 |
| Later, folks. Enjoy the blogroll to the right in my absence. |
The Secret Of Her Suck-cess
 |
| That's true; she also has more California swallows than the Mission San Juan Capistrano. |
Tuesday, July 30, 2024
Monday, July 29, 2024
Sunday, July 28, 2024
Sunday Music: Still The One
Orleans' 1976 Top 5 follow up hit to 1975's "Dance With Me", used by TV networks and presidential campaigns.
Saturday, July 27, 2024
Friday, July 26, 2024
Thursday, July 25, 2024
And While They're Up...
It's far past time our worthless, shiftless congressweasels called Gen. Anthony Cotton (the irony of a black man named "cotton" we leave for another time), the head of STRATCOM, the folks who run our nuclear weapons forces, onto the carpet to answer about whether the White House "nuclear football" contains
a) codes and communications gear for nuclear response, or
b) crayons and coloring books to distract Emperor Poopypants when he gets cranky and needs a nap.
If the answer is a), Gen. Cotton should be court-martialed for dereliction of duty and gross negligence, in letting a functional retard with the wits of a potato within a million miles of nuclear weapons launch authority.
If the answer is b), Gen. Cotton should be court-martialed for sedition and high treason, in holding a soft coup.
Because there's no way anyone at his level can be showing leadership, intelligence, competence, and loyalty, all at the same time. His oath was to the Constitution, not the Potato In Chief. He needs to be court-martialed and fired in any event, and he should have brought forth his concerns, either to the chain of command, or direct to Congress, long since before now. We can't have anyone so toadying, waffling, and slovenly in charge of our nuclear forces, for even a minute. Period. Bust him to permanent colonel, and retire the sonofabitch, as a regrettable mistake. He's the archetypical example of why the Air Farce is an honorable alternative to actual military service. Curtis LeMay would have had him shot.
In either instance, the testimony in his defense should be evidence that it's 40 months past time when the Cabinet convened to strip Biden of his office and responsibilities, and send him back to the Delaware Home For Stumbling Bumbling Retards, to spend his declining months in peace and quiet, while he shits himself privately, after his family can gain no more perks from his former pretended glory.
The world is wondering every minute what kind of a potato is in charge of the entire US government, and the other nuclear powers, all eight of them, deserve to know that we haven't left our nuclear arsenal within the grasp of a diaper-shitting toddler with anger issues.
The congressweasels, all 435 of them up for re-election, need to stop tap-dancing and fucking around on such a critical point, and get down to brass tacks on this question, once and for all.
And then begin the drumbeat calling for Biden's removal, for cause.
This is too important an issue to be looking at politics. Armageddon is at stake.
Tuesday, July 23, 2024
You Must Remember This: Brutus Is An Honorable Man
A few updated points, if I may:
Somebody made the decision to half-ass Trump's protective detail all along.
Somebody made the decision, despite multiple requests from the campaign, not to increase Trump's protective detail.
Somebody decided, despite clear and credible threats of an Iranian assassination plot, not to increase Trump's detail in the days prior to the Butler assassination attempt.
Somebody decided to deliberately and knowingly lie about that, and claim that just the opposite had happened.
Somebody on Trump's detail made the jackassical decision to place the nearest building to Trump's podium outside Secret Service responsibility, against all common sense and basic SOP.
Somebody made the jackassical decision not to put Secret Service countersnipers on top of that very building.
Somebody made the decision to not have everyone on the same radio frequencies, and not to have liaison officers from all agencies in each others' command posts, to literally make sure everyone was on the same page at all times during the event.
Somebody made the decision to pull all of Trump's actual Secret Service bodyguards from him at this event, and replace them with fat-assed, half-assed, untrained and unqualified fifth-string security bumpkins from DHS. And just pretend Trump was being protected by the Secret Service.
Somebody failed to cordon off the AGR building in question, and prevent any random access to the building by people like RTA Fucktard.
Somebody made the decision to put the local po-po who were supposed to be on top of the building inside the building, where they could see and do nothing.
Somebody made the decision not to have officers literally in sight of each other in a 360° perimeter all around that building from well before to long after that event.
Somebody made the decision not to have officers on constant roving patrol around that building from well before to long after that event.
Somebody made the decision not to have such a patrol around that area even after a police officer spotted the shooter, photographed him, and flagged him as a "suspicious person" less than 200Y from the podium.
Somebody's failure to do those things allowed a random RTA Fucktard to carry an orange 15' ladder over to the building, and erect it, and no officer discovered that ladder for 10-20 minutes before the shooting, though it was in plain sight.
Somebody didn't control access to the building's parking lot, so they didn't see RTA Fucktard trundling the ladder over to the building, nor did they see RTA Fucktard when he returned for his war bag and rifle, nor spot him climbing up onto the roof in question.
Somebody's multiple basic oversights didn't find the ladder, climb up it to investigate, and thus did not see nor challenge RTA fucktard as he crawled into firing position.
Somebody had to have tipped RTA Fucktard off about the position of the closest counter-sniper team, and told him where the exact best position was that would utilize the intervening trees to mask him from their sight a mere 100Y away from them the entire time he was there. (If you think this "just happened", tell about the time you were on a plane, flipped a quarter that came up heads 100 times in a row, just before you were bitten by a rattlesnake and struck by lightning, simultaneously. I'll be at the bar while you work that out.)
Somebody coached RTA Fucktard and/or assisted him to scrub his entire internet presence, acquire three encrypted cell phones, and obtain multiple remote-detonated explosive devices.
Somebody ensured that there were no law enforcement or federal agents in position to see what RTA Fucktard was up to, but they couldn't prevent dozens of eyewitnesses from flagging the cops and feds down, and warning them minutes before the shots were fired.
Somebody put Trump on stage, despite a "suspicious person" who had disappeared, despite countersnipers watching RTA fucktard with a range finder and then a weapon on the nearest roof, despite those same countersnipers knowing (because any sniper's #1 imperative, especially counter-snipers on a presidential protective detail is to f**king observe intently) that no other sniper team had been on that roof previously.
Somebody didn't have someone posted inside the protective zone at the access gate between the Show Grounds and the AGR building with either the keys to the padlock, or a stout pair of bolt-cutters, wasting precious minutes of response to the threat while a police vehicle had to repeatedly ram that gate to create an opening, preventing any other officers to get to RTA Fucktard's position before the fatal shots rang out.
Somebody decided not to erect a sight-blocking barrier between the podium and that building (a standard event precaution), making any view, or shots besides random ones visually impossible.
Somebody decided to do this, at Trump's last public appearance before the Republican convention, which was unusually and totally uncharacteristically being carried on live television.
And yet, RTA Fucktard showed up at the rally from 60 miles away, walked around scoping the scene out, walked a ladder into position, carried his tools and toys onto the one roof within a mile with absolutely no federal agents or local LE presence on it or near it, got into position unseen (except by alert Trump MAGAholics in the crowd), took his sweet ass time to line up his shot, and launched 7-10 poorly-aimed shots at what, for anyone moderately skilled with a rifle, is "Gimme" range - the shooting equivalent of a 3" putt in golf - who nonetheless managed to miss Trump all but one time, and inflicted on him about the least serious wound one could receive, while missing a catastrophic one-shot kill, with brain explosion, by about 2 cm.
Flip a coin 23 times.
The odds of getting the same result 23 times is approximately 1 in 8,000,000.
That's the odds this "just happened" because of "incompetence".
The chances of missing a killing shot, for a barely-able shooter on a 6'3" 215# man standing fairly still at 130y is 4%.
[We state this because a congressman from Texas, who owns an AR-15, which he hadn't fired for 6 years, re-created the shot this week for himself - 16 shots at 140Y from a barely sloped roof at a head-sized target shortly before dusk - and obtained killshots on his target 15 times out of 16 attempts. No wonder whoever set this patsy up thought he couldn't possibly fail.]
The shooter fired between 7-10 rounds, per all leaked data.
4% of 4% of 4% of 4% of 4% of 4% of 4% is 0.000000016384%.
1/16billionth of a percent chance he misses with all rounds, except for an insignificant nick.
After a 1 in 8 Million chance of getting there to take the shots in the first place.
So go ahead on, and tell me this was "just simple incompetence".
Ms. Cheatle needs to be black-bagged, flown to Gitmo, and waterboarded until her recollection improves significantly.
With red-hot blacksmith pincers, thumbscrews, and power tools to motivate her to push beyond any lapses or reticence.
And then have it repeated, until she tells the identical story every day for two weeks.
And then repeat it again, simply because she deserves two weeks of enhanced interrogation on general principles.
After that, shoot her in the head and dump the corpse at sea, for all I care.
In a just world, she'd be drawn, quartered, the parts charred, and the charcoal displayed in the four corners of the country, pour encourager les autres.
But not until she coughs up everything she's hiding, and everything she knows (or was in on).
Don't Get High On Your Own Supply
The Democommunist leadership (for some value of that word) is obviously smoking their own shit:
They've been spreading and peddling so much bullshit for so long, and smoking it themselves, they can no longer tell the difference between their own bong-fueled hopeium dreams, and Reality. If they ever could.
Write this on your hands, kids:
The entire Democommunist Party is why you shouldn't do drugs.
Monday, July 22, 2024
Has Anybody Told Him Yet?
 |
| White House Press Briefing yesterday: "Biden is dropping out of the presidential race." 1st Question: "Has anybody told him yet?" |
Gear Whore Whore Gear
Politics is the art of the possible.
Wait and see if it's possible for one candidate to give oral sex to 80M voters.
(Who wants sloppy 79,999,999ths?)
Range Cards - Lecture and Lab
 |
| This embiggens. |
Yesterday, BigCountry Expat did a post covering the basics of Range Cards. If you haven't, go RTWT.
Today, we give you a wee bit of practical experience in why they matter.
1) The idea that Fucktard had any kind of a difficult shot last Saturday, when he lined up his sights on Pres. Trump, is recocklulous. He should have shot a "possible", I.E. 10/10, and connected with 80% or more of them, in the bullseye, even with both eyes closed. A 140 yd. shot (or shots) from the prone position was stupid-easy for anyone without 10 left thumbs and Walleye Vision. 99% of anyone reading this would have needed to be Stevie Wonder to miss even twice at that range.
2) Which is why it's doubly recockulous that the Secret Service, or even the Podunk Short Bus Retard Armed Mall Security, would have inadvertently left any rooftop vantage points completely unsecured at any range inside 1000 yards (6/10ths of a mile), let alone that any one with two functional brain cells would have ever, in a million years, left a roof 140 yards away completely unsecured.
This was not "incompetence".
This was handing a shooter a wide-open and deliberate window of access with plausible deniability, from a range at which anyone reasonable would have thought it "impossible to miss".
A million retards working for a thousand years couldn't "accidentally" make such a boneheaded Security 101 "mistake", and the odds are greater they'd have handed Trump a bullet-resistant protective vest packed - not with kevlar - but with wadded up tissue paper.
Once is happenstance.
Twice is coincidence.
Three times is enemy action.
Five hundred retard-level mistakes in basic security is a blatant assassination conspiracy, and the heads of the USSS and DHS should be waterboarded, then hung by their thumbs, 24/7 until they can miraculously recollect who put them up to this, then be summarily executed for treason.
This isn't a "conspiracy theory". It's being smacked in the face 50 times with a 40-pound mackerel named Obvious Conspiracy.
Sunday, July 21, 2024
O Frabjous Day! Callou! Callay!
Rest assured, we'll have, O So Much More, on today's biggest news, but for now, this will have to suffice for openers:
With this, you can take at least one banana off the Chiquita Republic flag that's flown over this nation since January 2021.
More, SO MUCH MORE, tomorrow...
Sunday Music: All I Wanna Do
Saturday, July 20, 2024
Happy Peak Of Western Civilization Day!
 |
| Your parents and grandparents were bigger badasses in one day, than you've been your entire life. |
Friday, July 19, 2024
They're Not Even Trying To Pretend Anymore
 |
| Behold!: Operation Cosplay |
People trapped under Soviet communism remarked that what was the most glaring and brutal repression was the ham-fisted obviousness of the lies. They would tell the most outrageously obvious untruths, and demand that you parrot the party line, or be eliminated, and they didn't even care that you knew they were lies, which drove home the point that You. Didn't. Matter.
RIP Bob Newhart
Few comedians get a hit series. Fewer still get two. Even less than that, the number who earn Emmy Awards for guesting on someone else's hit show. Find one who was married to the same woman for 60 years, and there's only TV and stand-up comedy legend Bob Newhart.
Passed in Los Angeles Thursday, aged 94, at home, widowed since last year, and after a 64-year career in show business. Which is easier to show, than to tell.
Thanks, Bob. For every glorious minute of it. We miss you already.
US Secret Service: Why So Sad?
When the immediate agents around the Principal Protectee are more than a head shorter than that person, who takes a bullet to the head and lives despite your best efforts, none of them breaks so much as a fingernail, and their ride is slower to pick up the package than FedEx, simple courtesy demands that your director go home, and eat her gun.
Period.
And lest there be any confusion, we mean that with all possible sincerity. Had she any honor or desire to serve America best, Kimberly Cheatle would retire to her study, and suck-start her pistol, before another sun sets on America. A personal letter of apology would be a nice thing too. Do the right thing, Kim. Even if it's only for one shining moment of your whole regretful adult life, serve the greater good for America. We'd understand.
Then have an independent auditor start waterboarding the entire detail until they find out who was behind the conspiracy to murder Trump. And it wasn't some 20 y.o. lackwit from LeadPaintChip, PA, acting all on his own, and miraculously finding a chink in protection big enough to drive in the entire 1st Armored Division, with the band playing.
If the half of the Secret Service that might still be made of gold, instead of fish sinkers, gave a damn, they'd probably have to hunt down the other half. Which wouldn't be a bad start. Expecting the terminally compromised and horribly politicized Stassi at the FBI to get to the bottom of things is like getting fashion advice from Dr. Jill, and taking speech lessons from Sen. Kneepads.
This assassination was catered. Obviously so. The only real question now is how far up it goes.
