ex luce ad tenebras
If anyone reading this announcement plays games that are slightly more complex than slap jack, keep reading for hilarity that I truly wish I'd had a hand in designing. For the rest of you, well... at least you can read. Keep reading. You'll love it.
For those of you who don't know about Kickstarter, where the hell have you been? Even I know about Kickstarter, and I'm a social Luddite.
In brief terms, Kickstarter is a site you can visit and invest your scarce, hard earned cash into someone else's harebrained scheme to make billions a day from a new invention. It's also a place where crackpot inventors can go and display their wares (the combination electric back scratcher, nasal spray, and duct tape dispenser, for instance) then invite people to invest in the production and sale of said ware. Okay so far? Wonderful. I am truly amazed.
Thanks to Big Mike, I found a card game on Kickstarter that I predict is going to be a laugh a minute, and will surely be jerked off the site for multiple violation of the SJW code of moral conduct and sensitivity. Check it out:
Virtue Signal: the Game of Social Justice
I'm not going to explain it here, as that's what the site is for. I'm saying that I invested in it. This is a game that is so cool it'll have SJWs everywhere chipping their teeth and trying to glue their heads back together before the first 5000 copies are sold, and the coolest part is that the louder they squeal, the more popular the game will become.
Ha! Ha! Ha!
I love it.
But I'm not kidding when I tell you to hurry. How the game stayed active on Kickstarter this long is a minor miracle. Its very existence is a supreme insult to SJWs everywhere - and everyone else that isn't a main stream heterosexual I-was-born-this-way man or woman.
Go check it out and tell me if I'm wrong.
Right now the game stands at:
$21,530 pledged of $25,000 goal, with 515 backers and 23 days to go.
Most of this is screaming news, the sole purpose of which is to drown out real problems. Let's see what we've got here, and then I'll cite a few problems I think are serious.
Courtesy of NBC News, we get the latest on the Guyger murder and subsequent trial.
Amber Guyger Found Guilty of Murder at Trial In Fatal Shooting of Neighbor Botham Jean
Amber Guyger was found guilty of murder on Tuesday for fatally shooting her neighbor, Botham Jean, after thinking he was an intruder when she mistakenly entered his apartment.Imagine you're at home, having a cocktail and watching the idiot box. An unknown dressed in the ubiquitous blue uniform walks into your castle uninvited, screams something vaguely incoherent, and puts two 9mm slugs through your heart. Now, I don't leave my door unlocked, but I don't wear my pistol while I'm inside my own home. But let's say I have it next to me, or on me. I have to realize I'm being invaded, draw against a terrorist that already has his gun drawn, and put a .357 slug into his spine before he puts one to my heart. I don't think I'm up to it, but I might as well try - I'm dead anyway.
She faces a maximum of life in prison.
The jury was tasked with deciding whether or not Guyger, 31, acted reasonably when she used deadly force, and if the prosecution had proven beyond a reasonable doubt that she intentionally killed Jean or if a lesser charge of manslaughter, which involves reckless conduct, was warranted.
(Reuters) - Porn star Stormy Daniels has settled a lawsuit against the city of Columbus, Ohio, for $450,000, receiving the payout after she charged that police arrested at a strip club in retaliation for her claim that she had an affair with Donald Trump.First off, the city government in Columbus is listed in the Moonbat Hall of Infamy as being completely, totally, and incontrovertibly committed to the Lunatic Left. The Columbus Cops work for the city government, which means that they are all officially left handed (while at work, anyway). Any suggestion that this mess was instigated by the GOP for political reasons is hogwash, believable by those members of government that have been smoking their own mushrooms.
Meredith Tucker, a spokeswoman for the city [of Columbus, OH] attorney’s office, told other media the parties reached a settlement of $450,000 during mediation, an amount that was “fair given the facts and circumstances involved.”
Fox News host Sean Hannity's commentary Monday night took on new relevance as a photo emerged raising questions over former Vice President Joe Biden's involvement in the firing of a Ukrainian prosecutor, who was investigating a company that employed his son [well, whataya know bout that - MJ].
Hannity argued that the Democrats are trying to impeach President Trump over a "manufactured crisis," while they commit misconduct themselves.
“The great irony here is that once again – it is the Democrats [who] are guilty of nearly every single accusation they are throwing at the president."
A man [Mixon - MJ] was killed in March after he “looked over” at another driver at a red light, police in Arizona revealed, saying the suspected killer was arrested this past week.Three witnesses, and now we're going to have a trial and several appeals, and the dirty son-of-a-bitch will avoid the firing squad.
“Pulling up next to another car and looking over at the driver may seem like a common occurrence, but it now appears to be the motive behind a violent murder,” police said Friday in a news release.
Police made that statement in announcing the arrest Thursday of Nicolas Elliott, 30, on a charge of murder in the March 1 death of 26-year-old Alex Mixon at a Phoenix intersection.
Three people told police they were with Elliott at the time of the shooting and they said Mixon “merely looked over at (Elliott) which in turn enraged (him) to fire his handgun at (Mixon),” the Arizona Republic reported citing court documents.
Take any or all of the top fifty tech companies, and Google will float to the top. Being bored out of my mind recently, I decided to read Slashdot which is rare for me, and I stumbled over this story about employee abuse at Google.
Evidently, over the past few years, the tyrannical middle management at Google have a zero tolerance policy for whiners and whistle blowers, but there's a bit more to the story than the tip of the iceberg you can see, looming dead ahead in the fog.
The story on Slashdot is Google Employees Explain How They Were Retaliated Against For Reporting Abuse, which in some cases is probably true. The original story comes from the Motherboard section of Vice dot com, where it shares space with an article about impeaching President Trump, right next to another story about porn stars, anal sex, and how the stars prepare for scenes with a farm animal.
In this case, the big story follows the title and doesn't say much more. What's interesting are the comment and responses area.
I think it's appropriate to note that Slashdot isn't really a news site. It's much more of a Hey, lookit this shit! site, and the Lefties that make up the vast majority of the Slashdot contributors predictably do the right thing and crucify the named villain - in this case it's Google, who, I'm sure, is every bit as worried about an article like this one as AOC worries about the national debt. In this case there was somewhat of a backfire, as not all contributors are flat liners looking for a place to scream. I found it interesting because it illustrates the difference in the thought process between the emotional, liberal Left and the erudite, conservative Right.
The Left sees a story like this one and starts barking at the moon. They verbally dog pile the target, and repeat whatever the accuser says, adding a few superlatives of their own.
The Right reads the story, notes a few facts and produces a summation. Our story of abuse of authority takes place over a few years within a company that is in the Fortune 50 group, and who employs over 100,000 people. Now then, even if all these stories are true, and even if there are twice or even three times the number of cases that we have here, that's only 0.00135 percent. Not even one percent. In a company that large, it's reasonable to believe that someone doing the hiring is going to screw up the process and hire an undesirable employee or two. And, because no one likes to fire people (except me - I love to fire incompetent employees), the manager will do everything he can to make the employee successful.
But some people are stupid and never should have been hired in the first place. Once hired, they screw everything up, and it's everyone's fault but theirs.
You can find the original document of cases at this link: Actual Document of Examples
This is the Left in action, and I'm glad I'm retired. All I need is for some joy boy to explain that he identifies as a LatinX African-American cisFemale (just try and figure out what that is, Glen Filthie), and It needs me to be extra careful so as not to micro-trigger It.
The old Coz knew the answer to that one. Here's a few answers I posted on Quora, mainly to see how long my insightful if somewhat pithy responses would be tolerated by the overly sensitive Quora censors that protect humanity from people like me.
What is an urban dance fitness class like?
You get one of two scenarios:
One, it’s a bunch of fat people sweating and struggling for air as they try to keep up with an instructor that’s fit for the Olympics.
Two, it’s a bunch of gorgeous women in skin tight leotards perspiring lightly while executing a professional level dance routine. You’ll see the occasional man there, but unless the guy looks like a model and is gayer than a three dollar bill, he’ll get frozen out.
Yeah, and the top three are starvation, disease, and hot lead from an AK-47.
They don’t. What are you, nuts?Note: This answer got 'collapsed' almost immediately. I appealed on the grounds of reality, and that the question in and of itself was insensitive to differently abled people in general. My appeal fell on deaf ears.
Depending on partners, my all time favorite Albanian folk dance is the i gjallë me tre mënyra. Traditional music isn’t all that hard to find, but people who really know the dance, and really understand it are a little rare. I learned it when I was a teenager (girls next door taught me), and back then everyone just sort of piled onto the dance floor. The audience would applaud and shout encouragement to their favorite people.
Now, not so much.
It’s hard to say, but in all likelihood it’s Swan Lake, as choreographed by an artistic dim-bulb and his assistant choreographer, who turned out to be a retired high school football coach from somewhere in Alabama (a State in the U.S.). Judging by the choreography, the choreographer likely worked in a canning factory and was laid off due to incompetence.Note: I felt I was in rare form here. We'll see how long this masterpiece lasts.
The university in question, and it will recognize itself here, was busy stuffing some new scandal under the carpet, and during the process was forced to replace a few people with virtual unknowns. Hence these two chowder heads are now in charge.
One of them decided it would be cute to employ a troop of Junior High girls to play a flock of swans, which might have worked with the help of Divine intervention, except that a group of elementary age girls were being taught (that’s the wrong word, but bear with me) by a bellicose, self-important behemoth who demanded a position in the production for her little darlings from some pencil pusher who was in a position to give in to her. Unfortunately, no one pushed her under a bus, and so the kids were included.
What could possibly go wrong?
Rehearsals were guaranteed to include three melt-downs, and halfway through the second week any dancer with even a tiny smidgen of talent or common sense walked off the stage. The remaining gaps got filled with dancers desperate enough to take the jobs, or who were convinced that this wasn’t really happening, that it was Candid Camera or something similar. Does anyone remember Candid Camera and Allen Funt?
Well, the show must go on. Two of the kids ended up in the Orchestra pit; one fell (or was pushed) and another was supposed to exit stage left with the rest of the birds, but suddenly lost her mind and jumped down into the pit so as to hide. Or something. Then it turned out the lead couldn’t lift the prima - she was a hefty little thing - so she kicked him in the shins and his understudy had to take over. Then things got worse.
At the end of the show - I don’t know if you’re familiar with Swan Lake, so bear with me - at the end of the show, pretty much everyone dies. To signify this, the assistant choreographer thought it would be appropriate to discharge a blunderbuss loaded with black powder. No shot, just powder. Safety and all, you see. Before anyone could stop him, he torched it off and scared the toe shoes off the swans, who screamed and ran like hell. The audience was a bit startled and jumped to their feet, and the stage was covered in a haze of gunsmoke.
And the curtain dropped.
You’ll note that I’ve omitted names here, and there’s a reason for that. Anyone who can’t guess at the reason should run for office. You’ll make a dandy politician.
So the answer to your question is: Swan Lake.
Wednesday morning (the infamous 9-11) I got ambitious enough to make eggs and bacon for breakfast. Just for a change of pace, I scrambled the eggs in my small, cast iron skillet. I inherited this from my great-uncle Clyde, who used it every morning during the depression.
Clyde was a bachelor, preferring the hell of his own making over the excruciating torment delightfully brought on by his one big mistake in life. The man was content to live alone, and by all accounts was happiest that way.
After breakfast I went out to run some errand or other, and when I returned what should I find? A nice, big field mouse helping itself to the leftover eggs in my skillet, which I'd thoughtfully left on the stove just for him. The cute little pestilence would hop into the skillet and get some eggs, then hop out and hide under the skillet.
Right next to the burner.
So it occurred to me that if I were quiet and dropped down below Mr. Mouse's line of vision, I could sneak up and turn the burner on.
The downside here is that the flames might not prove instantly fatal, and Mr. Mouse would crawl away to a suitably unreachable spot in the kitchen, where he would slowly achieve entropy and stink the place up.
Another option was to find a suitable instrument, such as a broom handle, and dispatch the rodent by spontaneous cranial compression. This would require a blunt instrument of suitable size (easily done) and the dexterity to wield same with efficiency. Just imagine, if you will, the sight of a somewhat elderly, overweight man attacking a stove with a broom handle, while the mouse escapes.
So that's out.
I found an old Victor trap in the basement and baited it with peanut butter, then set it on the kitchen counter. I also gave the area a cleaning while I was at it.
In the morning, the peanut butter was gone and the mouse was still at large.
I debated setting a bait in my stainless steel sink. The mouse climbs in to get the bait, but sadly can't get out. In the morning all I need to do is turn the water on, the switch on the garbage disposal. What, you're telling me it wouldn't work? I suppose it might make a mess somehow.
So it's off to Home Depot where I bought a garden hose, a nozzle, and a bag of Victor mouse traps. I set the traps, baited with peanut butter, and drank gin until I felt like going to bed. In the morning, one trap had been sprung:
Mad Jack 1, Mouse 0
I left the rest of the traps set, but this morning there were no more trapped mice, and no more stolen bait. I'll got two more nights, but I think the final victory is mine.
God was missing for six days. Eventually, Michael, the archangel, found him, resting on the seventh.
"Where have you been?" Michael asked.
God smiled deeply and proudly pointed downwards through the clouds.
"Look, Michael. Look what I've made."
Archangel Michael looked puzzled, and said, "What is it?"
"It's a planet," God replied, "and I've put life on it. I'm going to call it Earth and it's going to be a place to test balance."
"Balance? I'm still confused."
God explained, pointing to different parts of Earth..
"For example, northern Europe will be a place of great opportunity and wealth, while southern Europe is going to be poor. Over here I've placed a continent of white people, and over there is a continent of black people. Balance in all things."
God continued to explain, pointing to different countries.
"This one will be extremely hot, while this one will be very cold and covered in ice."
The Archangel, impressed by God's work, then pointed to a land area and said, "What's that one?"
"That's Florida, the most glorious place on earth. There are beautiful trees and gardens, it's surrounded by water, and days filled with sunshine. The people from Florida are going to be handsome, modest, intelligent, and humorous, and they are going to travel the world. They will be extremely sociable, hardworking, high achieving, carriers of peace, and producers of good things."
Michael gasped in wonder and admiration, but then asked, "But what about balance, God? You said there would be balance."
God smiled an all-knowing smile.
"I'll create California. Just wait untill you see the idiots I'll put there."
All kinds of words have been banned over the years. The first word that comes to my mind is antidisestablishmentarianism, but that's probably just me. I'm a bit odd.
On my previous contribution to the overall knowledge of mankind, a casual reader delurked a left a single, succinct suggestion.
When you use the phrase "gun control" you cede most of the ground to The Enemy, who created that phrase for just that purpose. Use "disarming the law-abiding" because THAT is what is under "discussion" (a term you should also reject).
Well, unless you've been incommunicado for the past week, you know all about the two new mass shootings that have the anti-freedom crowd frothing at the mouth.
Kicking around the Internet, I found one blogger who got it right, and who is worth reading.
Keep going, with the standard disclaimer about special little snowflakes and thin skinned moonbats getting their cute little hides branded.
I found Stilton's Place owned and operated by Stilton Jarlsberg, via Bayou Renaissance Man. Stilton makes some good points in Unintended Consequences, most of which I agree with. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that old Uncle Stilt put all ten shots in the bull's eye.
My own thoughts have changed somewhat. I used to blame untreated and undiagnosed mental illness for most of these terrorist attacks, but I no longer think that's the case. Instead, I think that the world contains bad people, and from time to time they commit one or more felonies and are caught by the police, ground up by the judicial system, and sent to prison. In a long while, they'll be back in society.
The problem is obvious: How do you find these bad people and get rid of them before they become a real problem? Well, the only way I know how to do it is to find the man killing random people in a gun free zone. That's the one we all want to get rid of. Other than that, I am, strictly speaking, at a dead loss. I have no idea, nor have I heard any that will work, and will not make life impossible for the law abiding hoi polloi trying to go about their daily business.
The anti-freedom Left screams about gun control. In truth, the Democrat politicians and their mouthpieces will scream anything to get elected. If the Left thought that supporting the Second Amendment would secure them a coveted seat in the government, you'd see each and every one of them openly carrying a sidearm of their choice, along with photo-ops down at the local range.
What the Left continues to fail at, and what the Right fails to point out, is that whatever it is we've been doing is not working. Gun control doesn't prevent shootings. Just look at Chicago - check Second City Cop and Hey Jackass! Illustrating Chicago Values, which as stats that are truly amazing.
For his part, Stilton writes:
Gun control can not and will not change any of this. The phenomena of mass shootings is, in fact, unstoppable absent a wholesale change in our culture, our way of life, and our society's unhealthy obsession with an inhuman and inhumane electronic world.I'd compare this to traffic laws. I live in Columbus, Ohio, and twice a day on work days, we have excessive traffic congestion on the beltway and on I-70. We also have one or more accidents, some of which are fatal. Now it would seem to me, since I'm not all that bright, that after a while the people traveling to and from work would get the idea that they should drive a bit more carefully. It would also seem that attrition would take its toll, and in five years or so, we wouldn't have the traffic problems we have today.
Yesterday, while minding my own business, I missed getting into a traffic accident by ten feet or so, then I saw some poor little kid get punched out and decked by an adult while at my local Kroger's. Here's my rant, complete with racist, misogynist, misandrist, and politically incorrect and callous comments.
All you special little snowflakes and SJWs better plug your ears and blind yourself with number two pencils before continuing.
I'd been putting off my grocery shopping all day. I just didn't have the ambition, and there's food and liquor in the house, so if I don't want to go, what the fuck? I live alone, or rather Danté and I live alone, and Danté, being a cat who came in from the alley, is not particular about what kind of dry cat food he eats. He doesn't like tuna fish because it reminds him of the time he spent looking for a little safety from dogs and ass hole zipperhead lawn boys who chased him with a weed whacker. The local maintenance man put a stop to that and threatened them with deportation. Damned gooks.
So around seven o'clock that evening I decided a run to the grocery was in order. I was northbound on McNaughten Road, intending to make a left on to E Main Street, and got hung up behind a moke at the light. The moke finally goes, then I've got to wait for some soccer mom in a mini-van who is being tailgated by a dumb-ass fat lady in a sedan. Now I'm clear, except for one car - another mini-van - but he's about 400 feet north of me. The green arrow changes to yellow, and I check his position to see if he's going to try and beat the light. I estimate his speed at 35 mph (51 feet per second) and he can't possibly make it in time. So, since I'm in the intersection, I start my turn.
Everyone reading this knows what happens next, but I'm going to say it anyway.
Instead of stopping, which he has plenty of room and time to do, the silly son-of-a-bitch speeds up. I'm watching, and I see him put the hammer down. He's closing fast, so I put my foot in it, and he misses me by maybe ten feet or so.
|Northbound on McNaughten, South of E Main|
|The Intersection, Courtesy of Google Maps|
I thought this was a good one, but naturally it's a bit off color. Continue at your own risk.
She was standing in the kitchen, preparing their usual breakfast - soft-boiled eggs, toast, and coffee - wearing only the T-shirt that she slept in. As he walked in, half awake, she turned to him and said softly, “You've got to make love to me this very moment!"
His eyes lit up and he thought, "I'm either still asleep and dreaming or this is going to be my lucky day!" Not wanting to lose the moment, he embraced her and then gave it his all right there on the kitchen table.
Afterwards, she said, ‘Thanks’, and returned to the stove, her T-shirt still around her neck.
Happy, but a little puzzled, he asked, “What was that all about?"
She explained, “The egg timer's broken."
That last should get Glen Filthie, owner and operator of Filthie's Thunderbox , started right up. You see, Glen has been having an argument with the boys in the Treehouse Club about drones and low yield nuclear devices, Vulcan Cannons, and the end of the world as ISIS would like to know it.
Then there's Los Angeles and the brand knew revelation by a cartoonist and a noteworthy doctor that, surprise-surprise, L.A. is going to be facing a very serious health crises in the near future.
Keep reading for my politically incorrect rant, which is guaranteed to anger and activate any and all special little snowflakes in a sixty mile radius. The drone argument is at the end.
Browsing around Breitbart I happened to find this story about conditions in Los Angeles, CA. Since my brother, California Dave, lives out in L.A. I took a gander at it just to see what's up.
Let me tell you, it ain't pretty.
Dr. Drew: Los Angeles Faces Imminent Outbreak of Bubonic Plague
From the article:
Dr. Drew Pinsky said Friday that Los Angeles faces an imminent outbreak of bubonic plague because of the growth of the homeless population and the failure of state and local authorities to deal with rodent problems.
Dr. Drew told Adams [Scott Adams, noted cartoonist and host of his own radio show - MJ] that he had predicted the recent typhus outbreak in Los Angeles, which was carried by rats, transferred by fleas to pets, and from pets to humans.
Bubonic plague, Dr. Drew said, like typhus, is endemic to the region, and can spread to humans from rodents in a similar fashion.
Greenwood believes she contracted typhus from fleas in her office at City Hall East. Fleas often live on rats, which congregate in the many heaps of trash that are visible across the city of LA, and are a breeding ground for typhus.
"There are rats in City Hall..."
"There are rats in City Hall and City Hall East," Greenwood said. "There are enormous rats and their tails are as long as their bodies."
The catch (because there's always one, right?) is the WASP costs a whopping $1,500 — and that's without a drone. Add on the cost of a DJI S1000+ drone, which runs $1,500, and you're looking at $3,000 for the full setup.
I broke my toes on an empty case of bourbon, fell into my office chair and multi-fingered the keyboard for about three eternities. When I was able to see again, I found myself staring at Quillette, and the article Publicly Shaming a Musician for Calling a Composition by Its Name by Kurt Gottschalk. It looked interesting.
The SJWs are still at it, this time in Nova Scotia. The event was a gathering of... well, I better insert the standard warning before I continue, because I'm going to get nasty. If you're an SJW, continue at your own risk.
The event is called OBEY Convention XII, and it's funded by the state of Canada and a host of others who want to stay on the right side of the SJWs and the alphabet soup of door knob sucking faggots and dykes. The trouble is, SJWs eat their own, as a few people discovered that eventful weekend.
The subject at the event is avant-garde art. Visual, tactile, auditory (not music), and other is all represented. Think in terms of a deranged Bozo with an aluminum step ladder and a bicycle pump.
One American (read: United States) composer named Mary Jane Leach was invited to give a lecture about an equally obscure composer and homosexual black man named Julius Eastman (1940-1990). I don't expect anyone reading this to have heard of either one of these people, much less heard their music, but I'll say this about each: Their genre is avant-garde unknown. I suppose you could label them both as classical, but the reality is that their music lurks about in the fringes of the same area where you might hear Phillip Glass (whose work I've heard and enjoy) or maybe Frank Zappa's classical compositions, although both those are something of a stretch due to quality control. To give myself credit where credit is due, I looked up both Leach and Eastman on the Internet, found a few of their compositions on YouTube, and gave them a listen. I was able to tolerate Eastman for 30 seconds; Leach I listened to as background music while I was doing something else. She isn't too bad, especially when compared to Eastman. Leach claims to have known Eastman, and for all I know they were close friends, although I doubt it.
But that's neither here nor there.
In a collection of self-proclaimed artists that no one has ever heard of, and in an audience so desperate for entertainment that they'll actually attend an event like this (pseudo intellectuals, wannabe bohemians, and real closet cases is what I'm thinking), Leach gave a lecture on Eastman, then was supposed to follow it up the next day with a concert of her own. Eastman's known works include:
The decision to cancel Leach’s concert was, more than clearly, made out of respect for people of colour and for the oppression they’ve experienced and continue to experience.Which is stable dressing. The decision was made from ignorance and hatred, no more, no less. This is what the Canadian SJWs are like. They're societal piraña, not caring what they eat or destroy, only that they must eat. In this case they, the sparse attendees and the prolific crowd of artists, needed someone to hate. Welcome the guest of honor, Mary Jane Leach.
I saw this on... okay, somewhere. I think it's incredibly stupid, and for any of you who want to know why I find it incredibly stupid, keep reading. The rest of you can keep surfing.
|Did You Know?|
I hear this all the time, mainly from Millennials trying to settle two or more squabbling kids. Instead of saying, "You kids settle yourselves down, and I mean now!", they say "Use your words! Use your words!"
What words are they talking about?
Continue for a brief lesson on training children that hasn't won any awards from Psychology Today, Good Housekeeping, or Parenting magazine.
Kids squabble. It's a fact of life. Some more than others, but they all do it. When that happens the authority figure is supposed to step in and bring order out of chaos, justice out of oppression, and joyful exuberance from angst and despair. Kind of like my old father did.
"You kids pipe down!"
The children always settled right down and generally went somewhere else to do whatever they were not supposed to be doing. As I remember it, Mom had a better feel for what was really going on and would provide a solution as needed.
These days I hear this Use your words! crap, and I haven't the faintest idea what they expect the child to say. Consider:
A bunch of eight year old boys in third grade during lunch. The kids are brown bagging it, and one boy, whom we'll call Glen Filthie, has a brownie for desert. The other kids might steal the brownie, but past experience has taught them about Glen, Ex-Lax, and dealing with Montezuma's Revenge for three days and nights. Sooner or later, the bright ones will conclude there's something funny with the food that comes from Glen's house, so it's best to lay off. The fact that Glen has two deserts, one of which he hides and the other of which he sets out as bait might also have something to do with their conclusions.
I digress. I'll begin again.
Eight year old boys in third grade brown bagging lunch. Jack has a brownie for desert, and while eating his lunch he sees this Fat Dad in the next row eyeing the brownie and drooling into his lettuce sandwich. Jack palms a newly sharpened number two pencil, which has been worn down to shank length, and waits. Fat Dad tries to snatch the brownie, and Jack nails his fat little hand with his grade school shank.
Okay, fight's on.
Since Teacher! Teacher! is present, things get broken up pretty fast and end with promises of an after school meeting. Then Teacher! Teacher! throws a curve.
"Why didn't you use your words, Jack?"
Words? What words? What's she talking about, words? Fat Dad tried to take my brownie, I let him have it with my pencil. Now he looks like he's going to cry. Okay, he shouldn't have tried to steal.
"Next time remember to use your words, Jack. You don't want to grow up to be a hoodlum like Glen Filthie over there, do you? He's going to reform school, once there's an opening."
"I don't know, Teacher! Teacher!. I like Glen, he's pretty much okay, and he's into this archery business. We go out shooting and stuff, and even if it's reform school, it can't be much worse than listening to your pedantic winging all afternoon."
Revisiting my original scenario, I suppose adding a little verbiage might play out something like this.
Jack has a brownie for desert, and while eating his lunch he sees this Fat Dad in the next row eyeing the brownie and drooling into his lettuce sandwich.
"Don't even think it, Fat Dad."
"I see ya', and I ain't gonna argue with ya'. Do not put your fat fuckin' hands on my desert."
"Now what the fuck?"
Jack palms a newly sharpened number two pencil, which has been worn down to shank length, and waits. As Teacher! Teacher! delivers a lecture on profanity and orders Jack out into the hall as punishment, Fat Dad tries to snatch the brownie. Without missing a beat, Jack nails his fat little hand with his grade school shank. Fat Dad yells and snatches his hand away, and the fight's on.
We'll leave Jack out in the hall, where he'll eventually be joined by Glen Filthie (Teacher! Teacher! not being overly bright about some things), and the two will take the rest of the day off. Because, as Glen points out, only an idiot would stand around in the hall when the sky is clear and the temperature is a solid 68° F.
I hope all you readers were entertained, but my question remains: What words? What do the adults expect? Who teaches the words, and what are these magical words supposed to accomplish?
I occasionally read Kim du Toit, and although I don't agree with everything he writes, he usually has a fairly solid take on political events. At the very least, the man is demonstrably literate.
On a recent post Kim referenced a Tweet by some moronic Moonbat about Antifa disruptions, milkshakes, and bricks (see the pic).
Tor Books blogger and the author of Magic for Liars and the American Hippo Sarah Gailey called for violence and murder following the attack on reporter Andy Ngo by members of Antifa.Sarah Gailey has since deleted the tweets, they having served their purpose and now being something of a liability. Kim wrote what I would call a typical Kim-style response in Kim du Toit - Gloves Off
Gailey, in a number of now-deleted tweets, called for not only violence against those opposing Antifa, but also called for murder.
On June 30th, Gailey tweeted, “If we can’t throw milkshakes I guess we’ll just have to go back to bricks.” One of the weapons used in the attack against Ngo was a milkshake. Portland police reported they had been informed that wet cement mix had been mixed in with milkshakes that were being used as weapons by Antifa.
I repeat, for the umpteenth time: are you Leftist lunatics absolutely sure you want to start down this road?Continue reading for my own take on this one, but be forewarned: If you're a sensitive little POS or a member of some subculture that's always getting offended, take your Xanax before you continue reading.
I could pontificate about the bad old days, April 19, 1775 – September 3, 1783 (8 years, 4 months and 15 days), with the official ratification effective on May 12, 1784 (9 years and 23 days), but I won't. The Revolutionary War was a tough time all over, mainly because the British were not the benevolent monarchy they thought they were, and most of their subjects were pissed off at them - enough to go after some relief.
You know how bad things have to get before people will organize to do anything, let alone take up arms and go to war? Pretty bad, for sure.
These days we prefer to celebrate and proclaim our independence from tyrannical foreign powers. Like Canada, for instance.
Keep reading for a few insights and inflammatory comments, not all of which are original.
One thing I always like about the Fourth of July was fireworks. Hey, who doesn't, right? I still love fireworks. One particular firecracker that my father and grandfather spoke of was the cannon cracker. They wouldn't say how big it was, exactly, or where I might get one or two, but the cannon cracker was the undisputed number one firecracker in every boys' ammo dump.
This is a photo (used without permission) of the 'Cannon Cracker' that my father always talked about, and that he set off when he was a boy. The American Cannon Cracker was patented on July 7, 1885 by the Masten & Wells Fireworks Co of Boston, Mass. The cracker or salute has wooden end plugs and is 9½ inches long by 1¾ inches in diameter. Sadly, salutes over 5 inches long or over ¾ inches in diameter were banned from US trade in 1912.
The enormous size of this monster made it the short-lived prize possession of every boy in the United States; many dreamed of setting if off in church. My father often used the metaphor 'like a cannon cracker in church' (coupled with a few expletives) to describe the accidental slamming of a door during a tranquil summer morning. I always wanted to know about the canon crackers, but he'd never describe them except to say they were big. I think he didn't want me to get any ideas I didn't already have.
I don't like Twitter. I can't see tweeting anything much beyond the occasional insult to some foaming at the yap social sub-class whose members are terminally confused about reality and which restroom to use.
Big Mike shot this one over to me, and the author is completely in step with reality and is as succinct as he is accurate.
|Tweet by James Poulos|
Well, here we go. The Indians are trying to run this ragged old flag up the pole instead of shoving it where it belongs, and - keep reading if you want, but know that non-politically correct language lies ahead alongside my alcohol fueled views on Injuns and history in general.
The Indians have tried this one before, and it crashed and burned so quietly that they gave up on it for a while, but now they're back. From Lawmakers Seek to Revoke Wounded Knee Medals for US Soldiers by Kali Robinson, Associated Press.
From the article:
Advocates for Native Americans called Tuesday for Congress to revoke the Medals of Honor given to the U.S. soldiers who participated in the Wounded Knee massacre.They’re being supported by three members of Congress: Traitorous turn coat RINO from the fascist nation of Kalifornia Paul Cook (R, CA) is on board. He must have red skins in his backyard, because everyone knows the Mexicans hate the Indians with a real passion. Then we've got moonbats Denny Heck (D, WA) and Deb Haaland (D, NM). I couldn't begin to guess why a moonbat from Washington gives a tinker's damn about this one, but Haaland is easy - just click the link and see for yourself.
I'm looking over the statistics for my little slice of annoyance and trying to decide if I should be depressed or elated because, you see, on one hand people are actually reading my blog, but on the other hand my readers include people like that beer swilling, gun loving Canadian Glen Filthie, and when you come right down to it I'd like to think that a few respectable individuals waste their time here as opposed to TV SitCom reruns on Hulu.
Dispensing with the levity, I have one post that's getting a lot of hits and I don't know just why this might be. The post with the heavy traffic is Restaurant Review: Simms Steakhouse, which is an ordinary review. This would bother me a good deal less than it does, but one referring site is (interrupted)
Edit (6/24/19): click on apeniano dot top below at your own risk. The site triggered Malwarebytes, then when I opted not to continue, it showed me a xxx nude female advertising something, and she wasn't pushing a new breakfast cereal.
My thanks to Ed for the heads up.
apeniano.top. The site doesn't seem to do anything or be anything, and I was hoping someone could shed a little light on this.
Would someone please enlighten me as to who or what apeniano dot top is?
|Grass Skirt Tiki Room|
|Tiki Room Décor|
|Pain Killer and Two Navy Grog|
I picked up on A win for the little guys... thanks to the Old NFO, and while I was out drinking last night I heard that Oberlin got their Liberal philosophy shoved sideways up their collective fundament with a bucket of sand to make it fit better. After that, they got the crap slapped out of them.
For anyone not familiar with this situation, here's a quick summary:
In the Liberal small town of Oberlin is a gigantic Liberal university, and a family owned bakery. Both have been in business for a long time, and the bakery had a contract with the university to supply them with fresh bread.
The bakery also sells wine and related items. One night three black college students came in to "buy" (wink-wink nudge-nudge) some wine from the white clerk. Two tried to distract the clerk while one shoplifted the wine. The clerk objected and gave chase to the thief, a fight ensued, and the cops came and broke the whole thing up. The kids were arrested, and - several college instructors got wind of what happened and organized a protest and a boycott, along with the requisite SJW slanderous and libelous components.
The store people didn't take this one lying down. While the owners lost business and had to fire employees due to the harm the SJWs at Oberlin caused, they got hold of their attorney and sued.
Ha-Ha-Ha, the folks at Oberlin laughed. They'll never win because we're clearly in the right, they're racist, and we know this as a great truth.
It was trial by jury, and at the end of the day Oberlin lost. Then Oberlin was fined $11 million, and awarded an additional $33 million in punitive damages.
But here comes the funny part, courtesy of AP, no less.
The story: Market Awarded $44M in Racism Dispute with Oberlin College.
A jury in Lorain County awarded David Gibson, son Allyn Gibson and Gibson’s Bakery, of Oberlin, $33 million in punitive damages Thursday. That comes on top of an award a day earlier of $11 million in compensatory damages.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you have spoken,” Oberlin College attorney Rachelle Zidar told the jury Thursday before the larger award was announced, according to the Elyria Chronicle-Telegram . “You have sent a profound message. We have heard you. Believe me when I say, ‘Colleges across the country have heard you.’”
Oberlin College spokesman Scott Wargo declined to comment after the award was announced.
I have nothing profound to write about today, although news is plentiful if an idle person decides to look. One story I enjoyed is available at the Antique Naval Flight Officer's blog, where our noble host celebrates a significant victory of a small but honest and trustworthy family owned business over the evil group of POS (perpetually offended snowflakes) that run Oberlin University, and who whipped the student body into a self-righteous knickers-twisted fury, when... go read it for yourself.
I had dinner at Big Mike's last night. We enjoyed a steak dinner with trimmings, and cocktails, and cognac. Big Mike knows how to pour a drink, let me tell you.
|The Good Beginning|
Bitters and SmokeIf you decide to make this, the best results are to allow it to sit for five minutes or so. This will let the bitterness of the mezcal get tempered by the other ingredients and the ice water.
1.00 oz. blanco tequila
1.00 oz. Cynar
0.50 oz. Fernet-Branca
0.50 oz. mezcal
Method: stirred with ice; strained
Glass: chilled cocktail
|Waiting for the Steaks|
|Greens, Slightly Scorched|
|Steak, Medium Rare, with Mushrooms|
Loyal Reader: Hey there, Mad Jack! How are you? It's almost 1:30 PM and you don't have a cocktail sitting next to the keyboard. Are you sure you're feeling alright?
Well, since you asked... I don't sleep nights. Stress and anxiety, probably self-induced, keep me awake. I tend to wake up once or twice every night, and when morning finally rolls around I'm too tired to get anything done, and too wide awake to sleep.
I've been treating this condition with Lorazepam, one to two milligrams. This works well enough so that I can fall asleep and remain comatose until morning, when my cat Danté wakes me up - usually about sunrise. Better living through chemistry, right?
Time passes, and early this week the little white pills ran out along with the refills on my prescription. The office staff for my doctor tell me that the doctor won't refill the prescription unless I visit the office, which costs me $75 per visit. Last time this happened the doctor told me that he could have done this over the phone, which makes a lot of sense when you think about it for a few minutes. So, I've been calling his office once per day since last Monday (6/3/2019). So far, he hasn't returned any of my phone calls, but that doesn't mean much as he may not be getting the messages.
The fly in the ointment here is Mount Carmel Medical Group. This, by the way, is the very same Mount Carmel Medical Group that, up until very recently, employed Dr. William Husel, who has been indicted on 25 counts of murder via alleged Fentanyl overdose. Dr. Husel pled not guilty and is out on bond. Nice, huh?
The staff doesn't work for the doctor; they work for Mount Carmel Medical Group, and the Medical Group doesn't make any money off phone calls. As of late this morning, I gather that the good doctor has promised to call me today for sure. We'll see what happens. Meantime, I'm probably suffering withdrawal symptoms (I feel like a worn out piece of outdoor carpet) and I'm not getting a full night's sleep.
So there you have it. Aren't you glad you asked?
Here's a tip of the old fedora and a hoist of the early, early afternoon bourbon glass to that bellicose bellyacher, superior sorehead, that lovable old curmudgeon, Fred Reed. Fred moved his blog from wherever it was to The Unz Review, where his work can be found at Fred Reed. The man himself can be found somewhere in Ajijic, Jalisco, Mexico. Fred claims the relocation was necessary for financial reasons, and who am I to argue? Me, I think Fred may be bringing in a few extra bucks, which is always nice.
I like reading Fred's articles, which I believe reflect whatever occurs to Fred that afternoon. Should I ever win the lottery, I plan to take a trip to Mexico, find Fred, and buy him a drink.
Having read the book, Gosnell: The Untold Story of America's Most Prolific Serial Killer Kindle Edition by Ann McElhinney and Phelim McAleer , and seen the film Gosnell: The Trial of America's Biggest Serial Killer (2018), I can tell you that the entire case is horrific. In my opinion the book and the film should not be available to anyone under 25; the things that are shown and described really did happen.
I have two questions about the entire Gosnell case - only two:
Page created: Sun, Oct 20, 2019 - 09:05 PM GMT