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And so after poor Marie’s fate, more bad news:
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…then “NO PENIS NO VOTE”. See how that works?

…like eating ham through the wrapper.

…fuck off, fascist. Tell you when I and most gun owners might accept a set of federal gun laws: when they are identical to those of Texas (including Castle Doctrine and others of that ilk), and as long as the poxy NFA is also repealed.
From the Dept. of Irony:

…or “because of”? I get so confused…
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…oh stop it, I just can’t deal with this bullshit anymore.

…in which we see the dangers of someone editing what you write (original headline in link).

…lessee, now: hundreds of BLM rioters looting on that day, and she gets charged? (Episode #1,343 of “guess the race”, with a twist).

…sheesh, and I thought $120 for a bottle of wine and two salads was expensive in Monaco.

…all part of that “culture sharing” thing in EUtopia. Still on trains:
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…Nostradamus Kim predicts an increase in crime on LA transit lines.
As for INSIGNIFICA:

And finally, a fond farewell:

Whoa… some actual news in there. I’ll try to do better next time.
I didn’t need any damn study to tell me this:
A new peer-reviewed study found that the protection from Pfizer’s Covid-19 vaccine against the Omicron variant fades in just a week after receiving the second and third dose.
Both New Wife and I got the OmiGodicron thing about a month after we got our second vaccination.
The next time some asswipe gummint flunky tells me that I need another vaccination, I’m gonna tell him/her/it to fuck off.
I’ve had more pricks than Madonna, and I have sneaking suspicion that none of them were necessary, nor effective.
I don’t follow any kind of professional fighting (boxing, MMA, whatever) so I first thought Paige VanZant was Ronnie’s daughter or something. Of course, I was wrong, about that anyway, as she’s quite well-known in fighting circles:

Okay, she cleans up pretty nicely, albeit in that not-quite-trailer-park kinda way:


But that’s not what’s upsetting me. This is:

What the hell kind of gun is young Paige holding? It looks like she’s about to shoot one of those USPS book-boxes.
Yeah, I know, it’s a Kriss Vector (sounds like an old Marvel villain’s name), and all the cool kids are shooting them.

My feelings on all these modernistic guns is, I think, well known; but seriously? This is uglier than a USPS book-box. 1960’s-era Buck Rogers Mattel toy comes to mind.
And all this at $1,600 just to shoot the silly 9mm Europellet? Pass.
I need to get my busted M1 Carbine to the gunsmith.

Doesn’t look as cool as the Mattel thingy, but mine also has a 15-round (non-Glock) magazine (which isn’t relevant as I don’t own a Glock pistol anyway).
And I’ll take the .30 Carbine over the 9mmP every day of the week.
Tech Support tells me that the login issues are not the only ones he’s finding, but as he has an actual (well-) paying job, for some reason he’s putting that first instead of my problems. Go figure.
Please be patient.

…and it is a tale:
“You now have the freedom to do whatever you want,” Williams told The Post about her revelation. “If you want to sleep with two men on the same day, you can. If you want to have a tryst in the middle of the day, you’re free. The only person who can judge you is yourself. And if you’re fine with it, screw everyone else.”
Apparently, her lust knew no bounds — she says she bonked eight men in that first year after her divorce. Hence the “tale” bit.
I hate to break it to her, but eight men in a year is actually quite a low number for a late-40s divorcee, even a fairly plain-looking one like her. I personally know one woman who bonked about three or four men a month after hers, and she did it for well over three years before finding a guy she wanted to stay with. (I would have been one of them — I always had the hots for her — but I was living in another state far away at the time, and she told me her story after she’d moved in with The Guy.)
Frankly, I think I think our slut-wannabe New Yorker is telling a tale — the rule of thumb for most women who divulge their “number” nowadays is to take what she says, and double it — triple it if she’s a barhopping party girl.
So… sixteen in a year? Not bad. Otherwise, meh.