Category: Hard times in the land of plenty

The New Normal

GIVE TIL IT HURTS!

From bad to worse

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Stephen Green shares some deeply disturbing news.

I Could Live With the Egg Shortage, but NOT THIS… NOT THIS
We can argue all day and all night over whether the massive poultry cull was necessary or not, but two things are 100% certain. The first is that fewer birds producing fewer eggs gave us yet another massive spike in the price of eggs, typically an affordable and easy-to-prepare protein depended upon by jillions of people. The second is that I just learned of something worse.

Actually, let’s talk about that bird cull for just a moment. I did a little research on that a couple of weeks ago, thinking I might get a column out of it. I gave up on the column because half the reports I read indicated that the bird flu test is subject to false positives and that massive numbers of egg hens were unnecessarily slaughtered. The other half indicated no such problem. So I threw up my hands and abandoned the column.

But on reflection, since the cull was an act of the Biden administration, and since everything it did was either wrongheaded, spiteful, or both, I’m going to ignore half my research and just tell you that it was the wrong call. “I was going to buy eggs, but then escrow fell through” is the fault of the Biden administration, and it didn’t have to be that way.

I feel better now. But we’re both about to feel worse — if, like me, you have a minimum two-cup-a-day coffee habit.

As consumers, we’ve been lucky so far. Coffee, I learned today, is the second-most traded commodity after oil. If you want to know what the planet really runs on, it’s two very different kinds of black liquid, both packed full of energy. What it means for coffee drinkers is that the source and price of the cup you’re sipping right now were locked in months ago, maybe longer. What it also means is that as those futures expire and traders lock the new ones in, higher prices get locked in, too. Maybe much higher. Maybe double.

It’s already happening.

As Stephen goes on to detail, it is indeed—and for some of us, that’s terrifying. Personally, I share our old friend Steve’s view on the matter: eggs I can live without, coffee…ehh, not so much. I never have much enjoyed eggs unless they were scrambled, covered in shredded cheddar, and doused liberally with Tabasco, usually sharing a platter alongside a double order of hash browns scattered, smothered, covered, peppered, and diced at Waffle House during one of those bleary-eyed noontime “breakfast” stops as the band was heading out for the next town.

Denny’s, you ask? Don’t make me laugh.

Ever since eggs went from Source Of All Bad Things Including But Not Limited To Heart Attacks, Climate Change, and Raycissismism to Nature’s Perfect Food practically overnight, I’ve taken to hard-boiling the yucky things (NO runny yolks, not EVER), slicing them in half, and then sprinkling each half with Tony Chachere’s Creole seasoning before sending them down the hatch, one per day strictly to keep the doctor away. Go messing around with my beloved Luzianne w/ chicory, though, and me and you gon’ FIGHT.

Know your “rights”

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Over-entitled much, bitch?

Former top DOJ immigration official says she was removed with no explanation

Uh-huh. Those of us stuck in the real word know that bizarre phenomenon not as some kind of miscarriage of justice or egregious violation of one’s God given right to gainful employment, but simply as “getting canned.”

A former top Justice Department immigration official who was removed from her position by new DOJ leadership this week told ABC News that she did not receive any explanation for her removal.

Lauren Alder Reid was one of four top officials from the agency that operates the U.S. immigration courts who was removed from her post. She had been with the agency for more than 14 years.

“They did not give me any reason, other than not citing the 16 years of outstanding performance evaluation for lack of any discipline, administrative leave or reassignment in my entire career,” Reid told ABC News.

When asked if she’s considering legal action, Reid, who was the assistant director of the Executive Office for Immigration Review’s office of policy, said that she and the others are considering all options available to them.

Brace yourself for the best bit of all, bold courtesy of moi.

“It’s pretty hard to sit back and imagine that this could begin to happen, at will, to any employee throughout the government, especially when we’re talking about public servants who have dedicated their careers to try to make our country the best,” she said.

Oh, I’m sure that’s what you’ve been doing right along in your comfy, overcompensated FederalGovCo sinecure, you piece of dead-weight shit. There’s a reason why Trump is now your boss—well, EX-boss, I should say—and you and your ilk’s inflated sense of your own importance is a YUUGE part of it.

Clue to the clueless: You are owed NOTHING. Not a job, not an explanation for being sacked, not an apology, not a single fucking thing. I’m not, she’s not, he’s not, we’re not, they’re not, and happily enough, neither are you. Snivel to your heart’s content about how “unfair” it all is, then, when you’re done, go hunt down the fool  who told you life itself is fair and punch him or her right in the fucking mouth for telling all those lies.

Publick Notice…AGAIN

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Hoo-kay, I’ve implemented all the fixes, adjustments, and work-arounds recommended by the Entirely Digital folks, and everything appears to be clean, tight, and functional, at least for the nonce. One decision I’ve reached which I know some of y’all ain’t gonna cotton to: comments for new posts will remain disabled, excepting of course for the Donnybrook, for which comments are the reason it came to be in the first place.

Thing is, it’s a well-known fact that the primary security hole for any blog is an open-comments section; word is that it’s an even bigger problem for WP blogs, and then plugins are a whole ‘nother issue in and of themselves. Seeing as how the way I had things set up until last week’s serial attacks used no less than five (5) comments-related plugins, it makes way more sense to me right now to just say hell with it and do away with the whole kit and kaboodle in one fell swoop.

I expect this to be a wildly unpopular move, and I hate that, I truly do. Probably gonna cost me a fair few readers, even. But it’s just the way it’s gotta be, at least for now. After I’m completely confident the dust has well and truly settled around here, well, we’ll see what’s what. As I remarked to one of my ED tech-support correspondents the other day, somebody out there must really have it in for me, BAD. Can’t imagine why; I’m actually a pretty nice guy once you get to know me.

PITA Update! Okay, THAT was way more hassle than it shoulda been, I must say. I think I’ve gotten everything working the way I want it to now, all things considered. Only time will tell, I suppose.

No prescience necessary

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Christopher Hitchens offered some anyway all the way back in 2009 (!), not that anybody in his country’s leadership (nor ours, for the matter of it) wanted to listen.


Every last word Hitch says above ought to be forcibly tattooed—in scarlet red ink using a #15 Magnum shader (YEEEOWTCH!!! Ask me how I know; I remember all too well when those bastards first came out)—across the forehead of every perfidious Western ProPol behind inflicting this plague of Moslem locusts on their respective polities, starting with the lying sellout flapping his vile yap immediately below.

Update! Regarding those 15-Mag torture devices: my dear departed friend Randy Herring adopted them straightaway, one of the first tattoo artists anywhere to start using ‘em, in keeping with his at best half-joking admission that he was only in the biz in the first place because, as he used to laugh, “I enjoy hurting people.”

God, I miss that boy. Guess I always will. Old school biker; devout Christian; near-fanatical league bowler; gifted artist both on paper and in human skin; beloved friend, husband, and father, Randy was truly one of a kind, I never met anyone remotely like him.

The 15-Magnum, see, is a stacked arrangement with two rows of the stabby little things sitting one atop the other inside a square needle-tube. Worse, they emitted this deep, gnarly BZZZ when the gun was in action that rattled your back teeth, no lie. Right up till those fifteen (15) sharp points hit flesh and took your attention off of any- and everything else for the duration, that is.

Granted, the Magnums DO pack the color in much more solid and even than the old 14-needle round shaders ever did. But still. After being hammered with a Magnum a time or two (available in 7, 11, 13, or 15-needle configurations), the sound alone is enough to instill dread in even the most stout-hearted of men. Oddly enough, the single-needle setup used exclusively for big, bold outlines still hurts more than any of the Magnums do. But it’s a near-run thing.

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My one and probably only post on the Cali wildfires

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I’m with John Ringo.


Eat of it indeed. Via Ragin’ Dave, who adds:

Just for the record, I agree with this 100%. I do not care how many people lose homes in Los Angeles. Especially in Pacific Palisades, or Malibu, or Santa Monica. Because I’ve lived in LA, I’ve been to those areas, and I know without a single doubt that damn near every single person living there, with a few exceptions here and there, voted for Gavin Newsom and Karen Bass. They voted for the people who defunded the fire department. They voted for the people who fired the firefighters who refused to get the jab. They voted for the governor and his cronies who refused to fill the reservoirs. They voted for DEI instead of competence, they voted for Marxism instead of something that actually works, they voted for all of this. They voted for the regulations that prevented the fire base from being cut back. They voted for the empty fire hydrants.

They voted for everything that is now afflicting them.

Yep, that’s about the size of it. Read the rest. I say again: some of us live and learn. Others just live, and never learn.

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Kaczynski Vs Luigi Babe: a comparison

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An intriguing idea, one I hadn’t ever thought of myself before. From the NYT, of all unlikely places.

The Unabomber’s Influence Is Deeper and More Dangerous Than We Know
I published a novel about the Unabomber this year, and during a book tour stop in Seattle, a high school teacher raised his hand and asked me what he could tell his students about Ted Kaczynski, because he was a hero to so many of them. The question stopped me cold, reminding me that Mr. Kaczynski’s influence is deeper and more widespread than most people realize.

The same feeling of cold unease returned this week when I read news reports that Luigi Mangione, the suspect charged in the killing of UnitedHealthcare’s chief executive, Brian Thompson, had posted a favorable review of the Unabomber’s manifesto online. The similarities didn’t end there. The meticulous planning and use of symbolism in the crime reminded me of Mr. Kaczynski, who spent years choosing his targets, designing disguises (even gluing false soles to the bottoms of his shoes) and leaving messages for investigators. The words “deny,” “defend” and “depose” written on the bullet casings found by Mr. Thompson’s body were an eerie echo of the “FC” for Freedom Club that Mr. Kaczynski carved into his bombs. The fact that Mr. Mangione allegedly made his own gun and carried a copy of his own manifesto reinforced the similarities.

There is, of course, still much we don’t know about Mr. Mangione: a full picture of who he is, and what factors shaped him and motivated him. But the teacher’s suggestion that the Unabomber was a hero to some of his students pointed to a larger truth. To many young people living in a system of extreme economic disparity, in a world they believe is on the verge of ecological collapse, the Unabomber represents a dark, growing ideological desperation. To them, his ruthlessly intellectualized turn to violence can seem justified.

At some point before much more time has passed, Our Side will have to get over its girlish squeamishness regarding this purported “ruthlessly intellectualized turn to violence” being utterly unthinkable, amoral, and completely out of bounds, I’m afraid. That’s owing to one very simple reason which ought to be obvious: if we don’t rise to the challenge and match the Leftist enemy blow for blow and then some, then we must inevitably lose to them. And as all of us should know full well by now, losing to the Left means losing absolutely everything.

You definitely want to read all of this one, it’s quite good. Never thought I’d hear myself say that about a NYT article, but there you are. Strange days indeed, sure to get stranger still as time marches ever on.

Oh yeah, almost forgot: the “Luigi Babe” reference in the post title hails from my own voluminous memory archive—just another of my ceaseless attempts to amuse myself which constitute one of the primary reasons this h’yar blog exists in the first place. Hey, even if none of y’all get a laugh out of it, I do. As is said of the Hokey Pokey, that’s what it’s all about.

See, Luigi Babe (as he insisted everyone call him) was this irritatingly ubiquitious show promoter, self-styled raconteur, and all-around hipster douchebag back in my NYC days. He was unfailingly chatty, touchy-feely, faux friendly, cloying, and utterly oblivious as to how vanishingly few, if any, of his fellow scenesters actually liked him even just a little bit.

When I was host/DJ/barman of a popular weekly rockabilly night* at what was bona fide Downtown scene-maker Deb Parker’s arguably least-successful venture, Babyland, Luigi Babe would show up every Thursday night, to everyone else’s profound chagrin.

If I’m lying, I’m flying: the minute Luigi Babe made his Grande Entrance into Babyland (or anyplace else, really)—clad in his trademark vintage gabardine suit with matching fedora and ascot, an immaculately-drawn pencil-thin moustache adorning his upper lip, flourishing his affected cigarette-holder in one hand like a scepter, carrying himself as if he were the dashing reincarnation of Clark Gable and/or Errol Flynn, the fleshly exemplar of what people mean by the word smarm—you’d see ten or twenty other regulars get up from their booths and beat feet for the exit with alacrity, often as not abandoning a table-full of overly pricy cocktails untouched in the urgency of making good their post-haste escape. Jackets, handsome cardigan sweaters, gloves, purses, you name it, who cares? These were but material objects, no more; unlike the precious time lost enduring the dread Luigi Babe’s presence, they could be replaced.

No shit, the dust cloud those fleeing bar patrons left in their wake would’ve shamed even the Roadrunner speeding away from Wile E Coyote. MEEP MEEP!

* Yclept the Chicken Shack, which moniker would go on to earn me a subtly cheeky nod from no less august a personage than the great Max Weinberg, at a Conan O’Brien show taping—yet another of those incredible stories I really gotta tell y’all sometime

Kilt a-borning

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Dammit, Amazon delivered my nice new Thunderbolt cable this afternoon and it turns out it’s the wrong blasted one, I can’t use it. Consequently, my file transfer/monitor swap project is dead in the water until further notice.

Not Amazon’s fault in any way, mind; my dumb ass ordered the wrong one all unawares. After a bit of educational research into the whole T-bolt contretemps, I discovered that everything after Thunderbolt 3 (it’s up to v5 now, yet another thing I didn’t know) is basically just a beefier, higher speed-capable cord with male USB C jacks, whereas the ports on both the iMac and the MacBook, being older models, are strictly and exclusively the practically extinct, tragically unhip, and embarrassingly passé Thunderlizard 2.

Somewhat surprising that Apple, notorious for being zealously protective of the uniqueness, backwards-incompatability, and fits-specified-Macs-ONLY-ness of their proprietary parts, pieces, and accessories, would turn to bog-standard USB-C for its more recent Thunderbolt iterations. Where’s the money in that, man? Only way Jobs woulda ever shot himself in his bank balance’s foot, so to speak, via a gratuitously profit-shrinking move like this was if Bill Gates was holding a pistol to his head.

After wading through page after depressingly Tbolt 2-bereft page on Amazon, the WalMart app on my phone, and eBay* desperately seeking Thunderbolt 2 cables that weren’t chest-clutchingly overpriced, I was dismayed to find the barest handful of them, the cheapest of which was on eBay: out of Cullifornya, price  just above 35 smackeroos with an additional seven bucks tacked on for shipping courtesy of USPS, estimated delivery in about 2 or 3 weeks, as opposed to the two days’ wait with which Amazon has spoiled me absolutely rotten.

The rest of the T-bolt 2’s on offer ranged anywhere from sixty fucking dollars all the way up to a hundred and a half (!)—this, mind, when garden variety USB-C cables can be had all day long for under ten bucks most anywhere, either online or at a brick ’n’ mortar Best Buy outlet near you, assuming it hasn’t gone belly up as of yet. There were Thunderbolt 2 hubs for sale as well, at the low, low fire sale price of just 300 to 400 US dollars. Don’t delay, folks; with prices slashed this low, these little beauties aren’t going to be around for long, they’re just flying off the shelves. Stock is limited, so better hurry on out right away and take advantage of these once in a lifetime bargains before it’s too late!

Jeez O Pete, what a crazy world. Somebody oughta sell tickets.

* Years back a great little website yclept Small Dog Electronics was my first stop for stuff like this. The prices were reasonable, the shipping times were fast, and having spoken to them on the phone multiple times regarding certain memory chips I was thinking about buying and installing, I know firsthand that the customer service was friendly, knowledgeable, and altogether helpful. Need to check and see if they’re still extant, I sure hope so

Update! Well howzabout that: Small Dog IS still around, bless their solid-gold hearts. That just restored a little luster to what hadn’t been much of a day up till now. Although it looks like T-bolt 2 cables are mighty thin on the ground over there too, alas.

Infuriating update! God DAMMIT, the above Raising Arizona embed is supposed to start at precisely 1:43. After a great deal of bootless mucking about trying to get things set properly, fucking YewToob STILL absitively, posolutely refuses to cooperate for some incomprehensible reason. If the vid jacks you around by starting either way before or way after 1:43, I hereby advise you to hoist a middle digit at YT by clicking in the progress bar at the specified time-stamp your own bad self. You must grab the bull by the horns, step up to the plate, seize the day, and boldly take control of your own destiny, Glasshoppah.

Well, unless you want to scope the entire riotous clip. Which, if you’ve never seen the Cohen Brothers’ masterpiece all the way through before, you really want to do anyhow. Myself, I’ve seen the movie so many times I can reel off almost every word of dialogue from memory. Yet even so, sorting through clip after clip trying to find the above one (took some doing, actually; the others either didn’t include the lines I wanted at all or cut Glenn off just before the “Someone oughta sell tickets,” exchange with Hi, which is the very thing I was looking for in the first place) gave me a yen to watch the whole thing beginning to end again.

RA is one of a handful of movies I simply can’t get enough of. It never gets old, it never lets me down or fails to hold my interest. Each and every time I’ve watched it I’ve picked up on some little something that had gotten by me before, seems like. Top-notch cinematography, lighting, direction, and editing; fast pace; perfect casting; talented performers with the skills, experience, and self-assurance to make best possible use of the brilliant dialogue; unusual, haunting, and unforgettable music; engaging characters who come off as real, complex human beings; an unconventional story told in an unconventional way: every person of intelligence, discernment, and a functioning sense of humor in the civilized world agrees it’s one of the finest movies ever made, and there’s a reason for that.

Raising Arizona, along with just about every other Cohen Bros production, is a 24k showpiece, an object lesson in not just how a great film is made, but in how great a film can be. It’s not in any way overstating the case to call this extraordinary movie no less than one of the verymost outstanding examples of the cinematic art ever, really and truly.

“Sustainable”

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…ain’t.

Thyssenkrupp to cut 11,000 jobs at steel division in major corporate shakeup
DUESSELDORF, Nov 25 (Reuters) – Thyssenkrupp’s (TKAG.DE), opens new tab steel business plans to cut some 40% of its workforce over the coming years, it announced on Monday in the latest painful overhaul of a German industrial giant, with workers promising fierce resistance.

Germany’s largest steelmaker, a division of Thyssenkrupp AG, is under pressure from cheaper Asian competitors, high power prices and a weakening global economy, leading to operating losses in four of the past five years.

Not to be making light of German suffering or anything, but one can’t help but wonder if the following might have anything to do with those high power prices I put in bold above.

The German government knew shutting down nuclear plants during the Ukraine war energy crisis was a bad idea but did it anyway, and the Green party minister may have been been deceived by his own people to make sure the closures went ahead, a magazine that sued the government to get internal documents released claims.

Germany ordered the closure of its final three nuclear power plants in 2022, the culmination of a years-long process to transition towards ‘renewables’, which ironically left the nation scrabbling for hydrocarbons like brown coal, gas, and LNG. This confirms long-held “suspicions” of government lies, the conservative opposition says.

Bold mine again, and dispositive, it would seem. But nah, must be a coinkydink or something, I suppose.

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

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I knew you could.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, just this.

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

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

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

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

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


“Show more” cirumvention.

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

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

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

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

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

  • Live music performed by bands who are actually, y’know, good
  • The Globe Of Death
  • A Coney Island-style freakshow tent
  • Another tent with smoking-hot strippers
  • Dunk-A-Senator booths; feature dunk-ee appearance by the Right Honorable (???) Lindsey Graham at five PM, don’t dare miss it
  • A big-ass dance floor
  • A fireworks show when darkness has fallen
  • Funnel cake
  • Tilt-A-Whirl!
  • Demolition Derby, open to all—run whatcha brung, first come, first served; helmets, goggles, gloves, and other safety equipment for drivers will NOT be provided; bring your own, or don’t—it’s your ass, pal, we can’t be assed about it one way or the other. What do we look like, anyhow, your fuckin’ mama or sumpin’?
  • All-female hot dog-fellating contest; age 18-32 ONLY, valid proof of age must be submitted to a registrar at the sign-up table. Nathan’s Bun-Length Franks are contest standard-issue; footlong dogs are also available by request; any contestant who so requests will have extra-credit points added to her score immediately, for showing proper competitive spirit, aspiration, will to win, and spunky, fun-loving attitude
    1. Approved participants must remove any/all shirts, brassieres, vests, two-piece swimsuit uppers, tube tops, robes, or other waist-up garment of any kind before her scheduled time-slot to mount the stage; clean, never-used cardboard containers with each individual contestant’s name written legibly in black Sharpie on the top will be arranged backstage for convenient storage of shucked clothing until such time as contestant is ready to cover up her fun-bags again
    2. BOTH nipples shall remain fully exposed and open to easy view throughout the event, even if a contestant has been defeated or disqualified and has left the stage. Rule of thumb: whenever the entrant is inside the roped-off contestants’ area, contest rules require her to let them puppies breathe
    3. Any premature, unsanctioned concealment of either both or one (1) of contestant’s nipples—even partially, even inadvertently, accidentally, or unwittingly—shall constitute sufficient grounds for disqualification if, and only if, the infraction was personally witnessed by a contest official, who, at his or her own discretion, may or may not report the infraction for further action; third-party verbal reports will be disregarded as unconfirmed
    4. Luscious, good-looking babes ONLY, please; plug-uglies, manatees, withered old hags, and scary, brick-faced bull daggers need NOT apply
    5. Bonus points will be awarded to minimally freckled, well-built, juggalicious redheads by our contest judges
    6. A car show: rat rods welcome; no trailer queens; vandalism and/or mechanical sabotage of foreign makes, irrespective of vintage and/or condition, will be not just tolerated but actively encouraged
    7. Absolutely NO (0) mimes, clowns, jugglers, cutesy arts ’n’ crafts peddlers, annoyingly persistent, piss-drunk-by-noon caricature artists, evangelical vegans, or unfunny standup comics allowed—we mean it, don’t even try

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

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

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You GO, girl!

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Actress/director/filmmaker/sane person Justine Bateman lets ‘er rip.

Decompressing from walking on eggshells for the past four years. 

I have found the last four years to be an almost intolerable period. A very un-American period in that any questioning, any opinions, any likes or dislikes were held up to a very limited list of “permitted positions” in order to assess acceptability. 2/ 

I’ve never in my life known that to be an American environment. It’s an environment I have encountered in smaller groupings (a church, a private club,a clique), but never before as a national blanket. It has been suffocating. Common sense was discarded, intellectual discussion 3/ 

… was demonized. Only “permitted position” behavior and speech was “allowed.” Complete intolerance became almost a religion and one’s professional and social life was threatened almost constantly. Those that spoke otherwise were ruined as a warning to others.Their destruction 4/ 

… was displayed in the “town square” of social media for all to see. This was the #MeMeMeMeToo moment, where every effort was made to divert attention to oneself, instead of recognizing how one contributes to the whole.This was the era of trying to exercise control over those 5/ 

… who did not want to follow the crowd and has their own ideas about what they needed to do. This dampened our culture and innovation, bringing people to even think that generative #AI, a regurgitation of the past, was actually our cultural future. /6 

When you starve a society of those called to be independent thinkers and cultural and intellectual innovators, you rob that society of any forward movement.

That’s a ThreadReader unroll of a multi-installment X thread, the rest of which can be perused here. Good on ya, Justine, you couldn’t be righter about all of the above.

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Best juvenile tantrums EVAR!!

Posted on      by     

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

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

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

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

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The need to Believe™

Posted on      by     

Is strong in these ones.

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Early Voting
The whole idea of voting early marked a massive shift in my mindset. Although we’ve only had early voting in Georgia for a few years, I’ve always resisted it. I’ve always laughed when I heard Erick Erickson say on his show that you need to vote early because you never know if the weather is going to be bad on Election Day. The weather is never bad on Election Day in Georgia, although I do remember waiting outside in the rain in 2012 or 2016 (I can’t remember which).

When I would see people posting their “I Voted Early” stickers, I would think of it almost as bragging or maybe even virtue-signaling. Looking back, my stubbornness about not voting early might have been a different sort of virtue-signaling.

“I think traditionally, Republicans tend to want to go vote on Election Day,” Republican National Committee co-chair Lara Trump said. I was one of those for sure.

My line in the sand was that Election Day was sacred. There was something about waiting in line and having conversations with the people in line (something I would never do the other 364 days of the year). There was a certain camaraderie about the voting line for me, no matter how impatient I got — and there were enough technical errors in 2020 to make us all impatient. Maybe I should’ve seen that as a sign, but that’s another conversation for another day.

I know that not everybody feels the way I do about early voting, but this is a journey that took me years to make. What I do know is that whether you vote early or on Election Day, whether you’re punching a hole in a ballot or tapping a touchscreen, your vote counts!

Uh huh, suurrrre it does. Hey, anybody remember when Real Americans felt such conveniences as early voting, mail-in ballots, and electronic voting machines were all things we desperately needed to get rid of as a fundamental part of “election reform” if we were ever going to straighten out the rigged, corrupt shitshow that Amerikan “elections” have become? Nah, me neither.

When, early in her first term, ***”pResident”*** Harris signs the executive order doing away with the Electoral College once and for all, expect there to be nary a “baaah” of complaint from cowardly, contemptible former Americans about it; if our bland, pathetic acceptance of the official institutionalization of the nuts and bolts of election-rigging is any indication, there’s no reason to think we won’t just swallow that down the same way. “Not the hill to die on,” don’t you know; apparently, none of ’em are.

In case you’re wondering why we lost America That Was to the Evil Left, look no further than this: because we deserved to, that’s why.

It’s not just worst than you thought…

Posted on      by     

It’s worse than you can imagine.

Large area’s of western NC are destroyed. The roads are GONE. The power is off, for months at best, years more likely. Many of the power substations were destroyed and we have no capacity to replace them.

The destruction is WORSE than that caused by war conditions. People are completely cut off. There is no food and if there were they cannot get to it.

Entire mountain towns are DESTROYED. The lively-hood of the people in the towns are destroyed. There is nothing left.

This happens on rare occasion but always in a small area, one town or two has devastation. This is across the entire western part of the state.

This is without question the worst disaster in American history. Did you know that?

Who are our friends and who is our enemy? I have absolute contempt for our state and federal government that does nothing. Every resource at their disposal should have been mobilized, and CRICKETS.

It’s clear who the enemy is.

I have a customer in the area. I’ve had one text from one person, “It’s really bad”. That’s it.

Spruce Pine, Little Switzerland, Burnsville – these are all communities at or near the top of the mountains, imagine that if they are destroyed that what is below is just hell –

ONE MANS JOURNEY

SCREAM LOUDLY TO ANYONE THAT CAN HEAR – DEMAND THE GOVERNMENT DEPLOY THEIR ASSETS TO HELP THE AMERICANS IN DIRE NEED

UPDATE:
I’m not the only one that notes the obvious:

…I can confirm that President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris’ response to this round of mass suffering has been orders of magnitude worse than federal actions taken after Katrina.

UPDATE Deux:
“Biden, likewise, could have mobilized the 101st and 82nd Airborne Divisions the morning after Helene to deliver food, medical supplies, and evacuate stranded citizens by helicopter.”
And the Democrats are, by calculation, waging war against the dying citizens of western North Carolina.

UPDATE Trois:
I am entirely convinced that we just witnessed the greatest natural disaster in modern U.S. history…

There actually would have been backup transformers available to fix all these broken substations had President Biden not just sent off the nation’s strategic stockpile of them to Ukraine so Volodymyr Zelensky can use them to advance his interests.

UPDATE Quatre:

I drove from outside Charlotte NC down Interstate 85 to near Georgia Monday morning. I am happy to report that help is arriving in the form of tree company trucks and power company service trucks. I passed at least one hundred of them headed south* in a 2.5 hour drive. Shout out to the states of Indiana, Ohio, and Michigan as there were quite a few trucks with tags from those area’s. There is a shortage of hotel rooms in the Greenville and Anderson (SC) area’s due to the out of town help that has arrived. These are some seriously capable folks.

*I left the house at 6:30am, so the number arriving through the day is probably in the hundreds, maybe more. And yes literally, I passed a truck nearly every minute of the trip. It was crowded.

His mouth is moving again

Posted on      by     

Right straight to Hell with this dirty, demented whoreson.

Biden labels people ‘brain dead’ to doubt ‘climate crisis’ fueled Hurricane Helene: ‘Put politics aside’
President Biden called on Americans Wednesday to “put politics aside” to focus on Hurricane Helene recovery efforts — moments before stepping on his own message by saying that anyone who doubts climate change’s role in the disaster “must be brain dead.”

“In a moment like this, we put politics aside, at least we should put it all aside, and we have here,” the retiring 81-year-old president said during a recovery briefing in Raleigh, NC.

“There are no Democrats or Republicans, there are only Americans, and our job is to help as many people as we can, as quickly as we can, and as thoroughly as we can.”

The consoler-in-chief, seated next to the Tar Heel State’s Democratic governor, Roy Cooper, and emergency officials after an aerial tour of the Asheville area, pivoted moments later to an attack on the mostly Republican skeptics about the role of fossil fuel use in severe weather.

“Unite” with scuttling D卐M☭CRAT cockroaches like you and Komrade Kooper for the furtherance of the Climate Change (formerly Global Warming, formerly Global Cooling, formerly The Weather)™ ploy, Jaux? Yeah, no; I’d rather gargle crackwhore diarrhea, thanks. MUCH rather, in fact, six days a week and twice on Sundays. Drop dead, whydon’tcha—a process with which any Real American you’d care to name would be more than happy to assist you via the judicious application of a .308 caliber prescription.

Gotta love how, immediately after the brazen jackass flippantly denied any more aid to suffering, ruined Appalachian Americans who bore the brunt of the gut-wrenching Helene catastophe, he eagerly jumps in with both Left feet to try and turn a natural disaster into a political opportunity. He even has the unmitigated gall to misnomer this “put(ting) politics aside,” in what would have to take the trophy for the most transparently self-contradictory statement of all time. Only the scummiest, sleaziest, most heartless ProPol would be capable of such a thing. Here’s hoping Pedo Peter is made to pay for this outrage in fullest possible measure—slowly, painfully, permanently.

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Wild-eyed insurrectionist revolutionary gets hers

Posted on      by     

Just deserts.

Peaceful ‘J6 Granny’ Gets the Federal Shaft in Sentencing

Because OF COURSE she did, man!

“Every decent man is ashamed of the government he lives under.”
– H. L. Mencken

I covered this over at PJ Media earlier today.

As punishment for taking a 27-minute nonviolent tour of the Capitol on January 6th, 2021, after being granted permission to enter by cops on site, grandmother and friend of Armageddon Prose Karen Jones has, over three years after the alleged insurrection and many thousands of retirement dollars squandered on defense attorneys, been sentenced to a three-year probation/house arrest regime — for a single misdemeanor charge of “Entering or Remaining in a Restricted Building or Grounds.”

The court acknowledged her lack of criminal history, the absence of evidence that she committed any violence at the Capitol, and that she did not enter any private areas of the Capitol.

Nevertheless, the judge strapped her with an ankle monitor, charged her $3,000, and threw her on probation for three years with drug tests and home visits from the officer whenever it so pleases the state.

“I regret not being able to participate in this election cycle. It seems un-American to use the court system to silence political speech,” Karen told me.

Is this case, and its outcome, political(ly) motivated?

In light of the curious case of likely Fed, Ray Epps — who showed up in tactical gear and actively promoted in multiple instances, on camera, violent insurrection and got a year of probation and no travel restrictions — it’s hard to argue it’s not.

“Hard”? It’s goddamned impossible, actually. On the other hand, I feel a helluva lot safer and will sleep much easier at night knowing this dangerous, violent Grammaniac is being punished for her outrageous crimes against the Überstadt.

If I may pretend to be serious for a moment here: next time they decide to visit Mordor On The Potomac to cast down the Barad-dûr, Our Side definitely needs to remember to bring the guns along. I dunno, mebbe tie a string around their fingers or something…?

SIDE NOTE: Gonna have to pinch that excellent quote from curmudgeon cum laude Mencken for one of my patented email signatures, I do believe. My email correspondents already know what I’m talking about.

Update! Done, and DONE: the Mencken quote has now been added to my custom-signatures list (for interested parties, if any, said signatures are managed by the handy-dandy Signature Switch plugin for Thunderbird, of which email client I’ve been a delighted user ever since the incomparable Stacy Tabb at HM ordered me to dump Apple’s Mail app eons ago). So y’all aforementioned email correspondents can look forward to seeing good ol’ HL popping up in your inboxes before too long. EXCELSIOR—another CF promise KEPT, by cracky!

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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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