Stump the chump

Better sit down and swallow whatever you might be drinking for this one, folks. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.

30 Questions Likely To Stump The ‘Sharp’ And ‘Vigorous’ Joe Biden
Joe Biden has the greatest mental acuity of any president in the history of the United States — at least that’s what the White House wants you to believe.

Throughout the past week, regime-approved media and administration officials have twisted themselves into pretzels trying to gaslight Americans into believing Biden is as “sharp” and “vigorous” as he’s ever been, despite incident after incident showing he’s in mental decline. These laughable claims come in response to the release of the Hur report, which found that Biden mishandled classified documents but concluded that “no criminal charges are warranted in this matter” because the president “would likely present himself to the jury…as a sympathetic, well-meaning, elderly man with a poor memory.”

While corporate media will never admit it, Biden can barely answer basic questions, let alone complete a sentence. So, to bring a little humor to your day, The Federalist has compiled a list of 30 questions likely to stump America’s befuddled commander-in-chief.

  1. What day is it today?
  2. What are the names of your grandchildren? (And how many do you have…?)
  3. When is your birthday?
  4. What is a woman?
  5. Who’s the president of France?
  6. What year is it?
  7. When were you first elected to the Senate?
  8. What are the main ingredients in a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?

Plenty more where those came from, and they’re a laff riot. In fairness to Amerika v2.0’s “pResident”-ish*** Tyrantosaurus Wrex, though, half the friggin’ country seems to be having trouble with Number 4, or at least are pretending to for various stupid reasons.

Actually, it’s a serious situation we’re in, one that isn’t really very funny at all. But hey, my personal philosophy has always been that if it’s either laugh or cry, then I’d much rather laugh.


Fraud, injustice, and tripping over one’s own tiny dick 101

The best, most thorough explication of the gaping, tractor-trailer-wide hole in the underhanded “fraud” judgment against Trump & sons I’ve seen yet.

One person who defended the verdict is CNN’s Laura Coates, who clearly doesn’t understand the implications or perhaps even the details of the case.

“Wouldn’t there be many companies who would not want to do business or loan money to people like yourself for investors if they know that they can get away with fraud and there’s no recourse to protect them?” she asked.

“Excuse me, what fraud?” (Shark Tank star Kevin O’Leary) asked. “This is not about Trump anymore.”

“I know,” she claimed.

“When you get a developer that builds a building and he says it’s worth 400 million, and he wants to borrow 200 million from a bank, which happens every day everywhere on Earth, including every American city — every developer is an entrepreneur, they shine the light on their building, and they say it’s worth 400. The bank does its own due diligence — as was done in this case, because they’re very good at it, the banks are very good — and they say no, it’s worth 300, we’re only going to loan you 150 million. That haggling has gone on for decades, that’s how it works.”

O’Leary continued, “And then, in this case, even the bank that was supposedly defrauded, testified and said we didn’t lose anything. We want to do business with this guy again, we’d like to, but the judge said, ‘No, no, no, no, no, no, let’s penalize this developer for $355 million. And if we’re going to do that, let’s penalize all the developers all across America. They’ve all done the same thing. All of them should go to jail and we should stop building buildings.’ That’s what the message is from New York. Even the governor herself is concerned about what this looks like to investors all around the world. It’s not just U.S. domestic. All around the world, people are talking about what happened here. You really think people want to invest money in New York after this?”

Not if they’re even the slightest bit perspicacious and business-savvy, they don’t. Yet more rich buttery goodness at the link, as if the preceding excerpt wasn’t already enough.



Don’t give a tinker’s damn about the story itself, what I really want to get at is the bizarre phenomenon going on with Grampy Griftey Gropey’s chinticles.

See that shit? What the HELL is going on wid’ dat? Did Bribem’s saggy, withered ballbag relocate to hang off the bottom of his face spontaneously or something? My God, it even appears that, as with most boys, one nut is only partially descended. What a whacked-out freak this distorted Pedosaurus Wrex truly is, in every least way—physically, mentally, ethically, you name it.


Continuing education

Important Stuffz For Gals To Know 101.

A New Year – A New You
I post this only as a public service. We here at DMF have always prided ourselves with unceasing efforts to help create a well informed citizenry, as with our ongoing Public Service Educational Crash Course Series. This was sent to me by one of our smart-ass loyal readers, whom I have a strong suspicion is divorced………or soon will be.



Class 1: Up in Winter, Down in Summer – How to Adjust a Thermostat Step by Step, with Slide Presentation. Meets 2 weeks, Monday and Wednesday for 2 hrs. beginning at 7:00 PM.

Class 2: Which Takes More Energy – Putting the Toilet Seat Down, or Bitching About It for 3 Hours? Round Table Discussion. Meets 2 weeks, Saturday 12:00 PM for 2 hours.

Class 3: Is It Possible To Drive Past a Wal-Mart Without Stopping?–Group Debate. Meets 4 weeks, Saturday 10:00 AM for 2 hours.

Class 4: Fundamental Differences Between a Purse and a Suitcase–Pictures and Explanatory Graphics. Meets Saturdays at 2:00 PM for 3 weeks.

Class 5: Curling Irons–Can They Levitate and Fly Into The Bathroom Cabinet? Examples on Video. Meets 2 weeks, Tuesday and Thursday for 2 hours beginning at 7:00 PM

Class 6: How to Ask Questions During Commercials and Be Quiet During the Program Help Line Support and Support Groups. Meets 4 Weeks, Friday and Sunday 7:00 PM

Class 7: Can a Bath Be Taken Without 14 Different Kinds of Soaps and Shampoos? Open Forum .. Monday at 8:00 PM, 2 hours.

More yet at the link, all of it equally hilarious—if not more so, especially nos. 8, 10, and 12.


Predator popped

Admittedly, I am of two minds on this one. Two at least, maybe more.

Minnesota mom arrested for alleged sexual romp with two boys, 15, after spat with hubby
From hot tub to hotel room, a Minnesota mom was arrested for alleged criminal sexual conduct with two boys she claimed “she wasn’t going to go through with.”

Marital issues were reportedly blamed for 39-year-old Allison Leigh Schardin’s alleged felonies in mid-January when her family found themselves staying at the same hotel as a visiting hockey team. According to a report from the Star Tribune, after being arrested Thursday the mother of two young sons admitted to sexual contact with two 15-year-old boys she’d engaged with in a poolside chat.

Faced with third- and fourth-degree criminal sexual conduct, Schardin was said to have been discussing her marital problems with team players visiting from Colorado while she, her husband and their children were having a staycation in Roseville on Jan. 14.

When the players had returned to their rooms, the Blaine, Minnesota mom was said to have sent a Snapchat asking if she could join them.

Once there, she was said to have started talking with the boys about “sex and stuff,” got into bed with two of the boys and questioned them about their sexual activity. It was then that she allegedly performed sexual acts on them and asked them to perform sexual acts on her while a third boy was said to have watched, according to the Tribune.

If convicted, the maximum sentence for the third-degree criminal sexual conduct included up to 15 years imprisonment and/or a fine up $30,000 while the penalty for fourth-degree criminal sexual conduct maxed out at ten years imprisonment and/or a fine up to $20,000.

Her first court appearance was scheduled for Monday.

Okay, okay, I realize it was wrong of this dame to betray the trust bestowed on her by the Minneapolitans who put her in a position of responsibility she was patently unsuited for. I get all that, honestly I do. Nonetheless, I also remember what I was like when I was a fifteen-year-old boy; after seeing Schardin’s pic, I also know how delighted I would’ve been to…well, just take a look yourself.

See what I mean? At fifteen, if I’d had a romp with a hottie like that I woulda been fairly busting with pride, eager to dash right out and brag about the experience to any and every one of my peers who was willing to hear me out, right down to the last sweaty detail. I’m sure my mom and dad would’ve felt otherwise about it, of course, and would certainly have made their displeasure known to every authority figure within reach. But still.

The boys will have a ready-made audience at their high school, waiting for them with bated breath. They’ll be at the center of a sizable crowd whenever the grown-ups aren’t around, all a-twitter and expectant, primed to hear the thrilling tale told again and again. Hell, all the other boys will treat them like heroes, I don’t doubt. A solid percentage of the girls will probably despise them, sincerely and heatedly. Many will act as if they do for appearance’s sake, but will secretly find the taboo tryst darkly exciting, even compelling, ample cause not to shun them but to quietly seek them out.

As the old-school bikers liked to say, the ladies do love an outlaw, like a little boy loves a stray dog. From my own life-experience, I can confirm that this assessment is essentially true and accurate, if perhaps not universally so. As y’all CF Lifers© may recall, I effusively sung a jubilee of praise for such ladies many years back, in the post that first brought this humble, hitherto-unknown little websty to prominence when my friend and fellow OG-blogger Stephen Green linked to it at his pre-PJM Vodkapundit hang.

15 years and/or 30k? A felony, ferchrissake? All this for taking advantage—however unrighteous—of teenage horndogs who I guaran-damn-tee you do NOT see themselves as “victims” in any way, shape, or form, and probably never will? Who will more likely cherish fond memories of their youthful illicit adventure for the rest of their days; won’t be haunted by a moment’s remorse or regret; and will smile softly and slyly to themselves every time the memory pops into mind?

I dunno. As wrong as this MILF’s actions were; as psychologically/emotionally askew as she appears to be; as surpassingly unwise, injudicious, and just plain reckless as she inarguably is, that seems to me a mite harsh. If the punishment is supposed to fit the crime, I’m thinking the scales are way out of balance in this particular instance. Could be that’s just me though, I do admit it. But still.


Reagan Vs atheists

Slaying them with wit and good cheer.

We are approaching President Ronald Reagan’s 113th birthday, falling next week on February 6. Two days before his birthday in 1988, Reagan delivered remarks at the National Prayer Breakfast in Washington, DC. (Editor’s Note: The 2024 National Prayer Breakfast convened earlier this morning in the nation’s capital.).

He told attendees that he had “long been unable to understand the atheist in this world of so much beauty.” With a touch of mischief in his voice, he added: “I’ve had an unholy desire to invite some atheists to a dinner and then serve the most fabulous gourmet dinner that has ever been concocted, and — after dinner — ask them if they believe there was a cook.”

The audience responded with extended laughter and applause.

Heh. As the kids say nowadays, it’s funny ‘cause it’s true. I had forgotten Reagan’s birthday was the day after mine (I’ll be 64 this coming Monday, which I can scarcely believe). Of course, I seem to be forgetting all kinds of things as time marches ever on.

(Via Mark Tapscott)

Update! And suddenly, I’m reminded of another oldie but goodie: “If I’d known I was going to live this long, I’d’ve taken better care of myself.” What can one say but, ”Heh. Indeed.”


Open letter to Ace at AoSHQ

I don’t know if you ever look in on this websty or not, but I do know some of your CoBs do, so maybe they can pass the word on to you: Man, please, you simply MUST stop with your series of posts making sport of dickhound Fani Willis and her illicit taxpayer-funded cocksman, Mr Darius “Sweetdick” Honeycum Esq. Seriously man, I’m begging over here; every time I read the latest installment, I end up squirting hot coffee out my nose from laughing so damned hard. I’m gonna bust a rib before long, and have to go to the hospital to have ‘em taped up.

I mean it, Ace, this stuff is so friggin’ funny it’s actually, literally hazardous to my health.

Fani Willis, Who Has Crabs More Frequently Than the Red Lobster Fisherman’s Feast Special, Fired an Employee Who Tried to Warn Her That Her Top Aide Was Misusing Funds
Disinformation Expert Ace

Say it’s not so, Fani. Say it’s not so.

Before getting to that, I have bad news: Knowing that depositions in the divorce action could be used to drive them out of office and possibly expose them to criminal action, Darrius “Sweetdick” Honeycum, Esq., suddenly decided to settle his divorce action, presumably on terms very favorable to his wife. This results, of course, in the subpoenas being null and void.

From the NY Post:

The Atlanta special prosecutor who brought election interference charges against Donald Trump reached a temporary divorce settlement with his estranged wife Tuesday — meaning he likely won’t have to testify in court about his alleged affair with his district attorney boss.

The settlement automatically canceled a hearing scheduled for Wednesday in which Darrius “Magicschwanz” Honeycum, Esq.* was expected to answer about his relationship with Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis, according to the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

It also means Willis will likely avoid testifying in the case.

*Edited for clarity.

I suppose this temporary settlement could be undone the moment he and Fani Willis are out of trouble.

Ed Morrissey:

One has to imagine that Mrs. Wade finally got her piece of the massive fees that Willis paid Wade to run the RICO prosecution. Up to now, Mrs. Wade complained in earlier filings, she’d gotten bupkis while Willis lived high on the $650,000 in legal fees she paid Wade.

Does that mean it’s all over? Should we be depressed?

Nah, son, don’t be a fag. The ex-wife has used the affair to extract a ton of money from Sweetdick Darrius, but her agreement to a settlement does not confer some kind of immunity on Sweetdick and Mummycooze. The news that she hired her Professional Boner with taxpayer funds and then had those funds effectively kicked back to her in the form of cruises and trips is still a concern to the state of Georgia, and the judge overseeing this case will be asking the same sort of questions that Mrs. Sweetdick intended to ask.

While this has no direct bearing on l’affaire Sweetdick, it does demonstrate that Fani Willis is as loose with rules about spending taxpayer money as she is in her droopy slackwalled choadbucket. Thus, one might suspect she might be a bit cavalier about spending taxpayer money to keep her Taxpayer-Funded Dick-Slinger in high style.

I have but one thing to say, and I’ll let Bart Simpson say it for me.

Update! Even more graft, payola, and abuse of authority.

Business Partners Of Fani Willis’ Alleged Lover Bankrolled Her Campaign. She Gave Them Lucrative Contracts.
Business partners of District Attorney Fani Willis’ alleged lover Nathan Wade, whom she appointed to work on the case against former President Donald Trump, made donations to her campaign before receiving lucrative contracts from her office.

Terrence Bradley, Wade’s former partner, and Christopher Campbell, his current partner, have collectively contributed more than $5,000 to Willis’ campaign, contribution disclosure reports show. Moreover, both men have each raked in tens of thousands of dollars from contracts with the district attorney’s office, according to county records.

Campbell is a partner at Wade & Campbell Firm, where he works with Wade. Bradley formerly worked with Wade at Wade, Bradley & Campbell Firm, and also represented Wade in his divorce case until Sept. 2022.

The donations add another wrinkle to Willis’ already-scrutinized relationship with Wade.

YET another wrinkle, you mean.

Bradley made three donations to Willis’ campaign: $1,000 in June 2020, $550 in October 2020 and $2,500 in June 2023, according to campaign disclosure reports.

Meanwhile, the district attorney’s office paid Bradley $74,480 between May 2021 and June 2022, according to county records. It remains unclear what work he was doing during that period.

Yeah, I bet so. Maybe Bradley was also pronging Willis’ well-worn spunkpocket his own self, thereby permitting the payoff to be filed under “for services rendered, MISC.”

An ATL lawyer friend of Glenn’s says: “Oh, this is cascading. And I’m only sending you the stuff that’s already public. You’d be amazed what unsubstantiated rumors are flying around among the local bar.” At this point, I don’t think I would be, actually.

Jeez, but what a corrupt, stinking sewer the Fulton County DA’s office is. And this woman wants to put TRUMP in jail? If she had any sense at all, she’d be really careful not to shake that particular tree too hard; if anybody oughta be in the slammer, it’s her. I say again: JEEZ.


Yes, Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus

NOTE: Earlier yesterday the blog started behaving strangely, so I dashed off an email to my old friends at Hosting Matters to inquire what the Sam Hill might be going on. In the course of so doing, I veered off on another of my Standard Issue, Mark 1-Mod 0 digressions which, on reflection and with some revising, I decided might be worth bringing out front here as a post. YMMV on that, as always. Be aware that what follows may offend hardcore fundamentalist Christians; this one’s about Santa Claus, not the birth of our Lord and Savior. I think Christmas is plenty big enough to easily accomodate both Jesus and Santa without undue stress or strain. It isn’t a competition, or at least it needn’t be. But again, YMMV.

Still can’t believe my ex told our daughter there was no Santa Claus at a very early age, because, and I quote, “I’m not gonna lie to her.” My recently-deceased mother in law did the same with my late wife Christiana, saying she didn’t want her child growing up all resentful and unable to ever trust her mom again from the trauma of having been “lied to” about Santa as a little kid.

I never understood the killjoy thinking which underpins that notion, and hope I never will. These are both extraordinarily intelligent people we’re talking about here, one of whom can casually converse in Ancient Greek, the other of whom was fluent in seven (7) languages. So one would think they’d be capable of grasping a distinction as simple and obvious as this one is.

I mean, there are lies and then there are lies, right? The Santa myth is hardly a “lie,” not in any meaningful sense. It’s a wholesome fable passed on from parents to children not for purposes of harm or malicious deception, but to broaden a sense of imagination and wonder, of there being marvelous possibilities in this wide world which we pitiful humans can neither see nor comprehend.

Well, that, plus it’s a heck of a lot of good, clean fun for everyone involved, be they old, young, or young at heart.

I Believed© as a child myself, and will readily attest that, after I’d figured it all out on my own, far from losing trust in them or feeling betrayed, I actually felt deeply grateful to my mom and dad for making the effort to bring me the magic of the North Pole’s First Citizen every Christmas, for at least the short while it lasted. In fact, even after I’d outgrown my own childhood faith I nonetheless went on insisting to my little brother that Santa was real for a few more years, just to keep that beautiful magic alive in him. Lord knows every innocent child will have to face the cold, hard realities of life quite soon enough, thanks.

To this day, some of my happiest, most cherished memories are of my brother and me dashing off to bed no later than 6 or 7 on Christmas Eve during those precious Santa years, to the barely-suppressed amusement of the grown-up contingent. The two of us would lie there sleepless half the night, now and again whispering urgently to each other: “What was that? Did you hear a noise? Was that reindeer hooves on the roof? Were those sleighbells jingling? Is Santa coming, is he (gasp) HERE?” Now and then one of us would stealthily rise, press his face to the bedroom window, and expectantly peer through the frosted panes for some hint as to what was happening out there. Finally, as the hands of the clock crawled towards midnight, we’d drop off to sleep, those visions of sugar-plums dancing in our heads.

No Santa, eh? That necessarily means:

  • No meticulously-composed letters addressed to him at his North Pole toy-manufactory, with the attached Christmas list
  • No lying on the sitting-room rug poring over the Sears Wish Book, scrawling down item after item from the catalog’s delightfully lavish toy section to include on said list
  • No sitting on Santa’s knee at Woolworth’s, telling him what you most hoped he’d bring for you this year
  • No intellectual discussions with the other neighborhood kids on all the imponderables: whether reindeer really can fly; how was Santa going to fit all those toys onto the sleigh; how could he manage to visit every Good child across the entire planet in a single night, etc etc
  • No anxiously X-ing out each December day on the wall calendar before going to bed, waiting on tenterhooks for the Big Day to at long last dawn

Ahh, but is that all, you ask? Sadly, no; not by a long yard, it ain’t. If those were the only things lost by it, perhaps ruining your kids’ Christmas via murdering their belief in Santa—forever depriving them of those happy childhood memories before they even get to experience the making of them—might be at least arguably comprehensible, if still not entirely forgiveable. The preceding list is nowhere near complete, there’s still lots more losses to be tacked on. To wit:

No setting out the traditional plate of oven-baked cookies and a tall glass of cold milk for good St Nick’s refreshment just before turning in for the night, to find the cookies eaten and the milk-glass empty in the morning—this discovery taken as proof beyond debate of his existence.

No jolting wide-awake at 4AM Christmas morn and sloooowly tiptoeing down the hall to the living room to find out what was under the tree, stifling your happy giggles to the best of your ability every step of the way so’s you didn’t wake up Mom and Dad. Should you unintentionally interrupt their hard-earned slumber despite your most earnest effort not to, your exhausted parents—plumb tuckered from the long night’s labor of retrieving all the presents cached in the attic, inside locked closets, the trunk of the family car, and/or other Secure Undisclosed Locations, next arranging them under the tree according to intended recipient (mine on the right side, Jeff’s on the left in our house)—would gruffly order you back to bed to await what they considered to be “a decent hour.”

THEY consider. Not you. And count on it: you will NOT agree with their views on the matter.

The splendidly trimmed tree, for just this one supreme night of nights, would have been left plugged in (by “Santa,” natch) and twinkling through the hours of darkness, gayly greeting the family upon each one’s arrival in the living room. The multicolored C7 bulbs would shine all through Christmas Day, their soft glow seeming no less bright or in any sense diminished by the daytime sun streaming through the parted curtains.

No establishing the line of demarcation between My Side and Your Side of the tree, before finally just giving up and deciding to share each other’s Santa Claus bounty without rancor or recrimination. No Christmas stockings a-bulge with candy canes, fresh fruit, and incidental stocking-stuffers such as Matchbox cars, kazoos, or harmonicas, either. After all, if there ain’t no Santa Claus then who’s gonna stuff ’em?

No ANY of those fine and wonderful things. The wrapped, labelled boxes that had been sitting under the tree for weeks, the pile steadily growing as the gift-wrapping chores neared completion? They could wait. Who really cares anyway? Those damned boxes always turned out to contain new school clothes or notebooks or pencils or some other equally dull and useless object. No, the unwrapped Santa Claus presents left atop and around the gift-wrapped rectangles were Priority One for us.

And my God, our house didn’t even HAVE a chimney, either—presenting another impenetrable Christmas-morning conundrum for us bewildered kids to ponder and discuss. Had Santa broken in, picked the lock, forced his way in someotherhow like a cat-burglar without anyone detecting the agreeable incursion? Had my dad slipped him a key on the sly after we’d clambered down off Santa’s lap to tear around the store like wild Injuns, whooping, laughing, crashing full-tilt-boogie into the legs of tsk-tsk-ing shoppers in our mad celebration of another Christmas mission well accomplished?

Who really knew? Perhaps, perhaps not. In any event, the doors were all closed and locked, as were the windows. Nothing seemed to be amiss, nothing at all, yet Santa had contrived to enter our small-town sanctum sanctorum nonetheless. Phillip Marlow himself would find it tough sledding indeed to unravel such a tangled skein of mystery, as would the Continental Op, the redoubtable Sam Spade, and Nick and Nora Charles. The overrated Frog Hercule Poirot? Gedouddahere, you make me laugh.

My poor kid was pre-emptively robbed of the anticipation, wonderment, and enduring pleasure the Santa Claus myth creates in the memory of every child not so thoughtlessly denied them. Daddy’s opinion on the topic at hand was neither solicited nor welcome. Kinda sucks, if you ask me. In fact, it seems downright cruel to cheat a young ‘un in such a fashion, solely for the gratification of one’s own sanctimony, ego, and cynical self-regard.

“Honesty”? “Truth”? “Not gonna lie”? Yeh, yeh, yeh; pull the other one, it has a bell on it.

But hey, maybe that’s just me, I do admit. That admission made, though, in my view answering what we might call the Santa Question© in the peremptory, knee-jerk negative amounts to projecting an insipid, half-baked ethical imperative onto an issue possessed of no ethical involvement whatsoever, the injection of a fallacious assumption of ill intent (or, at best, unsophisticated, outdated habits of mind, however well-meaning they may be) into a stillborn “debate” when no such intent actually exists. All this nonsense, mind, predicated on a wholly hypothetical claim of psycho-emotional damage—a spurious claim for which there is not the thinnest, flimsiest shred of documentary evidence to support it.

They’re making mountains out of molehills, and I say it’s the bunk. The opening ‘graphs of the NY Sun’s timeless editorial response to young Virginia O’Hanlon’s 1897 (!!!) letter express the sentiment quite well, I think.

VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

There, put THAT in your little pipe and smoke it, whydon’tcha. If you haven’t read the whole story before—which I find incredible, frankly—there’ll never be a better time than now to rectify that sad lapse in your edumacation.

No Santa Claus? Forbid it, Almighty God! There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.


Denominational cues ‘n’ clues

The handiest, most concise guide for the Christianity-curious you’ll ever find.

It can be so confusing, trying to figure out which of the 437 Christian denominations you want to join. In fact, scientists believe there are almost as many denominations as there are genders. That’s a lot of different ways to do church!

Luckily, we’re here to help you sort through them all. Here are the pros and cons of each of the major Christian denominations:


Pro: Potlucks

Con: Diabetes


Pro: Majestic old hymns that cause your soul to rejoice in God’s glory

Con: You are not allowed to move a single muscle while rejoicing in God’s glory

Joel Osteen’s Lakewood Church

Pro: Positive, uplifting messages

Con: Hell

Eastern Orthodox

Pro: Full, robust beards

Con: The women have them too


Pro: Hit your step goal 20 minutes into service

Con: Non-zero chance of getting knocked over by the pastor and/or bitten by a snake


Pro: Can have a beer & cigar with your priest

Con: Decent chance your priest is a drag queen

United Methodist Church

Pro: Cool logo on church building

Con: Rainbow flag on church building


Pro: You can do whatever you want and there’s no God or hell

Con: Oh no! They’re wrong and now you’re in hell

Despite my best efforts, I have been unable to confirm whether the outlet from whence this excerpt was gleaned is a satire site or not, so you’ll just have to judge for yourselves.


The Pissing Tree of Montenegro

I thought this vid was pretty funny, and no way was I going to miss out on using that title, which sprang to my warped mind immediately upon seeing it. “Sprang,” get it? A-HENH!

Piss on, O mighty Pissing Tree! Even the angle at which it leans gently back while the internal pressure is, um, relieved is perfect. The only thing missing is one branch thrown forward, arm-like, as if to brace itself against the bathroom wall above the pot.

Good thing trees don’t wear pants, as the wet spot left thereon by the splashback from such a copious flow would be quite embarrassing—a spot which not even the most extravagantly long untucked shirttail would be adequate to conceal from disdainful public scrutiny after exiting the facilities. The blushful stagger back to the bar is always a Walk Of Shame of sorts, made with one’s head hung down in hopes that no one will see his face and recognize him.

Trees being immobile, our friend PToM is also cruelly robbed of one of the primary pleasures of stand-up urination, namely writing one’s initials in the snow. Every man reading this knows exactly what I’m talking about here. And is probably smiling at the memory of the last time he did it.

Via our esteemed chum KT, whose own title is a real gem of sly, understated wit in its own right: Ah, Nature. Ahhh, indeed.


TWANLOCs exposing themselves

Would anyone like to explain to me again why we should think of these subhumans as our “countrymen,” rather than as what they actually are: our enemies?

Osama bin Laden’s infamous ‘Letter to America’ after 9/11 promoted by TikTok influencers, goes viral
Others on social media are promoting the terrorist’s justification of attacks on the U.S., antisemitic rhetoric

A TikTok influencer went viral this week for promoting Osama bin Laden’s “Letter to America.”

Online personality and pro-Palestinian activist Lynette Adkins urged her over 175,000 TikTok followers on Tuesday to read the words of the terrorist mastermind behind the 9/11 attacks. 

“I need everyone to stop what they’re doing right now and go read- It’s literally two pages. Go read ‘A Letter to America,” Adkins said the video. “And please come back here and just let me know what you think because I feel like I’m going through, like, an existential crisis right now and a lot of people are, so I just need someone else to be feeling this.”

Her video received roughly 800,000 views and over 80,000 likes on TikTok.

So there it is then, in plain, black and white numbers: 800k (at least) “people” who very much need to be, umm, removed, shall we say, without further ado before we can call this a truly civilized country again.

Update! Megyn Kelly, smokin’ hot as always (in more than just the obvious way), puts it to ‘em straight.

Said a mouthful there, girlfriend.


Promise: BROKEN

Yes, yes, I know I said Tuesday that there would be no more H-ween posts this year. What can I tell ya, I lied. Or spoke too soon, anyway.

Heh. Too funny. Nice to see that the WRD folks have a sense of humor, and don’t take themselves too seriously; in this day and age, that’s a rare thing indeed. Thanks to KT for the steer.

For widest possible dissemination update! Another from KT’s Pet Thread, this one of no small importance to you outdoorsmen who enjoy taking the doggie(s) along when hiking in the woods.

On day 12 of searching for my dog in a heavily wooded area, distraught and hopeless, I ran into a couple of hunters. They said they lost the occasional dog on a hunt but always got them back. What they told me has helped many dogs and families be reunited. I’ve given their advice out a few times in the last couple days, so I thought if reddit has any lost dogs out there, this could help:

The dog owner(s) should take an article of clothing that has been worn at least all day, the longer the better, so the lost dog can pick up the scent.

Bring the article of clothing to the location where the dog was last seen and leave it there. Also, if the dog has a crate & familiar toy, you can bring those too (unless location undesirable for crate). You might also want to leave a note requesting item(s) not to be moved.

Leave a bowl of water there too, as the dog probably hasn’t had access to any. Do not bring food as this could attract other animals that the dog might avoid.

Come back the next day, or check intermittently if possible. Hopefully the dog will be waiting there.

I was skeptical and doubted my dog would be able to detect an article of clothing if he didn’t hear me calling his name as loud as possible all day for 12 days. But I returned the next day and sure enough found him sitting there!

I hope this helps someone out there who’s missing a best friend. Good luck

Excellent idea, and well worth remembering for any dog lovers out there. Hopefully you’ll never need to resort to this advice, but one never knows.

The exception that proves the rule?

Okay, raise your hand if you saw THIS coming. I must say, I didn’t.

Muslim Group Publicly Condemns Anti-Semitic Violence and Hate, Hamas, Terrorist Attack on Israel
As violence and hatred toward Jews continues to worsen amid the Middle East war sparked by Hamas’ terrorist attack on an Israeli music festival, one Muslim group is denouncing antisemitism in all its forms and sending a message to their Jewish “brethren.”

“We Muslims have one word for Jews. Shalom,” reads the headline of the message pinned to the top of the social media page of Muslims Against Antisemitism (@MAA_UK on X/Twitter). Posted on Saturday, the message that follows is a reprint of a statement tweeted by MAA when it was formed back in 2018.

When Hamas attacked Israel last month on October 7, the Muslim group immediately began condemning both the attack and those who take joy in it (emphasis added):

“Let’s be very clear. Celebrating the brutal murder of Jews (or Palestinians), is NO cause for celebration. Today, many people have lost their precious lives. Celebrating in cars at this time is horrible & shows utter contempt and antisemitism towards all Jews.”

“Please watch out for each other at this time. Antisemitism must not be tolerated in communities because of what is taking place in the Middle East. Jews in the U.K. cannot and must not be targeted by those who carry the poison of antisemitism within them.”

“There is NO justification for murder,” MAA declared on October 8, the day after the attack, noting that “Killing Israelis going about their lives has nothing to do with a ‘free Palestine’ but everything to do with brutal murderous barbarism by fundamentalists.”

The message closes with a quote, in Hebrew, from the Book of Psalms:

“In peace, we say these words: Hiney ma tov u’ma-nayim. Shevet ach’im gam ya-chad.”

“Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity” is the English translation of the Bible quote.

WOW. According to strict interpretation of the Koran, Surah, and Hadiths, this is of course balls-out apostasy, but all the more courageous of them for being so. Hats off to the MAA for their reasonable, humane, and downright noble stance, that’s all I have to say about it. Coming at such a time, it is most welcome.

(Via Sefton)

Thank HEAVENS, we’re SAVED!

Well, ain’t that a relief.

McConnell claims he is in ‘good shape’ and ‘completely recovered’ after health scares

Not a word, of course, detailing what these serial “health scares” might have actually, y’know, involved. Beyond Yertle McTurtle locking up several times on-camera like a deer caught in headlights, that is. Everything’s cool, we good, we good.

Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY) said he is “completely recovered” after a series of health episodes earlier this year that raised questions about whether the 81-year-old senator could continue serving.

“I’m in good shape, completely recovered, and back on the job,” McConnell said in an interview that aired Sunday with CBS News’s Face The Nation.

When asked by host Margaret Brennan if he believes he is fit to continue serving “at a time when we are talking about incredible dysfunction in Washington, McConnell fired back, “I think we ought to be talking about what we were talking about earlier, rather than my health.”

Oh, by all means, Yertle. Important, crucially vitally crucial things like the absolute imperative shared by every single last American to keep hurling pallet-loads of US hush-money at a certain pint-sized dictator to continue his becoming silence concerning the Biden Crime Familia‘s frequent use of his “nation” as an ATM-slash-money laundry.


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