No Wonder They Lost The War(s)

My plan this afternoon was to go and set up a new bank account to handle the dollars that my Kind Readers are going to support me with, and buy a few groceries from the Kroger across from there.

“Hello, Tiggy,” says I to the VW.  “Ready to go on a little trip?”
“Sorta.”  Some miles go by.  “Nope, sorry, let me show you my check engine light, and if that’s not enough, I’ll throw in a little juddering and unresponsive throttle.”

125,000 lousy miles, lovingly looked after, and it does this to me.  (see title)

I just made it to Mike The Mechanic (actually Chris, but that lacks the alliterative impact) who, when I described the symptoms, gave a merry laugh and called his wife to book that trip to the Bahamas.

Even better, I’ll only get it back next week, as they’re as busy as Hunter Biden in a whorehouse with a wallet full of taxpayer money.

Which means that for the foreseeable I get to chug around in Sputum:

Not that I mind, though, although it does mean that I will have to ferry New Wife to and from The Job.  Or just stay at home, drink gin and growl at my screen.

Wait:  what was the first option again?

Offensive

Here’s the background to this story.

A town put on a carnival, which featured a parade of bands, floats, and so on.  The usual.

A bunch of pranksters decided to pull a fast one, and entered their own (and unapproved) float.

The float featured a sign declaring: ‘Of course we’re women, we sit down to pee’ and ‘Olympics 2024 woman’s 100m final’ – referencing the recent decision from FINA, world swimming’s governing body, who recently adopted a new policy to prohibit transgender women from competing in women’s races.

Three men ran behind the float, which was not officially entered into the carnival and secretly joined the procession on the day of the event, dressed in sports-bras and Speedos while wearing comedy wigs.

They were joined by five women running alongside them, who laughed as they followed the homemade float, which featured a toilet and a man standing in a white coat – appearing to pose as an official referee.

Funny as hell.

All went well until — you guessed it — a passing tranny saw the float, and of course took offense:

Trans stand-up comedian Donna Landy attended the Great Torrington Mayfair and Carnival in Devon back in May and blasted a float for being ‘offensive’ and highlighting a backwards’ viewpoint on transgender issues.

I thought being a comedian required having a sense of humor, but clearly not.  Anyway:

‘I was going to the Torrington Carnival to see my daughters, who were in the parade. I got there a bit late and was just catching up with the procession when I came across this float, the last one in the parade, and was a bit puzzled.

‘When I caught up with the float and read the sign my heart sank, it was clearly mocking trans athletes in sport and by extension all trans people, really.’

Ms Landy said she was worried she ‘could get attacked’ at the event because people could have began ‘mocking her’.

Of course:  afraid for your life, you were, what with Great Torrington being internationally renowned for being a hotbed of tranny oppression.

Needless to say, the carnival issued a groveling apology — despite the float being a “non-approved” entry.  Whatever.

My question for our frightened tranny comedian is quite simple:

Do your daughters call you “Mom” or “Dad”?

I’m guessing “Mom”, as you clearly have no balls.

Then And Now

Found these two pics in a newspaper somewhere:

Dallas, late 19th century:

The same block in Dallas, today:

With all the faults and problems associated with living in the 19th century, I still prefer the look of that time to the soulless concrete ghastliness of today.

But you all knew I would feel that way.

Another Little Gift From Africa

As though pet pythons weren’t enough for Florida to deal with, there’s another immigrant arrival:

Giant African snails were found in the city of Port Richey, just north of Tampa. The town will be quarantined for two years, prohibiting residents from moving plants and soil outside of the quarantine zone. The snail is also damaging to the environment, feasting on more than 500 different plants, and has a taste for concrete, which is detrimental to infrastructure.

How giant?  This giant:

And:

The invasive shelled gastropods, which are native to Africa, are carrying the parasite lungworm that leads to meningitis in humans.

Even better:

The snail is also damaging to the environment, feasting on more than 500 different plants, and has a taste for concrete, which is detrimental to infrastructure.

Africa wins again.  Australia may have bird-eating spiders, but Africa’s snails eat buildings.

Kindred Soul

I have an ally in my war against loud music in restaurants and other commercial venues.  Saith Nigel Rodgers at the DM :

The introduction of the smoking ban enabled us to shop, eat and drink in a smoke-free environment, so why does uncontrollable, inescapable background music linger in these spaces like cigarette smoke once did?

Unwanted ‘muzac’ (NB. ‘Muzak’ with a ‘k’ is a tradename these days) easily becomes a noise, and noise is the forgotten pollutant. Sometimes you can’t hear yourself think, let alone hear the person you’re with.

You can’t read, you can’t listen to your music on headphones. No, you’re trapped, beholden to a dreadful cacophony.

I wrote about this ghastly nonsense back in 2018, and if anything, I’ve become less tolerant in the intervening years.  Not long ago I ordered my food in a place which played loud music, and then about ten minutes later I got up and left, apologizing to the restaurant manager on my way out, saying that my tinnitus was causing me extreme pain and I would not be able to enjoy the meal because of the noise.  I went back a couple nights later, walked in, and walked straight back out again, motioning to the manager about the loud music.  I never went back.

The hell with them, and all the other places.  Nigel, old buddy, I’m right there with you.

Nosebleed And RCOB

Yesterday I went to buy someone a Dallas Cowboys cap (don’t ask), and at Academy I was just about to throw one into the shopping cart when I caught a glimpse of the price.

THIRTY FUCKING DOLLARS?  FOR A LOUSY CAP????

So back on the rack it was flung, with some force, and I was so angry I had to buy some new .45 ACP ammo to settle my nerves.  (And at just over a dollar per round for primo self-defense stuff, it wasn’t that bad or else I’d have had a stroke.)

I can sorta see how a thermal cup, for instance, could cost maybe fifteen bucks (don’t get me started about that stupid Yeti crap):  there’s a combination of materials and a little quality thrown in, and then there’s the “brand” to pay for (although the way the Cowboys have been playing recently from all accounts, they should be paying US to take their shitty merchandise).

But $30 for a common-or-garden baseball cap, made (as they all are) in China?

FOAD, America’s Team.