barbecue smoker on for size.

DSCN0040

DSCN0036

DSCN0053

Slick, no? Can’t see it in these pics, but the radiator overflow-catcher is a standard-issue, Mark 1-Mod 0 Jack Daniel’s Black Label bottle, in the handy dandy fifth size. Somewhere around here I also have pics of the outrageous Pro-Street Bar Stool we built, a no-shit drag-racing barstool powered by a hopped-up Evo Sportster engine out of one of my old bikes. It’s a beaut, too. Have to see if I can’t dig those snaps up and add a cpl of ‘em to this post later on, maybe.

Updated update! Almost forgot to tell ya, the big round thing on the back is a 500-gallon propane tank Goose liberated from a local junkyard, the actual smoker part of the whole dealio: slice two big oven-style doors in the side, mount two levels of huge, gnarly steel racks inside for the pork, stoke up the firebox on the back, and away we go. He told me the idea for this thing came to him in a dream one night, which is how Goose usually gets his best ones. Porky’s Purgatory, he ended up naming the beast, which apt moniker is now splashed in big, bold yellow letters across the top rear of the cab.

The vintage, beat-to-hell Model A body was too narrow to be squeezed onto the early-70s Chevy pickup frame rails, so we had to cut it into two sections, then weld in a widening strip to make it fit. All pinstriping was done by hand by the justly-renowned Eddie Brown up near the CMS, and a fine job of it he did too. Eddie’s fee? The aforementioned JD Black bottle, which he returned to us after it had been duly emptied.

The wooden booster steps on each side are actually garden-variety indoor house-stair sections from Lowes, stained in the usual fashion. To make them look more rugged and antique, we burned shallow holes into ‘em all over with a soldering iron, then applied clear varnish for the finishing touch. The zoomie-style exhaust stacks were handcrafted from tube stock by Goose, rattlecanned with Krylon Hi Heat exhaust paint. Carburetion is via a matched set of dual-quad Holly 750s, topped by an old turbo-ram intake, all of which we had lying around the shop for years before Goose finally came up with a fitting Forever Home for ‘em.

Some dream Goose had, eh?

Update to the updated update! OH OH OH—found a pic wherein the JD radiator-overflow receptacle is visible, at mid-top left:

DSCN0041

Heh. How can you not love it, I ask you?

Updates, forsooth! Upon reflection, I realized I simply must dedicate this post to my friend Phil, who will surely understand.

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As ye have sown, so shall ye etc

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Sometimes, just every now and again, actions really DO have consequences.

Michigan police went to an ammunition manufacturer and asked them to donate some ammo so the police could practice shooting. For free. The response is hilarious.

And it most certainly is at that.

NoFreeAmmo 2

Pretty much says it all, don’t it? I’m in full agreement with Divemedic’s closer: “That alone makes me want to buy their ammo.” Don’t it, though. Don’t it just.

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“If a tree falls in the forest, can you make milk out of it?”

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Wood milk—it’s a thing.

Hilarious. Naturally, the Leftards/vegans/PETA/BIRM are having a shitfit over this lighthearted spoof of their absurd unrealism, which I’ll direct you over to AoSHQ to read and possibly unmoor a floating rib laughing at. Well done, Aubrey!

ANOTHER idea whose time has come…and gone

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Lock. Her. Up.

It’s Time for Hillary to Pay for What She’s Done to America
Hillary Clinton lied. She knew Donald Trump was not a Russian spy. Trump knew she was lying. The FBI knew she lied but went after Trump anyway. The CIA knew she lied. President Barack Obama knew she lied. Joe Biden knew she lied. The FBI covered up for her. The CIA covered up for her. The DOJ covered up for her. Barack Obama covered for her and so did Joe Biden.

“We know they are lying, they know they are lying, they know we know they are lying, we know they know we know they are lying, but they are still lying,” according to the sardonic epigram attributed to Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn.

He was describing life and imprisonment under Stalin. But it’s an apt description for the Democrats’ reign at Main Justice and the FBI. There’s justice and then there’s just us. America has sunk to new depths of political depravity, treating members of one political party differently from another, as pointed out in the Durham Report.

Justice without fear or favor, Merrick Garland? My ass.

Durham wrote the “Clinton Plan” was conceived to distract from her very real and very illegal destruction of evidence — her emails — which were under a preservation order. “According to the declassified Clinton Plan intelligence, on July 26, 2016, Clinton allegedly approved a proposal from one of her foreign policy advisors to tie Trump to Russia as a means of distracting the public from her use of a private email server.”

Clinton’s apparatchiks, including Jennifer Palmieri, John Podesta, and Jake Sullivan, told the Special Counsel they knew nothing of the plan to distract from Hillary’s email scandal, describing such a plan as ridiculous. Durham found their protestations ridiculous.

But it’s about time someone paid for all this lying which has corroded the very depths of the “intelligence community,” especially the FBI, and the body politic as a whole – reaching the top of the Obama White House when then-CIA Director John Brennan briefed President Obama about the “alleged approval by Hillary Clinton on July 26, 2016, of a proposal from one of her foreign policy advisors to vilify Donald Trump by stirring up a scandal claiming interference by Russian security services.”

None of these privileged Washington swells is going to the D.C. Gulag with the January 6ers. None has apologized to the American people or Donald Trump for putting them through this roiling cauldron of chaos.

Who should pay?

Hillary.

Au contraire, mon cher; if there were still any semblance of justice left in this notional “nation,” Her Herness™ would be but the first on a long, long list of defendants sweating it out in the dock awaiting their day in court. What does it say about Amerika v2.0—perhaps even worse, what it does it say about us—that every single last man Jack of us knows perfectly well that not a single one of them will ever face even so much as a light slap on the wrist or a mild, half-hearted scolding from a judge for their treasonous crimes?

Those rowdy, exuberant Trump-rally chants of “LOCK HER UP, LOCK HER UP!” have never sounded so hollow.

Speaking of long, long lists, the good folks at The Federalist also have one that’s worth pondering (via Insty).


The fact of the matter is, if you trusted any of the above-named blaggards, scoundrels, and Deep State crawly things even before Hillarygate and her entirely manufactured Russia Collusion hoax was perpetrated, you definitely weren’t paying close enough attention.

Mask on, mask off

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Anybody surprised by this? You shouldn’t be, really; people like me have only been screaming it from the rooftops since, oh, early 2020 or thereabouts.

The Harm Caused by Masks
A new study suggests that the excess carbon dioxide breathed in by mask-wearers can have major health consequences.

Evidence continues to mount that mask mandates were perhaps the worst public-health intervention in modern American history. While concluding that wearing masks “probably makes little or no difference” in preventing the spread of viruses, a recent Cochrane review also emphasized that “more attention should be paid to describing and quantifying the harms” that may come from wearing masks. A new study from Germany does just that, and it suggests that the excess carbon dioxide breathed in by mask-wearers may have substantial ill-effects on their health—and, in the case of pregnant women, their unborn children’s.

Mask-wearers breathe in greater amounts of air that should have been expelled from their bodies and released out into the open. “[A] significant rise in carbon dioxide occurring while wearing a mask is scientifically proven in many studies,” write the German authors. “Fresh air has around 0.04% CO2,” they observe, while chronic exposure at CO2 levels of 0.3 percent is “toxic.” How much CO2 do mask-wearers breathe in? The authors write that “masks bear a possible chronic exposure to low level carbon dioxide of 1.41–3.2% CO2 of the inhaled air in reliable human experiments.”

In other words, while eight times the normal level of carbon dioxide is toxic, research suggests that mask-wearers (specifically those who wear masks for more than 5 minutes at a time) are breathing in 35 to 80 times normal levels.

The German study, a scoping review of existing research, aimed “to investigate the toxicological effects of face masks in terms of CO2 rebreathing on developing life, specifically for pregnant women, children, and adolescents.” The latter two groups, of course, have been among those most frequently subjected to mask mandates in schools, despite Covid’s low levels of risk for them and the evidence that masks don’t work.

Gee, who could’ve known that the shitlibs were right all along? That CO2—THE SILENT KILLER!!!™—would ultimately prove to be the death of us all? Or that, of course and as usual, it would prove to be WOMEN AND CHILDREN HARDEST HIT™ once more?

Setting aside my sarcastic glee for the nonce, there’s plenty more sciencey-type stuff to the article, which is well worth a read. Don’t tell any of your Karen friends about it, though; it’s long been my contention that, from here on out, panic-ninnies going about in public wearing the accursed things—ie, people who aren’t on-the-job doctors, nurses, and/or EMTs—will be effectively marking themselves out as likely targets when/if the shooting starts.

Coolest line in history?

Posted on      by     

I’d say it is, yeah.

What is the coolest line in history?
Battle of the Bulge. Winter. 1944. An entire American armored division flees from a massive German onslaught. Trundling down the road, a tank pulls up to a lone Private First Class in a snow covered foxhole. The commander yells, down to the PFC in the foxhole.

“The entire German Army is headed this way! We’re retreating!”

“Are you looking for a safe place?”, replied PFC Martin.

“Yes!”

“Well, pull your tank behind this foxhole. Because I’m the 82nd Airborne and this is as far as the bastards are going.”

Yep, it’s the coolest for sure, easily putting Tony McAuliffe’s “NUTS!” response during the Battle of the Ardennes in the shade—which, y’know, is really saying something. There’s also a pic, which I had no little trouble trying to figure out how to download for attachment to this h’yar post. But in the end, my Web-Fu proved the stronger. Thus:

82ndAirborneLine

Heh. And now you know why they called ‘em “dogfaces” back in the Big One, WW2. The look on that GI’s mug is about as surly, pissed off, and just all-round fed-up and determined as I hope (n)ever to see. Uncle Adolf would’ve pissed himself if he’d awakened late one night to find a face like that coming in through the bedroom window after his sick, sorry ass.

Update! A bit more interesting schtuff from the above-linked McAuliffe story, which you may or may not have known about already.

IT WAS MID-morning on Dec. 22, 1944 when U.S. troops manning the defences of the besieged Belgian town of Bastogne watched as four German soldiers – a major, a captain and two enlisted men – approached under a large white flag.

The four-man enemy delegation called on all U.S. forces in Bastogne to surrender within two hours or face “total annihilation” by German artillery.

Technical Sgt. Oswald Butler and Staff Sgt. Carl Dickinson of F Company, 327th Glider Infantry, and medic Pfc Ernest Premetz stepped out to meet them.

The men blindfolded the Germans and escorted them to an abandoned house serving as F Company’s command post.

When presented with the surrender demand, the 101st commander, Brigadier General Anthony C. McAuliffe, laughed at very notion of surrender. In his opinion his men were giving the Germans “one hell of a beating” and felt the enemy demand was out of line with the existing situation.

“Aw, nuts,” he blurted out.

Nevertheless, McAuliffe realized that some kind of reply had to be made and he sat down to think it over.

After several minutes he admitted to his officers that he didn’t know how to respond.

One officer, a lieutenant-colonel named Harry Kinnard, offered a suggestion.

“You said ‘Nuts!’” he observed, suggesting that be the reply.

The idea drew applause from everyone present. And so McAuliffe decided to send that very message back to the Germans: “Nuts!”

A colonel named Harper eagerly volunteered to deliver it to the German officers in person.

“It will be a lot of fun,” he said.

“I have the commander’s reply,” he said giving the enemy delegates the note.

“If you don’t understand what ‘nuts’ means, in plain English it’s the same as ‘go to hell,’” Harper explained wryly. “And I will tell you something else – if you continue to attack we will kill every goddam German that tries to break into this city.’

At that, the German major and captain saluted very stiffly and turned to leave.

“We will kill many Americans,” the junior of the two officers said as they left. “This is war.”

Historians believed that it was the German high command sent their officers to Bastogne with the surrender demand. Yet in unearthed interviews with Allied interrogators, General Hasso von Manteufel, commander of the 5th Panzer Army, admitted that was not the case. In fact, he was surprised to learn that the ultimatum was even offered.

“Panzer Lehr Division sent a parlementaire to Bastogne without my authorization,” von Manteufel would later say. “The demand to surrender was refused, as was to be expected. I did not authorize the surrender demand which was made of the Bastogne garrison, and I am still not sure exactly who did authorize [it].”

More even from there, all of it damned good. There truly were giants walking among us in those days.

Updated update! I could very well be remembering this wrong, and probably am, but as I recollect it was the 101st AID which was involved in the Battle of the Bulge, not the 82nd. Who knows, though, maybe it was both. NOTE: Upon further digging, it appears that there may indeed have been units from both AID’s at Bastogne. Never mind.

3

Fox dirt duly dished

Posted on      by     

The widow of Roger Ailes, whose sure hand guided Fox to the top of the cable-news heap and kept it there for nigh on two decades, ladles it up—and it’s delish.

Roger Ailes’s wife publicly attacks the Murdochs amid Tucker Carlson fallout
Elizabeth Ailes refers to Rupert Murdoch’s sons as characters from English nursery rhyme

The wife of the late Roger Ailes has publicly attacked Rupert Murdoch after Tucker Carlson was abruptly sacked by Fox News last month on the heels of the conservative network settling its billion-dollar lawsuit with the Dominion Voting Systems.

Ailes was appointed by Rupert Murdoch to head Fox News when it launched in 1996 and had fallen from grace two decades later after being obliged to stand down in 2016 in the wake of several sexual harassment accusations.

“Happy Heavenly Birthday Roger Ailes,” tweeted Elizabeth Ailes, wishing her late husband, who died at the age of 77, a year after his exit from the network.

“It took you 20 years to build Fox News into the powerhouse that it was and only 6 years for the Murdochs to wreak havoc,” she wrote, weeks after Carlson and Fox News parted ways as the network agreed to pay $787.5m to Dominion to settle a defamation lawsuit over election lies amplified by the channel’s personalities.

“Rupert thought he could do your job. What a joke. He has the checkbook but could never come close to your genius. RIP.”

“Karma is a b****” said Ms Ailes in a conversation with the Daily Beast. She said none of the scandals, including the Dominion lawsuit and Carlson’s removal, would have happened if her husband was still with the network.

“Roger never had his hand off the wheel when it came to Fox,” she told the outlet, adding that the Murdochs “weren’t born here and don’t have the same pedigree”.

She said her husband referred to James Murdoch, Mr Murdoch’s younger son, and Lachlan as “Tweedle Dumb” and “Tweedle Dumber” respectively.

She also described Mr Murdoch as a “jealous man” who fired Ailes because he “eclipsed Rupert on the world stage”.

She said Fox parted ways with Carlson because he became too popular. “That’s what the Murdochs did to Roger, Bill O’Reilly, Eric Bolling, and they did it to Tucker,” she said. Fox News has not issued a statement on the comments.

Sounds believable enough to me, especially that bit proposing that the whole Tucker thing, along with Ailes and the others, might be more to do with personal ego than anything else. On that level of wealth, fame, and power, such dustups quite often are. Sexual assault allegations seem to go hand-in-glove with it, also.

Via Ace, who notes:

Megyn Kelly confirms that Ailes called Les Freres Murdoch “Tweedle Dumb” and “Tweedle Dumber,” stating that he said that to her all the time.

There’s a video embed of Kelly (who, somewhat to my surprise, is still quite hot-looking, and good for her) to back it up, too. It’s a pretty interesting segment, really; watch it if you have a cpl minutes, and care enough about this sort of thing to spend ‘em on it.

1

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