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Italians: Never Trust ‘Em
I think it was Richard Hammond who, on the old Top Gear show, pointed out that Ferrari’s technical statistics were often flat-out lies: “How many horsepower does our new model have? A million!”
It’s not just their statistics, though. Try this one on for size:
Legendary Italian car maker Ferrari has no intention of phasing out combustion engines and going fully electric or hybrid anytime soon, promising Sunday to keep making the eight and 12-cylinder engines it has made its trademark at least until the end of the 2030s. (May 2023)
And then there’s this one:
An iconic supercar brand is set to launch its first ever EV, with a new factory already in the works. The luxury car giant is planning to open a new facility in Italy to produce its new all-electric models.
Who could this be, this “luxury car giant”?
Ferrari boss Benedetto Vigna confirmed that the company was on the right track in developing a new electric car. (November 2023)
I know, I know: this isn’t exactly a lie: Ferrari never said that they’d make only internal combustion engine (ICE) cars… but they sure as hell skated around the issue.
Just as they do with their technical specs.
And of course, they’ll cheat when it comes to the sound their new Duracell cars will make.
Bastardi.
Cenotaph Update
Yesterday we learned that “football hooligans” (a.k.a. loyal and decent Brits) are going to stop the Pal terrorsymps from taking over the Remembrance Day memorial.
Now we have this:
Football hooligans alliance supporters warn fans ‘do not come tooled up’ with weapons as they bid to ‘protect’ the Cenotaph from pro-Palestine protest – and sell out coaches for hundreds to head to London.
My thought is precisely the opposite: by all means bring weapons, because you have to know that the “peaceful” terrorsymps surely will — and the last thing you need is to face some dangerous asshole down with only your fists when he’s carrying a “sign-holder” (club).
No no: bring weapons yourselves, but do not brandish them or take them out — ever — unless you’re physically attacked.
Then have at it, and may the best thug win.
No doubt someone’s going to have a problem with this, but I don’t care. Even in Britishland, one should have the proper (and lawful) means of self-defense, e.g. a pair of sap gloves (as worn by the cops, ergo legal), and some kind of head protection (e.g. one of these). I had both on my last visit to Britishland, but I just never told anyone about them.
I also recommend carrying a sign (suitably provocative) affixed to a pickax handle.
It’s all about freedom of expression, innit?
Unsurprising
Now I’m not saying I approve of this guy’s solution to an obstruction in the road.
But I do understand it. I don’t know where ideologues get this idea that they can mess with people’s lives and livelihoods just because The Cause Is Just. I recall watching these self-righteous tits pulling a similar stunt in Britishland — and stopping an ambulance from carrying an injured person to hospital.
Clearly, to them The Cause is more important than a human life. So if someone decides that their ability to go about their business without being obstructed, heckled and in some cases attacked is more important than a human life (as Our Hero did in the above article), then the “protesters” have little to protest about when that circumstance includes their lives.
I see that our hot-headed gunman has been arrested and is facing trial. I bet he had a really good reason to whack a couple of the Smellies I mean Passionate Protesters. And if he did, and gets released without being charged, no doubt the streets will be filled with hordes of the Perpetually Indignant protesting that.
What a fucking circus (Latin for “round”) we have here.
I think I’ll spend a little time at the range today. Just because.
Gratuitous Gun Pic: Walther PD380 (.380 ACP)
I’m trying to be even-handed about Walther’s new little handgun (Cliff Notes: “unrivaled ease of use, carefully engineered to ensure an experience like no other, with minimal recoil and an effortless-to-rack slide” — from their blurb.) And it looks pretty much the same as the usual Plastic Fantastic:
Okay, I can see this gun’s application for people who have a problem with racking a slide — age-related, carpal tunnel etc. — but I have to say that the “PD” (personal defense) is going to be tricky with that underpowered Europellet. Even if it was developed by John Moses Browning, PBUH.
The PD380 weighs almost nothing (26oz loaded — note to gun manufacturers: I’m not interested in an unloaded gun’s weight because that ain’t reality). So that’s also a good thing.
For we the people who care about practical self defense, I’m thinking that maybe this would be a decent backup piece? but I’m unconvinced.
But whatever: let me not quibble about yet another means of putting bullets into a criminal (you know that’s what “self defense” ultimately means, don’t you?), but I can’t help but think that there might be some better options out there.
Your comments are welcome, as always.
Popcorn Time
Ooooh, I like the sound of this, oh yes I do:
Football hooligans are planning to ‘team up’ and ‘protect’ the Cenotaph from pro-Palestine protestors… with police fearing more than a thousand will come to London where a rally against war in Gaza is set to take place.
For those Murkins who are unaware what this is all about: unlike party-latecomers U.S. of A. to the fun and games of the WWI trenches, the Brits and French had been ritually slaughtered for several years in the trenches of northeastern France.
The First World War, in other words, had a far greater impact on British society (and it still does) than Over Here.
The Cenotaph in London is the great monument to the fallen of that war, and it is probably the single most unifying day in Britishland, where the entire nation falls silent at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, and wreaths are placed at the foot of the monument by kings, queens, princes and princesses. It is, in short, important.
So the Great Unwashed — in this case the fools who are protesting the current unpleasantness — announced that they were going to hijack the ceremony to make their little strident protests.
Whereupon the working class of Britain — then and now the most patriotic of the British citizenry — have apparently decided that this shall not stand. (Note that they’re called “football hooligans” by the Loathsome Jackals Of The Press, instead of “people who have a sense of honor” who, it should be said, have had enough of all this bullshit.)
Incidentally — and this predates the Balfour Declaration — had Britain not invaded Judea (the area now mistakenly called “Palestine”) back in that selfsame World War, the area might still be a satrapy of Turkey.
But enough history. What I want to see is the lads from the Millwall, West Ham, Crystal Palace and other such fan clubs stop beating each other up (the normal Match Day pastime) and converge on the Cenotaph en masse. Then they can start beating the shit out of the terrorsymp protesters, without the cops doing anything but nod approvingly and, if there were any justice in the world, corral the terrorsymps and prevent them from escaping the festivities.
That won’t happen, of course, more’s the pity. But I hope just a few hundred terrorsymps get fucked up so badly that they have to wait in the interminable NHS waiting lines to have their broken bones, skulls etc. patched up.
I’ll be Over Here, raising a pint of Fuller’s London Pride in the lads’ honor, oh yes I will. I’m even going to tune in to the ghastly BBC World TV channel in the hopes that a few BBC journos (who are almost without exception terrorsymps themselves) get their heads broken as well as they try to put their pathetic spin on the event.
That would call for magnums of champagne, never mind pints of ale.
Dogs of war, baby, dogs of war. I want to see them unleashed, with extreme malice.
If I were in London right now, I might even put on a Millwall supporter’s shirt and catch the Tube over, just to see what I could do to help. I haven’t been in a decent street fight since I battled apartheid cops in the streets of Johannesburg, and it’s about time.