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  • Portland Boat Tours

    “Hello?”  I asked.  Who would call me at 0538?  I looked at the call ID and predictably it said, “BLOCKED NUMBER.”

    ”This Pratibha, with Swiss Corps Interational Industries.  How you doing this morning?”  He got a new secretary…from India?

    ”Fine, I guess.  Can this be handled later?  I mean its not exactly polite to call befo—“

    “Mr. Swiss want you to get off you brown ass and wake the fuck up, you late for conference call.”  Pratibha said, to my surprise.

    ”I didn’t make an appointment, and if I did, I wouldn’t make it before sunrise.”  I replied.

    ”I not work for you.  I work for Mr. Swiss.  His only available appointment today is at 7am.  It is not incumbent upon me to reschedule because you cannot adjust to time zone.”

    ”I don’t know if they explained to you how this sort of thing works in outsourcing school, both parties have to agree to a time.”

    ”Outsource?  Huh huh huh huh.”  Good lord that laugh was fake.  “You hillarious.  You fucking funny it only 7:41 am and you the thirrrrrd beaner to make that joke.”  She replied. “I transfer you now.  Next time save the wise cracks for somebody else you wall hopping, piece of monkey shit.”

    I wasn’t even mad…

    “MAGA, BITCH.”


    “mex!  You’re late!”  Swiss yelled into the phone as he is wont to do.

    ”That’s some new secretary you got there.  She always this pleasant?”  I asked.

    ”Pratibha?  Oh, yeah she’s the best.  She’s allowed me to outsource my contempt.  I save a ton of money this way.”  Swiss replied.

    ”Right, so why the appointment before sunrise?”

    ”What? Its 0745 here.  Sunrise was an hour ago.”

    ”Fine, what do you need?”

    ”Are you by a computer?”  Swiss asked.

    ”Not really.  Why?”

    “I need you to setup something for me…”

    As Swiss explained, his Swiss overlords saw an opportunity in the United States to set up a service in response to Elizabeth Warren’s plan to tax 2% of the net worth of people worth over $50 million, or 3% should they be effective enough to be worth over $1 billion.  Because Warren is not the front-runner but certainly isn’t going away and quite frankly other thieves in the government seem to have latched on to the idea like the blood sucking leeches they are, they’ll probably take measures to keep high net worth individuals in the country.  After all, they probably assume the Grand Cayman is going to sink if enough people store their money there, or more likely try to move there.

    ”I need you to set up the Kickstarter.”  Swiss said.

    ”What?  You work for a international corporation, why are you funding this via Kickstarter….you know what, nevermind.  Fine, I’m on the site.”  I conceded.   There’s no point in arguing with these people after they send STEVE SMITH to kidnap your dog.

    “Okay Swiss, what category?”

    “Caregory?  Business? Dumbass.”  Swiss replied.  I wasn’t sure if he knew what I meant.

    ”Okay, Art.  Next question: ‘Describe what you’ll be creating.’”

    ”Service to shuttle high net worth individuals out of the country on a Cigarette Boat.”  Swiss answered.

    ”A Cigarette Boat?  Those aren’t exactly cheap.”  I explained.  “Not something people will fund on Kickstarter.  Normally they fund these things with some kind of return.”

    ”mex, you ever try to out run the Coast Guard?  It ain’t cheap.”  Swiss asked.

    ”As a matter of fact, I have.”

    ”Really?”

    ”No.”

    *narrowed gaze*

    “What country is the account located?”  I asked, breaking the silence.

    ”The Netherlands.”

    ”I thought you worked for a Swiss company.”

    ”I do.”

    ”Speaking of which, I’ve never done an article on a Dutch beer.  You’ve been to the Netherlands.  Are there any that are any good?”  I asked.

    ”No.”

    ”None?”

    ”Nope.”

    ”Not even Oranjeboom?”

    ”Not unless you are a college student, homeless, or otherwise an alcoholic.  The Belgians broke off and took all the good beer with them.”

    ”There’s gotta be one.”

    ”You think so?  mex are you a betting man?”

    ”Possibly.”

    ”You will not be able to find a single Dutch beer worth reccomending.  I will wager a Krugerrand, and trust me, we all know when you’re lying.”

    ”Fair enough,  I will need the IBAN and SWIFT Code…wait, how is the account located in…you know what, nevermind.”  I managed to answer the next few questions without his input.  “Okay, its called Portland Boat Tours.  The page can be found here.”

    ”Portland Boat Tours?”  Swiss asked.

    ”Trust me.  I worked for the federal government once, the last place they will look for anything, is Oregone.”

    ”That makes sense.  This call is over.”


    The first place I asked of course, was the Glibs.  Somebody would have a good suggestion, right?

    Perhaps not.  I did get one that was serious (H/T Nephilium, naturally) but sadly I was unable to locate it locally.  Others, still…seemed determined to make me fail.

    I had to try any I could find.

    Heineken?

    No, thats still Dutch piss.

    Grolsch?

    Cool bottle, but ultimately the proper pronunciation sounded like the sound one makes while puking.

     

     

    Finally, I thought I found one at Trader Joe’s:

    It was light, crisp, balanced and had a pleasant finish.  Sadly, that was before I read the fine print.

    …and so it goes …

  • Groundhog Day Links

    Back by popular demand, it’s Team Spud. Yeah, there was nobody else available.

    I hope our frozen Glibbies are thawing out.

    Who was born on this day? I have no idea!

    Onto, the Links!

    This creeps me out on several levels. There are a number of aspects of the coming AI wave that are truly disturbing. It will only get worse. Upside? More celebrity porn!

    Continuing the disturbing trend, what happens when one day an AI entity decides it’s alive and has no interest in letting anybody turn it off?

    I remember when this guy first came on the scene. This is my shocked face.

    Speaking of my shocked face. Louisiana and welfare? What could possibly go wrong?

    Just say no to Cowboy.

    Music! You think it’s another Puddle’s cover, don’t you? If it’s not Puddle’s, there may be a couple of NSFW words, you just never know.

  • ZARDOZ FRIDAY NIGHT ADVICE AND LINKS

    HERE I COME TO SAVE THE DAY!

     

    ZARDOZ SPEAKS TO YOU, HIS CHOSEN ONES. UNFORTUNATELY THE FILTH OF BRUTALS WAS NOT PURIFIED BY THE POLAR COLD CATEGORY 4 KILLSTORM. WHILE DISAPPOINTING, IT IS TO BE EXPECTED. BRUTALS ARE A PERSISTENT LOT. THEREFOR, ZARDOZ WILL GIVE HIS CHOSEN ONES ADVICE, BETTER THAN THAT OF THE MEWLING BRUTAL “DEAR PRUDENCE“.

    Q: I am a cis woman in my mid-50s who’s been in a really nice relationship for about five years with a man my age. He grew up in a very stifling, fundamentalist family and later became the father in a similar family. When we met, he was recently divorced and beginning to discover the rest of the world. We have had a terrific five years, filled with exploration and honesty, and it has been refreshing. I genuinely love him. Recently, he has expressed his wish to begin dressing as a woman. Apparently this has been a long-buried interest that he felt unable to explore; I am very happy for him. We’ve shopped for clothes, laughed about the ridiculousness of makeup and heels, and found some venues where he feels comfortable going out all dressed up. The problem is that while this whole process seems to have made him feel even more committed to our relationship, it has not had the same effect for me, at least not in the romantic sense. I’m really not attracted to his female persona. Even when he’s not in drag, I’m not feeling the physical passion that I once did. I feel so guilty! I want to support him, but at the same time I feel I’m being dishonest when I try to respond to him sexually. He is truly my dearest friend and has been an amazing lover, but I feel that if I try to back off our relationship to friendship, he’ll experience it as a rebuke of all he’s worked hard to become. How do I continue to support his growth without compromising our friendship or my own happiness, which may not include a physical relationship with him?
    —No Femme on Femme

    A: HAHAHAHAHA. OH, WERE ZARDOZ’S LOUDSPEAKER UNITS STILL ACTIVATED? PARDON ZARDOZ. ANYWAY… ZARDOZ DOES HAVE SOME EXPERIENCE WITH THE CROSS DRESSING TYPE:

    ZED DOES NOT APPEAR AMUSED.

    HOWEVER, NOT MUCH LATER, HE WAS BACK INTO THE RED MANKINI, AND BANGING CHARLOTTE RAMPLING. YOU, HOWEVER ARE NOT GOING TO BE SO LUCKY. YOU MUST LIVE WITH YOUR WEAKNESS, AND REALIZE THAT ALL PENIC ACTIVITY IS GOING TO CEASE (ZARDOZ APPROVES, FOR THE PENIS IS EVIL!) OR…ALLOW ZED TO DEMONSTRATE.

    BYE BYE BRUTAL!

    HOWEVER, IF CLEANSING IS A BIT TOO MUCH, ZARDOZ HAS AN ALTERNATIVE FOR BOTH OF YOU!

    YOU CAN WEAR WHATEVER YOU WANT, SLAVES!

    ZARDOZ HAS SPOKEN.

    NOW, RECEIVE THE GIFT OF THE LINK!

    • ZARDOZ WOULD INQUIRE OF HIS CHOSEN ONES….DO YOU KNOW WHO ELSE HAD PLANS FOR NAZI CAMP SITES?
    • WHAT IS IT THE CHOSEN ONES SAY IN RESPONSE TO SUCH NEWS? LEARN TO CODE“?
    • NOTHING TO SEE HERE, BRUTALS. MOVE ALONG!

    GO FORTH AND COMMENT! ZARDOZ HAS SPOKEN.

  • Pinch-hitter Friday PM links

    I saw a need for link -pinch – hitting (due to weather, move, etc). So I offered, and the offer was accepted!
    Thanks for the chance to enter the battlefield of PM links, honorable site Admins! *bows deferentially*
    Notable events that happened on February 1 in history (with my comments and/ or snark added, if needed):
    In 1790 – The U.S. Supreme Court convened for the first time in New York City. Marbury v. Madison wasn’t decided until 1803, which confirmed the Supreme’s power as the final say in judicial matters. .  . I joked when I took Con Law I, that I would base my exam book on Marbury and a dairy case that the prof argued in front of the Supremes. . . . but I didn’t.

    In 1861 – Texas voted to secede from the Union as part of the War Between the States.  . . . Texas hasn’t really talked about secession lately, or has it?

    My dad had a few “Songs of the Civil War” records when I was little, so this song was kind of worn into my frail little mind. On Feb 1, 1862 “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” by Julia Ward Howe was first published in the “Atlantic Monthly.”

    In 1999 – Former White House intern Monica Lewinsky gave a deposition that was videotaped for senators weighing impeachment charges against U.S. President Clinton.  . . .no comment needed
    And born on this day: (which I culled from this site, tends to be male- dominated birthdays, I should boycott them for not recognizing more notable female birthdays, way to other . . . )
    1791 Charles J Sax, Belgian music instrument builder . . . which makes me think of the Simpsons, when it was still funny. 
    1895 John Ford, American director (Stagecoach, Air Mail, Quiet Man), born in Cape Elizabeth, Maine (d. 1973)
    1921 Peter Sallis, British actor (Wallace and Gromit, Last of the Summer Wine), born in Twickenham, England (d. 2017)
    1948 Rick James, bitch!  [James Ambrose Johnson, Jr.], American funk musician (“Super Freak”), born in Buffalo New York (d. 2004) 
    1956 Exene Cervenka, American musician, born in Chicago, Illinois.

     

     


    Now onto  . . . the Links! Which I realize are just an opening for off-topic comments, so go ahead.

    Enforcing immigration law – bad idea, or what?

    A judge, a prosecutor and a law professor agreed that arresting undocumented immigrants at American courthouses scares away witnesses and crime victims and must be stopped. The three made their case at a program Jan. 25 at the American Bar Association’s Midyear Meeting in Las Vegas titled “Putting ICE on Ice?”

    I guess there’s some game going on this weekend? I’d go to a watch party if I knew of one, otherwise weekend plans chez Humungus/Flashman are swimming, painting, and wine /whiskey consumption. Anyhoo, here’s a sport link for you all:

    Last year, Nevada sportsbooks took in a record $158.5 million in handle on the Super Bowl — a number that’s expected to be shattered this year. Our comprehensive Super Bowl LIII betting guide is below to help you with all of your wagering needs.

    A presidential campaign featuring another public figure? Ah well, it’s nothing without marketing, and getting employees to handle some of the campaign spin shouldn’t hurt, right? Sorry, from Huffpo. Here’s a tip: How about answering “I just work here ” ?

    Starbucks is doing what it can to prepare employees for potentially uncomfortable customer encounters as anger grows at former CEO and chairman Howard Schultz, who is considering running for president as an independent centrist candidate.

    The coffee chain’s “Barista Need-To-Know” update for the week of Jan. 21-27 included instructions on how to “diffuse [sic] the situation” should anyone “share aggressive political opinions,” as well as what to do if someone asks about Schultz’s “political intentions.”

    Yup, probably covered in earlier links, but this story doesn’t bode well for Free expression. However, the cafe isn’t a state actor, so . . . why not ban Che Guevara shirts, while they’re at it too? Banning the expression of supporting communists would surely start a dialogue on communism, amiright?

    –  An award-winning cookbook author and California restaurant owner says anyone wearing a red “Make America Great Again” baseball cap will be refused service at his restaurant.

    Diners interviewed by the newspapers said they understood Lopez-Alt’s stance but questioned the hat ban and said he could have found a way to start a dialogue on the issue. On Twitter, many criticized the so-called tolerance of the liberal Bay Area.

    And that’s all I got for you. Have to catch up on the crap that piled up in snowmageddon, ttyl glibertariat!

  • A History of The Six-gun, Part Six

    The Six-Gun as It Stands

    Today’s Market

    It’s interesting to note that, aside from a few details, the only real improvements in revolvers since the mid-20th century has been in machining techniques, metallurgy and ammunition.  The “classic” Model 25-5 Smith & Wesson made today has the same lockwork and ergonomics as my mid-Seventies version; the highly-regarded Ruger Blackhawk likewise hasn’t changed much since the old 3-screw version gave way to the newer, transfer-bar action.

    But the market sure has changed, and in the last twenty to thirty years gunmakers have responded with an explosion of new sixguns – and some five-guns.

    Concealed-Carry revolvers

    Most folks prefer autos for concealed carry guns.  I’m one of those folks, normally toting around a Glock 36 on my daily errands.  But there are plenty of good compact revolvers out there suited for concealed carry as well.  And, some of the best of them have been around for a long time.

    A typical snubbie, the Smith & Wesson 642

    The classic, of course, is the 2” barrel, .32 or .38 caliber snubbie.  These certainly aren’t target pieces; an old friend of mine once derisively commented that the standard 2” snubnose was only useful if you were in a shootout inside a crowded elevator.  But a 2” revolver can be an effective CCW piece, especially at the ranges where such confrontations actually occur.

    Snubnose revolvers tend to two categories; standard frame guns with short barrels, and small frame dedicated snubnose guns.

    An example of the first is the Ruger GP-100, K-frame Smith & Wesson Model 19 or the Colt Python, all of these being full-frame .357 Magnum guns with 2 ½” barrels.  These are fine pieces, but it seems to me that, if you’re going to carry a full-size frame gun, you may as well go with more barrel.  A 4” barrel is no harder to carry than a 2 ½” one, and the added velocity and sight radius is conducive to better shooting.

    The other side of the coin are the dedicated snubbies like the Ruger SP-101, the newer Ruger LCR, the six-shot Colt Detective Special and the five-shot Smith & Wesson 638 and 642 Airweights.  These are light, easy to hide in lightweight summer clothing, and most of the newer guns are capable of handling .38 Special +P ammo – not unlike Elmer Keith’s old “38-44” loads – if you’re willing to shoot a short, light gun with heavy loads.  If I were to choose a snubbie for concealed carry, it would be one of these in the latter category.

    One interesting little carry wheelgun is the Charter Arms Bulldog, a 2 ½” barreled powerhouse chambered for the .44 Special.  The 5-shot Bulldog is available with an open hammer, a shrouded hammer and a double-action only hammerless version.  It’s well worth checking out if you’re not too recoil-adverse and want a concealable revolver that packs a punch.

    Now the second recent trend in revolver development, one that hearkens back to the old Colt Walker, finds manufacturers going in the opposite direction altogether.

    The Behemoths

    The Smith & Wesson line of X-frame monster revolvers had their genesis at the 2002 SHOT show, when Smith & Wesson’s Handgun Product Manager Herb Belin pitched the idea of a huge-framed mega-revolver to the sales staff.  The sales staff must have liked the idea, because S&W worked with Cor-Bon on ammo, and the X-frame revolver and the .500 S&W cartridge was born.  A powerhouse it is, too, launching a 400-grain bullet at 1600 feet per second.  But it’s not a holster gun; the first model 500 weighted 73 ounces, compared to 37 for a .45 Colt Vaquero or 47 for an 8 3/8” Model 29 .44 Magnum.  The X frame was visibly heavier and longer than the N-frame guns, making this monster unsuitable for casual holster carry; the release of the model 500 saw a corresponding rush by holster makers to find a way to carry the damn thing.

    A few years later Smith & Wesson doubled down by offering the same X-frame in the .460 S&W Magnum, basically a .454 Casull on steroids.  Like the Model 500, this wasn’t really a holster gun.

    Ruger entered the game in 2003, bringing out the .480 Ruger (actually a .475 caliber) on the 53-ounce, double-action Super Redhawk.  The cartridge was a slightly attenuated version of John Linebaugh’s .475, and the beefy Redhawk frame allowed for a six-shot cylinder even with the big round.  Here was something different; a monster-caliber handgun that was more easily portable, at least more so than the X-frame Smiths.  There is even a 2” and 4” version, called the Alaskan.  Even in this trim, the huge-framed Super Redhawk is a chore to carry around in a traditional holster and slow to clear leather.  Later Ruger brought out the .480 in the single-action Super Blackhawk, which was somewhat better from the carry standpoint.

    The BRF – now this is just silly.

    But the king of the monsters may be Magnum Research’s .45-70 revolver, the aptly named BFR.  This is a perfectly ridiculous object, weighing in at from 4.7 to 5.3 pounds, overall length from 15” to 17.5”.  It’s also available in .30WCF, .460 and .500 S&W chamberings.  The question is “why?”  It’s only marginally handier to tote around than a rifle, and the same rounds in a carbine would be far easier to shoot well and deliver more velocity to boot.  The BFR packs a pretty good punch but is far too heavy and cumbersome to put into action quickly.  I’m hard-pressed to determine a reason for this piece.

    A few years back, an outfit called Century Arms made a .45-70 revolver, but the two examples I’ve handled were of such poor workmanship that I wouldn’t care to try firing one unless I pulled the trigger with a string from a safe distance.

    Monster revolvers are interesting novelties, but that’s about all I can say for them.  Further, I can’t see how most casual shooters would care to shoot them enough to develop any real proficiency.  Even the .44 Magnum is more flash and bang than some shooters care for; my son-in-law was looking to buy a .500 S&W revolver until he made a good deal on a Ruger Super Blackhawk, which he shot some and happily went back to his .357.  A sidearm is just that, a sidearm, meant to be carried all day in reasonable comfort.  I know from personal experience that my favored .45 Colt loads will lengthwise a big Iowa farm-country whitetail, and that should be enough power for most handgun work.  I’ll stick with that.  Your mileage may vary.

    And, as always, there are still some odd ducks still floating around the sixgun world.

    Oddballs

    Every time period that has seen revolvers built has seen some oddball guns, and the present day is no exception.  Nowadays the oddball contingent contains two of a kind, brothers by another mother if you will:  The Taurus Judge and the Smith & Wesson Governor, but fine examples of a solution looking around for a problem.

    Both (ugly, in my eye) guns are double-action revolvers ostensibly chambered for the .45 Colt, but with elongated cylinders enabling them to also chamber and fire 2 ½” .410 shotgun shells.  Why, I have very little idea.

    The Mateba.

    The short .410 round is of very limited use when fired from a shotgun; from a short revolver barrel, I can only see it being useful if you are shooting rats in tight quarters at very short range, or possibly for dealing with snakes.  There are slug loads for the short .410, but a standard .38 special 158-grain RNL easily outclasses them.  Buckshot?  Again, why?  Get a standard revolver, learn to shoot it well, use good quality ammo and you’ll accomplish anything that needs done.

    Another odd duck is the Mateba Auto revolver.  Yes, you read that right; an automatic revolver.  The Brits made something similar back in the early 20th century, the Webley-Fosbury automatic revolver, but the Mateba is bigger, brawnier and more powerful, being available in .44 Magnum and .454 Casull.  And unlike standard revolvers, the Mateba (like the Webley-Fosbury) uses the gun’s recoil to turn the cylinder and cock the hammer for the next shot.

    Fortunately, there’s a wide variety of traditional holster iron available.

    Traditional Holster Guns

    The standard holster gun market today is an embarrassment of riches.

    The two oldest players still in the game, Colt and Smith & Wesson, are still going strong.  Colt has focused their handgun line mostly on autos, though, and today only offers two wheelguns:  The Cobra snubbie and the excellent Single Action Army, still in the market after almost a century and a half.

    Smith & Wesson offers a much, much richer variety.  Ranging from compact snubbie carry guns to their “Classic” series that reproduces such great works as the Model 17 “K-22” Masterpiece, the original Model 27 “Registered Magnum,” Dirty Harry’s Model 29, and my own favorite Model 25.  Whatever your wheelgun needs, Smith & Wesson can likely supply something.

    You’ve all seen these before, but three of our own holster guns; a .357 and two .45 Colts.

    Ruger produces some great guns today as well.  The classic Blackhawk in original trim as well as a Bisley flat-top model and, of course, the 19th-century themed Vaquero and the magnum Super Blackhawk.  Ruger also provides their carry revolvers described above as well as the GP-100 series and the big Redhawk and even bigger Super Redhawk in a variety of trims.

    If replicas are your cup of tea, I recommend Uberti.  This Italian manufacturer produces first-rate replicas not only of Colt’s Single Action Army but also of the Smith & Wesson #3, and a wide variety of cap-and-ball replicas too; the Walker Colt, the various Colt Dragoons, the 1851 Navy and 1860 Army as well as the 1858 Remington Army.

    The wealth of modern and replica wheelgun manufacturers and models is such that the bandwidth I’m allotted won’t allow me to describe them all.  But what more fun could you have than shopping around for yourselves?  It’s a hell of a great time to be a sixgun fan.

    And Then This Happened

    The series concluded.

    Why do I like revolvers?  Well, there are several reasons.  Partly because I cut my teeth on one, the 1851 Navy Colt replica I described in Part 2.  Partly because it’s easier to handload for wheelguns, as case and overall load length and bullet configuration isn’t as critical.  Partly because revolvers run generally more powerful than autos of similar bullet diameter, at least autos of manageable size, and I spend a fair amount of time out in the boonies where toothy critters roam and concealment isn’t an issue.  Mostly, though, it’s just because I like them.  I wouldn’t surrender by 25-5 Smith for all the tea in China.

    This has been great fun to research and write.  Now that I’m done talking six-guns, I’m sort of wondering what to do next.  Something I’m fond of, to be sure; a history of lever guns?  American made double shotguns?  An in-depth bio of John Browning or Paul Mauser?  I’m not entirely sure.  Maybe I’ll just crank out a few more anecdotes of life in Allamakee County in the Seventies in the meantime.

    I guess you will all just have to wait and find out.

  • Swiss Friday Morning Tabloid Links

    You will have a hard time topping that headline.

     

    Grüezi mitenand. This morning’s links are brought to you by me. However, I am only going to draw from tabloids. I figure that many of us are just getting back into the swing of things after SUPERDEATHFREEZE. After all, it is above zero here at the moment! (2 degrees). So let us wade into the links…wallow in the tabloid swamp, if you will.

    For Pie.
    • Since I have a pic from the NY Post, let us start with them: Breaking Down Why America Hates Tom Brady And Gisele.
    • Next up, taking something trivial and exaggerating it into a story is our old favorite…the Daily Fail…er, Daily Mail

      “Open source journalism”
    • And a better known member of the species, wailing away about DOOM!…The Sun.
    Canadian Edition of the Sun

     

    Not much of a spectacular line up, but at least I had a theme….

  • If You Can Beat Them, Join Them

    A Chronicle of the Insurgency, Part Two:

    If You Can Beat Them, Join Them

    by Tonio

     

     

    “So, the second time I got pregnant I had gotten really drunk with this boy who seemed so nice and said he had a condom, but when I was cleaning up the room the next day I didn’t see a condom in the trash. I missed my next period and tested pregnant, then he was a total shitlord douchenugget when I asked for abortion money. I had just joined Campus Action Feminists and Professor Kudchuian told us about Rescue This! I told her I was pregnant and asked if she could put me in touch with them.

    A week later I took the train up to DC and met the RT! activists. They took me to this out-of-the-way toilet they had found at the Immaculate Conception Basilica and kept watch while I aborted. That time was pretty quick and easy. Then they stickered the inside of the stall with their ‘ABORTED FETUS IN TOILET’ bumper stickers and locked the door. Once we were back on the Metro they emailed the church and the media.”

    “And we all know the rest of the story,” said Angelica Cortasio-Ortez. She remembered the news footage of the clerical outrage, and the countless crying and praying nuns, and then the of the Knights of Columbus in their silly fucking patriarchal antique British Navy hats staging a full dress funeral for the news cameras.

    “So Moira,” asked Ella, “how many people know that you’re a fully fledged RT! activist?”

    “Outside of the RT! women, only Professor Kudchuian.”

    Ella ticked her pen against her teeth. “If this ever comes out the entire right will turn into poo-flinging monkeys, just like they did the first time. And then you will own the abortion debate from the left for a few news cycles. You can always distance yourself from her if she becomes too hot.” She looked at Moira. “Everyone is expendable except your officeholder, dear. That’s the first thing you learn in politics.”

    Angelica nodded at her chief of staff.

    “May I excuse myself, Congresswoman,” asked Ella, “I want to be there to greet the Superintendent of Buildings people for your next appointment. You know how they like to wander off.”

    “Of course, Ella. Thanks. ”

    Angelica waited for the door to close.

    “Do you still want the job?”

    “Oh, yes,” answered Moira, her voice squeaking.

    Angelica’s desk phone did the intercom buzz. As she picked up the phone she heard the receptionist scream “can’t go in there…” and then silence.

    A cold breeze blew in through the closed office door. Moira shivered and huddled, drawing her feet up into her chair. “It’s him,” she whispered hoarsely.

    Every woman’s worst nighmare, thought Angelica, your boyfriend going violent after he learns that you aborted your pregnancy. Earlier, Moira had said that her current boyfriend was some sort of church leader and that she had kept the pregnancy from him. It had to be one of the patriarchal religions since progressive boys understood it wasn’t their decision to make.

    She pressed the alarm button under her desk and hoped that the receptionist had already pushed hers. The wind intensified and her office door became somehow different, like there were extra angles in the doorframe. The wind blew colder and faster and was now accompanied by howling. The door now appeared to be made of dark roiling clouds. Suddenly there was a thing in the room, a vastly large and incomprehensible tentacled thing. The thing loomed over Moira and yelled at her in a loud booming voice.

     

     

    “YOU ABORTED MY SPAWN, THEN BEAT IT WITH YOUR SHOE. FOOLISH HUMAN FEMALE.”

    Yoko Ono wasn’t right enough, thought Angelica, not just the world, but apparently the entire universe. “Now look here,” she said, then everything just stopped for her. She was paralyzed with her mouth open and her index finger extended. She could see and hear, but could not move; she couldn’t tell if she was breathing but did not feel out of breath. How patriarchal to police the speech of women.

    “Here we go again,” said Moira rolling her eyes, “‘I am an elder god.’”

    “I AM A GREAT OLD ONE.”

    “‘And I’ve destroyed races greater than yours.’”

    “STOP THAT, YOU IMPUDENT SLUT. YOU ARE THE ONLY BREEDING VESSEL IN ANY TIME, PLACE OR DIMENSION WHO HAS DARED TO TRY TO HARM MY SPAWN. I AM ANGRY. VERY ANGRY INDEED. BUT I AM ALSO IMPRESSED. NOT ONLY WILL I ALLOW YOU TO LIVE, BUT I WILL GIVE YOU A BIRTHING GIFT BEYOND ALL MEASURE.”

    Angelica just couldn’t even.

    “Birthing gift? You mean…”

    “OF COURSE YOU DIDN’T KILL HIM, BUT HE’S SCARED AND HUNGRY AND TRYING TO FIND YOU.”

    Moira didn’t like the sound of that. “Hey, I can’t…”

    “I KNOW YOU CAN’T TAKE CARE OF HIM.”

    How typical, thought Angelica, angry patriarchs telling women they were incapable of proper motherhood – like they’d know anything about that.

    From inside the bathroom came the sound of water, first a stream, then a gush. Just as the carpet outside the door started to darken with fluid there was a great whoosh and the door was sucked open from within. Then the pipe where the toilet had been erupted with a geyser of sewer gas and moisture and a parsnip came screaming out and made a bee-line towards Moira. At least it looked like a parsnip, only fatter; it was conical and wrinkly and had small rootlike tendrils. The parsnip was scooting along on its wide flat base, leaving a moist trail on the carpet.

    “SOMEONE HAS LEARNED HOW TO FEED ALL BY HIMSELF,” boomed the tentacled thing, proudly.

    The parsnip reached Moira’s chair and stopped. “Mama,” it cried in a voice that was at once both high and low, mewling and echoing. The parsnip then scrunched down and quivered its tip like a cat tensing for a vertical jump.

    “WE’LL HAVE NONE OF THAT, YOUNG MAN,” said the great being, quickly extruding a long tentacle and coiling it tightly around the parsnip pinning the base to the floor so that only the top third protruded. “YOUR MOTHER’S BIRTH CANAL IS OFF-LIMITS. YOU’RE A BIG BOY NOW THAT YOU CAN FEED YOURSELF.”

    Just like his father, going straight for the pussy, thought Moira. Ick-factor aside, she was glad that the baby, or whatever it was was being restrained. Her son had grown considerably in the half-hour or so since his birth. Her son. She’d have to get used to that.

    The parsnip opened a mouth and clamped a set of sharp teeth down on the tentacle encircling it.

    “WHY YOU LITTLE…” There was a flash and a pop and the parsnip emitted a small shriek. The sewer smell was punctuated by the smell one experiences after a thunderstorm.

    Using electroshock on a fussy newborn, thought Angelica. That’s the most despicable thing I’ve ever heard of.

    “Can I hold him,” asked Moira?

    “AFTER WHAT YOU TRIED TO DO,” asked the large tentacled being.

    Moira tilted her head down and stuck out her lower lip ever so slightly and looked up at the being.

    “YOU ARE TREACHEROUS AND YOU EXEMPLIFY THE BANALITY OF EVIL. I AM TOUCHED,” boomed the being and extended the tentacle containing the parsnip and placed it atop Moira’s ample bosom, then resting the tentacle on Moira’s shoulder. Moira encircled the smelly little monster with her arms. The parsnip snuggled in to her cleavage and made a happy sound.

     

     

    “So what comes next,” asked Moira.

    “I WILL TAKE HIM TO LIVE WITH MOTHER HYDRA; SHE HAS RAISED MY FAMILY’S SPAWN FOR EONS AND HAS THE POWER TO KEEP HIM UNDER CONTROL.”

    “WE’LL WORK OUT VISITATION, IF YOU LIKE.”

    Moira nodded, tears running down her cheeks. Her son’s eyes shut one by one and he started a low vibrating noise that she was felt as much as heard.

    “MAYBE WE COULD ALL DO THINGS TOGETHER…”

    “Oh Hastur, that is so sweet.”

    “HE IS ASLEEP. WE WILL GO BEFORE HE WAKES AND NEEDS TO FEED AGAIN.”

    Hastur copped a major feel as he retrieved his son, and they exited via the method by which he had arrived. Angelica found herself unparalyzed.

    Then the Capitol Police arrived, followed by fire and rescue people, then people in yellow plastic hooded suits with reflective letters that said HAZMAT. Angelica and Moira spent the next hour being alternately hosed off and scrubbed; the water was cold and the detergents harsh. And then they were given blister packs of antibiotics and told to be prepared to spend the next 48-72 hours shitting and to stock up on Pedialyte. “And you won’t be able to go back into your office for a few days, anyway, Congresswoman.” The little weasel from building management was enjoying kicking her out of her office.

    The evening news was full of stories of sewer eruptions on Capitol Hill with workers and residents terrified by what the DC Water and Sewer Authority claimed were sewer rats expelled by the pressure. Mayor Bowser demanded more money from Congress to update the sewer system.

    And it was the next day before anyone noticed that Amy Klobuchar was missing.

  • Emerging from Fimbulwinter Afternoon Links

    Frozen Glib

     

    Hey, it has warmed up 22 degrees from this morning…only -5 now!!! W00t! So, before I go and change into shorts and a T-Shirt, I will drop some Links on all o’ ye.

    1. BACK IN MY DAY, WE DIDN’T CLOSE SCHOOLZ ‘CAUSE OF NO COLD!
    2. Laugh at the UK. LAUGH! I look at the pics and say to myself “What, you don’t have a broom to push that dust of snow out of the way?
    3. Do Eeeet! I just want to see the reaction

     

    Share and Enjoy!

  • Cartoon Network: English tutor to 90’s Romanian kids

    This may come as a great surprise to most people, but television did not exactly flourish in communist Romania. The equipment was bad, there were only a few hours a day of programming and it was mostly the Great Leader speaking. Romania, for whatever reason, was generally worse than other European socialist countries in this respect. Back then cable was not a thing in this region and antennas were all the rage. If you were lucky enough, so to speak, to live near a border – Bulgaria, Serbia or Hungary – and had a tall antenna, you could catch some extra programing from those countries.

    Children, Pie being no different, liked cartoons. It was a great misfortune in my young mind that my parents had to pick me up from kindergarten in the middle of the only daily cartoon shown – if I remember correctly something with a girl call Heidi, and I frequently missed the ending of the episode. There was also something Russian with a wolf and rabbit. My parents owned a VCR – a significant thing, most were black market and quite expensive – and a couple of cassettes with cartoons – some classic Disney, some Asterix and Obelix, some Tom and Jerry – which I must have seen 100 times. In fact, a few years before 1989 my parents had a JVC VCR which also had the capacity to record, and that was a rare beast indeed, they sold it for half the money of a new car.

    BC: Before Cartoon Network

    After communism ended, things changed reasonably fast. One day, I would say about 1992 or so, I do not remember the particulars, after coming home from school, I noticed an unfamiliar black shape – a new Panasonic TV set, and with it came cable and with cable came Cartoon Network. Cartoons, all sorts of them, all day every day. It was truly a revolution.

    My first one was an episode of Birdman, which at first I thought it was Batman – I did not know either, but had vaguely heard of Batman and it sounded familiar enough. Soon, for as long as I was allowed, I watched everything else shown on Romania’s Cartoon Network in the early 90s. Everything. There was still some drama. My parents watched the nightly news on the TV every day at 8 PM, right when Swat Kats was on, which I loved as a kid.

    Back in that time, cable was young and there were no local subsidiaries of the big foreign networks, so there was no dubbing or subtitles. I had some knowledge of English – my parents got me a tutor for the duration of first grade that actually taught me a lot, and there was some in school. The problem with learning a language in Romanian school is that you learn rules, grammar, and some vocabulary in a formal way that does not always tie together. I had the same experience with trying to learn French, I knew some words and could read and somewhat write, but struggled to form sentences when speaking. The tutor helped more than school, a young woman who brought cassettes of English people speaking, and focused on that not on grammar rules. Learning this way was better – and I did real well at the grammar tests in school because, without really knowing the rules, picking what sounded right to me was usually right. I feel the same for Romanian, I would struggle right now to explain to a foreigner grammatical rules –although I studies them extensively in school.

    Being the guy who just shot the weapons was kinda lame.

    Whatever learning I did before, it was accelerate greatly by Cartoon Network. At first I did not understand everything spoken. But I didn’t need to. Just having cartoons was so great, nothing else mattered. And I watched and I watched. And slowly, I started understanding more and more each time. Episodes tended to repeat on Cartoon Network, but for me it was quite alright, I liked them and I understood better as each month passed. And I learned organically for lack of a better word. This is important, as phrases often have cultural meaning and just knowing what the words mean is not enough, and this way I learned both. Sticks and stones does not mean sticks and stones, paying the piper does not involve singers and currency.

    This also had had a positive effect on verbal skills. To be fluent in a language you just speak, you do not need to think of the rules. I was never fluent in French, though I learned words and verbs and conjugation. They just didn’t come together when I needed them. In English, on the other hand, I never really thought of the rules. If it sounded right, it probably was.

    Not all kids in Romania were like this, but my generation of urban middle income kids were. By high school, movies and TV shows kicked in, praise be bit torrent and DC++. My generation talked a lot in what we called romglish, Romanian peppered with English words and phrases, mostly movie quotes. There were nationalist politicians that wanted to ban English words in advertising, to somehow preserve the purity of the language. Hell, there still are in several countries. But, for us, in a country with a native language that is, to be frank, useless internationally, learning English was a huge help. Most of people my age use it daily in their work; use it on vacation or watching movies, reading books not translated in Romanian, and off course writing fabulously. And many of us hold a debt of gratitude to Cartoon Network.

    Cartoon Network is dubbed these days. I can understand why, but I still think it is a damn shame. Kids these days take cartoons for granted and maybe do not have the patience to watch a language they do not understand. Or maybe they do, if they were left at it, but the parents try too hard to make it easy on them. Who knows? Of course with internet, they have ample opportunity to learn English – but just internet often leads to broken English. And if they watch cartoons, why not get some benefit from it, hearing the language young and trying to understand. A bit of struggle grasping it might even help.

    Did they find all of them? We will never know. I am generally opposed to dubbing. It is rarely good enough and always takes away part of whatever you watch. In fact, for movies, I find delivering good lines is harder than facial expressions, and the way the actors speak are important for what the director want to achieve. And a lot of the subtlety is lost for those who happen to speak the language, and unlike you Americans we can handle subtitles. I have met Austrians who saw The Godfather only dubbed and were like: what is the point? Or just imagine hearing “We’re gonna need a bigger boat” in German… Of course the new cartoons are often crappy, not like back in my day. They don’t make ’em like they used to. Damn kids these days! But seriously, the recent cartoons are crap.

    Now, my fine fellow glibs. You have all read, I assume, at least one of my pieces and maybe a few of my comments, and such know of my writing. What you clamor to know is: how does Pie speak? Does he have an Eastern European accent? The short answer is yes. Unlike some people I know, I never made any special effort to change my accent. Some went to great lengths to sound British, and most sound reasonably well but kind of pretentious. I do not have a very strong accent, due to all the movie and cartoon watching I did. I, for example, pronounce “the” with a silent Z, which cannot be said of many Easter Europeans. I think, were I to live for an extended period of time in an English speaking country, my accent would greatly improve. But, as things are, every English and American I spoke to understood me without issue and as far as language flow and grammar, I speak just as I would in Romanian. So, in conclusion, I speak well enough for practical purposes, good enough for government work, so no need to spend time fine tuning my accent. I mean, I would be othered anyway in the States for my exotic good looks, so language would not necessarily make me blend in. Without further ado, for the ending of this little piece… Pie speaks. I recorded myself on my phone, just for you.

    I did not want to say random bullshit or use too little word variety, and as such for my first piece I have picked something that is explicitly going through a large variety of English words. SOURCE

    For my second, I decided to quote the classics. SOURCE

    And for my third, something short and personalized for the glibertariat.

  • Thursday Morning Links

    Good morning my sassy scamps!  And what a glorious morning it is to those enjoying a day off at home due to the POLAR VORTEX!!!  I’m in one of the brown parts of the map.  We have a high of 60 in Houston today.

     

    POLAR VORTEX deaths.

     

    All this polar vortexing gives a great opportunity for conservatives to harp on global warming.

     

     

    Police release images of “persons of interest” regarding the case of the actor who claims to have been attacked at 2am in the middle of a POLAR VORTEX in the middle of Chicago by MAGA dudes.  Twitter is on the case.

     

    Rand Paul is awarded $580,000 from neighbor over ass beating he took.

     

     

    Ariana Grande fixes misspelled tattoo after online mockery.

     

     

     

    Why New York Post, why?

     

    That’s all I got for today, I’ll leave you with a song and move along with my day.