Category: Bad News

Horrible, unpleasant stuff

News Roundup

Bad News

 

As it’s Christmas Eve, our Roundup is going to be extra-special silly today.  Some of it may even be true.


...wait;  you mean this isn’t how everybody does Christmas dinner?


…we know.  It falls off / grows closed, and you turn into an incel mass murderer.  Next:

From the Hearts Of Stone Dept.:


...sorry, this just made me giggle.  As did this one:


...talk about taking your hobby too seriously.  But even better:


...what cynics might call “a good start”.

From the Police Blotter:


...here’s a thought:  if we do free “Luigi’, can we jail all the protesters for life instead?  It’s only fair.


...anyone giving odds that the car was stolen?  What, nobody?


...keywords:  New York City and illegal immigrant.


...first:  he isn’t a “Brit”, he’s Irish.  But I love his defense: The man admitted he was aware of the body but hadn’t reported it to the police because he claimed he “didn’t know she was dead; he just thought she was English”.


...was this naughty?  Nice?  I report, you decide.
All together now:
♫ ♪ ♫ Oh Come All Ye Faithful ♪♫ ♪ ♫ ♪

As for tarts who do unspeakable things, we have this from the Dept. of Education:


...on the bright side, it was the wife and not the cop husband sending the wankpix to the boy.

From the Dept Of Tourism:


...oh, please.  What an amateur.

And in the usual trash known as 

…♫ ♪ ♫ Oh Come All Ye Faithless ♪♫ ♪ ♫ ♪

And from her condo in :


…I dunno, I’d always be reminded that she was once “Property Of Dennis Rodman”.  But anyway:

And that’s the news.  Time to go Christmas shopping…

Open Season

Funny Stuff, Gummint, Shootin' Time

Well, that’s okay then:

The Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) warned New Jersey residents against shooting at mysterious unidentified drones.

Given the source, I’d say it would be almost mandatory for the folks in Joizee to have at it.

Here’s my take.  This whole drone swarm thing in NJ seems to be shrouded in secrecy, for all sorts of reasons.  And nowadays, where there’s secrecy, there’s almost always Gummint skullduggery afoot.  (And not even just nowadays — Kennedy assassination / Lee Harvey Oswald murder coff coff.)

So it stands to reason for us to expect that if the Fibbies are telling us not to do something, it’s because that “something” endangers one of their little clandestine reindeer games, no?

I’d suggest light birdshot or even .410 000, for those interested.  Just make sure that the fall of shot isn’t close to houses or streets, and we’ll all be good.


(me getting in some practice prior to a drive trip to NJ)

Note to any Gummint alphabet agency snooping around:  the above is what’s called “satire”, “humor” or even “hyperbole”.  Feel free to look those words up if you’re unclear on the concept, you assholes.

And my final thought:  given the dramatis personae  in this little scenario, it’s quite possible that nobody in government knows what the fuck is going on — if indeed anything is — and likewise has no idea how to investigate it either.  I wouldn’t place any bets against this hypothesis, either.

Pathetic

Shootin' Time

Lawrence Person asks the important question:

The Secret Service agent that engaged the would-be Trump golf course assassin missed six shots despite being five feet away.

How does that even happen? How can even you even miss from that close?

It’s a really good, and ultimately important question.

I remember that in a long-ago post castigating law enforcement for being terrible shots, one of my Readers commented that while my comments might be true of the average city cop’s shooting skills, it was certainly not true of dedicated officers like those in the Secret Service.

Ha.

Perhaps the answer might lie in this little tidbit, still from Lawrence:

I’m an adequate shot (not a Secret Service agent who presumably visits a shooting range every month), but I don’t think I could miss a human target from that range.

Forget monthly.  How about weekly?  Actually (and I admit to not knowing the truth of this), I might be persuaded to bet that the SS quali sessions are annual, or at best quarterly.

And in my own case, I am no more than an adequate handgun shot (as anyone who has shot with me will attest) but bloody hell, I shoot my carry 1911 about three times a month, and if I can’t put all eight shots from my first mag into a palm-sized group at 15 feet (three times more than the five above), I keep shooting until I get at least four mag loads in a row into that area.  (If I dump the first mag successfully, I might only do a couple more mags, just to be sure.)

Generally speaking, my first magazine’s boolets tend to end up inside a 2″ hole at 15 feet, with a flyer — and this comes as a result of endless, self-critical practice because as I said, I’m only an adequate handgun shot.

Hell, I shoot my 2″ backup S&W Airweight snubby more accurately than that clueless SS agent, and I only practice with it about every other month.  (Which reminds me… I need to shoot it later today — pack a box or two of .38s, Kim, and you might as well do a little with the bedside .357 while you’re there.)

Jeff Cooper would have wanted it that way.

Here’s a thought for whoever’s going to be in charge of the President’s protection detail:  weekly quali sessions, with a very exacting standard for marksmanship (e.g. like mine).  And for anyone who fails to meet that standard, suspension from the detail for a month — said month to be spent on daily range sessions until the marksmanship improves.

This job is too important to be delegated to Barney Fife types — and especially so as Trump has already proven to be a tempting target for assholes.  That hapless agent who missed from five feet should be fired, period.

That I should even have to say all this makes me want to puke.

News Update

Bad News

And off we go:


…


...always good to see that Gummint has solved enough pressing national problems that they have time enough to address the serious issues.


...and fall it did.  Now the real question:  does anyone actually believe that whatever replaces the “Assad regime” will be any better?  Nobody?  Yeah, me neither.

From the Dept. of Education:


...can’t see the fuss, as there weren’t any kiddies there at the time.  Also, key word: Floriduh.


...as opposed to the red flag that you support, you tiresome little Commie bitch.


...wait, aren’t you the same crowd who came up with the food pyramid?


...wow, nobody saw that coming.
#NHSfailure


...might as well join all the others of their ilk in Canada.

In the Dept. of Mostly Peaceful Demonstrations:


...I don’t think I can fit any more AK magazines in the car.


...let’s just say that not many people would mind too much if all those colleges were to burn to the ground, though.

And then:


...I didn’t know that there was that much worth seeing in New Jersey, but whatever.

And now, ecco 

 

...and as we race down :


...she’s kinda plain, but I guess that’s not a necessary part of her quest anyway:

And that’s the skinny for the week.

Nice Dream, Not Gonna Happen

Bad News

There are dreams that are achievable, unrealistic dreams that can be achieved but where the odds are hugely stacked against you, and then there are those dreams that are just… dreams without any chance of achievement.

Achievable dreams would include that cherry/unfired WWII-era 1911, the restored & modernized E-type Jag, etc.  They are out there, you just haven’t found one yet or else you don’t have the moolah on hand to buy it when you do.

Unrealistic dreams… well, there’s that night in bed with Salma Hayek, winning Powerball, finding that cherry/unfired WWII-era 1911 for only $500… you get my drift.

And then there is that category of dreams where there’s no chance in hell of success.  And here’s where I’m going to get into trouble, but oh well:

Space travel and extraterrestrial planet colonization.

What bollocks.  Given the vast distances between planets, even-vaster distances between habitable (by us) planets, it requires not only advanced science of a degree unimaginable — which may be possible — but most of all it requires a bending of the laws of physics (e.g. the time/space continuum, the frailty and short shelf life of the human body, etc.), which is not so easy.

So while it’s all very nice to ooh and aah over Elon Musk’s latest wizardry, at some point realization is going to set in and we’re going to discover that it’s just an impossible dream.

Nice song, great lyrics, but that’s no way to go through life.

Let’s face it:  we’re stuck here on good old Planet Earth, and that’s the beginning and end of it.  We’ll just have to deal with it, and come to terms with the fact that in a few million years’ time, this planet will become uninhabitable (swallowed by the Sun, our own red star in the making) and all life as we know it will cease.

(I don’t want to hear about Mars — when our sun becomes a red dwarf, it too will be swallowed into the eternal fire / black hole whatever.)

And then, to quote Arthur Balfour, Prime Minister of Great Britain (1902 – 1905):

“Imperishable monuments and immortal deeds, death itself and love stronger than death, will be as though they had never been. The energies of our system will decay, the glory of the sun will be dimmed, and the earth, tideless and inert, will no longer tolerate the race which has disturbed its solitude. Man will go down into the pit and all his thoughts will perish. The uneasy consciousness, which in this obscure corner has for a brief space broken the contented silence of the universe, will be at rest.”

He may have got the dimming of the sun wrong — it’s more likely the opposite — but the final outcome will be the same.

At least it’s in the very distant future, so there’s that.