Rear View

The problem with all this self-promotion on Teh Intarwebz nowadays is that people — young women especially — have no clue about how to present themselves to the camera.

Marilyn Monroe, for example, was told early on in her career that she had an unattractive full smile (her teeth were a little too big, and a “big” smile showed her upper gum):

…which is why, in just about every MM pic, you only see half-smiles, or else head-thrown back poses (which foreshorten the teeth and hide the upper gum):

She had someone helping her with her image, you see.

All this came to mind when I saw some nameless Insta-Tok hussy posing as (I think) Mrs. Claus:

…which is fine, I guess — but is completely undone by the next pic, taken from the rear:

Awful.  Had the photographer had any idea, he’d have changed the shot — had her bend forward slightly, maybe, to tighten the saggies.

No clue, any of them.  Compare and contrast:

…’nuff said.

News Roundup

Welcome back to an old sponsor:

And on we go, into the filthy bowels of the news:


...let’s not get carried away, here.  Maybe if their backbone went from jelly to cartilage, then we can go from there.


...so the stabber is a “teenager” but the stabee is a “man.”  Make up yer fucking minds.


...I remember when the PPI going over 1.5% meant panic just about everywhere.

 
...of course she does.


...except when we destroy an iconic girl’s toy, it’s a joke:

From the Dept. of Cultural Assimilation:


...should have welcomed him with a fucking bayonet.


...and if you know what a “vibrating horned penis ring” is, go and stand in the corner I had to look it up, and good grief, that’s nasty.


...I’m not sure anyone could write a more African scenario than this.


...sounds about right.  So does this:


...I wish I could have seen his face when she said, “Yup, that’s his,” on the witness stand.


...can’t get excited about this one, either.  But I can about this one:


...a true Backstreet Boy, indeed. I mean, FFS.


...paging Mr. Stupid Money;  do we have a deal for you!

From the Dept. of “Yes, That Happened”:


Also:


And dredged from the INSIGNIFICA files:

 
...I’m just amazed that “Gimme a blowjob” didn’t make the listMaybe the trolley dollies don’t think that’s too bad.  I’ll do the research the next time I fly.

Lastly, this:

Bouncy-bouncy in tight dresses… saggy-baggies outside of them.  Just my suspicion;  I could be wrong.

Whine, Whine, Whine

Here we go again:  another “OMG-I-went-to-the-gun-show-and-found-this-sweet-little-gun-that-I-didn’t-really-want-to-buy-but-I-did-and-it’s-all-YOUR-fault, Kim!”  story.

This was from Reader Mike S., who happened upon this little sweetheart at an Evil Loophole Gun Show recently:

Okay, in all honesty, Mike did not blame me for his weakness in the face of gunny beauty.  What he said was:

“I’m gonna keep it, and hug it, and call it George. Will go well with my other .22 pistols.”

Can’t argue with that philosophy;  I’ve done it many a time myself (“George”?  never), so I can’t yell about that too much.

But the next time someone comes crying to me about his latest gun purchase and blaming it on my influence, I’m gonna call his wife and tell him what he really paid for it.  It’s no good trying to lie about it and say “It’s just an old gun:  I got it for less than a hundred bucks.”  I know differently.

Case in point:  here are the latest High Standard offerings from Collectors

Damn it.  Now I want one.

Choices, Choices

Looks as though things are getting interesting:

The attack one week ago on two substations in Moore County, N.C., resulted in the loss of power to 45,000 people and raised questions about the security of America’s power grid.

And when further attacks in North Carolina, South Carolina, Washington, and Oregon were revealed, those questions have now become urgent. Are the attacks — all involving gunfire targeting substations — unrelated pranks, or are they connected to a plot of some kind?

As outlandish as the idea of some kind of coordinated attack on our electrical grid being underway sounds, federal authorities are not dismissing anything or any theory at this point. They can’t afford to. The electric infrastructure our country depends on is critical — especially moving into the winter months when so many homes use electric heat.

Here’s what I find interesting.  If we assume that these attacks are not committed by the Random Asshole Set — teenage boys, for example — and I think it’s safe to they’re they’re not, given the geographic locations of each attack, it behooves us to try to figure out who are behind them.  Here are my thoughts.

Radical Muslims.  Our perennial bugbears, they are, although I think it’s unlikely they’re intent on bringing the electrical grid down;  their preferred target is people, not stuff.  Again, nothing is impossible and they might have changed their modus  to punish The Great Satan by ending video gaming, porn movie gazing and Sunday morning Christian broadcasts, but I think it’s a remote chance, at best.

Leftist / Gummint provocateurs [some overlap].  I would believe this if, say, the FBI were announcing that “right-wing hate groups / White supremacists” are “persons of interest” in their investigations.  But I don’t think even the NY Times  will buy that story.  Most persuasively, there are no RWHG / WS groups capable of organizing such widely-dispersed and well-planned acts of sabotage, simply because actual membership of such groups is scattered over thousands of basements across the U.S.A., and I think too many of these people, feeble as they are, would be willing to risk being set up by Fibbie plants in their ranks.  Those birds ain’t gonna fly again soon.

Eco-terrorists.  Yeah, as a next step to gluing yourselves to roads and paintings, this would be a logical exercise for these nutcases.  The part that makes this so credible is that the Radical Greens have a wide, international membership — so you could bring in a group from Germany, the U.K. and all over Europe, give them the plan and the explosives, have them execute the plan and fly them out of the nearest major international airport while the pieces are still falling out of the sky.  The Carolina attacks, for example, took place not far from Charlotte-Douglas, and the Washington- and Portland ones are close-ish to both Portland PDX and SeaTac airports.  Thus there are no local suspects because there are no local perpetrators.

It’s all early days, of course, and no doubt greater minds than mine are considering the same variables;  just none at the FBI, because they’re too busy trying to fit some chumps in the Christian Urban Brotherhood Society — CUBS — in Biloxi MS into the frame.

My Readers are welcome to add their addled thoughts, wild-ass theories and so on in Comments.

Quote Of The Day

From Taki’s Magazine:

“These days, Scotland can only aspire to Third World hellhole. Bonnie Alba has become Jessica Alba—beautiful a long time ago, still decent from afar, but up close, a craggy wasteland with a fried brain.”

All you have to do is follow their politics to see how true that is.

A Christmas Story

Longtime Friend&Reader Dave L. shares this tale from his youth:

I left Uncle Sam’s Navy in July of 1974. The economy was a little shaky back in those days and I was struggling to find bean and beer money. I picked up a part time gig in a local photo store. We sold some fairly high end new and used hardware – Nikons, Leicas etc and did the usual photo processing back in the days before digital photography. I might share some of those stories with you but that’s for another time. The point of today’s note is to talk about the music that played in the store.

Our Jewish boss wanted to create a “festive” Christmas atmosphere and he played a continuous loop of holiday music over the PA system. Unfortunately, his play list was only about 45 minutes long so we got to hear the same songs about 8 to 10 times during the course of a work day. You know me as a person of faith and I really love Christmas and the music associated with the holiday, but my love and patience were sorely tested by hearing “The Little Drummer Boy” ten times a day six days a week. If I hadn’t needed the money I would have run screaming out of the shop at chorus number eight or nine of “Pa rum pum pum pum”.

Even today, almost fifty years later, hearing the Little Drummer Boy will make me sweat and shout out “D-Day. Normandy. June Sixth. Eisenhower!”

Wait:  Eisenhower?

[exit, giggling helpessly]