Wednesday, October 18, 2017

San Diego/Santo Domingo = Same Same

If anything, I'm being too harsh on the far-cleaner streets of Santo Domingo's slums.

By request:
"Not to change the subject, but could our esteemed host do a post concerning the Hepatitis A outbreak in San Diego?"

File this under: Dealing With Other People's Sh*t. Literally.

A wise historian once said that the story of western civilization's progress boils down to the rise of sanitation, refuse removal, and achievement of running water and indoor plumbing.
And that the most frequent reason for near-area migration was literally a village/town/city moving far enough away to escape the smell and pest problems from their burgeoning trash heaps and dung hills.

Herein, living proof of concept.

San Diego (indeed, all of CA, esp. the coastal regions) is overrun by homeless waste-of-skin douchebags. Frisco's been dealing with the problem for decades, and they even publish poop-avoidance maps in Shitistan By The Bay for the feces-averse:

(I call it Frisco because it pisses the natives off.
Pissed on, pissed off, in for a penny, in for a pound...of feces.
Maybe Bay Area folks could change the name to San Franshitsco?)

Then, there's the perennial problem of drug addicts carelessly leaving their discards where anyone can get punctured by them. (So, where are all the "Legalize everything!" folks now...anyone? Beuller? Ferris Beuller...?) This helpfully adds lifelong incurable Hep B and C to the treatable Hepatitis A problem. Any large-"L" Libertarians in the audience? Tell me how you deal with near-zero government solutions to this problem. Or does this sort of thing fall inside the lines of Things It's Okay-to-beat-folks-into-submission-to? Just curious.

Pssst! Someone tell the Sierra Club and
EarthFirst! that junkies are polluting pigs.
When Antifa starts beating up homeless junkies,
I'm buying popcorn.

Rather than run them in for lawlessness, or run them out of town, city governments full of jackholes (San Diego city council, call your office...) let them shoot up, piss, and shit everywhere, which has real-world public health consequences.

And Unintended Consequences Factor: Last November the Usual Leftarded Jackholes Reliable Demotard Voters in the coastal enclaves inflicted a ban on plastic bags as a free item, requiring retailers to begin charging customers starting the next day the princely sum of $0.10@ for every plastic bag everywhere, forever.

Which took a handy expedient crap receptacle out of the arsenal of the 17 homeless people who'd at least make the minimum effort. (Thanks, Governor Moonbeam!)

Thus, when shit and piss literally run down the streets and carpet the town from one end to the other, San Diego more resembles Santo Domingo. Or, the bottom of an outhouse sump.
Hepatitis A (invariably with a fecal-oral vector, meaning someone else's chocolate gets in your peanut butter) ensues. Unless you bleach your shoes after every foray outside your domicile, and surgically scrub your hands after removing them, or touching anything outside your safe space.

If you think it's funny, imagine you're eight or ten years old, and ride your bike past Joe the Wino's refrigerator-box castle, stop to fill you bike tire with air at the corner gas station where Mary MethFreak unloads whatever squirts out after she's salvaged half a  burrito from behind Taco Bell or the rotten produce behind the QuickieMart, but poor eight year old you didn't wash your hands afterwards, and hastily consumed a chocolate and hepatitis-flavored candybar with your besplattered hands. Wait a day or three. Then ask mommy why your eyes are yellow where they should be white. Not nearly so funny now, is it mijo?
Or you walk from the car to the strip mall business door, not realizing that wasn't dew on the sidewalk or parking lot, but rather it was doodoo, and later on, took your (no, that isn't mud wedged under the heel) shoes off, and then pulled back the tab on a cold one. And now have N/V/D: nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea, along with fatigue, and looking a shade of yellow you don't recall ever looking before.

In 1980, this was all good fun.

This is not. Ever.

They're trying to vaccinate everyone in jails, but that's a tail-wagging solution to a rabid dog problem: it only stops the inmates from getting Hepatitis A (for awhile) not Average Joe. Or his kids.

Public defecation/urination should get an automatic non-negotiable hefty cash fine and non-time-reducible six-month chain-gang sentence for the first offense (No money for the fine? not a problem, Leaky Pants: you will work off the fine at the prevailing prison wage rate, at something like $0.30/hr, after doing the six months, on the same chain gang), with summer months being served in the hotter-than-hell desert section of East SD County, filling potholes and cracks with asphalt and hot tar from can-see to can't-see each day, six days a week. On Sundays, they can rest, in their tents, in the same desert.

Winter should be spent shoveling sand and mud hip-deep in the S.D. harbor when water temps run right around 50 degrees. If Navy SEALs can handle it, so can pubic crappers, as overwhelmingly most of them are the toothless, banjo-playing kinfolk from the Other 49 States, here for the sunshine and welfare bennies. If they elect to GTFO of California after the first such sentence, boo frickin' hoo.

Repeat offense should garner a longer sentence, and a third strike and all subsequent should be a felony, where the penal system can administer to them the basic toilet training mommy and daddy neglected.

If they're adjudicated too crazy for that, establish a lovely colony for them on San Miguel Island, some 35 miles off the CA coast, and currently inhabited solely by goats, and let us airdrop food bundles to them weekly, where they can pee and crap themselves wherever they choose, but their free-in-society privileges are permanently revoked on the second offense. (If someone wants to rename it Shutter or Devil's Island, I'm fine with that too.)

Live by society's most basic rules, or lose your right to roam around in it freely.

Someday, when I'm Emperor For A Day.

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Useful Idiots, Example #3,917

Still not tired of winning, and running his limo on Leftist tears.

When Retards Have Webpages Dept:

(TARDVILLE)President Trump Admits He’s Trying to Kill Obamacare. That’s Illegal. by Abbe Gluck
The president has a legal obligation, under Article II of the US Constitution, to “take Care that the laws be faithfully executed.” That means he must make sure that our laws are implemented in good faith and that he uses his executive discretion reasonably toward that end.
Trump announced his plan to cut off important cost-sharing payments that the ACA promises to insurers to compensate them for reducing what individuals have to pay in premiums.

Dear Glucktard,

Uh, no.

You were apparently sick in school the day they taught American government, 1787-present, and again the day they explained that what Trump is doing is ceasing to expend non-allocated funds to illegally subsidize insurers, cushioning them from the real-world gravity-works consequences of the ObozoCare Unaffordable-By-Anyone Care Act.

President Trump did "take care that the laws be faithfully executed", in fact doing so in this exemplar for the first time in the history of the practice, by NOT illegally diverting funds not appropriated to a given activity in order to prop up the boondoggle, with neither proper, nor indeed any, congressional appropriation.

If Congress loves the ACA, they can budget the funds for that activity (and they alone), and direct they be spent thusly. Had they done that, anytime since 2008, then President Trump would, indeed be breaking the law now. They didn't pass that law, so he isn't breaking one. That following the law will also strangle the measure is for him a happy serendipitous result, and for you a consternation, but your feelings don't outweigh black-letter reality, Snowflake. How sad for you.

Just because the law was being broken every day by the last president and administration on something some people approved of, does not bind the current president to continue operating in such a lawless and reckless manner.

If you think the subsidies are a good idea, call your congresspersons, and get them to allocate the funds lawfully.

And maybe stop using words like Humpty Dumpty did in Alice In Wonderland.

"When I use a word, " Humpty Dumpty said, in a rather scornful tone, "it means just what I choose it to mean -- neither more nor less."

Stopping illegal payments that never should have started is not only legal, it goes to fulfilling a campaign promise:

Drain The Swamp.

Or, as another fellow put it: Elections have Consequences.

Challenge accepted.
Not so funny when the boot's up your ass, is it Smarmy McSmugpuss?

Suck it up, Buttercup.

Monday, October 16, 2017

No. Just No.

In response to any amount, type, and repetition of Earnest Mystical Hand-Waving Attempts to tell me the wizards of the YouTube/Internet Collective Brain have sorted out that the Vegas shooting had to be accomplished by a belt-fed .30 cal.MG, pulled from the same genius that brought the Warren Commission the Magic Bullet Theory, write this down on your hands with a laundry pen:

You (and the other people trying this game on YouTube, etc.) are taking a video (or any 50 of them, because if one bag of fertilizer doesn't avail, a truckload might?) from hundreds of yards from the source, coming from a source embedded in a multi-acre wall of glass, and passing over another multi-acre concrete open space, (ignoring the hundreds of barriers, structural walls, and, oh yeah - a wide-open concert-quality sound system with open mics, rebroadcasting the rounds and all those source sounds and echoes passing in proximity over amps and speakers stacked high enough to rebroadcast their sounds over that same multi-acre venue - let alone not just ricochets, but serial sonic cracks of rounds that haven't impacted yet passing on both sides, overhead, etc.) and telling me that there are no echoes?

Mirabile dictu.

From a notional 600RPM source flinging 10 supersonic projectiles per second in the direction of the exact crap microphones in question. Which may or may not have been pointed 180 degrees out from the source, being on the opposite side of the camera, which neither you nor I nor any number of notional angels dancing on the head of a pin know for sure, but whilst their owners clutch the cases in deathgrips, trip, fall, run, bounce off of pavement, barriers, etc. sufficient to soil 20,000 sets of underwear, and trample some 400 of their peers seriously enough to require hospitalization. (Silently, perhaps?)

If only I hadn't spent two decades watching boom guys on production sets levitate $1K+ microphones over actors at ranges of 2-25 feet with the skill of surgeons, just to capture simple spoken dialog cleanly and without any sound artifact, at a spoken word rate far lower than 600 wpm, and feed it to guys whose sound package alone would buy hundreds of cell phones, and likely more cell microphones than the total present at the entire venue in question, to know whereof I speak here...)

Were these magic gunshots? Perhaps the laws of physics ceased to exist on this video. Maybe the person using this cellphone purchased it from the same guy who sold Jack the magic beanstalk beans. And maybe grits on your stove cook faster than anywhere else in the entire grit-eating world.

The volume, pitch, fidelity, and fifty other medium-induced artifacts and variables are precisely the point at issue with an abysmal-quality microphone that consists, in most instances, of a single 1mm hole in a plastic case, with their low-fidelity pre-bastardized product digitized and compressed, then uncompressed, then uploaded, then transmitted, until played through your speakers or mine, with any nameable range of audio fidelity.
And compared with audio from similarly audio-crap videos on YouTube, under the same parameters.

Do this math for me:
Shit x shit x shit x shit, compared with shit, played over speakers ranging from quality ranging from 0 to infinity (where 0=shit, and infinity equals pristine clarity) = __________?
a) shit
b) diamonds
c) magic diamonds
d) I don't understand the question
(Caveat: I may even be understating the number of shit multiplications in the first part of the problem by a factor of 2 to 5 times. Cheers.)

I'll reduce the equation for you:
belt-fed .30 cal machinegun

Solve for all variables.
Show your work.

And you're convinced, because what you hear "sounds" right to you.
Because, for reference comparison, you have extensive experience with the sound of an actual belt-fed .30, fired at you from several hundred feet above you and hundreds of yards away, from a multi-echo location, to a multi-echo location, amidst screams, panic, chaos, etc., as you seek cover while in fear for your own life, and it sounds exactly like the shit squared squared crap audio on the clip, with epic levels of non-quantifiable changes before arriving at your eardrum.

From which you're going to extrapolate caliber, cyclic rate, and exact type of weapon, and simultaneously excluding every similar type of weapon of any other caliber (which would run to several hundreds of possible exemplars), based on yours/YouTube's extensive experience and sound catalog of every other weapon extant, since the year Gatling worked out the cranked multi-barrel carriage gun, and simultaneously rule out any possibility of it being any one of 20+ weapons in the room, with or without bump-fire stocks.

Because the audio quality of the video is so bad is doesn't capture any anomalies, just the exact phenomenon you're advocating.

And all this minor series of miracles absent any corroboration like expended links, piles of 7.62 brass, slugs, video or eyewitness testimony reporting seeing any given shooter firing this weapon (or weapons).

Let me sum up your case:
It's true, because biblical levels of reasonable doubt, times magic, and trust you, and lack of evidence proves the correctness of the original assertion.

Got it.
Thanks for playing.

See if you can guess my response, sitting in the jury box, as you give your closing argument.

Seriously, tell me you work in a call center in Mumbai, and don't do anything where your grasp of physics, science, math, technology, etc, might be responsible for anyone's life or livelihood. Let me attempt for you a small example from my world.
This is a standard hospital pulse oximeter:

When it's properly applied, working correctly and a number of potential error-inducing problems* corrected, it tells me and many other professionals
a) your pulse rate
b) how much oxygen is flying around your bloodstream.
*(Keep your finger in that spot. I'll be coming back there.)
But not, Gentle reader, by me reading that number on the remote screen, does the number on the screen = Truth.
How does it work? The probe shines a red light on one side through your fingertip (earlobe, neonate's foot, etc.) and a receiver on the opposite side sees the received light, counts the rate of the waves as it changes, and via analysis of the color of light received, calculates the amount of oxygenated hemoglobin racing through your veins and arteries, and derives (by way of more math and science than you need to know) your heart rate and what amount of oxygenation of your tissue that equals.
*Unless (I told you we'd be coming back here)
Someone is moving the probe - like you tapping your finger.
Or me tapping your finger.
Or someone doing CPR while bumping the hand it's on.
Or you're wearing nail polish of any of various shades.
(Ask me how I know all these are true.)

What happens when you don't correct for that?
You get a reading of a good pulse and normal oxygenation on a corpse. You get a reading of dead on a live person. Or anything in between. (I can tap on one with no patient, and get readings in the normal range from absolutely no patient at all. That does not, thereby, proves the existence of ghosts.)

How do you fix that?
You look at the monitor, and see if the pulse ox waves match the heartbeats.
You look at the patient, and see if they're pink, awake, and talking, versus blue-lipped with crossed eyes and not breathing.
You wipe off their nail polish.
You stop the probe from moving.

In short, you treat the patient, not the monitor, because you don't try to pull an elephant out of your ass based on A SINGLE PIECE OF POTENTIALLY CORRUPTED DATA.

You brighter folks, tell the less-bright why extrapolating a particular machinegun from one single datum, in this case one or more sound recordings, of hugely dubious accuracy, unknown and suspect fidelity, and therefore little utility, might therefore be slightly left of retarded on the IQ curve. If that doesn't work, try a bigger Wand Of Truthiness until the problem resolves.

Those of you with new lumps on your heads:
Your abacus fingers are not fast enough to do the calculus which answer you claim to be pulling, from parts of anatomy better left unnamed.

I'm sorry if logic annoys you, but I'm simply telling you, Orville and Wilbur, that no matter how many rubber bands you wind around the propeller, you will not ever get your pig to fly. And strapping rockets to the pig will not overcome the problems with aerodynamics, but you will splatter bacon much farther from the site of the inevitable smoking-hole failure of subsequent attempts.

Like trying to teach a pig to whistle, you're wasting your time, and annoying the pig.

Most depressing part of this post: knowing that now, another dozen jet-fueled geniuses will redouble their efforts on YouTube, and the Internetz.

World Hide And Seek Champion : Bronze Medalist

h/t Vulgar Curmudgeon

British man tires of wife's nagging, goes and hides in woods for 10 years to escape:

(Solitary Bliss)A gardener got so fed up with his wife's nagging he ran away from home and lived in the woods for ten years.  
Malcolm Applegate, 62, was married to his wife for three years before upping sticks after the relationship reached breaking point.
He then made his way from Birmingham, where they lived, to London - making half the three-week journey on foot after his bike was stolen.
Malcolm said: 'I was married to her for three years, but unfortunately it got too much.
'First of all I met her in Eastbourne and I married her in Birmingham.
'For three years it was alright, we got on with one another and the gardening got too much for her.
'I just upped and left, I got fed up with her because we used to get so many arguments.
Take a hint, womyn: When a guy would rather camp in Happy Woods for a decade than hang around minute in Camp Nagistan, you're the problem.  

But while 10 years living in the woods is spectacular, the reigning gold medalist team continues to be folks like this guy:

Hiro Onoda: WWII Jaopanese officer
hid in Philippine jungles from 1945 until 1974

The man gazing from the forest fringe wore the remnants of an army uniform, and he carried a rifle. At the time of the encounter, he had been hiding in the interior of Lubang for almost 30 years, steadfastly continuing to wage a war that had ended with Japan’s surrender in Tokyo Bay on 2 September 1945.
The past’s name was Hiroo Onoda. He was an intelligence officer in the Imperial Japanese Army, he was then just shy of his fifty-second birthday, and he was about to become famous. 
Onoda had been on Lubang since 1944, a few months before the Americans invaded and retook the Philippines. The last instructions he had received from his immediate superior ordered him to retreat to the interior of the island – which was small and in truth of minimal importance – and harass the Allied occupying forces until the IJA eventually returned.


Sunday, October 15, 2017

Life Happens.

1)Today started yesterday morning.
2) It won't be over until tomorrow morning.
3) Surprises can be good.
4) Or not.
5) "When angry, count to ten. When very angry, swear." - Mark Twain.

Busy today. Back at it...tomorrow?

Happy Sunday.
Best Wishes.

Saturday, October 14, 2017

Las Vegas Still Makes No Sense

Everything about this case leads nowhere. Exactly as I suspect was intended from the outset.

We know Stephen Paddock was found dead at the scene.
We know 197 people were shot, ostensibly from a suite comped to Paddock, from a pair of rooms he began staying in 6 and 1/2 days prior to the shooting.
We know in it were found thousands of rounds of ammunition and 23 weapons, at least 20 of which were nothing but props, and which the carting to the premises was nothing but theatre, and not expediency.
We know that Paddock acquired 33 of the nearly 50 weapons he owned in the last 12 months.
We know he stayed at hotels overlooking several other concert sites recently.
We know he had 10-20 or more 100-round Surefire magazines that fit all the .223 AR-type rifles found in Vista Suite 32-135.
We know Paddock had virtually no online footprint, no political or religious affiliations, a far-beyond-comfortable nest-egg, and no discernible reason(s), neither personal, mental, or physical, to shoot 197 strangers and kill 58 of them, plus himself.
We know cameras were placed to allow a shooter inside the suite to see the approach of police coming up a long corridor to the room.
We know the emergency stairwell right outside his suite door was secured shut.
We know that a hotel security person, and a maintenance worker, were summoned to the exact floor and wing in question mere minutes before the shooting, by an unsecured door alarm three doors down from Paddock's rooms. How convenient.
We know someone inside the room fired several bursts at both of these men, at spitting distance, yet managed only one superficial injury to the guard, and none to the maintenance man.
We know that hotel security was notified within seconds, several minutes before shooting began on the concert, but that it took the police 18-19 minutes to arrive on the 32d floor, and who waited another hour and change after that to enter the suspect suite.
We know that over several minutes after that, hundreds to thousands of rounds were fired, ostensibly from the suite, at a concert site packed with attendees, at a range well within the effective range of an AR .223 rifle, and at a rate boosted to near full-auto cycling by the use of bump stocks.
We know that target was nearly the size of a WWII aircraft carrier.
We know no one on the ground immediately beneath the hotel reacted untoward after the initial bursts.
We also know that the initial pounding or shooting out of the windows on the 32d floor also produced no alerts, alarms, or anything else below.
We know that most of the exits from the concert venue were locked, trapping attendees in a large, stadium-lit killing zone for minutes during the onslaught, with a rat maze of obstacles to contend with to attempt to flee.
We know that after the initial burst down the hall, and after finishing the 6-minute killing bursts on the concert, no further fire was placed on either venue, and that it was several minutes, perhaps as many as 10, between the end of firing from the suite, and the arrival of the first LVMPD officers at the hallway landing on the 32d floor.

And that's everything.

We don't know why Paddock (or whoever) did this.
In fact, we don't know of any motive whatsoever, we have every circumstantial reason to suspect he did not, except for the fact that he was found dead in the room, with one bullet through his head.
We don't know the estimated time of his death.
We don't know how many rounds were fired.
We don't know how many expended brass shell casings were recovered from the suite and adjoining rooms.
We don't know how many shooters there were.
We don't know who came and went from his suite in the days and hours before the shooting, nor who might have left in the minutes after it.

And then there are the questions.
Why should any wealthy retiree decide to kill three-score strangers, just for the helluvit?
Where did Paddock's money actually come from? (You don't win millions at video poker. But it's a great way to launder millions playing video poker, while losing a token amount; call that a laundry service fee.)
Why would a guy with two planes, several houses, and no worries shoot hundreds of strangers?
Why not just crash a plane into them, and vastly increase the tally of dead, assuming you were going to do that at all?
Where did Paddock fly to and from, from the day he got his license to the day he died?
Where did he regularly disappear to in the years before his death?
Why is one of his planes now owned by a VA LLC whose profile screams "CIA cover company"?
Why is there a number of discrepancies between federal records and registrations for his aircraft, and that of a private site that notably simply mirrors federal records?
Who has the power to scrub flight plans, and fiddle registration numbers?
What trips, and where, did Paddock take to and from anywhere since, say, 9/11/2001, when federal records-keeping should have notably become more comprehensive?
Where did Paddock - if he did it - sight in his weapons and practice with them? (I'm good, but no one just wakes up one day and opens fire on a crowd at optimum sniping ranges and hits center of mass, at night, with cold shots, from never-fired weapons, on bump-fire. No fucking way.)
Where did Paddock learn to shoot? Not from family, military, or any other discernible sources, yet everything about the act, including the paper calculations found on the paper near the body, bespeaks of training and education in the gentle art of killing people with a sniper's meticulous precision that he shows no evidence of ever having received, save by osmosis from gun oil.
I could go on, as I have only a hundred more, because so far, every fact revealed about this case produces five necessary new questions for every one it answers.

The official narrative is plainly bullshit.
A security guard with no guard papers.
A killer with no motive.
A sniper with no training.
"Mental illness" pulled out of the hat with much hand-waving, but only to explain the final 72 minutes of a case that demonstrates anything but that. (If you go there, you're a retarded jackhole building castles in the sky with cotton candy. Quote me.)
Dozens of weapons with no purpose.
A convenient alarm right by the suite, just before the attack. (Pull the other leg, it's got bells on it.)
An ear-witness, miraculously not killed by hundreds of rounds fired at him in a straight hallway at mere yards, who then disappears the minute scrutiny turns to him.
All potentially corroborating video and electronic evidence of the Official Narrative hoovered up (you should forgive the unintentional pun) immediately afterwards by the FBI, and unreleased two weeks later, conspicuous by its total absence, and which would shut down further speculation in three seconds if the narrative were anything close to the truth.
A sheriff who can't get the most basic facts of the case assembled coherently, despite two weeks and multiple attempts. (And with the Bureau's vulture sitting on his shoulder and looking shark-eyes at him for every word of every press conference since Hour One.)
A total official stonewall until all further information is squelched and pinched off.

Nearly two weeks later, there are still stories full of metric fucktons of derp; and others full of well-informed clarity, but even the best of them only add questions far more than answers.

(And sorry boys and girls, but wild flights of "the belt-fed .30 cal", pseudo-scientific analysis of shitty audio and shakycam cellphone vids, and tales of multiple shooters from hysterical victims fleeing for their lives, all the way to "The One-Armed Man On The Grassy Knoll" theories, aren't helping anything along. Corroborated evidence beyond hearsay, or it didn't happen, capice?)

This is all - everything we've been told to "just accept" - so much horseshit.
Fifty eight people were killed, and 197 shot, in service of nothing whatsoever but a bullshit narrative, which serves nothing, so far, except the agenda to overturn the Second Amendment, and restrict the liberty of millions of people who didn't do it.

And, just saying, but isn't it miraculous how there were no mass shootings for pretty much the entire last administration - oh, except for some "workplace violence" at Ft. Hood - but totes coincidentally, both of the last two Republican admins get, respectively, 9/11, and now Vegas, both at the end of their first summer in office?
After being hamstrung in both cases by overweening, overwhelming, well-orchestrated astroturf campaigns and frothingly insane attempts to completely de-legitimize their elections?
I'm sure that doesn't mean anything, and it's all pure random chancey happenstance.
Move along. Nothing to see here.

If anything substantial comes to light, I'll come back to this. But nothing more seems to be forthcoming at this point.
By Official Design and Intent.

If they wished it were otherwise, they could be doing daily show-and-tell with bank records, flight records, travel records, a parade of the dozens to hundreds of corroborating witnesses, and hours of video from the Mandalay Bay Resort security cameras.
They have not done so, deliberately, and probably because they don't have anything that would show that, and what they do have undermines it, wholesale and totally.
Chew on that for awhile.

The only thing they produce by that is uncertainty, and widespread unease and distrust.
Chew on that for awhile, too.

This entire case is a naked man with a rhinoceros in his armpit trying to do magic tricks and pull it out from under his handkerchief.
"Nice try, genius, but we can see the rhinoceros!"

Friday, October 13, 2017

Why Weinstein Is A Thing

For the benefit of those like a commentor to today's earlier post who are puzzled and/or annoyed about the Weinstein casting couch cause celebre, let me fill in some background.

Who is the guy, and who cares?
Because until a week or two ago, you never heard of him?

No slam on the commentor who asked the question, but it deserves a full answer.
And typically, if one guy brings it up, there's ten more who feel the same way, and didn't say anything.

Never heard of him? Go read his Wikipedia bio.The co-founder of one of the leading production companies in Hollywood, with a Best Picture Oscar for Shakespeare In Love, and 35 years of producing some of the biggest Hollywood movies?
A guy who, until two weeks ago, everyone in Hollywood and the Democrat Party would not only return his phone calls, but deem it a privilege to speak with?
You've been living under a rock then. It's anyone's prerogative to ignore the movers and shakers in both Hollywood and politics, but that says more about you than about the magnitude of the loathsome object of the current tizzy.

Rumors are one thing, but three dozen (and counting) substantiated and corroborated accounts are another.
Second, it's not "young starlets", it's a Who's Who of A-list Hollywood talent that he's bagged, molested, or tried to do both.
Third, it isn't just that a producer did it, but the list of other producers, ancillary people, and other A-list stars who knew about him, and covered for him.
Fourth, this is a guy who's given millions to the DNC, and hung out with presidents.
Fifth, this undoes completely the Leftist narrative about the "War On Women", from both Washington DC, and Hollywood. Some of the loudest whiners have turned out to be his victims, and their fellow celebutards, who all kept their mouths shut about Weinstein's predations, while decrying imaginary GOP assaults. The hypocrisy factor is registering on the Richter Scale.

It's like watching a bus drive by the red carpet and throw buckets of mud on everybody in the front twenty rows at the Oscars, in their gowns and tuxes, on live TV.
It's yuuuuuuuuuuge.
And it just keeps getting bigger.

The only way you could generate more ink than this would be if Disney turned out to be running a child prostitution ring under Disneyland, or if Trump kicked the UN out of NYFC and gave them 24 hours to evacuate, or somebody popped a nuke in anger somewhere in the world.

This thing has legs, and you're going to be hearing about it for months.
Allegations of possible underage talent being involved have the FBI and NYPD (and probably LAPD and INTERPOL, quietly) investigating him for potential criminal charges.
The list of prosecutors who would cuff and stuff someone like Weinstein to make their career and assure their rise to superstardom and potentially all the way to even the White House, would only be a line from Hollywood to DC, via NYFC.

And for bonus ink, the story was about to break in New Yorker magazine, and at the same time James O'Keefe and Project Veritas were unveiling their expose of duplicity at the NYTimes, and so rather than being scooped, while simultaneously crippled by Veritas' undercover videos, the Grey Lady went pro-active, which exposed half a dozen Big Media outlets that had squelched earlier Weinstein expose' stories. Had they known the Vegas shooting was about to happen, they might have hung back, but life is full of surprises, and unlike Vegas, this is a story where everyone knows the motive, the perpetrator is still available to kick around, and the information available, rather than shrinking, is growing exponentially day after day after day.

Ask a reporter or an editor how they feel about selling copy, for an answer to why this just keeps on going like the Energizer Bunny.

You have the publicity trifecta: Big Hollywood, Big Media, and Big Politics, all simultaneously exploding with guilt on this, and no end in sight as the ripples spread outward. Name anyone in those three worlds, and this touches them. It's literally just about the entire Left Wing of the country, outside academia. And anybody in media will leap at a chance to tar their competition for errors of this magnitude.

This isn't a food fight at a supermarket, it's a simultaneous food fight at every supermarket.

When anyone this mighty falls, buy stock in companies that sell newspaper ink.

Liberal Logic Is To Logic What Apples Are To Pineapples


Why Ticket Prices Look Like Medical Bills...

(TMZ) Harvey Weinstein may have been fired illegally by The Weinstein Company, a company that wrote a contract that said Weinstein could get sued over and over for sexual harassment and as long as he shelled out money, that was good enough for the Company.
TMZ is privy to Weinstein's 2015 employment contract, which says if he gets sued for sexual harassment or any other "misconduct" that results in a settlement or judgment against TWC, all Weinstein has to do is pay what the company's out, along with a fine, and he's in the clear.  
According to the contract, if Weinstein "treated someone improperly in violation of the company's Code of Conduct," he must reimburse TWC for settlements or judgments. Additionally, "You [Weinstein] will pay the company liquidated damages of $250,000 for the first such instance, $500,000 for the second such instance, $750,000 for the third such instance, and $1,000,000 for each additional instance." 
The contract says as long as Weinstein pays, it constitutes a "cure" for the misconduct and no further action can be taken. Translation -- Weinstein could be sued over and over and as long as he wrote a check, he keeps his job.
But wait: where does the money come from that Harvey uses to pay those amounts?
From what the company pays him.

That's what NYFC Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia used to refer to as "a self-greasing axle".

So, when you've got producers paid by a company, who can get reimbursed for this year's indiscretions from next year's paycheck, (or this year's bonus) how do you think that works?
If you go to one of the two or three movies every year (out of a couple of hundred) actually worth seeing first-run, you're feeling it in your wallet. (Don't worry, the rest of you are subsidizing it with your cable bill, RedBox, or the price of DVD/BDs.)

And best of all for Harvey? The fine is a personal tax write-off as a "business expense".

The classic producer joke has two Hollywood producers eyeing an attractive starlet going by, and one says to the other, "Boy, I'd really love to screw her!"

The second one says, "Out of what?"

In Harvey's case, clearly he's going for the single entendre punchline.

And it's paid for at the box office.

Got Toys?

(Pic embiggens.)

Are you missing anything?

Thursday, October 12, 2017

He's Fit! He's Rested! Send Him In, Coach!

h/t A Herd Of Turtles

Life Imitates Acronym

Surrendering completely to the hopelessly polluted cultural tides, the Boy Scouts of America announced they will start letting girls into the organization next year.

Of course this is an asinine, self-destructive, and completely wrong move for the organization, but it's just another proof that it needs to crawl under the porch and die.

I know some of the ancillary programs, Explorers, Sea cadets, etc. are already coed; I know this because with tedious regularity, some douchebadge at a local PD etc. will be fired and suitably thrown under the bus when it turns out they were diddling underage boys, or doinking underage girls, which functions much better as a rationale for getting rid of those ancillary programs than it does to expanding the idea to the entire organization.

The impetus behind this is twofold.

Firstly, the feminazis took over the Girl Scouts, and other than their annual cookie sales, they don't contribute anything that society overall, the girls, or their parents want anything much to do with. All the feminist claptrap Girl Scouting is now about doesn't require a merit badge to learn, it can be had for free just by going to the local middle- or high school, let alone advancing to the cesspit of most colleges and universities. You don't need a uniform, just a pink pussy hat, and instead of wasting time earning merit badges, they can absorb the same lessons just for sitting in class and regurgitating the party line while growing a festering sense of entitlement and gender envy big enough to choke a hippopotamus (relax, girls, it was a male hippopotamus, so he clearly had it coming).

So, having shit in their own nest, the Mothers Of America, rather than fixing what they broke, or asking the management at BSA so conspicuously lacking at GSA to take over the latter, instead want now to simply crash the party at the boys' side of the house (because gender is really whatever you feel it is, never mind those annoying X and Y chromosones), which hasn't been totally fornicated into uselessness like the Girl Scouts have. Great lessons you're teaching your daughters there, ladies.

This brings us to the second impetus. Because although by all accounts, the Boy Scouts haven't come completely unglued, it's not for lack of the usual SJW Diversity Police trying mightily to do so.

First is was the atheists pushing back against reverence, then it was the gay Scouts and NAMBLA would-be scoutmasters pounding out any notion of a scout being "morally straight".

Both of those are a problem for a post-Christian society run by the most toxic iteration of secular humanism, and now we can add feminism to the list of afflictions.

Because a large swath of bitter, ugly, misandrists is perpetually offended at the idea of boys being boys, and growing up to become men. "We can't be having any of that." they say with an upturned nose, and a chip the size of Gibraltar on their shoulder. In a way, it was inevitable, as fathers have been relentlessly pushed out of the home by one-sided divorce courts where due process goes to die, aided and abetted by no-fault divorce, and most boys are lucky if they even know their own father, let alone have one around to go to a scout troop meeting or outdoor adventure.

And I say this from the outside, because as a later-in-life child for my parents (yes, I was the Oops! My younger brother was the companion that sealed off any more trying for a daughter.) my father was far too old, too broken down, and frankly too selfish for scouting to ever be an option for me. So I'm not all butthurt and nostalgic that things for boy scouts now aren't the way it was for me, because I never belonged. My older brother did though, from far earlier a time, with a much younger father, and it was through his vintage Handbook For Boys that I learned about the Boy Scouts and scouting, never having partaken of it as such.

And it's from another world, one totally at odds with America in 2017. The idea that a herd of adolescent boys with minimal supervision could be allowed to plan, execute, and survive an excursion to the wilderness that yet abounds in America sends everyone, from the juvenile protective agencies, to police, to the mothers of America, into delusional fits of apoplexy, or fainting spells at the mere thought of letting something like that happen.

We can't let boys be boys, and we certainly can't have them hiking, running, building muscles and healthy bodies, climbing rocks, shooting bows and rifles, and slingshots, learning responsibility, self-reliance, masculine strength, personal and physical courage, whether on a swim across a lake, or learning to save lives at the pool or when someone is injured, or learning how to do 87 different things to such a degree that most Eagle Scouts should probably be given a college associate's degree on the spot. They'll get all self-assured, they'll tussle, they'll skin their knees, break some bones, get dirt on the carpet, and generally become the men that women of today still long for (in vain, mostly) if the ratings for Mad Men and Daniel Craig's rebooting of 007 back to Connery levels were any indication. The sisterhood won't allow that, for it swims upstream against the currents of the depraved culture, and one glimpse of it undoes hour of tedious lectures on diversity and metrosexuality, while making the buckets of Ritalin and Prozac and Paxil heaped into and hurled at normal, healthy school-age boys a total waste of money.

Left unchecked they'd play football and baseball, and have the nerve to keep score. They'd play tag, and make finger guns, roughhouse, play practical jokes, make slingshots and spit wads and throw water balloons, and generally act like wild Indians Native Americans indigenous peoples, which was the whole part about teaching them about people like Robert Rogers, Francis Marion, Lewis & Clark, William Cody, Bill Hickok, George Washington Carver, Geronimo, Thomas Edison, Jim Thorpe, Sgt. York, and an entire host of historical American figures that today are verbotten because they're mostly too white, all too rambunctious and free-wheeling, and unquestionably all too male.

We have a society of harpy man-hating women, and pussified metrosexual males, that go pale at the thought of raising boys who'd climb mountains, sail around the world solo, join the military and kill people and break things, find buried treasure, hunt pirates, or go to the moon. Only women and people of color should do that, because they're better than the rich white old male patriarchy that carved the greatest nation on earth out of harsh wilderness with two hands, a strong back, a sharp mind, and guts. Oh, and while we're at it, stop singing the praises of your mother country. It triggers the snowflakes.

Society now wants boys to shut up, check their privilege, wallow in their race guilt, genuflect to defective dystopian savages, and go sit on the couch in their footie pajamas sipping cocoa. Not bring groceries to a widow and her kids, or mow an old woman's lawn, or - God forbid! - go to church or synagogue and read a Bible.

We can't have them building things, building strength, building their minds, building their confidence, and learning to Be Prepared. O hell no! They need to learn to depend on government, and its endless soul-sapping bureaucracy, to let it be the same fount of plenty it is for millions of welfare moms married to the government in fatherless homes, once a rarity, but now, the near-universal norm across all races and every level of economic status.

But the girls see what's going on, and they want those things boys shouldn't have, as do their mothers, so they want in, and now the Boy Scouts have finally caved to that too. So now we cue what inevitably follows. Not just the sexual precociousness that will follow, but the same crap parents once sent their boys into scouting to avoid: the need for lectures about STDs at age 9, the man-shaming, the endless whiny bitching about male privilege, and patriarchy, and male domination, the demand for lowered standards, and literally having to pull extra load for the girls. And like night follows day, all the inevitable future lawsuits and harping complaints about everything wrong with the organization they battered their way into uninvited which will blossom in the scouts next year like dandelions on an untended lawn, until the entire organization best resembles naught but the dry, empty shed skin of a giant python.

And the same things that have pussified the rest of society will now become the norm in the troops, as they have in the military, and business, and school, and churches, and in short order, only the pussified priggish beta males will be left there, along with the militant recruiting LGBTEIEIO contingent, and in a few short years, everything the girls who wanted into the Boy Scouts to find will have been driven out of it, by the herds of clueless feral shitting and scratching-up-everything hens that they are, like their mothers before them were.

The men will leave, and the boys, forced into a game where they can't win, will quickly lose interest, and quit in droves. And so, a once-proud and honorable organization, that had raised millions of exceptional scouts into Star, Life, and Eagle Scouts, and millions more boys into simply decent, confident, and competent men, will fade into obscurity and irrelevance. Which, after all, was the whole point of the exercise driving all the pressure on them in the first place. Mission Accomplished, ye shitweasels of cultural decay, you've felled another oak, and rotted another pillar of society.

So while it's incredibly appropriate that they are now the BS of America, the scouts should cut to the chase, and rename themselves the Gender-Neutral Scouts; or, if it isn't already too on-point, the Gender-Neutered Scouts. And maybe go for pink neckerchiefs.

And here's your new Scout law:

A Scout is dishonorable, selfish, helpless, surly, discourteous, mean, disobedient, angry, careless, timid, dirty, and dissolute.
Right, mommy?

1. Identify a respected institution. 
2. Kill it.
3.Gut it.
4. Wear its carcass as a skin suit while demanding respect.
5. Use it as the next cultural beachhead devoted to more leftist indoctrination.

BREAKING: Beware of a fake CNN site is a BS GoDaddy fake site.

Anything posted there is crapola.

That is all.

The actual CNN domain comes up immediately:

Fucking internet cheesedicks, couldn't they stick to trying to get me to wire $20K to a Nigerian prince?

In case you're feeling ripped off, go read yesterday's bucket of cold water in the mediatards' faces from Ann Coulter.
Meantime, I'll be washing the schmuck off me.

Natzsofast, Guido...

On Tuesday, Bare Naked Islam posted a story noting that a local CAIR-head and jihadi apologist Hussam Imawannajihad, had not only been awarded some sort of merit badge for egregious nutjobbery by the local O.C. CA Leftards, but that he'd followed it up with some seditious twit-dropping:

That second line is Arabic (“الشعب يريد إسقاط النظام‎‎”) for “The people want to bring down the regime.” In other words, Ayloush unambiguously and directly called for the overthrow of the U.S. government.

He also likes to refer to Jews as ZioNazis:


According to 18 U.S. Code § 2385, “Advocating overthrow of Government”

Whoever knowingly or willfully advocates, abets, advises, or teaches the duty, necessity, desirability, or propriety of overthrowing or destroying the government of the United States … Shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than twenty years, or both.

It being rather local, I paid it some attention, right up until I found with two mouseclicks that BNI had cleverly omitted the relevant words bolded below, conspicuously absent from the article in question.

Whoever knowingly or willfully advocates, abets, advises, or teaches the duty, necessity, desirability, or propriety of overthrowing or destroying the government of the United States or the government of any State, Territory, District or Possession thereof, or the government of any political subdivision therein, by force or violence, or by the assassination of any officer of any such government...
Shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than twenty years, or both...
I called him on that clever all-thumbs edit in comments at his site, and believe it or not, politely (no, really), but he moderates replies, and mirabile dictu moderated mine into the ether.

Well-played, lying jackass. My apologies for pointing out your pants are gloriously aflame.

As I said in my (deleted) reply, while I'm sympathetic to decrying the whole load of Muslim-cozying crap being foisted upon us and the West in general, and tagging them for all the stuff begging for it, omitting little factoids like Hassam Imawannajihad not advocating violence is one of the exact elements necessary for any crime to have occurred, which is why he's not sitting in Gitmo now, head down, and learning to grow gills under enhanced interrogation. More's the pity, but nonetheless, *I* supported regime change several times in the last quarter-century, but at the ballot box, not via Hellfire missiles, AMFO bombs, nor by shooting up congressional softball games.

Mind you, the minute Imawannajihad steps one halal toe over that line, I hope they scoop him up in a pigskin, and beat him with a summer pork sausage about the head and shoulders until he coughs up who his co-conspirators are in his terrorist plots.

But until he actually breaks a law, it's not okay, not even on the internet, to imply that he has, and lying by omission is still lying, which is the same problem we have with jackholes at ABCNNBCBS, and no better than they are.

My response to Bare Naked Islam for not telling the truth was to call them on it, and "deduct 20 points from Gryffindor for lying by telling half-truths."

"If we've told lies, you've told half-lies. And a man who tells lies, like me, merely hides the truth. But a man who tells half-lies has forgotten where he put it."

Anyone can make a mistake, misquote something, be misinformed. But for ducking the charge, vaporizing the accurate response, and continuing the deception, I hereby up that penalty
"Fuck you, you lying fucking fuck!"

You've sold your credibility forever, given aid and comfort to your enemies, validated their exact charge that you're lying about them by actually lying about them, and then compounded the original offense with the attempted ham-fisted cover-up.

The legal principle is "Falsus in unum, falsus in omnibus."

Once you lie about something, dulce et decorum est to consider someone a lifetime bullshitter, with zero credibility.

Bare Naked Islam, wear your crown with pride; you've earned it.

And They STILL Can't Get It Right

"How can an idiot be a police officer?"

Ten full days, and thousands of man-hours of investigation by Las Vegas MPD, Las Vegas Sheriffs, and the FBI, and they still can't explain basic details of what happened, when, or why:
(BULLSH*T CENTRAL)One day after MGM Resorts International, the owners of the Mandalay Bay, disputed the new timeline put out by the police, conveniently a hotel employee spoke to the media, most likely with permission from MGM.
Stephen Schuck, a Mandalay Bay maintenance engineer told NBC News’ “Today” on Wednesday that he was on the 32nd floor with Mandalay Bay security officer, Jesus Campos, when the gunman fired on them.
According to Schuck he was on a higher-level floor of the hotel on Oct. 1 when he got a call to check on a fire exit door that wouldn’t open on the 32nd floor. He said he had just entered the hallway when the first round of gunfire went off.
“I could feel them (bullets) pass right behind my head,” Schuck said.
“As soon as they stopped, I saw Jesus pop out…. he yelled at me to take cover.” “As soon as I started to go to a door to my left, the rounds started coming down the hallway.”
Schuck said the gunfire was “kind of relentless.”   He said he radioed for help once the shooting stopped and ran down the hallway and took cover with Campos.
It’s very interesting that Schuck stated, “I started to hear shots, they were not in the hallway yet.” If what he said was true where were those shots going? Does that not contradict the new timeline put out by the police that the security officer was shot six minutes before the gunman opened fire.
Audio obtained by NBC News allegedly indicates that Schuck alerted his superiors that the gunman was firing some 200 rounds in the hallway.
Clark County Sheriff Joe Lombardo told the Las Vegas Review-Journal yesterday that “the guard radioed Mandalay Bay security, who then reported the shooting to the police.”
That still tells us nothing as to why the police did not know that an active shooter was on the 32nd floor of the Mandalay Bay prior to the gunman opening fire [on the concert].

Which now begs the questions:
1) how the maintenance worker knew the fire exit was stuck, since Campos “didn’t have a radio” to call and tell anyone
2) how with two fat targets in a long narrow corridor at water balloon range, anybody but Stevie Wonder could loose off dozens to hundreds of rounds at them, and yet only wing one guy slightly in the leg
3) the LVMPD only reported finding wounded Campos in the hallway when they arrived 18 minutes after the first bursts of gunfire broke out, not Campos and Schuck
4) none of the guests in the other 33 rooms and suites on the 32d floor,

let alone those in the 70 more one level immediately above or below, didn’t immediately call the hotel operator, or grab cellphones to call 911, and say “Hey, who the fuck is shooting a machinegun down the hall of the 30-somethingth floor at the Mandalay Bay Hotel at 10PM ?”
 4a) Who were those people, how many of them were there, and what did they report, and to whom?
5) how LVMPD didn’t get the word or respond for 19 minutes, since Stephen Schuck was uninjured and could presumably phone, radio, or ride the freaking elevators straight to the hotel security offices in about 60 seconds
6) how LVMPD and the FBI could manage to fustercluck the timeline, twice now, and yet still can’t get their stories to jibe with the now two only reported ear-witnesses to the initial bursts of gunfire.
One fustercluck is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action.
7) It also doesn’t explain the lack of pics of all those bullet holes, because all those bullets went somewhere on the 32d floor, and all those somewheres are other people’s rooms.
WTF, over?
This isn’t an investigation; it’s using a ski-resort snow blower to spread bullshit.

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

You Think You Can Repeal Rights? Best Wishes. Bring Friends. Pack A Lunch.

"We'll just repeal the Second Amendment, and then gun rights will magically go away forever." - every room temperature sophist lackwit who's ever wanted to ban guns

Best wishes with that plan. In an I'll-shoot-you-in-the-face-with-a-shotgun-while-laughing-about-it sort of way, right before I leave one of your remaining appendages in orifices unfamiliar to their usual anatomical capability. And then I'll go after your friends and family. With pliers and blowtorches. Pour encourager les autres.

The way I read the Constitution, Article I, Section 8 authorizes Congress to issue letters of Marque and Reprisal, which was to authorize private ship owners and captains to make naval war on designated enemies’ ships.

For the perpetually clot-headed, this was done with cannon of whatsoever size one could acquire and mount on board their private ship (or fleet of same).

In blisteringly simple words, it was understood that anyone could own and possess naval artillery, and operate a man o’ war, and if Congress issued the requisite hunting license, could lawfully turn their weaponry on an enemy’s naval and merchant vessels.
At Lexington and Concord, the British were marching to seize, not muskets and shot, which everyone in a colonial frontier teeming with savage natives and wildlife might encounter and possess, but rather, they were going after supplies of gunpowder (by the cask) and cannon artillery.

(Which the British would eventually get, one muzzle blast at a time, at Bunker and Breed’s Hill some months later. Hurray, Team In Your Face!)

Yet again, private citizens had access to artillery and arsenal quantities of powder (which, BTW, were also the explosives of the day).

So before, during, and after the Revolution, it was understood by custom and practice, as well as specific authorization, that “bearing arms” didn’t means just rifles, but crew-served artillery and explosives sufficient to wage war, at that time, on the most powerful nation on the face of the earth, Britain.

And thus, unless the First Amendment only means inkwells, quill pens, and handbills, rather than radio, television, and satellite TV networks, then the Second Amendment doesn’t just mean rifles that the Fudds think are socially acceptable. It means any weapon of war, including crew-served weapons, artillery shells, (a cannon is useless without the cannon balls), explosives, and yes, for the total historical fucktards among us, it even means battleships.
In short, everything currently banned from export without the requisite permissions under ITAR is an “arm” by legal statute (for the less clever, look up ITAR, and tell the class what that "A" stands for); therefore everything so designated is precisely what the plain language of the Constitution authorizes “the people” to keep and bear, and did so until the 1930s, when a cowed SCOTUS started giving in to FDR’s threats, and looked the other way when Congress set about unconstitutionally restricting a right which beforehand was absolute and untrammeled, going back to before 1787.

And the Second Amendment doesn’t grant those rights to us, they proceed from natural laws rights to self-defense, as human beings endowed with them. And they aren’t privileges subject to later revocation on governmental whim; they are the birthrights of free people.

In short, for those with Neanderthal-thickness skulls, and commensurate IQs, the Second Amendment isn't the pink slip for the right in question; it's merely a "No Trespassing" sign.

Any attempt to restrict the people's right to them is, by absolute definition, tyranny.

But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.

You want my rights?

Molon labe, bitchez.


Feel free to dispute this train of thought in comments.
Here's a helpful link to the relevant documents.
And, if you thought it was just clever irony that the leading frigate of this nation's navy was named after that exact document, you're a monumental idiot.
A man o' war is my right, and my rights are a man o' war.

Boarders repelled while you wait.