Natzsofast, Dipsh*t

h/t VFLL

Just because neither some drooling crayon merchant at the Hartford Courant, nor any of his woketard editors, know anything about how every tribe in the Americas got here from somewhere else, it doesn't change history. FTR, there's no one on either continent of the Americas who qualifies as "indigenous peoples", since ever. Everybody here, from the Arctic to Tierra del Fuego, came here from somewhere else, or descended from those who did. You could look it up. History here didn't start in 1492, nor 1620. Only idiots make that mistake. And they keep doing it, over and over. We're not a nation of immigrants. We're two continents of immigrants. Anyone who doesn't like it is welcome to go back where they came from, and nobody has first claim on anything here, except by current possession.

No Regrets

h/t Chief Nose Wetter

Parry. Riposte.

Tam seems utterly convinced, due to "insider experts", that Twatter is imminently in danger of crashing and burning.

Alongside the minor malfunctions, the Twitter engineer believes that there’ll be significant outages on the horizon, thanks in part to Musk’s drive to reduce Twitter’s cloud computing server load in an attempt to claw back up to $3 million a day in infrastructure costs. Reuters reports that this project, which came from Musk’s war room, is called the “Deep Cuts Plan.” One of Reuters’s sources called the idea “delusional,” while Alan Woodward, a cybersecurity professor at the University of Surrey, says that “unless they’ve massively overengineered the current system, the risk of poorer capacity and availability seems a logical conclusion.” 

Meanwhile, when things do go kaput, there’s no longer the institutional knowledge to quickly fix issues as they arise. “A lot of the people I saw who were leaving after Friday have been there nine, 10, 11 years, which is just ridiculous for a tech company,” says the Twitter engineer. As those individuals walked out of Twitter offices, decades of knowledge about how its systems worked disappeared with them. (Those within Twitter, and those watching from the sidelines, have previously argued that Twitter’s knowledge base is overly concentrated in the minds of a handful of programmers, some of whom have been fired.)

Followed by patented world-class Tam-snark. Fair enough.

We repeat for emphasis:

1) How much excess capacity does Musk and Twatter require, once he whittles back the unwanted and unnecessary input of the 90%-of-Twatter-posting Wokebots?? Get rid of 90% of the traffic, and you can function until Hell Freezes Over on 10% of capacity, and hire talent long before it ignites.

But let's say he does run it into the ground. That begs the bigger question:

2) Who Cares??

Since Twatter was nothing but a wokebot fool's paradise, if all Musk accomplished was to buy the ginormous P.O.S., just to run it into the Lakehurst Naval Air Station and dock it exactly like the Graf Zeppelin Hindenburg: gloriously aflame, with the survivors tuck-and-rolling to safety while the smoking hulk of the superstructure crumbles into a memory, the response of about 60% of America would be "Hallelujah! There IS a God!".

3) What makes anyone think that the programming "institutional memory" provided by the hordes of fired SJWs is irreplaceable except by other programming SJWs???

I'm pretty sure that writing code is writing code, and if he outsources the whole silly enterprise to Bangladesh, and Silicon Valley starves to death this winter, the cries of delight from most of the country would remain "Hallelujah! There IS a God!".

Heads he wins, tails they lose. 

He either saves this P.O.S. on his terms, or runs it into the wall at 200 M.P.H., leaving poor Elon with only Tesla, unquestioned dominance of space transport for the next decade, and a spare hundred billion dollars or so to fall back on. This is not the catastrophe portended.

Pick on Fedora Jesus all you like. You're missing the point, and the only ones getting themselves into a tizzy over the fate of Twatter are the people who ran the bots, the fired woketard deadweight staff (but we repeat ourselves), and you.

Most people in America wouldn't have given two sh*ts if Musk simply dropped a Falcon Heavy module onto Twatter corporate HQ "by accident" the day after he bought it, because they rightly regard most social media as both unconscionable revelation/intrusion into one's private life and/or a colossal NSA Trojan Horse, plus a waste of bandwidth to begin with.

It's Musk's toy to play with now. If he succeeds, the naysayers look foolish. If he slams into the ground and leaves a smoking hole, the people who hate the naysayers cheer. And at that point, the people carrying water for the woketards' jeering are hard to distinguish from the whiny woketards themselves. Just saying.

Let him play with his toy. Even if he smashes it. It's what his toy means, i'n't it?

Inflation? What Inflation?

 h/t Peter

You're Doing It Wrong

Someone did some back-of-of-the-envelope calculations and figured that to replace half of their multi-billion dollar advertising revenue with $8/month subscription fees, Twitter would need TWENTY MILLION paid up annual subscribers.

 Maybe true, but largely irrelevant.

Anyone interested in understanding things should be looking at things from the other end the situation, and doing some entirely different napkin math.

1) How much of this pull-out is whiny woketard virtue-signaling chickens coming home to roost, when it turns out they were squandering hundreds of millions of their company dollars on a venue that's 90% Lunatard bots auto-spewing Green Deal talking points, rather than reaching actual, y'know, breathing spending CUSTOMERS? I don't see this as anything but butthurt 20-something cubicle warriors getting out one step ahead of corporate finding out they sold real cows for magic beans, and trying to save their own hashtag ricebowls, before they get bounced onto unemployment. Musk is doing for fake social media what FTX did for crypto. With a flammenwerfer, and a smile.

2) If Twatter was always a vaporware venue of mostly non-existent Leftard troll accounts, why would anyone advertise there?

3) How much ad revenue does Musk need to generate to keep the lights on, after cutting employee deadweight overhead by 75%, overnight?

If Musk purges the bot accounts and fake like checks from Twatter, and transparently shows his users are 100% real, then puts them on an untouchable worldwide Starlink service that can't be censored by any government, and simultaneously purges all the Lefatrded wokeholes and useless eaters from his own payroll, he gains a commodity that no one else has (ask around about how full of b.s. Arbitron and Nielsen ratings are, if you ever want to push over two other houses-of-cards): a transparently legit and unblockable way to reach real people all over the world.

The dumpster fire in question was the Twatterverse before Musk started throwing the deadwood into the dumpster. Now the dumpster fire is the woketarded  minions suddenly aflame themselves, on unemployment, with future career prospects largely centered on either the retail food service or custodial maintenance fields.

Boo frickin' hoo.

Counting Musk out to lunch so soon is largely on par with telling people Trump could never get elected president in 2015. Elon may be a little off in many ways, but he didn't inherit his wealth, or bumble into it. I'd cut him a bit of slack.

Just Another Day

 

Shortcut

Sunday Music: Skating

 

Cartoonist Charles Schulz' choice of virtuoso Vince Guaraldi for the musical background for the Peanuts gang on TV, and the incarnation of Schroeder, for generations of kids and parents watching A Charlie Brown Christmas, was simply inspired. Every year, long before the networks start beating us to death with Christmas TV specials, really the first day the air turns that perfect fall crisp temperature, I want to hear this piece. In fact, on my bucket list, because it lends itself to it so well, is to loop this, head to tail, for an hour or two's worth of Guaraldi's keyboard magic. It makes your day better just to hear it.

Your "Come To The Jesus Nut" Moment

"Pay attention, meatheads. This is the M-114 155mm towed howitzer. It dates back to WWII. Its nickname is 'The Pig'. It's called that because the rumor was it's made of pig iron. It's not. It's made of steel, and it rusts, but it is definitely heavy as hell, as you'll find out one fine day when you try to move it in a field of mud. You see this nut here? That's the Jesus Nut. Whatever else you do, you'd better make damned sure that nut is secured in place, rust-free, and safety-wired in place, as it is here."

"Uh, Sgt.? Why do they call that the Jesus Nut?"

"Pvt. Smuckatelli, they call it the Jesus Nut, because if it ever comes off, you better pray to Jesus you're nowhere nearby." 

True story. But like most parables, it has a wider application. And I told you that story to make the following points.

Some @$$hole (which is the kindest thing anyone's probably ever called him) decided that what the internet desperately needed, was his brave anonymous prognostication and fortune-telling of everyone who reads this blog, and anyone that readership might consider like-minded, chiefly by reading the tale told from deep inside his own diaper spackle. Which mainly consisted of chickensh*t. Besides giving that the appropriate mocking, I nonetheless read such nonsense most days, provided it isn't from one of the few wastes of skin and oxygen pre-selected for auto-delete by an add-on program. I do this just in case the usual retards too chickenshit to post here under their own names may accidentally stumble onto some greater truth, or really, any worthwhile thought, probably without realizing it.

There was, in fact, no such thing there, which left me shocked for all of about zero seconds. What there was within, however, was a revelation of the poster as a self-loathing little cretin, whose mewling whinge was, in so many words, condensable down to 

"Waaaaaaah!!!!! Life sucks now, but I haven't done anything, because everybody else hasn't done anything, and that's why nobody's ever doing anything about that. Waaaaaaaaah!!!!!!" 

Well said, Brave Anonymous Troll.

But your fundamental error, typical of mindless sheep, is to assume anyone else's actions are necessary for you to act in any way, shape, or form. You would be the sort of jackass to let a bear eat you if no one else was smart enough to run away first, to show you how to do it. Best wishes with that plan.

How it really works, for people with a spine and a set of testicles, is that they simply decide what has to be done, and they go do it. With or without help.

No one knows your name, Brave Anonymous Whiner, but hundreds of thousands to millions know who this guy was, and what he accomplished all by himself:

Millions who'll never read your screed with anything more than scorn, disgust, and gales of derisive laughter have read what this one guy wrote:

 

Millions more who couldn't give a wet fart if a meteor ended you with a sizzling squish don't know the name of a single one of these guys, but they know exactly what they did:

And a like number know, without a single hint, exactly what this is, who built it, and what he did with it:

Every one of those people was heroic in their own way, at their chosen moment, in ways your pathetic and feeble (your words) whinging will never accomplish, because they figured out what needed to be done, and they did it, without anybody else holding their hands, or giving them permission. Usually just the opposite, in fact.

You can't figure that out, let alone do it.

But even you aren't completely useless: your exact bassackwardness can serve as a negative example, and teach other people to succeed, simply by not being like you.

And the way they're going to do that, is because they, unlike you, realize that life and society, in a complicated modern world, is absolutely chock-full of actual Jesus Nuts: single points of failure in a complex system that makes all the problems you're worried about blow up in the faces of your would-be overlords.

Stop me if you've heard this one...

If somebody goes after world leaders, they'll be hunted to the ends of the earth. Unlike some idiots, all of us know that.

But the guy who goes hunting the transformer a block from an important building, whether it's the Capitol, the Senate office building, or city hall, is probably never going to be found. it's just as illegal, mind you, and the federal attack dogs will bust a gut looking, but nobody can be everywhere, and the failure nodes on this civilization are literally legion.

No one can shut down the border, singlehanded. But imagine what happens if someone pulls over the traffic control boxes for the last five intersections before and after the border checkpoint?

Not advocating anyone should  do that, because after all, it's illegal (kind of like stealing elections is illegal), so it's baaaaad. So definitely don't do that. Even if any yahoo with a pickup truck and 50' of tow chain could git 'er done, times five, in about 15 minutes.

They also could find the water main for some important edifice of your would-be overlords, spin the water valve shut, and pour in 100 pounds of Ready-crete on a Sunday, so that it sets up good and hard by Monday morning, and there's no bathrooms or water there for days. That would be mean, evil, and highly verboten.

Is there a bank that's so woketarded they need a reminder of where their bread is buttered? Do not, under any circumstances, shove a metal credit card shape into the ATM slot, wired to a car battery, or a welding arc generator. That might damage the bank's property. It would be serially bad to hit 20 or 50 ATMs in a single night like that. Don't do it.

What's that, you say? The local college is a hotbed of woketardedness and Antifatarianism? How curious. Imagine the hilarity when someone drops a few tons of dirt and rubble in front of the student parking lot entries in the pre-dawn hours of a Monday morning, with caution signage and orange cones, and signs their work with the anarchist "A", some red and black posters, and a couple of rainbow warrior flags. Stick it to the manchildren, yo. Represent.

That's four small examples of what a slender thread life runs on, in a nation filled with soft targets, none of which require ammunition or body armor, let alone James Bond levels of gadgetry to pull off, yet no one will be shooting at the person doing it, and at 3AM, most will never even know it's happened.

Everybody's noted the literally hundreds of fires at food processing plants the last couple of years. Why should the WEF have all the fun?

That's all I'm suggesting might take place.

Brighter and motivated people could make a list of people, places, and things, that are the Jesus Nuts in any number of enterprises, none of them with Secret Service levels of protection. Wondering about whether the lemon is worth the squeeze? Call Mr. CARVER to do an analysis.

Someone serious would probably try to pick things that hack off and hamstring TPTB, without pissing off the Normies. If you find the right leverage point, you can move the entire world.

Someone so inclined could make a list. Scratch off one target every couple of months. Start small, and easy. Go forth randomly. Don't ask anybody, Don't tell anybody. Now it doesn't matter what "everybody else" is up to. Just what you decide to do. Which leaves only the same two questions that have always faced you (not you, Brave Anonymous Keyboard Do-Nothing, but the people not you, who aren't too chickenshit to do something, and smart enough not to fedpoast what they did last summer):

(Which, incidentally, is why one of my memes is worth hundreds of your snivveling whiny wet-diaper screeds.)

Delusional

FFS, his Secret Service code name is "Brutus".

DLTDHYITAOYWO

Details

The Lumpenproletariat Explosion

 

Anyone who does this for more than two minutes per day
can rightly be regarded as a thoroughgoing moron.
Every single time. There, I said the obvious.

Amidst a breakroom discussion with co-workers the other day, I had occasion to pause at the blank looks from most of them regarding a cinematic moment in Scent Of A Woman. (For Common Core grads, as I'll illustrate, it's the movie - phenomenally good, btw - for which Al Pacino won the Best Actor Oscar in 1993). It's not exactly trench warfare at Verdun, Magna Carta, or even Stonehenge, let alone the late Pleistocene Era, but it may as well have been for the vacant stares going on.

Al Who...?

"Wait a minute, show of hands: For how many of you is waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back in 1993 "before your time"?"

Every single hand in the room but one.

Christ on a pogo stick. I grew up with average kids who knew the plots of TV shows from 10 years before they were born, because they were still re-running them every day. I'm even pretty sure SOAW might have been on TV a few million times since '93 too.

I'm conversant on both cultural phenomena like movies and music, and actual historical events that happened long before I was born, even long before my grandparents were born, and it's not a rare feat, I swear. FFS, they make kids take history for about 10 years, even in the idiot academies that pass for public schools.

Or so you might have thought. You have to wonder WTF they cover in those classrooms, but quite frankly I'm afraid to look. I'm pretty sure that the Kardashians are an AP Class for college credit.

Apparently, if it didn't happen on Netflix or Twitter, or since 2010, it never happened.

This is why Jay Leno could ask basic grade school questions at malls and on college campuses and never fail to find 99% dumbasses, from wall-to-wall, every other night for over twenty years on The Tonight Show. At this point, having been off it for 8 years, it's a wonder anyone under 40 even knew who he was when the story came out last week that he was injured in his garage. And if anyone did the same bit now, no one would get it, because they wouldn't know the answers either. Unless they asked their grandfathers. Which is as it should be for people who think Rosetta Stone is just a language app for their computer, because those are the Top Ten search results on Google. ("Wait; you mean there's an actual Rosetta Stone? Did they name it after the app?" Kill me now.)

That we have suffered to produce such utterly but proudly ignorant and wholly uncurious generations (plural!) of lackwits, and raise them past majority, completely unaware of anything that doesn't come up on their YouTube queue, is a national scandal.

But clearly, I've reached the awkward age: not as old as old people, and not as blisteringly dumb as young people. 

For the 95% of the Baby Duck Generations to whom it applies: Get off your goddamned phones, and crack a friggin' book, FFS! Life started before you were born, and some of that stuff is actually kind of important. Like, even more important than Taylor Swift's new album. For reals. Crazy, right?

Yes, I'm shooting Baby Ducks in a barrel. Because they're not going to shoot themselves, however much we might wish otherwise.

A Perennially Inconvenient Truth

 h/t Theo Spark

The OP doesn't source those numbers, but I have no reason to doubt them. I first saw official FBI stats that backed this up in about '89, in either National Review (When WFB still ran the joint) or American Spectator (I forget which), when they were both still actually conservative house organs rather than RINO rags.

They noted that without black crime stats, the American violent crime rate was lower than Luxembourg, and that if you also factored out Latino violent crime from the "white" numbers, the crime rate for the other 70% (then) of America was lower than Liechtenstein.

Which also tells you why everywhere south of Brownsville and the entire continent of Africa are permanently basically nothing but sh*thole countries always waiting for the next disaster headline.

The rate above is actually even lower than it looks. Realize that over half of those US gun deaths (at least for whites) are suicides, and that many whites shot by another are shot by latinos or blacks, not other whites, and without those deaths, the white death rate by guns functionally drops to numbers that barely even register on that graph.

We've had gun control in America that has worked flawlessly, every time it's tried, long before 1934: we call it PRISON.

The best way to keep guns out of the hands of bad people, is to fill their hands with cell bars instead.

Remember that the next time someone starts sobbing about how unfair it is that Latonkwaneeto or Chuy are still doing almost 50% of their time before getting a shot at parole, after their seven-body crime wave was pled down to concurrent sentences for improper discharge of a firearm within city limits, and littering.

No points for guessing what open-floodgate illegal immigration and no-bail no-prosecution for less than mass murder D.A.s are doing to violent crime and murder stats, but people will start to clue in when every city from Maine to Maui is just like Chicongo, Philthydelphia, San Franshitsco, or the District of Criminals. The only real check on that now is 40+ states with must-issue open- or Constitutional-carry laws.

Committees of Vigilance didn't spring up for no reason the last time, and it won't be for nothing when they return, either.

Monopoly Money

 

Bearing in mind the difference between FTX and
US fiatbux is merely a matter of time.

Vlad's Going To Need More Mobilization Guys...

 

Apparently, things continue to go so well for Russian forces, that Sr. Col. Vadim Boyko, above, one of the military masterminds behind Putin's wildly successful mobilization earlier this fall, went to his office, where he then shot himself five times, using four different Makarov pistols. Quite a feat normally, but under Putin's regime, one far too easily accomplished every day. Not to worry though. Crack Russian criminal investigators have ruled it another tragic suicide of another heroic Russian senior mobilization officer, heartbroken over the continued Russian success in Ukraine.

This appears to be much like the "suicide" by hanging some weeks back of the officer who then apparently cut himself down, and then dumped his own body in a nearby field.

It's now anyone's guess whether Ukrainian artillery or Putincide are killing more Russian soldiers every week. But it is fun to watch.

And clearly, Russian Roulette rules have now been changed to using multiple bullets in multiple guns, all at the same time. Who thought that was sporting?

No Quit In Them

 h/t Davydov

You can't beat people who won't roll over and quit.

Things are going to get hard here too. Two more years of Mr. Fraudulent, Emperor Stumblefuck Poopypants I. So you're going to have to deal with your own tough times. Tough times weed out the pussies. Don't be one.

From The Ministry Of Weaselwords

Translation: No nuclear war today, thanksverymuch. NATO took a vote, and they're not going to start Armageddon over one Russian "Aw shitski!" 

Because sometimes, it's better to be a live sh*tweasel, than a vaporized truth-teller floating to earth as radioactive fallout particles.

So much for the ongoing line of horsesh*t about anyone trying to poke Russia into a nuclear war. Vlad just got a mulligan, and some fuck-up missile programmer in Belarus just got a dirt nap.

BFYTW

 

Forget "October Surprise". Try "November Miracle".

In the entire history of Major League Baseball, there have been, to date, over 220,000 official games. Despite that plethora of examples, in no season ever recorded has any team won every game by a come-from-behind victory rally in the bottom of the ninth inning, by getting just enough runs to win every single time, in every single game of the season, and then gone on to win the World Series in exactly the same way.

And then, on the other hand, we have Democrat candidates in biennial elections. And it just keeps happening, over and over and over. (Kirk Gibson, eat your heart out.)

It first happened in 1960, when the Daley Chicago political machine "found" just enough previously-undiscovered ballots late on election night to swing the entire state of Illinois, and secure a JFK victory over Richard Nixon. (Yes, it was that ham-fistedly obvious to the entire country, even back then.)

But those were gentler times, and Nixon didn't want to put the country through the crisis of a questioned presidency. In a double-karmic epic blunder, Nixon gave George McGovern the electoral drubbing of all time in 1972, and yet lost it all because his idiot minions broke into the DNC offices at the Watergate Towers, not realizing they and the GOP had the election in the bag by Labor Day after 7 years of LBJ's war, and chose loyalty to their minions over common sense, and turned the whole affair into a massive criminal enterprise. Easy come, easy go.

But even that pales in comparison to a Democrat Party now that inexplicably can lose almost no election. The voting machines always fail. The video cameras quit. There are sudden 3AM spikes in 100%-pure vote batches, in every key precinct, and city, and state, and it just keeps happening over and over and over. And Democrats win. Every. Single. Time.

Mirabile dictu!

Which of course, is Trump's fault. Because Americans, who keep flocking to his rallies in numbers that shame Superbowl turnouts, month after month, two years after he left office, obviously hate Trump so much, they magically vote for Democrats in droves.

Hard to believe? Just ask the Democrats.

Independents too. In batches of ballots that magically come up 100%-0. It's the damnedest coincidence in recorded history. Statisticians are jumping out of windows as silly things like mathematics are disproven daily. Democrats could win at craps in Vegas by rolling endless sevens. With only one die. They're that good.

Democrats are so fervent, it seems, they are packing 400 to a single apartment to vote for their party, in state after state. People in comas vote Democrat. Even the dead rise, and cast votes. In several states, the highest Democrat demographic is voters over 120, who turn out year after year, and vote a straight Democrat ticket. The dedication is incredible. No, really.

Miracles like this haven't been seen so regularly since Moses And The Red Sea Pedestrians was playing two shows a night at Pharoah's Palace.

So surely, this sort of serial conga-lines of anomalies must be a sign from no less than Almighty God who (along with a numberless heavenly host) must also be voting Democrat, in every precinct, county, and state. Praise be to St. Xerox and St. Kinko, the patron saints of truckloads of thousands of identical ballots, which accidental boxload sightings always start cropping up by August or September in any year with a November election, like manna from heaven at DNC HQ. And whose tender ministrations explain Democrat sanguinity in the face of poll numbers lower than whale droppings at the bottom of the Marianas Trench. And then, suddenly, it all comes out all right. After days of counting, long into the night, days after the polls close. 

And what mere mortal can argue with that?

Clearly, it's another November Miracle.

Inner Child Pleads The Fifth