Here's what I think (not that anyone should give a shit):
(1) The cow feces is piling up around Biden and his wretched, coke-snorting, embezzling, pole-dancer-impregnating son.
(2) The impeachment articles will *finally* be handed over to the Senate by that 80-year-old weeping vaginal pustule Speaker of the House before the SOTU.
(3) Trump and Ninja McTurtle are going to have only a minimalist impeachment trial and Trump will be acquitted with all (R) Senators voting down except two -- Willard Dickwipe Delecto and Mularkey-Kowski -- and all (D) Senators voting up except two -- the creepy RNO wannabe from WV and pick-em.
(4) The Iowa primary will go to Homo Erectus. The NH primary will go to Bernie Burned Buns with Homo Erectus coming in in from behind (of course). The SC primary will be a darkie landslide for Jurassic Joe as will Super Dooper Tuesday because the "sane Dems" will want to flush Chief-ette Shitting Bull and The Sand Man.
(5) Once it is established Plugs is firmly in the driver's seat, Trump will then unleash the Hammer of Thor on him and Hoover Hunter and all the dammed up fecal matter will flow like the Mighty Mississip' during the Spring floods.
(6) The DNC convention will be a shitshow in Philly and -- flash! -- Hillary will step in to save the day.
(7) Sometime around November, Diq-Us will get its shit together and we will see all of our back comments and find out who has been dumping on us for the past eight months.
..my 8-Ball gets hazy after that. You're on your own. Happy f**king New Year! Sorry for all the scatological references.
Per a recent entry over at The American Thinker, Dennis Lund proffers the idea of selecting a person who has grated the most this past year. While he offers a number of the usual suspects, there is an interesting twist as to the most irritating person in 2019.
There are so many juicy suggestions, I would not know whom to pick. I offer this, instead. Perhaps, an Annoying Liberals Hall of Fame and have all of the inductees be the aforementioned for 2019. Perhaps a vote a la the Baseball or NFL* HOFs? I would suggest pre-stocking the HOF with the obligatory candidates from the last four years: Hillbags, Comey, Brennan, Clapper, et al.
Of course there would be an obligatory Media wing of the HOF to include the entire commentariat of CNN led by "Bullethead" Brian Stelter and including MSNBC's Moaning Joke Scarborough and his irritating spouse. Of course, it would include (up)Chuck Todd and the like. (I daren't omit The MadCow.)
And there might even be a third wing for sports figures pre-inhabited by Colon Krapperknickers and the foul-mouthed, blue-haired, Trump-hating small-breasted captain of the USA women's soccer team.
The mind reels at the possibilities for this pantheon of the pathetic; a veritable cottage industry.
When I was a lad, my family moved from Alexandria, Virginia (my dad was in the USAF stationed at the Pentagon) to Southern California (my dad went to work for Lockheed), and thence to Portola Valley on the peninsula below San Francisco (my dad went to work in the Northern branch of Kelly Johnson's "Skunk works") and it was there -- during my formative years -- I grew through adolescence and high school graduation in 1964. Consequently, I had a reverence and a love for San Francisco as we would often go into "the city" and enjoy what it had to offer. To be sure, I became a Giants fan when they moved out from New York in '58 and also a fan of the then-hapless 49ers.
But over the past six years, a great disaffection has set in. No longer is San Francisco a desirable place to visit and, while it only come to earn its new name -- San Franfescesco -- the signs of erosion began appearing to me on visits much earlier.
To be sure, there weren't the needles and turd piles of current note but I felt it was a high-priced tourist trap rip-off where restaurants over-crowded, over-charged and under-delivered. There was a vibrant population of Haight-Ashbury druggies and hippie scum who never got the message that The Dead were dying off and that the Summer of Love had turned into a grey Winter of Discontent.
Signs on bulletin boards saying things like "Demonstration in GG Park, Thursday at 12 Noon" had me asking why there was no cause enunciated; that they were only interested in having more or less warm bodies of disaffected souls show up and scream their anger in opposition to..what exactly?
On visits, I would squire those I was showing the sights of the city to on the obligatory endeavors like the cable car rides -- also obscenely over-priced and over-crowded -- where one would wait 45 minutes to board at Fisherman's Wharf to ride to Market Street and wait another 45 minutes for the return ride. All the while on both ends, you would be set upon by beggars and pan handlers of a stridently aggressive nature - sometimes uttering foul, impolite oaths if you refused them. It was almost as though they feel entitled to a portion of your wallet's contents.
But to be sure, these knights of the streets seek to give back to the city as only they know how.
Seems the bloom is off the rose and the only things now sprouting in the streets of San Francisco were turd blossoms. As evidenced by the video above, these don't seem to be confined to the streets alone.
I now have sworn that I will never "go home" again, to never lend my tourist money to the coffers of the city whose politicians mis-apply and mis-spend and mis-administrate. In fact, I am so intent on embargoing the city, I wonder if it is possible to circumnavigate it when traveling to more Northern destinations. I shall consult my maps.
So, in an effort to stem any other tourism to that den of depravity, that congress of corn-holers, herewith is a tweet of possible interest.
I think Tucker Carlson is sometimes hilarious in his lampooning of the Dem foibles and I think Ben Shapiro is sometimes a whiny little mutt. However, sometimes Carlson goes for the cheap laugh when it is not important and Ben Shapiro provides excellent analysis when it is important.
The Dems unleashed their promised articles of impeachment of Donald Trump and, quite frankly, to me it was like a person laboring after a long period being constipated and -- please forgive me if I intrude on your meal hour --giving birth to those marble-sized turds that come in twos or threes.
In other words, that's the best they got after three plus years of ranting and raving?
So, my bride and I were settling down to our dinner (1700 PST) and turned on Carlson to watch his reportage of these events. Predictably, he started off with his usual aping shtick and his coerced laughter and his usual chants of "Russia! Russia! Russia!" -- which seemed a tad off target.
Not that I would not have laughed and nodded in agreement with Carlson in days past. It's just that I wanted something with a little more substance to it. I wanted an earnest discussion and analysis of the worthiness of these impeachment charges as opposed to schoolboy tittering and buffoonery.
This was because this afternoon, as I was attending to my garage-cleaning duties, I was transfixed by Ben Shapiro's breakdown on the "Nothing-Burgerness" of the Dem impeachment charges and how they are truly dangerous to our nation's existence for both Dems and Republicans.
So, in fairness, maybe I was spoiled by Shapiro's content and could have done without the joking.
Well, it turns out the radio show broadcast over Los Angeles KABC 790 but I discovered it's on YouTube. So, I am posting a link down below if you wish to review what Shapiro had to say. I recommend you spend the time. His arguments will convince you that the Three Stooges (Pelosi, Schiff, and Jerry "Colostomy Bag" Nadler) attempted to cobble together chicken salad out of chicken shit..
I used to be a bicycle racer -- something done to ward off my fear of impending old age -- and I used to be pretty serious: hard training and racing for over ten years, I conservatively estimate I cycled halfway to the moon during that time.* But it was all done outdoors with a concomitant abhorrence of the obligatory Winter indoor training that took up the other half of one's free time.
My principle aversion was the hours that one had to put in on exercycles, those hellish contraptions that anchored a rider to one spot on the face of the earth eliminating the freedom and verve that is bike riding. No wind and usually in a claustrophobic garage or smelly basement or cramped back room back room of a bike shop sponsoring Winter training regimes, where there is almost NOTHING to distract you from the seemingly endless hours you spend. I hated them!
After my racing days came to a close, the bride and I joined a 24-Hour Fitness gym (more properly named 14-Hour Fitness because this unit actually closed from 9 PM until 7 AM some days) and some of my exercise regime involved warming up or cooling down on these God damned exercycles. Gradually, I was coerced by one of those cheerful, chirpy attendants into entering one of those spin classes which turned out to be like being tortured in a disco with concomitant flashing lights, thundering, throbbing music and a legion of millennials who slavishly spun their life away.
It was about as close to the preening, self-adulating culture as I wanted to get and I quit after 15 minutes.
Since then, the concept of Peleton and related product has been stigmatized by memories of that bland, mindless experience. In fact, the whole gym experience is a turn off to me. I remember working in a very posh, fashionable, upscale area and taking mid-morning and mid-afternoon walks past a posh, fashionable, upscale gym with immense picture windows and posh, fashionable, upscale wives from the adjacent posh, fashionable, upscale neighborhood toiling away on these exercycles mindlessly spinning.
The thought occurred to me that if they forsook the gym and spent time at home doing housework they could get the exercise they needed AND save the cost of a gym membership AND save the cost of a maid/housekeeper as well.
But, what the heck, it's their [husband's] money.
The furor over the Peleton ad, therefore, kind of intrigues me. The video below says it all.
In the ensuing blowback to this ad, there are many, many layers which have been peeled away. It has been labeled as anything from off-putting to the usual litany of "sexist", horrific to women, etc. While I concur that it is off-putting, I genuinely feel sorry for this woman -- this couple, in fact -- that their idea of health involves mindlessly spending a year on a mechanical contraption with an internet-connected computer screen bolted on, INSIDE of their house, spinning off into oblivion.
Take a walk, for Christ's sake!
*Showing my work:
(1) The moon is about 250,000 miles from earth.
(2) Assume racing/training/riding for 12 years.
(3) Assume 1,000 per month.
Therefore,
10 x (1,000 x 12) = 120,000 miles or about 50% of the way to the moon.
I both rejoice and breathe a sigh of relief that she's sucked to big green weenie in 2019. Here's hoping that this is the beginning of her descent into ignominy. There's also this kiss-off this video mocking this cunt.
