Stupid People

One of the most unattractive things that has come out of the Chinkvirus pandemic has been the social shaming of people who, in the opinions of some, are ignoring the dangers of the virus’s spread.  Brits have coined a term “covidiots” to describe these people, hence (link in pic):

Well of course they would be fearful, because — and let’s be under no illusions about this —  when it comes to viral infection, only two things matter:  dosage (the actual number of viruses inhaled or ingested) and its subset, dispersion.

Most studies on infection take place in a closed room of about 400 sq.ft. (20′ x 20′).  Now take that outside (especially on a breezy day), and the dosage will be immediately reduced to an enormous degree because the wind not only disperses the virus-laden particles, but can even blow them apart, reducing their danger exponentially.  It’s why the Nazis went to all the trouble of building gas chambers at Auschwitz, instead of just spraying Zyklon-B on the hapless Jews out in the fields.

So to return to the above hysteria:  of course a majority of people are going to be apprehensive about going back to the office — it’s a closed environment, you idiots, and viral infection is definitely a possibility.  But out in the open air?

Nada, zip, zilch — as long as people keep some distance between themselves and strangers so that the open air can work its magic.  And don’t touch railings and other surfaces that others have touched without cleaning your hands with disinfectant wipes immediately afterwards.

And as for those idiot cops who keep harassing sunbathers, surfers and the like:  the cops should be tied to lampposts and hosed down with icy water (lest they get viral infections by getting too close to the people they’re harassing), e.g.:

And those moron journalists [redundancy alert]  who perpetuate this foolishness deserve the same treatment.

Asking The Other Side

Over at Instapundit, Gail Heriot has posted a decent summary of the England-Scotland alliance.  But then there’s this:

In 1979, an effort to establish (or re-establish) a separate Scottish legislature via referendum failed. It did so, however, only because the Act authorizing the referendum required that at least 40% of the entire Scottish electorate vote in favor. While the referendum got more yes than no votes, turnout was poor. In 1997, another such referendum was held. This time it passed, a Scottish Parliament was established, and the process of “devolution” was begun.
In 2014, when an independence referendum was held, it came a lot closer to passing than union supporters would have preferred. Ultimately, Scottish voters went 55.3% to 44.7% in favor of sticking it out with England.

What interests me, and many others, is the fact that only the Scots  voted on whether to leave or stay in the Union, which begs the question:  why did not all  interested parties — including the English and Welsh — vote on separation?

Had the population living south of the River Tweed voted, you bet there’s have been considerable support behind a “Toss the Jocks” movement — Mr Free Market and The Englishman claim that at least two-thirds of English voters would support expelling the porridge-monkeys in a heartbeat, had they been allowed to do so.

Such ravings should be taken with a grain of salt — especially when expressions like “Can we then finish what we started at Culloden?” and “Rebuild Hadrian’s Wall” are thrown into the mix.  Nevertheless, we Murkins should not underestimate the depth of enmity that still exists between the Picts and the Angles even after all this time.  It’s most openly expressed by the Scots, such as when supporting anyone playing England in sporting competitions, but the anti-Jock sentiments in England, while less overt, still run pretty deep.

We can talk about the Welsh and Irish situations on another occasion;  but in the meantime, think of the situation as a (very) civilized Balkans, and you’ll get the idea.

Keine Fahrvergnügen

In a world which is becoming more and more “convenient” (i.e. controlled by electronics and algorithms), I have to say that in the automotive world, it’s the Germans who (unsurprisingly) lead the charge.

Read this Road & Track article about the Porsche Cayenne SUV, and see if you can spot the parts which made my trigger-finger itch and led me to look up “home-made explosives” on the Internet.  No, don’t bother;  here they are:

When we ordered our Cayenne, we thought the $940 stand-alone option price was a bit excessive. Our opinion on the cost has not changed, and while we have only just gotten used to pulling the key out to unlock the car, then returning said key to our pocket before starting the car—you don’t need to insert the key to start the car—we do find it a bit annoying to have one but not the other, considering our Cayenne is $80K. Staff editor Eric Stafford captured it perfectly in the logbook: “This first-world problem is a first-world pain in the ass.”
Driving at night on back roads has brought to light (sorry) the inability to dim the instrument cluster sufficiently. On a dark road, the interior lights glare into our eyes. Not only that, dimming the lights requires you to go through a menu in the infotainment system, and there are three separate dimmer controls for the instrument cluster, clock on the dash, and center touchscreen. Remember dimmer knobs? Porsche says forget them; doing it through an infotainment menu that can’t be adjusted while moving is a much better solution. This is a prime example of technology taking a simple task and making it unnecessarily complicated.

I have already voiced my loathing for keyless access/ignition systems, so I won’t go into it here.  Not having an analog dimmer switch for the interior gauge lighting is so fucking stupid as to defy definition.  (My late father always used to say, when some or other non-essential doodad on his Mercedes 350 SE failed, “No wonder they lost the fucking war!”)

I am going out on a not-so-long limb here, and offer 10-1 odds that among the performance car manufacturers, Porsche will be the first to offer / mandate driverless (a.k.a. self-driving) cars, most likely in their SUVs first, and then the venerable 911 line soon thereafter.   (It was bad enough that they took the manual gearbox out of the 911 line altogether — because no driver can shift gears quicker than their phantastiches  PDK —  and more nonsense like that is bound to follow.)

I am not, and probably will never be in the market for a new Porsche of any description, so they can safely ignore my bitching.  (Honorable mention:  the Porsche Cayman, which has a stick shift and is routinely described as one of the best sports cars — in its original sense — on the market.)

And even that interior is a little too gadgety for Your Humble Narrator.

But it’s not just Porsche;  I am going to eschew any  model car whose manufacturer deigns to make driving decisions on my behalf.

When I talk tongue-in-cheek about wanting a basic car like the Mini-Moke or Toyota FJ40, I don’t really mean it because even I have  my limits.  Not all  innovation sucks, in other words;  but I would suggest that “Remember dimmer knobs? Porsche says forget them; doing it through an infotainment menu that can’t be adjusted while moving is a much better solution”  should require daily floggings for the engineers who suggested this and the managers who signed off on it.

And if for some insane reason I did  want a non-Boxster Porsche, it would be this one:

Yup, the 356c pushes all my sports-car buttons, Porscherly-speaking.  Now  we’re talking driving pleasure, my friends — and yes, I’ve been behind the wheel of a 356 before, and it was a fantastic experience.

Every Day A New Thing

Because I read voraciously, and always have, I’ve followed an unspoken mantra that I should learn something new every single day of my life.  And by “new”, I don’t mean any old shit like the price of pizza at the new Italian restaurant up the road;  no, by golly, I mean something at least of historical, literary or cultural interest.

Longtime Readers will know that I am an unabashed Europhile when it comes to history;  my degree is in Modern European History (not “Western” history, by the way — my knowledge of U.S. history is at best a tad more than “adequate”), and seldom a day goes past when I don’t set out to learn something new about the period of 1750 – 1950 in Europe.

I think I need to broaden my horizons, however, because only yesterday I was brought up short when reading this article by Jorge Montoyo, where the very first paragraph provided this nugget:

During the Tang dynasty, a golden age for poets, Empress Wu Chao [Zhao]  forced every male dignitary who had an audience with her to wash his mouth with rose water and practice cunnilingus on her.  Diplomats and courtiers had to do their best so that their requests were met, and even then it was not a guarantee, since Chinese politics have always been cunning and inscrutable, with oscillations between the sun and the shadow of yin and yang.

My first thought, incidentally, was how loud the feministicals’ screams would be had this been a Chinese Emperor  who forced women seeking an audience to first give him a blowjob.  (My suspicion is that the modern-day Carrie Nations of Patriarchal Sexuality would have 1984’d this historical snippet out of the history books forever.)

My second thought was that Wu Zhao was quite a girl — she made Russia’s fearsome Catherine The Great look like a Victorian governess by comparison —  and if she had even half the power she seems to have wielded, her demand for pre-consultation cunnilingus doesn’t seem so far fetched.  Of course, she reigned for many years, which in itself is a little problematic, because early in her reign she probably looked something like this:

whereas in the later years of her reign, she looked like this:

In the first case, mandatory cunnilingus might have been no burden, nay even pleasurable.  But I have a suspicion that the cunnilingual prerequisite was probably instituted towards the end of her life… and I don’t think I need go any further with that  visual.

Still, I think it’s an examplary historical precedent for us to at least consider today, if for no other reason that even among historians who detest Wu Zhao, there is absolute consensus that her reign was, all things considered, hugely successful.  To quote but a couple of historians:

“To the horror of traditional Chinese historians, all members of the shih class, the continued success of the T’ang was in large measure due to an ex-concubine who finally usurped the throne itself…  Though she was ruthless towards her enemies, the period of her ascendency was a good one for China.  Government was sound, no rebellions occurred, abuses in the army and administration were stamped out and Korea was annexed, an achievement no previous Chinese had ever managed.”
Yong Yap Cotterell and Arthur Cotterell.

Here’s the thing:  if you knew, or were guaranteed, that including cunnilingus would result in as successful a reign (or term as head of government) as Wu’s, do you think any politician (male or female) would turn that down?

Of course, there’s no chance that any of today’s crop of European feministical politicos would ever institute such an exotic (erotic?) practice, because unlike Wu, they all seem devoid of a sense of humor.  And take a look at a sample of said feministical prime ministers and presidents:

You have to admit, though… oh, wait:

Forget I said anything.

News Roundup — International Edition

No links because we Murkins don’t really care much for furriners.  I do this so you don’t need to.


and as it’s China, let’s just go with a hundred-and-eight thousand, because we all know the ChiComs lie like Clintons.  And speaking of lying, this from the BBC:


and I will give $10,000 to anyone who can provide irrefutable scientific proof that viruses can be teleported by radio waves… you fucking moron.


…good grief, the Italians can start opening up businesses, and we can’t?  And meanwhile, in the south


except they’re not Covidiots, they’re pissed-off mafiosi.  (In the old days. they’d just have sent someone round to visit the families of the chopper pilots.)


I think we need to start a Berlin Airlift-style operation in eastern Greece, only we drop machine-guns instead of coal and food.


that’s the spirit:  disarm the cops first, then riot.


and you have to know things are getting bad when the servile obedient Germans are stoning their Polizei.  But at least they’re not getting out of control, unlike elsewhere:


I think this headline should be printed out and distributed to the public at large;  and the next time some asswipe Californian cop gets all enforcey on someone taking a stroll along an empty beach, he should be given a copy.  Just as an FYI, of course.

Finally, some educational news:


and unlike what you may have heard from Hollywood:  Krakatoa is west of Java.  Now you know.

Cheers

Of course, it had to be a German:

While appearing on “The Morning Show,” Dr. Rissland was asked about whether or not drinking alcohol could kill any viruses a person may have ingested. “Yes, of course, that’s true,” Dr. Rissland responded. “And the higher the percentage of alcohol, the better it is. For example, if you are a whisky lover, then that certainly isn’t a bad idea,” he continued, while offering this bit of sage advice to pace yourself:  “But of course you need to bear in mind that you can’t do that every 15 minutes, that is something else to consider.”

Speak for yourself, mein medisches freund.  Actually, I think a half-mouthful of Scotch every quarter-hour is a little slow — to judge by the normal spirits-intake rate of several of my friends (Mr. Free Market, Doc Russia and Mrs. Sorenson, to name but three), and mine certainly doesn’t rank far behind.

I think the good doctor shouldn’t confine himself to just whisky / whiskey;  he needs to publish a list of high-alcohol beverages, as a public service, of course.

Needless to say, the fuckheads at the WHO disagree strongly with his considered medical opinion.  But I ask you, O My Readers:  whose opinion would you rather trust:  a conscientious, methodical German doctor, or the idiots who brought you too-late-breaking news of the Chinkvirus?  I don’t think it requires that much thought, really.

The only question remains:  Scotch, rum or brandy?