Flying off into aviation history

After trying for decades to rid themselves of it—and, happily, failing miserably—the venerable, awesomely-capable A10 Thunderbolt II is finally getting shuffled off to Buffalo by the Chair Farce shitwits.

The A-10 Warthog Making One Final Flight — to the Boneyard
Beloved as much by the grunts on the ground as the pilots who flew it, the A-10 ground attack jet is being retired after five decades of very loud and effective service. Air Force enthusiasts everywhere are going to miss that ugly S.O.B.

The Air Force announced plans last week to replace two of the last remaining A-10 squadrons with more modern F-16s and F-35s. “This is all in line with the service’s goal of divesting the last A-10s before the end of the decade, if not sooner,” according to Yahoo News. Air Force brass have been trying to retire the hog for years but Congress has kept telling them no. This new announcement indicates that the A-10 will not keep flying until the 2040s, after all.

But what a jet, even if it did have a face not even a mother could love.

Hey, speak for yourself, Steve. I think they’re goddamned beautiful, myself.

Fairchild-Republic stepped up to meet the Air Force’s need, and the result was the A-10 Thunderbolt II. Neither sleek nor sexy, the Thunderbolt is usually called the Warthog or just the Hog. The whole jet was designed around the 30 mm GAU-8 Avenger rotary autocannon whose (airborne!) ammo magazine is the size of a Volkswagen Beetle. It’s capable of firing depleted uranium shells that tear through the thickest armor like a hot knife moving at 3,324 feet per second through melted butter.

Because the A-10’s job is to get in close, the pilot sits in a “bathtub” made out of titanium. During the Gulf War — when the Warthog first really captured the public’s imagination — I saw one jet on CNN that returned from a mission missing almost a third of one wing and probably half of the other. (I’ve searched for years for that clip but to no avail.) A fully-loaded Hog can carry an additional eight tons of various missiles and bombs.

The Hog’s engines are mounted high and to the rear with a slight tilt up towards the front. That’s to avoid sucking in debris on damaged airfields. Those Fairchild engineers really did think of everything.

The first development version of the Warthog flew in 1972, and it entered service in 1977. More than 700 were built, but only a few dozen are still in service. Although built in numbers to counter Soviet armor, our much-reduced force of A-10s found plenty of jobs that only they could do in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Yup—which tends to be the way such things go, even in an age of overemphasis on flashy new technological gew-gaws and gimcracks: the older, sturdier, battle-tested platforms seem almost to be imbued with a will to live as powerful as any sentient being’s, and somehow always find a niche to fill. This next passage makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little.

For what it’s worth, the Air Force has long argued that the F-35 Lightning II multirole stealth fighter is better prepared for ground attack in the 21st Century.

As a lifelong Warthog fan, it pains me to say this, but they’re probably right.

I wrote years and years ago at the original VodkaPundit.com that “stealth is the price of admission to the modern battlespace.” Non-stealth jets simply don’t stand a chance against the latest generation of air defense systems. Hell, they barely stand a chance even against a slightly older one.

The war in Ukraine has proven me (and many others) correct on that score. Despite having a much larger and more modern air force than Ukraine, Russia has been unable to achieve air superiority — even in the early months of the war, long before Western antiaircraft systems began service with Ukraine. Russia has no combat stealth aircraft in service, so even their most advanced Su-34 attack jets have been mostly limited to lobbing inaccurate dumb bombs from safe distances, outside the reach of Kyiv’s air defenses.

In a war with China or Russia, the A-10 likely wouldn’t survive. If — and this is a big if — there’s still a role for manned ground-attack jets, it’s with stealthy planes like the F-35 that are hard to see, harder to kill, and can fire a variety of long-range stand-off weapons.

Yeah, no, not so much. In the first place, war with China or Russia is unlikely in the extreme. In the second, you’re (and the Chair Farce as well) making some highly unfounded assumptions about the one-size-fits-nothing F35 Turducken, which is so bug-ridden, fantastically expensive to build and maintain, and over-engineered it’s no better than fifty-fifty whether a full squadron could even manage to get off the ground in-theater.

As for the casual dismissal of manned combat aircraft, that’s another thing the desk-bound zoomies have been pimping for decades now with little to no success, for a very simple reason: there is no substitute for boots on the ground, swabbies on deck, eyes in the sky, and Marines storming ashore. All the adolescent onanism extolling futuristic, bloodless warfare waged exclusively via drones, combat mechs, and AI geekery controlled from extreme standoff range will never replace the human ability to adapt, improvise, and overcome on-scene, in the heat of the moment—especially in the kind of 5G brushfire conflict against some dimestore dictator in Shitholistan’s ragtag army of goatherds we’re much more likely to find ourselves engaging in going forward.

Stephen’s point about latest-generation air defenses is well-taken, certainly. But how many of those exorbitantly expensive cutting-edge systems are going to be finding their way into the hands of the kind of backasswards Third Worlders we’re likely to be squaring off against, really? Admittedly, I damned sure wouldn’t want to be caught with my ass in the breeze at the stick of an A10 and have some illiterate yahoo set off my threat-warning alarms by pointing one of those high-tech death spikes at me. But still. I don’t have any numbers on how many times such a thing has happened to some poor ‘Hog jock, so I won’t offer any guesstimates on the odds for or against, or what the frequency of such incidents might actually be.

Looking at the bigger picture, though, the days of massive armies marching in serried ranks to take up entrenched positions along a clearly-defined MLR, underneath a sky-full of overly delicate air-superiority aircraft, are over. At least for the foreseeable future, war will be grubbier, dirtier, closer-in, and more vicious than some tech weenie peering at a computer screen a thousand miles away can begin to imagine. Modern warfare has become more of a shoot-and-scoot proposition, fought by adversaries close enough to smell each other’s weeks-ripe BO before things go loud. Hyper-sensitive, persnickety gadgetry that can be rendered combat-ineffective by a fistful of dust in the avionics suite or sucked into an intake won’t be up to the job.

Maybe the A10 really is past it, I’m hardly qualified to say. But I bet there would still be plenty of occasions when some poor ground-pounder up to his eyeteeth in the real, the bad, and the scary would be mighty glad to hear one in the hands of an experienced, crafty pilot loitering overhead. To abandon a proven-effective tool in favor of the premature forced adoption of an apteryx like the Turducken is exactly the kind of fanciful wishful-thinking shitlibs have become notorious for.

Independence Day placeholder post

As I’ve been repeating for lo, these last several years, in my opinion July 4th should properly be a national day of mourning, not of celebration. But honestly, I can’t help but be of two minds (at least) on that. Yes, we have utterly failed in our duty to uphold the documents of America’s Founding, the Declaration and the Constitution. That being the case, however, it does NOT necessarily follow that the ideals, the principles, the bedrock definitional values of the Founding are not themselves worth celebrating, each and every year from now until Doomsday. Yes, even when we have a senile, corrupt old grifter roosting in the Oval Office.

So over the last cpl-three days I’ve been engaged in an internal tug of war over which direction I should take with this year’s Independence Day offering, both here and over at the Eyrie—which, in the usual run of things, I would’ve already finished by now.

So whilst we’re all waiting for me to figure out whether I want to be the gloomiest of all possible Guses this year, as has become my habit, or to ignore certain current, ugly realities in favor of a less topical post extolling certain eternal verities everyone here should be quite familiar with by now—never wasted time, IMHO—enjoy this wonderfully engaging and inspirational scene from what I always thought was a wildly underrated movie.

And yes, of COURSE I have an up-close-and-personal story involving Moscow On The Hudson, in particular a certain popular NYC news anchor who makes a brief cameo appearance therein. Maybe I’ll just say heck with it all and write about that.

The Black Knight

Another stunning find from what I now consider to be the greatest email list there is, was, or ever will be.

Is it true that there is an ancient alien satellite which is known as the ‘Black Knight’?
Yes. In fact, the reason we know it exists is that photos of it were taken during manned space missions in 1998.

It has been reported that it appears and disappears, does not show up on radar, it changes shape and it was in an orbit that was stable – meaning it had been there for a long time. This was reported to be known that neither we nor the Russians had put this into space.

As a result of these reports, it supposedly became the object of study by a lot of people and organizations around the world. Over the years, various researchers, news reporters, Youtube videos and amateur astronomers have made various claims about it.

It was reported to have first been seen and reported in 1958 – about the time of Sputnik but others have said it shows up in ancient writings as much as 13,000 years ago. It has also been reported that radio signals emanate from it and that Nikola Tesla was able to receive and decrypt those signals in 1898.

The generally accepted theory is that because we did not know what it was or who put it up there, it was seen as a threat to be analyzed and monitored. This went on for years during which time it was not seen for long period of time. Meanwhile, our technology for tracking and photography got better and better so the next time it was seen, it was tracked and photographed extensively. All the data was sent to the Air Force center for analysis by the best methods possible. Or at least that is what has been reported.

Those reports state that all that analysis paid off. They finally determined what it was and where it came from.

Fascinating, no? Read on for the slightly, ummm, deflating conclusion (yeah, I know—sorry, I couldn’t resist). Pics and vid included.

Amusingly enough, a while back I read a sci-fi novel about a mysterious object yclept “the Red Knight” which, thanks to the above, I now realize was a fictional analogue to the Black Knight of legend, which at the time I hadn’t ever heard of.

This Red Knight, see, was on its way to crash-landing somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, sparking a race to recover it amongst several sinister factions possessed of varying degrees of ill intent. As things worked out, the Red Knight had originally been put into geosynchronous orbit as Earth’s sole effective defense against some malicious entity which wouldn’t or perhaps couldn’t approach us as long as the Red Knight remained present and on the job to fend his malevolent ass off. Thus, the Good Guys had to obtain the object and get it back into orbit as quickly as possible, before the alien planet-devouring entity learned it had fallen and made its move against our lovely Blue Marble.

I remember enjoying the book, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it was called or who authored the blasted thing. Seems like maybe it was part of an ongoing series, I’m thinking. MR Forbes, perhaps? I dunno, seems like the kind of thing he might write.

Triumphant update! HAAAAA! I found it, I found it! Turns out it was “Red Knight Falling,” one of author Craig Schaefer’s fantastic Harmony Black/Vigilant Lock series of novels, all of which I absolutely love. The Amazon write-up:

FBI agent Harmony Black and her team, Vigilant Lock, face a new type of threat: one from beyond the stars.

They’d always heard the Red Knight was an urban legend: in 1954, three years before Sputnik launched, a mysterious satellite was sighted circling Earth, though no power on the planet had such technology.

But the Red Knight is real, and what’s more, it’s inextricably linked to a supernatural force no one yet understands. Like a moth to a flame, this dark presence collides annually with the airborne satellite. Except this year the Red Knight is on course to crash-land…in Oregon.

Vigilant Lock sets out to find the crash site and secure the remnants before the mysterious power is drawn to Earth. But they soon discover the mission is far from straightforward—and they aren’t the only ones tracking the Red Knight. To stop a deadly occult threat, Harmony and her team must use all their resources: technology and sorcery, science and magic. Fortunately, Harmony has only begun to discover her growing power.

I highly recommend all the books in the Harmony Black series, along with Schaefer’s very-much-related Daniel Faust series. They’re all fun, gripping reads, if you’re into that sort of thing at all. Schaefer’s Amazon bio, from the same page:

About the Author
Craig Schaefer’s books have taken readers to the seamy edge of a criminal underworld drenched in shadow through the Daniel Faust series; to a world torn by war, poison, and witchcraft by way of the Revanche Cycle series; and across a modern America mired in occult mysteries and a conspiracy of lies in the new Harmony Black series. Despite this, people say he’s strangely normal. He lives in Illinois with a small retinue of cats, all of whom try to interrupt his writing schedule and/or kill him on a regular basis. He practices sleight of hand in his spare time, although he’s not very good at it.

The occult; Vegas intrigue; cracked-open interstices between Earthly reality and Hell itself; official governing boards staffed and chaired by demons which require incredible feats of human derring-do performed by a slick Vegas magician who has some very powerful cards up his sleeve, all while managing his love-affair with one of those demons, a beautiful shape-shifting wench named Caitlin whose uncle is in a power-struggle with…aww, never mind, I’m getting too far afield with this.

I ask you, though, what’s not to like? I repeat: highly, highly recommended. With all my heart and, um, soul, you might even say.

Another ‘Zon bio for Schaefer can be found here, author’s own website here.

Braggadocious update! Not to pat myself on the back unduly or anything, but I just had a thought.

  • Steers to some top-quality fiction about Hell, demons, seedy-but-slick Vegas magicians, conniving space aliens, ’n’ shit
  • Fun-with-linguistics challenges
  • Brutal, heartless rips on the sudden undoing of the now-defunct Climate Change (formerly Global Warming, formerly Global Cooling, formerly The Weather)™ doomsay narrative and those who’ve pimped it
  • Extended ruminations on secession
  • RAYCISS™ diatribes
  • Bare-knuckles exposes of the literally-Satanic nature of FederalGovCo
  • Godawful post-title jokes
  • Cool write-ups on old music, old cars, and old Harleys
  • Professional wrasslin’, boxing, and street-brawling
  • Unbowdlerized cussing rendered with style, aplomb, and elegance—nossirreebob, there ain’t any of that gingerly, annoying *** mincing-around here, and ain’t never gonna be neither; as they say about getting old, this blog ain’t for pussies

And most of those within just the past few days, too. I gots to say that even after lo, these many years, the free ice cream here at Ye Olde Colde Furye Blogge still offers the best bang for your blog-buck in the whole dang ‘sphere. No need to thank me, gang, I’m happy to do it for y’all.

Helpful update! Forgot to do it before, but here’s the link to the Daniel Faust series, which I also wholeheartedly recommend.

Moar fun with language

The debate earlier this week about the proper use, intentional misuse, and abuse of the English language got me thinking about another fun aspect of this: phrases people use all the time that actually mean the exact opposite of, negate, or otherwise contradict the sentiment expressed by the words. Examples:

  • Forgive me for saying
  • With all due respect
  • I really shouldn’t say this
  • No offense/pun/irony intended
  • Not for nothing, but

CF linguistic scholars should feel free to add more in the comments as and when they occur to you. I look forward to seeing what y’all reprobates come up with.

A becoming humility

Quora provides a sterling example of one of Man’s finer qualities.

Rik Elswit
Musician for 60 years. Professional musician for 55

What are some rock songs that were just filler, but became huge hits?
My band went into the studio to make our fourth album after having had to declare bankruptcy in order to get out of a contract with CBS records where we were getting no support. Nobody would even take our phone calls.

So we signed with Capitol, and went to work at Pacific Recorders. This is where we found out that our manager/producer was of little use in the studio without having the CBS engineers holding his hand for him. We released three singles off it that he was sure would be hits, and they all stiffed. Finally, in frustration, the brass at Capitol actually ordered him to release our cover of Sam Cooke’s “Only 16”, which we’d recorded simply as fill to flesh out the album.

This was a tune that we had begun playing at gigs just because we liked to play it. Our lead singer really got it, and it was just like home. The sort of thing we could do in our sleep. We produced and arranged it ourselves, and it only took a couple hours, total, to get it in the can. We were even breaking up a pound of monstrously good smoke in the drum booth while we were doing the sweetening. I had to hand the scales off to the drummer when they called me out to lay in the guitar solo and fills.

It went gold. We had worked our own way out of bankruptcy on our own, and we made Sam Cooke’s widow very happy.

FOURTH album? Jumping from a contract with CBS over to Capitol, seemingly at will? A gold record the result of said major-label leap? One can only assume that this Rik Elswit fellow must be, or at least once was, a real Somebody in the music biz.

As it turns out, we quickly learn from the comments that one would not be entirely incorrect in one’s assumption.

Neil Matthews
I’d like to give Rik’s answers more upvotes, it’s a glimpse of what Quora could be; informative answers to genuine questions by someone who knows what they are talking about.

Huw Pritchard
No small amount of humility either – I’ll be honest, I ended up googling Rik because I didn’t know his name but figured out it might be an interesting search.

If I was in his shoes I’d start everything I wrote with “I was in Dr Hook for 13 years”, even if it wasn’t relevant to the answer.

Well, I will be dipped in shit, how ’bout that? For those of you out there who are a hell of a lot younger than me, here’s Rik Elswit’s band’s biggest hit—in days of old, when knights were bold, and condoms not invented.

And what the hell, since Rik mentioned pounds of weed, and it popped up after Dr Hook in my YewToob list, PLUS it’s still one of the songs that make me bounce around in my seat the hardest, let’s do this thing.

Man, you might not agree, but in my book that’s about as good as the rock GETS, right there.

Update! Okay, since I’m on something of a roll here and all. Rik mentioned major-label tapeworms refusing to even take the band’s calls back in their darkest days just before the dawn, so what do you suppose that reminded me of? Why, this, of course.

Just occurred to me that, if someone stumbled in here who didn’t know me personally and got a load of these, shall we say, wildly electic musical selections I’m always putting up here, then found out I mostly listened to classical music radio all day long, they’d probably think I was schizophrenic or something.

Says it all update! While we’re on the topic of rock and roll, I hijacked this from shit the great Ken Lane posted on Fakebook.

AC DC3BlocksAway

Really, what more can one say but: Heh.

Bitter, hate-filled, and miserable

Insight into the thinking of a modern city-dweller. It all started with Educated Hillbilly’s response to a hateful Tweet from someone calling herself Molly McGhee.


And from there, EH is off and running.

I’ve seen enough to get a fix on this gal and I’ve seen her type a million times. And they’re a dime a dozen in the writing world. They almost always go into the arts…never the sciences. Because your intelligence can be measured in the sciences. Writing is subjective.

Molly here grew up poor, TN I believe she said, but she mentions “poor” & “the south” about a million times. She’s making a point here. That she has the authority to speak on these topics & tell the liberal NY writing society that they’re correct to hate rural white poors.

She absolutely hates her parents, hates having to grow up in & around all that poor, all that filth, all their ignorance. Imagine knowing you’re better than everyone else & having to share a school bus with them. A lunch table. A class room. The rage builds for 18 years.

Make no mistake I would bet Molly here has a mildly above average IQ & was probably in a[n] underfunded school system. Most rural schools get the left overs after the cities take all the money.

I would also bet my IQ is much much higher & my aptitude testing probably blows hers out of the water. But I digress…She knows better than this filth. She knows she’s destined for better things than her ignorant father.

And slamming her father & where she’s from is her ticket into the world she so desperately wants to be a part of. The world she looks at from behind the glass for so so long. She wants to be accepted, to be one of them, to be on the other side of the glass looking out not in.

Make no mistake, she hates her parents & where she grew up. But she can use them now that she’s free. Away from home, in college, with that scholarship she worked so hard for to escape that hell hole. She’s among her people now. Free of the unwashed.

It probably started organically, a comment here a slam there & next thing she knows the cool kids from NY old money families are hanging on her every word of hate for her home & father. She’s telling them everything they’ve always believed & they cant get enough.

She enthralls them with tails of her ignorant father. With every telling he gets slower, more racist. His house becomes a broken down mobile home, then a shack. He’s probably drooling by her senior year.

Every negative feeling & thought she’s ever had about where she’s from gets her praise from her peers. She’s made it, she’s arrived. She’s accepted. She’s one of them…

But what happed you ask? Why is she so angry & full of rage & hate now? She got what she wanted? She made it, she’s in NY. A professor. Around her kind all day. A published author. How can someone get their wish at 28 & still be so bitter, hate filled & angry?

She’s 28, deeply in debt & unhappy. Life wasn’t supposed to be this way. She did the thing. She followed the playbook. She made it. She arrived. Is this really it?

Yes Molly…it is.

There are 2 big age moments in your life.

  1. When you realize you’re no longer a kid & your “youth” is in the past. (28-32)
  2. And when you realize you’re old & there is more life behind you than in front of you. (45-55)

Obviously the ages vary on the person, but she’s hit #1.

There’s more yet, and it’s perceptive, thoughtful, and entirely damning. Note that at no point does EH lapse into the kind of vituperation, insult, and frothy-mouthed personal invective that is the stock in trade of McGhee and her tiresome ilk. At the end, EH even offers her some quite worthwhile advice, although we all know perfectly well that the irremediably dysfunctional bint will never so much as even consider lowering herself to pay heed to his wise words.

Thus does she seal her unhappy fate as a lonely, fearful woman aging ever more swiftly beyond her sell-buy date, trapped in a cramped, poorly-maintained apartment, with only the thirty or forty cats living there with her for comfort and companionship.

It all rings true to me, I must say. During my own NYC years, almost all of the women I knew who had come to New York from other places were a lot like the pathetic Ms McGhee, and weren’t at all shy about reciting the exact same litany of complaint against the places and people where they’d grown up that she does. Nearly without exception, they weren’t running to NYC as I had done, motivated by eagerness and excitement at the prospect of taking up residence in the greatest city on Earth, but running away from their places of origin and the hordes of Neanderthal revanchists who dwell there.

A handful of my young female friends had just cause to be fleeing; they’d been molested or otherwise abused by someone close to them, or they worked in fields that were centered in NYC and hoped to advance their careers by relocating to the central hub of their chosen profession: fashion modeling or design, say, or certain sub-branches of the entertainment industry. These women tended to be cheerful, easy-going sorts, some managing to maintain their overall positivity even as the Big Apple soul-devouring machine slowly ground them into hamburger, demonstrating for them just what a tough ladder they’d chosen to try and climb.

But the majority were exactly the type of whiny, self-seeking neurotics that Ms McGhee appears to be—people whose self-esteem derives almost exclusively from looking down their noses at others, sniffily derogating them as stupid, unevolved losers. They never seem to learn the lesson my dad had drilled into me years before: when you spend all your time running away from something, happiness can be an extremely difficult quarry to catch.

Strung up, strung out

Yet another excellent Quora digest edition drops into my email inbox.

Why does Billy Gibbons use 7-43 guitar strings? It seems odd.

Billy uses 7–38.

Billy used to use 11s & 12s because he thought that’s what all the blues guys did: Big string = Big sound

He was in the green room of a gig with B.B. King and BB wanted to see Billy’s axe. BB was noodling with Billy’s guitar and asked Billy why he was running such heavy strings? Billy said, “I thought that’s how all you blues guys got your tone.” BB said, “Why do you want to work so hard?” I think Billy dropped down to 9s almost immediately and eventually worked his way down to 7s and 8s, which is what a lot of the classic music of the 50s, 60s, and 70s was done with.

7’s will teach you about control PDQ because they respond so easily. If you want to sound super-tight on 9s or 10s go play on 7s and 8s for while.

.007s? Dang, I don’t think I ever have played with strings that light; in fact, I don’t recall being aware that they even made ‘em that light. My uncle started me out on .008s, a jazz set of his preferred Black Diamonds with the wrapped G (as a snot-nosed punk kid already gravitating heavily towards rock and roll, I didn’t like that worth a damn, believe me; wrapped third strings on electric guitars is definitely a jazzbo thing). Then, once I’d mastered the essential chords, scales, and runs, followed by guitar adaptions of a few old songs, most of which Murray had transposed and committed to staff paper himself (Sweet Georgia Brown*, I remember ye fondly, old girl!), I went out on my own hook from there.

POINTLESS CF DIGRESSION™: I still have one of those jumbo-sized plastic totes crammed full of Murray’s old sheet-music transcriptions in climate-controlled storage over in my friend Wendy’s living room, safely tucked away between her two (2) pianos. It’s all promised to my friend Jeremy, a great player in his own right, who damned near collapsed in stunned but delighted disbelief when I first showed him that plastic-tub treasure trove and spent an evening pawing through it with him. Jeremy took guitar lessons from me back when I was still willing to take on students; he’s probably the best pure musician I’ve ever known, and I’m happy indeed to turn over all that 24-karat musical history to him, knowing as I do how much he’ll love it, and what good care he’ll take of it.

Anyhoo, when I began playing professionally, I had to change strings before every show, either in the green room or at the hotel. I could count on breaking at least one any night I got lazy and didn’t—usually the D or B, don’t know why that would have been. And believe me, I tried like hell to figure it out. It was annoying as hell, but then again all the onstage angst and aggro was easily avoided just by the simple expedient of changing the blasted things.

Uncle Murray, by contrast, only replaced his strings once in a blue moon; he’d boil ‘em when they started to feel limp and flaccid, then put ‘em back on for another year’s worth of abuse. Murray and I never discussed the way I went through strings; I figure he would have been genuinely horrified at the needless waste, the grotesque profligacy of any nephew of his buying strings not by the pack, but by the case. Why, the very idea! Surely he’d taught me better than THAT!

I DO know that Stevie Ray Vaughn famously used strings so painfully heavy they more closely resembled low-register piano strings, or perhaps telephone-pole guy wires. Don’t know how in the world he managed to play the way he did—bending notes with no apparent effort, fingers zooming wildly all over the fretboard like honeybees in a field of wildflowers—on strings that big, night after night after night, for years. But then, that’s why he’s Stevie Ray Vaughan, and I, y’know…ain’t.

My own calluses, laboriously created by set after set of comparatively wimpy D’Addario Jazz/Rock .011 to .049s, are still there, and I haven’t picked up a guitar since 2017. Hell, I can still feel the lip-callus you get from trumpet-playing when I run my tongue across my upper lip; apparently, they never do go away completely. The calluses on Stevie Ray’s left-hand fingertips, then, must have been something to see indeed. By the time he died, his fingertips must have been rutted as deeply as a New Mexico desert valley after a sudden monsoon.

.007 to .038 gauge strings, Gibbons? Ya fuckin’ pussy.

Update! Having mentioned Jeremy up there, please enjoy one of my all-time favorite songs from his surf band nonpareil, the Aqualads.

Great band, great tune. Written by the late, lamented Bob Nelson, may he forever rest in peace.

* I keep thinking of stuff I want to add to this post, so I put in a link to Django Reinhardt and Stephan Grappelli’s version of SGB, just because they were two of Murray’s favorites.

Planned obsolescence?

Veddy interesting. Veeeeddy interesting, indeed.

Could It Be That Anheuser-Busch Tanked Bud Light ON PURPOSE?
So many stories involving the Left these days come down to the core question: are they stupid or evil? Bud Light’s resounding nosedive after making the repulsive and obnoxious fake woman Dylan Mulvaney the face of the brand is the latest.

All this time it has been assumed that Anheuser-Busch was appallingly stupid, tanking its premier brand in a misguided quest for woke points. Now, however, it turns out that they may have been evil all along, wanting to destroy Bud Light because too many of the wrong kind of men drank it — that is, men who are comfortably masculine. A former Anheuser-Busch has now said that the whole thing was done on purpose.

This seems to be a frankly suicidal decision from a business standpoint, but it coincides with what Alissa Heinerscheid, Bud Light’s vice president of marketing, said on March 30, just before Mulvaney came out as Bud Light’s new spokesman. “I’m a businesswoman,” said Heinerscheid with noteworthy self-importance; “I had a really clear job to do when I took over Bud Light, and it was ‘This brand is in decline, it’s been in a decline for a really long time, and if we do not attract young drinkers to come and drink this brand there will be no future for Bud Light.”

This would involve not just working to attract the wild-eyed ideologues, the deluded, and the mentally ill as new Bud Light drinkers, but to alienate the old customers as well. Heinerscheid explained: “We had this hangover, I mean Bud Light had been kind of a brand of fratty, kind of out-of-touch humor, and it was really important that we had another approach.” So was Mulvaney brought on not just to attract the woke to Bud Light, but specifically to drive away the ordinary guys who had been the backbone of the brand’s audience?

That was what the former employee said. “Why would they do this? What were they thinking?” he asked. “Especially now. This is the worst; it’s like the worst time yet, the best timing….Many of us are talking about that like they planned it in a way…like a strategic destruction of Bud Light.” Anheuser-Busch executives apparently decided it was time to cut loose those MAGA hat-wearing right-wing yahoos once and for all.

Echoing Heinerscheid, the former Anheuser-Busch employee added, “Bud Light has been failing for many years. We’ve talked about that for many years. The numbers of just, you know, little by little deteriorated. And it feels like they said, ‘let’s put this nail in the coffin.’” Bud Light would forever shake loose the frat boys, the flag wavers, the patriots. The woke scorekeepers such as the Soros-funded Human Rights Campaign would give Anheuser-Busch a lifetime gold star. The woke would make Bud Light their beer of choice to own the cons, even if they had to hold it as gingerly as Ted Lieu did.

So maybe Anheuser-Busch executives are not stupid; they’re just evil. They meant to destroy Bud Light all along, to rid themselves forever of their image of being a beer for ordinary Americans who might dare to resist the Left’s authoritarian agenda. Sure, they’d lose a few billion, but in the end, they’d have the approval of the woke, the compromised, and the insane, and that’s all that matters.

One thing you gotta give to the Left: always and forever, in any and all imaginable circumstances, they’re gonna have a plan. Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s going to be a good or even a workable one; actually, history tells us that they very rarely are either of those things. Nevertheless, count on it: no matter what it may look like they’re doing or not doing, they’re working a plan. Every. Single. Time.

A real leemer

LEEMER noun (FEAR, DREAD): Fighter-pilot slang for an unspecified quantity of ice-cold piss injected directly into the heart; describes the feeling a Naval carrier aviator might experience in reaction to, for example, a ramp strike, sudden in-flight engine failure (flameout), or a cold cat shot.

House damaged, person injured after aerobatic display collision

Two aircraft from the Swiss military aerobatic display team, Patrouille Suisse, collided on Thursday with falling debris hitting a house. One person on the ground was slightly injured in the accident.

The two F-5 Tiger planes were part of a formation practicing for a yodelling festival in canton Zug, central Switzerland.

The nose cone of one aircraft broke off and hit a house in the vicinity of the town of Baar, damaging the façade of the building and slightly injuring one person with shattered glass.

The braking parachute of the other aircraft deployed in mid-air but caused no damage and was later recovered.

All the seven aircraft involved in the practice session landed safely and no pilot was injured, according to the defence ministry.

Bayou Pete has video of the incident shot from ground-level, in which the midair and the loss of the nose cone from off the aircraft flying Number Three position can be easily, if not necessarily clearly, seen (older eyes may need to squint a little). Watching his miraculous recovery from a mishap which might very well have ended in real tragedy, all’s I can say is that Number Three’s pilot is one hell of a shit-hot stick—a truly badass fighter jock and one VERY cool customer to boot. For that, I salute you, sir.

The Northrop F5 Tiger, by the by, is a twin-engined supersonic air superiority/ground attack aircraft flown by the USAF and many of our ally nations beginning in the mid-60s, with 400 of them still in service as of 2021. They saw widespread use in the USAF, USMC, and USN during the Vietnam War, until changes in Air Force doctrine had them more or less dumped for larger, heavier aircraft such as the F4, the F100, and the F105 Thud. The Navy used them after the war at its renowned Fighter Weapons School (TOPGUN), mostly as either trainers or OPFOR adversary aircraft. They’re also widely seen in movies, albeit usually mislabeled as something else entirely for some bizarre reason—as everything from Phantoms to MiGs, which I always found hilarious.

The F5 is small, light, nimble, and more durable than one might expect at first glance, given those first two qualities. Although it was a pretty good aircraft, and any military pilot worth his wings will be quite familiar with it, the F5 somehow never quite achieved the same fame as the Phantom II, the F86 Saber, or latter-day siblings like the F14 Tomcat. The Tiger is a pretty, graceful-looking little thing for sure.

F5Tiger

That one’s in USAF livery, all kitted out with a full combat load of Mavericks and Sidewinders. Impressive, no?

Tucker on Twitter, again

Episode Four drops—“Wannabe dictator”—and it’s a real doozy.


As Barry says, this one may well be his best yet. Money quote: “Just because he’s trying to put the other candidate in prison for the rest of his life for crimes he himself committed doesn’t mean he has a totalitarian impulse. C’mon, that’s absurd!”  Looks like I’m gonna need to set up a new category for these Tucker posts, I’m thinking.

Update! Annnd our new Tucker cat is a done deal. Be sure you have your sarcasm filter set on “High” for this one, folks; it’s so blistering, so caustic—particularly in the last third or so—that it could literally peel paint.

The cold, hard truth

Remember that 800 pound gorilla in the room I mentioned the other day in the Eyrie post? Well, in the way of all 800 pound gorillas, he’s still there, and isn’t going anywhere until he’s captured the undivided attention those pesky, implacable 800 pound gorillas always tend to seek…and, sooner or later, one way or another, get.

California Can Either Charge Its EV Fleet Or Keep The Lights On
Can California transition to a portfolio of 100% renewable energy sources and still generate enough electricity to meet the state’s future needs, including the addition of millions of electric cars on the road?

A: No. Next question. For that matter, neither can any other state. Turns out, there’s a reason why the human race abandoned “renewable” (read: inadequate to meet the demands of a modern industrial civilization) energy for more reliable, productive sources several centuries ago, see. UNEXPECTED!™

California is already incapable of generating enough electricity, importing 30% of its current electricity needs from other states. With respect to current generation sources, nearly 60% of California’s in-state electricity generation is produced by natural gas and nuclear power plants. Including conventional hydroelectric generation, which does not count as a renewable source for purposes of California’s policies, nearly two-thirds of the state’s current electricity comes from disfavored generation sources.

It is doubtful that California will be able to generate sufficient electricity to meet future energy needs using only the favored generation sources; and it is not even close.

Overall, total electricity generated will be 21.1% below the amount of electricity demanded — and this does not even account for the impacts from all the likely future mandates. Beyond the electric vehicle mandates evaluated above, officials are rapidly prohibiting connections for stoves, furnaces, hot water heaters, and dryers in new construction projects.

There are reasons to be exceptionally skeptical that California’s current energy policy environment is achievable. Either the policies will cause extreme energy shortages and jeopardize quality of life or the state’s political leaders will need to repeal the current suite of mandates.

“Reasons to be skeptical”? Oh, you just bet there are at that. But since, as every good “liberal” knows, electricity is something that happens when you flip a light switch—just as food is something that comes from the grocery store—there really isn’t a problem here at all. It’s just a damnable lie made up by those godawful MAGA H8RRRZZZ to oppress them, that’s all.

Misc schtuff

A few memes I Iiked.

GasGenEV

 

Drag Shows

Can’t remember via whom I found the two above, apologies for that. The next one hijackeded directly from WRSA.

SwampvsSewer

Heh. Makes sense to me.

Update! Urethra, I have found it! That second one comes to you via the esteemed Glypto Dropem, who is ensconced in Ye Olde CF Blogrolle under his nom de blogge 75 Milion Pissed Off Patriots. Thanks, Glypto!

Uncle Sam’s EXTREMELY Misguided Children

Via Divemedic, a vidya of the world’s mightiest, most feared, veritably-invincible military force at, umm, play.


Jeez-O-Pete. Bet his DI is mighty proud of this life-taker and heartbreaker. I only wish R Lee Ermey was still around to offer his take on this disgraceful shit-stain upon a once-proud uniform. Then again, I think it’s safe to say we already know what his opinion would be.

How to make a shithole

Our brother-from-another-mother Big Country posts a heartwarming tale.

SO I was up at the U-Haul and this young-ish couple were in there all happy and talking about how they moved here just today…the guy behind the counter was all being nice and whatever…me being the bastard curmudgeon I’ve become, I asked where thy moved from…

“Rhode Island!” said the chirpy tatted-up girl…(maybe she was 22, 23 at most…) not bad looking but a lot of ‘warning tattoos’, i.e. dreamcatcher on her neck, the word ‘breathe’ on the inside of one wrist…her significant other, Mister “I could smell the soy from six feet away?” Yeah, his tats? Flowers. Lil daisies on the back of his elbows…bad hair, shitty handlestache…

Uh… yeeeah

I looked at ’em both, and growled “Welcome to Florida! Don’t you fucking dare vote like you did back home.” The guy behind the counter looked at me, and looked at them and nodded and said “Yep…don’t screw up our state like you did yours!”

On that I turned and walked out…let them chew on that bit of advice.

But folks like that are like an infectious virus.

Moving in from a fucked up state, to OUR state, and then voting in the same types of assholes who made their state of origin all fucked up, which, while NOT intentionally planning on fucking it all up again, but doing so, and then wondering “How did this happen?” Self awareness purely doesn’t exist in the hive-mind of a liberal I swear.

Their look of shock was great.

Heh. I just bet it was at that, and it couldn’t have happened to a nicer brace of assholes. Wish I’d been there to see it; I call ‘em locusts, myself, which I think is a very apt and fitting name for ‘em.

I’ve read in several different places over the past cpl-three years or so that, according to the stats, that’s actually not so much the case, though—that the vast majority of those fleeing the blighted, pestilential urban hellholes are NOT the idiot libs who did so much to help make them what they are, but are in actual fact mostly RightwingNaziDeathBeasts who have, after many years of suffering through the gradual, pre-planned decline, finally gotten a bellyful of it and decided to uproot and make good their escape. Never an easy decision to make, especially for someone who has lived in such an area his whole life, with deep family roots in what we unreconstructed Southrons used to call the old home-place.

Having lived for many years in one such example—CLT, which admittedly has always leaned pretty sharply Left, as has the entire state; over my entire lifetime, I can remember but one nominally “Republican” mayor, the execrable stealth-liberal Pat McRory—I dunno whether I buy the aforementioned statistics or not; I gotta say, I’m skeptical. But who knows, it could be so; with the widening Right-Left divide becoming more and more hardened and virulent over the past several years, it may very well be. It’d be nice if it was, that’s for definite sure.

The dead giveaway that you’re looking at a locust infestation as you drive around any given neighborhood? One of those obnoxiously self-righteous “In this house, we believe…” signs posted in the front yard. Know that, and adjust your behavior towards the occupants accordingly.

Big-city living is not ever going to be everyone’s cup of tea; for years, it was certainly mine, although nowadays I wouldn’t live in the city, any city, if you paid me by the hour. But it doesn’t necessarily follow that it has to be a horrible, unbearable nightmare, either. For many, many years, American cities were envied around the world as desirable, worthwhile places to live and work—to ENJOY living, rather than merely existing. As with so many other things, the question must be: Who did this to us, and why on Earth did we ever allow it to happen?

Starvation diet

Worried about being overweight? Need to lose a few pounds? Fret not; with an assist from a capricious and pissed-off Mother Nature, our benevolent One World Goobermint has got ya covered.

The Horseman Are Riding
We finally got a little much needed rain on Sunday, it wasn’t a ton, maybe half an inch, but it was desperately needed. Most of the crops around here are at the early growing stages when a lack of rain can mean poor yields come harvest time and all of the hay fields that were cut a few weeks ago have been baking in the near drought conditions, so the second cutting of hay might be crap. More rain is expected today and maybe Thursday.

All in all, it wasn’t a huge deal but another week like that would have been bad.

It reminded me of how fragile the food supply, seemingly limitless and reliable on the surface, truly is and especially how dangerous tinkering with that food supply can be.

The world is a big place with lots of room for people but the number of people in the world has been growing rapidly and in some regions is accelerating while other regions have seen fertility in a free-fall.

In 1987 when I was an underclassman in high school the world had around 5 billion people but just a few years ago in 2019 it had grown by more than 50%. Last November the UN “celebrated” the global population hitting a new milestone of 8 billion people. 8,000,000,000 people is a lot and the picture they chose was appropriate.

The pic of which Arthur speaks, which he helpfully includes in his post, is extremely heavy on the black and brown skin-tones, as one would expect.

In just 12 years the global population increased by a billion people, or an additional 83 million mouths to feed every year. That is a net increase the equivalent of the entire population of Germany every year, and the new people are not Germans. Only 19 nations in the world have that many people, so we are adding not just the equivalent of a new nation of people every year but really it is more like several nations worth of people annually. As I am sure most of us realize, these new nations are not full of successful, high IQ people….

In a nutshell?

We have to celebrate diversity by looting first world White and East Asian nations who have their population under control to subsidize the out of control fecundity of Africans, Middle Easterners and South Asians.

It would seem obvious that adding a couple of new nations worth of people every year, and mostly from the dumbest people in the world, would mean that food security is a big deal and we should be concerned about finding ways to feed these people. That is what you would think…

Nah, not for shitlibs, whose motto, in all times and circumstances, might as well be have no fear, Big Daddy Gubmint will provide! Closer to the truth of the matter is something our old friend Kim DuToit always says: Africa wins again!

Slaughtering 200,000 cows in Ireland to fight “climate change” at the same time that the world is adding a net nearly 100 million people every year makes sense to no one but it is just the latest assault on food production in Europe. It may not be necessary though. The general news in the food world isn’t great and is actually pretty concerning…..

Kansas Wheat Harvest Will Be The Smallest Since 1957 And U.S. Corn Is Being Absolutely Devastated By Drought

That isn’t a typo, back in 1957 the country had far fewer people and farming was still mostly done by smaller family farms.

We usually get a dry stretch in the Corn Belt but it comes later after the corn is pretty tall and already working on ears. When it hits this early it will stunt corn growth when it is most vulnerable. Corn goes into lots of food but where it really makes a difference is in livestock feed. Cattle, hogs, chickens all mostly eat a corn based diet. You can feed them other stuff, like grass and hay for cattle, but it takes much longer to get the animals to market weight.

In sum, then, we’re doing basically all of the things we shouldn’t be doing, and none of the things we should be. Arthur’s bottom-line closer is well worth clicking over to read, chilling though it all is.

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CF Glossary

ProPol: Professional Politician

Vichy GOPe: Putative "Republicans" who talk a great game but never can seem to find a hill they consider worth dying on; Quislings, Petains, Benedicts, backstabbers, fake phony frauds

Fake Phony Fraud(s), S'faccim: two excellent descriptors coined by the late great WABC host Bob Grant which are interchangeable, both meaning as they do pretty much the same thing

Mordor On The Potomac: Washington, DC

The Enemy: shitlibs, Progtards, Leftards, Swamp critters, et al ad nauseum

Burn, Loot, Murder: what the misleading acronym BLM really stands for

pAntiFa: an alternative spelling of "fascist scum"

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FREEDOM!!!

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

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David Black, from Turn Left For Gibraltar

"If the laws of God and men, are therefore of no effect, when the magistracy is left at liberty to break them; and if the lusts of those who are too strong for the tribunals of justice, cannot be otherwise restrained than by sedition, tumults and war, those seditions, tumults and wars, are justified by the laws of God and man."
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