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Behold, seven dumb guys and a lady with no chin

Ladies and gentlemen, fresh from a bust-up trailer somewhere in rural Michigan, I give you — the Hutaree!

If these guys were really fixing to start picking off the local constabulary, then I hope they get locked up for a nice, long stretch. But it’s hard not to imagine Janet Napolitano phoning up Central Casting and ordering up a violent Christian militia.

“Get me some angry white boys with guns and Bibles, stat!”

Militias are one of those seasonal political problems, like how there are only homeless people when Republicans are in power. There are only scary right-wing Christian militias when the Dems control the apparatus.

Oh, well. There really was a Tim McVeigh (thanks a lot, dude). From what I’ve seen so far, though, the only charge that’ll stick to these bozos is Felony Mouthy Redneck.

March 31, 2010 — 10:11 pm
Comments: 31

Look out there, Mister President

Oh, come on…I can’t be the only one who pictured the above when Drudge went with this image for his headliner today.

I could never understand what was supposed to be so moving about Palestinian youth throwing rocks at tanks. Standing stock still in front of a line of tanks, like the Tiananmen Square dude — that’s impressive.

Throwing rocks at gigantic armored vehicles? That’s retarded.

March 30, 2010 — 9:52 pm
Comments: 25

…just three more years…

I’d like to hang this illustration over an insightful post about how our current boy president seems to go WAY out of his way to flatter our darkest enemies and endanger our oldest friends. But the truth of the matter is, I just got the old poster mashed up in my head with Bibi Netanyahu and the only way to exorcise a mental image is to draw it.

Most of my picture ideas are because the insulation on my brainal wires isn’t very good.

Edit to add: happy Passover, y’all!

March 29, 2010 — 8:54 pm
Comments: 30

One of the lesser-known harbingers of Summer

Once every week or two, we like to take a long drive up the coast to our favorite fish and chips shop (they still cook in beef tallow!) and do a little shopping. Every time we drove up last Summer — every single time — there was a young man standing on the side of the road who gave a stiff and enthusiastic Heil Hitler! to every car that went past.

Clearly a tard or mong of some description, he always wore earbuds and carried an iPod. I’d love to think he was listening to das Beste des Adolphenschpechen but it’s probably just “Teletubbies: Oops-A-Daisy”.

When Autumn came, he was gone. As his usual post was near a trailer park, we assumed his family had a seaside Summer rental.

Welp, you guess it — my ol’ bud Heil Hitler was back this afternoon, heiling his heart out. Summer’s here!

I just got an email that began You’re getting this email because you blog about stuff real guys like. Since they’ve obviously taken time to learn about me and my blog, I figured I’d help them flog their crappy bourbon.

Actually, it might be good bourbon. I don’t know. I’m not a bourbon drinker. Anyhow, the blog that sends most unique users their way gets all sorts of fabulous prizes…some for me, some for you. It doesn’t seem likely we’ll be that blog, but if I win anything, I vow to pass whatever it is on to one of you.

Somehow, “Buffalo Trace” doesn’t sound like something I want to put in my mouth.

March 26, 2010 — 9:56 pm
Comments: 35


Now, I know what some of you are thinking. (Yeah, that’s right. I can still hear your thoughts. The injections don’t help at all). You’re thinking, “geez, Stoaty — you live in an Olde Worlde socialist paradise now. What do you care from Obamacare?”

Well, I own sixty acres of American scrub cedar and rattlesnakes out near the old Gore place. We call it Rancho Plan B. I pay American taxes and vote in American elections. I brush my teeth humming Yankee Doodle Dandy and insist on saying aloominum and skedule and coming home once a year to stock up on Jimmy Dean country sausage and Bounty paper towels.

But seriously — clown nose off — it matters here. You have no IDEA how much things in the US matter outside the US, in the general force and direction of world politics. The old saying when America sneezes, the rest of the world catches a cold should probably be updated to when America sneezes, the rest of the world gets AIDS, Ebola and a side order of flesh-eating bacteria.

The interconnections in the UK catch me off guard. I was having a cup of coffee and a scone in a cafe in town yesterday and the lady at the next table over heard my accent and wanted to tell me all about her upcoming vacation in California. That happens a lot. So much for the taciturn Brits.

The BBC’s obsession with all things American is deep and malignant. You would not believe how much of a typical broadcast day is about the US, one way or another. I used to joke that Radio 4 could work a George Bush joke into the gardening program, but I think the Obama infatuation is even loonier.

During a radio interview of the English singer/songwriter Alison Goldfrapp a couple of days ago, the interviewer remarked that her most recent album was very upbeat. “Why is that?” he said out of an abso-fucking-lutely blue sky, “because of Obama?”

So you’d better believe the BBC has reported every twist and turn of the Obamacare saga in minutest detail. Absolutely zero insight, but minute detail. And you know what they’re rooting for.

The tug-of-war between freedom and the state is played across international boundaries. Pull hard, Yanks!

March 25, 2010 — 11:35 pm
Comments: 26

Odds and ends

I’m going to give it a rest tonight — because, frankly, I just didn’t get my next hideous nightmarish caricature of Nancy Pelosi done in time.

See that thing in the corner? It appeared tonight out of nowhere while I was surfing the Zazzle forums. It is the forum equivalent of a giant, swinging tallywhacker.

I have arrived.

Okay, actually, it just means I’ve made at least a hundred bucks at least three months in a row. So I haven’t actually arrived, but I’ve certainly left the station! Thank you all for every grubby penny! Mwah!

Nature Roundup

Uncle B went out to check his greenhouse last night and came running back with his eyes as wide as tea saucers. He shone his flashlight across the ditch at the back garden, and there, not a dozen feet away, was a real, live badger!

The nearest sett we know of is a mile up, across a busy road, so we didn’t think they came this far. Badger ran off, but we spent the rest of the evening pitching stale bread into the field.

If the farmer catches us doing that, he’ll murdelate us.

Then this morning, I look out the kitchen window, and there’s a swan. So there’s that.

And I was just drifting off to my customary evening nap (the pace of life here really gets to me, y’know?) when I heard the quiet ticking of the deathwatch beetle in the corner. So they’re back this year, too.

I leave you with my favorite Zazzle shirt of all time. (No, it’s not mine. My one is here).

I totally want to own that thing.

March 24, 2010 — 11:08 pm
Comments: 21

Loaves, fishes and pap smears

Yeah, dude. We totally, totally believe you can add tens of millions of people to the insurance pool and nobody’s premiums will go up and nobody’s coverage will go down. Totally. Because we are totally the inbred paste-eating retards they told you about at Harvard.

This is an unbelievably clumsy piece of political reasoning, this bill. They forgot the First Rule of Ponzi Schemes: in the beginning, everybody gets a pony. Near as I can figure it, nobody ever gets a pony with this thing.

If you already have insurance (Medicare, Medicaid or private), either your coverage goes down, your premiums go up or both.

If you don’t have insurance, the government is going to force you to stick your hand in your pocket and buy something you could damn well have bought any time, without the helpful assistance Guido the Legbreaker.

The segment of society that is currently uninsured, not poor enough to qualify for Medicaid but poor enough to trigger substantial government assistance paying for this shit — the group of voters that is kinda, sorta getting a pony — must be incredibly small.

I wonder if he’s registered to vote.

March 23, 2010 — 10:55 pm
Comments: 38

You need an anvil to go with that hammer, Ma’am

Sonofabitch. They did it. They really did it. And they didn’t even have the sense to nix the gloating.


I think Miz Pelosi just ordered a Number Twelve. That would be Saul Alinsky’s Rules for Radicals #12, of course:

RULE 12: Pick the target, freeze it, personalize it, and polarize it.

We’ve got to hang this stinking albatross around Nancy’s wattle. We know she was the balls behind this job — Obama, on the whole, being utterly useless.

But the vital message is: no-one should be tempted to reward a blue dog for being a good doggie and voting no. Vote for a blue dog, vote for Nancy Pelosi as Speaker. Simple as that.

We’ll never get her out of Congress — San Fran being what it is — but we can buy-god peel her leathery talons off the Speaker’s gavel.

We got here because Democrats pretended to be things they are not. The time of pretending is over.

Let the smiting begin.  


March 22, 2010 — 8:43 pm
Comments: 45

ROUND SIX: March madness!

In the shortest Dead Pool yet, nachogranny wins it with Peter Graves.

So! Here we go:

1. Pick a celebrity. Any celebrity at all, though I reserve the right to nix picks I never heard of.

2. We start from scratch every time. No matter who you had last time, you have to turn up and pick again. Poachers are not shunned.

3. Your first choice sticks. Choose wisely!

4. It’s up to you to search the thread and make sure nobody’s got your pick already. What am I, your mother?

5. The pool is open until somebody on the list has the decency to croak. Feel free to jump in any time. Newbies, strangers and drive-bys welcome.

6. If you want the fabulous prize, you have to trust me with a mailing address. If you don’t want the fabulous prize, it may be the most sensible decision of your whole miserable life. Packages go by slow boat, typically take eight to ten weeks and arrive looking crusty and hungover.

7. The new DeadPool will begin the Friday after the prize is awarded.

Once again, you’re playing for a two-pack of Aunty’s weaselicious microwavable spotted dick. A two pack, I said! And by the time it gets there, an out of date two pack, most likely. Eat at your own risk.

Let the macabre speculation begin!

March 19, 2010 — 6:00 pm
Comments: 186

True tales from Tennessee

My home state continually finds new ways to make me proud. But it’s not often I’m reading one heart-warming tale from the land of my birth when somebody emails me a link to another.

The first is a Memphis lady who disappeared from her hotel room, only to turn up under the box springs six weeks later. My, what a fragrant accomodation that must be, if nobody noticed for a month and a half. Via HotAir.

The second concerns a young Gallatin men who robbed a bank dressed as a leprechaun. The ending isn’t happy: he and his getaway driver were shot down a short time later. Two promising young Tennessee boys cut down in their prime. Via Uncle B.

Okay, remember y’all — Dead Pool tomorrow. Six sharp. At the moment, that’s six hours ahead of the right coast, nine hours ahead of the left coast. Be there, or no dick for you!

March 18, 2010 — 11:08 pm
Comments: 26