Author: Kim du Toit

Snatchers

Entertainment

Some Brit toffs just got married at the groom’s future digs (which he gets when his dad snuffs it), said shack being so vast that no ground-level photo can quite do it justice :

Now ordinarily I am disinterested in the couplings of nobility;  the nuptials of Lady Fontinella Waxwork-ffolkes and Lord Beastly Stiff-Upper-Lypp pass by my gaze unnoticed, and even Prince Harry’s marriage would have been disregarded by me but for the fact that the poor royal ginger ended up with some foul feminist Hollywood slag and was therefore only worthy of comment insofar as I predict that this unfortunate alliance will not end well (you heard it here 455th).

Anyway, the thing which caught my idle glance in the above report was this unfortunate description:

“George, the Marquess of Blandford, 26, married childhood sweetheart Camilla Thorp, 31”

Say what?  I’m assuming / hoping that he wasn’t 5 years old, and she 10 when they became sweethearts… oh wait, it turns out that they met ten years ago when he was 16 (not really a “child”, was he?) and she ummmm…. carry the two, 21.  That’s a fair age difference but not overly so.

Phew.  I am relieved.  Of course, had this liaison been consummated in Murka, she’d have been facing statutory rape charges at some point (assuming that they’d started bonking soon after first meeting, as seems to be the custom these days), but I suppose the aristocracy has a much more benign attitude towards this kind of thing so it’s okay, albeit risky.  (Remember that Chinless Charles married Super-Sloane-Ranger Di when he was in his thirties and she yet in her teens, and we all know how that turned out.)  Also, the Dukes of Marlborough are outrageously wealthy, thanks to Great-Grandpappy Marlborough marrying a Vanderbilt girl, so maybe there’s a different rule for the rich when it comes to bonking sixteen-year-olds.

Anyway:  congratulations and good luck to the happy couple, who seem to be quite charming.  And as wedding pics go, you have to admit that this isn’t one of yer ordinary backgrounds:

And all over Britain can be heard the gnashing of desperate debutante teeth as another eligible “catch” escapes their hooks.

Another age-distinct couple got married recently, and their backdrop was also rather special:

That’s the Umaid Bhawan palace in Jodhpur, but it’s not likely to be owned by either the bride or groom anytime in the future, as they are neither royal not even noble.  Like we couldn’t tell (note the bride’s ceremonial hand tattoo UGH):

Anyway, he is someone called Nick Jonas, a one-time (or current?) pop star of whom I know nothing except that like the future duke (above), he’s 26.  His bride, like the Royal Ginger’s wife, is some houri actress named Priyanka Chopra, and who like the Marchioness Blandford is older than her husband, but she by some ten summers.

At least this couple are not “childhood sweethearts”:  the thought of a twenty-one-year old woman bonking an eleven-year-old boy… well, you know.

This marriage, I give a couple of years.  Call it a hunch.

The Doom Wagon

Crime, Drive Time

My friend Doc Russia has a fixation about being prepared for any eventuality.  His gun collection is, shall we say, comprehensive — so much so that the last time he rode out with the North Texas SWAT team (a gig he volunteers for, uncompensated), he arrived with his latest toys and one of the guys burst out:  “Damn, Doc!  You’ve got better gear than we have.”  And it’s true.

One of the things that the SWAT guys need is transportation for the emergency doctor who rides out with them — to be more specific, transportation for Doc’s successor, because of course, Doc’s ride (which we his friends dubbed the “Doom Wagon”) could probably not only survive a nuclear blast, but also outlast the cockroaches which would survive that.  Even Keith Richards would shake his head and give up.

For those who are interested in such things, it’s a Toyota 4Runner, although after he’d finished with the mods, it looked like nothing Toyota ever dreamed of.  Here are a couple pics, just for you to get the idea:

All this came from Doc’s need to be prepared for any eventuality:  it’s a bugout wagon par excellence, and as you can see from the latter pic, it carries spare fuel (it has to, ‘cos it be thirsty, mon).  Also inside is a giant medical bag, to save lives, and to take lives (if necessary), a semi-auto rifle in a hidden compartment and a spare Glock 17 in the glove box, along with shall we say an adequate  sufficiency of ammo for both.  Alert Readers will have seen the light bar, and the snorkel for deep-water fording, but would not have seen the massive steel underbody plate, the beefed-up adjustable suspension or the built-in air compressor (to be able to re-inflate a tire in case of a puncture).

So much do the SWAT guys covet this beast that Doc promised to transfer it over to them should he ever have to quit the gig, so his replacement would have its full use.  (It’s even deeded to N. Texas SWAT in his will.)

I don’t know why I’m using the present tense in all this, because last week the Doom Wagon was stolen out of the hospital parking garage while Doc was on duty in the ER.  According to an eyewitness, it wasn’t gone in sixty seconds;  the pro team of thieves (which it must have been) only needed about half  that before driving off in it.

So while Doc was saving lives in the emergency room, some fucking bastards stole his truck.

He’s insured, of course, but that’s not the point.  I’ve been with him almost all the way in his quest to create the perfect utility vehicle — we’ve sat and talked and argued about this option versus that option, weighing cost vs. performance vs. utility and so on — and in the end, all for nothing:  gone to a mope with a crowbar and a screwdriver.

Here’s what’s interesting.  Needless to say, Doc’s medical kit and the two guns with it are also gone, but that’s not what bothers him the most.

You see, his eight-year-old daughter’s favorite water bottle, complete with her name engraved on it, was also in the truck — and when I picked him up from work, he was most upset that he was going to have to explain to her that yes, there are bad people in the world, and because of them, she’ll never see her water bottle again.  It would have been her first experience of evil because like most good parents, he’s tried to shield her from the ugliness as much as he could.  No more.

You don’t  want to hear the details of our revenge fantasies, should we ever lay hands on these bastards.

French Revolution

Behind Enemy Lines, Mocking Furriners

As Mr. Free Market puts it, “The French have always been revolting, dear boy”, but this latest round of mayhem is outstanding, even for the French.

Violence has erupted again in Paris today as masked protesters stole an assault rifle from police, clashed with riot squads and set fire to cars and Christmas trees on the Champs-Elysées in furious demonstrations against the French government.
Riot police sprayed tear gas, fired water cannon and stun grenades and pulled out their batons to fight back against ‘Yellow Vest’ protesters who occupied the famous boulevard and graffitied the Arc de Triomphe.
Police said 80 people had been injured in clashes, including 16 security officers, and 183 people arrested as more than 5,000 demonstrators brought chaos to Paris for the second week running.
Masked and hooded protesters hurled crowd barriers at police in Paris and this evening stole an assault rifle from a police car in the city centre.
Meanwhile there were further rallies spiralling across the country, spreading to Marseilles, Biarritz and Antibes on the Mediterranean coast and even into the Netherlands.
The protests, named ‘Yellow Vest’ after drivers’ high-vis jackets, began last month amid fury over rising fuel prices but have mushroomed into an all-out challenge to Emmanuel Macron’s presidency.

Of course, they being French, there’s a certain element of style to the thing, even when burning the place down:

However, as my old buddy Erik at No Paseran! puts it, it’s more than just higher fuel prices which have got the Frogs miffed:

It is not wrong to say that the demonstrations were caused by the government’s decision to raise gas prices. What is missing is that this is just one of several draconian measures dating back half a year, i.e., ‘tis the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.
For the past four to five months, the French government has done nothing but double down on bringing more and more gratuitous oppression and more and more unwarranted persecution measures down on the necks of the nation’s drivers and motorcycle riders.

Read the rest of it, because it’s quite obvious, when you follow the whole sequence of incremental governmental bastardy, just whence the burning anger came and why the French riots, unlike those pitiful pantomimes performed by our own Pantifa snowflakes, are so well supported by the French people en masse.

Good for them, I say.  Now, if I may be a little old-fashioned for a moment, let’s hope that the next scenes will show Frog politicians being carried in tumbrels to the waiting guillotines.

The Frogs always overdo things;  it’s one of their most endearing traits.

Beauties And Beasts 1

Beauty, Drive Time, Gratuitous Chick Pics

As Sundays at this address seem to have degenerated into discussions of beauty (with a little gratuitous leering thrown in — you animals), I had  an idea for a new series:  beautiful cars, suitably accessorized.

Here, for example, is the Ferrari thread:

 

Your votes in Comments.

Next week (unless y’all hate this idea):  another brand.

Belief Systems Bullying

Two-Minute Hate

This article by Janet Street-Porter triggered me, and I’ve decided that I’ve had enough of people attempting to foist their pathetic belief systems and accompanying lifestyle choices on to me.  Let me count these irritants off.

Religion:
Fucking Christians and their oh-so virtuous need for evangelizing — like everyone needs to accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior — give me the cramps.  There are the Morons Mormon’s polite “elders” ringing my doorbell to hand me a pamphlet so that they can attempt to debate me — with all the acquired wisdom of their adolescent experience to back them up — about some fucking bullshit dreamed up by some asshole who was thrown out of somewhere — justifiably, in my opinion — in the fond belief that I’m suddenly going to See The Light and become a member of their foul little sect… fuck off and leave me alone.  Then there are the other Christians who try to convince me that I will find God’s Peace by doing whatever and being “born again” — do you realize how insane you sound, you pious fools?  Do you not realize that spiritual peace is an intensely personal matter, and your attempt to intrude on what is the most intimate of individual thoughts is about the most arrogant action anyone can perform?  Don’t even get me started on the missionaries, who quite frankly all need to suffer the same fate as that tool who tried to bring Jesus Christ to the inhabitants of North Sentinel Island, and got turned into archery practice.  The problem with Christianity today is that it needs more martyrs — probably a few million of the most evangelical ones, starting with that Marxist asshole in the Vatican and ending up by blowing through the leaders of the “mega-churches” like Sherman through Georgia.  Good grief, am I the only one who is repelled by the insufferable smugness of the martyr complex?
But if the Christians need a few million martyrs, the Muslims need about a hundred million of them — preferably by some global mass suicide (not by bombing, just the razors-in-a-bathtub kind) — with said suicide being confined to the most extremist of them.  Christians try to convert non-believers with nauseating syrupy promises, but at least they don’t try to kill you when you tell them to fuck off (well, not anymore, anyway).  Muslims, on the other hand, never having left the 9th century in their outlook and behavior, are quite prepared to kill non-believers and apostates, because in their arrogance, they believe that unless you’re a Muslim, you don’t deserve to live.  As attitude goes, they’re an order of magnitude worse than modern-day Christians.  And if Muslims don’t want to commit mass suicide, then what we need is some very old-fashioned Christians — let’s call ’em, oh, Crusaders — who can set about killing Muslims for being the evil assholes that they are.  In the immortal words of Henry Kissinger talking about Sunnis slaughtering Shiites and vice versa:  “It’s a pity that one side has to win.”  So mote it be with today’s Crusaders and Saracens.

Animal-worshipers:
By now, everyone should know who I’m talking about here.  Whether it’s the PETA types who throw cans of paint over people wearing furs, or the insufferable militant vegans who think it’s quite okay to invade restaurants and start haranguing diners about the eeeevils of meat-eating, my suggestion is that they should all eat about a pound of Romaine lettuce from that poxy farm in California.  Let me tell you:  if some shit-for-brains threw paint all over my wife’s $10,000 mink coat, I’d catch the fucker and make him or her drink the rest of the paint in the bucket.  As for the vegan protesters, they’d get a (pre-chewed) mouthful of meat spat all over them, followed by a fist-clubbing such as experienced by baby seals, just so that they can become as one with the cutesy wickle animals they glorify, and  feeeel their pain with them.  “It’s not food, it’s violence!”  they scream.  Hmph.  Let me introduce you to the concept of real violence, you self-centered little shits.

Marxists:
By now, everyone knows that Marxism / Socialism / Communism has been proven to be an abject failure — probably the worst failure of all socio-economic systems ever devised by Man — in every place it’s been tried.  But then there’s the (again) insufferable arrogance of these bastards, who truly think that they know what’s best for you, and you can’t make your own decisions because you’re inferior to them, the Enlightened Ones.  And FFS, how can anyone espouse a philosophy in which the outcomes — no matter how awful — are irrelevant as long as the intentions are “noble”?  It’s almost the classic example of narcissism.  And just like the Muslim assholes (see above), Marxist assholes are perfectly willing to harm you if you don’t fall into line with their twisted little belief system.  I’d suggest a course of mass suicide for Marxists as well, except that their arrogance would tend to make them try and kill us non-believers first (again, just like Muslims), so we’d probably be better off waging war on them (like Crusaders) and knocking them off by the various means they’ve used on others in the past.  (I was going to add some illustrations at this point, but we’ve all seen the pictures of Babi-Yar and the modern-day Chinese mass executions.)

Whether religious, dietary or political extremists, therefore, my message to all of you is quite simple:  leave me the hell alone.  And if you foolishly believe that you can “convert” me to your side or prevent me living my life on my own terms by some means of terror, coercion, bullying or shaming, allow me to say quite simply:  “Wind, meet whirlwind.”

Enough is enough.