Good News

Ok Gang, Me Droogs N Droogettes!

Mike a.k.a. “Stumpy” or “Peg-Leg” as he shall be known as is doing very well currently. He’s still got -some- infection but the croakers (doctors) are no longer worried. Only thing they had to do was on his right foot it seems that his Big Toe didn’t get the message and got eighty-sixed with the rest of the bad bunch.

His mood has not improved but they have brought his clothes, and his cell phone so he can get calls, for those of you close enough to be in the ‘inner cool-kid circle’

I’m broke but if’n someone, in lieu of a donation can send a titty-strip-o-gram it’d probably make things better.

Get the chickie to make Mike to literally eat his veggies and be a Good Boy
He’s been protesting the grub in the hospital ‘cos it ain’t Greaseburgers and Fries, with an extra side of cholesterol. I told him that right there is why we’re where we be at Aye? She’s also have to tell him to be nicer towards the staff, as they’re doing their level best to wrangle an angry redneck shy a leg and a toe. Then and only then should he get the titties.

I told him he should be grateful as fuck instead of ornery as Wifey’s friend? He had a similar experience, but unfortunately for him (God rest him, he was a nce guy) the Gangrene went allllll the way up and done ate his junk… like complete package elimination

>shudder<

So yeah, he needs to stop giving shit to everyone. Especially the nurses and Physical Tortur… errr Therapists.

Now, other things Big Country done fucked up:

Namely Mike’s PayPal, which I swear to God as my witness, I had no idea existed on this here place. The link is listed as “Shameless Begging” and is on the right hand side. It’s mike@coldfury.com for y’all too fucking lazy… Y’all who want to donate that way, go for it. As far as I know, the shit is good… if not, please let me know, ‘cos a lot of this ‘stuff’ I’m finding out via bits and pieces here n’there… Swear to Gawd if Mike survives, I’m ’bout to purely kill his ass done dead Aye.

So, good news all around, and if’n you get the urge to come over to MY place and throw $$$ for the raffle, I’ma ’bout to -sweeten the deal- with an additional 27 rounds of M855A1 62grain with an additional 3 rounds of XM856 64 grain tracer… and two brand new PMAGs in the wrapper to load ’em into. $10 a chance, with the Two Damascus handmade boot Knives and two autographed Charlie Mike Comix. Total now is 6 rounds of Tracer, and 54 rounds of Green tip ball, plus two mags and the ka-niffs and comix…

Oy Vey! Whadda deal I’m offering!

I’m announcing that at MY house tomorrow, so y’all Furians get a jump on the rest of MY criminal scum.

MY PayPal is theintrepidreporter2019@gmail.com LOL.
$10 an entry, to be drawn on New Year Eve by Wifey or some other suitable piece of fluff from her friends in bikinis.
So, More Later I Remain The Intrepid Reporter

Big Country

2

A Modest Proposal

Anyone can see that the food supply in the US has been disrupted. Grocery stores have removed some items which were popular two years ago. Cans and boxes aren’t shelved more than two deep and even so the shelves have gaps. Prices are way up, which both suggests shortages and reduces consumption.

We have warnings of more severe shortages to come: Fertilizer shortages. Labor shortages in the food processing plants resulting in reduced throughput. Labor shortages preventing the harvesting of crops. Increased disruption in international trade. Transportation problems because of lack of truck drivers or cargo containers or disposable plastic boxes.

Stocking up while you can is one way to not go hungry but it’s not a long-term solution. If you eat more than you can obtain, you’ll eventually chew through your entire deep pantry.

Removing the supply, processing, and transportation bottlenecks would fix the problem of shortages. If you can do that, do it. I suspect the problem is bigger than you can solve, and unless you are able to get more food on the shelves, your effort is better put on something that you can fix.

Everyone has to eat.

There’s only so much food to go around, and in fact a decreasing supply. There are so many people eating it, and in fact an increasing number.

Everyone living has to eat.

Anyone can see that some people don’t produce. They don’t now, they never have, they likely never will. They consume: housing, consumer electronics, gasoline. Food. They don’t produce and they often destroy. There’s the never-employed mother with five children by seven fathers. The corner drug dealer. Muggers and burglars.

Even the institutionalized insane and the severely retarded can be categorized with them. It may not be their fault but they consume and do not produce.

Everyone living has to eat.

If 9.1% of the nation’s population is useless eaters, then getting rid of them will let everyone else eat 10% more.

If you’re hungry now or think that one day you will be, go out and kill a useless eater. More than one.

Do it for the satisfaction. Do it for the satiation. Do it for America.

9
3
1

Cards, Flowers and Big Tiddy Strip-O-Grams

Got the addy of where they go Mike stashed. I actually talked to him today and boy-howdy, he’s in an especially ornery mood, as well he should be. He’s also high as all get the hell out on the good stuff. Bad news is the infection is now on his spine… they’re working it, and it’s ‘minor’ for the sake of minor, but he’s still kicking, and as I told him only the good die young…

So He’s at

 CaroMont Regional Medical Center 2525 Court Dr, Gastonia, NC 28054

I know I’ve annoyed y’all enough but any love you can show him is much appreciated, as he said “I’m trapped here naked, eatin’ shitty food, and for some reason one of my legs is missing!!!”
The ‘good stuff’ indeed.

So yeah, no calls to him however. He’s got to rest and get better, so don’t be blowing up the fon there Aye?

Much Love to Everyone and Prayers for my Brother From Another Mother

I Remain The Intrepid Reporter
Big Country

“….One Red Shoe”

OK, so and update to the update. To answer some of the questions out there, The root cause of this was Mike had food poisoning, barfing whilst at the same time shitting hisself to the point you don’t get off the shitter, you just get a BIGGER bucket to hold the puke.

Seems he has the diabeetus, which when the infection ackchully spread to a body-wide dealio, his left foot essentially died… like gangrene.  The infection started working it’s way up his leg, and in order to save his life, the sawbones did just that. Incrementally to save -as much- of his leg as they could. They kept at it, hacking AND Massive Medications, and from what I’ve heard, they got ALL the shit (the infection itself) handled, but now?

Well, lets just say Mikey ain’t gonna need a “Left” Air Jordan anytime soon…  His shit ends just above where the knee -was-

Now, to be utterly honest, not a bad spot to stop cutting.  I know me personally at least three guys (Infantry/SF and ALL still on active duty last I heard) who’ve had legs lopped off, blown off or generally ‘removed’ in unnatural incidents… (although one we never speak of, as it involved three Mexican chicks,  a Tijuana Donkey Show, a jelly donut and some –serious– depravity… ugly doesn’t begin to describe the scene)

Anywho, new stump-covers are really fucking good these days, hence my fundraiser.  And he’s gonna need a LOT of drinks too….  Wars tend to seriously advance our know-how when it comes to traumatic Limb Injury… ask Aesop aboot it….

Jes’ Sayin’

Now, at this point the GoFundMe seems to have slowed a mite. We’re a hair under $20K as I saw this A.M. If you’ve already tagged it, then coolio. Claire Wolfe sent me a Cee-Note which I donated for her (it had to go as an ‘anon’ name but it’s in there, and I thank her as well.. Thanks for the support also to Normal American who runs the eeeevil Aggregator “News to Keep You Out Of The Camps” where he’s ‘pinned’ the GFM to the top of his page.

Now, Any suggestions to ‘kick it up a notch’ would be appreciated and to all you bloggers who jumped on the promotion train, I do indeed thank Ye All.

“We must, indeed, all hang together or, most assuredlywe shall all hang separately.”

We got to watch out for each other, and to all y’all who stepped up… y’all are the best.
So that’s the lastest… Pass it on!
So More Later I Remain The Intrepid Reporter

Big Country

Update on Mike and Other Stuff

Greetings Me Droogs N Droogettes!
So far, so good!  Mike’s brother hit me this A.M.  He came out of surgery and is actually doing well.  ‘Cept missing his leg and all… better a leg than the junk however amiright?  So they –think- they got ALL the problematic infection out, and that he’s stable.  ICU’d but stable.
And you guys gals and -whatevers- out there, y’all are fucking awesome.

21 Hours in and we’re at almost 10K for Mike.  And as one reader suggested, I’ma gonna see about doing a trust or something as the medical bills are going to be phenomenally stupid as fuck so’s having Mikey ackchully not having -anything- as of now might be a good idea?

Lord knows I’m still worried AND praying.  No lightening bolts yet but man, I’m usually not too hard of praying type.  Biggest concern is the medical folks theyselves… these days the trust I have of a croaker is near-to-nonexistent.  Their own damned fault too.  

Wasn’t it the Aztecs who used to tie the patient to the doctor if they died while under care and stake ’em out on the beach at the low tide?  If the doctor wasn’t guilty of malpractice, he’d survive, and if he fucked up and WAS to blame, he’d drown while tied to the carcass of the person he done kilt’.

Sometimes I think that our ‘primitive ancestors’ had a better view on how to deal with some of the shitheads that inhabit this lil ole ball o’mud.

So… just got off the phone with the IT Department.  One of the doodz, he’s a reader here and was instrumental in getting me on with Glorious People’s Tractor Factory.  I mentioned him before as the IT Commissar.  Seems H.R. showed up in the IT office and told him and his partner in crime that there was a problem in the Server Room that they needed to rectify.  A Spock-Like Single Eyebrow lift, followed by “What’s the problem?”  I mean what could have raised the ire of HR in the server room?
Well aboot that….

Seems that the server racks and switches, well if you’ve ever worked IT, they’ve got labels on them.  Apparently the “Master” Switch and the “Slave” switch, labeled as such was “problematic”.

Peak. Clown. World.

The two of them stared down the HR chick until they literally both exploded in laughter.  Like Howling pissing-in-pants levels of ‘lost their shit’ laughter.  HR Karen then pretty much hustled out of there.  He then called me still barely under control when I lost MY shit as well.  My sides still hurt.  Best part?  The Assistant Commissar came up with a new labeling idea… what was “Master” is now going to be labeled “Daddy” on a piece of Black Leather, and the “Slave” is going to be labeled “Sub” on vinyl.  The idea if the HR Lunatics complain about that, they’ll go after them for ‘kink-shaming’

I almost pissed myself I was laughing so hard.
Appreciate that man… I really needed that Aye.

So, Please let me know in the comments -how- we can get MOR folks onboard to spreading the word about Mike.  Tons of /ourguys have stepped up… All the usual suspects.  Wirecutter, Phil, Miguel, Borepatch, Claire Wolfe no less!  Peter at Bayou Ren, maaaan all the greats got on board… cept you Art?  Whaddup with that?
Oh!  Speaking of Art, over at his place, seems he dug up disturbing info aboot Ye Olde Paedo from CNN.  His Link here: https://www.arthursido.com/2021/12/the-circle-is-complete.html
Looks like the fucker was on the radar.  As in the psycho-child-abusing Mom?  Yeah, she got busted for essentially selling her 9 year old lil girl to this fucking fuck

Maaaan, when I called it the other day “Resting Paedo Face” I wasn’t fucking wrong.
Seems the headlies have this info-nugget: “Nevada complaint alleges 9-year-old was left with Griffin alone when mother was hospitalized after BDSM tryst”
Uhhhh. say fuckin’ what?!?Then it gets even MOR fucked:
“It also reveals that authorities first became aware of Griffin’s depraved proclivities 18 months ago – yet the FBI didn’t arrest him until Friday in Connecticut for allegedly soliciting three mothers and their underage daughters for “training” on fetish sex.

The third count in the federal indictment out of Vermont is based on the encounter with the 9-year-old in July 2020, for which Griffin paid the mom $3,500 via Venmo.

After the woman’s arrest in August 2020, federal investigators seized “computers storage media, devices, phones, cameras, MicroSD cards, images, and video” from Griffin on Sept. 2, 2020, according to court documents.”
What.
The.
Fuck.
Time to bust out a quote:

Yah.Root and BranchALL them FBI cocksuckers
Ain’t one of them worth a fuck.
Spare me the “one apple” line too. 
They’re the modren-day STASI and they know it, and obviously have zero fucks to give.  I henceforth think that IF I were to ever receive a visit by Ye Olde Glowniggers and whatnot, I’ma telling them to pound sand as they –obviously– fake, ghey and co-opted to the point of absolute irredeemability.  As in no, go fuck yourself, and sideways for that matter.  Illegit DotGov, Illegit DotGovLaw.  Get fucked, die in a fire.

Where the fuck do we go?  I mean Jeebus… it’s readily apparent that we’re surrounded by Demonic Forces (((everywhere))) and that thankfully, I appear to be in a ‘safe state’ 

For now.

Ain’t moving unless it’s post-apocalypse.  Doc Mississippi who’s a reg’lar here, he’s a boobie-doc for rebuilds post cancer shytte… he’s told me he wants me at HIS place as the de-facto head of security.  My only issue there is that he’s in Jackson Mississippi, which for the values of such, that place is positively drenched in “Muh Diversity” and IF I head that way, it’s only ‘cos he figured out where to get 400 plus Claymore Mines we’ll need to get his defenses hardened to the point that I’m satisfied.  Guns?  He’s got guns… the term I use is “metric fucktons” and I mean that literally…  and his missus is a wonderful chicka who Wifey’ll get along with like gasoline and a housefire… it’s just the ‘muh Diversity’ that has me… shall we say… squeemish?

I mean when it hits, shit’s gonna be ugly.

I ackchully volunteered and submitted my shytte to the Florida Defense Force that DeSantis announced, only to find out it’s to augment the Nasty Guard.  200 people only.  However, between my Intelligence, Logistics, and Security background, nevermind the whole ‘master gunsmith’ thing…

OK Holy fuck my balls
Between “fambly drama” and shytte, I’m ending this NOW.
I started this Poast at 11:00 A.M. ESTIt’s now 19:30.Fuck this… I’m done.
More later I Remain the Intrepid Reporter, (outta gas so to speak)
Big Country

Mike’s in Deep Shit (UPDATED)

Ok Y’all

All bullshitting aside.

Mikes in the Critical Care/ICU. I’m waiting to find out -where- exactly.

(FOLLOW UP: DO NOT BLOW UP THE HOSPITAL WITH PHONE CALLS AND SHEEEE-IT)
Hit me up if’n you have wants needs questions and I’ll do my best as the ‘gatekeeper’ to keep y’all up to date. Currently, they got him in Caromont Regional Medical Center. In lieu of flowers and other assorted phaggotry, donate at the GoFundMe I set up for him. Ladies, Nude pics and such will be forwarded as deemed appropriately, as well as panties and other such ‘morale boosting’ stuff.

I just got word that my brother-from-another-mother Mike Hendrix, late of the famed rockabilly band The Belmont Playboys and more recently of the Blog “Cold Fury” http://coldfury.com/ has gotten seriously hemmed up medically speaking. Last Thursday after a slightly prolonged absence from his blog, I reached out to him to find out WTF was going on and I heard back that he’d come down with a nasty case of food poisoning.

Since then, apparently something faaar MOR serious happened.

His brother (actual) Jeff called me tonight as I left one of my more ‘colorful messages’ on his phone (in possession currently by his sainted lil ole Lady Mom) who apparently when she recovered from my diatribe, had Jeff call me to fill me in on what’s up.

Essentially Mike’s seriously fucked up.

Food Poisoning turned out to be a MAD infection. His diabeetus didn’t help the issue, so they had to lop off his foot, then his leg, as the infection was/is spreading. They’re fixin’ to make it even MOR stumpy as the infection still isn’t under control. He’s in critical/ICU level condition, but NOT COVID related thank the Gods.

So, My brother-from-another-mother, henceforth now known as “Peg-Leg Mikey” is gonna have some serious medical bills and life altering needs. So hence Ye Olde GoFundMe Fundraiser.

I’m starting the ball rolling with the remainder of my ‘raising Christmas’ fund, and ask you please to help in any way, shape or form. Mike is damned fine people and has entertained people from all walks of life, either musically or through his magnificent acerbic writing and wit.

As they say, step up and help a brother out.
Spread the Word gang. Mike needs us and has never asked for anything.

The Go-Fund-Me is here: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-mike-of-cold-fury-and-the-belmont-playboys


I Remain The Intrepid Reporter,
Worried as all get-the-hell-out
Big Country

Been a While

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

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

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

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

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

Jes’ Sayin’

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

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

Big Country Expat

5

It is… Alive…

Sorta-Kinda…

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, More Later I Remain The Guest Intrepid Reporrter

Big Country

3
1

Some Filler Stuff

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

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

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

Next we have some totally justified mocking of a tool.

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

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

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

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

Speculation Concerning an Oddity of Behavior

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

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

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

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

No, of course not.

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

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

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

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

5
2

Milestone reached

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

Nah, me neither.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1

A night in Hell

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So what happened to them?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Hold onto your hats, folks

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

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

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

Two things can be true at the same time:

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

My heart, it bleeds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Allegedly.”

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

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

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

5

Mini-Mengele done unto death

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

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

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

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

Science!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5

Of Ford Rangers and fascism

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

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

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

Not so much here.

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

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

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

That makes it too rich for most Americans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

People might notice it then.

Possibly, some might even object.

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

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

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

1
2

Omicron-O-Mighty!

Dick with ears skeets off yet again.

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

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

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

DR. FAUCI: Of course-

BRENNAN: –From President Trump?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again.

(Via WRSA)

1

Courting the ban-hammer

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2

Comments policy

Comments appear entirely at the whim of the guy who pays the bills for this site and may be deleted, ridiculed, maliciously edited for purposes of mockery, or otherwise pissed over as he in his capricious fancy sees fit. The CF comments section is pretty free-form and rough and tumble; tolerance level for rowdiness and misbehavior is fairly high here, but is NOT without limit. Management is under no obligation whatever to allow the comments section to be taken over and ruined by trolls, Leftists, and/or other oxygen thieves, and will take any measures deemed necessary to prevent such. Conduct yourself with the merest modicum of decorum, courtesy, and respect and you'll be fine. Pick pointless squabbles with other commenters, fling provocative personal insults, issue threats, or annoy the host (me) and...you won't. Should you find yourself sanctioned after running afoul of the CF comments policy as stated and feel you have been wronged, please download and complete the Butthurt Report form below in quadruplicate; retain one copy for your personal records and send the others to the email address posted in the right sidebar. Please refrain from whining, sniveling, and/or bursting into tears and waving your chubby fists around in frustrated rage, lest you suffer an aneurysm or stroke unnecessarily. Your completed form will be reviewed and your complaint addressed whenever management feels like getting around to it. Thank you.

Categories

Archives

Subscribe to CF!

Support options

Shameless begging

If you enjoy the site, please consider donating:

Allied territory

Alternatives to shitlib social media:

Fuck you

Kill one for mommy today! Click to embiggen

Notable Quotes

"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

"There are men in all ages who mean to govern well, but they mean to govern. They promise to be good masters, but they mean to be masters." — Daniel Webster

“The illusion of freedom will continue as long as it’s profitable to continue the illusion. At the point where the illusion becomes too expensive to maintain, they will just take down the scenery, they will pull back the curtains, they will move the tables and chairs out of the way and you will see the brick wall at the back of the theater.” – Frank Zappa

“The right of a nation to kill a tyrant in case of necessity can no more be doubted than to hang a robber, or kill a flea.” - John Adams

"It is terrible to contemplate how few politicians are hanged." - GK Chesterton

"I predict that the Bush administration will be seen by freedom-wishing Americans a generation or two hence as the hinge on the cell door locking up our freedom. When my children are my age, they will not be free in any recognizably traditional American meaning of the word. I’d tell them to emigrate, but there’s nowhere left to go. I am left with nauseating near-conviction that I am a member of the last generation in the history of the world that is minimally truly free." - Donald Surber

"The only way to live free is to live unobserved." - Etienne de la Boiete

"History does not long entrust the care of freedom to the weak or the timid." — Dwight D. Eisenhower

"To put it simply, the Left is the stupid and the insane, led by the evil. You can’t persuade the stupid or the insane and you had damn well better fight the evil." - Skeptic

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

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

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

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

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

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

Best of the best

Image swiped from The Last Refuge

2016 Fabulous 50 Blog Awards

RSS feed

RSS - entries - Entries
RSS - entries - Comments

Contact


mike at this URL dot com

All e-mails assumed to be legitimate fodder for publication, scorn, ridicule, or other public mockery unless otherwise specified

Boycott the New York Times -- Read the Real News at Larwyn's Linx

Copyright © 2022