Flotsam and/or Jetsam

Words mean things…until they don’t

Posted on November 15, 2021November 15, 2021 by Mike

In order to subvert and then bring down any free society, first the Marxist counterrevolutionary must degrade the very language itself into a tangled, incomprehensible thicket of utter meaninglessness and confusion.

I have been writing a lot about the politically inspired perversion of language. The name “Orwell” crops up in any such discussion, as does the word “Newspeak,” that twisted mode of language that Orwell outlined in the appendix to Nineteen Eighty-Four. The goal of Newspeak, Orwell said, was to replace standard English with a sharply diminished patois whose linguistic poverty was its prime political advantage. By reducing the suppleness of language, the elites who controlled society hoped also to reduce dissent — not only the activity of dissent, but also the thoughts and emotions that guided it.

This has been a perennial dream of budding totalitarians, from the French Revolution to the varieties of communist tyranny. In our own society, the disease began, as do so many species of spiritual sickness, in the university, but it has metastasized into the body politic, infecting primary and secondary education, the media, commerce and even government. The current name of this nightmare is “wokeness,” but a swamp by any name smells as bad.

Hold the presses! The American Medical Association, together with the Association of American Medical Colleges, have just issued Advancing Health Equity: A Guide To Language, Narrative And Concepts. Is this the item of supreme self-infatuation that will begin the great awakening from wokeness? Maybe.

From first sentence to last, the aroma of scolding virtucratic entitlement is by turns noxiously cloying and comically rebarbative.

For the comedy, try on these opening words: “The field of equity, like all other scholarly domains…” You snorted, didn’t you? You know that “equity” — which is Newspeak for Marxoid attacks on private property and merit-based advancement — is not a “field,” much less a “scholarly field,” but a vapid epithet chosen because it conjures edifying moral associations.

I freely acknowledge that I’m just an elderly, out-of-it old geezer and all. Nonetheless, I seem to recall that back in the Cretaceous Period “equity” usually referred to the amount a homeowner has invested in his house, determined by the total of all mortgage payments made so far. His equity, if sizeable enough to qualify, could then be used as, say, a down payment to secure a second mortgage or other loan.

All of which has been redesignated by the Good People™ as nothing but racist, white supremacist Hate Speech by now, I’m sure. Maybe the aged and decrepit “equality” just wasn’t working well enough to be effective as a club against their hated enemies anymore, huh?

No sooner have we stumbled over the “field of equity” than we’re clobbered with a “Land and Labor Acknowledgement.” The Association of American Medical Colleges’ headquarters is “located in Washington, D.C., the traditional homelands of the Nacotchtank, Piscataway and Pamunkey people.” The headquarters of the AMA — the American Medical Association, for God’s sake — are “located in the Chicago area on taken ancestral lands of indigenous tribes, such as the Council of the Three Fires, composed of the Ojibwe, Odawa and Potawatomi Nations, as well as the Miami, Ho-Chunk, Menominee.”

It never stops. We must use capital-B “Black” when referring to black people but never capital-W “white.” “It is critical,” we are told, “to address all areas of marginalization and inequity due to sexism, class oppression, homophobia, xenophobia and ableism.” Whom have we left out?

At the center of this compact of rancid woke vocables are a number of tables listing deprecated words or locutions alongside their approved, “equity-centered” alternatives. Don’t say “illegal immigrant.” Say “undocumented immigrant,” because “illegal is a dehumanizing, derogatory term used to describe a person who resides in a country without proper documentation. No human being is illegal.” We can leave that ontological assertion to one side: plenty of human beings engage in illegal behavior, and that’s what we’re talking about here.

We’re not supposed to say “minority” anymore, but rather “historically marginalized or minoritized or BIPOC.” Don’t say “sex.” Say “sex assigned at birth.” Don’t say “slave.” Say “enslaved person.” Spartacus always did that, didn’t he? And I am sure the Islamic slavers in Africa are careful about their language right now, today.

Okay, I am so tuckered out and weary of all this happy horseshit that I’m willing to go all the way out to the very tip-end of the limb I’ve been forced onto at this point.

SO. You Leftard goosesteppers think you can tell ME what I’m allowed to say and not say, do you? Let’s just see how that works out for ya.

“Hate Speech” that I might or might not use, according strictly to my own whim, mood, or wish to piss all over some random Woke idiot in hopes that the inferno of apoplectic fury ignited in him will bring on a heart attack powerful enough to kill his stupid ass dead

Nigger, jigaboo, spearchucker, spook, burrhead, coon, bluegum, moon cricket • Jewboy, kike, yid, Bronx indian, Christ-killer • Limey, Pom, Frog, Hun, Jerry, Mick, bogtrotter, Dago, Guido, Wop • Spick, beaner, wetback, greaseball, taco bender • Raghead, sand nigger, camel jockey, Muzzrat • Chink, dink, zipperhead, slant, slope, gook • Dyke, bull-dagger, flatrocker, lesbo • Faggot, queer, rump ranger, ass pirate, turd burglar • Slut, tramp, roundheels, cockhound, THOT, cum dumpster • Honkey, cracker, white-ass, Casper, blue eyed devil, Yacoub

And if all that ain’t offensive enough to jack any shitlib’s blood pressure straight up to lethal levels and beyond, I got one more arrow in the quiver:

LET’S GO BRANDON!!!!

Now go ahead and try to tell me something else you think you’ll forbid me to do, Proggy shitstain.

How to defeat the Cancel Culture mob

Posted on November 14, 2021November 14, 2021 by Mike

Point and laugh at them every chance you get; provide countless in-your-face demonstrations that you simply don’t care one tiny bit about their opinions, their beliefs, or their very existence; ridicule them as the weak, lily-livered ignoramuses they truly are. Those, among other equally fine tactics, such as putting every man Jack of them into his grave.

Last year marked the 40th anniversary of the release of Airplane!, the comedy I wrote and directed with my brother Jerry and our friend Jim Abrahams. Just before the world shut down, Paramount held a screening at the Egyptian Theater in Hollywood, followed by a Q&A in which an audience member asked a question we never used to receive: “Could you make Airplane! today?” My response: “Of course, we could. Just without the jokes.”

Although people tell me that they love Airplane! and it seems to be included on just about every Top Five movie-comedy list, there was talk at Paramount of withholding the rerelease over feared backlash for scenes that today would be deemed “insensitive.” I’m referring to scenes like the one in which two black characters speak entirely in a jive dialect so unintelligible that it has to be subtitled. I’ve lost count of the number of people who have said to me, “You couldn’t do that scene today.” But I always wonder, why not? Half the gags in that joke were aimed at white people, given that the translation for “Shit” is “Golly!”—and the whole gag is topped off by the whitest lady on the planet, the actress who played the mom on Leave It to Beaver, translating.

Today, we’re faced with social and political pressures that are tearing our country and our families apart. Not that I couldn’t do without some family members anyway, but the point is, we live in the most outrageous period in our recent history, when the need for humor is greatest, and yet we seem to be losing our ability to laugh at ourselves and our world.

HUMOR happens when you go against what’s expected and surprise people with something they’re not anticipating, like the New York Jets winning a game. But to find this surprise funny, people have to be willing to suppress the literal interpretations of jokes. In Airplane!, Lloyd Bridges’s character tries to quit smoking, drinking, amphetamines, and sniffing glue. If his “addictions” were to be taken literally, there would be no laughs. Many of today’s studio executives seem to believe that audiences can no longer look past the literal interpretations of jokes. Fear of backlash rather than the desire to entertain seems to be driving their choices.

I admit that their fear of audience retaliation is not entirely unwarranted. There is a very vocal, though I believe small, percentage of the population that can’t differentiate between Glue Sniffing Joke and Glue Sniffing Drug Problem. It is these people whom studio executives fear when they think twice about rereleasing Airplane! on its 40th anniversary, when they put disclaimers in front of Blazing Saddles, or when they pressure writers to remove jokes that are otherwise perfectly offensive. As a result of these fear-based decisions, some of the best contemporary comedy minds are abandoning laughter in favor of admittedly brilliant but serious projects such as Joker, directed by Todd Phillips, and Chernobyl, written by Craig Mazin. These men collaborated on two of the Hangover pictures, which struck gold at the box office. Phillips summed up the general plight of the comedy writer when he said, “It’s hard to argue with 30 million people on Twitter. You just can’t do it. So, you just go, ‘I’m out.’”

Some people look at the mass exodus of comedy writers and proclaim that comedy must be dead. That’s not true. Comedy is not dead. It’s scared. And when something is scared, it goes into hiding.

Biiiig mistake, that. It’s a sure-fire guarantee that there will be more of the same, on and on and on, buying you nothing worth having. Why be afraid of these puling, pussified prigs, anyhow? They’re way too light in the ass to ever be a credible threat against hardier folks who are eminently capable of wrecking them completely should the punks ever muster the stones to show fight against better men than they’ll ever be. I see no bright side to hiding from them, like some scurrying rodent would at sight of a hungry alley cat. However, I see no dark side to defying these worms at every turn—to making them suffer so hideously that the mere thought of ever hassling us again results in a sudden aroma of warm piss wafting about the room, in perfect sync with an embarrassing wet patch quickly spreading to endarken the entire crotch of his hipster-douchebag skinny jeans.

These wormy twerps need to be reminded, pointedly and repeatedly, of what happens to the yappy-ass Yorkie when he tangles with the Pit Bull. HINT: nothing pleasant for the uppity Yorkie, who may profit in the long term from his schooling in how very important it is to not let oneself get above one’s station, to take good care that his reach doesn’t exceed his grasp. They need to have their noses vigorously rubbed in it thrice daily, six days a week, until those lessons sink in, and I mean bone-deep.

Zucker goes on to relate a tidbit of personal history so wonderfully bizarre that I—having been blessed with a good few fairly extraordinary life experiences myself, though not on as grand a scale as this—that all I can think to do is stand back in silent awe.

Circumstances like these are a daily occurrence in my life, not only because I’m naturally inept, but also because somehow, abnormal seems to find me. During the great pandemic of 2020, I managed to quarantine with my ex-wife’s current boyfriend, my ex-girlfriend who teaches meditation, the guitarist for the ’80s rock band Ratt, and the reigning Miss Utah USA. My life could easily be a sitcom, except no one would believe it.

I salute you, good sir.

By way of waving an upraised middle digit with malice aforethought at every shitlib scold, every killjoy, every preening tightass unable to see past a grandiose delusion which insists that they and their equally insufferable fellows are in fact charged with Making The World A Better Place—whether it actually wants to be or not. Translated into Sane Language, the mantra sounds like this: DO WHAT I SAY DO WHAT I SAY DO WHAT I SAY CAN’T YOU SEE I’M BETTER THAN YOU WAAAAAAAH!!!

In response, I offer all those nitwit neurotics the gesture so unforgettably displayed by the immortal Johnny Cash, to wit:

Really says it all, don’tchathink?

Breathes there a man with soul so dead

Posted on November 14, 2021November 14, 2021 by Mike

That a story as delicious as this one doesn’t give him a sharp frisson of delight?

Rodgers In, Roethlisberger Out: ‘Fully Vaxxed’ Steelers QB Out with Covid as Unvaxxed Packers QB Returns to Action

Y’all begin to see what I mean already, I bet.

Green Bay Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers is cleared to return to action Sunday after sitting out with Covid-19. He drew plenty of controversy after saying he was vaccinated, then having to admit that he wasn’t when he tested positive.

Now, another future Hall of Fame quarterback is out. Pittsburgh Steeler Ben Roethlisberger also claims that he’s vaccinated. We’ll soon know if that’s true since he’s out for Sunday with Covid. According to NBC Sports:

The Steelers will have to try to win their fifth game in a row without their starting quarterback. According to Steelers spokesman Burt Lauten, quarterback Ben Roethlisberger has been placed on the COVID-19 reserve list. He’s out for Sunday’s game against the Lions.

Roethlisberger becomes the second high-profile quarterback to miss a game this month due to COVID. If he’s vaccinated, he’ll be able to return after generating a pair of negative tests at least 24 hours apart. If he’s not vaccinated, he’ll miss at least 10 days.

Last week, Roethlisberger said he’s vaccinated. (Then again, so did Aaron Rodgers.) If Roethlisberger truly is vaccinated, the outcome suggests that he developed symptoms and was tested.

Alll just one more example of the ludicrous fuck-uppery brought to you by the most prolific producers of ludicrous fuck-uppery of all time, our very own Powers That Be. Three groans for ’em, folks.

Y’know, for villainous, evil despots possessed of the finely-tuned code of morality and ethics of a honey badger in rut; the compassion and restraint of Vlad the Impaler; the warmth and sensitivity of Don Rickles; and the simple human decency of Maximilien Robespierre, our would-be lords and masters sure seem to trip over their own dicks a hell of a lot, don’t they? Instead of sinister, near-invincible Bad Guys like, say, Doc Ock, the Green Goblin, Lex Luthor, or Professor Moriarty, these FederalGovCo assclowns more closely resemble Elmer Fudd, Gilderoy Lockhart, and Wile E Coyote. We expect the James-Younger Gang. The goobermint gives us The Shakiest Gun In The West as a stand-in.

I mean, really now. Deadly, bioweapons-lab-grown plagues that aren’t actually all that deadly, more nuisance than plague. World-beating, multirole stealth fighters that won’t fly, aren’t terribly stealthy, are extremely delicate and unreliable, can only carry enough ammo to fling two or three seconds worth of Combat Sadness at its opponent before fleeing the furball to RTB and reload. An extravagantly-financed, high-tech military force whose soldiers are far too dainty and Evolved to fight, under the command of a flag-rank officer corps more intently focused on enforcing the PC catechism than defeating our adversaries, its Navy apparently unable to navigate the seas without slamming into another ship, a dock, or a random terrain feauture. Mandatory electric automobiles entirely incapable of fulfilling the needs of a vast, widely-dispersed populace whose typical daily commute to work and back covers mileage more than sufficient to drain its batteries—cars which will be wholly dependent on a huge network of public charging stations that simply doesn’t exist. Which, as it happens, is of no great importance anyway because the nation’s outdated, overtaxed power grid simply cannot shoulder the increased load, being dangerously strained to keep the lights on already.

All the above is but a small sampling of the neverending cavalcade of stupidity, gross incompetence, unanticipated knock-on effects, and even worse calamities these retards insist on afflicting normal people with…For Our Own Good, natch. And now these Supergenii, these self-proclaimed “Experts,” these shambolic, all-thumbed, pig-ignorant droolcases have outdone themselves at last: a miraculous Vaccine!! so effective, so safe, so all-round beneficial for one and all that they not only had to mount a full-court-press propaganda effort, but also make submitting to it a non-negotiable requirement in order to keep one’s job, leave one’s home, or just generally be allowed to participate in society without being aggressively vilified, attacked, and/or thrown into the Gulag forever to get the concoction into American bloodstreams.

And just look what happens next. Not only did History’s Deadliest Plague fizzle badly on ’em, now the already-wheezing PTB Klown Kar is stalling out from rapidly-mounting evidence confirming that this shady “vaccine” they’ve pimped so frantically is in fact NOT effective, NOT beneficial or even benign, and absolutely, positively NOT SAFE. The propaganda campaign was already floundering, having been nowhere near convincing enough to persuade skeptical Americans to place their trust in a government medical establishment whose treachery and untrustworthiness had long since been established in the original chain of lies and manipulation used to spark the contrived “crisis” nearly two years ago. One can only wonder at what their next desperate gambit might possibly be, and what bonehead move on their part will bring their latest house of cards tumbling down.

I dunno, somehow I always kinda figured that Evil Incarnate would be way more skillfull and capable than these boobs have turned out to be. Oh well, my bad. After nigh on five decades of paying close attention to the antics, habits, and rituals of the ProPol Class in its native environment, I really should’ve known better than that.

“When the law-givers ignore the law, is there any obligation to obey the law-givers?”

Posted on November 13, 2021November 13, 2021 by Mike

No, there most certainly is not. At that point, there is but one duty or obligation laid upon the true Patriot: to throw off his oppressors; to dismantle the structural mechanisms of tyrannical rule to the last nut, bolt, and cog; and to take all necessary steps to see that the tyrant’s malign influence is scoured from the land he wilfully betrayed and besmirched.

This question arises in the wake of the Biden regime – the right word, as it conveys the fundamental essence of the thing, as in capo regime…as in gang of thugs – announcing it doesn’t give a tinker’s damn for the recent federal court stay of its order to private employers of 100 or more to require all employees submit to the Jab – else be Jabbed, themselves, with extortionate fines applied by OSHA.

Which lacks lawful jurisdiction to decree such a thing.

Well, the Fifth Circuit of Appeals – which is a court and a federal one, at that – with legal/constitutional authority to bind the power of the federal government – issued a stay.

Which means that the Jabs cannot lawfully be required – or the fines applied – until after due process of law has elaborated.

Full stop. For now, at least.

This is the way it once worked when this country was governed by laws.

The very bad precedent of executives ordering has of course been around for some time; it predates the Biden regime.

It made possible this regime’s executive ordering.

But – until now – no executive in modern times has ordered in defiance of a federal court order.

That being something very arguably impeachable.

Something that arguably calls for more.

Boy, does it ever. In fact, the situation calls for nothing short of extreme measures in response—the most extreme measures possible, with no action, tool, or tactic ruled unfair or out of bounds. But while we await the squaring of shoulders, steeling of spines, and firming of resolve that precedes every battle, this might be a decent enough first step.

Florida Governor Ron DeSantis has called state legislators to come together next week for a special session to consider several proposals that push back against Biden’s authoritarian COVID-19 vaccine mandates for workers and employers.

The main piece of legislation being weighed is a proposal to decide whether the state should withdraw itself from the partisan oversight of Biden’s Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA). The measure was introduced earlier this month and sponsored by Republicans Sen. Travis Hutson and Rep. Ardian Zika after OSHA had finally issued its Emergency Temporary Standard relating to Biden’s vaccine mandate for businesses with 100 employees or more.

The Republicans hold the majority in both chambers of the Florida state legislature, so it looks likely that the proposal will pass easily. The GOP leaders of both the House and Senate have even already indicated that they intend to kick OSHA’s authority to the curb.

In a statement to an outfit called the News Service of Florida, House Speaker Chris Sprowls laid it all out bluntly.

“If OSHA, the Department of Labor and OSHA, is going to be weaponized as a way to hold hostage businesses throughout the state of Florida, no problem. We want a different plan.

We want out of OSHA. We’ll submit our own regulatory authority and say goodbye to the federal government.”

You may think such maneuvering a waste of time, a stall, or a half-measure; you may very well be right about that, too. The legal process for “separating from OSHA” will undoubtedly be interminable, taking years to unfold in the admittedly iffy event it’s allowed to move forward at all. But I gotta say, that last sentence gave me goosebumps just the same. And there’s more.

The separation from OSHA may not be completed anytime before Biden’s mandate for businesses kicks in on January 4th, but the legislation’s special session will also decide on several other proposals that will provide robust protections for workers and businesses against Biden’s crippling federal overreach.

Some of the other proposals that will be discussed by lawmakers next week include: preventing government employees from being forced into vaccination, requiring employers to allow vaccine exemptions for workers, prohibiting the state’s surgeon general from forcing anyone to get vaccinated against their wishes, giving parents the sole authority over vaccination status and mask-wearing by their children in schools, and giving workers the ability to sue over vaccine mandates, among other important measures.

Florida’s legislature – thanks to decisive action by Governor DeSantis to call a special session—is demonstrating to the rest of the republican states in the nation that they are taking the fight against Biden’s federal overreach extremely seriously – they have already been right about resisting lockdowns and other authoritarian measures to limit the spread of the virus – and now they are leading the way once again in the fight against the federal mandates.

How many other states will follow suit?

Well, that really is the question now, ain’t it? One way or the other, for better or for worse, we’ll soon find out.

Say it ain’t so, Gene!

Posted on November 12, 2021November 12, 2021 by Mike

Well, THIS is just depressing as all hell.

Gene Simmons, the singer for legendary rock band KISS, viciously attacked unvaccinated people during a Wednesday interview with “TalkShopLive.”

Discussing the Covid-19 pandemic, Simmons told Steve Harkins, “I know that there are Flat Earth Society people who believe in all sorts of things. ‘They died because they were fat or because they smoked.’ No bitch, they died because they got Covid.”

Of course, the ignorant musician is unaware of commonly found information such as data showing nearly 80% of Covid hospitalizations occur in obese people.

Next, Simmons appeared to diss NFL quarterback Aaron Rodgers for choosing not to get the Covid vaccine, saying, “I don’t care if you play football or not, stay away from evil people who don’t care about your health.”

“You are not allowed to infect other people just because you think you’ve got rights that are delusional of course,” the frontman added. “This delusional, evil idea that you get to do whatever you want and the rest of the world be damned is really terrible. We’ve got to identify those people and bring them out into the open so you know who they are.”

“If you are willing to walk among us unvaccinated, you are an enemy,” he said, concluding his tirade.

Works for me, pal, if that’s the way you really want it. Only know this: as you have declared me “an enemy” for refusing to abandon my most deeply-held principles on the say-so of a clearly ignorant, fearful bully like yourself, I now declare you to be an enemy of MINE.

Consider that my personal vow to do you as much injury as I am physically capable of, in all forms or permutations, using every means I can conceive or contrive. If it truly must be war between us—a condition I truly, deeply deplore—then let there be no mercy, no quarter, and no surcease either asked or given on either side. If it’s a fight you people want, then I firmly believe you by God ought to get yourselves one, all you can stomach of it: hard, bloody, and brutal, until you retch your throats red and raw from it.

So be it, then.

“HERE RESTS IN HONORED GLORY AN AMERICAN SOLDIER KNOWN BUT TO GOD.”

Posted on November 12, 2021November 12, 2021 by Mike

Being after midnight now I’m late to the party here, I know. But better late than never, right?

Overlooking the nation’s capital from its serene 624-acre hilltop perch, Arlington National Cemetery is located on the resplendent west bank of the Potomac River. The hallowed ground serves as the final resting place for numerous presidents, Supreme Court justices, astronauts and other public servants, including more than 400,000 military personnel, veterans and their immediate families. This national landmark is the country’s largest and most important military cemetery. Still an active burial ground, it conducts over 25 funerals each weekday. The cemetery, Arlington Memorial Bridge, the Hemicycle and Arlington House make up the Arlington National Cemetery Historic District that was added to the National Historic Register in 2014.

Arlington National Cemetery occupies land once owned by George Washington Parke Custis, the adopted grandson of Martha and George Washington. He built the Arlington House as a memorial to the nation’s first president. In 1857, the property was bequeathed to his daughter Mary Anna Randolph Custis who had married Robert E. Lee 26 years earlier. With the secession of Virginia from the Union, the family evacuated the property. Federal troops incorporated the land into their defensive fortifications around Washington. Part of the property was used as a Freedman’s Village where former slaves received assistance after their liberation.

As the number of casualties climbed during the Civil War, the federal government needed additional cemetery space to inter the dead. To meet this demand, 200 acres of the plantation was set aside as a cemetery. In May 1864, Private William Christman was the first military casualty to be buried in the newly created graveyard. The following month, the War Department designated the space as a national cemetery. After the war, George Washington Custis Lee sued the federal government for return of the land, which he argued had been seized illegally. In 1882, the Supreme Court ruled in his favor and the federal government paid Lee $150,000 for the property, which is equivalent to $3.2 million in 2016. Further along the landmark’s timeline, President Herbert Hoover oversaw the first Memorial Day ceremony on May 30, 1929.

Despite the many distinguished and revered war heroes and two former U.S. Presidents buried there, there is nowhere within the hallowed grounds of Arlington National Cemetery that is more frequented by visitors than The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Located on a hill on high ground at almost the perfect geographic center of the cemetery, the tomb exemplifies valor and honor by remembering those who died committing brave and selfless acts with no one to bear witness to them. What is it about this place that so intrigues the many who visit it every year? What’s the story behind it and what does it take to become one of the select few to stand watch over it?

The idea of the tomb itself was initially inspired by the multitudes of unknown dead that had amassed by the end of World War I (WWI). It was in Great Britain, however, where the idea of honoring these forgotten warriors first took root in 1920. The following year, a burial ceremony was planned in the United States for an American unknown who died in Europe during the First World War. On Memorial Day, 1921, four unknowns were exhumed from an American cemetery in France. The four were placed in identical caskets and placed before a highly decorated WWI veteran tasked with selecting one of the caskets for burial in Arlington National Cemetery. That person was U.S. Army Sergeant Edward F. Younger.

After the ceremonial selection was made, the body was to lie in state in the Capitol rotunda until midnight on November 10, 1921. On the following day, Armistice Day, the casket was placed in a caisson and transported to Arlington National Cemetery. During the procession, the casket was escorted by members of the military, President Warren G. Harding, Vice President Coolidge, Chief Justice Taft, and the remaining justices of the Supreme Court. Members of the Cabinet, Senate, and House along with several hand-picked Generals were also on hand to witness the presenting of the Medal of Honor and the Distinguished Service Cross to the unknown dead. Also honored were unknowns each from Great Britain, France, Italy, Belgium, and Romania which marked the only time these medals were issued to foreign combatants.

I was casting about for some way that would be a departure from the usual form to note Veteran’s Day all this week when I ran across an article mentioning this year being the centennial anniversary of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, which immediately set the bells in my head to clanging. The linked/excerpted piece above is chock-full of interesting facts and history, at least some of which you’re almost guaranteed not to already know. Highly, highly recommended.

Although it’s certainly true that the nation they served has on occasion failed to live up to its solemn duty to be worthy of their service—perhaps never more so than we’re doing right now, alas—that shaming failure in no way, shape, or form besmirches the nobility and worth of said service, nor of those who freely offer it. My humblest and most sincere gratitude to all those who served, always.

Fake news

Posted on November 11, 2021November 12, 2021 by Mike

Not that I don’t believe absolutely in seizing all imaginable opportunities to slam the sorry bastards, but the “Fake White House” story really is much ado about nothing, I’m afraid. Or, shall we say, virtually nothing.

Fact Check-A fake set was not created for Biden’s COVID-19 booster shot
A misleading claim is circulating on social media sites that U.S. President Joe Biden received his booster shot for COVID-19 on a ‘fake White House set.’

A Twitter post (here) says, “Why did Joe Biden just give an interview from a fake Oval Office in a fake White House?”

The President’s immunization filming occurred at an actual location on the White House grounds.

According to Speeches and Remarks listed on the White House website (here), the Sept. 27 event was filmed and photographed at the South Court Auditorium located in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building. This building serves as the office of White House staff (here) and rests on the grounds of the White House next to the West Wing. A 2020 YouTube video captured during the Trump administration, which features a West Wing and Eisenhower Executive Office tour, is visible  here.

VERDICT
Missing context. The set used during press coverage of the President was not fake or at a fake White House. A Reuters photographer present described the set to be decorative, and it is in the South Court Auditorium located in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building.

Unsurprising in the extreme, how the shitlib propagandists at Rooters so valiantly leaped onto their snow-white chargers to ride to the rescue of their Kabuki State masters in their very hour of need, no? As I said, the whole “scandal” is perfectly explainable—a highly unusual case of FederalGovCo sleight of hand behind which there is really nothing whatever sinister. That said, though, there IS a slight problem with the overeager Rooters “debunking” above, which Bill caught right away.

The EEOB is not “the White House.” It is an entirely separate building. Even if the paid professional hack liars of Reuters received an invitation to The White House, they would not journey to the EEOB, because it is not The White House. Nor are any other structures on the grounds of the White House that are separate from the White House itself “The White House.”

So, the bottom line is: Reuters “debunked” the claim that the Joetato received his booster shot in a fake White House Office, by demonstrating that the “office” was a set (fake office) constructed in a building (the EEOB) which is not the White House.

Ooooops.

As for the fake booster shot, I know which way I’d bet.

I’ve assumed right along that all the higher-tier ProPols showily LEADING THE WAY! by making their “vaccinations” public were actually receving a dose of saline or the like, particularly once scads of people started dropping like Tasered fawns all the place after offering themselves up to the Überreich as candidates to play the “Lab Rat” role. I may have to rethink that assumption after Kommisar Newsome so delightfully keeled over the way he did, though.

Either way, the FWH setup makes perfect sense to anybody who has ever been professionally involved in movie production, TeeWee, or recording-studio work. If you haven’t, allow me to assure you that setting up any kind of stage or set for broadcasting, audio or film recording, or videotaping purposes is a mind-bendingly slow, intricate, and backbreaking procedure. There are so many gears that must mesh flawlessly to make the magic happen: mics and/or other pickups must be exactly placed and, if directional, properly aimed; multitrack audio levels and EQ’s must be properly adjusted, both individually and in relation to each other; cameras must be placed correctly; many, MANY lights must be hung, pointed, and checked; light levels, which will change constantly as the day wears on for outdoor scenes, must be measured and fine-tuned; ambient noise must be suppressed, if not eliminated altogether.

And that’s just the start of it. Then, on a film or TV set, throw in the miles and miles of cable required so the audio, camera, monitoring, and other systems I ain’t even gonna bring up can connect and “talk” to each other, as well as the even MORE miles and miles of electrical cords to power all that gear. All that and plenty more besides—schlepping, uncrating, stringing, hanging, hooking up, adjusting, testing 1-2-1-2-1-2, fiddling with, checking again, etc etc etc—has to happen before the crew has so much as shot a single inch of film, the band has struck its opening chord in the tracking room, or your local fluffy anchorthing has begun primping in the back of the Nitwitness News!!! mobile-unit van.

And then, at the end of the long, long day, everything has to be carefully packed up, reloaded onto the trucks in an organized fashion, and hauled back to the warehouse. Next morning: lather, rinse, repeat.

So yeah, I can’t find much to get in a lather over if somebody on the White House production crew got the bright idea of using a pre-prepped set for presidential speeches, announcements, press conference meat-beatery, and such—one that didn’t have to be broken down and then reassembled every damned day. Fake it might be, but what it also is is sensible, practical, and efficient. Might be nice if one of those well-paid Barad Dur minions could carve out a minute to see to it that the fake scenery visible through the fake window in the fake president’s fake office more closely lines up with what season it is outside, sure. But what the heck.

After the endless barrage of shit sandwiches our Mordor on the Potomac masters have rammed down our gullets one after another the past nigh on two years, a Fake White House soundstage isn’t all that difficult to swallow, seems to me. Nor is it anywhere near the nastiest-tasting thing we’ve had to gag down, not by a long yard. How wonderful it would be if this was the biggest, most dangerous issue Real Americans had to worry about, eh?

An idea whose time has DEFINITELY come

Posted on November 11, 2021November 11, 2021 by Mike

It is no longer even remotely possible for me to describe how much I love this man.

DeSantis Threatens To Bus Illegal Immigrants Right To Biden’s Doorstep In Delaware If He Doesn’t Secure Border
Republican Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis said Wednesday he would send illegal immigrants to Delaware if President Joe Biden didn’t secure the southern border.

DeSantis was responding to a question about secret “migrant flights” sent to Florida from areas near the southern border. White House press secretary Jen Psaki previously said Oct. 19 it should be “no surprise” to Americans that the Biden administration is flying migrants to Florida and New York from the southern border.

“If they’re going to come here, we’ll provide buses. I will send them to Delaware and do that. If he’s not going to support the border being secured, then he should be able to have everyone there,” DeSantis said.

DeSantis issued an executive order in September that prohibited Florida state agencies from helping the Biden administration to transport illegal immigrants. DeSantis also said he would be suing the Biden administration for its “catch and release” program.

DeSantis previously characterized the border crisis as an “intentional policy” based on an “open borders ideology.”

“The Biden Administration refuses to abide by the immigration laws of our country, and states bear the brunt of the federal government’s failures,” DeSantis’ office said in a statement to the Daily Caller. “Governor DeSantis is committed to filling that void of leadership and doing everything in his power to protect Floridians.”

“Of course, it would be ideal if the federal government would do its job and use the resources at their disposal to enforce federal law, but since that’s not happening, the state has to step up wherever possible to mitigate the impact of the Biden Border Crisis,” the statement reads.

“If that means sending illegal aliens to Delaware, or even Martha’s Vineyard, so be it. Since Biden believes the open border free for all is good for our country, I’m sure he won’t object,” DeSantis’ office said.

Republican Texas Sen. Ted Cruz introduced the Stop the SURGE Act on Oct. 19, which would establish ports of entry in a number of Democratic-led areas, including Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, Martha’s Vineyard, Governors Island, New York, and multiple locations in California. The bill is intended to “alleviate the massive overload at the southern border,” according to Cruz.

Why yes, as I matter of fact I DID just swipe the whole damned DC article for the above “excerpt.” That’s how much I enjoyed this story. And yes, I do understand that the chances of DeSantis actually following through and making his threat stick for reals hover somewhere between slim and don’t make me laugh, for all sorts of reasons—some of them probably good ones, I suppose. I do not care, not one whit I don’t. The mere fact that America’s Gov is feisty enough to fire so outré and unheard of a shot across Brandon’s shit-smeared bow will do to be going on with as far as I’m concerned.

This brings to mind a couple announcements I need to make, and rat cheer is as good a place as any to make ’em. Numero Uno: I will henceforth be referring to the great and powerful Ron DeSantis not as “America’s Governor,” my own original term of endearment, but as the President of Real America. Nombre Deux: I will henceforth, as and when the mood strikes, be referring to ***”president”*** Brandon not using the standard POTUS acronym, but with the far more apt and insulting FLATUS one, for reasons of side-splitting hilarity which I assume require no further elaboration.

That is all. As you were.

A testing of mettle

Posted on November 8, 2021November 8, 2021 by Mike

Fuck around. Find out.

MOB JUSTICE: Judge, jurors threatened in Rittenhouse, Daunte Wright trials
In recent days, BLM and antifa activists have issued threats to the Judge presiding over Kyle Rittenhouse’s trial as well as the jurors. Kyle Rittenhouse was charged with multiple counts of homicide as well as unlawful possession of a firearm in the wake of Black Lives matter riots in Kenosha. Since the beginning of the trial, activists have attempted to doxx jurors as well as the judge. Businesses in Kenosha have already started preparing for potential unrest following the verdict, with police increasing their presence in and around the courthouse during the trial.

George Floyd’s nephew, Cortez Rice, has issued veiled threats to the jurors in the Kyle Rittenhouse case, with the support of Unicorn Riot, an antifa affiliated organization. “I ain’t even gonna name the people that I know that’s up in the Kenosha trial,” Rice said. “But it’s cameras in there.It’s definitely cameras up in there. There’s definitely people taking pictures of the juries and everything like that. We know what’s going on.” “so we need the same results, man.” said Rice in a video released today. Rice has a history of intimidating jurors and judges in prominent cases, coordinating with antifa and BLM activists. In the Daunte Wright case, Rice located the apartment of the female judge presiding over the case and stood outside the door of her home.

I have to say, Sh’Qw’onzellationabloobalubu—may I call you Sh’Qw’onzellationabloobalubu?—that I agree with you completely. We do indeed need the same results, man. Which I interpret as Yo’ ign’ant, woithless ayess lyin’ in da muhfuggin’ skreet, bleedin’ the fuck out. Nomesayn, muh niggah? DASS wussup! A good, stiff dose of what I think I’m gonna call The Rittenhouse Cure would be just the thing to put you right, Sh’Qw’onzellationabloobalubu…once and for all.

Rittenhouse faces multiple felony charges in the aftermath of the unrest in Kenosha. Prosecutors have attempted to build a case against Rittenhouse by portraying him as reckless and aggressive, while the defense has produced evidence of violent intent on the part of protesters who chased Rittenhouse down. Witnesses have testified that Joseph Rosenbaum, one of the shooting victims in the Rittenhouse case, issued death threats to Rittenhouse, “If I catch any of you guys alone tonight I’m going to f—ing kill you!” a key witness testified in the case.

The below Tweet includes a vid of Sh’Qw’onzellationabloobalubu running his stupid mouth about “juss’uss ‘n’ shit,” who knows or cares. Yes, he looks, dresses, and speaks EXACTLY as you’d expect he would.

George Floyd’s nephew, Cortez Rice, makes a claim that he knows people taking photos of jurors during the Kyle Rittenhouse trial in Kenosha, Wisconsin. His goal is to dox jurors if they do not convict. pic.twitter.com/uwLuV2ftfV

— John Curtis (@Johnmcurtis) November 7, 2021

Yeah, civilized Whypeepuh ought to be able to live peaceably cheek-by-jowl with THIS primordial knuckledragger, don’tchathink? The question before us is, are we sure we really want to? Sadly, terrifyingly even, the issue here is much bigger than just that, and Miguel at GFZ knows exactly what it is.

This is the end of our judicial system.

Conviction in court obtained by mob coercion of the jury.

We must protect our juries at all costs or we might as well cut out the middle man and go straight to trial by Twitter poll.

Little late for that, I’m afraid. Any system this thoroughly rotten can only be razed to the ground, then rebuilt from scratch. But there’s an even larger, more fiercely-burning issue yet, in my own estimation. Now as it happens, I’ve been struggling over lo, the past several days to finish up a post on the Rittenhouse trial which spells it all out as well as I’ll ever be able to. Thus I shall shameless quote myself:

I’m just gonna come right out and say it: When Rittenhouse is unjustly convicted and harshly sentenced—as he will be, have no doubt whatsoever about that—I hope to God that there will be a massive, nationwide uprising in response. No, I ain’t kidding. I’d think it a joyous occasion if very urban shithole coast to coast got itself well and truly trashed as retribution for the up-close-and-personal destruction by the State of yet another of our own whose only real offense was his refusal to kneel in submission to the day’s prevailing PC platitudes and shibboleths, in defense of a young life the PCPTB regards as without value. If the cities burned in precise proportion to the damage wrought by last year’s “mostly peaceful” Saint George Of Fentanyl gatherings, I’d celebrate with a nice, stiff drink the night the deal went down, watching on TeeWee and laughing myself sick.

Everybody on this side of the Great Schism needs to fully square themselves with the implacable reality that Kyle Rittenhouse is by no means the only one on trial here. In a way that closely parallels Heritage America’s relationship with Donald Trump, Kyle isn’t just some lone, random kid who got his butt caught in the blades of Amerikan dysfunction, an unfortunate predicament for him but of no real import to the rest of us. We may find his fate unsettling, unconscionable, perhaps unacceptable. But for some, the whole mess has kind of a faraway feel about it, as being not a thing that we need to be concerned about just yet. I mean, yeah, it’s terrible thing, I know. You gotta hate it for the boy’s parents, how awful this must be for them. But ultimately, it’s not really our problem, right?

Wrong. What Kyle has become, now, today, this very moment, is a symbol. What we have here before us is a heretofore unassuming, ordinary Joe who was suddenly transmogrified by extraordinary circumstances into a representational stand-in for EVERY Heritage American, in both body and spirit—an unlooked-for bolt out of the blue that blasted him into a role I strongly suspect he’d be very uncomfortable with, and wholly unhappy about.

And lest you believe you could never find yourself in circumstances similar to the one that has forever altered Kyle’s life—forced to employ lethal measures so as to preserve your very existence against marauding, lawless proto-simians, whether singly or in a mob—you are completely, dangerously mistaken. Even a fairly inattentive observer of current events could put you wise to the unpleasant facts on the ground, and probably ought to. Hell, a brief look in on any evening Teewee “news” show, dishonest and unreliable as they all are, might do the trick.

So here we all are, then: officially up to our clavicles in the Real, the Bad, and the Scary, folks. Kyle Rittenhouse should not, MUST NOT be abandoned to face alone the full might of the self-same Enemy who is certain to turn his Lidless Eye on the rest of us once he’s been allowed to destroy Rittenhouse without some serious opposition. Kyle is the personification of absolutely everything the wholesome, clean-living, responsible young American ought to be. Consider also that, his derring-do and extreme competence aside, the guy is after all just a kid. Then ask yourself: Can we really be the kind of people who would sit passively back and allow the vicious, soulless Left Establishment machine to sink its talons into him and rip him into bloody gobbets unchallenged? Can we blandly tolerate a guiltless youth being thrown into prison for the rest of his natural life in punishment for actions that are, in practical and moral terms, entirely justified?

In Patrick Henry’s immortal words: Forbid it, Almighty God! Many of our less-patient compatriots have fretted themselves into near-despair over what fresh outrage might be the one to spur their hesitant fellows to action at long, long last. What, they’ve lamented, will be our Hill Worth Dying On? Do we even have one at all, or no? In answer, I hereby nominate the Flensing of Kyle Rittenhouse as a worthy for the title of that Ultimate Hill. There are plenty of reasons in support of the idea, not least of which is what our response to this balls-out mockery of justice should it come to pass—flaccid or vigorous, forceful or feeble—will tell The Enemy about us. What unspeakable atrocities are likely to be inspired by his newly gleaned knowledge of our character and courage should we prove ourselves lacking in those qualities, with a shrug of our collective shoulders and an averting of our eyes, while the aggregation of slavering monsters utterly destroys another of us without retaliation? Will we embolden the Enemy further by backing down to let him have his awful way with one of our own AGAIN? Or will we stand firm this time and refuse him another unearned victory?

We’ll learn soon enough what we’re truly made of, looks like.

Tooting his own horn

Posted on November 7, 2021November 7, 2021 by Mike

An ill wind that blows nobody any good.

He is supposed to be committed to reducing emissions – but when President Joe Biden produced a little natural gas of his own at the COP26 summit, it was audible enough to make the Duchess of Cornwall blush.

An informed source has told The Mail on Sunday that Camilla was taken aback to hear Biden break wind as they made polite small talk at the global climate change gathering in Glasgow last week.

‘It was long and loud and impossible to ignore,’ the source said. ‘Camilla hasn’t stopped talking about it.’

This summer, Johnson praised Biden as being ‘a big breath of fresh air’ on climate change compared to his predecessor.

Appropriately, Biden has urged world leaders to cut methane gas emissions by 30 per cent by the end of the decade. Cows and other livestock contribute substantially to global methane levels.

The White House declined to comment last night.

Oh, I just bet they did. What’s there to say, after all? Here we have this decrepit old near-cadaver, fraudulently installed as “leader” of the “free” world, in so advanced a stage of decomposition and decay he’s utterly helpless to prevent himself from shitting all over the friggin’ Pope—staggering around all befuddled and confused, muttering incoherently, tripping all over every set of stairs he wanders within ten feet of—so who among us is gonna bother complaining about the occasional sounding of the ***”Presidential”*** butt trumpet?

I must admit, as entertaining as President Trump was, the sheer hilarity Flatulent Zombie Brandon brings to the table puts ’em all in the shade. Every successive self-beclownment makes it seem more and more as if God Himself was exacting Heavenly Justice from the raddled old crook for all those years of unpunished kiddie-diddling, graft, and sundry petty crime. In fact, if you listen hard enough you might just hear Him laughing right along with the rest of His Chilluns.

The final straw

Posted on November 6, 2021November 6, 2021 by Mike

Many of us have wondered what might turn out to be the spark that sets off the powder keg of violent uprising once and for all, provoking Real Americans to take up arms at last against oppression and tyranny after having endured “a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object” far lengthier and more onerous than that which goaded the Founders to outright revolution. Speaking strictly for myself, my personal line in the sand has now been crossed. Flung down and danced upon, more like.

New York Times Thought Police Ask: Should Classic Rock Songs Be Toppled Like Confederate Statues?

Considering that I don’t think the history of the Confederacy should be erased by violent mobs of dull-witted ignorami either, my answer can only be a resounding NO, followed by a hearty Go fuck yourself until you fall over dead from the strain, pusbucket.

Hide your classic rock LP’s. The thought police at the New York Times are coming for them.

The New York Times opinion section has run a column advocating for classic rock songs like Don McLean’s “American Pie” to be reconsidered and maybe even “toppled” like historic Confederate statues, arguing that reevaluating beloved songs will help create a world that is “inclusive and more just.”

Other rock singers ripe for cancellation include Eric Clapton, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash, and even Elvis Presley.

Take down my shootin’ arn from over yon mantlepiece, Maw, it’s time to go a-huntin’ liberal shitweasels. Season’s open on the confusticatin’ l’il varmints, and t’ain’t no bag limit neither.

Jennifer Finney Boylan, who is a male-to-female transgender,

*GROAN*

laid out the case in the op-ed titled “Should Classic Rock Songs Be Toppled Like Confederate Statues?”

“As we take another look at the sins of our historical figures, we’ve also had to take a hard look at our more immediate past and present, including the behavior of the creators of pop culture,” Boylan wrote. “That reassessment extends now to the people who wrote some of our best-loved songs.”

Chief among the candidates for cancellation is “American Pie,” the 1971 classic song by Don McLean. Boylan cited past allegations of domestic violence made against McLean as justification for the song’s cancellation.

“I want to live in a world where I can be moved by art and music and literature without having to come up with elaborate apologies for that work or for its creators,” the columnist wrote.

Good for you. Me, I want to live in a world where all the rivers are of the Willie Nelson “take my mind” sort; where the women are all gorgeous, willing, and utterly incapable of resisting my unique charms; where demented freaks such as yourself are mostly ignored as the aberrant head-cases they truly are, rather than kowtowed to and lionized as “brave,” admirable, and praiseworthy; and above all, where I will be forever thirty-five, handsome, strong, wise, rich, and shockingly well-hung.

Now let’s both shit in the other hand and see which one gets full the quickest, dipshit.

The op-ed also cited the Rolling Stones’ “Brown Sugar,” saying the group’s recent decision to remove the song from its U.S. tour set may be insufficient.

“If the Stones don’t know why the song has to go, does simply removing it from their tour sheet go far enough?” Boylan wrote.

They never should’ve given in to mewling neurotics like you in the first place, and will live to greatly rue the mistake. Q: Who, exactly, gives a flying fuck at a plate glass window what you think goes “far enough” anyhow? You seem to believe that the answer is some number exceeding that which can be counted on the fingers of one hand. I’m supremely confident that you are in error, which must surely be a familiar place for you to be in.

The columnist also put Eric Clapton in the cancel mob’s cross hairs by accusing the rocker of making “racist rants” and of engaging in “anti-vaccination activism.”

“It’s hard to explain why younger versions of ourselves ever thought they were OK in the first place,” Boylan wrote.

It’s a lot harder to explain why the fuck you’re still talking.

“Maybe reconsidering those songs, and their artists, can inspire us to think about the future and how to bring about a world that is more inclusive and more just.”

And right there it is, folks: the pluperfect confirmation that sane, normal Americans must always remember the simple fact that obnoxious, mentally-ill Leftist shitwits like this will never stop, never be satisfied, and never just fuck off and go away. The world will never, NOT EVER, be “inclusive” and “just” enough to suit them. They think themselves noble, selfless, and exalted by willingly accepting responsibility for an unachievable and never-ending task. Verily, the shitlib’s work is never done…which is why you unevolved Dirt People must either get on board the PC train or be run over and mulched under its steel wheels.

Which means, in turn, that always and forever they will come back again and again for another bite at the apple. To cede a single inch of ground to them in the hope they might finally be persuaded to leave us alone is death. Get it through your heads and don’t ever forget it: They are relentless. They are insatiable. They are obssessive and single-minded. They are batshit insane. And sooner or later, no matter who you are or what you’re into, they’ll get around to something you DO care about.

How invective is DONE

Posted on November 4, 2021November 4, 2021 by Mike

As DuToit says, this here is the gold-plated, professional-grade stuff.

The Diclofenac pills do actually relieve the pain quite a bit but they, too, are a bit what we used to call spacey and I was up all night, between here and watching the telly. It was a wee small hours, musical interlude, on Channel Four, firstly a film of Liam Gallagher’s new ensemble, Beardy Eye, playing their new album in the Abbey Road studios. Liam is the truly neanderthal, younger brother from Oasis, a thick, grunting Manchester-Irish fuckpig, dumb as shit, you can hear the wind whistling between his ears, if he was any more stupid he’d have to be watered twice a week; makes Manchester United’s Wayne Potato look like a full Mensa meeting, does Liam. Nothing wrong with stupid. There’s lots of people like Liam, their oil just doesn’t reach the dipstick. He’s not as stupid as he looks, mind, because he looks like he was beaten with the Ugly stick and then ate it, ugly as fucking sin, is Liam Gallagher, ugly as a hatfull of arseholes; if your dog had a face like Liam’s, you’d shave its arse and teach it to walk backwards. Stupid, ugly and nasty, that’s Liam Gallagher, a truculent moron, charmless, graceless and entirely without discernible musical talent, a sign, in fact, of Ruin’s corrosion.

His new band, anyway, consists of four competent but unimaginative player-songwriters, and him. And the album’s a turgid lukewarm brew of reworked Oasis numbers which Liam’s brother Noel, every bit as ugly, every bit as unpleasant but a fraction less stupid would have rejected; the band switch between a dazzling selection of Rickenbaker and Gretsch guitars -funny, isn’t it, how a fiddler will manage with one Stradivarius, Robert Johnson played only a two-dollar guitar, Rory Gallagher the same battered old Strat and yet the current lot switch from one expensive instrument to another between songs, maybe even during songs, the rock’n’roll of Consumerism – to produce the same sounds, the same chords, the same figures over and over, to sing the same harmonies, the same shouty, angry, miserable, hateful, retarded adolescent drivel, tripe, every fucking bar of it; Liam, stooped inside his ugliness, howling and frothing his whining, meaningless doggerel; forty year old men, there oughta be a law against them doing this shit. Liam, rock hero caricature posturing, grunts at one point that this is whaditsallabout knoworramean, fucking keeping on playing and touring, selling the albums, to the kids, otherwise I’d end up working in fucking McDonalds, knoworramean; setting his sights way too high, there, overestimating his personal qualities, I mean, Billy Bragg might get a job in McD’s, on the mop bucket, Paul Weller, maybe, but they wouldn’t let Gallagher within a hundred yards.

Can’t say I know a whole heck of a lot about either Oasis or Liam Gallagher, and probably care even less. However, if I was him and somebody showed me this my career would be well and truly over before I finished reading the first paragraph. I mean, I’ve been on the hurty end of a negative review or three in my life; it smarts a little, then you shrug it off and get on with your day. But this? Jeez Loo-WEEZE, man!! No way could I ever walk out onto a stage again after a savaging that ferocious. Not even at gunpoint, I couldn’t.

One for Gretchen

Posted on November 3, 2021November 3, 2021 by Mike

First the backstory, from my brother-from-another-mother BCE.

Wifey pulled a fast one on me yesterday in a positive way. Mid way through ye olde day, she told me to have a few drinks and relax. It’s been a barn-burner around here as of late, so I was MOR than willing to chill. She started hustling around while I’m drinking my lunch, and next thing I know, she tells me to get in the car.

Two hours south and I find myself at a two-night decompression stay in a nice little hotel on the beach.

The intahnetz connection is a bit shitty, even when tied thru my cell as a hotspot, so this’ll be brief.

She’s a good broad. Swear things like this are why I married her despite all my misgivings of a second wife. Swore to meselves the whole relationshit thing was if my marriage even ended, it was ‘one and done.’ Thing like this are when you -do- find a good wahmennez, you stick with her.

Life does sure take strange angles.

I had a phone convo with Big Country last night wherein I learned there was a good bit more to the story, all of which spoke extremely well of his ol’ lady, bless her heart. Without going into some things I really shouldn’t, suffice it to say that after weeks of intolerable and unsustainable stress and aggro at Casa Expat, Wifey established her bona fides as a Damned Good Woman with style, flair, and grace.

Now, folks who know me well IRL remain floored by my harsh antipathy to the whole sex, love, and marriage thing nowadays, particularly in light of how gung-ho I had been for that sort of thing my entire life up until about ten-twelve years ago. A sudden cascade of certain unpleasantnesses, shall we say, sufficed to slam my brakes on and throw my attitude in reverse when it comes to further romantic dealings with the fairer sex.

That said, though, I know a good woman when I see one even yet. And after what BC told me last night…well, he’s definitely got himself one.

So Gretch, please accept my most humble and sincere thanks for the way you took care of my friend this past week. Plenty of us were mighty worried about him; he’s had a tough, stressful row to hoe of late, as you obviously know. The way you stepped up to take care of business and help out with some much-needed decompression proves that you’re the kind of wife who pays close attention to her man, cares deeply for him, and is possessed of guts and initiative enough to take direct action when the situation has gone seriously pear-shaped. You have earned my undying gratitude and affection for that. From what I can tell, there just aren’t very many like you left in this beaten and battered old world, to the great detriment of every single one of us. God bless and keep you, girl, from the bottom of my coal-black heart.

Brandon drops a deuce

Posted on November 2, 2021November 2, 2021 by Mike

It was bound to happen, and it was always gonna be gut-bustingly hilarious no matter what august personage ended up bearing witness to it.

Internet Dumps Its Best #PoopyPantsBiden Memes As Rumors Swirl Puppet President Sh** Self at Vatican

I never, ever dared to dream I’d live to see a headline as delightful as that, but incredibly, the subhed is better still.

Just a typical day for the Biden administration.

BWAAAAAHAHAHAHAOOHHHHHSHIT!! Ummm, uhhh……

Oh, dammit all. S’cuse me just a sec, folks. CLEANUP ON AISLE THREE, STAT!!!

Joe Biden made headlines in all the worst ways during his meeting with Pope Francis in Rome over the weekend.

After the Vatican cancelled a livestream meeting with Biden over a media dispute, rumors quickly began spreading online that the cancellation was due to Biden…*ahem*…pooping his pants in front of the Holy See.

Thereby providing me with all the excuse I’ll ever need to run this unforgettable scene from the classic film The Pope Of Greenwich Village.

Eric Roberts has never been better than he was in The Pope, nor will he ever be. Same goes for Mickey Rourke with great big bells on, and possibly even veteran character-actor colossi Burt Young and Jack Kehoe too, among several other notables in the cast. Pope was a quiet little gem that came and went quick without much fuss at the box office to remember it by, failing to even make back its production costs if I remember right. Be that as it may, I saw the flick in the theater way back when, was completely charmed by it, and have adored it ever since. Read the book too, more than once, which was a good bit darker and heavier than the movie was, particularly the ending.

But back to, umm, business, shall we say. Richly blessed as we already have been by this kingly gift of a news item, the boons and benisons don’t stop there, playgoers.

Those rumors soon evolved into dank memes, which were dumped all over social media.

A big ol’ butt-load of funnies follow, none of which you will want to miss. I’ll limit myself to just one embed, difficult as the choice was to make.

#PoopypantsBiden no other president has had the courage to shit himself in front of the pope. I salute you sir. pic.twitter.com/pTaI8V2Tll

— Jerry Sienfeld official (@JerrySienfeldo1) October 31, 2021

Looks as if ***”President”*** Brandon has cranked the stink pickle heard ’round the world, a real stinkburger of a faux pas to put the cap on a long and noteworthy career of blunders, gaffes, and general self-beclownment with one he’ll never, ever be able to live down. How perfect is it that, after interminable decades in desperate, obsessive pursuit of an office he always was manifestly inadequate to successfully occupy, the corrupt old bunco artist finally did somehow manage to hoodwink his way into it…only to find it almost certainly the most miserable, excruciating experience of his entire worthless life?

Think of it: to ascend to the Presidency in his dotage—AT LONG, LONG LAST!!!—via a process so thoroughly tainted and corrupt that not just half the country but half the entire WORLD is deeply suspicious of his regime; has absolutely no respect for him or his plainly-usurped mantle of authority; and scornfully revels in his every successive misstep, on the vanishingly few occasions when people bother to even pay attention at all.

Yep, I think it’s safe to say that being POTUS has NOT turned out like ***”President”*** Brandon hoped or imagined it might, he nor his grabby, grubby show-wife either one. Not at all. They had imagined a plush, highly-remunerative sinecure being obsequiously pampered in the White House, the envious gaze of one and all focused on them with awe and admiration for their nation’s esteemed Chief Executive and his lovely First Lady. Instead, the miserable wretches are caught in the iron clutches of living nightmare, a sweaty horror from which there is no awakening.

And now the raddled old cretin has gone and publicly shat himself, in close physical proximity to the fucking Pope, ferchrissakes. Which Pontiff quietly noted this absolute nadir of humiliation, this total loss of all control of one’s person—even as the thick, fetid stench wafted far enough to invade the Papal nostrils all too swiftly—and dropped the decrepit oaf from his busy schedule posthaste, without offering any official explanation. Not that anybody needed one, after the nasty truth had, umm, leaked.

Couldn’t happen to a nicer asshole, if you ask me.

Tricks ‘n’ treats

Posted on October 30, 2021October 30, 2021 by Mike

Elon Musk wins the Innarnuts. Handily, you might say.

Am thinking of starting new university:
Texas Institute of Technology & Science

— Elon Musk (@elonmusk) October 29, 2021

Universally admired

— Elon Musk (@elonmusk) October 29, 2021

As Stephen wryly reminds us, “The thing about Musk is that he might just do it.” I hope like hell he does. Seeing as how it’s Halloween and all, I have all the excuse I’ll ever need for running this.

Elvira is hot stuff right enough, and no mistake. But being partial to redheads the way I am, I kinda prefer Cassandra Peterson myself.

Hey, they don’t call ’em fun bags for nothing, you know.

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