Acting Regal

There are times when I wish that modern royalty would act like earlier kings and queens, especially when nonsense like this gets put about:

A Buckingham Palace spokesperson said tonight: ‘We have made it very clear that the [Duke’s funeral] service will be Covid compliant.’
It was revealed that the Queen may have to wear a mask at Prince Philip’s funeral due to the current Covid restrictions.
The Queen may also have to sit on her own at the funeral due to rules which mean those attending services must remain separated from other households.
Royals could be banned from singing hymns due to Covid restrictions.

And what if she doesn’t want to do any of that?  Are the Filth going to act like they usually do when faced with disobedience?

Wouldn’t you love it if some Dickless Tracy tried to interfere with the funeral service brandishing a pair of handcuffs, and Her Majesty just whipped out a sabre and beheaded her?

Sorry, I went off to a warm and happy place there for a moment… Edward The First would approve.

News Roundup

All the news, hand-picked to further a narrative.

starting with your house, I presume?  And another part of the same story:

and yet somehow, we still don’t know the name of the cop who shot Ashli Babbit at the Capitol in January.

starting in your neighborhood and city, of course?

he’s going to feel the full effect of British Law:  a severe scolding and his PlayStation confiscated (for at least a week).

ummm no;  “infrastructure” is roads, bridges, electricity, water, and in a stretch, Internet access.  You dirty fucking Commie.

had mine, no problems. But wait a minute:

so if he was forced by Government to be vaccinated, would they be killing him?


of course he’s going to ascribe success to a repressive social policy rather than medicine, in much the same way as gun confiscation eliminates obesity.  But then there’s this:

which means that if the hapless Boris imposes yet another lockdown

…♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ If I can make it there / I’ll make my kid go bare ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪…

and you need to click on the link to get the punchline.  And speaking of punch lines:

only in a pussified society would this be considered bad advice.

except that urine negates chlorine’s benefits, another study will find.

but they already are:  Susie Has Two Mommies, Fisting For Fifth Graders, What’s Wrong With Wanting A Wah-Wah Instead Of A Pee-Pee, etc. etc. etc.



Finally, the thing you’ve all been waiting for:  some completely gratuitous pics of a beautiful woman.  Here’s 60s hottie Wanda Ventham.

Look familiar?

She’s Brit actor Bandersnatch Cummerbund’s Mum.

Well Now

Was directed to a Microsoft page explaining terms of use and all that stuff, which will take effect in mid-June.  Just for once, I decided to plow through the MEGO document, which is mostly all the usual guff, and not much jumped out and stuck me in the eye.

Until I saw this (highlights added):

3. Code of Conduct.

a. By agreeing to these Terms, you’re agreeing that, when using the Services, you will follow these rules:
i. Don’t do anything illegal.
ii. Don’t engage in any activity that exploits, harms, or threatens to harm children.
iii. Don’t send spam or engage in phishing. Spam is unwanted or unsolicited bulk email, postings, contact requests, SMS (text messages), instant messages, or similar electronic communications. Phishing is sending emails or other electronic communications to fraudulently or unlawfully induce recipients to reveal personal or sensitive information, such as passwords, dates of birth, Social Security numbers, passport numbers, credit card information, financial information, or other sensitive information, or to gain access to accounts or records, exfiltration of documents or other sensitive information, payment and/or financial benefit.
iv. Don’t publicly display or use the Services to share inappropriate content or material (involving, for example, nudity, bestiality, pornography, offensive language, graphic violence, or criminal activity).
v. Don’t engage in activity that is fraudulent, false or misleading (e.g., asking for money under false pretenses, impersonating someone else, manipulating the Services to increase play count, or affect rankings, ratings, or comments).
vi. Don’t circumvent any restrictions on access to or availability of the Services.
vii. Don’t engage in activity that is harmful to you, the Services or others (e.g., transmitting viruses, stalking, posting terrorist or violent extremist content, communicating hate speech, or advocating violence against others).
viii. Don’t infringe upon the rights of others (e.g., unauthorized sharing of copyrighted music or other copyrighted material, resale or other distribution of Bing maps, or photographs).
ix. Don’t engage in activity that violates the privacy of others.
x. Don’t help others break these rules.

So, for instance, calling Chuck Schumer a rancid Commie cocksucker could possibly cause Big Redmond to yank me off Microsoft?   Or posting pictures like these could cause the same?

Then there’s this:

How about:

or this:

Asking for a friend.  Because he wants to know who, precisely, is going to determine what constitutes “offensive”, “inappropriate”, “extremist content” and “hate speech”.

Car Nut

Tim Allen (the man, not the TV caricature he plays) is one of the people I’d want on my Dinner Guest Bucket List.   Not only is he as funny as hell, he’s also a gearhead and gun guy (in part 1 below, when Tim gets to talking about his GT40, look over the car into his gun room).

Here he is walking us through his car collection, a trip which takes under an hour:  Part 1 and Part 2.  My favorite parts?  He has models of a Spitfire, Me109 and P52 P-51 Mustang hanging from the ceiling.  I just wish he’d taken us on a tour of his gun room.

And for those classic Camaro fans, here’s Jay Leno driving Tim’s 427 COPO.  (Best line:  Leno:  “There’s nothing in this car that doesn’t belong.”  Allen:  “Except maybe us.”)



No, not that BLM nonsense;  I’m talking about cars that in my opinion were the last of the “hot” saloon cars that were the mainstay of, and dominated European racing of that ilk in the late 1980s — a time when car designers weren’t strapped over a desk and raped by environmental- and safety constraints, in that oh-so wonderful era before the horrible wind-tunnel became the main basis for cars’ shapes.  Here are some examples of what I’m talking about:

1987 Audi Quattro Sport

I know:  by today’s standards the Audi (and indeed most of the cars that follow) seems horribly angular.  But regardless, they were absolute rockets despite power outputs that are dwarfed by today’s models.  The reason that these cars were so quick, and so much fun to drive is that they weren’t burdened with all the safety bullshit that bedevils today’s cars, and turns them into deadweight that needs all that horsepower just to get them moving.

1988 Lancia HF Stradale

With all the (justifiable) reservations about Lancia’s reliability, the Stradale was a monster:  a perennial race- and rally winner, even when pitted against competitors fielded by giant car companies like Audi or Ford.  And speaking of the latter:

1989 Ford Sierra RS Cosworth

Like the U.S.-designed Taurus, the Sierra was the first of Ford’s “gumdrop”-shaped cars, but the Cosworth-powered RS stuck more to the older, sharp-edged shape of the time.  So powerful was its engine that the redoubtable Borg-Warner company had to design and build a special new line of gearboxes to handle the demands of the engine (which generated a modest 204hp in the street car, but 300hp in the race version — at a time when Formula 1 cars generated 400hp).

And finally, there’s probably the best of the bunch:

1986 BMW E30 M3 EVO II

The little E30 pocket rocket had the longest production time (six years) of all these cars, with justification:  it would stand up pretty well against almost every similar car of today’s era.

While the Lancia is my romantic favorite (because Lancia), the Beemer would be my first choice if I was going to do some serious driving.

Discuss amongst yourselves, in Comments.

Afterthought:  Reader Uncle Kenny reminds me of the raven-haired and redoubtable Michèle Mouton of that era: