Showing posts with label troll. Show all posts
Showing posts with label troll. Show all posts

Saturday, August 31, 2019

If You're A Certain Kind Of Stupid, This Post Is For You



If you see this face in the mirror every morning, pay attention.



















Apparently, the genetic coding for intelligence, reading comprehension, and humility are all on the same gene, and separate from the one that grants facility with tools.

I say this must be so, because of the two screeds deposited in response to yesterday's autobiographical essay, which posters evidently think they have one thing down, but they've apparently come up short on some other chromosomes.

For the twenty soopergeniuses out there who thought what two posters took the time to write, the following:

Nota bene:

I don't live in Hooterville, nor have a shop (nor room for one). Not even a garage.
I nonetheless have quite an assortment of hand and power tools, great facility with both, and zero days lost due to accident at my own hand. Ever. (The fact that so few of those who do such work for a living can say the same is what earns me mine. Think about that.)

If the point of yesterday's description got by you, a few more salient points for the reading impaired:

My troubles yesterday (other than too much stuff for the space I possess) were wholly and solely the result of Fortune 500 companies (who should damned well know better) either substituting cheap-ass parts for spec quality hardware, or not bothering to include it at all.
And with 50 year old wiring doing what 50 year old wiring does, unassisted.

Unassisted, BTW, being the exact same way I diagnosed and repaired my electrical problem, despite not working in that field, nor having consulted anything written on the subject for some couple of decades.

In my time, I have dug holes; filled holes; filled sandbags; dug foundations; dug wells; trenched irrigation; milked cows; slopped hogs; wrangled steers; worked on horseback and helped smiths shoe the critters; slaughtered rabbits; fed chickens; picked fruit; plowed fields; planted crops and gardens; post-holed; shifted rocks by hand; poured concrete; strung some miles of fencing: wood, chain link, and barbed wire; repaired same; demo'ed houses; built houses; de-roofed and roofed them; painted them inside and out; remodeled; built additions; built furniture; felled trees; chopped them into firewood by hand; landscaped; brush-whacked acreage; welded; shade-tree mechanic'ed; built, torn apart, and rebuilt bicycles; performed emergency repairs on cars and powerboats; restored actual tanks and half tracks; maintained trucks, howitzers, and actual haze gray men-o'-war; and even constructed and torn down entire villages, to beyond code, even though they were coming down in a couple of months. Some of this was for pay, some of it wasn't. I don't feel any inadequacy when it comes to hard work, hot days, blisters, sore muscles, or using any tool known to man. If I won the lottery, I'd be buying machine tools large enough to need bolting down, and heavy equipment big enough to pick them up, not Ferraris and such. My next appliance, likely as not, will be a blacksmith forge. My man-card is well-punched, and like Quigley and Army .44s, just because I don't like doing something every day doesn't mean I don't know how to do it.


Confuse that reality at your peril.

There are plenty of wrench-benders who could get Ph.Ds. And plenty of Ph.Ds. who can drop a transmission and rebuild it, should they choose to do so. Like Mike Rowe, I have nothing but respect for people, paid or not, who can and do perform dirty, hard, and/or dangerous work, and do so with professionalism and skill. College degrees mean little if you don't have the brains and ability to put them to use.

I've had my share of greasy fingernails, and I chose to work in a licensed profession where there's more poop, puke, and blood than grease and dirt, because it's indoors, it pays much better, and it's air-conditioned. Which helps the layer of sweat I work in pretty much non-stop 12 hours a day.

But if you missed the above parts of the previous essay, and all you bring to the discussion is a knee-jerk excuse to trot out your low-IQ Working Class Hero autobiographical moment, to be the hero of your own story, or try playing city mouse/country mouse bullshit games, rather than reading and grasping what I wrote, save yourself the electrons, and leave off beating the molecules of that particular deceased equine critter.
The horse never did you any harm.

You, like the other two knuckleheads, will only embarrass yourselves.

And I've really got better things to do than hang signs on jackasses.
That's what their braying is for.

So please: don't be one. Life's too short for that sh*t.

Monday, September 18, 2017

Trolling For Inmates: Amazon Caught Fronting A Sting For BATFE

From The Police State Ramps Up Department:



Link
Amazon.com, which has always prohibited the sale of firearms, has been openly selling a Glock-compatible full auto conversion device that turns a pistol into a fully automatic weapon. We are not linking to the purchase page for the simple reason that Amazon.com is running a trap, and we don’t want anyone to accidentally fall into that trap and end up spending 10 years in federal prison for buying this device from Amazon.
This device, for sale on Amazon.com for a mere $68 and described as an “Airsoft” accessory, is part of a sting operation where Amazon.com is attempting to entrap its own customers so that they can be raided by the ATF and charged with felony crimes for illegally possessing class-III (full auto) firearms conversion devices, which are strictly prohibited under federal law unless you complete an exhaustive application and approval process with the ATF.
Well-played, @$$holes.

BATFE gets revealed, yet again, as the same shitweasels that pulled off Ruby Ridge and Waco.

Amazon, and Jeff Bezos, get caught with their noses wedged up BATFE's sphincter. That should really help their bottom line in a tight economy. (Pssst! Jeffy! Maybe ask Target (NYSE:TGT) how that pro-tranny bathroom policy has gone for them this past year!)

And millions of unsuspecting Glock owners now realize that they can avoid the sting, but now know that there's a simple piece of hardware that can, with about 5 minutes' work, turn their tactical tupperware (relax, Glock-tards, I have a few m'self) into a totally illegal full-auto machine-pistol, should they feel the need, the need for speed!


I'm sure the home 3D printing market, and the ability of folks to machine parts at home with minimal effort, won't have any effect on things like this showing up regularly in the future, should the atmosphere where average folks live get completely sporty.

Nosiree, no chance of that happening at all.
There's no way to rule innocent men. The only power the government has is the power to crack down on criminals. Well, when there aren't enough criminals, one makes them. One declares so many things to be a crime that it becomes impossible for men to live without breaking laws. - Ayn Rand
Once again, cue the .Gov fist in glove with malignant corporatocracy, with adding another dystopian book, this time Atlas Shrugged, like Farenheit 451, Animal Farm, and 1984 before it, to the list of those that went from fictional work to instructional training manuals.

Couple that with Goolag(tm)'s decision to drop and de-list free-speech Gab, and it's past time for the AG to fire up a little anti-trust lawsuit or three. Let's redistribute a little wealth there. Bankruptcy concentrates the mind wonderfully on corporate priorities.

UPDATE:
For the retards in comments who got to this five days after Amazon pulled the original ad, and this is vaporware:
So suck it, 'tards. The internet moves pretty fast; try and keep up.
And wipe the derp off your chin.

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Why The Monkeys Rage

Low Information Jackholes: case in point
Anonymous Jim Klein said...
You're hopeless on the big issue until you offer a full retraction, but maybe you'll share with your readers a more accurate rendition of the legal aspects of the land.

Ever hear of the Statute of Frauds? It's more than 300 years old. Because of that, we KNOW that Bundy was not a tenant as you wrote. You cannot produce a clear document spelling out that tenancy; therefore according to Law, it does not exist.

With regard to the title of the physical land, it belongs to either the US or Nevada. I don't know and it doesn't matter. Bundy had an estate in the grazing rights superior to either. How do we know this? Because nobody had claimed those rights prior to his ancestors and nobody made a timely claim that those rights are anyone's but his.

This is what it MEANS to create an estate in something; it's what property IS. Absent a State statute to the contrary, an estate is created just like that...one takes something without value and creates something of value. The created value is the creator's property. The fact that there is no specific statute addressing estates in grazing rights, doesn't mean that they can't exist. That would be like saying computers don't exist because the government never explicitly granted their existence. And in the case at hand, no statute to the contrary exists.

So the grazing rights WERE his and his family's all along. Now that may render the charging of fees and so forth an illegal taking in the first place, but that's a rather separate issue.

In fairness, if the fed offered value as compensation for the SPECIFIC taking of those grazing rights, then at least they'd be in accordance with the Fifth Amendment, with the question of whether or not that compensation was "just," a matter for civil procedures. I don't know and I doubt you do either, and the compensation would have to CLEARLY note that the money was compensation for the exact property of the grazing rights in the land. Otherwise, the Statute of Frauds applies and the compensation was for something else.

And even if every single element of the Law were against him--which they're not, since they're for him--it still wouldn't justify strafing and napalming. I'll let you figure out why, and maybe that two minutes of thinking will motivate you to do the right thing, and fully retract.
April 27, 2014 at 12:21 PM



Sorry Jim, but the big issue IS the legal aspects of the land.

That is what makes Bundy a thief, in the same aspect the difference between teller and bank robber is which end of the gun you're standing on.

The land is where Bundy was never more than a tenant, having leased the land in question for grazing without a peep for decades himself, exactly as his father did beginning in 1954, long after that land first belonged to the U.S. government, up through 1992. One pays for that which is not his, and Bundy and his ancestors paid for federal leases on land they never purchased outright, because they never even lived there before 1948, and the BLM had jurisdiction over it since 1946. Whoops.

They did this under the auspices of the Bureau of Land Management in 1946, successor to the US Grazing Service in 1939, which arose out of the General Land Office going back to 1812, 36 years before the land in question was acquired by the United States Government. So clearly, the value of the land and the rights to graze on it were not valueless, and seen as having value by the US government some great number of decades before Bundy was in the picture, in fact before he was even born. Looking no farther than Wikipedia:
The Bundy family purchased their farm outside of Bunkerville in 1948; the farm would serve as headquarters and base property for their ranching operation, which began in 1954, on federal land. They had moved to the area from Bundyville, Arizona (near Mount Trumbull). Cliven Bundy's father, David Bundy, was born in Bundyville in 1922.[90] David Bundy had married Margaret Bodel Jensen of Bunkerville, and after starting a family in Arizona, they purchased their property outside of Bunkerville in 1948.[44]
 
Cliven had argued in court that his "Mormon ancestors began working the land in the 1880s".[91][92] This argument has basis in Cliven's maternal grandmother's ancestral line, but not among his paternal or other maternal lines. Cliven's mother's father, John Jensen, was born in Utah, but her mother, Abigail Christina Abbott, was born in the Bunkerville/Mesquite area. Abigail Christina Abbott's parents, both born in Utah, were among early settlers of Bunkerville/Mesquite in the 1880s; this includes lines from the Leavitt and Abbott families. These early families moved in and out of the area on several occasions, and polygamous marriages meant some wives and their families were kept in different towns. As such, there is no continuous line of family births and habitation in Bunkerville/Mesquite from Cliven Bundy to the few ancestors who settled the area.[44]

In 1993, he ceased paying to renew his grazing lease, but without removing his cattle, making him a trespasser. He continued to do so, and admitted all of this in sworn depositions, despite losing two cases in federal district court in Las Vegas, under the insane contention that somehow a non-existant Nevada had title to lands that belonged to the federal government in perpetuity since Mexico signed it over in the Treaty Of Hidalgo in 1848. The Territory of Utah was formed shortly afterwards, and the Territory of Nevada  was formed out of that some years later. QED.

Now, did you want to actually talk about the land's history of ownership or were you just making chitchat?

Since you admit to agnosticism on this point, perhaps you should spend the four seconds it would take to look it up, since repeating seventh grade social studies, this time with a passing grade, is probably too much to ask. It's all readily available facts in the public domain.

The thing about creating an estate is that you actually have to have the title to the property in question. Bundy has nothing but chutzpah; the feds repeatedly demonstrated his claims to be nothing but tinfoil-hattery, and lacking any substance or standing, he lost both cases in about as long as they took the clerk of the court to type them up.

Notably, he had no problem paying the money for leases until 1993, when the owners of the land, the federal government, changed the conditions under which they would allow him to use it. The nerve of the actual owners trying to tell lessees what they may and may not do on property they don't own, and never have! Because they didn't tell him what he could do on his ranch, they told what he couldn't do on their land, and that was when Bundy decided to stop renewing his lease. This isn't government expansion, it's mere stinginess on Bundy's part that they were squeezing off the government teat he and his family have sucked on since at least 1954. Boo frickin' hoo.

Had you the wit to have read the ruling, the second case further demonstrated that Bundy's herd had now grown and spread out over not only the lands he ceased to lease, but onto new trespass lands upon which he'd never grazed, because he'd never leased them, nor had his family, ever, period.

This is all public record, so you're either illiterate, lazy, or deliberately being stupid. I could give odds upon which is most likely...

As for all that, you're right, it wouldn't legally justify strafing and napalming him.
Fortunately, I never argued that it did.

I also didn't argue that the multiple criminal counts against him including taking up arms in opposition to court orders would justify it in law either.

But that's what makes dealing with people like you so much fun. You don't read, you spew.
I did type that "in my humble opinion" the feds would be so justified, but you can't discern a private opinion from force of law, as evidenced by your own ramblings against common sense contrary to the law, which correspond exactly to Bundy's.

But the reality is, the feds are neither going to strafe Bundy's herd nor napalm his home with him in it. More's the pity.

But what they are likely to do is thrown a net over him in the very near future, so that he can continue his lunatic cries from somewhere inside a deep dark federal hole, while they round up his cows and sell them for Big Macs. And if he decides the lemon is worth the squeeze, he'll get killed resisting. Just like Dillinger, or Bonnie and Clyde. If not, he'll die broke and in prison. And either way, they'll probably seize the small ranch and whatever other real and personal property he does actually own, and then credit his bill against a generous fair market price, removing him and his heirs from that land in perpetuity.

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

And during Round Two, I hope they similarly apprehend anyone who shows up to help him obstruct justice, and if they offer resistance, I hope they kill them too - mainly to save court costs and time.
You and the Lunatic Fringe can't tell the difference between thieving lunatics, and people with actual grievances and a legal leg to stand on. So when one of the latter comes along, other people won't be able to tell the difference between principled resistance to actual government tyranny, and a mob. People like you are the reason John Adams defended the British troops involved in the Boston Massacre, and got them acquitted.

"Facts are stubborn things, and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passions, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence." - John Adams, 1770 Boston Massacre trial 
You're arguing against reality. Good luck with that tack.

And as you aren't even putting your ass on the line in the desert, you aren't even willing to back up your lunatic assertions with any risk to your own skin.

THAT is why I wish the feds would napalm Bundy and strafe his herd, because cases like this give idiot anarchists an excuse to agitate for a war. And we need more of that like we need a dose of the clap. It's the lunacy of Timothy McVeigh, except without even the semblance of personal commitment.

Like most of your ilk, you're content to chivvy others onwards, in this case a senile old thief, and the Headless Chicken Posse, but without having the personal honor to back it up with anything but your own desire to foment a riot.

There's a word for people like that, it rhymes with "Howard".

Some people have feds pointing guns at them because they're just terminal fuckwits.
That's Bundy to a "t". One doesn't suck at the federal teat every day of their life, and then have a coincidental epiphany on Big Government when the feds change the deal. Bundy's just a crook upset at his slice of the loot.

Call back when you find someone who isn't a multi-decade thief from the taxpayers, to the tune of millions of dollars, before you prop another lunatic up as some imaginary folk hero of the would-be revolution. And recognize that not everything the government does is absolutely evil, and not everyone who opposes them is worthy of even moral support, let alone fifteen minutes of notoriety.

Until then, you should probably get back under your bridge, before the feds drop a house on you.
Or at least stay where your sophistry passes for brilliance.

But hey, thanks for helping make my point about people who spew without knowing what they're talking about.

I'm sure the administration minions are really broken up about getting the 147 active members of the Lunatard Army frothing to support a crook like Bundy, and marginalizing and parodying themselves, for anyone with a brain, and all the world to watch. You're doing their job for them too.

Maybe spend your Sunday catching up on old news, cupcake.
And have a nice day.

Monday, April 1, 2013

Oh Dear

Despite our best efforts, and a generous supply of bon homme, we seem to have stepped on our tackle.

Subsequent to receiving a number of hits hereabouts from the "Get Off The X" forum* about one of my posts, I registered and logged in. Found the linking post, and thanked the author for the kind words and linked attentions. (Because, ya know, posting stuff on these Intarwebz is such the avocation of the timid, shy, and retiring sort, and I really get depressed when anyone actually reads it. That's why I hide it here, on the Internet, accessible in every country but Yemen and North Korea.)

And in the course of looking the place over, and sociably joining in where I felt it was warranted, I seem to have unintentionally stepped in some dear little heart's personal hamster chow, and managed to upset the hobgoblins of his personal sense of propriety.

It was an honest mistake: I was commenting on a post addressed To Whom It May Concern (I know, I'm such an @$$hole to butt in like that) soliciting opinions, and compounding my error, actually gave one.

WTF was I thinking?!?

And of course, having received kind words and good response from one forum member elsewhere, expected that perhaps such rather commonly courteous behavior would be universal.

(Okay, that last was inexcusably stupid, really, and no crocodile tears. Shame on me.)

And of course, the ever-helpful Bridge Trolls of the Internet, or in this case, the Boss Troll, helpfully jumped up and down, ran around the room, and like most Pomeranians who think they're a Pyrenees, promptly pissed all over himself, the topic, and everything within range of his bladder, including yours truly, to ever so helpfully mark his territory.

And then, in the manner of a true Ubergeek checkers tournament, it was ON, bitchez.
(Never try to trump someone who donates a pint of Smartass twice a month at the Red Cross.)

After about the 4th back and forth thereabouts, in which the Silverback Pomeranian pissed on himself yet again, in case anyone bereft of nasal receptors missed the scent of his wet panties thus far, another uninvolved kind soul had the decency to send a PM, and not only wish me congratulations for my prior efforts, but let me know that certain individuals there, like on other boards, seem to feel a special mission to "jump in" newcomers, especially by throwing out the toilet-paper roll length of their Intarwebz "Offishul Expert" creds (particularly when bluff, bluster, blowhardry, and b.s., combined with an inability to reason logically or respond civilly aren't enough to prove their inate superiority to us lesser dumbass mortals.)

My thanks to the person for that backstage whisper.

But in fairness, when someone gets in such a hissyfit, and aren't nearly as brilliant as they imagine in their own minds, I like to let my inner child out for a bit, if only to tune up my paddleball skills.
Juvenile? Pointless? O Hell yes. But entertaining on a 3-day weekend, and not as undignified as getting a magnifying glass and looking for an anthill.

But it's a workday now, and time to remind myself of the lovely sentiment I once received, underneath a picture of a "special" child, arms and legs caught in mid-flail, tongue pointed sideways, and finishline tape breaking at the moment of the picture across his numbered chest, captioned thusly:

              Internet Arguments
                       Are like competing in the Special Olympics.
          Even when you win, you've only beaten a bunch of retards.



> Sigh<
Yeah. Point noted.




*(Which forum, despite the one notable exception, seems to be a lot of decent folks.)

Saturday, December 22, 2012

The Ballad Of Jim Klein

Everyone who posts on the internet risks the inevitable curse of the hobgoblins of stupidity who infest the web like maggots on roadkill. Conceit is God's gift to small men, but I find it continually annoying that the first screw that comes loose in their heads is universally the one that holds their tongue (or in the case of commenting on blogs, their typing fingers).

So as my homage to one persistent little pseudo-intellectual simian who would probably bask in the glory of this little collection of verse, while being wholly unable to apprehend its precise fit to him, I sincerely dedicate the following ode to a rectal abscess:

There once was a man named Jim Klein
Who ranted for line after line.
Insanity spewed
In rants long and rude
And buckets of piss, moan, and whine.

Jim Klein's apprehension of words
Was likened to that of most birds
Having brains oversmall
But cacophonous call
They would spread profligate, like their turds.

When undone by the logic of others
Raised not by baboons but by mothers
Jim would scrape out his pants
And fling feces and rants
Demonstrating that chimps were his brothers.

Though remonstrated by one and all
It affected Jim hardly at all.
He'd redouble his yapping
Like one hand's futile clapping
Then just sit in his diaper and bawl.

He abated his efforts a smidge
Like a troll grown homesick for his bridge.
He occasioned slight shock
Crawling back to his rock
As an idiot recalled to his village.

One might think other laddies and lasses
From his absence would cry in great masses.
Alas, rather, not
For if everyone shot
Every horse, there'd be still horses' asses.