No Thanks

I recently received a notice from Uber informing me that a great opportunity to make lots of money will be available tomorrow — St. Patrick’s Day.

Ain’t gonna happen.

In the first place, I try not to work on weekend nights because there’s not much call for Uber other than ferrying drunken people home after an evening’s drinking. Forgive me for being fastidious, but washing puke out of my car in the middle of the night doesn’t appeal to me. Also, drunk people make me irritable and that affects my driving.

Secondly, I have an ironclad rule when it comes to those days where the streets and roads are full of amateur drunks (e.g. New Year’s Eve and the aforementioned “Irish” holiday): I stay at home and off the roads because amateur drunks. The chances of getting involved in a collision with a drunk driver rise exponentially, and I understand the laws of probability too well. Also see my first reason, because if there’s a good chance that people are gonna puke late on a normal weekend night, it’s almost a dead cert on St. Paddy’s Day.

Nope; on the evening of St. Patrick’s Day you’ll find me cleaning guns, reading, watching a movie on Netflix or relaxing in Doc Russia’s new hot tub with a teenage hooker some kind of cold beverage — alcoholic or non-, as the mood takes me.

Let other Uber drivers have the business, and good luck to ’em.

And for you folks who are venturing out tomorrow night: be careful out there. It’s not just drunks who are out and about; it’s a great opportunity for goblins to inflict a little involuntary property redistribution on inebriated people. You have been warned.

5 Worst Lies

All in ascending order of frightfulness, as usual.

Told by men:

  • “You won’t get pregnant; my family’s been sterile for generations.”
  • “I’ll just put the tip in.”
  • “…and forsaking all others…”
  • “I’ll call you  next time I’m in town.”
  • “She means nothing to me!”

Told by women:

  • “Size isn’t important.”
  • “I won’t try to change you after we get married.”
  • “I don’t fake my orgasms.”
  • “Bad boys don’t turn me on.”
  • “I’d love you even if you weren’t rich.”


Your suggestions in Comments. Bonus points if you’ve actually uttered them, or had them told to you.

(South) Africa Sinking

From Longtime Friend & Reader Larry A. comes this question:

“I was thinking about you the other day when reading about South Africa’s plan to strip land from the white farmers, and the promise that they were not calling for slaughter of the whites, ‘for now’. I am well aware of your Let Africa Sink essay from the Olde Days, but wondered if you think it will go full Rhodesia this time? Do you still have family / friends there that you are concerned are at risk? The silence of the media (in this country at least) is deafening.

I don’t think that South Africa will go Full Rhodesia. I think it will go Full Nazi Germany, with the Whites taking the place of the Jews. And I think — no, I am sure — that the rest of the world: the U.N., the West and anyone else that counts* will do sweet fuck-all to stop it nor will they intervene in any way because African Blacks killing African Whites is just fine by the rest of the world because Apartheid.

Africa will win again.

And yes, I have friends and family still living there. My sister and her husband live on a farm. Does that answer your question?

*Except maybe Australia, bless ’em.

It’s NOT The Guns, Stupid

I’m getting heartily sick of people yammering on about America’s “gun culture” (usually spoken in terms of horror and disparagement).

It’s not a “gun” culture; it’s a culture of self-reliance . For the same reason, we’re also a “car” culture, because while guns give us freedom (in general), cars give us freedom of movement. Just as we’re not wholly dependent on the State to protect us thanks to our guns, with our cars we’re also free to move around freely, not dependent on Government to supply us with transport.

Some time ago, I laughed at the way that liberal “intellectuals” (who are neither) and European weenies used “cowboys” as an epithet — little realizing that the cowboy embodies everything we true Americans love about our society: he’s on a horse (independent transport), and being armed, he doesn’t need the sheriff to look after him. Cowboys, by the way, were and are largely self-employed, moving from one ranch to another as need for the cattle roundups and drives changes — and we all know that the above-mentioned bastards would prefer that we all work a.) for the State, or at least b.) for companies and institutions (like colleges) that are under the control of the State. (The first system is Communism and the second is Fascism, just so we’re all clear on this topic.)

So when misguided children and malevolent gun-confiscators talk about doing away with the “gun culture”, please be aware that what they’re really talking about is making us all dependent on, and subservient to the State for our protection. For the kids, that’s an unintended outcome because, duh, they’re kids and can’t think past the next hour; and for the confiscators and their ilk, that’s the intended outcome, as per Marx and Mussolini.

The same, by the way, is also true of people who want to do away with cars and make us all use public transport, thus taking away our freedom of movement and subjecting it to government diktat. (It’s another reason why I think “driverless” cars are going to prove to be an abomination — giving up driving means giving up control of your own movements, eventually. Just watch.)

I once wrote that I don’t just want the freedom to bear arms, I want everything that goes along with it: responsibility, personal safety, freedom from government control, the whole damn thing. But what that really means is that I want to be part of a culture of self-reliance. And in the spirit of that culture, allow me to post the following pics:

…or if others feel exactly as I do, but would prefer to be All-American:

That’s my dream, and a pox on those who would deny me that dream, whatever their oh-so noble intentions.

Dramatis personae, from top:

  • AK WASR-10 in 7.62x39mm, with a 30-round magazine
  • 2018 Maserati GT 4.7-liter V8 (454 hp)
  • AR-10 in 7.62x51mm equipped with, yes, a modifier
  • 1969 Stingray L79, 327 cu. in. V8 (350 hp)

All four are, if you’ll pardon the expression, loin-stirrers for us self-reliant types — and objects of horror and loathing to the weenies (who would go with *911 and an auto-drive Prius).

I’m pretty sure I can guess which option my Loyal Readers would choose.

Louder Thundering Hoofbeats

As if we needed more proof that the world is going to hell:

Cornish scone lovers react with fury after ad shows the tasty treat with CREAM on first instead of jam

There’s even photographic evidence of this atrocity:

End Times, folks.

(And by the way, the correct pronunciation is “skonn“, not “skohn“. And the Scottish coronation stone named “Scone” is pronounced “Skoon” — as per BBC Scotland. Take note; there will be a test. The world may well be coming to an end, but that’s no excuse to let speech standards slip.)