It’s very tempting for me to disqualify all Australian women from Train Smashdom because, well, because Australian.
However, then we’d not be able to feast our eyes on displays such as this year’s Australia Day celebrations:
Of course, this being the modern era, people found something to complain about the event, and they looked pretty much as you’d expect them to look:
…but who cares? Not these folks:
Which just goes to show that not all women Down Under are Train Smash Women.
Happy Australia Day, Over There!!!
While reading The Sun newspaper (so you don’t have to), I was drawn to this little piece about local additions to various fast-food menus all over the world.
No problems with Canuckistan McDonalds offering poutines, of course, as I think there’s probably a law Up There which mandates it:
Oaaaargh I think I just gained a pound looking at those bad boys.
But it’s the offering from KFC Philippines which got me thinking:
Just run with me here for a moment. If that hot dog is the usual bland crap pablum as served to kids as canned Vienna sausages, then ugh. But what if it was a lovely German-style bratwurst or similar, topped with some spicy Senf (mustard) and wrapped in crunchy KFC fried chicken breast?
I’d order it as my last meal, with some proper (not McDonalds) Canucki poutines.
And yes I know, with all that fat it probably would be my last meal. But I have a suspicion that it would truly be a taste to die for.
I think I’m going to make one for myself (once again, so y’all don’t have to), just to see how it works out.
Nom nom nom.
News so horrible, you’ll need a barf bag. Don’t believe me?
…let the public floggings begin.
…at some point, people just get sick of petty-minded officialdom, don’t they?
…good for you, Mum. If only there were another 100,000 like you…
…and quite rightly so.
…and I’ll take “Republican members of Congress” for $400, Alex.
From the Dept. of Covidiocy:
…I’m fine with that, but only if we substitute “college professors” for “anti-maskers”.
In other news:
…yeah, that’s going to work out well. Still, better in Massachusetts than in Texas.
…why is this chubby little fuck not yet swinging from a rope for treason? And speaking of which:
…unfortunately, it’s just his portrait.
And now, INSIGNIFICA:
Train Smash Update:
…and from the article:
Finally, this (with sincere apologies):
…one has to wonder exactly how less-thin she was before.
Here’s an antidote to the above:
Being out of touch, as always, I failed to notice that S&W have (once again) re-released their lovely little Model 648 — only this time, it has an 8-round cylinder:
I just love the look of this piece; a nice heavy barrel and underlug on a K-frame Smith? Be still, my beating heart.
But it had better be a strong heart.
Longtime Readers will be aware that I am a huge fan of the .22 Mag (.22 Win Mag/WMR) cartridge, and all things being equal I would be on the hunt for one of these new 8-shooters toot sweet, so to speak.
But seriously — and I have bitched and moaned about this before — the cost of .22 Mag ammo is just foul. When .22 LR has come down to around 10 cents per pop, its big brother stays stubbornly around 36 cents, which just sucks. Even back in the Good Times (1999 – 2005), it was still relatively pricey, but even so, I recall paying about 15 cents per (about double that of Min-Mag .22 LR from CCI) on a bulk purchase; and thank goodness it was a bulk purchase (5,000 rounds), because I’m still shooting ammo from that and earlier purchases. I haven’t had the nerve (or wallet) to buy any more since then.
That kind of price just takes the ammo — and the guns which shoot them — right out of the plinking / fun shooting, and relegates it to varmint hunting. And by the way, if I were to go varminting now, I could shoot .223 Rem ammo at 32 cent a squeeze, and save 4 cents a time over .22 Mag. Total suckage.
And I know all about the cost/demand curve, and a pox on it: because it’s taking this lovely revolver right off my wish list.
…that would be Francesca Eastwood, Clinty’s daughter:
Same girl, different life stages.