Author: Kim du Toit

Change Of Direction

Good Stuff, Trumpism

I had a piece planned for yesterday, and ran into some thought issues which required redoing — hence its non-appearance yesterday — and it was replaced with Jan Sterling, which isn’t a bad compromise, all things considered.

It would have been, I think, an interesting piece.  I was going to write about music, and lyrics, and playing around with them and not only interpreting them, but changing them into another format, writing music notation, changing orchestral pieces into something which could be played by a rock band, for instance, or a single pianist.  It’s something I do often, in my head.  New Wife sometimes says something to me and is annoyed when I make no sign that I’ve heard her.  And when I tell her I’ve been concentrating on something and she asks what, I reply that I’d been writing out the bass guitar part for, I dunno, Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody On A Theme By Paganini perhaps, or imagining how a single keyboardist could play an entire Beethoven symphony using just two or three keyboards (piano, and couple of advanced synthesizers like those made by Nord or Roland, for example).

Then (via Insty) I read Override, and all my thoughts on music disappeared.  The report had such a profound effect on me that I’ve since read it perhaps eight times (and counting), and I’ve sent the link on to a dozen friends all over the world, saying in effect, “If you want to know what’s REALLY happening here in the U.S., this is it.”

What astonishes and amazes me is the amount of preparation and planning that went into this activity, and the fact that it remained a secret for who knows how long — a year, several years, whatever — without an inkling or a leak anywhere.  The proof is that when those four kids with laptops hit the Treasury system, nobody saw it coming;  and I don’t think anyone, even its architects, had any idea of the outcome.

What astonishes me even more is that all those hundreds of Executive Orders signed by Trump in the past couple of weeks were, while consequential, more of a deception, a maskirovka  designed to keep the Left distracted while the real business was going on in the basements of federal buildings all over D.C.

It takes a lot to knock me over and flabbergast me, but consider me knocked over and flabbergasted.  And I have only one thing to say:

For the first time in many years, I can truthfully say that it’s a wonderful time to be alive here in America.

Let’s just hope we can keep it going, and change this country back into something more like what our Founding Fathers intended.

Oh, and speaking about the Founders and original principles, as if all the above were not enough, here’s another EO from POTUS:

President Donald Trump issued an executive order Friday “to assess any ongoing infringements” of the right to keep and bear arms.

The order also makes clear President Trump wants an assessment of the following, among other things:

The positions taken by the United States in any and all ongoing and potential litigation that affects or could affect the ability of Americans to exercise their Second Amendment rights; Agencies’ classifications of firearms and ammunition; and The processing of applications to make, manufacture, transfer, or export firearms.

And “assessment” is one thing;  action is another.  But wait! There’s MOAR!

Within 30 days, Attorney General Pam Bondi is to “present a proposed plan of action to the President, through the Domestic Policy Advisor, to protect the Second Amendment rights of all Americans.”  Thereafter AG Bondi is to finalize and implement the plan.

30 days?  I think I need one of these:

…and a series of these:

Or maybe all this political turmoil and castigation of the Left is best enjoyed stone-cold sober, while I dance up and down like Flounder when the parade was ruined.

Your thoughts in Comments.

Classic Beauty: Jan Sterling

Classic Beauty

I remember seeing Jan Sterling in a couple of movies — Ace In The Hole and The High And The Mighty — back when I was going through a 50s-movie craze.  The former was forgettable, the latter anything but, and it came as no surprise when I learned that she’d got an Oscar nomination for her performance in that one.

Anyway, that’s enough of the bio stuff.

Jan once told the story of traveling in Europe on her own (as a 16-year-old!) back in 1937.  At the end of the trip and needing funds to come home, her father sent her airfare to fly back.  However, on seeing some lingerie she liked in a shop window, she traded in the airfare to buy it, and with the leftover money booked a cheaper ticket aboard a steamship.

Midway through the voyage, she found out that the airfare had been for a flight on the Hindenburg.  So she was beautiful and lucky.

Anyway, here she is in some period-correct lingerie.

Gorgeous, in any period.

Let Slip The Dogs Of Law

Law and Order

Well now, lookee here:

Newly-minted Attorney General Pam Bondi has wasted no time, issuing directives that call for “aggressively enforcing criminal laws passed by Congress” and “vigorously defending presidential policies and actions on behalf of the United States against legal challenges.”

And on Thursday, Bondi made another big move, filing a lawsuit against Chicago, Cook County, and Illinois related to their so-called “sanctuary” laws.

Priceless.

“The challenged provisions of Illinois, Chicago, and Cook County law reflect their intentional effort to obstruct the Federal Government’s enforcement of federal immigration law and to impede consultation and communication between federal, state, and local law enforcement officials that is necessary for federal officials to carry out federal immigration law and keep Americans safe.”

Here’s what I’m seeing:

Sadly, though, she had to file the suit in Chicago — probably because she had to, although I’m pretty sure a court outside the city would give her better treatment — so it’s anyone’s guess what happens next.  But if the suit is tossed out, expect it to go to the Supremes.

Oh what fun.

Quirky Racer

Drive Time

Back in Ye Olde Days in the Racist Republic, the top tax rate was 48%, and with a National Sales Tax of 14% (on everything including food), you didn’t get much of your paycheck left for any of the pleasures and indulgences of life.

So what employers did was offer most employees a company car — which wasn’t taxed — as part of their total compensation along with a “fleet” credit card to cover all fuel and maintenance costs, and let me tell you, it was brilliant.  (Do the math for yourselves, adding up the car payment, insurance, running costs and depreciation, and see what you end up with.  The number will stagger you.)

Now not everyone qualified for such largess, of course, but if your job involved activities like calling on clients, fetching office supplies each month or visiting field offices, you qualified.  Senior management, of course, also got cars because of the “prestige” of their jobs (even though they were the ones who could well afford not to have one, the bastards, but that’s corporate inequity for you).

Anyway, the company was usually very strict about who drove the cars — you couldn’t let your wife drive it to get groceries, for example — because in most cases the insurance only covered the actual employee.  So if the car was involved in a wreck and you weren’t the driver, say hello to massive damages and (probably) termination.

As for the cars themselves, the model you got was very dependent on your place in the hierarchy of the company, and most companies simply gave you the car that your predecessor had driven, or if it was too old (usually around 2 years or 50,000 miles or so), you could get a new one from an approved list.

Well, my company car was once in the shop for some rather major repairs that would take at least a week to be done, and so I approached my boss and asked what the company was going to do about it.  He called up the company accountant, and was told that one of the other guys at my level in the company would be away on leave for a couple of weeks, so I should just get the keys from him and use his car in his absence.

I must confess to feeling somewhat apprehensive about this, because said vacationer was a slob of the first order — his office looked like he hosted daily food fights and small animal sacrifices — so I got his keys and walked down to the underground parking garage, prepared to run screaming.

However, to my amazement, not only was Fred’s Saab clean, but it was spotless, looking brand new.  (I should have known;  included in approved “maintenance” was a six-monthly full detailing of the interior, and he must have just done it the day before he left.)

But that wasn’t all.  Among the VW Golfs, Passats and Mitsubishis in that group of approved cars, he’d somehow managed to wangle himself one of these:

Yup;  it was a Saab 900 Turbo, the one that came out with a “remodel” in 1984.

Bloody hell, the thing was a rocket (and especially so when compared to my staid Opel Kadett a.k.a. Chev Cavalier stationwagon, with its anemic 1500cc un-turbo’d engine).

The Saab was also a sharp-looking silver (as in the pic), whereas my Opel was… bamboo-yellow.  (Hey, it was the only one available at the time and remember, it was FREE.)

Anyway, I drove that Saab for nearly two weeks, and boy did I love it.  What amazed me was its roadholding, which was better than any car I had driven before, and only bettered by my next company car (promotion!), a BMW 325i.

I don’t know how well the 900 Turbo fared in the U.S., sales-wise, but I’m told that it didn’t do well.  A pity:  it should have blown all American cars of similar type off the roads.  The only problem, as I see it, was that we Murkins loves us our big-ass engines, and even with a turbo, the Saab’s little 2-liter fourbanger probably did not have the allure of the typical mega-liter V8s from Chrysler, Chevy or Ford.

Me, with my fondness for small, peppy engines?  I loved that Saab with a passion, and only getting the promotion to Beemer-level prevented me from nagging the boss for one.

I have since learned that while the Saab wasn’t that popular in the U.S. market as a whole, its actual user base was almost fanatical in their devotion to it.

Can’t say I blame ’em;  for two weeks I was one of them.  Hell, I’d take a new one now, if I could.

Peeve #564

Gratuitous Chick Pics, Two-Minute Hate

Among the several things about Modern Life that make me ultra-peevish is this thing about people walking around carrying drinks — water bottles, Yeti flasks, what have you — and I want to ask people (loudly) whether they think they’re going to die of thirst before they can get to the nearest tap or drinking fountain.  Mostly, this applies to women, the precious creatures, because Teh Experts tell us that We Must Remain Hydrated, Lest We Die.

Maybe when you’re crossing the fucking Mojave Desert, but not when you’re crossing the street in Dallas or Los Angeles.

However, let it not be said that I’m completely intolerant in this regard.  I am prepared, for instance, to make exceptions to my “Stop acting like a camel!”  gripe in circumstances such as these:

…although I should also point out that not all women seem to need that oh-so important drink in their hand every time they step outdoors:


…and of course, there are those poor things in obvious need of sustenance:

I mean, I wouldn’t want y’all to think I was that Krool & Hartless, after all.

But in all honesty, if you’re that thirsty, get off the street and find a place to assuage your thirst — and there are many of them, in cities all over the world.  Places like these:

It’s really not too much to ask.