Let’s Hear It For Violence

I was recently triggered by an article (linked by Insty) which contained this little gem:

Here’s the actual bullshit, in its entirety:

“We stand in solidarity with the Red Guards and principally Maoist collectives who are working towards the creation of the Maoist Party. We stand in solidarity with Maoist parties across the world who are committed to building socialism and fighting revisionism through People’s War!
“What needs to be done is the concentric construction of the three weapons of revolution: the Maoist Party, the Maoist People’s Army, and the Maoist United Front. What needs to be done is to militarize the masses and all the pre-Party Maoist formations!
“We must prepare today, yesterday and tomorrow for the prolong confrontation, the protracted war, against the capitalist state. We must carry out military actions against the enemies of the people!”

Ummm when I said I was “triggered”, that doesn’t mean I was offended or whatever the snowflakes normally mean. What happened is that I burst into great shouts of laughter which frightened the neighbor’s cat off the fence.

Listen, you little Maoist pricks: do you know that the “masses”, as you call them (about a hundred million people), are already pretty militarized? More to the point is that when you start carrying out “military actions against the enemies of the people”, tens of millions of your “enemies” will probably shout in a single voice: “The day has come, hallelujah! It’s Zombie Killin’ Time!” whereupon you sorry little bunch of insects are going to see exactly what “violence” means.

Do you actually have any idea what kind of whirlwind you pathetic Commies are going to reap? Do you have any idea how many goobers (like me) have been just waiting to settle that old argument once and for all? (The old argument being: “which would be more effective in killing Commies: the AR-15 or AK-47?”)

The problem is that you Communist tools are still stuck in the past, when the peasants were unarmed and only a few of the “vanguard” were necessary to terrorize the population (with the help of the army). Now, however, after over 100 million deaths caused by Communism, we know exactly who the enemies of the People really are: they’re the Communists, and the army is on the side not of you Commies, but on the side of your supposed “enemies” — the capitalists. If you don’t believe that, you have a rude awakening coming on the Glorious Day. (It’s gonna be glorious, all right — just not in the way you think.)

So good luck with that, assholes. Me, I’m off to the range. My sniper rifle isn’t going to zero itself, nor will my AK be able to dump a full mag into the sweet spot of a (human-shaped) paper target without the shooter (that would be me) being completely “regulated” in its use. (You may want to look up the actual meaning of the word “regulated” in its original placement in the Second Amendment, by the way.)

Don’t get me started on my 1911, which has been looking at me piteously for two whole weeks, begging for an outing.

Hmmm… maybe I was “triggered” after all; certainly my trigger finger started to itch uncontrollably as I read their little manifesto.

Maoist collectives? Pathetic twerps, more like.

Another Frigging Moron

I have often said that had I been Rick Blaine in the movie Casablanca, I would have arranged to have Major Strasser send that Commie rat Viktor Laszlo off to a concentration camp, then spent the rest of the war in Casablanca making boatloads of money from the bar and lots of babies with Ilsa.

I grant you that in my scenario above, Casablanca would have been somewhat different from the version as released, but that’s just me. Others, however,  are drawn to adventure, like this fool who is currently climbing Mt. Everest:

His name is Ben Fogle and he is an “adventurer”, which is all well and good while you’re a single young man with no responsibilities (which is why his counterparts in, say, the Marine Corps are considered expendable).

But Fogle leaves this behind to go on his adrenaline-junkie escapades:

It’s not just the fact that Marina Fogle is drop-dead lovely (which she is), but there are children involved. So when Daddy plunges to his death / gets eaten by a shark / dies of some hideous disease in a poxy jungle in some shithole country, these beautiful kids will have to come to terms with the fact that their Daddy thought that his adventures were more important than they were (which he clearly does).

Frankly, were I Mrs. Fogle, I’d ditch her selfish husband and hook up with someone more responsible. He wouldn’t have to be an accountant or lawyer or some equally-dreadful nebbish, just someone with a greater sense of familial duty than her existing husband. That she doesn’t do this makes her a better person than he is.

Nevertheless, Fogle will doubtless meet a pointless death like that Aussie idiot who was always playing with dangerous animals, and Mrs. Fogle can get on with her life. It’s just too bad that the kids have to suffer along the way.

So Much For The Army

Oy. The story is as follows: female recruit can’t handle bayonet training, gets cussed out by the instructor, bursts into tears — and the instructor is now facing a court-martial because feewings.

I’d put in a little excerpt from the article, except that it would cause all veterans’ blood pressure to soar and the howls of outrage would upset all the other people in the cubicle farm*.

And the Brits expect their army to go to war… it is, as they say, to laugh.


*I know that most of you read this website at work. Don’t bother lying to me.

…And So Much For All That

I remember people welcoming the advent of driverless cars with exclamations of: “I can take a nap!” or “I can catch up on my work!” or “I can play online games!” or “I can go out and get plastered and not worry about breathalyzers!”, all while being driven to the office / home / airport etc.

Sadly, as with so many things, it’s all bullshit because of Nanny Government:

Drivers of self-steering cars such as Teslas will be ordered not to take their hands off the wheel for more than a minute.
The new regulations from the UK government will target drivers who let go of the steering wheel thanks to lane steering, cruise control or emergency braking features.
Motorists who break the new rules will face points on their licence, a potential £1,000 fine and even prison.
It comes after legislation requiring cars manufacturers to install a feature to alert drivers when they have not touched the wheel for 15 seconds.

So the attraction of driverless cars is… what, exactly? Forgive me while I snort with derision.

Ahhhh, let’s forget about all that driverless crap and gaze upon a car which absolutely mandates self-driving, a 1957 Maserati 3500 GT:

None of that no-drive nonsense here: the 3500 line features a six-cylinder 3.5-liter engine driven with a four- or five-speed manual transmission, and it was in production for eight years (a long time for Maserati, in those days), attesting to its popularity. And if that pic wasn’t enough to persuade you, here’s the convertible version:

Those of you wanting one can form a line behind me.

Trifecta

I am often asked why I prefer movie stars of yore to today’s offerings. Allow me to explain, using but a single picture taken sometime in the 1950s:

That’s Jane Russell on the right, Debra Paget (I think) on the left, and I don’t know who’s in the middle.

None of that is important. As long as you’re prepared to overlook the hot dogs, that is.

Suits

Every man should have at least one. (I’ve spoken on this topic before, but it bears repeating.)

I can already hear the moans: “I never need to wear one! Why should I own a suit?” and “I hate them?!They’re uncomfortable!” and “I won’t work for a company which insists on men wearing a suit!” and so on, ad nauseam.

Don’t care. There’s something about wearing a decent suit which not only makes a man look good, but feel good — provided, of course, that you feel comfortable wearing one in the first place. (And if you don’t feel comfortable wearing a suit, you should become so, by wearing a decent suit until you do.)

“I never go anywhere that requires me to wear a suit!” Then it’s time you upgraded your choice of places to visit.

Here’s the thing: men look good in a well-tailored, stylish suit. It almost doesn’t matter if your body shape is not like a movie star’s, because if the suit is designed properly, it will hide your shortcomings better than any other type of clothing. (And if you don’t care what you look like, or subscribe to the idiot notion that looks shouldn’t matter, then you need to grow the fuck up — because appearance matters, and always has.)

Here’s another thing: women like a man in a suit. You only have to see the female reaction to Mad Men‘s Don Draper and Roger Sterling for proof. Another manifestation is when a women says, “Man! You sure clean up good!”, because believe me, that’s a statement of admiration despite the ungrammatical choice of words. (What it means, by the way, is that she’s looking at you with new eyes — and likes what she sees.) For better or worse, people will always take you more seriously when you’re well-dressed, and a good suit will always leave a favorable impression.

I won’t even go into the topic of the importance of wearing a suit when applying for a job, because that’s self-evident.

As for color, it’s simple: dark and muted, grey or blue (charcoal or navy-blue, for the uninitiated). And it should be fashionable. Men are blessed with the fact that suits’ fashions don’t change from year to year, but they do change from decade to decade, which is at least as often as you should buy a new one.

And lastly, there’s a very good reason to have at least one suit handy: there will come a time when you absolutely have to have one. It might be a funeral, a restaurant with a dress code (and spare me the gripe that you’ll never go to a place that has a dress code — once again, grow the fuck up), or maybe there’ll just be a time when you have to impress somebody.

Here’s a little scenario for you all to chew on. Imagine that you achieve something of importance: you saved someone’s life, you donated a large sum of money to a charity, you won a sporting competition, whatever. Let’s say that a consequence of this achievement is that you’re invited to the state capitol so that the Governor can shake your hand.

Let’s be clear about this: you can’t go in jeans and a fucking t-shirt, because that shows immense disrespect to the person who wants to honor you. You’ll need to wear a decent suit.

A suit is like a gun: you hardly ever need one, but when you do, you’ll need it really badly. So have that suit handy, and every so often, wear it out to dinner or some social event. You’ll be amazed at the reaction. The old truism still applies when it comes to going out:  men wear suits; boys wear casual clothes. (In an old Cary Grant movie, a flashback made the 40-year-old Grant look like a teenager just by dressing him in casual clothes; when coming back to the present day, he wore suits — and matured instantly.)

Oh, and one last thing: colored shirts, no matter what the fashion magazines say, are for pimps and parvenu yuppies. The proper shirt color is white, with maybe a tiny pinstripe if you’re adventurous. (I have a number of identical “dress” shirts, all with a red pinstripe, because I once saw a good deal at Marshall Field and snagged a dozen. Good, discreetly-tailored shirts never go out of fashion.) And have half a dozen decent ties — not from WalMart or Target — at your disposal; once again, discreet “rep” ties with diagonal stripes never go out of fashion, ditto monocolored silk ones. And FFS: get a decent pair of black lace-up shoes to go with your suit, and keep them polished.

Take a look at the pics below: there’s barely a woman alive who wouldn’t respond positively to a man dressed like that — and if she doesn’t, she probably isn’t worth bothering with.

And the Governor would be equally impressed.