Monday, April 29, 2024

Latest From CA


It does indeed appear as expected. To which progress we add hearty encouragement:

Sunday, April 28, 2024

Sunday Music: Goodbye Stranger


Supertramp's Top Twenty (#15) hit from 1979, off their quad-platinum album Breakfast In America, with a killer guitar solo close.

Saturday, April 27, 2024

Serving A Niche Market

We already have pre-booked orders to pick up two busloads of pro-Hamas demonstrators, paid in advance.

Note to JT in Springfield: No, we can't "mess with the GPS" of certain motorcades to accomplish the same thing, and you already know why after your last chat with The Guys In Black Suits Wearing Earpieces. Stop asking. But yes, you're right, that's pretty funny. Theoretically.

Wednesday, April 24, 2024


As we offered sincere congrats at the blog's (brief) return, we offer our heartfelt condolences to CA, currently fighting it out with software that falls over and crashes with more frequency and predictability than even Emperor Stumblefuck Poopypants the Ist.
It's got to suck to go through, but the struggle continues, and we hope it concludes well for the site's permanent return.

UPDATE: Read Cold Fury host Mike Hendrix's comment, cf. this announcement at his site,

And CA's first entry.

TL;DR: WRSA is now hosted at Cold Fury until further notice. Pass the word.

None of us is stronger than all of us.

Tuesday, April 23, 2024


We have known for at least a year and a half that Gulag's minions were jacking around our blog view counts, since the day we watched them march backwards, in real time, and then stay at zero for hours, popping up to 2-3/minute, then reset to zero over and over again. (Of course, that never happens in Philadelphia or Atlanta vote counts, nosiree...) 
We've never trusted the tally since, but we aren't too wrapped up about it either way, (other than a certain amount of surprise and humility whenever another million rolls over the odometer) and after a certain amount of screwing around, after steadily rising over the years, since the noted horsing around incidents, it's settled into a routine of 5K-10K/day, depending on content. 

Which was apparently what we were supposed to assume.

We are beginning to suspect that whatever or whoever was doing the screwing around has lost its touch.
Out of nowhere, the reported view tally two days ago was 67K, yesterday's is 22K, and so far today we're at about 14K. Before we posted anything.

Maybe someone's screw-around-with-rightwing-blogview software has reached the end of tech support, and now the actual views are getting through unfiltered.

It doesn't change anything, and just underlines that the viewcounter is whacked, but it's funny to watch.

Monday, April 22, 2024

Hey, Lamestream Newsholes

And while we're up... 

Seen today on CNN, Fox, or some other idiotic channel:

Dear Media Muttonheads:

That silly-assed chyron implies that somewhere in Florida, there are friendly, gregarious, happy-go-lucky alligators that wouldn't regard two-legged deer as an item lower than themselves on the food chain at every opportunity.

Alligators aren't vicious. "Vicious" implies deliberate and conscious forethought. There is no premeditation and moral calculus going on in a reptilian brain the size of an almond, provided with rows of sharp teeth like a picket fence. They're simply being alligators, you incredible bunch of idiotic fucktards. If you want to be pedantic, there aren't any alligators other than vicious, which at minimum makes the adjective retardedly redundant. It's as uselessly duplicative as writing "idiot reporter" or "stupid TV news editor". Any journalist nowadays might as well just wear a dunce cap everywhere, and save the expense of printed business cards. 

This kind of silly horsesh*t is what happens when news outlets hire J-school graduates to write the chyrons, who place somewhere between midwits and morons on the college graduate IQ scale.

For the benefit of media morons everywhere, the only friendly alligators in recorded history were last seen during the Ponchielli Dance Of the Hours segment of Fantasia in 1940. They exist nowhere in real life, and if you'd only hire people who didn't learn everything they know about the planet from watching cartoons, and think that's real life, you bunch of self-important idiot savant dipshits wouldn't to be smacked about the head and shoulders with cluebats like this reminder 24/7/365/forever.

But at least it explains why Biden seems smart to you: Because compared to you all, he is.

Meet Cowardly's Cousin, Pissed

h/t Daily Timewaster

Sunday, April 21, 2024

Sunday Music: Burnin' For You


Apropos of the preceding meme, we choose B.O.C.'s 1981 Top 40 (#1 on the Mainstream Rock chart) hit for today's musical pick. It's sat on our rotisserie of pending SM picks, and we're happy circumstances have provided us an excuse to put it up today. Not least of which, in hopes that more Leftards will choose the pyrrhic form of protest, in every sense of that word.

Thought For The Day


Friday, April 19, 2024

Welcome Back

While we know CA has long maintained alternate comms and outlets, we take the time today to welcome the restored WRSA website back among the land of the living. Which is also apropos of the day. Just a coincidence, we're sure.

Thursday, April 18, 2024

This Is Why Retards Won't Sign Their Memes

As found multiple places this past week or so:

Nota bene: Retards never sign their memes.
Like with this one.

Dear Lazy Common Core Grad and (probably actual racist) Ignorant Fucktwat:

We realize you probably graduated at the top of your pledge class with a D+ average, but to help your bankrupt fund of information, allow us to present:

George Washington Carver inventor, author and professor

Holder of three patents, author of 44 agricultural bulletins, including How To Grow The Peanut and 105 Ways Of Preparing It For Human Consumption, as well as bulletins that detailed how to rehabilitate the soil of Southern states overplanted with cotton, by rotating crops like sweet potatoes, cowpeas, alfalfa, wild plum, and tomatoes, as well as bulletins on cotton itself, raising poultry, hogs, dairying, ornamental plants, preserving meat in hot weather, and nature study in schools, while heading the Department of Agriculture at the Tuskegee Institute for 47 years, until his death in 1943. For his life, work, and contributions to agriculture, he was honored with degrees, museums, having his likeness on U.S. coinage, postage stamps, having a Liberty ship named after him, as well as numerous schools, parks, and plant species.

Charles R. Drew Physician, medical professor, medical pioneer and inventor

Did his doctoral thesis on extending the usefulness of collected blood, which research was applied to the collection of both plasma and whole blood, saving thousands of lives during WW II in both Britain and the U.S. First African-American to earn a Doctorate of Medical Science. Became the director of the first American Red Cross Blood Bank, pioneering the concept, and also inventing the bloodmobile, for mobile collection of blood products. Literally responsible for saving millions of lives worldwide from 1940-five minutes ago, ad infinitum.

Garrett Morgan Inventor

Invented the modern traffic signal, to prevent serious traffic accidents.

Patricia Bath  Physician and inventor

Holder of 5 patents, including the first laser that allowed for laser correction of cataracts.

Daniel Hale Williams Physician, surgeon, and medical pioneer

Performed the first successful open heart surgery, in 1893.

I hold no brief, nor apologize for innumerable Dindus and wastes of skin and oxygen on this continent going back to about 1610, whose sole contribution to America or life in general is countless coroner's cases, and a prodigious amount of FAFO medals and Darwin Award nominations. I am second to no one when it comes to pointing and laughing at their boundless Clowncarnucopia of Fail. Dogpile on them all you want. We do, every chance we get.

But to be wholly ignorant of the above examples, and any dozen or two more, is to pull one's own trousers down, and spank their own ass in public, for the whole world to see. We learned of the first three of those in grade school, long before woketarded PC became a thing, when Nixon was president, FFS! Crack a friggin' book!

Somebody wants to change the original fucktarded meme from black to Sub-Saharan African inventions and technological advancements, go ahead on.

But anybody posting the original, as found, ought to see to a tourniquet for their dicks, to staunch the blood flow caused by their own cleats.

Check yourself, before you wreck yourself. Word to your mother. We yell because we care.

Wednesday, April 17, 2024

Three - Maybe Four - Options


From most likely to least likely, IMHO:

Option One

As discussed previously, Israel lets Iran's next attack automagically destroy the Dome Of The Rock, then sits back and watches Iran take on the rest of the Islamic world for their stupidity, while they rebuild the third iteration of the Temple on its historical site.

This has been how Israel traditionally rolls. They sow chaos among their enemies, let their enemies' own internal conflicts serve Israeli interests, and reap the benefits, with carefully placed action. 

This is the David Option, putting one stone in Goliath's forehead. Which sends the Philistines (from whence narrow coastal strip tribe's name the modern word "Palestine" comes) fleeing for cover. History doesn't repeat, but it often rhymes.

Option Two

Israel and the Western powers continue to soak up and largely fend off Iranian attacks until someone comes up with a better plan, at a disparate and profligate waste of money and ordnance on all sides but Iran's. Which emboldens Hamas, Hezbollah, and every other whackjob jihadi group on the planet, multiplying attacks and provocations endlessly, and destabilizing the world to the benefit of countries like Iran, Russia, China, and North Korea. IOW, the exact pain-in-the-ass countries perpetually since 1950, and the current status quo since about 1974. This is the "Nothing Ever Changes" Option.

Option Three (maybe)

Israel expends another $1B on the next attack, which costs Iran less than $100M. The West decides the lemon isn't worth the squeeze, and Israel, going broke slowly or quickly, gets wiped off the face of the land there "from the river to the sea", fulfilling the most fervent expectation of generations of impotent Arab Muslims since 1948. This is the "Sh'yeah, when monkeys fly outta my butt!" Option.

Option Four

Israel gets tired of Iran's shit, and recognizing Iran has moved from largely impotent threatener to a nation actually capable of carrying out its endless calls and threats to destroy Israel, rolls up all Iranian provocations, incitements, and actions against Israel since 1978 into a ball and decides to present Iran with a bill. 

It comes in the form of a general nuclear strike on Teheran, and any number of lesser cities and all identifiable nuclear facilities in Iran, to the public outrage and quiet delight of every non-Persian country bordering/adjacent to Iran, not least of all Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, and Russia, and to a large extent, about 90% of the United States (The vocal minority loses their collective shit, which isn't Israel's problem anyway.) 

Israel decides if they're going to be treated as a pariah by most of the world for decades, they might as well act like one, and ends their troubles with a near-nuclear state before it becomes a nuclear peer-to-peer contest. 

Iran, as a result, dissolves into a Yugoslavian polyglot of competing (surviving) groups, and large hunks of it are nibbled off by competing states and groups, ceasing to be anything of interest for a century. The Kurds carve out a homeland (pissing off Persian, Russian, and Turkish counter interests, which is a geo-political hat-trick), Iraqi Shi'a are largely turned into the Sunni's bitches, the Yemeni conflict is mopped up, Hamas surrenders or dies in Gaza, Hezbollah is strategically weakend in Lebanon, and the House of Saud takes the opportunity to do a large-scale roundup and execution dump of troublemakers of all factions within the kingdom. All of which heralds a decline of terrorism worldwide for 10-20 years, at least from the plethora of Iranian-sponsored @$$holes, who are generally 80-90% of all the world's incidents. This is the "Wouldn't It Be Nice" Option. 

{We could have made this last Option Five, substituting an identical strike, but with conventional weapons, as Option Four. But:

a) Israel couldn't accomplish that mission without multiple conventional strikes, a scenario unlikely and probably increasingly impossible after any initial strike, with dwindling and probably insufficient IAF resources in the first place. (Pay attention: Even Japan wasn't stupid enough to make Pearl Harbor a three-day raid.)

b) You don't take geo-political half-assed half-steps, and Israel prefers lightning strikes, not rolling thunder.

c) Nukes get the job done all at once, which is the entire point of the exercise.

Thus, a conventional strike, or strikes, are even - in fact far - less likely than a general nuclear reckoning, and frankly Iran has been begging for a Hiroshima enema from anybody since about 1978, on general principles.}

Nota bene: None of these are The Samson Option.

For Common Core grads, biblically/historically Samson, mighty judge of Israel, shorn, blinded, and a prisoner of the Philistines, asked to be taken to the pillars of the palace where the feast celebrating his enslavement was occurring, whereupon he summoned one last burst of his former strength to push the pillars aside, collapsing the place on himself and his tormenters simultaneously.

The modern equivalent would be Israel launching nuclear strikes at every capitol and major city of the surrounding Arab nations while on the verge of destruction by them, which is nowhere evident to any degree at the current time. Lebanon and Saudi Arabia tapped out after 1948; Jordan after 1967, and Egypt after the 1973 war. Syria continues, mainly because it signed no peace accords, and gets no hush money as a result, and they control Lebanese territory since 1976, and the dissolution of Lebanon as a coherent state. Iran has been too far removed to touch Israel directly (until this week), relying solely on third-party terrorism by surrogates, and thus avoided Israeli direct wrath for the same reason.

Until Obozo broke a decades-long policy on the part of the U.S., and sold Israel air-to-air refueling aircraft and capabilities, which now makes Iran no longer a one-way suicide mission, and instead makes it a nation well within the strike capabilities of the IAF, and the 50-100 nuclear weapons Israel "doesn't have".

Bummer for the Iranians, who have now entered the chatroom.


"Interesting times".

A Chinese veiled curse for good reason.

Garment-rending, teeth-gnashing, and poo-flinging disputes in Comments. We're out to play all day, so nod, or rage on, at your discretion. We'll moderate and push through the replies upon our return. Anonymous screeds from the Usual Suspects will be mocked or disappear at bloghost's whim, depending on how much our claws need sharpening on the scratching posts of your impotent rage.

Sunday, April 14, 2024

Hilarity Ensues In 3, 2, ...


I'm taking bets for pool markers that the next time Israel is faced with incoming Iranian missiles headed for the Al-Aqsa Mosque complex, AKA The Dome Of The Rock (which sits on the exact site of Solomon's original Temple, and the next iteration of it destroyed by Titus of Rome in 70 A.D. , and also the exact site whereupon Abraham - the father of both Jews and Arabs - was to have sacrificed his son Isaac before God's angel stayed his hand), or anywhere close, they step back, and watch the impacts, without lifting a finger. For the uninformed, the western edge of that complex is the Wailing Wall, the only surviving remnant of Solomon's Temple from Herod's expansion of the rebuilt Jewish Temple from about 586 BC, on the site going back to King David's era, nearly 1000 BC. There's just a little history related to the spot, kids.

A) Iran gets fingered beyond dispute for the attack on the third holiest site in Islam and its destruction, from which site, traditionally for Muslims, Muhammad ascended to heaven. What could go wrong with Persians blowing that dafuq up, right? "O noes, Iran! Pleeez don' trow us Jews into dat' der Brair patch!"

B) Mohammed has left the building, effectively doing the dirty work on Israel's behalf, and opening the path to bulldoze the rubble, and rebuilding the next iteration of Solomon's Temple on the holiest site in Judaism, long squatted upon by Islam after the Jewish Diaspora.

C) Bonus points if some clever subterranean archaeology finds an Israeli booster charge already in place to make sure anything larger than a breadbox hitting the Temple Mount vaporizes the Islamic shrine completely. Oopsie. Too bad, so sad. Extra credit on that if Israel's excuse for no response next time is anything like "Hey, sorry, we defended it last time, but that earlier attack depleted our defensive missiles(!), and, well, stuff happens, ya know? Bummer, Mooselimbs...inshallah, right?"

D) Double bonus: the rest of Arabic Pisslam decides Iran delenda est for the outrage, while Israel focuses on their newest civic works project. Suddenly Iran is a wee bit too busy to screw around with Israel for a decade or three, what with the entire Arabic world hitting Iran with air and missile strikes around the clock, and all. The horror...the horror.

E) Triple bonus: Accidentally (or any value of "on purpose") multiple other strikes "from Iran" also automagically take out widescale Arab settlements in Gaza and the West Bank, allowing Israel to reclaim the entire land "from the river to the sea" scot free, and watch Teheran eat the mother of all sh*t sandwiches for the act(s).

Hilarity ensues all around.

Get in on the pool: Place your markers.

UPDATE: We're sure it was pure wild coincidence that this post got 6660 views yesterday.

Nothing to see here.

Sunday Music: Big Time

 Peter Gabriel's #8 single from 1986, featuring the stop-motion video a la his previous hit Sledgehammer.

Friday, April 12, 2024

Dumb F&@king Squids

It should be understood from the outset that I have no actual animus or disdain for the airedale aviators of the brownshoe navy, the bubbleheads of the silent service, the bosuns of the surface fleet, the throat-slitting amphibians of Navspecwar, nor for the lowly messmen of the gator freighters, nor even the clerks and jerks at shoreside bases, dedicated professionals and brothers in arms one and all.

But when a commissioned officer of the US Navy steps on his dick so publicly that everyone from SecNav and the CNO downwards has to concoct excuses and scramble for cover, it's pretty clear that all semblance of any sort of professional military organization has gone down the shitter and been flushed out to sea.

(For those blissfully unaware, the scope on that weapon is installed backwards, and the lens cap is still in place, leading one to question whether Goldbraid Numbnuts there could have managed to hit the ocean's surface even with gravity helping him out. The Navy Recruiting dorks, who used to go by the helpful description of "press gangs", had to pull the pic from a national recruiting ad campaign, and it's now safe to say that the pic of the screw-up will be far more widely seen - and laughed at - than the entire actual recruiting campaign ever would have been. Especially in Marine, Army, Air Farce, and Coastie barracks and wardrooms. Blood on the quarterdeck, swab jockeys.)

Congratulations, Captain Squidly, you've done more to embarrass the United States Navy in one picture frame than did two aircraft carrier fires during the Vietnam War. And against monumental odds, finally made the US Air Farce seem competent and professional by comparison.

Hence the title of this post, repeating a phrase uttered by hundreds of thousands of Marines, millions of times (usually, about once a week), every time they cast a narrow-eyed and disbelieving glance upon the antics of the sister service and its minions, around the world, probably since five minutes after the first detachments of Marines shipped out aboard Continental Navy ships in 1775.


And that's all we're going to say about that. 

FAFO Medal, with Gold Star


You're Driving While Black in Chicongo. Five plainclothes Chicago PD officers in an unmarked vehicle pull a traffic stop on you, under circumstances perhaps questionable or perhaps not (immaterial, as it turns out).

You refuse to comply with orders, they see/discover you're packing heat, point guns in your direction, get loud, and you elect to shoot your way out of the situation, initiating the first volley and wounding one of the officers (who is also black), firing just shy of a dozen rounds at them. Poor life choices achieves Peak Stupid.

Because the correct response to "Roll down your windows" is not "Draw and fire your gun at the police". Ever.

The other four officers, both for general purposes, and some of them because they note that one of them has already been shot by you, proceed to unload a number approaching 100 rounds into you, your vehicle, and the neighborhood, leading you to exit the vehicle midway in your final performance as a piece of Swiss cheese, before ending your criminal career as a bloody and well-ventilated lump on the asphalt. Final tally CPD 1, Dindu 0.

Bad shooting (most of which consisted of "to whom it may concern" rounds fired at and through the body and windows of Dindu's vehicle), and a horrendous amount of crossfire before, during, and after, but nonetheless a good shoot.

Why? Because it's a given that once you shoot at the police, however you came to be in contact with them initially, all further bets are off, and they get to do whatever they do, once you granted them the carte blanche  of opening the ball by pulling the first trigger. And they will reload as necessary and continue until they're tired of shooting at you. Bugger, eh?

Now, Dindu (whose name we shan't repeat) is a Good Perp, having absorbed an unknown but clearly toxic amount of lead kinetically.

Boo frickin hoo; Play Stupid Games, Win Stupid Prizes.

Gold Star designating a Darwin Award nomination for shuffling off your mortal coil and removing yourself from the gene pool is herewith authorized.

McThag posted a link to the CPD bodycam footage from all participating officers, most particularly the five who initiated the traffic stop on Dindu. Not that graphic, but it's unedited and unblurred. Consider yourself cautioned.

If there were more cases like this, there'd be less cases like this.

CPD might be faulted, and perhaps should be closely questioned, about how and why five plainclothes tactical officers are doing traffic stops - on whatever pretext - in an unmarked SUV.

But when someone thusly stopped responds by pulling a gun and opening fire on them, let alone wounds one, the po-po going all machinegun-in-Walter-White's-car-trunk is an entirely appropriate and justified response, until they're satisfied that the threat (you) are entirely neutralized. And they're gonna do that.

If this is news to you, a kevlar vest and bullet-resistant car should be in your future.

Or, when stopped and asked, you could simply present your license and registration, maybe get a ticket or maybe not, and be on your way.

Once More, With Feeling

This is war. It's talking to you in its Outside Voice.

That scares some people. Fear makes their brains not work so well.

That happens in war a lot too, by all accounts.

So if you can't grasp this reality easily in times of quiet contemplation, you're really going to get your ass kicked by it when shit's blowing up all around you and other people's body parts (and random pieces of same), along with bullets and shell fragments are flying all about hither and yon, alternately whizzing, or screaming.

People who think there are rules in a contest like war amuse people who know there aren't.

Just movies, but both illustrative of the greater point. Rules do not exist. There are certainly tactics. Tactics are but the grease that makes things move more smoothly. Tactics change, and are subject to time and place.

At other times and places, they're pointless.

Replace Sesue Hayakawa's Col. Saito with a Roman centurion from the 1st century , and Alec Guiness' Col. Nicholson is nailed to a cross in about the time it takes to whistle up some stout timbers and a few nails.

If Gandhi had tried non-violence as a tactic against the Nazi occupation, Stalin, Mao, or Tojo, instead of the upper-crust pinkie-extended British Empire, they would have made short work of him, and slaughtered millions if necessary, and still gotten their way.

You pick your tactics, certainly.

But imagining that war - any war, anywhere - is governed by rules is among the quickest ways to lose one.

There are certainly tactics  that will be more successful, and ones that will be less successful.

The same is true for strategies.

History is replete with examples of either type, for both strategies and tactics.

But it contains exactly zero "Rules Of War", as such.

Rules are for games.

War isn't a game.

If you told Vince Lombardi to get the football into the end zone of the other team, he'd have used both ground and air attacks, within the rules of football, and accomplished that mission. Touchdown.

If you told George Patton the same thing, in a war, he'd have also used ground and air attacks, and gotten the football into the end zone as well. After killing or capturing the entire enemy team. If they'd lined up against him like it was a football game, they'd all have been killed in the first burst of machinegun fire. There would have only been one side left afterwards.

War Is Not A Game.

Some people who want to think otherwise should probably write that last sentence on their hand with a Sharpie, so they don't forget it.

There may very well be things you can do that will ease the progress of such an enterprise. Those are not rules, they're tactics.

We tried to aid wounded enemy soldiers after the battle. Even in the Solomon Campaign in 1942. Until enemy wounded kept trying to kill our troops unto their dying breath. For them, the battle was never over. Okay, noted.

We didn't take a helluva lot of Japanese prisoners after that, and no one questioned that behavior, nor cited it as a violation of the imaginary Rules Of War. Not because the rules had changed, but because that tactic was foolish, self-injurious, and suicidal.

This leaves people who insist rules exist dumbfounded, and attempting gymnastics to explain the obvious reality:
You use the tactics that work.
When they don't work, you don't use them any more.

That's why nobody court-martialed Dudley "Mush" Morton for machinegunning Japanese survivors in the Pacific. Because the little bastards hadn't surrendered, and never would, even if captured. That hand got played out long before. The Japanese played by bushido, which prohibited surrender, and demanded fighting to the death, even if captured, on penalty of ultimate dishonor.

They lost the war, for a host of reasons, but not because of that tactic. (In fact, we think of that level of total commitment as pretty bad-ass when we discuss Leonidas and the Spartans, or the folks at the Alamo, don't we? We could cite further examples as late as Vietnam or even more modern times. So much for "rules".)

Victory neither proves nor disproves one side's self-imposed rules as superior. One may fight "honorably" as their own side sees it, and still lose. Armies may fight "dishonorably", and be ultimately victorious.

Santa Anna didn't lose because he was dishonorable; he gave the occupants of the Alamo every chance to surrender and depart. He didn't ultimately lose because he killed them without quarter when they refused, no matter what Texans then or now think. He lost because he wasn't as good a general as he needed to be, and because Texas wanted independence more than Mexico wanted to keep it. Imaginary "Rules of War" had Jack and Shit to do with that.

In fact, seeing that Mexico could be bested in Texas led directly to peeling off most of the Southwest a couple of years later, because we could take it. We stole California, and most of Arizona and New Mexico in 1848, fair and square because we could. Not because of manifest destiny, the divine right of kings, or the designated hitter rule. It sure as hell wasn't because we followed a better code of conduct in war. We simply killed enough of them to induce them to concede the point.

That's Curtis LeMay's Theorem, not St. Augustine's, in action.

So yet again, I remind people cluelessly lost in delusion, there are no "rules" in war.

There are things you won't do. You decide that.
There may be some things a given enemy won't do.
And then again, there may not be.

When you don't get this, you wake up Sunday morning, and half your battleships are sitting on the bottom in the mud of their harbor, without warning.

Your tallest buildings may lie in a heap of rubble, intermingled with the molecules of the bodies of the former occupants.

Hundreds of your citizens may have been raped, slaughtered, mutilated, and kidnapped by an enemy that doesn't see you, and reality, the way you see it, concerning the proper conduct of warfare.

True on the American frontier any number of times from 1600-1900; true on Israel's border with Gaza last October.

The question, every single time, isn't "Why did this happen?

And it sure as Hell isn't "How could anyone break the "Rules Of War" and do this to us?"

The only question is "How could you be so effing stupid as to let this happen, because you were so blindly and stupidly unprepared for it?!?"

People bleating about "rules" are generally the reason a given group gets caught with their pants around their ankles, and bent over, when Trouble comes calling.

Because comforting delusions are no substitute for using every tactic that works, and being ready for your enemies to do the exact same thing to you.

When you aren't ready, you pay for that lapse. In blood.

As we've happily shown our enemies a time or three ourselves:

Don't be delusional.

I repeat this lesson, because we're on the cusp of a real honest-to-God war. You're living through a slow-rolled communist takeover of this republic. There may  be some things your enemies won't do.

Imagining that your pretend "rules" are any part of that, or are somehow magically binding on your enemies is delusionary twaddle. It's going to get you killed, enslaved, or worse.

"Victory Or Death" isn't just a cute slogan. It's been the way of the world since about Ever.

You're not voting your way out of what's to come. At best, that might be another brief reprieve in the continuing onslaught.

And if (let's be serious, when) this gets ugly and kinetic, like every other time in world history to date, comforting delusions will be an anchor around your neck in the middle of a flood.

I know that, no matter how many times I say this, some people will continue digging in their pile of delusional horsesh*t, absolutely convinced against all evidence to the contrary that they're still going to find a pony underneath it all, somehow.

This is like Christians in the arena, as the lions are released, with no other defense or recourse than resolving to taste very bad.

 "But there must be rules!"

Tell that to the cartels just before they put your head in a duffel bag; or to the jihadi getting ready to saw your head off with a dull knife.

 "But we'll still be playing by the rules, so we'll be Right! Because no rules would be just icky!"

As if no one had ever come to that conclusion long before you did:

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains
And the women come out to cut up what remains
just roll to your rifle and blow out your brains 
an' go to your Gawd like a soldier. 
- Rudyard Kipling, Barracks Room Ballads

In other words, there's absolutely nothing I'm revealing now that Kipling hadn't figured out and set to verse by 1890.

So I beseech you, as kindly as possible:

Wake. The Fuck. Up.

Tuesday, April 9, 2024

Smell The Coffee. Spread The Word.

For those terminally foolish enough to think that COINTELPRO ended in the 1970s, head over to Divemedic's blog.

Watch the video. Eyes and ears open. Absorb the message.

If you thought this was all just Boogeyman campfire stories, wise up.

Anchors of Predictability In An Ever-Changing World

Sunday, April 7, 2024

Marquess Of Queensbury: Sir Not Appearing in This Event

 h/t WRSA

Stop speaking nonsense, and pay attention.

Sunday Music: Lady (x4)


We didn't mean to step into quite a conundrum when we picked this song, which hit the Top Ten in 1978, but then recalled there might be some confusion. Our choice for today's pick is Little River Band's version. But then the Commodores did a totally different song with the same title in 1981, hitting Number 8 on Billboard's Hot 100.

And then, there's yet another track, also totally different, but with the same title, this time Kenny Rogers' 1980 version. And just to confuse people, this one was also written by Lionel Ritchie, but recorded (and was a Number 1 hit!) by Rodgers.

Then there's another one, this time a 1973 release by Styx, which hit number 6 way back in 1973.

In fact, there are at least
twenty songs with this title, so obviously it's a popular one to choose for songwriters. It may be lazy, but it's hard to argue with the track record of success here. We have listened to and enjoy all four of these, and didn't want anyone dropping by and feeling like they'd been lured under false pretenses, so you get a rare Sunday Music four-pack. Whichever one(s) you like, enjoy.

Friday, April 5, 2024

Reality Is A Harsh Umpire

Your argument has been Dorf dunked.

source "Caitlin Clark couldn't play for a Division One NCAA men's team!" -Joel in IT, 5'8" 240lbs

Joel could be 5'1" and 340 pounds, and he'd still be right. Bummer. This is why we don't vote on Reality. It simply is.

When an argument defaults to ad hominem in the only line, you've already lost the discussion.

Clark is apparently a phenom in women's sports. (Personally, we couldn't say, studiously ignoring the lot of them for either sex as we do, by choice. But there are always leaks in the culture, so we hear scraps, here and there.) Which is why they're women's sports.

If leagues were coed, her starting position would be Left Out. Or tallest cheerleader. But we think it's neat that they have sports leagues for the weaker sex, so they don't feel left out any more. OTOH, men never had to sue to get money for themselves, because people actually, y'know, go to their games. Must be brainwashing, or shotgun patriarchy, or something.

This is why women don't compete against men at the Olympics, because they wouldn't even make the teams in most sports if that were the case, and certainly not in any of the ones where prowess was objectively based on fastest, strongest, etc. Because at those, women simply aren't any such thing. Even if they could dunk on Joel in IT.

Venus or Serena Williams could kick my fat ass on a tennis court six days a week and twice on Sunday. (Not least of which because I've never played a game of tennis in my life.) That isn't the point. If they competed against men, they wouldn't even make the quarter-finals. This isn't a discussion assertion, it's a historical fact.

Just as the fastest women marathon runners in the entire world, in all recorded history, would place behind most male competitors in high schools, from anywhere in the world. Biology FTW. Again.

But call us when Caitlin gets drafted into the NBA.

We'll just wait here for that day.

We don't call women "the weaker sex" just to get their panties in a twist. We say it because it's undeniably true, since ever. We also do it because the bigger the disconnect with reality, the tighter that twist becomes.

Frankly, we're mainly relieved that Clark isn't really a second-class male athlete, trying to pass as a woman "by identifying", just to get a participation trophy. Which mainly shows how far the culture has descended in the last 50 years or so.

The Latest From Sumdood

If past history is any guide, this goes viral by end of day, as if it actually happened.

(Note: I buy electrons by the mole. So you will see this meme template again. And again. And again. Maybe all month. Maybe all year. Because it's not funny until it's not funny.)

Thursday, April 4, 2024

Oopsie: Confirmation Bias Is Hard On Your Wedding Tackle

Splashed all over the Rightosphere in the last day, and aging rather poorly, with scalded hands all around for the confirmationally sloppy:

As found, multiple places.

Natzsofast, Guido. Five Pinocchios awarded.

Wikipedia: Highgrove House

As the property is owned by the Duchy of Cornwall, control of the House was transferred to William, Prince of Wales, when his father acceded to the throne and he became Duke of Cornwall on 8 September 2022. The King and Queen will lease the house from the Duchy to use as a country residence.

So tell me @JoseyWales, do you feel stupid?

Maybe next time you're going to spread patent horseshit, pick some house in West Palm Beach, or Monaco, etc. Probably best not to pick a house so famous it has its own entire Wikipedia page, nor one that draws 40,000 visitors a year to the private garden tours, right? Just saying.

And getting trolled by Russian propaganda so hamfistedly dopey even the fucktards at Snopes could spot it?!? Epic, man. Truly epic. Walk tall. Probably want to shut down your internet account for a month or two, and take a fishing trip until this all blows over.

I'm open to discussion on any wild contention, if anyone can cite something more authoritative than "Sumdood on the Internet, with sooper-secret inside scoop", versus that bastion of accuracy™, the one internet platform that any one of 8 Billion people can add information to with a couple of keystrokes.

But until something more substantive than Sumdood makes an appearance, some folks should probably take the fish hook out of their own cheek, slap a CAT-T around their jangly bits, avoid grabbing hot stoves with both hands, and give friend Timmy a listen regarding some wisdom he'd like to share with them:

In other news, Zelensky hasn't purchased Hearst Castle, the Vatican, nor Buckingham Palace, nor has he given the Hope Diamond to his wife Olena, either; it's still on display at the Smithsonian in Washington D.C. But thanks for providing some welcome comedy relief today. 🤣

And for those who posted this horseshit (we aren't calling names off the roll), but won't either pull it entirely, or at least admit belatedly that you got bamboozled by Russian propaganda, this one's for you:
That isn't pee in your underpants.
Check yourself, before you wreck yourself.
We point and laugh because we care.
And it's a bit late to try the "We didn't know this was bullshit" excuse.
Assuming you can still tell the difference.

Wednesday, April 3, 2024