Category: Pass The Popcorn!

Let it burn!

BLINDSIDED!

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Man bites dog.

BLM Leader Stumps for Trump Because He Is the ‘Best Candidate We Have’

*Shakes head dazedly, rubs forehead in puzzlement, gulps audibly several times* Wait….whut…whut…WHAT THE ACTUAL FUUU…

The co-founder and former Senior Director of the Rhode Island chapter of BLM, Mark Fisher, is now on tour stumping for Donald Trump and advocating for the rights of the Jan. 6 protestors.

In an interview with political analyst Kim Iverson earlier this week, Fisher called the policies of Democrats anti-capitalist and disastrous for blacks. 

“We want to create wealth. We want to gain wealth, leave something for our children, you know.” Fisher also spoke out against abortion and liberal policies that promote it, saying that the act “goes against the laws of nature” and the “laws of procreation.”

Then, taking aim at the Democrats and whether or not they benefit the black community, he added, “I’m not here to judge anybody, or to hate on anybody. I’m just telling you what’s beneficial and what’s not for my community, and the Democratic Party is not.”

Fisher believes that black Americans have “been mental slaves” who have historically pledged universal loyalty to the Democratic Party. However, that party has not delivered results or tangible improvements in return.

He lamented that “we’ve been used and abused for so long by that party. They don’t value our vote. Their policies are basically racist policies, and I believe it’s a racist party that strikes at the heart of the black family and the nuclear family in general.”

Fisher’s comments come as the Biden campaign and Democrats in general face a crisis with black voters who are leaving the radical left in droves as illegals continue to flood urban areas. Inflation is unchecked and many in the black community feel abandoned and ignored by their representatives.

Turning his attention to Trump, Fisher had this to say:

“Well, you know, I like Trump, and I think right now who we have sitting in the Oval Office is just a deep disappointment, you know? I deeply have disdain for him, and I really dislike the Vice President as well.”

He then added, “And I believe Donald Trump, he’s the opposite. He’s gonna tell you how it is. He’s gonna give it to you straight. He’s not gonna be a hypocrite and stab you in the back like the Democratic Party loves to do.”

Fisher has also been outspoken in his defense of those being held for the events that took place on January 6, 2021. In an interview with the Epoch Times, he said:

“They’re lambs led to slaughter to be sacrificed as an example for all who might want to dissent in the future. This is what the government does to those who express independent thought and want to stand up for what they believe.”

Okay, I am forced to admit at this point that this is yet another thing I did not no way no how see coming. I seem to be saying that a hell of a lot lately, but then I guess that’s just the kind of world we live in nowadays. At any rate, welcome to the party, Mr Fisher. Whatever else it might be, it’s certainly one hell of a ride, and we’re most glad to have ya along.

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Sticker shock

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Just another nail in the EV coffin.

The true cost of an EV? Think tank claims subsidies for electric vehicles cost $50,000 PER CAR over a ten-year period
The true cost of electric cars to the average American taxpayer has been laid bare by a landmark new study into the eco vehicles.

In order to bring EVs to market, governments have created a variety of tax incentives for buyers and manufacturers. They have also sponsored the development of the infrastructure needed to charge them.

But those subsidies can come at a cost to taxpayers, buyers of gas vehicles or simply households that pay electricity bills.

A new paper by conservative think tank Texas Public Policy Foundation estimated that the average electric car incurs hidden costs of $48,698 over a 10-year period.

‘Electric vehicle owners have been the beneficiaries of regulatory credits, subsidies, and socialized infrastructure costs totaling nearly $50,000 per EV,’ said one of its authors, Jason Isaac.

eparately, it found that the infrastructure required to facilitate electric cars in America is not paid for directly by the owner of the car. It described those expenses as ‘socialized infrastructure costs.’

‘Home and public charging stations used by EVs put a significant strain on the electric grid, resulting in an average of $11,833 in socialized costs per EV over 10 years, which are shouldered by utility ratepayers and taxpayers,’ read the paper.

The authors argued that the gasoline infrastructure is used for other products and society at large, whereas electric vehicle charging costs currently only serve EV owners.

They also claimed that the additional strain placed on the power grid when charging electric cars would ordinarily incur ‘demand charges’ – or a premium for higher energy consumption at a certain time.

‘Currently, most utilities are socializing that cost for EV owners by not assessing demand charges on residential EV chargers, even though those chargers can use as much power at certain times as several homes,’ the report claimed.

Right up until the useless Wokester toy blows up and burns the house to cinders and ash.

So let’s see, now:

  • Random explosions;
  • Random deadly fires;
  • Hours wasted searching for and/or sitting in long, slow charging-station queues;
  • Yet more hours wasted “refueling” enough to at least maybe make it back home;
  • Unsatisfactory, grossly-exaggerated range;
  • Ruinously expensive battery replacement;
  • Total reliance on those horrible, horrible coal-fired power plants;
  • Drastically-shortened tire, hub-bearing, suspension, brake, and/or steering-component life due to the vehicle’s excessive weight;
  • Exorbitant towing charges when the PoS boat-anchor leaves you stranded;
  • Inability to enjoy battery-exsanguinating ”luxury” accessories including but not limited to heat, defrost, A/C, stereo, wipers, &c;
  • Ditto for carrying passengers;
  • Ditto for hauling loads or towing even a lightweight trailer with your electric pickup truck;
  • Don’t EVER touch ANYTHING under the hood or attempt to fix anything yourself, OR YOU MAY DIE

OOH-OOH-OOH I WANT ONE I WANT ONE I WANT ONE!

What the heck, whoever said virtue-signaling came cheap, right? Them’s the breaks. All of which I’d be okay with; hey, if smug, self-righteous Enviro-nut assholes don’t mind paying through the nose to establish their presumed moral-superiority bona-fides, well then you just have at it, fools. Unfortunately, though, we ALL get to pay for their dubious “privilege” right along with ‘em. To wit:

But the largest cost identified by the report was that on buyers of gas cars.

According to the paper, around 16 states have ‘zero emission vehicle’ (ZEV) mandates whereby the state sets a number or percentage of new vehicles sold that must be zero-emission.

‘Of course, the cost to meet these mandates is not limited to the states that impose them but spread out over the entire fleet of each automaker trying to meet them,’ read the paper.

On top of that, federal regulations impose similar obligations on automakers that incentivize them to make more electric vehicles.

‘The largest source of financial support for EVs comes not from direct subsidies but from hidden costs driven by federal regulations,’ read the paper.

‘The Biden administration’s stringent fuel economy standards and regulatory manipulations are driving American automakers toward bankruptcy and adding thousands of dollars to the cost of every gasoline vehicle,’ said Brent Bennett, another of the paper’s authors.

Just this month, Ford said during its third quarter earnings call that it lost an estimated $36,000 on each electric car it sold in the quarter.

Well, whaddya know about that: look closely enough, dig down far enough, and we learn that, of course and as always, the real problem has its roots deep within the bowels of the meddlesome, authoritarian Leviathan-state. Quelle surprise, that.

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All kinds of UNEXPECTED!™

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Haven’t run a Quora Digest story in quite a while now, so let’s remedy that lapse, shall we? This is a good ‘un, involving Metallica vocalist/rhythm guitarist James Hetfield.

What is James Hetfield like in person?
James Hetfield phoned me several years ago out of the blue regarding a vintage Airstream trailer I restored and was selling. The trailer was a 1948 Airstream Wee Wind. There were about 62 made and there aren’t that many survivors. (I designed Airstream’s 75th Anniversary trailer and also build custom trailers) He purchased the trailer, and I had it shipped to California. A couple months later I flew out to LA to do a book signing. When it was over, I drove up to San Francisco and met him plus his family at the Marin/Sonoma car show near his home. He lives somewhere around that area. Spent the afternoon with everyone. He had the trailer at the event which he towed behind a 1947 Lincoln Zephyr. No one really noticed him as he was dressed pretty conservatively. I found him to be a nice guy. Didn’t seem to have a giant ego and genuinely listened while I showed him the various aspects of the Airstream. He also introduced me to some other car collectors at the event. It was a very enjoyable day. I’ve had other business dealings with James since and my opinion hasn’t changed. He also has been very generous, comping me great seats when they are on tour, and even onstage seats to their concerts. Is James Hetfield a nice guy? Hell yes.

Hetfield, an Airstream guy? Damn, that’s another one I didn’t see coming. I’ve always heard that, with the (very) occasional exception of axeman Kirk Hammett, the Metallica guys can be a bit unpleasant, shall we say, as a general rule. After years and years of mega-stardom, hit record after hit record, and all that touring on the long, arduous slog to the tippy-top of the rock and roll slagheap, it’s kinda understandable, really. Nice to hear that t’ain’t necessarily so just the same.

No embed this time out—not because I have anything against ‘em, mind; I like their stuff just fine, ever since the Black Album at any rate. I just kinda burned myself out on ‘em around the time Garage Inc was released and “Whiskey In The Jar” got played into the fuckin’ ground, that’s all. I mean, they did a good job on it and all, but jeez-o-PETE, man.

It ain’t as if the band needs any promotional help from the likes of me anyhoo, so I’ll just hold my fire and wait for something more obscure, off-the-wall, and non-ubiquitous to cross my path, methinks.

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National laughingstock

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Everybody was getting in on the act of mocking our moronic, shambolic pRetend pResident for Halloween, even the kids.


Beaucoup more examples at the link, all of them hilarious. No capo, consigliere, confrere, or co-conspirator of the Bribem Crime Familia is spared, and it’s good stuff.

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American badass

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That would be one Steve McQueen, as shown in this commercial for Honda’s all-time badass motocrosser, the almighty Elsinore CR250M.

Repops of that great orange and black Elsinore jersey McQueen sports in the vid can be had all day long for about 40-50 bucks, my lifelong friend and vintage-dirt-bike enthusiast Stan tells me. By contrast, Steve’s smoke-tinted helmet visor with the little rearview mirrors mounted on each side are rare as hens’ teeth, going for around 3-400 smacks when/if you’re fortunate enough to find one at all.

The video is a commercial McQueen made for Japanese TV, for which he got paid a cool million bucks. He actually ran the Elsinore Grand Prix (for which Honda’s first two-stroke MX bike was named) himself in 1970 under the hilarious nom de badass Harvey Mushman—no, really. Of that historic race, McQueen had this to say:

“When you’re runnin’ with the top ten, as I was, you’re really honkin’ on pretty good an’ what happpens is that with so many bikes choppin’ up the dirt the holes in the course get worse…deeper with each lap.

“I was comin’ out of a wash under a bridge with this road dip ahead and I just kinda took one of those big jumps where you’re sure you’re gonna make it but you don’t. And I didn’t. My bike nosed into the dip, which was, like, deep – and I went ass-over the bars into the crowd. Didn’t hurt anybody but me. My left foot was busted in six places.”

This wasn’t enough to stop him however, as he got back on the bike and finished the race, still finishing in the top ten!

What’d I tell ya? Badass!

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“Argue with them and get in their face”

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Throw their own shit back at them, exactly as Bathhouse Barry once recommended be done to us.

A Wine O’Clock Wendy — I’m really trying to make this put-down go viral; I think it’s Streets Ahead of “AWFL” — and her Frankencuck husband were videoed ripping down posters of American hostages held by Hamas.

The woman putting up the posters was not having it.

Indeed she was NOT, bless her heart. After the “man” had committed assault and battery by placing “his” dainty hand over the justly outraged woman’s camera and shoving her—a Mark-1 Mod-0 insufferable shitlib smirk all over “his” womanly face—our Power Couple quickly scurried off with their tails tucked (y’know, like “his” squirrel-dick usually is) between their legs before the Bad Woman could punch their dim fucking lights out.

 

HELL yeah, that’s how you do it. The happy ending:

Brooklyn man suspended from job by his Jewish dad after ripping posters of Hamas hostages
A Brooklyn man seen tearing down posters of Israeli kids held by Hamas has been identified as a former magician — whose Jewish father suspended him from his gig at a user experience company, according to a report.

Noah Schaffer, 41, and his wife, Kelly, were seen being berated by a Jewish woman after they removed the posters this past weekend at Brooklyn Bridge Park, the group StopAntisemitism posted on X.

“This couple has been identified as spouses Kelly Ann and Noah Schaffer. Kelly has been previously arrested and works as a social worker for @UrbanDoveNY. Noah works as a strategist for @humanfactors,” the group wrote.

Again, that’s Noah and Kelly Ann Schaffer, likely of some precious, too-twee Brooklyn hipsterhood. Wherever these two vile creatures may reside, I think it would be just AWFUL if large, angry mobs started showing up on the doorstep of their domicile with torches, truncheons, and bullhorns at 3 AM every night for about, oh, a year. Anybody out there knows how to find their home address, feel free to let me know and I’ll happily update this post with it. Goose, meet gander.

Update! Done and done, courtesy of our friend Aesop, reporting in from his extended vacay:

Apparently, that address would be

Noah and Kelly Ann (McManus) Schaeffer
191 Willoughby St. Apt 12K.
Brooklyn NY 10026

Well whaddayaknow about that, in Brooklyn, just a hop, skip, and a jump from the borough’s Ft Greene nabe. Only reason I know even that much is I had two musician friends who lived thereabouts, but that was back in the mid-90s: bassist Bill and drummer Stanley. Used to drive out from Manhattan to fetch the boys a cpl-three nights a week, load their gear, and whisk the three of us off to whatever extra-money side gig we had scheduled in Brooklyn, central Lawn Guyland, or out in the Hamptons. As many times as I did that, I very much doubt I could find either of their houses today.

Billy has long since moved to Norway, where his lovely and vivacious wife Ingegerd hails from originally. Aussie Stan, as his friends called him, lived in a HUGE three-story Victorian-style house on a lovely, quiet, tree-lined block off Flatbush Ave which his wife had inherited some years before I met him. I won’t say it was a mansion, but if somebody else wanted to I might put a “yes” to it. I pure-tee loved Stan and Mrs Stan’s crib; for starters, it had a paved driveway leading downhill into a three-car (THREE!) garage under the house equipped with automatic bay-doors and remote-opener fob. Through the inside door from the garage waited a sumptuous, nicely-appointed rumpus room/man-cave, complete with:

  • A tournament-size pool table
  • A vintage Wurlitzer jukebox loaded with old blues, country, and rockabilly .45s
  • A fully-stocked bar from the late 1940s–dark, worn wood and the traditional brass foot-rail at bottom, out of a long-deceased neighborhood gin-mill owned by a friend of Stan’s who just gave him the bar gratis when it finally shut down for good; the guy even went so far as to help Stan move the heavy-ass thing to his house
  • A classic Bally KISS pinball table in near-new condition
  • Assorted plush, comfortable leather sofas and recliner-chairs deep and soft enough to sink down into without a trace
  • A German foosball table, likewise meticulously preserved, but with that easy, loose feel to the action that all properly broken-in German tables ought to have; a fast, hard front-man pull-, toe-, or slap-shot past the opposing goalie would always yield that sharp, satisfying BANG! that every skilled foosballer lives for, so loud it can easily be heard way over on the far side of a packed, noisy arcade—a sound those shitty French tables with their wimpy cork balls simply can’t produce—usually accompanied by the metallic, whispery TINK! of the hard plastic ball meeting the thin sheet-steel plate mounted at the back of the goal-hole to protect the wood behind it. The game rooms I loved best in my misspent youth would go dead silent for a few seconds in the wake of such a resounding score, after which respectful pause the shouts and applause would ring out from the other players: POINT! HELL yeah! BURN! Sucker just got his ass SLAMMED!!! High fives, backslaps, gales of raucous laughter all around; those were the rooms I went to again and again and again, and there’s a damned good reason for that

Let me tell ya, driving down to park in the underground garage, unass the vehicle, from there to emerge into a veritable palace like Stan’s basement hideaway was, the whole damned house was—in cramped, overcrowded New York City, mind, not exactly renowned for its generously-sized, airy, comfortable indoor spaces—made you feel like you were really somebody. And that is the God’s honest truth.

Fort Greene was a nice enough if not particularly fancy area back then, but by now who knows. Been nigh on twenty years since I was last in Brooklyn, so I couldn’t guess how extensively or even whether Ft Greene has been gentrified; I do know that at this point most of seedy, grubby old Brooklyn has been tidied up, refreshed, and/or rebuilt to at least some degree. But no matter. Whatever the neighborhood’s current condition, if you’re in the area I think the sudden wee-hours appearance of a flaming bag of fresh-squeezed dogshit at Chez Schaeffer’s front door as a Halloween gift would surely not go amiss, to hijack from its proper context a fine old Captain Mal line.

A flick of the Bic, a press of the doorbell, a fleet-footed dash back into the anonymity of night’s darkness, and voila! Mission accomplished, and well done to you. Maybe the pissed-off woman in the above Andy Ngo vid would enjoy dropping one off for ‘em. T’is a consummation devoutly to be wished, the absolute least the rotten, uncaring douchetools deserve for what they did. A standard issue non-apology “apology” accompanied by an insincere, blasé shrug just ain’t gonna cut it, I shouldn’t think.

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In a nutshell

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The tall but brilliant Diogenes Sarcastica sums the Mooselimb/Leftist alliance up.

The virulent anti-Israel protests across America and Europe throw a glaring light on the bizarre alliance, the odd combination of far left activist at universities and the anti-west, militant followers of muhammad that now threaten Jews in the street, and intimidates anyone brave enough to voice their dissent.

What makes the alliance so strange are the deep-seated differences between leftists and muslim fundamentalists over core beliefs. The left supports women’s rights and full equality. Militant muslims oppose them. The left supports gay rights and gay marriage. Militant muslims toss homos off buildings. The left supports abortion rights. Militant muslims oppose them. They need the children to hide behind. The left is indifferent to religious freedom, Militant muslims believe infidels should be executed. The left opposes the death penalty. Militant muslims endorse it and praise their governments for using it.

These beliefs are not marginal for either group. They are foundational, and they are profoundly opposed to each other.

But they deal with differences very simply – Hate.

That about covers it, yeah. And why not, really? A feral, perfervid hatred for all and any who dare to disagree with their rigid orthodoxy is the one thing they have in common. Our pal DS also has a truly excellent random-thoughts-type post up:

Late-night Musings From The Bathtub
I think the single most important thing a man can do to be an ally is give his lady friends permission to give persistent dudes at the bar his number so when they call he can angrily say that’s not funny because she died 15 years ago that very night.

Nervous of flying? Don’t be. As long as 2 million parts in a plane work perfectly while traveling at close to the speed of sound as sharp metal blades rotate at supersonic speeds in temperatures of -65 degrees 7 miles above the earth surface, you’ll be just fine. Enjoy the in flight movie…

Someone told me yesterday that they don’t eat tacos because they’re bad for you, and I’m starting to realize what my parents meant when they said I should be careful who I surround myself with.

Anyone who says their wedding was the best day of their lives has clearly never had 2 snickers bars fall down at once from a vending machine.

Heh. That’s some goooood squishy right there.

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“The most perfect comedy of all time”

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Blazing Saddles might like to have a word, perhaps, but me, I can’t argue with that assessment.

Here’s a peek into one recent discussion I had on our PJ Media Slack channel with my friend and boss Paula Bolyard, our editor-in-chief:

Chris Queen [9:15 AM]
Hey, I have an idea for a column.

paula [9:22 AM]
A column? What is it?

Chris Queen [9:24 AM]
It’s a collection of words that discusses a certain topic, but that’s not important right now.

Okay, so that didn’t actually happen, but the fact that you laughed at it — at least I hope you did — demonstrates the staying power of what I call the most perfect comedy of all time: 1980’s “Airplane!”

Earlier this month saw the release of a behind-the-scenes book telling the story of how “Airplane!” took flight. I don’t normally do book reviews, but I listened to the audiobook of “Surely You Can’t Be Serious: The True Story of Airplane!” and it was one of the funniest and most fascinating listening experiences I’ve ever had.

As wonderful as I imagine the print edition of the book being, nothing can compare to hearing Jim Abrahams, David Zucker, and Jerry Zucker telling the story of how they developed their love of comedy and filmmaking and how the two dovetailed together so perfectly with “Airplane!” Stories from cast and crew and studio executives, as well as appreciation from comedians and actors, make for a rich behind-the-scenes look at how a true film classic came together.

Could there possibly BE a more perfect opportunity to run a clip or three from the Zuckers’ magnum opus? I think NOT!

A bit heavy on the Rex Kramer, you may have noticed, only because Robert Stack’s Kramer would have to be my favorite character from the movie. I’ve seen Airplane! about a bazillion and one times over the years and can still hardly help but laugh every time he’s on screen, even if only for a few seconds. Back to the book review for our closer:

For years, I had heard some of the stories, such as how devout Christian Peter Graves was skittish about the creepiness of his character Capt. Oveur, but the directors talked him into going with it. “Surely You Can’t Be Serious” is loaded with fascinating and hilarious stories of how Abrahams and the Zuckers cast dramatic actors like Graves, Leslie Nielsen, Robert Stack, and Lloyd Bridges in these roles.

The directors’ advice to their stars to deliver lines as if their characters don’t realize they’re in a comedy is genius, and it’s a huge part of the appeal. The list of actors that studios or producers wanted to cast but who didn’t make it into the movie is fascinating. Barry Manilow? Dom DeLuise? Bruce Jenner? (Abrahams claims that Jenner offered to read for the roles of Ted Striker and Elaine Dickinson, but it’s hard to tell if he’s deadpan or serious in delivering that line.)

The influence of studio executives like Michael Eisner and Jeffrey Katzenberg and producers like Howard Koch helped the directors bring their comic vision to life on the big screen. It’s inspiring the way men like these went to bat for the team in order to bring “Airplane!” to life.

The way the Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker team was able to get around plagiarizing “Zero Hour!,” the movie that served as the inspiration for “Airplane!,” was genius, as was the latitude they gave actors Norman Alexander Gibbs and Al White to develop the “jive” dialogue and train Barbara Billingsley in how to “speak jive.”

Music played an important role in making “Airplane!” so great. Composer Elmer Bernstein was responsible for many iconic “serious” movie scores, and he understood what the Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker team was looking for. His score helps give “Airplane!” the drama and tension that makes it so effective as a comedy and as good storytelling.

More good schtuff yet to the article, of which any fan of Airplane! (and how on earth could anyone NOT be?) will want to read the all.

Update! And stop calling me Shirley.

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Turnabout: fair play

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Paleosimian dismayed to find shoe on other foot.


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A fool for Richard Russo

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That would be moi. I’ve been a huge Russo fan ever since I swiped a former Significant Other’s copy of Empire Falls and, after finishing it, proceeded to wolf down the rest of her library of Russo’s amazing work in one great gulp of binge-reading. This rave review of his latest release describes what’s in store for the Russo reader.

In an endnote, Russo says that he kept returning to North Bath because he liked the characters—and there is a lot to like. He kept hearing Sully’s voice in his head, and gradually, he acknowledges, that voice became Paul Newman’s, who so unforgettably portrayed Sully in the film of Nobody’s Fool. But another voice also stuck with him, that of the late actor Philip Seymour Hoffman, who turned a bit part in the film as the officious but hapless officer Douglas Raymer—whom Sully bests in a comic confrontation—into such a definitive portrayal that Russo made Raymer a major character in subsequent North Bath novels. In Somebody’s Fool, Raymer is now the retired chief of the former North Bath police department, called back into service to deal with a dead body and with corruption in the newly consolidated Schuyler Springs force—whose crooked cops have much do with Thomas’s near-death experience. While it’s not uncommon for authors to disdain or disown film adaptions of their work, Russo has said of the 1994 film, “You could examine it frame by frame and you’d learn just about everything you needed to know about adapting a book for film.” It’s not an exaggeration to say that the film helped bring Russo back to North Bath.

Even as Russo publishes Somebody’s Fool, another of his works has made it to the screen—in this case television—in an AMC miniseries adaption of Straight Man. This 1997 novel is Russo’s “university book,” but unlike those that Vidal disdained, Straight Man is a wickedly funny, harshly critical depiction of life in an English Department where ideology shapes professors’ research and writing, academics use petty politics to advance their careers, and the decline of the humanities has created a constant fear of budget cuts. Though the novel itself is 25 years old, it so accurately depicted where the humanities were headed that it doesn’t take much massaging to turn it into 2023 series with the ironic title of Lucky Hank—a reference to the bored, cranky English Department chair, William Henry Devereaux, Jr., who endlessly torments his deserving colleagues. Though quite different from Nobody’s Fool, Lucky Hank has garnered similar acclaim—in part because both sources benefit from Russo’s gift for creating comic characters with serious significance.

Russo supported himself in college by working the kinds of hard jobs at which many of his characters toil. There, he watched his father and his father’s friends use humor to get themselves through jobs, after which he’d join them at some local bar to help laugh away the day’s aches. It’s that kind of storytelling, in Russo’s hands, that makes his blue-collar novels so engaging and palatable, because oftentimes the circumstances of his characters are difficult at best, near-awful at worst. American fiction is better because Russo stuck with characters who he thought he was escaping when he went off to school. The arc of his career reminds me of the words of the narrator of Philip Roth’s Zuckerman Unbound, writing about himself in the third person, when he observes that all he wanted as a young student was to leave behind “all the shallow provincials” of his hometown “for the deep emancipating world of Art. As it turned out, he had taken them all with him.”

Russo has done the same, in the process taking many of his lucky readers along for the ride, too.

It’s a ride I very much look forward to taking, and highly recommend to everybody else out there too.

(Via John Tierney)

Update! Just for shits and giggles I had a look in on the IMDb page for the Empire Falls miniseries, which I remember greatly enjoying back in the days when I still watched TV now and then. Somehow, I’d forgotten that it was Paul Newman’s last acting performance. It’s one of the vanishingly rare exceptions to the rule that any film or TV project featuring a long list of A-list actors is guaranteed to suck big green donkey dick.

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Jesus CHRIST, but this chick can RIDE!

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Ahh, but let’s not forget the number of times she had to have busted her ass whilst learning how to do all this.


Amazing. The union between (wo)man and machine on display here is damned near total, and quite impressive. Take especial note of the scrupulously careful, almost gingerly way she places her feet on the rear pegs as she keeps the front wheel in the air throughout. Hats off to ya, ma’am.

Update! After re-watching it for about the tenth time, I realized there’s another party involved that deserves some kudos: whoever was behind the camera recording it. Always in focus and perfectly framed; steady-handed zoom-ins and -outs; never any shaking, wobbling, or losing track of the subject. This is some incredible stunt-riding and some top-notch lensmanship both, I’d say, a real two-fer.

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Is it elder abuse yet?

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Yes. Yes, it surely is.


If he hadn’t been such a greedy, grabby, crooked, self-serving reprobate his entire life, you’d have to feel sorry for the old fool. Things being what they are, though…well, I mean, y’know. James Woods just comes right out and says it:


The link is to a vid with mo’ bettah incoherent mumbling, obvious befuddlement, and total unfitness for the high office which was usurped for him. Pity Pedo Peter? Not on your life. He deserves far, far worse than he’ll ever get, so if every minute of every day as figurehead “pResident” is a torment and a misery for him, that’s jakesy-jooksey with me.

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My heart, it breaks for them

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Awwww, the poor widdle dear.

NYU Law Students Say Classmate Losing Job Offer Over Pro-Hamas Statement Is ‘Violence’
Ryna Workman said ‘Israel bears full responsibility’ for Hamas attacks that have killed thousands

Wails the oppressed, put-upon snowflake upon receiving her first lesson in what the word “responsibility” means.

New York University law students are rallying behind a student who lost a spot at a white-shoe law firm for defending Hamas, saying the firm’s decision to rescind their offer constitutes “violence.”

The Chicago-based Winston & Strawn withdrew its offer of employment to Ryna Workman after the nonbinary NYU student issued a statement claiming “Israel bears full responsibility” for the terrorist attacks that have left more than 1,300 dead, including at least 30 Americans. The firm’s decision is just one instance of “systemic, concentrated violence” Workman has experienced since issuing her anti-Israel pronouncement, according to a letter of support obtained by the Washington Free Beacon.

You keep using that word, “violence.” I do not think it means what you think it means. Here’s hoping you find out real soon.

There’s a pic at the link; the fat, melanin-enriched shitwit looks about like you’d expect she would, although she probably considers herself victimized yet again when the article dropped the apostrophe from “R’yna.” Via Ace, who also includes a truly jaw-slackening slice of moronicity from loathsome flatus Bill Kristol.

Bill Kristol @BillKristol

I came to D.C. to work in the Reagan Administration because (to oversimplify) it was pro-Constitution, pro-U.S. global leadership, pro-military, pro-Israel, pro-democratic capitalism, and pro-American dream. And that’s why I now support the Biden Administration and Democrats.

Great Scott, he seems to be serious! With Kristol, it can be hard to know for sure. It’s mortifying to think how many times I approvingly quoted, excerpted, and linked this sleazy, slithery reptile’s Weekly Standard pieces right here at Ye Olde Colde Furye Blogge in the aftermath of 9/11. Ace follows up with an inside story.

Bill Kristol called Claremont writer and former Trump NSA spokesman Michael Anton a Nazi in print. A source who was present in the room for the incident tells me that both were guests at a dinner party, and Bill Kristol came up to Anton with a smile and with his hand extended for a shake. As if they were Best Budz who were just having a play-fight on the internet for clicks and giggles.

Anton refused to shake his hand, and told him why.

So, per my source, Bill Kristol is the kind of man who either 1, slurs people as Nazis even though he knows for a fact they are not Nazis, just to get some more donations from the AWFL Wine O’Clock Wendys who make up his Democrat donor base, or 2, is perfectly willing to shake the hand of a man he actually believes is a Nazi so as not to bring down the vibes of the swank DC insider dinner party he’s intending.

You choose! I’m not here to bias you towards either conclusion. Personally I favor un-offered choice 3, that Bill Kristol is a very fat, small, cowardly weakling and sexually-ambiguous Gollum whose testosterone levels would allow him to enter “women’s” sports, and then come in last place, because seriously, this is one short obese red-faced pudge of a “man.”

Option Three has my vote too. Although upon reflection, ain’t no reason it can’t be all three of ‘em. None of them says anything at all good about Kristol, which at this point can’t come as any big surprise.

1

Handing a Leftwit “journalist” his head

Posted on      by     

I wish he’d head South and run for President. Yes, I know, I know, he wasn’t born in the US and is thus Constitutionally ineligible. On the other hand, that sure didn’t stop Kenya-born Bathhouse Barry, now did it?


Calm, unflappable, laconically munching an apple while he takes this Mark-1 Mod-0 shitlib apart on camera—it’s entirely possible M Poilievre is actually Superman. As the esteemed Andrea Widberg says:

I’m one of those people who hates watching embarrassing things on TV or in movies. If I know the scene will be embarrassing, I take off my glasses and plug my ears. I almost had that urge to do both when watching Poilievre destroy the reporter. What Poilievre did to him was that brutal. Then I thought, “No, this reporter is a leftist hack. I’m not watching something painfully embarrassing. I’m watching something absolutely beautiful.”

Amen to that. Personally, I’d be every bit as happy if he’d just hurled his apple at the “journalist”’s nose à la Sam Gamgee (“waste of a good apple,” quoth Samwise afterwards), picked up a stout tree branch, and beat the dirtbag half to death with it upon said dirtbag’s first insufferably smarmy, smug insinuation disguised as a “question,” but that’s probably just me.

3

Moar Stumblin’ Jaux

Posted on      by     

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the “leader” of the “free” world.


Don’t know about you folks, but MY faith in the competence and capability of our “pResident” is fully and firmly restored.

2

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CF Glossary

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