“Dear Dr. Kim”

Dear Dr. Kim.
I’m a single guy of 37 and I moved back to my mother’s house when I lost my job. Mum has only lived there for three years so I hardly knew her neighbors but we’d chat over the fence during the pandemic.
The neighbors are a couple with three kids. He’s 42 and she’s 40.
One Sunday afternoon while the husband was working and the children were at a friend’s house, she offered me a beer.
As she passed it over, she kissed me full on the lips. I was surprised but reacted instinctively by kissing her back, and I felt so turned on. I think it was the thrill of doing something so dangerous.  Then she said: “I’ve been longing to do that for months.”
I was concerned Mum would see me, so after a quick chat I went inside. Mum was watching TV and oblivious to anything I was doing.
A couple of weeks later I bumped into Mum’s neighbor in a bar. She made a beeline for me and whispered in my ear that she wanted more.  She said her marriage was all but over and they never had sex any more. She said she’d never forgive him for insisting they put down her cat because it meowed too loudly.
That night we snuck outside for a drunken fondle at the back of the bar.
This woman is seriously hot. She has seen me at my worst, mowing the lawn in my scruffs or sitting on the step with a hangover looking bad, yet she still fancies me.
We’ve been messaging for weeks now. She’s just told me her family are going away this weekend but she can’t go due to her work shifts.
She wants me to go round there. I’m sorely tempted. What should I do?
— Torn, UK

Dear Tatters,

The responsible thing would be to tell her you can’t because she’s married and you’re afraid that if you bonked her and it got out, your Mum would be ashamed and her relationship with the neighbors would be awkward.


You’re not a callow yoot of 18;  you’re on the slippery slope to middle age.  Take it from me:  as you get older, opportunities to bonk willing women die away very rapidly, until one day you suddenly wake up with blue balls and kick yourself, saying, “Damn, I should have shagged that neighbor woman when I had the chance.”

Those are the worst kind of regrets.

My advice?  Bonk her once, hard and long.  Only once.  Then say afterwards, “I feel so guilty because I’ve been unfaithful to the girl I think I’m going to marry.”  (Have a picture of some random chick of about 25 in your wallet — not on your phone — and show it to Neighbor Lady.)

That way, she gets a quickie, you get a quickie, but she’ll leave you alone after that, especially if you can conjure up a lady friend (best:  who either is or resembles closely the girl in the photo) who can come over to yer Mum’s house to play the part.  Introduce her to Neighbor Lady, and hold hands as you walk back inside.

Then, and only then, can you be strong and give her the brush-off should she want a return engagement.

Or you can go with Option A above.

Feeling Better

After my rather gloomy, sorry-for-myself post the other day, I must confess to feeling quite heartened at the several messages which I read both in Comments and via email from people like Reader Bruce M, who wrote in response to “Getting Tired” thus:

Me too, but there are a lot of us out that need people like you to stay focused on the world for us.
I would like you to do a bit about the politics of hate. It seems to me that there is an effort to get those of us that just want our freedom to do and think what we want, to hate each other.
The groups to hate:
Boomers, vaxxers, Jews, blacks, Hispanics, any religious group not of your exact sect or cult. The list keeps growing until no one is on our side.
Planned by the commies, maybe ?
A reader who values your thoughts.

It is indeed a topic worthy of discussion, nay even a rant.  Expect one shortly.

And from Longtime Reader John dB who, after a reminder of my long-past writings, concluded with:

Can I persuade you to cast aside your fatigue and carry on with your political commentary? What you have to say features in what I want to do and besides, the quiet ones who follow you but hardly/never comment, need you.

I am deeply touched and flattered that my fevered rants about our body politic actually mean something in people’s lives.  (He also reminded me of this essay.)

Consider the fatigue cast aside… just buckle in, because it may get kinda rough from here on.


In light of recent events (Amazon’s GoDaddy whacking ar15.com, Shitter delisting Trump and so on — you all know what I’m talking about), I did a couple of things yesterday to try to disentangle myself from these assholes as much as possible.

  • When I re-register this website, it will be with GoDaddy’s competitor.  I discussed it at some length with Tech Support II, and it will be done.
  • I’ve never used Shitter or Faecesbook, so that’s okay.  I’m probably not going to go with Gab or Parler, because I’m not interested in having an online “social presence” other than through this website, which I can control.
  • If Hosting Matters shuts me down because of doubleplusungood thought- and speech crimes, Tech Support has a backup plan so that won’t affect me either, other than as a mild irritation while the handover is completed.
  • Ditto WordPress.
  • I canceled my Amazon Prime account.  This will be a little inconvenient in that I won’t have access to their movies and such, but I’ll survive with Hulu and Roku, albeit with commercial irritation.  Netflix is also under review for similar reasons.
  • Most of the stuff I order from Amazon can be purchased locally or through the various companies’ own websites, so I’ll be doing that too.  On the very few occasions where I must use Amazon, I’ll just pay the postage.
  • Ditto Walmart, Target and so on.  I’ve had it up to here with seeing “Made in China” on everything, so every time I find that irritant, I’m going to find a manager and tell them why I’m not buying from them today.  Or I’ll only buy stuff made in other Asian countries e.g. Thailand if there’s absolutely no American-made equivalent.  Or I’ll just do without.
  • I already ditched Chrome;  last night I ditched Mozilla and went with Brave.
  • Today I’m going to ditch Thunderbird and go with ProtonMail, as soon as I’ve figured it out.
  • I long ago stopped using the Google search engine, swapping it for DuckDuck Go, so that’s done.  DDG isn’t quite as good, but it’s sufficient for my needs.
  • Now I need to find something equivalent to Google Maps so I can ditch those assholes too.  Any advice on this will be welcome.

I’m quite aware that this is like pissing in the wind, that I’m only one guy etc.  Longtime Readers, however, will know the precept behind the Nation of Riflemen:  turning America back into a nation of riflemen, one citizen at a time.  The same applies to me, as an individual:  I’m just one guy, but one of many such guys.

If my one action helps other people disentangle themselves from Big Tech, maybe, just maybe we can make a difference.  Regardless, I’m not going to support their fucking enterprises if there is any alternative — even if as noted above, the alternatives are not as good.

And finally, I’m going to do the same every single time a corporation does stupid woke shit or some kind of totalitarian activity.

  • You wanna take a knee during the National Anthem?  Fine, that’s your choice, just as it will be my choice not to watch or support you.
  • The University of North Texas can take their begging letters and wipe their asses with them, as I will do if they send me any.
  • If any financial institution starts cutting off service to the firearms industry, their cards are going to go bye-bye out of my wallet, even if it’s a major inconvenience to me.  Conversely, any financial institution that shows a proper conservative attitude towards their business will get my custom.

And just so everyone’s clear on this:  any money I save from the above activities will most likely go towards the purchase of ammo and guns, and the use and practice thereof.

I am just one guy;  but we have to start somewhere if we’re going to stop this nonsense.  I know that many of my Readers already do or have done what I’m doing now, and that’s great.  Now spread the word to all your family, friends and acquaintances, just like you did with the Nation of Riflemen, encouraging prospective gun owners and teaching them how to shoot.

The Revolution starts now.


Via Insty, I read yet another one of Larry Correia’s inspired rants (go thou and read it too, yea even before thou readest further in this here Blogge), but this did catch my eye:

As a former accountant, please allow me to explain why all of today’s newly formed tax experts are fucking morons, and we should metaphorically put a brick in a sock and beat them over the head with it until they shut up.

Far be it for me to gainsay anything that the Mighty Correia has said, but even a half-brick  in a sock will only yield a couple of whacks before the sock frays and breaks.  (And yes, I know he said “metaphorically”, but I’m a literal kinda guy.)

For sustained head-whacking with enhanced hosiery, I suggest a good old Idaho potato, the fresher the better.  When the potato starts getting mushy with use (which takes a surprisingly long time), it’s a matter of a moment to replace it with a fresh one.

And if the local supermarket is closed and a potato is not to hand, gravel or beach sand will work equally well, especially if dampened before half-filling the sock. And if all else fails, take a D battery out of your MagLite, and insert into the Sock Of Doom.  (The D is the optimal size — larger will break the sock, smaller doesn’t achieve the proper velocity or momentum.)

Don’t ask me how I know all this.  We can discuss at some other time whether your Easton Marlowe is better than Calvin Klein, or whether dress socks are a better fit [sic]  for purpose than athletic ones.

No need to thank me, it’s all part of the service.


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.

“Dear Dr. Kim”

“Dear Dr. Kim,
“Last week I was out for my daily 5-mile walk when some woman shouted at me for not wearing a face mask.  Some background:  it’s not a crowded place — in fact, most days I don’t see anyone at all out there — so I really don’t see what the fuss is all about.  My question:  what’s the proper response when someone scolds me for not wearing a mask?  Should I apologize, or just say nothing and move on?”
— Ashamed, Oregon

Dear Shameful,

You have two problems here;  one is low self-esteem, and the other is aimlessness.  In the first case, the proper response to one of these Karens is to shout “FUCK YOU!” back at them, as loudly as you possibly can.  If they respond, or start getting silly about it, then shout, “I’m so glad you’re wearing a mask, because I bet you’re fucking UGLY underneath that thing.”  Then, as a last resort, pepper-spray them in the face if they get close to you in an aggressive manner.

As for your other problem:  what the fuck are you doing walking around with no destination in mind?  Just so you know:  a five-mile walk to a decent pub is fine — a little excessive, maybe, but if the pub is good enough, worth the sacrifice.  Ditto, a five-mile stalk while hunting is also permissible because there’s a chance of a dead animal at the end of it — but a five-mile walk just for the sake of walking is a total waste of time and for that, you should be ashamed of yourself.  If you really have to walk that far but don’t drink [shudder] or it’s not hunting season, then take up golf.  Ordinarily, I don’t recommend golf to anyone because, well, golf;  but yours is an extreme case — and  I guarantee you:  nobody you meet on the golf course is going to scold you for not wearing a mask.