Monday, March 25, 2019

NO. COLLUSION.
















Surprising exactly NO ONE, Special Witch Hunter Robert Mueller has found "no evidence of any collusion" on the part of neither candidate nor President Trump to conspire with a foreign power, and alter the outcome of the 2016 election.

Every word to the contrary has been Fake News.

This, despite vacuuming every bedbug from hundreds of rugs, the total abuse of the FISA secret courts system (which itself, in its entirety, is a putrid stench in the nostrils of liberty and the entire republic), after turning over every slimy stone, and burning up taxpayer money by the trainload.

This was all started when douchehag Shrillary and her crooked campaign paid a slimeball to make up, out of his ass, a phony dossier of imaginary events.

Crooked partisan Mueller knew this from the outset.

So did crooked then-FBI Director James Comey.

So did crooked James Clapper.
So did crooked William Brennan.
So did every Obozo senior appointee in the crooked DoJ.

So Obozo's crooked AG and crooked DoJ conspired with Madame Borgia's campaign to lie to a federal court multiple times to illegally surveil the campaign of the leading candidate of the opposition party, with the full co-operation of crooked FBI agents, a crooked FBI director, a crooked CIA director, a crooked National Intelligence director, and in all probability, the full knowledge of the crooked AG and the criminal poseur President of the United States, Barack Hussein Gay Muslim Not Born Here Obama, and his former Secretary of State, Lady Macbeth Shrillary Borgia Clinton, in order to prevent the election of the nominee of their political rival party's candidate, cover up eight years of undisguised and massive amounts of actual criminal conduct, and then, after the fact, effect a soft coup of a sitting president, when all of their plans went pear-shaped, and Trump won anyways.

Boo frickin' hoo.

Then, the serial liars at ABCNNBCBS covered themselves with MOAR! glory by spreading the lies of such known liars, not because they were true, but because they wanted their lies and fevered imaginings to be so, utterly destroying the country, the media's already lead-plated reputation, and creating havoc, dissension, acrimony, and multiple incidents of Trump Derangement Syndrome, including one deranged Leftard whackjob trying to blow away the entire Republican congressional softball team. The only saving grace is Leftards are as bad at marksmanship as they are at telling the truth. In neither case can they ever hit the bullseye.

And now, they're not happy the elected President of the US is demonstrably not a crook.
Instead, they're all wailing, gnashing their teeth, and trying to find new excuses to continue the pointless witch hunt, because they can't get over the fact that they ran a crooked hag with worse people skills than the love child of Jezebel and Attila the Hun, and got their political asses kicked from the day he became to nominee in 2016 to noon EST today, inclusive.

Literally the entire Democrat Party in both houses of Congress, and every media personality at the New York Times, the Washington Post, ABCNNBCBS, should go out into their back yards and slit their bellies open, or draw a warm bath and slit their wrists, in shock and shame at the treasonous coup they've attempted now for 26 months and counting.

They should be rounding people up in busses at FBI and DoJ for criminal conspiracy, and then take a convoy over to the DNC, and also round up every member of the Clinton campaign with knowledge of this monstrous conspiracy as well.

They should be tried in batches like Nazis at Nuremburg.

And everyone from Quisling Ryan to Joe Sixpack, trying to stab this administration and the president's policies in the back at every turn should be tarred, feathered, and run out of towns across this country, on rails.

Lets be crystal clear: President Trump was never my guy.
For reasons beyond counting.
But he was the nominee, he was light years better than Shrillary would have been on her best day (when she wasn't too drunk to stagger down the stairs from the residence to the Oval Office), and he's governed as more of an actual conservative than any president since Calvin Coolidge, even besting Reagan, and this with 500 out of 539 members of the House, Senate, and SCOTUS opposed to everything he's tried to do, to the point of actively sabotaging it 24/7/365.

And the only people cheering that are people like the hags on The Spew, Rachel Madcow, and the moronic minions of NeverTrumper psychosis, including such distinguished demonstrations of senility as George Will and William Kristol.

Walk tall, fucktards.
You found out today that you got your asses handed to you, by the only man who could ever have withstood such an undeserved and thoroughly malicious shitstorm of vitriol and batshit-crazy insanity.

And now the feeble-minded want to latch on to "obstruction" charges.
On the dubious theory that a man demonstrably and knowingly guilty of nothing would attempt to prevent a witch hunt with infinite funding resources and unlimited investigational reach from finding out that he didn't do anything. 

Sh'yeah, as if.

If any of this hits inside your perimeter, get a crowbar, break suction, and pop your heads out of your asses:
You're pathetic, sociopathic, and deranged, and the best use for anyone who wants this to continue is as a bullet sponge, or a suitable weight to test breaking strength on a sturdy hangman's noose, preferably from a scaffold in Lafayette Park, in front of the White House, for the entertainment of the residence's occupants, and an instructional lesson to the other residents of the nation's capital.

May it only be that guillotines go up, and the guilty are trundelled there in tumbrel carts, with all dispatch.

Your attempted coup is over, and you're not going to like the pendulum that's swinging back in your direction.

With any luck, it has spikes on it. If not hungry pitbulls with AIDS.

I may even need to put on a second pair of pants today, just to keep from laughing my ass off.

Sunday, March 24, 2019

Sunday Music: Georgy Girl



Long before Australia exported Steve Irwin, Mick 'Crocodile' Dundee, Olivia Newton-John or Helen Reddy, they had an official national brand.

It was The Seekers, and fronting for them was the woman who had one of the most perfect voices in pop music history. I've had a crush on Judith Durham since I heard her singing this, back when could count my age on my hands in one go, and this clip of their triumphant return home concert in 1967 is 150 seconds of musical perfection.

It also stands the test of time; here's their original foursome's 50th Anniversary concert from 2017:


And I'm pretty sure I still have a crush on Judith Durham.

Saturday, March 23, 2019

Weather Man



We've linked to the work of Mike Olbinski before.
His day job was as a Phoenix-area news videographer, AFAIK.

His new hobby is chasing and filming storms and weather. In 4K.



He should be getting short-subject Oscar nominations for what he does.

If you didn't see his 2017 magnum opus, watch Pursuit.
On the biggest screen you've got, in High Def, with the sound cranked up.

If I ever hit the Powerball, I'm sponsoring this guy to sit down with the NASA archives and the KUSC music library for a year or two, to see what he can come up with.

Friday, March 22, 2019

Thursday, March 21, 2019

Always Testing

h/t Daily Timewaster

























Of course, the hardest part is loading the frozen moose into the launching cannon for the tests.

DNC 2020 Platform


Sunday, March 17, 2019

Sunday Music: Baker Street



You couldn't get away from this song in 1978, and over forty years later it still wails.

Saturday, March 16, 2019

The State Of Stupidia


Warning: Smarter than actual sales help.
Hole in head optional.

Myself, at the local chocolatier's establishment yesternight:
"I'd like half a dozen thingamajigs, please."

Retarded Minion of Stupidity employed by said chocolatier:
"How many thingamajigs would you like?"

Myself:
"Half a dozen, please."

Retarded Minion, now looking thoroughly bumflustercated:
"Um...how many would that be?"

Myself, thankful that Retarded Minion is juuuuuust barely beyond range of a polite roundhouse slap to the side of the head sufficient to loosen fillings:
"That would be six thingamajigs, please."

Retarded Minion, flooded with obvious relief at being freed from further mathemagical distress and consternation:
"Ah!...Yes, six, got it."

Gobsmacked: Not only an actual thing, but frequently also the solution to the problem.

The bill for the thingamajigs was then announced as $6.96, whereupon I handed her a $5 bill and two singles, and I swear for a moment it looked as if she was going to have to take off her shoes to count, and failing that ploy, be forced to use her lifeline to call the engineers at NASA to correctly calculate that she owed me 4¢ in change thereof.

Which is by way of noting that she was old enough to vote, and English-fluent, but that clearly second grade mathematics had completely kicked her ass, and she should be beaten with a stout rod until she could master the fundamentals of basic math.

That the common phrase "half a dozen" baffled the blistering fuck out of her suggests that the manager there is similarly a lackwit in urgent need of a new job in either the custodial maintenance or street-level recycling industries.

Retarded Minion's (undoubtedly Common Core public education) teachers, to the last one, should be horsewhipped until their flesh is ripped off and the bones show, and then put up against a wall and shot.
Slowly, starting at the toes, and working up to more important parts.
Put in charge of the firing party, I should make them each count the rounds as they were fired.

I swear to Buddha, I'm going back there tomorrow, and if she's still employed there, I'm going to pay her with $2 bills and $1 coins, just to watch her head explode against the walls.

And these sorts of fucktards are going to get $15/hr in a couple of years?
The economy will collapse. Civilization is doomed. You read it here first.

Ron White was wrong: I can fix this kind of stupid, but you've got to allow me to use a big enough hammer.
























At any rate, a couple of more of these incidents, and I'm going to abandon all civility, and start going full-on As Good As It Gets on these morons, to reduce them to tears as a policy, and sport.

Related: Peter runs into similar distress at the local hospital.