Requiem for a twatwaffle

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The esteemed Robert Spencer offers a few graveside remarks.

Bye Bye Wray
Having completed the destruction of the FBI, the Bureau Director leaves the stage.

Christopher Wray might not be the worst director in the history of the FBI. After all, there was James Comey, and before him Robert Mueller. Wray, however, who finally resigned on Wednesday, completed the work that Mueller and Comey began: he oversaw the total politicization of the FBI, and its transformation from a respected law enforcement agency into an American Gestapo, a tool of partisan politics that the Biden-Harris regime wielded like a club against its political enemies, real and imagined. Christopher Wray will not be missed. The question that he leaves in his wake is whether the damage he has done can be undone, and the FBI restored, or if the whole agency should simply be shut down.

While Christopher Wray was director of the FBI, agents of his crooked agency stormed Donald Trump’s Mar-a-Lago home and scrutinized Melania Trump’s clothes closet for classified information. This was the first time in American history that a sitting president had weaponized the FBI against a political opponent, and Wray uttered not a public word about how the Federal Bureau of Investigation was becoming the Democrat Bureau of Lawfare and Harassment.

Trump wasn’t the only victim, either. The Biden-Harris regime sicced Wray’s feds on angry parents protesting at school board meetings, worked with Twitter and other social media giants to silence and deplatform people with opposing views, and even sent spies into Catholic churches.

This is the legacy of Christopher Wray. And while all that was happening, Wray repeatedly insisted that “insurrectionists” and the “white supremacists” constituted the greatest terror threat the nation faces today. Not Islamic jihadists. Certainly not criminals crossing the open border and roaming free inside the United States. Wray’s ridiculous claims about “white supremacist terrorists,” as well as the agency’s focus on Jan. 6 “insurrectionists,” were a thinly veiled attempt to criminalize and destroy all political opposition to the Biden regime in the U.S.

Can Donald Trump undo what Christopher Wray and his predecessors have done? It will be extraordinarily difficult. Trump has appointed Kash Patel to succeed Wray, and that’s a decisive step in the right direction. Back in August, Patel was asked what he would do if he did become the director of the FBI, and his answer was pure gold.

“One of my biggest personal recommendations,” Patel said, “is you shut down the FBI headquarters building and open it up the next day as the Museum of the Deep State, and you send those 7000 agents in the headquarters building down range to chase down rapists, to chase down murderers, to chase down drug traffickers and let the cops be cops on the streets across America. You keep a small contingent in Washington, D.C. That’s step one.”

Now Kash Patel has a chance to clean one of the filthiest of Augean Stables in Washington. All patriotic Americans should hope and pray that he succeeds. But virtually every agent who is in the FBI now will be resisting everything he does, and trying to prevent him from succeeding. For years now, patriotic agents have been forced into early retirement or given up in disgust. They’ve been replaced by partisan hacks who are happy to be tools of this ersatz American Stasi.

Read the rest, it’s truly good albeit deeply depressing stuff. Via Ace, Spencer’s words regarding resistance among the FBI rank and file are looking quite prophetic.

Christopher Wray Is Preparing to Sabotage Trump and Patel
If you assumed Christopher Wray’s resignation meant a quiet exit, think again. Reports suggest Wray is actively promoting loyalists within the bureau, embedding establishment figures even deeper into the FBI. The move appears to be a calculated effort to sabotage Kash Patel’s expected plans to overhaul the agency and implement meaningful reforms at the nation’s top law enforcement institution.

Sources within the bureau said Mr. Wray has begun promoting employees among the senior executive service, those who serve within the bureau’s leadership. These sources described this as an effort to burrow establishment figures deeper within the FBI.

Sources said a plan is being formulated to delay the new FBI director’s entry into the agency for three to four months.

Given the FBI’s tense history with Mr. Trump since the 2016 presidential campaign, such a strategy is risky.

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen efforts to “Trump-proof” federal agencies. In fact, reports from August revealed that the Biden-Harris administration had utilized a little-known hiring mechanism to strategically place personnel in key divisions of the Department of Justice ahead of the 2024 election. The apparent goal was to shield the department from any future attempts at reform under a potential Trump administration.

Anybody at all surprised by these revoltin’ developments…shouldn’t be. Wray was just about the worst of a whole slew of bad Trump picks the first time out. To his credit, he seems to have learned from those mistakes, thank goodness.

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Did someone say “shithole” just now?

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Why yes, I believe someone did.

It turns out that Haiti is indeed a shithole
One of my MP buddies had been in Haiti after a hurricane. Disaster relief and all that. Some of the locals had decided to steal a 55-gallon drum of something or other. Just tipped it over and rolled it away, all the way to their shack. Now, this being Haiti, a lot of the roads are dirt roads, which means that my MP buddy and his squad simply had to follow the tracks that are left when one is rolling a 55 gallon drum. And so the did. Just following the tracks for about 500 yards, whereupon they found the 55 gallon drum “hidden” under a pile of garbage, and when my buddy and his squad went to retrieve that drum, they were met with accusations of theft and thuggery. And when my buddy pointed out that they were simply retrieving an item that the locals had stolen, every single person there swore on a stack of bibles that they didn’t steal anything.

Despite the evidence. The blatant, obvious evidence that they had stolen the 55 gallon drum, clearly marked as US property, with the tracks still fresh and clean in the dirt road.

Haiti is a shithole. It’s always been a shithole. The Dominican Republic knows this, which is why they built a fence along their border with Haiti and they refuse to let Haitians into the DR. There is absolutely no reason that we should be letting Haitians into the USA, as the chance of them acculturating and integrating is pretty damn small. If you want to help Haiti, do it in Haiti, but you’re going to have to bring guns, a strong stomach, and the will to be ruthless to the gangs that currently control Haiti. And I don’t see many Americans willing to do that. In order to help Haiti, you have to be willing to kill the cannibalistic gangs. Let me say that louder for the people in the back: In order to help Haiti, you have to be willing to shoot the gangs that are killing and eating people. I don’t see the American public being willing to (do) that.

I don’t see the American sheepul being willing to do much of anything that would inconvenience themselves in even the smallest way. Best thing to do for Haiti is to get the hell out of the nightmarish hellhole altogether, stay the hell out, and studiously ignore its very existence henceforth. Let the feral CHIDs (Cannibalistic Humanoid Island Dwellers) burn their own country to the ground if that’s what they want to do, and to hell with every man Jack of them. The DR obviously understands the proper way to deal with Haiti, which doesn’t involve “helping” in any way, shape, or form. And after all, having been forced by an accident of geography to live next door to these irredeemable animals, who would know better than they?

Lock. Her. UP

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Best get the lead out, you sleazy, malignant creep. There’s a clock ticking, y’know.

Bill Clinton: I’m Open to Discussing Preemptive Pardon for Hillary Before Trump Takes Office

Yeah, I just bet you are at that.

Former President Bill Clinton said Wednesday on ABC’s “The View” that he was open to discussing a potential preemptive pardon for his wife Hillary Clinton with President Joe Biden.

Co-host Sunny Hostin said, “Do you think it would be wise of President Biden to preemptively pardon any potential targets? What about your wife, Hillary Clinton? She apparently is on Kash Patel’s list.”

Clinton said, “They’ve got a problem with her because first, she didn’t do anything wrong. Second, she followed the rules exactly as they were written. Third, Trump’s State Department — Trump’s State Department — found — remember how the emails were such a big issue in 2016? Trump’s State Department found that Hillary sent and received exactly zero classified emails on her personal device. It was a made-up phony story.”

Every word of that last ‘graph is a Gott-damn lie, including “and” and “the.”

He added, “So, you know, I guess if Kash Patel is determined to make one up, he could do it, but I think if President Biden wanted to talk to me about that, I will talk to him about it, but I don’t think I should be giving public advice on the pardon power. I think it’s too — it’s a very personal thing, but it is — I hope he won’t do that, Trump, you know. Most of us get out of this world ahead of where we’d get if all we got was simple justice. And so it’s normally a fool’s ear and to spend a lot of time trying to get even.”

Okay, now you’re just making shit up. “A fool’s ear”? DUDE! What the actual fuck does that even mean, anyway? I’ve lived most of my life in the sunny South, was born and raised down here, and figgered I’d heard all the folksy, down-home witticisms by now. But “fool’s ear” is a new one on me.

Gotta admit, though, that Stinkfingers Bill is dead on the button when he says he “shouldn’t be giving public advice,” on anything whatsoever. At this late stage of the game, the only thing YOU ought to be doing, Mist’ Cli-ihn sir (spelled with a “c” and a “u,” of course), is shutting your pie-hole, keeping it that way, and maintaining as low a profile as you possibly can. If you find yourself with surplus free time on your hands these days and can no longer stand being in the same zip code with your godawful “wife”—hey, I feel ya on that one, who in their right mind COULD?—just get busy organizing your collection of nekkid pics of those low-rent Arkansas three-baggers (two to cover her head, one for yours in case hers are ripped, torn, or knocked off by accident) you molested, raped, and/or otherwise abused in a nice, neat photo album, maybe.

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Stumped!

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Apropos of nothing much, it’s been bugging the ever-lovin’ crap out of me that images in the main content-box all have a one pixel orange (?!?) border around ‘em, for reasons I simply cannot suss out.  Been that way since the Coop-O-Ween makeover. I have waded through every line of code in every WP page, using Brave and Safari both—stylesheet, main-index, single-post, PHP-functions, various theme-template pieces and/or parts; cleared the browser cache, dumped cookies, tried option-reload, rebooted several times, and…nuttin’, not even a hint of a clue of a sotto voce whisper about what might be going on. Verified the mystery img-border issue on two (2) different computers* and my sail foam as well, got the same result on every electronic device in the friggin’ house.

It’s a real headscratcher, that’s what. Doesn’t seem to affect the sidebar images at all; the header image border and navigation-menu drop-downs look exactly as they should. I’m totally at sea on this business, I ain’t too proud to admit it. If any of y’uns are seeing something different than I am, holla and let me know, wouldja?

* The trusty iMac and my new (to me) MacBook, those would be; haven’t tried the Dell laptop so thoughtfully given to me by BCE back when I was in hospital durance vile, on which I installed Kubuntu Linux after they sprung me; guess I really should try that, might well clear up a thing or two about a thing or two, who knows. Suggestions, ideas, or prayers from any of you web-heads, code junkies, script geeks, and/or scruffy layabouts out there in CF Lande are hereby solicited, and most welcome

Update! Just for shits ’n’ giggles I tried activating the default WP theme (Twenty Twenty-Five, VERY bare-bones), reloaded the home page in Brave (my browser of choice), then switched back over to Scrooge Picard and reloaded again, in hopes that I might jar something loose thereby. No joy in Mudville, drat the luck.

Happy happy joy joy update! Found it, fixed it, orange border is banished, all is now sweetness and light once more in CF Lande. See the comments for details.

Memezapoppin’!

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Welcome to this week’s installment of our Wednesday meme feature, folks. Links to the “found via” sources will be attached to the specific MiQ’s (Memes in Question) whenever I can remember them, which likely won’t be very often. Only the first two memes will appear above the fold to save on bandwidth usage, since I assume not everybody who shows up at this here websty will want to see all of them. This intro will appear at the top of each week’s Memezapoppin’! post. Enjoy, funny-pitcher lovers.

Continue reading “Memezapoppin’!“ →

Of first shots…and LAST ones

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As I’ve said here so very many times before, it’s time and way past time that Real Americans started shooting back.

The ‘Tolerant’ Left Sure Does Like Assassinations
A manifesto recovered from the alleged shooter of UnitedHeathCare CEO Brian Thompson says that “These parasites had it coming” and “I do apologize for any strife and trauma, but it had to be done.”

This is music to the ears of many on the left, who cheered when they learned that Thompson had been gunned down and are treating the shooter as some sort of folk hero.

“Social media users have sometimes outright gloated at the killing,” is how The Hill put it, describing it as an expression of “populist rage” and then spending the rest of the article trying to obliquely pin the blame on Donald Trump.

The Atlantic dismissed the “mockery and disdain” of the cold-blooded murder as an “expression of widespread fury at a broken system.”

Former Washington Post reporter Taylor Lorenz reposted an article about how Blue Cross Blue Shield will no longer cover anesthesia for the full length of some surgeries, adding, “And people wonder why we want these executives dead.”

“Saturday Night Live” joked that “it really says something about America that a guy was murdered in cold blood and the two main reactions were, ‘Yeah, well health care stinks!’ And also, ‘Girl, that shooter hot.’ “

If this reminds you of anything it should. Because the same cast of miscreants cheered the would-be assassin of Donald Trump as well.

In fact, the only problem they could find was that the shooter’s aim was off.

S’truth. A great old Tolkien quote springs immediately to mind yet again.

“It needs but one foe to breed a war, not two, Master Warden,” answered Éowyn. “And those who have not swords can still die upon them.”

Wise words indeed from the White Lady of Rohan, that wild shield-maiden of the North—a warning, a reminder, and a bit of highly useful advice, all in one poignant, unforgettable statement.

In case y’all hadn’t noticed as of yet, the long-dreaded Civil War v2.0 started a goodish while back. It’s just that so far, only one side seems at all interested in actually prosecuting the damned thing. Another good ‘un from LOTR:

You won’t rescue Lotho, or the Shire, just by being shocked and sad, my dear Frodo.

Indeed not, I’m afraid.

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Pick us another winner, Donald

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It appears that he has, actually.

BOOMITY! Donald Trump Names Harmeet Dhillon As Assistant Attorney General for Civil Rights
With a few notable exceptions, the vast majority of Donald Trump’s nominees for his second administration have been home runs with conservatives.

Yesterday, however, Trump announced another pick that may have had his voters cheering the loudest of all.

Can’t honestly say I know a heck of a lot about the lady, but from the way the Leftard sob-sisters are carrying on about her (more on that at the link, and it’s hilarious), she sounds pretty damned good to me. Trump runs down just a few of her finer qualities, to wit:

I repeat: sounds pretty good to me.

MOAR chix with dix

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In the words of the renowned Ben Grimm: It’s clobberin’ time.


These psychotic freaks must be stopped, using any and every means necessary. By no later than yesterday, preferably.

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Daniel Penny followup

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Really, the whole contretemps comes down to just one thing.

Daniel Penny and the Attempted Murder of Courage: The Dangerous Precedent of Prosecuting Heroes
Though the Daniel Penny trial is deadlocked with the judge urging jurors to continue deliberating, should they reach a decision, the verdict may ultimately be on something far bigger than the actions of one Marine on a New York City subway. It could be about what kind of country we want to be—a nation of men and women willing to step up in the face of danger, or a nation of cowards who film chaos on their phones and do nothing to stop it.

Penny, a Marine veteran, was riding the subway when Jordan Neely—a man with a long history of mental health issues and violent outbursts—began threatening passengers. Witnesses described Neely’s behavior as erratic and frightening. Penny acted decisively, restraining him in a chokehold to prevent what he and others clearly believed was a potential attack. Tragically, Neely died.

What followed wasn’t a nuanced look at a tragic situation, but an immediate rush to blame Penny, in part or in whole, because Penny is white and Neely was black. Neely also had a history of mental illness…and violence. His death was tragic, but the threat he posed to passengers on the F train that day was real. Despite that, Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg wasted no time charging Penny with second-degree manslaughter. Bragg, known for his soft-on-crime policies, seemed determined to make an example of Penny—a man who, unlike the violent criminals Bragg often releases with a slap on the wrist, tried to protect people. How dare he?!? That’s Bragg’s providence.

Make no mistake, the prosecution of Penny sends a chilling message to all Americans: if you step up to stop violence, you might become the next defendant. At the very least it tells us that in Bragg’s New York, the safest course of action is to do nothing. Let the chaos unfold, keep your hands to yourself and pray the police arrive before anyone gets seriously hurt (and in Bragg’s New York as well as other cities with liberal district attorneys, even the police may wind up getting charged.) Better yet, pull out your phone and get it all on video. At least you won’t end up behind bars. Dead or seriously wounded maybe, but not behind bars.

The irony is almost unbearable. In a time when violent crime is rising and public safety feels more fragile than ever, Penny’s actions represented exactly the kind of courage we need. He saw people in danger and acted, not out of malice but out of a sense of duty to protect those around him. He didn’t wake up that morning or board that subway training thinking, “I want to hurt or kill somebody today.” His sense of duty—the willingness to defend others even at personal risk—is at the core of what makes a society function. Without it, we’re just bystanders to our own demise.

And let’s not kid ourselves about what happens next if this precedent sticks. Imagine the next subway, the next mall, the next street corner where someone decides to lash out. Will anyone step in? Or will they hesitate, thinking about the potential criminal charges that might await them? Alvin Bragg might not care, he’s sitting safely in his ivory tower, far from the danger spawned by his choices, but the rest of us will be living with the consequences of his decisions for a long time.

It’s worth noting that the jury couldn’t reach a unanimous decision in Penny’s trial—at least not yet, and maybe the won’t. That’s no surprise. The case was never black and white, and it shouldn’t have been brought to court in the first place. Prosecuting Penny wasn’t about justice—it was about politics. It was about sending a message that the powers-that-be are more interested in virtue-signaling than protecting their citizens.

But here’s the real question: What kind of country do we want to live in? Do we want to raise our kids in a world where good men like Daniel Penny are punished for doing the right thing, or do we want to stand behind them? Do we want to reward courage or cultivate a culture of fear? Part of that answer arrived during last month’s elections where a majoirty of Americans voted “enough” on the weakness of our country under the wan leadership of Joe Biden, Kamala Harris and the Democrats and decided they wanted a strong leader, the type who can take a bullet and stand back up undaunted.

Annnnnd BINGO! THAT’S what this whole thing is really all about when all’s said and done. In selecting for cowardice, you reinforce the better-not-get-involved, just-stay-out-of-it mindset rife not just in NYC, but right across non-rural Amerika v2.0 entire. Step in to help someone in need? Not on your life, pal, I could get sued. Interpose your own frail, easily-maimed physical person between a violent assailant and a weaker assailee? Whaddya, fookin’ nuts or sumpin’?

Yes, there are exceptions, of course. We hear about ‘em regularly: whenever some passerby chases off a would-be mugger; a woman turns the tables on her would-be rapist; or a jewelry dealer, convenience store manager, or pawn-shop proprietor pulls a firearm from under the counter and burns down a thief. But that’s exactly why we hear about them: they are EXCEPTIONS, just doing what exceptions do: proving the rule.

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Justice, for once, is served

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I’m stunned.

Daniel Penny acquitted in subway chokehold death of Jordan Neely, sparking applause, uproar in NYC courtroom
A Manhattan jury has cleared Daniel Penny of criminal wrongdoing in the chokehold death of Jordan Neely on a crowded subway — a caught-on-video killing that sparked fierce debate over the city’s mental health system and crime underground.

The courtroom erupted in applause as the panelists acquitted Penny of criminally negligent homicide — which could have put him behind bars for up to four years — in Neely’s chokehold death aboard a crowded uptown F train in May 2023.

The part I bolded is probably the most stunning of all. Oh, and by the way, NYP: it was NOT a “chokehold death” as you so manipulatively claim. More on that later.

Penny immediately broke out a huge smile and turned to hug defense attorney Thomas Kenniff — even as Neely’s father, Andre Zachary, was escorted from the courtroom. 

“Racist f—ing country,” one Black Lives Matter supporter yelled as she left the room. Another Neely supporter, turning to Penney, screamed, “It’s a small world, buddy,” before leaving the room.

If Penny and his family aren’t already halfway to their new FLA home by now, they’re nuts. One of Penny’s lawyers asks the most pertinent question of them all.

Jurors sided with Penny’s defense attorneys, who had argued that the Marine veteran was justified in rushing to protect his fellow subway straphangers when he subdued the erratic homeless man. The lawyers had also questioned whether there was sufficient evidence that the chokehold caused Neely’s death.

“Who do you want on the next train ride with you?” one of his lawyers, Steven Raiser, in his closing statement in Manhattan Supreme Court.

“The guy with the earbuds minding his own business who you know would be there for you if something happened? Or perhaps you just hope that someone like Jordan Neely does not enter that train when you are all alone, all alone in a crowd of others frozen with fear?”

Or, perhaps, this fine, upstanding New Yorker:


Now for that “chokehold death” horseshit.

Twilight of the Race Hustle
“There is nothing more fake than when the libs pretend to have an emotional outpouring over some dead loser they didn’t give a f**k about while they were living.” — Aimee Terese

Were you thinking of Daniel Penny this weekend? A year and a half ago, the US marine veteran, age 26, subdued one Jordan Neely, 30, a homeless schizophrenic with a record of 42 arrests who was menacing riders on a New York City subway car. Neely was, at the time, a fugitive on an arrest warrant for felony assault on a sixty-seven-year-old woman. Penny applied a choke hold after Neely declared he was of a mind to kill somebody on the train. Neely was still alive when the cops came, but they declined to give him CPR because he was filthy and an apparent drug-user, and they feared getting AIDS or hepatitis from giving him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. . . so Neely died there in the subway.

Again: bold mine, and entirely dispositive. Meanwhile, via Ace, NYC’s rational, eminently fair minded Nee-grow community is reacting to the verdict with all the sober, judicious moderation we’ve come to expect from them—ie, by declaring a total chimp-out.


You got a mighty big mouth on ya for somebody who represents 13-14% of the total population, I’d say. Whyn’tcha shag your sorry ass down here to South Cackalacky with that shit, see how that works out for ya.

Got a cpl-three more links on this story waiting for attention, but I wanted to go ahead and get this much up quick as I could, so expect updates later on.

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A noble idea

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Ever since my Madeleine was born, I’ve thought a great deal about, but somehow never quite gotten around to, putting together for her a sort of quasi-biographical compilation encompassing but not necessarily limited to:

  • My stories of the rock ’n’ roll road life and the many musical icons, actors, painters, authors, and other such notables and quotables I’ve rubbed elbows with along the way
  • Other enduring interests of mine such as riding and wrenching on custom go-fast Harley Davidsons and vintage beater Fords
  • Shooting, full-auto subguns in particular
  • Aviation and aircraft, both military and civilian
  • Reading and/or writing, both fiction and non-fiction
  • Website design, construction, and management
  • US history, Civil War v1.0 in particular
  • Philosophy, logic, and Western literature
  • Rockabilly, blues, bluegrass, trad country, classical, swing, and early (ie, pre-bebop) jazz
  • Composing, recording, and performing my own original music
  • My years in NYC

It would be a fine thing, I think, to be able to pass this stuff on to my daughter for purposes of self-explanation, a way for her to know who and what her Daddy was to the fullest extent practicable. And now, thanks to AoSHQ’s scampydog, I’ve found what looks to be a handy dandy kick-in-the-butt motivator for getting started on this admittedly daunting project at last. Namely: Your Father’s Story.

About this item

✨YOUR FATHER’S STORY: Have you ever wanted a more in-depth look at your father’s life? What he valued most from his parents or maybe a funny habit that he had as a child? This journal will uncover all of the little things you might not know about your father.

✨DOCUMENT HIS LIFE: The Your Father’s Story journal is filled with prompts for your father to write his memories and knowledge to pass on to you, give you more insight into his live and experiences that have helped shape him and in turn, help shape you.

✨CHERISH THE MEMORIES: Strewn throughout the journal are inspirational quotes as a reminder to treasure the moments, to remember what was and have the courage to pass it forward.

✨LAYOUT: Prompts are divided into six chapters with one to two questions on each page. Gift our journal to your father and discover new details about his journey through life.

✨PREMIUM PAPER: Let his story unfold on premium cream-colored writing paper. We care about preserving your memories, our “Acid-free” paper resists the yellowing and crumbling that comes with age.

✨YOUR STORIES SERIES: Get to know your family history with our new guided journal series. Click the blue “Piccadilly” button under the title to find all our family journals, sketchbooks, guided journals, notebooks and more!

Pretty cool, no? Next time I get my hands on a few spare shekels, I’ma look into picking one of these things up. A bit too rich for my po-ass blood on Amazon, but they can be had on eBay at a more reasonable tariff.

Update! The above mention of full-auto subguns reminded me of my personal all-time favorite pic of Madeleine’s mama, to wit:

Snapped by Yr Humble Hoste at Shooter’s Express in Mt Holly, immediately after the ex had popped off an entire thirty-round stick magazine at full auto for the first time in her life, using the über-righteous H&K MP5 chambered in the venerable Europellet 9mm. Her beatific, rapturous smile should tell any deprived soul who hasn’t experienced the deliriously pulse-pounding thrill of full auto pretty much everything he/she will ever need to know about how much fun it really, truly is.

Man, I seriously LOVE that photo, it’s a real gem. Like I always say: you haven’t really flown until you’ve flown an open-cockpit biplane, and you haven’t really shot until you’ve shot full auto. Trust me, that’s the truth, the whole truth, and nuttin’ but the truth. Oh yes, I knew that huge grin was coming, so I stood behind her waiting for it, digital camera in hand (what was that little thing anyhow, Sony, Canon? Can’t remember now, but it’s still around here someplace), prepped, aimed, and ready to capture the moment.

A cpl of other MP5 snaps, then. First up, my dearly beloved NYC partner in crime Rachel, now tragically deceased:

God only knows how Rachel managed to find a range in NYC where she’d be allowed to shoot an MP5, much less the MP5 itself; she emailed me that pic with no further explanation, and insouciantly laughed me off every time I asked about it, which was just like her. Then again, knowing that wild, wilfull, and wanton woman as well as I did, it must be acknowledged that if anybody in the world could pull off such an extraordinary feat, it would have to be her. Could ONLY be her, actually.

6 feet nothing of mostly long, shapely legs, thick, stick-straight black hair, and big giant titties; eternally sarcastic; unfailingly cheerful, confident, and socially adroit; the snappiest dresser you ever did see, whether in a lovely vintage dress and heels or her preferred black jeans, T-shirt, and scuffed-up engineer boots—verily, Rachel was in a class of her own. They broke the mold and threw away the pieces the day that girl was made. Of all the multitudinous Pyrsynzz Of Vagina I’ve known over lo, these many years, I never met another quite like Rachel Gudera, bless her big ol’ heart.

Rachel also happens to be the naughty little girl who once sent me the best Christmas card I ever received. It’s on the hard drive somewhere, I think; I’ll see if I can dig it up and post it in an update.

Of course, I simply MUST throw in a snap of little ol’ moi firing SE’s rental MP5, right before I reloaded and passed the sweet-shooting little beastie along for the ex-wife to get her projectile-weapon rocks off on.

Good times, folks, good times indeed.

Not nice update! A-yup, found the aforementioned Xmas card. CAUTION: definitely NSFW, this one. Delicate, less-worldly sorts are hereby advised to avert their eyes. I’ll tuck it below the fold so as not to spook the horses, frighten the children, or offend the aged and infirm.

Continue reading “A noble idea” →

Happy Pearl Harbor Day!

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SO, here’s where we’re at 83 years on: “Great” Britain, France, and Germany have all been overrun by Mooselimbs, without ever bothering to put up a fight. The FUSA has been overrun by pretty much everybody, including the ChiComs, who already effectively owned it lock, stock, and barrel anyway. Japan, after looking for a few years there like they’d be the Far Eastern nation that was gonna end up owning everything and everybody, is now a floundering economic and military basket case whose young men have been so cowed, beaten down, and feminized they can’t even be bothered to chase pussy anymore.

The Dutch? Same-same. Spain is well on its way to becoming Andalusia v2.0, just another brick in the global-caliphate wall. The Eyeties? Who cares. Does that country still even exist?

Korea is still scarred by a fiercely-enforced DMZ separating its two (2) halves after the Chinks stepped in and dealt the Yanks a solid ass-whupping which ran them back across the Yalu and out of Korea altogether. After almost two (2) decades of pointless war Vietnam was reunified, which all involved parties seem to regret.

Russia is having tremendous difficulty kicking ass and taking names against an adjoining former-USSR shitrapy around one-sixteenth its size which has been saddled with a corrupt government led by a midget robbing both his own nation and the FUSA blind.

Meanwhile, the FUSAn central goobermint is under the iron-fisted control of a shadowy cabal of authoritarian incompetents whose identities We Duh Sheepul will never know, not that most of us seem to care all that much one way or the other as long as we still have Netflix and Super Bowl Sunday to placate us. Said cabal installed as its frontman “President” a hilariously inept, barely-ambulatory, shameless, astoundingly corrupt, unintelligent career conman so far advanced into the final stages of dementia he has repeatedly gotten confused about where he is, why he’s there, how he got there, who brought him, who he’s supposed to be talking to, why certain ex-people who died years ago aren’t there, etc etc.

Then his own criminal organization masquerading as a political party elbowed him out and anointed as his replacement a visibly drunk, embarrassingly inarticulate, cackling old whore that nobody but NOBODY liked at all. Thankfully, an irrepressible, rambunctious, fun-loving outsider promising vengeance against the Swamp critters who have tormented him and his family incessantly for nigh on a decade kicked the day-drinking whore’s ass so hard she ended up wearing it as a hat, crushing her well beyond the margin of fraud which had sufficed to install the previous two (2) “Presidents” at the very least.

Now tell me again who won WW2, please. Hell, for the matter of it, can anybody truthfully be said to have won it? From where I’m sitting, it’s beginning to look like EVERYBODY lost.

Due, and long past due

Posted on      by     

Can’t remember if I’ve ever run this wonderful Louis Prima chestnut here before, but if not, it’s high time I made amends for that nearly-unforgivable Yuletide lapse.

Couldn’t find a vid of that tune with the incomparable Keely Smith, alas. Bound to be footage of a live Prima performance of it out there someplace—probably rotting away in a dusty cardboard box in somebody’s closet, attic, or garage—that includes Louis’s winsome wife, so maybe next Christmas it’ll turn up. Meanwhile, as we wait for that frabjous day to arrive at last, enjoy another jolt of the magical Prima elixir.

I absolutely love the note-perfect combination of Louie clowning, showboating, and generally making an ass of himself with the somber-faced Keely pretending to be disinterested, bored stiff, even downright annoyed by her ol’ man’s antics. Best of all, hard as Keely tries to keep her mask of cool detachment firmly in place, now and again the ludicrous onstage carnival before, beside, and behind her simply overwhelms her disdainful facade: she loses her self-control and above-it-all poise and breaks down into giggle-fits, sometimes into helpless laughter.

It’s all in good fun, an obvious truth placed well beyond dispute by everyone in attendance. Just a quick look at the vid tells the story: singers, backing musicians, house technicians, and audience members alike, every face has an honest, happy grin plastered all over it.

Man alive, but what a fantastic show Louis Prima, his understatedly-beautiful, alluring wife Keely Smith, and Prima’s minimalist combo put on back in the day. Louie’s longtime tenor saxomophonist, the legendary Sam Butera, was one of the very best sax-men ever to put lips to mouthpiece, take a deep breath, and just wail. Watch this one, I triple-dog dare you to disagree.

See what I mean? You’ll all recognize that number, I imagine, if only in its David Lee Roth cover-version guise. I’m just about certain I HAVE posted that vid here before, but it’s so friggin’ good it merits an encore, and plenty of ‘em too. Biographical info on sax-master Sam Butera, including a Cliff Notes-style summarization of how the blessed, incredibly fruitful musical union of the Primas and Butera came to pass.

SPOILER ALERT! Said union boils down to blind luck; happenstance; felicitous timing; and a nudge in the right direction from the notoriously fickle hand of Lady Fate. In other words, just one of those things—another of the unforeseeable turns of fortune that can sometimes occur in this Earthly vida loca. It was meant to be, no more nor less.

Sam Butera (August 17, 1927 – June 3, 2009) was an American tenor saxophonist and singer best noted for his collaborations with Louis Prima and Keely Smith. Butera is frequently regarded as a crossover artist who performed with equal ease in both R&B and the post-big band pop style of jazz that permeated the early Vegas nightclub scene.

Butera was born and raised in an Italian-American family in New Orleans, where his father, Joe, ran a butcher shop and played guitar in his spare time. He heard the saxophone for the first time at a wedding when he was seven years old, and, with his father’s encouragement, he began to play.

Butera’s professional career blossomed early, beginning with a stint in big band drummer Ray McKinley’s orchestra directly after high school. Butera was named one of America’s top upcoming jazzmen by Look magazine when he was only eighteen years old, and, by his early twenties, he had landed positions in the orchestras of Tommy Dorsey, Joe Reichman, and Paul Gayten.

As the big band era wound down and heavy touring became less common among jazz musicians, Butera re-settled in New Orleans, where he played regularly at the 500 Club for four years. The 500 Club was owned by Louis Prima’s brother, Leon, and it was this connection that led him to his much-heralded Vegas-based collaborations with Prima and Smith.

Prima transitioned from big band to Vegas somewhat hastily, having signed a contract with the Sahara without having first assembled a back-up band. From his Vegas hotel room, Prima phoned Butera in New Orleans and had him assemble a band posthaste. Butera and the band drove from New Orleans to Las Vegas in such a hurry that they had not taken time to give their act a name. On opening night in 1954, Prima asked Butera before a live audience what the name of his band was. Butera responded spontaneously, “The Witnesses”, and the name stuck.

Butera remained the bandleader of The Witnesses for more than twenty years. During that time, he performed with Louis Prima and/or Keely Smith on such Prima-associated songs as “That Old Black Magic”, “Just a Gigolo/I Ain’t Got Nobody,” “Come on-a My House,” and “I Wan’na Be Like You” (from Disney’s The Jungle Book). Richard and Robert Sherman, composers of the songs for the Disney animated film, agreed to cast Prima, Butera and their band after executives from the Walt Disney Company urged them to travel to Las Vegas to witness the band’s live act in person.

Butera is noted for his raucous playing style, his off-color humor, and the innuendo in his lyrics. The arrangement he made with Prima of “Just a Gigolo/I Ain’t Got Nobody” has been covered by David Lee Roth, Los Lobos, Brian Setzer, The Village People, and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. In addition to his accomplishments as a saxophonist and composer, Butera is widely regarded as the inspiration for the vocal style of fellow New Orleans-born jazz singer Harry Connick, Jr.

After Prima’s death in 1978, Butera renamed his band “The Wildest,” and played for another 25 years, mostly at Las Vegas lounges. As Burt Kearns recounts on PleaseKillMe, “He paid tribute to Louis Prima every night, opening each set with ‘When You’re Smiling’ and closing with ‘When the Saints Go Marching In,’ leading the horn section on a stroll through the audience, slapping palms, shaking hands, and somehow continuing to blow that saxophone, as always, with a smile on his face.”

Folks, THAT’S entertainment for sure and certain, of a stripe they just ain’t making anymore. They don’t make ‘em like Louie Prima, Keely Smith, and Sam Butera anymore either, and that’s a crying shame.

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The Donald steps up to the plate

Posted on      by     

Going to bat for his unfairly-beleaguered and -beslimed SecDef nominee, which right-on-time show of fighting spirit, will to win, and steely resolve I’m mighty damned happy to see. If it holds up, I’d consider that a highly encouraging indicator of the shape of things to come.

Trump confident Pete Hegseth will be confirmed as defense secretary: ‘Senators call me up saying he’s fantastic’
President-elect Donald Trump said Friday that he’s been hearing rave reviews from senators about Defense Secretary-designate Pete Hegseth and is confident he will be confirmed.

“It looks like Pete is doing well now,” Trump told “Meet the Press” moderator Kristen Welker, in a clip from her interview with the president-elect that will air Sunday.

“I mean, people were a little bit concerned,” Trump continued. “He’s a young guy, with a tremendous track record actually. He went to Princeton and went to Harvard. He was a good student at both. But he loves the military and I think people are starting to see it so we’ll be working on his nomination along with a lot of others.”

Yeah, well, we all know who those concerned “people” were, and fuck them right in the liver with a sparking cattle prod. May every man Jack of them die screaming, then burn in Hell for a thousand years. Such as:

Sen. Joni Ernst (R-Iowa), who on Thursday suggested that she wasn’t quite yet a “yes” on Hegseth, met with the nominee on Friday and plans to continue the conversation next week.

“I just had another substantive conversation with Senator Ernst,” Hegseth wrote on X. “I appreciate her sincere commitment to defense policy, and I look forward to meeting with her again next week.”

On the meeting, Ernst tweeted, “At a minimum, we agree that he deserves the opportunity to lay out his vision for our warfighters at a fair hearing.”

Sleazy, slimy, Swamp-stinking rat. As I already said, Punch ‘Em Out Pete knows the score.

Earlier this week, Hegseth slammed the onslaught of anonymously sourced media reports that have imperiled his confirmation.

“It’s a textbook manufactured media takedown,” he wrote in a Wall Street Journal op-ed.

Yessir, that is precisely what it is, with the usual assist from dirty Vichy GOPe RINOs like Ernst. A testimonial to Hegseth’s fitness for the position which is more than good enough for me.

Will Cain, one of Hegseth’s former co-hosts at “Fox & Friends Weekend,” came to his ex-colleague’s defense Friday after the Washington Post downplayed the significance of Hegseth’s two Bronze Stars.

“Was just hanging out in [Hegseth’s] office (with his permission) and found this. Is this cool? I don’t know can someone ask [the Washington Post]?” Cain wrote in a tweet which included a photo of an Army Commendation Medal awarded to Hegseth in 2005. 

The citation on the commendation noted that Hegseth’s “leadership and initiative directly resulted in the capture of two high value targets with ties to Al Qaeda in Iraq and effectively marked the end of an insurgent mortar cell.”

Gee, hire a warrior with battlefield skills and experience for a job best suited to a warrior with battlefield skills and experience—what could possibly be more appropriate, more sensible, more just plain old right than that, prithee tell?

Alternatively, we could just rely on the simon pure, reliably honest, fair, and trustworthy WaPo’s advice on this matter, I suppose. *spit*

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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

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