Lost Weekends

Ahhhhh, when it’s a Bank Holiday (U.S. “long”) weekend, can the Train Smash Women be far behind?

Of course not:  they’re quite up front [sic] :


And, as usual, all over the place:

As we used to say (back when one could say such things):  “Take her ‘ome, Jimmy;  she’s ready.”

Follow the link:  there are approximately half a dozen regrettable decisions in every pic.


Generally speaking, not many state governors are that well known outside their own borders, for obvious reasons.  But the Chinkvirus mania has made some of them nationally (if not internationally) prominent — albeit for the wrong reasons.  The most famous, after NY’s Vito Corleone Cuomo and CA’s Vladimir Gavin Lenin Newsom, has been Michigan’s Irma Grese Gretchen Witless Witmer, the latter not being helped by the fact that she actually does look like a concentration camp guard.

Another rising star among the infamous is Portlandia Oregon governor Kate Brown, who while not as evil-looking as Witmer, still has that basilisk-apparatchik appearance first made famous by Hillary Bitch Clinton:

Why do all Marxist women end up looking like cheap copies of Rosa Luxemburg?  Even (to switch countries for a moment) New Zealand’s Prime Lesbian Minister Jacinda Ardern is, in addition to being a gun-controller, quite ghastly:

(What amazed me about the above is that with a name like Jacinda Ardern, I originally thought she was Black.  My bad.)

The only thing which can mitigate the appearance of these Marxist harpies is that occasionally they can have redeeming physical characteristics which can take one’s gaze from their face.  Case in point:  Gretchen Whitmer:

Even the Senior Troll Speaker of the House, ol’ Red Nancy herself, is similarly constructed (seen here with another gun controller):

Nevertheless, it can safely be said that no matter how attractive the superstructure of these Commies, nothing — and I mean nothing — should distract us from the utter foulness of their totalitarian philosophy.  I’m not saying, of course, that they should end up like their figurehead Rosa Luxemburg — shot dead and their bodies tossed into a canal — but the sooner they and their political leanings are discredited, marginalized and forgotten, the better for all of us.

Afterthought:  my apologies for all the strikeouts above.  Clearly, I need more coffee.

Non Decorum Est

Apparently, the issue of a “dress code” or “decorous clothing” seems to have gone bye-bye in, of all places, Britishland (and to be specific, in Parliament).  Witness this outfit chosen by a Labour MP (of course) to deliver a speech in the House of Commons:

Needless to say, the response from the BritPublic was not complimentary, prompting this classless Trot to respond in kind:

I know, I know, dear Tracy;  perhaps you weren’t any of those things — it just looked  like you were all  of them.  Of course, you were an actress once, which pretty much explains everything.

And just so we’re all clear on the implications of this:  had Boris Johnson not won the last General Election, this harridan would now be a member of the Prime Minister’s Cabinet.

How About Both?

The bony Ann takes issue with POTUS nailing Iran, suggesting that there are bigger fish to fry.

While I take her point — and it’s a good one — I certainly feel that we as a nation are capable of doing both.  To use Insty’s expression:  La Coulter (and POTUS) should embrace the healing power of “and”, i.e planting minefields along our southern border while dropping guided missiles onto sundry evil Iranians.

Somebody buy that girl a plate of pasta.

Not In Keeping

In last Sunday’s post about places I’ve seen, there was one pic which, for various reasons, didn’t make the cut:

As a long-ago Reader once commented:  “The best view of Manhattan is through a bomb-sight.”

Like so many cities, the place is best viewed from a distance because a) it smells and b) Noo Yawkers.  And of course there’s the political thing.

Despite all that, however, I like NYFC even though (to quote another Reader) it’s “mostly hype and hicks”.  And I’m not talking about the members of the International Hayseed Set who can be found gawping at Times Square and forming long lines at the Statue;  having lived there for three years, I’ve found most New Yorkers to be unbelievably parochial and yes, hicks.  What else can explain a city which serves the most over-priced-yet-average food in North America, and thinks that if it doesn’t happen in NYC, it doesn’t matter?

New Wife has never been to NYFC, so at some point I may have to grit my teeth and take her there.  Or not.  The price (to me) may just be too high.