Believe it or Else

That which doesn’t kill me

Posted on November 26, 2024November 26, 2024 by Mike

Makes me stronger.

I ate like Trump for a week. I don’t understand how the man is still alive
It was a picture that revealed more than just Donald Trump’s inner circle. Following the jubilation of the US election, the grinning president-elect was pictured on board Trump Force One tucking into a McDonald’s with Elon Musk and Robert F Kennedy Jr. Donald Trump Jr, seated to his right, would later joke that Mr Kennedy Jr’s mission to “make America healthy again” would have to wait until “tomorrow”. Mr Trump’s penchant for fast food was once again in the spotlight. But what does his diet consist of?

Breakfast – nothing. Lunch – nothing. Dinner – a McDonald’s, KFC, pizza or a well-done steak. Twelve Diet Cokes a day, and snacking on Doritos. The man appointed to become his own health secretary, RFK Jr, described what Trump eats as “poison”.

“His diet is exceptionally poor,” agrees Telegraph nutritionist Sam Rice. “It’s unbalanced, with far too many ultra-processed foods, too much saturated fat from red and processed meat, simple carbohydrates that can cause sugar spikes and lead to insulin resistance. It’s also low in fibre and gut-friendly plant foods. The copious amount of Diet Coke he drinks, which contains the artificial sweetener aspartame – identified as a possible carcinogen by the World Health Organisation – makes his diet a nutritional nightmare.”

The sissy-mary went on the Trump diet for a week, and says it damned near kilt him. Me, I’m with Al Bundy.

It’s always made me tired, how so many Righty bloggers want to whimper and whine about how godawful McDonalds is, as if the mere thought of eating a Big Mac suddenly transmogrifies them into the Leftards their bitching makes them sound so much like. Is McDonalds the best burger ever? Of course not. But will a Quarter Pounder or McDouble do when you’re in a rush, are hungry, and there just happens to be a Mickey Ds drive-thru on your way to wherever you have to be shortly? Of course it will.

Leave the sniffy, über-sanctimonious disdain for the corporate grab ’n’ grub fare to the shitlibs, sayeth I; they’ll always be better at it anyway, having had so much more practice. You can definitely be sure that finding common ground with you over the appalling toxicity of junk food isn’t going to make them hate you any less.

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Seagoing disgrace

Posted on November 24, 2024 by Mike

Thank God we still have the most powerful, STRAC, well-equipped and -trained, effectively invulnerable military in the world. Right?

RIIIIIGHT?!?

Ummm…yeah, about all that.

DoGE-ball

Posted on November 23, 2024November 24, 2024 by Mike

I could just as easily have appended this one to the previous post as an update; they are, after all, very much related. In the end, though, I felt it merits its own, separate place out here on the main stem.

DOGE this
an aristocracy fails in the matrix

watching the same people who cheer led for the creation of millions of regulations via unaccountable rubber stamp and executive fiat act like the removal of same is the end of functional governance is instructive.

i suspect they may even be sincere.

they experience a return to rights and freedom as loss and chaos.

it’s how you can tell they are an entrenched aristocracy of permanent state. it’s also how you can tell that you’re over the target.

pity the poor “federal worker” that most oppressed of americans…

apparently once you’re used to wielding dictatorial control, losing it feels like tyranny. one literally mistakes the freedom of others for the oppression of elites by unjust wreckers and the rollback of that which one rolled out without accountability or just or even legal right seems like some vastly unfair deprival of prerogative.

“how dare you delimit our right to rule!” decries the bureaucratic class and the professors and pundits who cling remora-like to them seeking power, privilege, and prestige. it’s sort of startling in the perfection of the honesty of its overt inversion.

this is, of course, precisely what our framers intended:

government by the consent of the governed not by the vast, unchecked fiat of unelected technocracy.

the monstrous sprawl of these executive agencies and their relentless and pervasive intrusion into all aspects of lives and livelihoods is not just incompatible to their vision, it stands anathema to it.

Don’t it, though; don’t it just.

it seems to me that the interesting part here is that i fully agree with brian about being an end to business as usual. we just disagree about the desirability of such an undertaking.

and so, i put it to you as we frame the key question that seems to define this divide:

“is the federal government as we know it something to defend or something to disassemble?”

because that’s really where the line is going to be drawn in the contention to come.

and for perhaps the first time since the 1930’s, the game is one that can be won because the slanted gameboard has been overturned.

Hey, hey, hey, sounds like another addition to Mike’s Iron Laws: Anything that’s extremely bad for them is extremely good for US.

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Yes, it’s always been this way

Posted on November 21, 2024 by Mike

Conflict and strife with Pisslam is a forever kind of thing.

Remembering Why the U.S. Navy Was Formed: To Combat Islamic Terror
During a recent mosque sermon at the North Hudson Islamic Center in New Jersey, a CAIR official, Ayman Aishat, made a seemingly startling claim:

We live in America, the United States of America. Brothers and sisters, those who do not know history, not too long ago, the USA was paying the jizya to the Ottoman Caliph.

Could this be?

First, let us define jizya. In brief (full discussion here), it is the monetary tribute that conquered or cowed infidels pay their Islamic overlords in exchange for peace, according to Koran 9:29:

Fight those among the People of the Book [Christians and Jews] who do not believe in Allah, nor the Last Day, nor forbid what Allah and his Messenger have forbidden, nor embrace the religion of truth [Islam], until they pay the jizya with willing submission and feel themselves subdued.

And yes, Aishat is correct: once upon a time, in its fledgling youth, the United States succumbed to paying jizya to appease Muslim terrorists. That story is instructive — not least as it includes the genesis of the U.S. Navy.

Between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries, the Muslims of North Africa (“Barbary”) thrived on enslaving Europeans. According to the conservative estimate of American professor Robert Davis, “between 1530 and 1780 there were almost certainly a million and quite possibly as many as a million and a quarter white, European Christians enslaved by the Muslims of the Barbary Coast.” (With countless European women selling for the price of an onion, little wonder by the late 1700s, European observers noted how “the inhabitants of Algiers have a rather white complexion.”)

As Barbary slaving was a seafaring venture, nearly no part of Europe was untouched. From 1627 to 1633, Lundy, an island off the west coast of Britain, was actually occupied by the pirates, whence they pillaged England at will. In 1627 they raided Denmark and even far-off Iceland, hauling a total of some 800 slaves.

Such raids were accompanied by the trademark hate. One English captive writing around 1614 noted that the Muslim pirates “abhor the ringing of the [church] bells being contrary to their Prophet’s command,” and so destroyed them whenever they could. In 1631, nearly the entire fishing village of Baltimore in Ireland was raided, and “237 persons, men, women, and children, even those in the cradle” were seized.

By the late eighteenth century, Barbary’s strength relative to Europe had plummeted, and the Muslims could no longer raid the European coastline for slaves — certainly not on the scale of previous centuries — so its full energy was spent on raiding non-Muslim merchant vessels. European powers responded by buying peace through tribute, which the Muslims accepted as jizya.

Fresh and fair meat appeared on the horizon once the newly born United States broke free of Great Britain and was therefore no longer protected by the latter’s jizya payments. In 1785, Muslim pirates from Algiers captured two American vessels, the Maria and Dauphin. They enslaved and paraded the sailors through the streets to jeers and whistles. Considering the horrific ways Christian slaves were treated in Barbary — sadistically tortured, pressured to convert, and sodomized, as described in the writings of missionaries, redeemers, and others (e.g., John Foxe, Fr. Dan, Fr. Jerome Maurand, Robert Playfair; see pp. 279-283) — when the Dauphin’s Captain O’Brian later wrote to Thomas Jefferson that “our sufferings are beyond our expression or your conception,” he was not exaggerating.

And the rest, as the saying goes, is history. Note Washington’s pithy take:

In such an enlightened, in such a liberal age, how is it possible that the great maritime powers of Europe should submit to pay an annual tribute to the little piratical States of Barbary? Would to Heaven we had a navy able to reform those enemies to mankind, or crush them into nonexistence.

As we all ought to know well enough after ~250 years of continual Muzzrat depredation against the US, the only rational, realistic choice has to be Option B. Remember, too, the “…shores of Tripoli” bit in the very first line of the Marine Corps Hymn. It’s in there for a very good reason, y’know.

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Rolling abortion

Posted on November 19, 2024November 20, 2024 by Mike

The late, unlamented Supervee.

The little engine that couldn’t: A short saga of the Super Vee
When it comes to motorcycles, I like the odd ducks.

I prefer ducks that are actually capable of moving under their own power, but maybe that’s just me.

I’m no match, though, for Paul and Joel at American Cycle Fabrication. You might remember Paul as the man who had those $35 Harleys we wrote about. Recently, I meandered by to see what the boys were up to and what curiosities I could turn up. I walked in the door, and sitting on a bench was the mother lode: a Super Vee.

Nothing gets me going like an abstruse piece of motorcycle equipment, so when I saw this engine parked there, I started pushing people and parts out of my way so I could snap a few photos. You see, I’ve heard of Super Vees, but I’d never actually seen one live and in color. The particular one I saw was a third-generation, the final design ever offered for sale — and the rarest. Approximately 45 were ever sold.

Now as a rowdy, uncut stripling, I read all the biker rags religiously: Iron Horse, my all-time fave under David Snow (CAUTION: Fakeberg link) and my dear departed friend Chris Pfouts; Outlaw Biker, for whom I would later toil thanklessly; American Iron, for whom my tight Pittsburgh brother Mike Seate ditto; Easyriders, the granpappy of ‘em all, and entirely righteous back before it began to suck dead donkey dicks (in its glory days, ER once ran a pic of the illustrious Traci Lords [link is related, just scroll down] on the cover, under the preposterous nom de slut “Suzy Softail,” IIRC); Biker Lifestyle, an also-ran publication about which there really ain’t a whole lot to say other than they always seemed to run more titty-pics than any of the aforementioned rags; last and probably least, Steve Iorio’s Supercycle, which eventually became little more than a vehicle for pimping Iorio’s useless PoS Supervee doorstops.

A pic of the monstrosity in its natural habitat: to wit, propped up on a workbench surrounded by the tools with which the poor schlub who got suckered into buying it would attempt to ascertain why the &^%@#%)*!!! it wouldn’t run.

The rest of the sordid story.

So what is a Super Vee?
In 1983, Harley was not selling whole engines to custom bike builders. Steve Iorio, who owned an outfit called Nostalgia Cycle, wasn’t really digging that situation, so the Super Vee concept was born. The idea was to create an engine using cheap, easily available small-block Chevy parts, that could power a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. By 1985, the engines were released for sale. Iorio was so bold as to suggest that he was going to unseat Harley and put them out of business. He felt Harley was putting the screws to the workin’ joe, and the Super Vee was the common man’s way to fight back: Engine parts could be had reliably and very affordably from any GM dealership or aftermarket auto parts house.

Articles published in Supercycle Magazine as early as 1983 helped get the project off the ground. The engine, though primitive, got rave reviews. Nostalgia Cycle even had a phone number customers could call and hear a Super Vee running! Heady stuff for the 1980s. Nostalgia put together a video (which is pretty funny) extolling the virtues of the new mill. Take a peek. (Bonus points for the first reader to count how many times the narrator says “American.”)

Everything seemed hunky dory, but there were a few problems. First, did you notice in that video that you never hear the engine settle into an idle? That seems a bit strange, right? Secondly, Supercycle was published by the same guy who owned Nostalgia Cycle, Steve Iorio. Steve had dabbled quite a bit in the motorcycle industry. Those initials may be familiar to some — he used to produce springers under the company name SIE, and hung out with Dick Allen, a motorcycle legend in his own right.

Ol’ Steve also went by a few aliases, including “Steve Nelson.” In fact, you can read a lovely article the Los Angeles Times wrote about him — using his fake name! The biggest, most glaring problem with Iorio was his character. The biggest, most glaring problem about the Super Vee was its near-universal reputation of being a complete piece of shit.

For those of you who have never purchased a crate engine, let me fill you in on how the process works. You buy the engine, and sometimes you have to install an ignition and a carb. That’s about it. Install it, and hit the starter button.

The Super Vee was different. It did not run well, if at all. Mating Harley-esque cases to a General Motors rotating assembly presented problems. Critical engine parts didn’t always receive enough oil, yet most Super Vees puked plenty outside the engine. In many cases, engines required some disassembly and some additional machining. Many of the engines required an overhaul simply because of awful quality control during manufacture.

The gruesome saga of Iorio’s exorbitantly overpriced bastard-baby carries on from there; it’s a truly gripping read for any dyed in the wool gearhead-type weirdo, past or present. Won’t do much to bolster one’s naive, childlike faith in the fundamental decency of humanity, I’m afraid. But hey, dem’s da breaks, laddie-buck.

Update! Another aspect of the Iorio melodrama I thought might be worth a mention: I also spent a fair few simoleons on Nostalgia Cycle parts for my trusty old Shovelhead FLH over the decade or so I owned and rode her, mostly at swap meets and such-like dens of iniquity.

I quickly learned that those Nostalgia Cycle (universally reviled amongst my fellow CLT-area scooter trash as “Nostalgia Psycho”) geegaws and gimcracks were without exception El Cheapo crap: flimsy, soft-rubber handlebar bushings; bolt-ons which couldn’t be bolted on thanks to mis-aligned mounting holes; “stainless steel” engine hardware dress-up kits that were neither stainless nor steel; points that didn’t fire, plugs that didn’t spark, filters that didn’t filter, external oil hard-lines without any holes drilled in ‘em; “high flow” oil pumps with no pump gear, etc. etc.

The chrome on all those fancy-shmancy covers—battery, nose cone, breather, primary, drive chain, coil, &c—would begin to blister, flake, and/or peel within no more than two (2) days of the first time it got wet. I was never much of a chrome-cover guy myself—I was more inclined to remove all that shit, box it up, and store it in the remotest corner of the garage. I vastly preferred the lean, mean, bare-knuckle brawler look, as exemplified by my stripped-nekkid, hellaciously fast, screamin’ demon 06 Sporty:

Custom Hot Rod Flatz paint in Desert Sand (hand-sprayed at the shop by Goose, hand-striped and -lettered by the legendary Eddie Brown, Fender motor-mount bottle opener by yrs truly); wrapped header-pipes; no front or rear belt cover; not a single extraneous piece of chrome anywhere that wasn’t factory-installed—what can I say? Except that I surely do miss that sweet, nasty little bitch.

Anyways. Every last bit of Nostalgia Psycho’s teetotal junk, mind, was made from pure Chineseum© in an era when such foreign-parts profanations were strictly verboten—taboo to any self-respecting Milwaukee Iron aficionado, for which unthinking sacrilege the Harley Gods would surely smite down the blasphemer with a quickness. Suffice it to say, after getting bitten like that a cpl-three times, my days of throwing money down the Nostalgia sewer drain were O-V-E-R over.

Updated update! Awright, awright, awright, quitcher crying, ya sissy-Marys; more righteous photos of my beautiful, decidedly non-shiny Sporty below the fold. Although I’ve described her verbally/textually here before, I don’t believe I ever did post any pics, for whatever bizarre reason.

Continue reading “Rolling abortion” →

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Just the facts, man

Posted on November 18, 2024 by Mike

Thomas Sowell has a few which shitlibs would very much prefer you not be reminded of.

Nowhere was the effect of the white liberalism of the 1960s on the social evolution of black culture more devastating than in the disintegration of the black family.

The raw facts are these: As of 1960, 51 percent of black females between the ages of 15 and 44 were married and…

— Thomas Sowell Quotes (@ThomasSowell)

November 17, 2024

“Show more…” workaround:

The raw facts are these: As of 1960, 51 percent of black females between the ages of 15 and 44 were married and living with their husbands, another 20 percent were divorced, widowed, or separated, and only 28 percent had never been married. Twenty years later, only 31 percent of black women in these age brackets were married and living with their husbands, while 48 percent had never married.

By 1994, an absolute majority—56 percent—of black women in these age brackets were never married and only 25 percent were married and living with their husbands.186 Accordingly, while two-thirds of black children were living with both parents in 1960, only one-third were by 1994. While only 22 percent of black children were born to unmarried women in 1960, 70 percent were by 1994.

White liberals, instead of comparing what has happened to the black family since the liberal welfare state policies of the 1960s were put into practice, compare black families to white families and conclude that the higher rates of broken homes and unwed motherhood among blacks are due to “a legacy of slavery.” But why the large-scale disintegration of the black family should have begun a hundred years after slavery is left unexplained.

VERRRY mysterious, no?

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Corrupt At Every Level – North Carolina Edition

Posted on November 17, 2024 by Barry

Kenny and I have made it quite clear what we *think* in the comment section –

NC Election Result

Think it’s all over? Think again, as soon to pass the 2nd week after the election, the democrats are still counting and stealing a NC supreme court seat. And you thought they wouldn’t steal a governor election…

Redstate – NC Supreme Court

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Forewarned is forearmed

Posted on November 13, 2024November 13, 2024 by Mike

Never accept food or drink from batshit-insane Leftard shrikes. I mean, not EVER. These days, that shit could get you killed.

Liberal Cat Ladies Reveal “Battle Plan” To Poison Trump Men With Aqua Tofana
Educated white liberal women appear to have lost their goddamn minds after the presidential election. Many have posted videos of uncontrollable emotional outbursts over a Trump victory…

… with some even threatening to adopt pro-life stances as a form of retaliation against men.

Others have made what appears to be terroristic threats, suggesting at the use of strong poison against men because they voted for the evil ‘Orange Man.’

Internet searches for Aqua Tofana—a potent poison created in Sicily around 1630 by a woman named Giulia Tofana, or Tofania, and historically used by women to free themselves from relationships by killing men—spiked shortly after the election results.

X user I Meme Therefore I Am noted, “HOLY SH*T, Karens lost their fvcking minds over Trump’s win and launched MATGA—short for Make Aqua Tofana Great Again.”

Please don’t make the mistake of placidly assuming they’d never actually go through with any such heinous thing; after the many infamias we’ve seen from them already, you oughta know better than that by now. WTH Kathy Frisby spells out the bottom line.

Has anyone reported this? Free speech is one thing. This is a freaking battle plan.

— White Trash Hillbilly Kathy Frisby (@kathy_frisby)

November 10, 2024

T’is indeed, no more nor less. Although the well-known Field Officers’ Iron Law of Battle Plans has been stood on its head here. In a first-ever strategic innovation, it’s the Enemy (a/k/a, US) that won’t survive initial contact, not the Plan. In fact, in what might well be the most bizarre twist of the entire bizarre, twisted mishegoss, that actually IS the Plan. Therefore, any gormless male presently sharing a domicile with one (1) or more of these demented Lizzie Borden wannabes is hereby advised to

Find yourself another place to live toot fucking sweet
AFTER THE FACT ADDENDUM: Find yourself a better girlfriend; what the actual fuck possessed you to get tangled up with a skank-ass Leftybitch in the first place, anyways? DUDE!
Meanwhile, as your search for more congenial, non-toxic living quarters gets underway, move into the spare room, garage, backyard storage shed, or your car for the duration; carefully ascertain that the door is locked and/or barred securely before you hit the hay every night
Regardless of your domestic arrangement, it is imperative that you always, always, always make sure she falls asleep FIRST, long before you do; PRACTICAL RESOLUTION: Until you hear her snoring, your eyes must remain OPEN
Contra what saner sorts might wish to believe, after her weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth over one (1) election defeat has finally subsided and the house suddenly goes dead quiet and calm (HA!), it’s still definitely NOT a good time to relax your vigilance, drop your guard, or shift your focus—not to any degree; as with lions, tigers, and wolverines in the wild, unhinged broads are most to be feared when you can’t hear them coming
Ever have what seemed at the time like a piddling little spat with your wife/GF/shackjob/significant other, only to have her fly into mortifying paroxysms of spittle-flecked rage and re-litigate the whole silly, childish dustup—straight out of the clear blue nowhere, word for spiteful word, in minutest detail, usually in a nice, quiet restaurant after your entrees have arrived—several years after you figured all had long since been forgiven and forgotten? Yeah, you need to spend a little time poring over the lesson contained therein, buddy-ro, until you fully grok it
Prepare your own meals, fetch your own drinks, open your own beers; NEVER leave your plate, glass, bottle, utensils, &c unattended, even momentarily
Same-same for bags of chips, cheese puffs, crackers, and/or cookies; bottles/cans of soda or juice; candy bars; cartons of milk, &c; if it’s been opened or unwrapped, if its tamper-proof safety seal has been breached, do NOT touch it, much less eat and/or drink it—leave it be no matter how hungry, thirsty, or just plain old bored you might feel just then; any packaged comestible, condiment, sauce, or seasoning you open should then be either finished off, carried around with you until you have, or thrown away; no more leftovers from last night’s supper pulled out of the fridge and re-heated, however much you may enjoy them; regard all such as literally poison, because they could easily be just that; teach yourself how to cook for one, it can be something of a pain, yes, but is by no means impossible; quitcherbitching and live with it—you’re the one who decided living under the same roof as a shitlib psycho murder-bitch was a dandy idea, so just deal with it, genius
Whenever you’re prepping, cooking, dining, or drinking at home, whether you’re alone or She’s nearby, continually check six; let your every action, movement, and behavior be conducted with the time-tested tenets of the Combat Pilot’s Survival Maxim foremost in mind: Head on a swivel; eyes always moving, scanning, sweeping; total SA (Situational Awareness)—many a fighter-jock owes his very life, literally, to those simple words of wisdom
What, you mean you haven’t moved out already? Thou fool!

You have been warned, fellas; heed or bleed, you pays your money and you takes your chances. These dames ain’t playing around, so you’d best not be either.

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Hijinks in liberated Churmany

Posted on November 12, 2024November 12, 2024 by Mike

Down Under blogosphere phenom David Thompson is another from the John Wilder school of bloggery: a gifted writer with plenty of worthwhile things to say and excellent points to make who is damned near impossible to excerpt effectively without doing real violence to the post it came from. Theirs is a long-form style which is densely packed, taut as a snare-drum head, with a punch like a George Foreman haymaker. As Salieri said of Mozart in Amadeus, omit a single note and the entire work would be diminished; omit a single measure and the entire structure must fall. So if you find it puzzling that I don’t excerpt Thompson very often, well, now you understand.

After all, what could possibly go wrong when housing with women a mentally ill man who likes to hold knives to women’s throats before stealing their footwear, and hoarding said footwear for sexual purposes? A man who delights in stalking women, assaulting them, and waving his tallywhacker at mothers with their young daughters.

A man who is referred to in the German media, somewhat surreally, as a woman, a she-person, despite being identified via the very male genetic material left at the scenes of his crimes.

Oh, and should you be concerned about the whereabouts of all those stolen items, fear not:

The defendant now hoards hundreds of boots and handbags in a large number of boxes; she had even taken her treasures with her to prison, where they were stored.

Her treasures, obligingly stored.

See what I mean, gang? Both Thompson and Wilder are longtime standbys of Ye Aulde CF Blogrolle, and we’re fortunate indeed to have ‘em therein. If you aren’t reading them on the regular, you’re missing out on something mighty good.

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Psychosissies

Posted on November 11, 2024November 11, 2024 by Mike

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you your Fellow Americans.

You guys worked hard for this. As a reward here is Liberal Tears; a 2024 Compilation.

You are welcome. pic.twitter.com/mCdHeIBxcx

— Dissident Media (@DissidentMedia)

November 6, 2024

Even if we could live peaceably side by side with them, why on earth would we WANT to? I mean, that’s what we have asylums, penitentiaries, halfway houses, and such-like for.

(Via Ace)

Update! The esteemed Chaya Raichik, a/k/a Libs Of TikTok, has more—lots and lots more, seeing as how there really seems to be no end to these loony-toony asstards.

From late-night show hosts and news anchors to the left-wing nutjobs on TikTok, no one seems to be safe from Trump Derangement Syndrome.

To further celebrate, I’ll share some of the biggest leftist meltdowns I exposed from the past week. Some were even held accountable for their extremist rhetoric!

While many of these meltdowns are absolutely hilarious, they also show a dark picture of the current state of America. The mainstream media and the liberal establishment have pushed hoax after hoax and lie after lie in an attempt to demonize Donald Trump and turn him into the image of Hitler.

Fortunately, a majority of Americans came out in support of Donald Trump this election, showing not just the country but the entire world that America isn’t tolerating woke garbage anymore.

With your support, I will continue shedding light on the radical left, exposing their propaganda for all to see. Who says we need to stop winning after the election? Let’s keep it going. Together, we will make a difference!

Bold hers, not mine, just as a small FYI. As always: You go, girl!

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Can you say “weaponization of government,” boys and girls?

Posted on November 8, 2024November 9, 2024 by Mike

I knew you could.

EXCLUSIVE: FEMA Official Ordered Relief Workers To Skip Houses With Trump Signs
Whistleblower: ‘It’s almost unbelievable to think that somebody in the federal government would think that’s okay’

Pshaw. To YOU, maybe. Me, the only thing I find surprising is that you’re surprised—that ANYBODY would be.

A federal disaster relief official ordered workers to bypass the homes of Donald Trump’s supporters as they surveyed damage caused by Hurricane Milton in Florida, according to internal correspondence obtained by The Daily Wire and confirmed by multiple federal employees.

A FEMA supervisor told workers in a message to “avoid homes advertising Trump” as they canvassed Lake Placid, Florida to identify residents who could qualify for federal aid, internal messages viewed by The Daily Wire reveal. The supervisor, Marn’i Washington, relayed this message both verbally and in a group chat used by the relief team, multiple government employees told The Daily Wire.

The government employees told The Daily Wire that at least 20 homes with Trump signs or flags were skipped from the end of October and into November due to the guidance, meaning they were not given the opportunity to qualify for FEMA assistance. Images shared with The Daily Wire show that houses were skipped over by the workers, who wrote in the government system messages such as: “Trump sign no entry per leadership.”

It is unclear whether the same guidance was issued elsewhere in the country. The employees were part of a Department of Homeland Security surge capacity force team, meaning they volunteered from other DHS agencies to help an understaffed FEMA as it dealt with a second major hurricane in a span of just a few weeks.

The guidance came as the Biden administration was criticized over its sluggish response to Hurricane Helene in rural areas across the country. In Roan Mountain, Tennessee, for example, locals told The Daily Wire it took nearly two weeks for FEMA to show up. The town is located in Carter County, which voted 81% for Trump on Tuesday.

HOME TRUTH: This is who they are, it’s what they do. Get your head around that, or get clobbered by it. Search for a better, more palatable option all you like, but there ain’t any.

Infuriating update! After reading Ace’s post on this same topic, it occurred to me that I really needed to include this bit here, if only in fairness to the fine folks at FEMA. See, it’s not as if the morally-handicapped degenerate responsible for this mind-blowing indecency wasn’t duly punished. Not a-tall. From the original article, which was updated after the above post with an official statement from FEMA. To wit:

After publication of this story, a FEMA spokesperson told The Daily Wire it was “deeply disturbed” and “horrified” by the employee’s actions, and that it has “taken extreme actions to correct this situation.”

“We are horrified that this took place and therefore have taken extreme actions to correct this situation and have ensured that the matter was addressed at all levels. Helping people is what we do best and our workforce across the agency will continue to serve survivors for as long as it takes.”

Bold mine. So what, you might wonder, does FEMA consider “extreme actions” in this instance of bureau-rat arrogance run completely amok, then? What does this spokesbeing mean by “addressed at all levels,” you ask? Was the vicious BiQ (Bitch in Question—M) reprimanded? Forced to undergo in-house “counseling?” Suspended without pay? Fired? Arrested, fined, imprisoned? Put to death? What, what, what, what?!?

Oh, just this.

The employees say that Washington has not been punished for the guidance, but has been shifted to another county in Florida.

WOW, they really brought the hammer down but good on this wayward but fundamentally decent, caring “public servant,” didn’t they? Poor dear, I do hope she’s okay after being punished so harshly for her “mistake.”

Fuck me runnin’. In the spleen, with a rubbing-alcohol soaked cattle prod set on Incinerate.

I repeat: You don’t hate these FederalGovCo shitbags NEARLY enough. You can’t, it’s unpossible.

Updated update! Ron the Great isn’t what you’d call entirely happy about this petty, vindictive bureau-shite.

The blatant weaponization of government by partisan activists in the federal bureaucracy is yet another reason why the Biden-Harris administration is in its final days.

At my direction, the Division of Emergency Management is launching an investigation into the federal… https://t.co/3uFpE62vxb

— Ron DeSantis (@GovRonDeSantis)

November 8, 2024

“Show more” cirumvention.

At my direction, the Division of Emergency Management is launching an investigation into the federal government’s targeted discrimination of Floridians who support Donald Trump.

New leadership is on the way in DC, and I’m optimistic that these partisan bureaucrats will be fired.

Here’s hoping your optimism turns out to be justified, Gov; after so many years of watching them come to naught at the federal level, I can’t honestly say I have a hell of a lot of faith in government “investigations” anymore.

Frankly, it would suit me better if half the goddamned goobermint was summarily flogged, ridden on a rail, splashed about in the Potomac, dragged behind a pickup down Pennsylvania Ave, and flayed alive at high noon tomorrow on the Washington Mall. This twice-yearly whoopjamboreehoo—call it the People’s House Cleaning Carnival, say—would close out with an open-to-the-public pissing-upon of whatever is left of the miserable worms.

After the beatings are done and the meat wagons have been loaded and are headed on back to the county morgue, we’ll throw an open-bar BBQ blowout on the White House lawn (real Eastern NC BBQ, that would be: smoked oinker doused to taste with Texas Pete, not that ketchup-slathered brisket glop which lesser breeds without the Law embarrass themselves by calling “barbecue”—either Sun Drop or draft beer to wash it down; any fool who requests Pepsi, Mountain Dew (shudder), or some nasty energy drink that tastes worse than the sweat off a hippie’s unwashed scrotum-sac will receive one (1) complimentary throat punch for being a blaspheming dorksnort), a daylong par-TAY which will include many popular attractions such as:

Live music performed by bands who are actually, y’know, good
The Globe Of Death
A Coney Island-style freakshow tent
Another tent with smoking-hot strippers
Dunk-A-Senator booths; feature dunk-ee appearance by the Right Honorable (???) Lindsey Graham at five PM, don’t dare miss it
A big-ass dance floor
A fireworks show when darkness has fallen
Funnel cake
Tilt-A-Whirl!
Demolition Derby, open to all—run whatcha brung, first come, first served; helmets, goggles, gloves, and other safety equipment for drivers will NOT be provided; bring your own, or don’t—it’s your ass, pal, we can’t be assed about it one way or the other. What do we look like, anyhow, your fuckin’ mama or sumpin’?
All-female hot dog-fellating contest; age 18-32 ONLY, valid proof of age must be submitted to a registrar at the sign-up table. Nathan’s Bun-Length Franks are contest standard-issue; footlong dogs are also available by request; any contestant who so requests will have extra-credit points added to her score immediately, for showing proper competitive spirit, aspiration, will to win, and spunky, fun-loving attitude

Approved participants must remove any/all shirts, brassieres, vests, two-piece swimsuit uppers, tube tops, robes, or other waist-up garment of any kind before her scheduled time-slot to mount the stage; clean, never-used cardboard containers with each individual contestant’s name written legibly in black Sharpie on the top will be arranged backstage for convenient storage of shucked clothing until such time as contestant is ready to cover up her fun-bags again
BOTH nipples shall remain fully exposed and open to easy view throughout the event, even if a contestant has been defeated or disqualified and has left the stage. Rule of thumb: whenever the entrant is inside the roped-off contestants’ area, contest rules require her to let them puppies breathe
Any premature, unsanctioned concealment of either both or one (1) of contestant’s nipples—even partially, even inadvertently, accidentally, or unwittingly—shall constitute sufficient grounds for disqualification if, and only if, the infraction was personally witnessed by a contest official, who, at his or her own discretion, may or may not report the infraction for further action; third-party verbal reports will be disregarded as unconfirmed
Luscious, good-looking babes ONLY, please; plug-uglies, manatees, withered old hags, and scary, brick-faced bull daggers need NOT apply
Bonus points will be awarded to minimally freckled, well-built, juggalicious redheads by our contest judges
A car show: rat rods welcome; no trailer queens; vandalism and/or mechanical sabotage of foreign makes, irrespective of vintage and/or condition, will be not just tolerated but actively encouraged
Absolutely NO (0) mimes, clowns, jugglers, cutesy arts ’n’ crafts peddlers, annoyingly persistent, piss-drunk-by-noon caricature artists, evangelical vegans, or unfunny standup comics allowed—we mean it, don’t even try

This hellacious hullaballoo is intended pour encourager les autres, as per usual. This incredible event, offering something for all ages, interests, backgrounds, and tastes, is shaping up to be one for the record books, folks, an entertainment extravaganza not to be missed. Get here anyway you must—fly, drive, spit on your ass and slide, crawl on your face over broken glass—just make sure you DO get here!

THERE. Now if that wildly eclectic bill of fare isn’t rambunctious enough to make DC’s last surviving bureau-rats take to their heels and flee to more congenial environs, then I’ll cheerfully eat my hat.

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Here we go again

Posted on November 7, 2024November 7, 2024 by Mike

Kudos and a big fat “attaboy” to Trump lawyer Mike Davis for putting it straight, no chaser.

🔥🚨BREAKING: President Elect Trump’s lawyer Mike Davis told NY AG Letitia James they will ‘put her fat ass in prison’ if she continues to try to send President Elect Donald Trump to jail.

“I DARE YOU to try to continue your lawfare against President Trump […] We’re not… pic.twitter.com/VCy6XpryMd

— Dom Lucre | Breaker of Narratives (@dom_lucre)

November 7, 2024

Your “Show more” workaround:

“I DARE YOU to try to continue your lawfare against President Trump […] We’re not messing around this time and we will put your fatass in prison for conspiracy against rights.”

This. This right HERE, friends. Puts me in mind of a tasty meme I’ve been sitting on for a while now:

To quote my knuckle-tattoos: BANG, ZOOM!

Alas, there are those out there who will insist that we must “take the high road,” that we “not descend to their level,” all the same old codswallop. Ever wonder why Our Side has been losing to the Enemy for so long we can hardly even remember what winning feels like? Very simple, very easy: because Their Side plays hardball—remorselessly, unapologetically, continually—while Our Side plays soft NO-ball.

Ace offers a somewhat different, more pragmatic take:

For context: I think James started this war of words by claiming she was getting ready to prosecute Trump through is presidency.

Which itself is more evidence that all of her charges are bogus.

Here’s the trouble: Trump seems to be on the verge of the New York Court of Appeals overturning this charge. The judges were extremely skeptical of all aspects of James’ felonious prosecution.

But government paper-pushers protect each other. If the Court feels that Trump is threatening a fellow bureaucrat, they can decline to overturn the charges, or just suspend them until Trump’s out of office.

Yelling and blustering like the drunk guy in a bar feels good but it’s usually not the best strategy.

Don’t get me wrong; I do agree that Tish James is behaving illegally and is using her power to punish a political opponent. And indeed, she admitted as much in her campaign.

And it would be justice to do the same thing to her.

But it’s not wise to threaten her openly as the justices debate the charges. Especially when you’re on the verge of a huge vindication.

If you think liberal justices are going to just say “Well, they’re both doing it, there’s no harm here,” then you have a different understanding of partisan liberal Democrats than I do.

He may have a point, and it may even be a good one. Be that as it may, though, I contend that Davis’s approach is the way to go: hit ’em HARD, hit ‘em often; make ‘em cry, bring the pain down on ’em again and again and again until they beg you to stop. Then hit ‘em again, even harder. Never let up, never show ‘em an ounce of mercy. God forgives; we, on the other hand, do NOT. As Juanny Mav McLame confirmed for us so many times over so many years, treating with them as if they were honorable, decent folks is nothing but a mug’s game.

Contra our ol’ buddy Ace, I think it’s far more likely that the NY Court of Appeals is holding a moistened finger aloft, testing which way the wind is blowing—hence the rumors of abandoning the lawfare campaign against Trump. The reason for this sudden volte-face is patently obvious: FEAR, period fucking dot.

As has always been inevitable, the Left/D卐M☭CRATs/whatever spent the last five-ten years pushing way too far, way too hard, way too fast. Tuesday may have slammed on the pernicious Letitia James’s brakes for the nonce, but the accelerator pedal has assuredly been neither removed nor disconnected.

Trump’s overwhelming landslide victory this week of right ought to be viewed not as just a run-of-the-mill, politics-as-usual “election” win, but as an actual, by-God uprising. That point should be, MUST be, driven home like a stake through a vampire’s heart, so that the Goosesteppin’ Left won’t ever dare forget. Nothing less will suffice.

At the risk of becoming tiresome, I’ll make with the sagacious words of history’s greatest cavalryman Bedford Forrest once again: Get ‘em skeered, and keep the skeer on ‘em. It really is the only way. We try to make nice with the cloven-hoofed devils of the Left at our tremendous peril…a grievous unforced error we will, as usual, very much regret ere the end.

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Best juvenile tantrums EVAR!!

Posted on November 7, 2024November 7, 2024 by Mike

Why yes, as a matter of fact I AM laughing at you childish brats losing your shit publicly for the simple, pathetic reason that you didn’t get your way. Why do you ask?

This next one might be even better yet: dumpy, unattractive cunt decides to cut off her hair so as to deny us the opportunity to desire her sexually, which none (0) of us actually do anyway.

Problem being, of course, that she’s too fucking stupid to figure out how to work the electric clippers, and finally has to resort to ordinary scissors to get the job done. Idiot.

This woman shaved her head to protest Trump’s win and to fight the patriarchy

This might be the best meltdown yet 😂 pic.twitter.com/9DCw0uHCRc

— Libs of TikTok (@libsoftiktok) November 6, 2024

All this sniveling psychopathy, mind, because their preferred candidate lost. You dames better find a way to toughen up, and fast. Lots more mental breakdowns both here and here, if you can stomach ’em. Personally, I find them uproariously funny, but mebbe that’s just me. I’m heartless like that sometimes, don’tchaknow.

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Peanut’s revenge

Posted on November 6, 2024November 6, 2024 by Mike

Speaking to us from beyond the grave.

A squirrel ran across the stage while everyone was waiting for Kamala’s concession speech. 👀pic.twitter.com/KstpSlxmEj

— Laura Powell (@LauraPowellEsq)

November 6, 2024

Can there be any serious doubt about what’s going on here? I THINK NOT. Thank you, Peanut!

(Via Ace)

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And now for something completely different…

Posted on November 5, 2024November 5, 2024 by Mike

It begins this way:

On a day when everybody’s going to be blathering on about elections and voting and partisanship, I figured we could all do with something completely different.

Said a mouthful there, Peter. The video he embeds, a NatGeo doc called Billy & Molly: An Otter Love Story, is also available on YewToob here, and is simply beyond heartwarming—just a wonderful story. Such a welcome relief from the tedious bullshit that is “American” “elections” nowadays, providing a lively contrast with last week’s P’nut the Squirrel abomination. Narrated by Billy’s bemused wife, Billy & Molly… is slam-full of lushly beautiful Shetland Islands scenery, and tells a story that’s bound to touch anyone with a properly-functioning soul deeply. Not to be missed. As one of Peter’s commenters snarks, thank God Billy and Molly aren’t in New York.

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