Friday, May 17, 2024

For Those Who Won't Give A Sh*t About the Upcoming Banana Republic Elections...


These pins and bumper stickers are available about a jillion places on the 'net. Get one now, and wear it with pride come November. I'm not saying don't vote; throwing a wrench at monkeys presiding over ClownWorld via the next Congress is still a worthy goal.

But for the top of the ticket, breaking wind will make you feel better, whatever happens, and may be more effective than voting at them, barring a modern miracle.

If anyone wants to give you grief over that, tell them you're just sending back what Emperor Poopypants has been putting out since 2020.

Turnabout is fair play.

Thursday, May 16, 2024

Another Biff Tannen Award-Winning Meme

No signature. (Color me shocked). 
Today's prize-winner bit Mike at Cold Fury yesterday. Ouch.

The giveaway: In 1866, the year when this imaginary SCOTUS decision quote purports to hail from, there were only 36 states, not 50. Nebraska became #37 in 1867. (Oh, and word to your mother: there aren't even 50 continental states, even now. Apparently you were sick the day they talked about Hawaii being a group of islands in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. We're pretty sure SCOTUS clerks knew all that even in 1866. You're really on a roll there, dipshit. Walk tall.)

The second half appears to be some jackass' commentary, but it takes a decision and then drags it far beyond what was actually stated, and tries to write laws into being that don't exist, and turns a "may not" into "making war". Little illogical leap there, cupcake?

This is what happens when Common Core grad fucktards try to meme, because they're too stupid to do two mouseclicks and find out how many states there were, or whether they're "continental" before squatting and plopping out this sort of effluvia onto the internet.

It's time for a reminder from our 16th president:

We haven't seen anything so patently stupid and full of, rose fertilizer as the header meme since some WH flunkie plopped out Obozo's fake "birth certificate" online, cut-and-paste filled in using a font not invented until this century.

Step forward, Anonymous Meme Fucktard, and claim the Biff Tannen "Make Like A Tree" Award, and wear it with pride. Along with the obligatory ceremonial dunce cap, jackass.

Wednesday, May 15, 2024

Tuesday, May 14, 2024

The Last Thing God Made

 h/t CW

"Don't you know that women are the only works of art?" - Don Henley
(This pic embiggens. Try not to fall in. We dare you.)

We don't expect to find anything better to look at than this picture at CW's place, or write anything more profound than the captions we supplied. Not quite a haiku, but it'll do for now. So we're quitting while we're ahead, and knocking off until later.

Monday, May 13, 2024

Important Point

Nor will it be when you get one.

Sunday, May 12, 2024

Sunday Music: Weird Science


Oingo Boingo's most commercial hit, just missing the Top 40 in 1985, which Danny Elfman wrote in his head in the brief time it took him to drive between John Hughes' phone request for a song, and getting home, and probably responsible for getting Elfman into doing movie soundtracks. Which is definitely a net plus.

Also the soundtrack for every day since 1/21/21, where Lisa's line "Well, what do you little maniacs want to do first?" should be the opening line of the nightly news on every channel for explaining the day's events. Except without the fun part.

Saturday, May 11, 2024

Two Questions


A) IANAStockbrocker, stock picker, or any other kind of stock exchange guy. I GTFOut for good after the second time in 10 years it crushed my savings and wiped out half of my accounts in '08. I have since found more resilient investment vehicles since then. I leave serious market research to the likes of market and business bloggers like Tyler Durden, Deninger, and other aficionados of that particular game of chance. 

B) I'm sure the stock market is honest and above-board as the day is long, because the SEC assures us it is so, and the government would never, ever lie to us. It's just wild coincidence that every time there's trouble for big investors, the government swoops in with barrels of cash, and every time the market wipes out little investors, the government burps, farts, and wanders off looking for another drink.

Having said that, two questions occur to me:

IF the market were something approaching "rigged", and another major crash was coming with some inevitability, where it could be nudged around somewhat...

1) If the person(s) overseeing that rigging loved, Loved, LOVED Emperor Poopypants, knowing there was an election coming on Nov. 5th of this year, when would they want it to crater?

2) If the person(s) overseeing that rigging hated, Hated, HATED Orange Man Bad, but despite putting both thumbs, a foot, and a fat lady on the scale he somehow managed to beat the Margin Of Cheating and prevail on Election Day, when would they want the market to crater?

Hmm. Mirabile dictu! In both cases, things start looking pretty shitty for stock investments right around 5 minutes after the opening bell on November 6th of this year.

Assuming the market ain't entirely straight and above board.

Assuming a "major market correction" is imminent/inevitable.

No reason to assume that might happen, just because inflation has gone from 1.4% to 9% officially since Jan 2021, or because Money Printer Go Brrrrrr! policies has seen your dollar worth 20% less now than it was worth just a few years ago, or because unemployment is at record levels, and all the jobs "added" since 2021 are minimum-wage entry level jobs getting snagged by endless hordes of wetbacks from around the world, and people whose green cards haven't even had the ink dry on the signature line. Just another coincidence, I'm sure, and endless happy days are coming like a freight train.

But the answers to those two questions would seem to indicate that stock investment gets kind of sketchy come the sixth of November, or anytime after that, for those of you still betting on that particular faro game.

Just spitballing. YMMV. Time will tell.

Part The Third: Divide Et Vince

We've made some wee suggestions about things you can do for the current, or any, Leftardian shenanigans that "spontaneously" spring into being, from now to eternity.

And we hope, nay expect, people with a wicked sense of humor, and the good sense to STFU, will go and do those things, and many more that we haven't even thought of.

1) Because it's a moral imperative, and

2) Because it's both fun, and funny as hell.

But before anyone trots out to do unto the most deserving Useful Idiots, a small caveat.

Counter-revolutionary activity (and that's precisely what we're talking about, in both Marxist-Leninist terms, and actual fact) may be expected by the Leftardian minions (who are always crazy, but not always bag-of-hammers stupid), and always leaves a wake like old steam torpedoes, letting said Useful Idiots shoot a back azimuth to you. Or at least, to your side, and any convenient like-minded individuals. Bad juju.

TPTB, whether outright sponsoring the current struggle sessions, or just happy to see them happen for a host of reasons, all bad, will think pretty much exactly the same way.

This will lead to all sorts of hate and discontent coming back at you and your like-minded colleagues, perhaps in manyfold doses over the original.

But you're playing chess at the grand master level, remember?

You saw this move coming before you started out. And probably another five to ten other moves. (Srsly, if you haven't thought of this step, sit down, posit Move A, and then work out the next five to ten things that will cause to happen. Figure out where the heat will land, and work out how to Be Somewhere Else.)

That may mean being physically somewhere else, but that probably isn't going to cut it.

You need, not to move yourself, but to move the "X" ring off of yourself.

By putting the crosshairs on a better patsy to take the rap, and the wrath.

Small case in point, to illustrate the bigger picture:

Back in the day, there was a certain amount of sass being tossed back and forth between some young ladies, and some young gentlemen.

The gentlemen in question decided the solution to this, was to send out invitations to about 50 people announcing a surprise birthday party for one of the ladies in question. With instructions to tell neither of the two (who were roommates.)

They tagged along, showed up with everyone else, and the surprise party was a total surprise. Not least of which, because it was neither girl's birthday, and they suddenly found themselves hosting an impromptu party, to which people had brought food and presents.

Within a few days, no one could prove, but everyone "knew", who had ginned up the whole affair. 1 point for cleverness. But what moved this game into a higher element was when, a couple of weeks later, a Chili and Chocolate Cake Party was announced at the two guys' apartment. Once again, droves of folks showed up, and the two guys acted totally shocked, as if they had been paid back, and naturally, everyone "knew" they had been paid back by the two ladies who started things.

Everybody, except the two gentlemen, because they had organized both parties.

This came out months later, under vows of secrecy, to a couple of other people. One of whom might have been me. They got two parties to happen, which cost them nothing. They made it look like the ladies were the culprits in retaliation. And chili and chocolate cake were their favorite foods. Pure coincidence, of course.

So they got fed twice, with leftovers for a week the second time, and made it look like someone else's deed. Genius.

And the ladies who got blamed couldn't have paid people to believe they were innocent of the reprisal "surprise". Nobody was buying that story.

That, dear friends, is "dekeing", i.e. decoying the blame onto a convenient patsy.

In this case, no harm, no foul, but a lifelong lesson.

So, wait, how does this relate to campus Leftards?

Thanks for asking.

You have Useful Idiots, who are literally Roused Rabble, in service of outside agitators' agenda. They are quite literally a rent-a-mob, and they bring their own outrage.

So how to take the heat off yourself and like-minded folks, and shift it where it will do the most harm?

Like Caesar with Gaul, and like the pizza in the post header pic, you Divide And Conquer.

This is already happening. You're now going to grease the skids, and put a JATO bottle behind it.

It's a pro-Hamas/anti-Israel rally?


Leave calling cards. 

Calling what?

Little items that make it look like somebody's being pissed on, and pissed off, by the rally, from the Leftard side of the zoo.

Gin up some anti-Jewish rhetoric. Flyers, posts, memes, manifestos. You're Pro-Hamas, so you don't just hate the Jooooos! in Israel, or the ones invading Gaza, you hate all of them.

See how that goes over at the local temple on shabbat. Baby, meet bathwater. Feel free to pile on with swastikas. Let's get the Stormfront crowd tarred for things too.

Then, when some of your actual shenanigans start happening, make it look like Jooooooos! were behind it.

Then, put on your LGBTQWERTYEIEIO hat, and get all butthurt, because the pro-Hamas people are talking (in your voice, somehow) about making sure than the next meeting of the Muslims Students Association and the LGBTQWERTEIEIO Alliance takes place on the roof of the campus admin building. Two groups enter, one group leaves.

Let the LGBTQWERTYEIEIO folks now get all butthurt at the pro-Muslim folks for gay-phobic intolerance.

Hey, waitaminute?? How come you Cracker Kids are having a rally for brown people over there, and ignoring all the Black Lives That Matter getting capped right here?!?

Take out your BLM sock puppet, and question why all those white kids are more worked up about Achmed over there than they are about Tyrone and Laqueesha right up the street. And how come they're all playing kissy-huggy-touchy-feely with the cops that been shootin' Cuzzin Dindu while his hands wuz raised?!? Clearly, it's just one more case of the Man Keeping Us Down. Represent, homie!

Then send out counter-communiques telling Cleetus and Wambeesha to shut their uppity mouths and support the cause.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Do it again for Wammin's Feminazi groups, and ask why "we" are rallying for our misogynist Sharia oppressors, sisters??

Have the Hamascidal idiots tell them to calm down and STFU too. Because that works so well on angry women.

Have the atheists get into the bitch-fest, and rail against any theocracy.

Bitch-slap them on behalf of the Philistinian protestors too.

Have Hose A and Hose B whinge because the protests should be down at the border, to let everyone from Brownsville to Tierra del Fuego in, not to worry about some other war an ocean away.

I have told the story before waaaaaay back about how, out of sheer boredom, I single-handedly got every dog in every yard for half a mile all barking at each other. Over and over.

Now imagine the fun that ensues when you do the same thing with all the cats and dogs on this or any future Ark Of Retards.

Especially if you make it look like everything you're doing was done by one of the gang of Usual Suspects. An online comment here, some graffiti there, a couple of claims made on behalf of imaginary Butthurt Interest Groups, and before long, they'll be slitting each other's throats and stabbing each other in the back, literally or figuratively, and starting feuds that will fester for years to decades, while you sit back, watch, and laugh yourselves silly. Don't overlook anonymous tips to The Man, helpfully allowing them to find the residue of your stunts behind someone else's clubhouse, in their trash cans, or their car trunk. Some of it might even get suspicion all over those outside agitators, making them the new Crazy Cat Ladies vandalizing their own cars, and getting arrested for it. Even TPTB love that stuff, and friendly sources will trumpet it from the rooftops even louder than that.

You may have seen this material before: they did an entire episode of M*A*S*H* based on this exact concept.

So if you're going to drop the hammer, make sure you aren't pointing at your own foot first. Pick your patsies, drop your breadcrumbs, plant your fingerprints, and let the games begin. Try not to hurt yourself splitting your sides open once it becomes a self-fueled fustercluck for the Useful Idiots.