Indict The Leading Opposition Candidate: Oh Please! Oh Please!

 

Dumbocrats Wonder: What could possibly go wrong?

Sunday Music: Hit Me With Your Best Shot

The ass-kickingest monster hit from 1980 by the decade's ass-kickingest female rocker, Pat Benatar, which hit #9, and put her on the rock map beyond any doubt, and showcased the virtuosity of her lead guitarist and later husband Neil Geraldo, in an epic solo break. We chose it because evidently now, thirty years since she's had a hit on the charts, she's jackassically announced she will no longer sing it, and f**k what her fans want, because of "gun violence". Notably, she isn't returning the royalties from the song, nor the gold and platinum records it earned. Color us shocked. To which duplicity and hypocrisy we say, "It's a song, not a political ad. Shut up and dance, monkey." We aren't going to let her soft-headed senility now ruin a perfectly good Godzilla-sized rock mega-anthem from back in the day, before she lost her mind.

In fact, we're playing it again. Live.

Just Like Last Time

Meet the New Boss. Same as the Old Boss.

 

Almost As If We Called This

 

No, really, we said from the outset this idiotic rush to prosecute persecute Baldwin was asinine, recockulous, contra-factual, prejudicially bile-based rather than fact-based, contrary to basic jurisprudence, and probably wouldn't go well if tried.

Hmm. How curious. I'm sure it's not true. I mean, what prosecution team has half their staff kick themselves off the trial, and 80% of the weight of their charges thrown out before they even get to trial, because they don't understand basic legal principles in place for centuries? And this is the assclown posse some of the peanut gallery is cheering for. 

They're rooting against a guy who shot two people, on behalf of a prosecution team that keeps shooting itself in the foot, over and over. Life is funny sometimes. And you may still get your most heartfelt wishes to come true, despite the prosecution trying mightily to screw this pooch so hard it'll never walk straight again, before the trial even starts.

Maybe the law works differently in New Mexico than it does in the rest of the country. Or maybe they shouldn't hire prosecutors who went to a combination Law School, Dog Kennel, and Beautician Academy. Just a hunch.

A Modest Proposal

h/t Wilder

"Well...Bye!"

Let's admit the obvious: Scott Adams is still too laissez-faire on the underlying problem.

Implement Lincoln's Solution.

We tried to assimilate them, but there are some things that cannot be accomplished solely with good intentions.

If populating the Joint Chiefs, Congress, SCOTUS, and the White House aren't enough for them, admit defeat, and end the experiment forever. Cut the bullsh*t, and end White Guilt.

Ship the entire race back to Africa. Lock, stock, and barrel. Not voluntary: 100% mandatory. Eliminate the entire category in the U.S. Ban any further immigration of same, in perpetuity. (It isn't like they could hide anywhere in plain sight, is it?)

If you're Black, You Go Back.

And the halves, quatroons, eighths, and sixteenths left behind can worry about either flying right once and for all, or seeing the bar for permanent deportation lowered until the problem resolves.

No more prison. Just a boat ride out, for good. First class, all travel expenses paid, no returns ever, with whatever they could carry off in their baggage. Don't harm a hair on their heads, just shuffle them up the gangplank, and shove off with the lot. Same way they got here, albeit under better accommodations for the long-overdue return journey. 

Convicts and jailbirds too. Free at last! Over there. Reparations: Paid in full. Game Over, man.

Imagine waking up in a country without Whoopi Goldberg, Stacy Abrams, or Maxine Waters. Ever again.

Move them back to a continent where every single day is Black History Month, and they can wallow in their cultural heritage until they die. They should all be properly ecstatic at the news. Encourage the rest of the hemisphere to do the same too. From the Great White North to Tierra Del Fuego. Let their people go! It's the only decent approach.

The mean IQ of all continents involved would go up 30 points overnight, and the crime rate in America the following year would give San Marino, Liechtenstein, and Monaco a run for lowest on the planet. Traffic jams get 13% better in a week - except at the docks - and the murder rate in Chicongo, Philtydelphia, Detroit, Newark, Altanta, and among the Baltimorons drop by 90% by the end of the year. All of D.C. looks like Georgetown by a week from Friday. The bottom would drop out of the welfare market too. Boo frickin' hoo.

Revisit in 20 years, and see how real Wakanda is. And in the meantime, we can focus on things that matter, instead of listening to the unceasing whiny tantrums of the world's pre-eminent millennially problem children, for whom nothing enacted is ever good enough.

Even odds if we made one step in that direction, the sane 20% of that population would start whacking the crazies and criminals in droves, until the problem self-corrected short of anything as simple as continental repatriation, but either way, it's a win for the nation.

Change my mind.

And furthermore, Diversitas delenda est.

Finance For Dummies

 

An Appropriate Air

 

Dear Naomi Wolf: No Sale

 

Some people in the blogosphere have been falling all over themselves, and more will undoubtedly do so, to post or link to Naomi Wolf's belated apology for being a mouth-hooked bullshit gargler, and suddenly coming to the epiphany that she was lied to by the government, and by the mainstream media (but we repeat ourself) about January 6th.

Natzsofast, Guido.

Deeds, not words.

Easy apologies are cheap, and weak sauce, even if they constitute a bare first step along the right path.

Start agitating as loudly for justice for the political prisoners held without any Constitutional rights since their arrest for what has been falsely characterized as "insurrection", and in fact barely rises to the level of a college dorm panty raid.

And then, follow the bread crumbs to the precipitating event: Admit that the media coronation of Emperor Stumblefuck Poopypants - which was the entire reason for the Jan. 6th rally - was the most blindingly bald-faced and gargantuan Big Lie in modern history, and the odds that a man who couldn't fill rallies in a gas station bathroom drew more votes than a man whose rallies filled college stadiums are about 81,000,000:1, against.

Do that, and shout it from the rooftops, hammer it home from every available soapbox, and post it on every vertical flat surface from coast to coast, and maybe we can think about forgiveness.

Otherwise, such a tepid and half-hearted repentance is too little, too late, and clearly comes from no deeper than a mealy mouth and quivering lips, rather than coming from the heart.

We've seen this schtick before, from better actors...

If all this amounts to is belated crocodile tears and rank patronization, allow me to speak on behalf of the wrongly defamed and reviled half of the country: no one cares that you feel bad about being a jerk all this time.

Different song, same lyrics:

This is my shocked face. (h/t WRSA)

Sunday Music: Walk Of Life

 Dire Straits' last Top Ten single, from 1985.

Modern Marvel

h/t daily timewaster 

Spiffy Gadgetry

Time was, you could find these everywhere. Now they're like hen's teeth and unicorn antlers. The set, above, set me back fifteen bucks for all three at the 'zon. ($7-8@ if you buy them individually.) They're Chinesium stainless. IDGAF. They work, and they're handy sizes. What's more, you can cook under them and heat or even boil water inside them in a pinch, with a bit of care (i.e. hang them from the rim, so the heat-expanded friction-fit rings don't collapse the endeavor). 2.5, 5, and 8+ oz. And they're handier than a canteen cup or Sierra mug. The only thing they lack is a ring handle, precluding any Doc Holliday cup twirling exhibitions. But the set gives me one apiece for the car, a pack, and a pocket. The smallest one's about the size of a roll of electrical tape. The largest, a hair over 3" across, is a little bit bigger than a hockey puck, and far more useful (the cover even makes a small but useable mini-bowl.) Being steel, they don't travel well through metal detectors, if that's a problem for you. YMMV.

Nobody's invented a substitute for a cup yet, and one that folds down to pocket-size is about as handy as that item can be made.

Make The Most Of The Time

 

 "Unless you are actively attacking, retreating, or in movement to contact, you should be constantly seeking to improve your position. Dig, mine, wire, sandbag, and undertake continuous activities to make the enemy's job universally harder and costlier." - every army since Ever

In case you haven't noticed, things are relatively quiet lately (and I say that with an ER worker's loathing of what happens next). But overall, things aren't getting appreciably better, nor worse, unlike not-so-distant time past, and any minute in the future. And despite any huge amount of recockulous Chicken Littling from the Usual Suspects, Globull Warming isn't going to eat your children, COVID is less than a mousefart in a hurricane, and the Next Big Thing hasn't reared its ugly head. Yet.

It will show up soon, for any value of that item, in due course, especially with an activist regime of puppetmasters pulling on that IED and trying to pry it up, by the minute.

Keep digging, retards. FAFO.

So you should be working on everything you can during pauses like this, to better your own position. Because this won't last, and things will not be getting better any time this decade, and probably not in your lifetime, for more than a year or three, at best.

Location, location, location.

Logistics: bullion, beans, band-aids, bullets.

Intelligence: all sides. Yours, theirs, and third parties.

Personnel. Not just who and how many, but also including their medical, financial, legal, and spiritual issues.

Training.

Communication.

Survivability and Resilience of all of the above: P-A-C-E.

If you don't know what any of these things look like specifically for your situation, you're waaaaay behind the curve. If you don't have a list of things to do to improve the status of each, a plan for what to be doing, and are not actively increasing each and every one of them incrementally but notably, as your time, available resources, and opportunity presents itself, you're still doing it wrong.

Because when things start going off the cliff - and they're going to do that - you're going to deal with the landing with what you've prepared and secured, not with what you'd wished for.

Fly the OCD flag a little, look over your plans from top to bottom, make adjustments, and follow the ABC Rule: Always Be Checking. Plans change. Weather changes. Enemies change. Needs change. Supplies spoil.

Sunday Music: Turn The Page

 

Seger's quintessential road tour rock classic, 50 years old now, which peaked at Number 1 on the Classic Rock charts, and just as timely and awesome as it was the day it was first laid down on a tape track.

Slippery Slopes

 

Four, of two million examples. This week.

Divemedic bemoans that a law institutionalizing the gravely disabled might be misused. Rather than clog his blog with this rather epic reply in disagreement to that proposition, we post our response here. I get where he thinks he's coming from, but he's way off-base in this instance.

Natzsofast, Guido.

"Grave disability" as good cause has been on the books here for literal decades.

You're missing hugely on this one.

The crime is that it's taken 60 years to enact it beyond the pointless 72-hour hold, and start the process of re-institutionalizing the perennially to permanently crazy into a system that was stupidly disassembled two generations ago, by prior faux do-gooding by entirely evil libtard jackholes.

Laws against even murder can be abused too.

Shall we repeal those as well? The rules regarding the fallacy of reductio ad absurdum apply in full, when you draw a slippery slope the size of the Great Wall of China. Any excuse based thereon is moot.

For that matter, they've abused the Second Amendment in numerous states. Should we repeal that because government refuses to get it right until they're dragged there, kicking and screaming, by honest judges?

These people aren't homeless because they misplaced their home, or left it in their other pants (or shopping cart). They're homeless because they're batshit crazy, drunks, stoners, terminally and childishly irresponsible and entitled, serial criminals, or, in 98% of cases, some combination of all five.

We're not talking about "gentlemen of the road" happily cooking hot dogs and pigeons on a forked spit under the railroad tracks, living their best lives, whistling tunes and playing harmonicas, happy and free, and minding their own business. 

We're talking about literal plague-host hordes of rotting, shambling, scabrous, filthy lunatics shitting and pissing themselves 24/7/365, wherever and whenever nature provides opportunity, and leaving a trail of fecal matter and dropped maggots from their open sores by the yard. 

Every city hereabouts, of any size, every day.
cf. "Shithole".

And you're now arguing that those people, literally too crazy to clean themselves to the barest public health minimums, care for themselves to the level of a first-grader, or seek food or shelter sufficient to not starve or freeze or get sunstroke, should be allowed to fester and rot on the sidewalk?

That's the Calcutta expedient.

Try that experiment in Key West, Miami, Tampa, and Tallahassee, and please, get back to us on how well it works.

I can find 5000 lab rats for your experiment within the sound of a gunshot from where I'm sitting at home, right this minute. Totally not kidding.

Sorry, but the distance you're off on this one would need satellite GPS to calculate.

They won't go to any of numerous shelters, because there are rules there, chiefest being that they can't commit crimes against each other, shit on the floor, or bring their dope and booze inside. Horrors!

And they won't take their psych meds, because being sane "feels weird" to them, and feels not nearly as fun as being stoned on weed, methaphetamine, carfentanil, or stewed on any booze they can find.

Welcome to the corner of Civilizational Minimal Norms Street and Tough Shit Avenue. Instead of seeing you 500 times a year at the local ER, we're putting you back in the Crazy Zoo you belong in, and once a year, we'll hold a court hearing, with your court-appointed advocate present, to decide if you can unfuck yourself well enough to have another crack at life outside. Keep coming back, and we stop asking the question, forever, for you. Don't like that? Mexico is due south, and Canada just a couple of states north. Or you can buy a rowboat, and start paddling west from the shoreline. Best wishes, whichever you choose.

The only thing better than this would be to forcibly return anyone apprehended under it to their state of origin, based on their social security number. 95% of them weren't born here, don't belong here, and were dumped hereabouts deliberately by 47-49 other states, by handing them a plane ticket and a rehab slot, which they failed out of within hours, and they then ended up stuck here forever, homeless, stoned into psychosis, and rotting away on my sidewalk.

Every other state should own that behavior, and take back their own state's native douchebags to deal with as they see fit, other than shifting them onto other states, which should be actionable at law, including criminally, for repeat offenders. A couple of governors and state officials getting frog-marched in cuffs would be a salutary outcome.

Second-best would be house arresting them, with a complement of the homeless they foisted on us moved to bunk in with them for a year or five, with the culprits entirely responsible for their feeding, clothing, and housing.

Stop sending us your douchebags and lunatics from every point on the compass, and there'll be fewer of them for us to round up hereabouts.

QED

Even Libtard bastions like Santa Monica and San Franshitco have finally seen the error of their ways. So whenever you see Califrutopian officials, usually with their heads waaaaayyyyy up their own asses, making any constructive efforts to wipe the shithole TPTB have let the once-Golden State become, back off, and let them take a shot. They've done nothing for literal decades. It's time for the people in charge to scrub that anus, and pull their pants back up, like any self-respecting person would.

Personally, we're pretty sure they should have taken a flamethrower to the problem some years back, but we're old-fashioned that way.

Painful Realities

 

The pain some will feel over this in their delicate bits will cease the moment they cease squatting on their own spurs.