Author: Kim du Toit

Calling All Tyrants

Resistance, War Stories

Via the Greek Digit, I found this most excellent piece of writing:

In a Quinnipiac survey, people were asked “If you were in the same position as Ukrainians are now, do you think that you would stay and fight or leave the country?” The results showed that an overwhelming majority of Republicans and a comfortable majority of independents say they would stay and fight. As for Democrats? 52% said they would leave the country.

Okay… you know what I’m going to say next.

Can somebody, anybody out there invade us?  I promise not to mobilize the 34th Beer & Treason Brigade until the invasion* has occupied at least the East and West coasts, and the fucking hippies / Communists who infest the areas have run off to join their little soyboy pal Trudeau in the Frozen North.

(After that, of course, WOLVERINES!!!!)

I think the game is worth the candle.  Anything to get the Left outta here so we don’t have to take care of them ourselves.

*It has to be a serious invasion, with landing craft carrying troops, and tanks and stuff driving up and down Madison Ave and all through the Mission District.  If you want to shell Portland and Seattle like the Russkis are doing to Kiev… well, okay.  We’ll even email you maps of all the BLM hideouts so you’ll know where to start aiming the rockets.

Don’t worry about the U.S. Armed Forces;  just throw a few hundred trannies in your front ranks and the U.S. Woke Regiments won’t shoot lest they be accused of LGBT hatred, or something.

I need to stop now before I get too excited.

News Roundup

Bad News

…is brought to you today by:

So let’s down it all in one long, ghastly gulp.


…and it should come as absolutely no surprise that the person behind this foulness is a self-described “femme, fat, queer, magical pleasure worker, educator, and artist“.  I’d post a picture, but I respect my Readers too much.


…I know, how silly.   Now let’s talk about heavenly angels…


,,,given that it’s Cardiff, Tchaikowski would probably be overjoyed.


…but unless the legislation includes severe penalties for non-compliance, it will be as useful as a banana in a house fire.


…ah yes, page 127 of The Communist Manifesto:  “When prices rise because of shortages, it is the greed of the corporations, and not of the government policy which caused the shortage“.  And:


…unless there was an actual shotgun involved in this “blasting”, I’m not really interested.


…vagina museum?

Climate Changery:


...as long as said gas guzzlers kill climate terrorists by running them over, I think we’re all cool.


…travel agencies hardest hit.

And speaking of migratory species:


…but as with most gun laws, it didn’t stop him.


….unless she was the granddaughter of the judge who released him, nothing will happen to him.

Train Smash Update:


…if she does, it’ll be the first time she’s ever planned anything.

And now, no-link INSIGNIFICA (and you will thank me for this):

       

There’s gotta be pure battery acid in that thang, Bubba.

Over-Complexity

Drive Time, Old Fartism, Technology, Two-Minute Hate

The nice thing about getting into a car, back in the day when I first got into a car is that it was like a fork:  everything about it was self-evident, and it was easy to use (hold the end without the pointy bits, stab your food with it and convey said food to your mouth).  It even allowed for different styles of use, e.g. the American (hold the food still while cutting it into baby-sized pieces, then transfer fork to right hand, slide the fork under the food and shovel said food into your mouth).

I pass no judgment about the American way other than it’s fucking stupid and it’s the way a child eats.

Anyway, the same methodology applied to a car of an earlier era:  you open the door with the handle thoughtfully attached to the outside, get in and sit down;  then insert key into ignition and turn the engine on, put the car into gear, release the handbrake and off you go.  (A couple of steps have been omitted for sake of brevity.)  Then when you get to your destination, you pull up the handbrake, turn off the car, open the door with the handle thoughtfully supplied, and get out to go to the pub.

None of the above required a user’s manual or anything other than a thirty-second explanation from an adult.

Compare that simple procedure to this concatenation of silliness:

Jeremy Clarkson was test driving a brand-new Maserati MC20 when he and Lisa decided to drive the motor to their local pub, where they were planning to indulge in a fish pie, but the couple soon realised they couldn’t get out.

Jeremy said: ‘We were in the car and five minutes after that we were in the pub’s car park. And five minutes after that we were still in the pub car park because neither of us could find anything that even remotely resembled a door handle’.

‘Eventually I turned on my phone’s torch and found the little button that you must press to unlatch the door, and then we were out.

‘And then I was back inside very smartly because the car was starting to roll down a hill.’

After finally discovering a button that activated the handbrake, Jeremy thought he had fixed the issue only to hear ‘bonging noises’ when he got out of the vehicle.

‘After an hour of swearing and wondering out loud whether it would have been easier to stay at home and make a soufflé out of ant hearts, I called a colleague, who said that to engage ‘park’ and turn out the lights I had to stop the engine twice.

‘So I pushed the button to turn the motor off, then pushed it again. Which caused it to start. I then called the colleague again, who said that when I pushed the button the second time my foot had to be off the brake pedal. And he was right, which meant that we just caught last orders.’

Let’s hear it for Technology!

As Longtime Readers all know, I have a long and abiding passion for Maserati cars, despite the dreaded which causes fits of laughter among American engineers and drivers.

Now imagine that same applied to a system which (nominally) controls the “hand”-brake and door-“handle” functions, in addition to lights, mirrors, windshield wipers, turn indicators, window- and trunk controls, ignition, transmission and (gawd help us) onboard computer.

Compared to this mobile disaster area, even my old Fiat 124 looks like a dream come true.

Manual everything — gearbox, ignition, doors, windows, seats, rearview mirrors, turn indicators, trunk opener and even, on occasion (!), windshield wipers.

All this modern shit?  You can stick it.

Even for an MC20.

 

Bowdler’s Dash

Grammar Nazism

In an otherwise good article, Naomi Wolf (or maybe her editor) falls prey to the regrettable sin of using dashes to purge “objectionable” words of their, well, objectionableness.  It’s in the headline, even:

I’m Not “Brave”; You’re Just A P—y

If one were even less of a pussy, one might use the word “pussy” (or insist on its use, rather than the removal of sufficient letters to readers to play the “what does that spell?” game).  What’s really interesting about this particular bowdlerization is that “pussy” in this context is short for “pussycat”, i.e. small, skittish and fearful, rather than referring to a “vagina” — which it does not mean here, for obvious reasons, but the word is doomed by its dual meaning.

If we were talking about a farmyard rooster, would we refer to it as a “c*ck”?  Of course not.  We would only insert the  asterisk if we were talking about Willie Brown inserting his c*ck into Kamala Harris’s c*nt.  (Well, I wouldn’t, but you get my drift.)

If you really want to be “brave”, write the word “nigger” instead of “the n-word” — the other night, I read that Joseph Conrad’s excellent novel is now called “The N-Word of the Narcissis”, and my howls of enraged laughter woke up the neighbor’s dog and got him barking.

When I do the News Roundup feature, I spend an inordinate amount of time editing the headlines by removing “a**hole”, for instance, and replacing it with its proper spelling.  (No small feat, because of the multitude of fonts and backgrounds used, by the way.)

Note to the editors of all the rags I link to:  if you’re quoting someone who called someone else a dickhead, for example, you’re allowed to use the actual word instead of Mrs. Bowdler’s dashes or asterisks.

I know, I know, people are going to complain about the foul language.  Then use different words, or don’t quote them at all.

But to be honest, “wimp” just does not have the same scornful impact as “pussy”.