How invective is DONE

As DuToit says, this here is the gold-plated, professional-grade stuff.

The Diclofenac pills do actually relieve the pain quite a bit but they, too, are a bit what we used to call spacey and I was up all night, between here and watching the telly. It was a wee small hours, musical interlude, on Channel Four, firstly a film of Liam Gallagher’s new ensemble, Beardy Eye, playing their new album in the Abbey Road studios. Liam is the truly neanderthal, younger brother from Oasis, a thick, grunting Manchester-Irish fuckpig, dumb as shit, you can hear the wind whistling between his ears, if he was any more stupid he’d have to be watered twice a week; makes Manchester United’s Wayne Potato look like a full Mensa meeting, does Liam. Nothing wrong with stupid. There’s lots of people like Liam, their oil just doesn’t reach the dipstick. He’s not as stupid as he looks, mind, because he looks like he was beaten with the Ugly stick and then ate it, ugly as fucking sin, is Liam Gallagher, ugly as a hatfull of arseholes; if your dog had a face like Liam’s, you’d shave its arse and teach it to walk backwards. Stupid, ugly and nasty, that’s Liam Gallagher, a truculent moron, charmless, graceless and entirely without discernible musical talent, a sign, in fact, of Ruin’s corrosion.

His new band, anyway, consists of four competent but unimaginative player-songwriters, and him. And the album’s a turgid lukewarm brew of reworked Oasis numbers which Liam’s brother Noel, every bit as ugly, every bit as unpleasant but a fraction less stupid would have rejected; the  band switch between a dazzling selection of Rickenbaker and Gretsch guitars -funny, isn’t it, how a fiddler will manage with one Stradivarius, Robert Johnson played only a two-dollar guitar, Rory Gallagher the same battered old Strat and yet the current lot switch from one expensive instrument to another between songs, maybe even during songs, the rock’n’roll of Consumerism – to produce the  same sounds, the same chords, the same figures over and over, to sing the same harmonies,  the same shouty, angry, miserable, hateful, retarded adolescent drivel, tripe, every fucking bar of it; Liam, stooped inside his ugliness, howling and frothing his whining, meaningless  doggerel; forty year old men, there oughta be a law against them doing this shit. Liam, rock hero caricature posturing, grunts at one point that this is whaditsallabout knoworramean, fucking keeping on playing and touring, selling the albums, to the kids, otherwise I’d end up working in fucking McDonalds, knoworramean; setting his sights way too high, there, overestimating his personal qualities, I mean, Billy Bragg might get a job in McD’s, on the mop bucket, Paul Weller, maybe, but they wouldn’t let Gallagher within a hundred yards.

Can’t say I know a whole heck of a lot about either Oasis or Liam Gallagher, and probably care even less. However, if I was him and somebody showed me this my career would be well and truly over before I finished reading the first paragraph. I mean, I’ve been on the hurty end of a negative review or three in my life; it smarts a little, then you shrug it off and get on with your day. But this? Jeez Loo-WEEZE, man!! No way could I ever walk out onto a stage again after a savaging that ferocious. Not even at gunpoint, I couldn’t.

2

My apologies

It hit me ike a brick in the teeth on the way from work tonight just how badly I screwed the pooch with my “Brandon drops a deuce” title. What I should have gone with, what I fervently wish I had gone with, is this: Brandon drops an Il Dook-ay. Y’know, since the ***”Presidential”*** loss of bowel control took place in Italy and all.

Mea culpa, folks, mea maxima culpa. That is all. As you were.

3

Brandon drops a deuce

It was bound to happen, and it was always gonna be gut-bustingly hilarious no matter what august personage ended up bearing witness to it.

Internet Dumps Its Best #PoopyPantsBiden Memes As Rumors Swirl Puppet President Sh** Self at Vatican

I never, ever dared to dream I’d live to see a headline as delightful as that, but incredibly, the subhed is better still.

Just a typical day for the Biden administration.

BWAAAAAHAHAHAHAOOHHHHHSHIT!! Ummm, uhhh……

Oh, dammit all. S’cuse me just a sec, folks. CLEANUP ON AISLE THREE, STAT!!!

Joe Biden made headlines in all the worst ways during his meeting with Pope Francis in Rome over the weekend.

After the Vatican cancelled a livestream meeting with Biden over a media dispute, rumors quickly began spreading online that the cancellation was due to Biden…*ahem*…pooping his pants in front of the Holy See.

Thereby providing me with all the excuse I’ll ever need to run this unforgettable scene from the classic film The Pope Of Greenwich Village.


Eric Roberts has never been better than he was in The Pope, nor will he ever be. Same goes for Mickey Rourke with great big bells on, and possibly even veteran character-actor colossi Burt Young and Jack Kehoe too, among several other notables in the cast. Pope was a quiet little gem that came and went quick without much fuss at the box office to remember it by, failing to even make back its production costs if I remember right. Be that as it may, I saw the flick in the theater way back when, was completely charmed by it, and have adored it ever since. Read the book too, more than once, which was a good bit darker and heavier than the movie was, particularly the ending.

But back to, umm, business, shall we say. Richly blessed as we already have been by this kingly gift of a news item, the boons and benisons don’t stop there, playgoers.

Those rumors soon evolved into dank memes, which were dumped all over social media.

A big ol’ butt-load of funnies follow, none of which you will want to miss. I’ll limit myself to just one embed, difficult as the choice was to make.

Looks as if ***”President”*** Brandon has cranked the stink pickle heard ’round the world, a real stinkburger of a faux pas to put the cap on a long and noteworthy career of blunders, gaffes, and general self-beclownment with one he’ll never, ever be able to live down. How perfect is it that, after interminable decades in desperate, obsessive pursuit of an office he always was manifestly inadequate to successfully occupy, the corrupt old bunco artist finally did somehow manage to hoodwink his way into it…only to find it almost certainly the most miserable, excruciating experience of his entire worthless life?

Think of it: to ascend to the Presidency in his dotage—AT LONG, LONG LAST!!!—via a process so thoroughly tainted and corrupt that not just half the country but half the entire WORLD is deeply suspicious of his regime; has absolutely no respect for him or his plainly-usurped mantle of authority; and scornfully revels in his every successive misstep, on the vanishingly few occasions when people bother to even pay attention at all.

Yep, I think it’s safe to say that being POTUS has NOT turned out like ***”President”*** Brandon hoped or imagined it might, he nor his grabby, grubby show-wife either one. Not at all. They had imagined a plush, highly-remunerative sinecure being obsequiously pampered in the White House, the envious gaze of one and all focused on them with awe and admiration for their nation’s esteemed Chief Executive and his lovely First Lady. Instead, the miserable wretches are caught in the iron clutches of living nightmare, a sweaty horror from which there is no awakening.

And now the raddled old cretin has gone and publicly shat himself, in close physical proximity to the fucking Pope, ferchrissakes. Which Pontiff quietly noted this absolute nadir of humiliation, this total loss of all control of one’s person—even as the thick, fetid stench wafted far enough to invade the Papal nostrils all too swiftly—and dropped the decrepit oaf from his busy schedule posthaste, without offering any official explanation. Not that anybody needed one, after the nasty truth had, umm, leaked.

Couldn’t happen to a nicer asshole, if you ask me.

8
3

T’is the season!

Yeah, yeah, I know, not yet it ain’t. But really, now: breathes there a man with soul so thoroughly enGrinchinated as to be displeased with the seasonal return of CF’s long-time Christmas season mascot, dear old Scrooge Picard, if somewhat prematurely?

Well not me, bub. I don’t care what anybody says. I don’t care how flinty-hearted an old-school Trad-Christmas stick in the mud you might be. I look forward to trotting this entirely original and unique-to-CF makeover each and every year—no lie, I actually get excited like a little kid sneaking into the living room for an early peek at what Santa left under the tree for him well before the crack of Christmas dawn, another Yuletide tradition that I know a little something about myself—and will betcha-by-gosh-by-golly take all of Captain Scrooge I can possibly get.

And I’m in charge here, so there, blast it.

Hey, with all the disaster, trouble, and woe facing us this season and well into the foreseeable future (if any), I’d say we need Scrooge Picard, now more than ever. Enjoy, y’all.

6

Handsome is as handsome does

Also, when he’s right, he’s right. Explanation to come, but first, the backstory.

On Wednesday, Fox News host Tucker Carlson released a preview for a trailer on a new series scheduled to debut next week, which tells the “true story” of the January 6th Capitol riot.

It appears to both condemn the left for framing the incident as terrorism and its participants as terrorists, while exploring the potential role of the FBI in staging a false flag.

First, the trailer for “Patriot Purge”:

Which I won’t embed, so as to get right on to the meat of this.

Unsurprisingly, the left has been absolutely triggered over Carlson’s upcoming exposé, and wants it stricken from existence before millions, perhaps tens-of-millions of Americans are presented with an alternative narrative that contains highly uncomfortable truths.

“There is no lie too big or conspiracy theory too dangerous for Tucker Carlson to propagate,” said top Russiagate / Ukrainegate peddler Rep. Adam Schiff (D-CA) in a statement to WaPo. “His latest salvo is nothing less than an invitation to violence. By airing it, Fox News demonstrates yet again a willingness to profit from tearing the country down.”

And on and on the shrieking shitlib hysteria-fest goes, of course and as usual. So brace yourself for the main reason I’m posting on this topic at all.

CF Lifers may recall an extended Gulf war-era dustup that raged ’round these parts with one Glenn Greenwald, who back in those days I took to sarcastically referring to as “Gleen Grenwald” for some long-forgotten reason. As I have ruefully acknowledged many times since those heady warblogging days of yore, my unqualified support for what I later came to derisively label the War On (Some) Terror was a mistake, owing to my being taken in completely by the Forever War scam.

Having waxed ever more appropriately and correctly cynical about FederalGovCo and all its works ever since, I’ve somewhat shamefacedly noticed a growing concurrence with Greenwald’s opinions of late; as I opened this post, when he’s right, he’s right. And he is, about more things than I would have imagined twenty years ago. My ego isn’t so smothering, nor my pride so stubborn, that I can’t give credit where it’s due. Although I’m sure we’ll never see eye to eye on everydamnedthing, nonetheless Glenn is due a great deal of credit, not least for this obversation:


Good stuff all right, and perfectly consistent with his beliefs then. But it’s the closer at the bottom of this next one that really tickled me good.


WHOA, that’s good squishy. I very much doubt Greenwald would remember me or our serial clashes way back when; he grazes in much more expansive fields nowadays, so to speak, and a lot of years have gone by. Be that as it may, I’ll say it anyhow: my humble thanks to you, Glenn, for giving me the heartiest laugh I’ve had all day.

(Via WRSA)

5
1

Losing it

What. The. Actual. FUCK.

Biden Meets the Pope and Utters One of the Most Embarrassing Lines Ever Said by a President

So far, strictly dog bites man stuff. But then ***”President”*** Brandon sez, “Hold my beer.”

Now we know why the Pope canceled a live broadcast with Biden on Thursday. When Joe Biden met with the Pope, he uttered a line that is so awkward that it defies belief.

“You’re the famous African-American baseball player in America.” The fuller context can be watched below…

And then Gropey REALLY went off the rails.

Biden may have meant it as a joke or it was another slip of the tongue about the gift he handed him, but the Pope laughing shows this is what he said. After a 75 minute meeting. This is not the behavior of a serious person, let alone one of the two ‘most powerful Catholics’ in the world.

The remark happened after they exchanged gifts at their meeting on Thursday. Biden spoke to the pope about Satchel Paige, the trailblazing Black baseball pitcher, and made a joke about their ages, CNN reported.

“How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were? You’re 65. I’m 60,” Biden said.

Annnnnd that’s a wrap, gang. Pudding cups and diaper changes all around!

As reported on Tuesday, the Pope suddenly canceled a live broadcast with the U.S. president without providing an explanation.

Did the Pope take one look at the beleaguered U.S. president and decide that it wasn’t worth the risk going live? Was there a personal disagreement? There were no reasons given.

At this point in Brandon’s™ rapidly-accelerating deterioration, is there really any need for one?

8

Obnoxious child playing in the street

Boy, talk about a problem that solves itself.

A climate activist in Vancouver who is part of the infamous group Extinction Rebellion has gone so far as to literally glue herself to a road.

This group is really going for it with their full-blown plan to take down the establishment and save the planet during its “October Rebellion,” which sounds promising but has done nothing but get 33 of them arrested (so far).

When one of their members named Tara glued herself to the road, they couldn’t have been more proud and ecstatic!

Yeh, I bet so. Just try and imagine how proud and ecstatic I’m gonna be when I binge-watch the upcoming YT vid of her stupid ass getting run over and squashed like a mosquito by a big fucking K-whopper T680 pulling doubles.

6

WAKE UP, BLACK AMERICA!

You folks know by now that I am resolutely immune to the bizarre ((((((JOOOOOOOOOOO!!!™)))))) obssessiveness currently fashionable in certain other quarters, for reasons I’ve already gone through here plenty enough times. Being more of a William of Occam devotee, I’ve never really had any truck with conspiracy theorizing of any flavor, which admittedly has become a much more difficult mindset to maintain the last two years. But once in a VERY great while, a conspiracy theory comes along that is so damned compelling, so brilliantly conceived, so clearly beyond argument that no sensible soul could possibly do anything other than embrace it without reservation.

This would be one of those.

San Francisco State University Prof Says Jewish Pot is Making Black Men Gay
“It is Jewish genius that has helped…to weaponize the weed.”

Wesley Muhammad believes that the U.S. government and the Jews are using marijuana to make black men gay. The “Pot Plot” is a popular theory in Muhammad’s Nation of Islam cult.

At the Saviours Day Convention in Chicago, an official Nation of Islam event, Wesley Muhammad claimed that, “It is Jewish genius that has helped… to weaponize the weed so that it may effeminize the black male of America. And be clear, it is Farrakhan and the Nation of Islam that is standing in between the total demasculinization of the black man in America.”

Some years back, Wesley Muhammad’s lecture, “How to Make a Homosexual: The Scientific Assault on Black America” was canceled at a Philly black beauty expo because of its hateful content. But what wasn’t good enough for the 23rd Annual International Locks Conference, a black natural hair expo, is unfortunately all too welcome at San Francisco State University.

It’s not too surprising that a black “wholistic” hair expo has higher standards than the most antisemitic university in America. Or that Muhammad fits in so well at SFSU.

“It is clear that the two most powerful lobbies in America – the Jewish and the Homosexual – are hellbent on the information in this lecture, “How To Make A Homosexualm (sic)” NEVER makes it to the public’s awareness,” Muhammad complained on Facebook.

San Francisco State University has however been happy to provide Muhammad with a platform despite no shortage of ethnically Jewish and gay people on the faculty and in the administration.

Wesley Muhammad’s bio at the taxpayer-funded university notes that he is a lecturer in the Africana Studies Department of SFSU’s College of Ethnic Studies. It mentions his publications in the Final Call newspaper of the Nation of Islam hate group, and his book, “Understanding the Assault on the Black Man, Black Manhood and Black Masculinity” which contains thoughtful chapters such as “Why Saggin is Faggin” and “Birth of the Black Man (God)”. 

This one scores straight A’s all across the board: for creativity; for originality; for weaving widely disparate threads into a wholly incoherent narrative fabric; for entertainment value; for sheer bugfuck lunacy, it tops every category. I must confess that I haven’t read all of it yet, mainly because I can only get another ‘graph or so deeper in before keeling over in helpless laughter and having to start all over again.

Damn pesky JOOOOOZ, getting all the brothas hung up on de weeeit ‘n’ fucking dey shit up ‘n’shit! Nomesay’n? Yup, it takes a nation of millions to hold ’em back. WE WUZ KANGS ‘N’SHIT!!!

6
3

Eloquence

EXTREMELY well said.

Biden’s cognitive capacity had already been a bus crash, but now it has further deteriorated to the level of not merely a bus crash, but a bus full of circus clowns crashing into a school for blind children and even worse the clowns were doing their “Gasoline Comedy” act that day and now all the blind children are on fire and the clowns are trying to squirt water on them with their stupid lapel-flowers but the flowers are just squirting out more gasoline and the children are crying tears of fire out of their Unseeing Dead Eyes and holy shit a couple of the clowns look like they have boners and they’re chasing around the fiery blind children trying to rub up on them with these bobbling clown-boners with big red bulbs on their tips.

Within the various forms and modes of what is generally recognized as Art, a categorical distinction can be made: there is the Lowbrow side of the house, and then you have your High Art. With music, the line practically draws itself: Classical music, possibly even jazz, is Highbrow. In the Lowbrow category, we have popular music, or just pop, a term that harks all the way back to Sinatra’s late-20s success, when supercilious Highbrow music snobs sniffed disdainfully at his music and his bobbysoxer fans both.

In the creative writing field, the distinction between noble Highbrow Litt’rachure and the kind of turgid pulp-fiction droppings cranked out by scurrilous Lowbrow shit-factories like the unserious poseur Stephen King is also readily made by high-minded book critics, who only wish they could attract as many readers as the objects of their elitist scorn.

I doubt very many people think of blogging as Art of any sort. That’s fair enough, although I myself would have to at least half-heartedly quibble with it; depending on the post itself, and the author’s skills and intentions, I’d contend that blogging could legitimately be thought of as Art, if only of the Lowbrow variety. But regardless of what your own position on that might be, it is beyond argument that, with the above passage, Ace has elevated blogging to High Art indeed.

If I remember right, that memorable snippet first appeared as part of Ace’s gut-bustingly hilarious diatribe from a few years back on Kaboom! cereal, of all things. The repurposing of it as a broadside decrying the already limited and rapidly dwindling intellectual shortcomings of “***President***” Brandon boosts it even higher into the High Art firmanent.

7
2
1

The greatest news item in the history of EVER

Medals of Honor all around, I think. Silver Stars at the very least.

Confederate Flag Raised, US and German Flags Stolen at 2nd Cavalry Regiment Headquarters
GRAFENWOEHR, Germany — Military police are investigating after a Confederate flag was found flying from a flagpole outside 2nd Cavalry Regiment headquarters Monday and removed upon discovery, Army officials said.

An American flag and a German flag also were stolen from inside the headquarters building in Vilseck sometime between Sunday night and Monday morning by an unknown person, regiment spokesman Maj. John Ambelang said.

The incident at Rose Barracks, which is home to a regiment of about 4,800 soldiers, comes more than a year after the Defense Department effectively banned the Confederate flags and other symbols deemed divisive from public display on military bases.

“The regiment takes this misconduct very seriously,” Ambelang said in a statement. “Should the culprit be identified, the command will take appropriate action after considering all the facts surrounding the incident.”

I already told ya what the appropriate action ought to be. Sadly, the Maje is probably not in concurrence with my own view.

Commanders across the regiment conveyed the seriousness of the situation to soldiers at a morning formation, the statement said.

Neither the theft nor the display of the Confederate battle flag align with the Army’s values, Ambelang said.

In today’s New Weak-Ass Timorous Mincing Dick-Chopper Army, I rather suspect they don’t at that. Which, actually, is just jakesey-jooksey with me. The mere thought of contemporary “soldiers” happily discoing the night away within close proximity to my sacred Confederate Battle Flag brings the bilious gorge surging up my esophagus uncontrollably. Not that modern soldiery would dream of doing any such thing, of course; they’d more likely faint dead away at the first scarifying sight of such a hateful relic flying proudly in open defiance of everything they represent.

If the culprit of this Hate Crime had run up the LGBTQRXP39BRRMSSST&%$#@ Rainbow Flag of Free Love And Harmony instead, though—why, just think of the dot-mil dance party they’d throw in celebration of the glorious event. All the exemplary You-Ess Sojers now bringing down physical-fitness standards across all service branches would be there for sure, such as:

  • Flabby, flubbery, Cheetoh dust-encrusted gamerduuude PVT Ethan Pissboy: Hunched in desperate supplication to a God whose existence he scoffs at praying that nobody catches sight of him in the darkest outer corner of the quad, lest the decidedly unpleasant and mortifying experience of a forcible pantsing, followed by having an entire family-sized bottle of Absorbine Jr sloshed over his shriveled nutsack by his more exuberant squadmates be repeated yet again
  • Terrifying, steroid-inflated bull dagger SFC Philippa “Knucksy” Flatrocker: Probably the closest approximation of a real man on the whole base, and certainly the only one who could perhaps contribute anything remotely useful in combat conditions
  • CPT Buck Turgidson: Peering through the slats of his barely-open blinds in shock and disbelief at the Fellini-esque Sabbat of sexual degeneracy, full-spectrum insobriety, rampant flouting of the very concept of military bearing, and general witless displays of Conduct Unbecoming going on just outside his office window, goggle-eyed in heartbroken wonder at what the hell the stupid PC bastards have done to the once-respectable US Army he served faithfully and well for nearly 30 years, as he’s absently running his fingers over the retirement/resignation forms he finds himself pulling from his file cabinet more and more frequently these days
  • COL Upsuck T Grabass: Always seen with his overlarge staff of cringing rumpswabs in close trail as he paces frenetically about the grounds, scouting everywhere for the location of the next rung up on the careerist ladder
  • BRIG GEN Shontavius Cumquat Mohammed Isaiah McCorkle Jr VII: Nobody dares call De Gen’rill Suh an affirmation-action hire, but they’re all thinking it, since that’s exactly what he is: incompetent, unintelligent, in way over his head, yet nonetheless arrogant, conceited, unyieldingly convinced that 1) not only is he one of the very best flag officers of his generation, he is also 2) eminently deserving of even higher rank, which he has been unfairly denied him—not because he is in reality a ham-handed jackass who didn’t so much claw his way up to his present position as he firmly believes, but was pushed from behind so as to duly check a box on some government “diversity” form—entirely because of the Army’s “systemic racism”; De Gen’rill Suh is visibly contemptuous, even downright abusive, of the harried subordinates who must constantly interpose themselves into the narrow divide between the “General” bizarre orders and plans and the utter disaster which can be their only result, their selfless sense of duty thereby preventing a far better soldier than he’ll ever be from winding up injured or killed because of his muttonheaded blundering

These are but a few examples of the New Model Army types being actively sought and sworn in as “improvements” on the unevolved, anachronistic Warrior-Class throwbacks our Betters wish to retire, then write out of the history books. Which, hey, fine by me. When things do go fully pear-shaped at last, I’d much rather face the delicate, mentally-unstable Gender Befuddled, assorted neurotic freaks, and whining, whey-faced boy-men attached to Stop SHOUTING At Me Company, First Pansy Battalion, 35th Perfectly Painted Toenails Brigade than have to go up against the hard-handed, experienced dogfaces they’re shoving out.

(Via Divemedic)

6
5
1

Short, sweet, to the point

Da Nuge, as is his wont, cuts right to the chase.


Know what I’ve always loved most about the Motor City Madman? His politesse—the careful, exquisitely nuanced way in which he expresses himself.

Via Wes Renegade, who also posts another Nugent interview wherein Ted pungently and correctly describes FederalGovCo as “the most evil force on earth.” Calls for a little Embedophenia, I do believe.



Love him or hate him, I see no possible way to deny that Ted Nugent is as True American Original as True American Originals come.

4
1

Somebody stop the pain

Remember, folks, THESE are the people we let steal our country from us.

No, really, I’m serious. THESE people.

It’s driving me insane. My wife and I have been married for a few years, and throughout our marriage we’ve always been monogamous. About 6 months ago she mentioned the idea of bringing in another man into the relationship to spice things up. I hesitantly agreed. We found a guy on Craigslist. It was actually pretty fun at first. Liberating, even. The three of us often had dinner together, watched movies, played games, etc. The sexual stuff stayed separate (although admittingly I feel like I started getting less…that’s outside the scope of this post though).

Fast forward to Mid-November. I make a joke at the dinner table about how finally the fucking cheeto is going to be out of office. The new boyfriend, who’s always been nice to me, told me to “shut the fuck up you fucking liberal pussy”. I was taking aback by his sudden anger. He’s much larger than me so I admittedly just looked at my wife as a plea for help. She just continued eating trying to act like nothing was going on.

Now, I don’t claim to be an expert or anything, not at all. But I’m thinking that right there just might have been the exact moment you lost her.

I did not know he was a Trump supporter. He even made a joke about him in the past, but he proceeded to tell me that he voted for him.

Long story short, after he had left for the night, I told the wife that we can’t associate with him (for obvious reasons). This is where it got bad. She defended HIM and told ME that I was being DISRESPECTFUL for not understanding that some people have different political views!!! I kept insisting that he’s a white supremacist and a racist and she said he wasn’t. My wife has always been very liberal and anti-trump just like me but now she’s defending the fucker. I told her we were done if she doesn’t stop seeing him…after a few days of fighting, and her continuously saying things would be fine, I packed up and left, thinking she’d finally comply.

Now, I’ve driven by the house a few times and his pickup truck is always parked there. In fact, I THINK HE FUCKING MOVED IN.

what the FUCK do I do now?

I see but one way out of this for you, pal: kill yourself. Do not waste another moment. Kill your wife, kill your wife’s bull, and then kill yourself. Do it now—right the fuck now. There MUST be an absolute bloodbath at your house, immediately, without further delay. This little circlejerk of yours is being conducted by a passel of miserable, useless oxygen thieves, and the fact is that you all have simply got to GO. Make the world a better place, for yourselves and for everybody else, in the only way you can or ever will do: by LEAVING it.

Trust me.

Via Ace, who guffaws in this pathetic, contemptible little queef’s anguished face thusly:

Note this isn’t his ex-wife. No, this is his current wife, who he lives with.

Or lived with, at least. Until she started banging this Trump supporter.

He’s in a polyamorous relationship. He lets his wife sleep with other men.

And he’s mad about two things:

1, His wife’s new boyfriend voted for Trump, and

2, He’s sick of all of his wife’s boyfriends’ drinking buddies calling him a cvck!

Okay, I made up that last one, but you know that must bother him.

If the shoe fits, wear it.

8

What’s to be done?

Lots and lots.

Become ungovernable.

This has been tried before. Face facts: Half the reason Communism doesn’t work is because it’s Communism.

The other half is because the people – the very “workers” communists claim to represent, as a dodge to milk everyone – aren’t communists. Proof: Russia pushed Nazi Germany from the outskirts of Moscow all the way back to Berlin. That’s what Ivan can do when he wants to. But in peacetime? You get the Trabant.

So stop wishing and hoping, or pissing and moaning. Throw Leviathan and its acolytes a bone. But throw it sideways, so it gets stuck in its throat, and it dies a slow, lingering, painful death.

What do I mean?

Monkeywrench. Hard, far, and wide. And often.

Manhole covers are portable, for instance. Store them behind the local DNC offices.

Road crew left a few blinky light barricades just sitting around? No problem. Close off an interstate entrance. Make an endless circular detour.

Epoxy an ATM closed. Better yet, a few dozen parking meters near city hall.

Get a slingshot or a high velocity pellet gun, and take out a surveillance camera or three.

The list of, umm, extracurricular activities (all strictly notional, Officer—just a little idle woolgathering strictly for entertainment purposes, no one has any serious intention of actually doing this stuff for real, of course!) is expansive, but hardly comprehensive. The possibilities are limited only by one’s imagination, and how far one is willing to hang it out there in order to jam somebody’s works.

I have firsthand experience of one such tactic myself. I worked at a bar in NYC way back when (Babyland, that would be; any Noo Yawkers in the audience might even remember the joint) that had a problem for a couple of weeks there. Not long after I started the job, a disgruntled former employee who had been recently dismissed with extreme prejudice adopted the habit of Supergluing the padlocks (2 of ’em) on the drop-gate in the wee hours of the night. Now, I’ve never once known Superglue to be effective at anything other than gluing my own fingers together. But as it turns out, the stuff does a bang-up job when it comes to ganking up the expensive American locks that pretty much every business on the LES uses. So the diabolical strategem worked a treat this time.

Every damned day the opening bartender (me, most days) and miscellaneous other staff would be unable to get the key into the locks, and so had to call the boss-lady for help getting inside. Boss-lady, in turn, had to call a locksmith to come out and unfuck the damned things, which usually had to be cut with a torch, and were thereby rendered unsalvagable. Which meant that every damned day the bar opened way late, since what would ordinarily have been setup/prep time was spent standing around freezing our asses off waiting for the locksmith to arrive. Which artist would then fumble around for a while in an effort to keep from junking the ruined lock using all kinds of chemical sprays, picks, and other such, none of which ever worked.

Eventually, the ‘smith would concede defeat, break out the torch from his ditty bag, cut the damned things, and we’d be in at last. While all this drama was unfolding, off Deb (Deb Parker, that would be, a very well-known and successful entrepreneur who I hear is out in Vegas these days) would go to purchase another pair of fifty-dollar-apiece padlocks. Next morn, the cycle would begin anew.

The boss felt confident she knew who the perp was and the motive behind these serial outrages, even going so far as to recruit a brace of NYPD detectives—one of whom happened to be a close friend of hers—for an off-the-books consultation. But the evidence was insufficient to warrant police action, the sabotage stopped after about two weeks, and life went on.

So yeah, in this film script we’re communally head-shedding on here, I can assure one and all that the Superglue ploy would definitely be a credible plot device. In a movie, I mean. If somebody was making one, like. Certainly not something to ever contemplate doing in real life, Agent. Not ever. No way. Because that would be wrong.

Am I free to go now?

5

Spanked!

Also: PWNED. And a few other choice things, too. Remember Nazimerican Cindy Bronson, a staff sergeant in the late, lamented US Army? Well, Aesop certainly does, and he has a few things he’d like to say to her. Strong message follows:

Dear disloyal fascist peawit: You are a No-Go at the stations marked Oath Of Service, ROE, and Basic Common Fucking Sense, and are Too Fucking Stoopid to wear any stripes, except the prison variety. Your recruiter should be crotch-kicked for about 3 days straight, by a conga line of prior service former drill sergeants, just to make the point. How you ever got past basic training highlights the sad lack of any standards for military service in this country, and getting all the way to staff NCO rank shows that the Army gives out promotions to fucktards like they couldn’t find such unredeemed shitheads fast enough. You are the poster child for abolishing a standing army, and throwing the lot of you into prison until your initial enlistments are up, or for a term commensurate with your time in-service for people like you. If they drummed you out afterwards, and marched you at bayonet-point across the Bridge Of No Return at Panmunjon into North Korea at the DMZ, and tore up your American citizenship papers behind you, it would be too good for you, and far too light a sentence.

But be advised, if martial law is ever declared in America, Motor Transport Operators (that would truck drivers) like you should be informed that under such likely unconstitutional eventuality, the range will (be) hot in both directions, and you won’t get your weapon out of its holster before you get popped right between the running lights. They won’t name any bridges after you, but you can bet your body parts will be used to decorate one. And what’ll go on any grave of yours, if anyone bothers to shoo away the pigs feeding on whatever’s left, won’t pass for flowers.

But after recent events, you’ll understand why precisely no one in the entire nation is quaking in its collective boots at the fear of what you, or even the entire Army, think you’ll do. You won’t get what you like, and you won’t like what you’ll get. (cf. Lord Cornwallis) {Yet another strike against Common Core grads like SSGT Bulldyke, is that she probably couldn’t come up with the significance of the reference, even with a cellphone, three lifelines, and a shout-out.}

So put away your finger gun, and stick your thumb back into your cockholster, you would-be-Nazi stormtrooper cunt, before you beclown the entire U.S. Army more thoroughly than the events of the last two weeks have already done.

Dude, I mean, just…OUCH. Plenty more raucous bitch-slappery where that come from, all of it equally well-said. I also would like to commend Aesop, a former Marine his own bad self, for a most righteous response to the other night’s post wherein I lauded LTC Stuart Scheller, USMC—a Dogface’s Dogface and bona fide American hero of the old-school variety. Which we don’t seem to making too many of anymore, to our national shame and great loss.

LtCol Scheller, relieved of command of his battalion of Marines, and soon to be court-martialed, and dismissed from the service, started out as a grass-green 2dLt in 2004. He’s thus been fighting this war his entire adult life.

He is now olive green, and hard as crocodile dicks.

And he’s the only active duty Marine officer from 2d Lt to 4-star Commandant Hamhead Berger who can ever walk around with his head held high and his honor clean, no matter what aspersions are cast at him, nor what shenanigans are pulled on him by the chain of command.

He just embarrassed the living hell out of every officer in the Marine Corps, and for that matter, every other service, from full colonel on up, for them ALL being too chickenshit to do what he just did: call out the rent-seeking, ass-licking bullshit they’ve all participated in for any amount of time you’d care to name.

The Marines haven’t seen heroism like this since Capt. Jordan climbed onto an Israeli tank in Lebanon in 1983, and suggested to the colonel commanding that tank that trying to pass his Marine checkpoint without authorization would be career-ending, in a brains-all-over-the-turret sort of way. The tank commander rethought his plan, and departed intact.

LtCol Scheller just did the same thing to Commandant Berger and the entire Marine Corps and DoD chain of command, all the way to Gropey Dopey, and they unhesitatingly chose the path of dishonor. They might as well go full retard, and kill themselves. they can never get the yellow stains out of their pants, and they’ll never get the yellow stripe off their backs.

And for icing on the cake: the bomb that killed a dozen Marines was made with explosives left behind without being blown in place, by the Air Force etc. @$$holes who chickenshitted out of Bagram Airbase in the dead of night.

That right there is Dereliction Of Duty, and 12 counts of Manslaughter under the UCMJ.
UCMJ Article 92: Failure to Obey Order or Regulation (thebalancecareers.com)
UCMJ Article 119 Manslaughter – Court Martial Defense Attorney (ucmjlaw.com)

Call me when the worthless sons of bitches responsible for that colossal homicidal fuckup, from multi-star generals on down, are rightfully prosecuted and justly imprisoned in Leavenworth for the blood of heroic Marines now on their hands.

I ain’t holding my breath.

And no matter what happens to him henceforth for speaking the inconvenient truth, Scheller has a backbone of pure titanium, and balls the size of church bells.

Anyone asked ought to be honored to follow him, even through the gates of hell.

Semper Fi, Leatherneck!

Well said again, and seconded heartily—for whatever that might be worth, coming as it does from a cake-eating civilian like myself.

2

Making it stick

Words, however strong or clear, can never amount to very much if the action required to back them up is never taken.

In 1938, one year before the outbreak of World War II, Winston Churchill gave his famous “the lights are going out” speech, in which he said, instructively: “Alexander the Great remarked that the people of Asia were slaves because they had not learned to pronounce the word ‘No.’ Let that not be the epitaph of the English-speaking peoples.”

In 2021, the world takes stock of its freedom and finds out just how little is left. In Australia, Melbourne has been locked down for 19 months and the police are shooting violators with rubber bullets. In New Zealand, citizens testing positive for COVID-19 were quarantined by force in government camps run by the military: “I cannot allow the gains we have all made to be squandered by processes that are not followed,” said New Zealand’s prime minister.

In Great Britain, the National Health Service built an app that “pings” people who have been near a person with a positive COVID test and requires those people to leave work. Last month the app was “pinging” more than half a million people every week. Boris Johnson’s spokesman says the app is doing “what it’s designed to do.”

In America, New Yorkers will not be allowed indoors anywhere—no bars, restaurants, museums, movie theaters, gyms—without their “Key to NYC” proof of vaccination. This despite the fact that the vaccine only inhibits one from developing symptoms, but does not at all affect the likelihood of having the virus in one’s system or passing it to others.

This year, much of the world discovered that its freedom was illusory: Nothing more than words and slogans to soothe the credulous, feeble public. But not in Florida, where I happen to be at the moment. When “Key to NYC” was announced by Bill de Blasio, I knew it was the right time to visit some friends in the south and see how the other half lives. 

Unsurprisingly, Dan’s trip was exactly what you’d expect: an invigorating breath of the clean, clear air of freedom, summoning forth an inescapable conclusion:

The reality in Florida exposes the worldwide response to the novel coronavirus for what it is: An exercise in oppression. A precious opportunity for governments to see just how far their tentacles can intrude into peoples’ daily lives. An excuse to grant governments across the world extraordinary, emergency powers that, once granted, will become normal and then permanent. It’s an excuse—that’s all it is. A phony pretext for everything the government wanted to do anyway.

It is chilling and sobering to see how aggressively governments will subjugate populations of whom they are not afraid. In almost every country in the world, people are coming up against the unfortunate realization that, when push comes to shove, they are utterly helpless.

Only if they believe themselves to be, or—far, far worse, something we see way too much of all around us nowadays—if they actually LIKE it that way. Perhaps the most dismaying revelation over the past year and a half has been not of the true nature of our government, but that of so very many of our so-called countrymen.

Gelernter goes on to make the essential, if obvious, point about the motives of gun-grabbing tyrants, cites some examples, then closes out thusly:

A people disarmed is a people enslaved. Enslaved not only by their lacking effective means of resistance, but by their having shown their willingness to surrender those means to the authorities. When you look at American states with the freest gun laws, you know you’re looking at states with the freest people: Not simply because these people have guns, but because they had the strength of character to keep them. They were the ones who, when the government came around to lock them in their homes, said “No.”

If America is to enjoy a new birth of freedom, as I believe it will, it starts with those Americans who believe there are some things more important than safety, some things dearer even than life. To those in less-fortunate circumstances and places, it may fall to you to take the first step towards freedom regained: The government will ask you for your papers. You know what to say.

All fine and well, as I’ve repeatedly said, and he ain’t wrong about any of it. BUT…as I’ve also repeatedly said: not gonna get the job done. Wish it would, from the bottom of my heart. Won’t. Sorry, all. Now what?

Somewhat to his credit, Dan sidesteps the by now obligatory insistence that, vital as those guns are, any use of them for their Constitutionally-intended purpose absolutely MUST be preemptively foresworn by all Real Americans. As if tyrants who, as he correctly admits, no longer fear the faint-hearted Sheeple can ever be dissuaded from abusing them by words alone. As if the mere possession of guns can ever suffice to reinstill a proper and correct fear into our masters, absent a credible threat of resorting to them at dire need—exactly as the Founders had to do, and did. He simply doesn’t mention that aspect of the matter at all, one way or another.

But he didn’t flatly reject the idea out of hand either, a stance which has somehow become the default even amongst some of the firebrands of the historically literate, sincerely patriotic punditry. Kinda sad that that actually does represent progress, of a sort. But hey, I said “SOMEWHAT to his credit,” now didn’t I? Baby steps, people, baby steps.

9

Biden Bugout: the gift that keeps on giving

Loss of US military gear, civilian personnel, and all respect, trust, and standing in the world: costly. Ongoing mockery and humiliation of ****”President”**** Biden from every corner: PRICELESS.

A former British military commander in Afghanistan said he believes that President Joe Biden should not be impeached, as some Republicans have suggested, but rather court-martialed as a failed commander-in-chief for “betraying the United States of America and the United States’ armed forces.”

In an interview set to air Sunday evening, Colonel Richard Kemp, CBE, formerly in charge of all British military operations in the country, also told Fox News host Mark Levin that he believes Biden’s debacle of a pullout has humiliated U.S. armed forces and Americans in general.

Two GOP House members — U.S. Reps. Marjorie Taylor Greene of Georgia and Bob Gibbs of Ohio — have drafted articles of impeachment against Biden, though last week, House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy, R-Calif., would not commit to impeaching the president if Republicans gained control of the chamber in next year’s midterms, saying he did not want to turn the process into a political exercise.

“I don’t say this lightly and I’ve never said it about anybody else — any other leader in this position. People have been talking about impeaching President Biden,” Kemp said. “I don’t believe President Biden should be impeached.”

“He’s the commander-in-chief of the U.S. armed forces who’s just essentially surrendered to the Taliban,” he added. “He shouldn’t be impeached. He should be court-martialed for betraying the United States of America and the United States armed forces.”

It’ll never happen, obviously. But I love it just the same, and look forward to much, much more of it.

10
1

Spark up!

You goddamned sickly, frail-ass nonsmoker feebs are Killing Grandma.

Occasionally I train courses on using self-contained breathing apparatus for fire fighting and the like, known as SCBA or simply BA in industry. The course is a lot of fun to teach, particularly as I drill my students in a way that inspires some of them to regularly ask me what I did in the military – (NOTHING. I was never in the military but maybe I should have been. But the way the world’s going there’s probably plenty of opportunities coming up.)

One of my little joys in that course is when we get to the subject of air consumption rates. For example, if you’re unfit you will use more air than the fit guy. If you’re scared you will use more air than the relaxed guy. And if you’re throwing gas cylinders over a fence to stop them from exploding in a fire then you’ll chew through a 6 litre 300bar cylinder in about nine minutes flat. Don’t ask me how I know that.

And then I ask the question of the room – is anyone here a smoker? And there is the inevitable groan and then the smokers will raise their hands, some sheepishly, but most with a look on their face that goes something along the lines of, “we get it, you’re about to tell us that we’re doomed because we smoke, blah blah blah, we don’t care anymore.”

And that’s when I drop the bomb and inform them that smokers in general have better air consumption rates because they have habituated their lungs to use less air. Talk about a room perking up! You see the sheer joy in their faces. There’s nothing like getting a room full of tough offshore workers who smoke on your side with one sentence. Well, maybe there is but I need to get out more.

Heh. Well, these days we’re one of the very last minorities that it’s considered not just okay but positively virtuous to persecute. But here’s the really fun part.

I found various parts of this interesting but none more than one of the proposed cures for the S1 spike protein.
Nicotine. Who told you the other day that smoking is cool?

Ivermectin kills the virus, Statins prevent the S1 protein presenting Monocytes from attaching to your cells, and several drugs (including nicotine) can induce monocyte apoptosis. When the S1 presenting Non-Classical monocytes undergo apoptosis, the S1 protein is destroyed, and the nano clotting, inflammation, etc. go away. This is also why smokers have been shown to test positive for COVID symptoms 80% less than the general population, the nicotine effectively renders them immune to the effects of the S1 protein, and thus most of COVID’s symptoms.

Well, how about that then? Poor smokers have been maligned for over twenty years as the outright lepers of our so civilized societies. Now it turns out that smoking is not just a nice hit, not just a great brain stimulant and not just downright cool; it’s also positively brimming with health features.

Just one more positive that I can add to my BA course next time with the lads. Pretty soon those nasty medical companies will be begging us smokers to come back. Nah, she’ll be right, ya dropkicks. We don’t need ya. We’re smokers.

Bold mine, and completely delicious if you ask me. I seem to recollect having mentioned that 80 percent statistic here myself some months back, but don’t feel like looking around for it right now. No matter; it’s time for a smoke break, folks.

(Via WRSA)

1

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"America is at that awkward stage. It's too late to work within the system, but too early to shoot the bastards." – Claire Wolfe, 101 Things to Do 'Til the Revolution

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