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Author: Kim du Toit
5 Worst Things Santa Said To Your Kid At The Mall
In ascending order of ugliness:
- “Hurry up and ask, Lakesha, ‘cos Santa’s gotta go pee.”
- “No, Olivia, I don’t have a hot dog in my pocket.”
- “Jimmy, could you just scootch up just a little further? Oh, yes, yes, yessss…”
- “I’ll get you that bicycle, as long as you don’t tell your momma what Santa just did with his finger.”
- “No, Freddie, that’s not eggnog on Santa’s pants.”
Your suggestions in Comments.
Mum’s Car
My mother once had one of these:
Owners of Morris Minors (boasting a top speed of just 63mph, and taking more than 30 seconds to get to 60mph) are among the most prolific drug and drink drivers, a new study suggests.
And it looked exactly like this one:
I think hers had a single windshield, not a split one, but I could be wrong. She loved it dearly, and was distraught when my father secretly sold it, replacing it with one of these:
She kept the Austin-Healey for almost a year, then forced my father to get rid of it, “because the men keep looking at me and flirting” — which tells you all about my mother. Its replacement? An Austin 1100:
…which she kept for years until I wrecked it in 1971 (sorry, Ma).
Anyway, about that drunken Morris Minor driver thing: I suspect that it’s because most Minor drivers today are old farts, who suffer from impaired reflexes and decaying driving skills as well as a tendency to drink lots of gin.
I want to drive a Morris Minor then, because I fit the profile perfectly. But I want the Traveller model, complete with wood (which is real wood, by the way):
I bet I could pull the chicks* with that beauty, big time.
* of my own vintage, that is.
“Dear Mr. President”
Sorry to bug you again, O God-Emperor, but seeing as you turned me down for the post of U.N. Ambassador, something just occurred to me.
While the wonderful Sarah Huckabee Sanders has yet to resign from her job as White House Press Secretary, it may only be a question of time before some loony Socialist attacks her at a restaurant or something, and she quits. Allow me therefore to offer, with the utmost humility, my services as a replacement for Mrs. Sanders should that doleful occasion arise.
My qualifications:
- I hate the Press. All of them. Even Brit Hume makes my face twitch on occasion. Considering that they all hate you, I think turnabout would be fair play.
- CBS: Commie Broadcasting System; NBC: Nothing But Commies; ABC: All Bloody Commies; CNN: Commie News Network; MSNBC: Motherfucking Set of Nutballs, Bastards and Commies — ‘nuff said.
- I have so much dirty laundry in my checkered past (none of which I care a rat’s ass about), the Jackals of the Press (JotP) will be too busy chasing down details of the famous Parking Lot Incident Of 1989 to worry about your latest dealings in Iraq/North Korea/Iran/the economy/global warming/[insert liberal Cause Of The Month here].
- If a question is too tough to answer, or the answer would likely cause you embarrassment, I’ll just babble some nonsense in Afrikaans (hey, that approach worked for Margaret Tutwiler).
- I’d actually like to conduct the Press briefings in Afrikaans, just so all the multi-culturalists can experience the result of their all-cultures-and-languages-are-equal nonsense.
- I’m also a genuine African (unlike some Dolezals I could mention), so I can’t be accused of being racist when I state that the latest murderous Somalian kleptocrat dictator is “just another one of those African scumbags.”
- Most hostile questions from the JotP would be answered with: “I bet you wouldn’t be asking the same question if Hillary Clinton was President.”
- I’m sick of reporters like Jim Acosta making political statements in the guise of a question, and I’ll bet you are too. So I’ll use a stopwatch on each questioner, and if the question is longer than 5 seconds, I’ll interrupt them using a truck’s air horn and shout, “Next!”
- All Acosta’s questions/rants would be met with a pitying chuckle and a shake of the head. Just for giggles, I’ll first put a sombrero on my head before answering him in a terrible Mexican accent.
- Come to think of it, if asked a question by any furrin JotP, I’ll repeat their question back to them in a parody of their accent before answering.
- In answer to most questions from furrin Press jackals, the statement would go: “Well, to start off with, we’re not going to do what your government would do…”
- Post-briefing fistfights in the corridor would be a common occurrence. We could sell tickets.
- All references to NorKPres Kim Long Dong or whatever he calls himself will be prefaced with “That Commie rat…”, ditto Castro, Nancy Pelosi and that tool from Venezuela.
- All questions about the Pore & Starvin will be answered with: “We’re going to make George Soros share a couple billion of his own dollars with them first to see what happens, before we throw taxpayer money at the problem.”
- In fact, I could use that reply to all questions pertaining to economics or social policy, if you wish.
- I’ll keep a Wrist Rocket on the podium, and every time some liberal JotP asks one of their loaded questions, I’ll shoot him in the gut with a ball bearing, and laugh out loud when he squeals like a little girl. And seeing as they all want to be treated like men, female JotPs will get the same response (I’m not sexist).
- Saturday Night Live will never be able to lampoon my Press briefings, because the reality will be funnier than anything those liberal New York assholes could ever dream up.
- If you’re holding the briefing and get asked a tough question, you could always just say, “I’ll let Kim answer that question,” and then look puzzled as there’s a mad stampede for the exits.
- I can say you’ve declared war on any country, and none of the JotP will believe me… until after the first ICBMs have detonated.
- I won’t take any questions from a reporter whose organization has ever said anything nasty about your family members. That should shorten the Press briefings considerably.
- The horrible New York Times will stop sending reporters to my briefings, either because they’re sick of being mocked, or else because they’ll have run out of reporters to send.
- When asked, “Are you actually carrying a gun under your jacket?” I’ll just smile enigmatically, and move on to the next question.
- And to keep the JotP quiet on the topic of guns and gun control, I’ll add a weekly “Department of Righteous Shootings” item, and cackle like a maniac as I describe the dead goblin’s wounds in detail.
- The Nielsen ratings for my White House Press briefings would make the most popular current TV sitcom look like a Dick Cavett Show rerun.
- Finally, I won’t ever need any Secret service protection when I go out for dinner in Washington D.C. Best you don’t ask why.
Mr. President, I hope that you will consider my qualifications favorably, and offer me the job should the occasion arise. Let’s be realistic: all those Fake News Press bastards hate you already, so my appointment can hardly make things worse for you (and they may even make things better). But let’s also remember that as bad as your approval ratings are, most people hate the Press even more. So why not capitalize on that hatred and have a good laugh for the remainder of your Presidency, as a bonus?
Besides, you have to admit that seeing a battered BBC or CNN reporter carried out the White House on a stretcher each week would be a definite morale-booster for your electoral base, to say nothing of your White House staff.
Sincerely,
Fucking Busybodies
I don’t know how much more nannying I can stand. How about this one:
James Bond is a ‘severe’ alcoholic and should be offered medical help by his employer, M16, academics have said.
The… agent drinks a total of 109 drinks over 24 films – an average of 4.5 per film, an analysis by researchers at the University of Otago in New Zealand found.
His record binge in the Quantum of Solace (2008) saw 007, played by Daniel Craig, consume 24 units of alcohol in one sitting – ‘enough to kill some people’.
Well it didn’t kill him, did it?
MAYBE BECAUSE JAMES BOND IS A FUCKING FICTIONAL CHARACTER!!!!!
But it’s actually his employer’s fault, of course:
The authors suggested work-funded counselling or psychiatric support would be appropriate, considering he could have had post-traumatic stress after killing so many people and being tortured in films such as Casino Royale (2006) and Spectre (2015).
I could suggest a few others for torture and killing, but I’ll stop before I burst a blood vessel.
The best part (?) of all this bullshit is that the “study” was performed by some professors from a university in New Zealand, a sub-species not exactly renowned for their sobriety.
Myself, I think these so-called “academics” are totally fucking retarded, and need to be driven over a cliff.
In a short bus.
Never Touch The Stuff
I have a theory that people only eat airline meals out of boredom — anything to relieve the tedium of a long flight — because I absolutely cannot imagine another reason for subjecting your taste buds to the bland, horrible pablum that passes for airline “food”. And I cannot fathom why any airline would offer meals on a flight lasting less than three hours anyway, but they do.
So you can imagine my disinterest when yet another survey came out to see which airline offered the “healthiest, most nutritious / calorie-conscious / whatever” meals on their flights. Apparently, Alaska and Delta are at the top while at the bottom (to nobody’s surprise) comes Spirit Airlines (motto: “We invented cheap ‘n nasty travel, and we never forget to remind you of the fact”).
What amazes me is not that cheapskate Southwest Airlines (“Get where you’re going via five stops”) comes near the bottom of the list, but that they offer any food at all. As far as I’m concerned, Southwest passengers should get free water and maybe a small pack of nuts, and count their blessings — and ditto people who fly with Spirit and all the other “budget” airlines.
As most of my travel is transoceanic ergo long-haul, I always make sure to take my own food on board, which has two features in my favor: firstly, I can eat anytime I feel hungry and not when the airline thinks I should (e.g. 15 minutes before touchdown, the idiots), and secondly, I’m always assured that I’ll be getting food which I love to eat and is not nutritionally suspect (unless I decide to make it so, see below). I have no dietary restrictions other than voluntary ones, so I can take pretty much whatever I like.
The only problem I have is booze, which dehydrates me anyway, and coupled with the regular dehydration of high-altitude travel therefore gives me a real chance of a painful gout attack. So I never drink booze while flying — which kinda sucks, but waddya gonna do? — and instead, I take a couple of empty quart bottles through airport security (150ml? go fuck yourselves) and fill them up at a water fountain before boarding ($5 for a pint bottle of Dahani? go fuck yourselves, x 2). I know, I often complain about how much I hate the (non-)taste of plain water, but I figure that I can endure pretty much anything for eight or so hours, and water isn’t the worst of those, by any means. Additional note: the last couple of times I flew out of London’s Heathrow, there was a promotion inside the secure area-stores which offered a free 500ml bottle of Evian with purchase of the Daily Telegraph, an excellent bargain because it provided me with in-flight water and gave me something to read while eating my pre-flight meal of a Full English breakfast / fish ‘n chips (depending on time of day or mood).
I divide my on-board food into three categories: food, snacks and self-indulgence; and I take one of each kind every time I fly.
The travel food is simple: meat. Specifically, it’s 1lb of South African biltong (never American jerky because it’s too sweet and tastes like crap anyway). I know, biltong is generally nosebleed-expensive no matter where you buy it, but a pound lasts me for both outbound and return flights. Also, biltong (unlike jerky) is made of steak, so it’s quality meat. Sometimes I’ll take some droëwors (another South African delicacy, pronounced “drew-uh-vorce”) which is spicy dried sausage, and I buy it and the biltong at a little shop in Grapevine. That takes care of the protein, which is really all one needs to keep fed for 8-10 hours anyway. (Warning: both biltong and droëwors are highly addictive if you develop a taste for them. I grew up eating the stuff, so I’m screwed.)
My travel snack is likewise simple: salted cashew nuts, kept in a resealable plastic bag. I love the damn things, and a large bag is seldom far from reach at home anyway. (I know, they’re not as good for you as almonds, but I cannot stand the taste of almonds.) I take nearly 2lbs of cashews when I travel simply so that I don’t have to buy them for the return flight — go ahead and see how much cashews cost in the U.K. and Europe, and you’ll see why. Sometimes, if I remember to buy them ahead of time, I’ll also take some dried cherries, just for variation, or else I’ll buy a banana at one of the airport shops, if available.
My self-indulgence is even more simple: a large bar of chocolate. (I know, I know, don’t scold me.) I have over the past three years managed to if not conquer my addiction, then at least tame it. And if ever there’s a time when I can justify spoiling myself, it’s when I’m flying in a cramped coach-class airline seat for ten hours. No jury would convict. As for which specific chocolate, I leave the choice till the day of, or the day before my flight, but it’s generally drawn from Nestlé’s Aero, Milky Bar or Cadbury’s Dairy Milk. All are available at the World Market just up the road or at the Grapevine shop en route to DFW, so it’s an easy purchase. If I’m going to England, then I’ll forego those choices (because I can buy them Over There for the return trip), and take instead a bag of chocolate-covered cherries from Central Market on the outbound flight.
I think you’ll agree that the above yummies constitute a compelling alternative to bland, tasteless airline food. If you disagree with me, I don’t wanna hear about it. And please: I know that airline meals are “free”, and if ever there’s truth in the saying that you get what you pay for, that would be it.
Finally — and this can be important — my airline food and water supply makes me less vulnerable to long flight delays, even if overnight ones. There’s nothing worse than being told your flight has been postponed to the next day meaning an overnight stay in the airport, and finding out that all the restaurants have closed.
It’s all part of being prepared for the worst, isn’t it?