Author: Kim du Toit

No Big Deal

Drive Time, Sports

Still on sports:  I see that the Le Mans 24-hour race is going to be run with empty stands because Chinkvirus.

Can’t see why that would be a big deal, unless you’re one of those masochists  keen fans who endures 24 hours of noise and discomfort, at least half of which are spent in driving rain — it always rains at Le Mans — and 10 hours of which are spent in total darkness anyway.  Not even I watch the race in full — and I’m a huge Le Mans fan.

Nope;  a two-hour highlight program is pretty much all I care for.  (And I prefer still more an actual documentary — Truth in 24  and Truth in 24 II  are excellent albeit dated shows, as I’ve said before.)

And even if you’re one of those ghouls who only wants to go to Le Mans for the crashes, just remember that most of the crashes happen in the woods or at least far from where most spectators are sitting — with one notable exception [hem hem]  where the spectators were very much part of the action, so to speak.

Certainly, spectators at Le Mans have no effect on the race participants — crowd noise is pretty much a nothingburger, unlike say at a football match.

And to the surprise of absolutely no one, let it be said that I prefer Le Mans as it was raced in the old days, where the cars at least looked like the same cars you’d see driving around the countryside:

…and not the bizarre, shapeless and electronic doodad-filled crap that looks like it was done by some CAD intern.

But that’s a rant for another time.

Simple Rejoinder

Hippie Filth, Lies and Untruths

Every single year, we are subjected to what I call the “Anniversary Wails” of the peaceniks — said anniversaries being those the destruction of Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Dresden, etc. during the later stages of WWII.

“O how horrible!” they kvetch and moan, “We dropped big bombs on helpless pore civilians of the German / Japanese persuasion!”

I find it interesting that we never acknowledge, for example, the anniversaries of the flattening of Warsaw (September 25, 1939, in case anyone’s interested) or the bombing of Rotterdam by Hitler’s Luftwaffe (May 14, 1940, showing that Warsaw was no fluke).  The Japanese never got into the mass bombing of cities to the same degree that the Nazis did, other than a few Chinese cities like Nanking, but they made up for it by other kinds of savagery, as did the Germans by, for example, strafing columns of civilian refugees in Holland, Belgium and northern France.

In any event, I find this annual breast-beating and clothes-rending about bombing the shit out of German and Japanese cities quite boring and tiresome, for one simple reason:

They started it.

As far as I’m concerned, they deserved every single bit of shit that rained out of the skies onto their totalitarian, barbarous asses.

Every time someone wails about Germans being burned to death by RAF or USAAF bombs, just cast your minds back to all those old black-and-white newsreels of Hitler parading through German city streets, said streets being lined by tens of thousands of cheering… civilians.

And make no mistake:  had New York or San Francisco been closer to Europe and Japan respectively, and had the Nazis or Japs possessed nuclear weapons, they would have used them on us without a second thought.  To believe otherwise is to be ignorant of history.

Once again, the simple rejoinder is:  “Fuck ’em.  They started it.”

Takeaways

Marxists

First these fuckers wanted to take away our guns.

Now they’re after our trucks.

“As that chrome grille closed on me like a man-eating Norelco shaver, time slowed. It seemed I was watching myself from afar, being nimble for a man my age, darting from the path of a towering, limousine-black pickup with temporary plates, whose driver barely checked his pace.”

LOL.  And some people take this shit seriously.

And then the best part:

Now we have a grown man who saw a scary truck and thus wants to impose European neutering standards in order for him to feel protected.

Yeah, let’s have the Euroweenies tell us how to build pickup trucks:

You know, I’ve only ever owned one full-size pickup, a 2002 Ford F-150:

…and the only reason I sold it was because when I did the weekly fill-up of the F-150 and the Suburban, I could move the share price of Texaco a full point.

Now I don’t need a pickup truck anymore, but when I read bullshit like the above, I get a “Beto” reaction (when some asshole tells me I can’t have something, I want to go straight out and get one.)  I bet that truck sales are going to increase, just like the sales of AR-15s exploded after O’Rourke’s pronouncement.

After all, nobody needs one of these assault trucks, do they?

Liberals never learn.  Fucking morons.

Monday Funnies

Funny Stuff

So before the upcoming week kicks the shit out of you:

Here’s something to make last week’s scabs crack open and bleed:

Actually, that’s about average for most companies I’ve worked for…

And for something a little more cheerful, some other guys’ wives:

And:

Caption Competition #138

Captions, Friday Feature

No, you’re not seeing things, it is Saturday.  But somebody stole my Thursday, making me think that yesterday was Thursday instead of Friday, so now today you’re seeing Friday’s post on Saturday.

Everybody got that?

Now add your suggestions for this week’s pic in Comments:

Warm-Up

Advice, Africa

Every so often I get it right.  A few years ago, Mr. Free Market decided that he wanted to go hunting in Africa — South Africa, as it happened — and asked me for any tips I might have which would make his trip more successful.

There’s not a whole lot I can tell Mr. FM about hunting — he’s an excellent shot, has hunted all over Europe and despite all his skill, he’s always willing to learn more, whether from his guides or from other hunters.  Needless to say, he’s a very successful hunter, as I’ve occasionally noted on these pages.

I thought about it for a while, and really had only two pieces of advice:

Use enough gun.  African game is unbelievably tough, and what would be a killing shot on a North American whitetail with a .30-06 will not anchor a similarly-sized antelope (e.g. blesbuck) on the African continent.  Even a tiny warthog, when whacked with a light cartridge like the .30-06, will run for over a quarter-mile before dying.  The very fact that a .30-06 is characterized as a “light” cartridge should be a warning.  I used to hunt with either .308 Win or 7mm Mauser, but if I was going to shoot anything large or dangerous, I used borrowed rifles in either .375 H&H or (only once, because owie) .458 Win Mag.
But Mr. FM had that covered, using a .375 H&H Magnum chambering which could handle pretty much anything short of elephant or rhino.

The next piece of advice had nothing to do with hunting.

Get a suntan before going over.  Nothing quite prepares you for the African sun, especially if you’re hunting at higher altitudes than a few hundred feet above sea level.  You would think that as you go higher, the weather becomes cooler;  no, it just gets less humid.  (Think:  Arizona high desert vs. South Texas Hill Country, only with Arizona about ten degrees hotter.)
And Mr. FM is a Brit, with the typical fair skin — not, thank gawd, the fish-belly white of the Irish — that has led to all Brits being known colloquially as “Rooineks” (red necks, from the sunburn) by the locals.

So he did, visiting a tanning salon every other day for a couple-three weeks before setting out.  And on his return, Mr. FM said that of all the advice he’d been given, that was the best.  And even after arriving in South Africa with what he thought was a deep tan, he went still several shades darker after a week in the bush.  Had he not had the tanning sessions, he admitted that he’d have been confined to the indoors after the first day’s hunting.  And that’s no way to go through a hunting trip, son.

So why am I talking about this?  Because I was reminded of the topic by this picture, seen in The Sun [sic] newspaper:

In Africa, the girl on the right would burn slightly after a couple hours outdoors;  but the pale one on the left would blister after maybe fifteen minutes.  Yes, it’s that bad.