Category: Balls The Size Of Church Bells

Can you believe they really said it?

“Elites” vs the rest of us

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So recidivist crackhead, First Bagman, and general scumwad (with apologies to all wads of scum insulted by the invidious comparison to this lowlife) Hunter Bribem showed up today, but not in response to any House subpoena. Ohhhh, no.

Instead, Hunter skipped the deposition and called a whiny, self-indulgent press conference in which he repeated the Democrat talking points that Joe Biden is clean as a whistle and never got involved in his business dealings. 

“They belittled my recovery, and they have tried to dehumanize me, all to embarrass my father, who has devoted his entire life to public service,” he said. How noble. He’s a regular Dr. Phil success story. Of course, “they” refers to the “unrelenting Trump attack team.” Seriously.

He even claimed that the Republicans don’t want to hear the truth because the hearings would take place in private. The truth, of course, is that Hunter wanted the opportunity to grandstand on camera. 

Hunter Biden must believe he’s going to get away with it. He’s the president’s son, for crying out loud, so why wouldn’t he get away with making a mockery of Congress and the rule of law?

We used to always hear that the tension in society was between the “haves” and the “have-nots.” Now we know that the two sides are different: the elite versus the rest of us.

The Biden crime family, the mainstream media, and other elements of the elite want nothing more than to keep all the power for themselves. There’s one weapon that we have on our side — the truth. And there’s strength in numbers. If we can band together to counter the elite’s narrative with the truth, the elite will have a harder time spinning its lies.

T’ain’t necessarily so; I can think of at least one other weapon we have, actually. It’s what you might call a use-it-or-lose-it deal, although it’s also one hell of a lot more effective than “the truth” backed by nothing more than verbiage when it comes to reaching out and touching someone from a ways off.

More Important – Trump Plan to Shatter the Deep State

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“First, I will immediately reissue my 2020 executive order restoring the president’s authority to remove rogue bureaucrats, and I will wield that power very aggressively.

“Second, we will clean out all of the corrupt actors in our national security and intelligence apparatus, and there are plenty of them. The departments and agencies that have been weaponized will be completely overhauled so that faceless bureaucrats will never again be able to target and persecute conservatives, Christians, or the left’s political enemies, which they’re doing now at a level that nobody can believe even possible.

“Third, we will totally reform FISA courts, which are so corrupt that the judges seemingly do not care when they are lied to in warrant applications. So many judges have seen so many applications that they know were wrong or at least they must have known. They do nothing about it.

“Fourth, to expose the hoaxes and abuses of power that have been tearing our country apart, we will establish a truth and reconciliation Commission to declassify and publish all documents on deep state spying, censorship, and corruption, and there are plenty of them.

“Fifth, we will launch a major crackdown on government leakers who collude with the fake news to deliberately weave false narratives to subvert our government and our democracy. When possible, we will press criminal charges.

“Sixth, we will make every inspector general’s office independent and physically separated from the departments they oversee so they do not become the protectors of the deep state.

“Seventh, I will ask Congress to establish an independent auditing system to continually monitor our intelligence agencies to ensure they are not spying on our citizens or running disinformation campaigns against the American people or that they are not spying on someone’s campaign like they spied on my campaign.

“Eight, we will continue the effort launched by the Trump administration to move parts of the sprawling federal bureaucracy to new locations outside the Washington swamp just as I moved the Bureau of Land Management to Colorado. As many as 100,000 government positions could be moved out, and I mean immediately of Washington to places filled with patriots who love America, and they really do love America.

“Ninth, I will work to ban federal bureaucrats from taking jobs at the companies they deal with and that they regulate. So they deal with these companies, and they regulate these companies, and then they want to take jobs from these companies. It doesn’t work that way. Such, a public display cannot go on, and it’s taking place all the time, like with big pharma.

“Finally [Tenth], I will push a constitutional amendment to impose term limits on members of Congress. This is how I will shatter the deep state and restore government that is controlled by the people and for the people.”

Hat Tip: Independent Sentinel

Leftards to Normals: drop dead!

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I repeat: Take. Them. At. Their. Word. And govern your response accordingly.

They Might Want You to Eat Bugs, But They Would Prefer You Weren’t Here at All
Back in January, I did a story on Jane Goodall. Someone I thought was the epitome of the schweet, uber feminine British flower, who spoke softly and risked her life nobly doing things like saving chimpanzees.

A heroine of my youth. Who just wishes there were less of us ruining the world she loves.

“We cannot hide away from human population growth, because it underlies so many of the other problems. All these things we talk about wouldn’t be a problem if the world was the size of the population that there was 500 years ago.”

That infamous little snippet was from a discussion at a WEF gathering. The same WEF/Davos conferences for which Klaus Schwab has now removed all the videos that were once available to skewer them with on Twitter. It turns out the most elite, richest, and privileged geniuses among us have very thin skins when it comes to the peasants using their own self-congratulatory recordings to eviscerate their big plans and mock them mercilessly.

But the fact of the matter is, they don’t like us very much and would be thrilled to have fewer of us both to control and despoiling their precious Gaia. Life would be better all around.

Proponents of the idea that the world would be a better place sans a significant amount of the current population have a name unto themselves – it’s “Malthusians.” It springs from a late 18th, early 19th Century English economist named Robert Malthus, who believed that over-population was literally the bane of the Earth.

Dishonorable mentions for Climate Change (formerly Global Warming, formerly Global Cooling, formerly The Weather)™ idiot Michael Mann and overpopulation sub-genius Paul Erlich follow, a trio sans brio who, between them, share the inglorious distinction of having been conclusively proven all wet more times than the separate-but-equally-wrong unholy triumvirate of Marx, Lenin, and Stalin has. Then, Beege provides a link to the coup de grace for the whole sorry crowd.

If by fiat I had to identify the most consequential ideas in the history of science, good and bad, in the top 10 would be the 1798 treatise An Essay on the Principle of Population, by English political economist Thomas Robert Malthus. On the positive side of the ledger, it inspired Charles Darwin and Alfred Russel Wallace to work out the mechanics of natural selection based on Malthus’s observation that populations tend to increase geometrically (2, 4, 8, 16…), whereas food reserves grow arithmetically (2, 3, 4, 5…), leading to competition for scarce resources and differential reproductive success, the driver of evolution.

On the negative side of the ledger are the policies derived from the belief in the inevitability of a Malthusian collapse. “The power of population is so superior to the power of the earth to produce subsistence for man, that premature death must in some shape or other visit the human race,” Malthus gloomily predicted. His scenario influenced policy makers to embrace social Darwinism and eugenics, resulting in draconian measures to restrict particular populations’ family size, including forced sterilizations.

Science writer Ronald Bailey tracks neo-Malthusians in his book The End of Doom (St. Martin’s Press, 2015), starting with Paul Ehrlich’s 1968 best seller The Population Bomb, which proclaimed that “the battle to feed all of humanity is over.” Many doomsayers followed. Worldwatch Institute founder Lester Brown, for example, declared in 1995, “Humanity’s greatest challenge may soon be just making it to the next harvest.” In a 2009 Scientific American article he affirmed his rhetorical question, “Could food shortages bring down civilization?” In a 2013 conference at the University of Vermont, Ehrlich assessed our chances of avoiding civilizational collapse at only 10 percent.

The problem with Malthusians, Bailey writes, is that they “cannot let go of the simple but clearly wrong idea that human beings are no different than a herd of deer when it comes to reproduction.” Humans are thinking animals. We find solutions—think Norman Borlaug and the green revolution. The result is the opposite of what Malthus predicted: the wealthiest nations with the greatest food security have the lowest fertility rates, whereas the most food-insecure countries have the highest fertility rates.

Among a plethora of other examples, Ehrlich’s famous losing bet springs immediately to mind:

The Simon–Ehrlich wager was a 1980 scientific wager between business professor Julian L. Simon and biologist Paul Ehrlich, betting on a mutually agreed-upon measure of resource scarcity over the decade leading up to 1990. The widely-followed contest originated in the pages of Social Science Quarterly, where Simon challenged Ehrlich to put his money where his mouth was. In response to Ehrlich’s published claim that “If I were a gambler, I would take even money that England will not exist in the year 2000” Simon offered to take that bet, or, more realistically, “to stake US$10,000…on my belief that the cost of non-government-controlled raw materials (including grain and oil) will not rise in the long run.”

Simon challenged Ehrlich to choose any raw material he wanted and a date more than a year away, and he would wager on the inflation-adjusted prices decreasing as opposed to increasing. Ehrlich chose copper, chromium, nickel, tin, and tungsten. The bet was formalized on September 29, 1980, with September 29, 1990, as the payoff date. Ehrlich lost the bet, as all five commodities that were bet on declined in price from 1980 through 1990, the wager period.

No more snow; London and NYC underwater no later than 1990/2000/2005/2010/2020 etc etc due to rising sea levels caused by melting polar ice caps/glaciers; nonexistent global warming; the hoary old “peak oil” myth; unbreathable air; acid rain; mass starvation across the developed world; killing floods, drought, tornadoes, and hurricanes all inexorably worsening, year after year; calamitous shortages, scarcity, impoverishment, famine, and war—only shitlib Chicken Littles could be wrong again and again and again about absolutely everything, and yet still unblushingly insist that they’re the smartest people in the room anyhow…no matter what room they happen to be in at the time.

Funny, innit, how all these disparate problems always seem to have the selfsame solution: more government, less freedom, more sacrifice and deprivation, more want. For YOU, that is, not for them. Never them, perish the thought. Why, one could almost be forgiven for wondering whether they might be wrong about that, too. But nah, that couldn’t be, it’s unpossible. Right?

RIGHT?!?

Mental hygiene break

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When they explicitly threaten to kill you, always, always, ALWAYS take them at their word.

‘Bomb the churches’: Trans-identified man indicted for threats to sexually assault Christian girls
Court docs: Suspect identified as ‘open pedophile,’ vowed ‘many more and larger attacks on Christians’

A trans-identified Illinois man and alleged self-described “pedophile” is facing charges for making social media threats to sexually assault Christian girls and commit copycat attacks similar to the attack at a Christian school in Tennessee earlier this year.

Jason Lee Willie of Nashville, Illinois, was charged Nov. 7 in U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Illinois with 14 felony counts of interstate communication of a threat to injure, according to a federal indictment.

The threats, which are dated between March and August, include repeated references to Christians, black Americans, the Republican Party, and others.

Among the alleged threats cited in the indictment are threats to “bomb the churches”: “…We’re gonna bomb them, we’re gonna bomb them. We’re gonna bomb the churches. We’re gonna bomb them. You know it. We’re going to kill you…”

In an online video, Willie — who also goes by “Alexia N. Willie,” according to court documents — made reference to “Christian trash,” adding, “They’re transphobic, they’re homophobic, they’re no different than the [expletive] white supremacists….”

The indictment alleges Willie also frequently used racial epithets and threatened to target anyone “with a cross around your neck.”

Prosecutors say Willie also specifically mentioned harming children, with online video threats such as, “…We’re coming for your children. We’re not going to hurt you. We’re not going to hurt you.

“You have to understand, I know how to get to you, and that’s by [pounds fist into palm twice for emphasis] f— your children. By hurting your children. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

In August, Willie made an online video in which he allegedly said, “Well, I guarantee I’ll be in the bathroom raping your Christian daughters and there ain’t nothing you f— can do about it. You hear me?”

According to prosecutors, in another August video, Willie appeared to identify himself as a pedophile when he graphically described sexual abuse toward “little girls” and said, “You guys can’t do nothing about it. I don’t care, I’m openly a pedo. I’m openly a pedophile…”

In another video, prosecutors say Willie said trans-identified people are “tired of being picked on and we’re going to go into the schools and we’re going to kill their f— children out here, and that’s the end of it. 

“We’re at war.”

We are at that, you sick freakazoid. God help diseased scum like you if Normals ever decide to start fighting too.

A pic of this Manwoman is included, and he makes quite a fine-looking, attractive “woman”—for certain values of the words “fine-looking” and “attractive.”

Via Ace, who has much more on this truly sick-making story.

Holy Hell – Girls in Paris

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Muslims everywhere are quaking.
Girls. French girls. I do love them.

Via: Whatfinger News

UPDATE: As Skeptic point out in the comments, a “context” comment has been added – “The video is a choreographed stunt featuring professional trainees at the Campus Univers Cascades, a stunt training centre in France.”

Appears to be accurate.

Another in our “ask a silly question” series

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Robert Spencer asks: How far will Biden regime wonks go in lying to the American people? A: Just as far as they think they need to. CORRECTION: It isn’t “wonks,” Robert; it’s “hacks.” Or, if you prefer something with more letters to ensure greater accuracy, “lowlife villainous knob-polishing wads of scum.”

The whole world has been watching for nearly three years now as Old Joe Biden grows progressively feebler. On Saturday, at the Veterans Day commemoration at Arlington National Cemetery, he appeared visibly confused and had to be told by a polite and deferential military officer to go stand beside alleged Vice President Kamala Harris. 

That was just the latest in an ever-lengthening series of obvious signs that the putative Commander-In-Chief, who will be 81 years old in less than a week, is in the grip of a severe and likely irreversible mental and physical decline. On Aug. 31, NPR noted that Old Joe “has been avoiding climbing up the sometimes-wobbly 18-foot staircase that is trucked over to the plane’s upper door. More often than not, he is using a much shorter and sturdier set of stairs that fold out from the belly of the plane.”  

But the problem wasn’t that the stairs were wobbly. The problem was that the rapidly deteriorating kleptocrat was too weak to navigate them: “Biden, 80, has stumbled on the tall stairs more than once. The short stairs have the distinct advantage of moving most of Biden’s ascent into Air Force One out of public view. But for those who have noticed the shift, it also draws attention to one of Biden’s greatest political liabilities as he seeks reelection: his age.” 

Indeed. But now one of Old Joe’s wonks, Mitch Landrieu, a man who has the lofty title of “White House infrastructure coordinator,” is here to tell us not to believe our lying eyes.  

Landrieu, whose grandfather must have been one of those guys who sold miracle patent medicine out of the back of a covered wagon and then high-tailed it out of town before anyone realized that it didn’t work, said: 

For those of you that think the president might be too old or doesn’t have enough energy or whatever it is that you all think, This guy gets up early. He stays up late. We have made trips, if not every week, sometimes twice a week and three times a week. And we have done it over and over again and there’s nothing new here. What’s wonderful about it is how relentless that it is and how many places that we have been.

As if that weren’t laid on thick enough, Landrieu added: “The guy is, like, he’s a beast.”

Oh, he’s a beast for sure and certain. A lying, corrupt, senile, greedy, grubby, kiddy-diddling beast.

A little good news

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Contra the self-obsessed blubbing of shitlib idiot and sportsball also-ran Megan Rapinoe, God is real, and He’s laughing His almighty ass off.

Guest Column: God Here. Megan Rapinoe’s Career-Ending Injury Is Proof That I’m Real.
I thought it would be hilarious, and it was.

KINGDOM OF HEAVEN—Hey, folks. God here. I’m writing in response to recent comments from Megan Rapinoe, a human female best known for playing the so-called sport of soccer, or “Satan’s Folly” as we call it up here.

Rapinoe invoked my name on Saturday after injuring her Achilles tendon in the opening minutes of the National Women’s Soccer League Championship. It was the final game of her professional career.

“I’m not a religious person or anything and if there was a God, like, this is proof that there isn’t,” Rapinoe told the demonic cretins you call journalists during the post-game press conference. “This is f—ed up. It’s just f—ed up. Six minutes in and I eat my Achilles.”

LOL!

I knew this would happen, obviously, but that doesn’t make it any less hilarious. The last game of Rapinoe’s career—the league championship, no less—and she injures herself immediately then has to watch her team lose from the sidelines. I’m still laughing about it.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Yes, I technically “created” Rapinoe and “love” her the same as all my “children,” even the ones who deny my existence. Even the ones who worship Satan and play soccer, to the extent there is a difference.

Nevertheless, I think we can all agree Megan Rapinoe is an obnoxious shrew who had it coming. Right? I’m willing to forgive almost anything, but one thing I simply can’t abide is disrespect for my country, the United States of America. Just ask Gabe Kapler or Colin Kaepernick.

Did I take it too far? Maybe. When the U.S. women’s soccer team protested the National Anthem during the World Cup earlier this year, I made sure they were humiliated by Sweden, an inferior country. I engineered it so Rapinoe, playing in her final World Cup, would contribute to the loss by whiffing a penalty kick, one of the easiest shots ever invented in the history of sports.

“That’s like a sick joke,” Rapinoe said after the crushing defeat. It sure was. “Sick” as in awesome.

Heh. Seconded from here below, dearest Lord. Many humble thanks for checking in and keeping Your obedient, devoted children hip to the Heavenly haps like this.

RIP Commander Borman

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Getting older has the advantage of still being among the living. OTOH, the longer you live the more death of loved ones you have to bear. Today was one of those as we put one of my wife’s family to rest.

And tonight I see one of the greatest Americans has passed away, Astronaut Frank Borman, commander of the first Apollo mission to the moon, circling the moon ten times.

And this in 1968, 55 years ago.

RIP Astronaut Borman

The famous Earthrise from the Apollo 8 mission:

What’s that annoying buzzing sound?

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JEEZ, dis fookin’ guy. /Brooklyn Guido accent

Obama: ‘All of Us Are Complicit to Some Degree’ in ‘Occupation,’ Hamas Terror

Yeah, speak for yourself, you slope-shouldered, jugeared prick.

Obama told his former staffers on the Pod Save America Saturday that “all of us are complicit to some degree” in the violence in Gaza, as he appeared to describe a moral equivalence between Hamas murdering Israelis and the Israeli “occupation” of Gaza.

Gaza has not been “occupied” by Israel since 2005, when Israel withdrew all of its soldiers and civilians in a “disengagement” that aimed to reduce violence in the region. Hamas responded by launching thousands of rockets at Israel and starting several wars.

The obnoxious, egomaniacal shitweasel drones on and on from there, as per usual. To wit:

If there’s any chance of us being able to act constructively, to do something, it will require an admission of complexity. And maintaining, what on the surface may seem contradictory ideas — that what Hamas did was horrific, and there’s no justification for it; and what is also true is that the occupation [sic] and what’s happening to Palestinians is unbearable. [Applause] And what is also true is that there is a history of the Jewish people that may be dismissed, unless your grandparents, or your great-grandparents, or your uncle or your aunt tell you stories about the madness of antisemitism. And what is true is that there are people right now who are dying who have nothing to do with what Hamas did. And what is true, right — I mean, we can go on for a while. And the problem with the social media, and trying to — TikTok activism, and trying to debate this, on that, is you can’t speak the truth. You can pretend to speak the truth. You can speak one side of the truth, and in some cases you can try to maintain you moral innocence, but that won’t solve the problem. And so if you want to solve the problem, you have to take in the whole truth, and you then have to admit nobody’s hands are clean, that all of us are complicit to some degree. I look at this, and I think back, “What could I have done during my presidency to move this forward — as hard as I tried, and I’ve got the scars to prove it. But there’s a part of me that’s still saying, well, “Was there something else I could have done?” That’s the conversation we should be having. Not just looking backwards, but looking forward. And that can’t happen if we are confining ourselves to our outrage. I would rather see you out there talking to people, including people who you disagree with. If you genuinely want to change thin, then you’ve got to figure out how to speak to somebody on the other side, and listen to them, and understand what they are talking about, and not dismiss it. Because you can’t save that child without their help. Not in this situation.

Don’t know if that’s a full or a partial transcription, since ain’t no way in hell I’d willingly subject myself to any more of Bathhouse Barry’s toxic blibbering than I absolutely have to—other than in manacles and at gunpoint, maybe. So naturally I didn’t play the embedded vid, and don’t plan to come back later to give it a listen, either. The oxygen-thief has never uttered a word I considered to be worth hearing, and he never will.

Back over to Breitbart for a refreshing, palate-cleansing blast of common sense, sanity, and actual, y’know, truth.

Obama’s approach matches his posture toward the Middle East throughout his presidency. He creates a false moral equivalence between the deliberate murder of 1,400 people in Israel, with extreme brutality, with an “occupation” that does not exist in Gaza and that exists in the West Bank only because the Palestinian Authority refuses to agree to peace with Israel.

He adopts a post-modern approach that insists there is not one truth, but many truths, which has the effect of minimizing the evil of genocidal violence, as practiced by Hamas, into merely one perspective among many.

Obama did the same, notoriously, in 2015, when he reacted to the violence of the so-called “Islamic State,” which had published a video of a Jordanian pilot being burned alive inside a cage, by arguing that medieval Christians had been just as violent during the Crusades. It was that dismissive approach, critics argued, that allowed ISIS to grow on Obama’s watch into a malevolent and tyrannical terrorist regime, and a threat in the West as well.

The former president claims to have wondered whether there was something more he could have done. During his presidency, he adopted a hostile posture toward Israel that caused Palestinians to dig in and refuse to negotiate; he reached a nuclear deal with Iran that gave the regime billions of dollars to spend on terrorist proxies; and he allowed the United Nations to declare the Jewish presence in Jerusalem illegal.

As I always insist, please don’t anybody go making the all-too-common error of laughing off those insalubrious events as failures. They are no such thing. Each and every one of them represents a solid success for “people” like Ogabe; all are working exactly as intended, part and parcel of the larger Leftard agenda of chaos, destruction, and “fundamental transformation.” The self-styled Sage Of Kalorama and his acolytes harbor intentions, allegiances, beliefs, and goals which are in no way congruent with those held by Real Americans, nor are they even compatible. Instead, they are in direct, irreconcilable opposition to them, eternally in conflict with them—a central schism that we forget or dismiss, even momentarily, at our own great peril.

The fabulous Flatiron

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A Big Apple architectural icon is getting a makeover.

Flatiron Building, Famous New York Landmark, to Be Converted to Condos
The triangular 22-story building, which has been vacant since 2019, may be among the highest profile office-to-residential conversions

New York City’s historic Flatiron Building is officially preparing for its new life as a home to condos. 

Following an auction of the property earlier this year, The Brodsky Organization has most recently bought a stake in the landmarked building — which is owned by GFP Real Estate. The investment confirms that the building, which sits at the intersection of Fifth Avenue and Broadway, will be converted into condos.

Sources confirmed Brodsky’s stake, as well as the “likely” conversion, to The Messenger. The deal was first reported by The Real Deal.

The triangular 22-story landmark located at 175 Fifth Avenue has a typical floorplan of 10,600 square feet, with a total square footage of 255,000 square feet, according to materials by GFP. At the May auction, GFP Chairman Jeffrey Gural estimated that the building would cost $100 million to renovate, in addition to the $161 million he dropped on the winning bid. 

Sources involved in similar investment sales say that the conversion will be rather pricey. It’s estimated that the developer would have to charge about $1,600 per square foot to break even and closer to $3,000 a square foot to turn a profit. The triangular floor plan may also make for oddly shaped apartments.

After the gorgeous Chrysler building, I have to say the modestly mid-rise skyscraper once derided as Burnham’s Folly stands second on my personal most-beloved list. So much did I dig it, in fact, that on my frequent long afternoon strolls around Lower Manhattan I usually made sure to arrange the route so it would take me by the dear old Flatiron at least once. When I did, I always had to stop for a few minutes and just gaze up at the oddly-shaped old gal from across Fifth Ave, drinking in her unique grace and beauty from the ground floor entrance to the add-on penthouse floor at the tippy-top.

For reasons I don’t pretend to understand, though, I never did go in to check out the interior. Go figger. But just you have yourself a gander at this pic and then tell me she ain’t a bona fide masterpiece of the architect’s art.

Flatiron Building

Funny story about the Flatiron that isn’t all that well-known, related to me years ago by Chris Pfouts, who definitely knew a thing or two about a thing or two concerning the classic structures of two once-great American cities, New Orleans and NYC: it enjoys the singular distinction of being the only skyscraper anywhere that was actually, literally stolen.

See, during the era when the Flatiron was being built, the Mafia had a certain renown for stealing materials, tools, and various fixtures from any construction site their crews were hired to work on (which was all of ‘em) to be resold elsewhere. So brazen and out of control had this New York tradition become that, while the Flatiron site was being prepared, those Cosa Nostra crews started jacking every girder, beam, door, and tiedown bolt they got their hands on, just as soon as the stuff was delivered to the site for later assembly.

Some city official totted up the losses years later and determined that such a ridiculously large quantity of material had disappeared that, in effect, two (2) Flatiron buildings could have been built. Sadly, New York ended up with just the one.

I’m glad she’s coming back, if only as exorbitantly-priced condos. Even after having stood vacant for several years, tearing the Flatiron down to puke up yet another nondescript glass box in her place would be unthinkable. I’m thankful that the new owner has smarts and vision enough to realize that the old girl has life left in her still, and I hope he makes himself a swoon-inducing bundle from the undertaking. New York just wouldn’t be the same without her.

American badass

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That would be one Steve McQueen, as shown in this commercial for Honda’s all-time badass motocrosser, the almighty Elsinore CR250M.

Repops of that great orange and black Elsinore jersey McQueen sports in the vid can be had all day long for about 40-50 bucks, my lifelong friend and vintage-dirt-bike enthusiast Stan tells me. By contrast, Steve’s smoke-tinted helmet visor with the little rearview mirrors mounted on each side are rare as hens’ teeth, going for around 3-400 smacks when/if you’re fortunate enough to find one at all.

The video is a commercial McQueen made for Japanese TV, for which he got paid a cool million bucks. He actually ran the Elsinore Grand Prix (for which Honda’s first two-stroke MX bike was named) himself in 1970 under the hilarious nom de badass Harvey Mushman—no, really. Of that historic race, McQueen had this to say:

“When you’re runnin’ with the top ten, as I was, you’re really honkin’ on pretty good an’ what happpens is that with so many bikes choppin’ up the dirt the holes in the course get worse…deeper with each lap.

“I was comin’ out of a wash under a bridge with this road dip ahead and I just kinda took one of those big jumps where you’re sure you’re gonna make it but you don’t. And I didn’t. My bike nosed into the dip, which was, like, deep – and I went ass-over the bars into the crowd. Didn’t hurt anybody but me. My left foot was busted in six places.”

This wasn’t enough to stop him however, as he got back on the bike and finished the race, still finishing in the top ten!

What’d I tell ya? Badass!

“Argue with them and get in their face”

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Throw their own shit back at them, exactly as Bathhouse Barry once recommended be done to us.

A Wine O’Clock Wendy — I’m really trying to make this put-down go viral; I think it’s Streets Ahead of “AWFL” — and her Frankencuck husband were videoed ripping down posters of American hostages held by Hamas.

The woman putting up the posters was not having it.

Indeed she was NOT, bless her heart. After the “man” had committed assault and battery by placing “his” dainty hand over the justly outraged woman’s camera and shoving her—a Mark-1 Mod-0 insufferable shitlib smirk all over “his” womanly face—our Power Couple quickly scurried off with their tails tucked (y’know, like “his” squirrel-dick usually is) between their legs before the Bad Woman could punch their dim fucking lights out.

 

HELL yeah, that’s how you do it. The happy ending:

Brooklyn man suspended from job by his Jewish dad after ripping posters of Hamas hostages
A Brooklyn man seen tearing down posters of Israeli kids held by Hamas has been identified as a former magician — whose Jewish father suspended him from his gig at a user experience company, according to a report.

Noah Schaffer, 41, and his wife, Kelly, were seen being berated by a Jewish woman after they removed the posters this past weekend at Brooklyn Bridge Park, the group StopAntisemitism posted on X.

“This couple has been identified as spouses Kelly Ann and Noah Schaffer. Kelly has been previously arrested and works as a social worker for @UrbanDoveNY. Noah works as a strategist for @humanfactors,” the group wrote.

Again, that’s Noah and Kelly Ann Schaffer, likely of some precious, too-twee Brooklyn hipsterhood. Wherever these two vile creatures may reside, I think it would be just AWFUL if large, angry mobs started showing up on the doorstep of their domicile with torches, truncheons, and bullhorns at 3 AM every night for about, oh, a year. Anybody out there knows how to find their home address, feel free to let me know and I’ll happily update this post with it. Goose, meet gander.

Update! Done and done, courtesy of our friend Aesop, reporting in from his extended vacay:

Apparently, that address would be

Noah and Kelly Ann (McManus) Schaeffer
191 Willoughby St. Apt 12K.
Brooklyn NY 10026

Well whaddayaknow about that, in Brooklyn, just a hop, skip, and a jump from the borough’s Ft Greene nabe. Only reason I know even that much is I had two musician friends who lived thereabouts, but that was back in the mid-90s: bassist Bill and drummer Stanley. Used to drive out from Manhattan to fetch the boys a cpl-three nights a week, load their gear, and whisk the three of us off to whatever extra-money side gig we had scheduled in Brooklyn, central Lawn Guyland, or out in the Hamptons. As many times as I did that, I very much doubt I could find either of their houses today.

Billy has long since moved to Norway, where his lovely and vivacious wife Ingegerd hails from originally. Aussie Stan, as his friends called him, lived in a HUGE three-story Victorian-style house on a lovely, quiet, tree-lined block off Flatbush Ave which his wife had inherited some years before I met him. I won’t say it was a mansion, but if somebody else wanted to I might put a “yes” to it. I pure-tee loved Stan and Mrs Stan’s crib; for starters, it had a paved driveway leading downhill into a three-car (THREE!) garage under the house equipped with automatic bay-doors and remote-opener fob. Through the inside door from the garage waited a sumptuous, nicely-appointed rumpus room/man-cave, complete with:

  • A tournament-size pool table
  • A vintage Wurlitzer jukebox loaded with old blues, country, and rockabilly .45s
  • A fully-stocked bar from the late 1940s–dark, worn wood and the traditional brass foot-rail at bottom, out of a long-deceased neighborhood gin-mill owned by a friend of Stan’s who just gave him the bar gratis when it finally shut down for good; the guy even went so far as to help Stan move the heavy-ass thing to his house
  • A classic Bally KISS pinball table in near-new condition
  • Assorted plush, comfortable leather sofas and recliner-chairs deep and soft enough to sink down into without a trace
  • A German foosball table, likewise meticulously preserved, but with that easy, loose feel to the action that all properly broken-in German tables ought to have; a fast, hard front-man pull-, toe-, or slap-shot past the opposing goalie would always yield that sharp, satisfying BANG! that every skilled foosballer lives for, so loud it can easily be heard way over on the far side of a packed, noisy arcade—a sound those shitty French tables with their wimpy cork balls simply can’t produce—usually accompanied by the metallic, whispery TINK! of the hard plastic ball meeting the thin sheet-steel plate mounted at the back of the goal-hole to protect the wood behind it. The game rooms I loved best in my misspent youth would go dead silent for a few seconds in the wake of such a resounding score, after which respectful pause the shouts and applause would ring out from the other players: POINT! HELL yeah! BURN! Sucker just got his ass SLAMMED!!! High fives, backslaps, gales of raucous laughter all around; those were the rooms I went to again and again and again, and there’s a damned good reason for that

Let me tell ya, driving down to park in the underground garage, unass the vehicle, from there to emerge into a veritable palace like Stan’s basement hideaway was, the whole damned house was—in cramped, overcrowded New York City, mind, not exactly renowned for its generously-sized, airy, comfortable indoor spaces—made you feel like you were really somebody. And that is the God’s honest truth.

Fort Greene was a nice enough if not particularly fancy area back then, but by now who knows. Been nigh on twenty years since I was last in Brooklyn, so I couldn’t guess how extensively or even whether Ft Greene has been gentrified; I do know that at this point most of seedy, grubby old Brooklyn has been tidied up, refreshed, and/or rebuilt to at least some degree. But no matter. Whatever the neighborhood’s current condition, if you’re in the area I think the sudden wee-hours appearance of a flaming bag of fresh-squeezed dogshit at Chez Schaeffer’s front door as a Halloween gift would surely not go amiss, to hijack from its proper context a fine old Captain Mal line.

A flick of the Bic, a press of the doorbell, a fleet-footed dash back into the anonymity of night’s darkness, and voila! Mission accomplished, and well done to you. Maybe the pissed-off woman in the above Andy Ngo vid would enjoy dropping one off for ‘em. T’is a consummation devoutly to be wished, the absolute least the rotten, uncaring douchetools deserve for what they did. A standard issue non-apology “apology” accompanied by an insincere, blasé shrug just ain’t gonna cut it, I shouldn’t think.

We Whooped the Axis Powers in WW2, and Again When it Counted, 1966

Posted on      by     

In spite of my barbs thrown out at all things Ford, and maybe just needling a committed Ford man, Mike, just a bit, there is the GT40, one of the great cars and programs of all time.

As a committed Chevy/GM man, I did not like Fords, with one exception. Even in my youth I despised the european ways, and Henry Ford took on the Italians that had dominated LeMans. In 1966 the GT40 would finish 1,2, and 3, vanquishing the cars from Maranello. Ford’s gambit was an international effort featuring the great British Sports Car engineer/driver Ken Miles. Of the three Shelby Ford entries that year, there were driver greats Denny Hulme paired with Miles, Americans Dan Gurney and Jerry Grant in another car, and Bruce McLaren and Chris Amon in the 3rd Shelby entry. There were five more non factory GT40’s in the race.

The GT40 would follow up the ’66 race with wins in ’67, ’68, and 1969. The great Ken Miles lost his life testing just a couple months after the 1966 123 race where he was far ahead of the other two, but because Ford played with the finish to have them all finish the same time at the line, and with the Miles car having started further forward, Miles didn’t get the credit for the win.

I just ran across a new to me website and one of the category’s is the GT40, always worth a review.

GT40

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