I’ve got this pic set as my laptop’s wallpaper. Can you see what’s wrong with it?
As the Son&Heir commented: “No room for even a plinking range. WTF?”
It’s a good point, although there’s enough space to put a clay-tosser for a little shotgunning fun…
…using only non-toxic shot, of course.
Today’s public service announcement comes from Noose-Tie, makers of fine hemp rope for over 150 years (motto: “Stretch Necks Not Rope“), and should serve as a handy little reference guide for when we start cleaning up the Swamp come The Glorious Day:
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to the range because I support shooting over hanging, for obvious reasons.
I have frequently referred to Jeremy Clarkson as the Greatest Living Englishman, because he is. Not only is he unrepentantly un-PC, he’s wonderfully talented as both a writer and a TV presenter.
The fact that he and I agree on practically everything — about cars, politics, social life and society, whatever — doesn’t hurt, either.
So sit back and enjoy a partial retrospective of his 30 years’ work as a car reviewer for the Sunday Times. And just to whet your appetite, here’s a little excerpt from one:
Many years ago I refused to road-test the Vectra on Top Gear, arguing that if Vauxhall couldn’t be bothered to make the car interesting in any way whatsoever, I couldn’t be bothered to drive it.
To understand just how dull this car was, you need to visualise a chartered accountant in a tweed jacket with elbow patches, playing cricket, in a period drama by Jane Austen, in Belgium, while reading out details of the Enron scandal in a Birmingham accent.
This car was Mogadon in metal, hypnotherapy with a hatchback. Driving it was as interesting as listening to the details of someone else’s dream, and thinking about it had exactly the same effect on your neck muscles as that moment at school when the master dimmed the lights and said: “First slide, please …” You immediately nodded off.
They said, remember, it was a car for the new millennium. And how far did it get? Well, it’s only 2002 but already it’s gone.
I can’t stop with just one.
I have read hundreds of surveys in women’s magazines about what women look for in a man and usually it’s a sense of humour or nice eyes. Not once have I ever heard a girl say that what she wants, more than anything, from a man is an ability to do power slides.
It needs to be explained to Gary that, when he’s doing 100mph round the bypass, with jungle noises bouncing the doors off their hinges, his girlfriend is not sitting there thinking, “Gosh. This man’s car control is exemplary and I hope that later he will perform similar miracles with me.”
She is thinking: “Bleedin’ Ada. We’re going to crash and I wish this plonker would slow down.” But of course she can’t say that because then she’d find herself at the side of the road, in the rain.
We need the people who did those amazing Australian “If you drink and drive, you’re a bloody idiot” adverts to pick up the baton on this one. And I think I have the tag line already. “A smooth ride: if you give her one, she might let you give her one.”
Brilliant. Like I said: the Greatest Living Englishman. Here’s his smooth ride.
The Daily Mail has published its list of the Top 39 (?) Beautiful Moments of the last one hundred years. Of course, a lot of the things they celebrate are among the events I’d have added to my list of the worst moments in the past century (e.g. election of Obama), but there ya go.
Here’s my list of beautiful moments (since Jan 1, 1923, in chronological order).
Finally, the Supremes wake up:
The Supreme Court on Thursday slashed the Environmental Protection Agency’s (EPA) regulatory control over water bodies in a win for conservative critics who argued the agency wielded too much power.
The court ruled that the 1972 Clean Water Act, which allows the EPA to regulate wetlands, only applies to wetlands that are obviously connected to larger regulated water bodies.
Now go and read the details of the case, because if ever there was an example of gross bureaucratic overreach, this would be it.
And I’m glad that the USSC (for once) did the right thing, instead of punting or letting the gummint get away with this. Otherwise:
(I know, “Where are the tar and feathers?” but go with me…)
And speaking of women underfoot:
...which I’m sure comes as a shock to the inhabitants of Miami’s South Beach, a.k.a. Sodom and Gomorrah South.
Some Elf News:
…
...key word: Mexico.
And now, it’s Gay News!
...whatever could this mean? Oh:
...visual: Sarah Hoyt’s Shocked Face.
...not worse enough, and they don’t have enough fingers to plug the dike. And speaking of which:
...even those eeevil guns, Rosie? Asking for a friend.
From Spirit Airlines News:
...wait for it…
From the Lawn Order Files:
...wait, I thought this kind of thing was impossible because Japan Gun Laws.
...so send her to Juvie in Chicago for six years: she’ll have all the action she can handle, and quite a bit more she can’t.
From the Dept. of Global Warming Climate Cooling Change:
...actually, France already HAS an annual wealth tax, so what they mean is INCREASE the wealth tax to pay for their gummint’s foolishness.
...spoiler: nukes. Actually, just one nuke.
And from the sublime to the ridiculous:
...fucking hell, is this guy EVER going to get over his dead dog?
...am I the only one thinking “depth charges”, just to remind these piebald fucks who’s REALLY at the top of the food chain?
...alternative headline: Lesbo Discovers She Prefers Dick.
And that lesbo news item segues into yet more INSIGNIFICA:
Finally:
...and here are a few pics of Eva being rudely French:
Yeah, that’ll wake you up in the morning… unlike the rest of the so-called news.