Tuesday, February 20, 2018

And The Hits Just Keep On Coming


h/t T.L. Davis

















The Leftards are always ready, willing, and able to sacrifice your kids for their dopey schemes.
















Third World Wisdom: The Three Rules



During several months spent enjoying both the blistering hot Korean fall, and the arctic-frigid Korean winter one gets during a full Team Spirit, our 5-ton trucks pulling howitzers paraded hither and yon among the countryside, and as well as the dutiful parade of mamasans, who pulled up stakes before we got those orders, and magically were already set up at our next positions before we pulled in, we passed the ubiquitous sidewalk BBQ meatstick vendors.

Bamboo skewers of multiple types of meat were on display 24/7/365, in between three and seven/eight/ten* varieties.

There were only Three Rules one followed religiously for a harmonious outcome:
1) If it's steaming hot, over an open flame,
2) thus fully cooked, and it tastes good to you,
3) Just keep chewing. Don't ask what you're eating.
Nothing you find out by asking for details will make you happier, or improve the flavor.

Write those rules on your hand with laundry marker any time you visit the Third World.
(And in the mid-80s - perhaps even today - rural Korea was very much the Third World, even as modern skyscrapers climbed over the Seoul skyline, and modern factories popped up all over the landscape.)
























*Fish, shrimp, chicken, pork, even beef, sure.

Also dog, cat, rat, snake, and any other native species one could catch, cut into strips, season, skewer, and flame-broil, and sometimes even non-native species, like monkey.
When you see drumsticks in the village meat market with paws on them, well...
And no, those cats and dogs in bamboo cages aren't for pets, they're for dinner.

"Don't Ask, Don't Tell" was around in the military long before the Clinton Crime Syndicate came up with it for dealing with gays in uniform.

Monday, February 19, 2018

Oh, my...



Today's posts seem to have hit a vein of steam.
Which usually indicates something else, just a bit deeper...


Great Ideas File

And another thing...
 
 
In just the 20th century, over 100M people, more than all those who died in all the wars on the planet in recorded history, were killed by the predations of their own tyrannical governments.
The Founders wrote the Second Amendment into existence because, being students of human nature, they didn't want that to happen here, and it hasn't.
 
The Second Amendment isn't about duck hunting.
But any sumbitch who tries to tell you it is, is a duck who needs hunting.
And I'm not being metaphorical.
 
Somebody tell that Quisling in Florida who introduced a gun ban bill, he's just gone on the political Endangered Species list.
And if he's real lucky, it'll only be the end of him, politically.
 
His recall should be in progress RFN.

Once And For All















According to the prophecy, "as a dog returneth to his vomit", the Leftards just can't get that gun control bone out of their throat.

So, in a certainly futile but calm and simple explanation, we will fisk their Jurassic Park-level pile of brontosaurus mung once and for all, and explain why there will never be anything approximating "gun control", as they feverishly imagine and fap to in their bedchambers nightly.

The argument will take this on in several parts, all unassailable reasons in themselves, and in the whole, tending to straightjacket the futility of the undertaking with, were we Emperor For A Day, some deserved finality.
















I. The Argument from Law

Idiot Mung-Corporal declares: "Let's repeal the Second Amendment"

Which might as well be entitled, "Let's ban oxygen!"

The problem with that clever plan, D-student civics fucktards, is that the Second Amendment to the US Constitution confers no right to bear arms, nor ever has, and its repeal revokes no such right. It merely notes a pre-existing right, because of Natural Law (you should look that up). These were well-understood far and wide in America long before Jefferson penned the phrase "endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights" eleven years before the Constitution was under discussion.
In short, best wishes with that, knock yourselves out, and when you get to the mountaintop, you'll notice there's nothing there.

The Second Amendment only constrains government (and we see how well that's working, 30,000 deliberate infringements later) by design, from interfering in any wise with a natural law right to self-defense, and its means by the most practical current expedients. It's an unalienable right. That means it's irrevocable, untouchable, and baked into your DNA, in perpetuity. It predates the US Constitution by millenia, is wholly untouched and unconstrained by it, and entirely and permanently beyond the jurisdiction of such paltry authorities (by contrast) as the President, Congress, or the Supreme Court to touch, alter, grant, revoke, or deny.

Game. Set. Match.

You can repeal the entire US Constitution, beginning to end, and it still doesn't mean I have to give up my guns. Not even any one of them.

But the attempt, let alone the actual accomplishment, to repeal the amendment would have a very beneficial effect: it identifies the would-be repealers as unmitigated tyrants, and leaves me a clear conscience henceforth when I undertake to send them to Hell, on a shutter. Which will follow, I assure, like night follows sunset.

Which brings me to my next point.

II. The Argument From Mathematics

The entire US military is, currently, some 2,441,886 persons.
All of law enforcement in the US, federal, state, and local, is guesstimated to be around 3 million.
That's every swinging Richard you would have (theoretically) to enforce any such draconian nonsense as a repeal on private arms ownership, or any portion thereof.

For comparison, in the US, in just 2015, there were over 20,000,000 NCIS background checks for private firearms purchases. IOW, in just one year, there were four times as many guns sold to US citizens than the total number of soldiers and cops there are to try and take them away.

From 1999-2018, the number of NCIS checks is over 250,000,000.
Some of them denied a sale, and some of them were for multiple guns in one sale. Some were even to the cops and soldiers in question as well. My SWAG is that all evens out.

TPTB are outgunned - just in the last 20 years - by private citizens in the US, by over fifty to one. Even the monstrously huge US military of WWII, over 12 million troops, was dwarfed by private gun sales in the US in any one year since 2000.

And that's just the last two decades. (Not for nothing was Hopey Dopey's picture on display in countless US gun stores over the heading "Gun Salesman Of the Year" , a record he held consecutively from 2008-2017.)


How many guns total are there in private hands in the US?
No one has any wild idea.

You'll hear or read the conventional SWAG of "300 million guns".
Um, not even close.

A far better number was posited by the late and dearly missed Kevin O'Brien at his WeaponsMan blog, in October 2016. He showed his homework, and his number was
between 412-660 Million guns.

He was being very conservative.
It's probably nearer than farther from one billion guns in American hands.
Legal, illegal, on the books, off the books, whatever. Pistols, rifles, shotguns, black powder. Every one of them just sitting there every day, not decomposing very fast, some as serviceable today as they were a hundred years ago when they were new.

So figure 20-50 Billion rounds of ammunition for them. Perhaps ten or a hundred times that.

Go ahead, Snowflakes. Round them up.

For another metric, the membership in the NRA is only 4-5 million people. Some of those are squishy, and more than a few gun owners won't join the NRA because it is "too soft".
But we'll let those metrics cancel each other out, and call it a draw.

So out of 80-100M gun owners, you decide you're going to target the NRA. On any Monday.
If they decide to say no, and take out one of yours (on the gun-grabbing side) for every one of them you round up or eliminate (because the gun-grabbers saying "kill" seems to upset them), on Tuesday morning the week you start, you have no cops, and no military left, and there are still 75-95 Million gun owners left, armed, standing, and more than a little pissed off at you and your tactics.

Let's be generous: let's assume only 10% of even the NRA are hard-core fanatics.
So you now have a well-armed insurgency, one that's orders of magnitude more wealthy, intelligent, cunning, and oh by the way, able to blend in here, than say, the Taliban, and it only numbers 500,000 people. And rest assured, gun grabbers, they didn't like you very much before you decided to go all George III/Hitler/Stalin/Mao/Castro on them. And unlike the Taliban, all of them are already here. And you've not only announced your tyrannical intent, you've given them every reason to take no prisoners.

And btw, no small number of them are (or have been) the very soldiers and police you think you'll be sending to do the gun round-ups. Doesn't matter if it's only 1% of the latter, you know it's true, and anyone who knows counter-intel and counter-insurgency knows the final solution to that equation:
Your side is totally fucked.

Which all leads, inevitably, to the next point.

III. The Argument From Historic Reality

For every raid you make, you'll take heavy casualties. Of people you can't replace, from people who aren't that keen to take on your suicide mission in the first place. If you execute ten, they'll kill fifty. A hundred. They'll shoot your guys when they're getting a sandwich, or taking a crap. They'll kill them at home, in front of their families. Coming out the front door, riding in a cruiser, hiding under their beds. There'll be nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide.

Because they've had it up to the neck with being falsely blamed for every bat-shit crazy Democrat wingnut and the misbegotten foreign jihadis you've imported, covered for, and inflicted on the population, and the blameless absolutely law-abiding gun owners and their innocent tools, by the hundreds of millions, getting tagged for what those jackholes have done - while you dithered. And when they swing back, it's not going to be a wimpy slapfight. You're going to see a civil uprising that would make Antietam Creek look like the punchbowl at a Sunday picnic.

They're going to stop your little party, for all values rhetorically possible for the phrase "Never again."

And then, Snowflake, when they've chewed through your best, then your second-rates, and when there's no one left worth a bullet, they'll be coming for you.
All of "you".

You wouldn't listen at the soap box, you discarded the announcements from the jury box, you've tried to upend the ballot box, and now you want to use the power of the state to use the cartridge box, and you're undercapitalized in a game you were "all in" on. They're going to call your markers, and you'll pay with your sorry asses, in blood. All wagers will be payable at the table, and too late, you'll find out your rhetoric wrote a check you're not willing to cash with your bodies.

Every big-mouth gun-hating politician, every Leftard columnist and TV talking airhead, every yapping SJW on FaceSpace or MyBook or Twaddle. They'll be doxxed, then they'll be found dancing at the end of a wire under a bridge or a lightpost. Their houses will burn down. Their cars will explode. The cities where they think they're strong will go dark, cold, and hungry. Trucks won't run, train tracks will go missing, air transport will get shot down, or shot up, bridges will fall and people will rise. Then all the money, oil, gasoline, and clout your side thinks will run things will disappear like fog on a hot day.

And then, the people who thought you had this thing under control will turn on you, and what's left of you they'll kill themselves, with their bare hands if need be. Just to get the power back on, and the food trucks rolling again. They'll bring us your severed heads on platters as a peace offering, by way of an apology. And I don't mean that metaphorically.

And then President Trump, and the basket of Deplorables who voted him in, will be the most left-wing population this country will see for the next century, at least.

And if you're really, really lucky, we won't keep going, and start cleaning house on a scale beyond just our own borders.

Because once the genie of open societal warfare is out of the bottle, why stop half-way?

I'll tell you why.

IV. The Argument From Politics

As intractably stupid as your Common-Core educated SJW-slurping Team Fucktard is, some few of you can do the math, above.
It's the reason both MLK and Malcolm X told their own side to cool their jets on taking on Whitey, because they could do the math on open warfare at 10:1 odds.

The lesson of history rings eternal: Don't be Custer.

As several hundred Redcoat corpses deposited from Concord to their Boston barracks might have told you, if you'd been awake that day in history class.

So, long before anything I wrote above has a shred of a chance of happening, your own side's few numerate sages will sabotage it. Because they don't like the taste of their own blood, and they don't want to do a jig at the end of a rope. Not on such a lost, hopeless fool's errand as this.

They'll see that it never gets to the starting gate.

So all this noise is just ass-gas to get the retards among you (and believe me, that's a healthy majority of all of you who think this way, going back to forever) all amped up and stupid, because you feel better than you think (when you even bother), and you yell better than you can speak, on your best days.

And all that noise and anger might nudge the needle a bit, and scare the squishes on our side, and get you some paltry sinecure, or minor concessions, just enough for all the morons at the totem pole to yawp and roister about, and claim "Victory!", before you scuttle back to your iPods, iPads, and sustainable algae cake and tofu milk mochalottacrappafrapachinos, while you fap to your imaginary power, and prostrate yourselves before your ignorant Overlords who curate the Hive Mind.

You're the ones that never figured out that TV really is the "idiot box", and whose highest goal in life is to get your 15 minutes of pseudo-fame. The kids in school who ate the book covers for the paste.

TPTB know - mostly they do, anyways - that you're not very bright, which they count on for their positions, but they also have some bare inkling that if you monkeys throw too much feces, the zoo keepers will be coming by, and they won't be using fire hoses this time.
It'll be shotguns.

We're not going to listen, because we've heard you out for eighty years. We aren't going to humor you, we aren't going to haggle over an unalienable right, and we aren't going to discuss this, not for a moment, not one whit. Gun control is off the table. You lost, and it's time to pack up your pathetic whiny rent-a-mobs, roll up the astroturf outrage, and toddle back to mommy's basement, get out of your black hoods, climb back into your footie pajamas, and wait for your nightly cup of hot cocoa.

So maybe, just maybe, fight upstream against the torrent of stupid in your anemic bloodstreams, and STFU.

Before the other side decides it's time to clean up your zoo, for good.

Stop throwing feces, and go back to playing with your bananas.

Sunday, February 18, 2018

For The Sunday Talkshow Yammering Hammerheads

Pundits gonna pundit today.
Probably been waiting all week just to get their rhetorical rocks off today.
So, before they even get going...



 


Saturday, February 17, 2018

OMG! I Can't Even...

h/t Moonbattery


(FUCKTARDIA) A law goes into effect March 1 that bans the common cooking method of tossing a live lobster into a big pot of boiling water, quickly killing the tasty crustacean. That practice is being outlawed because the Swiss say it's cruel and lobsters can sense pain.
The same law also gives domestic pets further protections, such as dogs can no longer be punished for barking. 
...cats must have a daily visual contact with other felines, and hamsters or guinea pigs must be kept in pairs.  
And anyone who flushes a pet goldfish down the toilet is breaking the law.
 
The law also stipulates that lobsters must be transported to their final Swiss destination in their natural environment — seawater — rather than on ice. 
The government vows that offenders will not slip through the net. State officials will be responsible for enforcement, and Kunfermann said offenders could land in a lot of hot water, with sentences of up to three years in prison.
No, it's not The Onion. Those silly jackasses are serious about this bullshit.

New Blog Rule: "Swiss" and "fucktard" are henceforth interchangeable terms.
E.g.: "Hey, that's a nice Fucktard Army knife!"
I can but marvel that they can manage to draw breath without assistance.
They have clearly lost all contact with the sentient and rational universe.

"Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad..."

Personally, I'm going to the firing range.

When I'm out of ammo, (but doubtless, long before my blood pressure settles back to the stratosphere) I'm going to Lobsterfest at Red Lobster.

I will there specify that all the lobsters I consume must be thrust into the boiling pot, alive, screaming audibly, writhing, flailing, and in full agonizing extremis, until they are torn asunder, disemboweled, and their plump muscled tails are deposited next to a suitably large container of melted butter. I also want a seat near the tank so all the other lobsters can watch in shocked horror as I consume their fellows.


And I'm taking the empty shells home, to mail to the Swiss Embassy, and I intend to dare them to prosecute me at the Hague for crimes against lobsteranity.
Come and get me, you silly fucktards Swiss pigdogs! I fart in your general direction.


Just a hunch, but proximity to France and Germany clearly rots the brain, the miasma from Italy can't be helping, and this is very likely the same sort of self-apparent theory as the one that posits that cancer is hereditary in white laboratory mice.

It would definitely explain the nonsense out of Eurostan the last 500 years and more.

No prisoners.

QED - Marine Commandant Surrenders, Slits Corps' Throat

h/t Vox Populi

New motto: Semper Perfututum

And now, the other shoe drops:
(CAMP PUSSYVILLE) The Marine Corps has made a major change to its Infantry Officer Course. The first big challenge for many was a test of physical fitness. If you passed, you moved on. If you didn’t, you washed out. The test was especially difficult for women who had to meet the same standard as the men. Not anymore.

The Infantry Officer Course now uses the physical fitness test as an exercise, and not a pass/fail requirement.

Officials with Marine Corps Training and Education Command told Military.com “that Marine Corps Commandant Gen. Robert Neller had made a decision in November to transform the test from a high-stakes hurdle to an assessment from which students can drop without risking their place in the course.”

FTR, this was the reason most women failed out of IOC: they couldn't hack the physical requirements, and never will.

The wall was too high for Combat Barbie, and so Dickless Neller has now lowered it.
Welcome to the Pussy Corps.


Neller's a gutless pussy fucktard, and for letting him get away with it, so is SecDef Mattis.
A bigger pair of douchecanoes has not graced the Corps' leadership since douchecanoe LameUs Amos, whom Neller replaced, and the misbegotten Queer Posse who ran HopeyDopey's DoD.

The new Marine Corps colors are pink and yellow, not scarlet and gold.
Pink, for the new Feminist Corps.
Yellow, for the stripe running down the backs of those running the show.
Those colors won't run, but the non-hackers selected to leadership will.

The only red you're going to see in the Corps ever again, is going to be leaking from the body bags filled with America's dead sons, victims of trying to square the circle of physiology by kowtowing to the imaginary necessity of "Everybody Plays".

This is what happens when you hand the fighting forces in the Pentagon over to a bunch of can't-cut-it Little League moms and dads.

I cannot, in good conscience, recommend anyone, ever, enlist or accept a commission in any branch of the putrescence that is the American military, and would, in all cases, recommend exactly the opposite.

They're dead to me.

And if you're in the military, GTFO.
Run, don't walk, as far away from this trainwreck-in-the-making as you can.
Those pussified assholes are going to get you killed for some dumbass libtard diversity bean shibboleth, and we're going to need you when (and not if) we end up fighting on our own soil and shores, not dead somewhere picking up the slack for some affirmative-action Barbie with daddy issues because she was a daughter instead of a son.

I'll let the more imaginative readers extrapolate in their own heads the second- and third-order consequences of utterly surrendering the military, wholesale, to this sort of PC bullshit, and what the future looks like for a nation with a second- or third-rate military in perpetuity, where the only core value is making people feel good, rather than winning wars.

Here's a hint of coming attractions, courtesy of Amazon.

For movie fans, this was the whistle of the last train out of Paris in 1940.


Get your tickets in order.

How Leftards Think (I use that word loosely...)


Friday, February 16, 2018

Told Ya So

h/t Moonbattery

WTF? Back in the day, we threw at a 1-meter bunker port 20m away, and you had to sidearm the thing to not hit the trees overhead, just like in the real world. Not throw from 10m at a 5-foot square basketball hoop. And they STILL can't pass?? Let's get down to the rat killin'...

No, really, I did.
I warned you here.
And here.
And again here, here, here, here, and here.

Now, you get this news:
(FORT PUSSYWIMP) The needs of the Army and the quality of the recruits it is acquiring have changed, so the Army is adapting. One of the many changes coming to Army Basic Training (BCT) is the removal of grenade qualification from basic training, which could happen as early as this summer.
The Army says this training takes too long and the time could be used for more needed training. 
Commanders have complained about receiving undisciplined and “sloppy” appearing soldiers to their units after BCT.  So the Army has decided to dedicate more time for recruits to become physically fit and develop discipline by spending more time on drill and ceremony, inspections, and learning military history.
This is how you can tell a reporter knows Jack and Shit about military training, because none of those things build any increase in physical fitness. Discipline, maybe, at least with drill. Inspections only teach discipline afterwards, when you're getting thrashed, but the actual inspection is just standing around waiting. Learning military history, valuable as it is, is purely sitting-on-your-ass time, building neither discipline nor muscles. The way you get fitter recruits is by smoking their asses with countless pushups, pull-ups, sit-ups, along with the rest of the Daily Seven, and by running their dicks into the dirt. The trouble is, most of the problem recruits don't have dicks. How can we tell?

“What we have found is it is taking far, far too much time. It’s taking three to four times as much time … just to qualify folks on the hand grenade course than we had designated so what is happening is it is taking away from other aspects of training,” Maj. Gen. Malcolm Frost, commanding general of the U.S. Army Center of Initial Military Training, told defense reporters on Friday. 
“We are finding that there are a large number of trainees that come in that quite frankly just physically don’t have the capacity to throw a hand grenade 20 to 25 to 30 meters. In 10 weeks, we are on a 48-hour period; you are just not going to be able to teach someone how to throw if they haven’t thrown growing up.”
What General Fuck-Up failed to mention in his PC-sanitized statement is that it's countless women recruits who "throw like girls" and haven't thrown a damned thing heavier than a lipstick tube their entire wasted young lives, who also can't toss the horrendously heavy 1 pound M67 frag grenade far enough away to keep from hitting themselves with their own shrapnel, thus making them more of a danger to everyone in their own unit than the enemy would be.

Hell, our last Secretary of State gave himself Purple Heart medals to get out of Vietnam by shooting himself in the face with his own grenade fragments. These wimpy Army chicks are being robbed of a chance to someday become Secretary of State! Sexist pigs!

SecState Chickenshit recalling his Swift boat exploits

The Army's pre-Barbie-era Grenade Qualification Course, when last I looked, was seven stations requiring one to throw grenades at six targets successfully, then finish up by IDing the grenades in current US inventory using the Mk I eyeball.
  • Station 1.
Engage a group of F-type silhouette targets in the open from a two-man fighting position. The targets are located 35 meters to the front of the fighting position, simulating enemy movement through and beyond the squad's protective wire.
  • Station 2.
Engage a bunker using available cover and concealment. The bunker can have one or two firing portholes oriented toward the direction of the buddy team's movement and a rear exit.
  • Station 3.
Engage a fortified 82-mm mortar position from 20 meters.
  • Station 4.
Engage a group of enemy targets behind cover at a 20-meter distance.
  • Station 5.
Clear an entry point to a trench line at a 25-meter distance.
  • Station 6.
Engage troops in a halted, open-type wheeled vehicle at a 25-meter distance.
  • Station 7.
Identify hand grenades. Soldiers must be able to identify grenades by shape, color, markings, and capabilities.
Passing all stations earned you the Grenade "Expert" bar. I earned mine with a perfect score, with ease, back when the CinC was another ass-kicking outsider Republican with a questionable dye job.


But the current crop of wannabe Combat Barbies can't fight physiology and biology, and grow the muscles they never had and never will, and certainly not in the weeks allotted for Basic Combat Training by the Army. 

Which is why - exactly as predicted - the Army is lowering the standards to get the Combat Barbie non-hackers from a No-Go to a Go status.

Otherwise, the generals would have to go to Congress and tell them HopeyDopey's DoD had made a horrible and tragic mistake, which was going to get American troops killed in combat, and that's too hard for the gutless wonders wearing stars in Big Green.

Those gutless wonders should kill themselves now, en masse, and save time. And the first (probably only) general who had the fortitude to nut up and tell that truth shouldn't be court-martialed, he should be made Army Chief of Staff tomorrow, and everyone above him fired on the spot, but that'll never happen.

And in the article, they're also announcing they'll be dropping Land Nav.

"North to the ceiling, South to the floor,
West to the window, east to the door"
...but there's no windows out here anywhere...??
 
Far be it for me to suggest it's because women's brains have immense spatial recognition difficulty in reading a map and applying the image to the terrain, without far more time to train them than basic training allows.

I didn't have to say it though, because the US Army just did.

When the Pussy Platoons can't climb the hurdles, you lower them until they can.
It's not like map reading or use of grenades are basic combat skills now, though, unlike they have been for the last century for grenades, and knowing WhereTF you are since forever.

Best wishes with that dumbass plan in combat, sugar britches. The enemy isn't liable to make the same allowances. Ask faux hero Jessica Unconscious how that works out for you and your entire unit in the real world.

Barbie Clusters optional...

The Dutch Airline With $#!^ For Brains



Mental retardation apparently strikes even at 30,000 feet:

(STRONTHOOFD) A pilot was forced to make an emergency landing after a fight broke-out when a passenger wouldn't stop FARTING.
The Dubai to Amsterdam flight made an unscheduled stop in Vienna as the elderly overweight man reportedly refused to contain himself in the packed out cabin.
Chaos erupted on the flight when two Dutchman who were sitting next to the flatulent man told him to stop and complained to Transavia Airlines crew.
Yet despite repeated requests and even a direct order from the pilot the man carried on and a fight broke out.
Perhaps the pilot was sick the day in pilot school when they covered things like physics and physiology, but when you fly, you aren't travelling in a cabin pressurized to sea level, but rather in one partially pressurized to about 5000 feet above sea level.

Flatulence, being a gas phenomenon, responds to the laws of physics, and when the pressure outside is suddenly reduced, like by travelling to altitude, versus the pressure inside the human body where digestion makes the gas, you're going to fart.

EVERYONE farts on a airplane at altitude. Every. Single. Person.
As anyone who's flown ought to know, let alone the pilot of the plane.

And a "direct order" from the pilot to stop is about as sensible as standing at the ocean and commanding the tide to stop coming in.

So Pilot Fucktard, instead of informing the dumbass Dutchmen taking offense at an unstoppable physical phenomenon, instead chose to feed their ignorant superstition, and punish a man who could no more contain himself than could he grow gills.

I have no idea how fucked up EU law is, but I hope Mr. Farter ends up a few million Euros the richer for this nonsense. The soccer hooligans ejected with him were the problem, and their fate is entirely deserved.

And as passing gas constitutes no more of an in-flight emergency than yawning, however unpleasant it is to your fellow passengers, if that, rather than the fight egged on by the captain's ignorant assholishness, was the reason for the emergency landing, the pilot should have his CATP license suspended, and be forced to retake an extensive course in flight physiology, and sensible decision making and aircraft management, not to mention testing for some baseline amount of common sense, which he's clearly lacking, ideally while being subjected to twice or thrice daily beating about the head and shoulders with a stout pole, to drive those lessons well home.

He's obviously an unmitigated fucktard, clearly too stupid at present to be entrusted with flying an airplane and the commensurate responsibility for a multi-million dollar aircraft loaded with passengers, and his customer service skills (let alone common sense) owe far more to the Gestapo than to common sense.

Thursday, February 15, 2018

Fantasy, Meet Reality



Only historically illiterate Hollywood twenty-somethings would produce a movie where the hero character is named after 1960’s Leftard radical terrorists. (Apparently naming him Token was too spot-on.)


And only committed fictional fabulists would place the origins of such in Africa, on a continent where 80% of the people there couldn’t even spell “black panther”, in any language reduced to writing, on any given day in the last 2000 years.


RAYCISSSSSSSSSSSS!

So clearly, the flick in question is comedic farce, and master-level trolling of an entire race.



And it's working: ahead of the release, the Special Sootflakes (because, hey, they're black, not white, right?) issued a shakedown ultimatum that Disney should give 25% of the profits from the flick to be "donated" to black education charities.

Suggesting that black kids, y'know, study harder, is apparently right off the discussion table.
Pointing out that Disney didn't give 25% of the profits to white kids after Thor, Captain America, Iron Man, or to green kids after Hulk , nor to insects after Ant Man and Spider Man clearly escapes the boundaries of all available logic of color too.


Clearly, the apples haven't fallen far from the tree. I could make the observation that black people trying to stick Whitey up whenever they get the chance is playing to stereotype, but those fish in the barrel aren't going to shoot themselves.


Those jackholes should look up what happened when Art Buchwald got a bill from Paramount (not a check) for his share of the "profits" from his stolen idea for Eddie Murphy's "Coming To America", after he sued them in civil court.

Bonus for Black Panther is that when the dust settles, there may very well not be any actual profits.

If you thought Disney’s The Princess and The Frog flopped hard (and it did, even harder than the rest of their recent line of Diversity Princess flicks), wait until this turdburger splatters on the fan blades.

No matter what, though, it will be declared an awesome successful piece of awesomeness.
(Maybe it’ll get some of the Diversity to emigrate back to Wakanda! Just curious: would the people of Wakanda be known as Whacks? Asking for a friend.)

Maybe they could go for some reality in the inevitable sequel, and deploy Black Panther to clean up Chicongo, Detroit, D.C., or the Balitmoron jungles. At least in fantasy.
Six, two, and pick ’em the character gets whacked half-way through that movie one day when he’s not wearing his kevlar tights, while SOCMOBing*.

Then Marvel discharges its diversity requirements, and gets to be edgy, while putting this sort of retarded fiction out with the garbage where it belongs.

I'll review the actual flick about two hours after I find it at WalMart in the Fin Bin.
Which is liable to be sooner, rather than later.





*(Standing Onda Corner, Mindin’ Own Bidness, the default occupation of every Dindu when capped in da hood at 4AM. When they’re not turning their lives around, and on their way to Sunday school.)

From comments: You asked for it, you got it!

Gold Medal To Oz At The Olympics



An Australian citizen from Melbourne named Howard, whose current gig is a strikingly accurate impersonation of Dear Leader/repressive thug Kim Jong Un of Norkistan, jumped in front of the Norkish cheerleaders at their hockey game against Japan, dancing, posing, and waving flags.


Any time they're out of sight of the motherland, every Nork in existence has a group of minder-thugs, the sort of guys whose demeanor makes the old KGB seem like Denny's hostesses by comparison.


So with this expert troll, Howard got exactly the response he was hoping for: the Nork security goons manhandled, kicked, and bum-rushed him RTFO, and then the South Koreans' security, eager to eliminate a world-wide televised incident (too late!), completed the game by tossing him completely out of the Olympics. And now it's world-wide. (Cue the Streisand Effect). Well-played.


"I'm a satirist. You can't let North Korea hijack these games using their cheerleaders; we've got to remind people that it's a terrible regime." Howard said, in a Melbourne accent of homegrown 'Strine worthy of Mick Dundee,on-air in an Oz TV interview afterwards.

Gold medal, right there. Gets it, and travelled 5000 miles just to stick it to the regime.

Though he deserves one, Oz authorities can't give him one of these; only the IOOC can do that.


But if the government ministries Down Under have a pair down under, the guy should find himself on the list of the Governor-General of the Commonwealth's Queen's Birthday Honors this June, for an award of Member of the Order of Australia, for meritorious service to the cause of freedom.


That'd be fair dinkum. He earned it.
Good on ya, mate!