Warp factor 7, Mr Data!

Another from PopMech, this one of far more practical use than that last one. Well, at some point further on down the line. Maybe.

By Meddling With Spacetime Dimensions, We Could Finally Reach Warp Speed
New research shows that the “superluminal observer” needs three separate time dimensions for a warp-speed math trick that would please even Galileo.

The secret to faster-than-light physics could be to double down on the number of dimensions, according to new research published last month in the journal Classical and Quantum Gravity. Specifically, the solution may lie in three dimensions of time, with just one representing space. The math is deep and complicated, but the ideas may be within our grasp after all. And there’s one math trick at superspeeds that may just “flip” your lid.

The key idea at play here is that of a “superluminal observer.” “Superluminal” means faster than light, from super– meaning “more” or “most,” and –luminal like, well, Lumière from Beauty and the Beast, and the lumens that power your home movie projector. The superluminal observer is a hypothetical thing that is looking at the universe while traveling faster than light. It’s you in your Star Trek warp-speed shuttle.

Ha! Shows what you know, dipshit. Most shuttles, excepting certain of the Type 7 shuttlecraft, had only impulse engines and were thus incapable of attaining warp velocity/FTL travel, as every Trekkie worthy of the name knows full well. It’s a bit like comparing, say, a deuce-and-a-half with an F16 in terms of power and speed.

The research team—led by theoretical physicist Andrzej Dragan of the University of Warsaw and the National University of Singapore—has theorized that many parts of quantum physics, like indeterminism and superposition, can be explained if you take general relativity and apply its principles to the superluminal observer. In other words, how messy does spacetime get if we take our shuttle up to warp speed? Is everything suddenly in multiple places at once?

Dragan’s new work indicates that it’s at least a possibility. Perhaps more interestingly, the way general relativity becomes quantum phenomena at speeds greater than light doesn’t seem to introduce any causal paradoxes. In earlier work, published in the New Journal of Physics in March 2020, Dragan and his coauthor studied “just” one space dimension and one time dimension, known as 1+1. In the new paper, the researchers upped the ante to include one space dimension and three time dimensions, or 1+3.

Why do we need three time dimensions? To understand, we have to talk about some math.

Annnnd that lets me out. I’ve always been a complete dumbass when it comes to math; being just barely capable of totting up a restaurant tip in my frazzled old noggin, mathematics any more involved or complex than that leaves me stammering and stumbling like Too Old Jaux. The last word here can only be Picard’s.

Memezapoppin’

Over the past week or two, I’ve been collecting memes, downloading like a fiend every time I see a good ‘un and adding them to the hoard against some far-off future day when they might come in useful around here. Thus, the following meme-dump. No links back to where I originally found them, because pain in the fecking ass, that’s why. Also, I don’t recall where most of ‘em came from anyway. Enjoy.

JustBeThere

MorpheusDisneyIrony

ObeyOrdersObeyGunLaws

Sharting

TuckerTheReaper

WillNotComply

Man, if I keep this up I’m gonna need to buy an external hard drive just to store these things.

Update! Just found an absolutely brilliant one over at Ken Lane’s joint.

ZZPaul

HAAA! I never woulda imagined Paul could be so self-aware and humble.

Hellacious update! Dammit dammit DAMMIT, meant to include this one originally, then in the course of putting the post together I forgot it. No worries though, it’ll be worth the wait.

SatanStoryHour

Heh.

DIY, or don’t

PopMech asks a silly question.

How to Make a Bluetooth Speaker Out of Just About Anything
Why buy a Bluetooth speaker when you can make one that perfectly fits your style?

When it comes to Bluetooth speakers, there are hundreds of options ranging in price from around twelve dollars to more than a thousand. But why buy one when you can build one that not only blends in with your décor but also will impress your friends?

Ummm…counterquestion: why go to all the hassle of building one when you can buy one for twelve bucks that will work just as well?

Understand: as an inveterate tinkerer and customizer, it pains me to utter such blasphemy, it truly does. Throughout my entire life, I’ve always been all about building it myself, tweaking it, making it better or cooler or more functional according to my own personal definition of those words. But at a certain point, the practical considerations come into play. To wit:

The parts for this 50-watt Bluetooth speaker project aren’t expensive and the process isn’t very difficult. If you have basic supplies like speaker wire and solder, it’ll cost just under $100.

Uh huh. Yeah, no.

When I was locked up in hospital durance vile all those months after getting various body parts chopped off, a close friend of mine bought me a little Bluetooth speaker to connect to my phone so’s I could listen to the classical radio station all day without having to keep the phone right by my pillow so that I could hear its tiny, tinny little speakers struggling away with the sweeping, swooping dynamics and frequency ranges of classical music. It even had a fancy psychedelic light show built in, which was customizable in all sorts of different ways at the press of a button. Price: about twenty bucks.

And THAT’S when I stopped reading the article and clicked on through to someplace else.

Try that in a small town

A tip of the CF Stetson (not that I actually HAVE one, unnerstand) to country crooner Jason Aldean, for telling it like it is.

Jason Aldean’s Rocking Country Song ‘Try That in a Small Town’ Makes Liberal Heads Explode, He Claps Back
Country music star Jason Aldean dropped a song in May, but it seems like a memo went out among the liberal press because they’re suddenly freaking out that it slams woke blue violent cities and the 2020 George Floyd riots while daring to honor gun ownership and small-town values. Ooh, can’t do that.

Here are the lyrics for the first two verses (all caps are his from his YouTube posting. Read the rest there):

SUCKER PUNCH SOMEBODY ON A SIDEWALK
CAR JACK AN OLD LADY AT A RED LIGHT
PULL A GUN ON THE OWNER OF A LIQUOR STORE
YA THINK IT’S COOL WELL ACT A FOOL IF YA LIKE
CUSS OUT A COP SPIT IN HIS FACE
STOMP ON THE FLAG AND LIGHT IT UP
YEAH YA THINK YOU’RE TOUGH

WELL TRY THAT IN A SMALL TOWN
SEE HOW FAR YA MAKE IT DOWN THE ROAD
‘ROUND HERE WE TAKE CARE OF OUR OWN
YOU CROSS THAT LINE IT WON’T TAKE LONG
FOR YOU TO FIND OUT
I RECOMMEND YOU DON’T
TRY THAT IN A SMALL TOWN

Predictably, the left has gone nuts, accusing Aldean of racism and any other of the usual buzzwords they can come up with…Aldean issued a lengthy response to critics Tuesday afternoon:

In the past 24 hours I have been accused of releasing a pro-lynching song (a song that has been out since May) and was subject to the comparison that I (direct quote) was not too pleased with the nationwide BLM protests. These references are not only meritless, but dangerous. There is not a single lyric in the song that references race or points to it- and there isn’t a single video clip that isn’t real news footage -and while I can try and respect others to have their own interpretation of a song with music- this one goes too far.

As so many pointed out, I was present at Route 91-where so many lost their lives- and our community recently suffered another heartbreaking tragedy. NO ONE, including me, wants to continue to see senseless headlines or families ripped apart.

Try That In A Small Town, for me, refers to the feeling of a community that I had growing up, where we took care of our neighbors, regardless of differences of background or belief. Because they were our neighbors, and that was above any differences. My political views have never been something I’ve hidden from, and I know that a lot of us in this Country don’t agree on how we get back to a sense of normalcy where we go at least a day without a headline that keeps us up at night. But the desire for it to- that’s what this song is about.

These days, the Left considers virtually everything they don’t like to be racist or related to White Supremacy. In my view, this rocking song is pointing out that the lawlessness happening in our big cities is simply unacceptable and un-American, and owning a firearm is a First Amendment right. And guess what, folks—he’s allowed to like small-town living; it isn’t a crime.

Well, not yet, anyway. There’s a vid of Aldean’s instant classic at the link if you’re so inclined. Not being a fan of contemporary rock-flavored country music myself it really isn’t my cup of tea, but as always YMMV. What the hell, anything that makes Sniveling Shitlibs weep and wail so lugubriously is a-okay with moi.

Tripwires and telltales in the runup to war

BCE runs through some of ‘em, which list includes one of our most beloved warbirds around these h’yar parts. So naturally, despite my near-total disinterest in Biden’s Needless and Futile War against Russia via the Ukraine, I couldn’t possibly restrain myself from mentioning it here.

Now that the wars are over, the majority of NG units are back to the trash they were BEFORE Iraq and Affy ‘went live’ so, in this case, my guess? Ass and Trash Mission to support bringing in MOAR trigger-pullers…My guess? A Battalion or Two of Heavy Armor (M1A2s in 1st Armored Division) as this Krainian ‘thang’ is almost a pure Armor fight…the fucked up thing is that we haven’t heard shit about any A-10s being moved

THATS the TRUE ‘tripwire’. Even tho the zoomies FINALLY got the A-10 kil’t off, they’ll still be in use, in the ANG/Reserves until 2029, but they’re RUSHING to get rid of them, even tho the Flying Turducken ain’t anywhere CLOSE to being a capable substitute. You hear/see/RUMINT the A-10s moving and sure AF war is coming ‘cos besides CAS (Close Air Support) Anti-Armor War is what the A-10 was literally designed for.

Now, the aforementioned A-10?

Yep…well….

Seems that they have 2 Full Squadrons of A-10s

Attached to the Army Reserve

Not for nuthin’ BUT

IF you hear of ANY Air-Notional Guard Units at Moody AB in Georgia or any Army Reserve (Air) Units of A-10s getting activated, THAT is the ‘tripwire’ IMHEO (In My Highly Edjamahcated Opinion) then it’s now ‘off to the races’ in the Kraine. The F-35 Flying Turducken, despite the claims, is utterly incapable of CAS (Close Air Support) never mind ackchullydoing– REAL anti-armor shit like the A-10 was like, oh, I dunno…specifically designed to do during the Cold War!?!

Myself, I’da put “Flying” in sneer quotes before “Turducken,” but that’s a quibble, a mere bagatelle—a matter of style, not substance, as such only barely worth even mentioning. Anyways. Onwards.

SO Long Story Short:

You hear about A-10 Movements, it means it’s on like Donkey Kong. There’s ONLY 281 +/- A-10s left, and literally nothing in our inventory that can do what it does. So WHEN they start moving, prep for fecal oscillation storm inbound.

Big Country carries on from there with more analysis of what’s really going on with all this shite, beginning with US armor (in)capabilites—a gruesome sit-rep enlivened by plenty of been-there-done-that-WAY-too-many-times insider know-how—to arrive at a conclusion most gruesome, but nonetheless inescapable:

We go? Lots of body bags are going to be needed, and as someone earlier mentioned on Gab, we’re going to need a LOT of Graves Registration folks…Never mind a slug fest at 500 meters with NO air support…Air Support IMO is going to be ‘spotty’ at best as even OUR Air Farce hasn’t had a peer-to-peer challenge since the 60’s, and even then, the North Vietnamese and SOME of the Russians flying like the ‘Flying Tigers’ (contract gigs for experience points) shot a LOT of our guys down, which is actually why ‘the Top Gun’ school got set up…and the Rus these days purely own the skies over the Kraine.

If anything Ivan now knows HOW WE FIGHT as we trained the fucking tard-Krainians in OUR BATTLE TACTICS for use AGAINST THE RUSSIANS. And apparently, ‘the Book’ we used was dated from the “Time of Stalin” ‘cos man, they sure as fuck have adapted, improvised and kicked the fucking toofuses in of the Krainians stupid enough to utilize OUR book on the implementation of war against the Russians…And we keep crossing lines without impact…Note to our Leadershit:

Wir sind soooooooooo tot

(Look it up)

Having gleaned a VERY small smattering of Churman words and phrases from Brack back in our schoolboy days, I could readily recollect (to my own astonishment) what wir meant, but was at sea completely with the rest. So I did as duly and lawfully instructed and looked it up, and the translation is as follows:

We are soooooooooo dead.

That’s the fact, Jack. Not that the politicos, punditry, and sundry other shitlib bags of reeking shit—rabidly, unalterably antiwar, each and every last one of ‘em, until they maneuvered Their Boy into the White (bag) House—will be in the least troubled by it. Hell, for those evil schweinhundfickers, that only makes Bribem’s Unwinnable War proposition even more attractive.mjnk

MOAR NUKES, PLEASE!

Stat.

During the recent power outages and denial of interweb service, I took up reading a book I picked up a while back on a subject I have always had questions: The Case for Nukes: How We Can Beat Global Warming and Create a Free, Open, and Magnificent Future by Robert Zubrin (Polaris Books 2023). It’s a very thoughtful argument that debunks the toxic falsehoods that have been spread to dissuade us from using it by the ignorant, the fearful, and the fanatical from returning to the use of Nuclear power as a remedy to our festering Twenty First Century problems. Here’s a quick synopsis of what I culled from his book.

In a very literal sense, energy technologies have molded humanity. The invention of cooking with fire by those small brained Homo Habilis dudes cut the metabolic energy needed to digest meat, making it safer to consume and allowing the primates to eat more small animals or their enemies. Evolution directed some of these surplus calories to their brains, enabling the hungry organ to grow in size and ability, leading to the industrious little guys, Homo Erectus, the forerunner (to) us, the Bozo Sapien.

Over the millennia, humans learned to harness fire to smoke meats, craft pottery, bend metal, and more, forming much of the material basis of the pre-fossil fuel world. Wood power (or what is now called “biomass”) was such a good deal that parts of Europe started running out of forests in the 1700s. Britain was the first nation to innovate itself out of this dilemma, which they did by burning coal.

Mastering coal and other fossil fuels prevented energy scarcity, but also led to an unforeseen revolution in human life. Synthetic fertilizer, electricity, cars, plastics, smart phones, x-rays, ChatGPT—nearly all elements of modern life—exist because of fossil fuels. Today billions of people enjoy a prosperity that would be unimaginable to their ancestors.

This history of energy begins The Case for Nukes. Robert Zubrin, an American aerospace engineer of three decades tells the history of energy to set the stage for one of his core arguments, that humanity should use more energy. Over 700 million people languish in extreme poverty today and billions have not reached a standard of living equivalent to that of a developed country.

In contrast, radical environmentalists urge people to use less energy, which they believe is necessary to avert climate and ecological apocalypse. Zubrin contends that slashing energy use would be so harmful as to be borderline genocidal, but he does recognizes that the environmental harms of fossil fuels are unsustainable. Thus he endorses nuclear energy, asserting that only atomic energy can lift all people out of poverty while conserving the environment.

The fabulously talented and visually stunning Diogenes Sarcastica™ closes her post by gleefully declaring, “I say let’s start smashing some fucking atoms and keep the lights on,” a proposal with which I must enthusiastically agree; by gum, those fucking atoms have it coming. Before that beautiful, beautiful dream can hope to become a reality, though, it will be necessary to dispense with a great many Luddite shitlibs, which requirement I consider to be more plus than minus—a side benefit, shall we say, making the whole thing a win-win for everyone that matters.

Burn the Transgender coal, pay the Transgender toll

Or: If you Transgenderize it, it will fall.

Not Just Bud Light: Anheuser-Busch’s Other Beer Brands See Sales Crash
As Bud Light continues to face plummeting sales amid a conservative boycott over its collaboration with a transgender influencer, other brands made by parent company Anheuser-Busch are also taking a hit.

Sales of Michelob Ultra fell by 4.3 percent in the week that ended July 1 compared with last year, and Busch Light was down 8.5 percent, the New York Post reported. Both brands are, like Bud Light, owned by the Anheuser-Busch brewing company.

Bud Light this year lost its position as America’s top selling beer. It was the second-best-selling beer in the four weeks leading up to June 3, making up 7.3 percent of U.S. retail-store beer purchases. Bud Light is now no longer one of America’s 10 most popular beers.

Bud Light’s problems come after months of boycotting by conservatives. The brand’s troubles began in April, when its partnership with transgender influencer Dylan Mulvaney became public. Mulvaney revealed the collaboration on social media on April 1, showing a Bud Light can featuring the influencer’s face. Mulvaney also posted a video drinking Bud Light in a bathtub.

As if an effete über-hipster doofus like Dylan ”Dirk” Mulvaney would’ve ever been caught dead drinking a common-plebe brand like Bumblaster Light anyway, unless he/she/it was getting paid to.

This is the first instance I know of where one of these boycotts has actually accomplished a damned thing other than to make participants feel all smug and righteous, and I must say it’s a beautiful thing indeed. Keep the skeer on ‘em, people; these WokesterCorp™ shitheels really do despise you, so you absolutely ought to give it right back to ‘em, measure for measure and to the very last bitter drop. Kick ‘em in the yarbles, bring the pain, and make them pay, each and every single chance you get. If nothing else, you’ll be drinking much better beer for your trouble.

Update! Lamont the Big Dummy, of course and as usual, has the right of it.

At Instapundit, Steven Green says they should just apologize.

I don’t know if I want a forced apology, which would of course be insincere. And anyway, forced apologies are kind of creepy.

I think I want more: For Anheuser-Busch to declare that men are men, and women are women.

Is that too much? I don’t think so. I don’t want every company to weigh in on contentious social issues. But I would like the precedent set that if a corporation weighs in on a culture war issue, they are now Fair Game to be mau-maued by the right into being forced to weigh in on our side of the culture war issue. Which of course is absolutely hateful to our leftwing corporate “friends.”

Let us make an object lesson out of Tranheuser-Busch, so that other corporations understand: Either avoid weighing in on political issues altogether, or we will fucking force you to propagandize for the social and cultural right.

Which we know you hate. And which will cost you your precious ESG ratings.

You’re advertising your “corporate values”? Well then I insist that your “corporate values” match my conservative values. How you like them apples?

Maybe you better just stay out of it altogether, huh?

Exactly, precisely so. As is so often said of stupidity, “liberalism” too should be literally, physically painful. That only happens if we make it happen, there’s simply no other way. Show them that there will be a cost involved, and perhaps one day corporate America will remember what business it was that they were originally supposed to be in.

How gunslinging is DONE

A primer from American legend Wyatt Earp, who is renowned for having a little experience (a-HENH!) in the field.

I was a fair hand with pistol, rifle, or shotgun, but I learned more about gunfighting from Tom Speer’s cronies during the summer of ’71 than I had dreamed was in the book. Those old-timers took their gunplay seriously, which was natural under the conditions in which they lived. Shooting, to them, was considerably more than aiming at a mark and pulling a trigger. Models of weapons, methods of wearing them, means of getting them into action and operating them, all to the one end of combining high speed with absolute accuracy, contributed to the frontiersman’s shooting skill.

The sought-after degree of proficiency was that which could turn to most effective account the split-second between life and death. Hours upon hours of practice, and wide experience in actualities supported their arguments over style.

When I say that I learned to take my time in a gunfight, I do not wish to be misunderstood, for the time to be taken was only that split fraction of a second that means the difference between deadly accuracy with a sixgun and a miss. It is hard to make this clear to a man who has never been in a gunfight.

I imagine it would be, yeah. When the two-way shooting range goes hot, maintaining the requisite mental calm is gonna be pretty damned tough for a man who hasn’t ever stared down a gun-muzzle to look imminent death straight in the eye.

Perhaps I can best describe such time taking as going into action with the greatest speed of which a man’s muscles are capable, but mentally unflustered by an urge to hurry or the need for complicated nervous and muscular actions which trick-shooting involves. Mentally deliberate, but muscularly faster than thought, is what I mean. (What Wyatt meant is that he made the decision to shoot a long time before the trigger was pulled.)

In all my life as a frontier police officer, I did not know a really proficient gunfighter who had anything but contempt for the gun-fanner, or the man who literally shot from the hip. In later years I read a great deal about this type of gunplay, supposedly employed by men noted for skill with a forty-five.

From personal experience and numerous six-gun battles which I witnessed, I can only support the opinion advanced by the men who gave me my most valuable instruction in fast and accurate shooting, which was that the gun-fanner and hip-shooter stood small chance to live against a man who, as old Jack Gallagher always put it, took his time and pulled the trigger once.

TONS more fascinating stuff here, which will be of intense interest to shooters and history buffs alike. What better time to run another clip from one the very best movies EVAR.

“You nerve-wrackin’ sonsabitches.” “Skin that smoke-wagon and see what happens.” “Oh. Johnny, I apologize, I forgot you were there. You may go now.” Heh. So many great, unforgettable lines in that movie—up to and including a brief Latin-dialogue exchange between Johnny Ringo and Doc Holliday, no less—it almost beggars belief.

(Via Insty)

Mike’s Iron Laws

A while back I threatened to collect all the ones I’ve mentioned so far into one handy-dandy post, just to be funny. Then, at BMNT last night (Begin Morning Nautical Twilight, the witching hour when the US military likes to initiate an attack, for all sorts of very good reasons) when I had been forced out of bed to take a(nother) leak, I remembered that pledge, and decided to just go ahead and do this thing already.

After the results of a local CF search were in, I was a bit surprised at how many times I had deployed this schtick of mine; sometimes the MILs had been given a number designation, sometimes they hadn’t. Heck, somewhere back in the deepest mists of time I even established a separate category for the things, in preparation for the day when I’d finally get around to creating this compendium.

So without further mucking about, I present to you all the MILs I could scavenge—directly quoted from the post they originally appeared in, in no particular order, with a link to the post of origin.

And that’s a wrap, kids—for now. Looking back over this list, it’s a thing of wonder and amazement to me that, even though I was just making the whole danged thing up as I went along, I somehow avoided repeating any of the numbers except for Number One/Numero Uno. Not sure how I managed to pull that one off.

Update! I think I’m gonna create a new WP Page, which will show up as a navbar link at the top, so’s I can add new MILs as they occur to me. That’ll archive all of them in one convenient place, for posterity’s sake.

Poesy

In comments to the Horatius/Trump post SteveF mentions a certain pome with which I was heretofore unfamiliar. So I looked it up and MY, but it’s a dandy, albeit long as an afternoon suffering all the tortures of the dentist’s art. A bit more of it, then.

XXVI
But the Consul’s brow was sad,
    And the Consul’s speech was low,
And darkly looked he at the wall,
    And darkly at the foe.
‘Their van will be upon us
    Before the bridge goes down;
And if they once may win the bridge,
    What hope to save the town?’

XXVII
Then out spake brave Horatius,
    The Captain of the gate:
‘To every man upon this earth
    Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better
    Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,
    And the temples of his Gods,

XXVIII
‘And for the tender mother
    Who dandled him to rest,
And for the wife who nurses
    His baby at her breast,
And for the holy maidens
    Who feed the eternal flame,
To save them from false Sextus
    That wrought the deed of shame?

XXIX
‘Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul,
    With all the speed ye may;
I, with two more to help me,
    Will hold the foe in play.
In yon strait path a thousand
    May well be stopped by three.
Now who will stand on either hand,
    And keep the bridge with me?’

XXX
Then out spake Spurius Lartius;
    A Ramnian proud was he:
‘Lo, I will stand at thy right hand,
    And keep the bridge with thee.’
And out spake strong Herminius;
    Of Titian blood was he:
‘I will abide on thy left side,
    And keep the bridge with thee.’

XXXI
‘Horatius,’ quoth the Consul,
    ‘As thou sayest, so let it be.’
And straight against that great array
    Forth went the dauntless Three.
For Romans in Rome’s quarrel
    Spared neither land nor gold,
Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life,
    In the brave days of old.

XXXII
Then none was for a party;
    Then all were for the state;
Then the great man helped the poor,
    And the poor man loved the great:
Then lands were fairly portioned;
    Then spoils were fairly sold:
The Romans were like brothers
    In the brave days of old.

XXXIII
Now Roman is to Roman
    More hateful than a foe,
And the Tribunes beard the high,
    And the Fathers grind the low.
As we wax hot in faction,
    In battle we wax cold:
Wherefore men fight not as they fought
    In the brave days of old.

Rings all too familiar in the modern ear, no? Especially those last two stanzas, which encapsulate the current situation in Amerika v2.0 pretty thoroughly. Proving once again that, in art as in life itself, some things really never DO change, and that the same can truly be said of eternally-immutable human nature—the shitlib conceit of malleable, perfectible Progressivist Man notwithstanding.

Much, much more rich, buttery epic-poetic goodness at the link, incredibly enough, which you should read if you’re inclined in that direction, finally clocking out at an eye-bulging Stanza LXX. Pity the poor shoolkids who had to memorize the entire pome way back in the Aulden Thymes, if Pournelle’s claim is to be believed.

Inside baseball side note: Man. A. LIVE, but what a right royal pain in the ass formatting that was! Thanks to the abject failure of the MarsEdit find-and-replace function to do its ONE FUCKING JOB, replacing all the paragraph HTML tags with line-breaks throughout the above excerpt of the pome by hand was a most arduous task indeed. Necessary though, to keep things all clean, tidy, and looking as they should around here. I swear, the things I do for you people…

Ahem. And now, to get cracking on tomorrow’s Substackery.

The Four Big Things

Which, according to Mike’s Iron Law #4,689, one should never, ever try to bargain-shop for, looking for the cheapest possible alternative: shoes, meat, doctors, and tattoos*. Free? Thanks, but…NO.

FourThings

Wouldn’t work anyhow, the target audience isn’t the least bit interested in showering.

(Via Arthur Sido)

* That first one, shoes, I can’t honestly claim as my own; that one was an Iron Law of my dad’s

Sen John Kennedy: a national treasure

Can’t say I have any real problem with that statement, especially in light of how handily he sliced, diced, and pureed Willie Brown’s onetime side piece—or, as Jesse Kelly so memorably dubbed her, Brown’s bratwurst bun. But before we get to that, I have a quibble to lodge with what Sister Toljah says in boldface first.

It has often been said that Sen. John Kennedy (R-La.) is a national treasure and that there will never be another like him in our lifetimes nor anyone else’s.

I suspect that despite their political differences even Kennedy’s opposition on the left would agree that those two statements are undoubtedly true, though his most recent round of “tellin’ it like it is” might not sit too well with them.

My GOD, girlfriend, what in the ever-lovin’ blue eyed world would make you think such a loony-tunes thing as that, prithee tell?!? Perhaps such an across-the-aisle show of respect and comity would have been at least somewhat conceivable twenty-forty-sixty years ago, but today? No way, Jose; once the Loyal Opposition had wilfully self-transmogrified to become The Enemy—which they did, and are—all such possibilities became extinct. Now, Kennedy is as loathed and reviled by the Rabid Left as the rest of us; even the prospect of playing nice with their own hated and despised opponents leaves them frothing at the mouth worse than Old Yeller, just before he was put down.

Anyways. Onwards.

Kennedy appeared Friday on Fox News, where one of the topics of discussion was the wacky word salad Vice President Kamala Harris gave us during the annual Essence of Culture Festival, which took place at the end of June in Kennedy’s backyard of New Orleans.

When Kennedy was asked by anchor Trace Gallagher for an analysis of what Harris said, the Senator first pointed out that he did “not hate the Vice President,” and remarked that during her time in the Senate that they had worked together on the Judiciary Committee, noting that they got along “very well” for the most part.

And after that happy make-nice horseshit is when we come to the truly toothsome tidbits, which I’ll again put in boldface to make sure you don’t miss any of ‘em. Direct quote, straight from the horse’s mouth:

She’s struggling, and you don’t have to be a senior at Cal Tech to know that, just look at the poll numbers. She’s struggling for a couple of reasons. Number one, she doesn’t appear to be prepared. Number two, no matter how well-prepared you are, you have to be able to express yourself. And with respect, I would say the Vice President needs to work on being a little more articulate. Some [in the Senate] might say that based on her performances, that English is not her first, second, third, or even fourth language.

But number three, you know, I think sound advice for anyone, politician or not, is always be yourself unless you suck. If you suck, have enough self-awareness to know you suck, and try to do better. And I just don’t get the impression that the Vice President is — she’s not being herself. She’s trying to sound smart instead of just saying what she believes and saying it in a clear, articulate manner that the average American who is busy can understand.

Heh. Good, artful rip, sir, and well done. Very well done indeed.

Right back atcha, Slick

The hippier than thou asswarts of Ben and Jerry’s get a little of their own splashed back on ‘em.

Ben & Jerry’s has called on the US to give back “stolen Indigenous land” including Mount Rushmore — and now a Native American chief in Vermont said he’d like to talk about the land that’s under the ice cream maker’s headquarters.

The “Chunky Monkey” maker — which previously has waded into controversies around Israel and Palestine — divided customers this week with a July 4 tweet that said: “The United States was founded on stolen indigenous land. This Fourth of July, let’s commit to returning it.”

Ben & Jerry’s added that the US should “start with Mount Rushmore,” writing, “The faces on Mount Rushmore are the faces of men who actively worked to destroy Indigenous cultures and ways of life.”

On Friday, Don Stevens — chief of the Nulhegan Band of The Coosuk Abenaki Nation, one of four tribes descended from the Abenaki that are recognized in Vermont — told The Post in an interview that he “looks forward to any kind of correspondence with the brand to see how they can better benefit Indigenous people.”

“Correspondence,” hell. File a lawsuit, Chief. Or better yet, as Glenn recommends, a lien.

Can’t get their lies straight

Fun and games in the White (Bag) House.

Holy Coke: The White House Cocaine Story Changes Yet Again
You may want to sit down for this unexpected development, but the narrative surrounding the bag of cocaine found at the White House has changed again.

If you’ve been following this story from the beginning, you are probably aware of its many iterations. First, we were told that “cocaine hydrochloride” was found “near” the White House. The desired implication obviously was that the cocaine was medicinal (in this case, an anesthetic nasal spray) and that it wasn’t actually found inside the buildings.

Things then shifted dramatically when reports, including from The Washington Post, said that the cocaine was actually found in the White House library. Suddenly, the story wasn’t just about some hazmat situation nearby, but that was hardly the only twist. By Tuesday, things had shifted further, this time with a claim sourced to the Secret Service that the cocaine was found “in a work area of the West Wing.”

That’s quite the progression given how simple it should have been to figure out the truth from the start, and sure enough, there’s a new development. According to the latest reports, the cocaine was found in a “cubby” at the West Executive entrance.

We have entered the realm of absurdity, and I don’t think anyone should be expected to believe these constantly shifting claims being bandied about by the White House. This latest iteration is especially convenient in that it puts the cocaine in a highly trafficked area where the administration can wash its hands of the issue. But ask yourself, if the cocaine was actually found where this latest claim says, why didn’t they just say that from the beginning? Whoever found the cocaine initially knew where they found it. It wasn’t some grand mystery, only revealed after several days. Yet, we’ve been left with no less than four different revisions of the location.

All the while, the idea that the Secret Service doesn’t have the means to quickly figure out who left the cocaine remains laughable. There are cameras everywhere at the White House outside of the family areas. Certainly, the West Executive entrance is covered in them. There’s been ample time to view the tapes at this point and release a conclusion.

Well, sure, but as ever the truth is the absolute LAST thing they want escaping into the wild and becoming widely known amongst the Serf Class. Although, in light of a gathering shitstorm of ugly rumors that Hunter fled his recently-rented, extravagant LA mansion palace to go “stay for a while” at Daddy’s house because, due to having recently fallen off the wagon yet again (does any semi-sentient being really believe he ever WAS on the wagon? SRSLY?), Pedo Jaux wanted Cracky-boy someplace where a closer eye could be kept on him, it’s not even a little bit hard for Joe Layman to figure out what’s really going on here.

For a passel of such inveterate, compulsive liars, you’d think these hapless clowns would be better at it than they are.

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