Everyone’s always talking about concepts like “plant-based” or “knowledge-based” (A.I.) nowadays.

How about “reality-based”?  Here’s one company who thought they had it all worked out, until reality stepped up and said, “Nazzo fast, Guido” (actually, “Noch langsamer, Fritz” ):

Mercedes-Benz has backtracked on their plan to transition to selling only electric vehicles after 2030, with company officials saying that “market conditions” have not allowed that to happen.

Ah, those pesky “market conditions”, wherein customers tell their supplier companies to take a hike after said corporations make unbelievably stupid decisions (Bud Lite, coff coff).

The background:

The company said it would commit $47 billion to electrifying its fleet, with CEO and board chair Ola Källenius saying, “We are convinced, we can do it with strong profitability, and we believe that focus on electrical is the right way to build a successful future and to enhance the value of Mercedes Benz.”

In other words:  we’ve bought into the whole Green New Deal, hook, line and sinker, and we’ll just force customers to adapt to the New World Order by giving them no option to do otherwise.

And then came Q4 ’23 results.  Oh, and a few other things which might have made potential (and existing) customers reevaluate their options:

The business model change comes after multiple highly-publicized instances of Mercedes-Benz electric vehicles catching on fire and causing massive damage.

Yeah.  Imagine that.

My question is quite simple:  other car companies have also declared their intention to be all-electric by x date (e.g. Jaguar, Volvo).  Does anyone think they’re going to have a change of heart too?

Or will they just do the Lemming Thing and plunge off the reality-based cliff, secure in their own virtuousness?

News Roundup

And with that excellent advice, here’s some Rx News:

...WuFlu itself, reaction to the “vaccine”, very bad acid trip or a combination of all three?  I report, you decide.

Some Political News:

...I think he just woke up and realized what a scam it all is.  By the way:  Johnson is a pretty good mayor (for a Democrat shithole like Dallas metro).

From the Great Assimilation Project:

...anyone surprised by this?  Nobody?  Me neither.  Also: he going to get severely punished?  Don’t make me laugh.  Then there’s this:

...can we do a cut ‘n paste Over Here?

Hot off the Police Blotter:

...should have joined the NYPD if she wanted to do a little risk-free cashless shopping.

Some Sporting News:

...considering that he’s undeniably better than anyone else who’s ever played the game, that’s hardly surprising.

From the Palace Papers:

...would that be the same “secret weapon” who “dealt with” his ex-wife?

More news from the front lines of Sex Wars:

...when is “too soon”?  During the first date?   Before meeting the parents?  On the first night of the honeymoon?

...I always suspected this to be the case.  Now it’s “experts” to the rescue.

And speaking of psycho bitches and other beings, ecco 


...and will we get to see them Over Here?  Silly rabbits.

In ShowBiz Noose: [/Robin Williams]

There was yet another pointless awards show recently, when actors, actresses and sluts [some overlap]  got together to air-kiss each others’ cheeks etc.  The men’s fashion choices, as always, ranged from the elegant:

…to the dreadful:

…with sartorial sins so egregious I shouldn’t have to list them.

Some guy tried hard, but forgot his socks, FFS:

…and of his companion and her “I don’t wanna be here” stare, we need say nothing.

And speaking of the women:


…all quite nice, actually.

And I will admit to a little tinge of old-man lust towards the late-40s-vintage Reese Witherspoon.

There were a couple of the older trots (Trots?) among them, but I’m not going to spoil anyone’s appetite with pictures of Oprah, Streep, Streisand and Melissa McCarthy, because I care.

And anyway, it’s time to end the news.


Gratuitous Gun Pic: Holland & Holland Double (.400 Express)

I knew I shouldn’t have done it, but there it is:  scarcely had I finished writing the last GGP when I continued down the rabbit hole that is Collector’s Antique Rifle department, and happened upon this H&H double rifle:

Ah, for heaven’s sake.

As for the chambering:  the .450/400 BPE (in the Gospel According To Frank Barnes) is akin, ballistically speaking, to the typical .450 black powder cartridges of the late 19th century and will put anything down at the shorter ranges.  Calling it the “400 Express”, however, introduces an element of confusion, because no such cartridge exists.  The .400 Nitro Express is the smokeless version of the above, and no doubt the rifle would be capable of handling it (always supposing it fits in the chamber).

Whatever:  this is a collector’s rifle, and as it’s been restored by H&H themselves and (assuming the cartridge confusion can be resolved) is a lovely gun worthy of any collection.

You can expect a lot more of this kind of post in the near future… somebody stop me.

Simultaneous Catastrophes

At any given time, things break, we fix them / get them fixed and get on with life.

However, we should always be cognizant of that old bastard Murphy, the corollary to whose Law states that if things can go wrong, they will always go wrong in the order which will provide the greatest damage or catastrophe.  Or, in the sub-corollary, that all will occur more or less at the same time.

Wanna hear mine?

In the past seven days:

  • The Tiguan’s rear suspension and brakes need replacing (at only 135,000 miles, go figure).
  • When New Wife went to get the Fiat’s tires pumped during the recent cold weather, the tire guy said that her car won’t pass the next inspection because of tread wear (after 30,000 miles, go figure again).
  • Our tumble dryer has ceased to both tumble and dry — “What about the warranty?” you ask;  why, the 5-year warranty expired a year ago because the appliance is over six years old.  As such, repairs will cost more than simple replacement.
  • Speaking of old things: my 6-year-old laptop’s chassis has given up the ghost completely — I can’t close it without causing irreparable damage, and it’s being held together with Ye Olde Ductte Taype (pics on request).
  • Still on the laptop:  the power cord has become loosened to the point where I have to use the above to keep it in place, and even then if I move too suddenly, the connection ends and Ye Olde Batterye takes over, for about an hour before it too goes bye-bye.
  • Uncle Shylock has decided that some of  my 2013 deductions were not acceptable, and I have to repay some ungodly (for me) amount.
  • So does New Wife, who upon becoming salaried as opposed to hourly, decided to enroll in the company medical plan — but whoopsie! that incurs an ObamaCare penalty (don’t ask me for the details;  my tax preparer explained it to me, as much as one can politely explain getting bent over a desk by the Gummint, and the penalty actually dwarfs my tax deduction repayment).

Ordinarily, I could handle all the above individually:  schedule payments to the IRS over the next year, for instance;  and all the others could be put on the credit card.  But doing the latter en masse  would make the monthly repayments unaffordable.  And thanks to Bidenflation (of which I may have made some mention in the past), our monthly expenses are already at the nostrils-occasionally-underwater stage.

I have already sold everything that is saleable in my house.  That includes most of my gun collection, and the few pieces that remain I need (for obvious reasons) and aren’t worth that much anyway.

Whenever someone helpfully suggests that I get a job, I point out that this blog is my job.  It’s the only one I can do, given my advanced age and health condition, and the only way I can help myself is to depend on the kindness of others as they regard the worth of my writing on this website.

For the most obvious of reasons, I can’t open up an OnlyFans account like this tart did.  Most distressingly, the market for the model in the pic below would be embarrassingly small.

…even though I’ve lost quite a bit of weight since then.  And I think I’ve punished my tiny pool of Lady Readers enough anyway.

You all know what to do.  My sooper-seekrit mailing address for Going Paper is:

6009 W. Parker Rd, Ste 149-141, Plano TX 75093

…and then there is Venmo (no PayPal, sorry) or Zelle via [email protected]

Anything you can send will be hugely appreciated, because quite frankly, this is the only way out for me if nothing else comes to the fore (e.g. a lottery win, and you know the odds against that).

Thank you all in advance,

That Leap Year Thing

According to some legend or other, February 29 (tomorrow) is the date when women are “allowed” to propose marriage to men, as opposed to vice versa, which catastrophe may fall on any other day of the year.

So let’s play another one of Kim’s Silly Games.

Assuming you were of the age and (non-)marital status to be able to take advantage of said Leap Year foolishness, from which of the five options below would you entertain such a proposal?  (And no, you can’t chicken out and nominate your current wife because that would be too easy.)  To make life easier, you can rank said proposers if you want.

Another assumption (and this is a difficult one) is to imagine that none of the choices is batshit fucking crazy.

Here are the options available to you, O Lucky Man (and the names are linked, for any background you might need).

Anna Magnani

Dawn Addams

Peggy Cummins

Joan Bennet

Romy Schneider

Rank away, in Comments.